30 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[July 8, 1899= 
.over it was time for us to be getting out. Our provisions 
were running short, as some of them had become dam- 
aged, and we started back. Passing the lake" we saw four 
beaver along the shore, and wasted several ounces of lead 
with no result. This time we climbed high up the moun- 
tain and struck a game trail that took us in the right di- 
rection and cut off a considerable di.stance. At last this 
came to an abrupt end, and we Honndered around in 
worse going than ever. We finally- worked back to ihe 
creek and kept near it the rest of the way. We all felt like 
shouting with joy when, after two days, we reached the 
meadow'. The traveling through this was bad enough, 
but far better than w^hat we had left, and that night we 
were back in old quarters at the lake. We lived high 
that night, for once more we had sugar and prunes to eat. 
aud T never enjoyed anything more than I did that xvp.sl]. 
We were tired out, and decided to stay awhile and r^.st. 
Then followed a week of rare sport. We shot deer, an- 
other caribou, geese, ducks and grouse, and caught the 
gamies!; ot trout in the lake. We were enjoying life to 
the fullest extent, but finally decided that it was time t'l 
leave. We brought the canoe from its hiding place and 
got everything ready to start; but a storm came up that 
last three days and kept us in the tent. When it finally 
broke away we heeded the warning of winter's approach 
and were soon headed down the lake. On the way we 
saw several lynx, but could not get near enough for a shot. 
A deer swam across from an island ahead of us, but we 
were too far away to catch him, and in spite of many 
shots that made the water boil all around him he reached 
the mainland and disappeared. However, an imprudent 
coyote that follow-ed us, barking, along the shore, did 
not fare so well, as Tom bowled him over with a long 
shot from the canoe. 
On the second night down the lake we camped at the 
mouth of a creek, and I took the Winchester and fol- 
Ibwed the creek back into the woods. I had not gone far 
when a doe jumped up ahead and after a few leaps stopped 
and looked around at me. I was all tangled up in a wil- 
low thicket and got out in time to send a bullet .ifter her 
just as her curiosity became satisfied and she bolted into 
a clump of cedars. To my surprise she went down in a 
heap. 
We passed Horsefly Bay, where we had embarked, and 
kept on to the foot of the lake. Here we found some 
Chinese miners, and after "muchee talkee" sold them nur 
surplus flour and bacon. We left them our canoe, and 
took the trail that leads down the river to the forks. 
From there we had a good trail for the rest of our home- 
ward journey. - Avery H. Wilcox, 
In the Rockies.— VL 
"Find tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in 
stones." —Shakespeare. 
As I realized it a fierce exultation fired my heart, and a 
yell of triumph trembled upon my lips, as I dashed down 
the steep declivity. But when I reached his side there 
was a majesty about the mighty animal, even in death, 
that impressed me. and I stood subdued. There was a 
deep stillness upon the scene so lately one of stir and 
strife and battle. The trill of the little stream, murmur- 
ing out from among the rocks and trickling twinklingly 
through the copse to which it gave life, was the only sound 
audible. A faint breeze which sighed over the Ion el 3-^ 
place took upon its wdngs the strong spirit of the mighty 
moose, and bore it far from that secret glade in which 
in life it had been in harmony with the wild world of 
nature around it, and the blood-red Indian pinks that 
blossomed beside the spi'ing bent their heads before the 
breeze as if in grief and sorrow. There Avas death in 
the midst of life. 
I drank deep at the crj'stal well, and sat down upon the 
soft turf beside it. It was a loveh^ spot in which to rest 
and linger and muse. All around arose the grav rocks, in 
the midst of which lay the copse, a lovely oasis. The 
grasses crept up to the feet of the rocks as if propitiat- 
ingly. and tender mosses softly covered them, nature's first 
live-giving effort. There was life in the midst of death. 
Sitting there I could see the battle nature had waged 
with rock-ribbed ruin to establish a precarious foothold 
for life. Inch by inch, foot by foot, the linchens had crept 
out from the life-giving water, and clothed the naked 
rocks with a living, verdant garm^t. Then came gnats 
and flies, and himiblest forms of insect life to live amid 
the mosses. Then light-winged swallows came on 
glancing wings to chase the gnats and flies, and planted 
the first seeds of grass, vtpon which later came to feed the 
urogenitor of the moose who lies there now. and inci- 
''entally to drop the first seed of the aspens upon which 
he had browsed as he came up the mountain side. 
