122 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



'^Sept. 3, 1891, 



A COLORADO OUTING.-ll. 



IT had been arranged tliat Jimmie should be at Black 

 Lake with a team the day after our arrival. Jimmie 

 has light blue eyes that are round and a round nose. If 

 he had to tramp one mile or one hundred, he would main- 

 taiuagaitof two miles an hour and get there. He is 

 gray and fifty, and I am never able to disabuse my mind 

 of the impression that he has always been gray and fifty. 

 He surrendered to Burnside at Cumberland Gap, and ''hit 

 was the end of my soldierin'," is the way and the extent 

 of the information he gives one concerning his early his- 

 tory, conceding he has any history. He came to Black 

 Lake in company with George and CharWe, drawing a 

 reliable thoroughbrace wagon: George and Charlie are 

 seventeen; having grown up together they know each 

 other's ways and they know Jimmie, and are just as reli- 

 able as he — they always get there. Going down hill, if 

 the brake is not set to warrant the exact degi"ee of fric- 

 tion requisite to their comfort they will lay back their 

 ears and nip at each other like a pair of colts. This is 

 their way of blaming each other and Jimmie; and Jimmie, 

 thinking he understands his part of the business, remon- 

 strates mildly, always first with George, then with Charlie: 

 "George, what yo' doin'? — Charlie, behave yoself ;" then 

 the venerable bays will throw up their hea(i^ and champ 

 their bits as if they wei-e having a laugh ^11 to themselves 

 at their venerable companion and friend. All this time 

 the lines are swinging in close proximity to the wagon 

 tongue, and George and Charlie are herding themselves 

 and the wheels never missing a boulder in the road or out 

 of it. 



Bidding our kind friends adios we cast our fortunes 

 with Jimmie and his companions and start for the head 

 of the Muddy. The Blue River "Valley, down which we 

 must go, is of itself not very attractive: there is a good 

 deal of sage brush and grease wood on the narrow mesas, 

 and we catch only an occasional glimpse of the river. 

 The river is not attractive, because it is not blue, but yel- 

 low, roiled with the refuse of the gold hunter in the 

 vicinity of Breckenridge, hence the loss of it is no griev- 

 ance. An occasional peak or bib of a mountain range in 

 the distance helps a little to divert the monotony, and 

 Brother Byers, always observant of the practical side, 

 misses no piece of meadowland, if it is no more than an 

 acre in extent, and discusses with Jimmie the condition 

 of every neighbor's hay crop in Middle Park, while I hold 

 communion on the back seat with my brier root. The 

 situation suits my mood, and I do not take the trouble to 

 kill a mosquito that aHghts upon my hand, but give him 

 a whiff of smoke instead. I am not over being tired yet, 

 city tired, and it is enough for me to know that I am out 

 of doors with nothing to do, and that we can be at home 

 when the sun goes down, wherever we may arrive at that 

 hour. 



"There is Whitely's Peak,'" says Brother Byers, half 

 tiu-ning his face toward me. I look off forty miles and 

 see a mountain which appears to have been chopped 

 down at one side, and that leans over aa if it liad been 

 struck by a hard wind, and answer: "Yes, I see." Whit- 

 ely's Peak has no interest for me, except that we are 

 going in search of a lake in that vicinity — a lake where 

 there are marvelous trout that no one can catch, and I 

 promise myself in an indolent way that I will catch one. 



