82 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Jt}LT 34, 1897. 
LOST IN THE WOODS OF BRITISH 
GUIANA. 
Of course the old woodsman, like the red Indian, never 
loses himself; he may lose his camp, as the Indian may 
lose his wigwam, but he can always turn to himself for 
counsel where to find it. Nevertheless, the loas even of 
one's camp may, under certain circumstances, prove a 
serious inconvenience, as I found to my cost lately. 
I had been sick. I was ten days down with pneumonia, 
and had left my bed only a few days when I was again 
prostrated with fever. Guiana fevers enjoy quite a repu- 
tation for the vigor of their attack, and I must confess that 
when mine left me after a fortnight's tussle, it didn^t leave 
very much of my former self. I began to rally, however, 
and a few days later, when my host started on an official 
tour, I decided to take my gun and go out to look for some- 
thing for the pot. I was lightly equipped, for I had no 
intention of going far or of staying long. I took no com- 
pass, for I intended to follow the bank of a creek which 
emptied itself into the river close to the camp; no matches, 
for I was not yet reconciled to my pipe; and the weather 
being fine and warm, my clothing was limited to a suit of 
flannel underwear and a pair of liiien pants. 
It was pleasant to get into the woods again, and I strolled 
along the bank of the creek, or rather along the high bank 
overhanging the ravine through which the creek flowed, 
for a couple of miles, when I turned to my right in search 
of heavier timber and lighter undergrowth. A spot was 
soon found where I could command a view of the surface 
for from 10 to 30yds. or more all around, and here I took 
up position between two big trees standing at 10ft. apart. 
Presently a rush of wind heralded a storm, the sky was 
overcast, and a shower came down at the rate of an inch 
an hour. I found shelter for my gun and partial shelter 
for myself between the buttresses of one of the big trees 
while the rain lasted, which was about half an hour, when 
I again took up my old position, with eyes and ears alert. 
After a while 1 heard the faint rustle of a leaf behind me, 
and wheeling round I saw an accourie (a species of guinea 
pig weighing 12 or 141bs.) at about 5yds. from me. We 
eyed each other irresolutely for an instant when he sped, 
and my gun came to my shoulder. He found cover at 
15yds., but I had him in line and drew trigger as he dis- 
appeared, and walking forward I found him lying quite 
dead. Picking him up and tying his legs together with a 
piece of creeper, I slung him over my shoulder, and decided 
to make the best of my way homeward and get into dry 
clothes, for the high trees kept dripping and the under- 
growth, which I had to brush through, was saturated. I 
felt elated at finding that hand and eye were still true, 
and stepped out briskly, although I was soon so thor- 
oughly wetted that the wat«r dripped ofi' the bottoms of 
my pants. 
After going about two or three miles, it occurred to me 
that I ought to be near camp, and I first swerved and then 
wheeled to my right to strike the edge of the ravine. I 
struck it in half a mile. There was no sign of the river, 
and the accourie by this time weighed fully 20lbs.; but I 
plodded on another two or three miles as briskly as I 
could. , By-and-by the bed of the ravine appeared to be 
rising, and going down to it I found that I was near its 
source in a broad, swampy depression. As I returned to 
the rise, feeling pretty well done up, the sun came out, 
marking 5 o'clock, and showing me that my course was 
north of west, whereas it should have been south of east. 
After shooting the accourie I had started forward instead 
of backward ! I crawled around awhile in search of a hol- 
low tree, but the approach of another shower warned me 
to take tbe best immediately available. This was a mora, 
whose broad, spreading buttresses ihad divided, leaving a 
passage through under the base of the trunk, which was 
about lOft. from the ground. Here I took shelter from the 
rain, but saw at once that I could neither lie down nor 
even sit with any comfort ! The space between the but- 
tresses was interlaced with their small branches rising a 
few inches above ground. Here was a dilemma ! Just 
after a severe attack of pneumonia, and saturated with 
rain and perspiration, to be exposed without fire to the 
damp, chilly night air. I tried to sit, using the accourie 
for a seat, and the buttresses for a support for my back; 
but it was very uncomfortable, and I had to stand the 
greater part of the night, threshing myself with my arms 
occasionally to keep up the circulation. So the night 
passed. 
