FOk^ST AMD STREAM. 
488 
with which nature has endowed it with everything to 
captivate the senses. But the true woodsman, or they 
who are forced to economize and whose knowledge of 
woodcraft fits them to care for themselves, will eschew 
guides as far as possible. 1 say as far as possible be- 
cause a provision of iVIaine's game law compels everj- 
party that visits the State for the purpose' of fashing or 
hunting, to employ at least one guide. The typical Maine 
guide IS a noble specimen of manhood, as well as an 
artist in his line, but there is a pleasure in doing every- 
thing for one's self which those who employ guides fail 
to realize. There is no better test of what there is of a 
man than to strip him of the conventionalities and acces- 
sories of civilization and leave him to his own resources 
in the heart of a wilderness like that of Maine? Some 
of those whom the world esteems great and wise would 
starve forthwith, while many of those who live and die 
unknown to fame would *'wax and grow fat." There is 
one denizen of the Maine woods that stands pre-eminent 
to all others which claim the attention of sportsmen. Pre- 
eminent in size, pre-eminent in the uncouth grandeur of 
his gigantic bulk, pre-eminent in the time, patience, labor 
and skill involved in his capture, and pre-eminent in 
power to thrill the steadiest nerves and cause the blood to 
flow in quick throbbing beats like quicksilver in the 
veins. 
• The sportsman who has not confronted a bull moose in 
his native wilds has missed an experience which is well 
worth the best year of his life. I speak advisedly, for I 
have been there. Imagine if you can a huge bundle of 
muscular power, reared on great stilt-like legs to a height 
of 7 feet, with bristling mane, and eyes which gleam 
viciously from beneath broad, massive antlers which 
sway with the huge head 8 to lo feet above the ground. 
Imagine yotirself standing, if you have strength to 
stand, in front of this frightful apparition, and only a 
, few yards distant, with the knowledge that if you don't 
kill him he will very likely kill you, your heart throbbing 
so painfully that your ears fairly ache with its pulsations, 
the blood racing through your veins like molten lead, the 
sweat starting from every pore in your skin, \yhilc your 
brain labors in vain to regain control of the wild tumuli 
which possesses you. Imagine all this if you can, and then 
multiply the sensations wliich it calls up two or three 
million times, .more or less, and you will have a result 
which approaches the reality in magnitude. The man who 
sends every bullet straight to the mark under such con- 
ditions as these should be excused if he brags a little 
about it afterward. He should also be excused if he does 
some very foolish things when he sees the awe-inspiring 
monster collapse under the paralyzing shocks of the well- 
directed bullets— i. e., dropping his rifle and trying to hug 
himself. Attempting to turn summersaults which only 
land him on his head. Trying to shout the great news to 
everybody within a hundred miles, and only succeeding 
in making a poor little squeak somewhere down in his 
throat. Trying— but let us drop the curtain. The ethics 
of sportsmanship forbid me to disclose all the absurd 
things even the most sedate and dignified of our craft will 
do on such an occasion. 
During the fall of 1897 I visited the headwaters of the 
Penobscot and St. John rivers, in company with James 
Arkell, Jr., of New York city, and Charles Kipp, of Still- 
water, N. Y., and again in 1898 I went with Mr. Kipp to 
THE BtG MOOSE—CONGRATULATIONS. 
the headwaters of the St. John. We were very success- 
ful on both occasions. We got on both trips five bull 
moose and one bull caribou. The caribou and three of 
the moose heads were exceptionally fine ones, one of the 
latter, killed by Kipp, being a record breaker. 
The subtle charm of moose hunting, like that of court- 
ship, can only be derived, from experience. It cantiot be 
described. The most vivid word picture must necessarily 
fall far short of conveying a correct impression of the 
realitv. Fully sensible of this fact. I shall nevertheless 
attempt to describe some of the incidents of these trips. 
Our guides on this trip were Robert Elliott, John Henry 
and Josiah Stafford. Our equipment was two Canadian 
model canoes, tent, Kenwood' sleeping bags, provisions 
for a four weeks' trip, and the usual amount of culinary 
articles used in camp life. Kipp and myself carried .45-90 
Marlin repeaters. Arkell was armed with a .30-40 Win- 
chester. Our route from Jackston Station, on the C. P. 
R. R., was by wagon, twenty-eight miles north over a 
good road, to Mrs.^Rainey's homelike resort on the banks 
of the Du Loup River. Here our baggage was loaded on 
wooden jumpers, and on a bright and bracing October 
morning we started on a thirty-mile tramp to the head- 
waters of the West Branch of the Penobscot River. And 
what miles they were. A common saying is that distance 
in the woods is measured with a bob-sleigh without count- 
ing the tongue. I think those miles were measured with 
a foot rule hitched to a loo-foot rope, and the rope was 
not counted. Later in the hunt, when we were trained 
down, or in woodsman's parlance, when we had got our 
woods legs on, these miles had no terror for us. 
