90 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Aug. 4, 1894. 
THE PRESCRIPTION. 
(Concluded from Page 69 0 
The nest morning found us up betimes. It was a 
lovely morning and every bird in the forest and every 
loon upon the lake seemed to do his best in the way of 
song. We found our trout all right this time. Brand 
had put them at the side of the shanty on a piece of bark 
and covered them over with one of our empty boxes. 
On our way to the alders, two ducks flew past us, and a 
lazy crane winged his slow flight down the lake, and a 
hen-hawk circled far above our heads and kept up a 
screeching that was out of harmony, it seemed to me, 
with the song and bird life around us. Then we saw sev- 
eral fish jump, and a belated muskrat dove in under the 
alders near the mouth of the brook, just as Brand swung 
the boat round to give me a cast. 
We had good luck again. I caught five almost as fast 
as I could cast and draw my line in. And then Brand 
took four. One of his would weigh a pound. 
By 8 o'clock we were home again and nothing would 
do but we must have another breakfast. I felt like it, 
too. We had just finished when we heard a shout some 
distance down the lake, and there was the guide coming. 
We did not expect him before noon, but he had left home 
very early in the morning. He said he had felt anxious 
about us during the rain of the day before, and had hur- 
ried away so soon as he could see well. 
But there were letters from home, and anxious ones 
they were, too. How pleasant it was to be able to return 
the comforting assurance that we were doing well. 
While the guide was increasing our woodpile I added this 
much and more too, to my yesterday's letter. 
The guide brought us two loaves of bread this time and 
seven fresh eggs. This replenished our larder. We had 
12 o'clock dinner. It seemed to me I could eat every two 
hours now. After dinner the guide left and again we 
were alone. "Now," said Brand, "Pap, let us have a 
good sleep and then go for another fish." 
, It was half -past three before either of us awoke. Mean- 
while the "drummer," I suppose, had been inspecting our 
shanty, or perhaps picking up scraps that lay around it. 
For scarcely had I risen to my feet and started to go from 
under the roof when up he went, close to my side, mak- 
ing me start for the moment, and fanning the ashes that 
lay scattered about our home. A few minutes after we 
heard him drumming in a new direction, and for several 
days he forsook his old haunt. But very often after this 
we would start him near the shanty, and several times 
we had a fine view of this noble bird. Sometimes we 
thought he regarded our home as his own. The after- 
noon that we left, as we were carrying the last load to 
the boat, he flew up only a few feet away from where the 
axe was sticking in a stump. 
We were not very successful this afternoon. We only 
caught three trout, none of them k*ge. But we had a 
nice time, and I did half the rowing. Then we saw so 
much. I counted two pairs of loons. Each pair seemed 
to have a point or a cove to themselves. Several ducks 
were seen, and sandpipers by the dozen. Then there were 
bluejays and hawks and kingfishers, with smaller birds in 
large numbers. I was almost sorry when the time came 
ts return to camp, although I felt hungry before half the 
afternoon had passed. 
The. evening was spent in the usual way. The only new 
thing was that after the birds got through with their sing- 
ing and the night hawks with their booming, and we had 
retired to the shanty to play cribbage, an owl came and 
hooted from a dead tree in the rear of our home. 
Next day was Sunday. It was spent in reading, writing 
and watching the birds, and in the evening there was a 
concert composed of a bass arid a tenor, voices that seemed 
to draw all the loons in the neighborhood to the vicinity 
of our island. 
Monday found us earlv at the fishing place again. Only 
four rewarded our efforts, none of them large, and as the 
day promised to be fine, we determined to devote it to 
exploring. Brand complained that he wanted more fish. 
Said he, "Pap, let us follow along the shore and see where 
the stream comes in and try there." This was our plan, 
and after the second breakfast was eaten we set out. 
There was plenty of lunch stowed away in the bow of the 
boat, so that we need not return before nightfall. 
For several hours we skirted the shore of the lake — in 
and out of its coves and bends — trying here and there as 
we passed along. Only once did we have a rise until we 
came to the place where the stream came in that con- 
nected this lake with another not many miles away. But 
meanwhile there was plenty to engage us. Fine views 
and beautiful laurels and plenty of birds. Then the 
alarm that we seemed to create among the birds as we 
glided quietly into some little cove and saw the red squir- 
rel skurrying away to chipper at us in derision. Once 
we surprised a muskrat that must have been sitting 
under the bushes on the shore. We heard him dash into 
the water and directly he came up the other side of the 
boat. At another time we heard something running off 
through the woods. It might have been a deer, but the 
noise was more like the shambling of a bear.' 
