12 8 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[S^T. 9, 1886. 



AMrcss an cfynmunicatAons to tlie Forest and Stream Pub. Co. 



A TRIP TO MAD RIVER.-l. 



MAD RIVER, in Oswego county, N. Y., is really the 

 northern branch of Salmon River, a fishing ground 

 well loiown to many anglers in the northern part of New 

 York. It was about 9 A. M. when we reached the end of 

 our driA-e. Here we foiuid that tlie man who acted as 

 guide was absent. Will's fii'st words were: "WeU, Still- 

 aboT, we are in a fix now. The place we want to go to 

 is five miles or more from here and a good part of the 

 way directly through the woods; I have the points of the 

 compass if you think w^e coiild venture alone." Oh yes, 

 I could do anything just now, or thought I could. Had I 

 not come nearly four hundred miles to go there, and was 

 not every moment precious to me? Perhaps there are 

 not many men in tlie world that I would have said this to, 

 but I knew what Will was. He neither grumbled at liis 

 luck nor found fault with the weather, nor the walking, 

 nor the flies. Deliver me from any other company on a 

 fisliing excursion. 



I strapped my knapsack on my back. It was filled 

 with tins and boxes and cans and with a change of cloth- 

 ing should I get -wet. It is one of the old Seventh Regi- 

 ment kind, with a \A'ooden frame around its sides and it 

 is astonishing how much it can be made to accommodate 

 besides the rubber blanket and the old railway shawl. 

 The fishing basket was then slung over my shoulder. It 

 had the crock of butter and a piece of pork and my wading 

 shoes in it. And now with the two rods in my hand I was 

 ready for the tramp. Will carried his knapsack and 

 basket as well as I, only they were not quite so heavy as 

 mine as he was burdened with the short-handled frying- 

 pan to cook om- fish and the axe to blaze our way. It 

 was nearly 10 o'clock before we started and the Augaxst 

 day soon grew warm. The underbrush were not thick, 

 nor were there many Avindfalls to climb over or go round. 

 The ti'ees were chiefly beech, birch and rnaple with occa- 

 sionally a hemlock and a few spnices interspersed. I led 

 the way with the compass in my hand, (though I seldom 

 looked' at it) breaking twigs and branches as I passed 

 along, while WiU cut downi sajjlings or stopped occasion- 

 ally to make a blaze on some large ti-ee. We had crossed 

 two small ridges and two or tlu'ee tiny brooklets, when 

 there came to our ears the premonitory rumble of thunder. 

 It was coming nearer and nearer. ■ The rain would be on 

 us dh-ectly, so with all possible speed we hung the rubber 

 blankets over a low limb, stoAA^ed ourselves under it just 

 in the nick of time, and AAdien the shoAver bm-st upon us 

 managed to keep perfectly dry. The shower continued 

 for nearly an hour and then ceased almost as suddenly 

 as it had begun. The moment the cloud had passed, we 

 Avere in a, blaze of light. Such another sight I had never 

 seen. The sun Avas decHnuig toward the west, and as 

 the rays came in beneath the trees and through the open- 

 ings in the forest, every leaf and twig and feather of fern 

 glistened and glittered like silver. The drops that hung 

 at the ends of the leaves or fell from the branches shone 

 like diamonds and reflected the resplendent colors of the 

 rainboAv. AVe Avere in a forest of silver and green, an 

 enchanted and fairy land. 



But now came another experience, and that of a very 

 difilerent character. We had to hvu-ry on, for there were 

 two miles or more yet to be trudged, and that through 

 the dripi^ing underbrush Avhere eA-ery branch sent down 

 its shower. The knapsack was strapped on again, and I 

 put my head through the opening in the rubber blanket. 

 But oh hoAV wet the woods were! Om- legs were soaked 

 and soaked again, and om- feet slipped on all the old 

 branches and roots hidden in the moss. Before many 

 minutes I Avas wet almost to the waist, and the arm that 

 broke the twigs was soaked to the shoulder. But on ato 

 must go, and on Ave did go. And noAv to lay om- course 

 became more diflicult. As the sun declined toward the 

 west the compass had to be consulted quite frequently. 

