May 14, 1898.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
383 
And strange to say, no ghosts molested us, though we 
could have tossed a stone into the burial ground with 
its old graves, long since fallen in and choked with dank 
weeds that hid the little weather-beaten crosses placed 
to mark a loved one's last camp, long ago. 
There was a melancholy air over that little spot of 
sacred ground there on the slope of hillside where the 
jack oaks grew, and I wondeied what scenes of sorrow 
had been ended there in days that were older- than I, as 
1 read the weather-worn chisel marks that told of youth 
and old age at rest under the few modest slabs of plain 
marble that gleamed white among the crosses. 
"Purty place up here, ain't it?" said the boy, looking 
across the landscape, as we wound our way down the 
bluff and into camp, and left the cedars to sigh oyer the 
deserted, unnoticed graves. El Cgman-cho. 
Tenderfeet in the Adirondacks. 
Only an old pair of wading boots on which I have 
been placing a patch or two, but they recall so vividly 
the occasion when I last wore them that I am encouraged 
to spin the yarn, in the hope that it may give to other 
brothers of the angle as much pleasure as I have received 
from similar tales appearing from time to time in the 
columns of our honored journal. The sympa.thetic vet- 
eran may recall, as he reads, like mishaps of his own in 
the hazy past; the tyro will certainly perceive how not 
to do it. The frequent occurrence of such incidents will 
vouch for me w^hen I say that this one is true in eveiy 
detail. 
All who were out of doors at all last summer will re- 
call without difhculty the amazing quantity of rain that 
f^lHn New England and New York at odd times, and the 
Adirondack region got its share of the general washing. 
I was stopping at Saranac Lake, and though not pri- 
marily bent on angling, took every opportunity for ex- 
cursions to the various waters about that town. I will 
say, to begin with, that I am a tenderfoot of emerald 
hue, as far as Adirondack woods are concerned, though 
I have fished the streams of Massachusetts, Connecticut 
and Vermont ever since that happy period when, as 
youngsters, we used to carry our worms in one pocket 
and our fish in the other. But 'a little learning is a dan- 
gerous thing,' and_my experience of angling in a set- 
tled country only rendered me the more certain to make 
mistakes in a genuine wilderness. 
Rumors of a fine stream seven or eight miles up Sara- 
nac River had reached our ears, and Joe (my friend) and 
I decided to try our luck there, availing ourselves of a 
convenient electric launch, which made two trips a day 
from the village to the old State Dam from the neigh- 
borhood of which a path led to Cold Brook, as our ob- 
jective stream was called. On a fine, but deceptive, 
morning in August we started. The launch had not 
made half the distance when up came the usual clouds 
and a fine drizzle began. We did not mind getting wet, 
however, and the clouds did not look very heavj' (when 
do they look heavy to an angler bent on a daj^'s sport?), 
so we persisted in our determination to fish Cold Brook. 
After a tramp of three or four miles through the woods, 
where horse flies seemed thicker than the raindrops, we 
heard the rush of the brook and were soon on its banks 
jointing our rods. It is a beautiful stream, of good size, 
clear and cold, and^ — best of all — with very little over- 
hanging foliage to interfere with one's casting. We were 
soon busily at work fishing down the brook which we 
intended to leave by another path lower down, and so 
return to the landing on the river. Alas for our inten- 
tions! But for the present we were thoroughly enjoying 
ourselves' in spite of the rain. There were good 
trout in the brOok, and they were on the rise. I 
had not been fishing five minutes when I landed one of 
nearly a pound, and smaller ones were common. We 
lunched under the shelter of some tliick hemlocks, which 
served to break the force of the rain. But who minds 
rain when the trout are rising? As the afternoon wore 
away and the time began to draw near when we should 
have to start for the landing, we kept looking anxiously 
for the entrance to the path, but either we had passed 
it or had not reached it; at any rate no sign of any- 
thing like a path appeared. And here is where our 
tenderfootedness began to show itself. Instead of facing 
about and retracing our steps to the landing, a round- 
about but uncertain route, it seemed an easy thing to 
follow the brook down to the river, which we thought 
could not be far away, and then follow the river down 
to the landing. 
