B06 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



rjra/r 23, 1886. 



JP* Sportsman ^onri^t 



Address all communications to the Forest and Stream Publish- 

 ing Co. 



TWO MONTHS AMONG THE CREES.-II. 



A PR1L wag now nearly half gone and the fur season was 

 Jr\- (Jrawing to a close," so I decided on letting Pierre re- 

 turn to headquarters while I remained to close up the spring's 

 trade. 



_ A day or two after his departure T noticed there was con- 

 siderable excitement in the Indian camps, and going over 

 found them husily engaged in constructing a large oval in- 

 closure of poles and pine brush, while at one end was a 

 raised platform. I learned that a large party of heathen 

 Saulteaux were to pay them a visit the next day to join in 

 their usual conjuring and medicine practices, which are held 

 yearly. Never having seen anything of the kind, I was 

 quite pleased when my Indian grandfather asked me to 

 attend the feast which was to open the ceremonies. 



The next evening at about 7 an Indian boy was sent over 

 for > me, and goiug over I found the long tent filled with 

 Indians, men, squaws and children, women on one side and 

 men on the other, while on the raised dais at the north eud 

 was laid out the feast, beavers and geese roasted whole, quan- 

 tities of moose and bear meat, ducks, small game and blad- 

 ders full of bear and moose fat. Taking a seat by my grand- 

 father cross-legged on the ground like the rest, I waited 

 events. 



After a prolonged silence two old medicine men, naked to 

 the breech clout and painted in fanciful designs, stepped 

 into the center of the tent, each holding a long stemmed 

 stone pipe, aud proceeded to give the four winds a smoke by 

 holding the mouthpiece to the four points, commencing with 

 the north; then the pipes were passed round and all hands, 

 myself included, took a puff or two. Another Indian now 

 stepped forwared with a bag of goosedown and small feathers, 

 and went around the tent putting a handful on each person's 

 head. This was supposed to bring good luck in hunting 

 wildfowl. The feast proper now began with a large bark dish 

 filled with a rather suspicious looking compound; this was 

 passed round, each person taking a spoonful or two. On 

 my turn coming I made a feint of tasting it, and luckily so, 

 as I learned afterward it was raw bear's grease and blood 

 beaten up together. Half a beaver and half a goose were now 

 put before me, and an equal quantity before all the men 

 present, I should say about twenty-six pounds of meat. It 

 is considered a point of honor at an Indian feast to leave 

 nothing unfinished. Kuowing this, from time to time I 

 quietly placed a portion of meat on the Indians' plates next 

 me, they readily consuming it together with their own share. 

 The tom-toms were now being beaten by some old bucks at 

 the end of the tent with the monotonous Hi-Ta- Ta song, and 

 about midnight dancing commenced, men and women nearly 

 naked stepping after one another around the ring, with a 

 jerky sort of step, As the music (so-called) played faster 

 they quickened their paces and exerted themselves so 

 violently that in one instance a woman fainted. Toward 

 morning, tired by the noise, I quietly left and slept long into 

 the next day. 



I had long been meditating over an expedition to the top 

 of the mountain, partly for the view and partly for a little 

 prospecting, as I had seen a small piece of quartz among the 

 Indians some time before, in which gold could plainly be 

 seen. Their story was that, on crossing the mountain 'one 

 spring, and while in a rocky pass, one of their number struck 

 a projecting rock with the back of his tomahawk and broke 

 off a portion, a piece of which 1 saw. Accordingly, one 

 morning early I started, taking my blanket and gun, expect- 

 ing to reach the summit easily by noon; but alas for inex- 

 perience in mountain climbing, noon came and the top 

 seemed as far off as ever, while the walking was something 

 dreadful, being chiefly muskeg (that is, springy moss, with 

 water under it), through which I would sink at times to the 

 waist. Finally it became so bad that I gave up the attempt 

 and turned homeward. The distance, however, was too 

 great to reach camp; so, shooting a partridge for supper, I 

 busied myself in making things snug for the night. Cutting a 

 quantity of pine brush, I made a lean-to of poles, placing the 

 brush at the back and on the ground, and made a good fire 

 in front, the nights being still frosty. After ponasking (roast- 

 ing) my partridge, I placed my capot for a pillow and 

 wrapped my blanket round me, lighted my pipe, and lay with 

 feet stretched to the fire. Drowsiness soon came on, and the 

 next thing I knew was waking with a chilly sensation to 

 find daylight already in the sky. I soon reached camp all 

 safe and sound. 



