342 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Nov. 24, 1887. 



lie §^arttmim %onmi 



Address all communications to the Forest and Stream Pub. Co. 



SAM LOVEL'S CAMPS. 



SECOND SERIES. — I. 



FOLLOWING out a plan conceived during his spring 

 campaign on the Slang, when he had been amazed 

 at the numbers, size and variety of fishes inhabiting 

 Champlain waters, Sam Lovel and some of his friends 

 with a wagonload of camping outfit were one day slowly 

 jolting down the steep winding road to the landing below 

 the first falls on Little Otter. 



It was one of those lazy afternoons in June when all 

 nature basks in the new warmth, and nothing seems 

 better to all things than to be still and enjoy laziness. 

 The bullfrogs sitting on the rafted logs at the mill tail 

 only winked their enjoyment of sunshine as they dozed 

 beside their voiceless brothers, the little turtles. A king- 

 fisher sat motionless on a fishing stake, apparently re- 

 gardless of the swarm of minnows poised beneath him. 

 A big fish, finding himself floating too near the glassy 

 Burface, broke it with a languid flap of his tail as he 

 sought cooler depths, the slow wavelets just stirring the 

 young water weeds and lapsing softly on the shores. 

 High overhead a hen hawk swung in a wide circle as 

 slowly as swept the lazy drift of silver clouds above him, 

 and almost at rest upon the wing. The voices of the 

 birds were hushed: the merry bobolinks jangled only oc- 

 casional snatches of song in the meadows, where loiter- 

 ing strawberry pickers lounged in the long shadows of 

 trees, and a wood pewee in the great elm over the mill 

 was the only one of the thousand singers that sang con- 

 tinuously, and his sweet pensive notes seemed like the 

 fragrance of flowers, more exhaled than sung. The per- 

 vading spirit of indolence had fallen upon mankind as 

 well. The miller lounged in the doorway of his mill 

 with no sign of his vocation but the dust on his garments, 

 while no sound was in the misty precincts, but the drowsy 

 murmur of the waste water dribbling from the flume, 

 and from the wide portals of the sawmill only at rare 

 intervals was heard the creak of the sawgate, the swish 

 of the saw eating its way through the log, and the clink 

 of the ratchet in the rag wheel; and then the sawyer only 

 moved along his jerky seat on the log when it had brought 

 him into dangerous proximity to the saw, reluctantly, 

 and wishing the log was longer. Then he rode b?.ck on 

 the carriage, and after due deliberation set the log up an 

 inch sidewise, dogged it in place with slow strokes, and 

 when he could think of no pretext for longer delaying, 

 hoisted the gate and set the squeak and swish and clink 

 agoing again, and fresh terebinthine and balsamic odors 

 afloat on the air. Women lolled in doorways with elbows 

 on knees looking intentty at nothing, while children, too 

 young to be at school, were taking their afternoon nap. 

 But the curiosity of these good people was awakened and 

 unwontedly stirred by the arrival of Sam's party, for a 

 camping outfit was an unusual sight in those days, when 

 canxping was not in fashion with those who were consid- 

 ered quite respectable. Only white vagabonds and bands 

 of Canadian Indians who had not much better shelter at 

 home were supjjosed to live in shanties and tents for the 

 pleasure of it even in the pleasantest weather. Perhaps 

 the memory of the hardships of the pioneers, some of the 

 younger of whom were yet living, was not enough oblit- 

 erated for such primitive ways of life to seem at all de- 

 sirable to their descendants. At any rate the folks about 

 the falls wondered to see such decent-looking men as 

 these coming of then- own free will to take boat here to 

 go to the lake for some days of vagabondizing. This they 

 signified their intention of doing when the miller and 

 the sawyer with moderate haste drew near, with some 

 others who suddenly emerged from neighboring houses, 

 rubbing the traces of recent slumber from their eyes. 



Sam inquired for the owner of a roomy boat to take 

 their effects to the mouth of the creek, and the miller 

 looking at the sawyer said, "Wal, there's ol' Uncle Tyler 

 hes got a tollable big scaow boat, an' haint nothin' much 

 t' du. Mebby he'd take ye daown t' the san'bar. S'pose 

 he would, Sargent?" 



"Yaas, I sh' think like 'nough he would." 

 "Yes, he'll du it," the miller said very confidently now. 

