Oct. i<joo.| 
FOREST StHEAM* 
3^8 
The man was from Webster county, and as unfamiliar 
as myself with tlie country through which we were travel- 
ing. He succeeded in talking us off the right road, and 
we were eompelled to stop at a farmhouse and make in- 
quirieSi As we drew up at the gate we were received 
with a most vociferous and boisterous welcome — a bark- 
ing of dogs and- the loud haw-hee, haw-hee of a brazen- 
voiced mule. The mule stood at the barnyard gate, with 
his head thrust- far over the top rail, braying at us like 
a creature possessed. 
He was a huge black animal, seemingly all cars and 
voice. He plainly resented our presence and our ap- 
pearance, though which of us was the object of his 
derision it was impossible to tell. Somehow I felt 
myself the guilty one. My horse — but no matter. 
We obtained the desired information and rode awa}^ 
We had gone ■ only a few rods from the house, when 
we heard a loud crash behind us, and turned in time 
to see the mule leap the rickety gate, demalishing it in 
the act. He came trotting after us with a pleased, ex- 
pectant look, and \vc stopped and waited for him, 
curious to learn what his next move would be. 
W^e were not kept long in suspense. He passed on 
my companion's side of the road, and as he passed sud- 
denly wheeled and delivered a lightning like kick at the 
pony. The pony saw^ it coming, and shied in time to 
escape the brunt of the blow, which just grazed its 
rider's • leg, and having had some experience in the 
kicking line itself, immediately displayed an unlooked 
for activity and temper of its own by charging after the 
mule. The mule tarried not for the fray, but with a 
final defiant fling of his hoofs in the air. disappeared in 
the surrounding woods, there being no fences to ob- 
struct his retreat. 
Naturally we. were more than a little surprised at this 
unexpected attack, but as the ugly tempered beast 
showed no signs of returning the incident soon passed 
from our minds. 
We had gone about half a mile and my companion 
had recoA^ered his volubility, when we were startled at 
hearing a crackling and breaking of the bushes' bn my 
side of the road, and the sound of a heavy creature 
approaching. The next instant the black mule bur.st 
through the underbrush and charged upon me. He 
planted his heels in the underneath part of my unresisting 
steed, and then dashed forward and took up a position 
in the road directly' in front of us, as though he would 
dispute the passage with us. 
My poor beast groaned once when the blow fell — a 
very human sort of groan — and then turned his head and 
looked reprovingly and half inquiringly at me with an 
expression that plainly said: 
"Mercy to me! what is the meaning of all this? W^hy 
did you permit such a thing?" 
■'Ef I only had my gun with me," my companion 
exclaimed, "I'd fill that doggon onery critter full o' 
lead, by Godfrey Simpson Daniels." 
We looked around for something to throw, but there 
was nothing in sight. There never is when you need 
a thing of that kind the most. The mule suddenly 
changed his mind and trotted off down the road. We 
quickly dismounted and secured weapons in the shape 
of two stout clubs, and followed slowly in the wake of 
our newly discovered enemy. 
The tricky fiend adopted new tactics for his next 
move, and charged directly upon us from the front. But 
we outwitted him this time. We suddenly opened ranks, 
and before he could check his mad charge he was be- 
tween us, and we belabored him unmercifully with our 
clubs, and broke them over his head and back, until he 
was glad to escape without delivering his famous broad- 
side. He was plainly disconcerted, as he had evidently 
taken us for easy victims, and he realized that he would 
have to resort to strategy in order to accomplish our 
destruction. 
This strange warfare was carried on intermittently for 
the next three or four miles — a running fight all the 
way — until Vfe.: came in sight of the next farmhouse. 
There a new diversion occurred. Six very young pigs 
had crawled through the farmer's fence and were dis- 
porting themselves beside the road, and the mule espied 
them and transferred his attentions to these innocents. 
He was upon them like a devastating scourge, and killed 
three of them before they could reach safety on the other 
side of the fence with their more fortunate brothers and 
sisters. 
This wanton murder enraged us, and we summoned 
the farmer with loud halloos, and told him our tale of 
woe, and pointed out the murderer where he stood, 
trampling nis victims underfoot and gloating over his 
crime, 
"Y' d6n't say?'-' drawled the owner of the pigs, when 
sve had finished. '"Hit's that mule o' Saunders'. He'll 
pay fer the pigs; Eb will. He's done killed 'cm that 
way onct befo,re. ' Y' all mus* had a devul uv a time. 
