116 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Aug. 10, 1895. 



if I have notfgiven details enough to please any reader, it 

 will give mejpleasure to be more explicit if I receive in- 

 quiries through him. 



There iH so much one can say that sometimes one is 

 afraid he will say too much, in giving pointers in regard 

 to "outfits," etc. ; and again so much has been said before 

 of these things that it is hardly necessary to repeat. 

 Farewell to the mountains with gray peaks so high, 

 Whose snow-covered summits seem to pierce the blue sky; 

 Farewell to the plains where the antelope glide, 

 Farewell to the streams where the speckled trout hide, 

 Farewell to the crags where the big-horn doth play, 

 Farewell to the caitons where the white goat doth stay, 

 Farewell to the forests where the caribou feeds, 

 Farewell to the hillside where the mule deer speeds, 

 Farewell to the dark swamps where bruin has his home, 

 Farewell to the uplands where the elk loves to roam, 

 Farewell to the lakes that are fed by the snow, 

 Farewell to the rivers that ocean ward flow, 

 Farewell to the land of more charms than the rest, 

 Farewell to the wild but beautiful West. 



F. F. Frisbie. 



MOOSEHEAD LEGENDS. 



I.— Suboomiak. 



On the West Branch of the Penobscot River, north of 

 Moosehead Lake, between Elm Scream and Chesuncook 

 Lake, are a series of falls or rips, necessitating a carry by 

 any one journeying the stream in a canoe. There is a 

 legend that Suboomiak, a Tarratine Indian, once ran the 

 rapids in his frail birchen craft, hence its name at the 

 present time, "Suboomiak Falls." Tbe range or town- 

 ship as surveyed out is known as Suboomiak, and includes 

 the territory that was once the hunting ground of the 

 Indian whose name it bears. 



The beautiful West Branch of the picturesque Penobscot 

 never looked fairer than on that June afternoon so many 

 years ago. The soft haze of spring twinkled in the vista, 

 the stream opened among the gigantic firs that diffused 

 their balsamic odors on the sweet-scented air. The gay 

 carol of a robin was heard in the little clearing where 

 stood the rude cabin of Eldridge, the trapper, the only re- 

 minder to his motherless children of their home in tbe 

 distant settlement, from which their nomadic father had 

 brought them to this forest wilderness. For three days 

 the robin had been their only companion, save for the 

 midnight prowling bear or lynx. The father was absent 

 on a trip, to dispose of his season's stock of furs at the 

 trader's by the lake, leaving the sturdy boy of 9 to care 

 for his toddling sister of 3. 



On the opposite bank, where a graveled bar had formed 

 against the prostrate trunk of some forest giant, was 

 drawn up a birch-bark canoe. It was fashioned by a 

 master hand, and at either end was a rude drawing on 

 the birchen surface of a Beaver — the totem of the Tarratine, 

 Suboomiak, the last of his tribe, who had seen his com- 

 rades exterminated from their home among the lakes 

 and streams of these forest wilds. Alone, he had clung 

 to his old hunting ground, trusting to remain in peaceful 

 possession until he should be called to a better by the 

 Great Spirit, whose presence was visible to him in every 

 mood of nature, whether mountain storm, or solitude of 

 the dense evergreen woods, that surrounded his lonely 

 tepee. With eye as bright and form erect as ever, the 

 aged Indian stood by the side of his canoe gazing in bitter 

 resentment at the cabin in the little clearing, which 

 bespoke the encroachment of the white hunter on the 

 territory so long his sole privilege and in which his totem 

 had ever been respected. The rifle of the pale face had 

 driven away the deer once so easily stalked and slain by 

 bis swift arrow, and the traps of the invader placed on 

 otter slide and beaver dam destroyed the furry occupants 

 that had provided his wigwam with protection from the 

 fierce blasts of the winter. Dark thoughts surged through 

 the brain of the swarthy Tarratine: Why should not he 

 assert his right to the grand old forest with its network 

 of Btreams and lakes ? Did not the unconquered spirit of 

 his fathers, who had fought and died in defense of their 

 homes, move him to perpetual hatred of the white race, 

 and their blood call to him for vengeance ? 



The voice of conscience pleaded for kinder and nobler 

 impulse. He was known as Suboomiak "the Faithful." 

 The prospectors for the lumber camps and the hunters 

 from the great cities— in which he had heard the white 

 men were thicker than the leaves on the upland maple — 

 had entrusted life and property to his care in the 

 untracked Wilderness he knew so well. Never had he 

 betrayed a trust or shirked a task; should he now stain 

 the record of an honest life with a savage act of personal 

 evenge ? Yet his rights had always been respected, until 

 the hunter from the lake settlement, covetous of the 

 game and fur, had trespassed on the range and surlily 

 ordered him to move further north to the cheerless bogs 

 of the boundary marshes. Now that the opportunity to 

 destroy the deserted cabin and clear the virgin woods of 

 every taint of foe lay before him, why should he hesitate 

 to grasp it ? 



