346 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[May 24, 1888. 



A POND THAT NOBODY KNOWS. 



I heard of a trout stream that nohody known 

 (A friend told it me and I vowed I'd ne'er tell). 



The world after all had a couleur de rose, 

 And my dreams were of trout creels, rods, reels and— well, 



I resolved to explore this wonderful stream. 



—H. W. D, I/., in Forest and Stbeam. 



WHO has not at some time heard of a wonderful 

 trout stream or bass water "that nobody knows:" 

 a stream in some forest fastness, never, or scarcely ever, 

 trod by foot of white man; or a black bass pond on the 

 top of some almost impregnable mountain, secretly stocked 

 and rarely visited except by beasts- and birds. These 

 streams are generally found in winter when somebody's 

 grandfather or great-grandfather was lost, and noticed it 

 in his bewildered wanderings when he was without hook 

 or line, and the fish it contained were only seen, or, if by 

 chance fish were hooked, they were too big to save with 

 ordinary tackle. The location of the stream is always 

 misty and vague, but the information, such as it is, is 

 handed down from generation to generation, each one 

 doing a little independent embellishing, and the result is 

 as reliable as any other species of mythology. I pity the 

 angler who has never heard of one of these streams; his 

 life has been a failure. In 1885 I heard of a bass pond 

 that nobody knows; or rather my friend Judge Ranger 

 heard of it first and told me what he learned, which 

 was precious little. Bit by bit we unraveled the 

 mystery surrounding the pond; and who could wish for 

 anything clearer for a starter! The cold-featured, sifted 

 facts were about as follows: 



A deer hunter in following a wounded deer on an early 

 snow in the mountains between Lakes George and Cham- 

 plain had seen a pond under a mountain cliff, and it 

 looked to him like a bass pond, although he never had 

 even heard of it before. This coming to the ears of one 

 of the oldest inhabitants had caused him to search the 

 recesses of his memory, and he told the Judge in whis- 

 pers, with many injunctions to secrecy, that he had 

 heard of a man, who learned from another man that the 

 second man'sjgrandf ather had been told of such a pond by 

 the "Last of the Mohicans," when he was on his death 

 bed; and that the grandsire, with the courage and endur- 

 ance that characterized the early pioneers, had, "the 

 year of the big snow," taken half a dozen black bass 

 from Lake George and gone to and deposited them in 

 this forest and mountain encircled pond. The exertion 

 of getting to and from the pond did the old man up, and 

 he never reaped the reward of his labor, nor was he able 

 to give a very concise idea of the location of the pond. 

 A timber hunter had found a pond "way off up there," 

 and to his surprise it was full of big black bass; they 

 were on their spawning beds, and for food only, as he 

 was famishing, he had killed seven which weighed 45^ 

 pounds; and he selected the smaller ones as he was un- 

 armed. What could be more conclusive? The grandsire's 

 stocked pond and the timber hunter's discovery were one 

 aud the same, but where was it? We could trace it as 

 "over beyond the slide somewhere," but "the slide" 

 was the obstacle beyond which no one that we could find 

 had passed. In whichever direction we turned "the 

 slide" loomed up as a barrier to further information or 

 progress, and seemed to be a sort of Chinese Wall with 

 nineteenth century Improvements. At first the slide was 

 of smooth rock with its top projecting and overhanging 

 its base, but by a rigid cross-examination we got it "about 

 straight up, but leanin' back some; the allfiredest place 

 you ever seen, unless for a critter that's got wings." The 

 evidence of the last witness was a corker, but we still 

 had faith in the grandsire and the "Last of the Mohicans," 

 although it was evident that the pond was not ripe enough 

 for us to pluck. 



I went to Back Bay of Lake Champlain and remained 

 all summer, leaving the Judge near the base of operations 

 to sit in a court of secret inquiry further concerning the 

 mysterious pond. The last of August he wrote me from 

 Lake George: "If we are to make an attempt to reach 

 the pond this year it must be early next month, or it may 

 be too cold for pleasure. I can learn nothing to change 

 the opinion expressed in my last, that we will at the best 

 have a rough time in getting to the pond, provided we 

 find it. So far, I think, none of the fishermen here sus- 

 pect what we are trying so hard to accomplish, but we 

 will not blow any bugles until we return. If at any time 

 1 think I am getting too much elated over what this pond 

 promises in the way of big bass, I let my memory jog 

 along back about twenty-five years to the time that you 

 and I made a forced march to the unknown 'Mash' Pond, 

 on Luzerne Mountain, for trout. One thought of the 

 'Mash' and I am as serious as a bronze owl." The Marsh 

 Pond referred to was another of those ponds that "no- 

 body knows." It was supposed to contain trout, but as 

 near as we could discover the secret of its existence had 

 open religiously kept from the entire trout family. In 

 replying to the Judge's letter I was obliged to say that I 

 should not leave Back Bay until the middle of Septem- 

 ber, and I had promised then to go to Brant Lake. So it 

 came about that during an entire winter we speculated, 

 conjectured and quietly inquired about what we had 

 come to consider our pond. When the days were the 

 coldest and the snow was the deepest and we discussed 

 the pond and its approaches, we were half inclined to 

 consider it a sort of salted claim ; with lengthening days 

 and a warmer sun our faith grew stronger, and our 

 greatest anxiety was about getting the bass that we 

 would catch down "the slide" safely. 



