Forest and Stream 
$3 a Year, 10 Cts. a Copy, 
Six Months, $1.50. 
NEW YORK, SATURDAY, JUNE 7, 1913. 
VOL. LXXX.—No. 2.3. 
127 Franklin St., New York 
In Nessmuk’s Country 
By CHARLES LOSE 
T he older readers of Forest and Stream 
will probably remember that Nessmuk’s 
home during the greater part of his life 
was at Wellsboro, Pa., and that from this place 
Nessmuk started on his hunting, camping and 
canoe trips, and that of the streams in this vi¬ 
cinity and the section of country lying around 
Wellsboro much of his writing was done. Much 
of “Woodcraft” and of “Forest Runes” was prob¬ 
ably written here. Wellsboro is one of the most 
beautiful as well as one of the best kept towns 
in the country. It contains many wealthy, well- 
educated people. Some of these knew Nessmuk 
intimately and can tell some good stories of his 
original views of life. From Wellsboro it is 
possible to reach in an hour’s ride Pine Creek, 
Marsh Creek, Asaph Run, and many smaller 
streams that are still well stocked with our 
beautiful speckled trout. It is also possible in 
a short trip to get into mountains and among 
forests that are still known to the shy deer and 
the slouching bear. The monument erected over 
Nessmuk’s grave in the beautiful Wellsboro 
cemetery by Forest and Stream is always a 
great center of interest to the visitors to the 
town. 
I took the train for Wellsboro at Williams¬ 
port at I p. M., dressed and equipped to start 
fishing within ten minutes after I left the cars. 
The ride north through the Pine Creek valley 
on the New York Central past Waterville, Slate 
Run, Cedar Run, Trout Run, etc., and between 
towering mountains, with long stretches of Pine 
Creek nearly always in view, is worth anybody’s 
while. For great distances the stream and 
the mountains are the only things to be seen 
from the train. The stations, set far apart, con¬ 
sist of a few buildings located at the mouths 
of narrow valleys down which are sliding and 
falling little mountain brooks. For fifty miles 
the railroad follows the creek, and curves in 
and out with the stream. 
The engineer kindly slowed up the train 
at Owasse, the Indian name for bear, I think, 
and I alighted with rod and creel prepared to fish 
until dark. Across the stream I saw three or 
four beautiful cottages hanging against the 
mountain side. The caretaker of one of these 
crossed with his boat and took me over, and on 
his wide cool porch I put my rod together and 
rigged up my cast. I was to fish down to 
Stone about a mile below, where cx-Governor 
.Stone and Mr. Harrison, of Wellsboro, have 
large comfortable cottages at the mouth of 
Four-Mile Run. Plere I was to be joined by a 
friend from Wellsboro, who intended to come 
down on the evening train. 
Of my fishing there is not much to tell. 
The stream was of the color and consistency of 
coffee, due to the liquid that the Galeton tannery 
turns into the headwaters of Pine Creek when¬ 
ever it wishes to get rid of it. It is possible 
that the protests that are made against this 
practice will some day have their effect. Ness¬ 
muk in his time wrote vigorously against it. At 
times this liquid, which seems to be the ex¬ 
hausted material from the vats, makes the creek 
fairly stink. It does not seem to be particularly 
deadly to trout, but it spoils the fishing for 
the time. Occasionally there comes from these 
tanneries a liquid that does kill fish, and every 
stream on which there is a tannery has at some 
time or other suffered from it. It seems rather 
foolish to prosecute and fine a man who catches 
one more trout than the legal limit and at the 
same time permit a corporation to kill more 
fish in a day than the man will catch during his 
lifetime. 
At Bear Run riffle I saw fish rising, but 
after hooking and landing several, I found that 
they were all either bass or chub. Only once 
during my way down did I get a rise from a 
trout. This was a big fish and I missed it. The 
man who cares for the Harrison cottage showed 
me a riffle where he thought I might get a 
trout or two. Here I caught four, all of which 
struck with plenty of vigor. After the trout 
were caught the bass began to take their turn. 
Out in the middle of the stream a big fish had 
struck for me several times. I suspected that it 
was a bass, but hoped that it was a trout. 
Finally I hooked it, and after a considerable 
fight, slid it out on the beach only to find that 
I had a big yellow bass. While the fight was 
going on I was joined by three little Italian 
boys, sons of the section foreman. They were 
much interested, in the catch and particularly of 
the bass, which, I told them, I could not keep 
because of the close season. While I was 
straightening out my cast the bass disappeared. 
I thought it had kicked itself back into the 
stream, until I noticed that the largest of the 
boys had a string tied tightly around his 
trousers near the ankle, and that inside his 
trouser leg was a great lump. After that every 
bass that I did not retrieve quickly and return 
to the stream found its way down that trouser 
leg, I think. Of course, you can’t prove it by 
me, for I did not see any go down there. May¬ 
be they all kicked themselves back into the 
water. But when the fishing was done and 
after I had dragged out some twelve or fifteen 
bass, the boy walked as if he had a wooden leg. 
They were interesting little chaps with the 
most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. I tried to 
rig them out as best I could with hooks and 
lines so that the}' might do their own fishing. 