About noon we reach Blank's and have dinner. We do 

 this to save the trouble of building a fire. Blank is away 

 from home, you can take your oath, but Mrs. Blank is at 

 home with the baby, you can again take your oath. The 

 house is neat, the baby is clean and the dinner substan- 

 tial and inviting, you can again be sworn with no fear of 

 perjury on your mind. Mrs. Blank accepts with a pleas- 

 ant smUe— which is a second course of dessert— the dol- 

 lar and a half tendered for the dinners. I do not con- 

 sider Mrs. Blank a robust woman, but cheery and ready to 

 prepare a meal for the next wayfarer, or a half dozen of 

 them, and to prepare meals all through the afternoon if 

 occasion demanded. There is a Holy Bible and some odd 

 volumes of George Eliot on a rustic table in the corner; 

 the name on the fly leaves indicate that Mrs. Blank had 

 contributed thus far to the literary necessities of the 

 family and that the contribution was something left over 

 from the days before Mrs. Blank had succumbed to the 

 marital relation. I am not personally acquainted with 

 Mr. Blank, but I take him to be broad across the shoul- 

 ders and one to whom a few hours daily over a hot stove 

 in the summer time would be a recreation, but that he 

 has no passion for that sort of a pastime. Being in want 

 of a toothpick I hunt for the woodpile and find a chicken 

 feather which answers my purpose. Among the odd vol- 

 umes on the rustic table was the story of Amos Barton, 

 and, while I trimmed the chicken feather, I wondered if 

 this were another case of Milly with the virtues of Amos 

 left out; it must have been very, very hard even with 

 poor Amos's tenderness, or may be worse; and would it 

 be the same story in the end? "My dear — dear — husband 

 — you have — been very good — to me!" It takes so little to 

 make some women happy that to grudge the means is — 

 what shall one say of it? 



We reached Kremling in due course, at the confluence 

 of the Muddy with the Grand Ptiver. Kremling has a 

 store, a saloon and a dwelling house, but no paint. Krem- 

 ling is not new, I have known of it a dozen years or more; 

 neither is it interesting, except as affording food for 

 reflection on the eccentricities of mind. Maybe by the 

 next glacial epoch or just before the ice gets as far down 

 again as Kremling and the other tillable land is converted 

 into rice fields, the sage brush and greasewood will be 

 grubbed up and burned and the land utilized. The road 

 up the Muddy does not follow the valley of the stream, 

 the valley is too confined to make a road convenient, but 

 we go up "a draw" instead, that is trackless and has an 

 adobe soil. I remember being caught in a severe rain 

 Storm once in this draw, and have reason to deprecate 

 the soil. As we reach the summits of the low-lying hills, 

 any dhection afi'ords magnificent mountain views; the 

 depressions have their influence and effect upon even 

 George and Charlie, who walk going down hill and trot 

 up to get out of the general dejection. We I'eached a 

 ranch during the afternoon that afforded an excellent 

 garden, which cheered Brother Byers, affirming, as it 

 did, his conviction of the capacity of the soil and the cli- 

 mate for the satisfactory production of "all sorts of garden 

 stuff." The entire vicinity was a sort of e^aggerE!,ted 



rolling prah'ie, environed by picturesque mountains, and 

 we camped that night on a small tributary to the Muddy 

 and fought mosquitoes while we drank our tea. 



The next day noon we took dinner with Riggles, under 

 the shadow of Whitely's Peak, then followed a timber 

 road two miles, then a wagon track through a few hun- 

 dred acres of scattered aspens and wild flowers. Ah, 

 those wild flowers! the first we had seen in twenty-four 

 hours — asters, bluebells, hollyhocks, geraniums, blue 

 petaled flax, larkspurs shaded from gray to deep blue, 

 lilies, and dozens that we had no names for — affording a 

 wealth of colors that was bewildering. The remembrance 

 of the road we had traversed became pleasant under the 

 delightful influence, and I did not care how far it was to 

 Hetzer's Lake if we might have this gai'den at intervals, 

 if not all the way. Skirting a few hundred acres of 

 meadow sheltered by thick growing pines, overcoming a 

 narrow slough and traversing several rocks with three 

 wheels of the jerky in the air at one time, we finally 

 reached a tent by the side of a pond. This was not the 

 lake, certainly, it was two feet deep and overgrown with 

 Egyptian lotus, according to Brother Byers, affording a 

 rich carpet of golden blossoms, to me altogether novel 

 and beautiful. Where was Hetzer, and more particularly 

 where was his lake? The tent door was closed, and a 

 quarter of elk was suspended from an adjacent pine, but 

 there was no sign of life in the gulch, except a chipmunk, 

 and he was very shy, because Hetzer has a kitten and a 

 dog for company. 



