384 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Nov. 7, 1903. 
The Voices ffom the Sptingf. 
"The sun is my father, my mother the earth. 
As mist of the dark bUic sea, 
From the angel clottd, 
Amid thundering loud, 
I fall, a spring to be. 
And here in my ever new, sylvan birth, 
Dancing and glancing, perennial mirth. 
The greenwood attesting my love and my worth, 
My waters flow in glee. 
"Gossamer fronds of midsummer ferns 
Wave greenly upon my hills. 
'Neath their plumy spires 
My underground lyres, 
In faintly tinkling rills, 
Keep time as the firefly's night lamp bums, 
Or sunshine golden to earth returns 
To illumine my brook as it babbles and turns, 
And music the forest thrills. 
"With flower-lined banks and a basin of pearl. 
Where shells lie pure and white 
Under bluest of skies, 
W hose counterpart lies 
Within me in tenderest light. 
My welling currents flash and curl. 
As dimpling out in plash and purl 
They fall in the brook with dash and swirl, ' 
So laughing, prismatic, and bright. 
"The bee and the hummingljird visiting here 
Are mirrored as they drink. 
And the trees that lean. 
Dark, loving and green. 
Far over my mossy brink. 
And the moon and the stars of the midniglit clear. 
All twinkling and merry, reflected here, 
A fairy -world seem, entrancingly near, 
Where into my depths they sink. 
"My life is wild and stainless and free. 
And around me cluster and cling 
.\ hundred sweet beauties, 
All blessing the duties 
That faith and courage bring. 
For I love the world and the world loves me; 
And my glad vraters sing on their way to the sea. 
Oh! how jolly a life it is to be 
A frolicsome forest spring!" 
L. F. Brown. 
From "Prince Harold," by L. F. Brown. Copvright, 1901, bv 
L. C. Page & Co. 
Camping in the Wilds of St. Francis 
The Story of Four Men and a Dog Amid the Swamps 
of Arkansas. 
It was Nov. i ; without the wind was blowing a gale 
and occasional!}' the window blind would slam and the 
rain and snow would pitpat against the window pane. 
I had been trying for an hour to get interested in a 
work on fishculture, but had dozed off several times 
in the attempt. 1 4'^ 9i\^\ 
Suddenly tne 'phone whirred violently, nearly causing 
me to fall over backwards. It rang again before I re- 
gained my equilibrium as well as composure. "Hello! 
Hello! Bob, is that you? This is Wheeler." "Yes," 
I answered; "What is it. Captain?" "Sa-a-a-j', Bob, 
don't you want to go on a camp hunt down in Nigger- 
wool swamp?" I turned and looked out of the window 
and shivered. "When?" I faltered. "Why, now — right 
away. Dummy," he shouted. "This is just the tiine; 
got a wire from Bill Henson that the ducks and geese 
are coming in so thick that the chickens are going to 
roost two hours earlier every evening on account of the 
clouds made by the flights." I felt the blood in my 
veins take on a fresh start as I thought of the rare" 
sport. "Well, well, wake up, what d'ye say, Avill you 
go or not?" "Sure I'll go," I answered. "When will 
we start?" "To-morrow morning, 8:40 o'clock." "All 
right, Cap, I'll see you to-night. I'll be ready." 
I hurriedly rang for Smith, my secretary. "Smith, 
I'm going away for a few days — will start to-morrow 
A. M. Get all my mail up right away." "How about 
your appointment with the Manufacturers' Association 
to-morrow, Mr. S- ■" Smith offered. This certainly 
was a stumper. M3' first impulse was to 'phone Wheeler 
that it was all off. I, being chairman of the association, 
of all others was supposed to be on hand. Then there 
was the question of' railway discrimination to come 
up. Why did I not think of all this before I answered 
Wheeler? Well, I just could not disappoint him, he 
would sure have my scalp. Enter Smith again; "Here's 
a message from Mr. Blackmer stating that he will not 
be able to attend the meeting to-morrow owing to im- 
portant business engagement." "Smith," I replied, 
"\ ou send a letter to each member of the committee 
that our meeting is postponed until two weeks from 
to-day." I vowed the next time I saw Blackmer I 
would pay everything. 
