
and I fe_l that Il have met a worthy foe. He darts down 
stream, rapidly reeling out fifty yards of line before I give 
him the but, and turn him back to the pool where he 
Gently I bear on him and he turns once more down 
stream, giving a series of jumps out of water, the pliant 
rod bending to his waywardness. For the last time I turn 
him, and I bring him exhausted beside the raft and suc- 
cessfully land him.* Three pounds and a half, fully, and I 
survey him with much complacency. My next cast was 
not so successful. In the excitement of the moment I 
struck too quickly, and after a short run I lost him. My 
next is two pounds, and the next three and over. I must do 
better than this! In my fly book was a very ancient 
salmon fly, gorgeous in its colorings, and fully an inch and 
a half long. TI attached it as the tail fly and cast far out 
under a projecting rock that threw its shadow over the 
pool. A splash follows, and a five pounder rises, and 
seizing my salmon fly goes down. He remains quiet a 
moment, preparing for the mighty rush that followed. 
My line is all run out befcre I give him the but. Snap! 
my salmon fly has parted from the gut close to the shank. 
So much for using old flies. When the sun peeped over 
the tree tops, warning me to return to breakfast, Ihad a 
half dozen more varying from one and a half pounds to 
three. 
Trout will seldom rise to a fly during the glare and hea 
of the day, and even should they, the black flies would 
render fishing anything but a pleasant pastime. 
Having the greater part of the day before us, I determine 
to climb the mountain from the side above the pool. Our 
luncheon is put up,gun and ax slung, and crossing the river 
we commence the ascent. JI have never made an accomp- 
lishment of crawling up side walls, fly like, though I claim 
to be able to hold my own under most circumstances. A 
dozen times did I regret having been so foolhardy as to at- 
tempt it, but I was bound to succeed now. By a series ot 
hauling, pushing and catching at stray bushes that hold out 
their assistance, we finally reach the top, and seating my- 
self on an inviting rock, I abandon myself to the charming 
vista spread out before me. Dozens of lakes peeping from 
their varied green surroundings, the St. Lawrence, a 
mere sinuous thread in the far distance, while the little 
camp at our feet, from which the smoke of the fire curls 
upwards, is liliputian in its dimensions. The wild glen, 
sulks. 
through which the St. Anns discharges itself in a series of 
falls, is plainly visible. 
Charlo selects a favorable spot near the verge of the cliff, 
spreads out the luncheon, to which we both do more than 
ample justice. Pipe follows, and we sit there and discuss 
the question of the names of the different lakes visible. 
That evening’s fishing resulted in some handsome fish, the 
largest three and a half pounds. Next day we visited the 
falls five miles above our encampment. They are three in 
number with a fall each of twenty-five feet with deep pools 
intervening, out of which I took some dozens of good sized 
fish. This was another day of great enjoyment, and witha 
sigh, I gave the order for our return on the morrow, for all 
things must come to an end, and the inventory of our pro- 
visions show they are fast coming to a similar end. 
The wind must have changed during the night, for I 
awoke with a sense that I was choking, which was not far 
from the truth, for the smoke was pouring into the camp 
in a cloud. I beat a hasty retreat, and being now fully 
awakened lighted my pipe and seating mysclf on a log be- 
side the fire, gave utterance to a war whoop to clear my 
lungs and which brought Charlo to his feet in surprising 
"short time under the impression perhaps that hostile say- 
ages were making a descent. 
We packed up, and at dawn are floating down the river 
cn ourraft. The first few miles were uneventual until we 
got into the rapids. Half way down the ugliest of these, 
a huge boulder, rears its head, arcund which the water 
seethes and foams. It is too late to avoid it and we can only | 
brace ourselves for the shock that follows. It ccmes, and 
we are driven high and dry on its surface. Charlo pitches 
forward and lands himself in my unwelcome arms. All 
our efforts to free the raft are unavailing, and we ruefally 
survey the prospect of a ducking before we can reach the | 
shore. Weare not disappointed, and resuming our packs 
mournfully take up our march. Next day we reached 
home without further event. 
