S44 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
The hordes of tourists now overrun the Muskoka Lakes 
and the advance guard is here of a horde that will overrun 
this region in days not far distant, for there be many that 
already hunger and thirst after new lands to conquer; and 
here are all the delights that gladden the heart of the 
hunter, the angler and canoeist. There are bass, pickerel, 
perch and trout in the waters, and in the woods deer,, 
moose, bear, lynx, wolves, beaver, otter; and to welcome 
the tourist into this promised land are the most genial and 
kindly people I have met in Canada. 
The Kentucky Home Camping Club owns a splendid 
club house here and enrolls some of the brightest men 
from the Blue Grass State, and I was more than pleased 
lo learn that this region had been blessed by the presence 
of such genial and delightful tourists as the Hon. William 
H. Graham and Gov. William A. Stone, two of the most 
brilliant of the many eminent Congressmen that have 
gone out from the Pittsburg district; Chas. W. Gering, of 
Allegheny, and many others. 
Friday morning I jointed my new Bristol steel rod 
and rowed down to a bay below the Rocky Reef Camp. 
I baited with large angle worms and quietly trolled up 
and down from the reef to some weeds in the bay, using 
40 or 50ft. of line. I have found a long line an effective 
way of taking bass and pickerel, especially the latter. 
Pickerel and bass are both timid, and the further you get 
.your oars from your bait the less chance do you run of 
frightening your fish. In slow trolling the oars skould 
be used carefully and quietly, so as not to jar the water. 
While fish are almost insensible to sound, they are keenly 
alive to the effects of the slightest jars. As a rule, fish 
are more ready to take a moving bait; especially is this 
true if the bait be floating down with the current. Fish 
lie with their heads up stream, and readily see a bait mov- 
ing toward them. The bait comes to them in the same 
way as their usual food and is apt to be taken. In a cou- 
ple of hours I caught thirteen fine bass and returned that 
same number to the water. 
".'■Be it known there is no bait equal to worms for these^ 
Northern bass. I do not mean the small earth worm, but 
the large dew worms that crawl out on the lawns after a 
heavy rain at night. You may then gather them by torch- 
light by the hundred. The mating season for these worms 
is in May and June. Then they crawl out and lie in pairs 
in the garden. This worm is fully I2in. long and as thick 
as a lead pencil, and I would strongly urge any one going 
into this region to carry with him a solid gallon of worms 
for every fortnight he fishes. The worms may be car- 
ried in any ordinary chip basket lined with mosquito net- 
ting to prevent their crawling away. Baskets are best, 
since the air percolates freely through the moss in which 
you must not fail to pack them. Occasionally dampen 
your moss and your worms will toughen and grow better. 
By occasionally changing the moss and removing dead 
worms, you may keep them healthy for at least six weeks. 
' I longed for some swift current where I might fish for 
pickerel, but of course didn't find any in Ahmic Lake, A 
Baltimore doctor showed me a dozen fine pickerel that 
were unusually dark in color. 
When I was on Ahmic Lake there was much excite- 
ment about deposits of copper, zinc, lead and nickel that 
were being found by prospectors. Here the ancient Lau- 
rentian rocks, the oldest known formation — rocks that 
have been scarred and scraped by the icy ploughshare of 
the glacial period— begin to give way to the Hurpnian, 
which often bear rich deposits of mineral. I saw some 
splendid specimens of nickel ore, and the day may come 
when this will be a famous mining district. 
' In the afternoon we hailed the steamer Wanita and 
wound our picturesque way up the tortuous course of the 
Magnetawan. filled with sadness on leaving, but deter- 
mined if possible to return next year for a whole season s 
sojourn in this pleasant land. James M. Norms. 
Al-LEGHBNV, Pa, 
On the Chagres River. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Once upon a time— I can't say when, but a long distance 
from the dim future— I visited the fever-laden banks of 
the Chagres River, on the Isthmus of Panama and domi- 
ciled with a family from the far-off State of Maine, The 
male portion of the family was a "forty-niner," but digging 
gold was not his forte, so he had headed for home, but 
got only as far as Panama, when he found his pockets 
empty and could go no further. A position as section 
boss on the railroad was offered him, and he thanked his 
lucky stars and took the job, intending to leave as soon 
as his pockets were replenished; but he became attached 
to the place and sent home for a wife, who went down 
and ministered unto him, and they appeared to be happy, 
though they were both held fast in the clutches of the 
curse of that fascinating region from spring till nearly 
fall, and from fall till nearly spring. My visit happened 
in the season wheii the Chagres fever is on its worst ram- 
page, and nearly every one I met appeared to be cased 
in white leather instead of human skin, but I, being one of 
the immunes, came off scot free. I felt that it was a danger- 
ous game to play, but it was so beautiful and the birds and 
flowers were so interesting, that I was Winded to the 
risk. Then, too, I was domiciled to my liking, for being 
in the employ of the railroad my host was supplied from 
the North with everything he wanted for the table; the 
female part of the family was a refined and highly edu- 
cated woman with catering powers that would satisfy an 
epicure; and as I was a guest of the company, I could 
enjoy their good things as long as I wished without 
money and without price. 