 I could no longer keep the sun almost in front of me, nor 

 over my right Shoulder, and there was a tendency to bear 

 off too much toward the south. Indeed, had the sun 

 continued to shine, this tendency might have been dis- 

 astrous, but before we had gone very far it was overcast 

 again. Then the forest was somber and still. 



"We had seen but few birds on our Avay, Several par- 

 tridges had started up along the path, a thrush had 

 uttered his fall note of chick, some bluejays had called 

 pe-yea as we passed, and I would see the httle wood 

 laeAvee as I tried to look out from beneath the trees, flut- 

 tering at the ends of the limbs overhead or hear him call 

 in his plaintive notes. However, the real forest is usually 

 silent, except along the edge of the clearings or the bor- 

 ders of lakes and streams, and especially is this the case 

 in August, when all birds are fledged. 



But' I am getting tired and have been looking for the 

 stream for the past half horn*. I am continually saying to 

 myself, "on the other side of this knoll." And yet Avhen 

 we pass over it no river is there, sometimes not even so 

 much as a brook. Are we Avrong or is the compass Av-rong? 

 No, the compass is not wrong. I never kncAV one to be 

 wrong yet, and I advise every one who is making his way 

 in the Avoods to be guided by it. 



Our position w^as becoming serious. It was getting late 

 in the afternoon. Had Ave missed the stream? 



Wm is off at my left and I am making my way reljdng 

 upon the needle. I am Avarm and tired, and the lower 

 parts of my body seem to be sending up a cloud of steam 

 that condenses under my shoidders and falls back to be 

 heated again as though I were an evaporator and con- 

 denser all in one. I am not prepared though to laugh at 

 these things just now^. The prospect is too serious. We 

 may have to spend the night someAvhere in the forest and 

 find om- Avay back by the track that Ave came. I will go 

 on. There is pork in the basket and a loaf of bread on my 

 back. I am ia a hoUoAV and an opening in the Avoods 

 alloAvs rae to look some distance up the rise in front. 

 There are dead trees. Three of them, and they do not 

 appear to ha re been stnick by lightnmg either. May be 

 there has l:)cen a camp there, I say to myself. At least I 

 y,-ill eo and see. I do go. And there, sure enough, is the 

 place that we are looking for, and beloAv the bank I see 

 the sheen of the rushing water and hear its pleasant 

 splash. 



"Hello," I shout as loud as I can call to Will, scaring a 

 red squirrel that was near me and causing a pewee to re- 

 spond in his plaintive call Soon Will's voice is heard as 



he calls back, "Have you found it?" "Yes," I reply, and 

 then I hear him breaking the branches and chopping as 

 he comes to where I am. 



"Is this the place, Will?" I ask, as the poor fellow, look- 

 ing red and exhausted like myself, came up. 



"Yes, I think it is," he replies, "and lucky we are to 

 find it." 



"But there is no shanty here," I suggested, "and it is 

 going to rain before long." 



"No, there is no shanty here," said Will, "and that is 

 another disappointment. But I am sui-e this is the place. 

 See, the fellows that Avere here in Jrme must have bor- 

 rowed it." 



And sure enough this was most evident, though the 

 rains and a new growth had somewhat obliterated the 

 marks of their mischief. There Avere the brands of the 

 old poles and two j)ieces of bark that had been pulled off 

 the shanty. 



But now was no time to think of these things. ' 'We 

 must build another," said Will, in his resolute way. And 

 after we had eaten a piece of bread and butter, he picked 

 up the axe and we Avent to work. 



It Avas quite a job to build this shanty, as Will called it, 

 The bark did iiot peel well, and cA^erything had to be 

 done. But before the darkness set in we had a roof over 

 our heads and Avere prepared to make om-selves comfort- 

 able. While Will cut the firewood, I laid the boughs and 

 tAvigs for the bed and brushed up the sides of the camp. 

 We had no bark to spare for that purpose, and spruce 

 branches had to answer. 



