32 8 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[N«v. 17, 1887. 



ON THE GASCONADE.— II. 



"For in the Prophet Amos, mention is made of fish hooks; and 

 in the book of Job, which was Ions before the days of Amos, for 

 that book is said to have been written by Moses, mention is made 

 also of fish hooks, which must imply anglers in those tinies."— 

 Izaah Walton. 



TT seems singular that so many of our people should 

 X annually make pilgrimages north, south, east and 

 west, in search of the picturesque and beautiful when 

 they have it in their own State in such profusion and 



Eerfection. Talk of the sunny skies of Italy and the 

 eauties of the Alps, the grandeur of the Rockies, the 

 scenery of the Alleghanies, and the summer softness of 

 the northern lakes! Can any of these excel in varied 

 beauty and continued interest the views upon the Gascon- 

 ade ? Not one. Take the people of St. Louis, for instance ; 

 year in and year out there is the migration to this place 

 and to that, at great expense for travel and hotel bills, 

 when here, near them, for a trifling outlay of money, 

 they can reach exquisite scenery, delightfully cool nights, 

 and in air which the altitude renders pure and exhilarat- 

 ing. 



The Gasconade finds its origin from crystal springs high 

 up in the Ozark Mountains. One branch rises in Webster 

 county, not far from Marshfield, the scene of the terrible 

 cyclone on April 18, 1880, and the other from numerous 

 brooklets in the southern portion of Wright county. Its 

 main tributary, the Piney, has its manifold sources in the 

 southern part of Texas county. These various streams, 

 with the main trunk, are each 250 to 300 miles long. They 

 are when not disturbed by heavy rains perfectly clear 

 and limpid, running as they do over rocks and gravel. 

 The scenery is varied and beautiful. Sometimes upon 

 both sides, nearly always upon one, there rise from the 

 river precipitous bluffs and mountains. These present 

 as one floats down with the stream an ever-varying pan- 

 orama. The bold faces of the precipices show strata of 

 rocks, differing in color and formation so as to give a 

 pleasing and ever- varying color to the scene. The vege- 

 tation, too, is different from that to which we are accus- 

 tomed at home, as in the scanty patches of soil may be 

 seen the stunted cedar and pine. 



Upon either side, at times, are fertile bottom lands 

 containing well-improved farms, but for the last hundred 

 miles upon any of the branches these are like angels' 

 visits, few and far between. The descent of the river is 

 rapid, so much so that in places the fall is very percept- 

 ible to the eye, giving the stream a decided down-hill 

 appearance. The result is that every mile or two there 

 are rapids, frequently amounting' to falls. Between 

 these rapids are deep, placid stretches of water, densely 

 populated with the finest of fish. 



After paddling quietly along for a considerable distance 

 one will hear the roar of the rapids, and dancing in the 

 distance will see the brilliant flashing of the light upon 

 the breaking waters as they go leaping from stone to 

 stone, or over the gravelly edges of the decline. As your 

 boat approaches it will come more and more under the 

 influence of the accelerating current. Then, once glance 

 to get 3 r our bearings, to see where the channel is. and, if 

 there be boulders, to observe the b est way to avoid them 

 Then at it with might and main, paddle for all that is in 

 you, for in order to have steerage way so that you can 

 control your craft, you must be going faster than the 

 current. As this goes ten or fifteen miles an hour at 

 times, you can see that with the added elbow grease your 

 fight boat must be fairly flying. The sensation has just 

 enough of the spice of danger in it to make it exhilarat- 

 ing. 



The scenery, the dancing water and the motion, make 

 it grand sport. Sometimes, where the descent is sudden 

 and the boulders somewhat large, with deep Avater be- 

 tween them, there is real danger, but generally the rapids 

 are shallow, and an upset would onlv result in a wetting 

 of oneself and the contents of the boat. 



