FOREST AND STREAM 
441 
have to get out in the night. However, the storm 
rolled by in due time, and left us none the worse 
for the experience. Wife and I got up to look 
about and calm our nerves. Overhead the stars 
were shining brightly, but off in the east the 
lightning was still flashing away and thunder 
muttered continually. We knew someone was en¬ 
joying the experience through which we had just 
passed. I think it was the worst wind storm we 
ever experienced under canvas. 
We slept late the next morning; not even the 
calves calling for their breakfast aroused us. 
After breakfast we went over the canoe carefully, 
darning and oiling the abrasions it had received 
in transit, and then set up the ship and gave the 
whole bottom a coat of oil. In the afternoon I 
fished. 
So the days passed, raining some part of each, 
and we found on Friday morning a thick, obscur¬ 
ing fog shutting out all but the nearest objects. 
We held a consultation. I was almost in favor 
of remaining where we were over another Sun¬ 
day, but the other two said move, so down came 
the tent, the Canvasback was loaded, and our trip 
was begun. Hardly had we taken a dozen strokes 
always be sorry that we did not pitch our tent 
there and remain over Sunday. But the rain con¬ 
tinued to fall in a dreary drizzle, and we thought 
that perhaps we ought to get a few miles behind 
us before going into camp, so pressed forward. 
While I was making the first portage around 
the dam at Nelsonville, Wife and Girl went up to 
the nearest store and laid in some supplies, secur¬ 
ing some beefsteak at the meat-market. Think 
of it—prime beefsteak, the best cut, for only 
thirteen cents a pound! I think some day I shall 
go to Nelsonville to live. The people who passed 
me as I was carrying my loads around the dam 
were pleasant and kindly, pausing to exchange 
greetings and ask concerning our trip, a different 
class from those we met further down the stream. 
Again we were afloat, the clouds breaking away 
somewhat, the sun even showing his face now and 
then. The heat was so oppressive that we knew 
another thunder-storm was imminent, so we 
dipped our paddles in the water and tried to ima¬ 
gine that we had had dinner, though Girl’s face 
grew long. Three wire fences within a few rods 
gave us plenty of work, and immediately follow¬ 
ing a jam of drift in a rapid added to our labors. 
it best to camp on the top of the little hill. How¬ 
ever, the artist had- her way, and we camped on 
land hardly two feet above the surface of the 
river. Just at the back of the tent a little creek 
united with the river, so our tent was pitched 
on a narrow neck of land, the river in front and 
the creek at the back. I did not like the location 
a little bit, but told myself that there could be 
no danger. 
While Wife was preparing the long delayed 
dinner, Girl and I made many trips up and down 
the river with the Canvasback, bringing in load 
after load of spruce boughs, so that by the time 
Wife called us from our labor we had a luxurious 
bed ready. But before we had washed our hands 
the rain began to fall, so we hastily turned the 
canoe bottom up and retired to the tent. Fortu¬ 
nately Wife had the supper well cooked, so we 
sat inside and ate while the drops hammered away 
upon the silk. How it rained! As the moments 
passed the storm increased in violence, until 
there was a continuous roar upon the thin roof, 
and we were compelled to shout in order to make 
one another hear. The hours dragged by, and 
still the storm continued. Night set in, and there 
M 
Aluminum Cooking Utensils and Silk Canoe Tent. 
Where Bass Are to be Had for the Casting. 
with the paddles when the rain began, not spon¬ 
taneously, as is usual in summer time, but stead¬ 
fastly, persistently, discouragingly—a bad omen 
for our trip. 
Within a quarter of a mile of our camp we ran 
into a barb-wire fence—the first, but by no means 
the last, for almost every bend of the river dis¬ 
closed one or more of the murderous affairs. The 
first past safely, though we were compelled to 
disembark to get under it, we bent to our paddles. 
The Canvasback was loaded heavily, but she de¬ 
veloped a speed that was truly amazing, and she 
steered easily, a matter for which I was thankful. 
We were sorry to pass over so much good fishing 
ground without wetting a fly, for we could see 
trout darting from beneath log jams and over¬ 
hanging banks, great lusty fellows that caused my 
reel hand to twitch in expectation. A canoe and 
a week on that stretch of river would be great. 
We noticed that we were loosing current, and 
that the water was gaining in depth, signs which 
we knew betokened a pond and dam. Therefore 
we looked for the first town, Nelsonville. Soon 
we saw it rising, as it were, out of the pond, and 
we sent the Canvasback leaping through the dead 
water. At the head of the Pond on the left bank 
we saw a fine camp ground, and I think I shall 
When I discovered barbed wire amid the drift my 
courage about failed. There was no use trying 
to work the Canvasback through that, and I un¬ 
loaded. Again I loaded the canoe and pushed out 
into the swift current, and before I could gain 
control of the boat, was turned twice around, 
missing by an inch or two a spiked log that 
reached up to cut open the bottom of the old 
Canvasback. It was a narrow squeak, and made 
me thoughtful. 
The river seemed open, and I took Wife and 
Girl aboard, as they had been following along the 
bank, and we continued down stream. The river 
was beautiful, the great trees leaning out from 
first one bank and then the other. Or perhaps it 
would sweep through a low pasture where wide- 
eyed cows watched us with interest. Again the 
banks would narrow, and the stream, deep and 
fearsome, would rush along like a race-horse. 
Always we saw trout, big fellows, too. 
Heavy and continuous thunder low in the west 
warned us that the storm king was massing his 
forces for a determined attack, and a high bank 
appearing, we determined to go into camp. Wife, 
with an eye to a camp-picture, insisted on camp¬ 
ing on the lowland at the foot of the bluff; but I, 
with a memory of past lowland camps, thought 
was no sign of abatement. I tried to keep from 
frightening the others, but just the same I would 
have given everything I possessed to have had 
the tent upon the bluff. What I expected I did 
not know, but I knew something was going to 
happen. 
Something after eight o’clock I put my hand 
down at the foot of our bed, and splash! it went 
into water. “Disturbed?” I was scared stiff! 
Without mentioning my discovery, I began to put 
on my coat and boots, saying that I thought I had 
better “step outside and take a look around.” 
Taking the carbide light in hand, I turned its 
white rays in every directon. 
A wild and fearsome sight it revealed. The 
river was over its banks, just lapping up the last 
sign of our camp-fire, which stood between the 
tent and the river. The little creek at the back 
was a raging torrent, all but touching the rear 
wall of the tent. It was that creek I feared, for 
I know the habits of those little runs, which 
sometimes become rivers in a few hours. “Sup¬ 
pose that dam at Nelsonville has gone out!” That 
thought determined me. Sticking my head inside 
I said, “Pack up as quickly as you can. We must 
get out of this at once!” 
(To be concluded.) 
