is ffi row / ALBERT R. MANN LIBRARY New York State Colleges OF Agriculture and Home Economics AT Cornell University THE GIFT OF WILLARD A. KIGGINS Cornell University Library SH 441.H78 Wild ginger, wood sorrel and sweet cicel 3 1924 003 262 809 The original of tliis book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924003262809 Louis IV-ancag Scout Corson. Al\\ater. Frontispiece. THE LIT'Ji Stickwell. Mi: ERE. The Sheriff. The Judge. WILD GINGER Wood Sorrel and Sweet Cicely STORIES OF MANY TYPES, NEW TO THE PRINTER'S TYPES A SPECIFIC FOR COMMERCIAL MALARIA, A PREVENTIVE OFMORAL INDIGESTION. A CURE FOR SOCIAL PARESIS, THE CATARACT SPORTSMEN'S CLUB PRESCRIBES IN GENTLE DOSES THIS RESTORATIVE, "COMPOUNDED OF MANY SIMPLES" By Matt Hoover Profusely Illustrated 1— A good story is a gold nusrget. 2— Truth is stronger than fiction and more enter- taining. 3 — Pot-Hunters swap lies, but True Sportsmen con- fine themselves to the Truth. 4 — The Groves are something more than temples — so protect the Forests. 5 — The man who would wantonly destroy the smallest fish, bird or beast can have no fellowship here. 6— Two are company, three a jolly crowd, and more, the merrier wherever met 7 — Wherever two or more assemble on the American continent, there shall be due from each an anec- dote of personal experience. " — Thou Shalt call me aimples, and shall teach Thy friend the name and healing power of each, From the tall blue-bell to the dwarfish weed, What the dry land, and what the marshes feed; For all their kinds alike to thee are known And the whole art of Galen it thine own.*' BROADWAY PUBLISHING CO., NEW YORK H7^ 36044: Copyright, 1909 BY M. H. HOOVER CONTENTS I— JANUARY— Cataract Club and Guests in Winter Quarters, Niagara County. Club flower for the month, Violets. — 23. II— FEBRUARY— Cataract Club as Guests of a Sportsmen's Club in Toronto. Club flower, King's Cup (Butter Cups). — 44. Ill— MARCH— Duck Hunting on Lake Cayuga in Former Days. Club flower, Hepatica.— 65. IV— APRII^-Trout Fishing in the Berkshires. Club flower. Trailing Arbutus. — 88. V — MAY — Trouting in the Adirondacks. Club flower, Dandelion. — 112. VI — JUNE — Joint Tournaments of two New York State Clubs at the Opening of the Black Bass Season on the Niagara River and in Rensselaer County. Club flower. Water Lily. — 139. VII — JULY — In Camp in British Columbia. Club flower, Pacific Fern. — 165. VIII— AUGUST— In Camp on the French River, Canada. Club flower. Cardinal Flower. — 195. IX— SEPTEMBER— Prairie Chicken Shooting in North Dakota. Club flower. Golden Rod. — 227. X— OCTOBER— Small Game Shooting in the Rens- selaer Hills. Club flower, Fringed Gentian. — 258. XI— NOVEMBER— Deer Hunting in the Adirondacks. Club flower. Witch-hazel. — 289. XII— DECEMBER— Convention of the New York State Fish, Game & Forest League: The Round Table at the Yates. Club flower, Wintergreen. —314- ILLUSTRATIONS A — Inlay for Cover, "The Inner Hopper" — Berkshires. PAGE The Little Chaudiere Frontispiece Lockport 23 Remnant of Niagara's Original Forests ... 27 Eighteen Mile Creek 34 Attract the Children to Nature 47 Sunny Memories of Winter 52 The "Blissful" Out-of-Doors 65 The Boat that Always Waits 73 The Trapper's Last Shot 79 Greylock and the Hopper 88 Williamstown Valley 93 Green River 102 The Inner Hopper 109 Spring Cottage 122 Trouting on the St. Regis 132 Safe From Ontario's Waves 142 Nature and Art United— The Pines, Olcott . . 153 Olcott Beach Hotel 158 Mt. Baker 170 Staeder Thulin's Stronghold, Lund . . . .181 No Time for Stories 189 Lake Nipissing I9S Portage Around Big Chaudiere .... 201 Sunrise on the Portage 208 The Sheriff's First Encounter with a Muscallonge . 210 In Camp on the French River 215 The Fire Ranger 217 Up the Masog-Masing 227 Last of the Prairie Grouse of the Season . . 247 Tsatsawassa Lake 258 The Rain and Shine Qub 273 Sterling Lodge 291 A Wild Carnival of Waters 297 The 'Lunge that Dined on Black Bass . . .319 Where the 'Lunge Saved the Sheriff . . .333 The Spray of Five-Mile Rapid 345 INTRODUCTION FOUR HUNDRED BLAZES ALONG THE TRAIL. CHAPTER I. WINTER QUARTERS IN NIAGARA, JANUARY. I — The Hunter with Pipe-organ Body and a Flute-like Voice. 2 — Aunty Andrews' "Faceable Falsehood." 3 — The Battle of Shakespeare Quotations. 4 — Patsey Hooky's Promotion. 5 — Hogan's Recipe for Peace. 6 — The Apple Picker's Threat. 7 — How Stories Run. 8 — A Cure for Laziness. g — A Talkative Woman. ID — The Witness Who Knew. II — A Northern Race War. 12 — A Cause Celebre. A dialect story of a court scene in Lower Canada in the old days. CHAPTER II. GUESTS OF A TORONTO SPORTSMEN'S CLUB, FEBRUARY. I — Transplanting Wild Flowers. 2 — An Appropriate National Flower for Britishers from Irishman's Viewpoint. 3 — Novel and Popular Nature Study for Public Schools. 4 — Blessings of "Angling and Temperance." 5 — The Prejudiced Canadian Judge. 6 — Horseheads More Appropriately Named Horse- tails. 6 INTRODUCTION 7 — Captured Deer with a Trolling Spoon. 8 — A Canadian's Strange Catch. 9 — Off Midst the Rapids of Incredulity and the Chau- diere of Improbability. 10 — A Loon on Skates. II — The Resuscitated Pike and Pickerel. 12 — Ireland and Scotland's one Word in Common. 13 — The Drummer's knowledge about Rabbits. 14 — A Feathered Electric Fan. IS — Proper Ammunition for Wild Geese. 16 — Strather Proved He was no Goose. 17 — A Prize Coon Hunt in Georgia. 18 — The Big Sheriff's Strange Uneasiness. 19 — Difference Between a Canuck Collins and a Yankee Gin Fizz. 20 — The Fresh Air Child Learns about Hens. 21— The Judge's Tall Story. 22 — The Canadian's Farewell Chant. 23 — Why Mike's Notion to Make a Motion was not Carried Out. CHAPTER III. DUCK-SHOOTING AMONG THE CAYUGA CAT-TAILS, MARCH. I — A Plea for Protection of Wild Fowl in the Spring. 2 — The Spring Migration Fever Epidemic. 3 — Fishing and Hunting Recreation a Modern Neces- sity. 4 — A Suspicious German Mine Host. S — A Tactless Game Protector who Damaged the Good Cause. 6 — Good and Attractive Sign for a Drug Store. 7 — A Wideawake Officer. 8 — The True Friend of the Birds. 9 — New York a Pioneer in Fish and Game Protection. 10 — The Tardy South and Alien Game Hogs. II — A Blow that was Never Struck. 12— Why the Judge Thought Bryant Used Black Pow- der. 13 — At Supper on Cayuga Mead. 14 — Nature's Freaks in Flowers and Children. INTRODUCTION 7 IS— Old Moll, the Wise Decoy. l6 — A Cayuga Legend of the White Drake. 17 — ^Where to Look for an Enemy. 18 — A Hen that Deserved a Monument. 19 — Better than the Goose that Laid the Golden Egg. 20 — The Sheriff's Odoriferous Bag. 21 — ^When the Unexpected Happens. 22 — A Withering Glance. 23 — ^Why the Canvas-back Came Down. 24 — How the Sheriff Knocked Riot out of a Negro's Head. 25 — Clint Martin's Cayuga Tipple. 26 — The Model Blind for Night Shooting. 27 — Just the Right Size for Big Chief. 28 — The Cause of Old Jim's Death. 29 — Comox Joe's Indian Justice. CHAPTER IV. A SPWNG RAMBLE IN THE BERKSHIKES, APRIL. I — An Auto on Classic Ground. 2 — Bryant's "Dimmer Vales" and Dinner. 3 — Some Historic Trout Streams. 4 — Little Rivers as They Used to Be, and Mother's Bread. S — A Woman Angler's Postscript. 6 — ^A Poet's Inspiration. 7 — "The Mountains." 8 — Green River and the Williamstown Valley. 9 — See How the Wine Glass Flushes at Supper in Greylock Inn. 10 — "Love is Like Arbutus Blooming." II — Fine Business. 12 — Three Classic Banquets Which Lacked Brook Trout. 13 — Eminent Ancients who were Zealous Anglers. 14 — Daniel Webster on the Kennebec. IS — Williams, a College Ideally Located. 16 — A Plea for Reforestation and Forest Preservation. 17 — An Aesthetic Old Lady. 18 — The Highly Educated Trout of Haystack Meadow Brook. 8 INTRODUCTION ig — The Romance of a Berkshire Mansion. 20 — Prof. Bliss Perry's Brook Trout Story. 21 — Mang's Favorite Bait for Muscallonge. 22 — The Tonawanda Way of Landing Big Fish. 23 — "GHding Through the Rushes." 24— A Toast to Sweethearts of the Past. 25 — A Pledge to Our Later Loves. 26 — Matins and Vespers. 27 — A Modern Ascent of Greylock. 28 — Where Every Prospect Pleases. CHAPTER V. BROWSING IN THE ADIRONDACKS, MAY. I — A Young Veteran and Old Graduate of Woods Lore. 2 — "Browse Along" is a Happy Phrase. 3 — Seventeen Ozone-filled Miles Between Railway and Camp. 4 — Racquette and Raritan a Rare Team. 5 — Similarity of a Horse and a Brook. 6 — A Bull that Could go Some. 7 — A Prose Ode to Spring Angling. 8— A May Toast. 9 — Not Permitted to Yield to Temptation. 10 — Robbed the Cradle of the Brook. II — A Good Swap. 12 — Gem of the Northern Adirondacks — Sterling Pond. 13 — Lon's Welcome. 14 — A Table Set in the Presence of Woodland Deities. IS — The Dandelion's Place in the Affections of Moun- taineers. 16 — Where Alders are Faithful Allies of Salmo Fonti- nalis. 17 — Spring Superstitions as Old as the Hills. 18 — The War Between Trout and Pickerel. 19 — The Native Alarm Clock. 20 — Why the Sheriff Arose. 21 — What Flies? 22 — The St. Regis, the Regal Domain of the Trout. INTRODUCTION 9 23 — Personal Encounters with Lancewoods at Indian Falls. 24— The Granddady of Them All. 25 — Gentlemanly Fishing, Says Lon. 26 — The New Resident of Twin-lakes Valley. 27 — Where the Five-pounders "Lay Low." 28 — Pierre Dumont's Black Deer and Bad Luck. 29 — An Eerie Errand to a St. Regis Eddy. 30 — The Gloom of a Canadian Forest. 31— Joey Tells of "A Skeery Time." 32 — Returning Good for Evil in the Wilds. 33 — The Sheriff's Ghost Story. 34 — The Buck with a Charmed Life. 35— A White Lie. 36 — Lon's Tete-a-tete with Mamma Bear. 37 — A Dog that Got His Master into Trouble with Bruin. 38 — The Last Lynx of the Adirondacks. 39 — The Fish Hog Punished in Way to Fit the Crime. 40 — A Drunken Miller, or Scrambled Eggs. 41 — A Beverage that "Lights 'em up Some." 42 — The Price of War Time Whiskey. 43 — How an Adirondack Mile is Measured. 44 — "Loaded for Bar." CHAPTER VL NIAGARA. AND RENSSELAER ANGLERS* CLUBS IN JOINT TOURNAMENT IN RENSSELAER AND AT FORT NIAGARA, JUNE I — Delights of Fishing in Congenial Company. 2 — The New Doctrine Relative to Increasing Fish and Game. 3 — The Angler's Return to the Original Meaning of "Corollary." 4 — Teaching Father How to Fish. 5 — The Proud Progenitor of Sturdy Sportsmen's Clubs. 6 — The Angler's Philosophy in Verse. 7 — A Guide-board to Rensselaer. lo INTRODUCTION 8 — A Tournament in Sunshine and in Rain. 9— Night Bulletins of the Score from Lakes and Streams. ID— Wait "Till the Shearin's all Over Before You Blat." II — On the Result Hangs the Fate of Empire. 12 — Fish Without Scales that Turned the Scale. 13— A Toast to "The Beautiful Daughter of the Adiron- dacks." 14 — The Return Visit. 15 — A Model Joint Tournament of Two Famous Anglers' Clubs. 16 — Niagara's Welcome to the Anglers from the East. 17 — A Historic Programme. 18 — The Seat of Many Wars the Scene of a Peaceful Contest. 19 — How Hastings Captured the Pride of Ontario. 20 — A Long to be Remembered Banquet. 21 — McLaren's Gold Badge. 22 — A Tribute to Good Fellowship. CHAPTER Vn. IN CAMP ON MALASPINA INLETj BRITISH COLUMBIA, JULY. I — An Invitation from the Far West. 2 — Song and Story on the Overland Limited. 3 — England vs. Nebraska, a Story-telling Match. 4— No Striking Below the Belt of Truth. S — Remarkable Corn Raised in Nebraska. 6 — Giant Grasshoppers. 7 — Mosquitoes Like Derricks. 8 — Why the Widower Printed a Card of Thanks. 9— When He Was Ready to Tell the Truth. 10— The Big Boss, "Dig In." II— The Foolish Men Who "Take the Boss' Bluff." 12 — A Comfortable Philosophy. 13 — The Rockies and Cascades Compared. 14 — The Height of a Pacific Coast Fir. IS — Why a Chinaman Can't Measure the Big Trees. 16 — Mt. Ranier's Interpretation of a Noted Ode to Nature. 17 — Passable Yarns about Passes. INTRODUCTION ii l8— The Judge's Tale of History Repeating Itself. 19 — New Sayings of Mrs. Malaprop. 20 — The Technicalities of Politics. 21 — Too Well Kjiown at Home. 22 — Chinook Charley's Welcome. 23 — A Siwash Legend. 24 — Prize Muddy Roads. 25 — Pity Poor Lucullus. 26 — Jack Henmen's Life Preserver. 27 — Ample Supplies for a Millersport Ball. 28 — Up the British Columbia Coast. 29 — Battle Between a Whale and Thresher Eels. 30 — A Yankee's Fortune in Silver Foxes. 31— Fish for the World. 32 — Lund and Staeder Thulin. 33 — Swedish Hospitality. 34 — Specky's Encounter with a Bear. 35 — Fish and Game Near at Hand. 36 — The Meal for which Lady Thulin Apologized. 37— An Appreciation of "Old Salt Pork." 38 — A Side Trip on the Okeover. 39 — A Narrow Escape. 40 — Where Wild Fowl are at Home. 41 — A Startling Salute. 42 — A Wilderness Oppressive in its Grandeur. 43 — Twilight 'Neath Snow-capped Mountains. 44 — Comox Joe's Menu. 4S — A Storm in the Mountains. 46 — Raining Overtime. 47 — A Notable Bear Hunt. 48 — "Best Keep Away from Cinnamon Bear." 49— The Goat of White Cliflf. 50 — A Day with the Steel Head Salmon. 51 — A Great Place for Geese. 52 — Where Small Game Do Not Count. S3 — Strange Gifts of the Sea. 54 — ^A Cat and a Crane. 55 — ^A Cougar's Visit. 56 — The Buck that had Learned Siwash Wisdom. 57 — For Solitude Profound. 58 — The Malaspina Grizzly — That's Another Story. 12 INTRODUCTION CHAPTER VIII. MODERN PIONEERS OF THE FRENCH RIVER^ CANADA, AUGUST. I — There is Medicine in Nature's Music. 2— The Twelfth Nocturne of the North. 3— "Au Large ! Envoyez au Large !" 4 — The Big Sheriff, Our Falstaff, Waxes Sentimental. S — "Just Boys Again and School Out for Two Weeks." 6 — North Bay in Former Days. 7 — Across Nipissing by Day and by Night. 8— A Moon Struck Party. 9 — Louis Beaucage on the White Man's Greed. 10 — Advice for the Garrulous. II — Made to the Sheriff's Order. 12 — Jim McGarvey's Preferences. 13 — Bound to Make Full Time. 14 — Recovered from Sentiment's Spell. IS — Moonlight on the Lake and Worse. 16 — "Way out in Idaho." 17— A Meal in Texas. 18 — A Miracle in the Wilderness. 19 — Falstaff's First Engagement with a 'Lunge. 20 — Forgotten by the Fish You Can't Forget. 21 — Pete Crawford's Costly Kittens. 22 — An Expensive Fourth of July Celebration. 23— More Bad Luck for Pete. 24 — Why a "Fellar Hates to Lose 'em.'' 25 — The Sheriff Insists on Recalling one More Hard- luck Story about Pete. 26— The Old Lady Who Talked in Church. 27 — How Falstaff Worked. 28 — The Thousand Islands, but Just as Nature Made Them. 29 — A River in Love with its Surroundings. 30 — A Woodland Lullaby. 31 — The Iron Heel of Commerce. 32 — The Sheriff Redeems Himself by Landing a 'Lunge. 33 — How to Catch Esox Nobilior. 34 — Angling in the Rush-lined Woolsey. 35 — The Solitary Fire Ranger. INTRODUCTION 13 36 — The Feast on Delmonico's Rock. 37 — Backwoods Philology. 38 — The Lake of the College Colors. 39— "Him Fool Bass Here." 40 — Up the Masog-Masing. 41 — Four Distinct Types of Indian Guides. 42 — Too Much Moose. 43 — The Courteous Bull Moose. 44 — The Moose that Liked Dessert. 45 — Moose Fascinated by Horses. 46 — When the Moose is not an Amiable Fellow. 47 — Old Juisha to the Rescue. 48 — Juisha's Novel Weapon for Moose. 49 — When the Rifle was in the Case. SO — The Associations of Forest Odors. CHAPTER IX. A FAR CALL OF THE NORTH DAKOTA PRAIRIE CHICKEN, SEPTEMBER. I — The Best Season for an Out of Doors Pilgrimage. 2— The Time of the "Scarlet Mantle." 3 — Dreams of Prairie Grouse. 4 — The Partridge and His Western Cousin — A Happy Comparison. S — A Lucky Double. 6 — Surprised, Like the Proud Parents. 7— The Bird Takes All the Chances. 8 — A Shot at a Pot Hunter. 9 — Partridge that Ran the Gauntlet. 10 — ^Jim Starkwell's "Reacher." II — A Snap Shot Among the Pines. 12 — Easy Shooting for Morrisey. 13 — Luxurious Hunting — in Comparison. 14 — Where the Birds Took Few Chances. IS — The Swede's Terms. 16 — A Patriarch Bass of the Muskokas. 17 — Worse Than Petty Larceny. 18 — An Intrusion upon Nature's Privacy. 19 — The Noise a Moose Made in the Water. 14 INTRODUCTION 20— A Delightful Ride to Winnipeg. 21— A Fort William Bag of Wild Fowl. 22— The Englishman Who Took the Trolley for Moose. 23 — Native Humor of the Woodsmen. 24— Tempted to Stop Off. 25- Falstaff Warbles. 26 — The Canadian Forests in September. 27 — A True Western Welcome. 28— Whetting the Appetite for Chicken Shooting. 2g — Licensed and Hunting in Due Form. 30 — A Great Bargain, Anyhow. 31 — The Water Wagon in North Dakota. 32 — A Proud Moment. 33 — A Prize Pair — Setter King and Pointer Spot. 34 — Chief Game Warden Smith's Way. 35 — Fine Work Around Straw Stacks and Over Stubble. 36 — The Beauty of the Dakotas. 37 — Encouraging Effects of Game Protection. 3S— A Tactical Error. 39 — Chief Game Warden Smith's Ideas of How to In- crease Birds and Shooting. 40 — Old Jerry's Suggestion. 41 — A Tribute to the Prairies.. CHAPTER X. SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF RENSSELAER S HILLS AND DALES, OCTOBER. I — Small Game Shooting in the Rensselaer Hills. 2 — A Surprise for Albanians. 3 — The Sportsman's Special. 4 — A Home-like Hostelrie. 5 — Where Cheer and Sunshine Always Reign. 6 — From the Hill Tops. 7 — What McLaren's Restocking Has Accomplished. 8 — The Dyspeptic Traveler Cured. 9 — An Evergreen Sign-board. 10 — "Hustle up, the Birds are Waiting." II — Cross-examined Between Bites. 12 — A Lucky Day with the Ducks. INTRODUCTION 15 13 — The Family of Grays that Were Strategists. 14 — The Squirrel that Outwitted Two Hunters. IS — A Woods Near-Tragedy. 16 — "Supper Time? — Any Time You Get Back." 17 — The Score of Six Pairs. 18 — How_ Nick Always Found His Way Home. 19 — A Night at Tsatsawassa Inn. 20 — Mike as an Expert. 21— Both Critics Were Right. 22 — Morals in Politics. 23 — And They are Picking Stones Yet. 24 — Not Fourth of July Crackers. 25 — An Unwelcome Visitor. 26 — The Contrariness of Wives. 27 — A Tartar Witness. 28 — Committed Himself. 29 — Rafferty's Apology. 30 — Why Pat Wanted to See the King's Counsel. 31 — Too Young to be Old. 32 — Why We are Never Ready to Go Just Yet. 33 — The Eleven O' Clock Lunch. 34 — "Where do You Get Your Grub Here?" 35 — George's Grand Stand Shot. 36 — Not Ready for the Emergency. 37 — The Song of the Whip-poor-will. 38 — Billy's Second Sight on the Firing Line. 39 — How Sol Outwitted the Cute Boys. 40— "Never Touched Me." 41 — Tricks with the Shot Gun. 42 — The Shot for Various Birds. 43 — The Frost's Effects on Land. 44 — The Deacon Didn't Miss Any Stones. 45 — City Chap Ahead in a Horse Trade. vrHAPTER XL AN AUTUMN HUNT IN THE ADIKONDACKSj NOVEMBER. I — A Flower that is Something of a Shooter Itself. 2 — The North Woods Seen Through the Haze of Indian Summer. 3— Incense of a Wood Fire. 1 6 INTRODUCTION 4 — Natives Recommend "Better Hunting on Beyant." S — Sterling Lake at Our Feet. 6 — An Exciting Wild Fowl Skirmish. 7 — Circumventing the Wily Geese. 8 — A Buck Marked for Identification. 9 — Juisha's Stern Chase. 10 — Col. Lon's First Rebel. II — A Diverting Shot. 12 — On the Track of the Red Deer. 13 — An Adirondack Outlaw. 14 — Jack Angell's Ways that Were Not Angelic. IS — How Foreman Mclntyre Circumvented a Crooked Contractor. 16 — Frightened to Death. 17 — Preached too Much About Honesty. 18 — A Devout but Heated Controversy. 19 — A Shrewd Youthful Financier. 20 — Leonard Jerome's Dislike of Ceremony. 21 — How Uncle Larry Jerome Called on His Niece, Lady Randolph Churchill. 22 — -"Au revoir, Meestir Bar." 23 — How Madame La Blanc Fooled the Inspectors. 24 — Legs of Reminiscence are Long. 25 — A Trip to James Bay. 26 — Tobacco that Made Indians Sick. 27 — A Typesetter's Revenge. 28 — A Child's New Memory System. 29 — The Sun as a Detective. 30— The Bull Dog Bluffer. 31 — End of the Hunt at Eventide. CHAPTER XII. THE ROUND TABLE AT SPORTSMEN'S STATE CONVENTION, DECEMBER. I— Minus Signs that Add to the Sum Total of En- joyment. 2 — Present Joys that Extend Into the Future. 3 — Great Work of the New York State Fish, Forest, and Game League. 4— Importance of Educating Public Sentiment for Pro- tection of Fish and Game. INTRODUCTION 17 5 — A Progressive Agriculturist. 6 — Like a Surgical Operation, "Entirely Successful, But." 7 — Fish on a Toboggan Slide. 8— As the Whale Said to Jonah. 9 — Last State Worse Than the First. 10 — Bass that Out-tunaed the Leaping Tuna. II — A Home Run Hit in Malaspina Inlet. 12 — Just Starved for Swallows. 13 — The Judge's Violation of Law. 14 — A Fatal Attraction for Lead. 15 — A Successful Canine Angler. 16 — Waves Full of Inspiration. 17 — A Novel Method of Catching Eels. 18 — Why Ambrose Oiled His Hair. 19 — Deacon Swift's Average Lumber. 20 — New Application of an Old Principle. 21 — An Expensive Economy. 22 — Mother Crouch's Criticism of the Minister. 23 — The Minister was Right After All. 24 — The Unhappy Bride and Groom. 25 — A Story in the Sheriff's "Honey-laden Voice." 26 — One that Made Rome Howl. 27 — A Punishment to Fit the Crime. 28 — Skill of the Indian Anglers of Muskoka. 29 — The Guide Who Was a Born Optimist. 30 — The Hermit Artist of Lake Joseph. 31 — A Modern Izaak Walton. 32 — The Scribe's Tale — A 'Lunge Who Dined on Black Bass. 33 — How Heather the Horse Beat the Moose in a Famous Race. 34— No Moral to that Tale. 35 — Where Whish Was Not Lame. 36 — Where Time Was Forgot. 37— A Toast to THE FRIENDSHIP OF TRUE SPORTSMEN: It is the warmth of Morning sunshine that kisses the damp from the brow of the Mountain and dispels the mists from the bosom of the Valley; it is the grace of budding branches in the Spring-time, and the beauty i8 INTRODUCTION of clustered blossoms imaged in the Summer pool ; it is the warming color that the cardinal flower lends to the sombre forest in early Autumn, and the evergreen of the Christmas fern in Winter's snows; it is the perfume of flower, odor of balsam and warble of bird; it is the weapon which never misses fire, and, with sights al- ways set true, is ever ready to keep the wolf from the door or hold worse enemies at bay; it is the canoe which never leaks, carrying its occupants safely through rapid or tranquil water ; it is the fidelity of the com- pass which guides the steps unerringly over flowery plain and tangled thicket to a restful abode; it is the camp where the firelight glows with welcome at Even, and where the eyelids close under the benign benediction of comfort, rest, and peace. "THE HAPPY ANGLER" AND "A HUNTER'S MEMORIES." Introductory Observations by Joh^n D. Whish, Secretary of the New York State Forest, Fish, and Game Com- mission. He who has never gone a-Hshing has lost the hope of appeal in his final extremity to good St. Peter, who himself was one of the Brotherhood. In his last hours he cannot, like old Sir John, "Babble of green fields," for he shall have to cheer him on the dark and lone- some pathway to the Gates of Death no mem- ories of z'crdant meadozvs and golden- sun- shine and the murmur of pleasant zcatcr INTRODUCTION 19 courses. * * * * * So that I say, ail else considered, the angler who lives as befits the Craft may most creditably cmd happily face the future, whether it means for him other opportunities or the end of time here below. Permit m>e to conclude my brief introductory observations by quoting from Samuel Mer- rill's "A Hunter's Memories" : "The joys of our holidays, who can measure them! The present pleasure of the days them~ selves is not the only nor the chief enjoyment. * * * Oh, the unpublished epics, the un- pointed pictures of scenes by the camp iire, of thrilling moments when the moose, or deer, or bear, long, and patiently, and silently fol- lowed, at last offers opportunity for a shot — pictures of the quarry conquered at last, when the mind revels in the intoxication of success! If I were a poet, I would -write an epic of the hunting Held. I would seek to thrill the im- agination of the sportsman, and by reminding him of his own grand holidays spent close to nature; far from the grind, and discord, and the pettiness of civilization, I imuld give him a pleasure which no versified narrative of the Trojan War could hope to create. "The poem, indeed, is surging through my mind now like breezes through the harp of Eolus, but to most of us the gift of poetic ex- pression is not vouchsafed, and my epic will, alas! never crowd the works of Homer and 20 INTRODUCTION Virgil from the bookshelves. Being neither poet nor artist, then, I can do no more than outline, in commonplace prose, the stirring scenes I have long been living over and over in memory." A BLAZE WHERE THE TRAIL BEGINS. It may be no more important than the oth- ers, but the first blaze where the new trail we are about to take has its beginning is usually noted with particular satisfaction. So, just a word by way of directing the reader aright. Once started along the forest path which branches off from the public highways here, he may find the scenery not worth while, and the prospects of entertainment, pleasure, and sport discouraging, so in kindness of heart I give him an opportunity to turn back before he has wasted much time and energy. At the outset, I wish to state that "I have gathered a nosegay of Culled Flowers," to use the graceful language of an old writer, "and brought nothing of my own but the thread that ties them." However, I believe I have picked up in various parts of the Amer- ican continent a pleasing collection of wild flowers, and I trust the gathering will prove a service of some value in the way of entertain- INTRODUCTION 21 ment to my fellow sportsmen and lovers of nature. The anecdotes, incidents, and adventures garnered from many camp fires might have been more gaily garnished and more skillfully adorned, but I offer them in the rough, believ- ing with the editor of a well-known American magazine that "A good story is a treasure, and, like other precious things, hard to find." Still, who would strive to find a richer color for the cardinal flower, or a more splendid setting for the humble bloom of the winter- green ? Here and there I have inserted what may, by courtesy, perhaps, be called heads of grain in the form of serious pleas for the preserva- tion of the forests, for reforestation, and for a more liberal propagation and a more ef- fective protection of fish and game. These finds of forest and stream have, as a matter of course, withered some, even at the touch of friendly hands, yet I have striven to pass them on just as I found them. The difli- culty of transplanting wild flower plants is understood by most students of nature, so I have gathered only the cut blossoms as souve- nirs of the wilds, to be pressed and possibly preserved by those whose own experience and sympathy can supply what my art and love have failed to provide — fragmentary and fu- 22 INTRODUCTION gitive remembrancers of the out of doors, largely devoid of the odors of the forest and the native colors that once adorned them, yet v^ith their outlines preserved to a degree that may prove a pleasant stimulant to Memory and its valuable servant, the Law of Associations. Matthew Henry Hoover. Lockport, Niagara County, N. Y. o 2 >1 H o o H2 o H Pi O P-i ►^ u o Wild Ginger WOQD SORREL AND SWEET CICELY. THE CATARACT CLUB IN WINTER QUARTERS^ "the NIAGARA."— /^Art/^i?y. I. Under the hedge all soft and warm, Sheltered from boisterous wind and storm We violets lie; With each small eye Closely shut while the cold goes by. — TWAMLEY. "So we've got violets for the club button- holes this month, eh?" piped the big sheriff in his high-keyed, thin voice, which was in almost ridiculous contrast with his Falstaffian frame. He eyed the boutonnieres, sported by his com- rades of many a rough portage, with some- thing of benign tolerance, glancing from them to the corresponding poetical motto for the month framed on the wall in balsam. "Our Bull Moose," as we affectionately called him in compliment to his ability to rush 240 pounds of solid flesh through the dense thickets with an agility any antlered king might envy, pushed a blazing log further into the hearth with his foot, just as he would in camp, un- mindful of the convenient tongs, and in dulcet 24 WILD GINGER tones chided: "We might better buy number sixes for the club duck shoot, than pay sixty cents the hundred for them pot-house flowers — ef they were Canady white violets you wouldn't hear me kick on my poseey subscrip- tion at that!" The guest of honor who had just come in with the mayor looked at the speaker and then at the little man beside him as if some vocal trick had been perpetrated. It was surely the lips of the Falstaff, but the voice of the thin fellow. Introductions followed. "Pardon me. Sheriff McKenna," said Mr. Ir- vine, of the St. Lawrence Club, "but your com- bination of voice and build remind me of an experience I once had with a pipe organ, and I was smiling at that recollection, not at you. The organist of the church in the village where I lived when a youth had to be away over Sunday courting, and knowing that I could play a little, asked me to take his place. I omitted the voluntary and after the dominy lined out the first hymn I struck into 'Duke Street.' I didn't have to glance into the mir- ror overhead to realize that my performance at the outset was inspiring anything but religious thoughts in the congregation — many were con- vulsed with laughter. My first terrified impres- sion was that my acoustic powers had got fatally twisted, for when I touched the bass keys I received nothing but the fine, high notes in response. I fled. Another essayed the organ- ist's duties — same result. High C piped where bass C should have responded. Our absent WILD GINGER 25 friend was a mechanical genius and a wag. He somehow had switched the key connections so that the bass pedals played the upper notes !" The sheriff's round sides billowed and his merry treble led the laugh at his expense. Shaking a chubby finger at his tormentor, he chirped : "Annyhow, I didn't interrupt your slander like Sally Andrews !" "The judge here can remember the day old Aunty Andrews, of Somerset, was called in his court as a witness in a breach of promise suit against her son. Sally strung out her story, but when the plaintiff took the stand the old lady would break in with a contradiction, or correction. The judge reproved her and she was quiet for a time till she could endure the damaging testimony no longer. Flourishing her sage-green parasol first at the court and then at the witness, Old Sally screamed : 'Judge Hockey, thar you sit like a stoten bottle an' let an old neighbor, what knowed yer mother as a girl, be calhumbliated, when you know that hussey's sayin' is a downright faceable false- hood !' " "I recollect Sally's upsetting, but uninten- tioned contempt of court very well," chuckled Judge Hockey. "But I'll have to charge you with contempt of club tent-pin No. 3, which presumes every sportsman's innocence of false- hood, embodied in your implied attack on our guest's veracity. Prince Hal says of your pro- totype, 'Thou art so fat witted, with drinking of sack,' and so on, 'that thou hast forgotten 26 WILD GINGER to demand that truly which thou wouldst truly know.' " "And our Falstaff here might retort to that unfounded arraignment of his story's applica- tion," cut in Gas Manager Duall, in his South- ern drawl, ''by repeating old John's words: 'By the Lord, I'll be a brave judge.' " " 'Thou judgest falsely, already/ " spiritedly quoted the judge. Whereupon the quiet in- surance man, Alwater, took up the Shakespeare- an dialogue with the effect of a clap of thun- der out of a clear sky : " 'Well, Hal, well ; and in some sort it jumps with my humor as well as waiting in the court, I can tell you.' " The hit was acknowledged by the judge him- self, who joined in the roar at his expense, caused by the knowledge, that, while he was a nimble hunter and never slow on the trigger, his "but-ands" in rendering decisions often caused nervous "waiting in the court" ; al- though, finally drawled out, his opinions always stood the scrutiny of the Appellate Division. "Well," shrilled the sheriff's "true falsetto," as he himself characterized his own peculiar voice, "I ain't up on old sack, but I do know somethin' about red licker — manny a time I've mixed a pint with a quart for a cold — or for a cold day like this." "Has this gathering in honor of our guest from the St. Lawrence degenerated into a sym- posium of classic wit in quotation marks?" que- ried the newspaper man, C. Handy Mix. "In- stead of moving the previous question, always in order, 'What'll you have?' I'll offer, if you're A REMNANT OF NIAGARA'S ORIGINAL FOREST. Page 2y. WILD GINGER 27 not good, a resolution to banish the disturbers to the frosty abutments of the Niagara ice bridge where they'll be for once in real danger of taking a drop too much." "It's high time for the club brain duster," dryly observed Lemuel Larch, the district steam engineer, better known as "Hot-air Larch." Nodding toward the sideboard he continued. "Now we'll C. Handy Mix our somewhat fa- mous Niagara Spray." Outside the winds from Lake Ontario moaned a dirge for the frost-stricken cardinal flowers and closed gentians of the long North- land portages. Through the vast orchards, which now covered in orderly array the rich soil where three-quarters of a century ago grew the mighty forests of hickory, oak, chestnut, walnut, and elm, the January tempest swept unresisted and beat against the gleaming club- house windows. The hoarse messengers of Bo- reas, as they scurried across the ghostly trails over which the scourging hosts, first of French and Indians, and then of British and Indians, prowled from Fort Niagara to deal death to the New York colonists, seemed to gibber of wounded deer that bunglers had left to die in distant glens. Or, with less of imagination, wasn't the unobstructed gale jeering at the fore- fathers of those very sportsm.en who had been so unwise as to sweep almost every vestige of the sheltering and health-giving forests from the Niagara frontier plain, barren but for the low-branched trees of ten thousand orchards? But the congenial spirits were not in a con- 28 WILD GINGER gress for reforestation just then, although all actively supported the noble movement. They heeded not the storm without. The toast to the guest passed heartily and cordially. Lawyer J. Freewill Smythe reverted to the poetical tilt: "You fellows seem to prefer the Hebrew 'seer* for poet to the Greek 'poietes,' 'maker,' because poets see more than others. But when you get to quoting Shakespeare, you are at once under the suspicion of seeing dou- ble. You remind me of Patsey Hooley of Sec- tion Five. Patsey hadn't been long over, when through a quickly-acquired political pull he was elevated from rail tamper to section boss. He picked up a Railroad Gazette somewhere and mastered all the technical terms. Dearly he loved to air his superficial knowledge, but he was even fonder of lording it over his subor- dinates. Jim McCoy, the former boss, had been relegated to the ranks to make way for Hooley. One Monday morning the new autocrat came down to work early and found the old boss sadly oiling a hand car. Hooley glared at the dejected fellow, and in imperious tones growled, 'Phwat be yez doin'?' " 'Grasen the hand car, to be shure,' explained Jim. " 'Ye common labrer, yez don't know nawth- in' 'bout machanry, an' always will ! Sthop that an' go an' pick up a armfull of thim ties !' com- manded Patsey." "So, stop that poetry and tell us something you know something about," directed the short- statured disciple of Blackstone. WILD GINGER 29 The sheriff picked up the little lawyer and set him gently in a rustic chair, saying, "Do you mean to fix us like Jerry Hogan did his hired man who would talk a government mule to death? 