1<36 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Sept, 18, 1890. 



AT CLOSE OUARTERS. 



A CANADIAN contributor, W. R. M., sends u3 this in- 

 cident of a journey in the wilds: 

 The nest morning at daylight, leaving our friends grop- 

 ing for gold in their mudhole, we tightened our knap- 

 Backs and compass in hand started through the woods in 

 the direction of the settlement where we had left our 

 horse. At noon we came out in an open glade, through 

 which a large stream rushed, foaming to the sea. There 

 we found an officer from the garrison at Halifax, accom- 

 panied by an Indian guide, busily engaged in whipping 

 the stream. They had secured a fine basket of trout, 

 some of them he assured us would weigh 31bs, each. 

 "Wishing him good day we plunged into the woods. An 

 hour's march through the dense undergrowth found us 

 jaded and I plodded along in a sleepy way. Suddenly I 

 was galvanized into life by hearing the savage bay of a 

 hound, Owl Ow! Nearer it came, until with a crashing 

 of branches a large black bear sprang out into the trail 

 in front of us. Startled at the sight of us he reared up on 

 his hind legs, a heavy trap dangling from one of his fore- 

 feet, and growled. One sight of his glistening teeth was 

 enough, and Barron climbed up a tree with neatness and 

 dispatch. Too frightened to follow his example I spas- 

 modically brought the gun to my shoulder and poured 

 a charge of small shot into the bear. This increased his 

 rage and he plunged toward me. Turning to run I trip- 

 ped and fell under a tree that had blown up by the roots. 

 Seeing two stones on which it partly rested I crawled 

 into the crevice, the bear making the dirt and bark fly in 

 bis efforts to get at me. I gave myself up for lost. After 

 what seemed an eternity a noble hound came tearing 

 through the brush. His appearance was followed by the 

 crack of a rifle, and the bear, with a bullet through his 

 head, plunged forward, throwing the dirt all over me in 

 his dying struggles. The hunter, a fine looking Indian, 

 assisted me out of the hole and without a smile gave 

 directions that would bring us out near our team. I for 

 one was glad to join it after two hours more hard travel. 



CAMP LIFE ON THE MEDICINE. 



"THINNER is ready !" That is a cry always attended to 

 XJ in c*mp. 



And, behold us, seven hungry people, of all ages and 

 both sexes, seated around the table covered with a clean 

 red oilcloth, and beside each plate a Chinese napkin. 

 This 8*mc table, by the way, is clue to the constructive- 

 ness of our chef and is made of pine poles driven into the 

 ground with crosspieces nailed on the top ends and cov- 

 ered with rough pine planks. The chairs around are 

 made also on the ground by the same doughty hand and 

 are formed on the camp-stool plan, only nailed together 

 solidly with board backs and seats; and they are mova- 

 ble. Above stretches an awning, 18 or 20ft. long, cover- 

 ing the table and extending over the front of the large.-t 

 tent — the dormitory of the matron of the establishment 

 and her daughter M, She is the assistant chef, if indeed 

 she is not entitled to the first place, for she is our baker. 

 Off to the left a little distance, between two tall jack 

 pines, is the fireplace, blazing and smoking away mer- 

 rily. There is a huge pine back log cut from a fallen 

 tree, where a little gopher has his domicile, and I regret 

 to say, is gradually being dispossessed; and over two stout 

 green sticks is laid a goodly pile of Norway poles and fat 

 Bplit pine. A hearth has been cut squarely in the black 

 sandy turf of the slightly sloping spot, and over this, 

 under the sticks, how the coals glow! Between the jack- 

 pines has been nailed a strong green birch pole, and other 

 smaller poles have been cut into hooks to hang pots and 

 kettles over the fire. Reposing on some rocks is a Dutch 

 oven, over which M. stoops and removes a crisp, flaky, 

 just'browned-to-a-turn huckleberry pie; and now dinner 

 will begin. 



