448 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Sept, i6, 1911. 
fellow was not too heaviiy loaded, and Lawrence 
especially was particular over the correct balance 
of the canoes, thereby indicating the pride he 
took in having everything just right. We went 
across Peblelugutch, out through its deadwater, 
and on to the Little Shelburne. Almost imme¬ 
diately we commenced to wind and turn, and as 
the day wore on, the indirectness of our route 
became more emphasized. Observations with the 
compass gave most inconclusive data, but by esti¬ 
III. 
and lighter belongings, but George and Gurney 
were getting so tremendously strong that they 
ignored formalities and worked off some super¬ 
abundant energy by shouldering the packs on 
two trips. I being lazy, kept in good form and 
caught fourteen trout, one weighing a pound and 
a half. As the weather was cold, gray, with a 
sharp east wind, this put me far in the lead for 
the day’s catch. Thus are the righteous re¬ 
warded. 
Beyond Granite Falls we had fair going with 
long stillwaters for the paddles alternating with 
short falls for the setting poles. At many of 
the falls were the most attractive trout pools 
imaginable. Here we were with a vengeance in 
the country of Lawrence’s big trout, but nary a 
big fellow and mighty few little ones could we 
get up. We tried all the classic formulas to 
From Rossignol to Tusket 
By M. B. MILLER 
mating averages we concluded that we were 
moving between west and northwest. 
Something over a mile from Peblelugutch 
camp brought us to Granite Falls, which marks 
the boundary of the sportsmen save for those 
venturesome souls who are athirst for the un¬ 
trodden wilds. It is true that a few trappers 
go beyond. A moose hunter now and then gets 
into this stern, unfruitful land, and the Indians 
from Bear River, following the ancient path¬ 
way of their forefathers, may perchance come 
through on their way to Keejeemacoojee or Ros- 
signol. But we felt, a’l things considered, that 
we would not be crowded. At Granite Falls, a 
long stretch of rough water over which it is too 
steep and too rocky to pole, there is a carry 
which we were informed was about a mile long. 
The mile was there unquestionably, but we could 
not agree on just how long the “about” was. 
The guides made three trips and were occupied 
by that carry for two full hours. 
It is not woods etiquette for sportsmen to 
carry anything on the portages beyond their rods 
bring about a change of luck. We tried nearly 
all the flies in the book, dry and wet, but all in 
vain. Wind and weather were against us. We 
were in the midst of the angler’s doldrums, “the 
day on which they wouldn’t rise.” 
About noon, having covered approximately 
three miles, we came to a carry of a quarter of 
a mile. As we ate luncheon the sun made its 
last feeble effort to break through the clouds, 
but it was short lived, and from then on the 
weather grew steadily worse to finally culminate 
in a drizzling rain. By this time we were leav¬ 
ing the wooded country, evergreens were getting 
scarce, and only occasional clumps of stunted 
birches and maples were to be seen. We were 
entering the barren lands, close to the high open 
country, where formerly herds of caribou made 
their home, the so-called Caribou Plains of Nova 
Scotia. Apropos of caribou, Lawrence told us 
that in the fall of 1909 he and Sam Glode, an 
Indian, had guided Dr. Fales, who was interested 
as a naturalist in determining whether there were 
any of them left in this section, for fifty-five 
Illustrated from photographs by J. Gurney Taylor 
W E crossed Peblelugutch Lake and camped at 
the water’s edge on the hardwood ridge, 
with Pescawaw Lake of the Keejeema¬ 
coojee watershed 300 paces away across the rise. 
We had had two hard days, which had fallen 
chiefly on the guides who had worked like Tro¬ 
jans and without complaint. The canoes had not 
been benefitted by being dragged over the shallow 
bottoms or by occasional collisions with rocks 
in the deeper places, and required some white 
lead to heal sundry scrapes and scratches. It 
was agreed that we should tarry at this camp 
two nights to rest up and get into shape for the 
heavy pull of the next week, and partly because 
the morrow would be Sunday. 
We lay abed the next morning, all save the 
early-rising George. As before, the entire ab¬ 
sence of mosquitoes added greatly to our com¬ 
fort. The wind was from the north, cool and 
brisk, and the sky remained overcast all day. 
About 10 o’clock we started on a round of ex¬ 
ploration of Pescawaw. We found it to be a 
lake about three miles long, its slopes thickly 
wooded with deciduous trees with an occasional 
clump of evergreens. We paddied up it in a 
rather stiff wind, fished around the outlet of 
Poplar Brook, then turning, came back along the 
further end and stopped for luncheon at a lovely 
little cove where a white sand beach made a 
striking contrast to the rock-girt borders of the 
lake elsewhere. Here we ate boiled eggs and 
buttered biscuit and drank of the cold water. 
After filling the canoes with fir boughs for our 
beds, we followed the eastern shore to the out¬ 
let stream, fished as far as we could persuade 
the canoes to float, then took the trail a few 
hundred yards to Pescawess. Both lakes are 
drained by the Pescawess Brook, which runs 
into the Keejeemacoojee at Pescawess Ledges. 
We caught twenty-three fine trout, then paddled 
back to camp, took a lesson in fir bough bed 
making from Lawrence, ate a good supper, and 
shot at a tin can with the revolver, all to miss 
it until George in disgust knocked it off its perch 
with a stone. 
We were much interested in a wildcat snare 
on the trail over the ridge to Pescawaw—a bent 
sapling, a piece of heavy wire, and a cleverly 
contrived trigger. Lawrence, as a practical trap¬ 
per, was familiar with it and told us that snares 
were always set on trails or pathways, as wild¬ 
cats are apt to follow such open ways in hunt¬ 
ing. This particular device bore mute evidence 
round about that it had succeeded in its pur¬ 
pose, as shown by bits of fur and torn and 
scratched bushes. In another place we saw where 
a moose had recently broken down the small 
trees to browse upon the tops. Twice during the 
day there came to our ears the reverberating, 
drum-like challenge of the ruffed grouse, while 
toward evening the nighthawks circled and dip¬ 
ped close over our tents uttering their plaintive 
cries. 
We were up at 4 130 a. m. Monday and we were 
off before 7 o’clock. There was always a pleasant 
rivalry between the guides to see that the other 
SPORTING LAKE. 