By Godfrey, don't see what Eb wants t' keep sech a 
no-'count critter 'baout fer. He's alius lookih' fer 
trouble. He's a ba-ad mule. He suttenly is." 
The farmer opened the barnyard gate and told us 
to ride in and the mule would come after us. We fol- 
lowed his instructions, and the mule followed us, think- 
ing that he had us at his mercy, but the farmer, armed 
with a pitchfork, drove him into a corner and kept him 
there until we had retired from the field. 
We left them there and continued on our way re- 
joicing, with the sound of the mule's brazen voice ring- 
ing discordantly in aur ears long after the owner thereof 
was lost to view. 
In such wise did I make the acquaintance of "that 
mule o' Saunders'." He Avas the most misanthropic ani- 
mal I ever knew. Fayette Durlin, Jr. 
[to be concluded.] 
Take inventory of the good things in this issue 
of Forest and Stream. Recall what a fund was 
given last -week. Count on what is to come next 
week. Was there ever in all the world a more 
abundant weekly store of sportsmen's reading? 
Our First Camping Trip* 
We shall never forget our first campaign trip. It was 
to the Adirondack Mountains in the summer of '86, and 
to me will always remain one of the pleasantest incidents 
in my life. There were three of us — Billy, the Fiend and 
Buck, J. e., myself. We had just graduated from college. 
For four years \ve had worked hard; even during the 
usual summer and winter vacations we had worked. 
Now, however, we had graduated and we were soon to go 
forth to make a livmg and a home of our own, and per- 
haps a name, and perhaps, too, to work even harder 
than ever. But before launching forth into the cold, hard 
world of business we thought we were entitled to a 
little fun — a few weeks of genuine vacation. But what 
should we do? Just how we decided this question I do 
not now remember, but shortly before we received (Mr 
degrees we had finally decided on a camping trip in tlic 
Adirondacks. Our ideas were more or less hazy on 
the subject, until we had graduated, gotten our diplomas 
and foimd ourselves free to go wherever we pleased. 
Then we got down to business, and system soon came 
out of chaos. In a short time we had made out our 
list of things, corrected and revised it, purchased our 
supplies, and fotind ourselves with lean-to tent, pack 
baskets, fishing rods and general camping equipments 
and provisions, and — \jre,were off. We reached Utica 
in the evening, and early next inorning took the Black 
River R. R. to Boonville, from thence by stage twelve 
miles to Moose River, a settlement containing perhaps 
a dozen houses mostly dilapidated and an inn that had 
evidently seen better days, but was still famous for its 
trout and other game dinners. Here we had our noon 
lunch and our first treat to brook trout done "to a 
turn." Here was the jumping-off place — the half-way 
station, the point where straw hats and boiled shirts 
were laid aside and felt hats and corduroy suits were 
donned. Here we first met the noted Adirondack guide 
— and there were many of hnn. Most of them appeared 
to be beyond middle life, and a few very old, but all, 
strange to say looked , very much as I imagine we all 
expect a typical guide to look. Most of them wore broad 
brimmed felt hats of a light grass color, and with 
few exceptions were tremendously fond of whisky, and 
after having partaken freely were exceedingly talkative, 
for during our brief noon hour we had the opportunity 
of listening to some "whoppers;" but one thing was cer- 
tain, their general appearance did not belie their stories 
in the least. They looked as though they had Ijeen 
dirough a good deal and were able to go through a good 
deal more. 
Shortly after one o'clock we started for Old Forge 
at the foot of the Fulton Chain of eight lakes. The trip 
was one of fourteen miles, and entirely through the 
woods, save about two miles through what is known as 
Arnold's Clearing, iiear Old Forge. Our pack baskets 
filled with provisions and our camp equipment were 
securely strapped on a buckboard, but we were advised 
to \valk, which we did the whole distance, reaching our 
destination in about four hours. W'e had been told that 
the road from Moose River in was very rough, and that 
we had better save our money and walk — in fact, that it 
would be almost impossible to ride and at times dan- 
gerous, and the road proved to be all that was said of it. 
I have seen some pretty rough roads, but for roughness 
of all variety, for rock and great boulders, mud holes 
and broken down corduroy bridges, sharp grades and 
"thank you marms" this fourteen miles took the prize. 
How the team and buckboard ever got through I- don't 
know, but it did, and within a half hour after we arrived. 
