FOREST AND STREAM. 



88 



[The gobwich mentioned in the fovegoing is described 

 in an earher j»art of the manuscript, and I insert the de- 

 scription here. — F. B.] 



The gobwich is a. most wonderful plant, and is used by 

 the natives for all manner of pui-poses. It produces a pod 

 somewhat like tliat of the cotton plant, ljut the fibers are 

 long and silky. Laving the singular property whenpluclced 

 green and exposed to' the sun of adhering together; so that 

 when once set no heat nor moisture can sixbsequently sep- 

 arate them. In this respect they have some of the prop- 

 erties of albumen. Out of this material the natives mak-e 

 rope, twine and all their textile fabrics. Tlioir process 

 for manufacturing the latter is very simple and ^ ery ex- 

 peditious. They prepare a smooth, flat tloor of clay 

 exposed to the sun, on which, when baked qmte hard and 

 dry, they lay the fibers of tlie gobwich in more or lesr 



Fig. 6. 



parallel lines. They first lay down the fiber by liand, 

 placing a heavy, square log on one end and rake 

 out the filaments witli a fine wooden rake. Then they 

 reverse the process, placing tlie log on the other end and 

 raking the other way. When they have gotten one sec- 

 tion pretty regailar by tWs process, tliey add more fiber 

 to it, end to eiid. This you may call the warp. The woof 

 is made in the same manner, only on a flat board, which is 

 then turned suddenly over at right angles across the woof 

 and pressed fii-mly down. This has the effect of expressing 



Fia. 7. 



some juice from the gi'een fibers welding them all together 

 thus making a most soft and flexible fabric. Some- 

 times they will cross and recross the fibers three or four 

 times to produce a stronger and tlucker material. The an- 

 nexed diagrams will give an idea of the appearance of 

 these fabrics imder a rnicroscope. 



SAM LOVEL'S CAMPS.-III. 



'"T^HE quiet water shone hke a broad floor of silver in 

 X the early light, when the canoes left the landing 

 next morning and began to crinkle tlie reflections of 

 banks and trees and reddening sky. The few new-comer 

 robins sang their loud clieer njj, here and there a black- 

 bird called s/i oo-gZee from the shores, and the loud nasal 

 guank! quanJc! qiiank! of the dusky duck resounded from 

 distant swampy coves, as Sam took his course up stream 

 where the fewer traps were set, while Antoine coasted 

 downsti-eam along the flat cape that lies between the 

 Slang and Little Otter. 



Each made frequent stops to examine the traps, some 

 of which were undisturbed: but the greater number were 

 off the places they had been set on, and out of sight 

 under water. Such, when fished up with the trap hook, 

 brought with them a drowned muskrat, his soft fur 

 plastered to his body by long soaking, and his scaly tail" 

 curved like a cimeter; or a foot, the ransom a captive 

 had paid for his freedom; or, as valuable as this to- the 

 trapper but not so satisfying to his pride of skill, the 

 sprung trap's jaws full of sodden w^eeds. In one Sam 

 found a Avood duck, his bright eyes wild with pain and 

 fright. He eased the jaws carefuUy from the leg, which 

 was not broken, and after admu-mg his beautiful prison- 

 er's gay spring attire, while j)erhaps there was a little 

 debate between a soft heart and a pork-surfeited stomach, 

 he said, "Wal, 111 be darned if you aint the harnsomest 

 creetur 'at ever I see — too harnsome to kill in col' blood! 

 Good-bye, an' keep off 'm all lawgs this time o' year," and 

 tossed the bird gently aloft. As it went whisthng and 

 squeaking out of sight between tree trunks and branches 

 with twiats as dexterous as- a woodcock's among the 

 alders, Sam said after a long breath, "Wal, Sam Lovel, 

 like 's not you're a dummed ol' chickin-heaiiied fool! I 

 shouldn't wonder." 



Once in the still, sunny forenoon he stopped a moment 

 to Hsten to a voice that came from far across the water, 

 shouting something that was meant for the song of ' 'Old 

 Bang Cole." "Hmnph!'" he grunted as he sent his boat 

 forward again, "As Joel Bartlett's Irislunan said when he 

 heard the ol' man tryin' to sing when he thought the' 

 wa'n't nobody in hearin', 'If that bees singin', cry in' bees 

 mournful!"' Then clear and tuneful the long-drawn 

 cadences of an old Canadian song came echoing along 

 the woody shores. "That's Antwine," Sam remarked. 

