410 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Sept, g , 1911. 
eye on his neighbor that there might be no dis¬ 
courtesy in getting in first; how the black flies 
got in an inning which forced the situation; how 
Gurney waded in first and by a Spartan stoicism 
gave to us on the bank a fa.se impression; how 
George and. I finally mustered courage and got 
in up to our knees, the full depth of the stream; 
and how at this point I was so carried away by 
my feelings that George was unmercifully 
splashed by the commotion. I believe that Gur¬ 
ney really got all the way under, but George and 
I were perfectly satisfied with sundry dashes 
and splashes. Was that water really cold? Well, 
perchance if it had been iced it might have been 
a shade colder. 
Sand Brook drains the Tobeatic Lakes. It had 
been our intention to make a detour at this 
place and to spend a couple of days in explor¬ 
ing the Big and Little Tobeatics, but after a 
conference we decided to omit this side trip, as 
we were apt to get better fishing elsewhere. 
However, after supper we three took Horace, 
and in one overloaded canoe paddled up the 
brook to the carry and then walked through the 
woods to take a look at Tupper Lake, the first 
of the Tobeatic group. We came out on a fine 
sand beach freshly marked with moose tracks, 
and before us stretched a beautiful sheet of 
water entirely surrounded by a primeval forest 
of pine and hemlock. Seen in the sunset light 
with the long shadows and the changing lights 
and shades, Tupper Lake was a gorgeously beau¬ 
tiful picture. On the way back we saw a porcu¬ 
pine high up in a hemlock tree, and heard an 
owl hooting somewhere in the hardwood. 
We awoke after sleeping soundly on the fir 
boughs to find the sun had gotten the start on 
us. The guides told us that during the night 
there had been a little shower and later fine 
moonlight, but we had no regrets. One cannot 
be expected to see everything on a trip like this. 
Before us was another fine day with fresh, fair 
wind, blue sky and drifting clouds. We ran out 
on Sand Lake and one of the canoes went around 
the further side of an island in the hope of 
stirring out another cow moose, but nothing hap¬ 
pened. A mile and a half of paddling took us 
through Sand Lake and then came a series of 
rough, rapid falls alternating with short still- 
waters. At noon we had covered about five 
miles. Practically everywhere we could catch 
trout, but they were only of ordinary size. This 
was a sore disappointment to Lawrence who had 
been extolling the size and game qualities of the 
Shelburne trout. He had assured us that the 
Shelburne waters held the grand-daddies of them 
all, but none of us could get one past the pound 
mark. We even made Lawrence take a rod to 
see if some of the big fellows would recognize 
him, but alas without success. The few he landed 
only added to the poignancy of his grief. 
Followed hard going. The stream was get¬ 
ting smaller and much shallower, the rapids suc¬ 
ceeded each other almost without intervals, and 
it was necessary to permanently relieve the 
canoes of all weight possible. It was warm and 
the black flies surrounded each man like a halo. 
For hours the guides poled the canoes where 
the water was deep enough, wading and drag¬ 
ging them over the mossy rocks and sandy shal¬ 
lows. Gurney waded with the men, getting a 
few photographs of the stream, which scenically 
had no drawbacks, and now and then helping. 
George and I followed a sort of trail through 
the woods, chiefly traveled by peripatetic moose, 
and spent our energies in climbing windfalls, 
crawling through thickets and waging war on 
the black flies. Evidently there were many 
moose in this section, as we were constantly com¬ 
ing upon fresh and old signs of them, and in 
several places we saw where they had yarded 
during the winter. We caught a few trout at 
favorable places where we could cast a fly, but 
the little black tormentors spoiled most of the 
pleasure of fishing. Finally we came out on 
Irwin Lake, another lovely stretch of water, 
sparkling in the western sunlight and looking 
most refreshing to our tired, hot party. 
At the lower end of Irwin Lake there is an 
old loggers' dam. Close to the foot of the slop¬ 
ing logs, which form its backing, the rushing 
water forms two deep foam-covered pools. While 
the guides were making a short carry, Gurney 
had excellent fishing, while George and I 
watched admiringly his graceful and effective 
casting. He had taken two nice trout, each about 
a foot long, when suddenly a particularly vicious 
old brute struck with a tremendous swirl and 
carried away both flies and leader. The noise 
of the rushing water drowned his remarks, but 
we watched him lay on a new leader and flies 
and suspected that he was planning his revenge. 
Presently he started to work out along the slop¬ 
ing logs in order to reach just the right spot be¬ 
fore trying a cast. Suddenly something hap¬ 
pened. 
