28 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Aug, 1, 1889. 



•5^1bs. His largest fish, story is that of the bass which 

 swall owed a chimney-swallow that happened to be dip- 

 ping down into the lake, the bass being taken a few mo 

 ments later with the tail of the swallow sticking out of 

 his mouth. Mr. Cook and Mr. Foster both vouch for the 

 truth of this story, but they think the story might have 

 been arranged better and more dramatically. 



When I reached the province of fish scores and fish 

 stories, I knew I could call nil the returns until I had 

 seen Col. Lippincott over on the point. I rowed over and 

 learned that the Colonel and Mr. John Coles on last Wed- 

 nesday caught 29 bass and 18 wall-eyed pike, and on 

 Thursday afternoon 7 bass and 30 wall-eyes that weighed 

 78 pounds. To the Hon. Andrew Shuman was accredited 

 the following remarkable score: One dogfish. 2 garfish, 

 17 bullheads, 15 silver bass, 1 wall-eye, 1 pickerel, and a 

 number of perch and sunfish. I was evidently upon the 

 land of Kit North. Col. Lippincott's mascallonge story 

 for 18S9 I shall be obliged to defer, but promise to write 

 it out at some future day. I passed a very pleasant hour 

 or two at this old landmark house of the lakes. 



E. Hough. 



CAMPS OF THE KINGFISHERS.— IN. 



ECHO LAKE, ONTARIO, CANADA. 



AT last we were really on the way to camp again, with 

 Louis at the tiller of the Mackinaw and headed 

 quartering across and up the river for the head of Squir- 

 rel Island instead of down and around the islands into 

 the bay; but Tom knew a channel around that way that 

 would cut off a mile or two in reaching the mouth of the 

 river, and this was a consideration not to be overlooked 

 as it was getting well along in the afternoon. 



Around the head of the island the Indians had to use 

 setting poles in the shallow water, as the island had 

 "shut off our wind;" but after a couple of hundred yards 

 of this creeping along, at a grunt and a motion from Tom, 

 Lewis shoved the tiller hard to starboard and we slid into 

 an opening in the grass and rushes barely wider than the 

 boat, and soon after had the wind again on the starboard 

 beam, which drove us along at a spanking rate through a 

 streak of open water, rush-lined on either side, [till we 

 entered the mouth of Echo Eiver. 



At the bridge spanning the stream a short distance 

 above, the masts were unstepped to pass under; and here 

 we took to the small boats to relieve the Indians of the 

 tow. 



Here at the bridge is a little settlement called Echo, 

 we were on our way up Echo River to Echo Lake, and 

 at the head of Echo Lake another river comes in called 

 Upper Echo River, verily a region of country where the 

 woods seem full of echoes. 



Lower Echo River is more like a crooked canal than a 

 river, having no perceptible current and a width of 50 to 

 80ft. from the mouth to where it leaves the lake, the dis- 

 tance being perhaps a trifle over three miles. The banks 

 are low, in some places swampy and heavily wooded on 

 both sides except for a couple of small clearings on the 

 right hand side going up, and is about as lonesome, God 

 forsaken looking a locality as one could well get into. 



With the small boats in the lead we followed the wind- 

 ings of the sluggish stream, but as we kept the heavy 

 pulling Mackinaw in sight our progress was slow, even 

 with no current to contend against; and when we reached 

 the outlet it was nearly nightfall, and the air was so full 

 of haze and smoke that we could not see a quarter of a 

 mile up tne lake. To make matters worse a heavy wind 

 was blowing straight down the lake, kicking up such a 

 rough sea that Tom and Louis thought it would be unsafe 

 to try to beat up to the camping place without good day- 

 light to work the boat in. 