 "Suthin' like singin', only it's the tune the 'ol' caow died 

 on.' 'F he only hed some words, 'n' hed 'em sot to a white 

 folkses' tune, Antwine c'ld sing." The song stopped as 

 suddenly as if the singer had heard this dispai'aging criti- 

 cism. 



A little after noon he had made the rounds of his traps 

 and was back at camp, where shortly afterward the Can- 

 adian appeared with a cloud of gloom shadowing his usu- 

 ally cheerful face, the more unaccountable that a goodly 

 pile of muskrats lay in the bow of his canoe. After din- 

 ner, as they were skinning their catch, Antoine unbur- 

 dened himself, breaking out suddenly after a long silence, 

 "Bah gosh, seh, Ah'll see dat mans to-day what corae 

 mak it sass on de ice dat tarn, you rembler. Bah gosh! 

 he'll bruse me all up, wus Ah never was 'fore, seh!" 



"Bruised ye, Antwine? Why, I don't see no marks on 

 yer face. Did he kick ye, er what?" 



"Oh, no-na-no, no! He ant tawch me. He 'fraid for 

 know better 'n dat. He bruse me wid his maouths; he 

 call me more as forty Canuck! Tief ! Peasoup! Evree- 

 ting he mos' can't tink of it! He bruse you, too; call it you 

 'Orvaa Chaw.' He tol' me, 'Haow much gum tek it for 

 keep dat long cliap 'live all day?' He askit me we settHn' 

 •<faj) where he b'long to it. We tief! Oh, bah gosh I Aii 



can' tol' aU of it. If it ant for one ting, Ah come pooty 

 near leek him, Ah b'lieve so, seh!" 



"What was't saved the poor creetur's hide, Antwine?" 

 Sam asked, a,s he tossed the last disrobed muskrat on to 

 tlie gory heap of carcasses. 



"Wal seh, Ah tol' you," Antoine replied, waving his 

 loloody knife impressively, "Ah'll be so mad Ah'll 'fraid 

 'f Ah'll beegin Ah ant never stop 'fore Ah'll keel lieem 

 all dead! Den Ah be hang, jus" for httly ting lak dat! 

 Den who goin' tek' care of it Ursule an' all dat chillens, 

 hein! No, seh; Ah ant goin' dirty dat nasky Bastonien* 

 wid rna finger. You wan' hear' it talk, sing, too, bah 

 gosh, dat mek you lafl't at it; can' sing more as pigs- 

 yon go dat way to-morreh. Ah go todder way — Oh, Sam, 

 too!" he cried,' suddenly remembering an impoi*tant bit 

 of news, "Peekrils beegin play! Ah'll see tree, fom* of it! 

 If he be good day to-morreh, we have it some fun shoot 

 it, an' more of it heat it. You'll see any ? 



"Wal," said Sam, considering, "I did see wakes of two 

 tlu-ee fish a skivin' away f 'm the shore, but I do' know 

 what they was." 



"Dat peekrils, Ah bet you head!" and he diacom-sed at 

 length on the sport of pickerel shooting, while they 

 stretched the skins of the twenty-five or more rats thek 

 traps had yielded and hung them to dry on poles. As they 

 lounged about the camp waiting for the evening shoot- 

 ing, they heard a loud call on the opposite shore a little 

 above a cove where two brooks contributed their waters 

 to the Slang, and the long drami-out call, "Sa— am— will! 

 An — ^twine!" was presently followed by the dolorous howl 

 of a dog. "If that haint ol' Drive's hoot, I never heard 

 it," cried Sam, his heart beats quickening at the old 

 familiar voice, "an' I'll bate that 'ere 's Peltier a holler- 

 in'!" and running down to the landing he stooped and 

 pulled the bushes aside, and peering ojat saw the unmis- 

 takable, lank, clothes-out-growing form of Ids yotmg 

 neighbor, and sitting close beside him on the clayey bank 

 Drive, with uplifted muzzle and ears drooping to his 

 elbows, while his sonorous voice awakened lowland echoes 

 that it had never stiiTed till now. 



"All right, Peltier!" Sam answered, "I'll be over arter 

 ye torights," and called back to Antoine as he set the dug- 

 out afloat, "I'U take your canew, it's stiddier 'n mme," 

 and in five minutes tlie craft ran its nose up among the 

 floating rushes at Pelatiah"s feet. 



