BIO 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Jan, 15, 1891, 



IN THE REGION ROUND NICATOWIS. 



I. — IN TRANSITU. 



WE ran away this fall. In fleeing the telegraph, the 

 post-office, the door bells, and all our many 

 masters, we experienced a sweet, if guilty satisfaction, 

 which more than compensated the unpropitious skies 

 that followed us, though it was not until we were safe at 

 Nicatowis, where officers of the law no longer go, that 

 we felt quite secure from pursuit and recall. And this is 

 the chronicle of the trip. 



We were my father, myself and "Jot;" the trip was up 

 the Passadumkeag waters and to the Machias Lakes. 

 Father was guide and head of the expedition; to Jot fell 

 most of the hard work; I wrote the journal and did the 

 admiring. It will be seen that Father and I, by effecting 

 a combination, managed to secure the offices, mine indeed 

 a sinecure, as became my abilities, but his pro merttis; 

 for, though Jot knew a large part of the country. Father 

 was easily chief by virtue of the six trips which ' he had 

 made through it previous to this one— once in 1867, when 

 he and Louis Ketchum came up the Machias and found 

 their way across to and down the Passadumkeag without 

 guide or guide book; twice with big Sebattis Mitchell, in 

 1873 and 1874, ou the former occasion returning by the 

 St. Croix and the sea, and so up the Penobscot;* once 

 with Alonzo Spearen, and twice with John Spearen, 

 his brother, with whom he made the circuit 

 by way of the Dobsies and Fourth Lake. Machias 

 to Gassobeeis. In our lenten days on the West 

 Branch last year, when it was uncertain after the kettle 

 had been emptied what would fill it next, Father had told 

 me of the flesh pots of Gassobeeis and Fourth Lake, 

 and even then had planned the trip in expectation of 

 plenty. 



We got up at a preposterously early hour one Monday 

 morning, perhaps to balance sitting up so late Saturday 

 night, and took the early train from Bangor. At the 

 Enfield station Gilman's express was waiting to haul us 

 and our baggage in to Nicatowis, it being shorter, cheaper 

 and easier to haul than it is to work up stream against 

 the current and to carry past Grand and Nicatowis Falls, 

 It was a superb day, dappled in the early morning and 

 threatening rain, but coming out so fair and fine when 

 once we are on our way that our spirits were light as the 

 breeze. Such blackberries by the roadside, such little brooks 

 — running away, too— hills so inspiring and hollows so 

 delightful— nothing which we saw was passed by unap- 

 preciated. At Wakefield Corner a shoe must be reset, and 

 while we waited we watched two fish hawks wheeling 

 above the mill pond on the— Escutassis of the maps, 

 Scootahzin of the people. At Burlington we stopped 

 again, and I dimly remember— do not, in fact, remem- 

 ber, but know it must be true— that a ledge outcrops 

 there which was of slate and shows glacial scratches: I 

 distinctly remember that a gentleman came up, and 

 after examining the canoe critically inquired whether it 

 would hold a man if he didn't put a weight in the bot- 

 tom. Beyond Burlington we crossed the'Madagascal, a 

 beautiful stream, "smart as lightning," Jot said. From 

 the hilltops further on Spawnook Lake was revealed, 

 with Passadumkeag Mountain rising behind it in wooded 

 swells, no finer than as we see it from home lying along 

 the northeast horizon like a long blue cloud, but still 

 very satisfactory. Thence up hill and down and through 

 pine barrens until the main road left us and we passed 

 through the fences of Stickney, the last settler, into the 

 woods road that leads to Nicatowis. 



; Crossing the Passadumkeag at Grand Falls, and keep- 

 ing it on our left from this time forward, we came by 

 noon to a little shanty in the midst of a large field. One 

 man stays here to look out for the farm, which is kept up 

 in order to raise supplies for the lumbermen. Here we 

 got dinner, and in the afternoon hauled in to the head of 

 Nicatowis Falls, about four miles beyond, over a road not 

 without stones and stumps, but still good enough for light 

 wagons. At the end of the carry past the falls the load 

 was unpacked and sorted, and all provisions which we 

 thought would not be needed before we returned to this 

 place were hidden in the woods; for it is against father's 

 principles to carry about any unnecessary impedimenta. 

