FOHEST AND STREAM, 
888 
The Indian turned the canoe and paddled straight away 
till the clang of the closing door was heard and the light 
of the lantern no longer shone out on the lake. Then 
changing his course to the southward and tending to- 
ward the eastern shore, he paddled swiftly and silently 
until the fortified windmill south of the fort loomed 
darkly against the sky behind them. 
'■Pastoniac squaw no '"flaid?" 
"No, Cap'n Joe, not of you." 
"All safe w'en we by Carillon, s'pose we no meet 
lliquois. No himt um white squaw. Kill um Waubana- 
kec. My folks plenty mad w'en fin' um squaw gone — 
pappoose gone. No kill um, Cap'n Joe. Cap'n Joe good 
sojer. Dey t'ink we go oder way. Me only "flaid 
lliquois," 
At last they saw before them the lights glancing from 
the embrasures of Fort Carillon. Enjoining perfect 
silence, Captain Joe kept the canoe still closer within the 
shadow of the uneven shore, till the fortress lights shone 
like stars far behind them, and the musical monotone of 
the neighboring cascade fell to a distant murmiu-. At 
length they entered a river-like channel, seemingly wide 
in the illusion of dim starlight, yet was but a slender 
waterwaj'^ between rushy borders. Into one of these 
masses of rank growth, the Indian suddenly _ droye the 
canoe by one vigorous stroke of his paddle, whispering : 
"Stoop low ! Canoe comin'." 
Wondering by what sense he had discovered its ap- 
proach, Patience peering through the palings of rushes, 
saw it glide past like some ghostly craft, so noiselessly was 
it propelled by four duskj^ figures, from one and another 
of whom an occasional low-spoken word fell in a harsher 
tongue than the liquid dialect of the Waubanakee. When 
the wake of the canoe no longer stirred the water 
growth beside him, Captain Joe whispered: 
"lliquois go scout 'loun' Carillon. No git um Cap'n 
Joe scalp dis time." Then backing the light craft into the 
channel, he resumed the voyage. 
As the eastern stars began to pale in the light of morn- 
ing, he turned into a channel whose devious course, cov- 
ered with lilypads, barely gave passage to the canoe. Now 
a heron launched itself aAvkwardly into the air within the 
canoe's length of the prow, now a flock of summer ducks 
sprang to swifter and noisier flight before it, and now a 
deer, disturbed at its early feast of lilypads, splashed and 
floundered through water and mire to the shelter of the 
forest, uttering loud whistles of alarm, till at a place where 
water and shore met, the voyage at length ended. 
The canoe was carefully secreted and after a couple of 
hours of sleep and a breakfast provided from the Indian's 
pack, the party began a Aveary journey through the forest, 
wearisome even to the hardened muscles of the Indian, for 
much of the way he carried little Nancy upon his shoul- 
der. Without other adventure than the hardship incident 
to svxch travel, they came to the upper waters of the Otter, 
and in a hidden canoe made an easier stage of their 
journey. After another long march on the trail of the 
"Indian Road," toward the close of an August day, the 
light of a clearing broke through the twilight of the 
forest before them, where, with inexpressible joy and 
thankfulness. Patience Draper saw the smoke of her own 
chimney drifting up toward the evening sky, and at the 
further end of the stump-blackened meadow saw her hus- 
band at work, and on the rude ox cart with its lading of 
new hay a lesser figure she doubted not was her son. 
"Way good, now," said her faithful guide. "Me no go 
furder. He see me, ol' Long shoot me, mebbv. Goo' 
bye." 
"No, no, go with me ! Come home an' eat an' sleep an' 
rest. No one shall hurt you. I'll tell them all how good 
you are. Come on." 
With some hesitation he made as if to follow, and she 
hurried forward, leading her child. Speaking and getting 
no answer, she locked back, but caught only a glimpse of 
Captain Joe as he vanished in the shadowy verge of the 
forest, and so passed forever from her sight and ken, 
but never from her grateful remembrance. 
Rowland E, Robinson. 
In the Faroe Islands. 
{Coniinusd /rom page 363.J 
Although I spent several weeks at Hans Kristoffer's, in 
Mjdvag, I fished only four or five times in Sorvags-vatn. 
The lake was a mile from the house; it was the season 
for storing peats, when young and old are busj^ on the 
moors, and how can a woman fish alone with any pleasure 
when three bulls are grazing on the lake shores, and there 
are no fences or walls to climb over? I did not even 
try, but waited until the last peat was stacked in the 
"grothus," and the very next night, Jegvand, Jr., Heine 
and I went fishing. 
During the summer, the youth of Midvag seldom fish 
curing the day. From 8 P. M. until i A, M. in June 
and July, and from 7 to 10 P. M., and 2 to 4 A. M. in 
August are the hours preferred. An inconvenient time, 
ore might think, but the Faroe people seem to lay up 
sieep in winter as a bear does his fat in summer, and 
they are able, without difficulty, to turn night into day. 