The chef has outdone himself to-day broiling and fry- 

 ing the brook trout, which by-the-by have been caught 

 partly not a hundred yard3 away in Medicine Brook, run- 

 ning swift and clear as crystal, and cold as clear, under 

 its fringe of alders and hazels at hand. See the crisp 

 brown dainty, which the chef says weighed a pound and 

 a half, as he took it all resplendent with its scarlet spots 

 and vermilion fins, gay and gamy, from its cool, shadowy 

 haunt in the brook! Surely no meat could be more de- 

 licious. There are blueberries cooked into sauce, and 

 aiso uncooked, with all their delicate whity-blue bloom, 

 in tin dishes on the table, and also red raspberry jam, 

 much more highly flavored than any made from berries 

 grown in gardens where the soil was richer and the air 

 hotter and less pure. They grew on the hillside over the 

 bridge, perhaps five minutes' walk out of camp, to be had 

 for tbe picking. And M.'s fresh yeast bread, brewed and 

 baked on the spot, eaten with the sauce of hunger which 

 outdoor pine air gives in abundance, how good it is! See 

 also her brown nutty fried cakes— ah! they are fit for the 

 gods. Little Mark, of seven yenrs of age, wishes he had 

 the whole panful, or I can't read eyes. 



To be sure, that same Dutch oven is as tricky as a mule, 

 according to M.'s account. She says she can't calculate 

 what it will do; and when she expects a neat brown crust, 

 and puts her coals on top of the lid and rams them under 

 the oven among the stones always the same way, it is 

 just as likely to burn in little spots like smallpox pits as 

 to behave properly. That is as regards pie, as Uncle 

 Pumblechook might say. And she maintains that cake 

 has the perversity of the evil one in it when that Dutch 

 oven gets it. It either nobs over the edges in a hopeless 

 gob, or rises in a burnt hill on one side, leaving the other 

 sobby dough. And bread is much the same as cake, 

 according to her. But I am bound to say all that seems 

 to be in her eye largely; for to us superhungry mortals 

 the most which comes from her hands is a toothsome 

 success. 



Then there are canned tomatoes and other tinned fare 

 brought out with us, which makes our dinner something 

 to be envied by the pale languid beings grilling in the 

 nineties several hundred miles south, where we came 

 from. When the dessert forks are dropped — we allow 

 that much style along with the paper napkins as an inno- 

 vation of our wild life along with the red squirrels, the 

 chipmonk and gopher, the raven and the noisy jays, our 

 eamp neighbors— the table is in the identical condition 

 Jack Sprat's was said to be. Nothing but empty dishes 

 remain, yet everybody ha* had enough— even seven-year- 



old Mark and I arise heavily to go our several ways. To 

 the matron and M. falls the duty of clearing up the 

 feast and washing the dishes. Not a pretty task, for 

 everything almost is blackened by the fat pine smoke — 

 even our faces catch a share — and at last when the dish- 

 pan is ready to be emptied, it looks more like ink than 

 dish water, in spite of plenitudes of soap. But when the 

 crock is washed from hands and wrists, and old kid 

 gloves drawn on, we are ready to go blackberrying or 

 blueberrying, for there are, as George says, "scads and 

 oodles of thpm," and not far off. It is great fun to hunt 

 the blueberries, which in many places are very large and 

 the ground literally blue with them. Such a pretty fruit 

 as it is, and so much prized by the people up here. They 

 come long distances in wagons for them; and not many 

 days pass in which some party does not go by our camp 

 on the old military road passing near. The little red 

 squirrels, too, hunt them; and often dispute your progress 

 with much noisy chatter and scolding from some neigh- 

 boring tree. Then too the whir of the partridge wings 

 momentarily arrests you often, and I have counted nearly 

 a dozen in a covey sometimes. They seem very tame, and 

 will sit on a scrub oak limb quietly and look wonderingly 

 at you. In fact all of the creatures up here — even the 

 skunk, which nightly visits us, and we allow to go and 

 come unchallenged — seem exceedingly tame and fearless. 