At last Ave Avere through, though, and no rain had 

 fallen. The woods Avere still, and the silence would have 

 been ahnost oppressive had it not been for the noise of the 

 river. There was a peculiar gloom around us, and the 

 fragrance of the Avoods seemed to be closed in and pressed 

 doAvn, as though there Avas a weight above the trees con- 

 fining it to the surface. But, oh! how pleasant. A nice 

 fu-e burned in front of the shanty, with a piece of old 

 bark, Avell soaked by the shower, raised on two crotched 

 sticks far above it, so that in the event of rain, should it 

 come on in the night, our light would not be quenched. 



The bark table Avas laid upon the boughs and in half an 

 hour Ave were sitting and recUmbing by it. I need not 

 say that the pork and bread and tea and crackers all 

 tasted well, and we did ample justice to them all. Most 

 of the readers of Forest and Stream knoAv all abou.t 

 this, and I am sorry for those Avho do not. WiU had his 

 smoke as we listened to the owls and made om' plans 

 for the next day, while Ave joked about om- tribu- 

 lations in the AVOods and laughed as Ave thought of our 

 ups and doAvns. It Avas not long before I proposed that 

 both shotdd lie down. The rabber blankets were placed 

 rmder us while Will Avi-apped himself in his "comfortable" 

 a,nd I found a use for my railway shaAvl. Soon Will was 

 asleep. At least I judged he was. He was making a 

 noise something like the scolding notes of a house wren 

 and the sputtering song of a tree toad in the spring of 

 the year. But there Avas no sleep for me. I Avas too 

 timid or excited or something. It seems to me I thoiight 

 of everything and heard everything soimd, the fire and 

 its snapping, the rain as it came steadily down, the noise 

 of the riA^er as I Avondered how it looked. The jom-ney 

 through the Avoods was gone oA^er again, and then, just 

 as I was about to get a disturbed nap, a Avi-etched porcu- 

 pine — whose habitation I suppose AA^as somewhere in the 

 neighborhood— ran along the log at the back of the 

 shanty, scratching and shaking the boughs that Avere 

 under my head as he ran. And after an hour or more, 

 just as I was about to go off again, he repeated the oper- 

 ation by retin-ning in the same way. 



And so it went until some time after tAvelve, I suppose, 

 when I had a short nap, only to be awakened again by 

 the feeling of Avater dropping into my eye. The fact of 

 it was I Av^'as imdera leak, the bark dhectly over my head 

 having a knothole or crack in it, I got up, looked out 

 into the darkness, replenished the fire and then cast 

 myself on my blanket again. I was not rmcomfortable. 

 I Avas only wakeful. For a long time I listened to the 

 rain as it came steadily down and the running of the 

 river as it went laughing by, thinking witliin myself, Ave 

 shall have the best kind of fishing after such a quiet 

 storm. When I slept or for how long I could not teU, 

 but again I Avas awakened by feeUng something cold upon 

 my cheek. Whether I had turned over or a new drop 

 had found me I did not know. But I knew that the fii'e 

 was low and I thought I heard an owl hoot. I moved 

 again and lay for some time, Avhen I saw that the day 

 was daAvning and this time heard the owls hoot for sure. 



Will AA-as sleeping as quietly as an infant. His Avren 

 and the treetoad noise had long since ceased. Indeed it 

 ceased before he had been aslee]3 an hour, and only occa- 

 sionally would a deep draA\m breath escape hun. I make 

 up my 'mind that I Avill try the stream while Will is sleep- 

 ing, "l move quietly around the shanty, put on my fish- 

 ing clothes and get my traps together. 



For once in my Hfe, at least, I must say that I felt a 

 little timid. I was in the deep forest and about to explore 

 a stream where everything was wild and ucav to me. I 

 came down the bank,' climbed over a few logs, and found 

 myself standing by a stream about twenty feet Avide, that 

 seemed to be running as thottgh it wanted to get away 

 from itself. It AA^as a gloomy spot where I stood. The 

 hill or the high bank opposite me Avas some two Jiimdred 

 yards away. It was clothed Avith hemlocks and spruce. 