'Roger,' says Jerry, 'Whan ye want to sh-pake to me durin' the next tin wakes, kape yer mout shut !' " "No, J. Freewill doesn't quite intend to muz- zle us," suggested Assemblyman Lea, "or to bar a little poetry now and then, but he evi- dently thinks that the poet is apt to rave over the apple blossoms on his table, and then beg apples from his neighbors." "Not as plentiful with him," promptly chimed in Falstaff, "as with the half-witted feller that was pickin' apples in old Congressman Van Horn's orchard on the Coomer Road. Some of the boys was peltin' him with apples and he yelled, 'Stop them apples, er I'll come over thar an' lam ye till ye rare like a hoss !' " "That's right, Lemuel," continued the sheriff, bowing gravely to a glass in the extended hands of Larch; "thanks for the interruption — of my thirst. You, young man, was certainly never licked as a kid for holdin' your breath !" George Washington Wynne, the political leader, who didn't always land his candidate, but who was a sure shot on big game in the wilds, observed musingly, after the laughter provoked by the sheriff's quaint characteriza- tion had subsided, "I've noticed, that in gath- erings like these, stories seem to run in bunches of similar kinds together — just as pines love to be grouped together. You'll note, too, that 30 WILD GINGER pines flourish best with the boughs of the clumps interlocked ; so, come on with some more of the same yarns, although, for me, I'd pre- fer a change to the kind that thrill a man who enjoys tackling a bear, or landing a muscal- longe." "I'll tell you why pines grow best in groups of their kind," interrupted John I. Teller, the wealthy sandpit owner, in his day the best quail and partridge hunter in the Central States. John had an original theory on any topic that sa- vants or fools could introduce, and he could elaborate it offhand with precise detail and in- sistent confidence as to accuracy. He was a man of the soil, a close observer of nature, and his deductions from his almost limitless store- house of data were always entertaining. But his intimates knew that his "I'll tell you" about anything meant a thirty-minutes' dissertation and they all inwardly thanked the sheriff when he thumped John heavily on the back, squeak- ing, "Pines are all right, but I never seen a good grove without its chestnuts." "I'll tell you," persisted John. "You'll tell us nothin' just now, John," chuckled the sheriff in his strangely contagious, good-humored way ; "we've no time for your continued stories, or learned lectures. The trou- ble with you, John Teller, is that you put in too much time enlightening your feller men. You ain't like Si Wilson's hired man, Jase Saw- yer, who ust to brag, "Well, when I haint got nothin' to do, I works' — you talk instead!" Teller was "tickled" to draw Falstaff's fire. WILD GINGER 31 as usual, and with eyes twinkling, retorted, "You must think I'm a chicken, the way you're always picking on me, sheriff." The peacemaking Mayor Whitcomb, in placid tones, spoke up. "Sheriff is himself a good deal like the talkative wife of a certain lawyer in town — she does everything but draw up her husband's briefs, and for that she's constitution- ally incapacitated." "A good wan, a joke, to be sure," trilled the sheriff, "but who ever saw a lawyer's brief that was brief?" "The mayor's talkative woman misunderstood the term, 'brief,' as badly," said District Attor- ney Stickwell, his merry blue eyes focused on Whitcomb, "as old man Mclntyre on the wit- ness stand in lunacy proceedings the other day. Dan Bring asked: Was Mrs. Donahue ra- tional, or irrational in your opinion?' Mack scratched his stubbled chin, his pride percepti- bly rebelling against an admission that he didn't understand the two words, but finally igno- rance was about to force the old man to sur- render; then an inspiration of intelligence broke in upon him, illuminating his homely counte- nance until it was almost beautiful, and with great decision and positiveness he cried in ora- torical style, 'Wuz she rashinul? No, her skin wasn't rou/gh, but as smooth as a pound-swate apple!' " "You know why a pound-sweet has a smooth skin some years, but is rough just the same as a russet others years?" interrupted Teller without allowing the others to finish their laugh- 32 WILD GINGER ter. He prcx:eeded to answer his own query without waiting for any possible reply : "Well, when the trees bud early and a rain ruffles up the blossoms — — " "You're fined a barrel of russet cider for the club," interposed the sheriff; "Judgment sustained and fine will not be re- mitted," laughed the judge. "Well, if you won't be enlightened," meekly responded Teller, "give us your version of that Newfane lawsuit tried before you the other day, judge." The judge laughed at the recollection of the incident that had disturbed his dignity on the bench; his sense of humor had got the better of him at the time, spectators say, so that he sought refuge in a hasty adjournment. "To appreciate the thing fully," grinned the judge, who had difficulty in keeping himself from exploding at the very thoughts of the scene, "you ought to know the chief actors and to have seen and heard them in court." Here the judge laughed almost inaudibly. He was an exception to the rule that the story teller who laughs at his own jokes has few to join him, for his expressed enjoyment of his own narrations was always infectious. "Terrence Murphy," he began, "a landed pro- prietor of sixty years, owned a horse that strayed into Gottlieb Meyer's corn field. Meyer was a year older than Murphy. In their earlier days they were school friends and chums, but a line fence dispute had embittered them against each other. It developed from the testimony WILD GINGER 33 that Meyer found man and beast in the field; he assumed both were trespassing with intent to steal and the outraged Teuton grabbed the horse by the halter and started to lead it away from the astonished Celt. "Terrence leaped on Gottlieb with a wild Irish oath, as Meyer testified, and proceeded to thump him soundly. Meyer pulled an old pistol and shot Murphy twice in the leg. Al- though severely wounded, the Irishman got the German down and was pounding his enemy with a stone, when neighbors arrived and at- tempted to interfere. As they dragged him off, Terrence roared, 'Lave me alone till I kill him, an' git my revenge before I die; 'twill kill me ef I don't git my revenge!' "Each swore out a warrant for the other on a charge of assault, but by their own requests were later placed in the same cell, friends once more, as each had been close to death, the doc- tors said, from the effects of their encounter. But the district attorney prosecuted the case, to the supreme disgust of the two battling neighbors, who claimed the privilege of settling their difiiculties in their own way. On the stand Murphy told his story, dwelling with pride on his prowess. The attorney for the defendant, Meyer, charged with the shooting, said on cross-examination : 'Murphy, isn't it a fact that you were the aggressor?' "Murphy stood up in the witness box to his full six feet, and looking impressively upon judge, jury, and lawyers in turn, delivered him- self slowly and emphatically of these words : 34 WILD GINGER " 'Furst — an' foremost — it — is — not — thrue!' Then gathering his breath for the climax of conclusiveness he added, 'an' sickondly,' — with a pause of intended significance — 'ifs — no — stich — dombed — ting!' " The judge acted out the part of the earnest witness admirably and the recital was greeted with shouts of laughter. "This may be a chestnut among the ever- greens," said Mix, "but it is also true. A cer- tain little girl on being told by her Sunday School teacher, that after living on earth the Saviour had returned to Heaven, promptly asked, "Why did he go back ; didn't he like Lockport ?" "Our guest," the speaker continued, "insists upon returning to the St. Lawrence country, a region much like Heaven in summer, at least, but that he should leave us so soon makes me ask, 'Doesn't he like Lockport ?' " "My answer is a hearty affirmative, as- suredly," laughed Mr. Irvine. "I presume you want me to contribute my tree to the clump of narrative pines, knotty and cross-grained though it may be. The 'run' of court stories reminds me of 'A Cause Celebre.' A CAUSE CELEBRE. In the old days, before confederation had provided the Provinces of Canada with the pres- ent excellent, if prosaic, judiciary, the admin- istration of justice in lower Canada — now Que- bec Province' — was of a somewhat primitive 0^■CE THE FA\ORITE HUNTING GROUNDS OF THE SENEGAS, EIGHTEEN JtlLE CREEK, NEAR LOCKPORT, N. Y. Page 34- WILD GINGER 35 character; and, while serving the needs of a sparsely settled country, often afforded touches of humor quite unconventional and startling. In those days, the tribunal charged with the trial of small civil cases was called the com- missioners court, and was composed of laymen selected so as to recognize the different nation- alities and religions of the settlers, the men so chosen being of local prominence. The Allumettes is a large island, some twenty miles long by seven wide, situated in the upper Ottawa River where it broadens out into the Lac des Allumettes. At the time spoken of — in the early sixties — the settlers did most of their trading in Pembroke, a town on the upper Can- ada, now Ontario, side of the river. As cash was not plentiful, much of the bartering was confined to the interchange of commodities, the settlers exchanging the products of their little farms for the necessities of life offered for sale by the merchants in Pembroke. It was inevi- table that delays would occur in the annual set- tlement of balances, so the commissioners court of Allumettes Island had many cases to adjudi- cate in which the Pembroke merchants appeared as plaintiffs and the settlers as defendants. One particular case became a cause celebre on account of the Solomon-like exposition of a legal point of extreme nicety by one of the court officials. It was entitled Dewar vs. Des Jardin. It was brought to recover the price of a pair of cowhide boots sold the defendant some three years previous by the plaintiff, a tanner of leather and maker of boots. The 36 WILD GINGER amount involved was one pound, three shillings, six pence, Halifax currency. The commissioners court was composed of Samuel Adams Huntington, of United Empire loyalist stock, a man of some means and the owner of the local grist and saw mill, a Protest- ant, and, by virtue of his vicinage standing, the chairman of the court; William Lawrence Gray, a pompous Irishman of some education, sup- posed to be a cadet of one of the families es- tablished in Ireland when Cromwell swept over the Emerald Isle; Billy Ponpore, a quick-witted French-Canadian, of sporting proclivities, who had lost, almost entirely, the patois of his race through the combined influences of an English mother and a fairly good education; and last, but not least, John Lynch, brother of the parish priest, a fervid Romanist and upholder of cler- ical domination. The "dark" of the court was the local school- master, Luke Keene O'Connor, a type of the Irish pedagogue long since extinct, but whose bright wit and general lack of sobriety was a source of unending joy to the lovers of song and story on the upper Ottawa. The bailiff was Israel Desarais, a devout French-Canadian of the pure habitant stock, whose shrewd say- ings are still quoted on the island, and whose exposition of a delicate point of law, involving the authority of the Church and the supremacy of the crown, established a precedent that has remained unquestioned for nigh half a cen- tury. The plaintiff, a high-browed, stem-visaged WILD GINGER 37 Scotchman, whose Hkeness to a picture of Christian in my first copy of Pilgrims Progress used to fill my childish breast with awe, was a Calvinist of the strictest order. An elder in the Presbyterian Churchy he was intolerant of all other creeds, but particularly opposed to "Pope and Popery." The defendant, being a negligible factor, need not be described; but it is pertinent to state that he had the sympathy of the community be- cause he was French-Canadian, because he was resisting the collection of a just debt, and, chiefly because he was being sued by a Presby- terian. When the case was called the plaintiff claimed the right of swearing to the correctness of his claim, the amount being under two pounds. It was a provision of the law that all claims under two pounds could be supported by the oath of the claimant, and it has since been the subject of much research by those learned in the law why so trivial a limit should have been placed on perjury. The clerk having been instructed by the court to swear the plaintiff, Luke O'Connor shoved a greasy "Path to Paradise" towards Mr. De- war, who, ignoring the book, raised his hand dramatically on high. Luke, about ten drinks below his limit, but still somewhat testy from the effects of his last night's libations, called out with saw-mill whistle effect, "Arrah ! Can't ye kiss the book ; kiss the book, ye omahdon ! Phat the deivle are ye sthandin' there wid yere 38 WILD GINGER arrum sthuck up like a pike pole on a mud scow ?" Dewar, the blood of a score of Covenanters coursing through his veins, transfixed the inebri- ated Irishman with a steely glare ; then address- ing the court, said: "I'm a Presbyterian and it is a privilege accorded members of our com- munion in upper Canada to swear with uplifted hand. This is a part of the dominions of our most gracious majesty and I demand my rights !" Clark Luke's ire had been gradually rising, his ferret-like eyes fairly shone with the light of battle. Springing to his feet, he pushed the greasy little volume under Dewar's nose and fairly hissed: "Yure priviluge be d d. We're a little coort av our own over here, an' ye'll swear on the book or not at all, at all !" The chairman, seeing that Luke's persistency was as strong as Dewar's stubbornness, called him to order, saying : "I know it is a privi- lege accorded men of Mr. Dewar's religious be- Hef, in upper Canada, to swear with uplifted hand, but I have never seen the privilege claimed in this court, though I am free to admit the claim seems reasonable. However, I will leave it to the court to decide. Mr. Gray, what do you say?" William Lawrence Gray, deeply impressed by the dignity of the court, had been stroking his beard and looking wise, sat erect and de- livered his opinion slowly : "I am aware — ah — Mr. Chairman, that — ah — it is a privilege ac- corded those of Mr. Dewar's religious — ah — WILD GINGER 39 persuasion — ah— in upper Canada, to swear — ah — with upHfted hand — ^but, ah — ^Mr. Chair- man, I have nevah, sir, nevah, seen the privi- lege claimed, sir, in this province — ah — I ad- mit that — ah — Mr. Dewar's contention — ah — may be according to precedent, sir — I say precedent — ah — yas — ah — but, sir, there is with me — ah — a doubt, sir, a doubt, and sir, where there is — ah — a doubt, and that doubt — ah — a grave one, I submit, sir, that — ah — the court is en- titled to the benefit of the doubt!" Gray was sometimes called Lord Halifax by the Pembroke wits, partly by reason of his pompous manner and partly because he was a notorious trimmer. He had a small store at Chapeau, the town site of Allumettes Island, did odd jobs of conveyancing, and was a Ro- man Catholic, some thought, because the ma- jority of the settlers were. His constant effort, however, was to be on all sides, both in poli- tics and religion, and he hated to make a de- cision. Having delivered himself of his labored, but noncommittal and really ridiculous opinion, he settled down to a contemplation of the ceil- ing, perfectly satisfied with the hum of admira- tion that ran through the room at his learned statement. John Lynch, a low-browed, small-eyed man, whose head was covered by a shock of curly black hair, being asked his opinion, delivered it shortly and to the point : "I belave wid Luke ; we want none of Dewar's upper Canada touches here. He'll sware an the book, or not at all, at all!" 40 WILD GINGER The remaining member of the court, Billy Ponpore, clad in homespun smock and trousers, with long beef-skin moccasins covering his nether extremities, had been taking but an in- different interest in the discussion. Sitting with one leg thrown carelessly over the other, in an attitude betokening ease and enjoyment, he had been chewing tobacco and spitting at a knot in the floor, betting with himself how many times out of three he could strike it. He had just doubled or quits and had made a particu- larly fine shot when he was rudely brought to a realizing sense of his duty by Chairman Hun- tington's saying, "Mr. Ponpore, what's your opinion ?" "I?" he jerked out, "I?— Oh! I don't care a d n how he swears," and forthwith sent a stream of liquid tabac "lickety split" full at the knot. The court, accustomed to the unconvention- alities of the region, never noticed the humor- ous incongruity of a judge swearing profanely in the very act of discussing the nature of a judicial oath, and had no rebuke for Billy. It was then that old Israel Desarais, the bail- iff, raised himself up from his seat and ad- dressed the court. The old man was a splen- did specimen of the Habitant. His gray hair was thrown back from a "forehead lined with thought"; his dark eyes expressed both kind- liness and shrewdness ; his heavily-bearded face was strong, and, the head thrown boldly back, indicated courage and fearlessness. He bore well the weight of his seventy years, spent, from WILD GINGER 41 his early youth, in the lumber woods and on the river. He wore the customary homespun clothes, his coat adorned with a capuchin and shoulder epaulettes of blue and red cloth, his waist bound around with a parti-colored "shan- ty belt." His feet were encased in the beef- hide moccasins. Israel was held in the greatest respect by his neighbors, and though looked upon as the living incarnation of the law, his many acts of kindness, his wholesome advice to the unfortunate debtor had endeared him to all. It was known, too, that the old man would have been much better off in the world's goods, had not his largent as well as his tabac been so fre- quently called into requisition to help out the unfortunate, whose failure to pay was the cause of the old bailiff's visit. Taking his quid from his mouth, and laying it frugally aside, Israel addressed the court: "Messieurs les commissionaires — I beg ze par- don of ze cort if I mak free to mak ze 'spres- sion of my opineeon hon ze subjee hoff ze hoath of Messieu Dewar. Messieu Dewar, he say he got ze rite to make heem heese hoath — heese han' hi to heaveen. Luke, he claim, he can no mak him heese hoath in deese cort honless he swar hon ze bibe, hor hon ze Pat to Paradis. Now, Messieurs les commissionaires, I tink me Messieu Dewar he rite, an' bidam ! I tell you for why! In hupper Canadaw ze Presbe, ze Me- tode, ze Bapte, he can mak heese hoath wid heese han' hup to Heaveen. Ze English church he mak him heese hoath on ze bibe honly; ze Catolic, he sware hon ze bibe, or ze Pat hall 42 WILD GINGER ze same. But no matter how ze deeferent man he mak him heese hoath, bidam! Heese hoath, eet ees good. For why? "We read in ze Good Book, wen Habram he get hold and he come for to get near to die, he tink, by Gar, he hurry hup pretty dam soon and get heem a wife for ze son Hisack; but he no lak ze gal in ze Canaan Ian', and he tink it ees a good job he get ze gal from ze hold coun- tree he come from. So, he say, Habram, he send ze foreman to ze hold countree to peek heem a gal for ze bonne femme for ze boy Hi- sack. So he call heem ze foreman and he say, 'I want you tak ze cameel and ze bes dam rig, and ze hear ring and ze bracelette, and ze sil- ver and ze gold to mak em ze beeg show, and go to ze hold countree for get une ze gal for la femme for ze boy Hisack.' Ze foreman he will- ing to go sure, but Habram he pretty dam cute ; he mak sure no dam foolish beezeness for get ze femme from ze Canaan Ian', and he mak ze foreman tak ze hoath. How he mak ze foreman swar, Messieurs les commissionaires? "He, Habram, don't mak heem swar on ze bibe — dar no bibe den. Non, by Gar! He don't mak heem swar on ze Pat. Non, non, sacri! Dere's no Pat heese published dem day. He no hax heem to put his ban' hup to Heaveen. Non, bidam — deres no Presbe, no Metodeesh, no Bapteeste in dem day. "How den, he mak heem, de foreman, sware, eh? Habram, he say, 'Come here, and put ze han' honer my tighe,' an' he mak heem swar he peek heem ze gal from ze hold countree for la WILD GINGER 43 femme for ze Hisack, an' not peek ze gal from ze Ian' of Canaan. "Messieurs, ze hoath with ze han' bonder ze tighe heese good for ze foreman, heese good for ze hold man Habram, beese pretty dam good for ze boy Hisack, too, for ze foreman be get ze Rebacka for Hisack, an' she bully fine gal, too. "So, I tink me ze boath Mr. Dewar, heese ban' hup to Heaveen, sure good, too. "Messieurs les commissionaires, me, I'm bold man. I mak pretty soon p'r'aps my last ser- veese, but it mak no deeference to me wich way ze man be swar, so long be tell ze trut! Mes- sieurs les commissionaires, me, I mak heem my spitch; I have tout fini." And after all the varied and picturesque swearing in that lower Canada court room, Mr. Dewar swore with uplifted band. 44 WILD GINGER WILD GINGER, WOOD SORREL AND SWEET CICELY. GUESTS OF THE KING's FORESTERS. — TORONTO. — February . U. Strew me the ground with daff-a-down dillies, And cowslips, and kingcups, and loved lilies. The pretty paunce, And the chevisaunce, Shall match with the flower-de-luce. — M. Drayton. So ran the fire-indented verses above the hearth of the Hunters' Lodge in the Toronto King's Foresters clubhouse. The characters were "quaint and olden," in keeping with the ancient birth year of the floral song which has lived to this day. The guests from the Cataract County Sports- men's Club were informed that the unique in- scription was the work of the Toronto Super- intendent of Prisons, whose only recreation was hunting the forests, swamps, and fields for wild flowers and afterwards trying to coax the un- tamed floral captives to live in an extensive gar- den, in which the various natural conditions that each loved best were copied as closely as science and affection could imitate nature. The affable Mr. Kingsley explained frankly, WILD GINGER 45 "Cultivated and domesticated flowers are spoiled by too much attention, just like people — The American Beauty always conjures up the gen- erations of gardeners with their pruning hooks to my mind, and I forget the wonderful rose creation before me. But its simple, primitive ancestor, the sweetbrier, brings glimpses of re- freshing glens, instead of pictures of crowded ballrooms; it carries me back to the ages when each of the four great peoples of Asia, our fore- fathers, clung to their particular variety of rose through all their wanderings, as Prof. Koch tells us — ^back to the years when men had rose hedges for fences; it brings me the fragrant pages of Chaucer, Spenser, and Shakespeare, who called it the Eglantine " "Hold up! Pardon, dear fellow," drawled the president of the Foresters, "our friends from Niagara, you know, didn't come, it's safe to assume, for a botanical lecture." With a winning smile Mr. Frezee delivered his rebuke to Mr. Kingsley, who joined good- naturedly in the general laugh. "You see," Frezee went on," our flower-crazy chap here must be given some liberties with your patience, gentlemen, you will grant us, when you note yon maple sap-trough in the window filled with painted cups, ladies tresses and blue vervain — the red, white, and blue, your colors, don't you perceive, all in youah honah ! Underneath them, in a subordinate position, our dear comrade, afflicted with wild flower mono- mania, has arranged our own club flower, the 46 WILD GINGER kingcups, bettah known in the states, I believe as buttah-cups." "I never noticed that you Red Coats had any yeller streak," chirped the mellow voice of Sher- iff McKenna, of Niagara; "an' so I'd think you'd prefer for your club poseey a flower some calls mountain mint, or bee balm or Injun's plume — it's a kind of pompous bunch of red feathers, supported by a substantial body of green — old Ireland, by Gripes, always had to support the Britishers !" "Bless your heart, Pat!" shouted King's Counsellor Mallory above the din of applause, "we'll drink to that fragrant and well-put toast — here's to the new club flower, the red and green mountain mint!" "I am impressed with Mr. Kingsley's novel study of the wild flowers," said Assembly Lea, of Lockport. "I believe it would be admirable for the state educational department to recom- mend that the public schools take up this branch of nature study in Mr. Kingsley's fascinating way." "Put it in a law,'' suggested 'Scout' Carson, the Large Run printer who had learned the value of running away from a most exacting business to commune with nature's forms, in- stead of press "forms." There was general ap- proval, and the "Scout," who in the early days had broken the first trail from Yankton to the mines, added: "We must resort to anything that will attract the children to nature and get them in sympathy with her, if we would pre- serve our few remaining forests, replace the WILD GINGER 47 trees where there are now useless wastes and barrens, restore our fish and wild game and pro- tect the wild creatures of the waters and for- ests." This subject was taken up in a half hour's helpful talk, including an excellent understand- ing for a uniform, or consistent set of inter- national game laws which would conserve the mutual interests of Canada and the United States. Game Warden Huntington, of North Bay, to diversify the entertainment, called the vis- itors' attention to a crayon, based on Walton's description of the famous Dr. Newell, dean of St. Paul's Cathedral in the reign of Henry VIII, and the author of the present catechism. There were the strong features of "the good man, a constant practicer of angling who employed a tenth part of his time in that sport." He was leaning with one hand on a desk, holding a Bible, and at his side were his fishing tackle in great variety. Underneath the portrait of this earnest fisher of men and of fish, was this quotation : "He died in 1601, at the age of 95 years; age had neither dimmed his eyes nor weakened his memory; angling and temperance were the causes of these blessings." "I perceive that your clubhouse adornments," observed Judge Hockey, of Niagara, "encourage the improbable, or the exaggerated. Now we have on our walls at home a tablet inscribed with what we call the Cataract Club Tent-Pins, the second reading, 'Truth is stranger than fic- tion and more entertaining !' " 48 WILD GINGER "Ah, weel," broke in Kenneth MacReedy, of Simcoe, "you must nay doot the old doctor, for we never had the honor-r-r of his acquaintance — and besides, mon, his angHn' and temperaunce went tigither a vary laiig, lang time ago!" Ig- noring the shouts of, "Hear, hear!" he added with a sly twinkle, "An' so it be with our sport stories — the mon tellin' of it was the on'y mon on the spot; or like Walton, the on'y eye-wit- ness is dead !" "Well, let's have the truth, ye nimrods of Ni- agara," nodded President Frezee, "no matter how improbable it may sound. We are like the prejudiced judge in a Muskoka lawsuit, 'pre- pared to believe anything from our side, and to refute the truth from the other side.' " "I can't believe," quickly cut in Lockport's city attorney, "that you are so deeply preju- diced against your visitors' veracity as Jimmy Geoghegan thought the people of Horseheads were against his. Jimmy went as a delegate to a firemen's convention at Horseheads, N. Y. At the hotel he had difficulty in convincing the clerk, he went on to explain in addressing the convention, that there was such a name as 'Geogheghan' ; he had to pulverize a fellow dele- gate for persisting in pronouncing it 'Goathee- gan'; and finally, the secretary, the mayor of Horseheads, had refused to call his name in the roll because that officer was afraid it would teach him to stutter. Rising to the pinnacle of eloquence, Geogheghan shouted, shaking his fist at the mayor of Horseheads, 'Mister mayor, in- dade an' you have a foine town, but moind me, WILD GINGER 49 ye name it after the wrong end av the horse!'" "Both ends of Toronto look alike to me," chuckled Sheriff McKenna; "it's up TO you, coming or going." "Well, then, sheriff, it's up to you to lead off," commanded the Rex Conviviendi. "All right," the fat worthy assented. "Here's a mild one — too mild to be true I'm afraid. Stickwell and I were trolling up in Peck's Pond in the Adirondacks one afternoon, late in Au- gust. We paddled along slowly and almost noiselessly and rounding a sharp bend of a rather steep bank, came suddenly in sight of a deer feeding in the lily pads. The buck didn't see us, and as we were going against the wind he didn't smell us either. We sat there watch- ing the handsome feller for ten minutes. Pres- ently a twig crackled in the forest. He leaped into the air six feet and came down into the water like a log shooting from a forty-foot chute. Mr. Buck started for the opposite shore, swim- ming within 30 feet of our canoe which he had failed to notice all this time. It was out of sea- son and we had no thought of killing the deer, even if we had had a gun. I don't know what persessed me, but I picked up my trolling spoon, 2-O Palmer, attached to a heavy woven line, and tossed it ahead of the swiftly-moving ani- mal. The line tightened just as his nose pushed by the spot where the gang of hooks had struck and then I felt a tug! The troll had camght in that buck's nostrils! The shock nearly pulled the hand off me, but the line was wound around it and the buck's head went under water. 50 WILD GINGER My, how the frightened deer plunged and splashed ! We tried hard to reach him and un- fasten the hooks, but that was easier said than done. Whenever we got near him, he'd plunge away like mad. The line would run taut and under would go his head. Although we did our best to help him out, that buck drowned him- self, evidently preferring to die than to live under the disgrace of having been ketched with hook and line like any common sucker." "I don't doubt your story in the least," suave- ly smiled Mr. Howard, the Torontonian who sends out great postal cards, embossed with the interwoven flags of England and the United States, inviting you to the Toronto Fair, and reminding you that he imports his welcome di- rect from Taragona in casks, which, when full, can easily drown every recollection of the Fe- nian Raid, and when empty can float the Ca- nadian del)t. "Strange things can easily hap- pen at the end of a trolling line " "Yes, at the hand end, when you mix yer bait!" interrupted the sheriff. "Yes, and at the three-cornered business end, too," continued Howard. "My brother and I were trolling with a No. 3 spoon up in Lac du Talon one morning. The bass and pike — your pickerel — struck freely for a while and then there was nothing doing. To encourage our finny friends, I hooked on a small chub. We rowed along, but there was no change. Weary of our unsuccessful efforts, we permitted the Peterboro to drift, the wind carrying us around a point into a sheltered cove. I guess WILD GINGER 51 we both drowsed off a bit. Presently the shrill hum of the reel on my steel rod with which I was trolling brought me out of my dreams with a start, to find my line running off like mad. " 'A 'lunge has picked up your minnow !' shouted Tom, now wide awake and excited. As usual, whenever anything big was on the pis- catorial programme, Tom wanted to play the star role and tried to catch my bending rod out of my hands. I gave him an elbow reminder to mind his own business and proceeded to take command of the landing forces myself. When we drifted around the bend, the spoon had ap- parently caught and carried out over half my line, but I still had twenty yards on the reel after the first wild rush was over. It was a battle to make the blood tingle. Tom's com- mands and suggestions rattled me some, but I steadied down and met every play of the enemy. In five minutes I had him coming my way. Suddenly the line slackened and the monster made straight for the boat. I felt the sickening feeling incident to the foreboding that all was lost. " 'He's a whale with side fins three feet long !' yelled Tom, as he made a plunge at the subma- rine creature with the gaff. He missed it. With the wail of a child lost in the woods, up into the air rose our goblin of the waters. Away into the sky sailed my fish, carrying out all the line I had so gallantly fought for. Then I checked his flight, reeling in like a wild man. Up he'd go again, but the steel would turn his course and I'd gain a few yards. Eor ten 52 WILD GINGER minutes the aerial battle was waged until at length skill and good tackle won the day and we landed an enormous loon ! "The bird had picked up my bait while we were out of view in the cove and hooked him- self the first rush. This strange trophy adorns my den at home." "It is one, the old proverb," laughed Billy Du- fall, of Montreal, "that you Niagaran's have paraphrased : 'Rien n'est beau que le vrai.' I so much hope you perceive that we of the Can- adas believe also that 'nothing is beautiful but the truth !' " "Au large! Envoyez au large!" shouted Huntington. "We are off amid the rapids of improbability and the big chaudiere of incredu- lity whirls just below them; but, we'll paddle to camp in the quiet bay of fact, with the im- penetrable forests of 'It's So' behind it." The clear-cut words of the best guide and hunter in the Nipissing district set forth in cam- eo-like distinctness a picture of a camp on the distant French River that all present loved so well. There was silence for a time, all appar- ently faring northward on a mental journey in- itiated by Huntington's unintentioned invitation. "The snow lies deep on the banks of the Masog-Masing," presently remarked C. Handy Mix, "so Huntington was almost cruel to lead you forth on this chilly night to your happy hunting grounds, because it is said 'imagination wears but flimsy garments.' " "Yes; even the loons 'd have to git their skates on, ef they lingered up in that country tmm...^ ^^^^. K^^^^S 1 ^g^^.^pppp Page 5-. SUNNY MEMORIES IN WINTER. WILD GINGER 53 after November," dryly remarked the sheriff. "Loons can skate," promptly asserted Lem- uel Larch, the Yankee-Dutchman. The eyes of the circle were at once focused on the lanky general utility camp man of the Niagara Club, as he continued: "A loon, wing-tipped, spent most of the winter on the Eighteen Mile creek and the Erie Canal near Lockport in nineteen- four and nineteen-five. The boys tried to cap- ture him, but the sharp-feathered wizard from the North led them a merry chase, day after day eluding them. One morning my boy rushed over to his chum's house, shouting, 'We've got him — he's frozen fast in the ice !' Sure enough, the loon was frozen in. Planning to take him alive, the lads chopped the ice around his feet, but the instant he was liberated, he slipped out onto the smooth surface, with chunks of ice on his feet, and the last they saw of him he was skating off before the wind like a Norwegian in a championship race, headed for Hot Springs, Arkansas, to get thawed out!" "The loon is closely related to fishes, and, like them, can stand a deal of cold," politely assented Mr. Frezee. "I remember catching a fine lot of pike and pickerel fishing through the ice. They froze stiff as boards. We loaded them onto a sled like sticks of wood, took them home, and threw them onto the kitchen floor. As I was eating my dinner, would you be- lieve me, I heard a strange flopping and racket in the kitchen, doncher know. Upon going into the adjoining room, gentlemen, there were my fish, all come to life, engaged in a jumping tour- 54 WILD GINGER hament, the pike 'pitted against the pickerel in a friendly contest to see which side would land all their numbers in the sink which was half filled with water! "Oh, of course," the speaker hurried on dep- recatingly at the signs of disbelief, "I may have given my imagination some play as to the pis- catorial tournament, but natural history, gen- tlemen, supports me as to the fact of the re- suscitation of the frozen fish and their instinct- ive progress by leaps toward the water in the kitchen reservoir." "Oh, gowan!" piped the sherifif. "Don't ex- plain." "Ay, an' Mister Frezee is the ane 'gowan' in the hawk — the only 'daisy in the 'untilled ridge of the cornfield' — but who'd a kenned ye could say 'gowan' in proper Scowtch for 'daisy'?" The representatives of the two closely-related, but often hostile, branches of the Celtic race, eyed each other in friendly challenge for a mo- ment, while the French and Anglo-Saxons looked on in suppressed merriment at the acci- dental clash of the Scotch and Irish words. The sherifif broke the silence with his merry, high-keyed chuckle, saying: "Annyhow, our 'usquebagh' means the same, an' we take it the same; but bad luck to ye kilted Irishmen, there was never much of the good red licker left for honest Irishmen after ye came over to take the best of everything in the Green Isle !" "Oh, sheriff," interrupted Carson, "you know as much about philology as those green drum- mers that came into your store one day just WILD GINGER 55 after you had returned from rabbit hunting, did about game. While you were washing up I heard them discuss a wound on a rabbit. They felt sure it wasn't made by a gun shot, so one gravely suggested, 'The bunny probably got that when he fell out of the tree.' " "That reminds me of a woodcock trip I took with a Buffalo merchant," said George Wash- ington Wynne. "He was a political friend of mine, and although he had never hunted birds in his life, he begged to have me take him out. The woodcock were plentiful, but Preston in- sisted upon talking politics and shop. Imag- ine that kind of talk in an ideal bird country, with plenty of exciting rises. Electric motors and snap caucuses talk don't promote good snap shooting such as was necessitated by the thick alders. Preston was just blowing how he'd fix his opponents, when up jumped something right under his feet. I had never seen anything like it before. As it sailed into the air with a whirli- gig motion, Preston yelled, 'Shoot, George, for Heaven's sake — it's an electric fan cut loose !' I let go, after recovering myself, and down came the biggest woodcock I ever bagged. Over his eyes was a big basswood leaf. The bird had evidently drilled down through the leaf just as we started him, and the blinder be- wildered him and hampered his flight, so that when he towered he certainly did go through all the motions of an electric fan thrown into the air while running full head." "You landed your bird, being luckier than our S6 WILD GINGER Strather, a comical, good-natured darkey, who spends much of his time fishing and hunting in Niagara county," remarked John I. Teller. "Strather tells and acts out his story. He came along to look after our baggage and if you wish I'll call him in to relate it himself." "By all means," said President Frezee. Ac- cordingly the little lithe darkey sportsman was summoned. He hesitated at first, but began with a reminiscent chuckle : "Mistah Case an' Ah wuz a huntin' ducks an' snipe down in de Hartland swamps long befoh de hyperpeticulah gemmens — I'se beggin' de pardon of de 'spectable membahs present — de gemmens of de State God and Run Club leg- islationly prohibitioned de blessed fun of spring shootin'. Ah lef Mistah Case in a blin' on de swamp aige, purposing to make a detourin' ob a wheat fiel' dat was boidahed by a pon'. Say, Ah 'clare to goodness, jes as dis black nimrode got in de centah ob a six-foot rail crossin' a deep ditch, up got a simoon from beyant de haidge. I wuz balancin' myself jes like Blondin on de slack wire ober de Niagarah goge" — Here Strather stood on one foot, holding out a poker to represent his gun in one hand, and his cap in the other, "teetering" his body like a tip-up on a stone — "dat simoon dashed watah into de wind an' it splashed in my face — it wuz a whirlly- wind of wild geese, a flock big enough to covah up de hiden-seek April sun. I straightened up like a yallar-leg in a bog — standing erect now, but swaying, and dropping his cap, getting his poker gun ready to fire — and swung on de hose- WILD GINGER 57 necked flyin' machines like dis — pulling the po- ker's imaginary trigger as he fell off the rail — 'bang ! bang !' went both barrels. Over Ah went into three feet of almighty wet watah. Ah stuck mah nose up outen de ooze jes in time to see two gandahs tumble and ter smell dem fine goslin's a fryin' in my ole woman's pan. Mah gun fell acrost on de odah side, lucky coon me! In goes two shells an' Ah'm aftah my federed meat — Here Strather again paused to wipe off the water, and, presently a supposititious tear from his eye — But it's de sweetest honey dat goes to de bear — on'y de comb foah de coon huntah. Say, Ah gets to de aige of de wheat fiel', when one of de gandahs raises his haid kine of curious like, an' nudgin' his wounded comrade dey skiddadles. Wid de help ob de wind dey just cleans a bam an' haystack, an' off dey goes talkin' it ovah and comparin' my gun play wid de bombardment of Santiago. Ah picks up Mistah Case an' we percedes to- wards de horizon dat swallowed up Mrs. Stra- ther's geese. By em by we meets two farmer boys and Case says, 'Didn't you see a flock of geese go by dis way?' De freckeldest kid squints at us sassy-like and says, 'I see two.' 