 "Goin' fishin'? Thought most likely ye was. Uncle 

 Tyler lives up yunder in that leetle haouse wi' the linter 

 on the west side on 't— that leetle heater piece is his'n, an' 

 there he is a pokin' raound in his garding. There, he's 

 comin' daown t' see what's a goin' on— thought he would 

 — haint nothin' else t' du. Most on us putty busy this 

 time o' year; ha' no time tu be foolin' raound day times." 



"So I see," Sam said. "C'n we git someb'dy t' keep 

 aour bosses a week er so?" 



"Wal, Sargent's got a pafstur handy," the miller re- 

 plied, questioning the sawyer with his eyes. 

 "Jump?" Sargent asked. 



"No, sh," Sam answered, "do' wanter, 'a' can't," which 

 statement the subdued mien of the ancient and clumsy 

 animals seemed to verify. So a bargain was made with 

 the sawyer for their keep, and Uncle Tyler being now 

 present, bestowing a slow, senile, lop-jawed stare im- 

 partially on each of the newcomers, negotiations were 

 entered into with Mm. "They wanter hire yer boat tu 

 take 'em daown tu the san'bar," the miller shouted with 

 great distinctness, making it apparent that Uncle Tyler 

 was hard of hearing. "Your boat! san'bar!" yet louder 

 and pointing to the scow drawn up among the willows, 

 and then down the creek. 



"Ooo-h !" said Uncle Tyler, slowly looking them over 

 again. "Where'd ye say ye come from?" 



"Haint said," Sam answered. 



"Stanstead ? Why i hat's way up beyund Canerdy line ! 

 Hoss thieves up there !" Uncle Tyler said severely, turn- 

 ing the focus of his dull stare on to the horses. 



"We — live— up— tu— Danvis," Sam proclaimed with 

 slow and loud distinctness. 



"Ooo-h 1 Danby!" said Uncle Tyler, "'Way saouth o' 

 here — Quaker taown. Haow come ye t' come 'way up 

 here ? Haint Quakers, be ye ?" 



"Dan-vis," Sam roared, 



"Oh, ooo-h, yis! Danvis, yis, yis, over here," and the old 

 man pointed vaguely eastward. Sam nodded assent. 

 "Yis, yis, Danvis," Uncle Tyler repeated; "Danvis; got 

 relations up there, er my ol' woman has; 'maounts tu 

 'baout the same thing, gen'ally — name o' White— White 

 by name but not by natur' — dark complected folks; know 

 'em ?" 



Yes, Sam knew a family answering to that name and 

 description. 



"Yis, I guess I c'n take ye daown termorrer morn in', 

 arter breakfus. Skill want a little suthin' for't; orter be 

 workin' in my gardin — weeds just a bilin' up aouten the 

 airth naow. S'pose yer willin' tu pay reson'ble? Hev ye 

 got any terbarker 'at's fit tu smoke? I meant tu ha' sent 

 up t' the store an' got me some, but I forgot it." While 

 the price of Uncle Tyler's prospective services was being 

 fixed upon, and he was filling his pipe from Sam's blue 

 paper of "long cut," An toine returned from an inspection 

 of the craft in the harbor, rejoicing as if he had met an 

 old friend. "Say, Sam!" he cried, "you ant b'lieved it, 

 Ah'll fan dat sam' raf we was helped it dem feller buil' 

 las' spiim! Yas, sah; bah gosh! He'll got dat lett' on en' 

 of log of it, feesh hook, an' hoxin's foots!" 



"J. B.," Sam suggested. • 



"Yas, bah gosh! yas! Wal sah, Sam, 'f Ah'll can' haire 

 aout some boats, Ah'll goin' borried dat raf 's an' pole hum 

 daown de crik, bah gosh, hein?" 



"I guess, Antwine, 'at necessiation won't impel us tu 

 sech ways o' navigation," said Solon, glad of an opportu- 

 nity to let these proud lowlanders know that although he 

 lived among the mountains, he was not to be outdone in 

 the elegant use of their common language by any one in 

 the lake region, "for Sammy well is a negoturatin' with 

 this elderly an-cient gentleman tu export us an' aour de- 

 fects in a occupacious boat o' his'n." 



When he had done Joseph Hill heaved a sigh of relief , 

 and said aside to Sam, "Wal, I swan! I begin tu be 

 afeard 'at Solon 'ould git stuck, an' never git red of all 

 that 'thout chokin'! I'll be gol darned 'f his thrut haint 

 the size of a saw lawg; not quite the size o' some o' these 

 mebby," slowly measuring with his eye some of the larg- 

 est logs piled in the mill yard, "but the size of a middlin' 

 sized, sorter sizerble saw lawg." 