The paddle up Irwin Lake came as a pleasant 
rest after the laborious efforts which had pre¬ 
ceded it. The wind was at our backs and the 
experimenting member of the party further 
lightened the work in his canoe by improvising 
a sail out of his khaki coat. This was the lake 
where Paine and Dell Thomas in the “Tent 
Dwellers” could not find the outlet, and, after 
vainly trying different coves, endeavored to go 
out the same way they had come in, until they 
discovered the current running the wrong way. 
We had no such trouble, nor was there much 
hard poling thereafter, as the stream ran more 
into stillwaters. It was about a mile and a half 
across Irwin Lake, and at a similar distance 
above it we came to a Stillwater brook which 
came into the main river from the right near 
the middle of an immense meadow. The banks 
of this brook were closely lined with cranberry 
bushes, the first we had seen. A third of a 
mile up it brought us to Lake Peblelugutch, rock- 
girdled and rock-studded, and a mile long. On 
the opposite shore was a hardwood ridge and 
we made our way to it at the north end of the 
lake to camp on the carry over into Pescawaw. 
We had traveled about eleven miles since 
morning, and in direction northwest; had seen 
the first great blue heron of the trip, also a 
number of ducks, and just above Irwin Lake, 
Gurney photographed a particularly large por¬ 
cupine. Last, but not least, we had caught 
seventy-six trout. 
By this time we had become accustomed to 
the realities of camp life and had learned to 
create comfort and contentment out of the 
means at hand. The duties of the guides on 
making camp were well defined and the sys¬ 
tematized efforts of each man directed along 
certain prearranged lines saved confusion and 
quickly accomplished results. At once on reach¬ 
ing a proposed stopping place for the night the 
canoes were emptied and placed bottom up on 
shore, and immediately, without needless discus¬ 
sion or delay, each man turned to his allotted 
task. Upon Charles devolved the duty of the 
fire, that most important factor in camp exist¬ 
ence. In the absence of a fireplace already made 
for him by previous campers, he would lay two 
rows of stones a yard apart in front of the 
place selected for the tent. Then collecting some 
small dried sticks and a handful of leaves or 
birch bark, he would start a little blaze between 
the stones, usually by lighting some shavings, 
whittled off with his knife, and adding stick by 
stick the larger pieces until he had a present¬ 
able fire going. But the substantial fire required 
by the cook needed heavier wood and a hotter 
blaze. This was made of green hardwood logs, 
usually birch, and trees four or five inches thick 
were cut into five or six foot lengths and placed in 
such a way across the stones as to secure a free 
draft. It was curious to see how easily certain 
green hardwoods would burn in a going fire, and 
we learned that beech and maple burned equally 
as well as the birch. In drenching wet weather 
it was sometimes hard to get the fire started, 
but the breaking up of an old stump usually 
supplied enough dry wood to get it going, and 
chief reliance wou’d be placed on dead and dried 
logs, rather than on the green wood, to keep it 
up. For the night fire, which was supposed to 
keep the tents warm and to burn all night, 
Charles would get the largest dry log of pine 
or spruce that he and the others jointly were 
able to haul in, and with this for a back log 
and plenty of birch he would build up a fire 
which was not on’y comfortable, but also good 
to look upon. 
Lawrence had charge of the tents. The place 
selected depended solely upon the smoothness of 
the ground, and as the placing of the fire was 
subject to the location of the tent, it was prompt¬ 
ly settled. Then the ground was gone over to 
remove all sticks and stones. Our small wall 
tent afforded amp’e room for three to sleep in 
and had plenty of space overhead. In putting 
it up a stout forked sapling, nine or ten feet 
long, was cut, trimmed, pointed and driven 
firmly into the ground. Then a second upright 
was similarly driven at the proper distance in 
front for the other support of the ridge pole, 
or what was better, save in windy, rainy weather, 
two forked saplings, or now and then two of 
the set poles were lashed together and put up 
at angles of forty-five degrees. The purpose of 
this arrangement was to give an unobstructed 
entrance. The ridge pole was slipped under the 
peak of the tent, and it was raised and held 
taut by tying the guy ropes to a half dozen 
driven stakes two or three feet long. Over all 
came the fly, which was stretched over a pole 
laid on top of the ridge and drawn taut by means 
of separate longer stakes. It was further kept 
from contact with the roof in rainy weather by 
a couple of side poles on their own supports. 
The guides were using a tent of curious model 
which only required one short upright and a 
few stakes. Its shape when up was not unlike 
half of a raised umbrella with the open side 
protected by flaps. Their tent was generally 
placed in front of us with the camp-fire be¬ 
tween. 
After the tents were up, if we camped near 
evergreens, Lawrence would start for a clump 
of them and presently return almost buried 
under a load of little green boughs strung on 