 Then, judging that there was not enough water for all 

 three of us to go up in the canoe, Father and I walked 

 through to the lake while Jot brought up the load. 



One does not see much of a lake from the outlet, only 

 a wooded, rocky shore on the right, and on the left a 

 burned point overgrown with bracken and strewn with 

 granite boulders. A few small islands shut off the out- 

 ward view. At the left of the road by which we reached 

 the lake are the outlet and its dam, newly rebuilt; and also 

 a little house for the use of river drivers and others. The 

 wing of the old dam still extends along the shore for 

 several hundred feet, decayed, broken and growing up to 

 alders, but not needed now that the low land behind has 

 grown up to trees, so that there is no longer any danger 

 of the lake cutting another outlet for itself. 



_ We crossed the dam, which is just at the head of a pretty 

 little rapid where the stream takes a whirl or two among 

 mossy granites before settling quietly into the round pool 

 below, just as Jot arrived with the canoe; and, the after- 

 noon being now in the decline, prepared to camp at this 

 place. Though it is true that in the woods one has all 

 the room there is for camping, any one who knows noth- 

 ing of this kind of a life, would be astonished to see how 

 hard it sometimes is to find a smooth, dry place large 

 enough to pitch even a small tent. In the present instance 

 we were obliged to pitch ours just below the end of the 

 dam and exactly in the middle of the carry, in an ill- 

 smelling spot, but the best there was. While the others 

 were making ready the tent and campwood, I took up my 

 old occupation of mating the bed; and, in the absence of 

 boughs of any kind, cut a great bed of sweet-fern and 

 buckhorn brakes, as the bracken is called here, which 

 partially atoned for the ill savor of the place. Our house- 

 keeping arrangements were soon completed. An empty 

 box which we found near by was seized on as treasure and 

 became our principal article of furniture. A few blue- 

 berries and one little trout, which were all the land and 

 water afforded that night, were laid by toward the next 

 day's needs; but as our home luncheon, though small, 

 was no more likely to fail than the widow's meal and oil 

 — why is it that "store food" always lasts so long in the 

 woods?— no anxieties for the morrow disturbed our enjoy- 



ment of the night, no premonition warned us how we 

 should yet be fed. 



II. — NICATOWIS RAVENS. 



It is not often that the event of the day transpires after 

 the blankets have been tucked in. We certainly were 

 all asleep and we must have waked at the same moment, 

 though no one spoke immediately; for at the first word 

 all had agreed that, though very faint, the noise we heard 

 was an awkward bowman rapping his paddle against the 

 gunwale at every stroke. It was most improbable that 

 any one would be coming down the lake so late at night 

 to camp in the dark or to walk out seven miles to the 

 Gilman House, and we heard no voices; but when Jot 

 turned out a little after the noise ceased, he found two 

 men walking quietly along the shore end of the dam. 

 They accepted bis invitation and came down to the tent. 

 One was stout and florid with a red, horseshoe moustache 

 and a slouch hat— a very ruddy man. Ruddy was spokes- 

 man and sat on our box before the fire, his paddle in the 

 hollow of bis right arm as he lifted the tent with his left 

 and peered inside to catechise the sleepy. The other, who 

 was slender, brown, and evidently a woodsman, stood 

 behind the fire leaning on his paddle as he talked with 

 Jot. Conversation did not flow at first: we were sleepy 

 and Ruddy seemed distraught. To find strangers en- 

 camped in that carry with no possible way of getting 

 past except by the path between the tent and the fire was 

 undeniably awkward. And they were going down 

 stream that night, so they said. "When did we come and 

 how?" So we told them how we hauled in with Gilman 

 that day and how near we had been to coming with so-and- 

 so, who was to be in at such a time. "I know that," said 

 Ruddy, and straightway unbent a little. Then he volun- 

 teered the information that they had just come from the 

 head of the lake. More questions from Ruddy, who 

 seemed inquisitive. Thereat Father sat up and told all 

 the news, as a good woodsman should; where this guide 

 was and where that one, who were with them, of the 

 party that had just gone in to Lonz's camp on Pistol, and 

 all the matters on which he thought our visitors would 

 be already informed; for three to one, a strange woods- 

 man cares less to hear the news than to know who you 

 are that tell these things and whether you tell truth. 



