S9B 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[May 12, 1894. 



In the Wilds of the Borderland. 



A Woman's Hunting Trip into the Wilds of the 

 Borderland Between Maine and Canada. 



Off at last! It was a bright, beautiful autumnal morn- 

 ing of last year on which we began our journey, and we 

 even looked to the long day's ride with pleasure, for we 

 were going into what was to us terra incognita. After 

 distributing our belongings and becoming comfortably 

 settled in our chairs we leaned back in the full enjoy- 

 ment of our surroundings, and of having nothing to do 

 but anticipate, all cares having been left behind as we 

 boarded the train, unless Jerry be excepted, of whom 

 more anon. 



The year before I had taken my wife for her first real 

 camping trip. We spent two weeks among the 27,000 

 islands of Georgian Bay, Ontario, and although the black 

 bass fishing was grand all else was disappointing. It 

 was hot and rainy, the wind was never right, either too 

 much or none at all. Tho islands were masses of rocks, 

 for the most part without trees, and we found nothing 

 but frogs on which to try the new Marlin. These, how- 

 ever, were good for practice and also for eating, our 

 French boatman and cook presenting them to us as per- 

 fectly cooked as though done by a "blue ribbon." The 

 climate, snakes and spiders were tropical; thunder- 

 storms such as we had never experienced about New York 

 were frequent, and we returned much disappointed. 



But during the long winter following our trip in ret- 

 rospect appeared to have been more and more enjoyable, 

 for the disagreeable incidents were gradually forgotten 

 and only the pleasures recalled. The greatest pleasure 

 was then the presence of a little all blaok cocker Jerry, 

 who had been loaned us at the village from which we 

 started, and who proved such a sociable companion dur- 

 ing the trip that our longing for him after our return 

 home persuaded us to send for him. He arrived during 

 the coldest weather of last winter and ever since has been 

 our companion, joy and comfort, and no doubt was one 

 of the primary causes of our second trip. As the spring 



THE CAMP AT FROST POND. 



approached and brought thoughts of outings, and when 

 Jerry would trot out of doors, turn to the north, raise his 

 nose and draw in long breaths, we would say, "He is 

 trying to smell Penetang, poor fellow," and it would also 

 set us longing for Penetang, or, at least, for woods and 

 lakes. 



One Thursday in April, when perhaps the longing was 

 something intense, my Forest jlnd Stream contained a 

 letter from Mr. Fred Talcott, of Providence, R. I. He 

 offered to correspond with any reputable person desiring 

 to know of the whereabouts of a "sportsman's paradise." 

 We were the particular ones meant, although unconscious 

 of it at the time. I wrote him and his answer came 

 promptly. I wish I could give it here. His "paradise" 

 was situated on the Maine-Canadian boundary, and was 

 to be entered by leaving the railroad at Jackman, Me. 

 He promised everything— a perfect country; perfect 

 guides; trout faster than one could land them; deer, moose 

 and caribou, ducks, partridge; and last but not least, mod- 

 erate prices for everything. I wrote again and again. 

 His replies read like news from a long lost rich uncle. 

 They were awaited with impatience and read with avidity. 

 The correspondence lasted all summer; indeed it has not 

 yet ceased. 



I wrote the guide and waited a month for my first an- 

 swer, and received but little satisfaction beyond his prices. 

 His later letters, however, were more satisfactory, pnd 

 although he would promise but little, we concluded he 

 was trustworthy; and on the knowledge obtained from 

 Mr. Talcott, we decided to enter his "paradise" and engage 

 his guides. 



Then came a busy six weeks of preparation. Bacon and 

 court plaster, flour and bandages, guns and scalpels, fish- 

 ing tackle and baking powder, 350 assorted cartridges, 

 rifles, shotguns, rods, dozens of flies, ditto hooks, etc., 

 constituted but a fraction of our outfit. Of what we did 

 not already possesss we bought enough for half a dozen, 

 and what a pleasure it was with always one more special 

 journey down town to add another leader, more hooks 

 or cartridges for fear we should run short. 



Then came the selection of the route with careful con- 

 sultation of time tables and maps. At last we were ready, 

 our belongings in two strong trunks and a handbag, a, 

 package of mackintoshes and wraps, another of guns and 

 rods, and — Jerry. 



