April 29, 1911.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
649 
sailed across the big ocean in search of his for¬ 
tune and never found it, but drifting across this 
trout-filled lake in some flaming sunset was con¬ 
tent to stay here. 
While we watched the last light die from the 
sky, Leopold told us of an experience he had in 
this very cabin : "It was a ver’ hot night, un I 
lef de door wide open when I went to bed. I 
was ver' tired un mus’ have slep’ ver’ sound. 
Suddenly I were wide awake; something was 
on the bed with me. I lie still un listen care¬ 
ful. Den I hear, ‘Grun, grun’ un rattle lak de 
wind in brush when de ice storm come. Den 
I know that it is Porc-ep-pic, what you call 
porcupine. By Gor, I war scared; I don’ dare 
move lest he stick me with his quills, un dat's no 
joke. I have a dog stuck with quill un dey 
come out right through his neck so I have to 
kill him. I don’ want that with me, so I lie 
still. 
“He’s big and heavy porc-ep-pic, un he walk 
all over me. He sniff an’ sniff, he grun’ an’ 
grun , then by Gor he come up on my face un 
I draw de blanket slow over my head. He sniff 
my face un I think what I do if he begin chew? 
But I lie still as a fox. He walk over me an’ 
root in de bed, un bye’n bye he jump on de 
floor. Right off I jump, too, un hit him with 
a big branch of wood—biff! un dat’s all. But 
LOOKING PLEASANT. 
next mornin’ when I look at that stick, it’s full 
of spines sunk half an inch in de wood. By 
Gor, I don’ want another porcupine in bed with 
me.” 
A hot breakfast, a gray sky and a two-mile 
trail through the woods to our next camp. In¬ 
dian file, we marched. Fox signs were every¬ 
where, and as we rounded a boulder there stood 
one in the trail, his little ears erect, his pointed 
nose questing our scent, one paw raised. He 
watched us and then like a shadow faded 
among the undergrowth. Here and there we 
came across little balls of fur and feathers, the 
disgorgings of owls, signs of many a tragedy 
as the strong claws swept a birdlet, mouse or 
rabbit from the trail of its earth life. Then at 
Grant Pond we came across both beavers and 
deer. 
It was pouring in torrents when we worked 
our way through a chaos of granite boulders 
to the shore of Big Island Lake. While the 
Deacon and Gray Rabbit went on in the canoe, 
Cave Man and I sat under the spruces watching 
the rain columns sweep like charging batteries 
across the water, grazing its surface to foam. 
But bundled up in our rain coats, all was cosy' 
and warm, and the hissing waters only empha¬ 
sized our comfort as we embarked and made 
camp with its delicious dinner and its leaping 
fire. 
The storm cleared the sky and made the air 
taste like something good to drink, so we started 
off to L Pond nearby, the most northerly lake 
of the Rangeley system, I believe. As we 
launched our canoe on its surface, a pair of 
woodducks flew by, low down, a fine shot, but 
a finer picture of feathered beauty better far 
alive than dead. Then a muskrat paddled by, 
his tail arched like a playful cat’s, or again, stuck 
straight up as though it were a trolley to speed 
him faster on his quest. 
The trout in this little lake rose splendidly, no 
mere roll but a leap, an arching crescent, and 
the fly taken on the downward plunge. In less 
than an hour I had eighteen, though only five 
were kept and their coloring was superb. I 
counted thirteen full-formed spots on one side 
and twenty on the other of my finest fish; golden 
the background, and then the bright vermillion 
dots surrounded by lavender that shaded off into 
forget-me-not blue. 
That night we foregathered with several old 
fishermen around the camp-fire. One had a col¬ 
lection of all the butterflies and moths the region 
afforded, and trout flies made to match them. 
Then the conversation turned on strange meals 
the people of forest and stream make. 
“There were four of us on the West Branch 
of the Moose River,” said the Doctor, “when 
we noticed a frog which seemed to have some¬ 
thing the matter with its paunch. Two of our 
number being medical men, we decided to hold 
a post mortem. The stomach of the beastie was 
swollen and hard as a stone. On cutting him 
open, what do you think we found? A craw¬ 
fish swallowed whole, and it was almost two- 
thirds as large as the frog. Whether he swal¬ 
lowed it alive I do not know, but if so there 
was a tremendously prickly lively time in frog 
town that night.” 
“It is strange what these wild creatures will 
eat,” said a bronzed old hunter who sat behind 
the fire. “I was fishing off the coast of Florida 
one summer, and we had great sport. Why, the 
way those huge jewfish fight is amazing. It was 
while we were lying off a reef that we saw an 
enormous shark swirl slowly beneath the boat, 
and we determined to get him. We rigged a 
tarpon hook with a copper wire line and baited 
with a chunk of meat. Soon we had him going 
and when we brought him ashore, this is what 
we found in his stomach: two whole tins of 
corned beef, three shin bones of a cow, a horse’s 
head and a piece of ham with the bale cloth 
wrapper still on it.” 
By the way,’’ another fisherman broke in, 
“did you ever actually see a shark attack a man? 
I know a hotel proprietor on the Florida coast 
SIXTY MILES TO CHESUNCOOK. 
who offered $500 reward for proof that a shark 
had devoured a man.” 
Well,” was the answer, “I never actually saw 
a shark devour a man, but I’ll tell you what I 
did see. We were off the coast of Cuba one 
summer night—you know what nights they have 
there—the moon was so big and bright that we 
could read very well with its light. Indeed, the 
objects near at hand seemed as c’ear as they 
could be in daylight. Well, some of the sailors 
started in to swim and soon there were half a 
dozen splashing near the boat. 
"I was watching the coast line where a couple 
of palm trees rose against the sky, and I was 
wondering vaguely why there was such a surf 
running, the spray flying in white clouds, while 
out where we were the sea seemed smooth as 
glass, save for the heave of the swell. Just 
then I caught a swirl on the top of a wave 
nearby and saw a vague shadow dart away. It 
was just such a swirl and shadow as you see 
when a pickerel darts from a distant lilypad. 
Then the swirl came nearer. I could catch a 
glimpse of some big fish through the top of the 
swell. Suddenly one of the swimmers let out 
a piercing scream, threw up his hands and dis¬ 
appeared. 
“We were over the spot in an instant with the 
boats, but when we got there, all was quiet. A 