'Saw,' you mean, kerrected Mistah Case sharp- like, an' the boys seen he wuz mad an' stopped der foolin'. Then out cum der ole man and says to us, 'Lookin' for wild geese? I and the boys shot two cripples a spell ago back o' the barn an' afterwards went beyant de woods an' got seven more out ob de flock.' To prove it dat persky white man showed us de nine birds. 58 WILD GINGER "Mistah Case looked at me and den at de fahmahs. Wid a cuss, he asts, 'Hownell jer git 'em?' "De ole fahmah shifts de quid in his mout', and solemn as an owl, ansahs Mistah Case real dam pertynent : 'Used soft coal 'stid of shot- coal tuck tire an' burnt off der wing feathers.' " Strather bowed himself back toward the ser- vants' quarters in the clubhouse amidst cheers and laughter, elicited as much by his descriptive pantomime, as by his rich African dialect. He eluded an encore, explaining, "Ah'd be a goose, mahself, gemmens, ef I guv you another shot at me." "I've seen considerable wild goose shooting in Georgia," remarked Mr. Duall, "and I can sup- port Strather's yarn with many similarly pain- ful escapes of the game after I all but had it picked for the pot. But even still more imper- vious to fatal effects of shot is the raccoon. We had two darkeys who were inveterate sportsmen. Their enforced labors during the day left them little time for daylight hunting, so they turned naturally to the pursuit of this wary nocturnal carnivore. Ed and Bob's ar- senal consisted of an old horse pistol and muz- zle-loading gun. A wily cracker persuaded the pair that if they traded their two famous coon dogs for a rusty breechloader, their bags would increase. In an evil moment they parted with Ivy and Pomp, hoping to replace them with less expensive pups in time. " 'De cunnenest coon in dese pahts could sooner lose hees stripes den lose us,' used to be WILD GINGER 59 the boast of these mighty hunters; and, it is not of record that any coon ever did escape the quartette of men and dogs named. Not long after they had traded off their dogs Col. Mont- ford sent word to Ed and Bob that some crit- ter was raiding his premises, carrying off fowls almost nightly, and offered them a jug of the best corn whiskey on his plantation if they'd capture the marauder. Arrived at the colonel's, they were supplied with refreshments and also loaded with ammunition from the old man's hunting cabinet. "The hunters stationed themselves near the hen yard at dark and awaited developments. It was a bright, moonlight night, clear, crisp, and silent. The dusky hunters were keen for the contents of the promised jug. Bob whispered, 'Ah's sure goin' to see ebberything dat looms up on de foah cornahs ob dis horizon to-night — dey's a heep at stake, you black shaddah.' Ed poked him in the ribs, giggling — 'An' Ah reckon dis chile'll heah eben de footfall ob a creekit, 'cause I'se listen' for de trickle of de kunnel's cawn juce.' — Bob snickered — 'Ah ken smell a vahmint two miles off, jes cause Ah's got mah scenter in de aiah for de kennel's liquid persuadah.' " 'Foah de Lawd !' they shouted, as an agon- ized squawk arose on the air. Despite their boasted alertness of the senses of sight, hearing, and smell, some four-foot enemy had slipped through their lines and into the hennery. There was a flutter among the fowls as some furry thing slipped away with a fine pullet. The muz- 6o WILD GINGER zle loader and new weapon that had cost them their trusty dogs illuminated the night. A monster coon turned a somersault, dropped his prey, and rolling over and over, whisked up onto a rail fence and started for the woods a few rods away. Again the breechloader spoke and the coon dropped from the fence. " 'Daid coon! — three-thirds of dat cawn juice foah mine !' yelled Bob ecstatically. Over to the fence they raced, but no slaughtered robber was to be found. Hearing a rustle off toward the forest, the hunters broke into pursuit. 'Ah'd gib mah best rabbit's foot to hab Pomp back now for jes ten minets,' groaned Ed, as he leaped over obstructions in his course. 'Da he shins up de big tree in de conah ob de fence !' shrieked Bob. "Underneath the boughs of the coon's branch- ing tower of refuge, the sharp-eyed niggers soon located the robber, lying flat on a limb on the opposite side of the tree from the moon and in a spot most in the shadow. 'T'inks he can fool us by dat ole game,' grunted Bob as he took careful aim and fired. The black spot never flinched. The quarry was up fully one hundred and twenty feet and the bombardment which ensued was enough to arouse the whole parish. Ed's supply of powder and shot gave out and his partner presently fired the last of twenty-five shells ; yet, the coon still held the fort. Several times he was dislodged from his perch, but he always managed to catch on be- fore he reached the ground. Bob went back for more ammunition. The moon was behind the WILD GINGER 6i hill now, and the shooting became mostly guess- work. Exhausted, the hunters sank at the foot of the tree to lay siege until morning might aid their aim. As daylight began to approach, the coon grew uneasy. Thrice the sleepy hunters caught him in the act of slipping down the tree trunk, and beat him back with clubs. It was growing rapidly lighter and the persistent sportsmen were now sure of their prey, when, like a bolt of fur, Mr. Coon dropped from a limb plump onto Ed's shoulders. Bob struck at the coon, the animal dodged and poor Ed re- ceived the blow. Crash! The pained and in- dignant nigger brought his gun barrel down over Bob's unlucky head, stretching him out flat. "Ed was overwhelmed with what he had done, thinking that he had killed his old com- rade. Hastening to a nearby spring, he got some water and dashed it into the unconscious fellow's face. Presently Bob sat up. Looking all around and then at Ed, he said impressively, 'You fool niggah, youse let dat coon animal git away fur suah aftah Ah killed him sebenty- fibe times — let him slide away wid a whole jug ob cawn juice on his back, too. Now den, you heah me, you no good black man — ef Ah sees you tech youah alleegatah lips to a jug ob lickah in de nex' six months I'se jes natchely gwan to lam you till youse es spotted es a button wood in de fall !' " "Do you know why the button ball tree or sycamore, as it's called in some parts of the country, is more spotted at certain times of the 62 WILD GINGER year than others?" began John I. Teller. With- out waiting for reply, he went on, "The bark, after using the summer's supply of sap, becomes dry and the autumn rains " "None of your continued lectures on botany," interrup'ted the sheriff. "Your I'll-tell-you's, John, make me as uneasy as a wench on an ap- ple heap," declared the funny little voice with mock severity. "Well, I propose a 'Collins' for Mr. Duall's coon story," offered President Frezee. The typ- ical Canadian beverage was duly quaffed and enjoyed, when Stickwell asked for the ingre- dients and recipe of the concoction. "Oh, it's your gin fiz," explained Hunting- ton, "with some of the effervescence of your South country omitted and some of the refresh- ing coolness of our ice-covered Canadian sum- mits added." "Ah, I didn't quite recognize an old friend in a strange guise — something like a little fresh- air girl from New York," said Mix. "She saw a hen on the nest in the barn and watched her little country hostess, the farmer's daughter, take some eggs from the place vacated by the biddy. The rural maiden explained to the won- dering visitor that the hen had laid them. The poor, wan little tot, whose cheeks were begin- ning to take on some of the ruddiness of the uninterrupted sunlight of God's out-of-doors, said with some confusion, T have put my peep- ers on de hen fruit in de stores, many's de toime, an' when I wuz on de bink onct a mis- sion angel gives me one to eat — a whole one — WILD GINGER 63 but on de dead, I never tumbled dat de goggies wuz made dat way by de ole gal chicks.' " "That's the most reasonable story told to- night, with all due respect for our hosts and none for my shameless colleagues," said Judge Hockey. "On the principle that like cures like, I'll give you the climax of the 'tall story' in the hope that it will help you all to swear ofiE on the longbow. One of my Hartland constit- uents told me that one day he was hunting in the Michigan woods, where as a young man I worked in the lumber camps. He shot a deer across a pond, and in swimming over to get it, filled his overalls with fish. After killing the deer, the bullet plunged into a tree which was filled with honey. Reaching down to get some- thing to stop the flow of the honey, he caught a partridge under a clump near the tree, wrung its head off and with that plugged up the hole. Taking home his thirty-two fish, his deer and partridge, he returned and filled two tubs with the honey." "This drives me to warble," gayly shouted the Falstaff sheriff. And he sang in his honey-laden voice : "Oh, dear mamma, pin a rose on me, Two little maids are sweet on me — One is blind and the other can't see." Thereupon, the Canadians, declaring that the melody was infectious, rose as one man and sol- emnly chanted: 64 WILD GINGER "Then, good-by, booze, for evermore; Our sporting days are days of yore — We've had a good time, we must admit, We'll have one more and then we'll quit — So, good-by, booze, for evermore." "This acme of hospitality deserves some for- mal expression," said Manufacturer Davies quietly, but earnestly. "But when I attempt to rise worthily to the occasion, I am somewhat like Mike Murphy, an ignorant, but a three hundred and sixty-five days in the year politi- cian. His district leader was unable to attend a certain convention and entrusted a set of reso- lutions to Mike. At the proper time Mike arose, shuffled his feet, and blurted out with a sputter that sent a gentle shower of beery spray over the delegates from several adjoining wards, 'I've a notion to make a motion' — then reach- ing into his pockets, fumbling with growing surprise which became unmistakable embarrass- ment as the quest proved unsuccessful, 'but it's home in Jim Henley's hind pocket !' " O O a O H o 1-1 tn tn WILD GINGER 65 WILD GINGER, WOOD SORREL, AND SWEET CICELY. AMONG THE CAYUGA CAT-TAILS. — MOTch. III. Whan that Aprille with his schowres swoote The drought of Marche hath perced to the roote, And bathud every veyne in swich licour, Of which vertue engendered is the flour ; Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breethe Enspirud hath in every holte and heethe The tender croppes, and the yonge sonne Hath in the Ram his halfe cours i-ronne, And smale fowles maken melodie, That slepen al the night witth open eye. So priketh hem Nature in here corages : — Thanne longen folk to gon on pilgrimages. — Chaucer. A wind, heavy with flower showers from the Southland, and carrying the mixed chorus of feathered migrants — the high harmonics of the songsters and the ground tone of the wild fowl — had brought the annual spring message to the impatient ears of the Niagara nature lovers. The winter's burden of indoor duress had seemed abnormally oppressive. Insistent be- yond further endurance had grown the longing to go on a pilgrimage, not exactly to the shrine of a saint like the pious tourists but impious raconteurs of Chaucer's time, but to the "bliss- ful" out-of-doors. 66 WILD GINGER "That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke." Sick were the modern Squyer, Knight, Ye- man, Marchaunt, and Frankeleyn of the ice and snow bondage ; and still more intolerable was the distemper which the "getting and spending" breeds. Singing the merry old English bard's Spring Glee, with all its lusty gutturals and aspirates competing with the boisterous notes of the March gale, and keeping time with the oars, a little flotilla of sportsmen were gliding through the rushes of the Seneca River. It was in the days before the State of New York had wisely decided to set a good example to the greedy sportsmen of the Southern States by enacting the anti-spring shooting laws. In the party were several earnest advocates of pro- tection for all game birds in the spring and early summer months. The storm had brought in from the lake several flocks of teal, mallard and black duck, and before the well-placed blinds of the more sheltered "back ponds" of Cayuga Lake quite satisfactory bags had been made by the jubilant hunters. The thoughtful Alwater stopped rowing, and pointing to a fine pair of female mallards in Sheriff McKenna's boat, observed : "There's two fine nests of ducklings slain before they reached the reedy reaches of the Woolsey in Canada." "Oh, Alwater," cut in the perspiring sheriff, who had been pulling like a galley slave against the swift current on the way to Clint Martin's camp, "your talk will lay me up with 'nervous WILD GINGER 67 perspiration,' the disease that our milkman says has laid up his wife for six months. I suppose you regret that some pot-huntin' Southerner didn't go to them ducks' funerals instead of us, eh?" The bunch of boats was in easier water now, and the oarsmen dipped along leisurely on the "prepare- for-supper stroke," headed for the light gleaming through the dusk. "Just the same," said "Scout" Carson, "we'll have to put up the bars against this spring shooting in our own state and induce the South to do the same, or we'll all live to see the ex- termination of a good many more species of mi- gratory birds." "Right you are. Scout," chimed in Mayor Whitcomb. "Not many years ago the canvas- back fairly swarmed in the Chesapeake, but its old haunts there seldom see it now. The ruddy duck is growing shockingly rare in this sec- tion and already the extinction of the beautiful wood duck is in sight. The ducks, the plover, the snipe, and the woodcock are rapidly follow- ing the Labrador duck to the dusty shelves of the museums, shameful monuments of the sportsmen's unwisdom and improvidence." "One difficulty with the protection of bird life," said Judge Hockey, "is that we have too many game protectors appointed on the basis of political service. They are too often inef- ficient. The average protector doesn't protect. Then, again, the public hasn't been fully edu- cated up to the importance of conserving our fish and game supplies for their own welfare, 68 WILD GINGER by which I mean both their material and ethical welfare. The people absolutely need the recre- ation of fishing and hunting these days to keep us from national paresis in these days of high- pressure wealth seeking, to say nothing of the value of the food suppHes which the forests and streams alone can supply " "Let me interrupt that continued story by askin' for a pipeful of tobacco, judge," piped the sheriff's thin voice. "Here you are," responded the judge with a chuckle; "you smoke 'Beggar's Delight,' don't you, sheriff?" "Yes, an' I'll not beat you out of the loan — I'd rather owe it to ye," quickly rejoined the sporty Falstaff. "But about this protection of game," said the judge, returning to the serious subject, "the protectors are usually ignorant and the public don't know the laws. The situation reminds me of Blaze Dunkleberger, a German hotel- keeper in our town, who got an enormous reg- ister to comply with the new law requiring all guests to register. It was fair time and his place was crowded. The first man he intro- duced to the formidable volume on the dingy counter was an old neighbor from Wolcotts- ville. 'Sign vonce your name am dis platz,' commanded Blaze, with unwonted importance in his voice. The Teutonic guest glared at him suspiciously, looked toward the door and finally said : 'Blaze, do you berceive some greens in my eyes? Maype nine. You get me sign Jo- hann Schmidt's name and den do somet'ings WILD GINGER 69 to me py der sheriff afterwards, isn't it? Blaze, you Benetict Arnoldt, you, not me !' hissed Jo- hann as he passed out. Blaze gazed at his lost friend, enumerated his remaining guests on his fingers and then laboriously wrote across the first page of the register: 'Dirty-fife mens eat here to-day.' That's the way many protectors comply with the law, and like the German boni- face they get their pay just the same." "Yes, we had a no-good 'stiff,' " said the sheriff in a singsong voice, as if taking up the same part for the judge in amateur theatricals, "who was appointed protector in our county some years ago. Nobody had confidence in him, he wouldn't pay his debts an' he hated himself. He took delight in arresting boys for spearin' suckers, or pullin' anybody just for the pleasure of making them trouble. He had plen- ty of strong cases against fish pirates, but no jury'd take the word of that sheepsez-tail, so they always went free. That protector got fired and he was hired to stand outside Lon Parson's drug store." No explanation as to the nature of the new job being volunteered, somebody inquired what it was. "Oh, to make people sick lookin' at him!" cheerfully trilled the canary voice of the giant. "Then we got another protector, a church- man, so almighty good that he had bad dreams when he was asleep on account of taking a sal- ary for doing nothing," was Stickw ell's joyous quota of running comments on protectors. "He quit for fear of dying of insomnia." 70 WILD GINGER "He was the antithesis of his successor," said Mix, "who sobered up and was really awake only on pay days." Duall recalled that George MacDonald struck the key note of protection for birds when he said: "I have considered the birds; And I find their life good. And better, the better understood." "More recently Neltje Blanchan, who says that he is 'a bird lover who believes that per- sonal, friendly acquaintance with the live birds, as distinguished from the technical study of the anatomy of dead ones, must be general before the people will care enough about them to re- inforce the law with unstrained mercy,' declares that 'true sportsmen, worthy of the name, are to be reckoned among the birds' friends, and are doing effective work to help restore those happy hunting grounds which, only a few generations ago, were the envy of the world.' " "Well, since we seem to be trying to ease our consciences for using guns this trip," re- marked Judge Hockey, "it's some comfort to reflect that New York State has led in game protection. As early as seventeen ninety-one New York passed a law protecting the heath hen, partridge, quail, and woodcock, from April I to October 5 on Long Island and in the city and county of New York. It was al- most thirty years later that Massachusetts, with Yankee cunning in the phraseology, enacted a law for the prevention of the wanton destruc- WILD GINGER 71 tion 'at improper times' of 'birds which are use- ful and profitable to citizens either as articles of food or instruments in the hands of Provi- dence to destroy noxious insects,' etc. New York has the most sweeping protective laws to- day, which if copied by other states and strictly enforced by all would ensure the preservation and in most instances render likely the increase of wild fowl, game, and fish." "Yes, but most of the Southern States," said Mix, "are slow to take up game protection even in a mild form. Most of them thoughtfully pass laws safeguarding game birds when they are in the North on their nesting grounds. The United States agricultural department points out that, 'as the wording of modern protective laws turns largely on the definition of "game birds," it may be well to note some of the different in- terpretations which have been applied to this term.' Mississippi's interpretation is significant of the improvidence and greediness of the hunt- ers in that state, for according to the code of Mississippi 'the term "game," shall mean and include all kinds of animals and birds found in the state of nature, and commonly so called.' In most Southern States, for example, our Northern raised bob-o-links, robins, and doves, are 'game' and legitimate prey for every pot- hunter's weapon." "We in New York," observed Teller mus- ingly, "rear and nurture birds only to have them reach the gourmand markets of New Or- leans and other Southern cities. We are in the same unfortunate position as England and Ger- 72 WILD GINGER many, which pass protective laws for birds only to have the Italians bag them in the winter." "Aha, but we have our own Italians at home to eat our robin red breasts and our bob-o-Lin- colns right in the summer time," sighed the sheriff, as if oppressed by a great sorrow. Then he continued with a merry twinkle : "You fellers worry about the Southerners and the foreigners killin' birds and whan it comes to a pinch, either do nothin' about it, or go an' do it yourself like you did to-day every time a good flock came along and decoyed so you could take 'em settin' ! Why, you remind me for all the world of old John Mahany in Somerset. Mahany was the best-posted man on European politics in the county. He could tell to a day when Gladstone would introduce a bill to let us Irish rule London, or give the fine points of the game that England was play- in' in the Eastern League. But John couldn't rule his own household, play a winnin' game of seven up, or liquidate the floatin' debt which he always had runnin' at the Checkered Tavern. John was hard up and the old place was goin' to be sold on foreclosure, when one of the boys who had made good in Buffalo, paid up the interest and sent the old man a fine, new team of horses and an up-to-date reaper. The wheat crop was good that summer, but John was more interested in the shortage in the Russian steppes, so he wouldn't step a foot into his own fields. The hired man, Mike Neeley, got home from the tavern in time to, hitch up the team and start in on the wheat./' Mike's hair pulled some &rMM;r5&f. Page 73- THE BOAT THAT ALWAYS WAITS. WILD GINGER 73 and he yanked the hosses until they got ner- vous and ran away. They made a swathe through the centre of that field that made it look like the charge of the Johnnies through the wheat field at Gettysburg, but more ragged about the edges. Old John thought the Per- sians had rigged up an old-time scythe chariot and were attacking their alleyes, the English, by the racket outside, when he came out of his European trance. Running down to the barn- yard bars where the quivering, bloody team stood, minus all the reaper except the tip of the tongue, John glared first at the horses and then at Mike, who had straggled after his fleeing cavalry. Then raising his hand, he clattered like the exhaust of a threshing engyne, 'Mike, — Oi- — hev — a moind — to sthrike — ye!' Mike stepped up to the white-faced old feller, and put- ting his nose within an inch of John's up-raised fist, hissed, 'an' may the divil tempt ye till I kill ye!'" The cabin under the tall willows was near at hand now. With the setting of the sun, the March storm, child of the spring showers and the fickle wind, had sobbed itself to sleep. The smooth water reflected the golden glow of the West. Enpurpled were the tips of willows, al- ders, and rushes, along the banks. All was se- rene and peaceful save for the eruptive flocks of blackbirds that rose from the marshes with a startling clamor not unlike a park of machine guns opening fire. Overhead a crane was mak- ing laborious headway to his mate in the swamp beyond the distant ridge. A solitary duck, 74 WILD GINGER "Lone, wandering, but not lost" wheeled up stream, "going like the Empire State twenty minutes late at Syracuse," as the sheriff said. The more sentimental Charley Hooper quoted: "Whither, midst falling dew. While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way?" "Yes, and Bryant must have tried to down mallards with black powder and soft shot," added the judge, "because he goes on: "Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly limned upon the crimson sky. Thy figure floats along." "Hurry up, thar," shouted Qint from the doorway, through which the hunger-pointed noses of the hunters caught enticing scents of bacon and coffee; "you're worse than twenty minutes late for supper. But the missus'll for- give you, 'cause you seem to have collected quite a nice bunch of feathers." His commands, uttered in a hospitable, cheery tone, needed no repetition. The boats were quickly moored and the sportsmen were soon safely anchored at Mrs. Martin's steaming table. Hungry as they were, the Niagarans were quick to perceive that their hostess had arranged beautiful bunches of the club's flower for the month of March, the hepatica, on the table and about the cabin. There were the clusters of WILD GINGER 75 white, pink, and blue, with child blossoms that reflected these colors wedded, peeping out of their fuzzy coats timidly, as if expecting a snow squall any moment. "Blue as the heaven it gazes at, Startling the loiterer in the naked groves With unexpected beauty; for the time Of blossoms and green leaves is yet afar." "Why is it that some of those hepaticas are fragrant and some are not?" inquired Alwater. "Color doesn't make the difference, because in some clusters it is the white and in others the pink or blue that carry a sweet odor." "Well, when you git to asking questions about nature, you're going pretty deep," answered the Sheriff, who had spoken for the first time since he had begun "coaling up his camel-back en- gine." "Why is it in families that some are as purty as if copied after the picture of angels, while their brothers or sisters have faces cut like a snubbin' post? An' why are some too good to keep company with an artch angel, while some of their relatives ain't fit company for man or for beast?" Everybody was too busy with gastronomic matters to bother with the complex physiological and psychological problems involved in the Sher- iff's counter propositions. Passing up his cup for more coffee, Duall remarked with an interest divided between his plate and his reminiscences of the day's sport: "Those live decoys of yours, Clint, beat the trained seals in a circus for cute- ness and intelligence." 76 WILD GINGER "I'm certainly proud of them, particularly old Moll," promptly responded the host. "She's a half-wild mallard, and the others are her chil- dren by another half-breed mallard. It's shame- ful the way they coax their country cousins from Canada to their death before the blinds. You noticed to-day, whenever I thought a flock didn't notice our decoys, all I had to do was to call to Moll, and she'd flap her wings and quack so she could be heard a half mile. That'll fetch the wild ones in the air most every time." The younger decoys were anchored, but Moll had her entire freedom. She swam around within a given area, but never out of range. "A mighty cunning duck, that," piped the Sheriff. "Whenever you dub shooters raised your guns. Lor' how she'd scoot for cover under your boat!" "Did you see the white duck that floated in with the flock of blackies at the south end of the pond about daylight this morning?" said Stickwell. Three of the hunters admitted they had seen a duck that looked as white as snow. The sug- gestion was made that it was an unusually light pin-tail, or butter-ball, but Clint interrupted : "That's a white wild duck, an albino, the only one we've ever seen in the Cayuga country. We never shoot at it here, and it winters in the spring-waters. The Cayuga Indians had a tribe story about a white duck." It was well known that Clint had Indian blood in his veins, claiming descent from a famous WILD GINGER yy chief of the Wolf clan. Urged for the legend, he gave it briefly: "At Sunken Island a white drake lived. The chiefs called him by name, and he'd bring the darker brothers of the air to the Indians when they needed food. Calanuga sought the beau- tiful Canadeega for his wigwam, but she smiled not upon him. In wrath he left her father's abode, swearing vengeance on the first living thing that met his eyes. He pushed his canoe from the bank and leaped in. There was a shadow on the water, and with heavy eyes he looked to see what obscured the sun. It was the white drake. Calanuga called the medicine men, who made the white drake sacred, 'singing birds,' as in his anger he seized his bow and fitted an arrow to the string. The shaft met the snow-white friend of the Indians, pierced his breast, and as he fluttered downward a drop of blood spattered upon Calanuga's temple. The wrath of the Manitou was upon him who had returned evil for good. For many suns and moons Calanuga wandered the forest, sleep never touching his eyes. One morning the young men found him at the foot of the trail that leads to Sunken Island, an arrow deep in his forehead. The blood spot of the white drake had been wiped out!" "Thus was the prophecy of the medicine men fulfilled, Clint," remarked the incredulous "Scout" Carson. "I'm glad I didn't shoot the white duck to-day." The practical Sheriff quietly observed in his fine voice: "The wicked Cally was probably 78 WILD GINGER nailed by somebody that owed him for a pair of moccasins, or by the feller who thought Cally might get Candydeega away from him bye an' bye. I've always noticed that our enemies are always ready to help carry out a prophecy of bad luck for us." Reverting to Clint's clever decoys, the Sheriff went on: "Your live decoy, Moll, is about as valuable as Deacon Bronson's hen. The old deacon was going in to milk one fall night when a hen flew against the lantern he was carrying, broke it, and set fire to the barn. The building was a rickety bunch of beams and clapboards, and it, with the ten tons of hay, wasn't worth over $350; but the deacon collected $495.91 in- surance from the mutual company. Silas Hum- phrey, secretary of the Mutual Company, drove by Bronson's house shortly after the settlement, and, spying the deacon about to slip around the house, hailed him. The deacon came down to the gate slowly, 'cause he suspicioned the secre- tary knew he had beat the insurance company bad. 