134r 
Ivlay 29 
WILDER\ESS SKETtUES-Xo. 6. 
[COXTrSTED.] 
BY BALS.VM. 
P Dinner was over, and we lay at full length, taking 
flTing^easy, and as usual smoking our pipes and enjoy- 
ing ourselves in our lazy fashion. 
The thick woods shaded us from the fierce heat of the 
6u«, and a light breeze blowing'off from the lake made 
the day, hot as it was, bearable. “Boys,” said Carl “we 
must get our line ready and out before night, if we want 
any salmon, so lets go to work and file wp th* hooks, 
and put on new ones where they are waintod, for we 
have none too much time to do it in.” 
We strung the long set line out from tnee to tree and 
were soon busily engaged in fixing it up in good shape. 
So busy were we, that we hardly noticed the solemn 
hush that was brooding over the forest, nor the black 
clouds that were gathering westward over the distant 
mountains. At last the hooks were all in place and the 
line wound up in readiness to put out and bait. Carl 
stood it up at the door of the dining shanty and then for 
the first time I discovered the approaching storm. 
Great black clouds with ragged edges came up over the 
mountain above us like race horses, and soon low mut- 
tering thuncfer was heard, while the tree tops sighed, 
and moaned as if already aware of the power of the 
elements. “Boys, we are going to have a storm, and it 
looks to me as if it was going to blow some too.” 
Blacker grew the clouds and stronger the wind, 
clashing the tree tops together and then again dying 
away like the moan of a departed spirit. Our guide 
stood carefully watching the trees with an anxious ex- 
pression, and with a look on his face as if he wished the 
storm was over. Suddenly there came a crash of thun- 
der, and then the storm burst upon us. The lightning 
blazed, lightmg up the gloom which hung over us like 
a pall, while the wind came down the side of the moun- 
tain with terrific fury, sweeping every thing before it. 
Trees were crashing around us in every direction. 
Heavy old forest monarchs which had withstood the 
storms of many ages, were blown over like wisps of 
straw and in falling brought down smaller trees with 
them. The air was filled with branches of trees and it 
seemed for a time as if heaven and earth were coming 
together. All this while we stood in the door of the 
shanty watching the storm and hardly darine to breathe 
At last there came a pause and then another mighty 
rush of wind. I heard a crash! and then Carl’s voice, 
“run boys, run! there comes the big hemlock.” And 
run we did and we barely escaped being smashed. 
As it was the top of the tree just grazed us. As we 
stood together, the rain pouring down on us in torrents 
and trees crashing around us, I realized for the first 
time the tremendous power of the wind in the forest. 
Oh! it was a grand as well as a terrible sight, to see those 
mighty trees mown down before the wind like the 
grass before the mower’s scythe, some torn up by the 
roots, others broken off like a pipe stem and mixed 
together in inextricable confusion. 
A large tree near the shore yielded to the fury of the 
blast and toppled over, carrj'ing several smaller trees 
with it, and from where we stood threatening destruc- 
tion to our boat, which lay hauled up on the shore. 
“Boys, I’m afraid mt’ boat is gone up, and then we will 
be in a nice fix, but let’s hope for the best; perhaps the 
limts have not struck low enough to injure it.” By 
this time the fury of the gale somewhat abated and we 
ventured back to our shanty, although trees could be 
heard falling at intervals in the distant woods around us. 
As luck would have it, the shanties had not been in- 
jured, the big hemlock falling directly between the two 
shanties without injury to either. “Well, boys what do 
you think of shady camps now' ?” “You see that camps 
with heavy timber around them are not very safe and I 
never stay in one if I can help it.” And this camp I 
always considered a dangerous one. The trees ought to 
have been cut away before it was built, having only 
small ones enough for shade.” “Well,” said I, “for one 
I've got enough, let’s go hack to the other camp where 
we can’t be smashed to a jelly, by trees falling on us. ” 
“Do you make that a motion ?” said Frank. “You can 
consider it such if you like and second it too ?” “Well 
then, let’s pack up and be off.” “But where’s the set 
line said Carl?” “I left it standingup beside the door.” 
A search was instituted but no line could we find. 
^Vhcre could it be. Perhaps [under ithe hemlock, we 
must find it any ways. So at it we w-ent with ax and 
hatchet, lopping off limbs, tiU we had completely strip- 
ped it, but still no line, every place was searched with 
the same result, and darkness coming on, we packed up 
our traps and returned to the other camp. 