As he stood racked with the mental tumult of emotions 

 a faint dull sound fell on his ear, causing him to start in 

 alarm and scan in the direction of the wind. Was it the 

 roar of the great falls below? and what meant the thick- 

 ening of the haze on the river surface? To his ear and eye 

 trained in forest lore it was a more evil sound than the 

 troubled waters of the river at the long rips; more than a 

 spring atmosphere that dimmed the landscape, and it 

 needed not the glimpse of rushing deer and swift flying 

 birds to tell the dusky hunter the terrible death they were 

 seeking to escape. It was that horror of the dense 

 resinous woods, a forest fire travelling before the wind 

 with race-horse speed. 



A grim smile settled on the stoical features of the In- 

 dian; by no act of his the desolation he had contemi lated 

 would be most thoroughly complete and vengeance be 

 wrought, while from his canoe in midstream he could 

 watch the scene of destruction and then escape in safety, 

 for none were bo swift with the paddle as he. 



The roar of the advancing fire now became more dis- 

 tinct, and the smoke so dimmed the sun as to scarce show 

 the Indian's shadow behind him. At the window of the 

 cabin a white baby face was pressed against the eingle 

 pane and a pair of innocent eyes appealed to the silent 

 dusky form, standing motionless on the opposite bank, 

 watching intently the approaching fire. Now the flames 

 shot up over the tops of the tallest firs, leaping forward 

 and catching ablaze its neighbors of less stature, and thick 



black smoke rolled over the clearing, obscuring it from the 

 Indian's view. As it was lifted by a puff of wind the chil- 

 dren were disclosed crouched at the river's bank awaiting 

 the fearful end that was so swiftly and surely approach- 

 ing. At sight of the doomed children the Indian leaped 

 hastily into his canoe, and with a deep sweep of the pad- 

 dle directed it toward them. Gone from that savage bosom 

 was all desire for vengeance, gone all thirsting for blood, 

 all memories of hatred. 



The totem of the Beaver so long the symbol of integrity 

 and friendship must not desert the faith so implicitly 

 given in face of an awful death. A few quick strokes and 

 he reached the bank in front of the cabin which was now 

 in flames, the little ones were grasped by a single move- 

 ment of the strong dusky arm, another plunge of the pad- 

 dle and the frail craft with its precious burden had begun 

 its race with the fiery element now raging on either bank. 

 The muscles on the sinewy back of the Indian rolled into 

 great cords as he bent to his task. Like an arrow the 

 canoe shot ahead in mid-stream, keeping pace with the 

 death on either hand. The thick smoke, black from the 

 consuming pitch, was so dense and stifling as almost to 

 suffocate the occupants. Directing the children to lie on 

 the bottom the Indian dipped his blanket in the stream 

 and covered them with its safe protection. 



Ever nearer and nearer, the roar of the "great rips" 

 ahead rose above the crackling of the flames. No canoe 

 had ever passed in safety over its dangerous vortex of 

 cross currents and whirlpools, but it was the only path 

 from the fire-fiend that so fiercely pursued them. 



The sun had long since set behind the western woods, 

 and the fitful glare of the flames gave an uncertain light 

 in which to combat with the treacherous stream and 

 half-sunken rocks. Throwing aside his paddle and 

 grasping the tough setting pole, he threw all bis strength 

 and alerntness into the task before him. The canoe, 

 caught by the swift descent of the current, poised on the 

 smooth surface of a rock and then, caught at the stern by 

 the on-rushing waters, swept broadside on toward the 

 brink of the first fall. With a firm brace in the bow, the 

 Indian hurled his weight on the pole against a projecting 

 boulder; the light craft swayed an instant, trembling like 

 a dry leaf in the autumn breeze, then swung around and 

 shot over the edge, and dropped to the pool below down 

 into the semi-blackness of the rips beyond. The stream 

 grew narrower, and blazing branches dropped around 

 and on them from the fiery towers above, thus adding 

 another danger to the horrors of the elements. On 

 dashed the canoe, skillfully deflected from death-dealing 

 rock or whirlpool by those keen eyes and tense muscles 

 of steel. The fire now leaped from bank to bank of the 

 narrow stream; it singed the hair of the Indian's head 

 and scorched the hands that held, as in a vise, the faith- 

 ful pole. More than once it caught in the blanket that 

 screened the children from the fiery blast, and which was 

 now dried from its immersion by the intense heat, neces- 

 sitating the holding of the craft in the on-rushing stream 

 by the strength of a single arm, while the blanket could 

 again be plunged in the seething waters; then onward the 

 mad rush would continue toward the lower falls. 