The tackle used consists of a stout pole, coarse white 
line, and large hooks baited with angleworms, and the 
nout are jerked violently from the water with no attempt 
to play them, Jegvand and Heine, however, had made 
much lighter rods and primitive reels, and they fished 
in more scientific fashion. 
I left my fly-rod at home that evening and took a green- 
heart rod made by Hardy Brothers, of Alnwick, Eng- 
land. By changing the tips this sensed admirably for 
both bait-fishing and spinning. Jeg\'and and Heine were 
to take turns in rowing and fishing. Their method was 
to trail a rather small hook baited with angleworms, at a 
distance of about forty feet from the boat. I had a light 
braided silk line, stout leader and an Abbey & Imbrie 
"spinning coachman." Nimibers was our object. It was 
not a time to experiment with fly-fishing at night. Fru 
Hans Kristoifer expected relatives from Bo to dinner on 
the morrow — Sunday — and she had requestecl.us to bring 
home enough trout to make a large dish of "frikadellas." 
These are a glorified kind of fish cake. I Avould give the 
recipe, except for my conviction that no native-born 
American would have the patience to pound and whisk 
the ingredients for two hours and a half, and so pro- 
duce that creaminess and lightness indispensable to the 
ideal frikadella. 
There is a charm arid mystery about these night fish- 
ings. It is broad daylight until n o'clock, with wreaths of 
rosy mists about the bare' fjelds, and the higher peaks 
glowing with flame and copper hues. Then for two hours 
is a clear silvery twilight, with every object distinctly 
visible. One waits, unconscious of the passing time, for 
it to grow darker, but it lightens instead and another day 
has come. As we pass, the ever-watchful curlews give 
the alarm, the oyster catchers answer and the golden 
plover; there is a chatter of titlarks, wrens and stone- 
chats, and a few ravens and crows hurry from the cliff^s to 
see what .is the matter. The gulls, terns and kittiwakes 
are all astir, cider ducks are taking little excursions in 
groups of five or six, and now and then a puffin flies over, 
straying from his quarters on the bird crags above the 
sea. It was so light that I am sure an expert fisherman 
could have taken many fish by using a small white or 
yellow miller, such as one would choose for early twi- 
light fishing in America. 
During the first hour I caught eight good trout, and 
Heine, whose turn it was to fish, not one. Heine (aged 
sixteen) is a born fisherman and something of a misogy- 
nist, considering woman of small account except as she 
provides food and clothes to man, and so enables him to 
live and fish. He had never spoken to me (Jegvand did 
the necessary talking), but I always had hopes of soften- 
ing his heart. Heine takes his fishing seriously, and I 
realized that unless he could catch something soon, the 
situation would be critical. So I lent him an Abbey & 
Imbrie capelin minnow. He caught five nice fish in half 
an hour, all larger than mine, and the danger was past. 
And that night, when he returned the minnow, his lips 
were unsealed. "Thanks shall you have !" he said with 
haughty grace. "That's a remarkably good little fish !" 
We came stealing into the silent house at i A. M. with 
twenty-eight trout, weighing from three-quarters of a 
pound to two pounds, every one a fighter and in fine con- 
dition. Our dish of frikadellas was assured. 
A few years ago a young Englishman spent a month in 
the Faroes* and then wrote a book about them. In it 
he gave free rein to his imagination. This was a pity, for 
it caused inconvenience and disappointment to others who 
naturally wished to catch scores of trout averaging three 
pounds apiece, and to shoot large bags of curlew, oyster 
catchers, snipe, and plover during a short stroll. The 
courteous governor of the Faroes has received and an- 
swered many letters asking if these tales be true. One 
less prudent sportsman, an Anglican clergyman, did not 
inquire, but came, shot a snipe the morning after his 
arrival, and was promptly haled before the authorities. 
The above-named birds cannot be shot before Sept, 15, too 
late for travel among the Faroes. As for the fish, those 
"finny montsers of Sorvags-vatn," Hans Kristofifer testi- 
fies that he has never seen anything bigger than two 
pounds and a half. The Sorvags-vatn fish, however, are 
not to be despised. They are the Salino fario (the river 
trout of Europe), gamy, pink-fleshed and finely flavored, 
and under favorable conditions a large catch can be 
made. A few days after our first fishing, Heine had a 
regular fishing orgie, an all-night affair, and caught sixty, 
ranging from one-quarter to one and a half pounds. 