"Were we going to Darling's?" No, we were not out 

 for game. Ruddy froze at once, and evidently set us down 

 as suspicious characters and possibly as wardens. Again 

 he spoke of going down stream and that they must be 

 going, but made no move himself. Again he put his 

 questions with a delicate indirectness. The talk wan- 

 dered to the past, and old experiences, old acquaintances, 

 how places looked ten, twenty, thirty years ago. The 

 fire shining on Ruddy made him redder and cast his 

 shadow on the tent in massive bulk, and all the while in 

 the pauses of the talk came his refrain that he never 

 would lug past Nicatowis Falls again, catch him lugging 

 on that carry again. It was evident that he was as near 

 it as he cared to be that night. Then said Father plainly: 

 "If you have any meat with you we would like to buy a 

 few pounds." "That isn't our business," replied Ruddy 

 briefly and with dignity. After a pause: "What may 

 your name be?" "Hardy." "Brewer?" "Yes." And 

 then he knew all that he wanted to know. 



Having discovered who we were, his frostiness thawed 

 completely. Before they left they told us (what we knew 

 already) that they had no intention of carrying past, but 

 were going to stay at the house at the other side of the 

 dam; that it was not the head of the lake but the narrows 

 which they had come from; that they had seen something 

 on the shore and shot it as it stood there— a slip of the 

 tongue which another day's acquaintance served to cor- 

 rect; and, finally, that they would be happy to give us 

 all the meat we wanted out of "the prettie st long-eared 

 fellow we ever looked at"— which is calling no names. 

 Exeunt. 



So the ravens fed us the first day; but the story is in- 

 tended to teach that the Nicatowis raven is a discerning- 

 bird and one which does not drop its bounty before strang- 

 ers who come unrecotnmended. And the corallary is 

 this: the tale would not now be told if I remembered 

 either the names or the faces of any of the principals of 

 this party; but— so quickly do we forget our benefactors — 

 were we to meet to-morrow I should not be able to iden- 

 tify one of them, not even Brown and Ruddy. "Ah, 

 man," says Alan Breck, who might w^ell have been a 

 native of Maine, "but I have a grand memory for for- 

 getting." 



Ill,— THE DAY OF SMALL THINGS. 



The next day it rained; but as we were up at 4 in the 

 morning, we had a chance before the rain began to see 

 the day break, the white-footed mice that live in the 

 cedar by the "taking out place," the red squirrel which 

 was clipping "cedar buds," as we call the fruit of the 

 arbor vitse, and all our neighbors save the ravens, who 

 were not early birds. 



The white-footed mouse is so strictly nocturnal that, 

 although I have felt it hop over me in its nightly explora- 

 tions through the tent, I had never before seen it alive. 

 It is a dainty little creature, slender in shape, clear gray 

 above and pure white below even to the inner sides of the 

 legs and the under side of its long tail. One which 

 drowned itself in our wash basin last year at Ripogenus 

 measured 7iin., of which the tail was Sfin. These had a 

 little house in the heart of the cedar which bad been laid 

 open by some one removing a chip, opening a crack just 

 wide enough for them and leaving a little balcony in 

 front of their door. Here they sat gazing at me through 

 the morning dusk like little gray shadows, until they took 

 alarm and scudded up the tree. Apparently they were 

 living on the cedar buds; but I could not prove it. 



