322 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Oct. 21, i8gg. 
A Communication of the Jungle 
Lodge. 
(Not from any one Samoan, nor in any one day spent 
far alicld in the iiiountaiu whither the chance of the rod 
and gun called me, did I learn these arcana of the wild- 
wood. Here a little and there a little, in forest camp 
or by brink of mountain streams, from one and from 
another of my wild companions, I grew to learn the 
mysteries of the jungle. The scenic setting is my own; 
the English is also mine; yet I have essaj'ed to render as 
faithfully as I could the words that were told me. For 
the facts I am indebted to my faithful companions of 
many a forest day, to Laulu and to Tanoa, and to the 
graceful young Talolo, who led me through many wood- 
land paths.) 
Wk ai'e the brethren here of the forest and of the 
stream. Under waving branches and at the brink of moun- 
tain brooks we have learned the arcana of the wildwood. We 
need no sword of tilers, for the woodland paths are free 
to all who choose their secluded ways. We are free of 
nature's secret work; wc are the lodge of the wilderness 
duly constituted. Therefore this of all others is the place 
to report the communication of the lodge of the jungle. 
The place of meeting is well set. The ollicers and the 
fellows of the craft arc coming. Far in the eastern sweep 
of the mystery of the broad South Sea is the sunrise; 
in its distant riddle of the west is the sunset; behind 
us the dark and northern stretch of ocean; before us 
awaiting our further effort is the trackless jungle of the 
mountain. Over sharp blocks of basalt, spewed long ago 
from the peaks when Samoa was yet ablaze with vol- 
canoes, the narrow path leads on the knife-edge of the 
mountain spurs. On either hand the cool depths of green 
and humid shade of sharply carved valleys hide the dash- 
ing streams, whose roar resounds through the air now as 
a bold outburst of sound, again as the merest chatter and 
faintest murmur from the homes of the fishes. Here a 
giant banyan covers half an acre with its spreading ex- 
panse of monster branches, each borne up by supporting 
trunks, which enter the soil and become new trees them- 
selves. In its vistas and arcades grows the rich grass 
which makes a master's carpet of velvety turf. In the 
inmost tabernacle rises the massive lieart trunk of the 
colony of growth, a trunk flanked and buttressed by 
planes and slabs of timber standing on edge from the 
parent trunk. The rocky padi swings aside to lead the 
brethren of the craft to rest and refreshment under its 
grateful shade. From untrodden depths of the waste 
of woods a tiny stream babbles into hearing and forms 
a wee pool, where tlie fishes leap. The lodge is set be- 
neath the tree, and by the laughing mountain brook. 
Its obligation is a simple one, and easy to remember 
and to fulfill; brethren of the wilderness shall take with 
them from the mother lodge of all the world not so much 
as a single one of its living creatures, to be sold to un- 
initiate men. All else they may snare and take for their 
own sport, with net and spear, and rod and gnu, and 
any gin they please. The one watchword in every 
tongue of man and beast and bird is the ancient word 
"good hunting." 
The brethren gather to the opening of the lodge. 
From the sea a small party is toiling upward, glad to 
rest beneath the banyan. In the party are Samoans, to 
whom the jungle is home. Just as soon as they have left 
the roads of Apia and the marks of foreign settlement, the 
death and taming of the wildwood, they have hung about 
their necks fragrant garlands of the flowers of the frangi- 
panni and the moso'oi, the rich ylang-ylang. Every bare 
head is girt with a leaf of the wild ginger, the 'avapui, and 
its .spicy fragrance liangs in the air. Behind each ear 
is tucked away a brilliant blossom of the hibiscus, with 
its flaming red. Thus the brethren of the jungle lodge 
prepare themselves for the communication. With them 
is one white face, a Papalangi, one free of the wilder- 
aess from the snows of the north to the liana tangle of 
the equator. Apia is left behind; with it is left behind 
the cares of a world that knows not the woodland life — 
we are free brethren of the wilderness in the mother lodge 
of the world. At the banyan shade we find the lodge 
room swept and garnished, awaiting our rest from labor. 
Its smooth carpet is hemmed in by a wall of lush herbs, 
which are good for the creatures of the wilderness, good 
for food, good for scent, good to look upon. Burdens 
are laid aside, weary limbs stretch out for repose upon 
the turf. Thirsty lips seek the pool where -fishes play. 
Here is a sign to test the brother of the wilderness. 
Watch Him drink and then you will know if he be in- 
deed a brother under the one obligation. He does not 
bend down to the water; he seeks no leaf to carry the 
fluid to his parched Hps. The true brother stands at the 
margin, and cupping his hand scoops the stream up to his 
lips, sending it flying through the- air in a sparkling 
curve, until it vanishes in his mouth; it is an old sign; 
it was honored when the world was young. The initiates 
of the wilderness recognize the sign of brotherhood. 