When we reached the inlet of our lake our poor luck 
changed. I was rowing at the time, and as we drew near 
the place I swung the boat around so that Brand could 
cast pretty well out in the ripple. He had hardly done 
so before I saw he had a fish on, and a very nice one, too. 
The fish ran first as if to go up stream, when turned he 
made for some bushes on the margin, then for the lake. I 
simply allowed the boat to drift now, while Brand re- 
fused to give the fish any more line. He had not towed 
us many yards before I saw he was tiring. He came to 
the surface, made a swirl and then down. Then in less 
than a minute to the surface again, then a still shorter 
period below. But now Brand is reeling him in, and I 
must be ready with the net. He comes. He is in the 
boat, a fish 14in. long and weighing a pound or more. 
Brand was delighted with his success and must try 
again. This time a smaller one, and again and again one 
of the same size, lOin. fish, good pan size. 
It was now past noon, and as there was a good place to 
land here we determined to go ashore and have dinner. 
But wait. It seemed as though all the black flies in crea- 
tion had gathered there to meet us. In a moment we 
were enveloped in them. Nor did smoke or fire drive 
them away. We had' to give it up and take to the boat 
again, reaching home before the middle of the afternoon 
with appetites that could hardly wait for our fish to cook. 
This afternoon was spent in sleeping, cleaning up 
around the shanty and making things convenient. The 
fact of it was I felt tired and only too glad to find an ex- 
cuse that would keep me home. Then I must write, for 
by agreement the guide would be with us on the morrow, 
and there were fish enough to last till that time. 
This evening the full moon came streaming into our 
home just as the sun had done in the morning. ■ Only 
everything appeared more somber in the rays and the 
shadows deeper as we looked off toward the lake. There 
was a wildness and solitude connected with the moon- 
light, and a lack of bird life that made the day so blissful. 
The owl came back to his old stand, he was calling there 
when we went to sleep. 
Brand was awake early the next morning. For once in 
his life I did not have to call him. We were just finish- 
ing our breakfast as the sun came over the distant hills, 
and it was not 7 o'clock when we reached the inlet fishing 
grounds. This place was still in the shade. Later in the 
season this might have been an advantage. It was no ad- 
vantage now. We only caught six fish, and none of them 
over lOin. long. 
Brand wanted me to land and "go up stream with him 
a little way," to see if we could not find more fish. We 
walked up for nearly half a. mile, but the alders were so 
close, and the underbrush so thick, and the fish we did 
catch so small, and the black flies so intolerable, that we 
were obliged to give the whole thing up as a bad job. 
Neither oil nor ointment would keep off these flies; and it 
was with a sigh of relief that we pushed the boat from the 
shore and wiped the grease from our smarting necks and 
faces. 
"That is enough of that kind of thing for me," said 
Brand. "I am satisfied to get fewer fish and have less 
misery. We will keep to the lake after this." 
I told him what my experience had been, that I could 
always do about as well in the lake as in any place. Where 
you catch one fish you can generally look for more. Go 
every day to the same place and take what you can get. 
Some days you will catch more, some days jess. 
We had not explored all our ground yet and I proposed 
we should return to the shanty and make a fresh start in 
the afternoon. 
This, however, had to be postponed until the next day. 
The guide brought me a letter that required an immedi- 
ate answer and it was 3 o'clock before he left us. Soon 
after he was gone we rowed up to the alders and secured 
enough fish to make us a breakfast the next morning. I 
did the rowing this time. Indeed I felt almost equal to 
anything. Repeatedly my son would say: "Take care; 
don't overdo." But it was no use. I was gaining, I felt 
ready for work again. I do not know, had my wife 
not charged me particularly, "if you improve do not come 
home, for two iveeks," that I would have shortened my 
visit by several days. Saturday afternoon was the day 
appointed for our return to civilization, and in one week 
I expected to be home. I was getting rather tirpd of a 
fish diet, and began to want roast beef and steaks. Sev- 
eral times I had enjoyed a piece of fried pork and the fresh 
eggs that the guide brought us were always good. 
Wednesday morning came with its sunshine and shade. 