Between us and the hills to the right was a good-sized 

 clearing in which stood a comfortable-looking hewed log 

 house with a new log barn. In the clear, open barn lot 

 reaching to the water we decided to put up a couple of 

 tents and get some supper, for we were both tired and 

 hungry. As the last bundle came ashore the farmer 

 came down from the house to investigate this invasion 

 of his premises; but on explaining the situation to him 

 he said there was no occasion to pitch any tents or bother 

 about supper; if we would come up to the house his wife 

 would try to scare us up a bit to eat such as they had, 

 and we could bring our blankets and sleep on the floor, 

 as there was plenty of room for us all but no spare beds. 

 Blessed are the Samaritans, of whom Dan Ruttle (our 

 farmer friend) is one, and his good wife is another. We 

 got some blankets and quilts, and to make as little trouble 

 as possible, some eggs, butter, and a piece of side meat 

 were fished out of the provision box to help out the sup- 

 per, and took our way up to the house with a thankful 

 feeling that we had fallen into good hands. Mother 

 Ruttle, a short, fat, buxom matron, with dress sleeves 

 rolled up to the shoulder exposing an arm the size of a 

 city bell's waist, bustled around and soon had the pork 

 and eggs fried, and a two-gallon pot of tea brewed that 

 was strong enough to loosen the feathers on a loon at 

 one application. A great loaf of most excellent home- 

 made bread, nearly a foot square and half as thick, was 

 sliced up, and the other boys and the Indians fell to, 

 while farmer Ruttle and "James Mackerel" stood around 

 outside in the dark waiting for the second table, "fit 

 muskeeters" and got better acquainted. We made em- 

 beds in the parlor and a small side room, both guiltiest; 

 of a carpet but scrupulously clean and neat, and lay 

 down to pass a rather uncomfortable night, for the mos- 

 quitoes were troublesome, and a pine floor is several 

 shades harder than the bosom of mother earth; but we 

 were tired and worn out with the day's work and vexa- 

 tions, and daylight was abroad before we were aware of it. 



Declining an earnest invitation to wait for breakfast, 

 we soon had the Mackinaw loaded, and with the small 

 boats again in the lead took our way up the now placid 

 lake to the "mine dock," where we were to make our 

 camp, not without a promise that some of us would visit 

 our neighbors frequently thereafter, as Mother Ruttle 

 had agreed to bake us a loaf or two of her famous bread 

 as needed, and supply us with milk, butter, eggs, and a 

 chicken or two occasionally if our appetites took a turn 

 that way. (All we could prevail on these good people to 

 take, except our thanks, for the trouble they had been to 

 on our account the night before was just one dollar; 

 they said it was enough and wouldn't take any more, 

 and their charges for everything we got of them after- 

 ward were just as reasonable). 



A pull of two good miles up the lake more than ever 

 convinced us that our steamer acquaintance, Ben. was a 



direct descendant of Ananias, for we were not yet half 

 way to the head of it, and it was wider where we then 

 were than its utmost length as given by him. Farmer 

 Ruttle told us the lake was over five miles long and the 

 upper half something more than two miles in width, and 

 from our experience with Michigan miles this seemed to 

 be about correct. He said that the bass fishing in the 

 lake was first-class, but we were too early for it; the 

 same story that had been dinned into our ears ever since 

 sighting Detour Point. "Pickerel, pike and muskylunge 

 were also abundant," he said, "but the pickerel were not 

 biting at all, just now, and wouldn't for a month or 

 more." 



This part of it was good news, for as old Ben Renshaw 

 would have expressed it, "Ef ther' was ary fish on the 

 face o' this livin' airth that we wus tired of ketchin', it 

 wus them durned 'snakes.'" However, our rejoicing 

 was brief, as it turned out that neighbor Ruttle, like 

 most of our Canadian brethren, had fallen into the error 

 of calling a wall-eyed pike (pike-perch) a pickerel, and a 

 pickerel a pike; and there is probably not a day in the 

 year, Sundays not excepted, that a "Canada pike" will 

 not bite; but we consoled ourselves with one of old Ben's 

 scraps of philosophy, "that ef we couldn't ketch any 

 bass, 'snakes' an' muskylunge, an' trout was good enough 

 for the Joneses, for they never was used to the best of 

 everything nohow." 



