630 



FOREST ANt) STREAM. 



[Duo. 21, i895. 



UNCLE LISHA'S OUTING. 



VH.-Visitors in Camp. 

 At the edge of the woods Sam turned and took a care- 

 ful observation of the clearing. 



. "I s'poae the's a landin' daown there on the crik 

 'baout as nigh as the one on the Slang, hain't the'?" he 

 aBked. 



"Wal, Ah do' know prob'ly. Yas, Ah guess yas. 

 What you wan' know, hein?" Antoine answered and 

 asked. 



"O, nothin', on'y I was a-thinkin' if the canew was 

 there we c'ld git tu camp quicker. My stomerk's cryin' 

 cupberd if that feller's water is victuals an' drink. Haow 

 is 't wi' your'n, Antoine? You hain't hed even water tu 

 stay it." 



"Bah gosh!" cried the Canadian with hungry zest, 

 "Ah'll can heat one of dat daukraw an' hees fedder." 



"That 'ould hurt Joe's feelin's, he wants all the feathers 

 for a peace offerin' tu M'ri'," said Sam, lengthening his 

 strides till a glimpse of the open sky beyond the landing 

 was seen, when he slackened his pace and peered cau- 

 tiously out upon the open marsh. 



"Hsssh," he whispered, drawing back and slowly sink- 

 ing upon his haunches, "the's a hull snag o' ducks a squd- 

 dlin' 'raound not four rod f'm the canew. We c'n crawl 

 up an' git a crack at 'em." 



Crawling side by side they wormed their way within 

 short range of at least a dozen wood ducks that were 

 swimming, diving and bickering over choice morsels in 

 the narrow pathway of water that made from the chan- 

 nel to the landing. Then taking deliberate aim at the 

 thick of the flock they fired at the word given by Sam. 

 Above the rolling cloud of smoke they saw but five terri- 

 fied survivors scurrying away in scattered flight, and be- 

 neath it when it lifted seven dead and wounded unto 

 death, all of which they speedily secured, even to one 

 poor cripple that skulked among the weeds and was mer- 

 cifully dispatched by a stroke of a paddle. 



"There, Antoine," said Sam, as the canoe floated out 

 upon the channel, "you Bet for'ad, I done all the shootin' 

 I want tu-day." 



Thus disposed they paddled down the Slang. As they 

 passed the trim newly built muskrat houses, almost 

 everyone of them had a tally stick stuck beside it marked 

 rather conspicuously by a bit of birch bark inserted in a 

 cleft at the top. 



"Dat was Injin fashi'n," Antoine commented, "an' Ah 

 bet you head dere was some of it trappin 'raoun' here." 



"Jest their shifflin' way, ketchin' lots o' half-growed 

 ones. But the's plenty o' white folks 'at's jest as bad. I 

 wonder where the creator's is campin'. I sh'd like tu run 

 on tu 'em." 



"Oh, Sam, you'll want great many t'ing, a'n't it? You'll 

 fan' two nigger an' one Quakers to-day already, an' naow 

 you'll want Injin. Say, Sam, what kan' o' nigger you call 

 dat beeg one, hein?" 



"I do' know 's anything more'n a tol'lable black one. 

 Why?" 



"Wal, seh, he'll gat diff'nt of aour kan' o' nigger. He'll 

 a'h't spick Angleesh sem' lak' you was, an' me an' dat odder 

 nigger. Oh, Ah tol' you, Sam," he said impressively, and 

 looking over his shoulder at his companion, "Ah'll 

 b'lieved he was slave runaways nigger from Souse 'Mer- 

 icay." 



"Sho', Antoine, you du git'curVs ideas int' your 

 noddle." 



"Wal, Ah'll b'lieved dat, me," said Antoine decidedly. 



"Wal, s'posin' he is," said Sam, carelessly, "let him 

 run; I sha'n't stop him." 



"Prob'ly de mans dat hown it was willin' for give feef- 

 teen, prob'ly twanty-fav' dollar. Haow many you s'pose, 

 prob'ly?" 



