May 9, 1896.] 
FOREST AND STREAM, 
871 
the canoe for Joe to put the net under him. He extended 
hia hand to lift the fish by the leader, but I said, "No; use 
the net, Joe." With a look of disgust he said, "Too 
small." I explained that I did not propose to have leaders 
broken by monkey work when I was so far away from 
the base of supplies, and he must net all the fiah. The 
trout was still fighting, and I was slowly reeling him 
toward Joe's end of the canoe, when Joe reached for the 
landing net, plunged it into the water, and lifted into the 
canoe a fiah much larger than the one I bad hooked, and 
in fact nay fish was still on and I was using but a single 
fly. "Joe, where did you get that trout?" "He was fol- 
lowing that little trout on your hook and I just lifted him 
into the canoe." It was a fact, the fish was not hooked 
and was uninjured, and weighed 3Jlbs. I talked with 
Joe about hia life as a voyageur, as a moose and 
caribou hunter, and as a fisherman. I asked if he 
had caught ouananiche, and he said yes. "Where?" "In 
Lake St. John, in the Mistis8ini River, in the Saguenay." 
"How long have you known of the ouananiche?" "Oh, 
forty years; since I first went up the Mistissini River on 
my way to Mistissini Lake." "Do you mean to say you 
went to Mistissini Lake forty years ago?" "Yes, about 
forty years." He said it as he might have said that he 
went the week before to La Tuque to get some tobacco; 
there was to him nothing remarkable about it, he simply 
answering my question as he would havo answered it had 
I asked about the Big Bostonais which flows a few miles 
from his cabin. Here was a man who forty years before 
had been to the "great inland sea, the greatest fresh- 
water lake on the continent," and all that sort of thing, 
and did not know that it was only discovered within a 
decade. How Hallock would have smiled and Murray 
questioned had they both been in the canoe that day. It 
was a sad thing to do, for I had grown to like Joe, but I 
had to tell him that the lake was not discovered until 
thirty years after he had been there, and that quarts of 
ink had been shed to prove it to be an unknown lake. 
That at least two Government expeditions had been sent 
out to discover it long after he had visited it, and that 
only the year before I had met a man at Lake St. John 
who had just that season explored the lake to confirm its 
discovery. I asked Joe how he happened to wander to 
the lake so long ago and give historical annals a fatal 
twist by anticipating its discovery, and he said he went 
with a missionary priest and spent one summer on and 
around the lake, but the Indians were so ignorant they 
could not be saved and the missionaries gave them over 
to their own devices and returned to a more profitable field 
of labor. I think it was Hallock who said a few years 
ago, during the discussion as to whether the lake was 
known or unknown, that there was a well-known trail to 
it marked out by the missionaries, and indicated on a 
map, fifty years or such a matter before it was discovered 
in the newspapers, and in this Joe Mercier confirms his 
statement. 
Saturday the wind was too strong for the canoes on the 
broad lake and I went down to the outlet and caught two 
trout and put them back in the water, as the camp was 
supplied with fish for dinner. The weather was perfect 
for an outing, and the only rain we had was a shower in 
the night. It was so warm that the black flies had a fall 
convention on the outlet stream and contiguous territory, 
and there was not a preventive in camp. At the club 
house there was not a single fly, nor was there any flies 
on the lake, but the outlet evened things, as my swelling 
ears testified. Saturday afternoon I again went down to 
the outlet stream, and standing at one place on the end of 
an old log I caught fourteen trout in water that I could 
command with my line from that one position. The fish 
ran in stee from 1 to 2lbs. I made no memora uda of the 
fishing of other members of the party, but Rathbone's 
fishing was about as I have described my own, and the 
others did little fishing. In fact, on Saturday Johnson 
and MacLean started with a canoe and two guides and 
went over the portage to the river, and then up the river 
to La Tuque, where the Hudson Bay Co. has a post, from 
which point they proposed to seine the river to Grande 
Piles, in the canoe. Sunday noon we were on the port- 
age — the Doctor, Rathbone and the writer — headed for 
the river and the steamer. 