With the dawn came a light drizzling rain which lasted 
an hour or more, when the sky cleared. The sun was not 
visible, but its light was occasionally reflected through 
openings on some tree in the west, and I started to make 
as nearly an easterly course as I could for the river. The 
Guiana forests are not easy to steer through without a 
compass. There are no landmarks to guide one; the dense, 
high forest limits the vision to 50yds. at most. The sun is 
rarely visible until near noonday, when it is so nearly ver- 
tical that turning in any direction and throwing your head 
back, the sun appears before you. Fortunately I had seen 
a map of the country, and knew that I was in an angle 
between two rivers: the Mazaruni, flowing approximately 
from west to east and the Puruni entering it from the 
north. I was west of the Puruni, and to the best of my 
judgment three or four miles north of the camp, which I 
estimated at eight or nine miles distance. I could hardly 
go astray if I could see the sun before noon. The Puruni 
was to tne east, the Mazaruni to the south. 
The sun soon made its appearance, and leaving the 
accourie behind me, I struck out on a due easterly course, 
designing to come out above camp and follow the river 
down. The sun was soon hidden again, and after numer- 
ous detours to avoid tangled creepers and undergrowth, I 
lost my course, and paused in an open space to determine 
the point at which the light was strongest, resting the 
stock of my gun on the ground. As I turned to proceed I 
saw the shadow of my barrels reflected on a wet leaf. 
Here was a wrinkle. A few trials satisfied me that I could 
locate the sun without seeing it, so I went forward con- 
fidently but wearily . 
It was noon when I reached the Puruni, at a point 
which I estimated at four miles or so above camp, but on 
peering into the rivers I got a glimpse of two rock masses 
so nearly like two masses just below the camp that I 
thought I must be out in my calculations. I yms at the 
mouth of a creek too, very like the mouth of a creek half 
a mile below camp, and remembering that there was a 
small boat camp about 200yds. from the creek, I determined 
to cross the latter and reconnoiter. As my foot sank in 
the muddy bank of the creek, I observed another foot 
track pointing the other way which appeared to be mine. 
Thisilooked conclusive, but I walked on nearly half a mile 
without seeing sign of the boat camp, and came to the 
mouth of another creek. I did not recognize it, but I 
could see that a hill rose in front of me, and went on 
dubiously for a couple of hundred yards when I came to a 
boat camp, but apparently a newly erected and complete 
one. It might be the old camp enlarged! I toiled to the 
top of the hill, but there was ho camp clearing. It was 
probably miles to the south of me, and I retraced my steps 
wearily. Two miles lost! 
I was not making more than a mUe an hour now in a 
straight line, but when I say that seven miles is an ordi- 
nary day's march through the woods, it will be seen that 
in my weak state I was not traveling without effort. 
Eegaining the spot at which I struck the river, I followed 
its bank down stream for three miles or so, when the sun 
sank low, and seeing a hollow tree which promised good 
shelter, I determined to make camp there. The wood 
ants had been at the hollow and deserted it, since when a 
large mass of the fruits of their labor had peeled off and 
fallen to the ground. Leveling this off, I soon had a com- 
fortable bed, with a raised pillow, and shelter from the 
rain for all above the knees. Here I stretched myself and 
soon fell into a sound slumber, from which I was awakened 
by a noise resembling the blowing off of steam; at least, 
that was the impression produMid on me in my awakening 
state. I sat up and listened. The sound rose and fell in 
harsh and melancholy cadence, terminating occasionally 
in a grunt. It was evidently made by a troop of large 
animals, but I had never heard anything like it then. I 
have since, become familiar with it as the cry of our 
baboons. After a while I located it across the river and 
fell asleep again, awaking refreshed, but chilly in my wet 
clothes, just before dawn. 
I concluded that I was not more than two miles from 
camp and started out cheerfully, keeping the high land 
about 80 or 100yds, from the river. The undergrowth was 
more open here, and I was able to keep the river in sight. 
After a mile or so I got into a tangle which grew worse 
and worse until it became impenetrable. If I had gone 
back 100yds. or more, I might have got to the river bank 
and found a passable track, but this I did not know; be- 
sides, I hate turning back. I could not turn to the river 
from where I was, but I could turn to my right with every 
prospect of getting round the tangle. This I did, but I 
swerved nearly a mile from my course. As the forest 
opened to my left, I swerved round toward the river again, 
and after a while saw the gleam of an opening on my left, 
but it soon disappeared, and after a while I wheeled around 
due east for the river, striking it at the mouth of a creek. 
Here again the mouth of the creek, with the fallen logs 
across it, appeared familiar, and forcing a way through the 
undergrowth' on the bank, I again found two rock masses, 
resembling those below the camp. Then I remembered 
that above these rock masses there should be a low bar 
right across the river, with just one opening, through 
which rushed a small rapid. There was no bar, no 
rapids; still, just at the expected place, an occasional 
point of rock could be seen in line across the river. The 
fact was, the river had risen and was now rolling quietly 
over the bar. 
