322 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
April 27, 1895. 
A WEEK ON JACK'S FORK. 
■ It was to be a week, but it fell short. Human nature 
is the queerest sort of nature there is. Everybody knows 
this, so there's no use in proving it. Grove and I had 
E Tanned this trip, or more properly, a trip, some weeks 
efore, and I said tbat later in the month was the best 
time, for the reason that then it would be more comfort- 
able tramping, the game would keep better — for perish the 
thought that we wouldn't get any— and the mosquitoes, 
if there were mosquitoes, would be packing their grips 
for the lower country. But in about a week G-rove said 
he couldn't go so well later, that maybe frost would de- 
scend on his sweet potatoes earlier than usual, and so 
forth and so on, and we must go a week or two earlier. 
I knew well enough that the fever was bad on him and 
must be allayed; so one morning two weeks earlier than 
we should have gone, we set forth in his wagon with the 
usual outfit and a dog. You should have seen that dog. 
Grove said that on one side he was setter, and on the 
other something else, dog or some thing, but I looked on 
both sides, and end to end and couldn't see any setter. 
He was reddish brown in color, wire-haired, about as 
high as a high fox terrier, or maybe a "flee," with collie 
ears, subdued greyhound nose and tail of pointer and 
Newfoundland mixed. Grove said he would tree squir- 
rels and mice and keep snakes out of the camp, so we 
took him along. 
We didn't know where to go but we heard about the 
mouth of Wolf Greek and Harlow's mill and Duggan's 
Ford, so we shook 'em all up in a hat and drew out Wolf 
Creek and started thither. It was a lovely day, and the 
awfulest road for stones that ever was. I think that the 
farmers had emptied all the stones from their farms into 
the road, but that is mostly the case in that region, and 
there were cross roads and forks galore without any guide 
boards, and the problem at times was very abstruse. We 
looked at the map before we started and saw tbat by the 
compass our course was thereby. Then if we were in 
doubt any time we pulled the compass and started crots 
country by that until we found a road that went where 
we thought it ought to. It was a good ways round 
sometimes, but we kept going, and along in the after- 
noon we struck a man who evidently knew what he was 
talking about, and he set us straight for Wolf Creek. 
Did you ever notice how many xieople there are in the 
world who don't know what they are talking about? I 
mean in the manner of directing a traveler. Of course 
in other matters it's just the eame. You are in a strange 
country and • you meet a man who has lived thereabout 
'steen years, and you inquire the way, and he tells you 
explicitly, and you understand perfectly, besides noting 
it with pencil, nd you are much obliged and gratified 
and satisfied- and a great load is rolled away, and good- 
day, sir; and when you have gone about three miles you 
come to a road "the third right hand road," and it's 
right in the middle of a thousand acre forest, and you 
turn down it and go a half day or so, and come to a 
house and inquire how far it is to what-you- call-it, and 
the answer is, "you're on the wrong road, you oughter 
have taken the next fork when you turned off back 
yonder;" then you turn back with divers and sundry use- 
less expressions about the mis-director, who forgot all 
about a road or two, and several glooms settle down and 
wrap their cold folds about you, and life is a poor, miser- 
able farce, and the little happiness there is in it is 'way 
down at the further end of an inverted telescope. We 
have all been there. Once or twice for a spell we struck a 
fairly smooth road in the afternoon and bowled along 
at a trot, which lifted a fold or two f rom the glooms and 
inspired us with the hope that we should after all find 
camp on the Fork that evening. And so we did, for as the 
tired sun sank out of sight we descended from the 
"breaks" or broken, elevated ridges overlooking the val- 
ley we sought, and descending by a tortuous side-hill 
road, crossed Wolf Creek just above its junction with the 
Fork, and driving along a tree-shaded road a little way, 
forded the Fork and went into camp among the syca- 
mores, maples and oaks in the alluvial bottom, a locality 
strongly suggestive of mosquitoes, but it was suggestion 
only. We didn't hear a hum. The stars twinkled cheer- 
fully, the fire burned brightly, the coffee pot sent forth 
vapors aromatic, and the frying pan sizzled appetizingly, 
and when bed time came we climbed into the wagon box, 
long and wide, bedded with comfortable straw, and lap- 
ping legs, Gro 9§ at the fore and I at the rear, with the 
sound of the ponies munching their fodder for a lullaby, 
we passed into the land of dreams. 
