282 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[OCT. 10, 1896. 
CAMP ALABAMA. 
We htkd spent a montli in the little town of Citronelle, 
Alabama, before we could learn anything definite as to 
the camping resources in that vicinity. 
We had heard many alluring stories of wild turkey, 
deer and smaller game, to say nothing of alligators and 
crocodiles basking in the sun, but whether east, west, 
north or south, we were unable to discover. Some 
"reckoned fifteen miles south," others "five or ten miles 
ovah yondah," accompanied by a wave of the hand tak- 
ing in half of the horizon, so after repeated efforts to gain 
information we had about given up our hopes in that 
direction and used to look ruefully at our carefully 
packed tent, boxes and duck boat sent all the way from 
Michigan and only awaiting an opportunity to become 
tlie snuggest of little homes. 
Although apparently tired of the subject, we each kept 
our eyes and ears open and were at last rewarded by 
hearing of a place called by the natives Dog River, from 
eight to twelve miles out a certain road. A place with a 
name and a distinct way of approach was not to be 
despised, and without much hesitation we decided, game 
or no game, to try our fortunes there. Very easy to 
decide, but difficult to carry out. 
The natives of Citronelle, though sadly in need of 
money, are uncommonly superior to its seductions. The 
few men with horses "reckoned they might accommo- 
date us next week perhaps," and continued to pursue 
their usual occupation of loafing about the post office or 
station plentifully supplied with tobacco. 
It was two weeks after we had made up our minds to 
go camping that a big farm wagon with two strong 
horses driven by a Northern man pulled up at our gate to 
transport us to Dog River. The tent, fly, stove and pro- 
vision box we put in first, and surmoimting all was the 
duck boat containing the breakables, and in which Mr. 
H. sat to keep a better watch on everything. I had the 
best seat, with the driver, and was supplied with a cushion 
which became very hard before the twelve miles were 
over. The roughest road that can well be imagined, wind- 
ing through an interminable pine forest, over fallen trees, 
corduroy bridges sunken into marshes and creeks, fre- 
quently branching into two or three forks, and the fork 
we chose always losing itself in a tiny footpath, where 
our horses would have to be backed around and our steps 
retraced. 
Dog River being some twenty or thirty miles long, 
emptying after hundreds of twists and turns into the Gulf 
of Mexico, we made for the nearest point. On the way 
we passed several ox carts with three and four yoke of 
oxen, their drivers with their long whips plodding stiirdily 
beside them. These people come to Citronelle for their 
supplies for fifty miles aroimd, often taking several days 
for the journey. During the last five miles we passed one 
house, a log structure with shutters and surrounded by a 
sort of stockade made of young pines, which inclosed a 
hard dirt yard containing an umbrella tree. 
The place was deserted, but we stopped to rest and eat 
a lunch, and finding the water in the well good watered 
oiur horses and refreshed ourselves. 
After this it was entirely a matter of chance. By the 
lay of the land we knew we were approaching the river 
and made our way for a mile in and out, uphill and down, 
removing fallen pines to make a road, crashing over 
others, \mtil at a sudden turn we found ourselves on a high 
bank with' the rushing, twisting river beneath. 
After a cursory inspection, during which I held the 
horses, Mr. H, decided to unload where we were. The 
bank was high and level, the beach shelving and of firm 
white sand, while directly below us was a spring bubbling 
quietly up, and keeping a pool of clear, cold water. 
Our guide and driver stayed imtil the young pines had 
been chopped dovra and made into tent poles, the tent 
and fly stretched over and made fast at the four corners, 
and the duck boat had been carried to the beach below; 
then he " 'lowed he'd try and get home by dark," and 
promising to come for us in a week he made his crashing 
way back to the road. It had begun to rain, and as I sat 
on a camp stool surrounded by pails, hatchets, lanterns, 
etc., I experienced a rather dismal sensation as the rat- 
tling of his wagon gradually ceased. 
Mr. H. had no time for such feelings. Before night he 
mxist have the tent intact, stove up, bed made, besides all 
thfe minor considerations. He worked as he never had 
worked before, and by the time the darkness settled down 
and the lanterns and lamps were lighted we had the cosiest, 
most comfortable tent imaginable. The tent itself was 
8ft. 6in. by lift. 6in., with a fly which extended 7ft. in 
the front and 2ft. Sin. in the rear. 
