Sept. 24, 1904.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
261 
Camp Lockwood. 
There is much that might be said about.. Camp Lock- 
wood that I am sure would, prove interesting to every- 
body who has ever camped it} the, wilderness^ as well as 
those who may take it into their heads and out of their 
pocketbooks to do so. But, like many other seemingly 
great events in life, it is my firm belief that the events 
that transpired there are most interesting to those in- 
volved. Consequently the only logical excuse I. can find 
for betraying the secrets of that wildwood session is the 
possibility that I may inadvertently encourage someone 
else to indulge in the mysteries of housekeeping where the 
servant girl problem does not enter, and one is glad of it. 
Camp Lockwood, in the beginning of its existence, re- 
sembled a well governed, well groomed camp-meeting out- 
fit of a religious persuasion that not many, people believed 
in. Our party Consisted of nine persons when We pitched 
out tents. The, ladies of Catrip Lockwood were plainly 
but well gowned, and each one Wore one of those serious 
expressions made up of, we will say, ten component parts 
— nine parts real heart hope, one part fear. Of the ex- 
pressions of the men, one might say that of the ten com- 
ponent parts, nine were fear and one hope. Nine well 
mixed, faces of this sort were, to say the least, impressive. 
In betraying this first secret of Camp Lockwood, I am 
bearing in mind the fact that I must find some reason and 
make it public for all these expressions. Camp Lockwood 
was located on the Manistee River, in Michigan, thirty 
miles from a looking glass; and of the nine principals in 
this camping party, four, were women, and not one had 
ever slept outside of a bolted door Befoire. These two 
facts all by themselves are enough .to niake the average 
\ydman look mysterious and even solemn, notwithstanding 
the fact that three of them had fearless husbands with 
them, and. the other one her dauntless father as protector 
against everything real and most things imaginary. From 
my own standpoint of thought it now occurs to me to 
. say that the imaginary evils of the wilderness were the 
things which caused me the deepest anxiety and the only 
unhappiness I felt while there. In comparing notes with 
my fellow-campers, I verified my own thoughts. 
It is indeed singular, however, how soon the average 
woman can forget — providing, of course, she has a boon 
companion to help her. Her native courage is unassail- 
able. We all know this. But in the time of imaginary 
danger she needs Company, and for the first feW i sunsets 
in Camp Lockwood, husbands and others wefe in great 
demand. But native coufage grew apaee^ and soon any 
-one of our fair Companion's would enter a dark tent un- 
hesitatingly, but .gteifefciliy With tier arm around the waist 
•••qf : .o'rie. of her fair and brave companions. It's a singular 
thing, but a. real true one, that in ah encampment of ladies, 
if one of them wants lavender water or a clean handker- 
chief, the very desire becomes infectious ; it's good for 
the druggist, but hard on th'e washerwoman. This in- 
fection, I noticed, was most pronounced after dark; and 
the same infection applies to my reference to forgetful- 
n'ess. They help each other to dispel trie dangers of our 
tame and Well tramped Wilderness. They look the heroines 
v of old just so long as the other tent is within reach of, a 
fish-pole. In further relating the life of Gamp Lock- 
wood, it occurs to me to deal with incidents rather than 
generalities. In this way t am mOfe apt, to earn the ever- 
lasting affection of my friends as well as increase the 
circulation of Forest and Stream — bearing in mind the 
fact that the ladies of Camp Lockwood have many friends. 
■ We made our camp just where we did because we knew 
the trout fishing was good there'; and while not a pic- 
turesque country % it is a very healthy' one. Our captain of 
industry, Mr. Harry Widdicombe, of Grand Rapids, with 
his. usual forethought for the comfort of everyone, de- 
vised the idea of driving a well in order to have excellent 
drinking water for our party. This was done before the 
. tents were up. I do not know the name of this pump, nor 
just how far down they drove to get water, but we had 
well water and well people during our entire two weeks' 
stay. 
Twenty-four hours after our settling down, Mr. Widdi- 
combe was elected mayor with only one dissenting vote — 
- his own. Mr. Russell W. Woodward, of Elizabeth, N. J., 
on account of his love for all the sweet things that nature 
supplies^ was dubbed the Professor. Mr. C. L. Lock- 
Wood, of Grand Rapids, did considerable protesting over 
the naming of the camp Camp Lockwood until he was 
notified of, or waked up to, the fact that it was for Mrs. 
