64 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
tJuLY 27, 1001. 
the others were returned to the water. When on a cruise 
it has always been an unwritten law with us to kill no fish 
we cannot use. 
Mr. C.'s rod had been put in the canoe without being 
taken apart. In some way the rod was thrown over- 
board at the foot of the rapids, and the reel took to the 
bottom. As it was now 4 o'clock, and we were anxious 
to reach a suitable camp ground, we pushed on up the 
Channel, for it seemed useless to attempt to recover the 
rod. The next morning the 'guides went down to the 
rapids, and after swimming around in the eddy two or 
three times, one of them located the rod, and diving- 
came up with it, took it between his teeth and swam 
ashore. 
Above the rapids we came to another stream that 
leaves the Severn, breaks through the hills and comes 
dashing down, over rocks and boulders, into the Lost 
Channel. On exploring this stream we found a lake 
just above the falls, with an island of rock in the center. 
:On one side the shore rises gradually, and on the 
the other a sheer wall of rock from 40 to 50 feet high. 
Proceeding on our way up the Lost Channel we came 
into a beautiful basin, surrounded on all sides by high 
granite hills, shutting it olf from the rest of the world. 
We camped at the head of this basin, where the river 
breaks through the hills. The tents were pitched on a 
flat rock about 30 feet above the bed of the river, and 
at the foot of Crocodile Rapids. 
Supper over and the tents up, the Doctor, Mr. C. and 
the guides went to cut balsam for beds. Mrs. C. and I 
were enjoying the beauty of our surroundings, when we 
heard a great commotion in the woods on the hill back 
of us. It sounded as though it might be a stampede 
of wild animals, but proved to be only the men leaving 
a balsam tree to the exclusive use of some hornets, whose 
nest they had unconsciously tried to cut down. Like 
Josh Billings with the snake, they said to themselves, 
"That tree belongs to those hornets." 
The floors of our tents were covered a foot deep with 
balsam boughs, the tips all pointing the same way. 
This was Mr. and Mrs. C.'s first experience under 
canvas. The wildness of the surroundings, the knowl- 
edge that we were at least thirty-five miles from civiliza- 
tion, and the fear of snakes kept them from fully ap- 
preciating the comforts of a good balsam bed. 
The next morning, after a breakfast of fried chicken, we 
started out to explore our surroundings. We caught 
small-mouth bass and wall-eyes, returning the uninjured 
ones to the water. We saw where the deer had come 
down to drink, but did not see the deer. 
In the afternoon we built up stones so as to inclose 
two ponds about a yard square. These were along a 
rocky shore, in shallow water, and about a half-mile 
apart, tlie wall rising a foot above the surface of the 
water. That evening all the fish we caught weighing 
2 pounds and over were put in these ponds. 
We fished about an hour each morning and evening 
while we remained in this camp, putting the largest un- 
injured fish in these ponds. Those under 2 pounds were 
returned to the river. One evening a pike about 15 or 
16 inches long was put in one of the ponds. After 
swimming around two or three, times, to our amazement 
it jumped over the wall and swam off. We were all 
standing by the pond at the time, and Mr. C. looked up 
and said, ' That fellow jumped the fence." 
Wednesday morning we packed our cooking outfit, 
provisions enough for our dinner, and started out to 
explore Hungry Bay, and, incidentally, catch frogs. 
As we came down the Lost Channel, Six Mile Lake 
came gradually into view — a most beautiful sheet of 
water, surrounded by forest trees in all their summer 
glory, and the whole wrapped in the cool, silvery mist 
of early morning. 
"With, liquid pace, less heard than seen, 
I ,^ The waters glide along; 
1 The woods are all a mist of green, 
• The air a sea of song." 
We. found the water in Hungry Bay very low, but 
frogs were plenty and large. 
The tip was taken oft a steel rod and a small trolling 
spoon tied on a short line was attached to the butt of 
the rod. This enabled us to drop the spoon in front of 
the frogs, while we were some distance away. We had 
great sport, and the excitement ran high for a while. 
When the red feathers would drop down in frpnt of a 
frog he would blink once or twice, unless very hungry, 
then open his mouth and take it quick. One very large 
frog was caught, and when taken from the hook another 
frog half as large as himself jumped out of his mouth 
into the water, and was gone. Our big frog had evi- 
dently just eaten his breakfast. . _ 
When we had caught enough frogs for dinner we tried 
to find the portage from Hungry Bay to Black River. 