In one corner of the tent near the front was the stove 
(an invention of Mr. H.'s), the side walls of which set down 
m the ground 1ft.; the earth from the middle being dug 
out, giving a large fire-box; two lids on top gave plenty of 
room for cooking. In another corner was the bed; the 
four posts were young pines driven into the ground, 
while long boards were nailed on lengthwise and cross- 
wise; on these rested pine strips about 2in. wide, making 
a sort of a spring; on top was a tick filled with pine 
needles. In another corner were shelves, on which we 
kept the ammunition, tackle box, clock, books, etc.; and 
in the fourth the table flanked by the provision box, 
which served as a seat. These with two stools and a rug, 
and out under the fly a table and wash-stand, constituted 
our furniture. 
We had a very good supper of bacon, eggs, potatoes, 
bread, butter and tea, and after getting everything well 
under cover and ourselves snugly tied in, went to bed 
with a revolver under the pillow and the shotgun near at 
hand. Though very tired, we did not sleep much. The 
wind in the tops of the pines sounded like a gathering 
storm, the hooting of some night birds over our heads, 
and the cracking and crashing through the underbrush 
of the "piney woods" pigs, which are allowed to run 
wild through all that country, made us feel very far from 
civilization, and to crown it all we were awakened in the 
middle of the night by the weird song and cracking whip 
of some belated ox driver, where we did not know. 
Next morning, however, we had forgotten our fears 
and were eager to be out exploring the river and woods. 
Mr. H. went down to the spring for water, but came back 
almost immediately in a very curious, stealthy manner, 
and getting his gun, crept quietly down the bank, I fol- 
low^ to the top of the steep incline and was rewarded 
by seeing a covey of quail fly up with a whir from the 
underbrush and out toward the opposite shore; but before 
they had gotten over the water there was a loud report, a 
flurry of feathers and down on the white sand two quiv- 
ering heaps; another report and another bird fell in the 
water, but was borne away by the current before we could 
get it. 
This was beginning our camping propitiously, and Mr. 
H. came to breakfast with a good appetite for his oat 
meal, coffee and condensed milk. 
That day we stayed around camp, prin "-pally doing odd 
jobs and making more complete arrangements; but the 
next morning, after the camp work was done, wood col- 
lected, dishes washed and everything made right, we 
launched the little boat in the stream with oars and pad- 
dle, took with us two split-bamboo rods, with a box full of 
delicate flies such as the most epicurean fish might jump 
for, and with the gun and a basket of lunch prepared for 
a day on the river. 
Directly in front of our camp was a turn, and we dis- 
covered that these were many, sometimes sharp, some- 
times describing the most graceful curves. It was diffi- 
cult paddling on account of the strong current, the rocks 
and the fallen trees; but a wilder, more picturesque scene 
we had never seen. The white, sandy banks, shelving 
down to the water or rising, abruptly out of it, were cov- 
ered with old forest trees of gum, bay, pine and oak, with 
a thick underbrush of blooming mountain laurel, while 
beneath the ground was sprinkled with white violets; the 
swift current swept in eddies into the curves of the bank, 
leaving the sand in well-defined strata; here and there a 
great pine had pitched headlong into the water, causing 
riUs and rapids, while all along were little springs bub- 
bling up through the sand or trickling down through the 
clay; overhead was a constant chatter of woodpeckers and 
the mellow notes of many birds, while little lizardssunned 
themselves on the logs, and an occasional long blacksnake 
slid into the water. We passed several creeks from 8 to 
15ft, wide, and followed one for a mile or more. It was 
quite deep and limpid, and looked to be the home of many 
fish; but though we tried our most tempting flies, and 
finally resorted to angleworms, we caught no fish that 
day. 
This was the beginning of a week of quiet pleasure, 
varied by shooting, fishing, paddling up and down the 
river, which we explored for many miles, or tramping 
through the woods with the gun, scaring the little lizards 
into their holes, watching the big turtles like traveling 
hassocks make their unwieldly way through the grass, 
or simply enjoying the splendid foliage, the balmy air 
and the clear blue sky. 
We saw no wild turkeys, alligators or deer, though 
firmly persuaded of deer tracks on the shore of one of the 
creeks, but we did see and shoot many quail, and caught 
some fish, which added the dainties to our otherwise 
common fare. 
We spent some time too in taking photographs, and at 
night it was enough to sit in our warm, hght tent, with 
papers and books, and hear the strange sounds without, 
which soon ceased to alarm us and but made our camp 
seem more cheerful and bright. 
At first we had felt some misgivings as to our guide re- 
turning at the proper time, but these gradually changed 
to fears that he would, and it was with considerable re- 
luctance that we began the work of demolition, which 
left on the river bank only a rustic bed, some tent poles 
and a blackened hole in the ground. E. S. H. 
