FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Jan. 39, 1891. 



THROUGH THE OLYMPICS ON AN ELK 

 TRAIL.-I. 



BEFOEE the Olympic region, between Paget Sound, 

 the Straits of San Juan and the Pacific, has been 

 fully explored; er© the trout have been all caught out of 

 the streams and lakes, or the elk and deer exterminated — 

 while the country still lias the charm of the unknown and 

 is an object of some interest and curiosity — let me give 

 your readers an account of a tramp that I took with two 

 old schoolmates in the latter part of August, '*9. 



One of my comrades we will call the Cayuse — he was 

 so designated among ourselves because of his former con- 

 nection with a periodical whose brilliant but very brief 

 career in Seattle is never to be forgotten, i. e., the Spotted 

 Cayxise. The other was the Marine, a name given him in 

 gratitude by certain friends who had suffered shipwreck 

 through his skill in the management of a catboat. 1, too, 

 had a nickname, but can only remember that it was un- 

 complimentary and emmently inappropriate. 



For a month the Cayule and I had lived royally at the 

 Marine's ranch on the shore of Lake Cushman— so-called 

 from the old trapper Cushman, who first hunted the val- 

 ley of the Skokomish — the tome of trout and wild duck 

 galore and delicious. A t least the trout were delicious. 

 The ducks, I grieve to say, we never could, for some rea- 

 son, approach readily enough to taste, though we tried 

 our best. I imagine they were exceedingly tough and 

 full of small shot. 



For a long time we had intended to go through the 

 mountains, which, at that time, were totally unexplored. 

 Parties had gone part-way iip, but none, so far as it is 

 known, had ever reached the top of the main divide — and 

 I may safely say that we were the first to do so. 



However, it did us no particular good to be the first, so 

 if anybody feels wronged by the claim, and thinks he got 

 there ahea.d of us, he is very welcome to the distinction. 



Our trip was delayed a long time, because the Marine 

 had a house to build, and, whenever a start was proposed, 

 said that he could not spare the time, but must get to 

 work on his house by Monday next. 



But the summer was nearly over, and we were told that 

 a party of three were going up, and would be glad of our 

 company. 



The three were experienced woodsmen, and the chance 

 of going with them was too good a thing to miss. So we 

 set out, leaving the Marine's house in the misty future— 

 where it stood for a long time after. 



Our friends were: Vick, a settler of the Skokomish 

 Valley: Cross-eyed Chris, a trapper and backwoodsman in 

 general, who had had pai-t of an ear bitten off in a fight, 

 and who must have stepped straight out of a dime novel 

 of the old school; and Joe, a logger. 



I'm not sure that they wanted us — for they started off 

 very early one morning in a pouring rain (one of the 

 luxuries to which the "glorious climate of Puget Sound" 

 constantly treats its admirers from August to June fol- 

 lowing) and they gave us only about an hour's notice. 

 But, whether they wanted us or not, I learned on that 

 expedition that the woodsman in the wilderness is a host 

 in his home, and whatever these three could do to make 

 it pleasant and comfortable for the rest of us they did 

 with a hearty goodwill. 



Not having time to get ready, we started as we were. 

 The plan was to trace to its source the Skokomish River 

 (which flows southeast from the mountains through Lake 

 Cushman and empties into Hood's canal), thence to 

 cross the divide- to the source of the Quinaiult River 

 (which flows southwest, widens into Lake Quinaiult and 

 seeks the Pacific at Gray's Harbor). The hunting was 

 good on the mountains; we meant to stay there a while 

 and shoot elk and boar otherwise to push on down the 

 river to Lake Quinaiult, where there is a Siwash reserva- 

 tion, and explore the country between. 



The first day was a hard one. The rain came in tor- 

 rents; and after we passed Butler's cabin, the last one up 

 the river, and about four miles from the Marines, our 

 way led through the thick underbrush; and every bush 

 we touched meant a new drenching. 



At noon we halted and took a short but appropriate 

 lunch. Joe earned a tin pail hanging loosely from the 

 handle of a frying-pan which protruded from his pack. 

 He was repeatedly warned that he would lose it; and 

 when at last it rolled over the edge of the cafion into the 

 river our delight knew no bounds. Not so much for 

 the opportunity of saying * 'Told you so" as for the chance 

 afforded us of welcome rest, while Joe retraced reluctant 

 steps to a point where the river could be reached and 

 there waited the advent of the fugitive, which sank just 

 before it could be reached. 



What a stream the Skokomish is — from the Siwash 

 skookum, mighty, and mish, river. Small in volume, but 

 tremendous in foi'ce; water of a hue like clear beryl, torn 

 here and there into purest foam. 