"I swan! I never thought o' seein' you here yit awhile, 

 but I'm almighty glad to," said Sam heai-tily as he stepped 

 ashore and grasped the hand that was stretched out to him 

 a half foot beyond the shrinking coat sleeve. "An' you 

 too, you blessed ol' cuss," as he bent down and patted the 

 jubilant hoimd's hooped sides with resouncung slaps, and 

 pulled his long silken ears, while he looked into the face 

 whose fiuTowed, sorrowful fines were lighted with an. im- 

 wonted stmshine of joy. "What on akth bioing you here? 

 Can't you git along 'thaout me, ye dummed of critter, 

 hey? Come Peltier," cutting short the hormd's caresses, 

 "git right in wi' your duds, if you've fetched any, an' 

 we '11 go over to the pallis an' git supper 'fore the " roas' 

 beef an' turkey an' things gits cold. Git in here. Drive, 

 an' lay daown." And Pelatiah stumbled ui> the bank, 

 turning toward his friend a puzzled face as he went, and 

 returned with a great half-filled carpet bag of once gorge- 

 ous but now faded colors, wluoh he handed to Sam, and 

 then made another trip, bringing down this time the famous 

 old Ore Bed. Sam's eyes shone with delight when he saw 

 the ponderous piece, it's long octagonal barrel cased to the 

 muzzle m the "curly maple" stock, its trimmings, hooked 

 heel plate and patclibox of brass that glistened like gold 

 where hand or shoulder had brightened it with wear. 



"Just ezackly what I was a wislun' for yist'd'y," he 

 said as he laid the cherished weapon m the canoe, pillow- 

 ing it on the carpet bag. "How come ye to tlihik o' bring- 

 in' on 't? But there! I'll bate you never brung a buUit ner 

 moulds ner lead, 'n' 'taint no more use 'n a club." 



"Wall, naow, I did," Pelatiah drawled, combing out 

 his words through a broad grin, " 'n' the hull three on 

 'em 's in the v'Hse," 



"Good boy!" Sam said approvingly, "naow git right in 

 an' squa' down right there, an' set"^ still, for this 'ere ol' 

 holler lawg hain't quite so stiddy 's the scaow on the miU- 

 pond. " That ancient square-built vessel, as incapable of 

 capsizing as of speed, was the only craft Pelatiah had 

 ever boarded till now, and he took his allotted place in 

 the canoe with no little trepidation, the obedient hoimd 

 crouching trembling and whimpering behind him. Grasp- 

 ing either gmiwale with a firm grip he pulled lustily on 

 the one which di^Sped the lower to right the long narrow 

 boat as she backed careening from the shore. "Le' go 

 the sides an' set stUl," said Sam sharply, as he headed her 

 for the shanty, "erless ye wanter spdl the hull caboodle 

 on us int' the di'ink!" And Pelatiah minded, not even 

 speaking, and scarcely breathing till he felt the land rnider 

 foot again. Then regarding the Slang and letting out his 

 pent-up breath with a great sigh of relief, "Whoofh!" I 

 swan to man, this is the goldarndest pawmd 't ever I see! 

 I be dummed to dumnation 'f 'taint wusseu crossin' the 

 "Tlantic Ocean!" Then turning toward the shanty he saw 

 the array of drying muski-at skins. "Gosh all fishhooks! 

 Where d.'ye git sech a snarl o' stockin's?"' 



"Dat coats, Peltiet," Antoine answered, now approach- 

 ing and greeting the visitors, "moosrat coats. We'll trow 

 'way all bees stockin. Haow you do pooty well, seh? 

 Bah gosh! Ah'll glad of it! Haow pooty well all de folkses 

 up Danvis was, hein? Ma waf he pooty well, too, an' all 

 de chillens? Bah gosh! Ali'll glad dat!" he ran on, while 

 Pelatiah nodded the answers that his slow speech was 

 allowed no time to give. "Wal, seh, Ah'll wan' see it 

 pooty bad me. Ah'll tink great many of ma waf an' 

 chillens." 



"Well ye may," said Sam, hauling up the canoe, "the's 

 a great many on 'em to think on. Haow many young uns 

 hev ye got, Antwine?" 



"Bah gosh, Sam, Ah dunno for sartin. Ah'll ant be 

 home for mos' fom- week 'go! You'll have askit Peltiet!" 



