246 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
March 30, 1895. 
the other, one of $300, for'inforrnation which will lead to 
the conviction of the men who did the shooting, and also 
doubled their guards and armed them. 
It seems now to have become a question of life and 
death with the clubs. They must either give up their 
property to the poachers or they must defend it by force 
of arms. The lawless element in this community con- 
stitutes a very small fraction of the population, and al- 
though a few years ago the clubs were quite popular here, 
a great change in the way they are regarded has now 
come about. The sensible men of this community realize 
that we are all better off for the existence of these clubs, 
and that they bring into the country and spend here 
many thousands of dollars which we would not otherwise 
receive. They purchase poultry, beef and corn; they 
hire at good prices men who would otherwise be idle, or 
only make a precarious living by gunning and fishing 
during the winter. I talked with a young fellow the 
other day who told me that he made §100 clear last sea- 
son working as guide or boatman at a club. It is com- 
monly said that the rural mind works slowly, but it is 
certainly true that our people, although at first opposed 
to the clubs and to the protective idea, have now accepted 
this last, and feel kindly toward the Northern men whom 
we see down here each winter. 
Now and then, to be sure, there is an attemr-t by some 
foolish or ill-conditioned men to impose on club members, 
or to make himself disagreeable. I was told of such a 
case not long ago. Non-residents, you must know, are by 
law prohibited from shooting afloat, while residents may 
shoot from boats on bush blinds, or from batteries. A 
local "gunner found a lot of ducks "using" off a club 
point, at which a club member was tied out, and put his 
bush blind hardly a gun shot from the shore. Of course 
all the ducks which came went to his decoys. He had 
good shooting, while the club member on the point had 
no shooting at all, and could only foam at the mouth in 
impotent rage. As I say, however, this sort of thing oc- 
curs but seldom nowadays, and in the future there will 
be less of it than there has been in the past. 
Some measures should be taken by State or county au- 
thorities to enforce our game laws. The gunning and the 
fishing are two of the most important industries of Carri- 
tuck county, and when the ducks and fish go, our people 
will suffer a loss from which the community will be slow 
to recover. Every man in this and adjacent counties 
ought to make it his business to see that his representa- 
tive in the legislature appreciates this state of things, 
and that he does his part toward saving the wild fowl 
of Currituck Sound. E. R. W. 
W and Mi v $ r S^¥ n 3* 
MOXIE POND. 
IN TWO PARTS. — PART II. 
Very soon, however, as it seemed to us, the chirp of 
half-awakened birds told us that another day was at 
hand; and in a short time every bird that ould sing any 
kind of a song at all was doing his very best to convince 
us that life was worth living. Indeed, we thought so too, 
when we had washed the sleep from our eyes with the 
cool water of the lake, and had breathed for a few mo- 
ments the fragrant atmosphere of that beautiful June 
morning. 
Breakfast over, we packed our duffle, extinguished our 
camp fire and went on our way. Perhaps it may be two 
miles from this camp ground to the head of the pond, and 
as we went we trolled a minnow, although we rowed at a 
more rapid rate than is usual in trolling. However, we 
took and set free again six trout averaging about a pound 
apiece before we reached the carry at the inlet. Here we 
left the boat anl carried our packs half a mile to the foot 
of the Little Austin pond. This pond is a deep turn, per- 
haps a mile long by a quarter of a mile wide, lying close 
up under the side of Bald Mountain. At the foot of this 
pond we found a crazy, old boat, which leaked so fast we 
had to sink it in shoal water and wait for it to swell. 
After a time the seams closed to such an extent that one 
of us by constant bailing could keep her clear, while the 
other paddled. In this manner we proceeded to the head 
of the pond. Here we found a ruined hunter's camp, its 
dirt-covered roof thickly grown with raspberry bushes, 
the old bench rotten, musty and tumbling down, the stove 
pipe rusted out, the door frame gnawed by hedge hogs, 
the whole place infested by mice, damp, dark and unin- 
viting. But a shower was almost upon us, for much 
time had been consumed in making the carry and in 
waiting for the boat to swell, and it was now past noon. 
So, as this old camp was the only place of refuge from the 
rain, we availed ourselves of v. hat shelter its leaky roof 
afforded, and while we waited for the shower to pass we 
ate a cold bite and jointed our rods. 