But we reckoned without taking due account of the 
length of Adirondack brooks in general and of Cold 
Brook in particular. It seemed as though we had gone 
two miles after deciding on this course, although it was 
probably less, and still no sign of the river. The brush 
along the banks became thicker and thicker, and all who 
have been in the woods know that nothing is so wet as 
brush in a rain. A shower bath is dry beside it. It was 
growing dark rapidly, and we could not have followed 
a path had we found one. The time for the launch to 
leave had gone long ago. Finally we came to a dead 
halt and held a council of war. It was evident that we 
were in for a night in the woods, and we accepted the 
situation philosophically. But where to spend it and 
how to keep warm? The first question was easily an- 
swered, for well up the brook we had seen a small lean-to 
built by some previous fisherman. As to the second, a 
thorough search revealed the appalling fact that we had 
but one match between us, and that was suspiciously 
damp. However, I tore some dry paper from the interior 
ol an old letter and wrapped it carefully about the pre- 
cious object. 
Thus, all rain-soaked and weary, we slowly began our 
tramp back up the brook, which we had descended at 
breakneck speed. It was nov entirelj^ dark, a fact that 
caused us to make the brook our path wherever we 
could. Ever and anon I would stop to empty from my 
boots the water which collected there after percolating 
through my clothes. Joe was better off in this respect, 
for he wore shoes which allowed the water to escape. 
After over an hour of alternate tumbling about in the 
bushes and splashing through the brook we reached the 
lean-to and were rejoiced to find, that the roof shed 
water, although the moss and leaves forming the floor 
fairly oozed with moisture. We were oozing too, how- 
ever, and we did not mind a trifle like that, Now for a 
fire! Selecting a spruce board from a pile left by some 
one near at hand, I whittled away the damp exterior until 
I reached the dry wood within. As fast as the shavings 
were made Joe placed them under his felt hat, the in- 
terior of which was the only dry thing he had. Nearly 
all our letters were soaked hy this time, but we still 
iound a few dry sheets from which we hoped to kindle 
the wood. Very carefully I unswathed the precious 
match, and producing a small file from my fly-book, 
prepared to make the great attempt while Joe held his 
hat over my hands. I scratched. The match sizzled 
bravely and emitted a momentary flame. We uttered 
a shout of hope. But alas! the next moment it expired, 
before it had even scorched the paper. Ah! the tragedy 
of that moment! Gone was our last hope! We knelt 
there for a full minute, gazing at that burnt sttunp, as if 
somehow it might still burst into flame. 
After several vain attempts to kindle a fire by means 
of my file and a variety of flintlike stones, we resigned 
ourselves to the happy prospect of spending our night 
in a "cold pack" of rain water, for we dripped like a pair 
of sponges. Fortunately it w^as a warm rain, and al- 
though smitten by occasional showers, now that the 
warming effects of our walk had worn away, we real- 
ized that things might be a great deal worse. We re- 
tired to our watery couch. Joe, who was much more 
warmly clad than I, removed his heavy coat, and creep- 
ing close together, we drew it over our shoulders. Wet 
as it was, wc were decidedly more comfortable. Of 
course all the mosquitoes in that particular valley 
swarmed into the lean-to and proceeded at once to the 
attack in battle array, music sounding. But (put this to 
our credit) we had known enough to bring a cotiple of 
bottles of ointment, by a liberal use of which we kept 
most of tliem at bay. Joe would hug my back awhile 
until he begin to shiver, and then I would hug his. Thus 
we played flip-flop all night to the accompaniment of 
the rushing brook, the rain, and the hum of countless 
mosquitoes. And yet I am bound to say that we were 
not depressed. Sleep was of course impossible, so we 
'swapped yarns' until a gradually increasing grayness 
warned us of approaching dawn. Then did we arise 
and stretch our legs, and as soon as we could see the 
path set out on our return to the landing by the way we 
had come. 
Out of the wrecks of our previous day's lunch I had 
saved one boiled egg (Joe had mashed his in his pocket 
by falling over a log), and to this sumptuous repast we 
looked forward as soon as we shoidd reach the river. 
The steady tramp soon set in motion our partly con- 
gealed blood, and this, together with the promise of sun- 
shine (for the rain had ceased) made us comparatively 
comfortable. Four or five miles through the woods 
brought us to the river, where as a breakfast we dis- 
patched our egg and proceeded to browse all the blue- 
berries in sight. We had still four or five hours to wait 
before the arrival of the launch, and we improved our 
time by cleaning our fish and drying our clothes on the 
rocks in the river. But what a sigh of relief went up 
when that launch rounded the bend! The cap'n had 
brought along some provisions, together with a guide, 
who was to hunt us up, if necessary, and told us that 
he had waited long past his usual time on the preced- 
ing ni^ht — small comfort to us, who could not have 
reached the river on account of the darkness! We 
reached home still damp, but with one good, solid com- 
fort — a handsome string of trout. Nor did either of us 
suffer the slightest ill effects from our night in the rain; 
in fact I have yet to learn of any one who ever did from 
a like experience. 