Added to all this, the engineers had orders to let me ott 
wherever I wished to stop on my shooting trips and to 
stop for me at the waving of my handkerchief at any time 
and place. So that everything, except the _ threatening 
fever, combined to make a prolonged stay desirable. 
I was warned that danger lurked in the dampness of 
the early morning, and was cautioned against going out 
till the sun had dissipated the fog and dew; but I heeded 
not the wise advice. When the men were ready to start 
with their hand car for their section trip the fog was so 
dense that the car could hardly push through it— a Lon- 
don' fog would blush to come in competition with it. I 
■would seat myself comfortably on a cushion, and soon the 
liot sun would begin to clear away the fog, and as birds 
would show themselves I would shoot them and the men 
would pick them up. Some of them were a species of 
partridge and were feeding on berries on the small trees 
along the road. It was the rriost luxurious and aristo- 
cratic shooting that I ever, indulged in, but it*was-'a dan- 
gerous luxury if health was at all considered. 
Wild animals prowl around' the woods, but notHing in 
that line that a man need be afraid of. There was a strip 
of cleared land along the railroad above our house, and 
one day I was anxiously trying to get a shot at a new and 
desirable bird, when a tiger (as they call them) sprang out 
of the bushes on the other side and got a goat for a din- 
ner from a herd that were feeding close to the bushes. 1 
ran over as fast as possible and could hear sounds that 
were evidently not coming from a healthy goat but a few 
feet from me; but as I had only birdshot in my gun I 
did not care to interfere with his repast. The living mem- 
bers of the flock of goats ran as if a pack of wolves were 
at their heels as far as I could see them. 
Another time I was sketching in the woods on the slop- 
ing side of a hill that was almost clear of underbrush when' 
I heard a distant growl. In a few rjj.inutes it grew louder 
and continued to grow louder until it seemed to come 
from a dense jungle just below me; but as their "tigers" 
are never anxious to make a man's acquaintance, I sat 
still and waited developments. In a few minutes he ap- 
peared to be going off the other way. 
While at this place I met with an incident that made 
me wish old bloody Spain at the bottom of the deep blue 
sea. Some natives came one day and lassoed a cow and 
then lashed her head up against a tall palm tree before our 
horse and left her tlicre six or seven days in a broiling 
sun v.'ithout a mouthful to eat or a drop of water, and not 
one of us dared to interfere under penalty of being 
buL hered. It is to improve the meat! and is a custom 
ha - led down from the bloodthirsty, cruel Spaniard, and 
will continue to be handed down through generations yet 
to come. My hostess said that a cow with a little calf was 
tied up near the house one day, and when the owner came 
the cow, being naturally solicitous about the calf, made 
some demonstration that he did not like, when he got a 
heavy club and beat her nearly to death; but the woman 
knew the consequences of any attempt to interfere with 
the brute. 
Every South American republic is crusted over with 
ju£:t such Spanish cruelty and ignorance, no advance hav- 
ing been made since Spain owned them; and yet there 
are thoughtless beings who are heaping anathemas on our 
country for liberating a few of their miserable victims. 
What would be thought of an attempt to establish an S. P. 
C. .'\. in a South Atnerican town? Didymus. 
Si. Augustine, Fla , Sept. 12. 
In the Pawnee Country. 
Pawnee, Oklahoma Tet^ritory, June 15, 1898.— Editor 
Forest and Stream: In my letter to you last autumn from 
the Omaha Indian Agency in Nebraska, I spoke about 
our trip from the South across the country which our 
people — the Pawnees — once owned, and over which they 
roamed for generations. 