'Well, deacon,' says Humphrey, 'I've come fer a settin' of eggs from the hen that set your ole barn afire.' Bronson flared up, and spit out : 'Col sarn ye, ye can't have 'em !' " 'Why can't I have a settin' — I'll pay you well for eggs from sich a mighty valubul chicken, I vow, Deacon.' " 'Ye can't, 'cause she was burned in the barn, an' her eggs with her,' snapped the now mighty mad deacon. " 'Waal, deacon,' drawled old Humphrey, 7 s'pose ye'll give her a monument, won't ye? ' " Page 79. "THE TRAPPER'S LAST SHOT.' WILD GINGER 79 "That hen, like Moll," laughed Clint, "was a regular 'bonzanna,' as the boatmaker down to Montezuma calls my duck." "But did you see the sheriff unload his arsenal this afternoon at a big flock? He worked like one of Dewey's gunners at Manilla, and when the smoke cleared away he picked up six 'fish duck,' hooded mergansers, which, when cooked, would stink a dog out of a tanyard." The sheriff looked at the judge, who had made the fling, with mock disgust, replying: "When the birds are comin' in, you can't stop to ask them for their pedigree. I thought they were redheads, the red-hot way they bounced down on my decoys. When you build your blind and set in it, you're liable to get everything down to nothin'. My little girl said the other day she read in the paper that Mrs. So-and-so had advertised for a girl, but the next day a boy came. So with your decoy advertisement for ducks — you expect mallards but often git saw- bills." "But how about the Geneva clubman who said you were on his preserve and ordered you out, sheriff?" questioned Stickwell. "Why," responded the ready Falstaff, "I told him his line fences seemed to be all under wa- ter, an' I gave him a look that made him wither away about four pounds." "On top of that impudence, sheriff, you knocked down a canvasback that your Geneva friend had emptied two barrels at," remarked the judge. "Well, our clubman claimed he had put a 8o WILD GINGER pound of shot into him, but as the slate-backed bird kept on going, I added just enough to his weight to bring him out of the firmamint," laughed John. He continued: "That canvas- back was as tough as a bad nigger who was headin' a riot up on the canal above Pendleton. The contractor who was deepening the canal hired a lot of Pollocks, Dagoes, and Coons, and he couldn't do nothin' with them after they got their first week's pay and spent it for Tonawanda whisky. The second Monday mornin' they owned the whole state ditch and the contractor sent for the sheriff. It was a good snipe day, so I loaded with number nines, as usual. When I showed up without any possey, as the strikers expected, they began to laugh at me an' throw rocks. Their big nigger leader fired two at me, an' when one bounded an' struck my knee I re- spectfully requested him to leave the State's quarry alone. Just as he was picking up an- other bowlder, I let go. That coon yelled so you could hear him to Gasport, twenty miles away. I took him to the jail. The county doc- tor said I had replaced the riot in his head with about thirty fine shot. Each spot where the shot struck swelled up to the size of a marble, so that his cokynut looked like a giant pineapple. So I know that one animal will carry off more shot than a duck; that's a bad nigger." After the supper dishes had been cleared away, pipes and cigars were called into requisition. Clint came in from attending to his evening chores, remarking that the sky had again clouded over and that a "duck storm for to- WILD GINGER 8i morrow" was on the way. Presently rain began to dash against the windows. The hunters set- tled back to an evening of unalloyed enjoyment in the further recital of the day's incidents and predictions of the morrow's sports. The host brought out a typical Central New York jug of russet cider, which he declared was "reenforced with a touch of weather-proof." "Oh, I see," drawled the sheriff, "it's as good as layin' behind a stone fence in a March rain watchin' for geese, an' you don't care if the game shows up or not, eh?" The glasses were of the regulation hospitable size. George Washington Wynne looked at them, and presently said : "This reminds me of an experience a party of us had up in Georgian Bay country. We failed to get the guides we had arranged for and were compelled to take three Indians that we picked up while cruising on our own hook. Two of them were pretty tough-looking customers. As practical guides, however, they proved all right. After a success- ful day's hunt we called up the Indians before retiring to give them a little nightcap. Dan Bring poured out a large tumblerful of whisky and handed it to the chief, expecting that he would divide it with his comrades. The chief grasped the glass solemnly, poured the contents into the wonderful opening in his face, smacked his lips, and remarked with approval : 'Big drink for big Injun.' Of course, Dan could show no discrimination, and had to give the other two the same portion, although it contained about five ordinary American bar drinks. We had two 82 WILD GINGER tenderfeet with us, and they admitted the next morning, with haggard faces that corroborated their statement, that they had lain awake all night expecting that the drunken Indians would massacre them if they went to sleep." "Pshaw ! Those fellers would be scared to death if a pussy cat jumped at them in the dark," squeaked the big sheriff merrily. "Like old Jimmy Jeffery on the Coomer Road, I guess the old man had heart disease. Annyhow, the household tabby jumped off the bed at him as he was going into the bedroom one evening, and he gave one yell an' it was all over. The hired man^ Tim Murphy, ran for a doctor, but he was beyond mortal aid. He heard the doctor murmuring something about angina pectoris as he bent over his ertiployer, and Tim went out to tell the neighbors about the dreadful case. He informed them : 'Misther Jeffery died of angora pectoris. I tell ye thim docthors don't knoTjtf it all — ihe cat that killed the owld man was a Mal- teese an' not angora!'" "Yes, as a matter of fact," added Mix, when the laughter had subsided, "Wynne didn't give the sequel which showed that the tenderfeet had been frightened at nothing; the bucks went to sleep after their 'liquid shock' and slept until daybreak as peacefully as babes." "We had a similar experience up in British Columbia," Mix went on. "Charley Rice, an Eastern editor who went West and became rich by the rise in value of a tract of redwood tim- ber he had bought, invited a party of old friends from York State to be his guests. Charley had WILD GINGER 83 a house boat anchored at Fairhaven, on Puget Sound, and gave us a magnificent time, trolling for salmon, trout fishing, and duck shooting. He was not satisfied with what he could do for us in Washington waters and forest, which seemed a paradise to the hunters of the depleted East, but insisted on a trip up the British Co- lumbia coast. We consented to make the tour. Charley sent for an Indian, who, he said, was a particular friend of his. Joe Henry, a half- breed, with a Siwash for a mother, responded to the summons, leaving his farm on the out- skirts of Fairhaven, now Bellingham, as promptly as if he had received the emergency wampum from his chief. "Comox" Joe wasn't a particularly handsome man to look at, but when Charley introduced us as friends of his from the East, his face lighted up with a gracious smile which was the sign, as it turned out, of many kindnesses at his hands while in the wilderness. Before leaving Fairhaven for the north coast we learned "Comox" Joe's story, and the secret of his love for Charley Rice. Joe had killed a white man. His trial was about due when Char- ley arrived in Fairhaven. The red man had no money to hire an attorney, and an indifferent practitioner had been assigned by the court to the defence. In fact, he was lucky even to get a trial by a regular tribunal of justice, because in the far West the killing of a white by an Indian usually meant a necktie party on ex- tremely short notice. The Eastern editor was interested to learn the details of the murder. As 84 WILD GINGER a result of his inquiries, he secured the best law- yer in town to defend Joe. "Joe had bought at a nominal sum a quarter- section of land near Fairhaven. Near him lived a notorious bully, whose revolver, it is said, was ever ready to intimidate the weak and those who quailed before him. It was related to Char- ley that on two occasions the white man had encroached on Joe's property by moving the line fence. The Indian caught him at it the third time, and sententiously warned him that if he moved the stakes again his next move would be to the white man's burying ground. The 'mover of landmarks' merely laughed at the In- dian, and, it seems, went out next morning to cut off another plump acre. Joe, who could knock over a buck on the jump at seventy-five yards with rarely a miss, saw the trespasser at work from his cabin door. Without a word he stepped to the gun rack, took down his 38- calibre Winchester, and went down to the road. It was a good 250 yards to the fence where the land robber was at work. Joe told the story to the jury in short, sullen sentences, his hatred of the white oppressor, inherited from his mother, glowing in his coal-black eyes. His father had sent him to school several winters, and he was above the average in intelligence. This educa- tion, back of the natural eloquence of the red man, made his testimony something that a novel- ist with plenty of space and genius would love to dwell upon. When the prosecutor asked him on cross-examination, if he did not 'deliberately, and with intent to kill, shoot at your neighbor?' WILD GINGER 85 Joe swept away the conventional bounds of court rules. Rising in the witness box, like Red Jacket summoning the tribes to resist white ag- gression, Joe waved his own attorney aside : " 'Deliberately ?' " said Joe, repeating the prosecutor's word. 'No, not deliberately. When a man with Indian blood in his veins sees a robber at his door he does not deliberate — he kills at once. 'With intent to kill?' With as much intent as I would shoot at a grizzly bear carrying off my child. This land belonged to our people long before any of your blood came to see the sun dip himself in the red waters of the Pacific. But I, the descendant of a long line of chiefs, had to buy back some of my own fa- ther's acres with money I earned doing slave work for the very men who robbed my father's fathers of this same land long years ago ! We are the children of this soil. I avenge the rob- bery as I would the taking of my parents away from me by force. In a just cause, a Siwash tradition tells us, the arrow cannot miss its mark. I shot but once. The oppressor, the thief is dead. I have done. Do with me as you will, but remember that the wrongs we have suffered cannot be righted by the wrong you would do me if you took my life. Such a ver- dict would rise up when the sun rises and would never set when the sun sets; it would rise when the wind rose, but it would not die when the wind died; it would grow as the moon grew, but it would not wane when the moon waned; it would shine when the stars shone, but would not fade when the stars faded; it would swell 86 WILD GINGER with the flood tide, but would not ebb with the ebb tide — ever present would be such a verdict to plague you !' "His eloquence was irresistible. Judge, jury, and attorneys seemed fascinated by the fiery eyes, the earnest face, the dramatic gestures of the Indian who had been, until he spoke, under the shadow of the gallows. The prosecuting at- torney had the good sense not to provoke an- other outburst with any more questions, and motioned to the court that he wished no more of the witness. Joe's attorney displayed equal sagacity when he informed the court that the defence was closed and that the defendant had made all the address to the jury that would be made in favor of acquittal. The jury set the Indian free without leaving their seats. "Before leaving Fairhaven, somebody who wanted to have a little fun with the tenderfeet from York State, gave the friendly tip that our guide had killed a white man, that he was a bad man to provoke when drunk, winding up with the advice not to give Joe whisky. This impressed some of our party deeply, and the man in charge of the commissary proceeded to carry out the counsel as to cutting off the guide's liquor supply before we left Vancouver on the trip up the coast. "Joe proved a handy man in every emergency. After a hard day's work, a long tramp, or an exhausting paddle, I took pains to see that the guide got a little stimulant that does not come amiss for a weary voyageur. I could see that he appreciated the confidence thus placed in him WILD GINGER 87 even more than the Hquor, of which he was fond, and he never asked for a second glass. "In an encounter with drunken miners at Lund, British Columbia; in a storm which we weathered in a small, open boat while salmon fishing; in a night spent away from camp in the depths of the great forest because we had lost our way; in a scrap with a cinnamon bear — and on occasions almost too numerous to mention, Joe was there, and a never-failing help in trouble. Several times we went in pursuit of the sea leopard, a species of seal, but were not suc- cessful in killing one. Before we said good-by at Fairhaven on the return eastward, Joe whis- pered that he intended to send my wife a sea- leopard skin for a Christmas present. Christmas came, and with it a letter saying that he had gone after the promised skin, but the weather was wrong and he had failed. The second Christmas business kept him in Seattle. But on the third Christmas along came the sea-leopard skin, a magnificent specimen, golden mahogany with black spots, nearly six feet in length, and to-day it is one of the proudest relics in my den at home. Joe naively wrote: 'I could kept my promise the first Christmas by buying skin in Seattle — I'm gettin' quite rich now here; but I thought you'd like it more if your old guide killed the game for you himself — once agaia Here's how. JoeI'" 88 WILD GINGER WILD GINGER, WOOD SORREL, AND SWEET CICELY. A SPRING RAMBLE IN THE BERKSHIRES — April. IV. Ah, why Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore Only among the crowd, and under roofs That our frail hands have raised? Let me, at least, Here, in the shadow of this aged wood. Offer one hymn — thrice happy, if it find Acceptance in his ear. — Bryant's Forest Hymn. As our automobile darted from "The Hopper" of Mount Greylock into the Green River valley road and came to rest for a good-night look at the elevating view, the chimes in the Williams College gymnasium tower could be heard faintly pealing the hour of seven. The rumble of the machine jarred upon the senses as rudely as if a grind-organ man had stepped from the re- cesses of Flora's Glen, in this soulful and sub- lime land of Bryant, and had attempted to play an accompaniment to the "Forest Hymn." "The hum of this modern chariot overwhelms the old poetic associations," said Mix, with something almost resembling a growl. "Oh, well," laughed Whipple, our Yankee WILD GINGER 89 host, "there was romance, of course, to lug your rod and trout five miles after a long day on the streams, while 'AH dim in haze the mountains lay, With dimmer vales between' ; but when our old poet collegian of Williams' youthful days insists on putting five miles of his 'dimmer vales' between me and dinner I'm al- mighty thankful for my unmusical chariot." "So say we all of us," sang Professor Wylde, our old college baseball catcher, and all joined in the chorus. "I could eat a set of Bryant bound in sheep," sighed the midget voice of the giant sheriff from Niagara. "If Greylock is only 3535 feet high, I could put eighteen inches of roast beef on top of it and get away with it nicely." Whipple had written that he still gratefully remembered the class-cup presentation which had fallen to the lot of Mix, and urged his old classmate to bring a party of friends from Ni- agara for a spring ramble in the Berkshires. Back in the eighties we used to whip the trout streams together in the shadow of Greylock, trudging back to college after a blissful day. "Whip" promised to whirl us from one favorite brook to another in his three-seated touring car. "It will be less romantic than the old way," he explained, "but we'll see more of the country in a given time." So, five of the Niagara Nature Lovers accepted the alluring invitation. Ashford Brook, Haystack Meadow Brook, 90 WILD GINGER Hopper Brook, and other mountain-born streams of "storied or unsung loveliness," that brought down from the heights the sparkle of a sunlight the valleys never know, to mingle it with the moss-edged shadows, in a clare-obscure no painter could mimic, were visited with the eager anticipations that recollections of success- ful angling multiply. The speckled descendants of the famous beauties we had brought to creel in the years agone were there, but they showed the dwarfed deterioration of encroaching civil- ization. A dozen half-pounders were landed, however, and in an historic pool 'neath the shad- ows of Greylock one of the party proudly fought out a pretty contest with a valiant and mag- nificently colored fontinalis that ran several ounces over the pound. When Tatlock remarked that the trout in the Berkshire brooks were not what they used to be. Judge Hockey said: "Oh, it's much like mother's bread — the more appreciative eyes and stomach of youth are endorsed by the exag- gerating recollections of later years, so that nothing is quite so good as it used to be." Professor Wylde, however, insisted up apol- ogizing for the little rivers of the glens which that day had failed to show anything much better than sixteen ounces in the catch. "But you re- member," said he consolingly, "what Dame July- ana Berners, Prioress of St. Albans, said in her piquant 'Treatyse of Fyssynge' : 'The Angler atte the leest, hath his holsom walke, a swete ayre of the swete savoure of the mede floures, that makyth him hungry; he hereth the melodyous WILD GINGER 91 armony of fowles ; whyche me seemeth better than alle the noyse of the houndys, the blaste of hornys, and the scrye of foulis, that hunters, fawkeners, and fowlers can make.' Then comes the woman's inevitable postscript, which, we truthful fishermen will confess, is more impor- tant than what she said in the foregoing: 'And if the angler take fysshe; surely, thenne, is there noo man merrier than he is in his spyryte.' " "We certainly have had both in blessed abun- dance," declared District Attorney Stickwell of Niagara enthusiastically. "I have seen many ro- mantic and inspiring scenes, but none to equal these hills and valleys when once you have reached their heart, as only the eager trout fish- erman can. No wonder your great Berkshire poet could look upon the prospect of death with absolute composure after communion with na- ture in the kindly, sympathetic, and helpful "visi- ble forms" which she exhibits here, and which inspired Bryant to the poetic heights and depths of Thanatopsis, the poem, I am told, he com- posed on a sunny slope of Flora's Glen yonder." "Here we have valleys deep as the grave and mountains that reach to heaven," remarked Mix; "and both are parts of the observer's harmonious universe, one incomplete without the other — no height without its depth. 'Nor couldst thou wish couch more magnificent' on which to lie 'down to pleasant dreams.' " Whip's touring car was regulated to skim over the smooth, graveled New England road at a leisurely, even pace, thus allowing the tourists to drink in the beauty of the landscape, shifting 92 WILD GINGER with kaleidoscopic tints under the varying lights of a mountain sunset. On the kingly crown of Greylock the sun was still shining. The Taconic ranges to the west ran the chromatic scale of color music, the lower hilltops touching the deep- est purple tones, while the loftier peaks ran close to the aureolar gold of direct sunlight rays. It was one of nature's symphonies, but reaching the soul through the sense of sight instead of through the sense of hearing. "Ah, these mountains have inspired more than one poet," said Mix, with his eyes fixed on the succession of beautiful pictures that was unfold- ing constantly. Many songs have there been since Bryant's day, but Washington Gladden, of the class of fifty-six, has the honor of composing the lyric laureate of Williams and her moun- tains." "Sing it, an' I'll follow with 'My Buck Billy Goat,' " chimed in the sheriff merrily, and with a nod of encouragement. Professor Wylde started the air energetically, his lungs full of the ozone and the spirit of the vigorous region ; and immediately the four parts of the college song were being sustained quite creditably : Oh, proudly rise the Monarchs of our Mountain Land With their kingly forest robes to the sky, Where alma mater dwelleth with her chosen band, And the peaceful river floweth gently by. Chorus. The Mountains, the Mountains, we greet them with a song, Whose echoes resounding, the woodland heights along, J I o o w •A o Q o H WILD GINGER 93 Shall mingle with anthems that winds and fountains sing, Till hill and valley gaily, gaily ring. As the chorus swelled in the crescendo of ex- ultation, Whipple checked the monotonous ulula- tions of the auto, which, dull, senseless thing though it was, seemed inspirited by the har- mony to keep time to the music's rhythm. On a rustic bridge over Green River we halted, listen- ing in rapture to the softened and dying echoes "resounding, the woodland heights along." Then, without further invitation, as if the "Monarchs of our Mountain Land" were await- ing for their full tribute, we rose in our seats, and, heads uncovered, as before majesty, sang proudly : The snows of winter crown them with a crystal crown, And the silver clouds of summer 'round them cling; The autumn lets its mantle flow in richness down. And they revel in the garniture of spring. Beneath those peaceful shadows may old Williams stand Till hill and valley never more shall be; The honor and the glory of our Mountain Land, And the dwelling of the gallant and the free. On we went again, at a pace "twenty minutes late for supper and the cook's got her bonnet on." Like a gargoyle loosened from crag- crowning battlements, our lynx-headed racer plunged from the summit of Bear Hill, broke through a narrow defile, and whirled almost into the circular WilHamstown valley's centre before the brain had time to register the change of 94 WILD GINGER locality. In front of us loomed the Dome, the giant sentinel of the Vermont Green Guards ; on the west towered the rugged Outposts of New York; on the east stood the frowning Battle- ments of Hoosac ; and behind rose the seemingly unconquerable Parapets of Greylock and his liegemen. At the piney, unguiform feet of the Northern watchmen idled the placid Hoosac River. Like all who wandered into that mar- velously enchanting valley, the happy stream, al- though wondering at what point in the encircling wall it had gained entrance, had no longing to retrace its steps to the point of ingress and no desire to hasten in search of a place of egress. This is the enchanted circle where earthly con- tentment attains the heights and sounds the depths of perfect peace. Over the gray-blue rim of the mountain-in- dented horizon came the moon, placing the il- luminated seal of serenity upon a scene whose awesome beauty silences even a serenade in honor of the Queen of Night. In the midst of that broad valley, on a tableland that lifted them to- ward the summits of the encircling hills, stood the glistening granites and marbles of Williams' classic halls. Around them floated their own color, the "Royal Purple," woven into a hazy, aerial streamer by the loving hands of the dying day, the mingled red of the setting sun and blue of the promised morn. Up the broad, parklike street we glided, pass- ing under the boughs of the historic elms, the journey through the lofty archway ending at the Taconic Inn. WILD GINGER 95 The Balsam Dining Room, overlooking the South Valley, was in readiness for the hungry trout fishermen. But at an exclamation of pleas- ure from Stickwell, who was standing by an open window, the merry party turned from the well-appointed table to share his enjoyment. A mist filled the valley. Before the spectators stretched a silvery sea, bordered by illuminated mountains that rose above the white vapors of the lowlands. Here and there the peaks of hills in the midst of the phantom ocean peeped through, presenting the appearance of heavenly argosies, guided by the Pleiades that hung like a flashing pharos over yon distant summit cape, all sailing in search of the lost Alcyone. "Line up, rushers !" commanded Whipple, in the tone of a football coach, as he made for the table. In the centre was a fragrant mass of trailing arbutus and beside each plate a sprig of the delicate blossoms. "If he weren't famished we'd command Mix to repeat the verses he loved so well in his sophomore days," remarked Professor Wylde. "Arbutus was the theme." "Wait till we finish the soup," volunteered the sheriff, "and then perhaps I can stand it; but I'd like something more substantial before guaran- teeing myself against it." "Just catch that exquisite odor, and you can support the worst rhyming ever rung in on long- suffering friends," said the judge, raising the decorated lapel of his coat to his nostrils. "Well, you needn't sing 'Coax Me,' " re- 96 WILD GINGER sponded Mix, "because I know that moonlight has made you all sentimental: Love is like arbutus blooming 'Neath the leaves, yet still perfuming All the air. Though you cannot see it growing, Yet you know from perfume blowing It is there. Ofttimes love, its deep abiding, 'Neath the heart is slyly hiding Unaware ; Yet, you know from soft eyes' glances. And the light that in them dances, It is there. "Oh, that glanced and never touched me," condescendingly commented Falstaff. "This is a great day, and our Yankee friends have prom- ised even better to-morrow. I feel like Dan Wurtz, who keeps a Falls' view restaurant at Niagara. Dan was standing before his place one bright morning, rubbing his hands and smiling to himself, when a friend came up behind him, and, slapping him on the shoulder, shouted: 'Well, Dan, you seem to be well satisfied with yourself. What makes you so happy?' Dan wheeled on him with a smile as broad as the Cave of the Winds, answering right off the reel : 'Veil, Chake, ef biznees vill be as goot last veek as it vas next — ^by Chiminey Gripes I hope so !' " In the midst of the laughter Judge Hockey tried to convince the party that the sheriff had given an Irishman's version of a Dutchman's WILD GINGER 97 English^ but Falstaff insisted that he quoted the Teuton verbatim. Addressing himself to the de- liciously cooked fish, the judge continued: "You recall that in the famous Banquets of Plutarch, Xenephon, and Plato, no reference is made to the menu. That was probably because brook trout were not served." That sentiment, so complimentary to the spec- kled beauties, was endorsed with hearty ac- claim. Professor Wylde demonstrated that he had not delved among the classics in vain, because he talked most entertainingly of historic anglers, how Trajan fished zealously and ate his day's catch in epicurean style; how Antony and Cle- opatra held angling to be a most pleasant recrea- tion, with the "seductive Egyptian finally land- ing the 'sucker' in rather unsportsmanlike style, because we are told she set nets for him." Com- ing down to more recent times. Doctor "Gile" told about a fishing trip one of his Connecticut ancestors had enjoyed with Daniel Webster, angling for salmon in the Kennebec. They were entertained in one of the prominent towns of Maine by one of the State's great men. In those days Maine had not shown such a great trend toward prohibition as in more recent years, and the host, inviting in a few cronies, begged them to maintain the honor of the "Kennebec Klub" in regard to convivial matters. After the day's sport on the river, the feast began at sun- down, and, in accordance with strict orders, the glasses of the visitors were never allowed to stand empty. Along about eleven o'clock, when 98 WILD GINGER the mayor of the town had begun to show signs of wear, the judge was actually drowsy, and the court clerk oblivious to his surroundings, there arose a great shout outdoors. Webster asked the nature of the demonstration, and the host informed him that it was the people of Maine come to pay their respects to the great states- man from Massachusetts, but that the rabble should not interrupt the humble festivities then in progress. Webster demurred, declaring that in his State they did not do things that way, and insisted that he would go and acknowledge the courtesy extended by the people of Maine. Asking for and receiving a tumblerful of brandy, he drank it, and, escorted by the host and the gentleman from Connecticut to the balcony of the hotel, the statesman from Massachusetts presented himself. To the cheers Webster made a profound bow, so low that his head rested on the railing. There the great dome remained, to the embarrassment of the host and the per- plexity of the assembled people, until Webster whispered to his friends, "Raise up my head." They obeyed his command and straightening himself to his full height the great orator made a speech that soon sent hats flying in the air in wildest enthusiasm. Finally, bidding his be- loved fellow citizens a fond good night, Webster turned to his friends and said, "Now we have paid our respects to the people of Maine, lefs go back and make a night of it." With the lighting of the cigars, the conversa- tion glided into a more serious vein for a space. Duall in his pleasant Southern drawl observed. WILD GINGER 99 "It must have been something of an inspiration that induced the educational pioneers to locate a college in a spot as isolated as Williamstown was in the eighteenth century — in fact, even to- day, with its railway, these mountain barriers seem to set it apart from the workaday, com- monplace world, leaving it to devote itself to the arts and belles-lettres." "You are right, Mr. Duall," ejaculated Prof. Wylde. "The tendency in the old days was to locate institutions of this kind in the most beaten tracks of civilization, but Colonel Ephraim Wil- liams, a soldier, patriot, and patron of education, came to love this beautiful valley, as he became acquainted with every peak and glen during his sojourn at Fort Massachusetts, which was lo- cated between here and North Adams. He had traveled much in Europe and was himself a gentleman of polite learning, versed in the grace- ful manners of his times and in the ways of the best society, but as you say, his love of nature and his knowledge of what the love of the great out-of-doors will do for man inspired him to make a will, on the eve of his departure for Lake George at the head of a regiment in the French and i Indian war, providing for the establishment of a free school at Williams- town. So it is true that its very isolation brought a college to Williamstown in seventeeen ninety-three. It is also undoubtedly true that unfettered nature had much to do with the for- mation of such characters as Bryant, Mark Hop- kins, and James A. Garfield." "It is without question," declared Mix, "the loo WILD GINGER one college in the United States that nestles to-day 'near to nature's heart.' And so, the greater the pity and the shame that the woods- men vandals have been permitted to desecrate some of the historic woodland slopes in this re- gion." "Massachusetts has some splendid forest laws and its forestry is being improved yearly, so that we hope to be a good example to our sis- ter states in the 'science and art of forming and cultivating forests; the management of growing timber,' as our state forester defines forestry. We have recently enacted a law pro- viding for 'town forests' under the general su- pervision of the state, enabling towns to pur- chase and preserve forest tracts. We can afford to devote more time and money to this work from the fact that Massachusetts has two mil- lion six hundred and eighty-eight acres, or fifty per cent, of the area of the commonwealth, in woodlands. It is a noble heritage, and thank God we have not begun too late to cherish it. One great wrong against forests is unfair meth- ods of taxation. This is being rapidly reme- died in Massachusetts. The commonwealth is undertaking to cooperate with the land owners in the preservation and development of forests and we hope soon to reach an ideal condition which shall subserve both the material and aes- thetic welfare of our people in that regard." "The federal bureau of forestry is doing a grand work, too," said Mix. "Secretary Wilson well says, 'forestry is not a local question. It is as wide as American jurisdiction. It is not WILD GINGER loi a class question ; it affects everybody.' He is right and I should like to see forestry and ar- boriculture included in the curriculum of every institution of higher education in the land. When I come back and see the devastating evi- dences of the woodman's improvident ax in these glorious hills, I would feel as lachrymose as Dr. Edward Everett Hale under similar cir- cumstances, were I not prompted by indigna- tion to draw a bead on the first indiscriminating lumberman I met. Dr. Hale said : 'I have slept under pine trees which were high, tall, and beautiful when North America was discovered. I went through the same region two years ago with a friend and found my pine trees all gone and sumach and blackberry bushes in their places. It makes a man cry to see it.' " "Oh, I agree with you, that nine out of every ten lumbermen ought to be drawn and quar- tered," sighed the sheriif, with mock sternness, "but you complain as bad as old Mammy Gru- ber down on the Coomer road. During the coal strike her old man cut down a stunted and twisted elm near the barn. One day they had company and the old lady wanted to indulge her complaining spirit and at^ the same time pre- tend that she was awful aesthetic, as you call it. Says she, 'Pa, thet elem was a protector of the landscup — it shet off the rear view of the ole barnyard. Jes to lose thet ole tree land- mark makes my head ache till my hairpins fall out!'" That launched the stories once more — the strictly true variety, remember. Dr. "Gile" in- I02 WILD GINGER formed the guests from Niagara that on the morrow, after a trip to the summit of Grey- lock, they were to be whirled down the Adams valley to the famous Haystack Meadow brook, the haunt of the most highly educated trout in New England. The brook itself had a romance of its own, independent of the Indian lore that still hangs over the smiling vale through which it meanders. At the close of the Mexican war, a gallant soldier, a man of large means, wedded one of the belles of Pittsfield. The story runs that she was very fond of the South Williams- town valley and vicinity, and, to humor her, the bridegroom bought a large tract of land, taking in a mile of the crystal brook. He built a beautiful summer cottage on its banks. The en- chanting stream flowed close to the front por- tico. So well did it love the beautiful, flower- decked meadow, that it took the mead into its fond embrace at a hundred places, kissing the alders, daisies, painted cups, and cardinal flow- ers wherever it could catch them leaning close to its dimpled face; and then, as if knowing that the bride on the porch had seen it all, the brook, with a musical clamor to cover its con- fusion, leaped over a miniature precipice and ran to the shelter of the woods, disappearing beyond a granite bowlder far down the blushing vista. During the day the songs of the hay- makers came from the fields. At night the whippoorwills joined their plaintive notes to the merrier treble of the brook. The honeymoon lasted three summer moons and then the bride suddenly sickened and died. Her lover has- B HHI K^ ^H ^^l^^^^^l HK':'PHr|^^ jJUIJ ^^B^^^^^^^^H ^Ih? ' ^J^m ) jjii H^H^^^^^^H IP ''1 ImV ' IJH ^^^^^^^1 B ^ImP A B ^^9 r-lyR 7 ^i^^^^^^Hfl^^HJ BHf 1 4»l H^^^^ Ij ||Hh|^3B>-^^ ^ , ' t ^ ^||^^9^H H^^^^HB » 1 ^1 ^^KH If, ',.»'*5 9 » ^ ,m^Bi ■HH^ i''' ' ^ s ^ _^i^iS^^Milm IH^^^ w^i'^jd ^^^ HHr^^^w '^ f-'yv i'i^^^L ^^ ^^B^^> v^ ^^^ilZ ' ' J|h|HH BEmB ^^^^S^^^^Hw ^i^" ^^nJH^^^^^I Hii^H Hb^^^>jK^^^ ^H^B^^^^^^I ™nBB ^^sl^^^^^^l ■K [^^^l^n^y '' ^iM^^^^^^^^I 1 '^t^^^^^l C4 w el o WILD GINGER 103 band disappeared after the funeral, leaving a brief note to his overseer that everything on Mountain Meadow Farm should remain just as it was, except for the sale of the stock, until further instructions. The additional orders never came and to this day Mountain Brook Farm remains one of New England's most pic- turesque "abandoned farms." After a half cen- tury the mouldering monuments of the haystacks scattered through the long brook meadow con- front the angler at every bend, the musty timo- thy and storm-beaten daisies mournfully remind- ing one that "all flesh is as grass." "This seems to be a region of haystacks," re- marked Judge Hockey. "You have here in Wil- liamstown a haystack monument, I am told, com- memorating a haystack prayer meeting held in eighteen hundred and six by a few students, at which the American board of foreign missions was founded." "At one of the famous pools of the haystack meadow brook," said Tatlock, "is the scene of an historical piscatorial contest, which some of us here have heard Prof. Bliss Perry describe rhost graphically. An English angler who had tried his skill with unvarying success in most of the famous trout streams of Europe and America had learned of the widely praised prowess of a magnificent trout that reigned in the limpid depths of the haystack brook. Many fishermen had measured strength and skill with the finny king of the Berkshire streams, but had always been ignominiously defeated. The foreign vis- itor was entertained at one of the fraternity I04 WILD GINGER houses here and he listened with unfeigned won- der to the tales about the educated Yankee trout. 'A deuced clever fish,' he'd exclaim at each veracious recital of the king's craft and erudition. He was told that after years of ex- perience in breaking or rejecting artificial flies that trout was accustomed to flip his tail to his nose derisively at a 'royal coachman' which had too much scarlet in the body, at a 'katy did' which had the wrong shade of the Irish hue, or at a 'Parmachene belle' which hadn't enough of the Orangeman's color. The Briton marveled still more, 'deucedly clevah trout,' when informed that this educated fish wouldn't rise to a 'grey palmer' when the season opened during lent ; that he preferred a 'silver doctor' in the enervating dog days, and always rose to sa- lute a 'king of the waters' any time. But finally, the foreigner fingered his monocle and, smiling good naturedly, retorted to the chaffing, 'I say, me good fellows, I presume, ye knaw, that now you would have me believe that this monstrously educated speckled fellow would not stir a fin toward a "cow dung," me favorite fly, except, of course, at milking te-ime !' "Well, they took him next day to the brook and he exhausted several leather volumes of tackle and a large vocabulary of versatile pro- fanity on that trout. The king saw through the English wiles readily, and like the Green Moun- tain boys, would not 'bite' at the British tricks. About sundown, on the day of the Englishman's defeat, one of the Yankee fishermen repaired to the king's pool. In a basket he had two WILD GINGER 105 downy, newly-hatched chicks. With tender care he lashed the little innocents with silk thread to the body of a 3-O Sproat hook. The strange bait was launched into the stream at the foot of the ripples that raced into the pool where the monster lay in eight feet of water. As the fluttering, struggling lure floated into the foam- flecked water, there was a submarine commo- tion and chicky disappeared. The angler struck at the psychological, or more scientifically, at the piscatorial moment, the hook went home and the battle was on. For the first time in his life the English spectator exhibited extreme agitation and he shouted from the opposite bank, 'If two against one were not unsportsmanlike, me boy, I'd coach you a bit !' Thirty minutes elapsed before the great king of the Berkshires was brought to net; — and, there he is in mounted splendor above yon mantel ! A prize for a royal angler, six pounds eight ounces when he came from his native haunts." "True as gospel," ejaculated Prof. Wylde, as the diners filed up to pay their respects to the magnificent trophy on the wall. "I don't doubt the method of capture a bit," observed Stick- well. "On the upper Niagara a noted fisherman named Perry Mang observed that muscallonge that wouldn't notice his trolling spoons were leaping at swallows that dipped into the river in their flight. Mang trapped a lot of swallows and in one afternoon landed fourteen 'lunge, among them a forty-four pounder, on his winged bait." "I wonder what kind of landing nets were io6 WILD GINGER used on the trout and 'lunge," broke in the seo- lian voice of the sheriff. "I suppose it was a tennis net for the speckled chap and a canal dredge for the muskies — you fellers oughtn't to leave out interesting details. I went down to Rapids village one day in August to serve a summons on Jake Steller. Jake and his men were in the hay field and I was about to do busi- ness when his ten-year-old came tearing up from the Tonawanda Creek yellin', 'Pap, come once quick, something's got John's line an' is pullin' him into the crick.' Jake was on the hay rake, and wheelin' his horse, he started for the stream, we follerin' on the run. We got there in time to see some monstrous fish slashin' and chumin' the water like an Ohio side-wheeler makin' Pittsburgh with the water twenty-three feet above high mark foot of Wood street. The kid was dragged into the water up to his arm pits, but was holdin' on game. Jake lost no time, but drove right into the crick, swung a circle and just as he came over the strugglin' whale, dropped the boss rake ! 