smother of the eddy under the off shore ledge of foek 
while the crew and helmsman watch intently the way in 
which the sea breaks on and over that barrier. Sea 
after sea passes by and tumbles into banks of fine spray 
on the threshold of the island gate. Not one of those seas 
has promised to carry the boat through in safety. At 
last a higher roller is seen to rear itself far out beyond 
the outer barrier, and to come rolling shoreward with a 
magnificent stretch of perpendicular face. All are intent 
upon its progress as it sweeps grandly inward with ever 
accelerating velocity, for it may prove the wave so long 
waited for. If it is seen to pass unbroken over a pinnacle 
outlying in front of the main ledge by a small interval, it 
is known that that is indeed the wave to use, As its wall 
face sweeps on the boat is rowed shoreward out of the 
eddy, the oarsmen put then their every pound of muscle 
and courage into the oars as they back water into the 
very cliff of water which is swooping down upon the 
boat. There is the thump of wood and water as the 
wave hits the stern of the boat and begins to heave it in 
the air. The crew pull now like men possessed, for the 
few boat lengths which intervene they must keep the boat 
on the advancing face of the giant wave. The speed is 
something terrific, the prospect is something appalling to 
view from the lifting sfern of the boat, coasting with 
tremendous velocity down the steep slope of a hill of 
water, which is itself careering onward with far more 
than the speed of a railroad train. Just in front lies the 
wall of the gateway, dripping yet with the foam of the 
last wave, tense figures of the islanders clinging to the 
rocks in readiness to reach out into the commotion and 
snatch the shipwrecked from drowning in case of disas- 
ter. With a last struggling effort the crew bend to the 
oars and draw them inboard and out of the way of the 
rocks between which the boat must pass without a check, 
for even the slightest check would mean prompt destruc- 
tion. The ears are deafened with the roar of the break- 
ing of the tons of water on the rock, the eyes are all but 
blinded with the salt cloud of mist into which the water 
is hammered by the impact. The boat must be just one 
single instant ahead of that thunder and that breaking or 
the water, it must be headed exactly into the narrow rift 
in the rock just a foot before the crest of the propelling 
wave shatters over upon the immovable obstacle. Then 
as the water boils into the constricted channel it seizes on 
the boat and hurls it onward until it seems that the might 
of giants would not avail to direct it away from the fangs 
of, rock and coral which beset the way. But answering 
the steering oar the boat is directed through those 
fifty dangerous feet, avoiding a danger on the right only 
- to be confronted by another on the left, sliding past rocky 
perils with so close a margin that it looks as if a sheet 
of paper would be torn to rags between the boat and the 
rock. With every minute fraction of an instant the still 
lagoon is nearer. Still the peril is not yet past. Just as 
the boat clears the walls of rock and is on the very in- 
stant of passing in and floating peacefully on quiet waters 
the boys throw out the oars and pull as hard as ever. 
With "all their strength they can do no more than keep the 
stern of the boat just barely clear of the channel out of 
which on its inner side it has just escaped, into which the 
outward rush of the waters is seeking to drag it. There 
by dint of hard rowing the boat just succeeds in standing 
still tmjtil the efflux is past, and the turn of the waters 
with the startling advance of the next incoming breaker 
allows of escape into the lagoon. Then, as the crew, ex- 
hausted by the excitement, takes leisurely strokes across 
the smooth water, and to the landing place, the Apohma 
people set up a shout of welcome to those who have ad- 
ventured so much to see the island. 
They gather around and proffer that hospitality for 
which they expect so generous a reward; they ask the 
crew whether the lady Avas frightened when the boat came 
through the pass, and when they get the answer that she 
was courageous they turn to congratulations and say 
how verv few white ladies have ever ventured on that 
trip, and" how it often happens with white men who have 
come through the gap that they were too weak to take a 
step for a long time afterward. 
Such is the getting in to Apolima. The getting out is 
even harder, for, as the boat is sucked out through the 
narrow channel, it meets just outside an incoming wave, 
up which they must row hard in order to get on the sea- 
ward face in time and slide down hill before it begins to 
break. It can be done only on the first two hours of the 
ebb tide, seldom is it possible to go in and to come out 
on the same day; often visitors are held for a wedc at a 
time waiting the chance to get out. 
Llewella Pierce Churchill. 
On Kansas Prairies. 