As near as I can asce'rtain, there are nine or ten fishing 
lakes in the Faroes, not counting a number of tarns where 
small trout are often taken. Fjalla-vatn and Kvittla-vatn, 
two lakes in Northern Vaagoe, have fish which, though 
not so numerous as those in Sorvags-vatn, are heavier— 
but there is no shelter at these lakes of any kind, and the 
way to them is rough and fatiguing. There are both sea 
ard river trout at Leinum, Saxen and Stromnoes or 
Stromoe, Eide or Osteroe, and Sand or Sandoe. and I 
am sure there must be many an inlet and bay still un- 
fished with light tackle where sea trout might be taken. 
But the difficulties of Faroe travel are great. In many 
places steep fjelds prevent land excursions, and storms 
make excursions by sea impossible for weeks at a time. 
The life insurance companies of Copenhagen certainly do 
not underestimate the risks of a Faroe life. Their 
charges are five times greater for Faroes than for Den- 
niark.' 
When I left Hans Kristoffer's it was to go to Leinum, 
on the island of Stromoe. Here there are three small 
lakes connected with one another and with the sea. 
Waders and a boat were necessary here, and I had neither. 
There had been little rain, and the sea trout had not begun 
to run. Also, lest I do injustice to Faroe fishing, I might 
a? well confess that I cannot cast a fly well. My line 
often falls on the water with a distressing splash, and I 
cannot cover much water with it. Had I been willing to 
use worms, I might have taken many little troutlets, but I 
persisted in fly-fishing, and the truth is I did not catch a 
thing. It was a time of humiliation, emphasized by the 
fact that the small boy who accompanied me, with a touch- 
ing faith, always carried a bushel basket. It was some 
time before it occurred to me that this was intended to 
hold my fish. 
To wait at Leinum for rains that might be long in 
coming, was not wise, and after two days I started over 
the hills to Stromnoes, a half-way hamlet on the route to 
Saxen. iNo one who cannot take rough tramps can really 
see the Faroes. My walk that day was a typical one. 
Two men carried my traps in "leipur" on their backs, and 
I trudged on behind, with skirts kilted and fjeld staff in 
hand. We folloAved the brook and lake shore for a mile 
and a half, and then climbed slowly upward for an hour. 
A keen wind met us on the summit: the air was clean and 
fragrant with peat and wild grasses. We passed cow 
limit, " then after a half-hour or so, the further sheep 
lands, and reached the lonely higher ranges, toiling over 
stones and hillocks, through matted grass and boggy spots 
where the feet sank deep in sphagnum mosses. For the 
first two hours I paddled along in a state of active 
Nirvana, thinking of nothing in particular, vaguely con- 
scious of the skirling of curlews and terns, and the plain- 
tive "dee-e !" of the golden plover. The sweet rain whisks 
against my face and the sun lays a warm hand on my 
shoulder. I feel like a primitive person, a nomad, with 
none of the cares and worries of civilized life. The two 
figures on ahead are members of my tribe, bearing our 
few worldly possessions, only — were I a true primitive 
person, I, as the woman and beast of burden, would be 
carrying the pots and skins and kettles. 
Then this beatific mood passes, and tired muscles pro- 
test against the toilsome work. We stop to rest, and I 
curl up in a hollow and eat black bread and dried mutton, 
and find that the best "pick-me-up" is cold tea. East Indian 
tea, in a bottle with plenty of sweet cream in it. Then 
on again, feeling a kind of satisfaction (to quote Thomas 
Hughes) in "the consciousness of .silent endurance, so 
dear to every Englishman, of standing out against some- 
thing and not giving in." 
It is slow work, over four hours for eight miles, and 
one's brain wearies of using one's judgment continually 
about the deepness of boggy spots and the wobbliness 
of hillocks. At last sheep come in sight again, then cows, 
and as we dip down to lower levels, from the fjord comes 
a breath of salt air, and peat smoke from cabins still hid- 
den below the rocky ledges. 
Though I have never heard Stromnoes recommended as 
a good fishing place, I feel sure that sea trout could be 
caught there. I dined from delicious fish which my 
hostess said were caught in her husband's herring nets — 
and there were all the conditions for sea trout, a sheltered 
fjord, a clear, swift stream and a tarn or two at its head 
among the hills. 
Next day I left Stromnoes for Saxen, walking over 
easier ground for six miles. As we approached, dark 
fjelds closed in upon a narrow valley, a brook tumbled 
over and between boulders, flowed through a lake, and 
with many a fall and rapid to the sea. It looked very 
trouty except for the lowness of the water. 
Saxen I found to be a three-house hamlet. The house 
where I stayed had its peculiarities. There was a rooster 
who crowed every two minutes after i :30 A. M. ; a cow 
homesick for the "out-fields," and a calf whose lamenta- 
t ons had no beginning and no end, and all three lived 
directly tmder my bed, with only an open flooring between 
us. The number of exasperating things that calf did! 