"I s'pose," said Sam with impressive earnestness, "if a 

 man was mean 'nough tu du sech a sneakin' job he'd ortu 

 be sunk in this 'ere crik, an' I cal'late that's as mis'able a 

 death as a fellow could die. If you want tu keep friends 

 wi' me, Antwine, don't you tell nob'dy 'at we seen sech a 

 man — not nob'dy." 



"No, no— no, Ah'll won't tol' mah waf, no, sah," add- 

 ing after some reflection, '"honly One' Lasha an' Zhozeff, 

 prob'ly." 



"Wal, if you must tell someb'dy er b'ust I s'pose they'd 

 be as safe as anyb'dy. But don't ye open your head tu no 

 strangers. Naow, remember." 



"Dat all Ah want. But Ah'll tol' you, Sam, it mek me 

 felt kan o' mean for keep all Ah'll know for mahsef." 



"Hoi' on," said Sam, steering the canoe close to the 

 marsh where a muskrat house stood in a narrow environ- 

 ment of open water, "there's a poor leetle mushrat not so 

 big as a haouse rat, all wopsed up in a mess o' weeds where 

 he can't draown ner git away." 



As the canoe ran alongside, he reached out and carefully 

 disengaged the trap and its struggling captive from the 

 entanglement of marsh weeds, and after a brief inspection 

 pressed the spring till the jaws opened. When the little 

 prisoner found himself free he made off with scrambling 

 splash into the marsh as Sam gave him a parting admoni- 

 tion. 



"There, you poor little devil, go your ways an' grow 

 bigger. Naow, Antwine, wouldn't a feller be meaner 'n 

 pusley tu put that leetle chap back int' the trap ag'in?" 



"Yas, prob'ly," said Antoine; "but Ah'll an' spec' de In- 

 jin t'ank you much, prob'ly, a'n't it?" 



"Wal, I wa'n' ezackly considerin' the Injin's feelin's." 



Their way down the Slang and creek was unmarked by 

 even an unsuccessful shot, for the few ducks they saw 

 arose too far out of range to tempt them to the trial of the 

 uncertain chance. Now and then they were startled by 

 thesudden uprising of a heron beating upward with labored 

 strokes of his broad vans in a long slant to level flight over 

 the marshes, or the frightened squawk of a bittern jerking 

 himself into the air and stumbling through it on awkward 

 wings to a safer retreat. A countless dusky swarm of 

 blackbirds rose up from their busy feeding among the rice 

 in a sudden cloud and with a dull roar of innumerable 

 wings, as if a m i ne had exploded beneath the flock. 



When they rounded the last great bend and came in 

 sight of the bay, they saw a large craft with a single square 

 sail coming in toward the mouth of Lewis Creek. 



"Hurra' for Canada," cried Antoine, joyfully, after re- 

 garding it intently for a moment. "Look, Sam, dat was 

 Canada boats." 



"What makes you think so?" 



"O, Ah'll know it by hees sail jes' easy as you can tol' 

 nigger by hees skin. "Yankee boat a'n't got square sail lak' 

 dat more as he wore botte sauvage or heat pea soup. 

 Prob'ly he brought some salt for sol' it or come for bought 

 some happle, prob'ly, bose of it, Ah do' know 'f he 

 a'n't. An 11 gat brudder-law was be captain for one of 

 it. Mebby dat was be mah brudder-law, mos' likel'. 

 Ah'll go see to-naght 'f Ah'll a'n't in de morny, me." 



"Wal, I'll go with ye. It's turrible interestin' tu look 

 at furrin shippin' an' that looks like an ol' buster, nigh 's 

 big 's a canawl boat." 



' 'O, dey was beauty boats," said Antoine proudly. ' 'Ah'll 

 tol' you, dey was mek de water roar lak' One' Lasha w'en 

 he sleep." 



Presently they were at the landing among the willows 

 under the bluff, a place made familiar to them in their 

 summer Ashing trip of a previous year. Thence, laden 

 with guns and game, they climbed the steep to the camp, 

 where they were loudly welcomed by Uncle Lisha and 

 Joseph, who generously congratulated them on their 

 success, though it abated the pride of their own achieve- 

 ments. 