Our boat was safe, the top limbs just dipping into it 
without knocking a hole into it, but it was a close shave, 
and we were very glad to find it all right. The storm 
had passed over, and but for the occasional rumbling of 
the^distant thunder, and dark rolling clouds passing off 
slowly to the southwest, no indications of the storm re- 
mained except the trees which lay scattered about in 
every direction. By the time we reached camp the 
stars came out one by one, and a solemn stillness reigned 
over lake and forest. The frogs in the lily pads were 
piping their evening songs, and an tfid loon joined in 
the chorus. We soon had our fire kindled, and a good 
“smudge” smoking away, for the musquitoes and 
punkies were pretty thick : and after drying our wet 
clothes we turned in and dreamed of home. 
Morning dawned bright and beautiful, and what is 
more lovely than a morning in the wilderness? As 
you awake with a yawn and roll out of your blankets, 
your ears are saluted with the song of birds, and the 
gentle lullaby of the waves as they sing on the pebbly 
shore at your feet. The sun just creeping up over the 
tree tops which crown the eastern mountains, flashes 
his rays over lake, wood and river, causing a thousand 
fantastic shapes to appear in this shifting panorama of 
nature, and warming into life and activity the countless 
millions of the insect world. On the surface of the lake 
the trout leaps with a flash as some butterfly skims 
over it, and disappears with it in his capacious maw. 
While further out, a brood of young ducks are moving 
over the silent waves with the old mother bird guiding, 
and watching their movements as they dive and sport 
on its surface. Off over the distant mountain tops the 
sky is crimson and gold; the rolling clouds are drifting 
slowly along, changing every instant their form and 
color like the shifting tinsel in the kaleidscope till at 
last the sun disc comes wholly into view, and the God 
of day reigns supreme. We are early risers in the wil- 
derness, not, perhaps, because we love it, but more be- 
cause we have an incentive for so doing. And I might 
mention here as well here as anywhere what the incen- 
tive is. Punkies! That’s his front name, or if you like 
it better gi^ts. They are small in size, about as large 
as a pin head, but their bite — well, their bite is as large 
as an elephant, and about daylight they are hungry; 
that is they are a little faint in their stomachs, and long 
for blood. Their cry is blood, and they mean business. 
They are social — very; live in families, and have lots of 
children, and then they are so affectionate, resting lov- 
ingly on your cheek or the back of your neck. When 
the morning light comes on, and before you are half 
awake, your face and every exposed place feels as 
though a million needle points were penetrating every 
part, and a general rush for smudge kettles is the 
result, and soon you are relieved of the pests, only to be 
half strangled by smoke. “ Gome boys, breakfast is 
most ready, and I wish one of you would take the boat 
and go up to the camp and get our butter pail. I left it 
up there last night.” “All right, Carl, I’ll go,” said 
J’rank, and soon the boat was moving up the lake. 1 
was busy at the rear of the camp fixing up my fly rod, 
and Carl was busy preparing breakfast, when I heard 
him exclaim, “What are you doing down there?” 
followed bj' a low laugh. “ What’s up. Carl,” said 1, 
coming around to the front. “ Weil, I don’t know 
what under heaven Frank’s doing down there, but 1 
believe he’s lost.” Soon he got back into the boat, and 
came up to camp. Frank’s face had a queer look as he 
landed and came marching up from the shore. “ What 
was you doing down there ? Did \'Ou get lost, and 
right in sight of camp, too?” “Did you cry when you 
found yourself outof sight of camp,” said I; “ Oh! this 
is too good to keep.” “ Xow, look^here fi llows, stop 
laughing at me and I tell you all about it. You see, I 
found the butter pail all right in the spring, and got into 
the boat and paddled down towards the camp. There 
was a loon out on the lake and I was watchinghim.” 
“ Y'es, you was looney suie enough, but — ” “ Will you 
keep quiet till I finish? Well, I was watching \he loon, 
and somehow 1 paddled right by the camp and went 
down to the rock below,'and landed; and never discov- 
ered my mistake till I was marching up with my pail 
and saw no camp, and then — ” “ Yes, and then you 
bawled like a calf for Carl, and thought you would 
never see home again,” said I; “come now you will 
have to treat when wc get out.” “ Well, bojs, don’t 
laugh any mote about it and I’ll treat.” “Well this 
beats all the getting lost I ever heard of since I came in 
the wilderness; but never mind, the lost is found. 
