B02 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Jan. 31, 1886. 



TO TEE WALLED-IN LAKES. 



Tn. — THE SIGN OP THE CR0S8. 



npHE next morning we determined to move camp. An- 

 other white man had come into the valley, and estab- 

 lished himself on the St. Mary's River just below the lake. 

 We were anxious to naake one or two short excursions into 

 the mountains, and did not like to leave our camp unpro- 

 tected over night while there were so many Indians about. 

 We therefore decided to move all our possessions down to 

 the temporary home of this white man. who would look 

 after them in case of our absence for a day or two. Before 

 leaving camp we cached the boat and oars in the brush, and 

 afterward carefully obliterated all the tracks which we had 

 made in the operation. 



By 10 o'clock all our preparations were made, the wagon 

 was packed and we started. We had looked oat a road a 

 day or two before, and found no difficulty in taking the 

 wagon along near the shore, over ridges and across water 

 courses. On our way down we met a number of Kootenays, 

 with whom we stopped and gossiped for a while. They 

 were going off into the hills to visit their beaver traps, of 

 which they had a great many set on all the best streams. 

 They are good trappers, and at this time the camp was 

 averaging ten beaver a day. 



A mile or two before reaching the lower end of the lake I 

 saw a long, shallow bay, protected by high banks from the 

 furious wind which was now blowing, and taking the shot- 

 gun, rode down through the willows nearly to the water's 

 edge, and then dismounting stole down to the shore and 

 peeped out through the brush on to the water. At first no 

 ducks were to be seen, but as I gradually advanced I caught 

 sight of something moving in a little cove on the left, and 

 turned, just as three greenwing teal jumped from the water. 

 By good luck rather than good judgment I caught two of 

 them close together, and dropped them with the right barrel, 

 while the third was stopped with the left as he was crossing 

 a little gravel bar that ran out from the shore. The retriev- 

 ing of the first two was a tedious operation. The mud was 

 very deep, and I was obliged to build a sort of causeway of 

 brush and sticks to support my naked feet as I waded out to 

 get them. All this took some time, and when I rode out of 

 the willows again the wagon had disappeared, and as I 

 aeared the ford I saw it drawn up by a lodge on the opposite 

 bank, I rode toward the place where we had crossed the 

 day before, and where the water was only about up to the 

 horse's belly, intending to cross there, when Yellowfish 

 stepped out of the tent and made a gesture to me. It after- 

 ward appeared that it was only a salutation, but I inter- 

 preted it to mean that I could cross directly from where I 

 was to the camp, and so I rode down the bank and into the 

 water. It looked deep, but I went ahead with confidence 

 until the water was half way up to the horse's back, and I 

 had my feet tucked up behind me in the saddle. Even then 

 I trusted that we had reached the deepest part, when sud. 

 denly Jerry stepped off into a hole and began to swim. I 

 climbed up as high as possible and kneeled on the saddle, 

 but that did not save me from being wet nearly up to my 

 waist. A few yards swimming brought Jerry to his footing 

 and I landed, and was received in the camp with a good deal 

 of merriment by the witnesses of my swim. 



We found Dick King, the owner of the lodge, very hos- 

 pitable and kindly disposed. Indeed, he insisted on our 

 moving our beds and most of our traps into his lodge, which, 

 after some protest, we did, using our tent thereafter only for 

 cooking and eating in. 



That afternoon we dined in the presence of six or eight 

 Indians, who, after we had finished, soon demolished what- 

 ever was left. 



They sat down to eat, and after their food was before 

 them, and when blankets had been thrown back, thongs 

 of quirts slipped from the wrists and sleeves tucked up, 

 each one removed his hat, and, with uplifted eyes, gravely 

 and reverently made the sign of the cross and whispered a 

 prayer. 



The performance of this simple rite here in the wilder- 

 ness was indescribably pathetic and eloquent. Whence 

 came their knowledge of God? Who told them the story of 

 the cross? Had they learned it from the priests of our day, 

 or was it a survival of the teachings to their tribe in the 

 long ago by the old Spanish missionaries? 