The morals of this little tale (and there are many) are 
so obvious, and have been impressed so often, that I 
need not draw them. I knew them all as theory myself 
before I went on the trip, but experience teaches, and I 
am now a wiser man from having learned their truth 
practically. Piscator. 
Yukon Notes. — VL 
Personal Outfit. 
Outer clothing for the Yukon should be selected for 
its wearing qualities rather than warmth. This is my 
personal conviction given for what it is worth. The 
secret of being comfortable in extreme cold is to wear 
just the proper amount of clothing and no more. Per- 
spiration is fatal to comfort, for it is sure to be followed 
by reaction and chill. The amount of clothing worn 
should be adapted to the varying conditions of tempera- 
ture and the kind of exercise one is taking. If a man 
relies chiefly upon heavy outer clothing for warmth he 
cannot meet changing conditions satisfactorily. If on 
the other hand the basis of protection against the cold is 
lieavy underwear, and additional protection is secured 
hj adding one or more outer garments, he is in a posi- 
tion to guard against sudden drops in the temperature 
and also has provision for times when he is not exer- 
cising. If, for instance, he has on enough underwear 
of the right quality to enable him to work out of doors- 
comfortably in his shirt sleeves when the thermometer 
is 25 below zero, and has in reserve for colder weather 
or moments of inaction his coat and sweater, to be 
worn singly or together, as circumstances dictate, he will 
find the combination adapted to all the changes of 
weather commonly met with. 
For outer clothing, Mackinaw, moleskin, leather, hard- 
finish cloth and canvas are all good, provided the quality 
is the best. I should choose^ medium weight rather than 
the heaviest clothing, though a 400Z. Mackinaw coat 
would be useful for the coldest weather. This coat 
should be half a dozen sizes too large; if a 38in. coat 
gives you a snug fit it is well to order a 44. Loose cloth- 
ing is the warmest, and the heavy underwear, sweaters, 
etc., worn in winter build a man up and increase his 
•chest measure and girth a great deal more than he is 
apt to allow for. This general principle should be fol- 
lowed in selecting all clothing for winter use. Even 
the underwear and footgear should be a number of sizes 
larger than usually worn. 
Mackinaw clothing is good for all conditions of 
weather until the nap is worn off. It sheds rain and 
snow fairly well, and is warm. There is at the present 
time a great deal of shoddy Mackinaw on the market, 
made to sell, but not to wear. It is cheapest in the end 
to deal only with the most reliable firms and take only 
what they guarantee to be the best. 
Moleskin clothing is held in high repute by many old 
miners. It is said to wear like iron, and this is the 
"ne plus ultra" in a country where oniy a limited outfit 
of clothing can be carried, and where the opportunities 
for replacing articles are few and far between. 
The best corduroy has certain advantages in this re- 
spect, but its capacity for soaking up water in wet 
weather is a serious objection. 
Leather is good for all but the coldest weather. Then 
it is the chilliest thing next to rubber that a man can 
wear. Cheap leather coats are often rotten, and tear 
easily on snags. Some leather coats are lined with cor- 
duroy, and are reversible. In all that I have seen the 
corduroy is poor quality, and soon tears out I sup- 
pose that as a matter of fact four-fifths of the clothing 
made for the Klondike trade is sold under false pre- 
tenses. Some of our Western coast cities have gained 
an unenviable reputation in this respect, for much of 
the clothing sold fell to pieces on the slightest excuse. 
Canvas clothing and overalls and jumpers form an 
important part of the outfit. Such clothing is frequently 
worn in winter over other clothing, and is useful for 
breaking the wind. Furs are not much in evidence in the 
interior. They are too stiff and too warm to work in, 
and when a man is outdoors in that country he is al- 
ways exercising. During the very cold weather there 
is little wind, and in the dry, bracing atmosphere it is 
easy to keep up a good circulation. The difficulty is not 
to keep warm, but to keep from getting overheated. 
