188 
THE MAINE WOODS. 
eye, and of no appreciable height. We should not have 
suspected it to be visible if the Indian had not drawn our 
attention to it. It was a remarkable kind of light to 
steer for, — daylight seen through a vista in the forest, 
— but visible as far as an ordinary beacon by night. 
We crossed a deep and wide bay which makes east¬ 
ward north of Kineo, leaving an island on our left, and 
keeping up the eastern side of the lake. This way or 
that led to some Tomhegan or Socatarian stream, up 
which the Indian had hunted, and whither I longed to 
go. The last name, however, had a bogus sound, too 
much like sectarian for me, as if a missionary had tam¬ 
pered with it; but I know that the Indians were very 
liberal. I think I should have inclined to the Tomhegan 
first. 
We then crossed another broad bay, which, as we 
could no longer observe the shore particularly, afforded 
ample time for conversation. The Indian said that he 
had got his money by hunting, mostly high up the west 
branch of the Penobscot, and toward the head of the St. 
John; he had hunted there from a boy, and knew all 
about that region. His game had been, beaver, otter, 
black cat (or fisher)} sable, moose, &c. Loup cervier 
(or Canada lynx) were plenty yet in burnt grounds. 
For food in the woods, he uses partridges, ducks, dried 
moose-meat, hedge-hog, &c. Loons, too, were good, only 
“ bile ’em good.” He told us at some length how he had 
suffered from starvation when a mere lad, being over¬ 
taken by winter when hunting with two grown Indians 
in the northern part of Maine, and obliged to leave their 
canoe on account of ice. 
Pointing into the bay, he said that it was the way to 
various lakes which he knew. Only solemn bear-haunted 
