July is, 1889.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



627 



; present au 



tion from fire, railroads and timber cutters. Murray trestles over swamps and morasses. A log-surfaced lake, 

 opened the great gateway: will those who are profiting a Titanic mill guarded by two black smokestacks, and the 

 therefrom close "it by their own blindness? scattered houses of employees, constituted Sawyer s mill 



This grand combination of lakes and rivers, mountains | and its environments, 

 and vallevs, chasms and peaks, comprising altogether | We bought all of the bread one housewife could muster 

 nearly or quite 4,000,000 acres— more than seventy miles and denuded the cupboard of another of all its berry pies, 

 across in any direction— would not long remain in its and then with the dark pine forest to the eastward tor 

 present condition if it were in almost any European an objective point we tramped on, wearily shifting our 

 country. It would come under the ownership and con- . equipage from one galled shoulder to the other. We were 

 trol of the State, and be preserved for the people of the ! getting tired and foot-sore: there was no use m denying 

 State. But our own country, first in much that cannot ; it. The fresh spicy breeze rustling through the quaking 

 be too strongly commended,' is sadly slow in doing those asp and blackberry copse on the shady side of the log- 

 things which would give it a reputation for something ging trail we were following, dried up the moisture c 



besides business, push and enterprise. The general Gov- 

 ernment should do as other general governments would 

 do if they had opportunities for acquiring so many 

 national parks as might now be secured for this country, 

 in different paTts of it. More money is squandered every 

 year by Congress than would be required to purchase 

 and maintain for many years all of the gifts of nature 

 which have been so bountifully bestowed upon us. Are 

 we to forever reject these gifts? D. H. B. 



SYKACtTSE, July i. 



A WEEK OFF. 



IT was mid-summer, with the hot August sun beating- 

 down with relentless fervor on the city pavements, 

 when Mark and I were granted our week off. We had 

 clerked faithfully for Benjamin & Co., carpet dealers, 

 these five years: and they had always rewarded us with 

 a week's outing in August, just when business is dull. 

 Hitherto we had improved our furloughs by running 

 down Kalamazoo way to see the old folks, but this sum- 

 mer had been so unusually torrid and dry, and in conse- 

 quence we felt so physically enervated, that the thought 

 of the scorching harvest fields and white dusty highways 

 of our boyhood homes made us perspire instead of men- 

 tally recuperate, so we resolved to go up North and cool 

 off. This was a bold decision for even Grand Rapids 

 clerks to make, and we held our breath and refrained 

 from, lisping it to our most intimate friends. We were 

 getting the fishing tackle ready on the Saturday night 

 before our departure* when Mark proposed that we carry 

 our Winchesters too. I sat down on the hard boarding- 

 house bed and stared at him in amazement. "Look 

 a-here. old fellow," I ejaculated, "don't you know it's 

 out of season to hunt deer, and that's all the big game 

 we would be likely to run against." "But there's bear 

 up there,'' mildly suggested Mark. We looked into each 

 other's eyes as only two friends can when one of them 

 has made such a. startling proposition that the other's 

 credulity is staggered. Before Monday morning Mark 

 had won me over to the idea of taking the rifles, but we 

 were so afraid that some of our waggish acquaintances 

 might see us accoutred on the street that we sent the 

 guns to the station by a boy to be expressed to our desti- 

 nation. Then we walked boldly to the Union depot and 

 boarded the "Cadillac Limited," on the Grand Rapids and 

 Indiana' Railroad. It was 7 o'clock in the morning, and 

 the air was already close and sultry. 



The train stood away straight as an arrow for higher 

 latitudes, and we dozed in our seats and dreamed of piny 

 ozone breezes, limpid lakes and gurgling streams. Maple 

 Hill, where the track reaches the end of a long grade 

 and then descends northward till it is lost in a converging 

 point, seemed a miniature paradise to our eyes. Here 

 the meadows, the rustliog cornfields and terraced maple 

 woods wore a bright vivid green coat, and jxist the faint- 

 est of zephyrs tempered the arid quivering atmosphere. 