The fire almost blinded the Tarratine as it played before 

 his face, and his brain whirled as the deadly flame swept 

 into his set, determined face, while again and again the 

 scorching air was drawn into his laboring lungs; but not 

 once did he flinch from his erect position, gazing steadily 

 forward to see and shun the dangers of the stream. Now 

 the canoe was poised for the last leap at the lower falls, 

 and held again to steady for the fearful plunge. As the 

 fragile craft struck at the base of the falls it was swept 

 by a strong current toward the bank, the sturdy pole 

 failed for the first time to hold on the slippery rocks, and 

 the canoe with a quick lurch hurled the dusky pilot into 

 the boiling whirlpool. With a superhuman effort the In- 

 dian gained the rock, retaining his grasp on his pole. 



The canoe with its precious freight had disappeared in 

 the gloom of the forest-shadowed stream, now tranquil for 

 the remainder of its course to the broad, safe expanse of 

 the lake below. The fire had been outdistanced in the 

 fearful run of the rapids, and the impetus of the falls had 

 carried the birch bark and its occupants to safety. The 

 limit of ordinary human Btrength had been passed, long 

 ago; only one trained to undergo the tortures of pain 

 could have held to such endurance; but at last the tre- 

 mendous exertion tells, and the pole on which the Indian 

 leans heavily slips from the grasp of those nerveless fin- 

 gers and the river sweeps without obstacle over the smooth 

 surface of the rock. 



At dawn next morning a canoe was found by the log 

 drivers on Chesuncook against the shore. It was of In- 

 dian design, of handsome build, and on its fire-blackened 

 sides could be traced the rude outline of a Beaver. Lying 

 under a seamed and scorched blanket were the two chil- 

 dren of Eldridge, the trapper, asleep, locked in each other's 

 embrace, safe through the baptism of fire. 



Near the foot of the lower lalls on the river was found 

 later, where the whirlpool had cast it, the body of an 

 Indian — Suboomiak, the Faithful. Frederic Howard. 



Round Mountain Lake. 



Eustis, Me., July 28.— The camps at Round Mountain 

 Lake are well filled with guests, many of whom have 

 c ime for the months of July and August, The cabins 

 have been improved and about the camps everything bi - 

 speaks a spirit of enterprise and push. 



Fjsh are rising finely to flies in greater numbers, ar d 

 are larger than ever before, while at the new wharf ai e 

 anchored nice boats for all to enjoy the fishing and scenery, 

 which cannot be excelled in the State. 



During the past few weeks five moose have been seen 

 here, and deer are plentiful and very tame, coming out 

 iato the water each day at sunrise and sunset. Groups of 

 three and five have been seen frequently. 



In the woods about the camps small game is abundant, 

 rabbits and partridges roaming fearlessly near the cabins. 



This week, on a trip to Snow Mountain, Ned Bly, with 

 Divis Moody, guide, saw twenty-five or thirty partridges 

 al mg the trail. The prospect for fall hunting is of the 

 best, and bids fair to be well patronized. 



We had a call from the new game warden, Mr. S. S. 

 Tufts, and feel sure that he will make many friends with 

 his cordial greeting and genial manner, and prove a fine 

 man for the place. Taking everything as a whole, we 

 have an iieal summer home, one that cannot be surpassed, 

 and all join in regrets that the time will come to leave 

 it. J. H. B. 



TWO FEATHERS. 



Chicago, 111., July 30.— After scouting around with 

 Hough on the fantail deer question to-day, I find myself 

 with "that tired feeling" in evidence to a considerable 

 extent. When a fellow feels that way and his hunting 

 grounds are below the horizon that purples into perspec- 

 tive away to the West, he is apt to dig up an old pipe, 

 stick his feet higher than his head, close his eyes and 

 dream of things that have passed into that ghost land of 

 recollection. At such times the roar and bustle of the 

 city and its thousand odors are pushed into the back- 

 ground and forgotten. Memory conjures up past scenes 

 which bring their own surroundings, pictured so vividly 

 that you see the yellow sunlight, the floating clouds and 

 blue sky of one day now long gone. Momentarily you 

 detect the scent of sage or pine in a breeze straight from 

 God's own meadows, and mayhap your pulse thumps a 

 little harder as you live over again, in a few brief mo- 

 menta, that day of long ago. 



Such is the condition I find myself in to-night, so I'll 

 just hypnotize you enough to enjoy it with me. A few 

 passes— so; now you are in Wyoming. We ride along the 

 Belle Fourche River, up along the dusty trail that shim- 

 mers and dances in the heat of the blazing afternoon sun. 

 It is as hot as any alkali plain well can be, but we are 

 several thousand feet above the sea, and a gentle southerly 

 breeze keeps the air from being oppressive. 