As the Indians were about done hunting fur, 1 decided on 

 starting home, so went off next morning to hurry up an old 

 Indian who was making canoes for us, he had already fin- 

 ished a large one, which Pierre bad taken home loaded with 

 fur. But the other, which was for my private use, was very 

 small. Wishing my Indian friends adieu with, I must say, 

 a feeling of regret, as their kindness had been great to the 

 stranger among them, I pushed my canoe from the bank, 

 and the current being strong was soon well on my way down 

 the river. 



It was a year of high water, and at such times it is diffi- 

 cult to know where the banks of the stream are, as the whole 

 lower country with the exception of a few knolls is under 

 water. It was with some trouble I found a spot dry enough 

 to boil my tea kettle at noon, and after that no more land 

 was to be seen. As I paddled steadily onward, shooting an 

 occasional goose or duck, evening came on and there was no 

 sign of a dry spot. My legs were much cramped, as my 

 little craft was loaded to her utmost capacity with camp 

 truck and the balance of furs, and it left but a small 

 space to kneel in. As it was now quite dark, I 

 made for some trees along the submerged bank 

 and feeling for the bottom with my paddle found the water 

 was about five feet deep. It is at best a ticklish matter to 

 get out of a small canoe and so I found it. Letting myself 

 over the side as gently as possible I could feel bottom under 

 my feet, so I let the canoe go and stood upright; but alas! 

 I happened to be close to the edge and a piece of the bank 

 giving away, down I went, swallowing water and mud at a 

 great rate. But regaining my presence of mind I soon rose 

 to the surface to see my^canoe half way across the stream. 

 It was with difficulty that I reached it by swimming, the 

 water being still cold and a slight breeze sending^ the light 

 bark onward. Landing lower down I secured it to a tree 

 and wading about with/my small axe, felled enough trees to 

 make a rude stage and collecting some dry wood succeeded 

 in making a fire at one end. A good cup of tea and a pipe 

 soon improved matters, and stretching myself on the logs I 



dozed off to sleep, waking with a great start about 2 P. M. 

 Imagining a gun had gone off close to me, quite forgetting 

 my situation, I swung my legs over the stage to find them 

 knee-deep in water. It seems an old beaver "had been swim- 

 ing about close to my camp and smelling me struck the 

 water with his tail in diving, making a great racket. 



I started off at sunrise and paddled all day, not finding 

 another dry spot. Glad was I to see the broad Saskatchewan 

 into which the stream I came down emptied about a mile 

 from the trading post, which I soon reached, the current 

 being very swift. 



My chief was pleased to see me back, especially as I had 

 made a good and profitable spring trade, which is the ne 

 plus ultra to a fur trader, and we were soon deep in sorting 

 and packing our winter's collection, '80,000 muskrats being 

 one of the items, with a large quantity of fine fur. Rex. 



THE MUSKOKA COUNTRY. 



SECOND PAPER. 



AT Muskoka wharf on our way northward, we come to 

 the foot of the Muskoka Lake, and beyond, its asso- 

 ciates, lakes Rosseau and Joseph. Here the daily steamers 

 of the Muskoka and Nipissing Navigation meet the traius 

 and convey their passengers to Bracebridge, Rosseau, Port 

 Cockburn, Bala and intermediate ports. The scenery upon 

 the three principal lakes already mentioned has already been 

 spoken of in the warmest terms in previous letters. But it 

 seems to lose nothing with age and to grow even more pleas- 

 ing with further acquaintance. Tne scenery is said to re- 

 semble that of the Thousand Islands, and the constant, yet 

 varying combinations of the numerous groups make the re- 

 semblance quite striking. 