Through the valley it roars — down the foothills it thun- 

 ders in heavy falls and rapids — high in the mountains, a 

 thread of ice-cold water, it goes ringing and rippling down 

 long cascades into rocky basins and through the echoing 

 woodlands — till one lying half awake in camp, seems to 

 hear a troop of joyous beings laughing and singing on the 

 hills above him, and falls asleep to dream of old Greece. 

 No wonder — if their Olympus was like ours— they peo- 

 pled their hills and groves with bands of choral nymphs 

 and laughing satyrs. The voice of the mountain stream 

 is sweet and clear, wild and unearthly in the night — but 

 hold on! Pegasus would tear his wings to pieces in this 

 thick underbrush, and if I don't look sharp I shall follow 

 Joe's pail down the rocks. And who will swear for me 

 as Joe did for his pail? 



And so we stumbled on — weary and worn out, till the 

 huge hemlock and fh- and cedar towering above the land 

 in the pride of their 300ft. of height grow darker still, 

 and the clouds shut down about us and night came on 

 chill and heavy with the rain. Then we are glad to put 

 down our packs — a good 501bs. each strapped to our shoul- 

 ders — ham and bacon, flour and salt, sugar and dried 

 apples and baking powder, cartridges, cooking utensils, 

 tobacco, etc., etc., all rolled up in our blankets and tightly 

 bound for compactness — glad to lay down our heavy and, 

 so far, useless Winchesters, while Vick and Joe cut logs 

 and brought pitch knots for the fire, and Chris undid the 

 packs and prepared to cook supper, and the rest of us cut 

 boughs of young balsam and piled them thick upon the 

 ground for a couch. A blanket spread lengthwise over 



these, and the rest of the blankets over the six of us 

 abreast, for covering, formed our bed. Three of us 

 spread the tent — an A just big enough for our party — and 

 cooked a good supper, and the camp-fire roared and 

 crackled and lit up the tall columns of the trees about us 

 and showed the dripping arches of our dark green roof, 

 far overhead. 



The trunks were overgrown with thick moss, and moss 

 hung long and heavy and wet from the boughs of the 

 vine maples, and in it along the trunks and lower 

 branches of many trees grew graceful ferns that hung 

 still and feathery in the windless air. A fairy scene on 

 a gigantic scale.* 



The Marine and I passed a thoroughly uncomfortable 

 night, listening to the snoring of the Cayuse and the three 

 backswoodsmen, while the Cayuse's dog — a beautiful 

 setter whose name I forget, 'twas something like Boots — 

 crawled to and fro, wet and mournful over our prostrate 

 forms. 



Early in the morning Chris arose and awakened us 

 with a tremendous yell — to which I attribute the fact 

 that we saw no game till that evening — and we rose re- 

 luctantly, ate our breakfast and started again, with packs 

 somewhat lightened. Now we had come well into the 

 foothills, and traveling was no joke. 



We could not go close by the river, for the stream was 

 rushing through a deep canon for below us, the hill 

 sloped so steeply toward the brink that walking along the 

 side was very hard on the joints, and the ground was 

 slippery with fir needles. Huge fallen trees, often 8 or 

 Oft. thick at the base, blocked our way, and a heavy 

 undergrowth of blueberry bushes proved a serious diffi- 

 culty, both because it was hard to push through them, 

 wet and tangled as they were, and because the Marine 

 and the Cayuse would stay behind to indulge their fond- 

 ness for the berries, and then call to the rest of us to show 

 them the way. (I understand that they make similar 

 comj)laints, but wiU not waste time in denying them.) 



We went in single file, the unhappy man in front, who 

 ever he happened to be, shaking the bushes as he went, 

 to take the edge off the inevitable shower bath that the 

 leaves held in store for us. 



Our object was to find the elk trail— the path which the 

 elk have made descending, generation after generation, to 

 the valleys in the early snowtime and returning again 

 when the beat of summer drives them back to the peaks, 

 to feed secure from flies and drought in the rich green 

 pastures that lie near the eternal snow. When they herd 

 in the river-bottom (by wliioh I do not mean the bottom 

 of the river; 'tis the Western phrase for the valley thi-ough 

 which a stream flows, and the low lands near its mouth) 

 they stand huddled together in the snow like cattle, and, 

 like cattle, can be shot down. But the settlers have 

 hitherto sternly forbidden any wanton destruction of the 

 big game, killing only what they needed. But since 

 tradesmen have set a high price on the antlered heads, I 

 fear the poor "moollock," as the Siwash call the elk, will 

 soon be either exterminated or reduced to a race of 

 Amazons. 



steep slant and thick gi'owth of bush and then went rigli 

 up in perpendicular walls of rock. 