"Wal done, boys." Uncle Lisha slowly counted the 

 ducks, carefully inspecting and observing each and in- 

 quiring its kind. "You did du fust rate, sartain. But 

 what sort o' critter's this 'ere?" he asked, picking up the 

 coot and minutely examining it. "Antwine, hev you 

 be'n a-robbin' someb'dy er nuther's henrwust?" 



"No, One' Lasha," said the Canadian, one hand busy 

 with the potato kettle and frying-pan, while from the 

 other he snatched hasty mouthf uls of bread to appease 

 the cravings of his fasting stomach, "dat was you good 

 boy Sam, an' Ah'll tol' it he don't ought for do so weeked. 

 But he want for pracsit for shoot, so he'll shot de folkses 

 hen. What you t'ink for dat, hein?" 



"No, 'tain't a hen nuther,"the old man decided, "but 

 it looks more like one 'an some o' these 'ere patent new- 

 fashion Chinee f aowls does. Clapham's got a rwuster 'at 

 come f'm Boston 'at he calls a High-shang er hang-shy er 

 some sech a name, 'at don't look no more like a civilized 

 barndoor f aowl 'an you du, Ann Twine, an' when he does 

 what Clapham calls crowin', it scares child'en. I never 

 heard sech a' on'arthly yollopin'." 



"Wal, One' Lisha, dis t'ing was kan' o' fool dauk. Dat 

 hees nem of it. We jus' brought it home for de fedders 

 for Zhozeff." 



"Wal, me and Jozeff hes picked 'em all off'm them lee- 

 tle baby ducks 'at we got, an' don't you b'lieve both on ye 

 'at he was so savin' 'at he pulled the pin -feathers aout 

 with his teeth, an' we got pooty nigh a piller case full an' 

 the ducks is dressed complete. Haow be ye goin' tu cook 

 'em, Antwine? Ewust 'em, er bile 'em, er fry 'em? I'm 

 kinder hankerin' for some hot victuals." 



"Wal, Ah'll b'lieve Ah'll goin' for fry it, for be quickes' 

 way for our hongry," said Antoine, laying the split teal in 

 the frying-pan with a generous lump of Danvis butter 

 from the Lovel dairy. "Come, Sam, ponch de fire. 

 Zhozeff, pull up you stump an' chaup off some hwood, 

 Hoorah." 



The fire was properly replenished, the potatoes boiled 

 merrily, the frying-pan screeched, and Antoine pranced 

 around them fully impressed with the importance of his 

 office, while the others sat on the fireside log hungrily 

 watching him with their backs to the world. 



"I do' know as ary one on us told ye 'at we hed comp'ny 

 whilst you was gone," Joseph said. Antoine held an at- 

 tentive ear above the crackling of the fire and the tur- 

 moil of cookery, upon which he kept his intent eyes, 

 shielded by one protecting hand, while the other, armed 

 with a fork, urged the process of cooking with frequent 

 prods and shakes of the contents of the pan. 



"Wal, sorter comp'ny er vis'ters er callers, mebby you 

 you might call 'em. Tew fellers they was 'at come a 

 saunderin' up an' sod daown an' smoked a spell an' 'peared 

 turrible sociable. Hed guns, they did, kinder huntin', 

 but was inquirin' if the' was colored man livin' any wher's 

 'raound here, o' the name o' Jeems suthin' er nuther. 

 What was 't, Uncle Lisher?" 



"I do' know," Uncle Lisha replied, "I tol' 'em 'at wehed- 

 n't had time tu git 'quainted wi' the white folks, let alone 

 the niggers." 



"Color' man," cried Antoine, lifting his voice above the 

 roar and crackle of the fire, the walloping of the pot and 

 the sizzle of the pan, and making it very audible though 

 his back was turned to his hearers. "Bah gash, me an' 

 Sam was visit some black color' mans an' hear of some 

 red color' mans. An', Beh, de black color' mans leeve 

 raght over dere behin' de hwood, pooty clos' neighbor of 

 us, seh. We gat for stay wid heem one slave nigger dat 

 was run 'way widhese'f all de ways from Sous 'Meriky an' 

 oh, he would dance you never see to beat it w'en t'udder 

 nigger was fi'le more better as dat leetly humpy Palmer 

 feller. An' dat beeg slave run'way nigger was sing jus' 

 lak' black yallerbird sem' as de gros riche lady gat in 

 leetly wire coop. Oh, Ah'll tol' you 'f Ah'll hown dat 

 nigger. Ah'll aVt took more's fee'ty dollar for it, no, 

 seh." 



