Oct. 22, 1898,] 
FOREST AN£> STREAM. 
S23 
the Colonel's world is narrow and is bounded by preju- 
dice on all sides." 
"Partly true," I replied, "but. he is not as narrow in his 
views as you may think, nor are his prejudices as strong 
as you judge them. In proof of this I am here as his 
guest, and I am what is called a 'Yankee,' who fought 
in a war which cost him his two sons and left him "al- 
most a financial wreck. No, Doctor, I reject your esti- 
mate of the Colonel, although you are'an old-time friend 
of his, while I have known him barely a fortnight. He 
has strong prejudices, and most men have the same. His 
are in the direction of his personal afflictions, and are 
so natural that I have the greatest respect for them. 
He lost everything he held dear in a cause which es- 
poused heart and soul, and when I try to put myself in 
his place, and to think as he thinks, I am not a bit 
intolerant of his opinions, although I do not agree with 
them." 
Then, for the first time, I became aware that the Doc- 
tor was studying me; that was a proposition that had 
been thought of, but now that it was evident that I was 
regarded curiously, I hastened to dispel any mystery 
about myself, for there was none. 
"May I ask how you, a Yankee soldier, came to be the 
guest of Colonel B„ and not only his guest, but also 
holding the esteem of his widowed daughter, Mrs. H., 
who has told me that you have roused her father from 
his despondency, and thereby, as one might say, brought 
sunshine into the household?" 
"Nothing easier to answer. I happened to come down 
on a Red River steamer with the Colonel some weeks 
ago, when he refused my advances on the forward deck. 
.Then a little girl fell overboard, and I jumped in and 
brought her out. The Colonel 'saw it, and asked me to 
his room to dry off and take something hot; and while 
doing these things I happened to tell him some old 
stories, new to him, and he opened his house to me. As 
he was fully aware of my service in the Civil War, I deny 
your allegation that he is narrow-minded and that his 
world is bounded by prejudice, and in the terms of the 
ancient joke. T defy the allegator.' You are more a 
man of the world than the Colonel, but the Colonel has 
also the trait of discriminating between a cause and an 
individual, as is instanced in 'David Copperfield.' " 
"I see," said the Doctor, "you are welcome as a 
man and a sportsman, who has by some means or other 
raised our host out of the depths of himself; his daugh- 
ter has said as much, and I add my testimony to hers. 
I come down here occasionally in ?the hunting season, 
but not since the war began have I seen the Colonel laugh 
before last night. You must stay here until he can get 
out of bed, and we'll do a little shooting." 
"Can't do it, Doctor, much as I would be pleased to, 
but I am not here for pleasure, as you are. but have 
duties to perform for my employers, although I am al- 
lowed the largest liberty in the disposition of my time, 
and while I have finished my work on Catahoula Lake, I 
must go to the rivers flowing into Lake Pontchartrain 
and collect the aquatic fauna there." 
By this time we came in sight of the great fire where 
the corn shucking was to be held, and our interest cen- 
tered in that. Pausing on a mound, we could see the 
torches of bands of negroes which were coming from 
the different plantations, and occasionally could hear a 
note or two of their chants as the light wind drifted them 
our way. 
The Doctor started on, and I followed. We neared 
the plantation, and he halted and said: "There'll be more 
fun to-night than you'd, find at a dozen wakes." The 
problem again confronted me. "Wakes" are a remnant 
of Irish heathenism which the Catholic Church has not 
been able to eradicate. The wake may occur, but is not 
common in the South, and again I marked Dr. Gordon 
down as from New York or the East, for the Irish had 
hardly penetrated beyond Chicago in those days, I was 
noting every word he uttered. 
When we gave our bridles to the boys we were wel- 
comed in true Southern hospitable style, a style which 
was in vogue in the North when the same conditions 
■prevailed, for civilized man is .the same the world over. 
In isolated communities a man who bears the stamp 
of a gentleman is welcome, in urban districts he must 
prove his title. 
The boys had heralded our approach, and as guests of 
Col. B. nothing was too good for us. 
[to be continued.] 