PvAMONA, Kan., Dec. 12.-- Editor Forest and Stream: 
Yours of the 2d inst. received. In answer to- your ques- 
tion whether anything can be done to stop the slaughter 01 
game here, I can only say, so far as my own influence 
goes, I am doing a little in that way, for I am wholly op- 
posed to any shooting further than the game that can be 
used by one's self or immediate friends. My copy of 
your paper also is passed along to a little circle of friends, 
so I think it is not wholly in vain that I have lived in 
Kansas. Further than this, I can only say that the State 
game laws are far in advance of public opinion— although 
some are waking to the need of game protection. 
In my opinion the one thing that would do the most 
good would be the establishment of game preserves, either 
by the State or private individuals. I 1 speak of this to 
the farmers, telling them that properly managed the shoot- 
ing rights on their farms and ranches could be made in 
many instances almost as valuable as any other part of 
their business. If well-to-do Eastern sportsmen knew of 
the almost unlimited possibilities in the way of small game 
of a Kansas game preserve, they would make haste to 
establish such places all through here. Unbroken prairie 
rent? for from 15 to 75 cents per acre, and corn and wheat 
land from $1 to $1.50 per acre per year, and that right 
near railroad lines, and the game interests need interfere 
but verv little with the agricultural interests. A few 
lines of hedge, a patch of kaffir corn left unharvested here 
and there, a strip of slough left unmowed, a pond or two 
in each slough, made at the expense of a few dollars for 
the use of a team and scraper, and you have an almost 
ideal hunting ground for quail, rabbits — both jack and 
cottontail—plover-, wild ducks, an occasional wild goose, 
and in this section prairie chickens. As an instance of 
this kind, a gentleman resident near here, who has a 
line of hedge around his farm, told me that in November 
this year, without going more than a mile from his house, 
himself and a visitor friend shot on the wing in a day and 
a half shooting 144 quail; myself and others have shot 
over the same ground since, and found the birds in fair 
supply still. 
Since living in Kansas and comparing the game inter- 
ests with those of the East, and seeing so little from this 
State in your paper, I have often wished to write you 
of the game here, its habits as I have noticed them, and 
the different ways of hunting as practiced here, but had 
hot thought you would care to have me do so, but if you 
think any portion of such articles would be worth print- 
ing, would gladly write them. 
- Am still in camp here on the prairie, not in a hunter's 
camp, but as part of a threshing outfit. The cooking 
and eating are done in a house 8ft. wide by 20ft. long, and 
we sleep in a tent all of the time. The hunting is done 
when we move from place to place, or when, like to-day, 
we are storm-bound. As I look out southward, it is 
across the old Santa Fe trail, with not a house in that 
direction in sight, and the prairies in their snow-bound 
loneliness stretch away and away, dreary, desolated, hor- 
rible; or gloriously beautiful in their boundless freedom, 
just according to one's temperament. I thank God they 
are to' me "a thing of beauty and a joy forever." 
Pine Tree. 
Three Chumps in a Boat. 
I believe I am the only man among your veracious 
contributors who ever tells about the time he did not do 
it. It is easy enough to tell about the time we kill lots of 
game or catch a lot of fish,, and some fellows can even 
tell about letting flies go fishing by themselves. But it 
takes nerve to tell a plain case of failure after indulging m 
high hopes. 
We had been calculating on a trip down Cache River. 
This stream crosses the Iron Mountain Railroad at Mar- 
tin, and the Memphis Railroad at Cache, the distance by 
land being about forty miles. So the night before Thanks- 
giving, Clarence Tate, my oldest boy, Will, and myself 
started for Martin, equipped with a camp outfit, a Bond 
boat and an Osgood canvas boat in a very indifferent state 
of repair. For armament we had shotguns and shells 
galore, and a Winchester that carried a shell ift. long, and 
of a caliber slightly smaller than the guns in the forward 
turret of the Oregon. That was to kill the bears that our 
excited imaginations had stationed at convenient intervals 
in the wilderness. • 
We reached Martin about 7 o'clock Thanksgiving morn- 
ing, and by the help of a truck and the ubiquitous Sene- 
gambian got ourselves afloat in the river, we three in the 
Bond boat and the freight in the Osgood. We knew that 
the river went to the Memphis Railroad, and that the 
country was uninhabited, and there our knowledge ended. 