"I wan't there more'n half 'n haour, 'n' I didn't hev 

 time to count 'em, so I can't tell ye," said Pelatiah, fore- 

 stalling the question. 



"Wal, never mind naow, we'U take 'count o' stock some 

 other time. Le's ha' some supper 'n' then go a-shootin'. 

 I wanter be borin' holes in some o'-them mushrats' heads 

 with ol' Ore Bed. Antwine, cook some o' them mash 

 rabbits so 's 't Peltier c'n try 'em," Sam said, winking 

 hard and covertly at the Canadian. 



"Maash rrrabbeet?" he said with staring eyes. "Ooh! 



*NoTE— I have no idea how this word, Canuck for Yankee, is 

 spelled. The Abtenakis of St. Francis call a Yankee "Pastoniak." 

 ProbaWy both words mean a Bostonian. 



yas!" as he sloAvly comprehended, "Ah'U got some dat aU. 

 save up," and sli])ping behind the shanty he soon re- 

 appeai ed with three pairs of small, nicely dressed hind- 

 quarters of darlv-colored meat, 



Presently they were sizzling in the frying pan, and 

 then- sa vory odor was pleasant to Pelatiah's nostrils, as to 

 his ears were the bubbling ol: the ]jotato kettle swung on 

 its pole <5ver the fire and the simmer of tlie teapot on the 

 outskirts of the coals. Then when tlie re]:>ast was spread 

 on and about the slab that served, as far as it went, as a 

 table, and the three seated themselves on blocks around 

 it, Sam said as a sort of grace before meat. "The man 'at 

 finds fault wi' this meal o' victuals is like Uncle Lisher's 

 customer, too dum p'tic'lar. A feller," he explained, as 

 he helped himself to a potato and began to peel it with 

 his jackknife — for now that they could be kept in the 

 shanty ^vithout freezing they had potatoes — "A feller 

 come to Uncle Lisher onct for a jiair o' right an' left boots. 

 He wa'n't useter inalcin' nothin' but straight boots, an' 

 when the feller come to try 'em on, lo an' behol'! they was 

 both made for one foot! Tlie feller begin to objeck' some 

 to takin' 'on 'em, an' Uncle Lisher he hollered so 's 't you 

 c'ld a heard him half a mile, 'Good airth an' seas, man, 

 you're too dmn p'tic'lai'!" 



"Hounh!" Pelatiah snorted, "I haint a findin' no fa,ult 

 wi' your roas' beef an' turkey, by a jug full. Tliis 'ere 

 mash rabbit is complete eatin'. ' I never hearn tell on 'em 

 afore. It's darker meated and kinder juicier 'n whaot 

 aour rabbits be. Turn white in winter, du they?" 



"No," Sam said, soberly, while Antoine was choking 

 with suppressed laughter, and cur.sing "dat sacre bone 

 rabbit Ah'U swalla in ma troat." "No, they're difl'ent 

 f 'm aom- rabbits in c'nsid'able many ways. They're pus- 

 sier 'n' clumsier, an' some longer tailed n' shorter eared 'n' 

 what aourn be, 'n' they bant turrible wet jilaces so 's 't ye 

 can't hunt 'em wi' da^vgs, and to my notion they be better 

 eatin', as you say,'' and Sam began on another quarter. 

 "We'll show you haow we git 'em 'fore you go hum. An' 

 speakin' o' hum, what's the news? Everybody toll'able 

 well?" 



"The' wa'n't nobody sick as Pelatiah knowed on. 

 'Hial Hamner hed a caow die, though, best one 't he lied. 

 'N' ol' Gran'sir Hfil, he's kinder peaked this spring, though 

 not to say .sick. Braggin' wuss 'n ever 'baout what him 

 'n' Eth'n"^ Allen done to Ti. 'n' Grosser 'n a bear with a sore 

 head, M'ri Hill says." 



"All hands busy a sugarin', I s'pose? Putty middlin' 

 good sugar year, judgin' f'm the weather here, frosty 

 nights 'n' warm days for quite a spell naow." 