Several days were spent at our camp on the Penobscot 
in exploring the surrounding country to a distance of 
eight or twelve miles from. camp. On one of our excur- 
sions my guide, Jack Henry, -and myself, extended our in- 
vestigations to Lee Bog, or Abnetic Bog, which is located 
on the Penobscot some twelve miles above our camp. Lee 
Bog is almost a circle in form and nearly a mile in diarn- 
eter. The Penobscot runs, or rather oozes, through its 
center, the water on top, 6 to 20 inches deep, the mud 
underneath, 600 feet deep, perhaps more. On either side 
of the river the mud is covered by a network of roots, 
which in turn supports a thick covering of moss and a 
few stunted shrubs, the whole lying like a skin on top of 
the soft mass, except where it is traversed by a lagoon of 
pure, unadulterated mud. These lagoons are stretches 
where the skin has not yet formed. My guide manned the 
paddle in the stern of the canoe, while I occupied the 
shooter's position in the bow, and as we emerged from 
the forest and looked over the flag expanse of this bog, I 
at once discovered an old cow caribou just walking out on 
HOMEWARD BOUXD — A SHORT STOP OX THE BANK OF THE 
QUALM. 
the bog to feed. She was followed at a short distance by 
her calf and an old bull. They were nearly half a mile 
from us, and. about 300 yards from the river. A low 
range of brush partly screened our approach, and we were 
soon at the shore opposite them. There I left the canoe 
and crawled toward them on hands and knees, keeping 
a small shrub between myself and the old bull. A short 
distance from the canoe I came to a lagoon about 12 feet 
across. I tried the mud with my foot and found it 
soft as water, and I could see no end to the lagoon in 
either direction, and so placing my foot forward on the 
.skin as far as it afforded any support I threw myself for- 
ward flat on the mud as far as possible, at the 
same time pitching the Marlin across on the skin of the 
other side. My swimming in that mud was very much 
like a. fly swimming in molasses, and I made about the 
same kind of progress that the frog did when it tried to 
jump out of a well by jumping up one foot and falling 
back two. The guide at last started forward to rescue me 
from what seemed to him certain death. However, be- 
fore he reached me I got safely across and soon reached 
the small shrub, which was about 100 yards from where 
the caribou were still feeding undisturbed. Once, twice, 
three times I raised the rifle to my shoulder before I had 
recovered mv nerve sufficiently to hold the sights steadily 
on the old bull's shoulder. At the crack of the rifle he 
started \vith that spasmodic motion which is a certain 
indication of a fatal shot, trotted rapidly round in a lialf- 
circle. and then went down like a stone at tbc second 
shot. The old cow looked up at the first shot, trotted a 
few rods at the second, and then looked fixedly at the 
strange mud-colored apparition which had risen from the 
beg so close to her. Instinctively I brf)ught the sights to 
boar on her shoulder. "Oh. Bos.sy. how easily I could kill 
you." But T refrained, and told her to go and to take her 
promising otispring with her. She went. I had heard a 
good many tales of the great speed of the woodland 
caribou, but was disposed to regard some of them as 
Munchausen yarns, but after witnessing the flight of 
those caribou across that bog, I am prepared to believe 
anything I hear on the subject. They just spUt cracks in 
the atmosphere :md were gone. The guide said I listened 
to see if T could hear them whizz after they had dis- 
appeared. 
From our camp on the Penobscot Ave carried our canoes 
and a small quantity of provisions across the divide to 
St. John's Pond, on the headwaters of the Baker 
Lake branch of the St. John River, and here 
we got our first moose. We discovered the fresh 
tracks of a big bull shortly after we reached 
the pond, and hunted him carefully for two days 
without success. On the afternoon of the third day 
Stafford and Kipp were making preparations for continu- 
ing our journey down the river to Baker Lake, Arkell 
was reading a book in which he was deeply interested, and 
so I said to Jack, "Let ns try once more for the old 
ijull." As we were starting I called to Arkell to come 
Avith us. Hastilv catching up his rifle he said. "All 
right. I'll fetch mv book and read while you do the 
.shooting." We had gone only a few rods in the canoe. 
Jack in the stern. Arkell amidships, and I in the bow. when 
"the guide exclaimed, "I can see a moose now, away up 
there at the head of the pond." Leveling ray glass in the 
direction indicated. I saw my first bull moose. And what 
a sight for an enthusiastic hunter. The slanting rays of 
the sun glistened on his massive antlers, and his gigantic 
form loomed up in the distance black as night. He was 
feeding on the margin of the pond nearly two miles from 
us. A light breeze was blowing directly from us toward 
him. No chance to flank him, for he was at the extreme 
end of the pond. No chance to attack him from the 
rear, as he was protected in that quarter by an impassable 
morass. The case looked hopeless. The plan which 
offered the best chance for success was to head the canoe 
directly toward him, put every pound of our muscle on the 
paddles and try to outrun our wind. 
