282 
FOREST AND STREAM, 
[Oct. II, 1902. 
Tales of the Frontier. 
cxn — 
Strange characters were occasionally met on the 
frontier. 
As the straggling lines of the first settlenients crawled 
further and further into the wildernass — following the 
streams and lakes in quest of the timber so indispensable 
to the first comers of the invading race— wide intervals 
for a time separated the scattered hamlets ; and where, in 
the endeavor to establish comfortable homes, each was de- 
pendent upon the other, the most democratic equality pre- 
vailed, and individuality was at a premium. 
Little of social hypocrisy was evident, and where, as 
Paddy contended "one man was just as good as an- 
other, and a blanked sight better," ediication touched el- 
bows with ignorance, and superstitions supposed to have 
been buried long syne upreared their heads and clamored 
tor recognition. 
In the occasional visits of the frontiersman to the 
friendly fires'de of a neighbor he paid tribute in the con- 
versational coin at his command, and most surprising 
statements often circulated at par, all unquestioned. 
Aly good friend. Jim R. kindly informed us that before 
his journey across the mountains into Kentucky, Daniel 
Boone had carved his name in the bark of a b g tree near 
Jim's old home in Virginia, and that he himself had often 
read the carved legend of long ago, "Daniel Boone: 1492." 
Another philosopher with a wonderful memory for 
historic incidents explained to us how events occurred in 
the turbulent old days, "When Old Cromwallis walked 
into the Diet o' Worms." 
But in the life of the sturdy pioneer, legend, history 
and even politics took a back seat in the presence of the 
burning question of the proper time of the waxing or 
waning of the moon in which to kill hogs; or to lay the 
rails of a worm fence. For, be it known to the be- 
nighted readers of Forest and Stream that the pork of 
a pig killed in "the wrong time of the moon" will shrivel 
lip in the frying pan till Piggy could pass muster as a 
small porcupine ; and the bottom rail of a worm fence 
laid in the same unfortunate period would sink into the 
bosom of Motlier Earth till something like the diamond 
drill of the miner was necessary to locate it; while the 
happv porker, butchered at the right moment in the 
moon's phases, swelled up in the cooking dish to some- 
thing near the size of a grizzly bear; and the worm fence, 
laid at the right time, defied gravitation and towered 
heavenward, warning to all marauding foes. 
A party of front. ersmen. gathered at the house of a 
neighbor discussed these questions one evening until mid- 
Tiight in the presence of a silent young stranger who on 
his journey was sharing the hospitality of the settler for 
the night, and when about to separate for the night some 
one asked the opinion of the guest. He replied that in 
regard to the pork question he could not say: but as to 
the laying of fence rails he was posted. When his family 
first came into the wilderness, in utter disregard of the 
kindly warnings of neighbors, his father had begun laying 
rails for a fence around a field at precisely the wrong 
time of the moon; and when the fence was half built 
sickness had delayed the work until the sign in the moon 
vjjlS just right; and when then the fence was promptly 
finished, all were amazed to note that the rails first laid 
settled into the ground, and the last half of the fence 
rose until all around the field yawned a gap between the 
rails big enough for the exit of a yearling bull. 
All these interesting problems of every-day life w.ere 
occasionally dwarfed, however, by the unseemly pranks of 
witches. 
Only an occasional pioneer was cognizant of their noc- 
turnal doings ; but their cantankerous pranks seemed to 
range from the mischievous "charming" of an old hunter's 
rifle until its deadly bullet failed to harm ajjv living 
creature — but which readily yielded to proper inc^tations 
—to the hellish performances which even the all-potent 
horseshoe seemed powerless to prevent. 
On the south shore of Spirit Lake, Iowa, stood an old 
grist mill, owned by a queer character named Peters, who 
seemed to have more bother and trouble with witches than 
fell to the lot of most of the pioneers. 
The old man owned a singular looking pebble which, he 
claimed, when placed in a hat, and the hat held close to 
the face of some gifted seer, sent forth a glow of strange 
light which enabled the fortunate observer to "read the 
past, present and future" at a rate which discounted the 
advertising clairvoyant. He had sense enough to know 
that he himself could see nothing in the pebble; but he 
was continually on the hunt for some one who could. 