"Yes, sir, bed two tlu-ee o' the gol darndest nms 't ever 

 ye see. Couldn't scasely git away, hed to most ran away, 

 sap run so, but the' was father, 'n' Jethro, 'n' 'Niram 'n 

 'mongst 'em to tend to 't, 'n' so I come. Sugar an' surrup 

 — Gol! I mos' forgot!" and he scrambled over to his carpet 

 bag and unlocking it, drew forth from its dej)ths two 

 quai't bottles and a cylindrical package wrapped in a 

 newspaper. "Them's 'for you, Samwill," and diving 

 again into the recesses of the bag he came up with a 

 larger iiackage that diffused a garlicky odor as he tossed 

 it to Antoine, "Here's sutthin' your womern sent ye." 



"Onion!" Antoine shouted, tearing open the paper and 

 biting one of the hot little shallots as a boy would an 

 ai^ple. "Dey can' be no better in dis worl'." 



"Why," said Sam, uncorking one of the bottles, "this 

 'ere 's maple sweet!" and then as he unrolled the package 

 a dozen little scalloped cakes of sugar tumbled out on to 

 the slab. "Much obleeged to ye, Peltier, for rememb'rin 

 on us this way." 



"Hob! Ye need n't thank me for 't. Them 'ere 'lasses 

 an' sugar did n't come aouten no trees o' aourn. The fact 

 o' the business is, you're beholden to trees, an' things, 'at 

 growed on the Rir'n't'n place, Samwill,'' and ;;Pelatiah 

 leered and winked, wlule Sam's sunburned face grew 

 redder with blushes. 



"Wal, 'f we 've go done eatin' le's git ready 'n' go 

 shootin' muslxrat," he said, ,'I'm spilin' to pint the ol' Ore 

 Bed at 'em. Haow 'd ye come to bring it, Peltier? Did 

 n't hear me a wishin' for it, did ye?" 



"I wish to gracious I hedn't thought on't ner ondertook! 

 My arms 'n' shoulders aches wuss 'n rheumatiz a-luggin' 

 the pleggid ol' ton o' iron clearn f 'm Vgennes daown 

 here! But, ye see, I couldn't get no gun nowheres — tiied 

 to borrer more 'n twenty -five; but they was all agoin' to 

 use 'em, er they was aout o' kilter, er suthin' I Then your 

 folks said haow 't I might take the Ore Bed ; thought I 

 wouldn't, I s'pose. They didn't know what a dum fool I 

 was, 'n' I didn't nuther; but I do naow," and he rubbed 

 his bruised shoulders and perhaps wondered as he stroked 

 his aching arms if the weight of the gun had drawn them 

 a little further beyond the protection of tlie short coat 

 sleeves." 



"Wal, I'm sorry ye hed such a job a-gettin' it here," 

 Sam said, "but naow, Peltier, every mushrat I shoot with 

 it you shall hev, an' every one 't you shoot with my shot- 

 gun, tu. Come, le's be off!" 



So they went to the other side of the Slang w^here Pela- 

 tiah, armed with Sam's shotgun, was setashoreat alikely 

 place, the others stationing themselves in the canoes near 

 him. It was the young man's luck to have the first shot. 

 A muskrat broke the surface not far from him and swam 

 steadily past, while Pelatiah, with a thumping of the 

 heart that made his gim muzzle wobble, after a long aim 

 fired. When he craned his neck, expecting to see the 

 dead or struggling animal, there was only a boil of water 

 encompassed with widening rings of little waves. 



"You shot over him," said Sam in a low voice, "you 

 wanter sight an inch below the waterline, an' a leetle 

 speck ahead when they're swimmin' acrost ye." 



Just then the uninjured rat came up fif teai rods to his 

 right, swimming straight away. The ponderous barrel 

 was slowly raised and cracked out its sharp report at the 

 very instant the small mark was covered, and the musk- 

 rat floated dead, gently tossed on the wavelets of his own 

 wake. Sam soon had an opportrmity to practice his newly 

 acquired art. A rat struck out from a point above with 

 the evident intention of crossing to the west side, where 

 perhaps he had an appointment with some furry beauty 

 of his race. If so, he was a faithless fellow, for Sam had 

 hardly begun to sound the call before he turned and swam 

 toward the siren voice, tdl the Ore Bed spat out at him its 

 thin streak of fire, and he rolled over, feebly kicking his 

 last Avith a bullet in his silly little brain. 



"Tliere 's tew for ye, Peltier," Sam said, as he got his 

 gun on end and began to reload it. "Let 'em lay where 

 they be till we git tlu-ough; they're deader 'n hay." 



Antoine had a couple of successful shots and a miss 

 that set him to cursing his gun, powder and shot in txirn, 