It was now nearlj'^ 3 o'clock and not a thing done 
toward my equipment. I had to 'phone my gunsmith 
to get my outfit to me at once. There were rubber 
boots, blankets, hunting coats, fishing tackle and every- 
thing contingent to a camp-hunt in Arkansas to be 
looked after. I went home early and sprang it on my 
wife. "Horrors! You are certainly crazy to go hunting 
this kind of weather. I did think when I married you 
that you would gradually get over the desire for such 
terrible journeys." I finally overcame her objections, 
as I always do, and got busy packing up my outfit. I 
saw Vv heeler, and he said he had everything arranged 
— the tents, rations and all things necessary to a camp- 
hunt. He had anticipated my desires to a great ex- 
tent, and engaged one of the best old souls that ever 
"Old Ireland sprung." in the person of Jeremiah 
Tracy "Av ye plaze," to do our cooking and look after 
the comtnissar^ equipment. Jerry was a mighty good 
shot, too. Quite a number of young bloods, who want 
to do things quite in line with their braggadocio swag- 
ger, engagea Jerry about twice a year to accompany 
them on their "shooting trips." Of course, Jerry's ac- 
complishments serves to make the "bag" quite respect- 
able, but our reason for engaging Jerry was for his 
sterling worth and because we could trust him im- 
plicitly; and Jerry's camp stew was something that to 
be without would relieve our camp-hunt of one-half its 
pleasure. 
The next morning found us started on our way and 
comfortably settled in the smoker for a day's jour- 
ney. We arrived at Paragould, Ark., without mishap, 
and after supper took the "jerk-water" over to Buffalo 
Island. There we engaged three large bateaux from 
the club house, and having loaded our camp outfit and 
plunder, provided ourselves with a competent guide 
— for to atteinpt to navigate the St. Francis River 
without a guide would be as bad as an attempt to do 
Mammath Cave without one. Only the practiced eye 
of the native guide can discern the channel, and even 
they sometimes get fooled. After one is confronted 
with a dozen channels to choose from you might 
travel up one of them for several hours before being 
confronted with an impassable barrier of brush wood 
and moss. Then there is the tiresome journey back, 
and the chances are, being without a guide, you would 
again get into the wrong channel, and it might finally 
result, after a half-dozen attempts to extricate your- 
self, that you gave up (and out, too), resigning your- 
self to your fate, i. e., to wait patiently for help, which- 
might not come until next day. Then, again, the river 
is full of a most beautiful, but treacherous green moss. 
The water is simply beautiful — clear as crystal and al- 
ways delightfull}' cool. We drank this water and found 
it very palatable. Let me say right here that this 
water is as near chemically pure as any river water in 
the world. The moss grows up from the bottom and 
moves with every motion of the current, resulting in a 
most beautiful effect. It seemed to me as if thousands 
of green flags were embedded in the river, moving to 
and fro, as the current pushed through them, causing 
the folds to ripple out in long waves. It's a sight 
worth going a thousand miles to see. Owing to the 
prevalence of this moss, rowing is simply out of the 
question. "Poling" is resorted to as a mode of navi- 
gation. 
The guide pro\ades himself with a long paddle at 
least twelve feet long, and standing erect in the boat, 
poles when he can touch the bottom and paddles when 
he cannot. One remarkable thing about the paddling 
is that the native never paddles on both sides. I have 
seen them paddle by the hour, and always on one side 
only. I've tried by the hour to learn the trick, but gave 
it up in disgust. "Ye jos-hol' your pole (paddle) this-a- 
way and throw it that-a-way, an' you go right along, 
ye see? Lemme show you," says the native, and away 
he goes again, but I turn away in despair and pass it 
up. Life is entirely too short, and as Jerry puts it, 
"The devil's in it, annyhow." 
W^ll, we finally got away, the guide and Wheeler 
taking the front boat, and Baltezor, myself and Jerry 
manning the other two. Such a picnic, such strenuous 
sport I never before engaged in. Only one accident 
marred the journey. It was our pup Mephisto. 
Through some accident he got into my coat, and his 
master, Baltezor, being in another boat, caused his 
pupship much uneasiness. Our boats were about a 
half-mile apart, when Mephisto suddenly jumped over- 
board and made for his master. 'Twas rather a heroic 
effort on the part of the pup, and had it not been for 
prompt action on my part, he would now be frolick- 
ing in the Doggie's happy hunting grounds. He was 
a inuch wetter, but wiser dog, after being pulled out, 
and was satisfied to be wrapped in a blanket for the bal- 
ance of the journey. 