We would camp at all events, and Brother Byers would 

 go jirospecting if I would assist Jimmie with tent. My 

 friend came back with Mr. Hetzer in a few moments and 

 I superintended the erection of our cotton dwelling, even 

 to the selection of a spot with a proper inclination and 

 no lumps, near the base of a half-decayed aspen. Then I 

 refreshed myself at one of the three springs bubbling up 

 on the edge of the pond— selecting a camping place and 

 overlooking Jimmie and Brother Byers while they cut 

 and drive tent pins wears on the system. To the west of 

 our camp and at an elevation of 300ft. from the base is 

 the summit of a hill: aspens and pines and flowers cover 

 this hill, and when I inquire for the lake I am informed 

 that this hill is the lower rim of the basin, and that at a 

 clump of pines, "just there in that sag," is the lowest 

 part of the rim. We climb by a zigzag trail to the clump 

 of pines and are surprised at a beautiful sheet of water 

 over 300 acres in extent set in a mountainside. We have 

 put the rods together and go down 50ft. to the margin 

 and embark in a scow. Hetzer says the lake is 150ft. 

 deep "most anywhere," and the scow i^ consequently 

 questionable; he reassures us by saying it will carry ten, 

 and I take it that he does not mean to the bottom. The 

 lake is as clear as the springs, and 150ft. of line with a 

 grapnell would ha\^e been reconciling, but Hetzer had no 

 such appliance; being a lot owner in a cemetry nearer 

 home I weigh the prospects of its occupancy while Het- 

 zer weighs the anchor, and conclude that I prefer grass 

 to water as a mortuary tribute to my vktues; then I don't 

 approve of a headstone with nothing under it, it is a cold 

 mockery and — 



' 'Please shove off the scow, Mr. Hetzer. " This, of course, 

 is the request of Brother Byers — he cannot swim a stroke, 

 and being xmconscious of peril he is com-ageous. The 

 scow is shoved off accordingly and silently propelled 

 around the lake, with a coachman trailing on one side and 

 a grasshopper onfhe other. The shores are wooded to the 

 water and are quite abrupt, there is no beach, and we 

 notice regularly stratified limestone between the lowest 

 growth of timber and the surface of the lake. There is 

 no outlet and the inlet is a mere apology, being dry most 

 of the year, only in the spring it is a tiny stream from 

 the melting snow on a distant spur of the Gore Range. 

 There is no evidence whatever of glacial action, and 

 every lake that we know of in the mountains is the result 

 of a glacier. How was this lake formed? Brother Byers 

 can give as the only solution that caves commonly occur 

 in limestone, that this must have been a great cave and 

 that the roof had fallen in and left a great cup in the 

 mountain side. We had traversed half the circuit of the 

 lake, it was a good time for trout anywhere else, in our 

 experience, but we had experienced no evidence here, 

 while Hetzer assm-ed us that he had placed 10,1 00 trout 

 in the waters. He had commenced stocking it with fish 

 from the Muddy eleven years ago, and he knew they 

 were here. He had seen them and handled them in 

 spawning time, trying to get up the inlet— two, three, 

 four, five, six, eight-pound trout— he did not go over that 

 weight, and I was ready to believe auythiug be said— he 

 sculled the old scow like a still-hunter, you could not 

 catch a sound of the paddle, only the low tones of Hetzer's 

 voice as he told of the marvelous trout just under us, but 

 out of sight. When we returned to camp I commissioned 

 Jimmie to catch me a frog; I had noticed some in the 

 slough as we came in. He said he would tiy, and the 

 only thing I regret now is that I did not follow him and 

 hide in the timber that I might see him in pursuit of a 

 frog; think of a man whose extreme speed is two miles 

 an hour catching frogs. But by the time I was ready for 

 the experiment in the morning, faithful Jimmie came 

 with five frogs in an old fruit can with a rag tied over 

 them. 