By 4 o'clock we were steaming down stream. Now, it 
is quite a different matter coming down the St. Maurice, 
shooting rapids, instead of climbing slowly up. Croche 
Rapids made our hair curl as we went through without 
a check, and when a few moments later the boat struck 
a rock it uncurled. We had three pilots on board, 
and the man who ran that part of the river 
went helow for his supper after we had passed 
the rapids. When the boat struck she jumped like some- 
thing animate and struck again, making everything 
jingle from stem to stern, and on we went like a race 
norse without a bell being sounded from the pilot house. 
One of the engineers, we had two, came back and ex- 
amined the hold to see if we were making water, but the 
rock elm sheathing did its work bo well that Rathbone 
said, "Hit her up again just to see how far she can jump." 
I do not think he did not mean what he said, for if I am 
even a fourth rate mind reader, he meant "hitch her to 
a post, tie her to a tree or several trees, throw out all the 
anchors you have got, rope her in her wild career, put 
hopples on her so she can't buck-jump and let me get 
ashore, for I am a little cramped from sitting and I would 
like to walk from here to Montreal." 
Since we returned I have known of his saying to about 
fifty men, in confidence, that when the Voyageur reared 
up on her hindlegs I grabbed a canvas fender that looked 
lite a life preserver and was ready to obey the command, 
"All ashore that's going." 
It was dusk when we reached the second rapid and we 
headed up stream and anchored for the night. The next 
morning we had to wait for the fog to lift before we 
started, but we got the wood while we were at breakfast 
and by nine o'clock we were where the river broadens 
out into a great shallow and the Meckinac comes in. All 
the rapids and shallows and obstructions buoyed or 
marked with course signals, and while we were squarely 
in our course as indicated by the shore signals we went 
hard and fast into the sand. Of course while we were in 
this plight Johnson and MacLean came whooping past in 
their canoe and jeered us from A to izzard in several 
tongues. 
At this point the Doctor rubbed his hands and smiled 
a satisfied smile as he assured us that everything was go- 
ing as he arranged it for our entertainment. That no 
first trip of a steamer up an unknown river waB complete 
without running aground, ana" except for the expengg h§ 
would arrange with the engineer to blow out a flue while 
we were waiting. Rathbone and I signed a round robin 
which informed him that much as we loved him, and 
much as we enjoyed the eating and drinking and sleep- 
ing on the palatial Voyageur, that we proposed to leave at 
1 1 o'clock sharp, Eastern time, in our private conveyance 
for a point where we would chance being wrecked in a 
railroad disaster. Rathbone said his experience had taught 
him that anything that was dry or extra dry was prefer- 
able to water, and in this I agreed with him. We re- 
gretted to leave our host behind, and shipwrecked at that, 
but Grande Piles, Montreal and other places were beckon- 
ing to us, and our two guides put a canoe in the water 
over the side of the steamer at the appointed time, and 
when we were stowed in it with our belongings we bade 
the Doctor good luck and farewell and cast off. With 
two paddles and the current to aid, we went humming 
down stream and soon after 1 o'clock we reached the 
station, and that evening the four survivors dined togeth- 
er at the Windsor, in Montreal. 
It is many a day since I have so thoroughly enjoyed a 
fishing trip in a'l its parts as this one I have only out- 
lined. As I have intimated, the trout fishing was too 
good, there were too many of them ready to take any- 
thing offered in the shape of a lure. We did not catch 
any trout as large as were taken by a member who visit- 
ed the club a week before we were there, but had no rea- 
son to feel disappointed on that account. An angler is 
always fishing for the big fish and if he does not get him 
it offers the best kind of an excuse for his return to seek 
again for him. The mother of the cook at the club was 
half Scotch and half Esquimau, who first saw light at a 
Hudson Bay Co. post in the far north. It was as good as 
reading a story to talk with her of her experience in the 
frozen north, and when she told me how good smoked 
trout were I asked her if she would smoke some for me if 
I would catch them. She consented, and it gave me an 
excuse to catch more than I otherwise would have done. 
