Sept. 7, 1895.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



203 



On this particular morning Andrew, Doc and I were to 

 take the buckboard and drive about the lake, selecting a 

 suitable camping spot for the next week. Dazzled by 

 glowing reports of young chickens in hayland and forest, 

 the balance of the crowd wished to spend the morning in 

 hunting. 



By 10 o'clock we were at Panguitch Lake. In the three 

 years since I last saw the lake every available foot of land 

 had been taken up and fenced. But the lake was as 

 beautiful as ever. Beneath the cloudless sky its clear, 

 ultramarine waters reflected pine-clad hills and aspen 

 groves. Not a ripple disturbed its surface save when 

 some rainbow-sided monarch in pursuit of smaller game 

 leaped from his native element or where the wildfowl 

 rested far from shore like glittering jewels on the sap- 

 phire sea. A pair of snowy swans, the only ones I have 

 seen in southern Utah, were there, and there were num- 

 bers of the American eared grebe (Colymbus nigricollis, 

 California, Heerm), here called the fish duck, but the 

 game members of the Antidse were on the further side. 

 We drove around the eastern side of the lake, and on the 

 gravelly bottom, running up to where their backs were 

 out of water, we saw 3 and 41bs. trout chasing young fry 

 and minnows. Already we were listening to the music 

 of the reel that in two more days would Bing its legiti- 

 mate song. Finding no good camping spot we went 

 around the southern end, where the water backed up 

 over the meadowland, making a splendid feeding and 

 breeding ground for teal and mallards. Here our 

 road lay among the pines, the elevation being about 

 7,300ft., and beside us grew that delicate and fragrant 

 lily Lencocrinum montanum, Nutt. At this point we 

 secured in the bird line Passer ina amcena, Say. ; Piranga 

 ludoviciana, Wills.; Dendroica auduboni, Towns. Un- 

 fortunately this used up all of our fine shot and we were 

 unable to get anything smaller than No. 4 in southern 

 Utah, so that henceforth many of our most rare specimens 

 were too badly torn to be preserved by amateurs. 



Passing around to the west side in a sheltered cove we 

 saw a man mending his fence. His farm had a small 

 water frontage, and with him we made arrangements for 

 camping. By pasturing our horses with him at 10 cents 

 per diem each head, we secured the use of a cabin and of a 

 boat. The man was one of the professional fishermen 

 that make their ready cash in winter by trouting through 

 the ice, and we found him infinitely more accommodating 

 than the thoroughbred tourist robbers on the other side of 

 the lake, with whom I have had experience in the past. 

 After delaying to inspect a shingle mill, we returned to 

 Dodds's ranch about 2 o'clock. The other boys had re- 

 turned from their shoot empty handed, but we were well 

 satisfied with our morning's work. 



After dinner a bear and deer hunt was planned for Fri- 

 day, and Saturday or Sunday was fixed as the time for 

 moving the outfit to the lake. In these arrangements I 

 was not considered, as my plan was to immediately start 

 southward for Long Valley— distant some 50 miles — there 

 to inquire concerning grass and water on the Buckskins, 

 and, if reports should be favorable, secure a guide to pilot 

 us to Grand Canon. I left Dodds's at 5 o'clock, having 

 twelve miles to make without a trail, and in the dark I 

 got off my bearings, reached the Sevier River six miles 

 below the settlement that was my destination for the 

 night, rode my horse into a hole instead of across the 

 ford, and finally at midnight, wet and hungry, 

 wrapped myself in the saddle blanket and went to sleep 

 in an old haystack. The next morning about 10 o'clock I 

 crossed the rim of the basin and descended rapidly 

 down the Virgin River into the valley of the Colorado. 

 The picture was so entirely different from what was seen 

 on the northern side of the divide that I seemed to be in 

 another world. The season was a month or six weeks 

 more advanced than at Panguitch. Now the canon 

 widened into a fertile valley, now it was hemmed by 

 black volcanic rocks. There were snug farms and busy 

 sawmills; but over in the background were the fantastic- 

 ally carved pink cliffs of the eocene, making in the sun- 

 light one of the most wonderfully beautiful pages in 

 nature's geological story. At hand were the wild roses, 

 thalictum, clematis, frasera, all growing beneath the 

 shade of stately pines, and in the air was the perfume of 

 a semi-tropic June, each leaf brushing some fresh scent 

 into the face, while 



"The winds, with musky wing, 

 About the cedarn alleys fling 

 Nard and cassia's balmy smells." 