The old milJer had his share of human nature, and 
in occasional quarrels with his neighbors would doubtless 
have been worsted save for the friendly intervention of a 
lovely female, unseen to the eyes of the profane, but who, 
the old man contended, kept watch and ward over him 
to protect him from the machinations of his foes. 
A graceless trapper named Dan Bellows used to play 
upon the credulity of the old pioneer, peering into his hat 
at the old man's pebble, while second-hand visions of 
female loveliness danced before the eyes of the old miller : 
and, for a time at least, he felt safe from the malice of 
his enemies. 
One day two men brought a bag of corn to the mill to 
be ground, and w^hile the work was going busily on to the 
satisfaction of both the miller and his customers, suddenly 
the wheel began to be checked in its revolutions, and the 
mill stone to run slow, and more slowly as the startled 
miller raised the mill stone, shut off the feed and ran 
to the mill gate to see that it still remained open to its 
full extent ; while in spite of his utmost care the bewitched 
machinery seemed to be fast in the slowly tightening grip 
of some unseen and devilish hand. 
After exhausting all the resources of his skill, the old 
man finally, wnth a tremendous oath, shut down the mill 
gate, and, in spite of the protestations of his anxiou.s 
customers, started for the house, declaring that he would 
do no more that day, as it was of no use whatever to at- 
tempt anything more when annoyed by witches in such 
hellish fashion. 
The beautiful female guardian, even, seemed powerless 
against witches, and, completely discouraged, the old man 
gave up the job. 
Left alone, his customers, w^hose grist was now neither 
corn nor meal, crawled down into the pit containing the 
mill wheel, and through a crack in the circular box or 
frame inclosing the buckets of the wheels, detected an 
obstruction at the end of one of the buckets, the nature 
of which they could not determine. 
After long persuasion they finally prevailed upon the 
old miller to open the wheel box, when, squarely against 
the end of one of the buckets, and wedging more and 
more tightly in place as it was being gradually ground 
away in the slow revolutions of the wheel inside the 
smooth round box, was found a buffalo fish, estimated 
to weigh full thirty pounds. 
It was the first witch the old miller ever really got his 
hands on. Orin Bet^knap. 
A Trip to the High Sierras. 
For several years I had felt a strong desire to visit 
that section of the Sierras that in Tulare county cul- 
mintes in the grand crests of Mts. Goddard and Whit- 
ney. The many happy days I had spent in the sixties in 
the more northern sections lingered lovingly in my 
memory, redolent with the scent of the fir pine and 
tamarack, and now. though the lapse of time had dimmed 
my vision and robbed my limbs of their youthful elas- 
ticit3\ I still longed to look upon them once again. 
Never, however, until the present year had conditions 
been sufficiently favorable to justify even the hope of 
its realization; but in June I received a letter from an 
old boyhood friend, S. Frank Dexter, of Pawtucket, 
R. I., who was in Los Angeles, suggesting that we make 
the trip together. Nothing could have pleased me bet- 
ter, and a reply promply brought him to my home in 
Oakland, where immediately preparations for the trip 
were made, khaki suits, fishing tackle, ammunition for 
a .30-40 rifle and a Scott 12-bore shotgun were secured, 
although we did not expect to do much shooting, and on 
July 18 we took the morning train for Visalia. 
South of Livermore Valley we passed through the 
great cattle ranges of Lux and Miller. In some portions 
the fat beeves were standing up to their knees in alfalfa, 
and in others many acres were flooded from the irri- 
gating ditches, making large ponds, where thousands 
of ibis, stilts, pelicans, and other aquatic birds found a 
congenial home. Still further south the country became 
so extremely barren that reclamation seemed impossible; 
the overflow was like a street puddle, without a vestige 
of green along the banks. The sage and grease brush, 
nowhere more than three or four inches high, was so 
thickly scattered that it hardly changed the color of the 
granite-like soil, and an occasional jack rabbit or a 
soaring buzzard was the only sign of animal life visible 
from the train. 
This dreary section, more barren it seemed to me than 
even the Mojave desert, extended for at least fifty miles, 
but as we approached Hanford it rapidly improved, and 
from that on until we rolled into Visalia at 4 P. M. there 
was a continuous panorama of broad grain fields and 
orchards laden with fruits. Here a carriage awaited us, 
and we were driven to the residence of Mr. John Hunt- 
ley, a wealthy rancher living about two miles from town, 
to whom we had letters of imtroduction. 
