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FOREST 
AND 
STREAM 
center, very low, with a thin board slant¬ 
ing back so as to make it very comforable 
for the crew—of just one, and that’s me, 
as the little “Imp” will carry only one. 
And only two others have ever dared to 
sail it. 
As a canoe, with either a single or a 
double blade, I have paddled it on large 
and small streams in South Jersey, on 
lakes and small streams in Northeastern 
Connecticut—where I each year spend a 
goodly part of the summer—and on the 
sea off Asbury Park. 
Without the keel it will go anywhere a 
muskrat can swim, as Nessmuk says of 
his canoe in “Woodcraft.” As a sailboat, 
going close-hauled in a good steady 
breeze, it will keep closer to the wind than 
many larger craft, and make but a very 
little leeway. 
Seated in an easy reclining position, with 
the two tiller lines—one on each side—in 
one’s lap and the mainsheet in hand—I 
never belay it, for in a smart breeze or 
in a flaw it would be too risky—with a 
good steady wind one can have the time 
of one’s life. 
This year I took the little craft off to a 
body of water, among the big hills of 
Northeastern Connecticut, called Crystal 
Lake, which is some two miles or more in 
length and a mile or more in width. 
For nearly two weeks I had one of the 
most enjoyable outings I ever had, and 
being used in every way the little “Imp” 
all the time exactly filled the bill. ' 
Enclosed is a plan of a side view of the 
little “Imp”; also one of the upper side. 
They are as you may see drawn on the 
scale of 4 feet to the inch. 
A boat of its dimensions is so easily 
gotten up and so inexpensive, compara¬ 
tively, that almost any one, no matter how 
slim the pocketbook, can have one, and 
enjoy an outing with it fully as much as 
the owner of a costly up-to-date yacht. 
Any other information that is desired 
about the “Imp” I will be pleased to give. 
A. L. Lyon. 
313 Bond St., Asbury Park, N. J. 
[From a sketch of his little craft that 
the author kindly furnished, Forest and 
Stream was enabled to present the accom¬ 
panying diagram of the “Imp.” Whenever 
contributors think the ideas they wish to 
pass on to brother sportsmen through 
Forest and Stream would be more clearly 
communicated with the help of illustra¬ 
tions, the latter can usually be provided. 
If you can’t get a good clear photograph 
of your “idea,” send along the pencil 
sketch you worked from, or sit down and 
scratch one off. 
Forest and Stream’s illustrators are ex¬ 
perts in their respective lines, and can put 
your idea accurately on paper.] 
small settlement nine miles below her 
lofty station. Men are hastened to the 
vicinity of the fire to subdue or control 
it. During its progress, Miss Daggett 
must watch the fire closely, reporting 
frequently to the forester’s office. Her 
season of this “watchful waiting” begins 
on June 1 of each year and lasts till heavy 
rains make fire danger a thing of the 
past. 
Miss Daggett is a daughter of pioneer 
parents, that stalwart band of brave souls 
who conquered the solitudes and dan¬ 
gers of the West to build an empire. And 
there was born in herself as well, the 
call of the wild, for she first saw the light 
of day in the mountains of California. ’ 
She grew up out of doors, and finding joy 
in the life of the open—in hunting, fishing 
and tramping—she learned to know the 
country and its ways. Disliking, as 
every Californian does, the summer fires 
which annually ruin large bodies of 
timber and spoil with blinding smoke the 
beauty of California’s noted and brilliant 
summer skies, she became interested in 
the work of the Forest Service when it 
was first established. At that time she 
could not enter the service because of 
the hard labor incident to building trails 
and fighting fires, but she and her sister 
did valiant service by carrying supplies 
and water to the men fighters, and in 
extinguishing small fires. 
'\^[l HEN lookout stations were estab¬ 
lished by the Government, her 
first opportunity came. She sought a 
position as a forest fire lookout, and her 
petition was granted by the department 
on June 1, 1913. Miss Daggett’s own 
account of her experiences in the Forest 
Service, tinges with her woman’s yearning 
to serve, the romance of her lonely vigil 
atop Klamath peak: 
“It was an experiment of course. No 
one thought a woman could be of any 
use in such a job, and so I just had to 
make good. Well, I succeeded, for you 
see I have held the place for the last 
three summers and was the first woman 
ever appointed to this position in the 
United States. I find the work very 
fascinating and as it is in the summer, it 
is reasonably comfortable. The season 
lasts about five months, from June 1 
until the heavy rains make fires im¬ 
possible. The fires are often discovered 
at night when they look like stars in 
the blue-black background of moonless 
nights. 
“I HAVE but few callers, yet am never 
1 lonesome, for the constant watching 
and the beautiful views day after day, 
Miss Daggett’s Cabin, Atop Klamath Peak 
THE ONLY WOMAN FIRE RANGER 
FROM LONELY KLAMATH PEAK, A CALIFORNIA 
GIRL HELPS CONSERVE HER STATE’S FORESTS 
By GEORGE H. STIPP 
A WOMAN, a little log cabin, the 
crest of a lonely peak in the moun¬ 
tains of Northern California, and 
forest fires! From these strange mate¬ 
rials is woven the intensely human story 
of the summer life and achievements of 
a woman—a woman who dares and 
does. 
The Woman Fire Lookout on Her Rounds 
The woman is Miss Hallie M. Daggett, 
daughter of John Daggett who was 
lieutenant governor of California from 
1882 to 1886, and later superintendent of 
the United States mint in San Francisco. 
Miss Daggett has the unique distinc¬ 
tion of being the first if not the only 
woman in an “outside job” in the Forest 
Service of the United States Department 
of Agriculture. Her position, in which 
she has been employed for the past 
three years, is that of a fire lookout in 
the forest reserve of the Siskiyou moun¬ 
tains, almost on the border line between 
California and Oregon. Her station is 
known as Eddy’s Gulch lookout station, 
district number 4, Klamath National For¬ 
est, and is located on the highest point of 
Klamath, peak in Siskiyou county, Cali¬ 
fornia, at an elevation of something less 
than 7,000 feet above the sea—to be exact, 
6,444 feet. Armed with a trusty rifle, a 
revolver and a pair of binoculars, she 
keeps a lonely vigil for five months of 
the year in her little log cabin with its 
observation windows on four sides. 
H ERE, ever and anon, she peers down 
into the near and distant fir-lined 
canyons, and over the intervening 
mountain ridges for the first sign of fire. 
This, in the daylight, is a curling spire of 
smoke—in the darkness, a distant spark 
in a pall of black. These she promptly 
reports by telephone to the office of the 
district forest ranger at Sawyer’s Bar. a 