'Gid-dap, Sam !' and he lashed the old boss into a gallop up the sloapin' bank, draggin' out a 'lunge longer than a four- teen-year-old boy raised in the high stump coun- try. Oh, that boss rake beat landin' nets and gaffs forty ways !" "But that was three against one, and unsports- manlike, Tatlock's Englishman would protest," laughed Stickwell, above the roar of applause that greeted Falstaff's quick-fire recital. Banjos and guitars "that bore the tender scars of love's young days," as the class poet Richard- WILD GINGER 107 son once put 'it, were produced from dusty covers, and an impromptu troubador club was or- ganized. "You remember the night our club introduced the English boating song to an American au- dience in the Leland Opera House at Albany?" queried Wylde. "Let's have 'Gliding Thro' the Rushes,' if we can recall the words — the tune we can never forget. The somewhat rusty voices mellowed as they proceeded with the song of infectious com- radery. The piccolo banjo carried the rhythmic waltz air, the other banjos represented the rip- pling music of the water rushing by the speed- ing boat and the deep bass of the guitars imi- tated the stroke of the oars : Gliding thro' the rushes, Hurrying down the stream. See how the daylight flushes, Stars begin to gleam. Nothing in life shall make any change That our life can know; Nothing in life shall make any change That our life can know. Eaton may be more clever, Harrow may make more row ; But we'll all pull together. Steady from stroke to bow. See how the wine glass flushes At supper on Bothney mead; See how the wine glass flushes At supper on Bothney mead. Drink we the sturdy sailor, Tossing on ocean wide. Drink we again still deeper, io8 WILD GINGER Sweetheart and bonny bride. Hark, how the boatswain whistles, "Aboard for the Baltic Main," Farewell, to thee, my love and my pride. Till we meet again. "llj/Lix used to sing that to one of the nymphs of the hills, but he confided to me that he got his confounded grammar wrong and sang it 'nothing can' instead of 'nothing shall change' and blamed if the educated miss didn't let a little change change her love for him," bubbled the ir- repressible Dr. Gile. "Let the past dead bury its dead," shouted "Faether" Glen. "I propose this toast, since we are paying tribute to the ladies : "Pledge we sweethearts of the past, In a vintage of our Spring — Cobwebs that the bin amassed 'Round the aging flagon cling; But the wine is clear and sweet, Mellowed by the dust of years, Wafmirig hearts which Time would cheat fnto quaffing naught but tears. "But the inconsistent old rascal can't let the past alone himself. I'll be more loyal to the present, and beg you to tinkle the glass valves of your hearts in response to this sentiment," responded Mix: "Drink, we, now our later loves. In a vintage of our prime — Bless us, don't forget the cloves, Tell us, too, what is the time? Let the pledge be not too deep, Sweetheart wives awaiting us. ij w g w M WILD GINGER 109 Down on 'absent treatment' sweep: 'Sign the pledge, you infamous!'" The next morning it rained. But Williams- town, the Queen of the Berkshires, hath all sea- sons for her own. She is lovely in the array of sunshine, imperial in the robe of silvery night, but to see her in her full beauty, as an impious sophomore once said — was it John J. Ingalls? — you must see her taking her bath. Anyhow, we remembered that Wordsworth made it a rule to take his airing every day and that he said he never consulted the weather and therefore never had to consult a physician. To reinforce Wordsworth, and a host of enthusias- tic anglers, Sir John Lubbock assures us that "It always seems to be raining harder than it really is when you look at the weather through the window." "Faether" Glen was stirring in the hotel cor- ridors early, singing to the tune of "A pretty blue-eyed maiden" : "All nature's children feel the matin spring Of life reviving with reviving day." The sherifif rolled over and chirped that he would enjoy the matin song more if he hadn't joined in the vesper chorus so often. A breakfast of trout, bacon, and water cresses, was "the waterproof lining for cheerful stom- achs," as Duall blithely put it, and directly we seated ourselves in "Whip's" plunger. In the old days we used to make the summit of Grey- lock by an all-night journey, by way of South no WILD GINGER Williamstown Valley to reach the heights on "Mountain Day" for the ineffable sunrise. Now there is a roadway to the top by the northeast- ern route and "Whip" distinguished himself by driving his car and its occupants to the Grey- lock observatory without a dismount at any point in the perilous incline. The rain had ceased. Day had asserted its supremacy over the vast territory that the eye commanded like a proud satrap. To the east seventy miles, Wachusett was still blushing un- der the timid kiss of Aurora. Farther to the south, Mount Tom glowed under the bright rays that warmed his lofty summits. Almost on the borders of Connecticut could be seen the vapory outlines of Bald Peak. Turning to the westward, here and there was caught a glimpse of the Hudson, like a silver ribbon in a billowy plain of gray. The Helderbergs outlined them- selves dimly against the majestic background of the Catskills. On one of the heights could be distinctly seen the Kaaterskill House, some forty to fifty miles away. Literally overlooking the scheming capital from our lofty view point and peering over the pretentious towers of Troy, whose mottoed boast is "Ilium fuit, Troja est" — aye, ignoring in our prospect the classic Mount Ida of the Collar City that once wore Murphy's collar and was proud of it — we sweep on in our aerial fiight to the distant battlements of Pros- pect Mountain, at the very feet of Lake George. Northward the Green Mountains rise, and the greater part of Vermont looks like a broad field of mountain corn shocks, cut by the scythe WILD GINGER m of Father Time. Way up to Ascutney and on beyond to Killington, opposite Lake Champlain, sight carries us in ecstasy. Not satisfied with the wonderful scene, we travel on in the optical train across the borders of New Hampshire to the peaks of Croydon and even Cardigan, over one hundred miles distant. Then we sweep back toward our vantage point, taking in Monadnock and then the Hoosac Mountains. It was a flight almost heavenly and we turned with reluctance to the panting automobile for the return to the valley, even when it beckoned us with the sil- very fingers of trout streams. 112 WILD GINGER WILD GINGER AND SWEET CICELY. BROWSING IN THE ADIRONDACKS. — May. V. "Pretty little dandelion, growing in the grass, With your shining head of gold, merry little lass ! When your pretty hair turns white, pray what will you do? Plant a thousand more flowers as bright as you?" The first "pilgrimage," — dear old Chaucer chose a happy word for those trips which are born of a longing for a change of scene and occupation — made to the North Woods in the spring time by representatives of the Cataract Club was under the delightfully unobtrusive guidance of Lon Clark. Next to "Adirondack" Murray, "A. N." Clark, one of the youngest vet- erans of the Civil War and oldest graduates of woods lore, is probably known to the largest area of the Adirondacks. Not all who write verse are poets. Con- versely, some who do not yield to the itch for writing are bards of nature by nature. The first morning in camp on Lake Sterling Lon led a little brigade of anglers to the St. Regis to engage the trout, which were reported to be charging spiritedly up stream against the forces of General Rapid and King Cascade that would overwhelm any gallant fin but Salmo fontinalis. WILD GINGER 113 The second brigade, he directed to strike the trail unguided to Twin Lakes Ford. "Then," said he, in his whimsical manner, "just browse along the banks until you come to Indian Falls, and begin fishing down." "Browse along" was good in several ways. The absence of a trail made it impossible to rush city fashion to the point of destination. Then "browse" — oh, well! the dainty buds and flow- ers of May, all the sweet provender of earth, air, and sky, crowned it as the word fitting all the environment like a Jack in his Pulpit. It sug- gested wandering along pleasant places leisurely, according to comfort and convenience, and nib- bling of the tenderest and sweetest herbs, mints, and birch buds, filling not so much the stomach as the lungs, soul, and life, with a joy that could know no satiety. So come with us, fellow sportsman, and you, reader, who have worthy aspirations to become a worshiper at nature's shrine, and "browse along" the trails that have briars as well as flowers, but which lead to the balm that heals deeper wounds than thorns can make. The May sun was beckoning high from over the hills where the trout streams tumble, when our Adirondack schooner-and-four drew up in front of our hotel at Potsdam. Seventeen ozone- filled miles lay between the town and the camp where Lon and laziness waited. Seven Cat- aracts, freed from winter's fetters, and Mac Laren, the bounding and unbounded head of the Rensselaer Club, climbed blithely into the seats. "Ged-dap, Racquette, go-long Raritan!" shouted 114 WILD GINGER the angular-featured yahoo of the yellow sand- hills, as he cracked his blacksnake at the ta- marack-brown leaders named after the rivers of York and Jersey. Racquette kicked tip his heels and brought them down on the stone pavement with a clatter true to his name, while Raritan just flowed along as if he were starting a fu- neral procession. "Your Raritan," snickered the big sherifif's toy trumpet voice, "must have been named for the Raritan Canal, instead of the river!" The driver smiled good-naturedly, then drawled: "Every stream runs smooth on the level stretches, but just watch him cavort and caper when we strike the hills. Raritan kin go sum, I vum. But he can't tech a three-year-ole bull I bruck to harness last Thanksgivin'. Judge Swift, over on the state road, has a trotter he sets sum store by an' he was drivin' intew teown one afternoon in good sleighin' when wife an' I overtuck him in our cutter. Stump Tail, my bull, was jest swingin' along natural like, when the judge turned roun' an' sez with a laff, 'Cum on, Sile.' I prodded Stump Tail twict till he snorted an' at that he bruck loose. Well, I swan that air bull chucked lumps of snow the size of them bowlders back over our heads clean to Blue Mounting. When we turned the corner at the judge's yard, the old feller turned aroun' ag'in with a skeered look, shoutin' at me, 'Fer he'v'n's sake, dontcher let thet wile moose gallop over me!' "You must have been right on the judge's heels all the way," complimented Duall. WILD GINGER 115 "On his 'heels!'" ejaculated Silas, disdain- fully. "Why we wuz right up on his palate!" It was such a morning, that upon awakening the autoist instinctively braces his arm for the wheel, the golfer squares his shoulders as if he already felt the stick in his hands, and the angler — now you come to the joy of all human joys — well, the angler glows into a gladness, subdued and tender, which sets him to crooning a love ditty to nature so delicate that only the fine tenor of the running reel, the harpist harmonics of the vibrant balsams, the droning overtones of the distant waterfall and the soft symphonies of the singing brook can lend the mated accom- paniment. Forgotten are the chilly days that in- terposed their cold blanket between us and the arbutus and the blue bird, the sparkling little river and the speckled beauty. They have, as hope assured us, "come by" at last. So let's all dismount at this first spring bubbling clear and cold from the hillside and drink again to the toast we proposed in the waiting days : "Here's to the snow-released buds now peeping forth in welcome on the hillside, to the wings poised for the home-coming flight, to the rippling wa- ters that have broken through their ice-walled prison." "Our four-horse team," but not the one made famous in the judge's song of "Way out in Ida- ho," climbed steadily upward and the air began to take on that bracing quality which the low- lands never know. The change from the home city to the hills of St. Lawrence reminded one of stepping from an overcrowded ballroom into ii6 WILD GINGER a park of evergreens. On by the great banks of sand which loomed up Hke the breastworks before Vicksburg we swung toward Parishville. At the foot of the hill, the eager and happy boys out of school alighted to make the ascent easier for the horses. Far down in the valley meandered Alder brook, famous in its day for trout, but now "fished out" by fishermen who had not learned the wisdom and enjoyed the reward of replanting where they had reaped. Silas told about an occasional good catch still made in the glistening ribbon entwined in the dozen shades of green below. Just then a lad with the proverbial "cut pole" came trudging along with three trout, the largest over a pound in weight. Stickwell begged the party to stop long enough to "try just one or two holes down by those big rocks," but the captain was inex- orable. "Camp in time for lunch !" was the strict injunction. On the heights above Parishville we surveyed the landscape o'er, but turning from the hazy outline of the silvery St. Lawrence to the far north, from the rolling vista of the Empire shire to the south and west, eyes were directed longingly to "the promised land" which lay "just this side of Champlain's wave," and 'neath the watch and ward of Blue Mountain. Through a forest of beeches, hemlock, spruce, and pine, we hurried, on past the burnt lands, and the haven in the valley of Sterling was just be- yond. Then more temptations for delay. A grizzled settler and his freckle-faced boy came shuffling down the road with two strings of trout WILD GINGER 117 ranging from four to nine inches, probably sixty fish in all. "You've been robbing the cradle," shouted MacLaren, he of the big voice, as he eyed the fingerlings. "Waal, they be mighty good for the pan after winter pork that's got salted to the bottom of the bar'l," smiled the old man. "You passed 'Lawless Rock' a mile back, Mack," remarked Wynne. "And, besides, those people have the law of necessity on their side whenever they take game," added the liberal ex-sheriflf as the pair passed beyond hearing. We had to stop at a little ten by twelve cabin to inquire how Uncle Lafayette and Aunt Car- rie had "wintered." Here dwelt an old couple, the husband a veteran of the Civil War and his spouse, both past the three score years and ten, and lived, the good Lord only knew how. Tra- dition had it that Lafayette had traded his first wife and a likely heifer calf for his present help-meet and that the itinerant minister from Potsdam had performed a ceremony without in- quiring as to whether there had been a divorce or not, because, as he expressed it, he thought "it would look better." Both Uncle Lafayette and Aunt Carrie now were regular attendants upon the little chapel in the clearing which Lon had built and were very solicitous for the spir- itual welfare of the "sports," as they called the people who occupied the camps on Sterling in the summer time. "There's Sterling!" There was a look of ad- miration from all and a sigh of perfect content- ii8 WILD GINGER ment and approval as the party gazed upon the silver sheet encased in green, a plate richer than any which ever received the stamp of the Ester- ling bankers in the mediaeval days when spu- rious metals were more common than the genu- ine. Well named, art thou, gem of the northern Adirondacks ! "Oo-hugh ! Oo-hugh !" rang out the old fa- miliar signal, and Bald Mountain welcomed back the call. Presently a boat shot out from the landing on the shore opposite and Lon's tall form was soon descried propelling the largest craft. Silas was sent around the woods road with the baggage, while we reserved the more direct, if not more delightful trip by water for ourselves. The spring fountain was bubbling from the hillside with its old-time vivacity, carrying its limitless invigoration as of yore. Clisty appeared in the kitchen doorway, in each hand a corn meal covered trout, shouting, "Hurry up, din- ner'll be ready in a jiffy and you know Sterling fish don't wait, because they don't have to — there's too many glad to eat 'em!" We were ushered into the dining room of the large cottage, which looked out upon the wa- ters of Sterling at an elevation of forty feet. The scene through the windows was entranc- ing, but the table was, despite that fact, the cy- nosure of all eyes. The board was adorned with hepaticas, dogwood, violets, and a solitary bowl of dandeHons. Qisty explained, "I like the woods flowers, but the dandelions remind me of the settlements." WILD GINGER 119 "Ah, the golden dandelion, the flower whose blooming time is every month in the year when it has a chance, and its habitat any place that will give it sunlight for a few hours during the day — that's our club flower for May!" shouted Mix enthusiastically. Lon had been over to Dead Creek for two hours and had come back with two dozen fine trout. "That stream," suggested Duall, "is called 'Dead Creek' on the principle of 'Lucus a non lucendo,' because it is not dead, but alive with trout." This proved to be the case when Lemuel Larch headed a party on the mile tramp back through the woods and across the little clearing to the brook running through the valley five hundred feet below the brow of the moun- tain. But there the angler earns all he gets,, for the valley represents a riot of Flora and her attendants in their cups. Through grass, brakes, and briars, the enthsiasts plunged, only to find themselves within striking distance of the stream confronted with a wall of alders, flanked with the water plants that were just bobbing through. Tops of bushes were swished off, hooks were embedded in weeds and not a little patience was expended before a successful cast could be made. The sheriff, with bull moose strength, straddled the alders and tossed in his line. There was a splash and we thought we had lost our big comrade when we heard him puff, "Come here, you freckle-backed son of a sun fish — trying to snag me on that root, eh!" With a lurch and a lunge, the earnest disciple of Walton hurled a trout into the air, the fish describing an arc I20 WILD GINGER terminating in a distant clump of bushes. After much pawing and ejaculating the sheriff came back with a trout twenty-four inches long, dark as the tamarack water of his home stream, but beautifully spotted with crimson. It was rare fun fighting a hooked trout and his sympathetic allies, the alders, at the same time. Back on the hilltop again we looked down upon the valley, lost in admiration. We could remember much of spring's glories we had seen in her favorite haunt. There was the stream fringed with fleur-de-lys, the flower which Rus- kin says "has a sword for its leaf and a lily for its heart." But he was not even then in- spired by our own iris, which is truly "born to the purple," but was writing about the pale iris of France. Scattered along the banks were the blue spiderwort, the water avens, the hepaticas, the violets, pink corydalis, wood sorrel, Labra- dor tea, adders tongue, wild ginger, buttercups, daisies, anemones, and bluets. Along the wood shore opposite were the dogwoods reflected in the pools. The "fiddle-heads" were peeping through the moist soil, clad in their white wool as protection against the chill nights. For luck, don't forget to "Break the first brake you see, Kill the first snake you see, And you will conquer every enemy." And do not forget that biting the first frond you see in spring will keep away the toothache for the entire year. We have had hardly time to note the delicate tracery and forms of the WILD GINGER 121 branches and buds of the forest trees that have been coaxed into a beauty that later days cannot rival. We have but glanced at the witchery of the moonworts, the bracken, the obtuse woodsia, the marsh fern tribe all "As graceful as ladyes fair Bend o'er their mirrors sheen, So o'er the turbid water's breast, Thy plumes are waving green." Later the ferns unfold in their full perfection, but look at the baby marginal shield ferns, the chain ferns, the maiden hairs, the scouring rush- es, the horse tails, the club mosses, and the quill- worts. Dead Creek Valley is a misnomer, be- cause it is alive with everything that lives and grows in our northern wilds. Each creel made a respectable showing of the big trout from Dead Creek. The stream empties into the Racquette River, once the great- est domain of Salmo fontinalis in the country, but ruined for speckled beauties by the intro- duction into its waters of pickerel by jealous guides from the Saranac country, it is alleged. The pickerel chase the trout far up the creek and the latter have to be sought near the head- waters and in the pools along the meadows which lie above the shallow barriers. The long ride of the forenoon and the strain- ing battle to get a line into Dead Creek pre- pared the tired, but happy, fishermen for an early bed. That night there were no before- retiring stories. For a blissful half hour we sat before the fire and watched the owl an- 122 WILD GINGER dirons blinking good-night on the wide hearth. It was resolved to make an early start for the St. Regis, a mile away, next morning. "Better set the alarm clock to wake this sleepy crowd," suggested the prudent judge. "I have an alarm clock that never fails me; you'll hear him tapping on the tin chimney at sunup loud enough to wake the Seven Sleep- ers," remarked Lon in his deliberate, restful manner. Sure enough, next morning, every mother's son was aroused by the summons, lively, cheer- ful, and inspiring. "Tap-tap-t-t-t-t-t-tok 1" A red-bellied woodpecker, it seems, was in the hab- it of drumming on that pipe every morning. It furnished more music of the noisy kind than a hollow limb, and the gaudy fellow seemed to take pride in showing his mate what a racket he could make. "Sterling Lodge," owned by several members of the Cataract Club, of Lockport, N. Y., con- sists of a two-story building with ice house adjoining, four two-bed cottages, a boat house, barn, and best of all, a supply of pure water piped from a mountain spring into the main building. It is not luxurious, but provides all the comforts one ought to have in the woods. In May, the unheated small cabins are not so comfortable as the larger building with its fire- place and kitchen stove. So we were all bunked up stairs when the woodpecker rapped, "Get up." The big sheriff, propped up on his pil- lows, was looking out on the rippling waters of the lake, at peace with all the world. "It'll take - fmnaerTf^ti^ SPRING COTTAGE, STERLING LODGE— ADIRONDACKS. Page 122, WILD GINGER 123 a derrick and a bench warrant to get me away from this comfort," droned the contented giant. Just then the mischievous Duall made a cast through the open door with a hook and line and off came the coverlet. The sheriff arose, promising his tormentor an enforced bath in the lake. The punishment, however, was never adminis- tered, because the hungry Falstaff was diverted from his purpose by the sight of the savory table steaming with trout, bacon, boiled potatoes, and freshly-melted maple syrup. Wynne de- clared he had eaten nothing for breakfast ex- cept a little cereal and fruit for ten years, but as he mowed away his third fish he re- marked, "I had forgotten that trout were so good — and these potatoes boiled in their skins taste better than anything I ever got in New York City restaurants." Then came the renewed discussion of the angler's "eternal question" — what flies? This was more 'plexing than usual, because early May in the north woods is not productive of large creels as a rule with the artificial lures. It may be unsportsmanlike, according to accepted standards, to resort to the old standby, the dew worm, but as Mix put it, when there is a big family to feed one must feed the trout what they like best. So, while the argument waxed warm over the virtues of the "black gnat," "cow dung," "ibis," "royal coachman," "Rube Wood," "Seth Green," "grizzly king," "dusty miller," "swift water," "alder," "green drake," "queen of the water," "parmachenee belle," et al., each pru- 124 WILD GINGER dent fisherman quietly filled a capacious worm box, "just for an emergency." The St. Regis River is undoubtedly the best natural trout waters in New York State to-day and produces the finest catches of speckled beau- ties. The west branch affords remarkably fine fishing. It is a wild little river, averaging thir- ty yards in width, and flowing through some of the grandest country in the Adirondacks. In- dian Falls, two miles from Sterling, is a most picturesque spot and an ideal place for trout. The river drops over a twenty-foot ledge and slope and below forms a miniature Niagara whirlpool. This is usually good for a half dozen or more fine fish. Duall cast into the foam just beneath the falls. The milky surface parted and a splendid fish leaped at his hook but missed. Another try and this time the angler was more successful. Away went the line with a strong fish pulling like mad to cross the pool and make the mill race lined with jagged rocks below. Duall saw the danger and checked the rush. Around he came, close to the stone platform. "Be careful, he's a speckled whale!" shouted Larch, as he got a glimpse of the trout. The sheriff and Stickwell had no time to watch the sport, for on the other side they were engaged in a desperate battle of their own. In five minutes Duall slipped the net under his pretty foe and out came a two-pound trout, a beau- tiful male with deep crimson sides. Before the sheriff and Stickwell landed their fish, the judge yanked out a half-pounder without much cere- WILD GINGER 125 mony, following this performance with another of the same size in less than another minute. Then things quieted down in the pool for a time. Larch let his line drift down the natural race when a great fish met him half way. He failed to make allowance for the swift cur- rent in the strike and before he could give line, the monster snapped his tip as if it were a lily stem. "The big ones always get away — sometimes," laughed Larch, but there was a catch in his voice. "His mate is two ounces heavier and lies just below. Here goes !" In two minutes he had the extra tip fitted and in readiness for an- other efifort. The first cast landed on the rocks and the unanimous and unkind verdict of the "brothers of the angle" was that the first sad experience had unnerved the usually imperturb- able Larch. "Laugh !" he chuckled, "Laugh, because here comes the granddaddy of them all !" All hands quit fishing, because there was evi- dently something doing that was worth watch- ing. Profiting by his former bad luck, Larch struck mildly, but firmly, and then instantly gave the fish his way. But one can never tell what a trout will do. Instead of running with the swift current, he leaped into the air and then shot up stream and was back in the whirl- pool before the angler knew what was happen- ing. The trout sounded every nook in the depths, tried to leap up the falls and then raced around with the current of the whirlpool. Twice the angler thought the fish was giving up, but 126 WILD GINGER each time he rushed for the race and the second time got down into the lower pool. Larch scrambled along the steep and dangerous rocks like a mountain sheep. Once he slipped and there was a dangerous slacking of the line. We noticed the danger of losing the fish, but were oblivious of the fact that our friend barely missed tumbling into the deep and dangerous torrent. Below the second pool was a bad rap- id, full of "dead-heads" and rocks. The trout now worked his way toward the dashing waters. Once he got just to the edge, but by a supreme test of the rod's strength the piscatorial prize fighter was forced back. Five minutes more and the end came. What a beauty, what a reward! There upon the rock platform lay the pride of the St. Regis, a three-pound trout! Into the water we went below the second pool and waded the now shallower river four abreast. The sport was exciting and exhilirat- ing. On several occasions every line was busy and there was no talking. In the stretch of three-quarters of a mile we took eighty-seven more trout, ranging from a quarter to three- quarters of a pound. On the way home, somebody remarked that we belonged to the fish-hog class. Lon protest- ed, "Not at all — this is gentlemanly fishing. Last year men from the lumber camps used to take a six-quart pail full of trout from below the logger's dam four miles above here, every morn- ing in the spring when the logs were not run- ning." Near the Twin Lakes trail an animal plunged WILD GINGER 127 from the water and disappeared in the bushes. "An elk!" shouted Lon. "There are over three hundred in the woods now, I am told, and a pair have been reported up this way several times. It looks as if the elk were going to be restored to the Adirondacks." The next day we tried to lure the big trout of the lake from their spring holes, but with little success. A number of half-pound fish were caught and over by the old pine that has stretched its 100 feet in the water for half a century, a pounder was captured. For a few days following the break up of the ice, the large trout bite and then fish over four and five pounds are occasionally caught. But after that brief festival the wary old chaps seem to settle down into their wonted sedateness and nothing tempts them to an engagement. The andiron owls blinked solemnly that night and more than once were caught winking sar- donically at each other when the tales began to circulate before the fireplace. "Oh, cheery is the blink of my ain fireside," are the words carved on the mantel above, yet through some psychological trick, the reminiscences for a time ran along gloomy trails. Joey started it. Joey is a comical little lum- berman and guide. Not over five feet, he could carry a great pack through the woods all day without a sign of fatigue. He had dropped in to see his old friends. "Waal, Pierre Dumont cum to bad luck, just as I expected," remarked Joey to the fire. "Ef he had stopped after shootin' the gray wolf up 128 WILD GINGER ter Long Peond an' let the black deer alone, he mought a seen Montreawl ag'in." The party looked their interest and Lon asked Joey to tell about it. Pierre had come from Montreal to help on a log drive on the St. Regis. He liked hunting better than lumbering and never knew what a close season was. The Frenchman distinguished himself by hunting down and shooting a gray wolf, probably the last in the region, near Long Pond. There was a story that a black deer had been seen in the Blue Mountain country and Pierre vowed he would bring in the alleged specimen of melan- ism. While waiting for flood water, he started after the black buck. He came back with the story that he had seen the deer and got two shots at him, but couldn't say whether he hit the animal or not. Next day Pierre was miss- ing and later his body was found floating in a St. Regis pool. Lon took up the story at that point. "The Parishville coroner offered me fifteen dollars to bring in the body and I gave a French hog raiser five dollars to go with me and take his team. The men who found the body tied it to a bush without removing it from the water. We got to the spot on the old log road about dark, but my helper objected to touching the corpse at night. The upshot of it was that I had to perform the unpleasant task myself. Just as we started over the road, which is bad enough for navigation in daylight even on foot, it began to rain. There was a clap of thunder and the crash of a falling tree just behind us. The WILD GINGER 129 Frenchman shrieked, 'Mon Dieu!' threw up his hands and toppled over the dashboard in a swoon. The wheels just missed him. I got out and started for the live corpse in the trail be- hind when the horses broke into a run. For- tunately they took the wrong fork of the road and came up against a barrier in the shape of a fallen tree. I tied them there and again went back for my scared Frenchman. The rain had revived him, but he seemed to be bereft of rea- son. Heroic measures were necessary and I employed them so vigorously that he trotted along back to the wagon. We got the team into the right road and started on again, when the Frenchman looked over his shoulder and by the light of the lantern got another glimpse of our ghastly load. He was about to leap from the seat into the bushes, but I caught him by the collar and shoved him down. With one hand I drove and with the other held that fear- made lunatic. I earned ten times my money by the time I reached Parishville." That reminded the judge of a gloomy expe- rience we had on our third trip to the French River, Canada. We had just made camp and had got comfortably settled when toward even- ing a canoe rounded the point. The paddler was an Indian. In the bow sat a white man. The stranger held his head between his hands and even when the canoe grated on the sand at the landing he did not move. The Indian got out and led his passenger to a seat near the fire. Words of welcome brought nothing but a nod from the white man, who seemed to be dazed or I30 WILD GINGER too ill for speech. The Indian spoke a few words to our Indians, whom he knew. They interpreted : "Comrade drowned at the Five Mile." That was the brief introduction to a tragedy of the wilderness. Two young men from Pittsburgh, wealthy, fond of the wilds, sportsmen and athletes, for several years had made the trip up the French River from the Georgian Bay. They knew the treacherous stream well, but perhaps familiarity had bred a fatal contempt. The young men pulled a two-oared skiff containing most of their duffle, while the Indian paddled a canoe. In attempt- ing to row up one of the rapids of the Five Mile, a famous spot well known to 'lunge and bass anglers, they upset. Both being strong swimmers, they struck out for shore. One of the men made his way to a rock in the stream and shouted to the Indian to help his companion, who seemed to be having a hard struggle. The guide complied and soon brought the swimmer to shore. When they looked around for young Al- len the rock was bare. They called and searched, called and searched for hours, but no trace of the missing comrade could be found. Next day our entire camp went down to the Five Mile to assist in the hunt. The only evidence of the tragedy was the wrecked skiff. Three days later the body was found not many rods from where the unfortunate youth had been swept from the rock. "The woods has its fla-owers an' sunshine," drawled Joey, "but there's dark gullies, tew." Then his twinkling blue eyes grew solemn again, WILD GINGER 131 and he continued: "Clafflin over on the crick hed a skeery time one night las' summer. Old man Brown went out to the back pasture lookin' fer a stray ca-aff. Whan he didn't te-urn up fer supper, Clafflin took a lanthorn an' mosied aroun' fer him. He saw somethin' in a holler spot that looked like a man, but when he threw the light on it, it war nothin' but a stump. He stepped back, an' as he did so his foot struck somethin' soft. He turned 'ra-oun an' thar was ole man Brown, deader'n a stump. Clafflin went back home, got a blanket, an' kivered the corpse 'till the corowner cum nex' day." Then came Dan Bring's story. A party of New Yorkers made a trip up the Georgian Bay in a small chartered steamer. A storm drove them into a bay and when they were about to land at the dock of a private estate the pom- pous owner ordered them away. They anchored and spent an uncomfortable night on the boat. The next day the churlish proprietor hurried down to the dock about daylight and begged to know if the party had a doctor among them, as his wife was dying. Unfortunately there was no doctor with them. The woman passed away the next day shortly after a physician had arrived. The visitors courteously offered to act as a funeral escort and in their boat carried the corpse to the nearest railroad port. "You fellows will be telling ghost stories next and I'll have to light you all to bed," nodded the sheriff. "You're as bad as old Jerry and Sarah Newton, who always enjoyed looking on the darkest side of everything. Each sought 132 WILD GINGER to outdo the other in bodily ailments. If Jerry complained that he had the rheumatism in the right shoulder, Sary had twinges in both. When Jerry had a toothache, Sary was just wild with neuralgia. O^e day a neighbor's girl ran home to her