"When doughty Col. Gideon wanted brave men for a for- 
lorn hope he set them at the stream to drink, and be- 
cause he wanted brave and wholesome souls he chose the 
brethren of the wilderness, who established themselves 
as free of the craft by the way tliey slaked their thirst. 
It is in the Bible for all to read; it is clear only to 
those who work the wood degrees. 
While the brethren rest another brotbcr comes that 
way. His bare feet make no sound upon the stony path; 
his body sets no crackling bush agog. Silent in the hum 
of nature the brother makes his way down from the 
mountain heights which we are soon to tread, Without 
a note of warning he stands within the lodge, prepared 
to labor with his brethren in the mother lodge between 
the valley and the mountain top. He proves his right 
to labor with the brethren. Were he to meet them on 
the onen beach he would give a cheery greeting of 
"Talofa, ali'i." love to you, and he would be answered, 
"Talofa lava," love indeed. But in the jungle with his 
brethren he gives the true and ancient hailing sign as 
he stands £it the edge of the master's carpet and listens 
to the rippling of the water, which he may not touch until 
he has established his brotherhood. "Ua sao le vao," 
he cries, "free is the wildwood." And the brethren rec- 
ognize his claini to brotherhood, and every brother for 
himself gives back the ancient accepted answer, "Ta 
fia ola," "there let mc live." That is all there is of ritual, 
as simple as nature herself, but a pretty idea of savage 
folk, is it not? 
What food there is is spread upon clean leaves, and 
then is shared to all alike, the brethren of the jungle 
seating themselves in order on cushions of the great 
leaves of the mountain palm, whose trunks grow in 
shapely columns from the rocky soil. When food is 
dispatched, even to the last item of dripping joints of 
sugar cane and the spicy stems of succulent herbs, which 
await the plucking on every side at the edge of the shade 
of tlie spreading boughs of the banyan, then cigarettes 
are made of the sun-cured leaves of the native tobacco, 
wrapped in the soft, dried leaf of the banana, and fire is 
made in jungle fashion- — ^by the brisk rubbing of dry 
sticks. When the pungent wreaths of blue smoke begin 
to float in the breathless atmosphere the craft recount the 
tales of the wood and stream. 
While the talk passes idly from one to another and 
all is still save the hum of liquid island speech, the 
younger brethren of the forest shyly glide upon tlie sight, 
the serving brethren of the lodge. In the pool, where the 
babbling stream is hemmed between great rocks and 
forms a cjuiet backwater, the gaily colored fish come to 
the shining surface and blow tiny bubbles, that slowly 
float down stream until, caught in the flow of the brook, 
they break at the sheeny edge, where the water flows 
over the containing wall of rock, or, seized in some 
gentle eddy, float backward to the brink and join the 
other bubbles, which mark the breath of other fishes. Or 
as the dancing insects flit above the watery surface, the 
more adventurous fishes leap in quick pursuit, and falling 
back Avith a flash of color and a gentle splash, mark 
the placid surface with concentric rings of ripples. At 
the edge, where the grasses and other herbs dip their 
leaf tips in the pool, the dusky crayfish dart from rock 
to rock, dun flashes in the spots of sunlight, never daring 
far from the protection of the stones. 
Overhead there is cooing of the most frequent bird 
of these tropical forests, the manutangi, the bird that 
cries, the friend and pet of every Samoan woodsman, 
never killed hy any chance of hunting, but often taken 
to hang at home in the thatched huts for the pleasure of 
the people, to delight them with its cooing from the glint 
of dawn until the set of sun. More rarely is heard 
the note of the lupe, the South Sea Island pigeon. It 
may be in the very summit of the banyan itself, but its 
note sounds always far away and faint upon the listening 
ear, such a tone as though some skillful drummer far 
away were beating the long roll on a deep-toned drum. 