We found the river at that point about 60ft. wide, bank 
full and with a stiff current. We also found that it was 
as crooked as a corkscrew, and not half as useful. We 
planned to stop at 4 P. M. and prepare our Thanksgiving 
dinner, and this is the menu we had in mind : Fried 
fish with Irish potatoes, broiled bear steaks, tomato sauce, 
roast saddle of venison, roast turkey, and coffee and 
doughnuts for dessert. The last we carried with us, and 
we had a cinch on them at least. 
We pushed gaily off and found the navigation very 
bad, obstructed by logs and drift, and the miserable Os- 
good in tow was leaking like a sifter, and always in the 
wrong place. About three hours after starting we came 
to a sawmill and beguiled a lank canebiter into conver- 
sation. 
He told us we were two miles by land from Martin, 
and that it was 180 miles to the Memphis Railroad. We 
shoved off and unanimously voted the canebiter a liar 
and the descendant of a generation of liars. All that 
afternoon we struggled with the difficulties of the river, 
once unloading and carrying around a tree. I will mention 
here that this stream is called navigable, and figures in the 
River and Harbor Bill for an appropriation. Congress- 
men are really of some use after all; for nobody but a 
Congressional genius could have discovered that that 
part of Cache River was navigable. About 4 P. M. we 
put into shore to prepare that Thanksgiving dinner. It 
consisted of squirrels and bacon, instead of bear steaks, 
and the dessert we had with us. We were congratulating 
ourselves that we had at last got away from the railroads, 
when the Iron Mountain trains whistled right back of the 
carnp, and we found we had been going parallel with the 
road instead of away from it. 
Next morning we entered what is known as the Black 
Swamp. The river loses itself in an immense cypress 
and tupelo swamp. Sometimes there was a channel and 
sometimes we followed the current through the trees. It 
was then we most admired the Congressional genius who 
gets the appropriation. After awhile we came to the point 
where the Doodle Bug Railroad crosses the swamp, and 
I proposed that we wait for the semi-periodical train that 
ran on it and get out to civilization once more. But the 
others wanted to go on, and we left the last relic of 
civilization and plunged into the swamp again. About 
4 o'clock it began to rain gently, and no land in sight. 
About that time we jammed the Osgood into a snag and 
knocked a hole in it. A convenient rag served as a plug 
and saved the freight. Just as we had made up our minds 
that we would have a rainy night in the boat, we saw a 
piece of land in the swamp, and working our way over 
there, found a large Indian mound with a large cypress 
log floated across it. It must have been a web-footed 
race of Indians that built that mound, but they had our 
heartiest approbation of their job. We camped and 
ditched the tent for a rainy night, and as soon as we got 
that done the weather clerk changed his mind and it 
cleared off. Next day we got out of the swamp and began 
to find banks to the river and some ducks. The bear, 
deer and turkeys never materialized, but we had ducks 
for dinner and supper and a dry place to camp. 
Late Saturday evening we came to a house, the first 
since leaving the sawmill, and found we were fifty-five 
miles from the Memphis road. We began to repent of 
our remarks about the canebiter at the sawmill, The 
next day was the last of our stay. About 9 o'clock we 
reached Mayberry's Ferry, and shipped our freight and 
the Osgood on the steamer Iolanthe, which would come 
doAvn some time in the future, towing a barge of staves, 
and started on a forced run to the bridge in the Bond. 
We had oars and two paddles, and all hands went to 
work. Within an hour all the ducks we had not seen 
came into the river. Every slash and every copse in the 
edge of the water was full of them. But we could not 
stop. We had no camp outfit, and the ice formed every 
night, and there were no houses to stop in. So we pushed 
on, killing a duck now and then that flew too elose to the 
moving boat, getting perhaps about twenty-five that virtu- 
ally committed suicide by not taking the trouble to get 
out of our way. 
At dark we came to a plantation, the first we had seen 
since Mayberry's, and the omnipresent coon told us it was 
five miles to the railroad by land and twelve by water. 
We drove a bargain with him to take us to the railroad; 
and to show the crookedness of the river, the first thing 
he did was to drive a mile up the river on his way to 
the railroad. Time was short, and a little persuasion and 
the promise of an extra reward if he made the train 
caused him to keep his team in a dead run oyer a 
corduroy road, and we made the station five minutes 
ahead of the train, and by that narrow margin made our 
way home at the appointed time. I bad promised my wife 
a bearskin for a rug, but the debt is still unpaid. I want 
the Congressional genius and the United States engineer to 
go over that route and bjaze the way from Martin to 
Mayberry. I do not care about the logs being removed, 
but I do "think a navigable stream ought to be blazed so a 
skiff could find where it is in high water. 
