408 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Sept, g , 1911. 
kept growing stronger, so that in many places 
it was difficult to cast. We caught fifty-four 
trout, Gurney was high rod, but the Sciibe took 
home the flag with a fine fish 165/2 inches long, 
easily topping in weight Gurney’s big trout of 
the day before. We lunched in the ram on 
beans, cold tongue, tea and marmalade, but 
were not dismayed by the steady downpour, as 
three very new, very complete and very yellow 
oilskins were the most conspicuous feature of 
the landscape. We met three parties in boats 
on the river, which surprised 11s -until we re¬ 
called that it was the 24th of May, the day on 
which, according to schedule, we were not to 
be crowded at Indian Gardens. We saw several 
ducks, two loons out on the lake, and a porcu¬ 
pine chewing away at the bark of a maple. 
In returning to camp the increased wind had 
so decidedly stirred up the lake that it was ap¬ 
parently risky to attempt the straight run to 
Wildcat Point, so we followed somewhat the 
shores of the intervening bay. We did not all 
go that way quite as directly as we might. 
George and Gnrney with their guides had got¬ 
ten a start for home and Lawrence with the 
Scribe were following on some distance behind. 
Lawrence saw the two canoes ahead turn cir¬ 
cuitously to avoid the full force of the wind 
and waves, but he decided to take his canoe 
straight across to save time. The Scribe didn t 
say anything but started thinking, and presently 
mental telepathy got in its work and Lawrence 
concluded that after all the long way round 
might be better. 
When we got back, a brisk fire soon dried 
and thawed us out. Supper afforded us the 
novelty of baked trout, which might have tasted 
better if we had not been led up to it past ample 
quantities of trout chowder and fried trout. 
The guides, however, never lost their appetites 
for trout, and Lawrence and Horace had an 
exciting trout eating contest that night. Law¬ 
rence won, hands down, with a score of fi\ e 
and a half to two. Five and a half trout of the 
size we were catching merits a championship. 
That night the wind was very fresh from the 
southwest, and a steady rain was falling, but 
we were filled with a good supper, and with a 
blazing big fire in front of the tents were able 
to accept the situation philosophically. 
The next day started very early for some of 
us. As Gurney was anxious about an expected 
telegram, which had not arrived before we left 
Milford, he had decided the night before, in 
view of the probable continuance of the storm, 
to spend the day in going out to Caledonia where 
he could reach Mr. Thomas over the telephone. 
He and Lawrence were up at 3 o’clock and an 
hour later paddled two miles to Lowe’s Land¬ 
ing, where they secured a horse and wagon, 
so that Gurney was able to drive the thirteen 
miles to Caledonia, accomplish his mission, and 
get back to camp by mid-afternoon. 
In the meantime Horace and Charles, after 
a careful survey, determined to take some of 
the heavier dunnage, and attempt to reach the 
Shelburne. This they did successfully, but in 
coming back they had a hard, anxious time, as 
the lake was running full of seas like the ocean. 
After lunch we two, with the guides, took the 
canoes and paddling in the lee of the shore 
worked our way around once more to the Ivee- 
jeemacoojee. For about an hour we had fine 
sport. George took eight and the Scribe nine 
splendid trout. All of the latter's were over 
eleven inches long, a pound and a quarter and 
a pound and an eighth being the largest, but 
George that day proved himself the best fisher¬ 
man on the trip by catching, after an exciting, 
gruelling contest, a beautifully proportioned and 
colored trout which just tipped the scales at a 
pound and three-quarters. He also hooked and 
landed a double of two pounds and a quarter 
of hard fighting energy on a light rod and tackle. 
We brought in nine fish all over a foot long- 
great, beautiful, lusty wild trout. 
When we got back Gurney and Lawrence were 
home and entertaining two visitors, P. H. Moore, 
of New York, who had just opened a new camp 
for sportsmen, and his head guide, Joe Patter¬ 
son. Their camp, Camp Rossignol, is at Lowe’s 
Landing, and they came across to call on us in 
a motorboat. We were glad to see them, but 
shuddered a little at the thought of a motor- 
boat in that beautiful wilderness, and wondered 
how long it would be before the loons on the 
lake would move away. After they were gone 
we admiringly inspected Gurney's purchases in 
Caledonia, smoking tobacco and chocolate and 
six dozen eggs. We had twelve dozen of the 
latter already, but Gurney, as one of the greatest 
living egg eaters, had thought we might run 
short, and with a sublime devotion—to whom or 
what I shall not say—had carried through the 
driving rain and over thirteen miles of road, a 
large part of which was corduroy, those six 
dozen eggs on his lap. 