J. M) FL In. 
Lor Forest and Stream. 
SNOE-SHOEING IN MAINE. 
an 
E left Greenville, at the foot of Moosehead Lake, 
one bright morning in February. The day before 
we had supplied ourselves with an outfit for moose hunt- 
ing. Anance, the aged Indian, chief of the Abenakis and 
St. Regis tribes, a mere handful now, had been engaged to 
go with us as guide, and from him we obtained snow- 
shoes, moccasins, a sled, and other things indispensable in 
a winter camp. 
We were to travel on the frozen lake to the northwest - 
“carry,” the extreme northern end, forty miles from Green- 
ville, where our first night’s camp would be. Four feet of 
solid ice, with water and snow covering the lake, made the 
going bad. Our conveyance was a two horse, open-box 
sleigh or pung, in which everything except the sled was 
packed. Atnoon we had reached Mt. Kineo, where we 
warmed up before the log fire in the hotel, and obtained a 
nice dinner of caribou venisox and lake trout. 
Mt. Kineo is a prominent feature of Moosehead Lake, a 
miniature mountain, with precipices and frozen cascades 
projecting from the eastern shore into the lake. It is 
reached by steamer in summer, but in winter few except 
lumberers and hunters pass this way, 

FOR@ST AND STREAM, 
Leaving here a little after noon, we started on the re- 
maining twenty miles of our journey over the lake. The 
snow became deep and traekless, although the road had 
been “‘bushed, with small spruces. 
signs of failing, and at the end of afew miles our driver 
declared that to attempt to drive to the carry would kill the 
beasts. A hurried conversation was held,sand we decided 
to snow-shoe it. Soon our traps were got out and packed 
on the sled, snow-shoes fastened on, and we set off, drag- 
ging the sled, while the team slowly made its way back to 
Kineo. A good crust made travelling easy, and before 
dusk we had done ten miles or more. Mount Katahdin’s 
snowy sides were standing boldly out to the northeast over 
the black “shore line of spruces. We were already in 
sight of the carry when a snow squall came sweepii g down 
upon us, and almost without warning we were in darkness, 
the whirling, driving snow blast obliging us to cower be- 
fore it with our blankets held tight over our heads. After 
some aimless attempts to reach the shore, we gathered about 
the sled, and by the light of a match under a blanket 
took an observation of the pocket compass. To our sur- 
prise we had left the course and were heading away to- 
wards the western shore. There was nothing to be doff 
but to wait. The squall passed off, the shores were in 
sight again, and our journey resumed. 
It was now raining, and the softened snow clung to our 
oa) 
snow-shoes until the weight became most trying. At nine 
| o’clock we reached northwest carry, and threw ourselves 
down exhausted on the snow. Anance soon had a fire 
going, and after a drink of hot tea, and a biscuit, we. 
started on the two miles across the carry, where a wooden 
tram road had been built by lumbermen, connecting the 
lake with the west branch of the Penobscot River. Slowly 
we dragged ourselves, stopping often to rest before we 
reached the deserted log cabin, where a roaring fire in the 
stove made all comfortable, and we stretched our tired 
limbs on the spruce boughs, content to have shelter, 
though our feet were chafed and smarting from the unac- 
customed tramp of twenty miles on snow-shoes. 
except in an emergency, should a novice in snow-shoeing 
attempt a long tramp at starting. He will find locomotion 
impossible for some time, and may lose several days in re- 
cruiting. 
In consequence of our first day’s shoe tramp we lost the 
whole of the next day, being laid up with stiff and aching | 
limbs and sore feet; so that lying on the boughs, or putting 
guns and ammunition in order, was our only occupation. We. 
were to travel up the west branch of the Penobscot on the 
ice, then, following up the Elm stream, a tributary from 
the north, to reach the hunting grounds and make camp at 
night. 
Tt was a clear, bright morning when we set off from the 
“carry,” the crust on the river ice being so firm that snow 
shoes were not required, except when open water, caused 
by rapids, obliged us to take a short detour in the woods. 