After four hours of hard work poling, pushiiig, 
paddling, we landed at Cypress Point. Here we dis- 
missed our guide, as we found his too frequent pota- 
tions of Jerry's bottle had had a very exhilarating effect 
upon him, and we decided to fire him, which we did 
much against his approval. "How'm I goin' t' git 
back?" he growled. "Swim," was Wheeler's rejoinder. 
"The h you say !" he shoutedj and started to draw 
his gun, but before he could draw Wheeler gave him a 
swift uppercut on the chin, which put our friend "out." 
He came to in about five minutes after Jerry had emp- 
tied two bucketfuls of water on him. We had relieved 
him of his gun during the interim. He raised him- 
self to a sitting posture, rubbed his head and then 
rose to his feet. Wheeler pointed to the woods and 
said, "you git." He growled something under his 
breath, but concluded he had had enough of our so- 
ciety and vamosed, nor did we see anything more of 
him; maybe he found himself later lining the stomach 
of a catamount or some other varmint of the swamps, 
but we gave ourselves no uneasiness on his account. 
We got our "hotel" up in short order, and inside of a 
half hour we were making Jerry's hot cakes and maple 
syrup fl3^ This, washed down with black coffee, made 
us all over again "ready for any fray." After supper 
we resolved to reconnoitre, it still lacking an hour from 
sundown. We found nothing worthy of our powder, 
however, and started on our return. When ncaring 
our camp, Jerry suddenly held up his hand and drop- 
ping to his knees, began peering through the thick 
undergrowth, which surrounded our camp. "Whist!" 
he whispered. "Pigs!" He rose to his feet and rushed 
forward with a shout, and we in his wake. We found 
the tent full of pigs — wild razor-backs — they were into 
everything— Jerry was crazy. ''''Ye devils!" he yelled. 
They paid no attention to him. We came to the res- 
cue, and after belaboring right and left with the stocks 
of our guns, succeeded finally in driving them off. 
Ordinarily, these razor-backs are as wild as deer, but 
when starving, as these evidently were, they will soine- 
times attack a man. We turned in early, posting 
Mephisto as guard for the night. We slept as only 
tired men can sleep, and only awoke when Jerry was 
shaking us, saying: "Are yez all dead?" 
Coffee, hot biscuits, bacon and .gravy a la Tracy con- 
stituted our breakfast. We pulled stakes by 6 o'clock 
and pushed onward up stream, as certainly a more dis- 
mal place than Cypress Point is not on the map, glad 
enough we were to get away from it. After three 
hours' work w6 discovered the donique, on which old 
Bill Henson had squatted. Doniques are the oases or 
dry spots that are found occasionally in the Nigger- 
wool swamp. 
No one seems to know whence this name "Donique" 
came. There is a word "donock" signifying a stone, 
found in the encyclopedia — donique may be a corrup- 
tion of it. 
We found old Bill as grizzly as ever and gladly he 
welcomed us to his dominion, for these squatters are 
veritable kings and recognize no law except of their 
own making. 
This was Henson's donique. Old Bill and his wife 
and daughter Rose welcomed us heartily, telling us 
to "make ye' sels' at home." We accordingly unlim- 
bered our outfit, and in course of an hour were "at 
home." Leaving Jerry in charge, we started off again 
to reconnoitre, and incidentally to bag anything in the 
shape of game, coming our way. We succeeded in pull- 
ing down several mallards, and it turning colder, rapid- 
ly we put back for Camp Wheeler. Jerry had supper 
waiting for us, and we did eat ourselves to a condi- 
tion of wellnigh imbecility. "Bedad!" says Jerry, 
"Ye'll ate yersels home in a wake at this rate," for 
like the old saw we "licked the platter clean." Our 
beds were made up on the ground; we took the pre- 
caution, however, to first lay about 200 clapboards 
(which we "borrowed" from Bill), on top of which 
we spread two bales of hay, Avhich we laid in stock 
through the thoughtfulness of Captain Wheeler, To 
lie on the ground without these precautions would be 
almost suicide. The soil on these doniques is of vari- 
ous depths, six, eight and ten feet, and to my mind 
is liable to slip its cables at any time, and I so ex- 
pressed my fears. But old Bill said, "I'a'c been living 
heyar twenty j-ears and I hain't .seen no slide yit," and 
he guft'awed so vehemently that the subject of our con- 
versation shook very perceptibly. Wells are dug in 
this soil by simply driving a gas pipe down until it 
strikes water. A pointed perforated tip is screwed 
on to the driving end of the pipe. Sinking a well, in 
consequence, is not a laborious operation on a donique. 