mother and said: 'Well, ma, Jerry's got ahead of Sary at last on sickness !' The mother wanted to know 'what's Jerry got that's worse than Sary's ailments ?' The girl answered, 'Why he's dead 1' " After a time Lon said: "Just to vary the programme I must tell you about the big buck up on the Ten Mile. He's a buck that makes a track five inches long and he bears a charmed life. Some of you sharpshooters ought to try him out next fall. I have heard a score of hunters tell about hunting the Ten-Mile buck and I bet he's been shot at a hundred times. The tricks he has played on wise men would fill a book. A Vermont game warden makes an official report that a deer weighing four hundred and forty-seven pounds was killed in that state. If there is a deer that size in these parts, the Ten-Mile buck will fill the bill." "Alonzo, Colonel Alonzo," chided Stickwell, "you are drawing the longbow now. Why, the biggest deer reported last year in this state weighed only two hundred and forty-six pounds, shot by Mr. Len, of Utica." "That Vermonter," remarked the sheriff, "re- minds me of a pathetic yet ludicrous incident at a wake not long ago. Mrs. Mc lost her favorite son. She looked at the corpse and wailed, 'Jamie, ye told me yesterday you'd be TROUTING ON THE ST. REGIS— ADIRONDACKS. Page 132. WILD GINGER 133 well to-day, but it's dead ye are to-day and ye LIED TO ME !' " Lon was asked if the bear were still plentiful around Sterling. He said they were occasionally seen within a mile or two of the lake. "Just above Hog-back Brook, on my way home from the Five Mile," he began, "I met a bear that showed fight. I was coming down the road when a bear rushed out at me. I traveled along at a brisk gait for several rods. Looking around I saw the old lady standing under a big tree and eyeing me savagely. I soon discovered what the trouble was. I had walked under a limb on which were two cubs. We stood and looked at each other for several minutes and I finally decided that dinner was waiting at home and I went along." Joey told an amusing story about a neighbor of his named House. The settler was out hunt- ing with his dog. "Sport started up a big b'ar," said Joey, "an' Mr. B'ar decided to do some of the huntin' hisself. He chased Sport an' the dog ran to his master. House yelled at Sport to get out, but Sport thought misery liked company an' mighty lots of it when a b'ar tries to butt in. The faster House legged it, the faster Sport follered, with the b'ar right on their heels. The fight was all outen Sport, an' the ole man felt thet thar war never none in him — leas'ways he hadn't challenged no b'ar to a scrimmage thet day. Thet dog war like sum folks — he iiivited trouble an' insisted on havin' all the neighbors in to help entertain it. Finally House managed to swing up into a tree with his gun. Sport 134 WILD GINGER played tag around through the bushes with the b'ar an' House at las' put an end to the game by shootin' the b'ar." One of the most interesting characters of Sterling was old man Duffey, "Wildcat Duf- fey," as he was known for many miles around. The veteran who passed away at 89 a few years ago had a record on wildcats that ran into several score. He would go forty miles through the woods if he got a report of a wildcat prowl- er. In his later years the cats were scarce and he was too old to endure the hardships of the hunt, so he contented himself with fishing in the lake for the big trout. At this he was most successful. The old man in his boat was an ideal picture of contentment. "But the cats are not extinct in this neighbor- hood," remarked Mix. "You doubtless recall reading in the newspapers of a Canadian lynx which was slaughtering the deer in the Cutting preserve and vicinity over Lake Ozonia way. The lynx was a bold and cunning beast and for months outwitted the hunters who tried to shoot, trap, and poison, the marauder. Finally Cut- ting's men lay in wait for three days within shooting distance of a deer which the lynx had killed and partially eaten and they landed the cutthroat. Last summer a party of us were entertained for a few hours by Mr. Cutting at his bungalow on Ozonia and there we saw the famous lynx mounted. It is a beautiful speci- men and a trophy worth having." The hour was growing late, but the stories of the region came thick and fast and nobody WILD GINGER 135 thought of bed. Lon regaled the sportsmen with tales of trouting in the old days "when there were trout in the streams of this sec- tion." "A man named M had a camp up above the still water. He was worse than a game hog, because the average sporting razor back takes what he kills back to his family and neigh- bors. This fellow used to catch trout when it was no trick to land two or three hundred a day, and good fish, too, take them back to his camp spring house and let three-fourths of them spoil. It couldn't be otherwise, because he caught three times as many as he could eat or give away here. But the day of reckon- ing arrived. M was taken sick in camp. I went to help nurse him. He had two guides. When the patient began to recover he had a voracious appetite and he asked for some trout. I said to him 'M you have made yourself sick eating trout and by allowing trout to putre- fy about the premises. You won't be able to get up and handle a rod for four weeks. I have told your guides that if they catch a fish for you I'll drown them. Pork is good enough for a porker like you and that's all you get until you leave, and then the season will be over !' That went. Old M didn't taste an- other speckled beauty that season." Somebody remarked to Joey, "Well, Joey, I suppose, judging by the returns, that you don't have many Democrats in this section." Joey's eyes sparkled, and he drawled, "Waal, I spect ef you raked the teown with a fine tooth 136 WILD GINGER comb you might fetch out three or four — taint many, but by gol, it's all we want 'roun' here!" Asked about the observance of the game laws, Joey said : "We knows the law and we likes it. Neow two deer's the limit, but I've alius got one comin'." "Joey," suggested Lon, "You darn't tell us how you went without Sunday breakfast some time ago.'' "Sure," laughed Joey, his comical face lighted up with amusing reminiscence. "I toted a pack basket up to the Five Mile camp loaded with a sack of flour, bacon, sugar, coffee, three bottles of pickles, two of catsup and five dozen eggs. When I reached the dam I climbed up on the wing, which is five feet about the rocks below. I made it all right, but as I went tO' straighten up I lost my bal- ance and tumbled. Sumheow I went down threw the straps fust and the dumed pack basket cum down plump atop of me upside deown. When I got my eyes open I couldn't tell whether I war a drunken miller or scrambled eggs. I war so disgusted that I jes jumped into the river an' it ed served me right ef I'd never cum up !" "But talkin' 'bout politics — I bet you fellers don't know what patritism is. I know six men thet walked a day an' a half through the woods to vote and done it all for two dollars a piece and a gallon of alcohol for the bunch." "Alcohol?" inquired Larch. "Alcohol for their lamps?" "Waal, it lights 'em up sum," giggled Joey, as WILD CrNGER 137 if at pleasant recollections. "Didn't you ever hear of Adirondack torchlight ? Jest take a pan- ful of alcohol, heat it on the stove and skim it, then you're ready for the torchlight procession. Why, it'll make you see things in the dark !" "The stufif must be worse than Jack Montey's war-time whiskey," put in the sheriff. "Jack was accustomed to get his whiskey for three cents a glass, but the saloonkeepers got to- gether and raised the price to five. Jack went into Bob Cramer's place one day and threw down a five-cent shinplaster and the bartender mistook it for twenty-five cents. When he handed Jack back four fives. Jack counted it over and remarked, 'Is this right?' The barkeeper, thinking his good customer was kicking on the raise in price, apologized and handed over two cents more. By this time Jack had grasped the situation, recovered himself, and promptly said : 'Ah, thafs more like it !' " It was nearly twelve o'clock when Joey re- marked, "Guess I'll have to step over hum." Asked how far he had to go, he replied, "Oh, 'bout three miles on beyond whar you started fishin' this mornin'." That meant nearly five miles and over an an- cient log road, overgrown, rocky, and rough. "Your miles are larger than ours," was re- marked. "Yaas they be," responded Joey. "We meas- ure a mile up here by startin' a dog runnin' and when he drops thet's a mile." "Hope you don't meet Lon's bear at the Hog- 138 WILD GINGER back," remarked the judge as the little woods- man started on his long, dark journey. "If I do I'm loaded for b'ar," he repUed, gayly tapping his blouse in which he had stored five bottles of cordials sent to friends in the Five Mile camp. Off he plunged in the Stygian darkness of the narrow forest trail, without a lantern, yet apparently traveling with as much ease and assurance as a tenderfoot would in daylight. "That lad knows every root and stone between here and his camp," observed Lon. We had just got nicely hardened to the de- lightful toils of the trail and the muscle-build- ing exercise of rowing, tramping, paddling, and casting, when the call "Back to the treadmill" came. But it was a happy, helpful week spent amidst all the delights of May in the great woods. WILD GINGER 139 WILD GINGER, WOOD SORREL, AND SWEET CICELY. TEACHING FATHER HOW TO FISH — AN ANGLERS' TOURNAMENT. Jllfie. VI. And the large water lilies that o'er its bed, Their pearly leaves to the soft light spread ; These haunt me; I dream of that bright spring's flow, I thirst for its rills like a wounded roe. — Mrs. Hemans. The unattached angler can enjoy himself, of course; but in an unsocial way, usually. When it was organized about a quarter of a century ago, the Niagara County Anglers' Club — "The Cataract Qub" — put a new reading on one of Izaak Walton's most highly prized sayings. "All who love virtue be quiet and go a-angling," advised the patron saint of the rodmen. It was decided by the Niagara Club that the true angler — certainly a lover of virtue — de- served no warning to be quiet, and, furthermore, that he could obtain the highest recreation by going fishing in congenial company. Accord- ingly, Article II of the club's constitution set forth that, "The particular object of this asso- ciation is recreation in angling for game fish, target, and game shooting, and the promotion and elevation of such sports amongst its mem- 140 WILD, GINGER bers." This was fortified by another article re- quiring the club to hold an annual outing and fishing tournamentj at which at least two prizes, a gold badge and a "high-hook banner" were to be awarded to the member landing the largest small mouth black bass. There is a comparatively new doctrine which is gaining ground nowadays, to the effect that increasing the shooting and fishing will tend to increase game and fish. This theory rests upon the proposition that if the law were liberalized to allow more recreation in field and stream, the lovers of sport would find it worth while to provide themselves with well-stocked covers and waters. The Niagara Club was hardly so far in advance of the times as to accept that doc- trine twenty-five years ago, but it put into ef- fect one of the doctrine's corollaries, namely that no anglers' club may hope for perpetuation without angling. The perennial rejuvenation of the organization with each recurring outing, the steady growth of the club until it has become one of the foremost sportsmen's organizations in the state and the promotion of goodfellow- ship among the "brothers of the angle" suggest that the original meaning of "corollary," the only one current in Walton's time, namely, some- thing which is given in addition to what has been earned, as a bouquet along with wages, need not be considered obsolete by the Niagara an- glers. Incidentally, it may be said, the club has earned its right to heavy creels by systematic and judicious replenishment of Niagara waters, a work, however, that redounded more to the WILD GINGER 141 net fishermen than to the game fish anglers. But the annual tournament was the club's garland, extra. For seventeen blissful years the Niagaras had tasted the joys of opening the black bass season as a clubj with due and elaborate preparations, including all the pleasures of planning and the ecstasies of anticipation in the company of those afifected with the same gentle mania. The club had at this early age, seventeen, attained the dignity of parenthood, being the proud progeni- tor of the Rensselaer County Rod and Gun Club, the Orleans County Rod and Gun Club and the Niagara Rod and Gun Club of Tona- wanda. In honor of the eighteenth anniversary of the parent organization, President McLaren, of the Rensselaer Club journeyed across the state to attend the annual meeting of the Niag- aras and formally extend the invitation of the first born for a joint tournament on the lakes and streams of Rensselaer. That event will be handed down in tradition to the remotest generations of the Cataract and Patroon counties. The press of the state sat up and took notice when it was announced that two Pullman car loads of anglers would travel three hundred miles to reach the scene of contest and fraternization with another club. Through the mails went an immense four-page cardboard, with a flaming red front : "Eighteenth annual outing and tournament of the Niagara County Anglers Club — Let Loose in Rensselaer upon invitation of the Rensselaer County Rod and Gun Qub, June i6th and 17th, 1903." The 142 WILD GINGER cartoonist had done his best to portray "Uncle Charley" Hatch in action with a black bass and to represent "our bait" allegorically with figures of bugs, bees, worms, and other creeping things that only unwise anglers see. At the bottom of the page was "The Lover's Song," a tribute to arbutus, the typical flower of Rensselaer, and the parody, "The Angler's Song:" Life is like the sportsman's angling, Lure and line in pools a-dangling, Brave and fair; Though we cannot see it coming. Yet we know from hot reel's humming Something's there. Ofttimes life is disappointing, Tips untrue the rod disjointing Add to care; Yet we know the trout or sucker, Fighting hard against our luck, or Skill — is there. Under the head of "Itinerary," this advice was given, "Remember, boys, you're accustomed only to the breezes of a single lake, and the mixed zephyrs of the many inland seas of Rens- selaer, fed and re-fed by McLaren's famous ninety and nine streams, are more than likely to disturb your equilibrium at first." Then came the information as to time tables, the arrival and departure at the various lakes in Rensselaer among which the visitors were to be distributed with the hosts as companions and guides; the long list of prizes for various piscatorial achieve- ments; the score card governing the contest of Page 142. SAFE FRO^t ONTARIO'S WAVES. WILD GINGER 143 the two sides, the Reds and the Blues ; the rules of the tournament, providing for the equal dis- tribution of guests and hosts on each side and requiring at least one of each side to fish in each boat; the tournament and outing officials and roster of the club. So that there should be no excuse for strays, a large map of Rensselaer, showing every highway, lake, and stream, with the nine lakes to be fished marked in blue, was printed on the back. Beneath it was this "guide- board" : "Rensselaer is just a few looks west of Para- dise, Vt., and is more like the Promised Land than anything any angler ever saw elsewhere. At the hill-towered gateway of the Berkshires, 'neath the very portals of Greylock's classic shade and scenes that thrilled Bryant's song, the plainsmen of Niagara come to woo the beau- tiful daughter of the Adirondacks and to do homage at the feet of the best beloved of the Hudson, the sweetheart of the Catskills, the mountain-guarded, peerless, sweet-scented Ar- butus — Rensselaer." overdrawn, soft, sentimental? Oh, well, the foregoing was not written for the man whose heart never thrilled to the electric pulsations of the throbbing reel and whose soul never opened its innermost recesses to the invitation of a flower at the brook side. The first day was ideal, but the second brought rain. The trained veterans of the rod cared not for the damp conditions and stuck to their merry fight on lakes and trout streams. De- spite the handicap of the second day, nearly 144 WILD GINGER one hundred black bass were caught and a goodly number of fine trout, pickerel, pike, strawberry bass, sun fish, rock bass, bull heads, and suckers — the last carrying a penalty of ten points minus. The interest grew intense at the close of the first day as the telephone at headquarters at Averill Park, the seat of the judges of the tour- nament, responded to eager inquiries from Tsat- sawassa Lake, Crooked Lake, Burden Lake, and Snyders Lake, where groups of the contending rodmen were stationed for the night. Early in- dications were that the Reds, captained by Red- dy Reichard, the redoubtable fisherman of Reichard's Lake, led their opponents about three hundred points. But Captain Hank Ferguson, of West Sandlake, the acknowledged king of the rod of all that region, about nine o'clock re- ported the return of four men from a distant trout stream in the mountains, in which quar- tette the Blue stood eight trout ahead, counting at 55 points each, a gain of four hundred and forty points for the Blues. That put the Blues on the latest returns one hundred and forty points "to the good," and the news was flashed from point to point. The celebration, in which, strange to say, both sides joined with equal hilarity, waxed warm. At ten o'clock a farmer's rig drew up at headquarters with eight knights of the rod who had been completely forgot- ten. "Back from Glass Pond with a big catch!" was the word that spread like wildfire through the Averill Park hostelries. The verandas of WILD GINGER 145 headquarters which flaunted the long banner of the Niagara County Anglers' Club were crowded with eager faces. "How do you stand, Blues?" shouted an anx- ious partisan to a returned companion. "Don't know — it's close, but I think the four Reds here have us beaten by a fine catch of strawberry bass. One boat ran into a school over some submerged brush in the lake and caught thirty before we got onto the game. Our representative in the lucky boat was outfished three to one before we anchored alongside and evened matters up within five or six." "How much do strawberry bass count?" shouted a Red, who exhibited a string of twelve. Score cards were consulted. "Only forty-five each!" joyously exclaimed Lieutenant Steve Sherman of the Reds. Election returns from a decisive precinct never created such nerve racking anxiety. Out on the grass, under the gleaming head- light lamps, were laid with jealous and watch- ful care the catch of the late coming double quartette. A strong guard of partisans stood over the shimmering fish pile, the judges, cards in hand, stationed between. The Blues counted and were duly credited with eighteen strawberry bass, four large-mouth black bass, and six pick- erel, total 1,250 points. Cheers from the Blues greeted the official announcement of Judge Frank Brown. "Wait, boys, don't blat till the shearin's all over," laughed Captain Reddy. Grand Marshal Wicker and Field Marshal 146 WILD GINGER McLaren had to exert their utmost authority to induce the crowd to stand back while the count of the Reds' catch was made. The fate of em- pire hung upon the result. "Reds, twenty-four strawberry bass, four large-mouth black bass, two pickerel, two yellow pike, total fourteen hun- dred and eighty points," solemnly announced the chief judge. The shout that then rent the air from Red throats indicated that an electoral college had announced its decision. It is "not all of fishing to catch." Oh, of course not, but that well-worn and overused saying does not ap- ply in a fishing tournament, in which are en- gaged men of red blood who do with their might what they set forth to do. Again the telephones were busy and the tabu- lated returns at the various hotels were cor- rected, showing that the Blues' lead of 140 had been wiped out, and that at 10.30 the Reds were high by 90 points ! "Returns all in?" The "hours for fishing" in this tournament were sunrise to nine, according to agreement of the captains, and 11 p. m. was the final hour for reporting. Just before the mystic moment of fraternalism, the Elks' Eleven O'clock, in straggled a pair of weary fishermen. They bore lanterns, and the slimy strings showed they had been devoting their skill during the hours of darkness to the bullheads. "Another county heard from," brought the crowd to the judges' pavilion with a rush. "Only bullheads — fish without a scale, but they may turn the scale," chuckled a Blue. A great shout of laughter went up when it WILD GINGER 147 was discovered that the Red man of the belated pair was hiding two suckers under his string of bullheads. "Twenty points off for the Reds," announced the judge. The Red man displayed, besides the two negative trophies, 10 specimens of Amiurus nebulosis — sounds better than bull- head in a formal tournament — and i eel. His Blue comrade triumphantly flashed up 15 bull- heads, and 375 points to 265 for the Red. The final bulletin for the night read : "Blues, twenty points in the lead." But for the two meddling suckers, the score for the exciting first day's contest would have been a tie ! The anglers who were true to piscatorial tra- ditions and rose with the sun were well repaid, for some fine catches were made in the early hours. One zealous disciple of Izaak, the peace- ful Hague, captured 5 fine black bass not far from his hotel on Burden Lake before break- fast. Those who deferred the renewal of the contest until after breakfast had to face a south wind driven rain. More than two-thirds of the contestants stuck to their posts, cheered on by their officers. At the close of the second day the skies had cleared and the contestants and hundreds of spectators were assembled at the headquarters hotel for the final 'announcement. Although hard pressed, as on the first day, the Blues held their dearly won lead, the final score standing: Blues, 7,340; Reds, 6,675 — majority for the Blues, 665 points. The sky-blue flag reposed above the banners of Rensselaer and Niagara at the banquet that 148 WILD GINGER night. McLaren presided as toastmaster. The tall Scotchman had many a jibe and word of advice for visitors and hosts alike. Judge Tier- ney and Editor MacArthur, of Troy, added hospitable words to those of the toastmaster, and the visitors were not far behind in the fe- licity of their expressions of appreciation. The guests arose and tinkled their glasses to the toast proposed by the president of the Niagara Club, "To the beautiful daughter of the Adiron- dacks, the sweetheart of the Catskills, the sweet arbutus of the hills^ — Rensselaer ; and, to the noble gentlemen and good sportsmen sheltered and protected by these mountains, the Renssel- aer County Rod and Gun Club." The award- ing of individual prizes concluded the evening's programme and then the guests were escorted to their special trolley cars that were to carry them through the romantic hills and valleys of the uplands to the cars awaiting them at tidewater, Albany. Indeed it was a successful joint outing of sportsmen's clubs. For the recipients of so many gifts of hos- pitality, such as the sportsman knows so well how to bestow gracefully, the months that had to go by before a returning June dragged slowly. But part of the time was spent in preparation for the coming of the Rensselaer guests. In due time mail bags were weighted down with a unique invitation and announcement. It consisted of the conventional 20-pound dark ma- nila sugar sack, printed in brown and fastened with a fish line, bobber, and sinker. WILD GINGER 149 "Fill this bag with dew worms and come to the nineteenth annual outing and tournament of the Niagara County Anglers' Club — When our guests, the Rensselaer County Rod and Gun Qub will float with us on the spent wa- ters of the mighty Niagara at Youngstown, N. Y., June 16-17, 1904, and be shown what real angling means — Grand event : Skiddering vs. Still Fishing, etc." Inside was the four-page bulletin and programme, illustrated with views of Lockport, Niagara Falls, Fort Niagara, and Olcott. It is not all of fishing to fish. To that we heartily subscribe. Rob it of the incident and attendant sentiment and angling would be worth little, except to the man in absolute need of food. So for the sentiment. "Two Jolly Days in June — To our Eastern 'Brothers of the Angle,' Greeting: In elabora- tion of our previous invitation which you have done us the honor to accept, we beg leave to present the subjoined programme of doings. The beautiful plains of the Niagara frontier are taking on an extra bloom in anticipation of your coming. The mighty cataract is ready to roar its deepest welcome; the rapids will dance their highest can-can ; the whirlpool will give you its dizziest whirl ; Ontario's waves will offer their most refreshing crests, and the Falls' spray will settle upon your travel-dusty throats. With fondest recollections of the two days spent at the feet of the beautiful daughter of the Adiron- dacks Rensselaer, and in eager anticipation of our reunion for the renewal of friendships ISO WILD GINGER and of acquaintanceship with King Bass on his first reception day, Niagara stands waiting at the gateway of the West, beside the bright wa- ters which reflect the charms of both our Lady of Snows and Miss Columbia, ready to bid you welcome To our other guests, greeting. Come and join us in good company To mem- bers of the Niagara County Anglers' Club: Dear Brothers : Our active membership is now two hundred and seventy-five. We hold a proud position among the sportsmen's organizations of the state. Our record for the propagation of fish and protection and game and the promo- tion of true sportsmanship stands among the highest. The State Fish, Game, and Forest League has honored us by selecting one of our officers as its president. It behooves us, there- fore, to take even our pleasures nobly and to hold an outing worthy of our guests, ourselves, and our town and county." The first page bore a half-tone of "The Locks," Lockport, and the inscription advised, "See other pages for the key." "The Ways and By-ways" afforded some idea of what was in store for the visitors from far Rensselaer : FIRST DAY. 5.50 A. M. — Leave Lockport in special trolley cars for Niagara Falls. 7.00 — Meet guests at their Pullmans, Niagara Falls. 7.15 — Leave in trolleys for Table Rock and Falls View. WILD GINGER 151 7.40 — Leave for Queenstown via Canadian side. Birds-eye-view of gorge. 8.15 — Cross lower river bridge to Lewiston. 8.20 — Leave Lewiston for Youngstown, mouth of the Niagara. 8.40 — Signal for the angling tournament off Fort Niagara to begin. 12 M. — Standing lunch under the willows. Fort Niagara. 6 P. M.— Signal, "All boats in." 6.15 — ^AU aboard for Lewiston. 6.45! — Fish supper and New Gorge 'Hotel, Lewiston. 7.45 — Leave for Falls via Gorge route. 8.15 — Doing Niagara Falls by searchlight, if not search warrants. 9.45 — Shake the dust off our feet and start for good old Lockport. 10.45 — Niagara county seat by electric light. SECOND DAY. 9 A. M. — Trolley tour of Lockport. 1.30 P. M. — Leave in special trolleys for 01- cott. 2.00 — Stunts of the amateurs at Rustic The- atre. 6.30 — Final banquet and awarding of prizes at Olcott Beach Hotel. The author of "Kindred of the Wild" de- clares : "When the trout bite best it is the sweet of the year." We of Niagara, blessed with very few trout streams, amend that by substituting "bass" for "trout" and respond, "Amen" to the sentiment. 152 WILD GINGER When our guests arrived on that perfect June morning, it was the "sweet of the year" in Ni- agara. The uncounted orchards had bloomed, but left their perfume still lingering in the de- lightful air. Even the sun seemed sorry that he could not arise earlier to kiss the dew drops from the fragrant, velvety, leaves of apple, peach, pear, and plum, and hear the birds chat- ter their first greeting to a new-born day. Tempted though he might be, a poet would not attempt to express his joy, lost in the rapture of breathing, smelling, and hearing. June in Niagara, the placid daughter of "The Thunderer of Waters," with bosom as white as the foam of the cataract and garments as sub- tle in their shades of green. The King of Day passes away in a mist of regretful tears. Luna lingers, loath to leave a sight so rare. The blinking stars tardily turn over their vigil to their sister lilies gleaming in the gardens. An oriole flashes after his mate, a winged sun il- luminating the landscape. While the sky is still pale from the fright of night, there flutters out a feathered prophecy of a deeper hue to come, the bird "with the earth tinge on his breast and the sky tinge on his back." But truth be told, these were the joys of the early morning which rewarded the faithful henchmen of the commissary committee in their short-cut journey by night from Lockport to Fort Niagara with the suppHes. But the day had completer charms to display at the later hours. No need to dwell upon the delights of a mom- NATURE AND ART UNITED— THE PINES, OLCOTT. Page 153. WILD GINGER 153 ing ride in jolly company down the famous Ni- agara gorge, because they have been experi- enced by almost every tourist. The Niagara frontier, dominated for two cen- turies by Fort Niagara at the mouth of the river of that name, was late coming under Old Glory. The beautiful plateau, flanked on the west by the Niagara cataract and gorge, and lying between Lake Erie and Lake Ontario, was the prize for which the Indians fought among themselves. On the white man's arrival it became the ultima thule for which the Frenchman, the Briton and the American struggled. The blood of heroes has made the cataract shores rich in glorious song, legend, and history. But, ever since the Stars and Stripes were first flung to the breeze at Fort Niagara, this magnificent region of lakes, rivers, and brooks, has been proud to ac- knowledge a loving master — the angler. Niagara is the home of angling. The spirit is in the gentle southwest winds that are wafted in June from sunny Erie; it arises in the silvery spray which emanates from the Falls, and it broods over gorge, orchard, and plain. Years ago the Niagara County Anglers' Club hoisted its banner as the regent successor to the gory rulers of the past and proclaimed for peace in the words and name of the immortal Wal- ton. The gallant anglers from the far East were somewhat fatigued by the night's journey across the Empire State, despite the luxury of special Pullmans, but the bracing breezes of the cata- ract country, together with the fervent greetings 154 WILD GINGER of the hosts, quickly restored them to prime condition. Arrived at Fort Niagara, the two clubs were equally distributed between two sides, the Reds and Blues, the ancient "friendly enemies" of the memorable two-days' battle in the Renssel- aer hills. At the long docks were floating a fleet of 75 boats, each numbered and manned by an experienced boatman, with extra bait tend- ers ready to supply the ammunition at every stage of the piscatorial battle. There had been reports of Canadian pirates slipping across to the American side the day before and catch- ing several splendid bass contrary to the New York fish and game laws, right under the spiked guns of the old fort, too ! "The bass are here," was the eager word passed along the line, and there was disembark- ing in hot haste, as soon as the tournament offi.