168 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Sept. 19, 1889. 



CAMPS OF THE KINGFISHERS.-X. 



ECHO LAKE, ONTARIO, CANADA. 



WE had fished Echo Like from one end to the other, 

 down and up, in rain and shine, in every hay and 

 nook and corner around its entire shore; we had fished 

 in deep water and shoal; we had fished early and late, 

 and had taken less than a score of biss, four maskinonje, 

 aggregating 45-pbs, , and some bar'ls of ill-favored pick- 

 erel, and the outlook was still "pickerelish" till late in 

 August or .September, and we could look into the days 

 yet left to us and see the end of our vacation long before 

 that time. - 



We had cleaned out the only trout stream accessible, 

 leaving as we believed only the old fellow under the big 

 boulder, who had foiled the efforts of the entire camp to 

 coax him from his rocky retreat (I have no doubt Louis 

 and the Jedge wasted hours in trying to "scoop" him 

 when the others were out of camp), and we looked only 

 for an excuse to break up, -which came one night about 

 midnight, soon after two Indians — one of them a hercu- 

 lean fellow who could look straight over Charley's 

 head, and Charley was "risin' o' six foot"— came up in a 

 boat from Church's Landing after Louis, with the in- 

 formation that one of his children, his favorite little one, 

 was dangerously ill with diphtheria, an epidemic of which 

 was then spreading through the little settlement. Louis 

 was soon ready, and as it was not likely that he would 

 come back he was paid off, and with some words of 

 sympathy for the little one, they pulled away in the 

 darkness, leaving us to run the culinary department as 

 best we could. Before they left we had decided to break 

 camp in a few days and go back into Michigan; and the 

 big Indian was requested to send Tom and his brother 

 with the Mackinaw to camp the following Sunday after- 

 noon, and we would be ready to leave the lake the next 

 morning. 



When we got out in the morning everything seemed 

 to be out of joint; and it was soon apparent that a good 

 cook in a camp was a treasure not to Jse lightly valued. 

 Cooking was not a favorite pastime with any of us, and 

 when Knots had fidgeted around awhile with a glance 

 now and then at the fireless stoves, "cogitatin' in his 

 mindi" as Sam said, he ventured to suggest, "James 

 Mackerel, as you appear to know less about cooking than 

 any of the rest of us, it looks like you'll have to get 

 breakfast;" and it kept on looking that way with varia- 

 tions, for the next four days, but we managed to get 

 enough to eat, and to catch a few more pickerel between 

 times, which was a great comfort. 



Sunday afternoon was spent in packing up personal 

 effects, tackle, etc., that we would need for night or 

 morning use, and entertaining our neighbors from the 

 farm who had come up to pay the camp a first and last 

 visit. 



With evening came the Mackinaw and the two ani- 

 mated cigar store signs, Tom and his brother, who, after 

 mooring their boat to the dock, came to an anchor on a 

 couple of camp stools near the flagstaff, without a sign 

 of recognition or a word of greeting, where they sat 

 gazing vacantly down the lake, apparently utterly un- 

 conscious of our existence. 



"Powerful noisy critters, thern Injuns," said old Sam 

 with a solemn wink at the Jedge. "Reckon we won't 

 Bleep a wink all night 'less we plug up our years; an' jest 

 look at them mugs, will ye? About as much expression 

 to 'em as a couple o' turnips." 



As the Indian boys seemed to be waiting for us to 

 notice them, they were called to come out to the caoip; 

 but even then, after a kindly word all around and a sort 

 of perfunctory handshake, after the manner of ye candi- 

 date before election, we get nothing out of them but a 

 guttural grunt from Tom. and froni the younger one not 

 a solitary grunt, as he appeared content to let his elder 

 brother do all the grantiog necessary to a clear under- 

 standing between us; albeit, when supper was ready 

 there was no need of an interpreter to make them under- 

 stand the invitation to sit down with us. 



By 10 o'clock next morning everything was packed and 

 aboard, and the Mackinaw and two of the small boats 

 half-way down the lake, leaving: the skipper lingering 

 behind for a final look around the deserted camp to see if 

 anything had been forgotten in the hurry of packing up; 

 it wa3 like parting with an old friend, and not till the 

 boys were out of sight was the boat headed for the outlet 

 to overhaul the slow-moving Mackinaw before they 

 reached the bay looking out on Lake George. 



At the foot of the lakt the boat was pulled in under the 

 leaning maple for a parting drink out of the little spring; 

 and then with a last look at the wooded slopes and rocky 

 shores, the towering crags, the little island and the rip- 

 pling waters shimmering in the sun, I bade good- by to 

 Echo Lake with a resolve to visit it again in the future if 

 the fates so decreed — but later in the season. 



