May 3, 1902.'] 
transparent as yellow quartz. When the water settled, the 
glass was opaque, and the water milky. 
Ahead of me by an hour was a rait. It had gone down 
about 8 o'clock, and was bound for Knoxville, doubtless. 
I set out to overhaul it, if possible, and so paddled steadily, 
though not vigorously. The river led past rocky cliffs 
and corn bottoms. It was very beautiful, especially the 
strong masses of granite which were screened by tree 
trunks., with a lacework of rich green mosses and draped 
v.ith plumes of cedar tree boughs and the gray of beech 
and oak. 
From time to time I saw rafts in course of construc- 
tion, with men whirling big augers, making pinholes and 
chopping long saplings for bindings and to make_ pin 
groves. Always there was the blue smoke of a fire, either 
on the bank or on the raft, to make it conspicuous. Once 
I saw a raft on the head of an island, broke in two, "tore 
Up," with several men hovering over a fire on the land. It 
was a wrecked raft, and on a new tide the men were 
going to try again. I took the little sluice between the island 
and land there (Clouds Shoals) and went dancing 
through some waves that threw a couple of quarts of water 
over the side of my boat. A mile. below I ate my dinner 
on a broad, glassy eddy. While I was doing so, far ahead 
I saw blue smoke behaving in a novel fashion. 
The smoke I had seen heretofore had simply reared up 
conspicuously against the trees in blue rolls, but this smoke 
swept along the water's surface and then went whirling 
and writhing up slantwise. The reason was obvious; the 
fire was in motion, and that must be the raft I was pur- 
suing. I seized the paddle and away I went after the 
base of that spiraling smoke, sure that men were there, 
though I could see nothing on the broad, smooth water 
save the smoke. Dimly, after a little, I saw two spidery 
figures, and the flash of motion of the men, and gradually 
the low strand of logs came in view, with the flicker of 
the great oars or sweeps by which the craft was steered. 
After a while, at the head of a little shoal, I overtook 
the raft. At the bow end was a big, dark-featured, high 
cheek boned man, with a thin, coarse, black mustache 
and a tuft of a goatee, whom I likened to a plainsman 
scout. The other was a reddish-whiskered man of lighter 
build, whose legs were spindly and body square like a box. 
I ran in to the raft when the fast water was passed 
and received an invitation to "warm," of which I took ad- 
vantage, a drizzle of rain having rendered the day chilling. 
After a bit of talk, in which I learned that R. K. Ball 
was steersman (at the stern), also that he had told me the 
way through Rogersville dam, was remembered, then said 
they'd be glad of my company to Knoxville, 160 miles 
away. 
The "strand" of logs was forty-six sticks long— a small 
raft. It was about 100 feet long. The logs were laid 
side by side, like one's fingers, and bound by hickory 
poles along each line of ends. Each log was fast to the 
binder by a ten-inch pin of wood driven through an inch 
and a half hole in the binder into an inch hole in the top 
of the log ten inches from the end. The logs were of 
unequal lengths — from ten to sixteen feet long. Yet one 
of the sides was laid to a straight edge for convenience in 
landing on the left bank — the jutting ends were likely to 
rip into the trees along shore if they were unequal in 
length, and then the raft would be "tore up," Nothing 
quite so well impresses the power of the rivers as the idea 
of tearing up a raft of two-foot logs lying heavily in the 
water bound by six-inch hickorys with fence-worming 
bindings to stiffen it. Half-way down the raft the chinks 
between four adjoining logs were filled with sticks cov- 
ered with sand, into a fire pit, by which it was a pleasure 
to sit. 
At each end was a great oar — a handle made from a 
sapling cedar or poplar twenty-five feet long, with a plank- 
blade ten feet long and eighteen inches wide. The oar 
lock was a stick laid across the stern or bow on the 
binders. In the middle, the oar, balanced and held fast 
by a two-inch by fifteen-inch hickory pin, which squeaked 
as the oar was pushed one way or the other. 
To steer the great heavy mass seemed impossible to 
me, yet by putting their chests to the oar handles and 
walking against them, the two men ran the raft away 
from dangerous proximity to the bank with remarkable 
ease. The oar, however, was heavy and awkward for 
me to handle, and as the river was very crooked and 
constant work was necessary, my offer of help was re- 
jected. It was not until later that I learned to manage 
the great sweeps. 