The landmark by which we were to find our camping 

 place was a warehouse near the water's edge well up to 

 the head of the lake, built by a copper mining company 

 for storing tools and supplies pending their need at the 

 mine, and a low dock of small pine logs reaching 40 or 

 50ft. out in the lake in front of the warehouse, known as 



the rlrw^L- M A in Aaarr -mill ^-.-P "U , 4- ~ 1, * |_ 



mine dock." An easy pull of about an hour took 

 the small boats alongside the little dock, and a light 

 breeze springing up, the Mackinaw spread her wings, 

 and half an hour after the calamities were ashore and 

 we were looking around for soil enough to hold a tent 

 pin in this region of rocks for our first camp in the 

 Queen's territory. 



The warehouse proved to be a great affair of at least 15 

 by 20ft., as near as we could guess its dimensions with- 

 out measuring, sided up and down with inch piue boards 

 and covered with a good tight shingle roof. Three or 

 four boards had been torn off near the big door (which 

 was closed and fastened with a padlock), giving free 

 access without the trouble of bothering the fastenings, 

 an arrangement that Sam figured out to be "a heap 

 handier 'n a pocket in a shirt." Inside we found the 

 wreck of an old wheelbarrow, some bars of iin. iron, 

 some dirt and a good pile of clean hay in one corner, 

 which makes an excellent bed if good browse is scarce; 

 and we decided to make use of the warehouse instead of 

 pitching the tents. Old Sam cut some "bresh" from an 

 adjacent thicket, of which he made a broom, and soon 

 had the place swept clean; the boxes were carried in and 

 opened, and while the others arranged the beds and fixed 

 up for housekeeping, Louis and I set up "that stove" a 

 few yards back of the house (this is for the especial eye 

 of brother "Seneca") and in fifteen minutes had a roaring 

 fire belching black smoke and flame out of the pipe, and 

 breakfast under way. 



After breakfast a table ten feet long was built of boards 

 brought from the saw mill, a big fly stretched over it and 

 the other stove put up (the Jedge had brought along his 

 "four-holer") — a proceeding which I fear would have 

 paralyzed Brother "Seneca" had he been there— and then 

 we took a few minutes' rest, which were passed in "a gen- 

 uine and absorbing interest in the beauties of (surround- 

 ing) nature," right there in presence of those two harmless 

 looking camp stoves. The fact is we have come to believe 

 that a camp stove has nothing whatever to do with one's 

 love of nature or a keen relish for sport with rod and gun. 

 It is a matter of preference and convenience, and above 

 all, comfort in the matter of camp cookery; a question 

 of preference as between contented serenity over a simple 

 sheet-iron stove, and smoke-blinded, watery eyes, smoth- 

 ered profanity between gasps as you dodge the blinding, 

 stifling puffs that pursue you from every point of the 

 compass as you sweat and swear over a coffee-spilling, 

 frying-pan-upsetting, "onsatisfyin'," tribulation-breeding 

 open fire, as usually constructed; and moreover, I believe 

 Brother "Seneca," or any other brother, would devour a 

 flapjack cooked in a frying-pan over "that stove of ours" 

 with as much relish as if it were baked on the hardest, 

 and smoothest, and cleanest of hot flat stones; and then 

 turn and "absorb the beauties of a rare landscape" 

 (sUghtly misquoted) with as keen a zest as moved him in 

 the absorption of the flapjack. 



x\.re we to be denied the privilege of worshipping in 

 the great outdoor sanctuary of the woods and charged 

 with not possessing a genuine love of nature because we 

 choose to surround ourselves with a few comforts that 

 can be conveniently transported to a camp? Must we be 

 classed as "tenderfeet" and rated with those who see 

 nothing in the woods but trees? and read out of the 

 brotherhood on account of a little harmless, comfort-giv- 

 ing sheet-iron stove that may be carried with one hand? 