Then Hetzer and 1 went out on the lake, and I ran the 

 Sproat through the skin on the frog's back; I could not, 

 of course, cast the inducement with the trout rod, so I 

 lifted him over and he made for the scow as if he imder- 

 stood that it was the neai-est way to land. I lifted him 

 up and turned him around and dropped him on the water 

 again. This time he struck off in the right direction, and 

 on the clear, perfectly smooth surface it seemed that he 

 must induce one of the marvels to come out of his lurking 

 place. When the unusual lure gave token of weariness I 

 lifted him up on the head of the scow, when he gathered 

 his legs under him and sat winking and, I thought, no 

 doubt wondering at the extraordinary gymnastics he was 

 being forced to, I christened him John Henry, and told 

 him that to all appearances he was absolutely irresistible 

 and deserved to be immortalized as a dead sure thing on 

 trout. Then I shoved him overboard, when he floated 

 without any effort. Evidently he was a courtier duly 

 registered in the batrachian blue book and impervious to 

 flattery. I shook him up and admonished him in West- 

 ern vernacular that he was destined to the performance 

 of a certain duty and must not consider any personal 

 sacrifice. He seemed then to awake to the notion that he 

 had a mission that should not lapse for lack of energy, 

 and after he had gone clear around the scow I mildly 

 suggested to Hetzer my doubts of any trput jij Jjig lake. 



While J was expressing myself there came a sudden 

 swirl in the vicinity of the frog and he disappeared. I 

 raised the rod, felt a tug on the line, and that was my 

 mistake — the frog came to the surface and remained on 

 his back, and Hetzer was vindicated. I brought John 

 Henry in for a rest, and after he had recovered his wind 

 I experimented again and for an hour, and consoled my- 

 self and tried to explain to Hetzer that, being so accus- 

 tomed to fly-fishing, I had acquired a habit of striking 

 quick. I told this to Hetzer a dozen times at least, and I 

 think he beheved me. 



But we did not give up experimenting. It was asserted 

 by Hetzer that in the evening, just before dark, the trout 

 would come to the surface for a few minutes to feed. 

 Brother Byers thought he would take advantage of the 

 information, and I concluded to remain in camp. Jim- 

 mie went off to fraternize with George and Charlie, the 

 sun went down in a bank of cloitds that drifted my way, 

 and as the twilight stole into the gulch I began to feel 

 lonesome. It occurred to me that the neighborhood was 

 a good one for game, and that game was not confined to 

 deer and elk, and that I had only a small pocket knife. 

 From the upper hills and the lake the wind came sighing 

 mournfully and the gusts became more frequent. Then I 

 thought I would find Jimmie for company, but while I 

 debated the matter a stronger breath than any of its fore- 

 runners came sweeping down the gulch, and with it came 

 the sound of falling trees — there were no trees within a 

 half dozen rods of me excej)t the old aspen, and I con- 

 cluded to remain where I was, notwithstanding the pos- 

 sible appearance of game, Jimmie came back and began 

 to prepare supper, at which we should have elk steak, a 

 taste of bacon and plenty of bread and butter and tea. 

 When we bad the meal about ready I heard the fishermen 

 talking as they came down the trail, and Brother ' Byers 

 displayed a 3lb. trout — a little one H6tzer decided it to 

 be— which had suffered itself to be deceived by a grass- 

 hopper. It was the only victim secured during ten hours' 

 work, all told, by two men on Hetzer's Lake. I concluded 

 that the exti-emes of trout fishing as exemplified by our 

 experience on the two lakes were n©t fully to my taste. 