We pushed ahead, Chris fighting his way through th^ 

 brush like a cat, Vick winding his long limbs in and oU' 

 with singular speed under the circumstances, Joe pusln 

 ing away like a thick, sturdy little bull by main forc€'; 

 and the rest of us profiting by their excellent examples. ' 



Toward evening the bed of the stream became accetj 

 sible again, and the flow of water was now so small w | 

 could travel in it, but icy cold. Joe was the only ma^ 

 who spoke. He was the profanest man I ever saw an 

 the fittest at this time for spokesman. Then we foun, 

 ourselves in open air and under the clear sky— for th' 

 rain had stopped— before us the sharp peaks of the firs; 

 range in near view. 



We crossed a clear field, a broad green meadow whei 

 there was a great village of marmots — or "mountai; 

 beaver" as they are called — an animal really much like : 

 woodchuck, but larger, and at a distance rather reseml 

 ling the beaver. Brown, shaggy, short bushy tail, ver 

 good to eat. The only one I ever saw was shot by th 

 Cayuse on a former expedition among the foothills. A' 

 that time we spent a great part of two days and seven: 

 nights close to a multitude of their holes, but that of th 

 Cayuse was the only one we saw. Yet in the mornin 

 every hole had a little handful of freshly plucked leave 

 in front of it. The Cayuse killed his just at dusk. 



We crossed the field and were going down a steep ban' 

 to another branch of the Skokomish — a mere brook s! 

 near its source. Joe, who was ahead, called out, "F'l 

 boys, there's a bear!" I was sliding down behind bin 

 having fallen at the top of the bank, but caught a bus: 

 and stopped, but before I could see the bear or get a foo 

 ing I felt a tremendous thump in the small of my baci 

 from the Marine, who had also slipped. The bush broi 

 and away we went. At the same instant right over x 

 the rifles of Vick and the Cayuse went off, and Joe 

 below us, and we arrived in a heap at the bottom in thr 

 to see the bear vanish at the top of the opposite hanl 

 He was badly wounded and left a great trail of bloc 

 behind him, but though we hunted till nearly dark 1, 

 was not to be found. 



Then as it was too late to find a better camping grour; 

 we had to stay where we were at the bottom of the gorg^ 

 close by the stream. There was just one place where 

 could lie abreast and have a fire at our feet, and this w{ 

 covered with brake and small bushes, which we cut wit: 

 our knives, but the stubble was too sharp for comfor 

 The place too was not as level as it had looked and w! 

 so situated that our line as we lay extended sidewaj 

 down hill. We did not pitch the tent but used it as £ 

 extra blanket. As the man at the lower end of this r 

 posef ul couch was crowded out by the weight of the fi' 

 others above him, and rolled off, he would pick himse 

 up and start over again at the upper end of the bed— ju 

 as a small boy rises to the head of his class — the next i' 

 turn following his example in due course. 



As we ate supper the crisp wind from the peaks mat' 

 us shiver in our wet clothes. Francis Dana, 



In summer it is almost impossible to get near them, and 

 if a man would follow them up the hills, he must endure 

 heavy toil and much hunger, but he will generally sleep 

 well and soundly o' nights, if he can find a level spot to 

 lie down in. 



In the course of centuries they have succeeded in mak- 

 ing a very respectable path, not passable for any beast of 

 burden, but a man can follow it if he wants to. And 

 such a path we were trying to find; for this is the only 

 way of traveling such country as one must go through to 

 reach the heights. 



Now the Marine and I had made a previous exploration 

 of the river, a little beyond the canon near whose head 

 we now were, and had been deterred from further dis- 

 coveries only by the fact that we needed more solid sus- 

 tenance than huckleberries, and had rashly eaten up our 

 provisions. Besides, it had been necessary for us to go 

 back at that time with view to initiating the construction 

 of the projected house. 



On that occasion we had traveled some distance by the 

 elk trail, and, therefore, both knew where to find it. 

 The others, however, did not put entire confidence in our 

 guidance, for each of us had somehow an entirely differ- 

 ent idea as to where the trail was to be found. 



So they waited while the Marine and I, each confident 

 that the other was wrong, set forth to find it. We lost 

 ourselves and each other, and found no trail. But after 

 we got back to the party we pushed on at haphazard for 

 a while, and at last all came on it at once. 



We also found a spring, which was most welcome, for 

 wet leaves don't go far toward satisfying a thirsty man, 

 and since we had been obliged to leave the river we had 

 had no water. At some distance ahove the canon the 

 trail led down to the river and disappeared. Probably the 

 elk go straight up the river bed at this point, a feat which 

 was rather beyond even the long legs of Vick; for the 

 stones in the river are covered with a thin, transparent 

 slime, and too slippery to walk on where the current has 

 any force, even though the water be shallow. So we 

 slipped and tumbled across the stream and some way up 

 the opposite elope, then pushed our way along through 

 bushes and over the loose rocks as best we could. 