 From this pleasant summit till we struck the low-lying 

 Muskegon valley at Big Rapids, the desolation of the 

 landscape was appalling. The lumberman's axe had 

 razed the choicest sylvan giants to the ground, and then 

 the fire fiend had charred and blackened the inferior 

 timber remaining, till nothing but their skeleton trunks 

 existed to make the scenery hideous. Big Rapids is a 

 pleasant city of about 5,000 population, its streets taste- 

 fully lined with sugar maples. Several riffles in the Mus- 

 kegon occur here, give the town its name and furnish 

 isplendid water power. Just above the city we crossed 

 itlie turbid river that has borne more logs to market than 

 ;any other stream in the State. It was chock-full from 

 bank to bank with its pine wealth, and looked more like 

 a great crooked corduroy road than a booming river. 



Mark groaned aloud when he came to Reed City. "Here 

 we are nearly to our proposed hunting grounds," he said, 

 *'and there is as much civilization in sight as we left on 

 Monroe street, Grand Rapids. I fear that no game dare 

 abide within sound of this bustling little city." However, 

 we smothered our apprehensions, marshalled our grip 

 together in readiness for a quick light, and gazed non- 

 chalantly at the whirling landscape. "LeRoy!" The 

 picturesque name came in stentorian accents from the 

 throat of the versatile brakeman, the car windows jarred 

 ominously, the slow revolving wheels grated harshly, and 

 we came to a stop with a shock. We hustled out of the hot 

 coach into the broiling mid-day sunshine, and vowed it 

 was a veritable leap from the frying pan into the fire. 

 As the train glided off toward its Mackinaw destination 

 we vigorously mopped our perspiring physiognomies and 

 surveyed the situation. We were eighty-two miles north 

 of our starting point, and heaven only knew how many 

 miles from fish and game, particularly bear. But we had 

 our own route previously outlined, and were not going 

 to be sw-erved one iota from the course now by any dis- 

 couraging aspect. We walked straight to the "principal 

 hotel" with the independence of drummers, and partook 

 of substantial refreshments. Then we sat on the veranda 

 and looked the burg over. It was a typical lumbering 

 village, but more substantially built than most sawdust 

 towns. 