Very few miles are passed that do not afford beautiful 

 places to camp. There is no mud. The banks are 

 gravelly and clean. In October, the witching time of 

 year, when our American forests are in their- beautiful 

 garb of red and gold, there is no need to look for springs 

 at which to rest. The whole river is a spring— the water 

 as clear as crystal and as cold as need be. To those who 

 can take the time much interest would attach to explor- 

 ing some of the caves that abound in the mountains upon 

 either bank of the river. Some of these are very large, 

 consisting of a succession of rooms with limestone walls. 

 Not infrequently they contain streams of considerable 

 size, some of which subsequently burst forth as immense 

 springs. While many of these caves are by no means 

 terra incognita most of them are practically unknown, so 

 that the spirit of adventure may find in them full sway. 

 The archaeologist can here find much to interest him— 

 Indian axes, hammers, spear and arrow points, traces of 

 a civilization probably older than the aboriginal races, the 

 remnants of which are now upon our reservations. 



Indeed, the more one thinks of it the more there is to 

 wonder at the strange fatuity which takes, say St. Louis 

 and Kansas City people, into other States to enjoy the 

 beauties of nature when by a short run over the' San 

 Francisco and Missouri Pacific roads they can be con- 

 veyed to a region so full of loveliness, varietv and inter- 

 est. 



It is, then, amid scenes such as these that we find our- 

 selves quietly floating, too much rapt in the beauty of 

 what we see to caro much about fishing. During the day 

 a few ducks and a luckless squirrel that runs out on a 

 projecting limb are killed as we sit in our boats. After 

 going some five miles we camp upon the left bank of the 

 river, at Big Spring, an immense fountain of water which 

 comes boiling up in the bed of the stream, most probably 

 one one of those subterranean rivers of which we have 

 spoken, debouching here. The baggage and the cook are 

 hurried ashore, and the others pull awav in their boats to 

 try then- luck with the bass. Here the old backwoods in- 

 stinct comes out. This is a noted a camping place and 

 has been used many and many a time before. The trees 

 are full of big nails to hang things on, but as a compen- 

 sation for the unexpectedness of this discovery there is no 

 ' 'down wood"— all burned up long ago. There is a hatchet, 

 however, m the mess kit; well sharpened, too. Did you 

 ever realize how much wood you can cut with a good 

 shaii) hatchet? Well, the mood was on me, and as I sank 

 the blade to the eye in the green wood, there was a pleas- 

 ure m piling up the branches until I had a respectable- 

 sized wood pile for the night. There was only one 

 drawback to the experience, the handle of the hatchet 

 was too small for the grip and a little too short. If made 



a half inch larger in diameter and three or four inches 

 longer, it will be, I think, an ideal camp axe, especially 

 as the hammer end is very useful, a few nails being an 

 indispensable part of a complete camp provision. I have 

 seen a good many pages devoted to this subject, and I add 

 these few lines as my quota of observation. 