Turning the big fireplace in the club house into a tem- 
porary smoke house, she did turn out some fine smoked 
fish. Game seemed to be as abundant as fish. Return- 
ing to camp at dusk one evening, a caribou walked out of 
the water's edge and lumbered away into the brush. Joe 
told me both moose and caribou were abundant, and the 
former could be had any evening for the calling. I hope 
to try the fishing at Wayagamack again this year and per- 
haps I may get one of the big fellows. A. N. Cheney. 
UNCLE LISHA'S OUTING.— XXI. 
Unexpected Visitors. 
"Wal, here you be, boy," said Uncle Lisba, "an' I'm 
glad tu see ye, for it's a-gittin' consid'able ca'julluky aout 
yender for your milkweed pod. Good airth an' seast 
What a snag o' ducks you got! Sixteen, sebenteen, 
eighteen, nineteen! Yes, sir; nineteen! Jullook o' there, 
Ann Twine; he's skunked the hull caboodle on us! Le' me 
see, you got three, an' me an' Jozeff — wal, we hain't 
caounted aourn yit." 
"Pooh, dat a'n't notings!" said Antoine, contemptu- 
ously poking the pile of ducks with his toe. "A'n't he'll 
gat honly nanteen dawk in dat crik all to hese'l? Dat 
a'n't much for do, an' what leetly feller dey was! One 
tarn w'en Ah'll leeve in Canada Ah'll keel forty wid club; 
yes, seh, an' dey was gre't beeg feller. Yes, seh, dey was 
geeses." 
"Sho, Ann Twine, I guess they was in the aig." 
"No, seh, dey was in Canada, sem Ab'll tol' you, an' if 
you'll a'n't b'lieved me Ah'll goin' tol' you de trute. You 
see de way of it, he come on stubbly graoun' for pick de 
hoat was jus' sow, an' he steek hees foot on de mud so he 
can' pull it, an' den he froze heem fas' 'cause it mos' win- 
ter; so den Ah'll a'n't not'ing for do honly knock hees head 
of it." 
"What be you a-tellin'?" Uncle Lfeha groaned. "Oats 
jes' sowed on stubble in the fall! Du, fer massy's sake, lie 
reason'ble if you must lie." 
"O, One' Lasha!" Antoine said, in an injured tone. "If 
Ah prove mah storee you'll a'n't b'lieved it. Haow you 
8'pose mans was goin' for rembler everyt'ing was happen 
in hees laf tarn w'en he happen so meny, hein? It was two 
tarn Ah'll keel forty wid stick, one tarn in de spring an' 
one tarn in de fall! Come, le's go on de camp. De pa- 
tack was mos' all bile, prob'ly, an' de dawk ready for 
Cook. Sam, you wan' save dis leetly feller?" touching the 
ducks again with a scornful toe. 
"Sam Hill," said Joseph, just finding words to express 
his admiration. "If that 'ere hain't a harnsome mess o' 
feathers. Samwil, if '11 let me pick them tu the halves, 
M'ri' '11 be more'n willin' 'at I come, or leastways she'd ort 
tu bp, seems 's 'ough." 
"You c'n hev the hull on 'em tu feather your nest, for 
all me," Sam replied, cringing from a fresh contact with 
his wet trousers in a way that attracted Uncle Lisha's at- 
tention. 
"Why, Samwil," he cried, as he laid a tentative 
hand on one of the legs. "You've be'n in the water. 
Hes that 'ere mis'able aigshell be'n a spillin' on ye? I 
allers said it 'ould. I wish 't the dumbed In jin contrap- 
tion was smashed finer'n a barn fore it draounds ye." 
"It never tipped over wi' me yit," Sam protested. "I 
went int' the water a purpose." 
"A-wadin' arter ducks? You tarnal fool, this time o' 
year?" 
"No, I didn't," Sam answered doggedly. 
"Wal, then, what did ye for?" 