It was not what I considered a promising morning for 
fish. It was too cloudy and there was a chill upon the 
air that did not forebode warmth. However, we started 
off, taking our way toward the outlet on the other side, 
and explored carefully until we reached a cave, where a 
little brook ran into the lake through half an acre of flags 
and rushes. At the very mouth of this brook, as we 
rounded the point, I thought I saw something. It seemed 
to waddle off a pile of dead grass and dove as it reached 
the water. Judge my surprise when a few minutes after 
a loon came up not two rods from the boat. The mystery 
was solved. I had found a loon's nest. 
"Now," said I to Brand, "I have found something for 
you. I have found the nest of that bird." 
But just at this moment I had a rise, and at my next 
cast a fish was hooked. I could only say, "Take care of 
the boat, I will show you directly," and then my game 
required all my attention. He was a lively fellow, though 
not large, and was followed by seven more before our luck 
ceased. Then there was a rest, and I said, "Now, row up 
to that hummock over there, and see what we can find." 
He did so; and there sure enough was a rude nest about 
three feet from the water, and in it two large greenish 
eggs with light brown spots on them. 
"0, that is the best luck yet," said Brand. "They are 
worth $3 apiece. But I want them for our collection." 
Maybe Brand saw me look distressed (as the bird in the 
distance sat motionless upon the water, eyeing us all the 
time), when he added, "She will make another nest, 
father. But now let us return home," continued he. 
"We will come here to-morrow and go to the alders this 
afternoon. I must blow these. I am afraid they are 
hard set." 
He had come prepared to blow any egg he might find. 
These were, as he suspected, hard set, but not so hard as 
to injure them as specimens; and before dinner they were 
laid away most carefully. While he was blowing them I 
chopped a tree down, the first one, and cut it up for fire- 
wood. 
Our plans for the afternoon were interrupted. We had 
hardly reached home before the loons commenced calling, 
and the sky began to thicken up; and half an hour before 
the time we had named to start the quiet lake was dotted 
with tiny wavelets that portended the coming storm. 
It rained all night, and it was not until 9 o'clock the 
next day that we saw the face of the sun again. And 
then it did not come out as though it meant to stay, but 
struggled along with cloud and mist until nearly 2, when 
we thought we would venture out. 
This time we went to the inlet again, and very good fun 
we had, too. Brand caught five fish and I three. Two of 
them were nice ones over 12in. long. 
This evening was spent within the shanty, I considered 
it too damp for me outside. We talked, played crib- 
bage and listened to the owls as they hooted or chattered 
as the case might be. We sometimes thought it strange 
now many different noises they made, or |else there were 
several different kinds of owls. 
Friday was given to exploring again. Brand wanted 
to search every marsh around the lake to see if he could 
not find another loon's nest. We did look along the edges 
of two of them, but found nothing but old muskrat 
houses and three dead trout, one a large one. Then 
Brand tramped the island over to see if he could not find 
the partridge's nest. He got me to help him for an hour, 
and every time the old cock flushed I thought for sure I 
had found the nest. We did not discover it, however, 
and before Brand gave over the search I had another tree 
down and cut up for the fire. 
This was our last night on the island, and we made the 
best of it after the moon came up. The air was drier 
than it had been for several evenings, so we sat on our 
old seat by the shore making plans until nearly 9 o'clock. 
Brand wanted to take some fish home. "We must take 
some," said he, "mother likes them, and we have had 
such a good time. I will tell you what we will do. You 
are well now. Let us get up at daybreak and have a bite 
with some hot coffee and then go fishing. Let us go to 
the loon place first, then cross over to the inlet, and if 
we do not get enough, come home and go up to the 
alders. Now, what do you say? I will take a box and 
put some moss in it and we will keep it covered. Then 
when we get back here we will clean our trout — if we get 
any — and pack them in your basket with fresh moss and 
powdered charcoal, and when we get to the guide's in 
the evening we can put them in his ice house and pack 
them in ice when we leave on Monday, Let us try it. 
If we get home Tuesday morning, I guess they will be all 
right." 
As the first rays of light appeared in the east I called 
him, and it was not long before we were eating the last 
of our eggs with some ship bread and coffee. We were 
at the loon place just before the sun came above the hori- 
zon, when the birds were in full chorus and the winter 
wren was putting in his best notes. 