As Antoine ceased Joseph slowly turned in his seat to 

 reach a stick of wood and was confronted by two men 

 standing close behind the unconscious group. 



"Sam Hill!" he ejaculated. "Here they be naow! Where 

 in tunket did you come from? Dumbed if you didn't skeer 

 me, anyway!" 



The other members of the camp household were as 

 much surprised as Joseph, but Sam was most disturbed, 

 for he felt almost certain that much of Antoine's dis- 

 closures must have been overheard by the intruders, whom 

 he suspected were hunting larger game than ducks. 



"Beg pardon, gentlemen," said one of the newcomers, 

 a brisk, wiry little man with a sharp face and a business- 

 like, official air. "Don't wanter intrude, but we'd jes' 

 like to light aour pipes 't your fire. Can't scare up a 

 match betwixt us. Got a flint an' steel, but lost aour 

 punk," and without waiting for permission he stepped to 

 the fire and thrust a dry twig of cedar into it, wherewith 

 when ablaze he lit his pipe and then offered it to his 

 companion, a tall, sallow man, all of whose movements 

 were deliberate if not indolent, except those of his rest- 

 less, searching eyes, 



"Here, Clark, light up. This 'ere's better 'n punk or a 

 match." 



But Clark had just begun to whittle a charge from a 

 huge plug of peculiar light-colored tobacco, very different 

 as Sam noticed from the black nail rod and twist to which 

 he was accustomed, and he also noticed that the stranger's 

 pronunciation of the few words he spoke bore a marked 



similitude to that of Jim's guest. When he had gen-t 

 erously offered his "raal ol' Ferginny leaf" to each and 

 lighted his own pipeful, so fragrant that those who re- 

 fused regretted having done so, the visitors seemed in a 

 hurry to go, but he who was the spokesman returned 

 after they had gone a little way to ask in Yankee fashion 

 for the loan of the scow. 



"I s'pose you couldn't let us take your scaow boat a 

 spell to go aout an' see 'f we couldn't git tew three ducks- 

 could ye? We hate to go hum 'thaout a feather. They'll! 

 make fun on us so. "We can n't git a thing huntin' 

 'long the shore." 



Sam shook his head. "I'm turrible sorry, but we got, 

 tu use aour boat jest as soon as we git some grub." 



"We'd fetch it back in a couple o' hours," urged the man 

 whom his comrade called Baker. "Guess you c'n let us 

 have it as long as that, can't you?" 



1 'No, got tu use it right off," said Sam. * 'Come, Antwine, 

 hain't ye got the victuals 'most|ready? We want tu be off 

 tu rights." 



Eeluctantly relinquishing the design of borrowing the 

 boat, Baker and his comrade hurried away up the bank 

 of the creek. Sam watched them with unfriendly eyes 

 till they disappeared among the trees beyond the landing, 

 saying to himself as much as to his companions: 



"Consarn 'em! They won't git no boat o' aourn tuhunt 

 niggers." 



Uncle Lisha and Joseph stared at him in puzzled in- 

 quiry, and Antoine, with an abashed face, deveted him- 

 self to his cookery. 



"What is 't, Samwel?" the old shoemaker asked at last. 

 "I can't make head nor tail on V 



"Why, you know what they ast you, an' you heard 

 what Antwine said 'baout the darkies an' so did they, 

 a-sneaking up behind of us at just that onlucky minute; 

 heard all they wanted tu er they'd ha' ast me some ques- 

 tions. They're arter that 'ere runaway chap, an' I don't 

 cal'late we're a-goin' tu help 'em much, be we?" 



Uncle Lisha snorted a contemptuous negative and 

 Joseph Hill said, 



"It don't seem's 'ough that was what we come here for, 

 not ezae'ly." 