"Wal, if you've got tu know, the' was a leetle shap 
tumbled int' the crik a fishin' all alone, an' I hed tu fish 
him aout tu keep him from draoundin', an' it nat'rally 
was sort of a wet job." 
"I wan't cil'latin' tu scold ye for no sech a thing, Sam- 
wil," Uncle Lisha said in a low voice as he laid his hand 
on Sam's sh julder, "but you'd better go an' dry ye off by 
the fire." And so they all set forth toward the camp, 
these two leading the way. 
As they drew near it they were astonished to hear the 
unmistakable s^und of female voices, and singularly 
familiar ones. Sam coming first in sight of the place sig- 
naled silence and a halt to his companions, who gathered 
close at his back, and all stood and stared in wonder not 
un mingled with dismay upon the unexpected invasion 
of the camp. 
Two women were mousing about, turning their sun- 
bonnets like telescopes this way and that in diligent 
impaction i f every object, now focusing a common 
center of interest, now separately, in search of new 
diyereiorw apd dypoyene*. These movement were ae* 
companied by remarks which were not very flattering, 
The faces were indistinct in the depths of the sun-bonnets, 
but there was no mistaking the forms, motions and voices 
of Aunt Jerusha and Huldah. 
"I don't b'lieve they've swep' up aence they be'n here," 
said the first, making a slow inspection of the fireplace 
and its littered surroundings. 
''Swep?" the other returned, sarcastically. "Why, they 
hain't got so much as a hemlock broom, I warrant ye, 
which they might easy enough, for jullook at the cedar 
a-growin' all araound." 
"I know it," Aunt Jerusha acquiesced, "jest as good if 
not full better, not scatterin' itself so bad." 
"An' will you look at that 'ere fryin' pan?" cried 
Huldah, holding off the utensil with gingerly hands at 
a distance, yet bringing the muzzle of her bonnet to 
closer inspection. "I can caount the leavin's o' three 
cookin's in 't, pMn." 
"Sam Hill, hain't I glad M'ri' hain't here tu see that 
'ere," Joseph whispered, "an acre o' feathers wouldn't 
caount ag'in' leavin' on 't so; wal, mebbe that's settin' on 
't high, sav half an acre." 
"An' see them pertaters. I'll bs baound they're all 
b'ilin' tu pieces," cried Aunt Jerusha, fluttering over to the 
pot and peering into it while she blew away the steam, 
"Yes they be, true's you live. Can't you take 'em off, 
Huldy?" 
" 'Taint likely there's no sech a thing as a holder. I 
da' say they use a bunch o' leaves or a dirty stockin'," 
said Huldah, rushing to the rescue of the -potatoes; 
"but thank goodness I've got my apron," and she whisked 
the kettle off, keeled it and set it by the fire in a trice. 
"Or mebby the' hats," Aunt Jerusha suggested, still 
dwelling on holders. "Jest think on't, Lisher might ha' 
fetched his luther apron." And Uncle Lisha gave Sam 
an appreciative dig in the side with his elbow. 
Then the two women backed off a little to take a com- 
prehensive view of the scene, making inquiries and re- 
sponses of, "Did you ever?" and "No, I never," till they 
fell into a fit of laughter which they were obliged to sit 
down to finish, while the spectators made a silent ex- 
change of imbecile grins. When the camp inspectors 
had exhausted their mirth, they discovered the tent and 
flew to it. Now their heads were thrust far inside in 
minute inspection, now withdrawn and the muzzles 
turned to each other with divers nods and shakes of 
assent and dissent, accompanied by spasmodic move- 
ments of their bodies, all of which gave evidence of in- 
vidious remarks and indulgence in unseemly mirth. All 
this was endured in silence by the spectators of the in- 
quest till the older woman began poking at the contents 
of the tent with a long stick, when Uncle Lisha could re- 
strain himself no longer, but rushed forward and shouted 
at the top of his voice, 
"Hello, you women; what you duin' in there!" 