We were told by a visitor that there are deer in these 

 plains also, but none of us have spied them. There is so 

 much life about though I do not doubt it in the least. 

 One of our greatest luxuries is a copious spring, across 

 the brook, but sufficiently near for convenience, its water 

 being pure and soft and deliciously cool. Ice water would 

 be a superfluity with such a spring accessible. The brook 

 serves for cooking purposes, being nearer, and our wash- 

 ings are done on its grassy bank. We thought it quite 

 sufficient for all purposes, and congratulated ourselves on 

 the good fortune of having such cool pure water until 

 the chef, who seems to be a perfect water witch about 

 springs, discovered and dug out this one. Of course a 

 rustic bridge of poles, usually called corduroy, was thrown 

 over to facilitate reaching it. A few hundred yards away 

 are very beautiful rapids and a miniature cataract. 



It is delightful after dining, when the sun is hottest on 

 our tents and over the almost treeless plains, to take a 

 book or pen and paper and seek the deep shade cast by 

 the Nor ways and tamaracks standing guard solemnly 

 over the turmoil of these waters. I like to sit in the seat 

 made beside the falls and look down its smooth, glassy, 

 gliding plunge into tbe resounding chasm where it tum- 

 bles; or glance beyond over the headlong rush of the 

 writhing rapids, winding under mossy cedar roots, over 

 and around'a miniature island, there to disappear in the 

 •'dim religious light," away who knows where? It is 

 more than picturesque, this mossy dell between high 

 wooded hillsides, with its many branching currents break- 

 ing into rapids here and there, and falling many times 

 over granite rocks, so beautifully clear, yet breaking now 

 and then into flour-like foam in the dim, cool, green- 

 lighted shade; and through all and above all the soothing, 

 full- voiced music of the waters. 



M. and I took a walk lately when we discovered a lake. 

 One of the advantages of our position is that we can 

 safely take as long walks as we choose, not only with 

 comfort but pleasure. On this occasion we followed the 

 old military road to the north. Our progress was slow, 

 for the golden rod was in such sunshiny profusion, the 

 ox-eyed daisies and a small, pale, delicate wild sunflower 

 so plentiful; the purple asters as thick as stars in 

 November heavens; and there were so many scarlet ber- 

 ries glowing amid their green leaves on the ground — 

 lovely crimson choke and sand cherries, and rose haws 

 and other coral like berries— how could two women help 

 stopping to pick them? But the cool bracing wind 

 thrilled us with energy like wine and literally compelled 

 us to go on and "get the good of it." There is such a joy 

 in a brisk walk against such a wind up here! You invol- 

 untarily fill your lungs with its pure deliciousness, throw 

 out your chest and brace every muscle with the happy 

 consciousness of life and motion. Away to our right, 

 as we bowled along, we caught the gleam of broader 

 water than little Medicine Brook and at once turned to- 

 ward it. It proved to be quite a litttle lake and in it 

 were myriads of beautiful white pond lilies. But alas! 

 the sedgy margin forbade near approach and our beau- 

 ties bloomed on untouched by us. What would we have 

 given for a cluster of the odorous golden-centered bunches 

 of snowy bloom! 



We have ranged the plains from north to south for 

 many miles, and while doing so shrunken muscles have 

 filled out, pale cheeks have reddened with new blood, 

 and sunburn, and eyes that looked sadly enough when 

 they came, begin to glow with renewed vitality. And 

 this is due in no small measure to those vigorous walks 

 in the resinous pure air of these jack pine plains. 



We have planned to make an excursion to the roaring 

 falls of the Pesthigo River, five or six miles away. The 

 three men of our party walked it not long ago, but M. 

 and I must go with Van Keuren, the man who brought 

 us out. The glowing accounts brought us of fine bold 

 scenery and a fall of 60ft. have fired our imaginations, 

 and we shall not be satisfied to "go out," as the phrase is 

 here, without beholding it. 



