Jan. 25, 1913 
FOREST AND STREAM 
107 
cabins built by I\Ir. Marshall and saw the site 
was well chosen. The main shack was of rough 
logs, one story high, about twenty feet long and 
ten feet wide. A door and a window faced the 
lower trail, valley and spring to the south. The 
long table and benches inside were stationary, 
reminding one of the lumberman’s mess table 
and benches. A small iron stove drew well (we 
were drawn toward it immediately) a few pots 
and pans, odd granite plates, and tin cups gave 
promise of a hot meal. A half dozen blankets 
and a cot at one end of the hut served as a 
seat, hall rack, cupboard, foot stool, bookcase 
or bed as occasion required. 
Facing the "combination room” was the soli¬ 
tary sleeping room, long and low with one door, 
no windows, and many natural ventilators. Op¬ 
posite the door at the end of the shack stood a 
small wood stove upon almost vagrant legs. It 
seemed to sway, and as you neared it, raised a 
rusty elbow into your face. 
The trunk of a pine sapling separated the 
pathway inside from the pine bough bed, upon 
which the toil-worn traveler might rest for the 
night. A rope overhead was intended for any 
clothes the traveler could spare while he slept. 
We found a monstrous rock southwest of 
the cabins, from which we could clearly see, 
looking down defiantly at us, the bare bold top 
of the mountain half a mile away. Here we ate 
lunch. We asked if we had time for a siesta, which 
was granted by our guide, who said he was sure it 
would rain before we could reach the top. So 
we stayed and watched the deep purple clouds 
sink lower and lower, then move like panoramic 
pictures about the mountain head. We hastened 
inside, where consternation reigned among the 
girls, for we knew we couldn't go home that 
evening. 
It was raining a hard, remorseless rain in 
the valley, and the trails were veritable brook¬ 
lets. We sat listening to the fretful patter of the 
rain upon the window, when someone ventured 
to remark that we had no tooth brushes with 
us. Our guide promptly said: “There is a good 
strong tooth brush here that you girls can use 
if you wish Dr. Bunner left it here last year, 
and I don’t need it. And don’t be afraid, girls. 
You can sleep on the pine boughs in the other 
cabin. Henry and I will sleep in here on the 
cot. I’ll build a fire in your stove and give you 
five of the blankets. Then I’ll nail the door shut 
so no prowling bears will get in.” 
Encouraged by his solicitude and the clear¬ 
ing sky. we ate heartily of broiled steak and pota¬ 
toes. Phoebus was sinking to rest when we were 
alarmed by a couple of masculine voices from 
the ravine. “Flere it is, here it is,” and they 
burst into the camp like a cyclone Tattered and 
torn were their trousers, while their arms were 
bare and bleeding from the briers they passed 
on the way. They had been traveling since 
morning and came up the shorter but harder 
route by way of the Wilmington flume. They 
stemmed the tide of the mountain torrent and 
disregarded the trails because they thought they 
would save time. Mr. Marshall’s larder, usually 
well stocked with canned meats and vegetables, 
was much depleated after these boys had dined. 
They ate with a gusto that would have flattered 
Epicurus himself. 
Stepping outside the lamp-lit cabin into the 
darkness, we felt the hallowed silence brooding 
over all. I stole away unmissed to the great 
overhanging rock and sat there drinking deep 
of the cup of heaven and fearing it would slip 
from me if marred by a single voice. It was as 
though the earth were in lethargic sleep of hiber¬ 
nation. The clouds, grown soft and white and 
fallen down beneath me, looked like a silver 
cocoon embracing the larva of a caterpillar and 
hiding from unhallowed gaze the beautiful mys¬ 
tery of the metamorphosis. 
Streaks of lightning encircling the mountain 
tops prophesied a wondrous change while the 
deep reverberations of sonorous thunder heralded 
the birth of a beautiful day. The clouds receded 
in ever widening circles. Stars appeared like 
lustrous eyes on the verge of tears. 
It was growing cooler, so we went back into 
the cabin, huddled about the fire and told stories. 
One of the boys said that on the way up he had 
seen several panther tracks in the soft mud; 
another vowed they were the foot prints of a 
wildcat. The guide assured us that these animals 
seldom go beyond the line of vegetation, near 
which we camped. Story followed story, until 
the lamp burned low and the belated travelers 
threw themselves down on the pine boughs in 
one corner of the little shack and fell fast asleep. 
