82 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Feb. 4, iSgg. 
The Rainbow Country* 
''Go to the end of the rainbow and you will find 
a pot of gold," the grandmothers of New England used 
to tell the children, as the little ones gazed wonderingly 
at the brilliant arch spanning the sky. 
But the end of a rainbow is hard to find, and the pot of 
gold is as safely hidden as the buried treasure of Captain 
Kidd. 
Many a pair of young eyes, however, has gazed wist- 
fully over the hills to where the iridescent bow mingled 
its colors with the mists of some distant valley, too far 
away for little feet to attenipt the journey. So the pot 
of gold has never been found, and the end of the rain- 
bow is in No Man's Land. But the children are not the 
onl}'- ones who look "over the hills and far away," and 
wonder what lies beyond the horizon. 
To those who love to seek nature among the vast soli- 
tudes of mountains, in the eternal silence of the wilder- 
ness, and on the lonely waters of far-off lakes, there is 
constantly an alluring temptation to go on and on; to 
find what is hidden beyond the distant summits that look 
so softly blue; to discover the secrets concealed beneath 
the green canopy of the forest, or to explore the unknown 
Gollntry across the Avater beside which the white tent 
gleams. And so it Avas that my steps were first directed 
toward the Rainbow Country, and if I did not find there 
a pot of gold, I found much that is better than wealth. 
The pursuit of a rainbow may not be as unprofitable as 
one might suppose — it all depends on the way one goes 
about it. As every one knows, the end of a rainbow is 
^ways a long way off, and there is alwaj'^s the danger that 
it may disappear before one reaches it; but anything 
worth having is worth striving for. Memories of what 
we acconiplish and acquire by struggle and hard work 
are sweeter than those of the things that come to us for 
the asking. This is why my recollections of the Rain- 
bow Country are among the pleasantest of my life, and I 
like to think that some time, if I live, I shall go back 
again and look once more on the pellucid waters aijd ver- 
dure-clad hills of tliat fair land. 
One summer evening, as we sat by our camp-fire, and 
watched the afterglow tinge with gold the sky above the 
purpling western mountains, I asked my Wabenaki guide 
what lay bej'ond the range behind which the sun had dis- 
appeared. 
"Mahnagwanegivasebem," was his answer in his own 
tongue, and.I said that some time we would turn our faces 
toward the Rainbow Country, and launch our canoe on 
the seldom-visited waters whose Indian name he had 
spoken, Rainbow Lake. 
From the summit of Katahdin I had seen it miles away, 
sparkling like a jewel in the landscape, and beautiful 
enough to be the abode of Mahnagivan, the rainbow, but 
the way to it is long and beset with difficulties, and com- 
partively few have been there. Even the ubiquitous and 
insatiable lumberman has not swung his destroying axe 
in its forests, for it lies among the mountains, away from 
the main routes of travel, and has no navigable inlet or 
outlet. 
Several years were destined to elapse, however, before 
the consummation of the resolve formed by that camp-fire 
was assured. In the meantime many rainbows of varying 
degrees of brilhancy had spanned my sky, most of them 
leaving only memories of fading hues. 
Btu there came a day — and what a clear, cool, brilliant 
day it was- — when a canoe was hauled across the 
Northeast Carry, and Dennis and I, with our dunnage 
amidships, paddled down the West Branch, bound for the 
country of Mahnagzmn. 
I had come twelve hundred miles, journeying down that 
ancient highway of the aboriginal tribes and the eariy 
French explorers, the Great Lakes and the St. Lawrence 
Rivef. to Montreal, and thence by the C. P. R. to 
Moosehead Lake. All the way across the broad waters of 
those unsalted seas, and down the swift current and foam- 
ing rapids of the mighty stream, my thoughts went back 
to the hr^ve old days whose history is the romance and 
the tragedy of New France. 
'I saw the noble river again bordered with primeval for- 
est and bearing on its waters the birch canoes of the red 
men and coureurs de bois and the batteaux of fur traders. 
I saw the black-robed priests, who, taking their lives in 
their hands, went forth to spread the knowledge of the 
only true God among the savage hordes, and the brave 
explorers who sought to make for France a new empire. 
All day long the steamer sped onward down her 
devious and at times dangerous course tOAvard the beau- 
tiful city at the foot of Mount Royal; and all day the 
procession of shadow canoes went upward, bearing those 
intrepid Frenchmen who, leaving the civilization of the 
Old World, bravely followed their savage guides into the 
vast and unknown solitudes of the New. 
