Oct. 9, 1897.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
283 
A MOOSE HUNT IN THE SOU'WEST. 
The starting place of nearly all fishing expeditions that 
have for their objective point the famous salmon pools of 
the SouVest Miramichi is known as Hayes's Bar. Boies- 
town is the nearest railway station. It would be entirely 
feasible for the fisherman to have his canoes and men 
meet him at Boiestown, but this would mean that the 
guides, who reside at the Bar, must drop down the river 
nine miles or so and then fight the rapid current for an 
equal distance before the journey up the river has been 
fairly begun. Nearly every one prefers to save time by 
driving up from Boiestown. The ekill and strength re- 
quired on the part of the guides to stem the currentof this 
swift-flowing stream will not fail to command the admira- 
tion of the lowest orders of human intelligence to be found 
even among those who claim the name of sportsmen. Yet 
the native of the Bar picks up his long spruce pole, vaults 
into his canoe, and resumes his everlasting battle with the 
l-iver with a light heart. He knows the name of every 
rock and ripple from the Bar to the Forks, and just how to 
thread his devious course through the rocky shoals and 
foaming rapid?. He can tell you within a yard of where 
the salmon lie in different kinds of weather and at difler- 
ent times of the year. He has lived upon the river ever 
eince he was a boy. He has speared the salmon pools by 
torchlight and been chased by the wardens since he grew 
to the stature of man, and he will continue to spear and be 
chased, despite all the laws that men may devise. He is 
poor; he has a large and ever-increasing family; his em- 
ployment, save when the lumber season calls him to the 
woods, is of an intermittent sort, and he feels that the 
river belonged to his father's father and now belong to 
him. 
But lawless though the native of the Bar may be, ac- 
cording to the dictum of those who sit in the seats of the 
mighty and make the laws for him; thinly veiled though 
his contempt may be for the wandering evangelist, or "sky 
pilot," ae he calls him, who ever and anon makes a feeble 
attack upon the forces of evil intrenched at the Bar; quick 
though he is to resent all injuries, real or imaginary, by 
resorting to his fists, those who employ him on the river 
will find his manners mild and his honesty beyond dis- 
pute. 
Many times in the years that have run like the river 
have I embarked at the Bar to try my luck with rod and 
reel, baton Aug. 25 last my friend Arthur Shufe and I 
were not on piscatorial pleasures bent. We had only a 
single trout rod upon which we relied to lend an agreeable 
variety to the larder. The real object of the expedition 
was moose, for be it known that when your correspondent 
Was fiehing on the upper waters of the Sou'west in the 
early days of summer, divers and sundry moose, doubtless 
pursued by the flies and heat, had revealed themselves to 
us on the shores of Miramichi Lake. I decided to revisit 
the lake as soon as the season opened and order up moose 
eteak and onions. It would take about three days to pole 
the loaded canoes the distance of furty miles from Hayes- 
ville to the outlet of the lake, and in case of rain or freshet 
perhaps four or five. The balance of the time could be 
profitably consumed in locating camp and looking up the 
"sign." 
ISTow, certain men who were wise in the lore of moose 
warned us not to put our faith in Miramichi Lake. They 
said that the moose that we saw there in July would be 
conspicuously elsewhere in September, that they would 
have ceased to frolic among the lilypads and would have 
betaken themselves to the hardwood ridges, that they 
would be heading north; in fact, that Miramichi Lake was 
not a popular resort for moose anyway. We decided, 
however, to proceed to Miramichi Lake and ascertain the 
frozen fact for ourselves. 
Well, the episodal itinerary of our voyage up the river 
were not of special note. The weather was ideal all the 
time except the night that we were snugly housed at 
Burnt Hill, when it rained very hard and the river rose a 
foot. There were one or two occasions for "invidious 
apprehension," when the canoes hung poised on the 
briak of the swirling rapids of Slate Island and seemed 
half disposed to return to Hayesville. There was just one 
thing that happened on that trip up the river that was so 
peculiar and so impossible to believe that I desire to have 
it here set down in honest print, so that when I am good 
and old I may read it over again and perhaps be per- 
buaded to fully believe it myself. 
We were camped that afternoon at the mouth of McICeil 
Brook, where is one of the three great salmon pools of the 
river. Two men were up the brook fishing. Arthur and 
1 were laying around loose on the bank communing with 
nature and Myrtle Navy plug. A big horned owl slid 
across the stream on noiseless wing and lit on the limb of 
an old ram pike, or at any rate a middle-aged ram pike, 
within 5yds. of the tent. He sat there blinking solemnly 
at us and otherwise acted in a very oblivious manner. I 
reached for the shotgun, but on fishing the ammunition 
out of my venerable valise found that the river had gone 
into the valise and the shells would not go into the gun. 