The raft beat the current. There was nearly always a 
little swirl on each end of the bow log, showing that the 
log was going faster than the water, which I am not able 
to explain unless it was due to the tendency of the log 
to slide down hill on the down-grade of the water. The 
oars did not thrust the boat ahead— being set on the ends, 
they merely worked the bow and stern to port or star- 
board and kept the strange craft end on and from bowing 
on the towheads, banks and other obstructions. 
Toward night we ate supper. They had cornbread, 
boiled planked pork, apple butter, pie with a very thick 
crust, some wheat bread and ginger cake. With my apple 
butter and biscuit we made a good meal. At dusk the 
boat was worked in close to the shore and at a well- 
known eddy called Anderson's, I took the bow oar, while 
McLane, the "scout," but really a Cherokee Indian, origin- 
ally from a Carolina reservation, went to the stern oar 
while Ball took the new inch-and-a-half cable to make 
fast. As the raft poured past a six-inch sapling Ball 
took a turn round it, made two half-hitches round the 
rope to hold it and then stepped clear of the rope, lest 
the rope take a turn round his legs, as these ropes some- 
times do round the tiers. The rope raised up taut, 
stretched till the water was wrung out of it, while the tree 
quivered and the raft quavered and then swung in to the 
shore. , 
All snug on the raft, we went ashore up a hill to the 
house of C. S. Anderson, four miles from_ Morristown, 
Tenn.- This was one of the regular stopping places of 
raftsmen. A big log house, with kitchen, bedrooms, a 
sitting room, with a bed in it, and a great fireplace. 
The two girls cooked enough wheat bread to make up 
my share of the raft mess that night for twenty cents. 
My bed cost fifteen. In case of many rafts coming in, a 
place on the floor, carpeted and soft, before the fireplace, 
costs but ten cents. The raftsmen carried their own food 
on the raft. 
Mr. Anderson was in the bed in the sitting room. 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
Ball explained about me in a low tone. A stranger from 
a far land, what did I think about Roosevelt? Did I see 
the man who shot McKinley? What did I think of the 
people in the South? What did I think of the political 
parties? And about Schley? It was not the first time 
that the national questions of the day had been put to 
me, nor the last in the mountain and river cabins. Then 
wouldn't I please play the French harp for them — I'd 
played some on the raft, and the raftsmen did not fail to 
mention that. So I played, and they all sat up later than 
usual. But at last we rafts folk went to a room and in 
two beds soon slept. 
Raymond S. Spears. 
The Cains River Country in New 
Brunswick. 
Cains River, one of the large branches of the main 
Southwest Mirimichi, flows through the virgin wilder- 
ness of the Province of New Brunswick, heading within 
twenty-five miles of Fredericton, and flowing easterly 
some seventy odd miles before it joins the main Sou'west. 
On Friday afternoon, July 1, Charlie R., of Boston, 
and the writer jumped off the train at Fredericton, the 
capital of New Brunswick, and there met the honest, 
cheery Harry C, who, like the moose and caribou of his 
native Province, is both big and good, a masterhand at 
everything pertaining to woodcraft, and a companion 
with a fund of anecdote hard to beat. Half the time was 
spent in looking up Arthur Pringle, the noted guide, but 
when found he could not, unfortunately, go with us, but 
warned us that some parties were already on the grounds 
we intended visiting. A change of ground had to be 
made, and Cains River was selected by a unanimous 
vote; here we had virgin vountry, a stream only known 
to have been canoed on by but two or three parties pre- 
vious to our visit. 
Saturday noon saw us off on the express train com- 
posed of one first-class passenger car, and freight cars. 
Several hours sufficed to cover the twenty odd miles 
to Zionville, where,- after much persuasion, we managed 
by heavy bribes to induce a man to stop loafing and drive 
our outfit some fourteen miles to our starting place. By 
dark we had reached the last house — how nice that 
sounds to a camper in the wilderness — and there put up 
during the few hours of darkness. Daylight saw us 
under way again through the brush; by and by the sun 
shone down and Charlie, who is big, fat and white and 
fresh from foggy Boston, made exclamations deep and 
strong against the sun and the flies in a manner most 
terrible. 