With these thoughts of the old regime in mind, I was 
glad that I should leave the railway where I could enter 
upon the nearest approach to that life which is now possi- 
ble, without again coming in contact with our modern 
way of living. 
The steamer arrived at Montreal at sundown, and a 
couple of hours later the train had left the lights of the 
city behind. 
When, in the early morning, I stepped from the tram 
at the little Moosehead station, the solitary occupant of 
the platform came toward me as eagerly as I went to 
him, and in a moment I grasped the honest hand of 
Dennis. 
William and Harry, with their guides— two of our Wa- 
benaki friends- — were to arrive at noon from Boston, and 
would join us that night at the old camp-ground on Lob- 
ster Lake, where the point of rocks juts out from the 
sand beach. 
As soon as I had breakfast we put our canoe and sup- 
plies aboard a small steamer, and were soon speeding to- 
ward the Northeast Carry, forty miles to the north of 
the head of Moosehead. 
By noon we were across the carry and on our way 
down the West Branch. At 2 o'clock the canoe grated 
gently against the white sand of the beach on Lobster 
Lake, and thg first stage of our jowrney was behind m, 
We carried the luggage up to the rocky, wooded knoll 
where, under the protecting shade of the spruces and 
hemlocks, we proposed to pitch our camp. After this 
was done and Dennis was busy with his various chores, 
I went to the top of the little promontory and looked 
out over the water at the surrounding hills and moun- 
tains. The lake lapping against the rocks below and 
flashing in the sunhght invited me to a more intimate ac- 
quaintance with its cool, clear element, and I retraced 
my steps to the beach, where the. empty canoe rested on 
the sand. 
The camp, hidden by the rocks and trees, was not visi- 
ble, and only the sound of Dennis' axe reminded me that 
I was not alone. I undressed, placing my clothes on a 
convenient drift-log, and waded into the lake till the 
water was deep enough for swimming. The bottom was 
hard, white sand, and the water cool enougli to be exhil- 
arating, but not so cold as to chill. I revelled in it, swim- 
ming, floating, or .standing with my eyes close to the 
surface looking across the broad level till it merged with 
the distant shore, Dennis' axe was now silent, and no 
sound came across the water but the low, soothing whis- 
per of the breeze in the pine-tops. Suddenly I felt, rather 
than saw, a slight movement in the bushes, and with only 
my head out of the water, watched. They parted, and a 
graceful head, crowned with a pair of velvet-covered 
horns, emerged from the leafy screen, followed by the 
body of a handsome buck. Sniffing the air and looking 
about for any possible danger, he came down a stony 
path, and with dainty steps crossed the sand to the water's 
edge. Wading in to his knees, he lowered his head to 
drink; then stood looking out across the lake, occasion- 
ally turning toward the woods behind him. I watche 1 
while he wandered about the beach, now nibbling at a 
bunch of grass, now splashing in the water, but no tell- 
tale whifif of air told him of my presence. I gradually 
approached the shore, keeping only my head above the 
surface, till the water .shallowed so that I crawled on my 
hands. The deer did not look for danger from the 
water, and I enjoyed a rare opportunity of observing a 
wild creature in its native haunts, unconscious of the 
presence of an enemy. 
I could see every motion of his eyes, nostrils and 
mouth, and every nervous movement of his body and 
limbs. When I thought I' had been in the water long 
enough, I suddenly stood up and Avaved my arms. In- 
stantly the noble head lifted, his legs became rigid, and 
he stood looking at me, a grand Avoodland picture. 
Then turning, he sprang SAviftly away and disappeared, 
a flash of his white tail being the last I saAV of him. After 
I had dressed, Dennis took his axe, that most important 
of all the implements of the woodsman, and we Avent 
across the cove in the canoe to get some fir boughs for 
our beds. A good-sized balsam Avas selected, and it soon 
came crashing down. AVe broke off the branches, loaded 
the canoe Avith them, and paddled back. The tent Avas 
bedded down, Avood chopped for the night, and prepara- 
tions made for supper. From the point of rocks Ave could 
look acro.=s the lake to the outlet, two miles away, and as 
the sun sank low to the Avestern mountains Ave Avatched 
the distant shore line anxiously. 
TAvelve months had rolled by since I had seen those 
Avhom Ave expected, and noAv that the hour drew nigh I 
waited AA'ith impatience. The sun sank beloAV the undu- 
lating sky line of the mountains; far aAA'ay to the ea.st- 
Avard the mighty bidk of Katahdin melted into sky as the 
tender light of evening replaced the glare of the passing 
day, while the nearer peaks softened and grew dim. 