Errors in the Official Adirondack 
Map. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
The State Forest Commission map of the Adirondack 
forest and adjoining territory, dated 1893, is a handsome 
work, laid off on a generous scale. It measures more 
than sft. in length by about 6in. less in breadth, and its 
scale^ of 2in. to the mile gives opportunity for detail 
that is lacking in smaller maps. Unfortunately the map 
is in many respects a disappointment, and its chief value 
is confined to the one particular of showing State lands 
as distinguished from private holdings. 
In the matter of woods and trails, location of natural 
features and names, the map contains many errors, and 
a small map such as Stoddard's is of greater value for 
the traveler. Here, for instance, in a small section of 
Essex county, are half a dozen mistakes in names. 
Whaton's Bay for Whallon's Bay; McComp Mt. for 
McComb Mt. ; .Shanly Brook for Shanty JBrook; New 
Comb for Newcomb P. O.; Resiconia Mt. for Resi- 
gonia Mt., and Hopkins Park for Hopkins Peak. In the 
matter of roads, well-traveled ones are omitted, while 
roads of lesser importance are given. A tourist using the 
L. A. W. Road Book of the State in conjunction with 
this map would be sadly puzzled. , As a single in- 
stance, there is no road on the map connecting the im- 
portant towns of Whallonsburgh and Essex, though, as 
a matter of fact, there are three separate routes between 
the two places. 
One of the roads from Whallonsburgh to Westport is 
given on the wrong side of the Boquet River. 
As to mistakes in the location of natural features,' an 
instance of wholesale errors may be found in the Roaring 
Brook tract, near the boundary of Totten and Cross- 
field's purchase, and the old military tract east of Keene 
Valley. This is a mountainous tract, bounded by the 
Au Sable and Boquet rivers, and various tributaries of 
these streams. 
There are seven mountains shown in this tract, and of 
these only one, Mt. Baxter, is laid down in an approxi- 
mately correct position. The other six are all too far 
east, and this is in a general way proved by the fact that 
the Giant, the chief mountain of the group, is placed 
east of the sources of the Roaring Brook, which empties 
into the Boquet River. There are two Roaring Brooks, 
it should be stated, in this tract, the second running west 
into the Au Sable River. If the map were correct, tour- 
ists climbing the Giant by the regular trail from the 
west would have to ford the head waters of the Boquet 
Roaring Brook, but as a matter of fact all the courses 
of this stream rise east of the Giant. 
Beede Brook (unnamed on the map), which empties 
into the Au Sable, has its source around the northern 
shoulder of Giant, between that mountain and Green 
Mountain, but on the map the watershed is shown as 
pitched in the opposite direction. Moreover, Knob 
Lock Mountain is shown east of the unnamed brook, 
which enters a branch of the Boquet near Peter Liber- 
ty's house, whereas, as a matter of fact, it is west of this 
stream. The summit of Bald Mountain is shown to be 
within two miles of New Russia, whereas it is nearer 
four. 
To sum up in a general way, a glance at the map would 
give the impression that the southwestern part of the 
Roaring Brook tract was low country, and that all the 
high mountains were in the northeast portion. In reality 
the direct opposite is the case, the mountains culminat- 
ing to the west and south. Incidentally the small pond 
lying at an elevation of 3,500ft. between the Giant and 
Bald Mountain is left out, though shown on Stoddard's 
map. 
I have given some specific instances of errors that can 
easily be verified. The chartographer of what is now 
the Fisheries, Game and Forest Commission of New 
York had at his disposal a wealth of official maps and 
field notes from State surveys. Verplanck Colvin's work 
in the Adirondacks is too well known to need comment. 
Its accuracy is unquestioned. VVhy was not this ma- 
terial put to better use? The result has altogether too 
much the character of an uncorrected proof sheet to be 
worthy of the great State of New York. 
J. B. Burnham. 
El Comancho Ghost Dancing. 
I have have been cooped up among the white folks 
of this Eastern country for a year now, and the longer 
I stay the more discontented I get. I feel just like the 
bears out in Lincoln Park, I guess, for they spend 
their days in pacing back and forth, always to and fro, 
before the iron bars of their den, until they have worn 
the stone floor smooth with their feet, and great patches 
of short fur are on their sides, where Ubey have rubbed 
against the bars as they turned in their ceaseless patrol. 