CAMP SAINTS' REST. 
Camp Saints' Rest was named by the sinners who occu- 
pied it this season, and who gave a sanctity to the place 
by the burning of incense (at ft per pound) and the pour- 
ing forth of certain libations. It is a substantial little 
structure of logs and bark, with a somewhat ambitious 
covered porch, and possesses two windows with real glass 
in them. It is located on the eastern slope of a little val- 
ley leading down to the shore of LakeMcCavanaugh, and 
through this valley there tinkles over its pebbly bed a 
cold spring brook whose sparkling waters foUow every 
point of the compass before they ultimately mingle with 
th« great St, Lawrence. 
From this charming spot, carpeted with ferns and 
brooded over by mighty hemlocks and birches, half a score 
of rugged, unnamed mountains can be seen, and at their 
feet nestles the beautiful lake like a diamond in a setting 
of emerald. Here, indeed, is the "lodge in some vast 
wilderness" for which the poet sighed, and here the 
"boundless contiguity of snade" for which his spirit 
yearned. 
The long, brown, winding streak of trail had been 
traversed, the heavy pack-baskets thrown off, and the 
camp-fire started. The slanting beams of the setting sun 
sifted down through the trees, the fragrance of Dill's best 
mingled with the aroma of the balsams and spruces, 
while the pungent odors from the coffee-pot and frying- 
pan enhanced the pleasures of anticipation. Such was 
our introduction to Camp Saints' Rest, and I doubt not 
that there are thousands of the readers of Forest and 
STBEA3I who wUl recall with delight similar scenes and 
surroundings. 
There were four of us, all told, including my wife, my 
friend Luques, and the guide, Will Martin, who may 
properly be described as "guide, philosopher and friend." 
And right here just a word in regard to him. Made up 
of cast iron and whiplash, experienced in all the ways of 
the woods, patient, good-natured and intelligent, a splen- 
did shot and an equally good cook, he came pretty near 
being the ideal guide, and such men are exceedingly rare. 
It is a pleasure to put such a man on record, because the 
comfort and successful results of a forest outing depend 
so largely on the character and ability of the guide. 
Speaking of Martin's skill as a cook, there is a well- 
grounded belief in the St. Regis region that he can throw 
a flapjack up the chimney and catch it right side up in 
his pan outside the house when it comes down. 
If the next occupants of Camp Saints' Rest will study 
the bill of fare tacked upon the wall they will be con- 
vinced that grim-visaged famine did not camp with us. 
Ahl those meals of blessed memory! How sweet and 
crisp the trouti how juicy the partridgel how brown and 
tender the frogs' legs! and how sweet and satisfying that 
grosser but wholesome fare, the cornbread, the salt pork 
and the fried onionsi The gastronomic feats performed 
at that rough- hewn table will be long remembered, for in 
camp, as on shipboard, eating is a very important feature 
of each day's programme. 
The Diana of our party had drawn first blood and had 
gotten her deer. She had never hunted at night nor worn 
a jack, but the noiseless paddle of Martin had brought 
her within range of the "two stars" shining from the 
bank, and with commendable coolness and accuracy she 
had put the lead squarely between the eyes of a big dry 
doe, whereupon there were congratulations on her second 
annual success, and she was crowned Queen of the Hunt; 
so it behooved the men to look after their laurels. 
I had come into the woods to still-hunt because I believe 
this to be the most manly and sportsmanlike way to kill 
a deer. Certainly we were in a country well adapted to 
this style of sport. On every side of us rose high moun- 
tains, and an examination of the "signs" led us to believe 
that the fresh and well-worn deer trails leading up from 
the water promised well for our success. I had long 
since evolved the theory that the place to find the big 
deer is on the tops of the mountains, whither their natural 
cunning and wariness would prompt them to seek safe 
seclusion. A dozen deer had been killed by parties at the 
hotel near by, but as yet no big buck had been brought in, 
and a big buck was what we wanted. The average guide 
does not encourage this sort of still-hunting, because it 
involves a good deal of work and hard climbing, but Mar- 
tin corroborated my notion, and we speedily made plans 
to seek the deer on grounds of their own choosing. 
A high, round-topped mountain back of our camp was 
selected, and my legal friend was located on a big runway 
halfway to the summit. It was arranged that I should 
go around and climb the back side of the mountain, stop- 
ping just before I reached the top. Martin was to ascend 
from the opposite side and come over the top to meet me. 