And last of all came the destroyer — man. The grim, 
gray rocks which with impotent wrath saw their domain 
of death invaded, inch by inch, foot by foot, as in- 
exorablj' as fate, bj' life-giving nature, doubtless wel- 
-comed the advent of one before whom whole races and 
types of nature's beings pass away. 
Strange, is it not, that man should find life and vigor 
and health and recreation in tindoing what nature has 
done, in killing and destroying where she has given life? 
What unconscious mission is he blindly filling in obedience 
to that inscrutable omniscience which has worked its 
will through other blind instruments from protoplasm 
to man? 
Sitting there in dreamy content, beneath me a tawny 
carpet superior to the science of looms, overhead the 
feathery foliage of the aspens filtering the yellow sunshine 
through, I looked out at the graj^, granitic rocks stretch- 
ing up the mountain side to where the snow fields lay 
cold and white upon the summit. It was typical of 
'human life. 
The copse was typical of the pleasant primrose paths of 
dalliance and ease; the rocks of the rough places of toil 
and trouble which ever lay just beyond the pleasures of 
life — the desert of disaster which surrounded human hap- 
piness. And as in real fife, so here, standing aniid the 
pleasant copse, neither disaster nor neath looks sinister 
seen from a distance. 
But to leave the copse of plenty, with its restful banks 
and fragrant flowers and refreshing waters, to toil up 
over the rough rocks is a mimic image of the journey of 
life. The path to the pinnacle of fame that seemed easy 
to surmount is pitted with perils. There are crevices in 
the roek that yoa catunot see fr^^ below. Thom smooth 
mossy stones that looked so inviting are but pitfalls for 
the unwary, and the weary feet, instead of resting, slip on 
the treacherous moss and fall. There are sharp, flinty 
rocks that cut your feet, and loose, rolling stones that 
topple over and bruise you, and great chasms between 
the rocks that yawn for the adventurous. 
The pools that looked like living waters are but stagnant 
pools, impregnated with the bitter minerals of the rocks 
.around them, the Mara waters of tribulation. How many' 
turn back, appalled at the difficulties of the ascent, and 
how many, alas! of highest courage, fall from the preci- 
pices, and perish. And when at last the heights are 
reached, swarms of mosquitoes and gnats arise, like petty 
troubles, to bite and sting. And the snow upon the pin- 
nacle of fame that looked so fair and white is but a cold, 
uncomforting, soulless sheet shrouding dead hopes that lie 
buried beneath it. 
All along the summit stretches the cold, silent bosom 
of the blinding, white Death. Here the journey of lite 
ends. The Aveary feet w^orn with toiling over the rocks 
sink deep into the soft snow. He struggles on with 
short, quick, panting breath, in the high altitude of death. 
The sight grows dim in its reflected glare. It is cold — so 
cold upon the snowy summit. He ceases struggling and 
sinks down to rest in its .soft embrace, and a breathless 
curtain of silence stretches between the cold, pitiless glare 
of the sky above and the dazzling whiteness beneath. 
So the summit is reached, and the journey of life is 
done. Behind him lie the rough rocks, and the pleasant 
paths. Before him — ah! who shall say what lies beyond 
the brink? Back from that summit no man has ever come 
to depict the scene that lies in the vast, limitless beyond. 
But as the mind comes back from pondering upon the 
unfathomable problems of life and death, and turns with 
grateful relief to the wholesome things of every-day life, 
so did I leave behind me that strange land of snowy sum- 
mits and rock-strewn scenery and flashing streams and 
returned to the familiar work-away world of every day. 
But I never look upon that antlered head, hanging now 
upon my walls, that I do not recall that little cove bloom- 
ing in the midst of its rocks, high on the mountain 
side, above that far-off, unknown and nameless lake in 
the remotest recesses of the Rocky Mountains. 
Francis J. Hagan. 
Proprietors of fishing and hunting resorts, will find it profitable 
to advertise them in Forest and Stream. 
In Newfoundland. 
**Extefminatofy Peregrmations* 
St. Augustine, Fla.. July i— Editor Forest and 
Stream: I accept your comment upon Mr. Rice's letter in 
this week's Forest and Stream as an intimation that it 
is time to close the subject. Although, as I told j;ou 
in my letters in your issues of June 10 and 24 respecting 
the exterminatory peregrinations of Mr. Geo. O. Shields 
here in Florida, the subject of his bird plume butchermg 
was by no means exhausted, I quite agree with you that 
we may consider the discussion closed. But I always did 
like to have the last say. Will you permit me then 
this last word? Mr. Rice insinuated that my quotations 
from Mr. Shields' book describing his wanton killing 
of our birds and other creatures were not fairly made. 