Before we get away from Muskoka wharf, I should like to 

 mention the moose calf we found there awaiting shipment to 

 Toronto. I have never seen an adult moose, but this 

 creature is evidently the promise of something more gigantic 

 than yet d reamed of in my philosophy. It seemed to take 

 captivity kindly, and munched its green browse as uncon- 

 cernedly as though in its native forest. What a grand plan 

 it would be for somebody with spare money to buy a tract of 

 forest and make a moose preserve that might preserve these 

 noble animals a few years longer! 



At Rosseau the steamer usually arrives about eight o'clock 

 in the evening and remains over night. Here, after disposing 

 of our traps, we made a tour of investigation in the village, 

 and arranged to buy such camp supplies as we should take 

 with us into our fishing station. Rosseau is the largest of all 

 the ports on the Muskoka chain of lakes, excepting only 

 Bracebridge, and like the latter, is headquarters for fitting 

 out the lumber camps that lie deeper in the wilderness. 

 Unfortunately it has now but one hotel, the Pratt House, 

 which stood on a bold bluff overlooking the lake and was 

 burned some time ago, never having been rebuilt. After 

 supper we strolled up"to the deserted site, aud found in its 

 few remaining blackened timbers a melancholy contrast to 

 the brightness" and activity of two years before. 



In buying our supplies we stood by the substantials, and 

 laid a foundation of coffee, bacon, flour and sugar, etc., 

 which would safely support the most elaborate structure 

 probable (if not possible) for a fisherman's table. One article, 

 however, that is usually regarded as indispensable in a sports- 

 man's outfit, was entirely omitted. We bought no whisky. 

 While I am a temperance man, but not a teetotaller, my 

 views have undergone some modification on what is really 

 desirable in such cases. When we first began to go into 

 camp ten years ago, some of us who rarely saw whisky from 

 year's end to year's end, felt it incumbent upon us, under 

 existing traditions, to take along a liberal supply of alcoholic 

 stimulants for the guides. The latter seemed to accept the 

 arrangement as a matter of course, and while nearly all of 

 them drank it, few seemed to care for it especially, and some 

 who did not say so evidentally preferred to be without it 

 (or at least in quantities only meaut for emergencies), and 

 we find that we get fully as good service with the first case of 

 dissatisfaction in consequence yet to be reported. 



And this brings up still another point in this same connec- 

 tion, and I advance it with some fear lest I may be misap- 

 prehended. Frequently in trips into desirable fishing 

 grounds, one comes upon the trail of men of ample means 

 who go into hunting and fishing camps mainly with the 

 idea of having "a little time," and who treat the legitimate 

 spoil of the rod or gun as a matter of secondary moment. 

 Such men do not a little to demoralize good guides, because 

 they are prone to pay them extravagantly on the one hand, 

 or to accept careless and imperfect service on the other. 

 The consoling part of it, however, is that none learn better 

 to distinguish than the guides themselves the difference be- 

 tween real sportsmen and "make-believers." I know what 

 would be urged in reply to what has been said — that the 

 guide's service is unusual in character, and that he has it in 

 his power to extend favors outside the strict line of actual 

 requirement. But for all that I do not want the man who 

 goes into the woods or upon the streams merely for the pur- 

 pose of spending money to build up a series of extravagant 

 precedents which shall fence me out ultimately because of 

 the limited extent of my purse. So much for a sermon, now 

 for the remainder of my journey. 



Our trip, by the way, contemplated two separate expedi- 

 tions—the one through Rosseau to the maskallonge waters 

 previously visited, the other through Bracebridge into cer- 

 tain trouting waters beyond Trading Lake. It is worthy of 

 note that, while the Muskoka lakes and the waters to the 

 westward abound in black bass, the brook trout is compara- 

 tively scarce ; and yet to the eastward, where the trout are 

 found in the greatest plenty, the black bass is unknown. A 

 plausible explanation of this state of things may be that the 

 black bass, like the maskallonge, appear to have originally 

 come up from Georgian Bay, and hence they are found only 

 in waters that haVe near or remote connections with it. 