Nine o'clock found us quenching our thirst at one of 
the little springs in the meadow from which Cains River 
rises. Here we were met by our cook, trusty Jim Paul, 
of the Melicite tribe and persuasion, who saw terrible 
things and much great medicine at this year's Boston 
Sportsmen's Show. Figuring that as .we had come fish- 
ing we ought to fish, Charlie and I jointed our rods 
and, casting our flies in the water, which was scarcely 
deep enough to wet your feet in, or wide enough to cast 
without catching the grass, caught trout out of every 
hole. I almost believe we could have caught them out 
of the damp places in the grass. After catching and 
cooking a panftil, which, mixed with some potatoes and 
onions, made our dinner, we launched our birch canoes 
in the stream, which was almost too narrow to let them 
pass and almost too shallow to float them, and which 
within a week was gradually to grow as we descended 
it, until it became a broad, quick river, requiring a steady 
arm and cool head to run the many quick places. Even- 
ing brought us to the mouth of the Bantylorum, and 
in the pool at the mouth we all hastened to cast our 
flies. The writer's cast of three flies hit the water first, 
and were instantly nailed by three lusty trout; a mo- 
ment's suspense, and back came the line with one fair 
trout only and minus half a leader and two flies. The 
boys suffered equally, and a solemn council of war de- 
cided to use for the future only one fly, and the most 
taking one proved to be the Parmachene-belle, with the 
red-ibis is a good second. 
Charlie and the red man occupied one canoe, Harry 
and I the other,, taking turns at the fishing. Shades of 
night were now falling, and camping was in order. A 
beautiful spot soon came into view on the right bank, 
and here we pitched our camp and made an elegant bed 
of boughs; but the fates were against us, a thunder 
shower came up and then the mosquitoes— oh, the mos- 
quitoes! — truly we had found their great camping ground, 
and our tent was a most welcome shelter for them. 
They only laughed at "smudges," pennyroyal and coal 
tar were as attractive as honey to bees. At daylight we 
were fairly driven out, and Charlie thought to refresh 
himself with a bath in the limpid waters, and forthwith 
disrobed. Now, fellow fisherman, here was a man fresh 
from the haunts of man, with feet as tender as those of 
the unborn babe, and clothed as nature clothed him only, 
and a stream very shallow and very rocky. Picture to 
yourself the scene as he waded out to take his bath. 
The mosquitoes did not do a thing to him — oh, no! A 
slap here, a clap there, until finally in despair he lay 
down and rolled in agony, but still in triumph, in water 
barely deep enough to cover him. The red man laughed; 
as for Harry and me, enough is said. 
Breakfast over, we were again under way, when a 
movement in the bushes caught my eye, and presently 
out walked a- beautiful doe, and contrary to the opinion 
of some writers in Forest and Stream, commenced to 
chew some lilypads growing in a little still water border- 
ing the stream; we floated down within ten yards and got 
a fine view of her. 
The methods of the wild fishers we saw and had an 
opportunity to study would occupy too much room in 
this article. 
An old eagle took a special fancy to us, and some fish 
which we were keeping alive in the pool among the 
rocks made him a fine dinner. Thursday found us well 
on our way down the river, and while quietly paddling 
along looking for a site to camp, we saw a moose in 
the water ahead of us some 300 yards. The cameras 
again came out, and going ashore I managed to get 
within fifty feet of the big cow; and even when she saw 

me she did not display undue alarm, but went off with a 
stately walk which showed she knew full well it was 
close -season. A short time afterward, while walking 
doWn the bank of the river for exercise, and coming 
round a projecting point, I almost fell over a big bull, 
which lost no time in making away. During the trip 
several more animals were heard, and moose tracks were 
too numerous to occasion any comment. 
Waking up one morning we saw a deer out in the 
water looking at the camp, and wondering what on earth 
that white thing was. It faced the music of a shot from 
the camera, the warwhoop of the Melicite, and the fusilade 
from four old bits of wood before it would move. Will 
someone get up in the amen corner and say why they 
won't do that in open season? This day proved partic- 
ularly hot, and a camp was dispensed with at night, the 
crowd rolling themselves in their blankets and lying 
down with the heavens as their only canopy. Unwise 
mortals ! Morning found us nearly frozen and a 
quarter inch of ice in the water bucket. Who would 
have thought it in the middle of July? During our whole 
trip, I believe, there was not five \j§rds of water out of 
which we could not have taken a freri. The pools where 
cold brooks came in were alive with big trout. Time and 
time again the three rods were playing a two and three 
and one-half pound trout, all at the same time, and all 
hooked within two feet of one another. A fly held eight 
inches above the water would keep the pot boiling, as 
trout after trout would try to reach it. It was a beautiful 
sight to see these great fish, as red as red could be, and 
beautifully spotted, come up and take the fly. 