" After the ram was over we went out to try the trout, 
and here we met with an experience similar to the one 
mentioned above, while we were at the larger pond. The 
trout would pay no attention whatever to any artificial 
lure, but would readily take live bait, either in trolling 
or still fishing. And yet we found their stomachs com- 
pletely filled with insects which we took to be black 
winged ants, although no such insects were on the water 
and no trout were breaking during our stay on these 
ponds. Neither could we find these insects in any abund- 
ance near the shore nor elsewhere about the pond. A pre- 
cisely similar condition of things existed at Moosehead 
Lake about June 20, 1894. An explanation from some 
one versed in the lore of trout food would afford me great 
satisfaction. 
However, the trout were there, and in a very short time 
we caught and put back into the water between twenty 
and thirty as handsome well conditioned brook trout as it 
has ever been my lot to see; red-bellied, yellotv- 
meated, chunked specimens they were fat and 
sweet, weighing just about a pound apiece. But 
the lengthening shadows admonished us that darkness 
would soon be upon us, and so saying good-bye to the lit- 
tle dark, deep and spruce-bordered mountain, shadowed 
lake, we went ashore to make preparations for the night, 
taking with us three fish, which proved to be one more 
than we could dispose of at supper and breakfast, and 
tbey were broiled, too. 
A broiled trout! T Perhaps every"trout" fisherman may 
not know how to broil a trout; so, at the risk of pro- 
lixity I will describe the method as it was taught me one 
day by an old guide, when we were wind-bound at the 
Lilly Bay thoroughfare — Moosehead Lake. To get the best 
results the trout should weigh a pound or more, though 
broiled half-pounders are very good. Split the. trout 
op^n on the back, remove the back bone, spread open, 
sprinkle lightly with salt and lay on a wire broiler. 
Above the trout, that is on the edge of the trout next to 
the handle of the broiler, lay some thin slices of fat salt 
pork. Then, when the broiler bus been closed and 
fastened, support it in a vertical position before the camp 
fire by means of a stick three or four feet long:, sharpened 
at one end, and stuck obliquely in the ground. The 
handle of the broiler hangs from the upper end of the 
stick above a little limb which has been left projecting to 
keep the broiler from slipping down. The bottom of the 
broiler rests on the ground about two feet away from the 
fire. Broil the skin side first, until the skin blisters a lit- 
tle and will readily separate from the flesh. Then turn 
and broil the other side until white crusts appear on the 
brown meat. The fat from the strips of pork above will 
afford nearly salt enough for a fish cooked in this way, 
unless it be a very thick fish. 
Wejwent ashore to make preparations for the night. Not 
far from the old camp, just across a little cold mountain 
brook we found a rude shelter, proportioned almost ex- 
actly like old woo dsn an Nessmuk's shanty tent. The 
sides and back were made of little spruce and fir saplings, 
perhaps four inches tlrrough, laid up between stakes 
driven into the ground. The roof was of slim maple poles, 
covered with spruce bark. In front of the shanty was a 
rude stone fire-place and just a half circle of stones to keep 
the fire-wood from the ground. Under this shelter we 
made a good shake down, although it was a little wet at 
first, but the fire by which we cookei our supper also 
dried the boughs, and by the time we were ready to turn 
in, we had as comfortable a bed as one could wish. 
The night was dark, hot and close. Distant muttering 
of thunder and flashes of lightning told of far-c ff showers. 
But sleep soon came to our eyes; the fire burned low, and 
then the midges descended upon us m such forces that 
the tar mixture was not potent to repel them. So we 
built a fresh fire and wrapped ourselves once more in our 
blankets, but the little shanty was uncomfortably hot, 
the midges were persistent, the shake down became hard 
and "we wished for the morning." 
At last it came, hot and "muggy" at first, but soon the 
sun shone forth in all the fervency and splendor of a long 
summer's day. As soon as the under brush had dried a 
little, we made up our packs and started across a three- 
mile carry to Moxie Pond. This carry was along an old 
tote road, into which the sun shone full and clear behind 
us as we toiled along the rough swampy path, and we 
were very glad indeed when we got across to the head of 
the Moxie Pond. Here we found that the water was 
some ten or twelve feet higher than it usually is at that 
season of the year, the gates in the dam at the foot of the 
pond having been closed, as we afterward found, to hold 
back the water for use in driving logs down the Ken- 
nebec. 
It was scarcely noon when we reached the falls where 
the brawling stream comes tumbling down from Moxie 
Bay into the extreme head of Moxie Pond; but another 
thunder shower was nearly unon us, and we had barely 
time to cast a fly over the pool below the falls, and take a 
two-pound trout before we were obliged to seek shelter in 
a camp nearby. This camp, built I believe, by some 
sportsmen from Solon and Bingham, is altogether the 
finest camp I have ever seen built without sawed lumber. 
