FOREST 
AND STREAM 
395 
* 
rt) 
i 
getting into the canoe again I found a nice sharp 
nail point projecting from the gunwale. It haci 
ripped away vigorously every time I braced for 
a push. 
We felt experienced enough to dispense with 
the line and W- became a permanent passen¬ 
ger. Which was lucky for him, as we swung 
along fifteen or twenty feet at a shove and would 
Ittve run his legs off had he been ashore. To¬ 
ward four o’clock the river suddenly widened, 
giving a bully view of the north. Here the 
banks are nearly half a mile apart and run up 
into steep heights which may fairly be called 
mountains. The river bed is sandy and the cur¬ 
rent meanders exasperatingly. If you turn out 
of it by accident, barely submerged bars are 
ready to trip you. Nor is the paddling easy, for 
the stream makes a good two miles an hour. 
Tired by the unaccustomed work of poling, we 
were glad to camp early. We happened on quite 
an elaborate clearing, with a rough stage which 
I suppose had been used for drying meat. Above 
us was a very pretty stretch of river. 
August 4—Next day we tried to shirk bucking 
the current and were promptly pocketed in a 
backwater, having in the end to double back 
nearly a mile before we shook free of the shoals. 
The lesson was learned and for the rest of the 
morning we pushed sturdily up mid-stream. At 
lunch we noticed that the wind was blowing be¬ 
hind us at a tremendous rate. The others, de¬ 
spite my prophecies of failure, turned one of the 
tents into a sail, and I am bound to confess that 
we bowled along merrily until nearly four 
o’clock. Just as the breeze flattened out we 
sighted ducks ahead and over toward the east¬ 
ern bank. Furling the sail and bundling it 
aboard, we gave chase. Our prey at once made 
off, swimming quite as fast as we paddled. The 
birds held in near shore and soon ran us among 
shoals. W— hastily disembarked with the gun 
to have a run for his money, anyhow. At that 
moment one foolish bird decided that its safety 
would be best preserved in a hiding place on tile 
beach. Naturally it collided with a whole 
charge of shot. 
A cleared spot for camp soon turned up. The 
Indians must travel a lot up and down this 
nver. I fancy one could find some sort of 
clearing within two miles of any point on its 
banks. This helps, for undisturbed Quebe' 
underbrush is certainly heavy. 
I proposed a fricassee of duck. “Good,” said 
^ an< ^ W-, “hut how do you make it?” 
M> invention carried me only far enough to ad¬ 
vise dismembering the victim and boiling him, 
T had a vague idea that frying pans then came 
into play. J- brightened immediately. Men¬ 
tion of a frying pan is to him as the scent of 
battle to the war-horse. He said that undoubt¬ 
edly you mixed the result of the boiling with 
flour and water and chivied it about over the 
fire. Which things we did, and the conclusion 
was admirable. But whether it was fricassee, 
deponent saith not. 
J ’ s f 00t gave us a horrid start at this 
point. He had complained of pain and now in¬ 
vestigated. Swelling there was beyond doubt, 
nor did the skin look right. Racking his brain, 
poor J produced the dismal recollection of a 
blood-poisoned member which had behaved just 
like this. There was tumult and affright in camp 
that evening; also much disinfectant and a de- 
The 
Voice 
of the Old Guard 
I don’t believe in fightin’; the’ is darned sight 
better wa\s, 
To settle fam’bly scraps and bigger jars. 
But, by heck! if nothin’ else will do, then I’m 
one ’at says 
Your Uncle here, he ain’t afeard of wars! 
My own blood is most peace’ble, yet on thinkin’ 
of it more, 
It’s strange how my own folks hez had their 
way, 
In helpin’ to establish as a everlastin’ score, 
The tune of Stars and Stripes for all to play. 
Grand dad he fit at Lexington, and fell at 
Bunker Hill 
Pap followed Jackson clear to New Orleans, 
And as for me, in ’63, I surely got my fill 
And new respect for Stonewall’s men in jeans. 
My youngest boy, with Teddy, dumb the hill at 
San Ju-an 
Another sleeps out in the Philippines, 
I’m not as spry as they were, but careful like 
and ca’m. 
I’m a oilin’ of old Betsy till she shines. 
So pass the word to Woodrow, a bearin’ all the 
stress— 
While we love him for his grand diplomacy— 
That a million, more or less, old codgers I should 
guess, 
Ken plug a squir’l from out a hick’ry tree. 
The’ ain’t no sense in talkin’ war—it’s foolishness 
at best— 
We all agree, that’s had part in that game, 
But if Uncle Sam’l calls us or puts us to the test, 
There won’t be ary hyphen in our aim ! 
—Old Camper. 
termination to start down river in a rush if the 
morrow did not show improvement. 
August S—J- reported improvement in the 
morning and we decided to go on slowly, with 
an eye upon the treacherous foot. We noticed 
a small column of smoke half a mile above 
camp. It might mean forest fires or Indians, 
and we decided to investigate. It turned out to 
be a fire which had burned over an acre or two. 
Running the canoe up the creek to the place 
where burning was going on we scattered and set 
to work. J-and W-began a trench in¬ 
land, digging with the axes. I organized myself 
into a bucket brigade and proceeded to soak 
down the blaze along the top of the stream 
bank. Now that bank was fully fifteen feet 
high, steep, and made of clay. My buckets 
slopped over a bit every time I shinned up and 
its face was soon so slippery that my descents 
for more water were made after the manner of 
one shooting a toboggan slide. Sometimes I 
made a sudden unscheduled descent while on my 
way up, just to prove that it’s not only a woman 
who can change her mind. All told it must have 
taken more than one hundred buckets of water to 
squelch the little flare. 
But my job was easy compared with what the 
others did. I had clean fresh air to breathe and 
was moderately cool. They sweltered in their 
undershirts and were choked and blinded by 
smoke. Axes are not proper tools for digging 
through six or eight inches of vegetable matter 
to the bare ground, either. We had to scoop out 
the trenches with our hands. I helped them 
when the work on the bank was done, and in 
the end we put that fire in such shape that it 
could do no more mischief. It seemed hardly the 
best treatment for blood-poisoning, but J- 
never wavered. 
(To be continued.) 