Next morning, while the gray of the dawn was strug- 
gling with the shades of night, I slid down from my nest, 
and taking my gun, went down stream while Grove went 
up. The woods looked decidedly squirrelly, and the 
slopes of the hills and an occasional corn-field bordered 
by woods whispered of the skulking turkey, but though 
I carefully crept about, I came within one of drawing a 
blank. 
i tramped that bottom long and weJl; 
I hoped to pocket sundry slain, 
I didn't: but one squiirel fell 
Bleeding, but out of pain. 
Then I went to camp, and when Grove returned with 
a worse record, or as the base bailers say, a "goose egg, 
we ate my squirrel and each took his way again. Grove 
up Wolf Creek and I up on to the breaks. But whde 
we were eating breakfast, lo, from up the valley and evi- 
dently close by, came the well known, Hi! Yil Yil of the 
Missouri farmer or his boy, dogging the hogs out of the 
corn-fiel.1, for it's usually easier to dog the hogs than to 
fix the f price. I turned my eye mournfully at Grove and 
said: "Have we come all the way to Jack's Fork to seek 
game in a farmer's barnyard?" And he quoth, "It seems 
yes." 
I climbed the hills and ranged the ridges, and searched 
afar through the vistas of the wood, and threaded the 
ravines, and came around to the stream a mile or two be- 
low camp, and maryandered back along the bottom to 
camp with two fox and one gray squirrel and no turkeys, 
and when Grove had returned with three grays and the 
same number of turkeys, we cooked some squirrels and 
other thing3 and went fishing. Between us we caught a 
goggle-eyB and a "sun perch" and' two chub, but the 
stream was low, and there wasn't any good holes, and no 
bass, so we voted that camp a failure, and next morning 
retraced our steps to the main road, got directions where 
to go, 'way down below Harlow's mill, 'steen miles or so, 
where we wouldn't be waked in the morning or lulled to 
rest at night by the farmer's dog, and where the stream, 
reinforced by several smaller streams, contained much 
foclSS. 
Thither after much questioning of residents, and 
devious roads, we came in the P. M., and descending 
into the narrow valley where there was no possibility of 
a farm, again made camp among the beautiful trees and 
near the beautiful stream, where deep, dark blue pools 
held the waiting bass galore, or else there weren't any 
bass anywhere. And the lovely water didn't belie its 
looks either, for that same morning I took out of it, nc t 
far from camp, with a gay deceiver in the shape of a 
phantom minnow, eleven darling small mouth bass, from 
one pound to two and a half. I think I shall treasure in 
memory's halls that hour's bliss until the last of next 
week, anyway. 
The pool was long, and on the thither side, deep, where 
from the edge rose a wall of rock sheer twenty feet, as 
smooth as though laid by a mason, and from thence the 
hillside sloped away upward several hundred feet, 
wooded and beautiful. On the hither side a gravel 
beach, wide enough for gOod casting, bordered the stream, 
that gradually deepened from the edge, making the land- 
ing of the fish an easy task, and in the lower end of the 
pool where the water shallowed, the feeding fish gathered 
when the shadows began to fall. There, wading out, I 
cast across the pool, and drawing the whirling bait 
towards me, struck the following fish as it seized the 
unsatisfying line and played it to my heart's content. 
Was there ever anything more pleasant than that? I 
have long years blessed the inventor of the phantom min- 
now, and shall continue to do so as long as the bass 
"catch on." I have found nothing better in lures. One 
evening I hooked two good-sized bass on one minnow, 
and landed both. There was no trouble about bass; when 
we wanted some we went and got them, and they were 
generally headed our way very soon afer we went. 
Our dog proved very effective in the squirrel way, and 
we shot quite a number over his bark. When we wished 
a variation in fare, we stirred up the quail a little, which 
could usually be found in the woods without much diffi- 
culty. We heard one morning a grouse drum, the first I 
had heard in the Ozarks, which was quite a surprise to 
me, as residents had told me they knew of no such game, 
and one day, while exploring a little side ravine called 
"Coon Holler," a couple of the fleetwings darted out 
from a tangle of wild grapevines that overhung the trail, 
one shooting across the ravine and whisking up the al- 
most perpendicular fifty-foot rook wall, disappeared over 
the edge. The other rose almost perpendicularly over my 
head and sealing the steep bank was lost to view. Think- 
ing it improbable that the latter had gone far, I climbed 
the hill a distance and searched the pine tree tops, 
wandering back and forth but without success. Sud- 
denly it occurred to me that perhaps the first bird might, 
through curiosity, come back to the edge of the cliff to 
see what had frightened it, so I walked out to the edge 
of the bank I was on, and looking across, there was the 
cute bird sitting crouching on the very edge of that 
rockv overhanging shelf, A small mark it was, sitting 
head to me. but the gun was equal to the emergency, and 
the stricken bird fell fluttering, striking the steep bank 
below and so rolled, with much beating of wings, into 
the pool at the foot. It was a young bird, which proba- 
bly accounts for the curiosity exhibited, or maybe it was 
a desire to rejoin its mate that tempted it. At all events, 
the flavor of that bird at eventide was delicious. We 
had wood-duck, too, as another variation to our bill of 
fare, which was very toothsome, so that with wild grapes 
and pawpaws always on hand for dessert (friend Belknap 
to the contrary notwithstanding) we managed to elude 
famine. 