It was one of our desires to visit once more the coun- 
try where we were born and raised. I spoke to you in my 
other letter of visiting the place where I was born on the 
south side of the Platte River, opposite Fremont, Neb., 
and of visiting Pah-hoc-co (bluff in ther, water), that 
mysterious place where the spiritual animals are supposed 
to live— where the Pawnee people used to worship the 
Great Spirit through these animals. To this day the Paw- 
nees talk about this place and hold it in great reverence, 
because they say it was the head lodge over all other 
lodges of spiritual animals. 
My mother used to tell how after the Pawnees had made 
a treaty .with the Government and had accepted for the 
first time a reservation upon the Loup River, they moved 
from lower Nebraska on to their new reservation. I was 
then about four years old, therefore do not remember the 
removal. They now built three villages— dirt lodges— be- 
tween Loup River and Beaver Creek, one mile and a half 
apart The lower one was the. biggest, the upper one the 
smallest, consisting of only twelve lodges on a high blufif 
overlooking both valleys and the lower villages. Big 
Spotted Horse, my uncle, was the chief of this small 
band. It was the second year, I think, after the Pawnees 
moved here that their old enemies, the Sioux, came down 
in great numbers and attacked this small village on the 
bluffs. I can just remember it as if it were a dream. It 
is the first thing in my life that I can recollect— perhaps 
it was because I was scared. Mother used to tell me I 
was then about six or seven years old. The enemy at- 
tacked the village on foot and Spotted Horse rallied his 
few warriors to fight and hold it. Among the warriors was 
my father. The women cheered the men on to battle with 
brave words and war songs; but as the sound of the war 
whoops, the war whistles and the reports of the guns in- 
creased and the women saw one or two Pawnee warriors 
killed, they thought the battle was going against them, 
and, determining to save the children, took to flight and 
ran out of the village and down the bluff into the bottom 
toward the first main village. Mother had my sister, 
about three years old, on her back and me by the hand on 
foot runnin.g by her side. She said that soon I com- 
menced to tire and that I told her to throw away sister 
and put me on her back. Years afterward she used to 
speak about this jokingly, and would say that if she had 
to throw away either child it would have been me, because 
I was a boy and would grow up to fight the battles for our 
tribe against our enemies and perhaps be kdled anyway. 
The Sioux could have overpowered or passed on either 
side of the few Pawnee warriors at the village and have 
overtaken the women and children and massacred _ them ; 
but because they saw the Pawnee warriors coming in 
large numbers from the lower villages, they also took an 
opposite direction from us and began to retreat toward a 
canon or ravine, where they had left their ponies. The 
Pawnees fallowed them up and succeeded in killing three 
Sioux, the Pawnees having lost four warriors, being all 
from Spotted Horses' band; but the little village was 
saved. Spotted Horse then decided to move to the first 
main village— that of the Skidi band— of which he 
finally became the head chief. 
Spotted Horse was kriown both to Indians and whites 
as one of the greatest chiefs of the Pawnees. Among the 
Indians, before he became the he?d chief of one band, he 
was one of their successful warriors, going with his war- 
riors into an enemy's country and defeating them and 
bringing home as trophies scalps and ponies, and so dry- 
ing up the tears of those who had lost their relatives or 
friends by these very enemies, for this was their custom. 
Among' the white- people 'he was known as a great peace 
chief. He carried to his grave scars received from his 
own people in defense of the white men who were cross- 
ing the Pawnee country, and he induced his people to 
accept the ways of civilization. This chief was killed some 
time about 1864 by his old enemies, the Sioux or Chey- 
ennes, on the Platte River above old Fort Kearney, Neb. 
He and two of his men were scouting for buffalo for his 
people, and while far from camp were attacked by their 
enemies. The chief and his two men, now fighting on 
foot, succeeded in reaching the river. While they were 
crossing on the ice over to a small wooded island their 
enemies, not wishing to follow them into the timber, fired 
their guns at them from the shore and the chief received 
his mortal wound, dying in camp 'a day or two afterward. 
The military authorities, upon hearing this, took his body 
and buried it at the fort with military honors. Thus end- 
ed the lite of a great man. 
In my visit of last July (1898) at the last home of the 
Pawnees on the Loup River, in Nebraska, I stopped at 
many historical places, remembered in my younger days. 
Where the two main villages stood not a trace remains 
except five round mounds where once the lodges stood 
twenty-five years ago. On a little knoll was one of the 
burying grounds. Plere are buried my only two sisters, 
who died over thirty years ago. All about are corn fields, 
and there where the Indians buried their dead it is the 
same— corn and wheat fields. Over to the west on the 
bluffs, where Spotted Horse's village stood, is a pasture. 
