812 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[May 27, 1911. 
fire wood, and do little kindnesses for her and 
her young flock. He had an ugly stream to 
cross, dangerous to ford even in summer, too 
turbulent to freeze even in the severest weather. 
But he felled a tall spruce across a narrow 
place, making a bridge. One day while in mid¬ 
stream he slipped and went off into the rushing 
anchor ice. His coat caught on a limb, and the 
swift water held him under. By a fearful stiug- 
gle he contrived to get his knife out of h s 
pocket, cut himself loose and somehow got 
ashore. It was far below zero, he was lightly 
clad as usual, and seven miles from his cabin. 
It looked like death, but he happened to think 
of a hot spring, of which there are many in 
that country, and he made a dash for that, reach¬ 
ing it when, had it been much further, he might 
have perished. By it he dried his clothes and 
so got home, and the widow, who moved away 
in spring, has never known of the adventure to 
this day. 
In February, when the snow lies deepest and 
the nights are coldest, the starving elk drift in, 
often in large bands. They are so thin and 
weak it is a wonder that any survive. But it 
is then that they are Uncle Jack’s especial care. 
He shovels paths through the deep snow from 
their “yard” to fresh patches of willow, or to 
in .—genuine trout fishing. 
H1LE camping on the Jordan River ourcook 
told us of a fine trout stream about sixty 
miles long, having a dam or two upon it, 
and being remote from civilization. He said that 
the trout were often 4 -pounders and were abund¬ 
ant. His explanation as to how we were to manage 
the trip and get out of this wilderness was not 
very satisfactory, but we understood that by 
going into the headwaters by team we could 
work down the sixty miles in our boats and 
take a coasting steamer at the Life Saving 
Station on Lake Superior and thus get to the 
Soo. We decided to try it and thereupon had 
our boats equipped with fish boxes to keep our 
fish alive until we could get them into the fish 
rack at camp. Fish boxes in boats invariably 
leak, and after many trials we find that if the 
grain of the lumber does not cross the boat, but 
is upright, it will swell with the bottom of the 
boat and be less liable to leak. Even when thus 
carefully built the shrinking over winter has to 
be compensated for by caulking and wetting be¬ 
fore the boat can be satisfactorily used. 
We shipped from Charlevoix to St. Ignace 
and took the train to our station, seventeen miles 
from the headwaters, where we arrived at night 
at an old lumber camp in charge of a watch¬ 
man who said we could sleep in one of the log 
buildings that had been cleaned, but one or two 
of our boys did not get rid of the fleas for 
several days, so we have never slept in an old 
lumber camp since then. Worse than fleas are 
apt to get upon you if you do that. We found 
the mosquitoes quite troublesome, and the river 
a mere creek with no indication of four-pound 
a hillside from which the snow has been blown 
by the wind, and he takes as much pride and 
joy in seeing some lordly though very feeble old 
bull at death's door pull through as ever that 
shepherd whose one lost sheep was found. 
Long live Uncle Jack. I'or six months at 
least, through the long winter, he is cut off 
from all communication with his kind, and the 
possibilities contained in this situation are un¬ 
pleasant to contemplate. Well he knows what 
they are, and he is sometimes urged to go back 
to civilization and comfort. But he steadfastly 
refuses; he would not be contented anywhere 
else after more than forty years, and he pre¬ 
fers his independence, and so some spring will 
come when the poor old man will "turn up mis¬ 
sing” and his lowly cabin will be his tomb. 
There is no poetry or fiction about this little 
narrative; it is all just as I have set it down. 
Uncle Jack is known to not a few. Only no 
words can picture the rugged worth and simple 
quaintness of his character. He is like a page 
out of Izaak Walton. I am tempted to apply to 
him - the words that Robert Louis Stevenson 
wrote to Jules Simoneau, another derelict, who 
died a few months ago in California: “From the 
bottom of my heart, dear and kind o’d man, I 
hold your good memory very close.” 
trout. We decided to go back, but on having 
a good night’s rest and a report from the cook 
that he had seen a deer down the river, we de¬ 
cided to stay for a few days. We found the 
river full of logs left by a deficiency of water 
in the spring, and we fished through the logs 
and finally found an old raft in what was ap¬ 
parently the outlet of a slough, but as the volume 
of water coming out of it was about equal to 
that of the river, we decided to investigate. 