Lockwood and not himself that the. name was selected; 
Which reminds me to remark how easily some men are 
quieted down. Mr. Ralph Widdicombe, being an expert 
with the fly and rod, and having no one to defend 
but himself, was looked to to supply the camp with trout 
until the time came when the encumbered members of our 
toafty could be spared. I found myself being called the 
Duke. I didn't ask why at the time, thinking I might 
find out later;' but I never did, and I don't know now. 
However, it was a short name, sounded well, and, like 
Ralph's dog, I soon got used to it, and many a time did 
. the dog and I both respond at the same time, but the other 
Duke got the most petting. 
I recall that in my early experiences in the far West, 
most eastern people were called tenderfeet ; and while the 
same conditions in a way exist to-day, they do not apply 
so well, as was seen by the real display of enthusiasm 
shown by the Professor's daughter. At four o'clock on 
,', the "second morning, going from camp alone, she disap- 
peared with Mr. Lockwood's waders. At six the alarm was 
sounded, and Ralph was soon on his Way through the 
brush to one of the small tributaries to the Manistee 
River. ' A mile from camp he came to a bridge, and just 
above the bridge, in the middle of the stream, he dis- 
covered Miss. Mabel casting feathers like a veteran.. Not 
caring to disturb sp . fair a bit of fishing, he dropped, into 
the creek and started fishing himself. At this particular 
point, howeyer ? there wap much overhanging brush, and 
good fly-casting was necessary for successful work. On 
reaching the bridge, Miss Mabel sat down and watched 
her unconscious companion break his second leader, and 
then called to him that from "her experience he would 
find more trout in the brook." The young lady from the 
East supplied her own breakfast the second morning in 
camp, and with her the Other ladies became large con- 
tributors and consumers of ail meals' thereafter. 
Some of the most delightful eveniftgS 1 have ever known 
have been spent in Mr. Woodward's library. His vast col- 
lection of fishing pictures and books have shown me what 
a remarkable class my love of fishing has placed me iti i: 
besides bringing about the sweetest friendship I have ev^r 
known, at the same time allowing me the privilege that 
sometimes comes with such a friendship of telling of the 
conversion or emancipation of a fisherman. 
Like many fishermen of the old school, this splendid 
disciple of fzaak Walton was essentially and by right & 
bait-fisherman, had been one for many years, and bade 
fair to end, his days, .plugging for trout, and thus to be de- 
prived of that peculiar sensation of striking a flying trout 
with a No. 10, as well as missing many sessions of that 
school of patience known only to the fly-fisherman. 
When Mr. Woodward accepted the invitation for him- 
self and daughter to become members of this camping and 
fishing party, I'll not accuse him of supplementing his 
acceptance by saying, "Can I get plenty of angleworms 
out there?" but the question certainly was asked the same 
evening. And supposing, as I did, that the whole earth 
was full of angleworms, I replied "Yes." It was not 
until we, reached Grand Rapids that I learned a new bit of 
interesting natural history — that the angleworm follows 
the plowshare;, but finding good company in Mr. "Widdi- 
combe in my innocent deception, we landed thirty miles 
from an angleworm with cruel secrets in our hearts. 
The first day in camp Mr. WoodWard dldnT fish. He 
studied the flowers, rested, and looked for Worms, but 
looked in vain. Tuesday the second day a grasshopper's 
life wasn't safe within a mile of camp. Wednesday, with 
the assistance of the ladies, a landing-net was converted 
into a minnow-net by adding mosquito netting to it, and 
our pretty little minnows by the improvised wharf grew 
scarce and timid, and, like the grasshoppers, became the 
victims of the chubs. Had our encampment been on a 
public highway, there would have been a poster nailed to 
a tree t which would have read : "Wanted— Half peck of 
fat 'night-walkers'; $IO half peck; angleworms same 
price. All farmers, mechanics^ and everybody else take 
notice." tn the meantime, daily the flies went swirling 
through the air* and our big live box in the river became 
plentifully supplied with trout; and I — welh I, through 
sheer sympathy, avoided my beSt friend, while my con- 
science smote me hard. The next day 1 succeeded in get- 
ting Mr. Woodward to go With me. On tins day he was" 
able to accept the truth, but not to analyze it. The Mayor, 
took hint the next day, and He got as far as "addition", be- 
fore night: Oh Saturday one of the teams went to town 
for supplies, mail, and other things. Just how much of 
Mr. Woodward's money went along, He has never told. 