As our plan was to go in light marching order and 

 depend on the country for forage, preparations for the 

 start were soon complete. They consisted of picking up 

 our Winchesters, fishing rods and blankets, etc., and 

 rallying forth. The first man we met volunteered the 

 information "that work could be had at Sawyer's mill, 

 as there was a scarcity of help there." As this lumber 

 manufactory lay on our line of march we did not unde- 

 ceive our "mossback" friend as to our intents and pur- 

 poses, but simply thanked him and passed on. Our path 

 was a tram-road, or in other words a wooden railroad 

 even to the flat maple rails. An empty tram car soon 

 overtook us, and the driver gave us a lift to Sawyer's 



our feverish faces, but sharpened our hunger to the 

 verge of poignancy. We had brought no tent with us, as 

 it would have added to our luggage, and we had been 

 told that "canvas was unnecessary, as plenty of deserted 

 lumbermen's shacks would be found in the woods.'' How- 

 some men can contort their veracity when giving advice 

 to a party about to camp out, especially if that party 

 consists of two innocent city carpet house clerks! We did 

 not spend much time in looking about in that great lone- 

 some pine forest for fabled woodsmen's shanties, but see- 

 ing a glimmer of water through an opening we beat our 

 way toward it, falling over slippery logs and being mer- 

 cilessly tripped with thorny briers. Mark swore that 

 some of those particular mosquitoes that were perforat- 

 ing the scruff of his neck were by breed a pure cross with 

 bumble bees, and I had no reason to question his opin- 

 ion. It was all fun anyway, and sport and recreation 

 was what we had entombed ourselves in the savage 

 wilderness for. So we emerged on the shores of little 

 Silver Lake, making its sylvan shores peal with our 

 silvery laughter. Silver Lake was rightly named; it was 

 as round as a silver dollar, and the purple evening light 

 was reflected from its clear surface in an incandescent 

 glow. We soon had a big smudge going, for the insect 

 pests were intolerable. As we stood in the thick smoke 

 and alternately rubbed our bitten faces with oil of penny- 

 royal to guard against future vampire attacks and staid 

 our stomachs with big samples of brown bread and berry 

 pies we exchanged practical views for the plans and 

 specifications of our night's camp. It was then after 

 6 o'clock and the work must be done quickly. We bent 

 over some poplar saplings against a gigantic pine log for 

 the framework, and with a hatchet lopped the boughs 

 from several youthful hemlocks, which crude balsamic 

 material both shingled our house and formed the ground 

 work for our beds. 



The slapping of the limpid surface of the lake by sev- 

 eral frisky black bas3 had aroused my piscatorial instinct 

 to such a pitch that I left Mark to ignite the tire at the 

 door of our evergreen canopy, and picking up my fishing 

 rod felt my way carefully along a partly submerged log 

 out among the pond lily leaves and nodding water grasses. 

 I put on a grub for bait and cast forth for luck, The 

 tempting bait was taken with avidity and I swung in a 

 |lb. bass. I tossed it on shore to Mark, and whipped the 

 water far beyond the lily pads with my long line. The 

 lmen went off with a swirl, the tip of my pole tapped the 

 water, and the lurch caused me nearly to lose my bal- 

 ance and take an ignominious bath. But my blood was 

 up, and bracing myself for the effort I lifted as fine a 

 bass from the water as it was ever my luck to land. He 

 was indeed a beauty, would weigh 5 or 6lbs., and had the 

 strength of a young leviathan. Mark had now joined in 

 the sport and succeeded in landing several fine fish. I 

 caught a couple of slim perch but had no more bass bites, 

 and as the shadows of night were descending fast on the 

 gloomy forest, we retired to the shelter of our improvised 

 bungalow to dress our finny victims and broil them on 

 the coals. I can remember to this day how they tasted, 

 eaten then by the flickering firelight with the shadowy 

 outline of the great pine towering above us, the flashing 

 of luminous insects in the summer air, and the soft ripple 

 of diminutive wavelets on the lily pads. The evening 

 was a trifle chilly, and Mark stirred up the fire and I 

 spread our blankets on the bough bed. At this juncture 

 a demoniac shriek pierced our ears and died away in a 

 horrible gurgling laugh that froze the marrow in our 

 bones. Mark and I gasped the word "panther ! " in the 

 same breath, and with a hoarse cry of terror we swung 

 our rifles into position and crowded back under the pro- 

 tecting log. A moment of utter silence and awful sus- 

 pense followed, then a twig snapped to our right. Our 

 pieces moved around in that direction with the automatic 

 action of a battery anticipating a flank charge, and we 

 fired simultaneously. A hundred booming guns re- 

 sponded from the wooded shores of the lake, and as their 

 bellow waned to a fusilade of rollicking echoes, a flutter 

 was heard overhead, and we knew that an owl was wing- 

 ing his way over the pine-sentineled loch. Our teeth 

 ceased to chatter, the blood came back to our blanched 

 cheeks, and we laid down the rifles with the meekness of 

 lambs. Strange how the sudden hoot of an owl will 

 upset a man's nerves, isn't it ? 