The day passed quietly. The men got into their rubber 

 coats and fished, more for occupation than in any hope of 

 success. Father performed his great box-splitting feat to 

 a small but select audience; Jot enticed a colony of shiners 

 which lived under the rocks at the end of the carry to 

 come and nibble his fingers; I wrote up the journal, in 

 which I find it noted that Jot brought me two kinds of 

 everlasting (Q. deeurrens and O. polycephalum), explain- 

 ing that the former is excellent for colds, while the latter 

 has no medicinal value. It was one of the facts which 

 are often of prime importance to the woodsman. Rock 

 polypod, we learned later, is good for diarrhoea; yellow 

 ash bark to produce sweating; and Father once saved his 

 own life by compounding a medicine of pine bark, the 

 inner bark of wild cherry and lungwort (the rough lichen 

 which grows on swamp maples), steeped together and 



sweetened with honey. I myself can testify to the many 

 virtues and the bad taste of the. last compound* 



Trout were not abundant at the dam and, though the 

 place was faithfully fished both up stream and down, 

 only three were caught for the day. The largest of 

 these, a fine 14in. fish, was given us by our ravens whose 

 kindness is remembered even though their names are 

 not. In the afternoon two salmon about 11 and 14in. in 

 length took their fly and a large one broke their rigging. 

 These differed in color from all the young salmon I had 

 ever seen, being of a fine green bronze with silvery bel- 

 lies and with dark, almost black, spots on the sides, so 

 mottled that at a little distance they resembled mackerel 

 more than trout. Salmon appear to be abundant in 

 Nicatowis, whether sea salmon or landlocked I do not 

 know, though I am informed that the sea salmon intro- 

 duced by the Game Commissioners have become land- 

 locked, refusing to migrate. While Father was fishing 

 just above the sluice a great blue heron lighted on the 

 gate not 10ft. away, looking "for all the world," so those 

 who saw him say, like a great mosquito as he settled with 

 long legs outstretched and his neck bent down almost be- 

 tween them. 



These are the events of the day, so few and unimpor- 

 tant that it seems time lost to chronicle them, and yet of 

 what are most of our days made up? We had pleasant 

 company; enough to eat of the best there was, though it 

 was given us; more to see than ordinarily falls into one 

 day's limits, for besides the mice, squirrels, shiners, trout, 

 salmon and heron, various small birds sought the tent 

 and gossipped with us— chlcadees, Maryland yellow- 

 throats and a beautiful black and white creeper; the 

 place was pretty, too, with the tall pine and big, mossy 

 granites behind, the carry path fringed with alders lead- 

 ing down to the pool and clear sky over the hill in front ; 

 it had, moreover, pleasant associations for Father, who, 

 sixteen years or more ago, cut out the present carry, 

 shortening the old carrying place by about one-half and 

 thereby benefitting all who have!' ollowed : with all these 

 aids to contentment, and with minds that were free from 

 worries for a time and willing to rest from labor, it is no 

 wonder that the time passed pleasantly. If the next one 

 who goes ihere finds it forlorn and xmeomfortable, see3 

 nothing praiseworthy, that, too, need not be wondered 

 at; for it is the small things which make the difference 

 in our days. Fannie P. Hardy. 



ANTOINE BISSETTE'S LETTERS— V. 



ANVIT, Decemb. 28, 1890.— M'sieu Fores Strim: Mos' 

 all every Saturday naght, Ah '11 go where M'sieu 

 Mumson he '11 be board for hear it read you papier an' 

 Ah '11 tek grea' deal satisfy of it. 



Ah tol' you it mek me laft, sometam on mah inside of 

 it, sometam on mah face, sometam all over, for hear 

 what some smart feller wrote what he know 'baout ev'ry- 

 ting. 



One ting was haow hwoodcock mek hees nowse wid 

 bees nose or wid hees wing. Dat mek me laft, an' Ah '11 

 toP M'sieu Mumson haow dat was foolish for say hwood- 

 cock wheestle wid hees wing of it. 



Dey maght jes well said hwoodchuck wheestle wid hees 

 tail. You b'lieve he do, prob'ly, hein? 