He snufiled and snorted, thumped my floor with the top of 
bis head, bellowed and grunted and rolled a wooden 
bucket about. In the morning I protested'; my hostess 
suggested mildly that I "might get -used to it," but I as- 
sured her that never while life remained could I get used 
to such a calf. They were kind people, and thereafter at 
10 :30 P. M. the calf and the rooster were borne away 
to other quarters, the rooster protesting indignantly, and 
the cow and I ptit tip with each other's society. 
Then followed a tiresome week of waiting for the sea 
trotit to come. The water near the lake was shallow and 
with no boat or waders there was small chance of any 
good-sized lake trout. The stream was shrunken, and 
the empty nets in the bay testified to the absence of sea 
trout. I had a gourmand's interest as well as that of a 
fi.sherwonian in catching fish, for I grew very tired of 
kittiwakes for dinner, and the only alternative Avas last 
year's Avhale's meat. Every day at 11 o'clock I heard the 
report of a gtm. and soon a pretty kittiwake in a dying 
conditioit would be shown to me, and I ate it at 2 o'clock, 
feeling like a Moloch or a Juggernaut. 
But at last came a might}'- west wind, bringing with it 
the blessed rain, and all the burns and cHff waterfalls 
awoke and made a chorus up and doAvn the glen. I took 
my rod and splashed through the puddles toAvard the in- 
let, glancing as I passed into a pool Avhich had always 
seemed promising. Yes, there Avere fish in it ; a little one, 
a larger one, and in the shadow of a boulder a A^ague shape 
that might be a large trout. The sea trout were coming 
from the sea. I quietly slipped on a grizzly-king and a 
professor, and cast across the pool. At the second cast 
the medium-sized fish took the fly and I landed him after 
a sharp fight, a beautiful pound and a half trout. A few 
minutes later there was a SAvirl and a big fellow darted 
out at the fly, but the little one Avas ahead of him and 
was 'taken in short order. Then I Avent aAvay for twenty 
minutes, put on tAvo ncAV flies, tested the tackle and did 
my A'ery best to throAv the flies lightly in the shadow of 
the boulder. In an instant I had him fast ; he moved 
sloAvly away a few yards, then jumped high from the 
Avater, a great shining bar of silver, fell back heavily and 
diving under a sharp ledge see-sawed the leader against 
the edge; at last it parted, the fish Avas aAvay with my 
two flies, and I sat doAvn on the ground and groaned and 
said unpleasant things to myself for hesitating to risk my 
light rod and force him out. An experienced angler might 
have done it, but my Hardy guinea rod of eight ounces 
\\as a ncAV one, and I did not knoAv then how much it 
would bear. 
That ended my daj^'s fishing, but I dreamed of big 
trout, and next morning made extensive preparations, and 
with a small boy to help, stole softly doAvn to that pool, 
hid behind a rock and peeped in. I could count twelve 
fine sea trout, all lying in the bed of the pool and SAvay- 
ing lightly to and fro in the strong current. 
And then I began to fish. It Avas not easy Avork. The 
best place from Avhich to cast was on a sloping boulder, 
Avhere I Avas almost hidden behind a great mass of rock. 
I had to cast over this^ Avait to see that the fish Avas firmly 
hooked, and then in the few seconds which elapsed before 
he reahzed that fact, pass the rod over the rock, keeping 
the line taut as I climbed over several slippery rocks, and 
reaching the strand, face about just as he began to fight. 
I had never fished for sea trout before, and had always 
supposed that the Canadian Nepigon trout Avere the 
gamiest in the world. But I have never seen such wild 
rushes, high leaps and lightning speed. .1 Avas no longer 
afraid to trust the rod and found I could cjieck the fish 
as they made for the sea. But it was liA^ely Avork. Such 
beautiful creatures they Avere ! like burnished silver Avith a 
little blue-green down the back. I had unfortunately left 
my landing net at Midvag, and I had to tire them out 
and then lead them cautiously up to one little piece of 
sandy strand where the small boy could go in the shallow 
Avate'r and secure the fish. And ncA-er have I seen a 
stupider specimen than Paol Jens. He stood each time 
like a graA-en image, not moving a finger imtil roused to 
action by my fierce wrath. He will ncA^er make a fisher- 
man ! Heine, of Midvag, at the age of three, wduld have 
known just Avhat to do, and hoAV to do it. But there were 
times that morning when I had murder in my heart to- 
ward Paol Jens. 
During the next tAvo hours I caught seven out of the 
twelve fish. In Aveight they ranged from one and a half 
to almost three pounds. I think T ni ght' haA^e taken 
several more, but I was quite exhausted by that time, and 
had to go home for dinner. The largest and wariest fish 
were still in the pool, and I noticed that the heavier the 
fish the redder was its flesh. Even in the Avater one 
could see the pink and copper tints gleaming through the 
silver skin. They weighed probably ■ from three to six 