To these Kootenays it was surely but an empty form, for 

 they worship the sun ; but though these prayers have no 

 significance to them, to their forefathers they were full of 

 meaning. 



The sight carried my thoughts back over centuries of 

 time, and I followed the holy Fathers, as with all the pomp 

 and circumstance of glorious war they entered Mexico with 

 the old Conquistadores. At first they made their converts 

 by the sword; later their unflagging zeal and patient faith 

 subdued tribe after tribe, until at length they reached the 

 western ocean. Slowly they spread along the coast north 

 and south, and to the outlying islands of the sea, and planted 

 the cross deeper and deeper in the wilderness. In track- 

 less deserts, in tangled forests, they preached Christ and 

 His Kingdom. The wild tribes of the parched cactus 

 plains, the more gentle races of the Pueblo villages, the 

 hardy fishermen of the seashore alike yielded to the faith and 

 energy which inspired these ministers of God. Little by 

 little they made their way up the coast— you can trace their 

 progress on the map to-day, San Diego, San Pedro, Santa 

 Barbara, San Luis, San Jose, San Francisco, San Juan— 



ever fighting the battle of the cross, upheld by their 

 faith. The blazing sun of summer poured down upon 

 them his withering heat; they did not blench. The 

 frosts and snows of winter chilled them; they pushed 

 on. Sky -reaching motmtains barred their progress; they 

 surmounted them. Floods stood in their way; they crossed 

 them. Painfully, slowly, on foot, through an unknown 

 country, in perils of waters, in perils by the heathen, in 

 perils in the wilderness, "in weariness and painfulness, in 

 watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in 

 cold and nakedness,*' they held their steadfast way. No dan- 

 ger daunted them; no difficulty turned them back; death did 

 not stop their march. If one faltered and stumbled and fell, 

 another stepped calmly forward and took his place, No 

 need now to look at the means they sometimes employed, nor 

 to remember that among these servants of God all were not 

 worthy. Look only at what they accomplished, and at 

 what a cost. And though their earnest labors failed to 

 establish here in the New World the religious empire for 

 which they hoped, yet no doubt each faithful soul had, in 

 the consciousness of duty well performed, if in no other way, 

 his own abundant reward. 



Something of the feeling that must have animated these 

 men is expressed in some lines written in the shadow of 

 an old Spanish mission by my friend H, G. Dulog: 



The mission bell is tolling slow 



In the still afternoon, 

 And from the stuccoed front of snow 

 Reflected sunbeams glare and glow, 

 While through the cloisters broad and low 



A strayed bee drones his sleepy tune. 



The Provence roses' attar scent 

 Comes from the garden's crumbling walls, 



And with their heavy breath is blent 



Odor of flowers on boughs still bent 



With yellow limes, and warm content 

 Upon the drowsy spirit falls. 



A faith outworn, a work decayed, 

 Show here their ample fortune's trace, 



And the brown-featured band arrayed 



In worship where their fathers prayed, 



Express in tones that fall and fade 

 The pathos of a dying race. 



An old Franciscan wanders by 

 With sandaled feet and long gray gown. 



His head is drooping pensively, 



But in his dark and steady eye 



There lies a slumbering energy 

 Which, waked, could win a world's renown. 



Why should this Caesar's vital eyes 



Guard a few stolid Indians' fate? 

 Sm-ely his spirit in him cries 

 To burst his chafing bonds and rise- 

 Pants for the struggle and the pnze 



That crowns the strong and patient great. 



Why raolder mid the living dead 

 To snatch from fire one worthless brand? 



Does the kind sky above him spread 



Pour down such peace on that gray head 



That he finds sweet the bitter bread 

 Of strangers in a foreign land? 



It must be that he reads the thought. 



He stops his walk, and with a smile 

 He speaks: "My son, our fight is fought 

 With many arms. If good be wrought 

 To the great cause it matters naught 



Where we must post the rank and file. 



"In Orient old; in states yet new. 



Whose broad foundations scarce are planned; 

 In crowded towns; where far and few 



The settlers' rough-hewTi cabins stand; 



On Arctic ice or tropic sand; 

 Where Holy Church has work to do 



God's servants find their native land." 