The house, which was approached hy an avenue of 
fan-palms, was admirably adapted to temper the ex- 
cessive heat that often prevails there. Broad verandas 
surrounded each story, grapevines and running roses 
shaded the windows, and towering above all were the 
magnificent oaks that almost covered the edifice. 
Mr. Huntley received us very cordially, and after a 
generous dinner, we all adjourned to the upper veranda, 
where we could view the surrounding country as we sat 
smoking in our easy chairs. The prospect was certainly 
a charming one. As far as the eye could reach in every 
direction was a park-like country, covered wath a green 
carpet of alfalfa and salt grass, studded with immense 
oaks and cottonwoods, beneath which hundreds of sleek 
cattle were grazing or dozing in the grateful shade. 
Only to the east was this view broken, where sixty miles 
away the great peaks of the sierras thrust their bare 
granite summits up into the heavy masses of black 
threatening clouds that, even at this season, enshroud 
the lofty range and illuminate the night with vivid 
flashes of lightning. 
In the morning we returned to town and purchased 
cur supplies for the trip — a pack saddle, blankets, pro- 
visions, cooking utensils, etc. — and returned in the after- 
noon, where we found Mr. H. had brought in a pack 
animal for our use, and everything was soon in readiness 
for our departure the next day. 
Daylight found us already stirring, and after dis- 
patching a hearty breakfast, we bade our generous 
friends good-by, packed our horse, and turned our faces 
toward the distant mountains. For the first ten miles 
the country was much like that just described, broken 
here and there by sluggish streams whose banks were a 
tangle of willows, alders and cottonwood. woven by wild 
grapevines into a jungle as impenetrable as the cane- 
brakes of the South. Large orchards of apricots, ap- 
ples, peaches and plums were passed at intervals, whose 
trees were breaking down beneath the weight of fruit, 
while in the swales the cattails, 10 or 12 feet high, all 
bespoke the rich character of the soil. What a splendid 
country for elk, deer, antelope and b'ear this must have 
been in those halcyon days "before the gringo came!" 
The morning air was exhilarating, and w'e trudged 
along on foot with a step as elastic as a schoolboy out 
for a holiday, but alas! this enviable condition was as 
evanescent as the dew that sparkled upon the foliage 
about us. Noon found us in the midst of yellow stub- 
ble and hog wallow lands, the dust ankle deep, a scorch- 
ing sun, water, shade and houses so far apart that they 
seemed like oases in the desert, and the whole outfit 
completely demoralized. Sufl^ering extremely from thirst 
and heat, we drew up to a house where the occupants 
were absent, but who had fortunately left the pump in 
good working order, and for three hours we lay in the 
shade waiting for the sun to go down. 
, Late that night we arrived at Lemon Cove, sixteen 
miles from Visalia. This little settlement is in what i« 
known as the "thermal belt," where the climate is less 
variable than at Visalia and frost is hardly known. The 
soil is rich, well adapted to the citrus fruits, and is rapidly 
being planted with orange and lemon trees, that mature 
their fruit at least a month earlier than at Los Angeles. 
The thermometer at the hotel indicated 100 degrees at 
9 o'clock, and the rooms were like ovens, so that, tired 
as we were, sleep until toward morning was impossible. 
We were glad to get out of Lemon Cove. The snow 
banks that were now visible on the slopes of some of the 
peaks were far more attractive than the fruit-laden orange 
and olive orchards of the sweltering foothills, and al- 
though we had lost some of the enthusiasm of the pre- 
vious morning, we plodded along as vigorously as ever 
for fifteen miles, until we reached Three Rivers, the 
last settlement before entering the mountains. Here we 
found the first detachment of troops, that are in charge 
of the Giant Forest Park, although we had not yet 
reached the park line. Three Rivers consisted of a gen- 
eral store, a blacksmith shop and two or three dwellings 
and is located at the junction of three forks of the 
Kaweah River. The crystal, fast-flowing streams from 
the range here replaced the sluggish, dirty waterways of 
the valle3\ and in one embow-ered pool, surrounded by 
rocks, but having a bottom of soft sand sparkling with 
mica, a haunt fit for a naiad, we enjoyed a most refresh- 
ing bath. 
A mile above town we found the supply camp of the 
park cavalry, where we were received and entertained in 
the most hospitable manner, and from this on, whenever 
we met the park guards, we experienced nothing but the 
most courteous treatment from both officers and men. 
