Sept. 21, 1895.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



248 



AN OUTING AT CAMP ANANIAS. 



"For goodness sake! what are you getting all that old 

 rubbish out for?'' Thus said my wife to me one day as I 

 was emptying an old gunny box of its contents in the 

 middle of the floor. There were rods, rubber boots, 

 landing net, reels, bait box, creel, fly book, old hats, etc. 

 Yes, it was "rubbish," that's a fact; but each and every 

 one of these dear old things had entwined about it a 

 memory of green woods and gurgling brooks. I didn't 

 answer, but just went ahead and sorted them out. I was 

 going camping. I had made out my list, arranged my 

 business and was packirig up preparatory to the start. 

 My companion, whom I shall call "Uncle Mul.," and 

 myself had met occasionally to talk over the trip, and I 

 assure you we, like those who really love the woods, 

 found anticipation a large half of the tun. 



On Aug. — , '95, the time for departure came. It was 

 an extremely warm night, but pleasant acquaintances on 

 the cars tended to make the evening short and interest- 

 ing. Early the next morning I was turned out of my 

 sleeping car into the chilly air at the small wayside 

 mountain station. No one was up yet, not even the sta- 

 tion agent; my welcome being confined to a little yellow 

 dog whose empty stomach no doubt prompted his friend- 

 liness. From the station platform Crescent Lake pre- 

 sented a magnificent view, just as the golden streaks of 

 sunshine were lighting up the eastern sky, and dispelling 

 so quietly the heavy mist which enveloped that part of 

 the lake. 



At 6 o'clock Uncle Mul. made his appearance down- 

 stairs, and the handshake he gave me left no doubt in my 

 mind that he was glad to know we were really on our 

 long talked of outing. 



He had a tale of woe to pour into my ear, so gently 

 leading me down among the hemlocks on the lake shore 

 he there informed me that the evening before the stupid 

 porter of his parlor car had dropped both him and his 

 luggage off at a shed in the forest honored by a name in 

 the time table, whose tenants were only black flies, mos- 

 quitoes and a broken telephone. After his train had dis- 

 appeared northward, and he had time to look around, he 

 felt as if he were indeed alone in the world. Fortunate- 

 ly, before the shades of night fell, the boss of a passing 

 section car, seeing his plight, agreed to carry him to his 

 destination for the sum of $10, where he arrived after 

 dark, filled with indignation, experience and hunger. 

 Thus goes the world. 



It was a glorious sunrise we had that morning, giving 

 promise of a fine day to travel and make camp. After a 

 nearty breakfast at our little mountain hotel, we two, 

 with our guides, Gilbert and Ira, baggage, camp outfit, 

 canvas, etc., started off in a northerly direction. 



"There's Long Lake," said Ira, after a hot two hours' 

 tramp through the woods, and we saw a sheet of silvery 

 water among the tree trunks off to our left. In a short 

 time we had toted all our duffle off to the lake shore, 

 loaded the canoes and embarked on one of the many 

 pretty and shaded bays of beautiful Long Lake, known as 

 the inlet. 



The charm of that morning's boat ride in that lovely 

 lonely wilderness is beyond my doing it justice; to say it 

 was a grand change from brick buildings and paved 

 streets is only the truth. 



It is really surprising to see what enormous loads 

 these frail canoes will carry both safe and dry. 



A row of half a mile brought us to a carry which con- 

 nects Long Lake with its lonely companion, Silver Lake. 

 Midway on this carry we made our camp, Camp Ananias 

 we called it. We selected the crest of a hardwood knoll 

 which would shed rain in all directions. I could stand in 

 front of our tent and throw a stone in either lake, so near 

 were they. 



After unloading the canoes, next thing was the fire- 

 place and wood. These our guides attended to very 

 promptly, for they were quite as hungry as ourselves. 

 Meanwhile Uncle Mul. and I opened sundry boxes, bags, 

 papers and pack baskets. 



In just twenty-five minutes after landing in this wil- 

 derness we were seated on the soft moss, each with a 

 platter on his knees containing a plentiful supply of bacon 

 and eggs and hot buttered toast, and a cup of golden 

 coffee, giving off such a delicious, appetizing odor. Say, 

 boys, I've got to stop right here. 



After breakfast we framed up our tent, which was one 

 of very light weight duck, 7ft. high, 10ft. wide, 9ft. deep, 

 and shaped like an Adirondack hemlock bark lean-to. It 

 has a canvas fly to keep off rain, also a curtain which 

 hooks along the front, making it tight and warm at night 

 after the camp-fire burns low. By the thermometer the 

 temperature inside each morning was just 12° warmer 

 than the outside air. Now,, whether this is the result of 

 eight hours' continuous snoring on the air in our tent 

 (viz,, friction produces heat) or the advantage of the cur- 

 tain we have discussed many morniDgs, always finally 

 giving the curtain the benefit of the doubt. 