When summer came again we had learned little, if 

 anything, new about the pond, but we determined that 

 the season should not close without our making an at- 

 tempt to reach it. Li May when we went to Lake George 

 for lake trout trolling we sat for hours on the verandah 

 of the Judge's cottage on one of the islands and talked of 

 the pond, while our eyes were turned to the mountains 

 that concealed it; there was a witchery about it that 

 excited our liveliest imagination and we figuratively 

 hugged ourselves at the thoughts of the pleasure it was 

 to yield us. 



In J une I went fishing with a friend, and wliile driving 

 home in the evening twilight (an hour that begets confi- 

 dences), elated with our outing, for we had no fish worth 

 mentioning, he said, almost in a whisper, "I know of a 

 pond that was stocked with black bass years ago and it 



has not been fished since. It is in the mountains back of 

 Lake George and — " "Where! Back of which moun- 

 tain?" "Back of Buck Mountain; but what's the matter 

 with you?" "JSothingis the matter, if your pond is back of 

 Buck Mountain; but don't tell me about it now, for I 

 scarcely think that I am in a condition to contain infor- 

 mation about a new unknown pond. I have had one such 

 pond on my mind for a year and it is making me round- 

 shouldered, and I am sure I cannot bear the burden and 

 endure the strain that information regarding two un- 

 known ponds would cause." 



For a moment I was alarmed at the whispered confi- 

 dence, fearing that our pond had been actually discovered 

 and located on earth, while to the Judge and me it was 

 still in the clouds; but Buck Mountain being seven or 

 eight miles from the region of our claim, I calmly re- 

 lighted my cigar that had gone out during my temporary 

 excitement. 



Aug. 22 I received a note from the Judge, dated at his 

 Lake George cottage, asking me to come up at once, as 

 he had made all arrangements possible to start for the 

 long-talked-of and much-thought-of pond. 



Soon after reading the letter, within an hour or two, 

 my friend above referred to called and asked if I would 

 go to his unknown pond back of Buck Mountain, and I 

 made a clean breast of what I was about starting to do, 

 and described to him the location of our pond as well as 

 I was able. He thought he had heard of it from a woods- 

 man, and, if he was correct, he could reach it from the 

 Lake Champlain side of the mountain, and would meet 

 us in two days at our proposed camp. I was sure that we 

 would not see him. 



The following morning I took the first train and steamer, 

 and before noon I was landed at the cottage, received 

 with open arms by the Judge, and warmly welcomed by 

 his f amily. 



When, after dinner, we were seated on the verandah 

 with lighted cigars, looking out on the clear waters of the 

 lake which to me is ever charming and anuring, I cared 

 little whether we ascended the mountains facing us or 

 not. In fact I was not hungry for bass, exploring ox 

 anything else, except it was one of those quiet chats with 

 the Judge which we have been chatting together more 

 or less during all the years since we were boys. Nigh to 

 forty years of companionship has brought us nearer and 

 nearer together in the warmest of friendship, and I 

 question if any two men can sit down and get more real 

 pleasure out of pure reminiscences of sport with rod and 

 gun, than can the two who were seated together that 

 afternoon on the porGh of the Judge's comfortable home- 

 like cottage. 



I have a warm attachment for that hospitable roof 

 which has sheltered me so often, and I was rather loath 

 to leave it even to gain renown as an explorer. I think 

 it must have been about as the second cigars were burned 

 to ashes that the Judge's son, Mr. William Ranger, 

 brought us back from our mental journey into the past, 

 to a realizing sense of the journey of the morrow, to be 

 performed with feet and legs, by the greeting, shouted 

 from his canoe as he paddled up to the wharf: "Mr. Liv- 

 ingston and Mr. Stanley the men are over at the hotel 

 waiting for orders about packing." It was a matter of 

 regret that Billy was not going with his father and me, 

 for year after year he had been one of the party when 

 we were on a fishing trip, but as he, too, had a guest, he 

 was obliged to remain behind. 