From the coast the Fathers wandered inland almost to the 

 main range of the Rocky Mountains, preaching the Gospel, 

 and among their converts were the Kootenays ; and here 

 still the sign of the cross and the vesper bell reminds the 

 wanderer of a time— now long past— when faith was strong, 

 and men were willing to die for God's glory. Here on the 

 shores of the St. Mary's lakes, among the ragged peaks and 

 far from the haunts of men, is still practiced a rite of the 

 church; here still grows, though stunted, deformed and 

 changed, the plant whose seed was first sown centuries ago 

 by that devoted band. 



Toward evening two of us rode over to the Kootenay 

 camp, on Swift Current, and called on old Back in-Sight, 

 the Chief. He is a fine grave old man, of majestic presence, 

 yet with a kindly gentle face which quite won my heart. 

 We found him sitting in his large clean lodge in which 

 burned a bright fire, and at one side smouldered a few coals 

 upon which from time to time his wife scattered a few 

 needles of the sweet pine. The fragrant vapor rose in 

 white clouds toward the smoke hole, and its perfume filled 

 the lodge, and those who entered went to this smoke and 

 held feet and hands over it, and taking handfuls of it rubbed 

 it over heads, arms and breasts, so that they might be puri- 

 fied and evil spirits be kept off. We asked the Chief some- 

 thing about the grand mountain whose solemn peak point- 

 ing so steadfastly toward heaven was visible from the flat 

 where we were camped, "Some of my people long ago," he 

 said, "climbed to the summit of Chief Mountain. The 

 Kootenay medicine is very strong, and we can cUmb bad 

 places. When any animals get on top of this mountam they 

 become crazy and jump off over the cliffs." This may mean 

 that there is but one way to reach the summit, and if an 

 animaj is driveh up there and its retiun is prevented, it 



jumps over the cliffs, and in avoiding capture meets its death 

 on the sharp rocks far below. Yellowfish declares the sum- 

 mit of the mountain to be absolutely inaccessible. 



An hour passed pleasantly in friendly, cordial chat with 

 the dignified, gentle old man and his companions, and as 

 we were about to leave, the Chief rang his little bell for ves- 

 pers, and for a short space there was silence, while with 

 bared heads the Kootenays crossed themselves, and mur 

 mured to the Christian's God the praj-ers that had long ago 

 been taught them by his ministers. So in years gone by, 

 among a kindred race on the other side of the range, I have 

 seen pass about through the camp the clear-toned crier, who 

 summoned the people to their devotions, as when on the 

 shores of the Bosphorus, clambering to the crescent-crowned 

 spire 



In St. Sophia 



The Turkman gets, 



And loud in air 



Calls men to prayer 



From the tapering summit 



Of tall minarets. Yo. 



Address all communications to the Forest and Stream Publish- 

 ing Co. 



THE GULF COAST OF FLORIDA. 



OFF for Tampa, How the heart bounds and the pulse 

 thrills at thoughts of the bay of Espirito Santo. There 

 were four in our party, the Colonel, the Professor and his 

 wife, and myself. Arrived at Sanford we found the com- 

 fortable cars of the South Florida Road waiting for us. and 

 were soon rolling through that garden of South Florida, 

 Orange county, where every station is an orange grove, and 

 every grove an Eden, if we may believe all the owners and 

 real estate agents tell us. Of course we beheve the latter; 

 every one does that and we want to be in the fashion. 

 Through Orlando, the county seat and the home of innumer- 

 able land agents, who are never tired of telling us of "big 

 booms" and "tremendous bargains," till we dream of sudden 

 riches in connection with every forty acres, without the 

 mule; through Kissimee, where the big Disston Company 

 have succeeded in building a town and reclaiming the waste 

 places. Here we see the evidences of activity and enterprise. 