It is amusing what small things are of immense inter- 

 est to one while in camp; for instance, have you ever sat 

 on a log and watched an expert axman fell a tree? No! 

 Well, 1 wouldn't miss it for a great deal. Every blow 

 falls exactly where he wants it and each cut tells. He 

 will say just where it will fall, as he can chop so as to 

 "cant" it in three directions. After it has fallen with a 

 mighty crash, tearing off all limbs of neighboring trees 

 and crushing those in its downward path, he proceeds to 

 cut it in lengths for the outdoor range. Now this latter 

 was! made in such a simple and practical manner that I 

 will describe it. First a crotched post 5ft. high was sunk 

 in the ground to the height of the fireplace, next a 

 straight post of equal height was set equidistant on the 

 left. A long pole or crane, 2in. in diameter and of suffi- 

 cient length to reach from the crotch and lean against 

 the straight post, was cut. A thinner crotched pole, 7ft. 

 long, braced the crane against the straight post. We cut 

 four stakes. Each was 2 to 3ft. long, having a portion of 

 one limo remaining on it to hook over the crane pole, 

 while in the smaller end we drove a nail to hang the ket- 

 tles on. These hooks looked like a great angular S. 



To operate, if the fire was low, we moved the foot of 

 the crotched stake out, and the crane, with all the kettles 

 hanging on it, slid down the post, and vice versa if the 

 fire was high. It was very complete and worked like a 

 charm. 



During the afternoon our guides felled a healthy -looking 

 balsam fir, and we all helped gather enough of its boughs 

 to make us a soft, comfortable and delightfully fragrant 

 bed 18in. deep. Over these balsam tips we spread our 



rubber and woollen blankets, and I assure my readers 

 that after the first night, which is partly spent in forming 

 a hollow in the boughs which exactly fits one's back, 

 you would not exchange this couch of the wilderness for 

 one of the best civilized beds ever made. 



Each night we wore a thin silk traveling cap without 

 a vizor to sleep in. This protected us from catching cold. 

 On some nights the mercury dropped as low as 47", and 

 this was August, too. 



We ished each day, but it was hard work to keep the 

 table supplied. The lake was "working," making the 

 water look roily, as if it had small particles of flour stirred 

 into it. This state of the water causes the fish to be "off 

 their feed" and not bite. 



I confess the schemes we used to inveigle the innocent 

 fish to our hooks make me blush now. In this case my 

 past experience in fishing served me well, as I had to fall 

 back on some old, reliable ways to tempt the gamy 

 speckled trout. Yet I didn't always succeed. No truth- 

 ful fisherman ever does; that is, if such a human curiosity 

 ever existed. Uncle Mul. says, "Once a fisherman, always 

 a liar;" and he knows. We had to fall back on frogs' legs 

 and ' "catties" sometimes, but even these are delicious 

 when fresh. 



We, like all campers, craved variety, consequently on 

 the fourth day we invited to visit us "Old Airbrake," a 

 trusted engineer on the New York Central Railroad, who 

 was stopping at the hotel at Cresent Lake. He arrived 

 just before supper and with him came lots of fun, too. 

 "He had never camped out before in his life," he said, 

 "and wasn't much of a sport," but before he left us two 

 days later he proved he was a very successful hunter in- 

 deed. 



The camp-fire was an innovation in his treadmill life. 

 His greatest joy was tossing logs on the camp-fire and 

 chasing hop toads at night around our tent, much to the 

 disgust of the guide Ira, who slept next to him, 



Occasionally we would be awakened by hearing a 

 smothered bang! then by the flickering glow of the em- 

 bers see "Old Airbrake" on his knees, striking at some- 

 thing with his pillow. "What's the trouble, old man?" 

 would be asked. "Another durned toad," he would re- 

 ply. It's my opinion that the absence of his good wife 

 and the loneliness of the night worked on his imagina- 

 tion. 



Nevertheless we are all glad he came; to have added 

 two days' joy to his life was indeed a pleasure. He is very 

 proud of his record while in camp, having caught three 

 large meals a day and never a miss. 



Well, I don't blame him either, for one of our guides 

 was certainly a backwoods chef, whose biscuits, flapjacks 

 and raspberry shortcake were simply perfection. How 

 tbese fellows can cook before an open fire simply appalls 

 a city man. 



Wild raspberries grew in abundance on all clearings 

 and around the old lumber camps, often we could see 

 where the bears had torn the bushes down in getting the 

 juicy berries. 