Every fish but those we could eat was returned to the 
water to gladden the heart of future anglers in this pisca- 
torial paradise. 
Saturday morning saw us up at break of day and pad- 
dling for Blackville, where we were to catch the train 
for Fredericton. When some three miles from the sta- 
tion wc saw it would be impossible to make our connec- 
tion, and the brilliant idea of flagging the train struck 
Harry when he saw the track running along the river 
bank. The thought was father to the deed, and a few 
moments later found us and our belongings on the rail- 
way side, and in due season the rumble of the approach- 
ing train told us all too surely of the actual return again 
to earth and things earthly. But the train had to be 
stopped, and we even thought at first of flagging it, but 
the engineer fortunately had to pass another train there 
on a switch, and we had a chance to board it. We had 
some trouble in overcoming the customary red tape of 
the Canada Eastern, but finally got our canoes on board 
and reluctantly embarking pulled out for Fredericton, 
the capital city of the Province of New Brunswick, and 
thence on to our respective homes. 
Thus ended a trip which was an almost ideal outing, 
with beautiful weather, plenty of fish, grand, good com- 
pany, magnificent scenery, only moderate cost, within 
two day's journey of New York, and above all, the grand- 
est of opportunities to study the ways of the wild crea- 
tures of the wilderness. How in after years will memory 
recall the long sandy reaches of shore on the river, where 
from the silent observatory of the canoe floating quietly 
down the stream, one can watch family after family of 
porcupines foraging for their food, the big ones and the 
little ones; how they remind you of pigs in their every 
movement; and the foundation is evident for the many 
weird tales they have been the innocent cause of, in 
which helpless women and children and those, too, of the 
stronger sex, have been attacked by bears, which, as a 
mater of fact, were only the big, fat porcupines seeking 
to escape from injury, and yet too stupid to get out of the 
road. Then at evening the sun goes down and throws 
the slanting light up against the white breast of that big 
eagle sitting on yonder gnarled branch of the whitened 
withered ram pike, the sun shining in resplendent glory 
on his white feathers, while away in the blue ether the 
eye can just faintly trace the sailing form of his mate. 
A little nearer at hand there is a brood of young part- 
ridges, and the almost distracted mother hen is using' all 
the artifices of a broken wing to draw us away from her 
chicks. One could not find it in his heart to harm them, 
and, beyond cornering one in a bush and taking a photo, 
we let them go. Down at the water's edge we find a 
brood of young ducks, and again give chase with the 
camera; here again the wonderful motherly instinct 
shines forth as the old duck vainly tries to draw us away 
from her young; how eagerly she tries to get them up 
river from us, and failing that, how cunningly she hides 
them on the shore and flies alone, tauntingly, back past 
us. Then when we try to find the fledgelings, how closely 
they lie, like a woodcock to a dog, until we are almost 
on them; then come the splashing and wild confusion as 
a dozen brown streaks of lightning flash in as many 
directions, between our legs, in front of us, behind us, 
everywhere. 
And the trout themselves, how well they loved the 
luxuries; that long, low marshy bank of the river gave 
the indications of being fishy, and a bad throw of the 
flies landed them within an inch or so of the bank, to be im- 
mediately taken by a glorious trout; and another try gave 
the same result. Nowhere else would a fish take; unless 
the flies took the water precisely at the very edge of the 
bank no response would come; and yet along the bank 
must have been drawn up a red line of a hundred two- 
pounders. Investigation showed us it was a spring marsh, 
and there were the fish actually shoving their noses' 
against the cool ground. 
These and many other cases I could keep on telling 
you; but go and find out, reader, for yourself the charm 
of such an outing. This my advice is to all lovers of 
nature, be he or she a fisherman delighting only in catch- 
ing fish, or a hunter who takes pleasure only in his rifle, 
or lastly the wealthy nature lover who loves nature and 
his own ease and comfort. 
To any and all of these, I say to go to the unbroken 
wilderness of New Brunswick and Novia Scotia, and 
there seek health and pleasure as I have outlined, and 
if I can help any of them in the way of information I 
will most gladly do so. James Turnbull. 
Canyon City, Col., 'April 21. 
• All communications intended for Forest and Stream should 
always he addressed to the Forest- and Stream Publishing Co., and 
not to any individual connected with the paper. 