To an old outer the making of the camp has as much 

 interest as any other of the experience of the wood, so 

 after cutting enough fuel I found in the woods near at 

 hand some nice, straight tent poles, which were soon cut 

 and ti'immed. A level place, but with drainage in every 

 direction, was selected and the tent and poles deposited 

 there to await the arrival of the boys. The bedding and 

 other baggage were placed beside them, with the haver- 

 sacks, &c. , hung upon a tree that would be at the opening 

 of the tent when stretched. Then to get the supper, 

 that meal of meals in the woods. A fire is quickly made, 

 not one of your bonfires to roast and smoke you out of 

 camp, but a cosy little fire, between two 6in. logs, which 

 will soon furnish some glowing hot coals upon which one 

 can cook the victuals without roasting himself. As it 

 burns I skin the squirrel and pick enough ducks to feed 

 ten men at home. I cut them all up into moderately small 

 pieces, put them in the camp kettle, with a good sized 

 piece of breakfast bacon, cover them with two quarts of 

 water, and hang the kettle on a pole fixed across the fire, 

 to boil. While this process goes on I peel a half dozen 

 good sized potatoes and three onions. After the meat has 

 boiled an hoiu' or more I add the potatoes and onions, and 

 a little hot water, the mixture having boiled down some- 

 what, By this time the meat is so far done that a splinter 

 can be easily run through it. I season with salt and cayenne 

 peper, and let the mass simmer until the meat of the ducks 

 is ready to fall from the bones, and then I ring the be — , 

 no. I give a view-halloo! and the boys come in to eat the 

 burgoo, a dish that would make a "Louis Quinze" lick 

 his fingers as he called to a Pompadour in the Pare aux 

 Oerf, for more. I stated that there were enough ducks in 

 the pot to feed ten men, but the four men and a boy 

 scooped it out clean, and though he did not make any re- 

 marks on the subject, there was a look in the comer of 

 the mayor's eye that indicated that one plateful more 

 might have been devoured. If thou dost not know the 

 virtue of a burgoo, go to, thou sluggard, and learn! A 

 pot of strong coffee, pickles, beat biscuit, nice, firm, yellow 

 butter, a dish of dried apples, and a few little knick- 

 knacks, made out a meal which the ozone and the exer- 

 cise turned into an Epicurean feast. And just to think 

 how easily the lean, dyspeptic grubber after money in 

 bank and office, who can neither eat nor sleep, could find 

 in these leafy vales the health and the appetite which he 

 has bartered' away for gold. 



Supper over, Billy and the boy wash the dishes, while 

 Will. Frank and I put up the tent. The dish washing is 

 done in boiling hot water, with soap and mop, the table 

 top is also washed and dried, the dishes, pans, etc., put 

 away for the night as cleanly and neatly as if at home. 

 This, en passant, is "a big thing," for nothing makes a 

 camp more uncomfortable than dirty ways about the 

 cooking and utensils. The tent once up and well secured, 

 we make down our beds for the night, though it is not 

 yet dark, and prepare for that delicious two or three 

 hours of dolce far niente which is the quintessence of en- 

 joyment hi camp life. A bigger fire is made, each fellow 

 settles into some little angle or nook, at the root of a tree 

 or in the crook of a limb, that hits his backbone in the 

 right place. Pipes are brought out by those who smoke, 

 the adventures of the day are recited, reminiscenses are 

 indulged in and yarns are spun. Sailors have a reputa- 

 tion for spinning yarns, but if the galley -fire beats the 

 camp-fire in anything but cuss words I am wofully mis- 

 taken. 



A healthy man, when well fed, will, under normal 

 conditions, ruminate for a while. Let the boys chew the 

 cud of their contemplations as they clraAv the first few 

 whiffs of their dudeens, and I will teD you what our camp 

 is like. 



Have you seen pictures of beautiful rivers, with here a 

 perspective of low land that borders the stream and nar- 

 rows as in the distance it meets the rising hills upon the 

 other side? The painter's art fills in with all of beauty 

 that he can seize. You stand before the painting and ex- 

 claim, "O, it is grand!" Yes, no doubt it is. But no 

 painter's canvas e'er bore such a picture as that which was 

 spread before the members of our party. To produce it 

 required the finger of the Almighty. At our feet flows 

 the beautiful Gasconade. Its clear waters for many yards 

 reveal the pebbles at the bottom. A few steps below our 

 camp, and near the shore upon which we are, arises in 

 the bed of the river the immense spring to which I have 

 already alluded. Though without the comparison the 

 water of the river seems to be clear, yet when this spring 

 wells up and spreads itself about half way across the 

 stream, it puts that to shame with its crystal purity and 

 transparency. Above and about us in the bottom land 

 are the mighty forest trees of Missouri, the oak. the elm, 

 the sycamore, the hackberry, the cottonwood, the hick- 

 ory, and others of the giants, bending their huge limbs 

 toward earth and dipping their feathered twigB as if in 

 courtesy to our presence, with the wind as it gently 

 swayed them to and fro, sounding a requiem as tender 

 and soothing as the cadence of an seolian harp. Oppos- 

 ite, rising sharp from the water's edge, almost, but not 

 precipitously, there towers brown and rugged one of the 

 mountains of the Ozarks. The timber it bears is of a dif- 

 ferent character. At the base small oaks predominate. 