Suffice it to say that on Sunday he met the team well 
down the road and footed into camp with his precious lit- 
tle can of Weary anglewormS from somebody's little gat- 
den spot faf away. 
On Monday he was to fish with Ralph, and the way 
in which that can of Worms was forgotten Wheh the boat 
pushed off down the swift current of the Manistee is a 
mystery; but they were, and, as fortune would have it, 
the trout rose that day splendidly. It was dark that night 
whert these two anglers dropped from the wagon by the 
camp-fire, and we all knew from the peculiar tilt of Mn 
Woodward's hat and the keen squint in his eye that 
"something was doing." On counting their catch for the 
day, the results were R. W. W. two in excess of R. W., 
and all done with flies. Entering his tent, Mr. Woodward 
was heard to remark to a small can of angleworms near 
the entrance, "My little friends, you and I have parted 
company." 
Next day, however, he weakened just a little. It was. 
his day with me. He looked at that can fondly, with the 
remark, "I know some deep holes up the river where you 
would fit well ; my love for you is not entirely dead, but 
I'll leave you for another day." About ten o'clock that 
morning we were surprised to see a man fishing the river 
just below us; a second look assured us that he wouldn't 
be in our way long, for he was a "plugger." Mr. Wood- 
ward was fishing well ahead of me, but I closed the gap 
between us as fast as I could to see these strangers of the 
same "lodge" meet. I really expected to see a salaam of 
some sort, not fewer than three perfectos and two angle- 
worms exchanged, and an invitation to dinner extended. 
But not so. With a "Good morning. What luck?" my 
friend passed this man by like an express train losing a 
freight train. 
While sitting on the edge of our boat at noon eating 
our lunch, Mr. Woodward was about half-way down a 
slab of bread cut all the way across the loaf, when a trout 
leaped a couple of hundred yards up the river. That slab 
of bread was neVer finished. He grabbed his rod and 
struck off up against a ten-mile current nearly waist-deep 
after that trout. Unable to pull his floating creel along, 
he went without it. In fifteen minutes he was back. I 
asked him if he caught that fish, and if so, wdiat had he 
done with it. He assured me he did; then he took the 
" trout out from between his head and his hat, put it still 
alive in the live box, and went on fishine-. 
That evening by the Camp-fire we told him his conver- 
sion was complete. He replied by saying, "No, but my 
emancipation is." ' ' ' •' 
A feature Of particular interest to all fishermen was 
our care of the fish we caught. We used only floating live 
boxes, which we tied to our belts. On leaving the river 
at night, our boats were put on the wagons, then the well 
in the boat was filled with water, the trout were trans- 
ferred to it, and when w§ got to camp tb,? s§ live fish were 
put into a live box in the river. For meals as many as 
were needed were taken out with a small net. In this 
way Ave fed fifteen people sufficient trout each day, and 
when we broke camp we turned loose over 250 trout from 
seven to fourteen inches long. There will be good fishing 
there next year. 
The ladies of our party — Mrs. Widdicombe, Mrs. Lock- 
wood, Miss Woodward, and Mrs. Batten — all became 
seasoned campers, and dealt out to us all the comforts and 
many of the luxuries of home; and while I know, that it is 
the nature of the average woman to stop the clock of 
time, the general sentiment in parting seemed to be, an- 
other summer cannot come Soon enough, 
. . , T. E. Batten. 
An Outing in the Otarks. 
I am tired of planning arid toiling 
In the crowded hives of men; 
Heart-weary of building ajl<J spoiling'/ 
And spoiling and building agaitf. 
And I lorig for the deaf old rivef, • 
Where I dreamed my youth away, j 
f"or a dreamer lives forever 
Afld a toiler lives but a day.^ 
Thus I mused as I sat at my desk one fine day in 
June, and decided right then I would go the Very next 
day to one of the beautiful streams in the Ozarks. I 
called on my old friend, Col. Elder, a disciple of Izaak 
Walton, and as true a sportsman as ever cast- fly or 
put gun to< cheek. The Colonel being agreeable to a week's 
outing, by 7 o'clock the next morning we were aboard 
the Frisco, with baggage checked for St. Clair, Mo. 