I spent two days in Long Valley in one of the neatest, 

 thriftiest and most prosperous settlements of Utah — Glen- 

 dale and Orderville. Then, on Sunday afternoon (June 

 16) I set my face lakeward, recrossed the rim and at sun- 

 down rode up to Jerome Asay's ranch at the head of Asay 

 Creek. Here I enjoyed a trout supper, Jerome's boys get- 

 ting 2 and 3 pounders out of the brook that cuts the farm, 

 and using the clumsiest tackle imaginable. According to 

 the statements of the natives there are but three seasons 

 about the basin's rim — June, July and winter. The dairy 

 ranches are inhabited only during the summer months, 

 but for good living these dairy ranches are seldom equaled 

 and never surpassed. There is mutton or venison or trout 

 or all three for every day during the season, and late in 

 July and August young grouse are abundant. There are 

 berries and berries, and the milk, butter and cheese made 

 from this wild Alpine feed is the richest and sweetest in 

 the world. 



At 7 o'clock on Monday morning I started for the lake 

 camp, where I supposed the boys to be. On the way I 

 spent a couple of hours in searching for a practicable 

 short cut for the sheep wagon, but the wind storm of the 

 3d inst. had created such havoc along the divides that cut- 

 offs were impossible. In many places the well-traveled 

 roads were blockaded by fallen timber. It was 1 o'clock 

 when I reached the lake. The white top of the wagon 

 showed me that the camp was duly located, but the buck- 

 board, one team and all the boys were missing. As I 

 found a dishpan full of trout already cleaned and a 

 mountain hare dressed for the broiler, I did not worry 

 over their absence, but proceeded to get dinner. At 4 

 o'clock I took one of Reynolds's rowboats and started for 

 trout. And here a word as to tackle. I could not get a 

 fish with bait or with brilliant flies, but brown hackles 

 and cowdungs were fetchers every time. The best flies, 

 however, were those made by Reynolds himself, using the 

 feathers of the redhead. All the fishermen about the lake 

 make their own flies and do better work with them than 

 with the imported article. 

 Rowing across a small bay, I landed on a rocky point 



and fished from the shore. My first cast was fruitless, but 

 my second was greeted with the ripple and splash that 

 anglers love to hear, and in a few moments I had a 

 2-pounder in the creel. Without walking a 100yds. I land- 

 ed seven good trout, all gamy. Then for v half an hour 



I failed to hook a fish. There was the rise and the strike, 

 but no holdfast. Disgusted at such monotony I examined 

 the leader and found both brown flies hookless, save for 

 the shank, and the coachman was untouched. I had fish 

 enough for supper, and when I got back to camp the boys 

 were just preparing the evening meal. They had spent 

 the day exploring Blue Spring and the volcanic formation 

 in its vicinity. When I gave my report all hands were in 

 favor of a southward start on the morrow. Their expe- 

 dition in search of big game had been a failure; they 

 were tired of fishing, so I promised them plenty of deer, 

 and Andrew and I knew that the flora would hold out as 

 long as we would. After supper and before and after 

 breakfast on Tuesday morning we fished, and about 



II o'clock we said good-by to Panguitch Lake and 

 started for Mammoth. The trip was uneventful and the 

 scenery comparatively tame. During tbe day the orni- 

 thologists secured two birds that I had supposed to be of 

 entirely different habitat. They were Spizella socialis 

 arizonce, Coues, and Sialis arctiea, Swains. 



At Mammoth, where we made an early camp, we were 

 disappointed in the fishing, but we were a little too early 

 in the season. The next day we traveled to Asay's. 

 Almost the entire drive was through pine timber. I was 

 surprised at the great number of woodpeckers that we 

 saw. Of these we secured specimens of Melanerpes 

 toquatus, Wilson; Dryobates villosus harrisii, Aud.; 

 Sp>hyrapicus varius michalis, Baird. We also determined 

 Contopus richardscmii, Swains., though we could not save 

 the skin. 



Making an early camp near Jerome Asay's house, we 

 caught enough trout for supper and one of the boys shot 

 a gadwall on the creek. About dusk a horseman galloped 

 down from a distant sheep herd and we recognized a 

 fellow student of the Provo boys, Tim Hoyt by name. 

 He was running his brother's ranch near the summit of 

 the divide, about five miles from our camp. We accepted 

 with thanks his invitation to dinner to-morrow, as well 

 as the proffer of an extra team to pull the sheep wagon 

 over the river. He reported deer as plentiful, and Perry 

 and Ted fixed their rifles for a daybreak walk to Hoyt's 

 ranch, where we would meet them with the outfit about 

 10 o'clock. When we lay down that night it was with 

 the knowledge that our trout fishing was at end and that 

 to-morrow night, amid other scenes and other sounds, we 

 would be fanned by warm breezes from the Arizona 

 desert; we would be in sight of the Buckskin Mountains, 

 and we dreamed of deer and of the Grand Canon of the 

 Colorado. Shoshone. 



EHEU! EHEUI 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



I was delighted to see in your issue of Aug. 3 that "O. 