In justice to myself I urge any reader of Forest and 
Stre.\m who may be interested to look up the quoted 
paragraphs and their connections in the book itself. It 
is entitled "Hunting in the Great West," and Mr. Shields 
is now advertising to send it for 25 cents. As an eye- 
opener, an exposure of Mr. Shields by INIr. Shields' own 
braggart pen. it is worth the money. It shows up_ the 
true sportsmanship of this man who is so coar.scly reviling 
others. DiDYMUS. 
p S.— More last words: Please give my compliments 
to Mr. Arthur F. Rice, and assure him that if ever he 
finds his wav to Florida and St. .\ugustine. I would 
consider it a' orivilege to do Avhatevcr might be in my 
power to make his visit a pleasant one. I could not 
promise him much in the Avay of game; and our plunie 
1 irds Avere long ago killed off. But Ave have such air 
and sea and sky and floAvers and perfume and hird_ song 
and sunshine as Avould give him unstinted delight m his 
outing; and if he ever goes fishing, Ave could introduce 
him to channel bass and drum. D- 
Quail Reports "Wanted. 
Danvers, Mzss.— Editor Forest and Stream: T should 
like to hear from different sections of the East as to how 
the quail are whistling for mating. Tell Mr. Foulk to re- 
port from his countrv. New York and Maryland. There 
the Februarv blizzard Avas very bad. I heard of the sad 
remains of feathers and bones from a flock over m West 
Peabodv. JOH.N W. B.ABBITT. 
"That reminds me." 
Editor Forest and Stream: . 
The inquiry of ^Major ^Mather in regard to the service 
berrA'." and the numerous communications printed relative 
thereto, all edifying and shoAving the edible quality ot 
those berries, remind me of an occasion when a party ot 
four congenial spirits Avere camomg at Muzzy Lake^ m 
northern Ohio, some years ago. doing a little bass hshmg 
rind fall shooting, and having a general good time. On a 
Saturday evening we were agreeably surprised by a couple 
of old friends from a ten-miles distant city dropping m 
upon us. and, of course, a merry evening was the result. 
In the morning that folloAved, the cook for the day, de- 
sirious of increasing the menu, requested one of the party 
to take two buckets and go to a neighboring farmhouse 
and "get some milk and cackle berries," Avhich he at once 
started to do. One of our guests having heard the re- 
mark, puzzled over it for a. while in silence, but his over- 
burdened brain finallv gave vent to expression: Say, 
you felloAVS, what kind of berries are those 'cackle berries' 
you told L. to get? i never heard of them before. ihe 
ansAver "Why. eggs, you darned old rooster/' broke the 
spell, and afforded a heap of fun during the entire day, and 
the aforementioned visitor Avent by the euphonious soubn- 
fluet of "Cackle Berries" for some time thereafter. 
E. S. Wttttaket?- 
A Day on the Come-by-Chacce -with Rod and Reel. 
"Up rose the suri; the ihists were curled 
Back from the solitary world, 
W'liicli lay around, behind, before. 
What booted it to traverse o'er 
Plain, forest, river? Man nor brute, 
Nor dint of hoof, nor print of foot, 
Lay in the wild, luxuriant soil; 
The very air was mute; 
And not an insect's shrill, small horn, 
Nor inatin bh-d's new voice was borne 
From herb nor thicket." 
It was just such a sunrise and such a country as those 
of which Byron sings. It Avas a glorious summer morn- 
ing. "The very air Avas mute." We — a survey party — 
were camped on a sidehill that Avas clothed Avith luxuriant 
verdure, and through the foliage of the trees glistened the 
waters of the Come-by-Chance, as it Avound sloAvly and 
majestically on its passage to the sea. In the distance Ave 
could catch glimpses of the sheen of many lakelets, and ^ 
the vision was bounded by ranges of high hills, the high- j 
est peak — PoAvder Horn Hill— gorgeous Avith the rays of , 
the rising sun. It Avas an off day in camp, and rigged | 
in my best backwoods toggery I started out to explore a, | 
pretty little pond that nestled between the hills; and I ' 
was anxious to throw a fly Avhere perhaps one had never 
been throAvn before. After a few minutes' tramp I struck 
the pond and bent my flies. I met Avith indifferent success 
till I came to a corner of the lake that was overgroAvn 
with large trees whose branches spread far out over the | 
surface. Just here the Avater was deep and dark and it 
looked indeed a likely spot. I dropped my flies just under 
the branches of a large juniper, and immediately got a 
splendid rise; but I could not fish from the land side Avith 
any ease, so I cast about and procured a small raft of rail- 1 
Avay sleepers (.one that we had been using the day before ; 
for the purpose of chaining across the pond), got aboard 
and hauled myself well out into the lake by the overhang- 
ing branches. I Avas amply repaid for my pains, for the 
first throAv I got a splendid rise, but lost my fish, owing 
to my inability to use but one hand, for, as the raft was 
very cranky, I had to hold on to the trees with the other. 