Arrangements were made with Uncle Tyler to take the 

 most cumbersome of their baggage to the lake in his scow 

 next morning, and accommodations for the night were 

 found for the party at the miller's house. The remainder of 

 the day was passed by them in comfortable lounging about 

 the neighborhood of the mills, watching the boys catch- 

 ing rock bass at the foot of the rapids, themselves taking 

 a hand occasionally in the sport of capturing these vigor- 

 ous biters, and in informing themselves concerning a de- 

 sirable camping ground, and the best places for fishing. 



"You c'n fish anywheres 't the' 's water 'n' ketch suthin' 

 'nuther," said the miller, "but 'f you want a ri' daown 

 good cainpin' place, arter you git beyund the Slab Hole, 

 you turn int' the left, on the wes' side o' the crik, 'posite 

 the san'bar, where the's a lot o' willers, an' you'll find the 

 neatest place 't you ever see! Ye needn't build ye no 

 shanty, for the' 's rooks a hangin' over 'at'll shelter ye, 

 an' the' 's lots o' cedar browse tu make yer beds on, an' 

 wood! the Slab Hole's full on't— lawgs, an' slabs, an' sticks 

 o' f o' foot wood, 'n' everything, f 'm kin'lin' tu back lawgs. 

 An' there ye be, right t' the lake, 'n' right t' the crick, an' 

 Lewis Crik an' the seinin' graound not mor' 'n a quart' of 

 a mild off!" . 



Uncle Tyler's appointed hour of departure, "arter 

 breakfus," came in good time, and the party was afloat 

 not long after sunrise. Sam and Antoine led the flotilla 

 in the birch and dugout, which had been transported 

 from Danvis on then: wagon, and Uncle Tyler, Solon and 

 Joseph were captain and crew of the scow. The old man 

 steered with a paddle, and struggled with his latest bor- 

 rowed pipeful of damp plug tobacco, while each of the 

 others manned an oar and wrestled desperately with it, 

 for rowing was a new and painful experience for them. 

 Now they "caught crabs," and now they dug the bottom 

 with the oar blades, bringing up on them specimens of 

 aquatic plants that would have rejoiced the heart of a 

 botanist; and they bumped their noses and their knees 

 with the handles, while the splashing of the water, the 

 creaking and thumping of the clumsy oars, and the 

 grunting and puffing of the rowers, intermingled with 

 the directions of the helmsman, delivered in the loud, un- 

 modulated tone that deaf persons are apt to use, made a 

 confusion of sounds most wonderful to hear. If the 

 ancient mariner laid aside his paddle for a moment to 

 give his pipe its often-needed fighting, Solon's oar was 

 sure to be midway in or at the beginning of a stroke, 

 while Joseph's blade was pointing at some quarter of the 

 heavens between the zenith and the horizon, and pres- 

 ently the scow was headed for the shore, her bottom 

 brushing over the young rushes and sedges of the marsh. 

 "For gosh a'mighty's sake! Didn't nary one on ye never 

 have a holt of a noar afore?" he would shout, as with 

 lateral sweeps of Ms paddle he got the boat upon her 

 course again, "Don't dip so deep! Keep the blades o' yer 

 oars jest onderneath the water— but ye got tu stick 'em 

 in the water! ye can't row in the air!" as one of them 

 skinned the surface with his blade, "Oh, good gosh 

 a'mighty, can't ye hear nothin', er can't ye onderstan' 

 nothin'?" The old man's patience was almost exhausted, 

 when his pipe, turning over in the unstable grip of his 

 gums, emptied its now well-fired contents upon his knee, 

 unnoticed till it burned through his trousers to his leg. 

 "Good— gosh a'mighty! I thought I smelt suthin' a 

 burnin'!" he cried, slapping wildly at the smoldering fire. 

 His pipe dropped and was shivered at Ms feet, and just 

 then Joseph missed a stroke into which he had put much 

 strength and good intention, and went sprawling heels up 

 in the bottom of the scow, while his oar blade came down 

 with a thud on Uncle Tyler's pate. 



"Good gosh a'mighty dum ye! Be ye try in' ter kill 

 me, er what be ye tryin' t' du? Breakm' my pipe, an' a 

 knocMn' on me in the head, an' a burnin' on me up alive! 