 Must we fall back on the primitive methods of our fore- 

 fathers before we can "be possessed of a genuine and ab- 

 sorbing interest in the beauties of nature?" If this be so 

 we had better leave our tents, our frying-pans and our 

 match boxes at home, and go to the woods equipped only 

 with blanket, flint and steel. We hold up for the camp 

 stove when it can be taken along with as little inconveni- 

 ence as a box of tents or provisions (otherwise we can get 

 along with a couple of Un. square iron bars, a matter of 

 three feet long, or a plain open fire with no accessories); 

 and we don't believe it lessens in the smallest degree our 

 appreciation of the beauties of nature in whatever shape 

 they may come to us, or our inborn and abiding love of 

 the woods and the waters of the forest and stream. But 

 this is a disgression, for which I trust the brethren, and 

 especially "Seneca" — may his days be long in the land — 

 will not "hold a skunner agin me." 



Making camp was accomplished in much less time than 

 usual, thanks to the little warehouse; and it was yet 

 early in the day when rods were jointed and prepara- 

 tions made to go a-fishing: to make a study of the water: 

 look up the likely spots for bass; spy into the lurking 

 places of him of the vicious eye and the terrible jaw — 

 the mighty maskinonje — and bring sure to gaff, as the 

 signs in the waters made certain promise, a goodly score 

 of sneaking pickerel (the pike, by reason of being on the 

 wrong side of the border line). 



The Indian boys ran up the sails of the Mackinaw to a 

 gentle breeze blowing from below, and stood away from 



the little dock on a "larboard leg" down the lake for home 

 without a word or sign of adieu; in fact, they had said 

 nothing since leaving the sawmill dock the day before, 

 except an occasional grunt or a word or two at long inter- 

 vals addressed to Louis or each other in gutteral Chip- 

 pewa. They were handy with their boat and good boys 

 to work, but they were about as talkative and compan- 

 ionable as their imitation wooden brethren that infest the 

 cities, and the expression their stolid faces would have 

 made a green frog look cheerful and hilarious in com- 

 parison. The last seen of them they were well down to the 

 foot of the lake under bare poles, the big oars shining in 

 the sun as they rose and fell in lazy, measured .stroke, 

 which took the place of the fickle" breeze which soon 

 after spent itself in a feeble flurry among the pines and 

 cedars at the head of the lake. 



Selecting a couple of dozen frogs from the menagerie 

 box (only about foity or fifty of them had been jolted to 

 death on the journey), old Sam and I left the dock in the 

 smallest of the three boats for a cruise of observation 

 that would doubtless bring back the old smell to the fry- 

 ing-pans at supper time. We left the other boys to finish 

 slicking up the camp, try the waters for bass or snakes 

 up and down shore from camp, or make the acquaint- 

 ance of the little trout stream, the mouth of which was 

 ouly three or four rods above the warehouse. 



We followed the trend of the shore around to the upper 

 end of the lake, a quarter of a mile or more from camp, 

 along a belt of bulrushes and grass where the water 

 looked very "pikish," fishing carefully with the choicest 

 of speckled frogs, but not a hungry long-snout, bass nor 

 wall-eye seemed to take the slightest note of our presence; 

 but we were not discouraged, for years of experience had 

 taught us the virtue of patience in waiting on the whims 

 of fish. "If they won't bite to-day, they will to-mon owv' 