Our position was as follows: The hillside barely es- 

 caped being perpendicular by the least jjossible slant. 

 The ground gave very poor footing, being composed of a 

 loose soil and flat, slaty stones that had slipped down 

 from the crest. This was overgrown with a thick mass 

 of alder and vine maple, each stalk growing down hill on 

 a slant from the root for several feet before it began to 

 cm-ve upward. The only way was to hold on tight near 

 the roots and crawl between the stems. 



Several hundred yards below us roared the stream be- 

 tween its precipitous walls. Where the alder and vine 

 maple left off below us were jagged rocks that had rolled 

 from the heights above, overgrown for the most part 

 with roots and bushes, so that the space between them 

 formed well-set man traps and greatly endangered the 

 legs of the unwary. Along the stream and over the 

 rocks was a rank gi-owth of a delectable plant, rightly 

 called "devil's club"— a bush with a broad innocent look- 

 ing bright green leaf shaped like a maple. The xinder- 

 side of the leaf and the whcle stalk is covered with thorns 

 from one to three quarters of an inch long, finer than 

 needles and breaking oft' easily to attach themselves to 

 the unfortunate person who touches them. In short, the 

 plant is a sort of vegetable porcupine. I shall never 

 forget the first time that I cast myself down to rest 

 among these innocent shrubs. Above us the hill kept its 



[TO BE CONTINUED, J 



IN THE REGION ROUND NICATOWU 



IV. — THE LAKE OP PLEASANT MEMORIES. 



ASSOBEEIS is a lovely lake. High land com pa sses i 

 T On one side the hills rise toward Sabas. In tl 

 north Duck Lake Mountain shows a changing side, gret 

 or blue, mellowed into purple by the sunset. The lal 

 itself is rather more than two miles long by a mile ( 

 width, suirounded by hard, dry shores, free from dei 

 wood, green and inviting. Near the shoi-es the water 

 shoal, and the ice, forming on it in past ages, has tak< 

 up all the large rocks save a very few and carried the. 

 into the sea-wall on the shore, leaving the bottom hai 

 and clean. In this shallow water, especially near the ou 

 let, the lake is grown up to rushes and water lilies, tl 

 former dressing it till it looks like a grass field, the latt 

 in their season making it a parterre of hundreds of acr 

 of the loveliest blossoms. Trout are the fish here; tl 

 only pickerel which I ever heard to be caught was • 

 maimed and deformed that it was probably dropped here I 

 some fish hawk flying over from Fourth Lake. Gassobee 

 is a paradise for small game; all wild things seem to lo" 

 it. The ducks sail off among the rushes conversing wi 

 each other, the deer wade out into the shallows to fe' 

 and escape the flies, and the bears follow the shores f; 

 cranberries and huckleberries in their season. 



Here Father had a camping place just to his min 

 Many pleasant memories clustered about it, and wbetVi 

 he thought of it in summer or winter it was always home 

 home and a quiet haven after stormy Nioatowis, hor 

 and a clean caravansary after the slime and desolation 

 [ Fourth Lake. Here they could get all the ducks th' 

 ' wanted and trout from the pool on the stream, or venis^ 

 if they wished it. Here, after the blankets were spre; 

 down after supper and the fire built up for the night, E 

 Sebattis used to repeat that story whose repetition nev 

 wearies, the old "Sung um joyfully," always preludu 

 the tale with the query, "Never we told it you that tii 

 how she sung it 'Joyfully' Old Isaac?" 



Gassobeeis seems to belong to Sebattis more than 

 any one else. He, too, loved it well. He enjoyed t 

 "great deal scenery" and the good living, and he ofti 

 expressed the wish to Father that their wives might 

 there to share it — "our women," as he used to put it wi 

 an air of pride and ownership. He frequently told t 

 story of his courtship, dwelling with satisfaction on t 

 times when he "was great deal favor with old foil 

 specially young ones." He was a man ®f fine sensibiliti 

 despite the two hundred and sixty odd pounds of fle 

 which obscured the inner light to strangers, alive 

 beauty, exquisitely humorous, softer-hearted than ev- 

 the generality of woodsmen. "These hard hearts," 

 which Lear complains, find few hiding places in t 

 woods; is there a cure in nature for them? Sebattis wov 

 not indulge in even the brutality of kindness when t 

 kindness could only save his own feelings. "We cut y 

 t'roat tomor' mornin'," he said to the baby seal that mi; 

 starve for lack of milk, but for the night he fondled! 

 and made it happy. He was a consummate racontei 

 With how much pathos he told the story of the death 

 little Johnny, With what appreciation he described t 

 man to whom he sold the blackfish oil, so that Just: 

 herself seemed to wink at their deceiving such a judge 

 oil. A literary instinct guided him to the telling poii 

 of Ws narrative, and he grasped them with a firm har 