Laying down mv rifle I picked up the bow paddle and 
away we went, Arkell now held the glass. The book was 
forgotten and lay in ^ crumpled heap, on the bottom of 
the canoe. From time to time he told the sweating 
paddlers what the moose was doing. Soon we were near 
enough to see the moose plainly with our naked eyes. At 
the distance of about 100 rods he suddenly threw up his 
head. Our wind had reached him, and laying down 
the paddle I hastily picked up my rifle, and as the moose 
turned toward the forest the concert opened. The vicious 
snap of the .30-40 alternated rapidly with the heavy crack 
of the .45-90, until a dozen shots had been fired. The 
moose had gained the forest, and I turned and looked into 
.■'\.rkeirs eyes and read the disappointment which words 
could not express. The guide tried to comfort us by 
saying we had done well to stay on top of the cranky canoe 
during the scrimmage, and that he thought we had hit the 
moose. We could find no blood on the trail, but it was 
decided to follow him. 
One of us had to stay at the pond to signal the others, 
and as I had killed a caribou I swalloAved my desire to 
go with the guide and told Arkell to go. The minutes 
dragged slowly by, while I watched deer coming and 
going from the pond. One passed by me within a few 
yards, unconscious of my presence. The sun sank be- 
hind the forest crowned hills in the west, and the shadoAVS 
of night were beginning to creep over the darkening 
waters of the pond, when away back in the forest the sharji 
whip-like report of the .,30-40 rang out twice in quick suc- 
cession, the echoes died aAvay and all was still again. It 
was a very tired but a very happy boy (.A-rkeU's seven- 
teenth birthday came only a fcAv days before he killed this 
moose ) whoFC hand I grasped that night in hearty con- 
gratulation, Avhen at about 10 o'clock he got back to the 
pond and told me the old bull lay "hors du combat" in a 
little stream where he turned to make his last fight Avith 
his relentless pursuers. It Avas then that I learned that the 
shot which took the bull off his feet was the last cartridge 
Arkell had Avith him. The guide had nothing in the shape 
of a weapon but a pocket knife. I don't like to think of 
what might have happened had the boy's aim been less 
true. 
The next day we went across the pond lo fetch out the 
trophy. It Avas a fine head. There Avere twenty points. 
The antlers were very nicely mated and had a spread of 
50 inches. The coat Avas beautiful, the bell a foot long. 
Hurrah for the boy! We found when we skinned the 
moose that both of us had put our brands upon him at the 
pond. _ My bullet struck liim in the thigh and ranged for- 
ward into his stomach. Arkell's had hit him squarely in 
the center of the neck. This shot \vould have been a 
fatal one had it not been that the high A-elocity and long 
flight of the bullet created friction sufficient to melt its 
lead, and on striking this had gone out of the jacket and 
was found in splashes in the muscles of the neck. This 
shot disclosed to me the greatest objection I have dis- 
co'/ered to the high velocity rifles. I got another moose, a 
fifteen-pointer, at Baker Lake. We saw only one caribou 
and two moose on this trip, all of Avhich avc took into 
camp with us. 
\Ve returned to our old camp on the Penobscot, via 
Baker Lake Bog, carry Brook, Lee Bog and the Penobscot 
River, reaching camp on Oct. 29. Our supply of provi- 
sions gave out on the 17th, and for tAvo days we had 
cheered our empty stomachs Avith promises of good things 
when Ave should reach our camp, but here Ave met with a 
serious disappointment. On leaving this camp Ave had left 
CHARLEY SIZING UP HIS BIG OXE. 
Elliott in charge, with instructions to have the teams and 
provi.sions there to meet us on our return, hut we fqund 
no Elliott, no teams, no provisions, and fifteen more Aveary 
miles between us and something to eat. However, we 
were noAV trained doAvn into excellent condition to over- 
come dilificulties of this nature, and noon of the next 
day found us at Bradstreet's supply camp at Dole Pond, 
, and the cook — good felloAV — doing his level best to fill 
. us up once more. That dinner is a memory not soon to be 
forgotten. It almost repaid us for our three days of fast- 
ing. On the 31st Ave reached Rainey's and sent in the 
teams for our outfit and trophies. 
Our trip in 1898, after reaching Rainey's, was by a 
different route and to a different hunting ground than 
those of the year previous. From Rainey's Ave Avent 
northeast through the parishes of St. Come, St. Prosper. 
St. Rose and St. Lejustine, to the head of canoe naviga- 
tion on the Dadquame River, a tributary of the NorthAvest 
Branch of the St. John, Profiting from our experience of 
the year previous we took but one guide, Josiah Stafford. 
. Avith us. As Kipp had been overAvorked in his business 
and Avishing to take things easy, and as I preferred to 
"paddle my OAvn canoe," the question as to which of us 
should receive the services of this guide was quickly and 
satisfactorily settled. I took with me on this trip a 12- 
foot folding canvas canoe, and I mu.=t confess its carrying 
capacity and durability Avas a surprise to me. Any one 
who has taken an extended canoe trip on the ranid rocky 
riA-ers of Maine can judge of the qualities of this canoe 
Avhcn I say that it came out of the ordeal of scA'enty 
miles of pounding on rocks and scraping over sandbars 
without a puncture, and but little the worse for wear. In 
addition to my- weight, about 190 pounds, it was loaded 