The Canadian Mounted Police have" winter clothing 
made from canvas and lined with a light-weight blanket 
material. The parkie worn by most of the men traveling 
out to the coast on the ice during the winter is made of a 
light, close-woven cotton material. In appearance it re- 
sembles the Chinaman's outer garment, except that it 
has a hood added, whicti is generally lined or edged 
with fur. 
Knickerbockers make a good winter rig, and were by 
no means uncommon. The fact that they do not protect 
the lower leg is rather an advantage, as the limb between 
the knee and foot is not apt to be cold. Some kind of 
a padding or knit band for the knee is a good thing, and 
for the protection of the front part of the thigh down 
to the knee a piece of fur or skin is often sewed on, either 
inside or outside the trousers leg. In the interests of 
economy a leather seat or reinforced seat is desirable 
for the bifurcated garment. 
Fm-s worn or used for robes should be of a kind that 
shed snow easily. Fox is said to be one of the best of 
furs for this purpose. Australian wombat coats and 
robes, on the other hand, are said to hold and collect 
the snow. 
The rule seems to be to choose the furs of animals 
from snowy countries rather than those from warmer 
climates, on a parallel with the principle that dictates 
the use of the feathers of water birds in preference to 
land birds for fly-tying. This question of snow lodging 
on clothing is of more importance than would perhaps 
at first appear. Men who live outdoors know how to 
appreciate it, and the fringing on buckskin garments is 
said to be for the purpose of keeping them free from 
snow. 
Sweaters are very useful. A medium weight for sum- 
mer wear and the heaviest made for winter should be 
included. The latter should have a turtle neck, and 
either capote or large collar. The sweater with capote 
is good to sleep in. For shirts, the best quality miners' 
blue flannel shirts will be found satisfactory. It is diffi- 
cult, however, to get them in fast color. 
The best quality oilskin or slicker suits should be 
taken for wet weather. Cheap oilskins are sticky, or 
else they are not waterproof. Many prefer long rubber 
or oilskin coats to the jacket and trousers rig, but the 
latter has the advantage of keeping a man dry at times 
when he does no wear high boots. It has, however, a 
disadvantage in that the trousers in warm weather often 
make the garments beneath as wet from perspiration as 
they would have been from rain. All waterproof cloth- 
ing sweats a man when exercising, and personally I 
would rather wear good cloth in anything but the heav- 
iest downpours. 
The keynote of comfort in the extreme winter cold of the 
Yukon is in the proper selection of underwear. Thickness 
does not count so much as quality. The smallest admix- 
ture of cotton is fatal. That I slept more comfortably 
than my partner when lying out nights on our trip up 
the river in January .is due I think to the fact that my 
underwear, though lighter than his, was of better qual- 
ity. His was manufactured especially for'the Yukon trade 
and was very heavy, but probably not honest goods. 
Mine was the heaviest Jaeger I could purchase in New 
York, and the shirts were half a dozen sizes too large. Of 
course such shirts are big in every direction, and afford a 
wide margin of overlap where the garments meet; and 
moreover several of them may be worn at one time if 
desired. As a matter of fact I never required more than 
one undershirt to keep me warm, though I have fre- 
quently worn three pairs of heavy drawers at once. 
Next in importance to pure woolen underwear is buck- 
skin underwear, which is invaluable for breaking the 
wind and retaining the natural heat of the body. Buck- 
skin underwear absorbs perspiration from the woolen 
underwear which is worn next to the skin, and becomes 
wet and soggy. It should not be worn except in the 
coldest weather. There is little stretch to it, and you 
want it plenty large. 
Wristlets or pulse warmers are a good thing, and 
a money belt of some kind, leather or canvas, to be worn 
beneath the outer clothing, is a requisite. 
For the feet, heavy socks are worn at all times. The 
progression of the seasons is marked by adding to or 
decreasing the number worn at one time. For the cold- 
est weather our allowance was three pairs of ordinary 
heavy wool socks and one pair of German socks. If 
long trousers are worn the German socks are drawn up 
outside and tied below the knee. Arctic socks, which are 
a kind of felt slipper, are very useful. They keep out ex- 
ternal dampness to a certain extent, and add protection 
against the cold just where it is most needed. A man's 
feet may be cold at a time when the bundled socks and 
drawers make the ankles uncomfortably hot. Two pairs 
of moccasins were worn outside this combination. When 