It has ample accommodations for eight men, and twice as 
many might sleep in the berths without being more 
crowded than men usually are in the lumbering camps. 
Opposite the berths is a huge rock fire place. The walls 
and roof are sheathed with shaved splits, and everything 
is as nicely furnished as axe and draw-shave could make 
it. On the door was a neat placard, stating that the 
camp could be leased from Mr. McCall Hackett, who 
might be found at his camps at Mosquito Narrows, three 
miles lower down the pond. The rent, as we afterward 
learned, was fifty cents a day. The camp being empty, 
we took possession, according to the custom here in the 
woods, and we were not a moment too soon in doing so, 
for scarcely were we under the shingles when the shower 
struck, and. from that time until nearly night there was 
heavy and continuous rain. Just before sunset it cleared 
away a little, and we took an old boat which we found at 
the falls, where the river drivers had left it, and went 
down the winding bayou which leads to the more open 
part of the pond. On the way down my companion 
pointed out a spot where he had shot a moose two years 
before, and he also indicated a place, called "Joe's hole," 
where he had taken many large trout. — four and five- 
pounders— late in September of the preceding year. 
It is perhaps a mile from the falls to the head of the 
pond proper, and when one rounds the last turn in the 
crooked bayou, he must be dull indeed to the beautiful in 
Nature if he does not feel a thrill of pleasure as he gazes 
for the first time on the island dotted, mountain begirt 
lake, that lies spread out before him. To the right, Bald 
Mountain, bare and majestic, rises from the very edge of 
the water; on the left Mosquito Mountain, and a few 
miles back Moxie Mountain shut in the view, while 
directly in front, to the north, the lake stretches away 
twelve miles to its outlet, although picturesque islands 
and projecting headlands, intervening, limit the prospect 
in this direction. 
But another shower made necessary a hasty return to 
camp, and we were lulled to sleep by the pattering of the 
rain on the shaved "splits' which covered the roof, and by 
the moaning of the wind through the. tree-tops. 
The morning came all too soon, and with the morning 
came also Mr. C. M. Hackett, above mentioned, who had 
learned of our proposed trip from the landlord of the 
hotel at the Forks,where we had sent our team. Thinking 
it full time for us to put in an appearance, Mr. Hackett 
had very kindly come up from his camp down the lake to 
inquire after our welfare and to offer us any needed as- 
sistance. We decided to go with him to his camp for a 
day, and were soon ready for a start. A pleasant row of 
three miles brought us to Mosquito narrows, where on a 
high bluff, commanding an extensive and beautiful pros- 
pect of lake and mountain scenery, Mr. Hackett has 
erected a completely equipped set of sporting camps, at 
which he provides entertai nm ent for the modest sum of 
one dollar a day, with the use of a boat thrown in 
"Within half a mile of Mosquito Narrows are some of the 
best fishing grounds on the lake, notably the mouths of 
Sandy Stream and Mosquito Brook, where it is said very 
large trout may be taken early in the spring with bait; 
and also, later in the season with the fly. But un- 
fortunately, at the time we were there, the fish- 
ing at these points was poor, owing to the great 
height of the water in the lake. "We were, however, as 
sured by many persons that four and five-pounders were 
not at all uncommon, and we were also told that one 
nine-pound trout had been taken from this pond. 
Mr. Hackett has a good location; he has at his com- 
mand some of the very best fishing and hunting in the 
State of Maine; he is a good cook, and an agreeable man, 
and all he needs to make his camp a glittering success is 
publicity. He should advertise in Forest and Stream. 
Before noon great masses of cumuli again appeared on 
the western sky, and a terrible thunder storm was soon 
upon us. But as we were perfectly comfortable at 
Hackett's camp, we did not much regret this enforced op- 
portunity to rest, and the time passed very pleasantiy in 
listening to lots of mighty deeds in forest and on the 
water. Many a lordly moose and caribou, and many a 
gigantic trout again yielded up its sweet life during that 
rainy afternoon, and in the midst of it all a little wave 
of excitement was produced by a bull caribou (said to be 
a bull) which swam across the lake within easy rifle shot 
of the camp. 
The next morning was clear and beautiful, and bidding 
good-bye to Mr. Hackett and his men, with some regret, 
we departed for the foot of the p n :l, where we had ar- 
ranged to have a buck-board meet us at 2 p. m. Three 
miles down the lake brought us to Beech Narrows, where 
the notable nine-pounder is said to have been taken. 