We were in no hurry to start the next day; our sur- 
roundings were quite pleasant, and although the alti- 
tude was now nearly 2,000 feet, there was but little shade 
along the road, and the heat was nearly as oppressive as 
we found it at Lemon Cove; but as the sun went down 
we packed our horse late in the afternoon and went on 
eleven miles to a water trough well within the park limit, 
where we encamped for the night, spreading our blan- 
kets by the roadside. The grade here was quite steep, 
and as there was no water on either side, this was a 
favorite camping place for freighters taking supplies to 
the bridge and road builders, and also to the giant forest. 
There was no grass for our horse, and he was obliged 
to content himself with the refuse hay that the freighters 
had left. Our breakfast was cooked on a rude but in- 
genious rock furnace built into the bank near the trough. 
Early in the forenoon of the next day we came to a 
small squad of cavalry encamped at the first really cold 
water we had found on the trip, and being warmly wel- 
comed, we passed most of the day with them. Their 
tents were pitched by a spring so cold, pure and abun- 
dant in its volume that it would have delighted the heart 
of old Kingfisher. Being within the park, no shooting 
was allowed, and as we rested nearby in the shade, a 
mother mountain quail led her brood of little ones, 
which were about the size of sparrows, down to the edge 
of the water, within a few feet of us. 
Again we started late in the day, and just before dusk 
arrived at the principal encampment, where Capt. Bar- 
ton, superintendent of the park, and a splendid specimen 
of the Americ-an soldier, had his headquarters. Here 
our guns were sealed, and after spending a social half 
hour, and enjoying a good cigar with the genial captain, 
we pushed on toward the marble fork of the Kaweah. 
Heavy forest had now taken place of the brush-covered 
hills. The elevation of 6,000 feet brought with it an 
atmosphere of most refreshing coolness, the aroma of 
the pine, the fir and the sequoia filled our nostrils like 
the fumes of wine, and the excellent heavilv shaded 
Government road upon which we were now traveling all 
combined to make this the most enjoyable day we had 
experienced on the trip. 
Crossing the divide that Icd'down to Marble Fork, we 
found the road for at least two miles had been cut 
through ledges of very handsome blue-veined marble, 
much resembling the article formerly brought so ex- 
tensively from Italy. 
It was nearly 10 o'clock, and very dark, when we 
reached the bridge that had been recently thrown over 
the Marble Fork, and where a large gang of laborers 
were still engaged in blasting out the roadway on the 
further side. We could see their illuminated tents on 
either side of the road among the trees, and there were 
several camp-fires burning, around which a number of 
men were sitting. We endeavored to get some horse 
feed from the contractor, but he refused to sell hay ex- 
cept by the bale, or less than a sack of grain, and as 
none of them seemed inclined to interest themselves in 
our behalf beyond showing us where we could get 
water, we once more made our bed in the road, and our 
horse went without food. This was the only instance 
on the trip where our reception left an unpleasant im- 
pression upon us. 
We were now fairly into the mountains. The wagon 
load ended at the bridge, and the next morning found 
us ascending a steep ridge by a trail that three miles 
beyond brought us to Camp Sierra at the edge of the 
Giant Forest. This is the most southerly as well as the 
most extensive of all the sequoia or big tree groves, 
fifty miles in length by an extreme breadth of eight 
miles. Here are found several thousand sequoias, in- 
terspersed among sugar pine, red, yellow and silver fir. 
The largest known tree, the General Sherman, is found 
here — largest, but not highest, being 42 feet in diameter 
and 285 feet high. A singular fact about the big trees is 
that in a wild state they are only found at an altitude of 
about 6,500 feet, but numerous thrifty specimens can be 
found in Visalia and other towns that have an elevation 
of less than 300 feet, where they seem to thrive greatly 
under cultixation. 
There were many prostrate giants scattered through 
the forest that had apparently been lying there for ages, 
as this wood tmder ordinary conditions is almost in- 
destructible, and in one of these whose heart had 
been burned out, making a room 30 by 10 feet in area, 
a trapper had passed t\vo winters alone nearly twenty 
years ago. A shelf and some vestige of his couch were 
still in evidence. There was another tree still standing, 
and in a healthy condition, with a hollow in it large 
enough, had it been prostrate, to have driven a prairie, 