We left New York about 9 A. M. on the "White Moun- 

 tain Flyer" of the N. Y. N. H. & H. R. R., our route 

 taking us along the Sound, the Connecticut River, through 

 the Berkshires, and along the edge of the White Moun- 

 tains, arriving at Wells' River about 5 o'clock. A tramp 

 through that pretty little village, supper, and the north 

 bound train at 7 o'clock brought us to Lennoxville at 11:30 

 P. M., with an hour to wait for the Canadian Pacific train 



going east. A little after 5 in the morning we arrived at 

 Jackman an hour late, and a long, mostly pleasant, rail- 

 road journey was ended, 



We arrived at Jackman cold to the bone and in a pretty 

 state of mind. But a good fire, hot breakfast and cordial 

 greetings from everybody at the Colby House, restored us 

 to warmth and equanimity. A little shopping for things 

 forgotten and at about 8 o'clock we started for a 25 miles 

 drive, Jim* and I and Jerry in a buggy, and Llewellyn 

 Rainey with a two-horse buckboard and our trunks. 



Fifteen miles from Jackman through a beautiful rolling 

 country, and part of the time through dense woods, 

 always rising, brought us to the top of the Boundary 

 Mountains, 3,000ft. above the sea. A short halt to water 



_ _______ _____ __ -, 



m 



" WHEN THE SUN GOT LOW." 



the horses and then a gradual descent, mostly on a trot 

 over better roads for ten miles, brought us to hospitable 

 Mrs. Rainey 's. 



Our journey had been long and wearisome, and after a 

 refreshing bath and a hot dinner, we went to bed and 

 were asleep at 4 o'clock in the afternoon, not waking until 

 sunrise next morning. 



Our trunks were searched for our regimentals, and city 

 clothes knew us no more for three weeks. Jim appeared 

 in her short-skirted corduroy hunting suit that had proved 

 so serviceable last year, while I made my debut in knick- 

 erbockers, and so comfortable I found them that I shall 

 always wear them upon like excursions hereafter. 



The air was crisp that morning and we needed our 

 sweaters during the first hours, for we already felt the 

 effect of the change, and were hungry long before being 

 called to the generous hot breakfast prepared for us. 

 Afterward we met our guides. Robert Elliott, head guide, 

 was a strong, wiry man of 45, active, full of business and 

 exceedingly good-natured and anxious to please. We 

 found him always polite, very even-tempered and a hard 

 worker. Nothing was too much trouble for him if he 

 could add to our comfort or pleasure, and wet to the skin, 

 cold and tired, his heart was as warm and his eyes as 

 twinkling with fun as though he was as comfortable as 

 he had made us. Disagreeable weather and reverses 

 seemed only to bring out good characteristics. He had 

 trapped and hunted winters for twenty-five years and had 

 driven logs in the springs. He was a thorough woodsman 

 and trapper. 



Albert Cathcart, the second guide, was a man of 30. 



" WE WATCHED THE PREPARATIONS FOR BREAKFAST." 



He was leaving his two weeks' old son and heir to go 

 with us. He proved strong as an ox, and as kindly, con- 

 siderate and obligingly good-natured as it is proverbial 

 for strong gentle men ever to be. 



Mrs. Rainey and her son, Llewellyn, deserve more than 

 a word. They were the kindliest people we met on our 

 trip. ^ Llewellyn drove us in and out of the woods, and 

 we still here his cheery voice encouraging the horses at a 

 particularly bad spot, while Mrs. Rainey sent delicacies 

 to us on every occasion, and spent many anxious hours 

 worrying about "that poor little woman off in the 

 woods." 



The morning was spent in making the acquaintance of 

 the guides, the family, and the neighbors who came to 



*At the very outset I will take my readers into my confidence and 

 say that in the seclusion of the home or camp my better half is known 

 to me by the soubriquet of "Jim," and forjthe sake of brevity and con- 

 venience, she shall be known as "Jim" throughout this camp chronicle. 

 My readers must therefore be prepared for any seeming inconsistencies 

 of gender that may grate upon ears grammatical. 



see the city lady who was to go where no white woman 

 had ever been, and carry her own rifle, and shoot it, too. 

 In the afternoon we went out to try our rifles. They 

 were satisfactory except that I could not make mine 

 shoot as straight as Jim's; she beat me, as usual, and rose 

 correspondingly in the estimation of Bob, and from then 

 on I played second fiddle. During our tramp we came to 

 a broad, shallow brook, with pools at intervals. Bob's 

 hat band furnished a 3ft. leader and a fly, and the woods 

 a stick. With this outfit we were soon at work. Bob 

 caught the first trout to show us how, and fishing alter- 

 nately we soon landed fifteen or twenty trout, averaging 

 about a quarter of a pound. We were both new to trout 

 fishing, and enjoyed it greatly. The fly would no sooner 

 touch the water than a swirl would be a s : gnal for a 

 strike. Several of the larger fish were saved for supper, 

 the others thrown back. 