Thereupon the intruders backed out of the tent, and 
facing about showed the rightful occupants a far bolder 
front than they could muster, caught as they were in all 
unseemly ways of housekeeping. 
"Why, Lisher Paiggs, haow du ye du?" cried Aunt Jeru- 
sha, beaming upon her husband, and Huldah called out 
heartily: 
"Haow be ye, Sam, an' all of ye?" 
"Good airtn an' seas, is that you?" Uncle Lisha shouted. 
"Why, I thought you was couple o' schoolgals a-snoopin' 
'raound. Wal, seein' you ast, I do' know 's I'm none 
the better for seein' you, considerin' haow you talk abaout 
aour haousekeepin'." 
"Wal, nao w, LisKer, you can't deny but it's a leetle mite 
thick under the nail," said his wife. 
"By gosb, Aunt Jerrushy," cried Antoine, coming to 
the front, "you was come de wrong day. Dis a'n't aour 
day for wash de dish. We jes' daown to de lake for see 
if dere was waters 'nough for wash to-morry, an' we make 
off aour min' we got for wait till he rise r " 
"Haow come ye tu come, anyway?" Uncle Lisha de- 
manded. "Sed daown an' make yourselves tu hum, an' 
teli us 'baout it," and he waved them hospitably to one 
of the fireside logs. "Aour gal '11 git tea ready tu rights. 
Come, Miss Ann Twine, you want tu be gittin' aout your 
sweetcake an' plum sass an' jell, for we got comp'ny." 
"Ah'll gat all of it in de pettetto keetly, an' de res' of it 
Ah'll gat pooty soon," Antoine answered promptly, and 
began bustling about the fire, heating the frying pan and 
scouring it with a stone— as he would never have thought 
of doing but for the presence of the guests. They eyed 
his movements, but politely refrained from audible com- 
ment. Then seeing the ducks, they fell into a poultry- 
wives' admiration of them. 
"My, I never see sech harnsome "lucks," cried Huldah, 
"an' you got all them sence you come here?" 
"Why, I got these tu-day. jes' myself, an' I do' know 
what thereat on 'em has got," Sam' answered, and then 
Huldah detected the condition of hia nether garments, 
and she took him to task forthwith. 
"Why, Sam Lovel, what in this livin' world you be'n 
a-duin' to your trowses? You be'n wadin' int' the river 
with 'em? An' the water jest as cold as ice. An' you've 
be'n a-duin' on't every day sence you come here an' got 
the rheumatiz tucked ontu ye an' the phthisic an' nob'dy 
knows what all, jest tu shoot a duck. You'll ketch your 
death jest as sure as you live, for a few leetle mis'able 
ducks. You shan't never come here again, not if I c'n 
help it. Hain't it a caution. Naow you go intu that 
tent an' take right off them trowses an' hand 'em aout tu 
me an' le' me dry 'em an' you cover up in the blankets 
till they be. I should think you'd know better an' should 
n't ha' s'posed Uncle Lisher 'd ha' let ye." 
Before Sam could say a word in bis own defense he 
was judged and sentenced, but when Huldah stopped to 
breathe Uncle Lisha put in a plea for him. 
"Naow, Huldy, you quit a scoldin' on him, for he hain't 
be'n in the water afore sen' we be'n here, an' he went into 
't tu save a leetle boy from draoundin'. I guess that 'ere 
leetle shaver's mother wouldn't wanter hev Samwil 
scolded." 
Huldah's voice shook a little and the look she gave her 
husband was anything but reproachful as she said: 
"Why, Sam, haow 'd I know? You set ri' daown here 
by the fire an' dry ye an' tell me all about it. FolkB hain't 
half so apt tu ketch cold if they let the' clo's dry on 'em. 
Le' me fill your pipe for ye. Did you run a tumble resk? 
Did he come all right? Haow old was he?" 
These and many more questions he was called upon to 
answer as he toasted his legs between whiles of keeping 
them out of Antoine's way, who as nearly &g wW), 
was on all 9id.es of the fire at onc§, 