It was well planned. After a hard climb I took a position 
where I could cover considerable ground with my eye, 
and waited for developments, They came in the shape 
of a crashing in the brush, and a magnificent buck, 
started by Martin from the crest above me, came tearing 
down the mountain side. He was a beautiful sight as he 
bounded past, with his big antlers laid close back on his 
shoulders, and it occurred to me that that shapely head 
was going to look well when mounted over my dining 
room mantel. The .44 Marlin in my hand had four 
notches on its stock, commemorative of similar occasions, 
and it was with considerable confidence that I "un- 
hitched" on this flying targ t. With a big leap and a 
sudden acceleration of speed in another direction, the 
buck disappeared in the underbrush, but not until I had 
seen his tail drop and had pumped two more shots after 
him. Martin quickly joined me and we soon found 
blood enough to enable us to follow the trail easily. 
Within less than 200yds, we found where he had lain 
down, and then Martin said, "That's our meat, sure!" 
We sat down and took a smoke, waiting perhaps fifteen 
or twenty minutes, in the knowledge that a badly wounded 
deer if not followed too closely will usually lie down to 
stay. Then taking up the trail again, we followed it 
down the mountain straight toward Mud Pond, a mile 
away. But the blood stains were becoming smaller and 
less frequent, and finally ceased altogether. Then Martin 
slowly but surely followed the tracks until they led into 
many others near the shore of the pond, and could not be 
distinguished from them. And so, to my in finite chagrin, 
we lost him after all. It will be many a day before I get 
a chance at another deer like that, for, as Martin said 
when he saw his tracks, "He's a regular old horse!" 
But it is not all of shooting to shoot, and, as he stopped 
bleeding, I suppose the noble animal is still alive and on 
the mend. Furthermore, I had the satisfaction of know- 
ing that I had hunted him the right way, and also of 
demonstrating the truth of my theory that the best deer 
are not to be found in the daytime hanging around the 
clearings and wood roads, but rather on the most inac- 
cessible mountains. 
Encouraged by this day's experience, we hunted over 
five other mountains, finding everywhere abundant evi- 
dences of deer and numerous bear signs. It was glorious 
work in a glorious country and the views from the moun- 
tain tops repaid us for our efforts. Hitherto I had felt an 
apprehension of getting lost if I went alone into this 
trackless country, but a few days of this sort of work gave 
me confidence, and with the aid of a compass I found I 
could safely agree to meet my guide, at something near a 
stated time, on the side or top of a distant mountain, and 
also that once a man gets to feeling at home in the woods 
his mind is free to observe details more closely, so that he 
gets more pleasure and profit from his hunting trips. 
Jacking is all right when there is no meat in camp, or 
one's time is limited, and it is all right for lazy men or 
cripples to sit all day on the runway waiting for' the 
hounds to drive the deer, but I wish to go on record as 
being thoroughly converted to still- hunting. 
All too soon the time arrived when we were to leave 
Lake McCavanaugh, to occupy another camp on the St. 
Regis River, It was a beautiful morning and everything 
about us invited a longer stay. Regretfully we went down 
to the shore of the lake and took a last look ovf»r its mir- 
ror-like surface to the blue mountains beyond, and as we 
shouldered our duffle and struck the trail we involun- 
tarily looked back at the camp itself. A thin column of 
smoke arose from the dying fire, we heard the little brook 
lisping in the ferns, and as a turn in the path hid the cosy 
cabin of brown logs from our sight, I think we all won- 
dered whether another year would find us in this same 
spot and with the same capacity for enjoying its charms. 
May the woodland fairies and the forest gods occupy it in 
our absence! 
In another paper I shall try to tell you of more tangible 
success than I have thus far chronicled, but I am inclined 
to think that the most pungent and lasting recollections 
of my trip to the North Woods this season will be those 
associated with Camp Saints' Rest. 
Arthur F.,Rice, 
"Foreshoulder." 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
In the Forest and Stream of Sept, 26 Siam's article on 
the vitality of moose speaks about breaking the spinal 
column just above the foreshoulder. Is foreshoulder a 
proper word to use? I have been a reader of the Forest 
AND Stream for several years, and old hunters all use the 
word. As it seems to me, in saying foreshoulder would 
indicate that there were shoulders behind, and to avoid 
any mistake use the word foreshoulder; but as there are 
not shoulders behind, would not "breaking the spinal 
column just above the shoulders" be the proper way of 
writing it? DentiSTi 