The driver reported that he had been thrown out only 
once, and then he could not help himself, as the buck- 
board turned completely over. This was very evident, as 
cverytliing was covered with mud. We had taken pains 
and had all such things as oat meal, sugar, etc., wrapped 
up in several thicknesses of paper, but on opening the 
baskets we fouttd everything in a "jumble," and every 
bit of the sugar, some ten pounds or more, gone. For- 
tunnately we were able to replace this last article at Old 
Forge before starting out on our camping trip proper. 
Since then I have always put sugar, flour and such things 
m strong canvas bags. They pack snug and go safely 
through all sorts of jolting. 
We arrived at Old Forge at about 5 P. M., and at once 
ordered our supper, and while that was preparing we 
f-ucceeded in hiring a boat for our two weeks' trip, and 
by the time our meal was ready we had everything 
packed snugly in the boat ready to shove off instantly. 
Perhaps it would be well to explain here that the summer 
of '86 was some six years before the Adirondack or so- 
called Webb railroad was built, and the Fulton chain of 
lakes, while well known to a chosen few, was in fact 
comparatively a wild country. 
_ One of the best features of our little trip, and I count 
It the very best, was the fact that we weire all agreed to 
make the trip as inexpensive as possible. We were 
going to have^ no guides, nor run up any unnecessary 
hotel bills. W"e were on a camping trip, and we were 
going to camp that night, and we did. So immediately 
after supper we bid our host a hearty good-by, got care- 
fiilly into our boat, very carefully, for we at once 
discovered that somehow or other it was a trifle 
different from other boats we had been used 
to, and we started, we hardly knew where, but we 
started. We did know, however, that we must find a 
camping place very soon, and with that end in view we 
started up the pond and inlet toward First Lake. We 
had not gone far before we found a point that seemed 
quite suitable, and as it was out of view from the hotel 
at OM Forge we made haste to camp, aind none too 
soon, as with the high hills and mountains so close 
together on either side darkness comes on very sud- 
denly, and we soon learned to start early and make camp 
early, But how new nd strange that first evening! I 
shall never forget it, or the following two or three days 
and nights. The scenes and sensations were all so new 
and strange — so weird, yet so fascinating. We were 
away from civilization, and away off in the heart of the 
great woods, and we all felt and enjoyed the feeling that 
there was considerable of the wild Indian about us. 
_ As soon as we landed we put up the tent, which was 
sirnply a lean-to made of oiled canvas, 12 feet by 12 feet. 
This was done by tying the front corners to two trees a 
suitable distance apart and at a distance of perhaps 6 or 
7 feet from the ground, and fastenihg the back to a small 
log out for the purpose. We then cut and trimmed a 
number of fir or balsam and spruce trees, using the 
branches for our bed, and our camp was made. Wood 
was gathered, a fire kindled. Darkness was upon us, but 
we were quite at home. Since that time I have been in 
the woods a great deal and of course know a .good deal 
now about camping, but whenever I recall our first night 
in the woods, and our first camp and our first breakfast, 
and all done in such haste and with no experienced hand 
to help us or to make sttggestions, I think we did excep- 
tionally well, in fact almost perfect, and I shall always 
look back to that first camp with admiration. 
But did we sleep well? Of course no*:. Who does the 
first night away out in the woods? To be perfectly 
frank, I got less than an hour's sleep* Billy and the 
Fiend both declared that they slept several hours. May 
be they did, but I didn't. Just as I was dodng off I 
heard a bird in a nearby tree give a warning note. Now, 
I had read that when wild animals were around you could 
generally discover the fact by the birds giving warning 
notes, so 1 listened. I was not afraid, but I just thought 
I would listen — no, there was nothing. How strange 
and quiet everything was, except out in the pond several 
hoarse bullfrogs kept up a slow rut-k, rut-k-k-k like an 
old lumber wagon coming slowly down a country road. 
Chirp! Kee!! Kee!!! went that bird again— a very fierce 
warning note. I listened^ — no, there was nothing, noth- 
ing whatever; I must behave myself and go to sleep like 
a rational human being. "I must be very tired, left 
early, busy all day, walked 14 miles, and here it was 
getting late, awfully late." But somehow I did not feel 
sleepy worth a cent. But wasn't it dark out! It was 
like a bottle of ink, it was so black, and so quiet too. 
The croaking of the frogs away out across the pond only 
seemed to intensify the quietness and the darkness. 
