372 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Sept. 2, 1911. 
ception from black flies. We were gradually 
becoming acquainted with the country, how¬ 
ever, and late in the afternoon as the sun be¬ 
gan to sink, we made preparations for these 
pests by putting on a sweater and wearing a 
large bandana handkerchief over our heads 
(grandmother style), drawn tight with our felt 
hats, and by spreading a good quantity of 
greasy fly-dope on our faces and hands. Bill 
and Jack also used their pipes to good ad¬ 
vantage. 
Early the next morning we made the mile- 
casion he slipped and—blessed everything in 
sight. 
One-quarter mile more brought us to Long 
Lake, where Jack stopped to purchase supplies, 
but only succeeded in getting a few oranges 
and tomatoes at north-pole prices. We paddled 
on for a mile or so, when Bill found that he 
had left his compass lying on the sand at our 
last stopping place, and the advice offered to 
return for it was taken on being told that a 
good wagon-road a short distance up on the 
side of the hill would make it easy going. 
heaved it into the boat, where it fell off the 
hook but was quickly silenced by a couple of 
raps on the head from Bill's sheath-knife. 
As it was now almost dark, we started for 
camp, and on nearing the island, we could dis¬ 
cern “Mingo, the cook,” as we sometimes 
termed Ted, busily engaged, as usual. He wel¬ 
comed us with a cry of, “Big eats to-night,” 
and how we did “punish” the grub! Our dishes 
consisted only of a bowl, knife and tablespoon 
and a cup for each, with two cooking pots and 
a frying-pan thrown in for general use, which, 
REFRESHMENTS. 
RESTING AFTER A HARD DAY’S WORK. 
and-a-half carry 'round Raquette Falls in good 
time. A short paddle on the Raquette River 
brought us to Buttermilk Falls. Between these 
two places we came upon a duck and five duck¬ 
lings swimming leisurely on the slowly moving 
river, but immediately on noticing us, they made 
alarming cries and started down the river in 
great haste, alternately swimming and flying. 
They kept this up for several minutes, when 
they were seen to disappear behind a bend in 
the stream, and on paddling around it we could 
only see the mother duck, who led us further 
on; suddenly the five ducklings emerged from 
the bushes beside the stream and swam up the 
river as fast as their little feet could paddle 
them, while their mother took wing and dis¬ 
appeared from view behind a cluster of pines. 
We had a short carry around the falls and 
then paddled through swift water, which took 
11s to rapids one-eighth of a mile further on, 
but unfortunately (or fortunately), the water 
was not high enough to enable us to shoot 
them. We decided to try leading the canoe in 
preference to making a carry. Bill and Ted 
kept all their clothes on, while Jack did almost 
the opposite. 
After proceeding a few rods down stream we 
found the task harder than we had at first sup¬ 
posed, for the water was quite deep in places 
and the current nearly carried us off our feet. 
Several times it looked surely as if a smash 
was imminent. Bill kept guiding the bow, 
while Ted and Jack held the boat from going 
too fast. We were afforded plenty of excite¬ 
ment; one minute we would be standing on a 
rock in two or three feet of water and im¬ 
mediately on stepping off would be immersed 
up to our shoulders and carried off our feet by 
the rushing water. Ted tried jumping from one 
rock to another, much to his sorrow, but to the 
enjoyment of his companions, for on one oc- 
Bill’s worn-out and dusty appearance on his 
return did not support the statement. 
At the village of Long Lake Bill and Jack 
proceeded to do some purchasing. The pro¬ 
prietor of the store had three large caliber 
“cannons” hanging on the wall, and inquiries 
brought forth numerous hunting yarns. Jack, 
after having packed all the grub into a large 
box, started for the landing with it on his 
shoulders. What a look he got from the 
“aristocrats,” who did not seem to take kindly 
to his makeup of well-mended khaki breeches 
full of grease spots, tucked carelessly into high 
leather boots, a soiled flannel shirt, with a large 
bandana tied loosely ’round his neck and 
shaded by a large black felt hat, from under 
which poured forth clouds of smoke from an 
old pipe. While we were loading the groceries 
into the canoe, an old game warden introduced 
himself and was met with a volley of inquiries 
regarding fishing that kept him busy answer¬ 
ing. Bidding him adieu, we proceeded to a 
small island about a mile north of Long Lake 
village, where we made camp. Here we stayed 
for two days, resting and doing some general 
repairing and fishing. 
To give an idea of the pleasure and excite¬ 
ment we had while bass fishing in this region, 
at twilight of the last day spent on this beauti¬ 
ful lake, Bill and Jack were returning from the 
village, where they had gone to buy a few 
necessities overlooked two days before, when 
they decided to cast along the south shore of 
the lake. For five minutes they did not get a 
strike, but suddenly there was a rush, accom¬ 
panied by the hum of the reel. Bill immedia- 
ately backed the canoe out in deep water to 
keep the fish from dodging under snags and 
after playing it for some time, both thoroughly 
excited, they managed to bring it alongside the 
canoe, when on instructions from Jack, Bill 
of course, did not allow us to live up to the 
rules of table etiquette as well as we might have 
wished, but somehow the “missing members” 
were forgotten during the struggle. 
The next morning we pushed north, taking 
things easy. We made camp for the night on 
the Raquette River near the lake. It was at 
this camp we witnessed the most beautiful sun¬ 
set on our trip. After supper, Ted and Jack 
struck out for bass, returning when darkness 
had set in. A few minutes ’round the camp¬ 
fire and we went to rest, the sweet-scented bal¬ 
sam acting as an accelerator. 
A beautiful kaleidoscopic sunrise was the re¬ 
ward for arising early, and after an unusually 
fine breakfast, we departed, with regret, de¬ 
termined to make Upper Saranac our next 
camping place. A paddle of five or six miles 
brought us to Raquette Falls, a two-mile carry, 
at the end of which was a farmhouse, where we 
purchased some fresh milk and bread. The 
milk was disposed of quickly, and in a few 
minutes we were on our way, turning into Stony 
Creek, a winding stream about twelve feet 
wide, and a good deal less in some places, which 
kept the paddlers busy all the time. From the 
creek we passed through Stony Creek Ponds 
and carried into Upper Saranac Lake, to camp 
on the crest of a small island for the night, 
stringing up our mosquito tent between two 
pines, with a soft bed of boughs on which to 
rest our weary bones. 
Bill and Jack went fishing, while Ted pre¬ 
pared dinner, which put us in fine fettle, and 
that evening we sat ’round the camp-fire for 
some time, talking over our past experiences 
and wondering what the future held for us. 
When we paddled across Middle Saranac 
Lake in the morning we had considerable 
trouble finding the outlet into Lower Saranac 
Lake. At Saranac Lake village we purchased 