Still we Avatched the far-aAvay shore, apparently unbro- 
ken, but Avhere we knew the stream carried the waters 
of tile lake to the West Branch. At last, when the light 
had become almost too dim to see, our gaze Avas re- 
warded by the sight of two shadOAvy objects that seemed 
to separate themselves from the shore and drift out upon 
the lake. We saw them head in our direction, and we ran 
to our canoe and paddled out to meet them. Midway of the 
lake we drew near each other, and tAvo Avaving hands 
greeted up before we heard their voices calling across the 
waA^es. Then the canoes came together, and there on the 
broad, heaving bosom of the lake, surrounded by the 
black border of forest, and tmdcr the jeAveled .sky, Ave 
had a little reunion, solemnized by the pressure of hands 
and softly spoken words. At the camp the smouldering 
fire was quickened into new life, and as we sat around t 
eating our supper — four men with white skins and two 
with red — I seemed to realize for the first time that nry 
long-anticipated journey to the Rainbow Country had 
begun. 
The fire itself, as the flames rose and fell and the sparks 
flew upAvard, seemed like an old friend, for a camp-fire is 
different from other fires. The lighting of the first camp- 
fire is a ceremony, and one of the supreme moments oi 
the wayfarer in the woods. Till this is accomplished the 
outdoor life is not frdly entered upon, nor the bond that 
holds one to the city entirely severed; but when the first, 
tiny flame reaches from the birch bark to the pine spHn- 
ters, and then leaps crackling to the larger sticks, light- 
ing up the shadoAvy forest and casting a ruddy glow on 
the faces watching it, its warmth is reflected from the 
heart. Where it burns is the camper's hearthstone, and 
around it are his lares and penates— it marks his home. ^ 
It is the altar flame of those who worship at Nature's 
shine, and who find themselves, in getting close to Na- 
ture's heart, drawn nearer to Him who is the Creator ot 
all. 
So we sat and smoked after our meal, whde the fire 
glowed and sparkled, the wood cracked and snapped, and 
the sparks soared upward, only to dissolve in the black- 
ness of the night. The Avind sighed through the trees, 
and the restless lake Avashed against the rocks. Once 
the sweet call of a white-throated sparrow came from the 
dark forest. The spell of the Avoods was upon us and we 
talked little, but looked, listened and thought much. It 
was good to see the others sitting by the fire, to hear 
the familiar voices, to think of the days before us and 
of other days long past. 
"My words fly UR, my thoughts remain beloAV," 
said the Danish King, and our words were but the sparks 
that came from the thoughts brought into being by that 
first camp-fire. 
Two mornings later we broke camp at the foot of 
Ripogenus Lake, and preoared to make the first stage of 
the carry to Rainbow. On a previous trip we spent 
two days making the three-mile carry around the wiKt 
Ripogenus gorge, on our way doAvn the West Branch to 
Katahdin, but now we took another path that led over 
the hill to the right. It was a rough blazed trail, that led 
us up hill and down, and finally terminated in a cedar 
swamp in the dismal shore of Chesuncook Pond. 
A more desolate place would be difficult to find. The 
trail first touched a cove filled, not with water, but with 
bottomless black mud, then wound a devious course 
through the woods to another cove. The ground was 
soft and spongy, and the cedars so thick that our loads 
were carried between their shaggy trunks only Avith dif- 
ficulty. Gray moss, the usnea lichen, hung from them in 
Jong festoons, and roots and branches obstructed the 
trail. Pools of water were more in evidence than dry 
ground, and the light, dim at best, was made more so by 
a clottdy, overcast sky. The stillness was oppressive, and 
it was a relief to have a big doe jump from her bed 
among the high brakes at the top of the ridge and go 
leaping away into the woods. On our second trip over 
the carry drops of rain began to spatter on the dead 
leaA'es, and by the time we deposited our loads under 
the canoe it was coming down in earnest. 
We put on our rubber coats and boots and waited for 
Nick and Jean to come Avith their canoes. A rainy day 
in the woods was too old a story not to be taken philo- 
sophically, and Ave sat patiently while the sky grew 
darker and the drops came faster. At last we heard the 
welcome sound of footsteps and the swish of branches, 
as if some large body was forcing its way through the 
bushes, and the Indians, with their canoes on their heads, 
came in sight. Placing his burden tenderly on the 
ground, Nick glanced at the sky, then at the narrow, 
crooked path along which Jean was struggling with his 
canoe, slipping and stumbling, and with diflicitlty. guiding 
his unwieldy head-piece, and said: "I ain't goin' lug 
my canoe through them cedars; I guess I can shovel him 
through that mud. Looks like it settle down to rain all 
day." 