 The ship yard and the steamers and the big dredges that 

 have opened new channels and drained off the surplus waters 

 of the big lake with the incomprehensible name. Away we 

 speed and now we are crossing the backbone of Florida. In 

 1881 Captains Williamson and LeBaron, of the U. S. Engi- 

 neers, surveyed a line for a canal from Lake Tohapelaliga 

 to Charlotte Harbor via Pease Creek, through this country, 

 and reported that for forty miles they found neither a house 

 nor white man, and saw only a few straggling Indians and 

 one Indian village, situated on Lake Pierce. Now there are 

 over two dozen towns and a few cities scattered round loose, 

 in all of which there are "big bargains" in corner lots and 

 bonanzas in prospective orange groves. And at last we are 

 at Tampa. 



Jules Verne has rendered Tampa immortal by starting 

 from here his heroes on their "Voyage to the Moon," which 

 proves that Tampa is nearer the celestial regions than wicked 

 scoffers would have you believe. They will show you the 

 identical hill where his big projectile was shot off, if you find 

 the right man for a guide. He had gone fishing when we 

 were there, so we didn't see it. At present there are steamers 

 here for Key West, Cedar Keys, New Orleans and all along 

 the coast. The Gulf Steamship Company own and run the 

 steamer Gov. Safford from Tampa to Palma Sola and all 

 points on the Manatee River, and thence to Cedar Keys, con- 

 necting with the Florida Railroad and Navigation Company 

 at that point for Jacksonville, Fernandina and Tallahassee. 

 The Manatee runs to Punta Rassa and Fort Wyers, and con- 

 nects at Punta Rassa with steamers for Key West. The Alice 

 Washburn and Cumberland run from New Orleans to Key 

 West,touching regularly at Mobile,Pen8acola, Cedar Keys and 

 Tampa, connecting them with the steamer Cochran for 

 Havanna. The Gov. Safford is a fine large steamer; the Mana- 

 tee is a trim little iron hull, side wheel boat, and makes regular 

 trips. The Gulf of Mexico is generally calm and placid, and 

 the trip on either of these boats is delightful. Then there is the 

 little steamer Erie, which looks like an animated dry goods 

 box, and which will take you to Palma Sola and all points 

 on Manatee River, if you have plenty of patience and a fair 

 wind. 



The site of Tampa was first discovered by Narvaez, in 1526. 

 It was rediscovered by H. B. Plant, in 1884, the prince of 

 Florida railroads, who built the South Florida Railroad here 

 from Kissimme, and it has been on a boom ever since. We 

 found little knots of men on the corners of the streets with 

 sticks drawing diagrams of their lots and "additions," and 

 explaining the value of their property to attentive listeners, 

 and the sound of the hammer and saw is heard on every 

 hand. The tourist soon finds he is in a land of the tropics. 

 He sees in the gardens the mango and alligator-pear trees 

 covered with fruit, and finds in the stores and on the street 

 corners swarthy-faced Cubans speaking the Spanish language, 

 and offering for sale these fruits with sappodillos and green 

 cocoanuts from Havana and the keys. 



The Colonel and the Professor are anxious to be off 

 down the coast, the former to try his new breechloader on 

 the game that abounds on the keys and the latter to add to 

 his cabinet of shels and specimens of natural history; so 

 we board the steamer Manatee and are soon rapidly steam- 

 ing down the beautiful Tampa Bay, which looks like an in- 

 land sea. We round the point at the entrance 'to Manatee 

 River and steam up to Palma Sola, situated on the south 

 side of the river, which is here i% of a mile wide. 



Palma Sola, "the youngest and largest town in Florida,' 

 is a neat-looking little collection of white cottages, with a 

 big hotel, on a high point of land overlooking the river and 

 bay. The hotel and town also belong to Mr. W. S. Warner, 

 who keeps a fine store on the wharf where camping parties 

 can be supplied with all requisites of cruising or campmg. 

 We have made up our minds to stop here and charter a sail- 

 boat for a trip to Charlotte Harbor, inside the keys. We 

 found at Palma Sola a number of large sailboats fitted up 

 for cruising, and soon chartered the schooner Belle at a 

 moderate price, with crew, and proceeded to lay in a stock 

 of groceries and canned goods for the trip. 



The jimi morning we go aboard and set sail go w» tee 