To hunt it in the old days before the gun was known was 
in itself the highest secret of the craft; to know its habits 
and its secret lurking places, to. watch the whole night 
through and to lure its daybreak flight to the waiting nets, 
where none but the surest eye and cunning hand could 
intercept it as it dashed across the , view. The sly rail 
dodges with a quick hop and skip into sight upon the 
green turf of the jungle lodge, and dodges back again in shy 
surprise. Time and time again it runs further and further 
into open sight; it gains confidence in the idle men, and 
by little and little makes its way with little side steps 
and halts and eager runs until it comes to the remnant 
of the meal and satisfies its hunger with a constant 
accompaniment of Httlc chirps and fluttering of its 
stunted wings. If there chance to be a gap in the green 
ceiling of the banyan branches overhead the watchful 
eye may now and then spy the lofty passage of the giant 
tropic bird, the tava'e, the swiftest in flight of all feath- 
ered folk, thinking nothing in its sweep from sea to sea 
of scaling the mountain summit jutting into the upper 
air. This mighty courser of the sea and sky is in high 
regard with this island people; he has the gift of the 
fair wind for the course of their canoes; by prayer as he 
passes overhead they may obtain the favoring breezes. 
The turf bends and sways as though the winds, unseen 
and unfelt, were reaching down into this silent shade. 
Every movement of the sp,ears of grass betrays the noise- 
less gliding of the lizards, which chase along the moist 
soil and on the trunks of the banyan in pursuit of their 
insect food. The eye may catch them in their quick 
passage, but that is more than the most agile hand may 
accomplish. Always close to the reclining men, they are 
swift to elude the most cautious movement for their 
capture. Just out of reach they rest on some bending 
stalk of grass, 6in, of dark blue length, gleaming and 
watchful eyes, darting tongues, a wire spring for agUity 
when they take fright at any untoward movement. In 
the forest tales in the jungle lodge this blue lizard, the 
pili, is credited with the ancestry of the chiefly stock. 
He married in the beginning of time the fair daughter of 
the King of Manu'a, and bred the chiefs of the several 
islands; the very race of kings derives its power from this 
early lizard god. Even in the incandescent crater of 
Kilauea on Hawaii, thousands of miles away across the 
summer sea, it is fabled that Pili came from his Samoan 
hoine to wed with the goddess of the living fire, with 
Pele, who sits in the flame of the Halema'uma'u, sur- 
rounded by her sisters, the Hioakas, More agile stfll 
is a tiny gecko lizard, the mo'o, scarcely as long as the 
smallest finger of a man, red and brown glints of quiver- 
ing movement as they glide in and out of vision, and 
adventure dizzy leaps from the tree trunks to tlie thick 
grass beyond. Still closer companions of the waiting men 
are the threadlike leeches of this soggy soil. It keeps 
one busy plucking them from the flesh, as they measure 
their crawling over the body, stretching inch by inch 
as the common measuring worms progress. The Samo- 
ans have the idea that the leech is one of the risks of the 
forest; that they do no harm to the skin, but if a man 
sleeps out of nights he will wake in the morning to find 
the leeches at his eyes, where they hang for two days at 
a time, blinding the sufferer, yet not to be removed ex- 
cept at the risk of destroying the sight. 
This jungle woodcraft takes note of other forest things 
— things that are never really seen, but are always a dread 
evil to be watched against. In the deepest valleys are 
cannibal slaves who have run away from the plantations, 
black savages from the wilder islands kidnapped by the 
white men and set to forced and irksome toil. Winning 
by some lucky stroke their freedom, they form camps 
in the bush and issue by stealth to maraud the planta- 
tions of their peaceful neighbors, and to kill a man for 
food if they can catch him unawares. Samoans, when 
they go to the forest, have no liking for these "mca 'uli." 
the "black things," as they call them, but rather supreme 
dread of their dangerous attacks. 
Nor are runaway wild men the only thing to dread. 
The mountains are full of malevolent spirits, the "aitu," 
fierce natures ready to wound and destroy mankind. 
Chief of these is Nifoloa, who has a set of long tusks, 
with which he bites the courage of the bravest and sends 
them pining home to' die, and without avail of medicine. 
There is Nafanua, who lurks beside the paths, and hiding 
behind a tree thrusts his spear into the back of the pass- 
ing hunter; he feels a sharp twinge of pain, and he goes 
home to bid his friends good-by and die beyond the 
hope of cure. There is So'oalo, the ghost of a chief who 
died a century ago, a great netter of pigeons in his day 
when he worked the woodland degrees, but now his 
malice intervenes to drive away the pigeon before the 
'hunter at dawn. Another to be dreaded is a lady ghost; 
she appears in the guise of the fairest of maidens, and 
only to the bravest of the young chiefs, who straight- 
way sicken and die for love of her. 
But the period of rest and refreslirncut has gone by; 
the work of the wood remains; it is time for the' lodge to 
rise, and the brethren to resume their operative tasks. 
Those who are bound inland gird themselves to essay 
the mountain trail; the other wayfarer sets his face down, 
hill and seaward. The communication of the jungle 
lodge is closed; the last words are the simple ritual of the 
savage woods, "ua sao le vao," "the wihlwood is free," 
and back floats through the dreamy air the accepted 
Jeply, *'i:a fia olay" 'Hhcre let me live." 