Lifting the canoe from the shore, he placed it in the 
mud and stepped into it. For the first stroke or two the 
light craft moved quite easily, and then the sticky mud 
seemed to grasp it, and it took all the strength in Nick's 
herculean frame to force a passage. It was actually shov- 
elling. His paddle bent till it seemed as if it must break 
under the strain, and the muscles and cords of his arms 
and neck swelled almost to bursting. Great masses of 
mud Avere lifted at each stroke, Avhile bubbles of gas rose 
from the slimy depths; but the guide gained foot by foot 
till the canoe slid into deep water. In the meantime the 
other canoes had been loaded, and as soon as Nick was 
ready Ave started. 
In many miles of travel through the Avoods I never saw 
a wilder sheet of water than Chestmcook Pond. The 
shores are densely wooded with spruce, fir and pine, the 
Avater is black, and a number of picturesque, rocky islets 
dot the surface. When we reached the carry on the othei 
shore the rain was pouring and the atmosphere had be- 
come cold, but Ave found comfort in the fact that we were 
on the threshold of the Rainbow Countrv, And before the 
rainbow there must be rain. We decided to take over 
one canoe, our blankets and food for supper and break- 
fast. 
The taking-out place was almost indistinguishable, for 
the old trail was long abandoned and unused. It lay 
under the shadow of. great trees and was completely 
grown up with bushes. 
Nick forged ahead with his big canoe, its itiverted bow 
parting the foliage as it was Avont to part the waves. The 
others followed, in Indian file, each with his own burden, 
borne on the back and supported by straps across the 
forehead, and around the shoulders under the arms, there- 
by distributing the weight. Over old, slippery corduroy, 
fallen timber, rotten logs, and rooks, through mud and 
water, we followed our leader. 
Once Nick fell heavily, the canoe crashing down on 
top of him, but before we could reach him he was on his 
feet again, picking his way along the treacherous path. 
Meanwhile the rest of us had A^arions troubles of our 
own, and only those who have experienced the vicissi- 
tudes incidental to voyaging in the wilderness can appre- 
ciate the trials and tribulations that await him who totes 
a load over such a carry. 
The rain continued without abatement, and the wet 
bushes wiped across our faces and clung to our legs, 
while our packs developed a pernicious and persistent' 
habit of catching on branches and stubs. After a while- 
we left the swampy level and then up, np and up the 
mountain we went through grand old timber untouched 
by the axe. There were no stumps to tell the melancholy 
tale of monarchs of the past, but great spruces, pines and 
birches towered grandly above us. 
The broad leaves of the ^moosewood hung across our 
path, and the mossy ground Avas covered with 
the brilliant green and scarlet of the birch ber- 
ries, and the three-lobed leaflets of gold thread, the 
clintonia borealis Avas common everywhere in the woods- 
For a mile or more we climbed steadily upward, and 
then, after resting, began to descend. The woods were 
now more open, and the way less encumbered Avith un- 
derbrush, but the great trees were everywhere, and signs 
of game abundant. We saw moose sign frequently, and 
a number of bear trees, with the marks of bruin's claAVS m 
the bark. 
We kept careful watch for the spots on the trees, for 
the trail was an old one, blazed out by a Wabenaki 
hunter, and the marks were dim and indistinct. Several 
sable traps by the path showed where he had pursued his 
vocation of trapper in past winters. In each case a tree 
had been felled, leaving a stttmp about Sft. high, so 
that it Avould be above the snow. The top was choppe.l 
out to form a box about a foot high, open on one side, 
and then a piece of wood split from the tree nailed on for 
a roof. To set such a trap, the bait is placed in the back 
of the box, and the steel trap in front, in such a manner 
that the sable can only reach the coveted food by passing 
over the trap. Chips of rotten Avood are crumbled over 
the trap till it is just hidden, and tAVO twigs bent in such 
a way that to get at the bait the animal must place its 
foot on the trencher. Many a pelt has been taken by 
Louis from his line of traps, and his winter camp, snugly- 
hidden in a little clearing near the outlet of Rainbow 
Lake, was to be our shelter that night. We had not 
eaten since tnorning, and were v/et and chilled. As the 