Now, my friend Arthur is a youngish man of a very 
optimistic turn of mind. He remarked to me that it had 
been revealed to him that he could catch that owl. He 
arose and seized the trout rod, made a running noose in 
the line, let out about 40ft. of string and prepared for 
business. It seemed to me as a perfectly unbiased spec- 
tator in the iVont row of seats that I would be safe in 
betting a year's salary on the owl. 
Even the most intimate friends of Arthur will admit that 
be is not an artist with a trout rod. Howbeit, the first cast 
he made for the owl was marvelous for the eccentricity 
of the event. The noose settled fairly and squarely over 
the head and around the neck of the owl, and one of 
life's conc^-ntrated moments w^as forthwith ushered in. A 
nebulous mass of claws and feathers, surmounted by two 
disks of flame, shot upward from the limb, and the line 
hissed through the reel as though a '201b. salmon was in 
tow. Arthur was surprised, but hung firmly to the rod. 
The owl went straight up at first, but soon the pressure of 
the line upon his neck seemed to hamper his steering 
apparatus, and he began to describe a bewildering series 
of parabolic revolutions overhead. He kept a full head 
of steam on his propellers all the time, now loting his 
balance and lurching heavily to the ground, and then, as 
the pressure of the line slackened, pulling himself to- 
gether for a more determined fight. At last his gyrations 
caused him to encircle the rampike with the line, and also 
pne of the upper limb? thereof, Hereihe seemed in imi- 
nent danger of being hanged, whereupon Arthur ascended 
the tree, took off his vest and threw it over the owl, 
brought him down safely, and the noble bird is now an 
object of much interest to poultry fanciers in the city of 
Fredericton. 
On the following day we poled up to Lake Brook, the 
outlet of Miramichi Lake. We decided not to camp at the 
lake itself, as being too contiguous to the game, but to 
pitch our tent at the mouth of the brook. It is about 
three miles as the nighthawk flies from this point to the 
lake, and the brook is navigable for canoes the entire dis- 
tance. After you ascend the brook a mile or so it assumes 
the form of a long, winding deadwater, where the deer- 
grass and pond-lilies are abundant, and where, in the 
month of July last, the sight of moose or caribou by fish- 
ing parties was a matter of almost daily experience. The 
lake itself is three miles long, and nearly a mile in greatest 
width. It has a beach of pure white sand at the eastern 
end and a clean, pebbly bottom, and is one of the most 
beautiful of the numberless woodland lakes of the Prov- 
ince of New Brunswick. 
In the afternoon we cautiously explored the brook for 
sign. The result was disappointing. A few fresh trails of 
moose were found at the upper end of the deadwater but 
a careful examination convinced m that they were 'pro- 
duced by a cow moose and her two calves. Bear signs 
were numerous. Whether from this or some other cause 
it was evident that the moose had for the most part de- 
serted their summer haunts. We did not go clear to the 
lake, but stopped at a place known as the Gueggas, where 
the waters of the brook tumble boisterously through a 
rocky defile hardly 5ft. wide, making a descent of at least 
6ft. in a distance of 15 or 20yds. It is a wild-looking place 
to take a canoe, but the Hayesville men had no fear of it 
whatever. While the tenderfoot contingent stood on a big 
rock at the foot of the rapid one of the men, Bob McCoy 
poled his canoe single-handed up as well as down the 
Gueggas just to show how easily it could be done. There 
is said to be no previous record, however, in the annals of 
the Bar, of the ascent of the Gueggas ever having been 
made by a single polesman. The usual method is to haul 
the canoe up from rock to rock. 
_ Monday and Tuesday were devoted to a careful explora- 
tion of the lake and all its inlets. An occasional moose or 
caribou track of recent date was found, and once we heard 
the peculiar bark or cough that forms the only vocal sound 
ever uttered by the caribou. It was too early ia the season 
to call for moose with any hope of success, and it looked as 
if we might prowl around the lake for many days and not 
see a decent pair of horns except by the merest accident. 
Next day was Sept. 1, and though somewhat subdued 
over the absence of game at the lake, we felt a degree of 
thankfulness that we had been spared the sight of a big 
moose before the arrival of the legal hunting season. 
From this time forth, our quest of game was attended by a 
righteous sense of duty. In the meantime some fine hauls 
of trout were made at Half-Moon Cove, on the main river. 
