Dec. 30, 1911.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
933 
to the last portage, the Cave, after which we ran This trip was entirely too hard for pleasure, 
a few miles and camped for the night, as the portages were so long and frequent that 
We paddled on to Mattawa next cfey and ship- we tired of that feature. It was folly to pack 
ped our outfit to North Bay, wher,gjj$lrarrived canned vegetables and bulky provision on such 
that night. ' a trip. 
A Recollection of the Past Fall 
By MARK HOPKINS, Jr. 
D OWN in Old Virginia one clear morning we 
started out, Old Schnapp, Bess, Maule and 
myself, just as the white frost was leav¬ 
ing the grass stems. The coloring of the oaks 
was wonderful against the clear blue sky. I11 
the washed-out gulleys of red clay the frost 
icicles stood up two good inches and sparkled 
like gems in the early morning sun. 
The ground was hard after the frost, and the 
dogs quartered merrily away, backward and for¬ 
ward through the poor-grass and broom-grass 
on a trestle, the quail flushed. 
What with the excitement of watching the old 
dog on his first quail for two years, and the 
start I got when the birds flushed, I was lucky 
to get in one barrel, but two sharp cracks from 
Maule’s gun spoke of his being busy just to my 
left. With the fallen bird just caught in his 
big mouth, the old dog came back the absolute 
picture of delight, eyes bright, and tail going 
like mad, to lay the little brown beauty on the 
ground before me. 
then we had fine canoeing and beautiful scenery, 
reaching Smoke Lake early in the afternoon. 
This was a very attractive little lake with gravel¬ 
ly beach and dry shores well wooded and moose 
and deer tracks everywhere. After arranging camp 
we bathed in the lake, and while dressing heard 
a howl like that of dogs engaged in a fight. We 
jumped outside in time to see a pair of wolves 
retreating up the lake shore. When they came 
upon our tracks or in sighting our tent they 
were suddenly alarmed. 
On the 31st we reached the junction of the 
little and big Jocko, having made twenty por¬ 
tages of from a few rods to over a mile in 
length, encountered two falls, the Big Devil 
Falls of about thirty-five feet in height and 
Ragged Falls, of merely equal height. 
After the Big Jocko had been reached, our 
guides advised Fred and I to walk to the mouth 
where it empties into the Ottawa, about five 
miles. The river was low and they said we 
would necessarily have to wade a great deal 
if we followed the river with them, so they put 
BESS ON A WINGED BIRD. 
us on a trail which was to lead us to our desti¬ 
nation, but soon this trail lost itself, and after 
making several efforts to go through, we came 
to the conclusion that we were lost, and had 
already spent two hours trying to get through 
by following old trails and no trails at all. I 
suggested that, as it was a clear day, we should 
travel east. We turned our backs toward the 
setting sun and came out in sight of the Ottawa 
about a mile above the mouth of the Jocko in 
time to see Pete and Joe start up the Jocko in 
search of us. We made camp on the grassy 
shore of the Ottawa, and it was here that we 
witnessed a Canadian sunset in its richest color¬ 
ing, commencing in the brightest colors that an 
artist could paint, changing to more somber 
shades until finally at almost 9 o’clock all was 
lost in the bright moonlight. 
Pete had to make a paddle to replace one 
which was broken, so we did not get started 
down the Ottawa until after 9 o’clock on Sept. 1. 
Down about seven miles the rapids, called the 
Mountains, caused a portage of half a mile. 
Pete ran these rapids in a canoe. Six miles 
further came another rapids called the Maples. 
Pete did not run this one, so there was another 
portage of half a mile, and then on eight miles 
Photographs by Mark Hopkins, Jr. 
where the ground was covered with the seeds 
that little bobwhite loves to make his early 
breakfast of, not to speak of dinner, and then 
supper, when the sun is almost down and the 
long shadows lie across the big fields. 
Old Schnapp, slashing through the smother of 
weeds, checked suddenly, and with nose high in 
the air winded the faint southwest breeze, laden 
to us with just the same fragrance of piney 
woods that we had been enjoying, but to him 
it carried something more subtle and exciting. 
He crouched an inch or so, and with tail mov¬ 
ing slowly, nose up and ears back, began to 
crawl a devious course through the tall weeds, 
roading slower and slower till, with a wrench 
around came his head, and he stiffened into 
marble. Not a quiver for a second, then three 
more cautious steps as he sank lower still, and 
again a full stop. This time there was no in¬ 
decision. His nose pointed down, tail like a 
ramrod and with eyes almost starting from his 
head he made a picture of such tense excite¬ 
ment that was worth the whole trip to see. 
Walking in behind him I stopped a full minute 
trying to locate the covey, which I knew must 
be within two feet or so of his nose, but in vain. 
Then suddenly, with a roar like an express train 
OLD SCHNAPP ON QUAIL. 
All day we hunted, sometimes finding the birds 
in the pines, and again in the hollows and edges 
of the creeks, where the tall grass bending over 
made perfect cover, occasionally sending Bess, 
who proved to be the queen of woodcock dogs, 
into the alder runs. Watching her trot back 
and forth among the sprouts, crawling under a 
brier there, stepping over one here, till on a 
sudden she would freeze, and walking on. the 
music of the woodcock's whistle rose as he shot 
up over the brushes and up would go the little 
twelve-gauge. Sometimes a puff of old rose 
feathers floated down the breeze at its crack, 
but more often one would hear Maule's cheery 
voice, “Mark cock,” and go on to where he had 
marked the splendid bird down on the edge of 
the cover for another try with “Bess Girl"— 
golden days! 
Then the walk back home, as the shadows 
fell. The dogs tired but happy, trotting at heel, 
as we trudged back to a bath, and pork pie, 
quail, ham, sweet potatoes, apple fritters and— 
but I never could finish the menu, then or now. 
The pipe and last a dreamless sleep till early 
morning’s gray light heralded another day of 
such sport as only comes at the end of a long 
wait and a short vacation. 
