426 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Oct. 4, 1913. 
as the eye could reach. The Spanish explorer, 
who named this great range of mountains, would 
have given it a different name than Sierra 
Nevadas, or “snowy saws,” had he seen only 
the mountains east of the Sacramento valley. 
The peaks here are not so high or so jagged 
as those further south, and the rise from the 
valley is much more gradual. 
The forests, too, were rather a disappoint¬ 
ment, for although they were well distributed, 
the trees seemed to be small. That morning I 
passed a sawmill operating by the roadside and 
was impressed by the small size of the logs that 
were being handled, these ranging from two to 
four feet in diameter. I have since learned that 
the timber found in Butte and Plumas counties 
is of fair size and of great value, but the only 
lumbering I had ever seen before this time had 
been in Fresno and Tulare counties, where, 
to the discredit of lumbermen, the S'equoia 
giganteas were being cut. Many logs from 
fifteen to twenty feet in diameter have been cut 
up at the sawmill at Millwood, and I have seen 
workmen blast off sections of these in order that 
they could be rolled into the mill. No such tim¬ 
ber as this is found in the Feather River country, 
but of pine there is a great abundance.' There 
is a possibility that the Sequoias once thrived in 
this region, but if so they have been swept away 
by the glacial action that is so noticeable every¬ 
where. 
The second day’s walk took me through a 
most delightful section. Here and there were 
beautiful meadows encompassed with old-fash¬ 
ioned rail fences, dashing trout streams where 
the speckled beauties could be plainly seen, and 
now and then a log house with its suggestion 
of mountain hospitality. I passed Berry Creek, 
where Walker Bell, a character of that section, 
kept a store and stopping place, spent a short 
time at the Mountain House, and crossed the 
Walker plains, a long stretch of road over the 
lava beds where the rocks are of irregular shape 
—all about the size of your foot—and as hard 
as flint. 
Near the Mountain House I found a pros¬ 
pector whose name had been mentioned to me 
by almost everyone whom I had met during the 
past two days. This man had found a “pocket" 
by the roadside and had taken out over $10000 
up to the time that I saw him. An irregular 
shaped hole in the ground, five or six feet in 
length and two feet deep marked the location 
of the find. The pocket hunter described to me 
how he had panned the ground at this place and 
found a color, and how he had calculated the 
hiding place of the treasure so accurately that 
he hit upon it with the first blow of his pick. 
That night I stopped at a ranch house but 
a short distance from Buck’s Ranch, where I 
had been informed the only two-bit meal in the 
mountains was served. I was late for supper, 
but Miss Sadie, the daughter of the rancher, 
volunteered to prepare a meal for me. Such a 
meal as it was! Good substantial slabs of bread, 
butter that had been churned that morning, 
warmed over mashed potatoes, two fried eggs, 
and all the milk that I could drink. In noting 
the enjoyment of this meal in my diary I merely 
said: “I laid to with great gusto,” and that ex¬ 
plains it very satisfactorily. Next morning I in¬ 
formed my host that I was rather sore from my 
walk, and that I would like to spend a part of 
the day there. In truth, I was a little sore, but 
the sight of the trout stream near the house and 
the recollection of two of the best meals I had 
ever eaten were what prompted my desire to 
stay. Miss Sadie very gladly gave me the use 
of her fishing rod, helped me dig some worms 
for bait, and told me where the big pools were. 
What a delight it was to have a rod in my 
hands again and a promising trout stream be¬ 
fore me! It had been fully four years since I 
had had that pleasure. I am not certain now 
whether I fished that day in Grizzly Creek or 
Buck’s Creek. It makes no difference, the fish¬ 
ing was good. The trout were not large in size, 
running from six to nine inches in length, but 
they bit freely, and by 11 o’clock I had over 
thirty in the flour sack bag that I carried. An 
MR. STONE AND HIS DEER. 
hour later they were smoking hot on a platter 
surrounded by the other substantials that had 
been prepared. After dinner I paid my bill and 
departed wistfully, hoping that some time I 
might visit that place when I could stay for 
a time. 
My road took me through Buck’s Ranch, 
favorably known even then as a summer resort 
for Butte and Plumas county people on account 
of its beauty, its splendid fishing, and its monu¬ 
ments of early days in the form of picturesque 
log cabins. I was told that in the neighborhood 
were a number of beautiful lakes, the largest 
being Gold Lake, Silver Lake and the Three 
Lakes. Northern California seems to be dotted 
with Gold Lakes, almost every county boasting 
some body of water with this name. 
From Buck’s Ranch I passed through Toll- 
gate, Meadow Valley, and late in the afternoon 
arrived at Spanish Ranch. A school friend of 
mine had invited me to call on his folks living 
near here, so I found their home, and there 
spent the night. One of my close friends, Eddie 
Gordon, who by the way is an angler of no 
mean ability, likes to tell how he met me when 
I was looking for the Hallsted home that after¬ 
noon. It was he who directed me to the place, 
and I remembered how he sized me up at the 
time. Later, when I met him, he said: “I knew 
when I met you that afternoon that you were 
no bum, for you carried a notebook.” This 
might be a good suggestion for anyone plan¬ 
ning tramping trips in the mountains and desir¬ 
ing to maintain at least the appearance of 
respectability. 
At Gopher Hill, near Spanish Ranch, I saw 
hydraulic mining for the first time and took 
advantage of the opportunity to use a gold pan, 
with the result that I secured several colors. A 
stop has been put to mining of this kind, except 
where satisfactory restraining dams are erected 
to keep the debris from entering the streams. 
Fishing in many streams has been ruined by 
the detritus from placer and quartz mines, and 
untold damage has been done in the great in¬ 
terior valleys by mining operations. 
I reached Quincy on the fourth day after 
leaving Oroville, a walk of over sixty miles. 
This mountain town is set at the end of Ameri¬ 
can valley, one of the beauty spots of the Sierras.' 
It nestles between the meadow land and the 
virgin forest with Spanish Peak and Claremont 
forming a magnificent background. Within easy 
reach is Spanish Creek, Mill Creek and Spring 
Garden Creek, all teeming with trout. It was 
here that I spent the summer, as work was se¬ 
cured without difficulty, and from this point I 
made many short trips whenever chance afforded. 
The homeward trip was made by stage, and 
I may describe it as being a hot, dusty and un¬ 
comfortable journey. The traveler of to-day, 
visiting the Feather River country, is not called 
on to take such stage rides. The railroad passes 
through the very heart of it, and but short rides 
are necessary to reach many of the points of 
interest. My walk had taken me through the 
plateau district, up among the woods and 
meadows. The railroad follows the brawling 
river, affording a glorious view of canon walls, 
waterfalls, with vistas of wooded slopes and 
broad valleys. 
[to be continued.] 
Quail in Cuba. 
That the red quail, a species of pheasant 
imported about two years ago from Spain to 
be set free in this country to populate the 
ranges with that class of fowl, are multiplying 
rapidly and will in the course of a few years 
form a part of the hunters’ delight, is the state¬ 
ment of Inspector-General of Fauna, Juan Fede¬ 
rico Centelles, author of the idea. 
But 400 of these birds were brought into 
Cuba about two years ago, and when they were 
turned loose, they became acclimated and are 
reproducing quite rapidly. 
Colonel Centelles is authority for the state¬ 
ment that deer hunting in Matanzas Province 
may be barred for a period of three to four 
years, owing to the scarcity that is apparent at 
the former hunting sites. 