We wanted to go back to the Iron City camp by this 
route, while Mr. and Mrs. C. would go back to_ Wau- 
baushene, the way we came. We could not make the 
portage, for the low water had left a half-mile of swamp 
that we could not possibly cross. 
When on a cruise we have always taken time enough 
to make comfortable beds and to cook at least fish (if 
we have any), bacon and cofifee. To-day we had for 
dinner a box of Armour's sliced bacon, fried crisp and 
brown, canned tomatoes, canned corn, bread, butter, 
cheese, pickles, coffee, and, crowning it all, a great heap- 
ing plate of frog legs delicately browned, with canned 
peaches for dessert. Our table cloth was made of paper 
napkins, of which we always take an abundant supply. 
,Talk about the hardships of a cruise! 
After the frog legs had disappeared under the influence 
of our appetites, I was not surprised to hear one of the 
men say he would be ashamed to ever look a frog in*the 
face again. 
, While we were sitting around in the shade some one 
remarked that our bait was about done, and that we had 
better catch softie frogs for evening fishing, so we 
started around the island after bait. This was my first 
experience catching little frogs, and I found them very 
elusive.' I never knew when they were going to jump, 
and they never jumped the way I expected them to. I 
would see a frog sitting on a rock, slip up on it, and 
make a grab. But the frog was not there; in fact, it 
didn't seem to be anywhere. After repeating this per- 
formance a number of times I became more successful. 
But we had great sport, and somehow got all the bait we 
needed. The chase of the nimble frog afifords a rafc 
oppoitunity to lead "the strenuous life." 
Thursday morning we broke camp and prepared for 
our return trip. It was with regret we watched the 
guides take down our tents and destroy our fragrant 
balsam beds. 
The fish in the ponds were to be caught and killed, for 
Mr. and Mrs. C. to take with them; a task that fell on 
one of the guides, and furnished much amusement for us. 
After following them round and round in the water he 
would at length succeed in catching one, but would not 
take time to kill it. The live fish would not stay in the 
basket, but seemed very much in evidence on shore. 
Four or five were flopping around on the rocks, and it 
took some lively scrambling on the part of the guide to 
get them back in the basket before they would reach the 
water and swim off. We had fifteen fish, weighing from 
2 to 4 pounds. 
On Six Mile Lake we parted with our friends, who 
turned to the left on their way back to Waubaushenc. 
We continued straight across to Crooked Lake, from 
which we expected to portage into Black Lake and go 
back to camp by way of the Muskosh River. 
On our way across the lake we passed a party fishing, 
who, in answer to a fisherman's greeting, "What luck?" 
showed us a string of about a dozen bass, ranging from 
2 to 5 pounds. 
The channel connecting Crooked Lake with Six Mile 
Lake is only a few yards long, and in one part not over a 
yard wide, and contained scarcely enough water to float 
the canoe. 
Just as we entered Crooked Lake we saw what we took 
to be a bear swimming from an island acro.ss a channel 
to the mainland. The revolver was loaded, and every- 
thing gotten ready to shoot. Then we started after 
him, but to our disgust found it to be only a deadhead. 
The current in the channel made a ripple around the log 
that gave it the appearance of moving. 
Crooked Lake is well named, for anything more 
crooked than its shore line could not well be imagined. 
We did not know where the portage was, so turned 
to the left and followed the shoi^e in and out around the 
bays. Looking across some of these bays we saw the 
groves described by Parkman as resembling a pleasure 
ground or orchard laid out and planted by the hand of 
man. 
About noon we came to a deserted lumberman's shanty, 
where with some difliculty we succeeded in making a 
landing. 
The guide climbed to the top of a rock back of the 
shanty, and hiding behind a log motioned for us to 
follow. Looking across a ravine we saw a doe and 
fawn quietly grazing on the hillside. The doe soon be- 
came restless, and throwing up her head w^as off through 
Ihe woods like a flash, followed by the fawn. 
Not finding the portage, we cooked our dinner and 
again pushed off to continue the search. 
Early in the afternoon we landed on a rocky point, 
where we could overlook the lake. A party of Indians 
had cooked their dinner here, for there was still a low 
fire. A tent was lying on the rock, rolled up and tied 
with basswood bark, and their cooking utensils were 
hanging on the trees. We rested a while, hoping the 
Indians would soon return and direct us to the portage. 