We enjoyed the flicker of the thirsty wick and 
so we stayed until the oil gave out. Then we 
were in a predicament. We could not stay up 
all night; we were too weary for that. The 
damp, floorless cabin in which we were would 
never do to sleep in. We were holding counsel 
when Mr. Marshall returned and said that there 
was nothing for us to do but to take the vacant 
corner in the shed, lie down and cover our¬ 
selves with blankets. Having no alternative, we 
did as advised, and crawled like prowlers of 
the night into our lair. Although Mr. Marshall 
acted as guard and stayed up to feed the yawn¬ 
ing stove, we determined we would rest but not 
sleep. For a long time we watched the fanciful 
shadows made by the intermittent flames and the 
weird silhouette of our guide sitting by the stove 
like an Indian chief before a fire to the Great 
Spirit. 
It may have been extreme weariness, the 
fragrance of the pines or both, that weakened 
our wills, but it was not long before Morpheus 
claimed us for his own. 
The stillness that followed the storm was 
broken occasionally by the gnawing of a hedge¬ 
hog outside. The dull monotony of the regular 
recurrence of the sound was exasperating. It 
ceased after a time, and then we heard the de¬ 
licious soothing sound of the soughing pines. 
They breathed a rare sweet perfume and lulled 
us to slumber. 
Day dawned clear and bright, and I hastened 
to my hallowed rock, stood upon it and viewed 
the transformation. There below me hovered 
the variegated earth like a beautiful butterfly 
just out of its cradle. The green was soft and 
velvety while the blue was deep yet luminous. 
The boys had unbunked earh' and tried to 
make themselves look presentable. Although 
they had no visible baggage, they produced a 
brush and razor and shaved by the unsteady re¬ 
flection of a poor mirror. Not to be outclassed 
by the boys, yet having no comb, we betook our¬ 
selves to the boudoir outside and arranged our 
veils upon our heads like breakfast caps. Then 
we filed in and sat down to breakfast, the men 
on one side, the girls on the other. Never did 
we eat with more relish. Formality was im¬ 
possible, for how could you use banquet room 
manner when you had to borrow your neighbor’s 
tin fork to eat your pancakes? And what would 
you do if, while trying to raise a battered granite 
cup to your lips, the handle parted company 
with the bowl? It was useless to say, ‘I beg 
your pardon; it wasn’t my fault,’’ when the coffee 
went into your neighbor’s lap. Nor did it help 
matters to add "Never mind, I didn’t want the 
coffee, anyway.” 
After breakfast we made our adieus to our 
hospitable host and guide, and started toward 
the summit just half a mile above us. We went 
through bushes, wet with rain, and got so cold 
that when we got to the open verdureless path, 
we had to run to warm up. The last quarter 
mile was over bare rocks, some of which were 
ten feet high. After laboriously scrambling over 
these, we reached our goal. 
Beautiful and clear, as it always is after a 
rain, was the view. To the southwest lay the 
silvery Lake Placid with its three well-wooded 
islands. Hawk, Moose and Buck, and Lake Mirror, 
but an echo of the larger lake. To the east we 
could see Lake Champlain stretching in never- 
ending line beyond the mountains. Looking 
north, sixty miles away, we could discern the 
St. Lawrence River. All about us were the 
many minor mountains and sixty little lakes that 
make the Adirondack region famous for its 
grandeur of scenery, and a rendezvous for hunt¬ 
ers and fishermen. 
Just below the summit of Whiteface, and 
on the Placid side to the right of the downward 
trail, there is a tiny spring that bubbles out of 
a crevice in a rock. Here we drank our fill, then 
continued down over the large boulders until we 
reached the slide which is a flat steep rock about 
150 feet long and 50 feet wide. It is this bare 
slide that looks like a face from the valley and 
that gives the mountain its name “Themogen” 
which is Indian for “Whiteface.” There was 
nothing on this rock but water that trickled down 
and made it very slippery. We tacked across at 
the risk of our lives, for having nothing to take 
hold of we might easily slip from view into the 
grave deep below. We crossed Whiteface Brook 
several times, after reaching the lower half of 
the trail which is wooded with pine, hemlock, 
spruce and cypress, interspersed with maples and 
birches. The density of the forest cast a weird 
light on the ground, speckled with shadows of 
the restless leaves. The sun was high over our 
heads when wearily we reached the end of the 
trail at the landing at the head of the lake. 
After signaling for an hour, we hailed the 
Silver Spray, a twelve-passenger launch that 
makes regular tours around the lake. six- 
mile skim over the waters of Lake Placid 
brought us to the home of our adoption, the town 
of Lake Placid, where our friends were anxious¬ 
ly awaiting us. As we gazed at our adversary, 
the mountain, we regretted the struggle was over 
and wished as we often do, that to-day were 
yesterday. 
Regulation of Killing of Alaska Deer. 
The Secretary of Agriculture, acting under 
Section 2 of the Alaska game law, has issued a 
regulation with regard to the killing of deer on 
certain islands in Alaska. It reads; 
“The killing of deer on the following islands 
in Alaska: Kodiak Island and Long Island, is 
hereby prohibited until Dec. 10, 1914.” 