I have learned the definition of "chained to business," 
and I'm sorry. I V 
However, there are a few spots where, a ray of out- 
door life enters my present situatidn and helps to make 
things bearable. 
The white folks here have a queer way of politely 
listening when they ask you for a story, and then they 
also look at you in a way that says "You. are lying" 
when you tell them about the high mountain peaks, the 
gray sage desert or the silent pine woods. Mind you, 
they are too polite to tell you right out that you lie, but 
they say it with their eyes, and to us' outdoor folks who 
have listened to the silence of the air at an elevation of 
14,000ft. above this old world, who have sweltered in the 
killing heat of the sage deserts, who have wandered 
through the great forests until we knew the meaning of 
its voices and have tossed about the sea with only the 
waste of water to meet the dome of the sky above us, and 
know about the things we speak of from experience, this 
look is worse than the words, for it gives us no chance to 
strike back. No "eye for an eye or tooth for a tooth" 
there, you know. 
It rankles and the innermost soul of the narrator re- 
bels against the white folks, for he reads the signs he 
sees just the same as he reads the signs of the wilderness 
and knows what passes therefore in the listener's mind. 
Verily this world is not all annexed to Chicago yet, I am 
happy to say, and so I can still exist here for a time. 
But I am ghost dancing again, and, of course, I 
see visions, as all ghost dancers do. They come and go 
like these new fangled moving pictures they throw on 
a screen at the theaters nowadays. You see, it is this 
way: 
I look out of this thirteenth story window of mine, up 
here against the smoke cloud that hangs over the city, 
and as I look it somehow seems to change, and there 
are mountains where there , should be nothing but the 
great stretch of buildings— bad lands, I call 'em— dim- 
ming away into the smoke. 
Then the mountains are gone and the rolling sage 
plains or the blue pine woods appear right where, I know 
from experience, there is nothing but houses and white 
folks and grip cars and patron wagons and— things 
for miles. 
It's a mirage, I suppose. I've seen pictures of lakes 
out there m the dry country, right in the air, and these 
visions of mine I suppose belong to the same tribe. 
I've ghost danced this way before, too, and if I just 
keep at it long enough I find it takes me back to the 
wilderness* somewhere, some day, some way That is 
the way the present state of affairs will end, I am sure, 
and a day will come when the smoke-clouded city will 
sink below the eastern horizon, and I, the one who 
wanders, T'solo, will see a country where white folks are 
few and room is plenty,. ,and I then I will have peace and 
no more dancing- for a time'. 
A-nah! It is wrifteh in the signs and it will be so. 
I shall sally forth about daylight on the morrow, clad 
in an outfit that Chicago would probably call "tough." 
and armed with a fish rod and sundry hooks, flies, spoons 
and other ammunition. The first cars that go south to- 
ward Wolf Lake are not crowded with fine folks, because 
they sleep until the sun makes short shadows, therefore 
not many will look askance at the old hunting coat with 
its sacred stains gathered in past trips into the wilder- 
ness, and besides, it is my coat, to wear even in Chicago 
if I choose, no matter what people, may think or do 
about it — and to-morrow I'll sure wear it. 
There will also be an old creel with a Worn strap, there 
will be a dangling knife hanging to my belt — I discard 
"galluses" on these trips, you know — and a sunburned 
hat will be my war bonnet, the same, by the way, that 
has been my companion before full many times. 
Thus I will sally forth bright and early, even before 
the sleepy gripmen on the cable line are through yawn- 
ing, nor will I stop until I reach Wolf Lake, over in 
the edge of Indiana. 
Now this lake has a muddy margin, and full many 
tules grow in all its length and breadth, for it is shallow 
from one end to the other, so that he who owns rubber 
boots of goodly length may wade and wade a full day 
long, and not cross his own trail once. 
Of course, there are many white folks who know of 
this lake here, almost against the city limits of Chicago, 
and they know that full many bass and pickerel dwell 
there, and so they too sally forth and cast their lines 
in pleasant places— that is, they will go out there with a 
big basket filled with certain sandwiches, sundry bottles 
of beer, and for armament they will have a multitude of 
long cane poles with a big cotton line attached, and 
many throw lines also with a string of hooks on each. 