The next morning was cloudy, but we decided to make 

 a start, and with our "duffle" packed compactly on two 

 strongly made sledges, each horse drawing about 2501bs., 

 with Jim riding "Sandwich Island style" on a tall horse 

 led by an officer in one of Her Majesty's cavalry regi- 

 ments at Quebec, who was a volunteer in our party, we 

 filed out back of Mrs. Rainey 's house, across a cleared 

 piece, over a ditch, through a pair of bars, into the woods. 

 When not a hundred yards from the house a fine misty 

 rain began to drizzle down, but there was no turning 

 back, and for the first hour or two after entering the 

 woods it was not especially disagreeable, as the trees were 

 so thick the rain did not reach us. Bob had started that 

 morning at daylight with his ax to clear away the wind- 

 falls, and we soon came on a specimen of his work — a 

 huge tree cut in two places, the center piece drawn to one 

 side for our passage. 



After going about four miles a man appeared coming 

 toward us. It was the U. S. Mail named Armstrong, 

 physically strong-armed. He had made fourteen miles 

 that morning, carrying a mail bag containing a dozen 

 letters, a Winchester and a haversack containing half a 

 deer and a partridge shot on the way. A few words of 

 greeting, some local news exchanged, and we passed on. 



Our first halt was six miles off and we were nearly five 

 hours in reaching it, the rain becoming heavier, also the 

 walking. There had been a heavy storm a few days be- 



WILSON POND CAMP. 



fore our arrival, and mud, water and windfalls were 

 plentiful. I had been over tote roads in the Adirondacks 

 and had read of Mud Pond Carry, but had never imag- 

 ined that such a collection of stumps and sloughs of de- 

 spond could be gathered into such a small space as a clear- 

 ing 12ft. wide and ten miles long, and every one seemed 

 placed where it would most help the others to obstruct 

 our passage. Twenty times one or the other of the sledges 

 would brine up against a stump too large to get over, or 

 one runner, passing over a boulder, the other would find 

 itself in a mudhole a little deeper than the driver had an- 

 ticipated, and over it would go. Under the expert care of 

 the cavalryman, Jim 'alternately walking and riding, pro- 

 ceeded along beautifully and arrived at our lunching 

 place but little fatigued. Jerry had disappeared after the 

 first mile or two, but caused us little anxiety, for his tracks 

 were plainly visible, and we found him on our arrival 

 with Bob, each looking wetter than the other. For the 

 last half hour it had been pouring, and it continued for 

 the rest of the day. 



Arriving at the little brook that marked the ending of 

 the first stage, Jim was placed under cover of an uprooted 

 tree, a roaring fire was started and a shelter of rubber 

 blankets was quickly raised. The kettle soon boiled and 

 in spite of the rain we had a jolly cold luncheon with hot 

 tea, the whole party seeming to think it a regular picnic, 

 and most of all Bob, whom the rain seemed particularly 

 to exhilarate. Perhaps an hour and a half was allowed 

 to bait the horses and we were again on the way. We were 

 now deeper in the woods, on higher ground, and found 

 the roads better and the four miles were soon covered. 

 Then a sudden turn off from the main road, over a little 

 brook, up a short rise, and Wilson Pond Camp was in 

 view. It was a long, low, log camp, built like a double 

 lean-to with no roof over the center, and through the 

 opening the smoke curled, making a welcome sight. 



Bob had again preceded us and a roaring fire had 

 already dried the camp a great deal. Many hands made 

 light work, the horses were soon unharnessed, the baggage 

 unloaded and carried under cover and in the experienced 

 hands of the guides; in an hour we were quite at home. 

 Jim and I on one side of the fire sat on our bed made on 

 the ground, in dry clothing, and Bob, Mr. Perkins and 

 Llewellyn were on the opposite side, standing and sitting, 

 turning first one Bide and then the other to the fire, dry- 

 ing their only clothes. Albert, the nonchalant, wet, but 

 still happy, was busy getting supper. Bob was overhaul- 

 ing the things, estimating the damage, which was trifling, 

 and storing the minor articles among the shingles of the 

 roof. Comfortable, warm, happy and at rest we had 

 nothing to wish for except supper, which came quickly 

 and disappeared with equal rapidity. With pipes and 

 cigarettes, funny stories and the relation of individual ex- 