 Toward the top, which is more bare, a pine or cedar may 

 be seen clinging to the rocks. A squirrel chatters in a 

 tree near the water, and to complete the scene we have 

 the camp, with a picturesqueness of its own. These are 

 the outlines. The unimaginative soul who cannot him- 

 self fill them out into a thing of beauty, could see nothing 

 in the scene if he were upon the spot. 

 "To him who holds 



Communion with her visible form, she speaks" 

 A language that will bring the streams, the woods, the 

 mountain and the sky into the picture which my memory 

 so fondly recalls, but which my pen is inadequate to put 

 upon the written page. 



And now let us turn to the camp-fire. It is a cozy and 

 a comfortable sight. The boys have gotten beyond the 

 ruminating stage and are talking. Billy seems to be dis- 

 satisfied with the fishing. "I tell you what, boys," he is 

 saying, "this won't compare with Spirit Lake. There 

 you can go out at any time and catch as many pike and 

 perch as you want. You don't have to wait an hour for 

 a bite." 



"Well," says Will in reply, "I don' see it in that way. 

 I'd rather be on this beautiful river than on a half-dozen 

 of your lakes at once. It is true we haven't caught many 

 fish, but the river has been up from the rams and is fnli- 

 ing very fast. In a day or two we will catch all the fish 

 we want, and they'd be fish, the glorious small-mouth 

 black bass, none of your pike that you pull up from the 

 bottom of a lake thirty feet deep like a sobby stick. 

 When I fish I want to get fast to something that has life 

 in it and makes such a fight that it is some credit for me 

 to get it in the landing net." 



"That's all right," chimes in Frank, who has fished 

 Spirit and Okoboji lakes and likes them very much, 

 "that's all right, but let me tell you there is mighty good 

 fishing in Spirit. Besides the pike, which is the most 

 abundant, there is the crappie and the silver bass, the 

 latter a beauty and a fighter too. But the Gasconade has 

 as fine fish in it as any waters in the country. Men who 

 know, for instance Col. John Reid, who was for years 

 Fish Commissioner of the State, and who is familiar with 

 its waters says that its bass cannot be surpassed either in 

 size or fighting qualities." 



"Yes," added the cook, "and they are a much better 

 fish than the bass in the waters about home. There we 

 have the large-mouthed, while these are the small-mouthed 

 black bass. The former is probably the more common 

 fish in American waters. He is game, but not so game 

 as his cogenitor; his flesh is firm and flaky, much superior 

 to the crappie, and he is an excellent fish. The best one 

 I ever saw out West was sent to to me by Mr. Jeff. W. 

 Bedford, of Omaha, who caught it in a lake near that 

 place. It weighed six pounds and four ounces. I pre- 

 sented it to Col. John Reid, who had it prepared in ex- 

 cellent style, and it was discussed by four or five connois- 

 seurs, who pronounced it one of the finest fish they ever 

 ate. But the finest ones I ever saw in size and numbers 

 was about two years ago in the fish market at Washington 

 City, Frank and I were there together, and as we passed 

 down one of the aisles our eyes were attracted to a sight 

 that one seldom sees. Over one of the fish benches, on a 

 long batten, there hung fifteen pairs of bass. To look at 

 them, merely, one would have said that they weighed 

 exactly the same. They were large-mouthed black bass 

 from North Carolina, and the dealer told us weighed 

 from six to six and a half pounds each, I never expect 

 to see such an array as that again. Both of the fish are 

 good. The large-mouth has his friends, some of them 

 zealous enough to claim for him special merits, but my 

 observation is that the small-mouth is the gamest and the 

 best fish, and he exists nowhere in greater purity and 

 excellence than in the Gasconade and its tributaries. 