We lay down on our aromatic pallets that night and 

 slept the sleep of the just. But the atmosphere must, 

 have been different from what we were used to breathing 

 in the Ionia street boarding house, for when old Sol 

 awoke us in the morning by shining unceremoniously in 

 our faces, our vocal cords could only vibrate a hoarse 

 bullfrog croak. We made a hasty breakfast, whipped 

 the lake for more fish, and then worked back toward the 

 logging trail of the previous evening. No sun ever pene- 

 trated the dark pine woods we were now traversing, but 

 their gloom was flavored with balsamic exhalations and 

 the pure ozone that circulates alone in forest avenues; we 

 drew it in at great draughts and trudged on our way re- 

 joicing. About noon we came to the shores of Indian 

 La ke, our final destination, and greeted its sparkling sur- 

 face with a hurrah of welcome. The trail that nad led 

 us to this lovely spot diverged to the left here and passing 

 on via Strawberry Lake, had its terminus in the thriving 

 village of Evart, ten inile3 southeast. We discovered a 

 decayed shingle-maker's hut near the border of the water, 

 and repairing it, making it our headquarters for the rest 

 of the week. We spent the other four days of our outing 

 in wanton joy, tramping through the neighboring 

 thickets, firing at partridges whose feathered coats would 

 somehow always turn a bullet, and canoeing on the 

 bosom of the lake in hollowed out logs with poles for 

 paddles. We grew brown and rugged even in those few 

 blissful days, We had located a house about a mile away 



whose matron for a reasonable consideration kindly fur- 

 nished us with eatables, and we spiced the menu with 

 the trophies from our hooks. But yet we had seen no 

 bear ! 



But as fate would have it we were not destined to see 

 the metropolis of western Michigan again without scent- 

 ing bear; the most remarkable day of all proved to be the 

 last one of our stay. We got up that morning with the 

 sun and stretched our limbs Tike a couple of spring 

 chickens. We had planned to make a trip to Todd Lake, 

 four miles distant, and there troll for pickerel. We 

 paused at the door of our cuisine benefactor's log resi- 

 dence, and she gave us a large, warm sugar cake to carry 

 for our noon lunch. Then getting minute directions as 

 to the location of the lake, we consulted our compass and 

 plunged anew into the darksome forest. What a wild 

 jaunt that was ! We had not gone a mile before Mark 

 lost our magnetic guide from a hole in his pocket, and 

 we lost much precious time in a vain search for it. Then 

 we trusted to luck for the outcome and marched forward 

 much as De Soto must have done in his interminable 

 search for the Georgia gold mines. Ah, but there was 

 something savagely grand about our surroundings. It 

 was treading softly over the yielding carpet of nature's 

 great cathedral, with rustic boughs for rafters and the 

 interstices canopied with trembling leaves for frescoe. 

 There were tall, graceful silver birches with milk-white 

 trunks, hiding under the wings of dark-robed somber 

 hemlocks, whose cone-studded plumage was in turn over- 

 lapped by the dirge-moaning crests of mastodon white 

 pines. Near 11 o'clock we emerged on an oozy alder 

 bottom, and here noticed the tooth marks of the extinct 

 beaver on many a gnawed stump. What a labyrinth of 

 sylvan lanes that alder copse was laid out in ! We strag- 

 gled through them, holding our guns high above the 

 cruel saw-grass that slashed at our unprotected wrists, 

 many a time having to bend low and grope our way 

 through green tunnels, where the willow branches had 

 interlocked overhead. Suddenly we stepped into a bright, 

 clear sunlight, and instead of being enraptured by a view 

 of the broad expanse of Todd Lake, there lay before us a 

 billowy sea of blue-joint grass. It was a magnificent 

 spectacle, an oblong meadow of nature's own making, 

 fringed on the yon side by pea-green tamaracks and 

 feathery-crested pines. As we paused the silence was 

 absolute, save for the thumping of heart beats in our ex- 

 cited bosoms. 



