July 27, 1895.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



69 



fessor came in all right, but minus his coat, which he had 

 lost in the fracas. 



H. took the horses off to find some good feed where he 

 could hobble them and Frank proceeded to cook supper. 

 We found the old cabin pre-empted by a couple of pros- 

 pectors, but as H. had helped build the place, they did 

 not object to making room for us, and it was not long be- 

 fore the bacon was sizzling, the coffee steaming and 

 supper ready on the slab table. A great wide fireplace 

 made the old shack quite comfortable, only there was no 

 door and the cold wind had a way of blowing down the 

 poor excuse for a chimney and making our fire smoke. 

 This was a mere trifle, however, and we were glad to be 

 in out of the cold storm which was now raging. We 

 managed to find room for the five men, two dogs and all 

 the pack outfit and saddles in a cabin built for two, and 

 we did not have any space to let. 



The next day continued stormy until about noon, when 

 the prospectors decided to pull out. We were not sorry, 

 as we felt a "lettle crowded," as one of them remarked. 



Hunting trips are of two kinds, successful and un- 

 successful, and the records of each are told but seldom— 

 that is, no one ever tells much about the unsuccessful 

 ones— and yet every one that hunts much does not strike 

 it rich, but to read the stories in Forest and Stream one 

 would believe every hunt was a success. Maybe it is 

 with some people. We had been informed that if we 

 went up to Old Baldy (which is a mountain named on the 



maps Mount- Carlton and which is over 7,000ft. high) we 

 would find lots of grouse, plenty of deer, and a chance 

 for a bear and maybe a cougar. This is all true some- 

 times, but to get the game one must be there in the 

 proper season and must expect to hunt over a mighty 

 rough country. The snow had not been plenty in the 

 higher mountains and the ranges to the north and east, 

 so the deer had not been driven down yet. The moun- 

 tains we were in seemed to be detached from any regular 

 range and were right on the border of the Idaho. 



From the summit of rock mountain, on which the 

 oabin stood, we could count seven lakes, from great 

 Pend d'Oreille on the north to Coeur d'Alene on the 

 south. The view was grand on a clear day. We were 

 up so high we felt the difference in temperature, and the 

 nights were cold, ice forming quite thick. Spokane lay 

 below us to the southwest and we could see its smoke 

 very plainly from the mountain's top. 



The game proved rather scarce, but we did not go hun- 

 gry, and spent several very pleasant days exploring the 

 country. There are several big bear swamps near the 

 cabin, but though we saw some sign we did not see bruin. 

 To the northward of us, toward Priest River, is a fine 

 hunting country; but we did not have time to go further. 

 The country round about Mount Carlton is very rough 

 and wild, and though only a day's hard travel from Spo- 

 kane, one is in the wilderness surelv and yet very near 

 modern civilization. The Professor felt that he must get 

 back to his store, and H. said it would not pay him to stay 

 up while deer were so few and far between, and as Frank 

 was only a tourist he did not want to keep the rest; so we 

 decided to pack in. 



One of the party took to the woods, so'as to be prepared 

 for all kinds of game, packing both a shotgun and a rifle. 

 Buck jumped up, and before the shotgun could be dropped 



was in the thicket, where the two shots sent after him did 

 damage only to the trees. Buck jumped a bear, which 

 also got out of harm's way. Moral — When you hunt, 

 don't try to hunt too many kinds of game at once. 



September soon glided away and the days passed too 

 quickly, spent amid such pleasant scenes and with such 

 time-killers as trout in the river and birds in the field. 

 The cooler days of October warned us that it was time to 

 turn our faces toward British Columbia, where we hoped 

 to do some hunting and also wanted to finish the sight- 

 seeing. F. F. Frisbie. 



(TO BE CONTINUED). 



IN APPALACHIAN FOLDS. 



Tucked away in a little pocket of the Allegheny chain, 

 with mantling forests all around and the mountain stream- 

 lets droning lullabies through the cozy upland valleys, we 

 pass the lazy summer hours in aimless se3tivation, sam- 

 pling the ozone and speculating on the cosmic forces 

 which induced such vast upheavals. And in the absorb- 

 ing contemplation orology becomes imposing as a scien- 

 tific study, and enlarged respect is engendered for those 

 intrepid railroad builders who were able to swing their 

 precarious lines from crag to crag, boring through aspir- 

 ing summits and clamping their iron bands against the 

 sheer walls of beetling cliffs. Verily, it is grand! tran- 

 scendant! and who shall say that the beneficent hand c f 



IN THE SPOKANE VALLEY. 



the Creator himself does not well up in admiration for 

 the creatures of His own image who have been able to 

 demonstrate by such emulous achievements that their 

 faculties are God-given and divine? 



