298 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[FEB. 24, 1906. 

invaders unsuspectingly entered it and their doom 
was sealed. Quarter was neither asked nor given 
and the brains of the wounded and exhausted 
were beaten out by the savage women that’ fol- 
lowed in the line of pursuit. 
Never in the lives of the allied tribes had they 
lost so many of their best men. ' In anticipation 
of easy victory and consequent plunder many of 
their squaws had gone far to meet them. They 
were frenzied with grief over the unexpected re- 
sults. It is said that their wailings and lamen- 
tations could be heard for miles. 
noted Yumas killed was Francisco, a chief well 
known to the few whites then living in the coun- 
try. It was through his influence that the famous 
Olive Oatman had been given. her liberty by the 
Mojaves, she having been glee ee by them 
from the Apaches. 
For a time it was feared that the Maricopas, 
emboldened by their successes, would attack the 
Yumas on the Colorado, and all available war- 
riors were held in readiness to meet them. The 
women and children were sent to the “rancheria 
on the California side of the river, and numerous 
rafts were prepared for the crossing’ ef the war- 
riors in case they were again beaten, but the 
victors were satisfied to let well enough alone. 
Beyond an occasional meeting of a’ few bold 
spirits this battle ended hostilities between the 
two tribes, and animosities have so far been for- 
gotten that inter-marriages have taken place be- 
tween them. This has been due mostly to the 
schools at which the young people of the different 
tribes are in attendance. 
The Maricopas had been advised of the pro- 
posed raid of the Yumas by the Cocopahs. These 
were also river Indians, but residents of Lower 
California, From “all time,” they say, they have 
been at enmity with the Yumas. A strip of land 
twenty-five miles along the river, between the 
two tribes, was considered neutral ground, but 
between the Cocopahs and Maricopas friendly 
intercourse had long been kept. Cocopahs were 
employed on the steamers that occasionally found 
their way up the river with Government freight. 
These the Yumas invariably killed if they were 
indiscreet enough to leave the protection of the 
white man’s boat. It was while so employed that 
the Cocopahs learned of the intentions of the 
Yumas to raid and massacre the Maricopas. Cer- 
tain it is that Maricopa scouts had kept their 
people informed of every move made by the in- 
vaders, for at least two days before they reached 
the villages, where they were impatiently awaited 
in overpowering numbers. HERBERT Brown. 
Yuma, Ariz., Feb. 7 
Katahdin. 
On Aug. 3, at 5:30 in the morning, the party 
set out from Houlton, with their faces toward 
Mt. Katahdin, sixty miles to the westward. The 
personnel was as follows: The philosopher, 
the energetic young collegian (the factotum on 
whom the success of the party depended), the 
boys Charlie and Allie, the scribe, and Frank 
and Harry—two very intelligent Hambletonians, 
by whose nimble steps long distances were miade 
short. 
Our plan was to go out fifty miles from 
Houlton and spend the night at Burgoin’s 
Farm, six miles in the woods, proceeding the 
next day to the veritable wilderness. 
The morning was delightful, and our party 
was in the best of spirits. Our journey lay 
over a rolling country, with here and there 
sharp hills, a new region to us, beautiful in its 
summer verdure, with an atmosphere wonder- 
fully invigorating. By noon we reached the 
hospitable home of Mrs. Norton, an old friend 
of our manager. Her generous heart made 
ours glad, as we sat about her richly laden 
table, dispensing her bounties to us as if she 
had not on that very morning provided for 
nineteen happy mortals who had gone out on 
the lake to sail. 
To go into the wilds of Maine without at 
least seeing a bear we considered inglorious, 
so we drove up to a house where a fine black 
bear was in captivity, chained to a stake and 
quite willing to be fed with ginger-bread and 
apples. Satisfied in having met our bear under 
such favorable circumstances we drove on, soon 
Among the 
coming to a high hill overlooking the top of 
the forest, through which we must pass, stretch- 
ing out like a great sea in extent. 
A rough passage that would deter the ordi- 
nary traveler must now be encountered for the 
next six miles before we could gain our night’s 
rest at the farm—so rough, indeed, that one 
much preferred walking. When half way 
through these woods, it became apparent that 
we must halt, untackle, bait our horses, build 
a fire and take our first gipsey-like supper by 
the way. The darkness falling upon us, there 
remained two anxious hours of travel in a dark 
forest, over a road that to a sailor would sug- 
gest a heavy sea, though the surface was less 
yielding, being composed of corduroy roads, 
stumps and ledges, with one or two steep hills. 
At. 8:30 P. M. we: found ourselves at Bur- 
goin’s Farm. Here we visited the two baby 
moose, which, of their own accord, in their 
motherless condition, had found their way to 
the farmhouse. 
In the evening we set out, all our luggage 
being repacked on a very strong buckboard, to 
encounter even a more difficult road than the 
one of the evening before. Crossing the east 
branch of the Penobscot, we started on a ten- 
mile tramp through a _ beautiful hardwood 
growth. Glints of bright sunlight found their 
passage through the leafy canopy, giving that 
peculiar, softened light so pleasing to the eye, 
making the day one of great enjoyment in the 
fragrant woods, and merry with the notes of 
songsters. After a journey of four miles we 
reached Dacy’s Dam, where a fly was thrown, 
to which a good-sized trout responded. A mile 
and a half further on, while resting our horses 
on the bridge, a fine string was caught. 