Our destination was the hospitable home of. Mr. Emil 
Mantels, on the banks of the Bourbeuse River, seven 
miles from St. Clair. At the farm we received a 
hearty welcome, and, having donned outing clothes and 
gotten fishing tackle together, were called to dinner. 
Our hostess made all kinds of excuses for not having 
time to prepare anything, but the table fairly groaned 
with the products of the farm. 
This was not our first trip to the farm; we knew the 
lay of the land and headed for the boat landing.,; The 
Colonel is an expert oarsman, and we were, soon at a point 
where, in less than an hour, we had a bucket, full of 
minnows that would discount any sure lure bait ever 
invented. Then we drifted down. to the fishing ground; 
but it was early in the day and "nothing doing," so 
I climbed up on a big rock overhanging the river and, 
in a reaching position, gazed ort the beautiful surround- 
ings. A kingfisher would fly lazily by, and now and 
then a turtle would come to: the top of the water and 
then disappear. Occasionally a bullfrog would croak 
in the distance. 
The soft, balmy June breeze fanned my cheek as I 
looked out OVef the beautiful clear waters, and I 
thought of the old Indian legend our host had told us, 
"That whosoever drank of the water of the Bourbeuse 
would return agaiil." My mind wandered back to .the 
days Of HiaWatha, Nocofflus and the. laughing. Minne- 
haha, whe'n, suddenly, I spied an Indian, dressed in. 
war- paint and With eagle feathers in hair, poke his 
head up over the rock. He came creeping toward me, 
nearer, nearer. I tried to call to the Colonel, but my 
tongue Cleaved to the roof of my mouth. Closer came , 
the savage. I could see his hideous , countenance, and 
almost feel his hot breath ort my cheek; he grabbed me 
by the throat. "Hal Ha!" .he cried, "I've got you." 
I heard an awful splashing in the water, below, and 
as I peered over the edge of the. rock I beheld a sight 
that would make the blood of a sportsman tingle with 
ecstacy. The Colonel had hooked a four-pound bass, 
and it was putting up a royai fight. 
After the fish was safely landed in the boat, I regained 
my seat and remarked to the Colonel that I must have 
been asleep on the rock. "Yes," he said, "I think, so: 
you've been very quiet up there for the last hour and 
a half." Just then my cork started for the bottom of 
the river, and Colonel's followed suit. We both .got 
busy, and for three hours had excellent sport; On 
reaching the boat landing, we transferred from ■ our 
strings into the live box nine bass, two crappie, one 
channel cat and one eel. 
The days following were one . round of pleasure; 
with excursions over hills, down through the shady 
dells, and hunting and fishing. We were loath to go 
when it came time to do so. After thanking our host 
and hostess for the pleasures we had enjoyed during 
our short stay, we bade them good-bye "and started on 
our journey home. • O. J. L. 
Sr Loui«, Mb 
Horn Pouts in a Trout Pond. 
Boston, Sept. 16. — Editor Forest and Stream: . As a 
subscriber and interested reader of your columns, I take 
the liberty of trying to secure information and advice on 
a subject that is both puzzling and irritating, inasmuch as 
I have hitherto been unable to obtain .milch satisfaction. 
I have a splendid trout pond of about ten acres in Ver- 
mont, fed by cold springs, gravelly bottom, with abundant 
" feed. A few years since horn pout were let into the waters 
by accident. They have become so numerous that I drew 
off the water last week at large expense, hoping to rid 
the pond of the pouts. I saved the trout and killed mil- 
lions of pouts, but the larger ones in numerous quantities 
hid themselves in the mud or deposit on the bottom, which 
varies in thickness from one to two feet all over the pond. 
The question that now puzzles me is to exterminate 
. those concealed : in the mud. Some have advised me that 
two months' time will kill them; others say a winter's 
fieezjng will be necessary to- exterminate, I shall be glad 
to hear from expert advice, " '." '/ ' JJqrn Poxj^ 