"Prob'ly Ah'll s'pose, Sam, youblem me all up, but Ah 

 tol' you seh, Ah'll a'n't to blem. Ah'll a'n't s'pose dere was 

 anybody but wese'f goin' for heard me tol' One' Lasha an' 

 Zhozeff de new, an' Ah nius' tol' dat," Antoine said in deep 

 dejection, as he set the dinner on the table and the hungry 

 crew gathered about it. 



"O, I do' know 's I blame you none. The' hain't no use 

 in cryin' over spilt milk, an' we'll jest tend tu aour busi- ' 

 ness an' let other folks tend tu their'n if it hain't the poo- 1 

 tiest 'at ever was. Say," he continued as if dismissing the i 

 subject, "when we git done eatin' le's take the scaow 1 

 boat an' all go over an' see that 'ere boat f'm Canady." 



Rowland E. Robinson. 



ON THE BANKS OF THE NOBLE 

 SEVERN. 



Aftbb a hard and vexatious winter's work I was pos- 

 sessed of that luckless malady known as "that tired feel- 

 ing." I think I must have felt like the poet when he 

 wrote: "Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it." I called upon 

 my good friend Tom Myler, who is nothing if he isn't the 

 "prince of good fellows." 



From him I learned that of all the pleasant summer i 

 regions Canada was the most desirable. Few places in I 

 the world possess greater attractions than do the lakes 

 and woodlands of the Muskoka district. They have the i 

 bracing atmosphere in which almost every essential will I 

 be found for the "setting up" of the ever increasing army 

 of "run downs." 



For those who seek mental and physical health, rest 

 and seclusion from the busy cares of city life, this Mus- 

 koka Lake region is indeed a ' 'land flowing with milk and I 

 honey." 



Tuesday morning, Aug. 7, we boarded the Lake Erie 

 train at Pittsburg, arriving at Niagara at 8 P. M. The 

 ride down the banks of the old Ohio was indeed splendid, 

 very picturesque and beautiful. From the Ohio to Niag- 

 ara one sees a magnificent farming and fruit-growing 

 region. In my travels I have nowhere seen such energy 

 and enterprise among the farmers. Their clean cropped 

 farms, trim fences, fine buildings and luxuriant crops 

 were fair to look upon. Hereafter I shall eat the "Chau- 

 tauqua grape" with greater relish, for from the beauty of 

 the country I would expect something fine. 



Our ride to Severn was pleasant, but uneventful; arriv- 

 ing too late to take Staunton's launch, a boat that makes 

 daily trips from Severn Bridge to Sparrow Lake. 



Just at dark we heard the whistle blow, which was a 

 signal that the launch was making a second trip. When 

 the boat landed it proved to be a launch belonging to Mr. 

 John Massey, of Massey, Harris & Co., Toronto. 



After considerable trouble we persuaded him to take us 

 to Sparrow Lake. 



It was now pitch dark, and the way that boat shot 

 down the narrow gorges of the Severn River was a cau- 

 tion. Several times, to avoid logs and rocks, the helms- 

 man shot us around so suddenly as to almost overturn us. 

 We put up at Bennett's, where we found the boarding 

 excellent, the rooms airy and the beds clean. Next 

 morning found us up with the sun, fishing off the barge 

 at the boat landing. 



In a short time we had quite a string of fish that we 

 thought were bass, and you can imagine our disappoint- 

 ment when told they were perch, and too bony to be 

 eaten. As we had not the slightest knowledge of the 

 habits or feeding places of the fish, we fished in hard luck. 



In the meantime it was our rare good pleasure to meet 

 a fine Scotch gentleman by the name of Brimer, who 

 resides in Toronto. 



He directed us: "Go down to the mouth of the Severn, 

 hitch your boat to the second pole and don't move, and 

 you'll catch fish." We did as directed, and caught fish. 

 In a little while I noticed my brother's reel fairly sing; he 

 reeled it in and again the line paid out. 



After a hard battle he landed a 4jlbs. bass. My! the ex- 

 citement and pleasure as the fish cuts through the water, 

 darting hither and thither. Three times he threw him- 

 self far up out of the water, his yellow sides dripping in 

 the sunlight. Once he vaulted clear over the stern of the 

 boat. 



Several times he came to the surface and tried to throw 

 the hook from his mouth, shaking it as a dog shakes a 

 rat. Not until he was flopping around in the bottom of 