As the boat came abreast the farmhouse, there stood 

 my friend Jack at the top of the bank, with pricked up 

 ears and wistful eyes, wagging an invitation to come 

 ashore for a romp; but his mistress appearing at the door 

 he stretched himself in the sand with nose on paws, wait- 

 ing to see if she was in a humor to countenance a few 

 capers, and the signs not striking him favorably he got 

 up and trotted back to the house for a better understand- 

 ing; but a "go way, Jack!" knocked the friskiness all out 

 of him, and the expected frolic didn't come off. 



Mother Ruttle hailed and asked where the others of the 

 party were, and was surprised to learn that they had gone 

 by without her noticing them; and she was greatly dis- 

 appointed too, for the good heart had prepared a little 

 surprise for us in the shape of a fried chicken lunch, 

 with "trimmin's;" and now she was to be denied the 

 pleasure of seeing us enjoy it. Verily, the clever people 

 and the good of heart dwell not all in the cities, and I 

 trust this page may sometime fall under the eye of the 

 good woman, that she may know in what high estimation 

 the "Kingfishers" hold her as a kindly, unselfish neighbor 

 and a model housewife. 



Declining with thanks the invitation to come out and 

 attack the lunch single-handed, and with regrets that the 

 boys were not all there to do justice to the well-meant 

 compliment, I let the oars fall with vigorous stroke and a 

 good by, and soon a bend in the stream hid from view 

 this abode of content and good will to man, leaving Jack 

 standing with drooping tail and motionless, with his 

 forefeet in the water at the landing, gazing longingly 

 after the boat, "cogitatin' in his mind" it may be— as 

 wiser humans have done before him — whether it were 

 better to follow his new friend out into a strange world 



or go back to the old and content himself with the lazy, 

 humdrum life he had been used to at the quiet farm- 

 house since the days of hh puppvhood. 



When I pulled out of the mouth of the river the Macki- 

 naw was anchored a half mile out in the bay waiting; 

 and when at last the boat was made fast to the other two 

 riding at her stern, we stood away past the larger island 

 with just enough breeze on the beam to belly the sads 

 and move her through the water at a snail's space; but 

 finally we struck the current of the river at the foot of 

 Squirrel Island, and swung over to Church's Landing, 

 where the wind was cut off, and the Indians had to get 

 out the setting poles and work up the bank to the saw 

 mill dock, where we were to wait for the steamer Mes- 

 senger on her way up to the Sault in the evening. 



We wanted to land our calamities at Church's, hut by 

 divers signs and grunts Tom made us understand that the 

 saw-mill dock was the better place, and a few hours later 

 we would have given a dollar apiece for an opportunity 

 to give him a "heUrackin' good lickin 1 ." When the 

 Mackinaw was unloaded, and they had held a brief pow- 

 wow in their native tongue with Louis, who had come up 

 from the house to tell us the good news that his little one 

 was out of danger, they poled off up the river around the 

 bend and we saw them no more. 



Guy and Harry took one of the boats and started up to 

 Garden River to see about their mail, intending to be 

 back by the time the Messenger came along, leaving the 

 rest of us to kill the intervening four or five hours' time 

 as best we could. 



The Jedge had become "discouraged" early in the 

 morning and was peacefully snoring in the shade of a 

 neighboring lumber pile, where he had selected a soft bed 

 in the sand and sawdust almost before the Mackinaw was 

 fairly moored to the dock. Charley jointed a rod, and, 

 with a few grasshoppers, he and the skipper amused 

 themselves by turns for a while flipping out young perch 

 and returning them to the water, while the others looked 

 on or strolled uneasily around waiting for the boat. The 

 monotony was further relieved by the graceful Canadian 

 passenger steamer Atlantic, cleaving the blue waters on 

 her way to the Sault, and by tows of loaded schooners 

 booming by at intervals; and at last, when about all our 

 time killing resources were exhausted, the Messenger 

 hove in sight down Lake George, and we got ready to 

 signal her to take us aboard. When she had passed 

 Church's Landiug we swung our hats and made motions 

 to the man in the pilot house to "hold her in;" but she 

 kept the current over against Squirrel Island, and it 

 began to look as if she would go by without seeing us. 

 Then we shouted at the top of our voices and swung our 

 hats frantically in the air again; but to no purpose, 

 although the "miserable cuss" at the wheel could not help 

 seeing and hearing us if he had eyes or ears. Then, as a 

 last resort, Sam hoisted his old linen duster on the end 

 of his "tree box" — a light box, 13ft. long, in which he 

 and Charley always carried a few single- piece cane rods 

 for an "emergency," as they said— and waved it vigor- 

 ously as a sign of distress; but that cursed boat kept 

 placidly on her course over in the channel against the 

 Canada shore and went out of sight around the bend, 

 leaving us "shipwrecked agin, b'gosh," on the identical 

 spot where drunken Captain Tate had dumped us in "the 

 early stages of our misery," some days before. Just then 

 was when we yearned for a brief interview with Tom. 