 O. S." has founded a cult whose mystic motto is the mys- 

 terious "Eheu!" I am, as is your correspondent "Mount 

 Tom," an admirer of the genial "O. O. S.," and I always 

 read his writings with avidity. As a rule I understand 

 him, or at least make out to conjecture his meaning is in 

 the blindest parts; but as did "Mount Tom" I too stumbled 

 over that "Eheu," although I knew that being used by "O. 

 O. S.," it must be something good. 



I felt with respect to this something as did the man who 

 went to Boston. He had his wife with him, and when 

 she would say to him, "John, what is this?" and "what is 

 that?" he explained that this was the post office and that 

 was Fanueil Hall, and so on, until they came to something 

 he did not know, when he said, "I don't know, Mary, but 

 it is Boston, and it's all good." So one might say of 

 "Eheu!" We don't know what it means, but it is "O. O. 

 S's." and it must be good. 



Far be it from me to insinuate that "Eheu" is a foreign 

 form of swear words. It would be cruel if the pleasure 

 of "Mount Tom" and myself and others and our satisfac- 

 tion with the term of unknown significance were mis- 

 placed, but surely even in that case we would be quite as 

 innocent as little Tommy, who, when his mother wanted 

 to pack him off to bed pleaded, "Please, ma, may I not sit 

 up and hear grandpa swear?" Or it may be that in using 

 "Eheu" with such unction as did Mount Tom in his story 

 he is making use of a word whose real meaning is some- 

 thing very different from what he thinks it to be. It is 

 related that when the first missionaries went to the Sand- 

 wich Islands and set about making prayers in the native 

 tongue, they used for "amen" a word which never failed 

 to excite the risibilities of the congregation, and at last 

 they found that the real meaning of it was "dry up." 



I cannot believe for a moment that "O. O. S." has 

 sprung upon us anything of this base nature. I prefer to 

 regard his "Eheu" as what your star correspondent E. 

 Hough might describe as a bright carmine word, not one 

 of those deep blue expletives which we are so often told 

 color the air about the man making remarks upon the 

 breaking of his leader by a big fish. I am not sure but 

 that in this new sporting term we have something which 

 has long been demanded, a polite swear word for the 

 columns of Fokest and Stream. I notice that you are 

 not very much given to "damns," not so much as I think 

 might be for the advantage of some of your stories. There 

 is a certain strength and virility about some of these 

 expressions, which we all know to be used in actual life 

 despite their being tabooed by a finicky editor. To my 

 mind your the ever-charming relations of the Danvis 

 personages have at times been distinctly weakened by the 

 very apparent mutilationjmade by some one in your shop 

 who was too fastidious to permit those rugged old 

 Vermonters to talk in print as they do in life. Would it 

 not here be better for the sake of truth if old man Granther 

 Hill, for example, had been given free range to Eheu to 

 the line, let the chips fall where they might? 



DlOK OF CONNEOTICOT. 



N. B. — Speaking of leaping bass, I once saw a very 

 small one, hooked by a greenhorn, leap not 2ft. , but 25ft. 

 at the very least, right up over the fisherman and behind 

 him into a tree. If ever a man needed a nice little word 

 like "Eheu," it was then. 



Game Laws in Brief. 



Tue Game Laws in Brief, current edition, sold everywhere, has 

 new game and fish laws for more than thirty of the States. It covers 

 tbe entire country, is carefully prepared, and gives all that shooters 

 and anglers require. See advertisement 



SOME NEW MEXICAN HOUSES. 



My title raises visions of squat adobes and cliff-hung 

 pueblos, or perhaps the still more remarkable cave dwell- 

 ings of the mountains. But the houses which claim our 

 present attention are made by still older inhabitants than 

 those disturbed in their peaceful land tenure by Coronado, 

 and the architecture loses nothing in comparison with the 

 most curious products of human workmanship. I 

 watched the process of adobe building (just the same 

 to-day as when the brethren of Moses cried under their 

 heavy burdens), and wondered at the remarkable similar- 

 ity of houses in the same zone, whether in the wildest of 

 the new territories of America or the oldest of the circum- 

 Mediterranean provinces. The same square, windowless 

 walls and flat roofs, the same narrow streets — donkey- 

 trodden and filth- breeding — even the same familiar odors 

 here as there. 



The great Rio Grande valley was carved out by prehis- 

 toric torrents which not only strewed it liberally with 

 volcanic fragments and tell-tale strays from Colorado 

 formations, but deposited in the shallows of the diminish- 

 ing stream beds of clay which to-day afford to the adobe 

 builder brick and mortar, floor and ceiling for his house. 