Our Chippewa and Pottowatomie neighbors, who 

 camped a mile north of us, and who came so often singly 

 or in pairs past camp, have gone, and I really miss the 

 tinkling bells of their little ponies and the novelty of 

 their brown faces. They were infinitely more pictur- 

 esque and interesting, with always a dash of scarlet 

 somewhere about their dress, than the squalid moss- 

 backs of the country, who drag a miserable wagonload of 

 women and tow-headed children along usually, and 

 nearly always stall on the bit of bad road up the steep 

 bank edging the plain above and beyond our camp. 



I must not neglect to state that our little community is 

 quite communal. There is a distinct division of duties, 

 however, and each individual "goes at" and discharges 

 his or her functions daily in an orderly and thorough 

 manner. The xhef fishes for trout, sometimes going 

 miles and staying away for hours. I have before ob- 

 served that the chef cooks his fish; and he frequently gets 

 breakfast, making then most phenomenal flapjacks. 

 Then, too, he partly prepares wood and brings up water. 

 These, besides a general oversight, comprise his duties. 

 G. loves to cut and bring in wood, and helps M. bake, and 

 both of us get dinner. It is the matron's nart to see to 

 the cosy beds and air the pillows and blankets, and she 

 actually has a broom with which she keeps fcLe-saored 



space set apart for domestic purposes clean of chips and 

 trash. N. is general assistant in ordinary, and even little 

 Mark goes to the spring for water and the butter and fish 

 bucket. So, barring roughened hands and sunburned 

 face?, we are a sight worth seeing in our little canvas 

 hamlet, albeit our raiment might be fresher from the 

 tailor and dressmaker, and perhaps the washerwoman 

 also. 



Before closing, let me state that we are in what is known 

 as the Thunder River country, about fourteen miies west 

 of Middle Inlet, an obscure station of the Milwaukee & 

 Northern Railroad. From that point we were brought 

 here by E. H. Van Keuren, who very plainly shows his 

 Net her land origin both in looks and cleverness. He and 

 his two good white horses take M. and me out next Thurs- 

 day, and the canvas village by the brook will vanish. 

 The skunk and the porcupine can enter in and possess the 

 land they seem so much to covet; the silver-voiced wood 

 thrush will whistle to silence in the dawn; the tents will 

 have been folded, and some of us go forth in the wilder- 

 ness to fish and hunt and some return to civilization, 



August 17. MES. M. E. Banta. 



TRAPPING DAYS. 



IV. — THE PRESENTIMENT. 



FOR a few years after the great massacre of 1862 the 

 trapping grounds along the western plains of Min- 

 nesota and the eastern edge of Dakota were unoccupied 

 by either race. Warlike expeditions of both whites and 

 reds passed and repassed, but no one troubled the furred 

 animals, and in consequence their numbers increased 

 amazingly. When the writer joined the little band of 

 venturesome trappers, who were beginning to encroach 

 upon the debatable ground, the multitude of furred ani- 

 mals which swarmed everywhere along the shores of 

 sloughs, lakes and streams, was a constant source of sur- 

 prise; and the temptation to venture further and still 

 further out into the wilderness, where the prow of the 

 trapper's boat had never parted the wild rice or the rushes 

 of the sloughs, was very great. Asa consequence, while 

 the fate of some was never known, others who returned 

 in safety had adventures to relate, ranging all the way 

 from laughable comedy to deepest tragedy. 