Old Sam dropped the tree box and wilted down on a 

 camp chest with a feeble, "Another episode, an' the 

 worst of all," and the others of us seated ourselves ontue 

 calamities and sat looking at each other for a while, too 

 completely knocked out for utterance. 



Then as this particular calamity dawned on us with its 

 full size the vials of our wrath were opened on Capt. 

 Barker and his " old scow," as the Jedge put it; but as they 

 were serenely stemming the current on their way to the 

 Sault, a couple of miles out of our reach, the " vote of 

 thanks " hurled after them doubtless failed to reach the 

 mark, and as it would take too much room to jot down 

 here a detailed statement of the remarks, sulphurous and 

 otherwise, made thereon the dilapidated old dock during 

 the next half-hour, they are left to the imagination of 

 the reader. To quote old Captain Truck again, we were 

 in a "h — 1 of a category." 



We could put up a couple of tenti and stay there over 

 night; but we had no assurance that the boat would stop 

 for us on her way down in the morning, and we could 

 keep on staying there for the rest of the season " by the 

 same token." 



Louis, who had come up again when he saw the steamer 

 go by without stopping, suggested that we go up to Cun- 

 ningham's and stay all night, and we would be sure to 

 catch the boat in the morning, as she always stopped at 

 that landing on signal ; but our two boats — Gray and Harry 

 had not returned — would not cany half our outfit, and 

 the outlook was still discouraging. When on the point of 

 loading the two boats and getting to Cunningham's on 

 the instalment plan — a little at a time — fortune smiled 

 on us at last in the passage of a man coming up the river 

 in a big, high-floating yawl, who when hailed and brought 

 in to the dock proved to be an old Indian, with a diminu- 

 tive brown youngster at the tiller, on their way to Garden 

 River. A bargain was soon struck, the calamities all 

 hustled into the yawl, and in another half hour we were 

 on Cunningham's dock waiting for another " episode " 

 to hit us. 



A courjle of us walked back to the general country 

 store and dwelling all in one, a few rods from the dock, 

 to interview Mr. C. about supper and a place to sleep, 

 but he was not at home, and his wife, a sweet-faced, 

 cheery little woman, could give us no definite answer till 

 he came back from Garden River, where be had gone in 

 a skiff for a barrel of flour. Another episode. We went 

 back to the dock and waited nearly an hour before he 

 returned, and then it required another trip to the house 

 to lay our case of shipwreck before the little woman 

 again. They didn't keep a house for public entertain- 

 ment, but a brief consultation ended in an agreement to 

 take us in and give us the best of their limited accom- 

 modations, and in a short time the good wife called us to 

 the cleanest and neatest kind of a supper. More Samar- 

 itans. 



A full belly lightened the burdens of li f e, but our trials 

 were not over yet, the boats had to be returned to Everett 

 at the Sault that night, and we were worrying lest some 

 mishap had befallen the two youngsters, Guy and Harry, 

 as they had not yet returned from Garden River. 



Kingfisher. 



[to be continued.J 



CHICAGO AND THE WEST. 



CHICAGO, Sept. 10.— There is material out here 

 enough to keep one busy investigating and writ- 

 ing about four hundred years. The more I knock around 

 in these United States the more I become impressed with 

 the fact that this is a big country. There is a big slice of 

 this big country lying around Chicago, aud I fear I shall 

 have to delegate to my heirs and assigns the duty and the 

 pleasure of learning it all thoroughly and well. A word 

 or so might be added here about the fishing facilities 

 hereabouts, however, which give some one a notion which 

 way to head for a trip yet this fall, or in the following 

 season. 



I have already spoken of the singular system of lakes 

 lying along the Wisconsin Central road, where our bass 

 fishermen make their big catches. All summer long the 

 bass fishing has been going ahead steadily, and the suc- 

 cess of the competent anglers has been uniform. Loon 

 Late, Camp Lake, Lake Maria, Deep Lake, Channel 

 Lake, Grass Lake, Fox Lake, Silver Lake, Brown's Lake, 

 Powers' Lake, Twin Lakes — these and dozens more 

 which lie on an average of fifty miles from Chicago, 

 have a.11 been yielding regular tribute. The fishing litre 

 is for the genuine black bass. Pickerel are sneered at, 

 and the smaller Percidm, like croppies, rock bass, sunfish, 

 etc., are held in suck light esteem as not to be desired at 

 all on a fishing trip. It is within limit to say that a few 

 of our better bass anglers have each taken hundreds of 

 bass during the season. The sport is not waning. One 

 regular inmate of the Wisconsin Central Sunday Asylum 

 caught seventeen bass at Loon Lake and Deep Lake on 

 his last trip, one evening and morning's fishing, and he 

 averages about a dozen to the trip. Hates a pot fisher. 