- cials could assign the boats by lot. Presently ev- ery boat, each with a Blue and a Red badge fluttering from bow and stern, was afloat, and the grand marshal's whistle commanded "Bait up!" The boat flying the "High Hook Banner," held over from last year by the gold badge winner, led the way. The river and lake were soon studded with the busy flotilla. Within a minute of the first cast "Our Jerome," winner of many a prize in bass tournaments, had a struggle on his hands, and the banner passed to his boat. The flag didn't remain there five minutes before a bigger bass credited to "Gene" Ferree trans- ferred the highly coveted rag to his boat. There were many transfers during the day, but the WILD GINGER 155 Bass Standard finally remained with "Lem" Lerch, a shrewd angler, who took a liking to a submerged pier, which yielded him six beautiful bass during the day. He captured the club trophy, although his largest bass fell short of the weight of the splendid fish taken by Clifford Hastings, of Troy. The "Battle of Hastings" was witnessed by nearly one hundred interested spectators on that great day. Where the river sweeps by the old fort into the lake there is a swift current, which only a sturdy oarsman can easily combat. In this "stiff water" Hastings got a strike. "This is not millpond fishing," shouted the Rensselaer angler, as the fish doubled up his steel rod and carried the tip three feet under water. Taking every advantage of the currents and eddies which the bass knew better than the man, of course, the combatant at the hook end looked like a winner. But the Easterner knew a thing or two. He gave the signal to drift with the current, and then gradually forced the fish into calmer water, where the contest proceeded on even terms. The verdict was with Hastings, and it proved to be a bass that weighed four pounds six ounces. It was a magnificent male, of the beautiful greens, coppers, blacks, and golds which have made the Niagara bass famous, and which that well-known artist, W. B. Gil- lette, deemed worthy of his brush. The King of the Niagara, true to life in form, color, and character, has been preserved on canvas for fu- ture generations to admire, and it is to-day the 156 WILD GINGER chief adornment of a Lockport home dining room. This chapter is not a recital of stirring achievements or adventures, but it is meant more as a suggestion as to how lovers of the gentle sport may enjoy themselves "in flocks." Pleas- ures that are worth while cannot be won without serious effort. The very act of systematic en- deavor becomes part of and enhances the pleas- ure. It is said the Englishman "takes his recrea- tions seriously," or something to that effect. That is not at all to his discredit, but the con- trary, in our opinion. So we are pleased to inscribe the names and give credit to the men, many of them men of large affairs, who conducted a pastime as they would their business. TOURNAMENT AND OUTING OFFICIALS. Grand marshal, H. K. Wicker, president New York State Fish, Game, and Forest League, Lockport; field marshal, William J. Watts, Lockport; admiral, James Carter, Lock- port ; real admirals, Hon. George F. Thompson, Middleport; Eugene H. Ferree, Lockport; con- ductor, Joseph Jackman, Lockport ; superintend- ent, Jerome E. Emerson, Lockport; judges, Jo- seph Dumville, Lockport; Dr. F. T. Carmer, Rapids; C. C. McNair, Gasport; quartermaster, Charles L. Nicholls, Lockport. Officers of the Blues : Captain, George E. Emerson ; lieutenant, Burt J. Le Valley. Officers of the Reds: Cap- tain, C. E. Dickinson; lieutenant, C. F. Hague. WILD GINGER 157 OFFICERS OF THE CLUB. ("Please treat these persons well — and often.") President, M. H. Hoover, Lockport ; vice pres- ident, E. B. French, Middleport; secretary, A. Edmund Lee, Lockport; treasurer, Hiram K. Wicker, Lockport; directors, Hon. Charles W. Hatch, Hon. David Millar, Joseph Dumville, A. J. Mansfield, John N. Hittenmeyer, W. J. Watts, Eugene H. Ferree, John N. Pound. OUTING AND TOURNAMENT COMMITTEES. No. I. — Reception and Entertainment — Je- rome E. Emerson, chairman ; W. J. Watts, Hon. Burt G. Stockwell, Hon. Charles Hickey, Hon. John F. Kenney, John H. Wilson, T. T. Feeley, Hon. George W. Batten, C. A. Ash, William A. McArthur, C. E. Dickinson, Fred D. Moyer, O. M. Diall, city; Hon. George F. Thompson, Middleport; Avery H. Wilcox, Gasport. No. 2. — Transportation and Tickets — Hon. Charles W. Hatch, chairman; Fred W. Corson, W. J. Jackman, Hon. J. F. Little, A. J. Mans- field, Henry M. Nicholls, Frank N. Trevor, Charles Molyneux, city; Hon. Burt Graves, Mid- dleport ; Charles B. Shaflfer, Gasport ; Hon. H. S. Tompkins, La Salle. No. 3. — Hotels and Banquet — C. L. Nicholls, chairman; Hon. David Millar, James Carter, J. K. Davis, Thomas Eckensperger, E. A. Fry, J. C. Peuss, Charles A. Kandt, Hon. Charles F. Foley, city; A. G. Sherwood, Middleport; C. A. Fehrman, Martinsville; John G. Walters, Wil- son. No. 4. — Boats and Bait — Eugene H. Ferree, iS8 WILD GINGER chairman; G. E. Emerson, J. E. Fogle, John Jack, Fred W. Korf, Frank B. Lewis, city; Ed- ward Knapp, Middleport; C. C. McNair, Gas- port; Dr. F. T. Carmer, Rapids. No. 5. — Prizes and Judges — Joseph Dumville, chairman; Irving J. Atwater, Burt J. Le Valley, W. E. Huston, W. M. Ward, M. J. Fenzl, Alonzo N. Clark, Fred J. Davis, C. E. Carnall, city; E. J. Bronson, Middleport; Ed Bowers, Cambria. No. 6. — Badges and Equipment — C. F. Hague, chairman; W. H. Higgs, F. C. Carr, John Hit- tenmeyer, Fred C. Williams, William B. Lerch, J. J. Marshall, D. G. McKim, city; Dr. J. E. Helwig, Martinsville. No. 7. — Programme and Itinerary — F. A. Par- tenheimer, chairman; John N. Pound, C. N. Stainthorpe, W. C. Shapleigh, Dr. B. Bement, Hon. John T. Darrison, E. E. Williamson, city; Dr. D. R. Downey, Middleport; Charles Miller, Newfane ; Fred A. Ackerson, Niagara Falls. "AT THE MERRY FEAST— FIVE-MINUTE SPARKLES." On the evening of the second day occurred the final banquet, when one hundred and seventy- five men sat down to the blossom-decked tables in the great hall whose glass front looked out upon the dancing waters of Lake Ontario. It was a gala night at the Olcott Beach Hotel. The various trades, professions, fraternities, and civic societies have their formal celebrations, and the Sons of Walton were determined not to be out- O! S5 O o o U J < o WILD GINGER iS9 done, either in form or festivity. Here is the toast-list, which skeletonizes the body of fun, wit, and humor of the occasion long to be re- membered : "Welcome" — M. H. Hoover, president Niag- ara County Anglers' Club : "Who can help wishing to go a-fishing In days as full of joys as these?" — Dr. Henry Van Dyke. "Response" — G. V. Bullard, Rensselaer Coun- ty Rod and Gun Club: "I ask for nothing superfine; No heavy weight, no salmon great, To break the record, or my line." — Dr. Henry Van Dyke. "Toastmaster" — Hon. Burt G. Stockwell, Dis- trict Attorney, Niagara County : "When the air and the water taste sweet to you, how much else will taste sweet?" — John Burroughs. "Our First Born" — ^John R. McLaren, presi- dent Rensselaer County Rod and Gun Club : "The main conclusion, namely, that a man is descended from some lowly organized form, will, I regret to think, be highly distasteful to many." — Charles Darwin. "The Parent"— Hon. Charles W. Hatch, Lock- port: "Dr. Paley, being asked by the Bishop of Dur- i6o WILD GINGER ham when one of his most important works would be finished, replied, 'My lord, I shall work steadily at it when the fly-fishing season is over." — Sir Humphrey Davy. "Our Second Hopeful" — E. A. Bowman, Or- leans County Rod and Gun Club, Medina : "But on warm days like this, you know, I like to sit an' watch things grow." — Dr. Frank Rose. "Our Baby" — Lieut. C. B. Penney, Niagara Rod and Gun Club, Tonawanda : "Thou hast been out upon the deep to play, Riding all day the wild blue waves till now, Roughing their crests, and scattering high their spray." — William Cullen Bryant. "The St. Lawrence Frontier" — Hon. Andrew Irving, St. Lawrence Anglers' Association, Gouverneur, N. Y. : "And why are you paddling toward the St. Lawrence instead of the garrison?" — J. Feni- more Cooper. "Lake Erie" — Charles Bennett Smith, Editor Buifalo Courier: "The Griffin passed through Lake Erie and ended her first voyage in Green Bay, where she was freighted with furs and started back to Ni- agara." — W. T. Smiley's History. "Recollections of Rensselaer" — Hon. George F. Thompson, Middleport: WILD GINGER i6i "There are lots of fake anglers, especially at the tournaments." — Charles Hallock. "Impressions of Niagara" — E. C. Niles, Troy: "It is a spot beyond imagination, Delightful to the heart." — Firdausi. "The Man Behind the Rod"— Hon. David Mil- lar, Lockport: "Angling is so like mathematics that it can never be fully learned." — Izaak Walton. "Bait and Tackle" — Hon. John D. Whish, sec- cretary, New York State Forest, Fish, and Game Commission, Albany : "Poets, anglers, hermits hoary Confirm my vested rights sublime." — Charles Hallock. "The State League" — H. K. Wicker, presi- dent. New York Fish, Game, and Forest League, Lockport: "While great events were on the gale. And each hour brought a varying tale." —Sir Walter Scott. "The Weather"— Dr. Charles G. Myers, Troy: "The shifting shuttle of the Summer's loom And weaves a damask-work of gleam and gloom." — James Whitcomb Riley, "June." "Water" — Hon. Charles Hickey, judge and surrogate, Niagara County: i62 WILD GINGER "We drank the cup to-day held to our lips, and knew that so long as we were athirst that draught would not be denied us." — Hamilton W. Mabie, "Under the Trees." "The Press"— -Harold J. Balliett, city editor, the Buffalo News: "Behold, we bring the second ark. The press ! the press ! the press !" — Ebenezer Elliott. "The Lawyers as Fishermen" — Hon. A. Ed- mund Lee, Lockport : "They begin by making falsehood appear like truth and end with making truth appear like falsehood." — Shenstone. "Our Future" — Hon. Daniel E. Brong, Lock- port: "There is, after all, no house Hke God's out- of-doors. And lastly, sirs, it quiets a man down like saying his prayers." — Robert Louis Stev- enson. Olcott, Niagara's queenly lake resort, ap- peared in gala dress in honor of her distin- guished guests. Ontario was in a serene mood. The lake was placid as a millpond, the gentle undulations of the glassy surface expressing a contentment and sense of supreme enjoyment which were communicated subtly but surely to those who gazed on the charming scene with delighted eyes. Olcott, wearing with becoming grace her regal crown of pines, sat before her mirror, all her charms displayed, unconscious of WILD GINGER 163 her own beauty and the pleasure she was af- fording. "Cliff" Hastings' Mt. Ida quarette started the ball rolling in the banquet hall with: "To Niagara, to Niagara, We'll yell right well to Niagara, To Niagara." The hosts took up the same chorus, substituting "Rensselaer" for "Niagara." A gold badge was presented to President Mc- Laren in commemoration of the second joint tournament of the two clubs, the souvenir to be passed along to each succeeding president of the Rensselaer Club. The visiting president, in ac- cepting the badge, said his first effort would be directed, on his return home, to secure an amendment to the club's by-laws, whereby he might hold the presidency for life, and thus re- tain, while he lived, the prized reminder of the happiest days of his life. But if he could not thus hold it, he promised to transmit the golden badge to his successor untarnished in every way, and that the infant organization, already two hundred strong, and active in restocking the splendid lakes and streams of Rensselaer, would strive to prove worthy of the parent organiza- tion. It would require pages to record the many bright and inspired things which were said at that notable board. But, just as the best fish get away oftentimes, one of the best things came from one of the big fellows who couldn't get i64 WILD GINGER away. Andrew Irving, the recounting life of many a State convention, was held at home, and sent his regrets in these dehghtful words : "I regret more than I can tell my inability to be with you. May the god of good fishermen smile on the company of gentle and true men assem- bled together, giving them a cloudless sky and a soft west wind, and the continual dew of a good catch. May the recording angel deal le- niently with the tales that are told, and if the toast of the St. Lawrence Frontier is drunk, let there be no heel taps. Greet all the brethren in my name." Dan Brong drew the blissful occasion to a fit- ting close in a tribute to good fellowship of a particular brand which is found among anglers only. It was permeated with humor, graced with wit, and adorned with eloquence. The peroration was a benediction and a good-by till we meet again, that made parting difficult. All went from the gathering better sportsmen, truer men. The wilds and a select few make a fascinating combination. But there are many who cannot spare the time for the long journey into the wilderness. Let two bodies of sports- men, with common interests and established friendships try the experiment which proved so delightful and successful for the two clubs from the eastern and western part of the State. We believe that in many ways they will find it well worth while. WILD GINGER 165 WILD GINGER, WOOD SORREL, SWEET CICELY. A CAMP ON MALASPINA INLET, BRITISH COLUM- BIA. — July. VII. "The feathery fern, the feathery fern, An emerald sea, it waveth wide, And seems to flash, to gleam and burn, Like the ceaseless flow of a golden tide ; On bushy slope or in leafy glade, Amid the twilight depths of shade. By interlacing branches made. And trunks with lichens glorified." A line from Charley Rice, dropped from "House-boat Niagara, Bellingham, Wash.," briefly announcing that the steelheads were bit- ing briskly and that game on the Pacific coast was in season whenever it was fit to eat, caught four members of the Cataract Club without a struggle. Charley was a Lockport editor who made a seasonable investment in timber lands in Washington, and who had the good sense to go where he could enjoy fishing and shooting al- most any young, blithesome day and check up his profits on the logs at night. Ideal existence. It seemed almost too good to be true, yet it was worth investigating. On the morning of the third day from home i66 WILD GINGER the Northern Pacific express labored through a long tunnel which penetrates a spur of the Rock- ies and emerged on the western side. "Good morning," smiled a dazzlingly beautiful view. We were now quite up in the world, more than five thousand five hundred feet above sea level. Although on mountain tops, yet among peaks snow-capped that towered to heaven. The sun- light effects on the white summits were almost blinding in their brilliance, while far down be- low in rocky glens and canons there was all the sombreness of eternal despair. Here was a study in light and shade that could well elicit the satisfaction of the student of the clare-ob- scure, while at the same time impressing him with the utter hopelessness of mastery. Nature seemed to mock at the pitiful indirection of art : "I wonder if ever a sculptor wrought, 'Till the cold stone echoed his inmost thought; Or if ever a painter by light and shade. The dream of his inmost soul betrayed?" The two brother engines, joined in the hercu- lean task of drawing the linked caravan of hu- manity and freight, halted to take breath in a level spot between two cliffs. A clear spring satisfied the iron horses and their passengers alike. Near by was the water-tank man's cot- tage. A young girl in the doorway, with a basket of dewberries at her side and wild roses in her hair, was singing from her very heart in utter enjoyment. The words and the air were lost in the panting engines, but sentiment prompted another query voiced by the poet: WILD GINGER 167 "I wonder if ever a song was sung, But the singer's heart sang sweeter? I wonder if ever a rhyme was rung, But the thought surpassed the metre?" The locomotives were less noisy now. Dis- tinctly came the melody and the words now: "Sweet Rosy O'Grady, my own pretty Rose!" And somehow "Sweet Rosy O'Grady" fitted into the scene better than "I Love My Mountain Home," or "Poet and Peasant." After breakfast we wandered into the smok- ing compartment, secretly hoping that we should witness a renewal of the story-telling con- test between Mr. Edmunds, the English mining expert from Wealdston, Middlesex, and Captain J. Nelson Stewart, U. S. A., of Omaha, Ne- braska. Sure enough, there sat the immaculate Britisher, calmly' loading his patent seltzer bot- tle for the first broadside on the Nebraskan. Captain Stewart was smiling a challenge over a long black cigar which was pointed defiantly at John Bull. Sheriff McKenna, after nodding his greetings, trebled out: "Well, to your corners, and may the best man win. Yesterday's battle was de- clared drawn by the referee. I warn you there's to be no strikin' below the belt of truth to-day. I want to see brisk work, too. Andy Byrne, a contractor out home, had about three hundred Dagoes workin' for him all summer. He'd come down in the morning, mount the highest pile of dirt, survey the laborers, and then shout sternly: 'Boys, big lay-off to-night; only the best kept; dig in!' That bluff was good once a i68 WILD GINGER week the whole season. But, remember, 'Only the best kept !' " A day on an overland train will make more progress toward intimate acquaintanceship than a year under ordinary circumstances. The gen- tlemen addressed laughed good-naturedly at the big man with the little voice, and then faced each other. "Pardon, captain," began Mr. Edwards, "but I rathah gathahed lawst night that you were incredulous, sir, incredulous, with regard to me statements concerning the tropical growths in India, sir?" "Not in the least," briskly responded the Ne- braskan. "My friend, we grow corn out in Ne- braska so tall it is eighteen feet up to the first ear." "And, my deah boy, how far is it to the next ear," calmly inquired the Briton, with a "never touched me" air. "Our corn has but one ear, sir; but the stalks are twenty-four feet high, hollow, and full of shelled corn," parried the captain. "Mahvelous country, to be shuah — but then you have the grasshoppah handicap," suggested Mr. Edwards. "You're right there. Tall as our corn is, I've seen grasshoppers so big they had to get down on their knees to eat the pollen off the corn tassels," responded the American, as sober as a deacon. "You astonish me completely !" exclaimed the Englishman, with a twinkle. "Your insects, sir, must be related to the mosquitoes I saw in WILD GINGER 169 Alaska, which fly away with the helmets of the Royal Mounted." "Ya-as," drawled the captain, with a delibera- tion this time that indicated that he had been caught for once with no cartridge in the barrel — "ya-as, but our Niagara friends will find mos- quitoes up in British Columbia that can straddle the Columbia River and pick passengers off the steamboats." "Time I" called the sheriff. "Specky," the witty German-American of our party, who had been christened "Baron," moved that a vote of thanks be extended the two gen- tlemen for their "moving-story show." Mix and "Kit Carson, the Scout," as the rotund pub- lisher had been dubbed because of a wild West exploit in his younger days, assented. Mix sug- gested that the vote, in view of the character of the stories, pertained to a matter as serious as that which agitated a bereaved Lockportian. He explained : A gloomy individual glided into the sanctum one morning, shuffled up to the city editor's desk, and sniffled : "I want to print and pay for a 'Card of Thanks' — my wife is dead!" "I'm against thanking annybody for causing the death of truth," solemnly warbled the sher- iff, glowering at the Englishman and his an- tagonist. "I presume that either of the gentlemen in question," ejaculated the "Baron," with a crack- ling laugh, "are willing to tell the truth — under some circumstances. One of my neighbor's Ht- tle boys had been punished for fibbing and ad- monished to tell the truth in the future. The 170 WILD GINGER little ehap sobbed: 'Yes, mamma, I'm always go- ing to tell you the truth about Leonard when- ever he does anything naughty.' " "Big lay-off to-night; only the best kept, dig in." Business, ambition, habit — one or all of these are the big Boss Andys which get down early every workday morning and shout at most men, "Dig in." Equally unintelligent with the stupid foreign laborers are the business and profes- sional men who "take the bluff," and come to believe after a while that unless they "dig in" from morn until night, from year's beginning to year's end, there will be a permanent "lay-off" for them. It is true that in this world of com- petition only "the best kept" is the infrangible rule. Yet wise men are learning to differentiate between the drudge who "digs in" blindly and the man who prepares himself for his best efforts by the lay-off of his own initiative. "The best" in the long run are the men who run away from Boss Business occasionally, who forget Boss Ambition, and who break Boss Habit. These bosses, remember, can never follow the trail the sportsmen love to tread. And when the out-of- doors man gets back he can set a pace which the three bosses cannot keep, so they never get close enough to him to ding in his ears again, "Dig in." Thus we comfortably philosophized between yarns, as the luxurious Overland Limited hur- ried through cation, over summit, and down grade. The Rockies command respect, excite wonder MT. BAKER, AS SEEX FROM UT. ENTRANCE. Page 170. WILD GINGER 171 and prompt rapture; the Cascades create awe, cause astonishment, and compel admiration. There is some difference in the character of the two ranges, of course, and we have endeavored to describe the variety of impressions which they create. In the Pacific mountains are all the glories of the Rockies, but they are on the boundless scale of everything Pacific. In Sun- set Land the trees of the Rockies have become living monuments that tower up to heaven, the inland fsrns and bracken have grown into bushes that would shelter a cottage, and the alders of the East are here immense saplings. The lowly blueberries of New York are repre- sented by giant cousins, which bear red and blue fruit on stalks so high that the tallest grizzly cannot reach them. Vegetation shows all the evidences of the unsparing hand of the Al- mighty. On the western slopes the forest takes on a tropical appearancje. The foliage is luxuri- ant, and moss dangling from the tree branches seems to proclaim the Southern wilderness. Canons now have become simply bottomless ra- vines into which travelers look and tremble. They see directly under them, a thousand feet below, the tops of mighty trees, marshaled in orderly array like a giant army in review. The Cyclops are preparing to scale the seats of the gods. And, verily, if they pile yon Ossa upon the near-by Pelion they might successfully strive to gain the gates of Jupiter Actaeus, if not heaven itself. Across the seriated gorge is still a darker ravine, clad with trees sufficient to build a ladder to reach the most distant star. Over there must 172 WILD GINGER be the cave of the Centaur Chiron, who loved the wooded slopes of Pelion. And far out beyond the horizon's rim is the great Sea of the Setting Sun. Is it there that Xerxes' fleet sank from view forever? No, these are the western bulwarks of the Land of Liberty, and beyond is the ocean now dominated by Old Glory. The ancient poets who so bravely sang in the ages agone did not have such superior inspiration, after all. Some day there will arise a singer whose song will soar majestically above the Iliad and the ^neid, just as Mt. Ranier and Pike's Peak lift their summits farther up through the cerulean blue to- ward the sunlit glories of eternal truth than Olympus and Ida. "How high are those immense firs?" asked Mix. "Oh, just about three looks and a jump," re- sponded Captain Stewart. "Even at that, a Chinaman couldn't see to the top of them," murmured the sheriff. "And why, pray?" inquired Mr. Edwards. "Because his eyes slant the wrong way," tit- tered the gentle giant. On speeds the train toward Seattle. Long mountain ranges are traversed, unfolding new delights at every turn. Far toward the coast rises a white pyramid, which has for its base dark blocks of granite. That foundation is built of mountains ten thousand feet high, and the monument which surmounts it, towering a mile above, is Mt. Ranier. One is "lost in wonder, love, and praise." But the praise comes tardily, WILD GINGER 173 for serene admiration which does not hasten to audible expression takes entire possession of the soul. The deep sentiment of the first view of Mt. Ranier makes a fuller appreciation of this ode to nature possible : "I weave the beginning, I fashion the end ; Life is my fellow, and Death is my friend ; Time cannot stay me, Nor evil betray me, — They that assail me, unknowing defend. "I ravel asunder, I knit every flaw; Blossoms I scatter, with tempests I awe ; Birth-place of duty. And shrine of all beauty, — Firmly I govern and love is my law !" At Puyallup our car switched off for Seattle, and adieus were said to our friends, the Eng- lishman and the Nebraskan, and the French art dealer from New York, who had become enam- ored of the Baron's pet slang expressions, "a good sketch" and "cut that out." With many deep bows. Monsieur assured each of his friends from Niagara that he was "one, waht ze Baron Speck call ze goot picture, pardon, ze 'goot sketch.' " And, with hand on heart, he solemnly vowed, "Your friendship, monsieurs — it is zat I nevaire, nevaire 'cut it out' from my heart." A day in Seattle was enough, and too much, for we were longing for a sight of Charley Rice's house-boat Niagara and the British Co- lumbia camp among the big cedars. The State of Washington proved to be a steamer in a di- lapidated state, but the scenery of island-dotted 174 WILD GINGER and mountain-inclosed Puget Sound quickly took our minds off the discomforts of the boat. "We won't have a chance to make the mistake our old friend Van Dusen once did, because the passes have now come to an end, and nothing but good money talks," observed "Scout" Car- son. Van Dusen had borrowed a friend's pass for a trip by boat to Detroit. He thrust the pasteboard through the window to the purser in applying for his berth. The official looked up at him critically, and asked: 'Your name, please?' Van looked at the stern purser, fum- bled blindly through his brain for the name of his friend which appeared on the pass, and which he knew as well as his own, but for the life of him he couldn't recall it. The unhappy fellow was about to admit that he was using an- other man's pass and was about reaching down into his pocket for the money, when an inspira- tion flashed upon him. Van is a large, imposing- looking citizen. Stretching himself up to his full height, he bellowed out: 'What! Does this company employ a purser who can't read! There's the name right in front of you on that pasteboard!' The purser was no fool, but he was a good fellow and appreciated the joke; so he laughed: 'Excuse me, Mr. , we have a very good stateroom at your service.' " That recalled the similar experience of our friend, the judge, who this time had allowed "Boss Ambition" to keep him home. On the way to North Bay, Canada, one time, he was about extending his pass to the approaching con- ductor, when he happened to glance at the sig- WILD GINGER 175 nature and perceived that he had signed his own name, although the transportation was made in another name. A quick escape to the water cooler enabled him to make the proper correc- tion. The year following, when virtually the same party were together, the judge was laugh- ingly relating the narrow escape he had. Just then the conductor called "Tickets !" Where- upon the judge, interrupting his anecdote, scrawled his name on the bottom of the pass in his hand with a flourish as bold as if he were signing a court order. He had actually repeated the very amusing blunder about which he was telling us ! Again he was not troubled by the amiable railroad official, but he did not escape so easily from his friends. "Yes, indeed," twittered Falstaff, with a rem- iniscent twinkle, "before we got through with him he looked like the 'emancipated corpse,' as Mrs. Terwilliger described an emaciated de- parted friend." The "Baron" said that reminded him of a would-be fashionable neighbor of recently ac- quired wealth, who came home from abroad with an enameled complexion. To a friend who was admiring her change for the better, she con- fided : "Oh, you see, I had my face embalmed in Paris." "She was not the lady," remarked Mix, "who said that she found the body of the church filled and so she had to sit in the 'transit,' meaning the 'transept.' The same woman, after being convinced that an electric flatiron was a great labor-saving device, declared that the first time 176 WILD GINGER she went to Buffalo she intended to investigate in one." That was another reminder for the "Baron." A German friend in Swarmville bet that a cer- tain candidate would carry the county by five hundred majority. It turned out that his man was elected by five hundred plurality, but lacked several votes of five hundred majority. Day after election he called at the cafe where the wager stakes were held, but the proprietor had already paid the money to the other bettor. Joe stormed until he attracted a crowd. Striking the bar vehemently, he sputtered: "I bets my gelt on Schmidt's five hundred machority; he goes in yet! But now Dinkleperger sess no five hundred pluscality looks like five hundred machority, no, und, py himmel, / slmst vould he informed vat iss de cause off der necktiecali- ties.i' Joe wasn't the first man to be floored by the "technicalities" of politics. "Qiange your line of talk,' commanded the sheriff, "or I'll put you all on trial for disturb- ing the peace of Puget Sound, and make you cry for 'a change of venom,' as a Newfane chicken thief said to his attorney in urging him not to try the case at home where they were both too well known." " 'What'll you have ?' as Jonah said to the whale just before the fish shut him up. And, speaking of whales, there's one spouting now !" shouted the "Scout," pointing out toward the arm of the Pacific which runs in by Victoria along the southern point of Vancouver Island. Sure enough, there was a spouter, and we all WILD GINGER 177 had an eager look at the biggest fish that is not a fish we ever saw. "Chinook Charley" Rice was at the Belling- ham landing when The State of Washington ponderously swung up to the dock. After the greetings, he introduced the party to Joe Henry, the Siwash half-breed whose life he had saved in a case of proven justifiable homicide, and who was Charley's devoted attendant. There is a Siwash legend that once in fifty years all nature mourns the death of an Indian princess who had wept for a slain lover a twelve- month and then passed beyond the sunset sea. We had apparently struck the year of dolor when the skies weep from January to Decem- ber. Yet the Pacific coast rain is nothing more than an amiable sprinkle, once one gets accus- tomed to it. "Lucky that you don't have our clay roads," observed the sheriff. "Just a light morning dew makes our highways muddy for all day." On the house-boat Niagara we found a steam- ing meal awaiting us. Canned salmon is good, Kennebec salmon is better, but Puget Sound sal- mon is best. Those are exactly the degrees of palatability conferred by the discriminating epi- cure. Just the recollection of those delicious strawberry-colored steaks makes one's mouth water to this day! And the young wild ducks, that had attained almost full growth by late July in that climate, which knows no winter nor pov- erty of food that the mallards, blackies, teal, and pintail like Well, Lucullus, poor chap, you 178 WILD GINGER never dined on Puget Sound, the Bountiful Pro- vider ! While we visited the salmon canneries and viewed the other sights next day, "Comox" Joe was a very busy man, putting the final touches on the preparations for the trip up the British Columbia coast. The tent, the rest of the outfit, and the supplies were critically checked off by Chinook Charley. "You forgot the case in the cellar of the Fairhaven, Joe," mildly chided the captain of the hunt. "Yes, don't forget the box of life-preservers," chirped the sheriff. "I've been in many a tight place in my day and witnessed many an escape. I was duck shooting with big Jack Henmen in the Hartland swamps late one October. Jack started to cross a six-foot ditch which was cov- ered with ice that he thought would bear his weight. Down went Jack up to his armpits. Without trying to scramble out, the unlucky man reached into his hunting coat, pulled out his flask, and, raising it to his lips, shouted be- fore taking: 'Don't try to save me, though I can't swim, 'cause I have my life-preserver on !' " "A little of the 'crayture' is all right in the wilderness, where anything is liable to happen," said the scout, in an apologetic tone, "but don't let's overdo it," he added cautiously, with a side glance at the Indian. "We won't be as bad as the Millersport com- mittee," rang in the Baron, "which was sent to Lockport to get supplies for a Fourth of July dance. They spent the day in Lockport sam- pling goods and got back just as the ballroom WILD GINGER 179 opened. Six cooks were ready to begin cook- ing the supper; but when the supplies box was opened all that turned up was thirty-six bottles of whisky and a pound of floor wax !" "That must have been the party at which the Rapids blacksmith and his comrade got into trouble," reminded Mix. The Baron remem- bered : "Oh, yes, yes ! John Krinkle's wife had a panacea for all ills in an egg-nog for which she was famous throughout the whole countryside. John and his bosom companion, Hervy Hulsap- ple, attended the dance, and just before the break of day Hervy essayed to escort his top- heavy friend home. They negotiated the mile with considerable difficulty, and at last John was propped up against the door. The good frau opened to the knock, and Hervy, hat in one hand and the other firmly grasping John by the coat collar, bowed deeply, and murmured: 'Missus Krinkle, here's der Chon-Chon kronk — he must some of der echnock haff !' The woman glared at the sorry-looking pair, and then snapped: 'Vait, vunce, till I get der proom, an' I giff you two carps an echnock, a knock dat you don't forgit!' But Hervy didn't wait for his." The provision box looked big enough to feed a small colony. Charley remarked that pro- visions were cheap and we didn't know when we'd get back. That recalled Anderson's story of the Swede who applied for a job on the farm and was asked what wages he wanted. Hans drawled : "Mr. Yonsen, you geeve me i8o WILD GINGER feety cents day andt you eet me; you geeve me seventy-five cents day andt ay eet myself." "Big lay-off to-night; only the best kept; dig in !" That was the byword, and action was suited to it in loading up the yacht that was to carry the party and duffle to the steamer Comox at Vancouver. The clouds broke away and the sun peeped through as we weighed anchor, bound for Lund, British Columbia. Impressive is the scenery at every stage of the boat's progress. On the east rise the snow-crowned mountains of the Cana- dian Cascade Mountains. Equally imposing are the crystal summits of Vancouver Island's back- bone. Thirty miles out a novel marine battle was witnessed by the interested tourists. Ahead of the ship a quarter-mile the sea was apparently displaying some sort of eruptive phenomena. As we drew nearer to the scene of violent dis- turbance, a Taxada Island miner explained: "A whale and thresher eels having a little fisti- cuff." The combative threshers were making it warm for the big fellow, who fought back pon- derously, but he was no match for his quicker enemies and he made desperate efforts to escape. For a half-hour we watched the intermittent fighting, as the marine monsters worked off sea- ward. Near Texada, the scene of active mining op- erations, we were shown an island of some twenty thousand acres, which an enterprising Yankee from Seattle had stocked with silver ^» ^ L^ J| £ . 4 i r fea ^^g| Hf :*s^ W^ flp iWwJ H i m 9i^^ ^ ^ J^.„ STAEDER THULIN'S STRONGHOLD— LUND, BRITISH COLU.MBIA. Page i8i. WILD GINGER i8i foxes and from which he expected to reap a fortune. Great black fish, weighing from five hundred to one thousand pounds, disported themselves about the ship, and the short-haired seals were seen gamboling around nearly every small is- land. Salmon were leaping everywhere, and as the immense expanse of water stretched out be- fore us we began to get some small conception of the source of supply for the immense can- neries of Oregon, Washington, and British Co- lumbia. Lund at last! Lund in the government rec- ords is a post office of the Royal Service. As the stranger comes to know it, Lund is the "staeder," chief town, of the mountainous laen over which Laensman Charles Thulin rules. He came twenty years ago from Sweden. Tall and strong as a descendant of Skjold or Gustaf Vasa, his handsome, frank face is that of one of nature's noblemen. He landed first in the States, working his way gradually westward and northward. His heart was set on a home like unto that in the beautiful forests which skirt the shores of Nordingra or Sundsval in the fatherland. The Thulin brothers heard of the great trees, the rich mines, and the inlets abounding in fish far north of Vancouver. This was the destination of the emigrants. For a while they worked as woodsmen in Michigan, later in Wisconsin, finally reaching Washington. With a little accumulated money they sailed up the coast from Vancouver in search of the right location upon which to file a settler's claim. At i82 WILD GINGER first they took out papers on Point Sarah, a peninsula twenty miles long and two miles wide. At last the Norsemen and their brides were at home, for the boundless forest was their do- main and the sea and its swelling tides around about them on nearly every side were their adopted protectors. The Thulins prospered, and to-day they are owners of an estate that would make a rich dower for a Swedish princess. Three copper mines, four logging camps, and a fleet of fishing vessels are theirs. The greeting and hospitality which they ac- corded their guests proved that "kind hearts are more than coronets," for riches had not spoiled the uncrowned kings of Malaspina. We enjoyed the following day exploring the Thulin domain. It gave us some idea of the old days of feudalism. The three-story bar- racks-like house was the castle, the centre of government and of all economic and social ac- tivities of the region for miles around. At night the miners, lumbermen, and fishermen dropped in from the various Thulin camps to assemble at the Thulin Inn near the dock, where those who desired it were allowed so much grog, which was scored up against them. Though mild in manner, every rough backwoodsman knew how stern Baron Thulin could be, and how every drunkard was obliged to accept free passage to Vancouver with the boss' best wishes. That night at the inn afforded a varied study in character. Besides the interesting types of physiognomy and picturesque costumes, there were the fascinating speech of the men of that WILD GINGER 183 region. Most of them hailed from the States and centres of older civilization, and they were glad to see men "from home," although in real- ity we were strangers. One after another, as we quickly became acquainted, related his ex- periences, and many were the tales of hardship, adventure, and heroic achievement which we heard that night, with rolling thunder from the mountain heights punctuating the sentences. On our way from the inn to Thulin's hospita- ble roof we ran across a bear! That is. Baron Speck did. He stumbled across the prostrate bruin. Angry at being thus rudely aroused, the bear put out his paws to embrace the intruder, but for once the big Baron executed a quick movement. With a shriek and an "Ach, Gott!" that was blood-curdling, he leaped into the air, and when he came down he was landed safe on the Thulin steps. A pet bear, given the freedom of the place daytimes, was chained near his box between the inn and house. The Baron had forgotten about that, and in the semi-darkness had strayed out of the path into bruin's door- yard. Brook trout, our New York Salmo fontinalis, except for a darker coloring, we caught abun- dantly in the streams and small ponds near the Thulin house. Within a hundred rods blue grouse were plentiful, and deer and bear were to be had for the hunting within a mile. Our efforts were confined mostly to work along the old log roads, owing to the almost impenetrable underbrush of most of the forest. We fished in the bay, and caught what at first glance looked i84 WILD GINGER like overgrown bullheads, but turned out to be rock cod, a delicious fish that could be hooked by the boat load, using an ordinary lead squid and bobbing it up and down near the bottom. We were warned not to wander too far away without experienced fishermen, on account of the treacherous tides, which register a difference of from eight to eleven feet along the precipitous rocky shores of the islands and mainland. Trolling in the bay, the handsome silver sal- mon, the king of the game fish of the northern seas, entertained us until the conch called us in to supper. One of Mrs. Thulin's suppers ! Ah, let me dream again ! The good housewife would not permit her maids to serve us, but she herself and her daughter prepared our meals and served them. Great was the honor, but, if possi- ble, the joy incident to partaking thereof was even greater. The Japanese cook was allowed to pass the water pitcher and pour the coffee and tea. "Eet iss not much," said Mrs. Thulin, with an apologetic wave toward the table. But, listen — this is what our hostess did not consider much : Bean soup, that a French chef would have no right to name in the same day with any of his own; broiled salmon just from the water; ham and eggs, venison steak and onions ; roast beef and gravy; celery, beets, pickles, potatoes, waf- fles and maple syrup, hot rolls and fresh bread, blueberry pie, cheese. At dinner next day this menu was varied with mountain trout, grouse, and wild duck. Run