Next morning there was no change in the 
atmospheric conditions. That interminable storm 
continued to blow and to create a watery tumult 
on the lake which entirely precluded successful 
canoeing. Our clothing and blankets were com¬ 
mencing to get damp and there were times when 
even the hardiest member of the party admitted 
that he was cold. Besides the sending down to 
the Shelburne of the heavy provisions had limited 
the - variety of the menu. But matters might 
have been worse. Later we paddled once more 
to the Keejeemacoojee River, our only place of 
diversion. In contrast to the day before we only 
had indifferent luck, with few fish and those 
mostly small, but we added twenty-nine more to 
the record. 
On a pretty, mossy bank under some ever¬ 
greens we lunched on baked beans and tea, and 
shortly afterward, deceived by the less boisterous 
wind on the sheltered river, we hurried back to 
camp in the hopes of improved weather condi¬ 
tions. On the contrary we found things a shade 
worse. The wind had shifted back from the 
southwest to the south, it was high, and squalls 
of rain kept chasing each other across the lake. 
On our return we found in camp an old trapper 
and his boy who were on their way to visit 
some bear traps off to the westward. They had 
a rowboat, but not much else, so it did not re¬ 
quire a great deal of urging to persuade them 
to stay over night with us. Pat Lacey was his 
name; he travels winter and summer alike with 
a repeater, and his chief dividend payers are 
bears, wildcats, foxes, otter, mink and muskrats. 
The morning of the 27th, George awakened 
the camp by the loud announcement. “Get up, 
boys, the storm is over.” This was about 4:30, 
and I have no hesitancy in saying that if, by 
any chance, there had been a mistake in his esti¬ 
mate of the weather, something serious might 
have overtaken him then and there. As it was 
we had gotten , so thoroughly weary of Wildcat 
Point that we turned out most amiably, and after 
a iook around, hopes grew high that at last we 
could get on to Shelburne River. The wind had 
changed from gusts and squalls to a pleasant 
steady breeze, and there was a different quality 
to the air. 
By 6 o’clock we were ready to start. Pat 
Lacey, who was traveling light with only a rifle, 
an axe and a tiny kit, kindly took into his capa¬ 
cious rowboat some of our heavier things and 
started on ahead, but even then the canoes had 
quite load enough to carry into the turbulent 
seas still remaining from the storm. This first 
part of the six mile run to the mouth of the 
Shelburne was by all odds the roughest, as be¬ 
fore long we commenced to avail ourselves of 
quieter water in the lee of some of the pretty 
islands which stud the western end of the lake. 
As we paddled steadily on, the clouds grew 
iighter and an occasional patch of blue sky gave 
promise of a fine day. In this we were not dis¬ 
appointed. 
When approximately two-thirds of the dis¬ 
tance had been covered, the ever alert Lawrence 
called out, “See the moose!" and again a moment 
later, “There’s a calf with her.” We were three 
or four hundred yards from a small island 
when we saw a cow moose in the water just be¬ 
yond it swimming toward another island at right 
angles to our course. A few feet behind her 
was the calf. The cow at first swam quite slow¬ 
ly, swaying her big mule-like head from side to 
side most awkwardly. We paddled hard to head 
her off, anxious to stop the calf, as he was such 
a little chap that we feared he might drown in 
the effort to follow his mother. She kept on at 
a quickened rate, but Gurney and Horace, by 
making their canoe fairly fly through the water, 
managed to get quite close as she went ashore 
at the further island, and Gurney was able to 
photograph her. Their canoe was then swung 
around to the other side of this island to round 
her up and to prevent her, if possible, from 
keeping straight on across the lake. In the 
meantime the calf had turned back, and when 
the rest of us came up he was standing in the 
water on the rocks, a pitiful little object of 
misery, now and then blatting out his loneliness 
as only a moose calf can. Apparently he was 
not much frightened by 11s, but was well blown 
by his swim. We sat in the canoes scarcely 
a dozen feet away and couid easily have cap¬ 
tured him if we had wished, but we did not 
want to put the man smell on him, or do any¬ 
thing which might make his already greatly dis¬ 
turbed mother permanently desert him. Gurney 
and Horace finally succeeded in turning her 
back, and when last we saw her, as we paddled 
on down the lake, she was swimming in a wide 
circle, but evidently working her way back to 
the young one. Later we learned from Pat 
Lacey, who was still keeping ahead of us, that 
he had seen both cow and ca’f swim to the 
island where we saw them, and it was a fair 
guess that he had first startled them out of 
cover. 
About this time in the spring the cow moose 
are apt to seek shelter on the islands in the 
lakes to have their young, thereby getting away 
from bears and wildcats, particularly the former, 
which are reputed to be very partial to calf 
moose. The young cows, as a rule, have one 
calf, the older ones almost invariably have two. 