As we sat in the shade and looked out over the ex- 
panse of water, reflecting a shimmer of white light, the 
rocky islands rising from its surface gloomy and silent, 
we seemed to have entered "the sanctuary of solitude and 
silence." 
The day was a peculiar one. We had the intense heat 
of noonday in midsummer. The air, the leaves and the 
water appeared to be absolutely still. Nature seemed 
waiting with bated breath. Even the solitary cry of the 
loon, as it came to us from distant parts of the lake, 
seemed to sound a note of warning. 
As we sat in silence and watched it aU a haze came 
up out of the west and covered the sun like a thin veil. 
It was now 3 o'clock, and we were compelled to give 
up our search for the portage and return to camp by the 
Severn River and Georgian Bay. We had planned to 
go on a cruise with another party the next week, and 
must be in camp Saturday to complete our arrangements 
in order to start Monday morning. Embarking again 
we soon paddled into Six Mile Lake. 
While crossing this lake we heard the low rumbling of 
distant thunder. There was no appearance of a storm, 
and we pushed on, intending to camp for the night on a 
beautiful island below the Big Chute, By the time we 
had reached this island the thunder had ceased; there 
were no clouds in the sky, and it was yet early. After 
consulting with the guide, we decided we could reach 
Port Severn that night. We pushed on rapidly, making 
good time, but unfortunately stopped at the Little Chute 
long enough to cook our supper, losing valuable time. 
When about half-way across Gloucester Pool we again 
heard thunder. Clouds began to gather in the west and 
roll up black and ominous. The thunder increased in 
volume, with occasional flashes of lightning. Our canoe 
was heavily loaded, and the prospects of a storm on this 
lake were not reassuring. But the storm passed to the 
north and relieved the tension. 
We had crossed Gloucester Pool and were almost 
half-way through the swamp, with its numeroiis chan- 
nels, when night drew her "sable curtain" over it all. 
We were not certain that we were in the main channel, 
and we could not make a landing. The only thing to do 
was to push on, which we did in silence. Occasional 
flashes of distant lightning could be seen in the west, 
followed by low thunder, increasing our anxiety. With 
a feeling of relief we emerged from the swamp into the 
open lake, but here an even greater danger confronted us. 
. The storm was coming closer, the thunder was grow- 
ing- lounder and the flashes of Hghtning were more brill- 
iant, intensifying the darkness. 
A lake full of deadheads, with a treacherous rock 
directly in our course, lay before us. 
The storm would surely strike us before \ye could 
make a landing. If accompanied by a high wind— and 
it certainly would be after such a day — our prospects 
were good for landing, first on a deadhead and then on 
the bottom. I was cheered and encouraged by such ad- 
vice as: "If we slide upon a deadhead, sit still. If the 
canoe is upset, don't try to save anything, but hold fast 
to the canoe.' If we strike a snag and the canoe fills 
with w^ater, keep hold of the canoe." 
Our progresB was slow, the guide waiting for a flash 
ot lightning when uncertain what was before him; then 
paddling swiftly when sure of his course. One flash that 
we had waited for revealed the sunken rock not 3 feet 
away. The storm was coming closer and closer; the 
lightning was more intense. Could we make a landing 
before it was upon us? 
Our trip had resolved itself into a race with the 
storm, and everything seemed to be in favor of the storm. 
11 only it would hold oft' a little longer we would be in 
comparative safety. 
The lightning was blinding. To me, sitting in the bow 
of the canoe, there was nothing but a wall of intense 
blackness ahead. 
Could we possibly win? 
But in the dead calm that precedes a terrific blow we 
pulled up beside the tug, and I was told to climb on it. 
W'e had won the race, thanks to the skill and courage 
of our guide. 
The tug had an upright boiler, and the deck along 
the sides was about a foot w:ide. I had landed on the 
fireworks end, and there being plenty of fire I was afraid 
to get down for fear I would start something going. 
The guide held the canoe, while the Doctor handed me 
some of the duffle. I soon got the candle and matches, 
and on making a light we saw that the tug was moored 
close against the side of an old house-boat. I crept 
around the deck of the tug, while the Doctor took the 
candle to see that the floor of the house-boat was safe, 
and the guide took the canoe to the opening in the end. 