I must not forget about our camp bean hole. This was 

 one of our many camp pleasures, watching Ira prepare a 

 kettle of beans as the lumbermen do. First he dug a 

 hole in the ground 2ft. deep and 2ft. wide, then during 

 the evening he built a roaring fire of hemlock bark in this 

 hole; this was continued until it was solid full of red-hot 

 coals. Next he removed these latter, and a kettle of 

 beans with a tight cover, previously parboiled and sea- 

 soned, was lowered into it and the coals tumbled back 

 around the kettle. All was covered over with the moist 

 dirt and packed down tight. Next morning he organized 

 a mining company (limited) and proceeded downward 

 until he struck iron; this was lifted from the ground, care- 

 fully brushed off and we all regaled ourselves on most 

 deliciously browned beans, smoking hot and done to a 

 turn. 



Next time you camp out try this. It's a grand success. 



Close by our camp was a bubbling spring brook, which 

 gurgled merrily and wound its crooked way into the 

 head of Silver Lake. Its temperature was 49°, just cold 

 enough to be refreshing. In One of its numerous turns 

 under an overhanging alder, we scooped out a basin in its 

 pebbly bed. This was our refrigerator— and how nicely 

 it did keep things too. Our fish in a tin dish would keep 

 sweet for days, and the bottle of ale after standing in it 

 for a day was simply perfection. This is only another of 

 nature's great blessings. 



I took note of the great scarcity of birds in the woods 

 this summer. I saw and heard only a few jays and my 

 favorite little songster the Phoebe bird. There is no song 

 bird, to my notion, like this httle feathered wanderer of 

 the woods. May their numbers never grow less. 



Up in the Adirondacks the thunder showers form very 

 quickly and are usually very violent. One afternoon 

 while we were rowing on Silver Lake one burst upon us 

 and we had to hurry for the nearest shore. Here we 

 landed and hurriedly turned the canoe upside down over 

 two logs and crawled under it. My! but how it did rain 

 and lighten for awhile. One blinding flash struck the 

 trees 'way up on old Mount Arab, across the lake. In a 

 few minutes we could see a thin veil of smoke slowly 

 ascend toward the clouds. The woods had taken fire! 

 This is a very serious thiog, as a forest fire means not only 

 a great loss to the lumbermen, but the utter banishment 

 of game in that section. Fortunately in this case the 

 rain had extinguished it before we left for camp. 



It was a source of great delight for us to see the twilight 

 grow on Long Lake. After supper we would stroll down 

 to the shore and there watch ihe deep shadows of the 

 forest creep slowly toward the center of the lake, melt 

 into a purplish golden haze which gradually faded into a 

 bluish silver only to sink into fading darkness; the frogs 

 on the lilypads croaking a sad requiem to the day which 

 had passed away forever. "It was beautiful, just beauti- 

 ful!" 



Slowly we would saunter back to camp and start the 

 evening fire. Altogether we had a good time and jolly 

 party. We returned home refreshed, resolved to try it 

 again another year. We got two deer and what fish we 

 could use. Our outing was a grand success in every way 

 and I am joined by Uncle Mul. in stating that dear old 

 "Camp Ananias" will be a green spot m our memory for 

 many months to come. "Do thou likewise." 



Sedge Grass. 



Sept. 9. 



The Forest and Stream is put to press each week on Tuesday. 

 Correspondence intended for publication should reach us at the 

 latest by ^Monday, and as much earlier as practicable. 



ON THE SLOPES OF OLD BALDY. 



Mr. Frisbie's series of sketches descriptive of travel and 

 hunting in the Pacific Northwest includes a narrative of 

 his rather unsuccessful hunt on the mountain locally 

 known as Old Baldy, lying northeast from Spokane* 

 Wash.; and the reading of his quite interesting account 

 recalled to mind a hunting trip of my own on the foot- 

 hills of the same mountain in the old territorial days, a 

 record of which may be of passing interest to the great 

 family of American sportsmen. 



It was in the early winter of the year 1882, nearly thir^- 

 teen years since, that I, a tenderfoot of about a year's 

 residence in the Territory, planned a trip of a week or 

 less among the hills on the southwest slope of the big 

 mountain, which was reputed to be good hunting ground. 

 My two oldest sons, still too young to hunt in the strange 

 mountain land so entirely different from their former 

 prairie home in Nebraska, united in persistent entreaty to 

 be allowed to go along and keep camp for me; and as their 

 willing hands and eager hearts gave promise of necessary 

 help in the care of the camp and the horses, their wish was 

 gratified and they were jubilant. 



When nearly ready for the expedition, a man with 

 whom I had become slightly acquainted — Jesse H.— re- 

 quested permission to go along; and as the tent was big 

 enough to accommodate all, and he would add but little 

 to the load for the horses, it was granted. 