The weather was simply perfect. Bright sunnv days 
that made tramping a delight, and nights with* ju«t' a 
suspicion of frost in them without the frost, that made 
sleep a blessed luxury, combined to round out our hap- 
piness. We had with us a large canvas wagon cover to 
use in case of necessity, but the weather was so perfectly 
unsuspicious and so entirely auspicious and completely 
delicious that we had made a bed of it. One night we 
laid our weary bones to rest as usual, and the face of the 
heavens was unclouded as that of a bride, and the stars 
sparkled like the eyes of the bride aforesaid, and every- 
thing was as peaceful as a clam. (O, I forgot to men- 
tion the weird laugh of tha loon and the domestic hoot 
of the owl, but my dear readers can interpolate ad. lib.) 
Well, along about midnight, when we were dreaming of 
turkeys as large as ostriches, and whale-like bass, we 
were rudely awakened by a clap of thunder that jingled 
the iron spoon in the skillet and froze the lard in the to- 
mato can with horror. The trees were waving to and 
fro, and vivid lightning revealed Grove in one end of the 
wagon and me in the other suddenly sitting up facing 
each other with considerable interrogation in our looks. 
"And then and there was burring to and fro." 
Grove after the lantern and I after the axe in the pitchy 
darkness, and we tumbled over the wagon tongue and 
stepped on the dog, and cut down saplings for forked up- 
rights to put the ridge pole in, and got them all right, 
and then they were wrong and had to be cut off some 
more, and the thunder rolled and the wind blew and the 
lightning lightened, and we hurried, stumbling around, 
and got the wagon cover up over the pole, and the wind 
blew it galley west, and then the uprights fell down, 
and of course the pole came tumbling after, like Jill and 
Jack; and we got the poles in place again and the canvas 
over, holding on like grim death while the demon of the 
storm shrieked exultingly at us discomfited, and just as 
we had got the canvas secured, about two advance drops 
pattered on the roof, and we hopped into our nest again 
so thankful, and then— it never rained another drop dur- 
ing our outing-Hevings! If all the useless endeavor for 
want of a little foreknowledge could be utilized where it 
would count, like as not we'd live twice as long, or short. 
Then again if we knew what it was going to be, maybe 
we shouldn't be quite so happy— guess we'd better leave 
it as it is. The next morning was as peaceful and calm 
as a marble infant, and I went down stream a mile or so 
and as I came out of a thicket where I had been trying 
to locate a cotton-tail, there on the hillside fifty or sixty- 
yards away was a gang of turkeys, five to the gang, and 
I like a "bound boy at a huskin' "standing there with 
No. 6's in my gun, but it didn't take more than a minute 
to exchange them for No. l's, and notwithstanding the 
fact that the birds had been going up hill in the mean- 
time, I reached the stern of the last bird, a huge gobbler, 
and he came all the way down the hill to see me. 
And then before the time which we intended to stay 
had expired, and long before I should have gone, had it 
fallen to me to decide, Grove began to fear tbat his sweet 
potatoes would get nipped, and he wasn't feeling very 
well anyway (and his luck hadn't been such as to en- 
courage him to remain) and maybe his folks were sick or 
something, and so it came to pass that one heavenly day 
when the whole universe thereabout was inviting us to 
remain, and the branches were whispering "stay longer, 
stay longer," and the stream rippled "don't go, don't 
go" and the barking squirrels derided us, and the quail 
whistled us back, we loaded the wagon, hitched the 
ponies thereto, and disconsolately (as to one of us) turned 
our faces front the lovely scene that in all probability will 
know us no more forever. P. O. S. 
FOUR DAYS ON ST. LAWRENCE. 