Hark! what was that, I certainly heard a twig snap, and 
just under that bird, too. Golly! but I was wide awake 
now and no mistake, and listening too, but all I could 
hear was my heart beat; but I was thoroughly tired and I 
knew that I_ ought to go to sleep and get rested, and 
I knew that just as well as I knew anything, and I knew 
that all wild animals were ten times as afraid of us as 
we of them, and besides all that there were no wild 
animals to be afraid of in the Adirondacks anyhow, and 
I was going to sleep right away, but somehow I didn't. 
Now, I don't believe I was really afraid — I was excited. 
Things were new and strange. I was unaccustomed to 
the unusual quietness and the black night — I might say 
awful darkness. The quick turn of events and the ab- 
solutely new sensatiohs had the effect of getting us into 
a state of more or less happy nervous excitement. I 
would not give a fig for a fellow as a camping compan- 
ion if an introduction to wild Mother Nature such as 
we had did not produce in him a so-called happy nervous 
excitement. 
At about 4 A. M, we were up and getting breakfast. 
We had frogs' legs (fresh), oatmeal, corn beef hash 
and coffee, and long before the sun shone above the 
hills everything was in the boat and we were on our way 
up the chain of lakes. How grand and yet how weird 
and strange everything was. The water seemed so dark 
and quiet, the dead and half dead trees in the marshy 
bays so ghost-like, and various objects assumed at a dis- 
tance through the fog and the mist rising from the lake 
all kinds of fantastic shapes, and yet, with the bird notes 
coming to our ears from wooded slopes and swamps, and 
the rays of sunlight shooting high over our heads across 
the hilltops, it seemed quite like a joyous and happy 
morning in Paradise, and indeed it was all that to us, and 
I think if I were an artist and wished to draw a picture 
of Paradise I should choose wild Mother Nature as she 
is just bei'ore .sunrise on a pleasant early summer morn- 
in.ii. 
None of us had ever been in the Adirondacks before, 
or anywheres near them, or for that matter had ever 
been off camping, so far I know, and so far as knowledge 
of woodcraft, of cainping or of the Adirondacks was 
concerned we were almost "infants in the woods." We 
did not have a map of the woods with us; we had not 
cA'en seen one. _ We had, however, been told that the 
Fulton chain of lakes lay , in a northeasterly direction 
from Old Forge, and also that there were carries or 
trails betw.<jea^certain lakes, but that was about all we 
did know. Each of us had a small pocket compass. 
We had no Adirondack .guide. As I said before, we were 
going in on the cheap plan, and for ordinary camping 
trips I heartily recommend dispensing with a guide. If 
you do not believe this, try it and see how much pleas- 
ure there is in making your own discoveries, and how 
much quicker you learn the art of woodcraft. Of course, 
you can get ideas from books and from guides and ex- 
perienced campers, but the only way the lessons can be 
thoroughly learned is to be be thrown entirely on your own 
resources. Learn by hard knocks to be careful, think 
and plan ahead and keep your eyes open and see every- 
thing and take notice of everything, and be prepared for 
every etnergeniijy. In short, to be your own guide, and 
for the few days, or weeks you are out camping to be a 
veritable I ndigiU, is nine-tenths of the pleasure of the 
trip. It is wonderful how much of the aboriginal nature 
of man comes to the surface when he is thrown entirely 
nn his own resources away off in the wild woods far from 
civolization, and if one is a gentleman and true to him- 
self, it is not a bad nature that comes to the surface. 
They say that a man does not know himself or know 
what he is made of until he has suffered adversity. If he 
is true and made of steel he will come out of the ordeal 
stronger and better, and if rich and worthless then he 
generally goes to "the dogs." he is forgotten and the 
world jogs on without him; but whichever way it goes 
the man who has gone through a great ordeal knows 
himself better than he ever did before, and so the man 
who discovers the "Indian" in himself and succeeds in. 
bringing that Indian or aboriginal nature to the surface, 
is not only able to know himself better but has discovered 
an element in his nature worth cultivating, and that will 
bring to him. when he breaks away from home and office 
duties, rest, recreation and an immense amount of pleas- 
ure,_ and there is no better method that I know of to 
cultivate this particular feature of man's make-up 
than to throw him largely, if not entirely, upon his own 
resources whenever he goes away on a camping, fishing 
or hunting trip into the wilds, woods or mountains. 