 Each had its attractiens, of course, and was enjoyable, 

 but the middle ground is the one with the fun in it, as 

 well as the worth in all circumstances in life. 



The next morning we broke camp and returned down 

 the Muddy, and took a lunch just before crossing. We 

 proposed to reach the Troublesome before night, by way 

 of Antelope Creek, through the "Gun Light" (a big notch 

 in a big mountain). Jimmie had been that way ten years 

 ago on foot, he could not tell how the road was or 

 whether there was any road. We met a man, resident 

 on Antelope Creek, and he told us there was a good road, 

 from his place to the Troublesome — they "done a heap of 

 work on it." We found it: a furrow plowed around the 

 mountain sides that presented an angle of say thirty 

 degrees. We let the off or the near wheels take the fur- 

 row, as occasion demanded, and the opposite wheels took 

 the chances with us. But we reached Troublesome and 

 an excellent early camp in time to have trout for supper. 



The banks of Troublesome are bushy, the only satis- 

 factory way to fish it is to take to the bed, and that is 

 always delightful. Before leaving home I was admon- 

 ished not to go into the water, there was to be no more 

 groaning and limping about my domicile because, as it 

 was alleged, of this very indiscretion. To make assur- 

 ance of my good faith sure, I called attention to the fact 

 that my waders were in the cellar and not in my grip. 

 But on opening my bedding which Jimmie had brought 

 from Hot Sulphur Springs, I found a reserved pair. I 

 had forgotten all about them; I could not resist a 

 feeling of satisfaction at the discovery, although I 

 considered that I should have no use for the temp- 

 tation, as our sport was to be confined to the lakes. 

 On the Troublesome, however, I concluded to experi- 

 ment with the rheumatism and pulled on the boots. 

 Within a minute after reaching the water I made up my 

 mind that one boot leaked, then I experienced a recollec- 

 tion of former knowledge of the- fact. Then the other 

 boot leaked, but one foot was now wet and I had three 

 trout already. A shower came up and I continued to 

 gather in the trout regardless of consequences. I had a 

 faint notion of repeating to myself, "What would she 

 say if she could see me?" Well, I hadn't made any 

 promise — that is, directly it was an invasion innocently 

 expressed; besides a breach of promise with uncomfort- 

 able results was altogether out of the question with us. 

 This is the first confession of my experiment and I have 

 experienced no discomfort for indulging in a pardonable 

 proclivity— the remembrance of the delightful hour is 

 without price. 



The next day, down on my favorite stream, the Grand, 

 I caught 91b8, of beautiful trout without wetting my toes 

 and I told of that. In the evening Brother Byers and I 

 had a bath in the hot sulphur pool at the Springs, and 

 that was a fitting climax to a ten days' outing. 



L, B. FKA.NCE, 



Denver, Colo., August, 1891. 



"That reminds me." 



FISHERMEN have an established reputation, so far as 

 dealing in fiction is concerned, but I have doubts in 

 regard to their being always entitled to the head of the 

 procession. For instance, while outing in the northern 

 part of this State last month I made the acquaintance of 

 an honest, gray-haired, horny handed worker of the soil, 

 who gravely and very seriously informed me that years 

 ago he vfas an excellent shot with the rifle and handled 

 one a great deal, but never allowed one to remain loaded 

 in the house over night. "On returning home with my 

 rifle loaded," said he, "I always stepped to the door and 

 imloaded it at random into an old oak tree, which stood 

 about eight or ten rods from the house. Being out of 

 lead one time I thought I would go to the tree and see if 

 I could pick up a few old bullets. Well, sir, I got out of 

 that tree, into which I had fired oft-handed, a chunk of 

 pure solid lead as big as a brick!" 



Of com'se I did not by word or sign dispute my venei-- 

 able friend, but in behalf of the few men that I know 

 who go afishing I mentally voted the old farmer the 

 medal. A. W. 



GrRAND Rapids, Mich . 