One of my acquaintances, a tenderfoot from Pennsyl- 

 vania, while trapping some twelve miles southeast of the 

 big bend of the Dhs Moines River, found a silver watch 

 on the prairie; and on looking around in the grass found 

 a man's boot containing the bones of the leg and foot of 

 tine unfortunate wearer; and immediately the timid ten- 

 derfoot, taking alarm at the gruesome sight, bolted for 

 home, and neither the entreaties nor the jeers of his 

 partner were sufficient to move him again beyond the line 

 of the settlements. Those who heard ihis story supposed 

 that the victim of whom traces had thus been discovered 

 must have been one Frost, a trapper who disappeared 

 some years previously, and who^e anxious partner, Friend, 

 in a careful search for the missing man. found only his 

 track in the sand of a lake shore alongside the moccasin 

 track of an Indian who had evidently followed him. 



A party of three trappers from Spirit Lake, Iowa, drove 

 northwest to the east shore of La£e Okabena, and as 

 night was approaching they stopped the team and began 

 looking for a suitable camping ground for the night. As 

 one of the party advanced some three hundred yards in 

 front of the wagon, and neared the edge of a ravine, he 

 heard just in front of him and apparently at the bottom 

 of the ravine a low murmuring sound, as of human voices 

 in low conversation, and knowing well that there were 

 no white men ahead of his own party, he turned without 

 standing upon the order of his going and hurried back to 

 the wagon, where a few words of explanation fixed the 

 attention of the whole party to the shortest route for 

 home. As they turned the horses' heads toward home, 

 all eyes were riveted upon the bank of the ravine behind, 

 and 'the driver in bis haste turned the horses around too 

 quickly, the front wheel struck the scorch-iron of the 

 wagon box, and one of the party who afterward related 

 the adventure, remarked that he never heard so little a 

 thing make so frightful a racket, adding that he could 

 not have been worse scared had the savages really killed 

 him. Ira mediately at the sound the head of an Indian 

 appeared above the grass of the ridge next the ravine, 

 and quickly disappeared. No further developments were 

 waited for, but the frightened trappers retreated without 

 | drawing rein until the village was regained just before 

 i daylight. A party prepared for war returned next day 

 j in search of the Indians, but though their trail was fol- 

 ( lowed for a longdistance, atone point on which evidences 

 i were found that the savages had killed an elk but a few 

 ' hours in advance of the coming of the party, all trace of 

 f the wretches was finally lost. 



, It may be asked why the trappers were not willing to 

 meet the savages, man for man, on equal terms. To this 

 it can be truthfully replied that they were, but that while 

 the wants of the savage were bountifully supplied by the 

 open hand of an entirely too generous Government, which 

 enabled him to live in a state of luxury, of which before 

 the coming of the white man he had no conception, the 

 trapper belonged to the unfortunate race which, taxed to 

 keep the Indians in idleness, was also obliged to provide 

 for the wants of their own dependent ones; and at no time 

 of his necessary daily toil in the pursuit of furred animals 

 was he, or could he be, ready for war while loaded with 

 the cares and the implements of necessary toil. 



He was a man of too good sense to carry around with 

 him the loaded revolver of the city rough and professional 

 coward — the weapon which never did hit the right party 

 — and his only weapons were the shotgun , used to kill 

 furred animals, and his pocket knife used in skinning 

 them. He understood perfectly that any wandering 

 savage intent on murder, and armed with the gun issued 

 to him by the United States Government, who should 

 find one of his mink traps set on the shore of some lonely 

 slough, had only to walk thirty yards to leeward of the 

 trap and secret himself in the grass to get the easiest kind 

 of a "drop" on him; and he went into such places in pur- 

 suit of necessary wealth for the same reason that the 

 whaler braves the perils of the polar seas, and urged by 

 tbe same motives that impel man, the creatures of wants 

 and cares, to court danger and confront death every- 

 where. 



When the writer first went out in search of trapping 

 ground, in 1864, he traveled with an elder brother intent 

 upon the same mission, and as all the country northwest 

 of Spirit Lake, Iowa, was regarded as unsafe, and as small 

 war parties of Sioux raided the frontier occasionally f or 