"No," M'sieu Mumson say, "Ah '11 ant b'lieve dat, 

 hwoodchuck wheestle wid hees mout' an' spat hees hoof 

 sem lak you w'en you dance jeeg for you hown music, 

 but hwoodcock was be differance; he was birds." 



Ah '11 say yas, Ah know dat, but Ah tol you more. 

 Hwoodcock ant wheestle ■tall, wid hees nose or bees wing, 

 W'en he gallop on de air, hees wing jes go frip! fripl 

 an' w'en he '11 lit on tree he '11 holler Keeyalc! keeyalc! 

 Jceeyak!" so you could hear it more as mile. Den he 

 paound de tree wid hees nose, an' mek de cheep flew mos' 

 lak Ah do w'en Ah '11 cbawp. 



M'sieu Mumson he '11 looked at me wid hees heye verea 

 peel, den he '11 beegin laft mos' lak bee '11 split all open. 



Bombye w'en he can spoke, be '11 say, "Antoine, dat 

 ant be hwoodcock! Dat was pill-eatin' bwoodpecker! 

 He '11 black, ant it, wid red on top hees head of it?" 



Yas, Ah '11 said, but he '11 was be hwoodcock, dat was 

 hees name of it, Ah always hear, an' he '11 ant heat pill. 

 What you call it hwoodcock den? 



He '11 say, hwoodcock ant never lit on tree, never. 

 He stay on de graoun' all de tam, 'cept wen her flew, 

 which he do very spry an' say twk-twU-tioit-tiL-il fas', 

 mos' sem lak chimbley swaller. An' he stuk hees nose in 

 de sol' graoun' for ketch worm, not in hoi' dead tree. 



Den Ah '11 say, me, Oh bah gosh! Ah '11 know what 

 you '11 meant. It was bline snipe, Ah '11 see it 'long Beav' 

 Meddy Brook, an' in cornfier las' hoein', an' wen Ah 11 

 was cut up in de fall. Dat was bline snipe, an' he was mos' 

 so good for heat as cheekin, honly he ant so beeg nough. 

 Nabw dat was more foolish as Ah hear yet, for call bird 

 dat always stay on de graoun' hwoodcock! It jes nioch 

 sense for call patteraige mud hen, bah gosh! An' den go 

 for call de reality hwoodcock dat always leeve in de 

 hwood, pill heatin' hwoodpsckit. He heat mud pill, 

 prob'ly, hein? 



M'sieu Mumson say he can' help it, dat was de nem of 

 it bose. 



Dat settle it, Ah 11 say, sem lak de man was holler "hot 

 pie! hot pie!" an' dey was freeze. Wen de peop' was buy 

 an' broke hees toof on de freeze pie, an' ast what he call 

 it hot for, he say dat was de name of it! An' dey can' 

 say noting honly, Sucre ton saef 



Wal, let dem smart feller call it hwoodcock 'f he wan' 

 to. Ah don' care for me, an' let some of it say he wheestle 

 of hees nose, he. wheestle jes' de sem he always was ant 

 it? 



Ah 11 mek notion we let it wheestle jes' min' to; he jes 

 good for heat an' jes moch fun for shoot one way as 

 fodder, Ah b'lieve. " It look awful foolishly for be quarly 

 of it jes de sem was grea' deal of dis sportsman beesiness. 



Dar was one mans call me mean hoi' cuss for shoot one 

 patteraige sit on tree, jes' honly one, an' he keel ten on de 

 flew, so he say, but Ah '11 bet you head he keel it some on 

 de sit 'f he 11 gat shoot of it so. Anyhaow, who mek de 

 mos' scarce of patteraige in hwood, dat mans or me? 



Dar was de science mans dat shoot forty bobolink for 

 set up in glass box; he wan keel de mans dat gat forty 

 bobolink for steek on gals' bunnet 'cause bunnet so small 

 you can' see it less he gat sometings steek on for show 

 where it was. 



Ah 11 weesh, tne s bose dat mans was keel, for Ah '(1 