Just where the river caroms off an uncompromising bluff 
and bends abruptly to the north, a cold, clear mountain 
brook pours in, , whose mouth is concealed by a riotous 
tangle of alders. At and below the mouth of the brook 
the river seemed to be fairly alive with jumping trout' 
They hardly deigned to notice the fly at first, but as the 
declining sun threw the forest shadows further and further 
across the pool, they began to rise in earnest. In lees than 
two hours' fishing, eight dozen trout, averaging 41b. in 
weight, and occasionally reaching lilbs., were takenr The 
entire catch was cleaned and carefully smoked by the 
cook. A week later their flavor was hardly to be distin- 
guished from that of newly-taken fish. 
It was on the occasion of our second visit to the cove 
t hat the crisis of the expedition was reached and passed. 
Our trip had been an unmitigated success in every sense" 
but one. There was still the aching void for moose. On 
the morning of the 2d we poled up the river again to inter- 
view the speckled inmates of the cove. The sun was shin- 
ing brightly, and only a faint suspicion of mist curled up- 
ward from the surface of the water. As the canoes 
approached the cove a large bull moose was discerned 
crossing the river between 200 and SOOyds. ahead. Pre- 
cisely what happened then I have been vainly endeavor- 
ing to recall ever since. I can recall some of the salient 
features, but not all. I remember that I thought the 
moose was 300yds. away, that I shoved the sights of the 
Martini up to that figure, that the first shot plowed up the 
water beyond the moose, and then I shoved them down 
again. The second shot hit the moose and he stopped and 
faced us for an instant, then turned about and made for 
the same bank from which he had emerged. I remember 
that Arthur, in the other canoe, fired several shots, and 
that I fired about the same number; that the men 'were 
distributing the English language around in a very reck- 
less way; that they were trying to hold the canoes steady 
tor us to shoot, and at the same time poling for dear 
life to overtake the moose; that the moose by this time 
had reached the further shore and was endeavoring to 
ascend the bank, and I seem to remember that a number 
of people, whose identity is lost in the limbo of forgotten 
things, kept making remarks like these: 
"Boys, he's done for! He can't git up the bank!" 
"No, he ain't! The bank's too steep. He's just lookin' 
for a place to git up!" 
"Now, give it to him! I'll hold the canoe!" 
(Bang.) (Bang.) 
"That's the stuff! That last shot fetched him!" 
"No, it didn't! Shove her over! Shove her over! Look 
he's swimmin' up the shore!" ' 
"Keep back, Bob, or you'll git the top of your head 
blowed off!" 
"Boys, were goin' to lose him. He ain't hurt a mite' 
Shove her over now, quick!" 
(Bang.) (Bang.) 
"Look! Look! He can't git up! He's our moose, sure " 
"No, he ain't! He's only lookin' for a landiu'!" 
"Oh, give it to him now, boys! He'll be in the bushes 
in a minute!" 
"Say, lemme out of this cussed canoe!" 
This last classical observation emanated from the under- 
signed. I jumped into the river waist-deep in order to ^et 
a standing shot, and then discovered that 1 had no ammu- 
nition. I shouted to Arthur for a cartridge. That preco- 
cious youth had been calmly smoking a corncob pipe 
through all the disturbance and banging away at the 
moose at every opportunity. It was his first experience 
and he act?!<i like ft seasoned vet^rftu. tossed me a 
cartridge, which I fired, and am inclined to think it did 
the moose no good. At any rate, he immediately dropped 
with a splash in the water, and when we reached him he 
was floating with the current. He was a four-year-old 
bull, very large for his age. His horns had a spread of 
40in. He was towed down stream about a quarter of a 
mile to a little grassy island that offered a convenient 
landing place, and there hauled ashore by the united 
muscle of the party. Five Martini bullets had passed clear 
through the animal, all well centered, and any one of 
which would doubtless have finished him! We hung the 
meat up at the camp and smoked it all that day and night. 
The next day we made a rapid run down river to the rail- 
way station at Boiestown and brought the entire outfit to 
Fredericton. And so it was that the wise men were justi- 
fied of their wisdom, but the chosen people got the moose, 
^ Frank H. Risteen. 
Fjbebehicton, N B , Sept. 10. 
A TRAMP AND A CAMP. 
As we had camped on the Upper Chateaugay Lake in the 
Adirondacks several vacations in succession, a change waa 
wanted in 1895; and after talk, it was agreed between Clark 
and myself that we should make a circuitous trip into the 
woods, starting from the old camp, and after wandering 
seventy-five or 100 miles, returning in a circle, like the lost 
man, to the point whence we had set out. Arrangements 
were accordingly made with our guide. The camping outfit 
was gotten ready, and when the wished for day arrived, we 
left the city for the upper Chateaugay, where we spent the 
first night in the pleasant hotel on Indian Point. 