We took this raft and our rods and went up 
the outlet a way and caught trout as fast as we 
could get them in. A rusty backwoodsman at 
the lumber camp had offered for $10 to show 
us a lake nearby in which we could catch plenty 
of large trout, but we were afraid to trust him. 
We supposed that we had found the place, and 
the next day we pulled a boat down river over 
the logs and into the outlet, and from there we 
went up a short distance and found a fine lake 
fairly alive with trout. To get them within 
reach we tied one end of the boat to a long 
fallen cedar and anchored the other end with a 
pole so that the boat would not move. After 
a short space the trout rose near enough to cast 
—we could only make short casts then—and as 
we fished with five flies we often caught five at 
once. With a moving boat but few trout could 
be taken. We fished there several times, and 
then moved our camp down to an open place 
in the river about five miles long. 
We had taken camp cots along this trip, as the 
boys were afraid to sleep on the ground in this 
wilderness. The result was that we were very 
cold every night and had to put all the clothes 
and waterproofs under us to keep out the cold. 
Beaver were quite plenty, and our cook caught 
one to show the tenderfeet. We were very 
much interested. He cut a passage in the top 
of the dam, and set the trap in the pond at 
the cut and under water, attached to a floating 
evergreen with only the top left upon it. In 
the morning the beaver was found a short way 
from the cut, dead from drowning. We did not 
catch any more, as we did not like the idea of 
doing so when we had no need for them. 
Deer were plenty and we shot at several, but 
did not get or wound any, as we were so ex¬ 
cited when we saw them that we forgot our 
rifles until the deer had concluded to get out 
of sight. We always had plenty of fresh trout, 
as we kept them in a rack in running water, and 
had fish boxes in our boats to keep them alive 
until we could put them in the camp live rack. 
We teamed around the logs, getting below 
them and floated down the rapid river to Lake 
Superior, where we took a coasting steamer for 
the Soo and thence home. 
We learned to set up tarpaulins to keep off 
the cold north wind, both at our sleeping tent 
and at the camp-fire. We had not as yet learned 
to lay in supplies sufficient for our„ trip and 
had to get some from the life saving station at 
the mouth of the river. 
IV.—HINTS AS TO COMFORT. 
We had now become used to trips of several 
weeks’ duration, and more familiar with our 
needs in the way of supplies, tents, etc. Our 
boats had proved their inadequacy, and we 
traded them for agates gathered by the life sav¬ 
ing crew. We had new ones built that were 
longer and wider and that had live boxes in 
them with the door opening flat on the top so 
as not to be broken off when open, high enough 
to prevent the water from splashing into the 
boat or overflowing when the boat was heavily 
laden, and with a small hole at one side of the 
top, through which the trout could be put when 
the door was shut. We also learned that we. 
could not sleep comfortably on cots when the 
nights were cold and used bough beds of balsam 
ends about eighteen inches long set from the 
head to the foot, the stub being stuck in the 
ground and laid nearly upright, logs at the head 
and foot and one on each side to keep the bed 
in place and the sleeper from rolling off. Such 
beds are warm and comfortable, but must be 
renewed at least once a week, or they become 
hard and musty. A rubber blanket must be put 
on top of the brush and under the blankets or 
dampness will give you a cold. Your tent should 
have the back pitched to the north to avoid the 
effect of cold winds, and the door should be 
kept open all night for fresh air. 
With a party of eight or ten as we now had, 
including the help, we had three boats, eight 
tents or flies, kitchen fly, dining room fly, sitting 
room fly, supply tent, three sleeping tents for 
the sportsmen and one for the help. The tents 
should not be less than nine feet square, and if 
made to-order be capable of being opened at 
both ends for air and comfort in hot weather, 
and all should be light, say eight ounce and 
have a fly at least two feet larger than the tent 
to keep off the rain. The supply tent will be 
too hot in the day .time without a fly. We also 
have a stove for burning wood, which is set up 
at the rear of the kitchen fly, also a fireless 
cooker to keep butter and game in to be cool. 
Camping 
By WILLIAM H. HOLDEN 