I had been rowing and Brand casting from side, for 
practice, as he said, as we passed along. As I brought the 
boat around the point, and there rested on my oars, I saw 
he had a rise, and the next moment had hooked a fish, and 
one I could see of no mean dimensions. His first run was 
in toward the mouth of the little stream, but he stopped 
about half-way in and turned toward the lake. Meanwhile 
I just allowed the boat to drift, while 1 1> ild Brand not to 
hurry, but let the fish take his time. Before he got so far 
as the point, he came to the surface, then went down, then 
ran toward the shore, then came to the surface again, and 
seemed anxious to shake the hook from his mouth. But 
this only weakened him, and Brand was prepared for bis 
tricks. He simply said to me, "I want him for mother." 
Soon he was reeling in and I could see there was not 
much more fight left in his victim. As he came swimming 
along by the side of the boat I just reached out the net; 
he almost swam into it, and the fish was ours. He was a 
fine one, the largest we had taken, 17 in. long. 
I now backed in toward the mouth of the little stream 
again and soon another was in the boat, of 13in. This 
was followed by five or six half-pound fish and then our 
fun ceased. Brand proposed that we should cross over 
and try the inlet. He would take the oars and I should 
do the fishing. My first cast was a double; one a half- 
pounder and the other smaller. Then three single ones, 
one of fibs, weight. Then I thought I would let my son 
try again, and two more of quite good size were landed in 
the boat. He was delighted with his success, and now 
that the inlet was exhausted he proposed to go up to the 
alders. He said he could row there in less than an hour, 
and away we went. 
The morning itself was delightful; the air was pure and 
warm; just the morning for trout. I knew this, and I 
knew that as the warm weather increased so did our 
chances of taking more fish. But with all the excitement 
of our excursion we had not been unobservant of what 
was going on around us. We saw an otter on the shore 
of the inlet as he plunged into the water and swam up 
stream, and a deer's tail as it dashed into the woods. 
Then there were loons diving for their breakfast as we 
crossed the lake; and two blue herons, or cranes as my 
son called them, stalking along the edge of the marsh, 
with kingfishers and sandpipers flying along the shore. 
From time to time hawks circled over our heads or 
screamed their harsh notes as they looked down upon the 
woods that bordered the lake, while bluejays and other 
birds were continually crossing and recrossing from side 
to side of the inlet. Indeed, everything was alive, and 
the thrush and the white-throat and the wren melody was 
complete. Several ducks flew past us and three swallows, 
though we could not tell where they came from, circled 
around our boat. 
But now we are approaching the alders. I move for- 
ward and take the oars, and almost at the same moment 
away go Brand's flies. They hardly touch the water be- 
fore he has a double, and this is followed by another of 
the same kind, the fish about *lb. each. Twelve fish are 
secured at this place, when I tell Brand that I am sure 
we have en6ugh for breakfast and to take home, too. 
How many we could have caught it is hard to tell. It 
was a good morning; the air was warm, and there was 
more insect life than usual on the surface of the lake. 
Another breakfast when we got home, and then the 
packing commenced. Before we were through this the 
guides came. They were in time for dinner, and most 
careful when it was over to preserve anything that might 
be turned to account in the way of empty cans or pro- 
visions. However, I had calculated pretty closely. I 
almost regretted there was not more of tea, coffee and 
sugar to leave them. At one o'clock we said good-bye to 
the shanty. There was a kind of sad feeling as I left it, 
I had enjoyed myself so much there and gained so much 
strength under that bark roof. 
Six o'clock found us at the house of one of the guides, 
where we were to remain until Monday morning. The 
breath of the wilderness was just as fragrant here as it 
had been at the camp, and I do not know but that I en- 
joyed Sunday as much as I would have on the island. 
If anything, there were more birds singing, and it was 
pleasant to hear a cow bell tinkling in the woods. 
The trout were packed as Brand suggested. They were 
carried in a box, though, instead of my basket, in the bag- 
gage car. There was no ice on them when we got home, 
but they were still fresh, and although not quite so good 
as those we had had on the island, yet mother pronounced 
them very good. We had some for our friends and two 
messes for ourselves. 
The doctor called the day after my return. He did not 
find me home. I was at the store, and I have been there 
ever since. 
Brand says to me from time to time, "Pap, don't get 
sick, but let us go to the island again." 
But mother looks up and says, "No, no, not without 
me." 
We will take her some day. S. 