 About six pounds is his limit as to size, though a gentle- 

 man who lived at Competition, a little town on the upper 

 middle fork of the Gasconade, told me once they had 

 been caught there weighing twelve pounds, He probably 

 was color blind and mistook a red horse for a black bass." 



"Yes," says Bill, "and there is another difference be- 

 tween the bass of these waters and that of the lakes and 

 sluggish streams about Lexington. Those frequently 

 have worms in the flesh: these seldom, if ever, do; they 

 are as sound as a dollar, and as hearty as a shark. There 

 is a great deal of the quality and pluck of a fish dependent 

 upon the water in which he lives, and these spring-fed 

 streams produce fish at their very best. But even here a 

 fish is better if he is eaten quite soon after he is killed. 

 There is nothing that deteriorates so fast in keeping as 

 fish , or that requires more care to properly preserve fit 

 for food. If you want him as he should be, kill him and 

 have him in the frying pan within the same ten minutes." 



"This is the dark of the moon," says Bill: "what time 

 in the moon do you think the best for catching fish?" 



"Well," answers Will, "I don't plant potatoes in the 

 moon, and I don't catch fish in the moon. I am not 

 overly sure that the moon has anything to do with it, 

 unless HenshaH's reason is a good one. He thinks fish 

 bite better in the dark of the moon, because when the 

 moon shines all night, or the greater part of it, they feed 

 then and are duller in the day time. There may be some- 

 thing in that, but I have seen all signs fail so often that 

 I am a skeptic. I'll tell you one thing, you don't want to 

 rely on signs for the small-mouthed black bass. He is 

 the most capricious cuss you ever pursued in your life. 

 One day he wfil rise to the fly; the next he will be on the 

 bottom and won't take anything but crawfish: one day 

 he will bite at minnows, and the next he won't notice 

 them; and then sometimes he won't bite at anything. 

 You may see him in the water, and put your bait before 

 his nose, and he won't even condescend to notice it. O, 

 he is a dainty fellow, I tell you. But when he does bite, 

 look out! he's like a house afire, or a cyclone; when he is 

 stricken he makes the water fly!" 



And so the boys talk of the black bass until the pipes 

 go out and yawning becomes catching. The lad has 

 already gone to sleep, tired out with the experience and 

 incidents of the day, leaning against the wood pile. He 

 is hauled off to the tent, and soon the stertorous breathing 

 of five vigorous pairs of lungs announces that "tired 

 nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep," is emperor of the 

 camp. 



At the peep o' day our old bachelor Frank, who had 

 been out to get a sniff of the morning ah- and to resolve 

 himself into a weather bureau, poked his head into the 

 tent, crowed a long and loud imitation of the chanticleer, 

 and shouted, on the same notes, "When the cock crows 

 'tis day!" As he kept this up, and after every crow 

 slapped his arms down his sides like a rooster flapping his 

 wings, all idea of further sleep had to be given up. Wo 

 arose, each performed his ablutions in the deliciously 

 clear and cool water of the river. Everybody turning to 

 and doing something. Ave soon had a splendid, piping-hot 

 breakfast ready, with coffee strong enough to make your 

 hair curl and. several enjoyable little tid-bits. When you 

 can't in camp scare up askillet full of game or fish, and 

 take time to enjoy them, then times are hard, and the 

 fun is out. Such fortune Avould rarely fall to our one 

 shotgun and four rods. When Ave leisurely get ready to 

 leave Camp Hamlett we do so with reluctance, for it is a 

 bewitching spot, in which one woidd like to linger for 

 weeks. But our time is marked out for us. In just so 

 many days we must be at Arlington, and Ave do not want 

 to have to hurry too much over any of the fifty miles 

 that we have to make. 



The day that we left Camp Hamlett was devoted to the 

 river. Very little fishing was done and no shooting. The 

 beauty of the stream claimed our attention, and some 

 fourteen miles of it was covered with ease. The bluffs 

 and mountains Avere unusually striking and pretty, and 