 Of com-se I could not see it plainly. To me it appeared 

 something like a dark cloud that shuts out the light of the 

 skv that is beyond it. I Avalk into the stream very care- 

 fully. There is no path along the side. I shoidd thmk 

 not. Nothing there but alder bushes, thick as they can 

 stand, interspersed Avith fallen trees and bog holes. Ugh! 

 The water is cold. Colder than that which has soaked me 

 to the Avaist. I am nearly up to my knees. Hah! There 

 is a bite. Here he comes; but I hope the next one aviU be 

 larger. You are a scant six inches, and although the law 

 does not protect you (there was no six-inch law at that 

 time), a felloA^-'s respect for himself ought to. And now 

 I am f eehng my way doAvn stream, forgetful of the gloom 

 and dampness." Avhile mv bait plays from side to side m 

 front of me. The Avater does not deepen, but the bottom 

 is rough and there is danger of stumbhng every moment. 

 More "fish— one, two, three, four— nearly as fast as I can 

 pull them out. none of them much over sis inches, though, 

 and thev ai-e not of the ijlump kmd, but long and slim. I 

 have a dozen now. and it seems to me the whole of them 

 would hardly make a meal for a hungry man. Well may 

 WiU say that "the trout in Mad River are not large. 

 Surely they are not. 



I go on pickmg up one from time to time that I can 

 keep. And now the water deepens, and as I look down I 

 see I am coming to a stretch of still water. I notice that 

 the rain has made quite a freshet. The low banks axe 

 flooded, here and there are pools among the alder bushes. 

 I take two more, neither of them above the average size. 

 And now I have gained the entrance to the stUl waterj 

 where I anticipate bigger luck. Not a bite, far down as 

 I can throAv. And a fly is tried with the same result. 



It looks so Avild and frightful down here, and the deep 

 Avoods come so near the stream, that I think IavUI go up 

 and fish above the camp. WiU avUI be company, even 

 though he may be asleep. It is too lonely doAAm here. 



I take another fish on my way up. Now for one in that 

 place where the river turns to the left. I take three, but 

 tAA^o of them have to go back. I am not fishing for sar- 

 dines. I am just below the camp, and there seems to be 

 a good place to fish here. The stream runs right against 

 the bank and there is a deep hole, Avhile a tree stands close 

 to the edge of it, with some of its roots exj^osed . I will 

 get all I want to make up a mess for breaklaRt here, 

 thought I. And sure enough, the first cast Ijiir.gs luc a 

 nice one, while the second produced a half-pounder, his 

 general color A-ery dark and mottled , Avhilc the red spots 

 shone out most beautifully. I shout to wake WUl up and 

 retm-n at once to the camp. 



It was only 6 o'clock now, though it seemed to me that 

 it might be noon. I was thed. So tired that I thought 

 of resting for some time. I did not tell WUl this, for my 

 ti-out had raised his liopes to the liighest pitch. Then he 

 had slept the Avhole night and consequently felt as lovely 

 as a squirrel. But my enthusiasm for fistiing even A^^as 

 passing aAvay. However, I made the coft'ee and got out 

 the bread and butter, with the condensed mfik, while 

 WUl prepared the fish. His Avay Avas to put the fish into 

 the pan, salted and peppered Avith just enough Avater to 

 cover them, to simmer and stew until they were cooked 

 tlu-ough, when he Avould put about tlu-ee o uices of butter 

 in the pan, and after a little more steAving they were done. 

 I must say that they were quite nice. And to soak^ his 

 bread in the gravy, as he called it, seemed to be Will's 

 especial delight. 'But tin's vv^ay would not ansAver Avell, I 

 imagine, AAdth large trout. My plan was the old orthod<« 

 method, clean the fish, dry them on a cloth, roU in flour 

 or Indian meal and fry them m butter. I am always sat- 

 isfied A\dth trout cooked in this way. Stillaboy. 

 [to be continued.] 