 Gimme a holt o' them oars, an' git aout o' that dum 

 quick!" crawling over the baggage toward them. "Lay 

 daown— er git aout an' go afoot! I don't keer a dum 

 mite which! Ketch me a goin' a bwutin' agin along o' a 

 passel o' idjits 'at do'jknow a noar f 'in a pudd'n' stick! Ye 

 can't row a bwut no more'n a goose c'n gobble!" 



One bestowed Mmself m the bow, the other m the stern, 

 while the old man, as speechless with wrath as they were 

 with mortification, sent the boat forward with long, even 

 strokes that made the water surge under her broad bow. 

 The young lily pads danced madly on the waves of her 

 wake, and the little whirlpools that spun away from the 

 oars twisted into tangles the slender new leaves of wild 

 rice, and engulfed fleets of water beetles. 



The commotion on board the larger craft had caused 

 Sam and Antoine to cease paddling and wait to ascertain 

 the cause. 



I "What a dev' hail dat hoi' can' hear not'ing man?" An- 

 ' toine asked as they looked back, "He'll don't goin' 



trow Solem an' Zhogzeff board over, ant it? Oh, bah gosh! 

 Ah'll bet you head Ah'll know what was de matter be! 

 Dey'll can't roar!" 



"Wal, by the gret horn spoon! I sb'd think by the 

 saound 'at he c'ld roar 'nough for the hull three on 'em!" 

 said Sam, as the steady rumble of Uncle Tyler's angry 

 bawling came over the water. 



"Oh, damnashin! Ah'll ant meant roar a nowse! Ah'll 

 meant r-r-roar dat hoi' boats wid r-roar! Ant you'll 

 on'stan', hein? Oh, bah gosh! Ah'll ant never see so dam 

 langwizhe lak Angleesh, me!" 



"Wal, Antwine, I never did nuther— not as you speak 

 it." The scow seemed to be making fair progress now, 

 and they went on their way. 



Solon, after long and intent study of the Tyler method 

 of handling the oars, at last said: "I du raly b'lieve, 

 Jozeff , 'at I hev got a clear an' intercate idee of the modus 

 upperdandy, as they say in Latin, an' 'at I c'ld naow, 

 arter a leetle practyse, expel this boat putty mgh as rapid 

 as what he does." 



"Wal, it looks tollable easy, but I haint faound it so; 

 that is, not so tumble easy," said Joseph. 



"Naow, she's a-goin'!" proclaimed Uncle Tyler, uncon- 

 scious of their conversation, and sendmg a grim but 

 somewhat mollified glance fore and aft. 



"She?" queried Solon, after scannmg each distant shore, 

 "who*s she? I don't discover no one of the femaline sect 

 nowheres," 



"What she is a-goin'?" Joseph shouted at Uncle Tyler. 



"Hey? Oh, good gosh a'mighty! I never see such dum'd 

 ign'nt creeters. Why, this bwut is 'she.' It haint he, is 

 it?" and the old man was obliged to quit rowing a moment 

 to unburden himself of wheezy laughter. 



"That is a most cur'osity idee," Solon said, after some 

 consideration of the subject, "a-speakin' of a onhumern, 

 onanimit boat as if it belonged tu any sect. I don't see 

 nothin' phillysoffycable in it!" 



"Wal," Joseph said, "I do' know. Mebby it's 'cause if 

 they take a notiern tu go, they're a-gom', an' if they don't, 

 they haint, erless a feller knows haow tu make 'em 'thaout 

 lettin' on 'em think they're bein' made, which it is a knack 

 'at few on us hes — er mebby it's 'cause they take a feller 

 jest where they're a minter — I do' know." 



"It prober bly deriginated someway aout o' their con- 

 trairiness. Haowevertheless, it 'pears tu me it 'ould be 

 more properer tu call 'em 'he,' bein' 'at they hev starns, 

 wMch men is spoke of frequent as the 'starn sect.' " 



"An' then there's the baows, tu. Women alius cur- 

 cheys." 



"That's the way to row a bwut!" Uncle Tyler said, only 

 knowing by the motion of their hps that they were speak- 

 ing, and imagimng that they were expressing admiration 

 of his skill. 



