Sept. 28, 1895.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



267 



and strung on willow wands. Tahoe boatmen keep the 

 fish alive in these tanks, which are modified centerboard 

 wells. Indians don't. Indians carry their fish on willow 

 or other twigs. Tahoe boatmen don't. There was an 

 Indian camp on the lake. We think Dr. Hall visited it. 

 Two days after the Doctor brought in from Cascade Lake 

 a 71b. rainbow trout. It was but a little after noon, yet 

 that trout looked and smelt as though he had been caught 

 quite a while or had been left in a very hot place. We 

 wondered if there were not some Indians on Cascade 

 Lake also and if the Doctor didn't meet them. 



There is one drawback to Tahoe Lake: the change from 

 ordinary drinking water to the "best water in the world," 

 as that of the hotel is said in its cards to be, is too abrupt. 

 It is undoubtedly pure water, for it is piped from Falling 

 Leaf Lake, where there are no sources of contamination, 

 but whether it be due to large amounts of snow water in 

 the lakes or their stillness, the new-comer is very apt soon 

 to begin to suffer diarrhoea, and were it not that a pre- 

 scription of Dr. Brigham's — that soon checks it — is kept 

 handy at the club house, there "would be trouble in the 

 camp." 



As a whole I enjoyed my visit, and some day hope to 

 repeat it. There were few hours that it was not too hot 

 to fish, but in the evening we could always be sure of a 

 few. 



On Sunday, while at Dr. Brigham's, some of his friends, 



A SKIRMISH WITH A LOUP-CERVIER. 



I AM not much of a gunner, as the reader will perceive 

 before he has finished this sketch, only a plain minister 

 with a strong fascination for the woods and a little shoot- 

 ing now and then at the swift-winged partridge or the 

 quick-witted woodcock, so I never lose an opportunity to 

 take my three weeks' vacation in October among the 

 lakes and forests of northern Maine. After a close and 

 hard summer, therefore, it was with a great sigh of relief 

 that two years ago I boarded the train and hastened to a 

 little town some thirty-five miles northwest from Bangor, 

 which has always been my base of supply on these occa- 

 sions. One does not look for large game in this vicinity ; 

 now and then a stray fox, as the sun hides him under the 

 hills, runs across the path and stirs the blood a little, and 

 once in a while a wildcat is heard and sometimes seen; 

 partridge and woodcook and duck often abound, and the 

 gunning is good. Deer are often seen at nightfall drink- 

 ing from the lakes, but I never could bring myself up to 

 the point of shooting one of the graceful creatures. 



The morning after my arrival in this hamlet, a fine 

 October day, with a small fowling-piece not in very good 

 condition, having been at rest for at least ten months, but 

 with its single barrel very well answering my purpose, I 

 set out for the hunting grounds. A large pond lies among 

 the hills and sends an arm into the heart of the village 



was stepping along thus lightly, now on a more level bit 

 of ground, when I heard a rustling among the leaves on 

 the opposite side of the little brook that runs through this 

 ravine, and supposing it to be a partridge sat down on a log 

 to await her appearance. A half of a minute perhaps I 

 waited, when, springing noiselessly upon a pile of wood 

 not 20yds. 'distant, a large loup-cervier appeared in full 

 view. I did not wait for him, to see me, but fired instantly, 

 and the next instant found myself flat on my back with 

 my feet on the log I had so suddenly vacated, and 

 wondering if I had hurt the animal as much as I had my- 

 self — for this gun seemed to shoot from both ends— I 

 hastily scrambled to my feet. Well, there sat the crea- 

 ture in the coolest possible condition in exactly the same 

 place I first saw him. Apparently he had watched the 

 proceeding with some interest, but entirely unmoved. 

 Hastily reloading, I fired again, direct in his face, bracing 

 myself for the rebound of my gun, when, instead of get- 

 ting his eyes put out or running away, he bounded toward 

 me, but hesitated before reaching my place and looked 

 defiant enough. Evidently partridge shot were not hav« 

 ing much effect on its tough skin, but I reloaded and tak- 

 ing its gentle hints to be careful, stood cautiously on the 

 defensive. 



We stood and looked each other direct in the eyes, I 

 guess, two minutes, when it slowly turned, and with a 

 glance over its shoulder every now and then at me, 



TALLAC MOUNTAIN' FKOM PALLING LEAF LAKE, 



Mr. and Miss Bliss, from Glenbrook, came over with their 

 little steamer, the Emerald, and took us all on a trip up 

 Emerald Bay, and during our trip a heavy thunderstorm 

 came up from the southeast, and the effect was grand. 



At the head of Emerald Bay there is a small, rocky 

 islet, on the highest point of which there is a structure 

 which has a story. It is a plain, unpainted, rough board 

 shanty, surmounted by a rude wooden cross. Thi3 is The 

 Deserted Grave. A few years ago there was drowned dur- 

 ing a storm on the lake an old man— whose name I for- 

 get — who for many years had made his living as a 

 fisherman on the lake. He had squatted on this islet and 

 there lived a hermit life. Electing there to make his final 

 resting place, he had dug out of the rock a tomb, over 

 which he had built this shanty and cross, and there he 

 was to be buried. His body was never found and the 

 grave stands empty. 