Tracks of caribou (Loup cervier, or Luetvee, in hunter's par- 
lance) were frequent, and an occasional otter’s slide on the 
snow banks, near openings in the ice. Anance brought 
with him several traps for beaver and mink, which are 
still quite plenty in Maine. 
Passing Babb & Stricklan’s lumber camp, now deserted, 
we arrived at the mouth of the Elm stream about noon, 
and indulged in a tin cup of hot tea and some slices of 
cold raw salt pork and biscuit, the pork being a new ex- 
perience to one of our party, a novice in moose hunting, 
who, being born a true Briton, had all the native pluck and 
endurance so necessary in this kind of hunting. Young 
G. did not expect to find luxuries in the woods in winter, 
and relied on a glass barrel of whiskey which he carried | 
wrapped in his buffalo robe and strapped on his back 
through the whole trip. - 
N., a civil engineer and an experienced moose hunter, 
who knew the importance of throwing aside every unnec- 
essaty ounce of baggage, had insisted on our travelling as | 
lightly as possible, so that one sled had sufficed for all our 
traps. Each of us, except the Indian, carried a buffalo 
robe containing a change of socks and other smaller arti- 
cles. After leaving the river we found the snow in the 
“tote road” deep and yieiding. Snow-shoes were put on, 
and now came additional work in hauling the sled over | 
snow hummocks and through brush, with frequent slew- 
ings and upsets. Anance drew with the rope across his 
chest, Indian fashion, following the track beaten down by | 
our snow shoes. However, after several miles of weari- 
some pulling, the sled was abandoned at the side of the 
road. After distributing the provisions in our packs we 
pushed on through spruce and hemlock swamps, open tim- 
ber, beech, birch, and straggling moose wood, and just at 
dusk we found theruins of a lumber camp, all that remained 
being a portion of the roof buried in snow, but having a 
space under it quite dry, and large enough for our party to 
crawl under and even sit upright. To work we went, using 
our sxow-shoes for shovels, and cleared a space for a fire, 
which was soon blazing in front of our apology for acamp. 
I should mention that before leaving New York we had, 
at the suggestion of N., provided ourselves with buffalo 
robes sewed up so as to form bags, with the hair inside, 
into which we crawled feet foremost, drawing the mouths 
together over our heads. This was a comfortable arrange- 
ment until the melted snow, dropping from the roof, soaked 
the hides, and our bags were frozen stiff before morning. 
There is little romance about a winter camp. Snow 
scenes are not ‘‘beautiful” to eyes moist and inflamed by 
smoke and snow glare, and when the body is frozen and 
thawed by turns. 
forest, or when the branches crash and crack before a gale, 
The stout horses gave 
Never, | 
True, there is a grandeur in the moonlit | 


but there is little comfort or luxurious ease in winter 
camps. ‘ 
In recalling the hardships and exposure that attend win- 
ter hunting and sleeping in the snow when overtaken by 
night, I can yet affirm that‘we gained much strength and 
renewed health by snow-shoeing in Maine, New Brunswick, 
and Nova Scotia. 
Our first humt was a reconnoisance. Anance led off 
through the spruces loaded with snow, gradually ascending 
to hard wood ridges, where we looked for signs, or ‘‘ray- 
ages,” as the Canadian French hunters call.the work of the 
moose made by browsing. Towards night, having found 
no fresh signs, and when nearing camp I wounded a white 
hare with a ball, and following, intent on hare soup for 
supper, I became separated from my companions. Sud- 
denly I found myself in a moose yard. I heard them 
crashing through the forest, but could see nothing as they 
went off. Their tracks were like those of a horse in deep 
snow. Marking the spot I returned to camp, whereupon I 
was taken to task for starting the moose so late in the day. 
We were to move camp next day tg another lumber 
camp, which we hoped ‘to find habitable. While on our 
way a fresh moose track was found crossing our path, evi- 
dently my frightened game of yesterday. Here was a 
lucky find, as we could follow and “‘still hunt” them as 
s00n as our new camp was established. When found, the 
lumber camp was literally snowed under, and it required 
much shovelling before the door was found and we got in. 