While much merited panegyric has been expended on 

 the marvelous transits of the Rocky Mountain range, via 

 the Canadian Pacific, Great Northern, Northern Pacific, 

 and the rest, this stupendous passage of the Appalachian 

 chain by way of the Chesapeake & Ohio Railroad seems 

 to have been but gingerly regarded by correspondents; 

 when as a matter of fact it affords the longest continuous 

 stretch of changeful mountain landscape in America, the 

 distance across the divide from Gordonsville to Kenova 

 being at least fifty miles greater than from Midvale to 

 Spokane on the Great Northern. It is true there are no 

 snow-capped peaks in Virginia, but there are ice moun- 

 tains, vast caves, natural bridges, mysterious hot springs, 

 iron and sulphur — and the route pierces no less than 

 twenty-two tunnels, of which several exceed or approxi- 

 mate a mile in length. As a whole, the construction is an 

 engineering marvel. The expense has been enormous, 

 and more than a quarter of a century has been employed 

 in perfecting it. The expansive West is great, but our 

 midland craftsmen should not be overlooked because they 

 live East. One blanket for us all! As the Dutchman says, 

 "One countree, von peebles, and zwei glass beer!" 



Last summer my sojourn was in the Catskills; this 

 season it is the Alleghenies, just for a change. The sit- 

 uation here at Covington is much like that at Haines 

 Falls, only this upland valley is surrounded by higher 

 peaks and more of them, and is accessible to more novel- 

 ties and points of interest by rail and wagon, and there 

 is better fishing and hunting in season — bass, trout, pick- 

 erel, sunfish, fallfish and silversides in the streams, and 

 deer, bears, turkeys, squirrels and ruffed grouse in the 



covers. Then there is more cultivation on the hillsides, 

 valleys and slopes, with a better grade of cattle and more 

 genial climate, and the raspberries are larger and juicier. 

 As for bed and board, the Hotel Intermont is incompar- 

 able, at the price; and if visitors require a more varied 

 and expensive menu, the Hot Springs and White Sulphur 

 are within an hour's ride, with a tariff to suit the longest 

 purses. There is exhilaration in these upper altitudes, 

 and one seems never to tire of inflating his lungs. Ex- 

 istence proves a comfort. One need not feel blue because 

 he is within reach of the Blue Ridge, unless he angles 

 the mountains the wrong way. The chains all run par- 

 allel, and if he disturbs the alignment he is apt to take 

 them at cross purposes. Voyez? While their trend is 

 northward toward the frigid pole, the valleys open to the 

 southward and let the cheerful sunlight in, so that dwell- 

 ers may all be happy, if they only will. 



Seated on the apex of the main divide at Allegheny 

 station, which lieB just west of Covington, and viewing 

 isometrically the wrinkled, rock-ribbed, corrugated 

 water-shed which faces the Ohio River, we discover no 

 less than fourteen parallel mountain ridges with corre- 

 sponding depressions, through each of which flows a 

 limpid river, tributaries either of the Potomac or 

 Monongahela. To the eastward is the expansive Shenan- 

 doah Valley; to the southward the forested country which 

 incloses the feeders of the Roanoke and Jennes; and the 

 mural breastworks which barricade these streams are the 



selfsame barriers which so effectually barred the migra- 

 tion westward in the days of flatboats and Conestogas, 

 and during the civil war, for four persistent years, 

 afforded a covered way for the Confederates on the flanks 

 of the Union armies. In fact, the whole mountain 

 system, with its cohorts, phalanxes and ranges, looks for 

 all the world like the map of a battle-field. Threading 

 the devious passages of this maze, the aboriginal trail of 

 the Indians led from the Chesapeake to Lake Erie. Later 

 the stage route followed, and then the railroad; and to- 

 day it appears on the wheelmen's charts as a most 

 delectable bicycle route that can be selected for a century 

 run. The landscape changes constantly. Some views 

 are Alpine, others pastoral. Vistas constantly open. 

 Forests and orchards alternate. The Delaware Water 

 Gap and Kaaterskill Clove are duplicated over and over 

 again. Coke ovens, cornfields, cattle ranges, ore dumps, 

 narrow tramways leading to the mines, rifts and canons, 

 wagon roads following up the shrunken watercourses 

 and dry beds of creeks, isolated railway stations, with here 

 and there a negro cabin or a cabbage patch tucked away in 

 a crack of the mountain, and sometimes the wreckage 

 of an illicit distillery; rising fogs, fleecy clouds, a flurry 

 of mist, cascades, rivulets running clear as crystal, with 

 every pebble visible on the bottom and magnified there, 

 are what we see from the windows of passing trains, and 

 a very interesting kaleidoscope it is. Between Clifton 

 Forge and Charleston, a distance of 150 miles, it is one 

 continuous game country. Last November, just east of 

 Millhoro, I saw from the car window a small black bear 

 scratching for acorns on a side hill. Early in the same 

 month sixteen deer were started by five persons at Alle- 

 gheny Station, and at Covington one young buck jumped 

 the hr>tel fence, crossed the grounds and forded the Jack- 

 son's River, and was killed by druggist Ritsch. Dunlap's 