The Hundred Island House, on the main shore of the 

 lake and facing Ranger Island, is little more than a 

 hundred rods distant, and hither we repaired. Bony Mc- 

 Cabe, a wiry young fellow, was the Judge's boatman, em- 

 ployed each season at the island, but familiar with the 

 woods and mountains. Anthony Dagles was a giant in 

 stature, a good-natured, laughing giant and a skilled 

 woodsman, having lumbered in the mountains about 

 Lake George for twenty or more years. These two were 

 the men who were to go with us, but neither had been 

 nearer to our pond than the "slide," although each had 

 an idea where it was to be found. In the absence of a 

 pack basket, Anthony, upon whose broad shoulders the 

 greater part of our plunder was to rest, arranged a 

 cracker box with straps through which to thrust his arms, 

 after the manner of a knapsack, and he insisted upon 

 loading the box with more weight than we thought he 

 could carry. Bony was awarded the blankets, rubber 

 clothing and an axe. I selected the fish rods and a haver- 

 sack, and the Judge, bearing in mind the size of the bass 

 we had heard of, took a gun, upon the muzzle of which 

 hung a can of grasshoppers and crickets, our only bait. 

 Anthony lived about two and a half miles away and lie 

 was to join us as we passed his house in the morning, so 

 he took himself away with the cracker box, which I know 

 was loaded. In the evening we looked in upon the 

 dancers at the hotel, then went to the cottage and burned 

 tobacco until midnight, when we retired to be called at 

 3 o'clock ante meridian. The first stage of our journey 

 was by water, a distance of about two miles, and Billy 

 Ranger and his friend, Mr. Peoli, volunteered to row us, 

 as, when they learned the hour of our departure, they 

 said it would be about the time they would return from 

 the hop at the hotel, which was mild sarcasm. When I 

 was called in the morning I was convinced that it was 

 but 2 o'clock and I had been cheated out of an hour's 

 sleep, although I could not prove it as Miss Ranger had 

 the day before kindly taken charge of my watch as some- 

 thing I would have no use for, and might lose or ruin if 

 I carried it on the trip. 



When daylight came, after our breakfast, the clouds 

 indicated that there might possibly be rain in them, but 

 we got into the boat and started, for our object in getting 

 off early was to avoid the heat of mid-day if we could. 

 There was a cool air on the water considering it was 

 August, and we deemed ourselves favored, provided 

 there should be no rain. From the lake shore, where we 

 landed, to Anthony's house it was up hill all the way, 

 and we thought it steep until we had had greater experi- 

 ence later. Anthony was ready and waiting, but was 

 undecided about the weather, so we sat on his porch and 

 watched the clouds for half an hour. Years ago rattle- 

 snakes were abundant about that region, but the super- 

 visors of an adjoining county offered fifty cents for each 

 snake killed within the borders of the county and pre- 

 sented to the county clerk, and this destroyed not only 

 the snakes in the county that offered the bounty, but it 

 cleaned them nearly out of sister counties. The bounty 

 is still offered, but in recent years I think most of the 

 snakes that have been presented to the county clerk came 

 from the West or Florida. Since the inter-State com- 



merce bill was passed the snake market has been dull in 

 the county referred to. Anthony had preserved a few 

 snake stories, however, and as we waited he sprung them 

 on us. I sat facing the gate, and he said a snake once 

 came in that gate, came up the steps and coiled itself 

 about where my chair was placed. "When was that?" 

 "About twenty years ago." "Too aged, Anthony; give 

 us something not quite so musty." " Well, one night I 

 could not sleep because of the heat, and I told my wife if 

 she would give me a quilt I would lie on the floor. She 

 went to a closet, opened it, went in, brought out a quilt 

 and gave it to me; all this, mind you, in the dark. As I 

 spread the quilt out I thought I would take a smoke 

 before trying to sleep, and so filled my pipe, and as I 

 struck a match I heard a fellow sing in that closet my 

 wife had just come from. Instead of lighting my pipe I 

 lighted a candle, opened the closet and found a big snake 

 coiled and singing for all he was worth. 1 killed it and 

 could find no place where it could have got in except 

 through a knot hole in the floor, and it must have come 

 that way, though the snake was bigger than any of the 

 knot holes. There was no under -pinning under part of 

 the house, and I killed several snakes under the house, 

 first and last." "Anthony, was it necessary to lie on the 

 floor after that?" In spite of the question I have no doubt 

 but Anthony told the truth to the best of his knowledge 

 and belief. When asked if there were snakes about 

 there then, A.D. 1886, Anthony said no; and so bidding 

 good-bye to Billy and Mr. Peoli we took up our burdens 

 and marched. 