I sat down on a log and communed with myself as 
follows: "If I am misled by appearances and go to the 
top of the hill above me as I did yesterday I shall lose 
over a mile, while if 1 have really passed around behind 
the camp I am only three and a half miles from the junc- 
tion of the two rivers and can go there and return by 
night." It was badly argued, but a mens sana is to be 
found only in corpore sana, and my frame was near ex- 
haustion. 
I went down stream for a couple of miles and found that 
its width was nearly double what it was at the camp. 
There was little doubt that I was nearing its mouth, but I 
would make sure now. Here I caught sight of a granite 
ledge jutting 50 or 60ft. out from the bank. A grand 
opportunity to bathe and wash my clothes. It was high 
noon, the sun showing brightly on the rock, and the 
clothes would dry in an hour or so. The bath was very 
refreshing, and sitting down on the water's edge I washed 
and beat out my clothes on the rock, and spread them out 
to dry, while I sought shelter in the forest's shade. An 
hour parsed and the clothes were drying well, when the 
sky became obscured, the rain came down pitilessly, and 
there was nothing for me except to gather up my clothes, 
wet as they still were, and get into them. I had no 
shelter beyond the foliage, and this was soon dripping. 
When the rain was over I set out again, and in five 
minutes I was as wet through as ever, wearier, too; so far 
from feeling refreshed by the bath, 1 wanted to sit down 
on every fallen log I stepped on or climbed over. 
It was 3 o'clock when I reached the Mazaruni, and four 
miles "as the crow flies" to walk back. It seemed hope- 
less, but I put my best leg forward and trudged on. Night 
overtook me about a mile frorn^ the camp. There was no 
possibility of pushing forward in the dark, but there was a 
carpenter at the camp who might hear the report of my 
gun and come out with a lantern, I fired. As I pressed 
the trigger a "powis"— a bird resembling a peacock- 
stepped out from behind a tree, but I could not stay my 
hand. 
The night was cold and I was unable to sleep a minute, 
but now for the first time my thoughts turned on the 
needs of the inner man. I began to dwell pleasantly on 
the prospect of eating. I felt ready to dispose of a quart 
of chocolate, and resolved that as soon as I got into camp 
in the morning I would begin with that and finish with 
ham and eggs. It was too chilly to sleep, and I lay awake 
all night, rising occasionally to thresh myself. 
At the first dawn I was on the move, and in camp before 
sunrise. The carpenter, who was in his night-clothes, 
after regarding me a minute, lifted his eyes and exclaimed 
pathetically, with special reference to my headgear: "I 
never thought to see that old hat again." "He had heard 
my shot the night before," he said, "but he did not know 
it was mine, and if he had known he would not have ven- 
tured into the woods alone for anything weg-lth could 
give." 
I bade him put on a full quart of water to boil, had a 
hasty bath, got into dry clothes, and was soon seated be- 
fore a quart of chocolate and a box of biscuits. I disposed 
of the former and I decided that the ham and eggs could 
wait for breakfast; my most pressing, immediate need was 
sleep. This came almost as soon as I laid my head on the 
pillow. At 11 o'clock I awoke and had the anticipated 
breakfast of ham and eggs, after which I slept until 4 
o'clock, when I got up and had a pea-soup dinner, which 
was rather too much for my weak stomach. A little fit of 
indigestion was the result, but I got five or six hours' 
sleep, and woke the next morning thoroughly refreshed, 
and none the worse for my outing. 
It will appear no great feat, thirty miles in three days, 
to those unacquainted with tropical forests; but, consider- 
ing the state of my health, the fact that I was walking 
fully ten hours a day, without food, and with clothes wet 
through the whole time, there can be little doubt that it 
was a severe strain upon the system, and it appeals re- 
markable that I contracted no ill effects from it, especially 
in a region which has the reputation of being very mala- 
rious. C. F. Ameey. 
REMINISCENCES OF MAJOR NORTH. 
Genesko, III, July 2^.— Editor Forest and Stream: I just 
this minute finished reading, on your editorial page, a notice 
of the death of N. C. Creede, coupled with the announce- 
ment that he served as an ofiicer on the Pawnee scouts, 
under Maj. Frank North, in the late 60s. Now, it is the 
nameofMaj. North that causes fancy to ruffle up her 
feathers, and, with a vigorous shake, spread her broad pin- 
ions and soar afar. 