There were the Deacon seat and spruce beds ready for use. 
A square altar of pure white snow stood in tne centre, 
under the smoke hole in the roof, the accumulations of a 
winter’s storms, and the rest of the day was speni in clear- 
ing the snow out, getting firewood, and making things 
comfortable. The weather, which had been clear and cold, 
soon changed to clouds, with snow, which fell incessantly 
for two days, an addition of nearly three feet, and making 
about eight feet on the ground. The light snow was suit- 
able for still hunting, but the travelling was more difticult. 
At every step one raised a small mountain on the toé of 
each snow-shoe, and our pace was slow as in single file we 
followed the tracks of the moose. A bed or hollow in the 
snow under a large spruce tree showed where the moose 
had passed the night previous. Thence he went on with 
many devious turnings, plucking buds and browsing on 
young spruce trees, breaking off the tops and strewing the 
snow with branches; “‘ravaging,” in fact, the forest. The 
signs grew fresher. We were now ona track made within 
an hour, and if all the rules of still hunting were observed 
we might have moose meat for supper. Cautiously mov- 
ing foot by foot, watching the drooping mosses to keep 
against the wind, we approached. Suddenly a huge black 
object rose slowly from the bushes; first a long clumsy 
head and pendulous snout held high in the air, listening. 
A moment’s delay and away he dashed. I took a quick 
sight and fired, Now the chase began. Slipping over, 
and tripping into the deep moose tracks, or cutting off by 
detours, we followed on. Another shot from N., and we 
knew the game was ours. Coming up, we stood about the 
monster, admiring his strong limbs, and wondering at his 
ugly, uncouth head, small cunning eye, and farge asinine 
ears. The snow was soon trampled and dyed with the 
creature’s blood, as with skillful hands’ Anance removed 
the hide and prepared the meat, all to be left covered with 
snow to be hauled to camp when convenient. 
Moose meat is very good eating, and is highly prized by 
the Maine backwoodsmen in their winter larder. We car- 
ried to camp sufficient meat for present use, the result being 
a series of savory broils, stews, and ‘‘brochettes” made on 
spruce sticks instead of silver skewers. 
Snow continued falling for several days, during which 
we could not hunt, but took comfort in our snug camp, 
Then we repacked buffalo robes and started for home. 
I shall not attempt to describe the march of eleven miles 
back to the “‘carry.” At dusk we were still following 
down the west branch of the Penobscot, almost exhausted. 
Indeed, we could not climb a few feet of the river bank 
without resting and draining the few drops of G.’s precious 
whiskey. Atthe cabin we found a party of lumberers, 
driven out of the woods by the deep snow. Down the lake 
men and oxen went in single file, and at Kineo we began 
to taste again the sweets of civilized life and the “bouquet”’ 
of Chenery’s burgundy. Joun Averry, 
Secretary and Engineer Blooming Grove Park. 
TS oO 
LOOSE LEAVES FROM A SURVEYOR’S 
JOURNAL. 
BRENT 
INJUNS AND A HARD TRAMP. 
ails Big ie ioe : 
Epitor Forest anp STREAM :— 
HAD been out two or three trips for the company, 
when I sent for ‘‘Mot,” my old room mate. The com- 
pany wished some land looked up beyond the Black river 
and a return made in time forasale. It would bea long, 
hard journey and return through the unbroken woods, 
skirting swamps, and over a rough country requiring a party 
of more than ordinary mettle to get back in time, | knew 
for pluck and endurance, combined with great social 
qualities, Mot was just the boy for the occasion. For he 
had a heart as large as the circumference of his compact 
little body, (for its genial warmth permeated his whole sys- 
tem,) while physically he was as tough as a pine knot, and 
give him plenty of fuel, that is, his rations, (I don’t mean 
fluids) regularly and in sufficient quantity, and his pluck 
would carry him through almost anything. His sympa- 
thies, too, were always on the alert; he would have made a 
splendid knight in those days of chivalry, in relieving dis- 
tressed maidens and doing battle for the Oppressed, — 