Leaving the Point next day, we took the Ragged Lake 
trail leading west over Hardwood Hill and Ragged Lake 
Mountain, Martin, our guide carrying the boat on his shoul- 
ders, and Clark and myself each with a well-filled pack- 
basket and our rods and rifle. The trail was a good one, but 
it was mostly up hill or down ; and our loads, to which we 
had not yet become accustomed, compelled us to stop fre- 
quently to rest. Ooe rest was a long one. For almost with- 
out warning the sun went out of sight, the forest became 
dark, and rain began to fall. We leaned one end of the 
boat against a tree, and scurried under it, luggage and all. 
Here we staid until the rain was over. But tbe stop was not 
without interest, for such a storm in the dense forest was 
something novel . The brightness of the morning had quickly 
given place to a deep gloom, pierced at short intervals by 
sharp flashes of lightning which almost blinded us as they 
came, and as they passed away left the gloom more intense 
than before. The rain first pattered, and then poured on the 
roof of our little house; but we were snugly housed, and kept 
quite dry while we watched the play of the lights and shades 
among the trees. 
Just before sue down Ragged Lake was reached, a long 
and narrow sheet of water about five miles west from Indian 
Point. In a few minutes the boat was launched, the luggage 
loaded in, and we were off up the lake to the proposed camp, 
ing place. But before it was reached another storm ap- 
peared over the mountains, and it was evident that to pre- 
pare a camp that night would be wet and unpleasant 
business. Seeing a column of smoke curiing from the trees 
at a point on the west shore, we rowed across, and had the 
good luck of being welcomed by some campers that had 
room enough and to spare. It rained all the evening and 
most of the night, but we were in comfortable quarters, and 
after a hearty supper chatted around the fire until bed- 
time. 
Nt xt morning the sun rose bright and clear, and the day 
was a beautiful one. Of course the trout were first to claim 
our attention. All day long we fished for them— at the head 
of the lake, foot of the lake, and middle of the lake; also up 
the principal inltt and down the outlet. But our string was 
small— just about enough for supoer. The following day, 
however, the fishing was better. ' Going far up the inlet, 
some cold spring pools were found that proved to be well 
stocked. The trout were good-sized, too, the best ones 
weighing nearly a pound each. 
But fishing was only part of our proposed sport The rifle 
was brought along for the purpose of shooting a deer. As 
hounding and stalking were out of the question, there x»aa 
no feasible method left but jacking. This was adopted. 
And each evening found us floating about the head of the 
lake, the inlet, and small ponds above, anxiously watching 
and waiting for deer. But in vain was the watching. Deer 
were heard, but not seen. They didn't even come near 
enough to give us the buck fever. If we shivered at all, 
'iwas only with the cold. 
Sunday came; that quiet, peaceful, restful day in the 
woods, Early in the morning Martin left to make a trip to 
Indian Point for the purpose of rep'enishing the larder. 
Four of us were left, Clark and myself and the Rev. Mr. T. 
and his son, the proprietors of the camp. During a morning 
stroll beside the lake some blueberries were found by a 
couple of the party, who thinking they would go well for 
dinner, picked a quart of them. As the day was very pleas- 
ant the dinner table was set outside of the shanty in a clump 
of birches. The berries were dished out by an impartial 
hand, each being served a half pint, which he sweetened and 
creamed to his taste. For, thanks to a club house down the 
lake, we had cream for dinner that 'day. Right delicious 
were those berries. And we young sprouts dipped our tin 
spoons into them and ate them down with the baked pota- 
toes, speckled trout and brown bread. But not so the Rev. 
T. He allowed that he was not accustomed to "mix things," 
and that he always "saved the best of the wine till the last of 
of the feast." When ours were all gone, therefore, his well- 
rounded dish still sat before him ready to serve his purpose 
of topping out a hearty meal. The substantials finally put 
away, he lifts the dish of berries from the table and draws 
back a little to enjoy his dessert. But as he takes the first 
spoonful, ye living birches, what do we behold? With as 
wry a face a3 ever toper made, and with words as strong as 
would well become a clergyman even in the forest vmds, 
those berries, dish, spoon and all, go flying over his head and 
rolling down the mossy bank, even into the lake. Alas, for 
his dessert! our sugar-bowl and salt-cellar were just alike- 
two paper bags sitting in the middle of the table. 
Monday morning found us again on the move; this time 
for Plumadore Pond, by way of Round Pond and Salmon 
River. The carry of several miles to the latter pond was 
easily made before noon. Here lunch was eaten. Then 
across to the outlet, down which we paddled in a few min- 
utes into the river. It was our intention to spend the night 
at Wine Shanty, a landing pretty well up the river, wb 3ce 
there was a short cai-ry to Plumadore. But we ha not 
gone far up the river when some green cedars were en > in- 
tered, felled by maliciOHS hands directly agross the streaoi. 