Our morning meal concluded, Carl went up to the 
old camp above to have one more look for the lost line, 
and in about half an hour he returned with all that was 
left of it, a few half-hurnt hooks. The wind had blown 
the line into the fire, and burned it up, so we bade good 
bye to our fishing for lake trout. We spent the day 
quietly in camp till about sundown, when we started 
down the river to have a bout with the trout at one of 
the numerous spring holes on the riyer. We dropped 
quietly down the stream, and soon our boat lay rocking 
on the still waters of the stream, while we jointed our 
poles, adjusted our flies and made ready for fun. My 
flies had hardly struck the water befors there was a 
rush, and I succeeded in heoking a fine trout, while my 
companion was kent equally busy. The hole seemed 
fairly alive with fish, and we soon had all we wanted 
for our present use. It is hard work to stop fishing 
when you can land trout at every cast of your fly, but I 
deem it a sin to catch trout simply for the pleasure of 
Ashing, and if all persons engaged in this delightful 
pastime would do likewise, the trout would ’oe plenty 
for all time, but I have seen strings of trout left to rot 
on the bank, caught for fun. This kind of fishing 
should be put down by all who love this noble sport, and 
catch no more than you can use to advantage. As the twi- 
light settled down we started for camp. How' pleasant 
the twilight hour in the wilderness; all nature is hushed 
to repose, the birds are seeking their nests, the fisk even 
seem to know that night is coming on and less fre- 
quently rise to the surface; no noise reache.s you, and 
as you follow the sinuous course of the river or glide 
over the silent waters of the lake, a feeling of loneliness 
comes over you and your thoughts go back to your city 
home hundreds of miles from this forest retreat, and 
you wonder what is going on. You can, perhai s, al- 
most hear the shriek of the locomotive, the rumble of 
horse-cars and stages, and the din and uproar of a great 
cit}’. You wonder if they are thinking of you up here 
in the woods, and how you .spend your time, and if you 
really enjoy this woods life so much. All these 
thoughts come stealing over one as the darkness comes 
on, as you sit in the stern and ply your paddle. And 
now the .stars come out one by one, and over the moun- 
tain top you can just discern the moon coming slowly 
into view, and whose glory will soon eauso the lesser 
lights to pale, as she rises into full view and reigns the 
“queen of night.” 
My thoughts were interrupted by the mournful ho- 
ho ho-ho-ho of an owl off in the woods to the left of us. 
How mournful the hoot of an owl always is to me in the 
woods, and yet it is one of the numerous orchestra who 
serenade us up here in the wilderness. “How the frogs 
bellow,” said Carl, “they are making an awful fuss over 
there in the slough, and I’ll bet my bottom dollar there’s 
a deer in. They always make a tarnal rumpus when a 
deer is feeding among the lily pads. .Just hear them go 
it.” And now a loon goes screaming overhead, or 
away off faintly, perhaps, you hear that most startling 
of all cries, the howl of a wolf, and so the forest sere- 
naders go on till night is vocal with their music. To 
me, who love the woods so much, it is the best of music, 
nothing out of tune, but all in perfect keeping with the 
time and place. 
“Boys,” said Carl, “this is a lovely night, and no mis- 
take. The moon is about full, and it seems to me it 
never shone brighter, but it’s going to be a poor time for 
floating.” 
“Oh, never mind the floating, we’ve got venison 
enough for a day or two, anyway, so let the deer grow' 
fat and enjoy themselves, and then perhaps we cun get 
a daylight shot, who knows?” said Frank. 
“Yes, we may if we start out early to-morrow morn- : 
ing and take a run up the inlet; bnt confound it. I’m 
getting sleepy, and half-starved besides, so let’s go for 
camp; I think lean stow away a few ‘slap-jacks,’ any t 
way,” said I. “Well, I never saw you when you ' 
couldn’t; you are always hungry,” grumbled Carl. 
“Well, if you keep a hotel you must expect to feed your , 
boarders. So don’t don’t growl, old fellow, but just get j 
to camp as soon as possible.” We glided swiftly 
across the lake, past islands sleeping quietly in their i 
own shadows, and as the moon burst forth in full glory j 
from a bank of clouds we slid our boat up on the sandy i 
beach, and were soon busily engaged in cooking our 
supper. This done, a quiet smoke followed, and then 
we lay down on our bed of boughs and were soon _ 
wrapped in slumber. / 