On Monday, the 12 th of August, I bid adieu to the Cali- 

 fornia contingent of my Tahoe friends and in the 

 Meteor moved to Glenbrook, Nevada. Not a very 

 long journey, for Lake Tahoe— as shown in the map I 

 sent you— is partly in Nevada, and Tallac, California, and 

 Glenbrook, Nevada, are very close neighbors. Glenbrook 

 is out of the fashionable swim, as its existence depends 

 more on business than on pleasure. 



A gentleman residing there, Mr. W. B. Bliss, the 

 moving spirit of a great lumber company located there, 

 had kindly invited me to go back with him by the old 

 stage road to Placerville, thence by railroad to Sacra- 

 mento. I had accepted, and what happened I will tell 

 you next week. PlSECO. 



Still on its Wild Career. 



Providence, R. I., Sept. 1G.— Editor Forest and Stream: 

 Here we have the wild game egg scare again. Just came 

 across the inclosed clipping in the Minneapolis Tribune 

 for the 12th inst. Did the originator of the fake have his 

 copy set up and electroplated and the plates sent to all the 

 United States papers, or what? Tode. 



here, so that one has Only to spring into his boat and row 

 away under a bridge or two a brief five minutes to find 

 himself on the surface of a fine lake, surrounded by hills, 

 some highly cultivated, some heavily Wooded, full of in* 

 spiration and Zeal. I reached the "Inlet'* in about forty- 

 five minutes. It is so called because it is the entrance of 

 a small stream into the lake, which, flowing through 

 marshy ground, has hollowed itself a channel without 

 perceptible current for a mile or more. It winds round 

 long points and through dense shrubbery, now almost 

 hidden by the overhanging woods, now creeping from 

 luxuriant growths of grasses, now opening out clear with 

 muddy shores, or entering a labyrinth of fallen trees and 

 old stumps. It varies in width from 75 to 150ft., so that 

 one can easily scan both banks as he rows along. 



As I entered it the hush of a New England autumn was 

 on the stream and among the woods, inviting one to 

 dream rather than to shoot. The foliage was rich. One 

 could count a hundred different tints from green to yel- 

 low, red to vermilion. The stream narrows down grad- 

 ually, and, at last I reached the old log that had served me 

 these several years for a wharf, and hiding my fishing 

 tackle which I always carried, for sometimes the fish 

 were more gullible than the partridge, I plunged into the 

 forest. 



Partridge and woodcock were scarce that morning, but 

 with little care I meandered along the old wood roads, 

 finely shaded, among which squirrels were chattering and 

 birds flitting. Once in a while a gray squirrel would 

 scamper across the path and mount some old fence or 

 tree. Most everything was there except the game I 

 wanted. 



At last I reached a growth of spruce and hemlock and 

 began to 'wake up-and look about me. It was on the side 

 of a deep ravine where, the previous winter, a great many 

 hemlocks had been felled and the bark stripped from 

 them, leaving the logs to be yarded the coming winter. 

 The frost was still on the ground here, making it neces- 

 sary to move with caution, for one was likely to slip and 

 then to Blide somewhat unbecomingly down the hill. I 



walked the length of a long log, sprang to the ground and 

 moved away. I did not follow, for it had sat still and 

 made itself a target for me to shoot at twice, within easy- 

 range, and now, though I bethought me of several shells 

 in my left pocket loaded for duck, it seemed cowardly 

 to strike at its back. I had lost the battle in a fan- 

 fight. 



I had also lost my zest for gunning in that particular 

 place, so hurried back toward my boat; but in my haste 

 ran clumsily into a flock of partridges, which scattered in 

 every direction, leaving only one as the result of a startled 

 and random shot. Being near my boat, I left this one in 

 the stern under an old piece of canvas, and hurried after 

 the others; and after an hour's hunt succeeded in getting 

 one, and returned to the river. I was within 30ft. of the 

 boat, I should judge, when to .my consternation that 

 loupcervier sprang from the stern sheets with my par- 

 tridge in its mouth. It did not run, but sat quietly down 

 on the opposite bank of the stream, perhaps 40ft. distant, 

 and looked defiance at me. My gun had only partridge 

 shot in it, and it would be useless to fire. But to remove 

 the shell and substitute another with duck shot, while the 

 work of a few seconds only, might scare the creature 

 away or inspire it to something worse. I concluded, how- 

 ever, that such was the only thing for me to do, and if it 

 fled or attacked me I must take the consequences. That 

 exchange of shells was a quick process, the reader maybe 

 assured, and did not disturb the thief at all. I instantly 

 fired, and it sprang side wise into the woods and disap- 

 peared, leaving my bird on the bank. I noticed alsa a 

 good many hairs and slight traces of blood, showing that 

 this time my shot had made an impression. I waded 

 across the brook to the place from which it disappeared, 

 and with extreme caution followed its trail as nearly as 

 I could among the leaves, with a careful eye to the trees, 

 for I suspected the creature might be in somewhat of a 

 fighting mood now, and perhaps would take the chances 

 at a hand-to-hand fight with me. 



I might possibly have gone ten rods in this cautious man- 

 ner, when apparently from directly overhead came a ter* 