Commodore Charles Vroman, Judge A. G. Rosekrans, 
Editor Pierre W. Danf orth and. myself, stepped off at 
Clayton from the fast express at 6 p. m. early in August 
of last year, and were driven to the popular Hubbard 
House. Aiter tea, our trusty guides, Edward and John 
Page, pre-engaged, came around and we arranged for the 
morrow's fishing. We were to go for pickerel, much 
against the Judge's protest, who said he wanted some- 
thing gamy. I assured him that a St. Lawrence channel 
pickerels gamy enough for a Schoharie Dutchman, and 
he gracefully acquiesced. 
That evening at 8 o'clock we boarded the steamer St. 
Lawrence, and made the fifty mile tour of the islands, 
returning at midnight. The steamer carries a great 
electric flash light, and this, with the pale moon/ 
and red-faced Mars, and the Greek bonfires burning all 
along the route in salutation of the steamer, so irradiated 
the islands and the water that the Commodore and the 
J udge, to whom this scene was new, were transported by 
the vision of loveliness. 
The Judge said: "This is heaven." The Commodore 
said: "It looks so, but it can't be, considering all who are 
here." 
The enchantment of that night's ride will abide as a 
charming memory to us over, and there breathes not a 
man with a soul so dead who, from the altar of tbe 
Thousand Islands, does not worshipfully look up to 
Nature's God. 
At 7 o'clock next morning we stepped lightly into our 
white pine skiffs. The Judge and the Editor were paired, 
and the Commodore and I. Bantering bets as to the 
beating boat were made, and with our rubbers on, for it 
was raining briskly, we set out for Emory's Flats. 
At high 12 we were to meet for dinner at a certain 
fire-place on a designated island, and until then, it may 
be imagined, every man did his best to take the pickerel. 
When our boat pulled up to the island, the other was al- 
ready there, and the Judge was standing at its prow, 
erect and proud of mien. "What have you got," he 
sternly said. "We are not compelled to show, until the 
end of the day," we evasively answered. "The order of 
the court is that you forthwith exhibit for our inspection 
your fish box, and if it happens to be a box of fish it is 
well." 
"Judge," said I, "we must decline to obey your per- 
emptory maudamus for the reason that you are in the 
Dominion of Canada, and can have no dominion over us 
until we return into that State, where your empire is 
acknowledged and your sway undisputed. " 
"The point is well taken," replied the Judge, "so are 
these pickerel??" and he stepped to their boat box and 
displayed a fine lot of the spotted beauties, and proudly 
lifting a six-pounder, gazed upon him admiringly and 
said: "That, magnificent specimen of the genus Esox 
gave me ten minutes of the hardest work and choicest 
fun I ever had in my life. To save my rod and the pick- 
erel, too, required the greatest skill, and at the same 
time—" 
"Oh, give us a rest, Judge, you make me tired even to 
think of your Herculean labor." 
"Say, Judge," broke in the Editor, "I believe papa has 
downed us, he's so composed, and doesn't turn green 
with envy; that is, I mean he doesn't look any greener 
than usual." 
"Why should he?" spoke up our guide, taking from one 
box a glorious eight-pounder and holding it up by the 
gills so as to show to best advantage its magnificent pro- 
portions. Well, you should have seen the Judge; as- 
tounded, dumbfounded, amazed, he dropped his eclipsed 
beauty and cried out: "This is treason; I mean contempt 
of couit. No, I am in Canada. I Can-na-do anything in 
these premises; let us go and eat." 
"Judge," said I, "to save my rod and that eight pound 
pickerel too, required the greatest skill, and at one 
time—" 
"Say, George, let up, let's go and eat." 
And we did. Under the sails, outstretched as a 
canopy over our table to protect us from the heavy rain, 
we sat down to a royal lunch prepared before our eyes by 
our guides, who are professional chefs. 
Boiled and stewed chicken, stewed and fried potatoes 
and fish omelet, boiled corn, egg toast, fried bacon, 
broiled beefsteak, bread and milk, coffee, pickles, pie and 
cheese and watermelon. What a melancholy man he 
must be who could sit unmoved at such a feast, and yet 
the Editor, who is of a bright and cheery temperament, 
sat unmoved when we three had done, and he continued 
to sit unmoved through half the dinner of the guides, who 
were polite enough to simply say that some days the 
pickerel took hold so savagely, well, just as your son does 
of the dinner to-day, Mr. Danforth. After dinner, the 
Editor calmly said: "It was the Judge's morning; it will 
be my afternoon." And it was so. In less than half an 
hour he had taken on his pliant lancewood, three fighters, 
from five to seven pounds in weight, right under the eyes 
of the Judge, who had lapsed into innocuous desuetude/ 
With varying fortune to our individual fishermen, the 