The sleighing was fine, and the drive of twenty odd 

 miles was made with abundant time still remaining before 

 dark in which to fix a comfortable camp for ourselves 

 and the horses, and the first evening around the camp- 

 fire in the big woods was passed in bright anticipations of 

 to-morrow's sport. 



The coming of the morning light found two moccasined 

 hunters ready and eager for adventure, and giving my 

 companion the choice of direction, and only pausing to 

 add a final word of caution to the two young camp help^ 

 ers concerning the care of the camp-fire and of the horses, 

 I turned away into the big woods with a Marlin .45-70 on 

 my shoulder in search of the makers of the little sharp- 

 toed tracks which, strung upon a line of shallow, hoof- 

 scratched furrows on the surface of the foot-deep carpet 

 of snow covering all the hills, were scattered irregularly 

 here and there like the cast-off necklace of a school girl. 



Had there only been half as many trails to confuse the 

 tenderfoot hunter, he might have scored a success; but 

 after weary hours spent in vain attempts to untangle the 

 perplexing skeins of tracks which seemed to lead to nor 

 where in particular, and getting but one long shot in the 

 whole day and scoring a clean miss in that, the coming 

 on of the evening darkness warned me back to camp with 

 no message of success to cheer the eager lads who awaited 

 my coming with the most confident anticipations. 



After many years of experience in deer hunting in the 

 prairie country far to the eastward, I now found myself 

 confronted by entirely new conditions, and utterly at 

 fault regarding the whereabouts of the deer during the 

 daytime. I had been hunting on a mountain plateau, 

 wide and undulating, covered with timber and brush in 

 patches, which seemed to be perfect cover for the cunning 

 creatures of which I was in search; yet, though I had 

 tried to follow a dozen or more fresh trails during the day 

 until the very abundance of tracks resulted only in conr 

 fusion worse confounded, only once had I caught sight of 

 deer. The plateau was bordered by the steeply rising side 

 of the mountain, up which I had noticed an occasional 

 fresh trail leadi 'g to the more difficult ground far above, 

 yet I had invariably turned away from following them 

 when I had found them turning up the steep hillside, 

 content to hunt the easier plateau ground below. 



My new acquaintance returning to camp reported 

 having killed a big doe, plump and fat, and after listening 

 to a detailed account of my day's adventures with evident 

 gratification began immediately to assume a very patron- 

 izing air, and to descant volubly upon his own great ability 

 as a hunter. It is doubtless very silly in any man of 

 judgment to permit so small a breeze to ruffle bis equa- 

 nimity, yet— I may as well confess— there is really a 

 whole lot of very human nature in my own make-up; 

 and, while I have not the slightest objection to the 

 superior skill of a brother hunter, I really didn't fancy his 

 counting his chickens before they were hatched, for J 

 knew that one swallow does not make a summer, and I 

 didn't believe his name was Kit Carson, after all his 

 vaporing. 



Once before in my life had I met a man of that type 

 who had proved fully as objectionable as this new found 

 champion. This had been on the buffalo range in the old 

 days, and he had given the other members of the buffalo 

 hunting party ostentatious notice that he himself and his 

 son would be obliged to do the hunting for the whole 

 camp. But, needless to remark, he didn't do it. Still 

 there was nothing now to be done but patiently to listen, 

 and hopefully to look forward to to-morrow. The next 

 day's record was an almost exact repetition of the first, 

 differing only in the fact that, while my new comrade 

 had again hung up a fine trophy of his deer-hunting 

 skill, the unlucky tenderfoot had not seen a single 

 deer. 



The situation around the camp-fire that evening must 

 be left to the imagination of my readers, for I could not 

 do it justice should I try. The dejection written upon 

 the f aces of the dissapointed boys was hard for me to 

 bear. Their faith had been so implicit in my own old- 

 time skill, and now it had failed so lamentably. It had 

 been agreed from the first that each hunter was to have 

 only what venison he himself should kill, and now, when 

 it became painfully apparent that a certain somebody 

 was in imminent danger of returning home empty 

 handed, no suggestion of an offer to divide came from 

 the jubilant victor, who sat by the camp-fire and literally 

 spread his triumph on thick. 



Finally it began to dawn upon me that this new part- 

 ner of mine, who had had experience in mountain hunt- 

 ing, must have some little game or manner of procedure 

 with which I was not familiar; and when I recollected 

 that he had on both days silently disappeared in the 

 morning, returning only with nightfall, and the crack of 

 his rifle had sounded very far off, and that when I on 

 several occasions had tried to learn from him the reason of 

 my own failure to locate the deer he had answered eva- 

 sively, before I lay down to sleep that night I resolved 

 to take his trail in the morning, and, if possible, to learn his 

 secret. When ready to start in the morning he looked 

 hoth surprised and disappointed when I announced my 

 intention of leaving the plateau I had vainly hunted for 