STINK POND. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



To the readers of Forest and Streaai in Luzonio 

 county. Pa., the name \y\] \ hi' familiar as belongmg to a 

 certain httle lake situated high up on a mountahi distant 

 about five mUes from the city of WUkesbarre. To some 

 Of them there will be associated with it recoUections of 

 pleasing uacidents and good times. There are other lakes 

 in. its neighborhood, some larger, some smaller, and all 

 more beautiful, but Stmk Pond is perhaps better known 

 and more widely celebrated than any of them. A good 

 many years ago this little body of Avatev Avas smaUer and 

 prettier than it is noAV, and was known to the inhabitants 

 of the thinly settled region by the name <A Sink Pond, 

 but with the increase of ijopidation and gj ealer number 

 of mouths to repeat it, it became corrupted into the more 

 vulgar name it noAv beax-s. It has numerous inlets of 

 httle mountain streams and is also fed by springs from 

 the bottom. Its gently sloping shores of generally low 

 land are very irregular," serrated with numberless recesses 

 large and smaU, and it was once a beautiful sheet of clear 

 pm-e Avater. But some sixteen or eigliteen years ago the 

 Crystal Spring Water Company took possession of it and 

 built a dam at its outlet, throAvtng back the water over 

 the lower shores and increasing its size more than double. 

 Then as it spread out thi-ough the standing bushes and 

 timber of large and small growth, covering u]! old sLumi>8 

 and fallen trees, it formed artihcial swarniis and marshes 

 which in time became perennial, and A\'la'n this \-egetn,- 

 lion began to die and decay, leaving standing taU leafless 

 trees and bushes, it presented a scene barren and desolate 

 indeed. There Avere few places AAdiere a boat could reach 

 the shore, and if one attempted to walk around it the 

 chances were tliat he AX'ouldlose sight of the p(jnd entirely 

 and perhaps get lost in the many swamps as I did once to 

 my sorrow. As the decayed vegetable matter increased 

 the Avater became discolored and bitter to the taste Tind 

 was not fit to di-ink untU it liad been tikc-red. However 

 after it had passed tln-ough the filter at the dam and had 

 run its course doAvn the little outlet stream until it came 

 to the water pipes, it was tolerably good. The water 

 company, with a view to en comage their patrons, gave it 

 the more pleasing name of Crystal Lake, but this Avas not 

 acceptable to those who knew it, and Stmk Pond clung 

 to it and was more befitting its character than ever. _ 



One day it was discovered that the |;)ond Avas alive with 

 pike and catfisli. and as the news s]:a-ead fishermen began 

 to flock there in large nmnbers, catching more than they 

 coiUd use or carry awav. and the place became a scene of 

 lively activity. The fish hog was in his glory. After a 

 tune'the Avater company took a hand m the matter and 

 put a stop to the slaughter by posting the shores and em- 

 ploying a watcliman to prevent aU fishmg without a per- 

 mit. They built a house for the watclmian and his 

 faniUy, placed half a dozen boats on the pond, and issued 

 permits" indiscrhninatelv at a dollar ai:>iece. It was a 

 great revenue to the company. As the fish began to shoAv 

 si>'-ns of decreasing in numbers, the iiermits Avere Umited 

 to'tAvelve fish each, and as long as fish remained of good 

 size permits were in great demand, for one c-ould catch as 

 many as he desired, and, as the boats were provided with 

 fish wells, pick out his dozen from the largest and throw 

 back the rest. But a time came when one was not so sure 

 of the dozen fish he had paid his dollar for m advance, 

 and it Avas even reported that some had gone away at 

 night, after fishmg all day, Avith nothing but sunbm-ned 

 faSes and blistered hands to show for their day sAvork, 

 digusted and swearing they Avould never go there again. 

 As the fislung became poorer anglers became fewer, 

 imtU there were hardly any one to go there at aJi, and 

 Stink Pond was almost forsaken, but not forgotten. 



There Avere a certain feAv "old stagers" Avho had formed 

 an -affection for the place, Avho Mked to fish for the- fishmg 

 itself, imd they had w-aited long and patiently for this 

 chano-e. Now thev coiUd go there and enjoy a peaceful 

 Quiet^dav, undisturbed bv the shouts and imprecations o 

 a noisy croAA-d. For them there were stiU good tunes to _ b 

 had, tiiough in a quiet, old-fashioned way, more attr activ 