Here the mounds of the lodges show plainly. On this 
bluff, as well as on those on the north side of Beaver 
Creek, north of where the Agency stood, the Indians 
buried their prominent men. What few graves I saw had 
been dug up and robbed, I think, of the few trinkets if 
any the dead had on. 
The old people of the tribe ^y that their forefathers 
told them that the Skidi band used to live here once on a 
time, now over 400 years ago. Their words are verified 
by the round mounds to be seen all along these very- 
bluffs, where the lodges once stood. There was a large 
round mound in the bottom just under the bluff, where 
they say the Skidi band used to make their medicine and 
once in a while sacrifice a captured enemy to Tirawa 
(Great Spirit) asking for his blessings. This mound has 
been ploughed up. As one stands here on this bluff over- 
looking the surrounding country, he sees to the north of 
Beaver Creek, where the Agency stood, Genoa, a town 
of about 1,500 or 1,800 inhabitants. Yonder stands the 
Genoa Industrial Indian School for the further advance- 
ment of Indian civilization; part of the old building is the 
very one where with other Pawnee children I first learned 
my A B Cs. There up the valley of the Beaver and here 
on the Loup the iron horse goes puffing along; every- 
where are farm houses, corn and wheat fields, the work of 
civilization; but in the midst of all these beautiful sur- 
roundings my thoughts go back to the time when our 
people lived here last, when they were many and happy. 
I remember how they were removed to the far South, 
where under the changed condition of climate and from 
wild life into civilization, they have decreased to a few and 
a sad people. In their new homes the Government forced 
allotments on the Pawness, and by flattery and threats 
forced thein to sell their last surplus lands, thus cutting oS 
the unborn from their land and creating new conditions 
and repsonsibilities before they were prepared to accept 
them, Alas, what a sad history for the Pawnee, and in- 
deed the Indian, since he came in contact with civiliza- 
tion. It is not denied that civilization accomplishes^ its 
great results; but what a cost it has been to the Indian, 
especially the Pawnee. It is a fact, and known as history, 
that the Pawnees were once a proud and powerful people, 
owning and roaming over a wide country. They say that 
before the white men came they knew no smallpox, chol- 
era and other loathesome diseases — they knew no whisky. 
These and other changed conditions which came with the 
white men have caused more deaths and a greater de- 
crease in the tribe than all their wars in former times. 
Thus, circumstances, destiny, oi" whatever it is, have 
placed the Indian where he now is. 
After seeing our last homes, where we were born and 
raised, and visiting some kind friends we have in that 
country, we bade them and the country a last good-by. 
Harry Coons. 
Why Don't You Go? 
All the afternoon I have been sitting on the broad porch 
of a very civilized hotel, wishing I was back again in the 
country of the salmon and the moose, where one can live 
the life of a man and be deeply thankful for every breath 
he takes. Noav I have been driven indoors by the chatter 
of a returned volunteer officer who is thrilling a group of 
girls with the story of his suffering in camp somewhere, 
being compelled to eat pork and beans and hardtack, and 
sleep in a tent, without even a cot under him, I have a 
great desire to kick this young man, I do not regard tent 
life as a hardship. Perhaps I should not be angry, be- ■ 
cause my camping is never enforced, and I can select my 
own tenting ground. 
To my mind there is only one real camping country, 
and that is the great wilderness of the North. Wherever 
I go I carry in my valise a big map of Canada, and when 
my mind is disturbed I spread out the map of that earthly 
paradise and my heart flies away. Jike a wild duck in the 
spring, leaving every trouble behind. Land of the sun- 
shine and the snow, how big and splendid and sweet 
you are, my sweetheart! Surely the God of all the earth 
never made any other country like you. After one has 
seen Canada, it's like having kissed the prettiest girl you ' 
ever saw. She spoils everj'body else for you. 
Devote ten years to the wilderness from Labrador to 
Lake Superior, and you will never care much for any , 
other place on earth. You will only wish you had a thou- 
sand years to live, so you could really see the rest of that 
country. Nobody can tell you about it. You must see 
it for yourself. You must wake up in the tent and;he^r 
the salmon jump in the Mingan. You must drift down 
the dead water in the pitchy night, in the heart of the 
New Brunswick woods, and hear the bull moose roar 
and grunt, and rush at each other like devils, till all that. 