"Gom' ahead looks easy 'nough," Joseph said, ponder- 

 ing, "but s'posin' a feller wanted ter hev him— no, 'she' 

 is what he calls the dum'd ol' thing— hev her go t'other 

 way, what's goin' ter be did then? What d' yer du when 

 ye wanter back her?" loudly addressing the ancient 

 mariner. 



"Hey?" he shouted, suddenly alert and resting on his 

 oars. "Want ter backer? Course I du, but ye broke my 

 pipe an' I can't smoke thaout you lem me have yourn, an' 

 I haint got no ter backer; meant tu sent up tu the store 

 an' get me some yist'd'y, but I forgot it." 



Joseph began whittling a plug of tobacco, and filling 

 Ms own pipe, handed it with a match to the old man, 

 who, dropping Ms oars, at once set himself to lighting it. 

 "01' as he is, he haint forgot haow tu suck," Joseph re- 

 marked in an ordinary tone as he watched him pulling at 

 the pipe with resounding smacks. "Don't ye see the 

 flame o' that match a comin' aouten his ears? I do' know 

 as I see the flame, ezackly, but I'm sar tin I duthe smoke." 



"That's the way tu row a bwut!" Uncle Tyler repeated 

 when having got Ms pipe in satisfactory blast, he re- 

 sumed the oars and sent the scow snoring on its way. 

 The sound of its progress was not unlike the heavy 

 breathing of a sound sleeper, the long, grating squeak of 

 the swivels simulatmg the indrawing of the breath, the 

 gurgling swish of the water during the stroke, its exhala- 

 tion. "It's just as ea-sy!" 



"I know it is," said Joseph, "leastways, I think it is, 

 tu look at it. I c'ld set an' look at ye duin' on't, an' never 

 git the least mite tired; an' I do' know but what I c'ld 

 larn, jest a settm' an' a watcMn' on ye. Any ways, I'm 

 willin' tu try larnin' that way a spell. Golly blue!" in- 

 specting his palms, "the's blisters on my han's bigger'n 

 ac'rns, an' a dum sight tenderer! That ol' dried up critter 

 haint juice 'nough in his hull carkiss tu make one sech 

 blister. Mebby the' is in his hull carkiss, but the' hamt 

 in his han's, I don't b'lieve. An' his back hes got jest the 

 right hump for the business. Tell ye what, Solon, I 

 b'lieve ol' folks is the fellers 'at is ezackly cal'lated for 't. 

 If I was tu set here an' watch him till I git tu be as ol' as 

 he is I shouldn't wonder 'f I could oar one o ! these she 

 boats, but I do' know, it don't scasely seem, 's I feel naow, 

 as 'ough I keered 'baout tryin' much afore." 



When the two canoes came to where the tributary East 

 Slang somewhat widened the slow current of Little Otter, 

 Sam pointed with his paddle to the low cape, now green 

 with water maples in full leaf, even now standing ankle 

 deep in the still brown water, whose weedy surface dully 

 reflected their greenness and graceful ramage, and the 

 flash of the starlings' wings that flitted among them. 

 "Up there, Antwine, is where we camped last spring, an' 

 hed fun. I wonder haow it looks naow 'at summer's 

 come, if the shanty 's standin', an' whether that 'ere 

 dum'd little squirrel sets there a cMtterreein' on that 

 hemlock yit? Dum'd 'f I don't go an' see haow it looks 

 some clay; lunsomer 'an it did then, I guess." 



"Yes sah ! Oh 'f Ah'll ant have it good tam dere, me ! 

 An' dat de place you'll see dat crookit tree where Ah'll 

 leek dat mans. Ah'll bet you head you can fan de brark 

 scrape off the tree yet, an' de hairs scratter 'raoun'— 

 prob'ly de blood all wash away 'fore naow." 



"Most likely," Sam said. 



The scow havmg now drawn near, they passed on 

 together toward the lake. "I was a cal'latm'," Uncle 

 Tyler said, addressing the fleet in general, but particularly 

 his crew, "for ter troll some comin' 'long, but you be so 

 okkerd ! I got a rig there an' posserbly you might hang 

 on to 't so 's t' snag a pickril," and reaching before him 

 he took up a short pole with many crooks in it for its 

 length whereon was wound a stout line which had a hook 

 baited with a piece of pork rind and a strip of red flannel. 

 While he kept the boat slowly moving he unwound thirty 

 feet or so of the line, and handing the pole to Joseph 

 went on at a leisurely stroke. "The' haint no better trol- 