After supper we sat around sinoking our corn cobs 
and listening to the rain pattering on our tent. Sud- 
denly we heard Old Bill's voice saying, "Say, boyees, 
kin I c-min out-n the wet?" "Sure, Bill! Come in 
and join the festive throng," said Captain Wheeler. 
"Thought I'd come over and set with ye and p'raps 
you might want to hear my planner." With that he 
pulled from under his coat an old fiddle. This was his 
"planner." "Hyar she is, boyees. She's been busted 
more times'n I have, but she'll sound good s'long's 
there's a piece left on it." Sure enough, it was a vet- 
eran, scarred and seared from many an experience in 
companj' with its master, for Old Bill has been a hard 
case in his time. The numerous scars on his body at- 
tested to this fact. He had lost one eye in an en- 
counter. He pulled open his shirt one day and showed 
me a hole in his breast that I could have put my fist 
into. "A load of No. 8 went in that," he muttered. 
"Doctor had a hard time diggin' me out. I spec' 
I wa'n't born to be shot to death or cut up, may be 
they'll hang me some day." 
After he had regaled us with "Kitty Clyde,'' "Dixie," 
"Ole Gray Hoss" and several more tunes which I can- 
not now remember, he stopped suddenly with, "Ain't 
you-11 got something good?" Captain Wheeler tipped 
Jerry a wink, and the bottle came forth, and Old Bill 
"tasted" it, and felt better. As a matter of fact, we had 
to almost throw him out. The bottle was certainly an 
attraction for him. 
Next morning we were astir by da3'light, and each 
one of us took a boat and started out for a day's 
pleasure, leaving Jerry and the dog to keep camp. We 
each took a lunch and a can of minnows and guns and 
ammunition. I struck out toward the west and up 
stream, the others preferring down stream. I was ad- 
monished not to go too far, for fear of accidents. I 
got into a nice body of water and pulled along com- 
placently for an hour or so without incident. The wild, 
weird waste of water and country was attractive to me. 
Occasionally a heron w-ould rise up out of the water 
and wing silently away. The barking of squirrels was 
heard incessantly. Strange waterfowl uttered discor- 
dant cries and sometimes a "w^oof-W'Oof" from some 
donique would indicate a family of "razor-backs." I 
fell into a reverie — here w.as I but fifteen or twenty 
miles from civilization, yet here was a waste of coun- 
try that evidently was still in its primitive state. I 
was indeed alone with nature — I was hypnotized by 
nature itself. 
1 tried to throw off the spell and vowed I would not 
let another gang of ducks pass me. But, here they 
come again, flying, and straight toward me, like a 
black cloud; as they near me up they rise and pass on 
beyond with a qua-a-a-ck, qua-a-a-ck, and yet I don't 
shoot. Why? I cannot tell, it remains simply, I can- 
not. A pretty story I will have for the boys when I 
get back. Well, they may go hang, I shan't tell them. 
Soon I struck a narrow and swift channel, just the 
place for bass. I anchored to a tree and prepared for 
business. I got out my spoon and cast out in the 
middle of a troll. I could see the spoon whirling like 
a one-horse motor. Suddenly a black shadow from 
out the depths moved out and remained stationary for 
a minute. My heart nearly froze. I was in a tremble 
lest I should bat my eye. For I knew he was watch- 
ing me. Then, like a flash he was after the spoon, and 
before I recovered the shock the line was nearly spent. 
I pressed down the brake and immediately my rod 
nearly bent double, then straight up in the air he rose 
and down again with a great crash he came toward 
me ; rapidly I spun up my reel, till suddenly he was again 
off. I let him have the line gingerly and gradually 
worked him up closer and closer, and as he attempted 
a final coup, I slipped a long-handled landing net under 
him, and the prize was mine. A beautiful 4-pound 
striped bass. Ah! such sport, my blood was now up; 
I caught six after the same tactics and lost one; I was 
more than repaid already for the hardships experi- 
enced. Then, again, I had something to show the boys 