It is needless to speak of such localities as Lake Goge- 

 bic, Eagle Waters, Lake Yieux Desert, and all the bass 

 and mascallonge waters up the Milwaukee, Lake Shore 

 and Western, for they are constantly before the public 

 with scores which are hardly to be equalled elsewhere. I 

 shall try to get up to Vieux Desert after a mascallonge 

 this fall myself, but it is very problematical if I get off. 

 It's a wonderful fishing country up there. I don't believe 

 anybody realizes how wonderful. The Tomahawk Lake 

 country lies up in that direction also. Milwaukee and 

 St. Paul road also strikes that region. Trout Lake is up 

 in that system. It contains about seven square miles of 

 water. There are said to be 100 lakes which afford good 

 fishing, all accessible from the above points by means of 

 trails. 



After you get up the Ashland way, or anywhere over 

 the north divide, you strike the trout country in all its 

 wildness. There is plenty of fishing for trout Jeft yet in 

 there. Skirt along the south shore of Superior, and you 

 will find big brook trout in every stream of consequence 

 coming down into the lake. You can ascend many of 

 these streams by boat a great distance. I can imagine 

 no grander trip for camping and fishing than a canoe 

 trip up some such stream as that mentioned as one of 

 the Two-heart rivers, or indeed any one of the many 

 good ones that come in on the south shore. 



When you get around by the Sault, then you've got 

 fishing any way you look, whether for bass or trout. 

 Vanderbilt, on the southern penninsula, is not far from 

 Pigeon River, once famous as a grayling stream, and still 

 good for trout. I telegraphed the station agen t at Van- 

 derbilt in regard to the grayling fishing there, and he 

 replied: "Good trout fishing in Pigeon; never heard of 

 any grayling being there." It is, however, very probable 

 that there are a few grayling left in that stream. I have 

 also heard of grayling fishing in one or two other streams 

 in Michigan, but not having had time to investigate per- 

 sonally, should be reluctant to say much about it. as the 

 reports may be ill-founded. 



The south shore of the North Peninsula is also a great 

 fishing country, and very accessible either by b'>at or 

 rail. For instance, a Goodrich line steamer will take 

 one to Manistique, or one can reach that point by the 

 Milwaukee & Northern and "Soo Line" connections. At 

 Manistique one is within easy driving distance of a 

 number of exceptionally good trout streams, and he may 

 have the assurance that by a drive of twenty to thirty 

 miles he can get big trout, three and four pounders; and 

 that is a comfort. There are any number of streams in 

 this north country whose small trout are to be had in 

 numbers, but I don't call snaking a little trout from 

 under a log anything. That's just fishin'. Near Manis- 

 tique, or accessible by a handy drive and a pole up a 

 rapid stream, is a vast spring, which is really a lake of 

 itself, and which feeds a river of its own. This singular 

 and beautiful whim of nature is unequalled in its way, and 

 it is worth a long trip to visit it. The water is very clear, 

 and the bottom of the spring, 40 or 50ft., is distinctly 

 visible. For some time it was thought no trout could be 

 in the spring, or they could be easily seen, yet one day a 

 party was dropping bits of bright tin into the spring, 

 when a great trout flashed out from somewhere or other, 

 and caught at the shining metal. Several large trout 

 have since been seen there. The water is strongly sul- 

 phurous. 



Coming down along the west shore of Lake Michigan 

 one runs into Queen Bay, a much-beloved summer place 

 for Chicigo people. There is any quantity of good bass, 

 pike and wall-eye fishing in tint neighborhood, and sail- 

 ing and expeditioning in general is possible in a hundred 

 ways. 



A little further down, on the old Pere Marquette water 

 trail, is Lake Winnebago, and there is always good fish- 

 ing there. Neenah is a good point to make for on that 

 l*ke. The angler for bass, pike and small Percictce will 

 not miss it there. 



Elkhart Lake is only 147 miles north of Chicago. It is 

 a bright green-colored, water, pebble- walled. Good bass 

 and pike fishing there, and they also claim the cisco. A 

 good summer resort and much frequented by people from 

 the South. I have been surprised in my little northern 

 trips, at the numbers of Southerners who yearly come up 

 to places like Waukesha, or to some of the delightful 

 fishing lakes which decorate lower Wisconsin. Certainly 

 they could not do better. They bring their friends, and. 

 this class of travel to the North is annually increasing. 

 The beauties of this northern country of ours" are but half 

 known. No paper has ever systematically tried to set 

 them forth, and the blundering methods of advertising 

 pursued by the railroads have chiefly served to obscure 

 them. 



Maple Valley, also on the M. & N. R. R., 231 miles 

 north of Chicago, in Oconto county, is a center for a 

 dozen lakes and streams. Kelly Lake, a very beautiful 