The grass is dry enough to crackle and break underfoot 

 when the horses step off the trail. The sage brush lends 

 its somber hues to the landscape, and the prickly pear 

 neighbors its fleshy pads with the dagger-pointed leaves 

 of the soap root or. "bear grass" as the cow puncher dubs 

 it; prairie dogs scurry from mound to mound, gossip and 

 scurry back home again, edge half-way down the door- 

 way and "sass" us aa we pass. Away up toward 'the float- 

 ing mass of cottony clouds a pair of brown eagles float, 

 swing and circle; circle, swing and float; now they dip; 

 now up again; now one drops, with folded wings, straight 

 for the earth like a black plumb-bob and sweeps up again 

 in a graceful curve. The other, shortly afterward, pitches 

 headlong from a dizzy height and goes through the same 

 performance as the first, but his objective point is further 

 ahead. Now they circle about excitedly and pitch head- 

 long again only to rise with a wild scream and strain their 

 pinions in their efforts to rise for the next dash. 



Something is under them, moving, and moving swiftly 

 in our direction. Let us stop. Ah, that's it! An ante- 

 lope dashes into view breasting the rise of the knoll; and 

 a fawn, not much bigger than a jack rabbit, runs along- 

 side, half sheltered under the mother. Again those 

 pirates of the air sweep downward, silent and straight, 

 aiming for the baby 'lope. The mother stops short, rises 

 and strikes upward with her sharp forefeet in time to 

 baffle the big birds, which rise with hoarse screams and 

 hover over the pair again, waiting for the next favorable 

 chance. 



The mother antelope seems to be decided on making a 

 stand. Back and forth the big birds circle and swing, 

 dash and rise again. At last the mother realizes that a 

 patch of prickly pears won't keep eagles off as it will coy- 

 otes, whose feet are too soft to venture among the thorns, 

 and she takes refuge in flight. Fatal mistake! That ia 

 what the birds want. A quick dash, a feint, a thrashing 

 of wings, against which the mother is unable to cope 

 single-handed, then a piteous, weak little bleat mingles 

 with the shrieks of the birds, and the baby 'lope lies quiet 

 on the ground. 



The pirates bave won. Not so fast! There is another 

 act yet! One bird sweeps down, but the other, with a 

 fierce scream, disputes his right to the spoils, and they 

 dash at each other. Feathers float downward as the two 

 strike at each other with beak and claw, circle, scream 

 and dash back again. A battle is on, a battle royal that 

 rages 1,000ft. above the ground! At last they strike, 

 thrash their wings and fall, a whirling mass of winged 

 demons, down, down, faster always until they strike the 

 brown grass at the foot of the knoll. 



We ride forward. The old antelope runs off a short 

 distance, stops, runs again, and circles the spot where her 

 baby stiffens on the burning ground. One eagle lies 

 prone with outstretched pinions; the other, still full of 

 fight and with feathers roached the wrong way, flaps 

 along the ground dragging a useless wing, until a pistol 

 ball stretches him down on the curled buffalo grass. 



A few minutes later the old antelope runs across the 

 valley and disappears. 



That night a tiny antelope skin is tacked on the cabin 

 wall to dry, and two eagle feathers, the center one from 

 each tail, are hung over a pair of deer antlers to wait 

 until we want them for a new war bonnet. They are 

 just the right thing and belonged to warriors before they 

 came to us. 



That antelope skin has eight holes in the back of the 

 neck, each made by a talon that sunk through it deep in 

 the owner's flesh and thus ended its short life. Yet what 

 good did it do, other than maybe to give some vagabond 

 coyote a dinner on two tough old eagles that were left to 

 dry into mummies in the blaze of the mountain sun? 



A few passes— Awake, you have seen it all. 



El Comancho. 



Do Animals Practice Hypnotism? 



RICHMOND, "Va., July 29.— Editor Forest and Stream: 

 An article under this heading in your issue of July 27 

 mentions a squirrel which had gained a safe place spring- 

 ing right off into danger for no apparent reason. I recall 

 . an occasion on which a gray fox in Florida did precisely 

 the same. 



It was a moonlight night, and with four hounds I had 

 given reynard a lively chase, during which all the cur 

 dogs within hearing had joined in— making a motley 

 crew of aboutthirteen or fourteen in all. Our fox at last 

 climbed a sapling tree and was comfortably ensconced on 

 a limb about 25 or 30ft. up by the time the pack arrived 

 and pandemonium began. I am sure that the racket 

 completely rattled the fox, as, after surveying his sur- 

 roundings — men, horses and dogs — for a minute or two 

 ha deliberately jumped into the very jaws of the dogs and 

 stayed right there. R. F. B, 