 Trading Lake, Hollow Lake, and their tributaries, are, it is 

 said, entirely without black bass, although the latter are well 

 stocked with trout. Of what we found in the way of Salnw 

 fontinalis I shall speak again. 



Seven o'clock the next morning found us safely stowed 

 away, with all our impedimenta, in the Parry's Sound stage, 

 an open vehicle, such as is known in the States as an express 

 wagon. All the roads in this region are hilly, but none of 

 these stages are supplied with brakes, a deficiency that seems 

 a very serious one to a Yankee who first sees the heavily- 

 loaded vehicle chase the horses down a long and steep decliv- 

 ity, wuth an even chance between the two. But the solicitude 

 exercised "by the Government for Her Majesty's mails is fre- 

 quently the means of furnishing prompt and inexpensive 

 transportation to the sportsman tourist, and these vehicles 

 carry him out of the beaten tracks of the great body of 



pleasure-seekers, who are content to keep in sight of the 

 hotels and summer boarding places located along the princi- 

 pal lines of travel. 



Some eight miles east of Parry's Sound (one of the semi- 

 artic regions of our juvenile geography) we left the stage 

 road for the trail that guided us to our lake. Here we met 

 by arrangement the teamster that was to carry us over the 

 five mile portage intervening, and our traps were soon loaded 

 on a two horse jumper. Possibly this may not be familiar 

 to all the readers of the Forest and Stream and it may 

 not be amiss to say that it is to navigation in the forest what 

 the birch bark canoe is to the inland lake and river. Imagine 

 a low, broad sled with a skeleton frame, the runners made 

 of split saplings sprung into shape, and a few light boards 

 laid over the top. Upon these your rods and other baggage 

 are lashed and otherwise secured by such devices as you caL 

 command, and the whole glides, jumps and slips through 

 the woods over logs and across rocks and other obstacles 

 where wheels would be utterly useless. The jivnpev is a 

 sort of land canoe, and it is an almost indispensible vehicle 

 in all long distance portaging in the wilderness. At the end 

 of our portage we find the boats of our guide awaiting us, 

 and we renew, with a pleasing undercurrent cf anticipation, 

 the acquaintance of two years before. 



Our first afternorn on the lake was devoted toa^SKj^jO'l'ip**- 

 exploring expedition, in which we cruised over the so"ai/&e 

 portion in waters to which we were comparative strangers 

 Again we drank in the wild beauty and unsmirched loveli 

 ness of shore and ssland, sighing regretfully to think that 

 one day only too soon there would come great unsightly 

 blotches of bare brown earth, and the glory of the virgin 

 wilderness would depart forever. But the Muskoka country 

 promises to be a joy and a delight for many a year to come, 

 even though it may not retain all its pristine beauty, and 

 perhaps it is not b^st to borrow trouble about the future. 



If the topography of the forest is confusing to the novice 

 in woodcraft, the intricacies of our lake are no less bewilder- 

 ing. The shores curve in and out in many an irregular 

 sweep, and here and there approach each other so closely as 

 to leave only a narrow inlet through which the little boat 

 glides smoothly into a broad bay beyond. Frequently at the 

 very mouth of the inlet an island is planted, at a little dis- 

 tance its foliage blending with the main shore and disclosing 

 no passage. Once fairly within the labyrinth, its openings 

 closed behind him as he advances, a stranger might wander 

 for hours among the tortuous waterways and count himself 

 fortunate if he Found his way out unaided. But we soon got 

 our landmarks, and learned that some of the most narrow 

 and uninviting passages led to some of the most inviting and 

 fruitful fishing grounds beyond. 