It was early in the spring of '72 that I and another boy 
(Willis Lawbaugh, by name), having turned our earthly 
possessions into about 50,000 root grafts of apples and other 
fruits, loaded our effects and ourselves on board the cars 
headed for the great West, 
Landing at Columbus, Neb., our first effort was to find a 
suitable location for a nursery. We had not much money, 
but were playing each nickel with a string to it. This, of 
course, was not known, and we were besieged by people 
who had the only suitable site near Columbus for a nurs- 
ery, and who were greatly interested in the establishment 
of a nursery and wanted to lease us the ground. 
But one after another their interest cooled down, when 
they found we did not intend to pay in advance on the 
lease a sum equal to at least twice the market value of the 
land. One day as we were rambling about the country, 
we chanced upon a beautiful site for our enterprise, some 
two miles west of Columbus on the bank of the Loup 
River, and on the farm just north of the Union Pacific R. 
R. bridge across that stream. There was a small, neat, 
white house and red barn on the place, and after looking 
it over we made our way there to inquire about the chance 
of getting it. The man at work on the place told us the 
"Major was away, but we could inquire at the house." 
We found at the house an elderly lady, another lady 
somewhat below middle age, and a girl of six summers; 
these were the mother, wife and daughter of Major Frank 
North. Making known our errand, we were invited to 
make our headquarters at the North home until Major 
came down from Fort Laramie, which he was expected to 
do, and did, in a few days. 
We were given our pick of the farm lands for our ; 
nursery on surprisingly favorable terms, and the Major's 
man was instructed to' furnish us horses, plows, etc., when 
needed. We built a shanty on the river bank and pro- 
ceeded to put out our stock. 
We heard many stories of adventure on the plains dur- ' 
ing the summer, one of which was of the Major's ride of l| 
102 miles on horseback in one day. Mrs. North showed I 
us a bear-skin rug, the original owner of which the Major 
had killed with one shot from a .32cal. revolver. The 
story was that he came suddenly upon the bear in a nar- 
row defile in the moimtains with only a small pocket re- 
volver at his command. He opened fire with this, when 
the bear turned and ran away, but only got a short dis- 
tance when he fell dead, the bullet having found the 
heart. 
She also entertained us with the story of a buffalo hunt • 
in which she took part herself. During the summer of 72 i 
the Major was in the employ of the Government as a scout i 
and spent the greater part of the time in Wyoming, com- 
ing home every few weeks, as opportunity offered. The • 
station was two miles east of his farm, and when the train ' 
slowed up at the Loup River bridge he would jump off' and . 
walk over or ride a pony which had been previously tied , 
there, by his man, for that purpose. 
He was a great hand to ride, and I have often seen him 
crossing the prairies at a breakneck pace, carrying his ' 
daughter Stella in his arms. 
The Pawnee Indians, whose reservation was twenty 
miles up the river, used to flock there in great numbers 
eager to shake hands with him. 
Coming down the river they would stop at our shanty 
and their eager question,"Is thelMajor home?" proved that 
they held him in high esteem. 
In the spring and fall the river used to be lined its entire , 
length with swarms of wild geese. We boys each had a 
double-barrel muzzle-loading shotgun, and we used to 
have high old times worrying them, bringing one down 
occasionally and giving a good many more a bad fright. 
I remember what supreme satisfaction it was to me to 
(^et a chance to show off before the Major, who was visit - 
fng at our shanty, by bringing a goose down from a passing 
flock. I supposed he would be amazed at such a revela- 
tion of skill, and he did seem to be. Such is fame and such 
is conceit. Another circumstance that pleased me greatly 
happened one day as the Major's brother Lute and myself 
were seated on the bank of the river. Lute had his needle 
gun with him, which I was examining, when a flock of 
geese lit upon a sandbar some 400yds. up the river. At 
the suggestion of Lute I trained the Needle gun on them 
and fired. The bullet fell short of the geese by about 
100yds., and in the meantime they took wing again.' 
When about. 8ft. above the water one of them was struck, 
by the ball, which had glanced up and come down again. 
Though I saw in an instant just what had happened, I' 
hoped Lute had not, but a merry twinkle in his eye re- 
vealed that he was on to the "how" of it, yet such is the, 
power of success that I was still very happy. . 
At that time Major North was a sufferer from asthma, 
and his brief visits to the heavier air of eastern Nebraska 
usually brought on an attack of that disease. This led him 
to move his family to Wyoming that fall. Our nursery 
tock flourished nicely till the fall of the fii'st year, when 