 This clay is of the superlative Illinois variety, i. e., "the 

 kind to which one sticks" rather than that "which sticks 

 to one." Very little is required to fit it for use. A pit is 

 dug and connected with an irrigation canal, then only a 

 little puddling and kneading, during which a little chaff 

 is sometimes worked in, is required before the well-tem- 

 pered clay is ready to be pressed into bottomless frames 

 and turned out upon the ground. The sun does the rest 

 and does it so effectually that the floods may come and 

 the rains beat upon such a house, for rain does pelt and 

 arroyos beat furiously at times in New Mexico, but the 

 house will endure anything short of a long, soaking rain 

 or an earthquake. The bricks are built solidly into the 

 walls with no other cement than adobe mud, and the 

 abode is finally plastered without and. within with the 

 same universal fictile. 



But while our Mexican has been leisurely preparing to 

 build another architect has actually constructed her house 

 of adobe borrowed from his own pit. It is an elegantly 

 colored and slenderly framed wasp, who daintily carves 

 out a fragment of suitable size and kneads it with her 

 jaws, then away to her chosen site beneath a sheltering 

 rock. Here the nearly cylindrical brick is pressed into 

 place and carefully tamped until firmly set. Brick after 

 brick is added in tier after tier until a dome-shaped cell, 

 perhaps an inch in height, with a door at the bottom, is 

 completed and the house is ready for furnishing. Nat- 

 urally Madam Waspjts chiefly concerned about the larder, 

 and, as some time must elapse before the hungry child 

 will seek its food, a curious expedient is resorted to to pro- 

 vide fresh food at the proper time. Spiders and the like 

 are caught and a delicate surgical operation is performed 

 with the sting which, while paralyzing the creatures, 

 does not destroy life. Thus they are left sealed up with 

 the egg to await the growth of then devourer. It would 

 be curious to speculate upon the reflections of the spider 

 awaiting in helpless agony its inexorable fate. But 

 probably such sympathy is uncalled for. 



Our second builder might be called "Truth," for we 

 found her in a well — a well of her own construction in 

 the bare sand of the mesa. We had noticed a number of 

 deep cylindrical holes which looked as though a cane had 

 been thrust into the sand, but our attention was attracted 

 by the fact that many of these cavities were curbed up to 

 a height of nearly an inch. Great neatness and ingenuity 

 were displayed in the adaptation of materials to this work. 

 One curb was built up of small pebbles and grains of sand 

 bound together with silk threads, a second was formed 

 wholly of the helms and leaves of the buffalo grass, and 

 others of miscellaneous fragments. Evidently somebody 

 was at the bottom of this thing and objected to the peltr 

 ing of sand grains during high winds. We determined to 

 go to the bottom of it also and in a few minutes a very 

 much surprised and hairy black spider stood staring at us 

 with three pairs of eyes. She resented our interference 

 in a very characteristic way, which left us rejoicing that 

 our prize did not prove a tarantula. 



Of course we also found the trap-door spider who im- 

 proves upon the architecture above described by adding a 

 door and dispensing with the curb. 



The most remarkable of spider homes we have seen 

 belongs to a "new species" and is at present unique. It is 

 a veritable stone castle in the air. Swung three or four 

 inches from the ground by innumerable threads it hangs 

 in mid-air. Its supports are fastened on one side to a 

 sagebush and on the other to stones and other anchorages 

 on the inclined surface. The house itself is about three 

 inches high and from half to three-quarters of an inch in 

 diameter and is composed of small pebbles set in silk and 

 invested by a loose network of fibers. The interior is 

 delicately lined with silk and forms a soft and luxurious 

 den open below. From her cushioned lounging place 

 Mistress Spider views the intricacies of a perpendicular 

 maze of sticky threads and is always ready literally to 

 fall upon her prey. The rare skill and great strength 

 displayed in erecting a stone house, which although sub- 

 ject to the sweep of the wind is yet durable and imper- 

 vious, challenges admiration if not wonder. We hope at 

 some time to be able to describe the process by which 

 such relatively large blocks of stone are raised and set in 

 place, but at present it remains a mystery. 



Upon the same sandy mesa we find the works of those 

 curious but wrongly-named "white ants" whose evil 

 deeds are carefully covered by galleries of sand wrought 

 with cement of domestic manufacture. Fortunately these 

 are not of the voracious and ineradicable Central 

 American types, whose depredations leave nothing 

 wooden untouched, and in a few hours make of a costly 

 piece of furniture only an external seeming which crum- 

 bles at the touch. These humble allies feed upon the 

 woody herbage of the mesa, and erect over the devoted 

 plant a dome of clay connected by long galleries with their 

 subterranean home. Never, by any means, can they be 

 fprced to cross an uncovered space. (Perhaps they suffer 

 from agraphobia?) It is curious indeed to follow these 

 cylindrical tubes, less than a pipe stem in diameter, long 

 distances over inequalities and across crevices to their des- 

 tination. When broken, the gallery is at once repaired. 

 A curious investigator pinned a struggling ant jn the 