Following the road — a winter log road — for a short dis- 

 tance, we turned and crossed some fields and entered the 

 woods, finding an old wood or lumber road much over- 

 grown; but it was good traveling, for a road that was up, 

 up, ever up. As the Judge, with his silvery hair and 

 beard, and his spare figure clothed in light corduroy, 

 stepped along jauntily before me like a man with his work 

 cut out for him, it occurred to me that if I was ever to 

 down him on a tramp it would be then, for I thought I 

 was in rather the better condition, he having taken few i 

 tramps since a tedious illness; but as we placed mile after 

 mile behind us, and he kept up the stride that has broken 

 my heart on more than one occasion, I concluded to give 

 up all thoughts of rivalry and simply devote myself to 

 "getting there," no matter how or when. A bend in the 

 road and an opening in the trees showed us a hill , a sort 

 of toboggan shute, and I whispered to the Judge, "Fred, 

 that is probably the famous slide, but let us show no sm - , 

 prise when we get to it; simply say we have steeper hills 

 m our back yards at home." The men plodded on up the 

 hill without a word, and when I got to the top and had 

 gathered sufficient breath to speak, I said, "Anthony, the 

 ground lias been so near level for the last half mile I 

 can't tell which way the water runs; whether to Lake; 

 George or elsewhere." With a laugh that made the 

 cracker box rise and fall like a ship at sea, Anthony re- 

 plied, "Well, you're a good one! I can tell that the 

 water is running down my back." At which we all 

 smiled. We were stu-prised. that the men said nothing 

 about the slide, and as they may have felt chagrined that 

 we came up it so easily, we said notliing to increase their 

 mortification. 



A quarter of a mile further on and another turn and 

 opening showed another hill, longer, steeper and meaner 

 than the first. "Just look at that! Did you ever hear ol 

 two slides that we would have to climb?" "No, and if 1 

 had seen a foot of down hill since we started I should 

 think we were traveling in a circle; but brace up and 

 take the medicine like a man." Soon after passing tht 

 crest of the second hill we came to a log cabin and a cole 

 spring, and we halted as long as we dared in our heatec 

 condition. There was up to this time no word from tht 

 men about the slide, and we actually thought we hac 

 passed it once, if not more times, and it really was wha 

 such things sometimes prove, the product of a vivid imi 

 agination. Half a mile beyond the cabin Anthony turnet 

 from the log road that we had followed and struck ot 

 into the woods where there was no path. From wher* 

 we turned off I must be excused from ever guessing a 

 distances. I do know that I was tired and that 1 wa 

 looking at the ground to see where I placed my feet whe) 

 Anthony said: "There, gentlemen, is the slide." I looket 

 up until there was danger of dislocating my neck, am 

 beheld a wall reaching up into the sky, I could not hav 

 said anything even had I known what was appropriat 

 to say. I simply sat myself down and looked up. Some 

 times under intense excitement or sudden surprise ther 

 will escape from the Judge fragments of unparliamenti 

 ary or extra-judicial language, that at some early an 

 unknown period must have secreted itself about his pei 

 son. It is not haughty, nor is it loud, but there is a 

 earnestness with it that is refreshing to one in sympathy 

 and there is a subtle flavor about it that is apt to striki I 

 the listener at once as coming from a man that is either 

 vexed or mad about something or other. When the Judgl 

 had grasped the magnitude of the slide there was al 

 eruption, which I encouraged, as I considered it a propel 

 occasion for fragments of language to turn themselvrl 

 loose. 



To cliff dwellers or "Yo's" Rock Climbers the prosper 

 would perhaps have been inviting, but we were neithel 

 dwellers nor climbers by occupation or education, althoug 

 we claimed to have some staying qualities, even as a rac 

 horse will run and "stay" in a race that is hopeless. M, 

 coat was tied to the slings of the haversack, and with tfc 

 bundle of rods slung on my back I was ready. Eac , 

 man selected his own place to make the ascent and starte | 

 for the first resting place, a shelf about two-thirds of tk | 

 way up. Bony was at the left, Anthony a hundred feet 1 ( 

 the right of him, with the Judge behind or rather ju: i 

 under him, and I a hundred feet to the right of Anthony \ 

 A projecting rock, an open seam, a stunted shrub or i' i 

 roots, a climbing vine, one and all, afforded aid in ge ( 

 ting up and at times prevented our falling back. On( < 

 while clinging to the face of the slide and resting to g< | 

 breath, I looked over to see how the Judge was doinf \ 

 Just as I looked at him he had one eye cocked skywai; j 

 and hugging the slide like a chicken that sees a hawk j j 

 air; he was, rapidly as possible, making an oblique cour! q, 

 toward me. The expression on his face made me laug i 

 as I asked, "Fred, what is the matter?" "Matter! I ha^ |, 

 just discovered that Anthony's 2401bs. of flesh is direct'. «, 

 over me, and if he should shp or that cracker box shou |, 

 come off, he or it would fall square on my head. I dor jj 

 see anything funny about it. A man that will lau* rj 

 now would laugh at a funeral," 



With my breath coming as hot as escaping steam, v 