I thrcAV again, and this time hooked a A'critable 3-pounder; 
but alas, I lost him also. In my excitement I forgot all' 
about standing on the ranky raft, let go my hold of the 
branches, and the next moment was gazing at the sunlight 
from the bottom of the lake. A few strokes brought me 
to the bank, and I picked up my dogwood rod and gear 
and started for camp, a Avetter and a wiser man. I then 
crept in, not to Avaken the other felloAvs, and took off 
every stitch, hung them around on the bushes, wrapped < 
myself up in my blankets and slept the sleep of the just 
till breakfast Avas announced at g o'clock . 
It is a long, glorious day in .summer time, from sunrise, 
a little after 4, till 8 o'clock, and millions Avho dAvell in 
cities lose the best part of their lives sleeping those ■ 
golden hours away. 
A great change had come over the face of nature while 
I had slept. The peak of the PoAvder Horn Avas wrapped 
around with dark, murky clouds, the wind had changed 
and brought in the fog. The morning had been too 
bright to last, and before 12 o'clock the rain came down 
in torrents, so that we Avere confined to camp all day. 
About 4 o'clock the rain ceased, but it remained dark and 
tlireatening : but as it did not actually rain, and as I Avas 
tired b'ing around all day, I donned my oilskins and long 
boots, and fetching my dogwood, started out again to 
hunt up some fish. 
This time I aA-oided the likely spot of the morning and 
tried some of the gullies of the Come-by-Chance. In this 
place it sweeps through a pretty level country, and form^:- 
a large number of deep gullies, each of which is fairly well 
stocked with fish. I tried several of these, but as they 
were near the line of the raihvay they had been fished over 
and over again by the \-arious crews of raihvay men 
Avho had camped near them. I fished till 1 came to the 
last of the near series of gullies, with but very little suc- 
cess. This one, unlike the others, Avas surrounded by 
hea\'y trees, and in order to fish it one had to Avalk in the 
water clear of the branches. I had tried at the head of 
it, Avhere the Avater runs in. but the numerous footprints 
in the sand convinced me that it had been fished too often 
very recently for me to expect anything Avorth Avhile, and 
I Avas conjecturing for a time hoAV the riA'er looked after 
it had left the gully, as I could see by the formation ot 
the country beyond that it fell a little, but hoAV much 
I could not tell, If it fell for any distance it Avould have 
been no use for me to go on a voyage of discovery, as it 
Avas getting late, and the fog and clouds made it darker 
than usual. But I thought I'd try at the foot of the gully 
anyhoAV, so I Avalked along in about 2ft of Avater till I 
came to where the river leaves the gully. I was certain that 
no one had been as far as that lately, because trout were 
ordinarily plentiful enough, Avithout haA'ing to Avet one's 
self in order to procure a fair catch. I Avas rcAvarded for 
my pains, for as I reached the end of the gully and fol- 
loAved the river, that here ripples over a sandy bottom 
with a gentle decline for about looyds., there suddenly 
bur.st upon my vision the prettiest and most likely looking 
gully it had cA-er been my good* fortune to behold. The, 
feelings of an angler on such an occasion can be better ' 
imagined than described. Just before me the lakelet 
nestled in the trees, shut aAvay from all outside sounds 
and scenes. At my feet the river dropped into a basin 
forming an ideal spot for an angler to linger in. My 
nerves were tingling with excitement, and no explorer 
ever felt so delighted Avith his di^coverey as 1 did thai; 
summer afternoon. The angler can imagine hoAv he'd 
feel if he struck a spot that in all probability had ncA^er, 
before been fished, and the feeling that "he was the first 
that ever burst into that silent" scene Avould be inten.sifiedi 
by one look at the spot that hi? very instinct would tell 
hitn was teeming with fish Hf^. Th« only sigfii of it© ever 
I 