The line of march was again taken up along 
the east bank of the Wassataquoick until we 
reached a signboard, placed in 1887 by the Ap- 
palachian Mountain Club, of Boston, indicating 
that here we were to ford the river, and noting 
that the basin was nine and.a half, and the sum- 
mit eleven and a half miles distant. The horse 
was dismissed, to be returned by a special 
driver. The luggage was again repacked in 
sacks, and each man strapping his pack to his 
back, in. Indian file, we started again into the 
woods, and soon came to our first home in the 
wilds. The memory of the beautiful night, with 
its bright summer stars, our roaring camp-fire 
sending high heavenward its sparks, the jolly, 
good-natured party, our first vain attempts to 
sleep, the gradual quiet that stole over one and 
then another until silence prevailed, will ever be 
a pleasing one to recall in future days. Our 
camps are known by woodsmen as shakedowns, 
being constructed in such a manner as to be open 
in front and kept warm by a large camp-fire 
built a few feet in front of the camp. 
About 1 o’clock the next day we reached 
Katahdin Lake, a beautiful forest-girt expanse 
of water three or four miles in extent, near 
Turner Mountain. Here we obtained a grand 
view of Mt. Katahdin, six and one-half miles 
distant. At the lake we found a substantial log 
camp, built for the Appalachian Club. The club 
had caused the camp to be built and the paths 
cut for them in advance. We found the camps 
in good condition, but the paths had become 
overgrown in many places, rendering our pas-~ 
sage somewhat difficult. 
The following morning our journey lay 
through a most beautiful piece of thick hard- 
wood growth, through which we traveled leis- 
urely, arriving about 3 o’clock at Roaring 
Brook, a most delightful mountain stream of 
ice-blue water. The brook, “loud with noisy 
waterfalls,’ certainly deserves its name; and 
here, for rest and recreation, we had great sport, 
catching in a brief time our supply of moun- 
tain brook trout. Completing the day’s tramp, 
came to a small lake near the foot of the Basin. 
The location was a somewhat unpromising one 
for the establishment of a camp, but the diffi- 
culties were, after a time, overcome, and our 
usual roaring camp-fire comfort was maintained. 
This camp proved to be within a mile of the 
basin, which we reached the following morning. 
The Basin was a great revelation to us. There 
it stood, a mighty barrier, solitary and somber, 
awakening at a distance awe, which further ac- 
quaintance only deepened. At first sight, in- 
stinctively, we stood as if commanded. By 
degrees we entered this vast amphitheatre, so 
great as to make all distances deceptive and the 
size of a man half way up its slope as that of an 
insect. In a brief space of time, as if refusing 
our companionship, we were awe-stricken with 
terrific claps of thunder and vivid flashes ot 
lightning, and we remembered that the moun- 
tain itself was the child of the tempest and the 
furnace of fire. This supreme moment we would 
not have missed, lending as it did added 
grandeur to the scene. 
Glancing at the very high peak northeast ot 
Katahdin, near the northeast end of the ridge, 
we recalled that Dr. Hitchcock, in his scientific 
survey of 1860, had named it Mount Pomola, 
from the name of the Indian Deity of the moun- 
tains. The Indians formerly supposed that 
Pomola would be very angry if any person at- 
tempted to climb the mountain; hence, like Mt. 
Washington, the top of Katahdin was consid- 
ered sacred. Here we found a_ substantial 
log camp, which had been built for the Appa- 
lachian Club, but it required a new top covering 
of freshly peeled hemlock bark to render it a 
desirable quartering in a heavy shower or rain- 
storm. We were accordingly ill-prepared for 
this sudden tempest, and suffered some discom- 
fort for an hour. Before night, however, all 
preparations were made, and we were again 
camping before our cheerful fire. In the morn- 
ing, starting out from our camp near the Chim- 
ney Pond, in the basin, we struck into the valley 
of a mountain stream, which at the present sea- 

THE BABY MOOSE OF BURGOIN’S FARM. 
son contains no water, but is filled with im- 
mense boulders. We followed this bed for 
nearly a mile, and then were put to the test of 
rugged mountain climbing. The mountain, ac- 
cording to best barometric observations, is 
5,385 feet above the ocean, or a little more than 
a mile high. 
The general course of the ridge composing the 
top of Mt. Katahdin, as seen from the summit, 
is that of nearly a complete circle, which is 
broken on one side. The interior of this arc is 
what has already been spoken of as the basin, 
and is a beautiful hollow, 3,000 feet deep, on one 
side of which is a pond, just below the chimney, 
and for this reason, called Chimney Pond. 
The ridge and the basin together resemble a 
vast crater, yet there is no indication of the 
former existence of a volcano. There are sey- 
eral very prominent peaks, the highest of which 
is Katahdin. Our party, I think, is the first to 
mention the presence of the sacred cow, a dis- 
tinct form of which may be seen in a reclining 
position in a deep recess of the mountain to the 
extreme left of the ridge and near the summit; 
it is best seen as one stands on the bank of the 
Chimney Pond. The top of the mountain is a 
plateau about three miles in length, gradually 
rising from the top of the west spur to the 
summit. Here one notices most hardy plants, 
yet we were pleased to find the delicate Linnea 
borealis and the white violet in perfect flower. 
The lower portions of the plateau are covered 
with th: mossy lichen Cladonia rangiferina, 