As the last of the duffle was being lifted in, drops of rain 
began to fall; in a few minutes the storm broke in all its 
fury. We were safe, but we had taken a foolish and un- 
necessary risk, had learned what we thought we already 
knew — tliat nature is relentless, and her moods not to be 
trifled with. 
Both ends of the house-boat were open, but her side 
lay toward the storm, so we were fairly well protected. 
There was a pile of hay in one corner of the boat, and 
with this w^e made comfortable beds. The roof leaked 
and the water was soon dropping down on my face. I 
suggested moving our bed, but the Doctor was tired 
and sleepy, and told me to open my mouth to catch the 
drops and keep still. This was a new way out of diffi- 
culty, and I laughed, the next drop landing right in my 
mouth. 
I did not like the sensation, and jumped up, saying that 
I would not be a rain barrel for any man. Just then 
there was a terrific peal of thunder, and I dropped down, 
.grabbing tight hold of the Doctor. 
There are just three things I am afraid of — horses, 
snakes and thunder. ✓ 
I know thunder is not dangerous, but It is itoisy, and 
I never Icnow when it is coming. 
Occasionally the wind would catch the boat and carry 
it to the end of the mooring- chain, and give such a lurch 
that I thought it "would be torn from its moorings. 
The wind abated about midnight, and we enjoyed five 
hours of good, sound sleep. As soon as it began to grow 
light the mosquitoes swarmed into the house-boat and 
wakened us. The morning was calm, and the air fidl 
of .gray mist; everything indicated rain. 
Being anxious to reach Muskoka Landing in time for 
the afternoon boat, we launched our canoe and were soon 
moving swiftly down the river, past the still sleeping 
town, to the portage around the dam. In Matchedash 
Bay we landed on an island, on which were piles of cord- 
wood. Well down in one of these piles we got enough 
dry wood to cook our breakfast. The commissary stores 
were now about exhausted. We had only bread, bacon 
and coffee. Supplies could have been procured at Port 
Severn, but. we hoped to reach Honey Harbor in time 
for dinner, and the Iron City camp for supper. 
When we came out into more open water, the sea was 
running very high, and we discussed whether to camp 
on Potato Island or with our heavily, loaded canoe to 
cross the open water and round Point a Pas in such a 
sea. 
A French Canadian and his wife, in their fishing boat, 
were taking up their nets not far away. The guide hailed 
them, and the following conversation took place: 
"Is it rough out on the bay?" 
"Yas, some tam' him one big wave!" 
"Do you think we could cross the bay and round 
Point a Pas?" 
"Yas, him one good canoe; he no upset." 
"Do you think there is any danger of us getting 
drowned?" 
"Sometam' one big wave, he break and male' you wet 
all over, mebbe." 
Thanking the fisherman, we landed on Potato Island, 
and the guide carefully trimmed the canoe. I still sat 
in the bow. but was now facing the guide, and a rolled up 
tent was placed between me and the gunwale for a back 
rest. 
We were not long in the open, until I-. began to appre- 
ciate the change in my position. If 1 had been facing 
those big waves, like the Irishman's bears, I would have 
been "scared." When the waves broke, as they fre- 
quently did, the tent kepfa great deal of water put of the 
canoe. 
A drizzling rain was now falling, but we did not seem 
tp mind it. The waves came in series, each wave in- 
creasing in volume to the last of the series, when they 
would start over again. When the big wave came the 
guide would hold the canoe steady, let it ride over, quar- 
tering the wave, thus shipping but little water. When 
we came to Point a Pas it did not seem possible for us 
to round it in safety. Lying out from this point of rock 
is a reef of rock, with' only a narrow, shallow channel 
between. All along the shore the breakers were dashing 
high again.st the rocks. The guide paddled slowly up to 
the channel, and there held the canoe till the last wave 
of the series came, when with a few quick strokes we 
went through on the receding wave. The dangerous 
part of our trip was over, and we were soon out of the 
open, and traveling on quieter water. "VVc-had shipped 
some water, and the cushions were getting wet, but the 
guide rejected my offer to bore a hole in. the bottom of 
the canoe and drain it off. 
We reached Honey Harbor by 12 o'clock, and had a 
good dinner 'at the hotel. The proprietor told us there 
was a tug about ready to start for Midland, and we 
could go on it and get the steamer City of Toronto there. 
Not caring to cross the open water to reach Muskoka 