It was at one of these narrows that I fastened to my first 

 maskallonge of this trip, and enjoyed a renewal of my expe- 

 rience of the year before. The little boat, with Josh at the 

 oars, myself the only other occupant, swung slowly around 

 the point and into the wider water beyond, and suddenly the 

 spoon stopped short as though it had fastened on a rock or 

 struck a sunken log at the bottom. The line spun from the 

 reel at a lively rate till the boat's headway could be checked. 

 (Something always has to give at such times, and my expe- 

 rience is that it is better the reel than either the rod or the 

 line.) "Hold on, Josh; we're on the bottom." But sud- 

 denly the "bottom" began to give, the spoon was shaken as 

 a terrier shakes a rat, the line swung out toward deep water, 

 and then I knew we (that is, Josh and I) were fast to a 

 maskallonge. It was an instinctive movement to transfer 

 part of the strain from the line to the rod, as it was to head 

 the boat the way the fish was going, and we were ready for 

 further proceedings. 



At one end of fifty yards of line, the other curved over a 

 ten-ounce rod, and the fifty yards duplicated around a good 

 multiplier, a twelve-pound maskallonge is "a charming 

 sight to see." And we saw this one at least three times as 

 he came full length out of the water and made furious 

 attempts to disengage the spoon. The situation was an in- 

 teresting one, but it didn't make me half so nervous as it 

 would if the experience had been entirely a new one. But 

 there was enough uncertainty about the final result to keep 

 one up to an enjoyable tension, and when the fight ended, as 

 it did in our favor, and the great fresh-water tiger lay in the 

 bottom of the boat, there was a sigh that was half pleasure 

 and half regret that it was over. 



But the black bass and yellow pickerel abound in our 

 lake, and when we wanted milder and less exciting sport, 

 we could find either in abundance and on short notice. It 

 is worthy of mention that when our guide selected fish to 

 cook for dinner his choice always fell on the pickerel. 



Jay Bebe, 



Toledo, O., July 10. 



DEATH OF "NED BUNTLINE." 



EDWARD Z. C. JUDSON, widely known to the readers 

 of fiction as "Ned Buntline," died at his home in 

 Stamford, N. Y., last Friday, aged 64 years. His death 

 closed a remarkable career. Judson's father was a Philadel- 

 phia lawyer, who insisted upon putting Ned through a 

 course of 'Latin and Blackstone at an early age. The boy 

 rebelled, and one day after a severe flogging ran away to sea 

 as cabin boy to a ship that sailed round the Horn. The em- 

 bryo celebrity was then but eleven years old. The next year 

 he entered the Government service as an apprentice on board 

 a man-o'-war. A year later, when thirteen years old, Presi- 

 dent Van Buren sent him a commission as midshipman for 

 meritorious conduct in rescuing the crew of a boat run down 

 by a Fulton ferryboat on East River. Young Judson was 

 assigned to the Levaut. Other midshipmen refused to mess 

 with him because he had been a common sailor before 

 the mast, and while on the way to join the Gu! 

 Squadron he challenged thirteen of them to fight 

 Some withdrew their refusal and associated with him, 

 but he fought seven of them, one after another, in Florida, 

 New Orleans and Havana, escaping without a scratch 

 himself, but marking four of his antagonists for life. Per- 

 haps one circumstance that reduced the number of midship- 

 men that he had to fight was a little exhibition on the way 

 down. The captain, who made a kind of pet of the boy, 

 hung a bottle out on the yardarm, and Judson, at the word 

 of command, broke the bottle with one bullet and cut off 

 the string above it with another. That was the first intima- 

 tion given that he was one of the half dozen best shots in 

 the United States. He fought in four wars— the Seminole, 

 Sioux. Mexican and civil— and carried on his body the marks 

 of many wounds. He had in his right knee a bullet received 

 in Virginia, and had twelve other wounds inflicted by sword, 

 shell and gun, seven of which were got in battle. The title 

 of Colonel came to him as Chief of Scouts in the rebellion of 

 1861-65. 



