56 
THE MAINE WOODS. 
started for the summit of the mountain, distant, as Uncle 
George said the boatmen called it, about four miles, but 
as I judged, and as it proved, nearer fourteen. He had 
never been any nearer the mountain than this, and there 
was not the slightest trace of man to guide us farther in 
this direction. At first, pushing a few rods up the Abol- 
jacknagesic, or “open-land stream,” we fastened our 
batteau to a tree, and travelled up the north side, through 
burnt lands, now partially overgrown with young aspens, 
and other shrubbery; but soon, recrossing this stream, 
where it was about fifty or sixty feet wide, upon a jam 
of logs and rocks, — and you could cross it by this means 
almost anywhere,— we struck at once for the highest 
peak, over a mile or more of comparatively open land, still 
very gradually ascending the while. Here it fell to my 
lot, as the oldest mountain-climber, to take the lead. So, 
scanning the woody side of the mountain, which lay still 
at an indefinite distance, stretched out some seven or 
eight miles in length before us, we determined to steer 
directly for the base of the highest peak, leaving a large 
slide, by which, as I have since learned, some of our 
predecessors ascended, on our left. This course would 
lead us parallel to a dark seam in the forest, which 
marked the bed of a torrent, and over a slight spur, 
which extended southward from the main mountain, from 
whose bare summit we could get an outlook over the 
country, and climb directly up the peak, which would 
then be close at hand. Seen from this point, a bare 
ridge at the extremity of the open land, Ktaadn present¬ 
ed a different aspect from any mountain I have seen, 
there being a greater proportion of naked rock rising 
abruptly from the forest; and we looked up at this blue 
barrier as if it were some fragment of a wall which 