 has soothed the heart of many a disappointed angler at 

 the close of an unsuccessful day, and Sam and I went on 

 our way, content that if the fish wouldn't bite we could 

 enjoy the beautiful day and the wild, rugged scenery 

 around us, and be none' the worse for our contemplated 

 trip around the lake. Near the upper end, on the left, 

 a thick growth of trees and bushes extended back from 

 the water a few rods to the foot of an almost bare, per- 

 pendicular cliff of brown-gray rock, rising 200ft. or more 

 above the lake, scarred and seamed and rent into a thou- 

 sand fantastic shapes, with here and there a hardy, 

 dwarfed pine or cedar hanging out from the rough wall, 

 held in place by its tough roots that found a holding in 

 the teams and fissures that zigzaged over the ragged front 

 of the time-stained and weather-beaten crag, drawing 

 sustenance to prolong then stunted lives, it seemed, from 

 only the bare rock. On a dead spike projecting out from 

 one of these, three crows were having a vigorous cawing 

 match because the limb was not long enough, according 

 to then views of elbow room, to hold all three at once, 

 and as each crow seemed to think that particular limb the 

 only one in the vicinity worth perching on, they were 

 crowding each other off the end by turns, the one forced 

 to take wing cawing furiously as he circled around a 

 moment before taking his place' next to 'he cliff; when 

 the crowding process would begin again till the outer one 

 was forced from the limb under vociferous protest, ad- 

 dressed to the other two in selected invectives in the 

 original "crow." 



As we stopped the boat to watch the performance, a 

 shadow swept across the face of the rocky wall near the 

 noisy trio, and instantly the show was at an end and the 

 three egg-sucking thieves sought the shelter of the tree- 

 topB below in silence and were lost to sight. 



Looking up to discover the reason of their caws-less 

 flight we saw a magnificent bare headed, snowy tailed 

 American eagle high overhead slowly flapping his way 

 in the direction of Upper Echo River, but whether the 

 crows had made him out to be one of the "crow-eating" 

 variety in search of a lunch, or whether they had sud- 

 denly remembered something left below in the cool 

 shadows of the woods which called for immediate at ten 

 tion, we have never been able to determine. 



"Crows are queer critters," said old Sam as he stood 



as the orowsi'eet around his lime, t old gray eyes con 

 tractedinto a faint smile Iih hummed in a Michigan--^ w- 

 mill-like tone: 



"Quoth the blackbird to the cro'.i , 

 Down to the cornfield fre wfll gov 

 For it's bin our trade to pull up (.-urn 

 Ever since old Adam « ai born," 

 Thus relieved he sat down with his eye on his line 

 waiting for the expected bite as it swung around astern 

 when the boat gathered headway under a few quiet 

 strokes of the oars. 



Just here we found out how the lake must have de- 

 ceived its name. Having occasion to change the oars on 

 account of a slight unevenness in the pull an accidental 

 rap of one of them against the boat was repeated in 

 the woods against the base of the cliff with startling dis- 

 tinctness, and a shout from old Sam was echoed in 

 the same frayed and ragged tone in which it left his 

 unmusical throat. 



We amused ourselves like a couple of boys for awhile 

 "hollerin' " and shouting a word or two at a time to hear 

 the echo "talk back," but when we had passed a certain 

 point we could get no response, and we turned our atten- 

 tion to the more serious matter of catching a few fish for 

 supper and breakfast. 



We had plenty of pilot bread, salt pork, bacon, dried 

 beef, beans, eggs, butter and other plain groceries in the 

 camp, but we wanted fish; even the despised pickerel 

 would taste better now than the most toothsome dish 

 Louis could devise from ail our stores. 



Just now we were at the very head of the lake off a 

 little bay where the Upper Echo River came in, winding, 

 as we afterward learned, around near the base of the 

 cli ff through woods and bushes so dense that we could 

 not determine the locality of the mouth; but as we were 

 more concerned in the waters of the lake a search for it 

 was left for another day. With quiet stroke we skirted 

 along the rushes, admiring the wild, rugged beauty of 

 the towering cliff, the green clad hills sloping down to 

 the water nearer the camp, and the placid lake veiled in 

 a thin blue haze that softened the rougher points of the 

 high, rock-lined shore a mile or more below the camp, 

 when as we passed a clump of bulrushes a hundred yards 

 out from shore, a sharp warning note from the click of 

 old Sam'6 reel told us that mischief was afoot, and in- 



