484 
FOREST AND STREAM 
SM®KE 
|#«| 
IT’S GREAT 
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of sunset continued to burn and smoulder 
back of Owl’s Head. Set between a knotcb 
in the lower hills, Venus hung glittering, a 
liquid diamond veiled by a topaz mist. Al¬ 
ready along the horizon, palpitant flashes of 
white fire announced the advent of the ever 
marvelous northern lights. 
The more I looked at the beautiful scene 
before me, the more grateful I became toward 
the beneficient fortune which had led me to 
such a spot. And as I listened to the pleasant 
sounds around me—now the tinkle of a cow¬ 
bell, now tne plaintive bleating of lambs, and 
now the twanging of whipoorwills in the maple 
grove back of the tarn—I became deliciously 
conscious of the mingled influence of pastoral 
and wilderness places. At the same time 
there came to my mind the recollection of 
a day I had spent the previous summer on 
top of that patriarchal mountain whose shape 
was now fading into starry fields. And at 
the thought of what had been a most memor¬ 
able experience, I was filled with a desire to 
start out then and there and satisfy again 
that longing for a mountain lookout which 
frequently overtakes us. But on this occasion 
I knew I must content myself with retro¬ 
spection. 
So that night, when the lamps were out 
and the house was still, I fished out my note 
book and having duly refreshed my impres¬ 
sions with a perusal of its pages, finally went 
to bed to dream of wide-sweeping horizons, 
and rolling valleys, and miles and miles of 
billowing forest country set with sapphire 
lakes and gleaming waterways. 
The crest of Owl’s Head stands 2,825 feet 
above the sea level. The elevation at Hong 
View is seventeen hundred. Thus the climb 
from the Lake to the summit of the mountain 
goes well over a thousand feet. But the ascent 
is gradual, and although it takes a good three 
hours tramping to reach a point of lookout, 
there are no particularly steep or difficult 
places to be encountered on the trail. 
We made no special arrangements for our 
journey to the summit. The night before, 
which happened to be August first, Wallace 
pronounced favorably on the weather and 
forthwith we decided to make an early start 
the following morning. This plan settled upon, 
we repaired to the kitchen where Mrs. Emer¬ 
son with Tommy’s assistance proceeded to stow 
away in a pack basket such goodly substan¬ 
tial as are ever to be found in the store room 
at Hong View. 
True to prophesy the next morning dawned 
without a cloud. In the shadow of the hills 
the lake rested like a green jewel. The air was 
cleansed and shining, and presently as the sun 
climbed higher and smote upon the distant 
mountain ranges, there drifted up from the 
horizon even as a host of snowy gulls drift 
across the blue of the sea—those white¬ 
winged clouds of midsummer, whose appear¬ 
ance signals invariably the continuation of a 
perfect day. 
We were off by eight o’clock, which hour 
although it could not be classed as early, gave 
us nevertheless, a fair start. Fifteen minutes 
saw us landed on the opposite shore of the 
lake at the foot of Owl’s Head where we pulled 
our boat into the shade of the woods and 
turned it over—a precaution against a possible 
thunder storm. Then, with Wallace Junior 
scrambling in the lead, and Tommy panting 
laboriously in the rear, we hit the trail for 
the high places. 
Never does the forest appear so luxuriant, 
so green or so rich in umbrageous foliage as 
during the month of August. There is a 
glistening lustre upon the leaves, a sheen of 
vivid color upon the mountain sides which 
tells that the promise of spring has been ful¬ 
filled to its utmost. A ripened beauty per¬ 
vades the land. The nodding goldenrod in 
the fields, the clusters of carmine raspberries 
that grow along deserted woodland highways, 
and scatter abroad through glade and pasture 
their warm fruity perfumes; the white-eyed 
vireo warbling with joyous constancy in the 
tree tops and the broad-winged hawk weaving 
rhythmic circles far above the dreaming forest 
—all these and many other things bring to 
mind the realization that summer has at last 
attained her consummation. 
Our way up the mountain led us through a 
variety of forest scenery. From cool hard¬ 
wood valleys the trail wandered out into an 
old log road, densely grown with berry 
bushes, and little saplings. Again it turned 
and clambered upward through the cloistered 
shade of spruce and hemlock, crossing moun¬ 
tain streamlets and bubbling springs; now 
winding steeply, now leading off in a 
gradual ascent; now skirting a balsam swamp 
where pink, and yellow, and pale green mosses 
grew like a lush carpet between the tree boles. 
Although the day was hot, we were not un¬ 
comfortably conscious of the fact. We resto 
often and drank from icy spring holes, and 
cooled ourselves in those shade-distilled cur¬ 
rents of air which circulate through the forest 
on even the hottest of days, and come from 
no one knows where. And presently having 
arrived at a more precipitous place on the 
trail, where cradled in the hollow of a rock 
there welled up a spring of extra coldness and 
sweet flavor, we sat ourselves down and set 
up in chorus a loud halloo for Jim. 
Jim is the fire-warden of Owl’s Head. He 
lives on the mountain from July to October. 
Sometimes he takes up his abode there 
earlier; sometimes remains a few weeks later 
in the fall, according to the season and pre¬ 
vailing conditions. Whenever he is there 
visitors to the summit are certain always of 
kindly treatment and hospitality at his hands. 
But best of all is the eagle-eyed surveillance 
which he keeps over the surrounding country 
for the first telltale column of smoke that 
marks the birtluplace of a forest fire. 
With Jim I have held a long acquaintance¬ 
ship. Born in Ireland, he was brought to this 
country while still a small lad. Before many 
years had passed he became self-supporting 
and as a young man went adventuring in the 
far west. Here he fell into the paths of the 
wilderness and attained a wealth of lumber¬ 
ing experience in the forests of Oregon and 
California. Finally he turned east again and 
found his way at last to the Adirondacks 
where he has been contented to remain ever 
since like the proverbial woods lover that he is. 
In reply to our repeated shouts, an answer 
ing halloo came presently to our ears from 
the right hand knob of Owl’s Head. Thr 
mountain, by the way, is cleft at this point 
by a sharp break which divides the summit 
into two peaks of corresponding height and 
shape. Seen from the lake they appear as 
one; but viewed at other angles their twin 
knobs are often plainly visible. While the 
easterly summit commands an inspiring look¬ 
out to the north and east, the westerly knob 
challenges it with an equally glorious ex¬ 
panse of forest country that reaches away to 
the south and west. 
As Jim’s voice drew nearer we took up our 
climb again, knowing that sooner or later out 
trails would cross. Then, suddenly in the 
divide of the mountain we caught the white 
gleam of the fire-warden’s tent. A few 
minutes later we were seated comfortably in 
the cool, leaf-shaded interior. 
We had carried up with us a pail of water 
from the spring—Wallace had gone ahead, 
borrowed one of Jim’s and filled it to over¬ 
flowing. And now, as we drank and rested 