Here high rocky points, covered with spruce and pine, 
made out from each side of the pond, and it is from the 
character of the growth on these points that the Narrows 
ake their name. Here we paused to take a trout for our 
dinner — a pound and a half fish — and then we proceede d 
without delay down the lake past Caribou Narrows, past 
the old "head works" used in towing logs, into a narrow 
crooked arm, to the outlet. 
From this point a buck-board road runs five miles to the 
Forks, with occasional farms along the way where hay 
and grain are raised to supply the lumbering camps in 
this vicinity. 
Near the dam is a rude log structure used for a river 
drivers' camp in spring, and a place of storage for bat- 
teaux and other driving paraphernalea during the re- 
mainder of the year. In front of this camp we built a 
little fire and broiled our trout. Just as we were coming 
to the end of a rather satisfactory meal we heard a dry 
stick crack around the corner of the camp and looking up 
we beheld a tall gaunt man, perhaps sixty-five years old, 
dressed in a greasy felt hat, a very dirty shirt, open in 
front, a ragged pair of trousers which did not quite come 
down to the tops of his red woolen stockings, and a pair 
of lumberman's rubbers. His thin, gray, unkempt hair 
straggled down from under his old hat over his shoulders, 
and his white beard was matted and besmeared with 
much tobacco juice and tar mixture. If he had not been 
so dirty he would have looked pitiful, but considering the 
great plentitude of water in this part of the world, and 
the relative cheapness of soap, we restrained our feelings 
and waited for him to develop his business with us. He 
said that his name was Tom Piper, and that he lived 
about half a mile out on the road to the Forks. He 
furthermore prophesied rain, and invited us to come with 
him to his residence and accept his hospitality until the 
buck-board should arrive. Then taking our assent as a 
matter of course, he picked up one of our" packs and 
started. As we considered it inexpedient to part com- 
pany with that par*k for too long a time, we followed Mr. 
Piper at our best pace, and managed with some difficulty 
to keep in sight of his lank form until we reached his 
"house." This structure was even more rickety and 
filthy than its owner, and there arose from the whole 
establishment such an intolerable stench of fish offal and 
carrion, that we declined to abide with him, and proceeded 
on our way in spite of threatening rain, for it was now 
clouded in, and thunder was again muttering in the west. 
After half a mile or so of heavy walking it began to rain, 
and we were just about making up our minds to a five- 
mile tramp when the welcome sound of wheels was 
heard, and we were soon seated behind a heavy pair of 
woods horses on a stout buck-board, with a cheery fellow 
named Jimmy Phillips at the helm. 
The rain fell in torrents, the road was rough, the mud 
in places was deep, but our driver was skillful and 'good 
natured, and in due time we saw below us, through the 
mist and rain, the little settlement of the Forks, and we 
were soon seated before a comfortable open fire in the 
office of the Forks hotel, for although it was the middle 
of June the afternoon had been cold as well as wet. After 
an excellent supper, we lost no time in seeking repose, 
and for about ten hours life was a blank. la the morn- 
ing we took a little time to look about us before setting 
out on our homeward journey. The little village of "the 
Forks" is situated at the confluence of the Dead River 
ani the Kenneliec, twenty-four miles above the railroad 
terminus at Bingham, whence there is a daily stage. 
The settlement at the Forks originated in the importance 
of this place as a depot of supplies to that section, but 
since the building of the Canadian Pacific Railroad the 
business of the place has diminished very much, and the 
large hotel which was formerly crow led with teamsters 
and men going into and coming out of the woods, would 
now be nearly empty but for the summer visitor and 
sportsmen, who are just beginning to find out that "the 
Forks" is an excellent base of operations for a fishing or 
hunting campaign. There is the best of stream fishing 
within easy walking or driving distance of the Forks, and 
a two-dollar fee will take a party of four or less on to the 
foot of Moxie, whence we came. The Forks hotel is 
under the management of '„Mr. H. W. "Wade, a very 
pleasant and obliging young man; the table is goo i, and 
the charges moderate. 
About 8 o'clock we started for Bingham, and the drive 
to that place is one of the most pleasant I have ever taken. 
The roai follows the river all the way, and the scenery is 
very picturesque and beautiful. Half way down is the 
celebrated "carrying place" where Arnold and his ill- 
fated men left the main river on their way to Quebec. 
At Bingham we found a fairly comfortable hotel, and 
during our two hour's nooning we had m opportunity to 