All these hooks will be carefully baited with liver and 
ether jokes on the fisher, and he will cast them into the 
lake and in many hours they will return, and after eat- 
ing and drinking the contents of his basket the fisher 
will carefully pull in all his lines and go home on the 
late car. 
I shall see these fishermen when I wade away among 
the tules with my light rod and many frogs to cast 
among the rushes forthe bass and pickerel I know are 
balancing there in the shadows. 
The fishermen will say one to the other. "Seest thou 
the fool who wadeth among all the rushes to fish, think- 
ing not that the fishes will flee before, and he will get 
none of them therefore?" 
I to myself will smile, and in my own mind think, 
"The man who sitteth on yonder lake rim knoweth not 
of the pleasure he misseth thereby, simply because he 
lacketh wisdom in the way of fishes. I have a mind to 
subscribe him to the Forest and Stream that he may 
obtain knowledge." 
And that reminds me that I have recently rescued a 
promising youth from the ranks of these fishers, and he 
now bids fair to become a fisher after the ways of him 
who fishes fair and reads of others fishers in Forest and 
Stream, for he has already shown an inclination to study 
the ways and read Mie signs that mean a good string 
and sport for the stringer. 
Perhaps my young friend will spy my old brown coat 
moving among the rushes out there to-morrow, and 
he will join me, and together we will cast our frogs 
among the tules and speak few words in our enjoyment, 
and that will be a day when there will be no ghost 
dancing. El Comancho. 
The Buffalo in the East. 
My old Morse's American Geography, 1796, says, in : 
speaking of the fauna of Pennsylvania, that "Useful 
quadrupeds, in the new districts, are deer, in great num- 
bers, beavers, otters, raccoons and martens. Buffaloes 
rarely cross the Ohio. Elks but seldom advance from 
the North. Panthers, wildcats, bears, foxes and wolves 
are not rare; the last do most mischief, especially in 
winter; but the fur of all is valuable. In the thick set- 
tlements, rabbits and squirrels are frequent; also minks 
and muskrats in marshes; opossums and groundhogs are 
rare." Whatever may be said of the other animals here 
specified, we may predicate of the buffaloes that now they 
never "cross the Ohio," and very rarely any other stream 
in the United States. The passing of the buffalo is 
about an accomplished fact in this country. It is long 
since any lived in Pennsylvania; but certain local names 
and traditions go to show that this animal once in- 
habited the glades and hill slopes of western Pennsyl- 
vania. ' • 
The thus of the Hercynian forest described by Julius 
Caesar in "specie et colore et figura" doubtless differed in 
nothing essential from his congener of our Western 
plains as portrayed by Captain Carver 1,800 years later: 
"This beast," says Carver, "is larger than an ox, has 
short, black horns, with a large beard under his chin, 
and his head is so full of hair that it falls over his eyes 
and gives him a frightful look. There is a bunch on his 
back which begins at the haunches, and increasing gradu- 
ally to the shoulders, reaches on to the neck. Its head 
is larger than a bull's, with a very short neck; the breast 
is broad and the body decreases toward the buttocks." 
The great point of differentiation between the ancient 
European buffalo and that of this country is that the 
former, as Csesar remarks, spares neither man nor wild 
beast which it has espied; while of the latter Captain 
Carver observes that it will run away at the sight of a 
man, and "a whole herd will make off when they per- 
ceive a single dog." 
A century and a half ago the buffalo had already re- 
treated from the western slopes of the Appalachians to 
the west and southwest. As late as the year 1755 they 
were still numerous in central Ohio. Colonel James 
Smith says that a party of the Indians by whom he had 
been adopted, in that year killed a number of buffaloes 
at a salt lick, which he afterward located as nearly as he 
could as somewhere between the Muskingum, Ohio, and 
Scioto. He says: "About the lick were clear, open 
woods, and thin white oak land, and at that time there 
were large roads leading to the lick, like wagon roads." 
These roads were beaten by the buffaloes in resorting to 
the lick. 
From this neighborhood they seem to have speedily 
retired before the face of their foes; and in the days of 
Daniel Boone we find that they were still abundant in 
Kentucky. "Immense herds of buffalo," says his 
biographer, "ranged through the forest in every direc- 
tion, feeding upon the leaves of the cane or the rich and 
spontaneous fields of clover," Dr. Joseph Doddridge 