Llewella Pierce Churchill. 
In the Aroostook Country. 
I HAD been looking foward to the time when I would 
be able to leave the engrossing and perplexing office 
duties, city noises and dusty streets for the pure air and 
quiet and stillness of the woods, lakes and springs at the 
headwaters of the Aroostook River, in Maine. Aroostook 
county, which is larger in area than the Slates of Con- 
necticut and Rhode Island combined, is an ideal country 
for moose, deer, trout, togue and salmon; and owing to 
the better protection of game in Maine than in Canada, 
deer and moose are becoming more plentiful. The reader 
can form some idea of their numbers when I say that I 
have seen as many as twenty-one deer in the water at once. 
I also saw three moose, a cow, a calf and a spike bull 
feeding in the river together. 
I hear and read the many glowing reports from New 
Brunswick and other parts of eastern Canada; but to a 
person who wishes to make a two or three weeks' trip 
and who wishes to avoid red tape, expensive licenses, cus- 
tom houses, their duties and necessary bondsmen, and 
the obvious delays. I think the average sportsman would 
be much better satisfied with a trip up the Aroostook. A 
person can leave by fast express train from New York 
city at 3 P. M., travel with the most improved degree of 
comfort all the way to the northern end of the Bangor 
& Aroostook Railroad, and inside of twenty-four hours 
cast his flics in the salmon pool on the Aroostook. The 
river from Oxbow up is beautiful; the -shores are not 
mountainous, but are hilly and slopuig, and the stream 
runs rapidly. Its waters arc cold, and as the river bot- 
toms arc rock or gravel the waters are clear. A succes- 
sion pf rapid-running streams from ponds and lakes make 
the river that drains 400 square miles of forest. This vast 
region extends in a westerly direction from the Canadian 
border to Chandler and Churchill lakes and in a northcly 
direction from the East Branch of Penobscot to the Alia- 
gash Mountains. 
Our trip up the Aroostook was one of unalloyed pleas- 
ure. The weather was pleasant, the scenery was very fine, 
and moose and deer could quite frequently be seen feed- 
ing on the shores, or reaching down under the still water 
for lilypad roots, which the moose seem to be particularly 
fond of. These large roots resemble banana stcnis, from 
which the small lily vines grow, and I have heard old 
woodsmen say they had seen deer eat the big roots as 
well as the small vines and leaves that grow from I hem. 
After two hours' canoeing we reached one of William 
Atkins' camps, where wc had supper, Wc found Mr. At- 
kins everything that could be desired, as host and Hport,s- 
man. His camps, of which he has about twenty, located 
on fourteen different lakes, ponds and streams, accommo- 
date ill all about thirty persons. When we were there 
there were four ladies and sixteen gentlemen sportsmen, 
and some of the ladies could cast a flv in excellent style.' 
On the evening of our first day there, while the guide was 
gettmg fire and the supper things ready, I made a cast of 
a scarlet ibis and a brown hackle and took one salmon 
and twelve trout. We made it a rule not to keep any 
more fish from the water than we needed to cat, as avc had 
no ice — and I have never seen really good hunting or fish- 
ing where it was customary to use cracked ice. On this 
occasion we took sufficient fish to make our supper that 
evening and breakfast in the morning, as wc wished to 
make an early start up the river. After supper we sal 
around a log fire, talked of hunting and fishing incidents 
of the past and made plans for the following day. Re- 
ceding further back from the fire as the heat increased, 
my hunting companion, Frank House, remarked that an 
Indian had said. "White man make big fire and freeze to 
death; Indian make small fire, keep warm afl the time" 
We were up at daybreak, had breakfast and made an 
early start, paddhng leisurely up the still water, stopping 
occasionally to look at deer or moose feeding on the river 
bottoms. We reached the home camps at Millnockctt 
Lake before sundown, and after exchanging greetings 
with Mr. and Mrs. Atkins, we feasted on venison tender- 
loin and retired for the night. 
The log camp to which I was assigned was furnished 
with a spring bed, hair mattress and roughly built stone 
fireplace, and had a general air of comfort.^ We found log 
camps located at Beaver Ponds, Island Pond, Moose 
Pond, Chandler Brook, Millimigassett Lake, Munsangum 
Lake and Sewell Deadwater. 
Our first trip Avas made over a good trail to Beaver 
Ponds, where we arrived at noon on Sunday, and after 
lunch we paddled our canoe through this beautiful sheet 
of water, which is about one mile long and half a mile 
wide, with nme islands, of from a half acre to live acres 