From Mayberry down is a fine game country, and if 
we had had time to hunt, we could have done well. But 
let none of your readers ever start at Martin if they 
value their high standing in the church. Fortunately there 
is no one in the Black Swamp to hear the remarks made 
about the condition in which Uncle Sam keeps his 
navigable streams. But once is enough, and the next 
time any unknown rivers in this country are to be ex- 
plored, some one else can do it. J. M. Rose. 
The Ascent of the Grand Teton. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
If standing up and vocrferously calling a man a liar 
were argument, then indeed would Mr. Langford have a 
strong case. Tom Cooper's affidavit is what troubles the 
gentleman now, and well it may. He is one of Wyo- 
ming's best citizens and could send you hundreds of_ tes- 
timonials from our leading men as to his veracity, if he 
so desired. Until Mr. Cooper's testimony is impeached 
that affidavit must stand. And the mere fact that Mr. 
Langford has stated that "Judge Potter's good opinion of 
Mr. Cooper will not be shared by everybody" does not 
make it so. 
The statements made in the Scribner Magazine article 
are sufficient to convict him without further testimony. 
He declares that he found mosquitoes on the summit of 
the Teton, i3,8coft. above the sea. Now in the latitude of 
the Teton timber line is somewhat under 10,000ft, and 
it is a- fact well known to every resident of our mountain 
country that tUese insects are never seen 1,000ft. above 
the last growth of timber. We are not compelled to go 
to St. Paul to obtain information as to the habits of the 
mosquitoes in the Rocky Mountains. And yet Mr. Lang- 
ford states that they found mosquitoes nearly 4,000ft. 
above the timber line. This statement will sound well in 
the Rockv Mountain country, where live the people taught 
by from twenty to fifty years of actual experience. 
Within 125ft. of the summit of the peak, Mr. Langford 
insists, "flowers also, of beauteous hue and delicate frag- 
rance, peeped through the snow wherever a rocky jut 
had penetrated the icy surface." 
This is quoted verbatim from his article in Scribner's 
Magazine. I Wish to call especial attention of your read- 
ers to this particular statement, for some later climber 
will be able to tell who was right. There isn't the semb- 
lance of a flower in the last 500ft. of the climb, and Mr. 
Langford's statement that he found them within 125ft. 
of the summit is conclusive evidence that he has never 
seen the summit of the Grand Teton. 
If Mr. Langford is in earnest, let him accept the fol- 
lowing proposition: We will select three representative, 
disinterested men, and send them to the Teton Peak to 
make the ascent and examine every foot of slope over 
which he says he climbed. If they find a single flower, 
or plant which ever bears the flower, anywhere on that 
slope, I will pay the expenses of the party. If they do 
not find anything of the kind then Mr. Langford must 
pay them. This will settle the question beyond argu- 
ment, and Mr. Langford should not hesitate to accept 
the proposition. This committee can, at the same time, 
give us their opinion as to the ability of the mountain 
sheep to climb to within 125ft. of the summit. Mr. Lang- 
ford insists that the mountain sheep can climb where a 
party of men, assisting each other and well equipped with 
all the paraphernalia known to the sport, cannot go, And 
of course he knows. His facilities for obtaining informa- 
tion on this point have been vastly superior to those of 
the men who have lived their entire lives in the Rocky 
Mountains and hunted these animals for a quarter of a 
century or more! 
Concerning the overcoat which the Captain insists that 
he wore while on the summit of the peak to keep him 
from freezing to death while the mosquitoes were de- 
vouring him, he says: 'Tt was for the purpose of freeing 
myself from all unnecessary weight of clothing that I 
left in the camp my camping coat and wore a much 
lighter overcoat, and none other. 
Of course all your readers will recall the numerous 
pictures of the parties of Alpine climbers on their way 
to attack Mt. Blanc, the Weisshorn or Matterhorn, etc., 
etc. They are always pictured wearing long-tailed ulsters 
and the like, having left their other coats at home; the 
overcoats being so much less cumbersome and weighty! 
Isn't this a striking picture? 
To show Mr. Langford's consistency, I will quote two 
statements made by him — the first in his magazine article 
of 1873, the other in a letter to Mr. Gannett, of date April 
26, 1897, In the magazine, speaking of his alleged ascent 