Then we pushed out into the rank grass growth that 

 enveloped us to the shoulders, and struggled through its 

 impeding interlacement of blades toward the converging 

 end of the field. Some haycocks loomed into view, and 

 we were soon walking on stubble shaved smooth by the 

 keen edge of a scythe. Who could be haying it here in 

 this wilderness? We did not weary our brains over such 

 an inexplicable problem, but, panting and exhausted, 

 hastily utilized one of the soft cocks for a couch, and lying- 

 flat on the wild-scented hay munched our sweet cake, say- 

 ing nothing, but thinking a good deal. Just below us 

 the marsh narrowed, the meadow left off, and the alders 

 and willows began again. Presently down there a dry 

 pole snapped, as if some one stealthily walking had made 

 a misstep. My eyes lazily opened from a part doze, but 

 I felt too comfortably located to investigate. Mark evi- 

 dently had heard nothing; he lay as one who slumbereth. 

 Two, three, five minutes had elapsed, my eyes were clos- 

 ing again, the summer air quivered with heat, a locust 

 rasped from a linden tree back in the forest. A rod of 

 scythe clipped marsh lay between us and where the green 

 wall of tall grass abruptly recommenced. A couple of 

 rods of this, and then in the background, where hard 

 land arose* a thicket of quaking asp flourished that closed 

 the cavernous mouth of the forest recesses. I was dream- 

 ily watching the blue joint border, enchanted by its 

 feathery head tufts that spangled and scintillated in the 

 solar glow, when a hogiike snout arose above their crest 

 and pushed up higher and higher till there was revealed 

 a long, peaked head of swinish contour, paws hung 

 daintily down as if in supplication, diminutive ears and 

 cunning little eyes that looked straight up and revealed 

 nothing but their whites. The whole apparition was as 

 black as the shades of Egypt, and it had been sprung on 

 my vision so easily and noiselessly that I did not have 

 time to be startled. I was si mply fascinated. It paused 

 there an instant, the long "smellers" on its olfactory tip 

 oscillating rapidly, and then it sank behind the tall grass 

 as silently as it had arisen. My spell had broken, I softly 

 jogged Mark's elbow, and he quietly opened his eyes just 

 as the creature arose again, fully a rod nearer us. This 

 time the pointed head wagged our way, the little cunning 

 eyes looked into our fixed gaze, and then with a hoarse 

 "wooh!" of terror "our bear" dropped to his feet. There 

 was a wild swirl in the grass, a crashing of brush in the 

 quaking asp thicket that caused their quivering leaves to 

 dance a jig, and we were alone with our chagrin and our 

 Winchesters. We decided not to look any further for 

 Todd Lake, but took the back track and made our camp- 

 ing place about 4 P. M. The next morning was Saturday, 

 and with a reluctant farewell to the charming scene of 

 our outing, we shouldered our traps and wended our way 

 toward Evart. 



I can only give you a passing glimpse of the narrow 

 escape we' ran by fire before we reached the railroad. 

 We had noticed great volumes of white smoke looming 

 up in the southeast the day before, but had considered it 

 a long way off. Now w r e found our path was leading us 

 directly into it. We made a wide detour to the west- 

 ward, scrambling through the lumber slashings that had 

 been denuded of their choicest timber the winter before. 

 But the flames scurried after us and played like the 

 forked tongues of demons along the hind horizon. 

 Boom! crash! boom! sounded the forest giants as they 

 thundered to the earth and shook loose dense clouds of 

 glittering sparks. We dropped everything but our guns 

 and run like mad. It was not like giving a man a fair 

 chance for his life in an open space. We were tripped 

 by wiry ground hemlock and dashed stunned and bleed- 

 ing to the ground; we ran blindly against upturned 

 gnarled roots and were hurled back into the teeth of the 

 fiery tempest by the recoil. We broke through to the 

 armpits in great piles of dry brush and madly struggled 

 to get out with the horror of despair, while the seething 

 flames hovered over us and almost licked our scorched 

 bodies. O, the joy of relief and rescue, when we stag- 

 gered into a damp swamp and buried our blistered faces 

 in the oozy moss. The fire rolled on and left us as brands 

 snatched from the burning, and eventually we safely 

 reached Grand Rapids to recount the tale in a careless, 