away, Del, run away, WILD GINGER 185 Knickerbocker, run away, Martin and the rest of you Tenderloin amateurs ! You are too young to listen to this. Charley Rice confiden- tially advised us that the hostess would not con- sider her table complete without some form of pork, beef, and cheese, even if she had a score of varieties of fish and game in the menu, for these wild things are reckoned as mere side is- sues. The woodsman would rather have his piece of bacon or salt pork and potatoes any day than a plate of venison and trout. "Well, nothing sticks to your sides like old salt pork," contentedly sighed the sheriff, with a nod of approval; "and a man can do more days' works on potatoes than he can on trout and partridge." Baron Thulin placed his private yacht, the Okeover, at our disposal. Our plan was to run up the coast twenty miles farther and back into Theodosia Arm. A famous trout stream, rising in the Cascades, emptied into the sound there. The valley of Hernando Creek was famous for its deer, bear, and grouse. We were told that if we cared to push up to its headwaters among the mountains we would find plenty of goat and some sheep. With the latter expedition in mind as a possibility, we took along with us, in addi- tion to the Indian, Comox Joe, Gus, a pleasant- faced young Finlander, and Erickson, a Swede of fifty, both experienced hunters. Eric Thulin had charge of the engine, and Tom Davison, a loquacious Irishman, insisted on acting as our pilot. The cunning Tom had managed to keep out of Charles Thulin's sight i86 WILD GINGER until time to embark, and then, in the confusion of the moment, the fact that the Irishman was the worse for liquor escaped the boss' keen eye. All went smoothly for a time until we began to thread our way through the small islands and rocks near the end of Point Sarah. The Oke- over shivered as she grazed a submerged granite and we thought it was all over, but the craft righted itself. Eric shouted at the pilot to mind his eye. Several times we on the bow who could see the danger warned Tom that he was running dangerously near to the rocks on either side, but he waved us aside as ignorant tender- feet "who wuld be scared to wade a bath-tub." Another close call, due to Tom's shaky piloting, forced the party to interfere, and Thulin was ad- vised of the trouble with the pilot. The "Scout," who was conversant with machinery, took the engine, and Thulin took Tom by the collar. He had to threaten to throw the obstrep- erous Irishman overboard before he would promise to lie down. A swimmer would have a slim chance, what with the swift currents and perpendicular banks on every side, so Tom didn't invite any predicament of that kind. Deep into the inland sped the Okeover, gliding by beds of kelp and grass beds, and long stretches of what looked like wild rice, spots suggestive of good angling and duck hunting. A buck stood on the distant headland, but the "puff-puff" of the boat was too much even for his curiosity and he vanished between two looks. From the water-grass on both sides of the arm rose flocks of ducks. There was a scramble WILD GINGER 187 for guns as scattered bunches began to wing within reaching distance of the yacht, and pres- ently there was in progress a bombardment that awoke the echoes far back into the towering mountains. A dozen fat birds were picked up before the little craft touched at the rude dock in front of the abandoned logger's cabin at the end of the arm. Slumbering Tom woke up just as we landed, and in sheer mischief he sneaked to the whistle rope and let off an unexpected salute to the soli- tude that was weird and startling in its effect. The echo and reecho was marvelous as a dozen mountainsides took up the sound which in re- duplication became almost unearthly. The de- mons of the forest have broken lose and in wild defiance forbid the intruders to set foot in their domain. "Dweller in hollow places, hills and rocks, Daughter of silence and solitude. Tip-toe she stands within her cave or wood, Her only life the noises that she mocks." While Gus, Erickson, and Joe busied them- selves making camp, Chinook Charley pointed to the great forest, repeating : "Kill for us a famous roebuck, Kill for us a deer with antlers." Specky snorted: "Just cut out the antlers; I'm hungry, and any old deer will doe." That got away, like many other things in the wilderness of Theodosia Arm. To the Easterners, accustomed although they i88 WILD GINGER were to the extensive forests of the Adiron- dacks, Quebec, and Ontario, the giant, gloomy wilderness before them seemed almost forbidding in its aspect. The trees in the creek valley grew to an enormous height. But for an old skid road which cut through for a mile or two back, traveling would have been very tedious until the higher grounds were reached. Our modest Eastern bracken are replaced with the tall, dense, woolly "pteris lanuginosa," or "pubes- cens," and our lowly Christmas and holly ferns find as substitutes of lofty stature the "Poly- stichum aculeatum," "Californicum," and "angu- lare." The "lady fern" that our Eastern poets sing about gave way to the Amazons of the fern kingdom in Malaspina. We saw several deer, and all of us had an opportunity to "make good" ; but only one buck was the result of the first expedition. "Enough is as good as a feast." The twilight scene from the mountain side was one that will linger long in memory. A mist was spreading over the beautiful panorama of water and forest below. The mountains above were already concealed from view, except where here and there a white peak gleamed with the reflections of the dying day. The effect of the fading light on land and sea was ineffable. We seemed to occupy a region midway between earth and heaven, with the white thrones visible here and there above us. The camp fire below had withal the more inviting look, and the hu- man stomach bade us not to ascend, but to de- scend to the more homelike abode. Yii&- ■ M^ MpHS^^^^SI ^^^bfl •Page 1 89. NO TJ.ME FOR STORIES WILD GINGER 189 Rock cod chowder, salmon steak, stewed duck, and roast grouse, bacon, potatoes, and coffee, cooked and served in Comox Joe's best style! Once again, get thee behind me, Broadway — or stay where you are, if you wish, for you no longer have any temptations for my stomach. Supper was hardly finished before a heavy rain storm came up, and we were quite well sat- isfied that we were comfortably quartered in a stout log cabin, with a roaring fire on the open hearth, instead of the tent we had brought with us. Up the valley the wolves were howling, and their sharp yelps could be heard above the rum- bling of the thunder. Erickson looked at Gus, and whispered : "Some man hurted deer, wolfs now fightin' over carcass." So it proved next day, when Comox brought back some of the bones of a freshly killed deer which had been picked clean. We had failed to follow the trail of a wounded doe after she struck the creek, but Joe was not long in picking it up. "Little things talk loud to Indian's eye," grunted Comox. "Broken moss on stone across stream shout to me : 'This way she go.' " The storm increased in fury. The awfulness of thunder can never be appreciated until one has heard it echoing and reechoing through the valleys of great mountains. "The artillery of heaven" seems to be aiming its heaviest guns at the ranks of sin and the mortal feels that each discharge will riddle the devil and bring the ruins of hell tumbling aboi^t his ears. "Pile on a few more sticks, Joe," requested Chinook Charley. As the Indian complied, the igo WILD GINGER native with at least one legally recorded notch in his rifle, accounting for the death of a white land grabber, smiled grimly. "When a man prays one day and steals six, the Great Spirit thunders and the Evil One laughs." Gus observed that so much rain this time of the year was unusual, adding: "Vy dis summer it rain tirty-tou days a mont." The Finlander and Swede were encouraged to relate some of their hunting experiences. Gus told of guiding a party three years before down on the White Salmon River. They camped near a great forest of oaks where the bear came to feed on the tons of acorns. Back of this oak timber is a steep mountain, down which run several bear trails and several deer trails. The hunters had a pack of twenty hounds, and these were sent skirmish- ing through the woods to interrupt the feasting bruin. A young man from Portland was sta- tioned on the first trail, and he had not been at his post long before along lumbered a big bear. The hunter stepped from behind his tree, where- upon the bear stopped, and the pair stood eying each other for two or three minutes. The Port- lander finally fired. Bruin dropped onto all fours and galloped off in the direction of the other hunters, who killed him. The dogs were yelping closer now, and just ahead of them was a cinnamon bear. The Portlander took a shot at the monster, and this time had better, or worse, luck, for he only slightly wounded the animal. The bear charged, and the hunter ran for help. He needed it. Four guns finally killed the cinnamon, but not until he had killed three WILD GINGER 191 dogs and knocked the nimrod from Portland un- conscious. The party remained three days, and killed ten black bear and one cinnamon, besides wounding several that got away. "I know Portland man," remarked Comox. "No good. Coward. Indian say 'Coward shoot with eyes shut.' But best keep 'way from cin- namon. Him liglier than grizzly — heep quicker, too. Black bear run; grizzly not fight less you hit him first; cinnamon — oh, he like scrap — he lookin' for it. Near my ranch live Siwash, big hunter, but shoot too much. Shoot when cabin full, cache full. No good. Good man to be dead fer oder hunters. Dis Siwash huntin' deer ; cinnamon huntin' heem, too, perhaps — anyhow, bear scare deer away, make Siwash mad. In- dian shoot bear. Bear like dat. Run after Si- wash. Indian shoot ag'in, run some more ; shoot ag'in, run ag'in. By em by bear git Indian. I find both dead. Bear stop five bullets, but git Siwash jest same." "What if you had hit that cinnamon in the berry thicket this evening, Charley?" inquired one of the tenderfeet. "I did hit him," remarked Chinook Charley, in his quiet, even voice. "I broke one leg, and for some reason he decided not to tackle me and made off instead. I couldn't follow him through the underbrush, even if I had wanted to. He'll come out and make for the mountains, and we may track him in the morning." "No track him now, too much rain," sniffed Comox. But the Finlander and Swede took up the chase next morning, following up close to the 192 WILD GINGER snow line after putting up the cinnamon not three miles from camp. Two days there were gone, but they came back with the pelt of Char- ley's bear, exhausted and famished, but tri- umphant. "Plenty goat up White Cliff," remarked Erickson, after supper. "But no good fer to shoot till rain stop some more." Each day con- tributed its brisk showers, and the limited time made it impossible to wait for more favorable weather for the mountain climb which we had looked forward to so eagerly. Boss Business was beginning to assert himself, even in that re- mote spot. At the creek mouth the steelhead salmon took the fly, affording exciting sport. We had to cut away the brush to fish the stream farther up for speckle trout. While slashing away at the en- tangled alders, briars, and brakes. Mix broke up a yellow- jacket's home. A leap into the creek saved his life, but it spoiled the fishing in that hole for an hour. The yellow- jackets spoiled the angler's face for exhibition purposes that day, too. One pleasant day we put in on a trip by small boats six miles down the Arm. Along the way we put up a half dozen varieties of ducks, small and large bunches. After the first few shots they were wild and rarely came within reach. We put out some decoys off a point which was surrounded on both sides by ideal feeding grounds. For two hours we shot almost unin- terrupted, until our somnolent consciences told us we had exceeded the limit for decent sports- WILD GINGER 193 men. Forty-five ducks of the edible kinds and twelve shell drakes that got mixed up in the trouble comprised the hag off Pintail Point, as we christened it. "Great spot for goose," ^aid Joe. "One fall up here with big man from Seattle. He shoot tree days — too much shoot — uo good. Glad he bust gun — drink too much — shoot while gun dip in water — fly to pieces — knock end of nose off — good, he shoot too much. But before he knock off nose kill heap goose, mebby two hunderd, mebby more — four swan, too, and some cousin- goose. (Brant.) The snipe and two or three kinds of plover were plentiful and fearless. Apparently these birds were never shot at in that region, for they would teeter along the shore, tamer than the ordinary tip-ups in the East. Angling among the kelp beds produced more than one strange sensation for the tenderfeet. We caught everything from rock cod to sea- cucumbers, including sculpin, starfish, jelly-fish, and a baby octopus. "Now watch Mix quit, because he's against the deadly enemy of the masses, the awful oc- topus," laughed the sheriff, as he knocked a slimy sea-cucumber from his hooks. One boat, in trying to stalk a great crane standing in the shallows, crawled under the overhanging branches of trees along the bank. A furry bunch scooted back from a dead limb that reached out close to the bird and shot down into the underbrush. "A wildcat!" exclaimed 194 WILD GINGER Charley. "Bob was out hunting, too, and ap- parently saw the crane first." A cougar visited the camp one night. His cries up the valley were heard several times. Joe placed some fish on a stump eight feet from the ground. Next morning they were gone, and tracks of the mountain lion were traced in the soft earth near by. "Up creek old cougar start deer," said Joe, who had been prospecting after the discovery. "Buck jump twenty feet, when catch cougar creepin' up on him. Buck no fool. Know Si- wash wisdom : 'When fox walk lame, time for old rabbit to jump.' " For solitude profound, we commend the im- mense forests of the Pacific coast. The sensa- tions of sitting in the midst of the great trees is hardly describable. With the sun directly over- head, no ray of sunshine penetrates nearer the ground than one hundred and fifty to two hun- dred feet. The hunter is in the center of a dark- green hemisphere, whose outer surface far above is a dome of gold. The silence after a time be- comes almost unbearable, and even the most timid nimrod would almost welcome having it broken by a grizzly. And grizzHes there were, for one of the party, escorted by Gus and Erickson, encountered one over in the canon across the Arm, and Well, that's another story, which might have been heard had the reader been one of the pas- sengers on the Okeover returning to Lund. As it is, let's talk about something pleasant : hope it doesn't rain to-morrow. 2; w < ►J WILD GINGER 195 WILD GINGER, WOOD SORREL, SWEET CICELY. MODERN PIONEERS OF THE FRENCH RIVER, CAN- ADA. — August. VIII. "The cardinal, and the blood-red spots, Its double in the stream ; As if some wounded eagle's breast, Slow throbbing o'er its pain, Had left its airy path impressed In drops of scarlet rain." There is medicine in music ; and the very best is nature's music, for it possesses subtle proper- ties which upbuild mind, body, and soul. The languorous melodies that float over jasmine bow- ers and magnolia blooms appeal to certain tem- peraments; but, somehow, to the ear of the sportsman and to him who loves the rugged out- of-doors, they suggest the shallow dilettante airs of the ballroom. The Southland, even in win- ter, is therefore unsatisfying, and quickly palls upon him whose soul thrills to the grand, awe- some, inspiring chorus that the Northern for- ests sing. The Southern hills and rivers have their "Love Dreamland" waltzes, but kindly give us Leybach's Fifth Noctune, Chopin's Twelfth, and Holzel's "Song Without Words," that may be 196 WILD GINGER heard on the rock-girt shores of Lake Nipissing and the French River, according to nature's own inimitable interpretation. If a man, woman, or child can carry with him in memory the master chords and the pervading harmonies of the Twelfth Nocturne he has from the hands of the Great Master a gift of incal- culable value. That greatest of all Chopin's creations, in our estimation, is much affected in the drawing-room; but the lights, the sounds, the environment only detract from the power the piece has over the soul of man. Take it with you, vague, faulty, halting though it may be, as reproduced by the fingers of the brain on imaginary keys, and let nature furnish the re- sponsive notes. Once in the far North wilderness we heard the Twelfth Nocturne, not played by human hands, but sung by the voices of nature. There was the prelude of the breezes in the near-by pines, accompanied by the ripple of waves on the beach, while the burden of the melody was con- stantly carried in subdued but insistent notes by the distant cataract. Then came the rumble of thunder in the far-away mountains, growing nearer and more awesome as it approached, un- til it attained the culminating crash overhead, in each lull of the storm still could be heard the same undertones of the sighing branches, the same melody of the muffled cataract. It was the Twelfth Nocturne with all the variations and in- tricacies and shadings which master musicians alone can create. Let nature play Chopin's mas- terpiece for you some time, even at the risk of WILD GINGER 197 j having the drawing-room renditions pall upon you thereafter. "Grand Trunk train for the Muskoka Lakes and North Bay!" What a welcome announcement was that to the party of the Cataract Club, who all winter had been recounting the adventures, labors, mis- haps, and delights of the first camp on the se- cluded arm of the French River, and who, at last! were actually on the way to their northern cabin home ! In the smoky, stuffy Toronto sta- tion a pale little girl was vending hothouse flowers. The big sheriff looked at her pityingly, and, handing her a coin, said : "Give the flowers to that lady over there with the three little chil- dren." "Why didn't you wear the roses yourself, sheriff?" laughed Lemuel Lerch, as the flower girl ran away to present the bouquet to the tired little mother in the corner. "Oh, I'm not much on posies- — I've got my mind set now on the cardinal flowers of Okiken- dawt Island." "What, Falstaff, getting sentimental," cried Stickwell. "We'll have to look into his case." Assuming the attitude of a giant troubadour, the sheriff warbled in subdued tones, low enough not to attract the helmeted bobby in the lobby: "Oh, dear mother, pin a rose on me, Two little girls are stuck on me. One is blind and t'other can't see." And like unto the busy man of the world were the other men of affairs — just boys again and school out for two weeks ! 198 WILD GINGER Aboard the train business cares were forgot- ten under the opiate of some soothing influence. Is it the lullaby glide of the coach, or the bal- samic air which salutes the nostrils by the time we have catight a glimpse of Simcoe at Barrie? Anyhow, something has created a new feeling within us, making life doubly worth living. It may be in part the joint product of present en- joyment and anticipation which thrive won- drously in the sunshine of good-fellowship and congenial company. At North Bay the steamer Vom Woodland, chartered to carry our party, with guides, cook, boats, and supplies, was in waiting at the end of the long pier running out from the sandy beach. We had only time for supper at the Queen's Hotel and a brief renewal of acquaintanceship with Chief Game Warden Samuel Huntington and other good sportsmen we had met in the northern metropolis of Ontario and northern terminus of the Grand Trunk. The chief out- fitting point of the Temagami, Temiscaming, Ot- tawa River, Georgian Bay, and Magnetawan regions, North Bay is an interesting town. Pic- turesque lumbermen, Indians from the reserva- tions, fishermen, and trappers mingle with the thrifty Canadian tradesmen. There the tourist can see "The Man from Glengarry" and the rest of the shantymen from the woods. Lac du Talon, Trout Lake, and Nipissing it- self oflfer inducements to the sportsmen to tarry, but our path lies across Lake Nipissing, a route that "leaves no trail." Lake Nipissing and the French River formed WILD GINGER 199 two very important links of the nearly all-water route between Montreal and the far West from the earliest days of the French domination of the northern portion of the American continent. The first pioneers on the French River, there- fore, must be sought in the musty pages of his- tory which are illumined by the heroic deeds of the titled adventurers from France. But until the very last years of the last century the French River was little frequented by the sportsman of modern times. About the year 1897, an aban- doned log cabin on an arm of the French, north of the main channel, and beyond the Big Chau- diere about twelve miles, was refitted by Mr. Huntington and Dr. Hale, of Ann Arbor, Mich- igan. Three years later members of the Cata- ract Club were invited to take an interest in the camp, and a club was formed to maintain this ideal headquarters for an outing in the Canadian wilds. So, we have some title to count ourselves among the first fortunate pioneers of the French River as known to modern times. On the previous trip we made, by daylight, the steamer journey, twenty-five miles across Nipissing and twelve miles down the French to a point one mile above the Big Chaudiere, which is a bar to further navigation without resorting to the portage. That, luckily, means an end to steamboating. In the same providential manner, rapids not navigable by the reckless Indian ca- noeist, even, at the western end of the French, stops too easy access from the Georgian Bay dis- trict. By this we do not mean that we would not like to see all mankind enjoy the very best 200 WILD GINGER nature affords, but we do believe that nobody deserves to revel in the select and supreme de- lights unless he be willing to earn them by the hard work such as this trip to the heart of the French River entails. The first trip, as we were saying, was by day- light, and this time we planned for a moonlight sail across Nipissing. Everything was in readi- ness, and we boarded the Van Woodland at eight to await the rising of the moon. Those who had been so fortunate as to take the day- light voyage recalled the glories that were un- folded to them on that occasion. A year had passed, but memory was faithful : The mists of morning hung like a silvery veil over the dis- tant isles and shores. Vision was not satisfied with its limited range. The God of Day seemed too deliberate in lifting the silken curtain whose folds inclosed the mirrored vistas of islands and channels far out over the sparkling waters. Yonder peak, around which a wreath of vapor was slowly curling upward, looked like the ghost of a Huron chieftain, initiating the peace pipe of the nations, the sweet-scented kinni- kinick, and bidding his ancient foes, the saga- mores of the Iroquois, welcome. A white- winged bird of peace floated into the sunlight from somewhere in the impenetrable, airy ex- panse, flashing in the bright rays as he turned to gaze upon the glowing orb, like a heavenly mes- senger. But, as if to dispel the suggested senti- ments of concord and tranquillity, from a rugged pine top swooped an eagle, eager to encounter any feathered intruder upon his domain. And, PORTAGE AROUND BIG CHAUDIERE. WILD GINGER 201 reminiscence brought back, too, the pretty girl, the fisherman's daughter, who rowed while her father trolled, and how one of our gallant young men stepped to the megaphone and politely shouted : "Here's to The Lady of the Lake 1 Hats off, gentlemen !" The grizzled old water- man Hfted his cap in response to the salute, and, encouraged by his action, the maiden gracefully waved her hand. The moon came up, near the full, in a cloud- less sky. "We're off!" Off the throbbing steamer's bow parted twin streams of liquid silver, that drew from the smooth surface just beyond the golden reflections of the stars. And then, as if in respect to the Queen of the Skies, the draperies of night were thrown aside, re- vealing to eager eyes a prospect of surpassing loveliness. The rocky promontories of Manitou Island stood forth in glistening array, like a chain of fortresses against the dark background of trees, with here and there a solitary pine on the summits like giant sentinels. Louis, the son of a Beaucage chief, broke the silence : "Dat long time back, Great Spirit's land. Water all round, but white man got him, too, by 'em by." So it would seem the Manitou's island was not safe from the invader's greed, for the white man had taken everything in sight, not sparing an isolated patch of rocky forest in mid lake to the red man's god. "But, Louis," said the judge presently, "don't your tribe hold some choice lands as a reserve up at Beaucage? Don't the Duquese tribe hold 202 WILD GINGER a splendid tract, including a big strip of original pine that they have refused to sell for a quarter of a milion? And don't you Indians have per- mission to shoot all the deer and moose you want any time of the year?" "You have said," grunted Louis. Then, after several puffs at his pipe, the Indian added: "There will be hungry white men so long as there's any Indian land to swallow." "In other words, judge," giggled the sherifJ, "as Jim McGarvey says, 'Whan ye have anny- thing to say, keep yer mout' shet.' " "The Province promised to build improved houses for the Indians ten years ago," said Mix; "but the Indians may make the same criticism that my boy did of me the other day. The lad remarked to his mother confidentially: 'Papa keeps his promises, but he keeps them too long.' " "Well, this all suits me as well as if I had ordered every bit of it," sighed the sheriff con- tentedly. "And I'm about as particular as Jim McGarvey, too. Jim was called in to play as substitute in a Fourth of July match game of ball. It was in the old days, when the batter could call for a high or low ball. Jim was green to the game, and when he stepped up to the plate he stood there, looking scared-like at the big pitcher and appealingly at the umpire. 'What kind o' ball, Jim ?' yelled the umpire. Jim hitched around, spit on his hands, grasped the bat, and then, again facing the pitcher, com- manded defiantly : 'A lozv wan — an' d — n shlow!' " WILD GINGER 203 After the laugh subsided, it was generally agreed that the slow trip in the moonlight was just the thing. "Jim McGarvey," the judge was reminded, "was a very industrious man, and it ground him dreadfully to miss even a quarter of a day's work on any account. Despite his crippled con- dition, the faithful old fellow boasted he hadn't lost but one half-day in twenty years, and that was to attend a funeral. He was so painfully deformed that he bobbed back and forward like the closing and opening of a joined rule. One day he was hobbling along the towpath on his way to work, and in stepping out of the way of a canal team toppled into the water. With much difficulty he was fished out by the crew, more dead than alive. When they had about given him up for drowned, Jim sat up, looked around, struggled to his feet, shook the water from his head like a dog, grabbed up his dinner pail, and started to snap himself down the tow- path toward work. Without a word of thanks for the rescuers, but with his mind still strictly on his working time, he inquired without stop- ping: 'An' do yez think I kin make three- quarters ?' " "Thank goodness we are putting in full time here," laughed the Scout. The witchery of an irrefragable silence soon again rested upon all. From the brilliancy of the open water the boat swept majestically into the shadow of wooded islands. The soothing odors of the forest arose, grateful to the nostrils as the incense of "God's first temples." Overhanging 2o6 WILD GINGER and interrupted the song right there. No dam- age was done, and the piece was carried through to the last thrilHng and optimistic stanza of "We'll know hard times no more." The kerosene can reminded the sheriff of a story — if it hadn't been the can it would have been some other servant of the law of associa- tions. Will Pomray was a traveling salesman who had seen pretty much every part of the United States. He tells that one time he was riding with a friend named Brainard in southern Texas and they lost the trail. After wandering about nearly a day, half starved, they pulled up in front of a dilapidated cabin and asked the yel- low-skinned woman who appeared in the door- way if she could provide them with something to eat. She reckoned she could scrape up a meal. The pair sat outside until long after dark, growing desperate in their hunger long before the hostess appeared and suggested that if they cared to they could come in to supper. There was a bountiful dish of meat, of which they par- took heartily, some sweet potatoes, and brackish water. The woman intimated that she had done the best she could for them, and after a time conveyed the information that all she had on hand was a gander, the only gander in her flock. Pomray expressed regret that she had sacrificed the head of her flock to satisfy their hunger, whereupon, with a hospitable flourish, the good woman simpered : 'Waal, 'twan't so much, ater all, 'cause ole Dick had been sickly fer a long spell.' " WILD GINGER 207 Brainard experienced an internal spasm just then, and to quiet it, reached over and filled the gourd near the lard pail, which did duty for a water pail, and drained it. This didn't seem to relieve Brainard much, for he shouted in utter disregard of the politeness expected of a guest : 'Woman, for Heaven's sake, what ails this wa- ter?' Without lifting an eyelid, the hostess re- plied : 'Ye needn't be uneasy, stranger, Ah reckon, 'cause all ye tastes is the kerosene Ah poured inter th' water ter kill the wrigglers.' " "That doesn't phase me, sheriff," shouted the Scout. "Just hand me another of those tongue sandwiches." Bunks were quickly arranged, and all hands turned in for a little rest before the rising of the sun. The steamer had now tied up to a natural dock, consisting of precipitous rock facing twenty feet of water. Slumber came soon, somebody quoting: "A little murmur in mine ear, A little ripple at my feet." The "Baron" was already snoring, but he 'came to" long enough to grunt: "The 'ripple' sketch is all right, but please cut out the mosquito music for mine." As a matter of fact, the shores of the French River are high and no abiding place for the winged pests of any kind. The bite-'em-no- see-'em flies have a brief season of pernicious activity in June, but thereafter are seen and felt no more. 2o8 WILD GINGER Great miracle ! Every man fulfilled his vow of the previous night and arose in time to see the sun come up over the pines. And what a re- ward ! The primeval forests close at hand, the receding ridges and the island-dotted river formed a panorama beautiful beyond words. A flock of duck wheeled into the bay, alighting almost within reach of a paddle before they dis- covered that their favorite feeding grounds had been preempted. Overhead an eagle was soar- ing, disdainful of the intruders below. A sharp- eyed hunter had discovered a deer that had come down into the lily pads across the river. Around the water lilies the bass were leaping while the trembling weeds farther out indicated that the pike were hustling for their breakfast. Fish- ing from the rocks near the boat, three rods landed a dozen splendid black bass within fif- teen minutes and in a jiffy Lemuel had them dressed and sputtering in Beaucage's pan. A substantial breakfast was quite essential, for the party had before them the quarter-mile portage, and many great loads to carry. We were turning our backs upon civilization for two weeks, and had to depend upon what we took in and what we could catch thereafter, as the captain was instructed not to return for us until the allotted time. Dr. Van Dyke well calls the portages "the troublesome delights of a journey into the wil- derness." They are more than that : They are that which preserves the wilderness, and the sauce which heightens the enjoyment thereof. The Peterboros and birch-bark canoes were Pi o 2: o WILD GINGER 209 soon laden with the camp duffle. "Au large!" shouted Louis, as we pushed off down stream. Ah, primitive man is once more free! Cast off from the sordid anchorage of the world and its cares. "Au large ! Envoyez au large !" At the foot of the great rapid a mile below the portage is an ideal spot for the angler. The party could not resist the temptation to tarry long enough to paddle up to the foot of the Big Chaudiere and try their luck. From a high rock the sheriff made his first cast. Down into the swirling waters went the protesting frog. Ere it had hardly disappeared there was a vicious tug at the line. The reel sang "The Spinning Wheel" with variations, for a dozen bars. Cau- tiously the angler reeled in and a huge maski- nonge responded to the invitation to come in. Man and fish eyed each other for an instant and then, with a saucy toss of his head, the great fish darted for the milky water, taking with him half the tackle as a souvenir of the early morning encounter with the sheriff. Falstaff was soon refitted, however, and joined the others in the exciting struggles with black bass. Four-pounders were the average, but a man who could land one out of every three in that powerful current was both lucky and skill- ful. Cast off, was the word again, and the little flo- tilla headed once more for camp twelve miles down stream. "Did you think you were fishing for suckers at Beebe's Mill?" chuckled Stickwell, by way of 2IO WILD GINGER comforting the sheriff as the big fellow mourned over the loss of his first muscallonge. "I guess I'm Jonahed," wailed Falstaff, for the first time in his life a victim of the blues. "That fish weighed forty pounds if an ounce," he soliloquized, ignoring the chaffing from the other boats. Like Rachael mourning for her children, he would not be comforted. "I'm as bad as Pete Crawford," he went on. "Pete was married to hard luck and was too lazy to try to get a divorce. Pete's wife told him to get rid of some kittens, so the first time he started for town he tied the kits in a meal sack and put them under the seat. When he reached the Wrights Corners school house, he saw the children at recess and thought he'd have some fun. Pete picked up the bag and gave it a fling. The bag busted and out leaped the kittens on the horses backs. Away went the team, Pete yankin' and hollerin' 'woa! woa!' but the more he yelled and sawed, the harder the sorrels galloped. At the turn they went plumb through the fence and into a wheat field, leaving Pete and his hired man among the fence rails while the runaways tore a swathe right through the crop all the way to the creek. That bag of kittens cost Pete twenty-five. — But that 'lunge — mercy me, but he was a beaut! "Another time," the sheriff resumed, as soon as he got his mind off his own recent loss, "Pete thought he'd make a little money Fourth of July. He kept his plans quiet until posters ap- peared on all the cross roads announcing that Peter Crawford would send a canal boat, loaded SHERIFF'S FIRST ENCOUNTER WITH A MUSCALLONGE- FRENCH RIVER. Page 210. WILD GINGER 211 with inflammable material and ablaze, over the Falls, copying after John Hodge's advertising scheme for Gargling Oil. Quite a crowd as- sembled to see the sight. Pete had bought an old scow for forty-five dollars and a lot of tar and oil barrels for ten dollars more. He lit up his cargo and started the craft. The heat drove off the men who were instructed to keep the boat off shore and she drifted into a pile of lum- ber above the Falls and destroyed five hundred dollars' worth of property. Pete had a close call on being arrested for arson, but got out of the trouble for one hundred dollars in addi- tion to the cost of the property. — I don't expect to connect with another fish like that!" "Cheer up, sheriff, think of what happened to Pete !" remarked a condoling friend. "Yes, bad luck followed Pete like a dog after a boy coming home from the butcher's," the sheriff presently resumed, as he rested on his oars and gazed back toward the receding Chau- diere, with the wistfulness of Lot's wife looking back at the burning city. "A negro named Sam Tod came North with Captain Rogers after the war. Sam was not a gentle, retiring coon. The soldiers had taught him to box and he was the regiment bully. Pete hired Sam. One night I met Sam coming from Crawford's barn with a bag of corn. Sam said, 'Ah jes can't hear mah pigs a-squealin' when de boss' barn am full of cohn !' — But I lost the biggest lugger in Canada back there !" "Oh, forget it, sheriff," cried Mix. "Remem- ber, there's as good fish in the sea." 212 WILD GINGER "I know the old sayin', but a feller hates to lose 'em once he's had his hook into 'em," an- swered the big chap sadly. He rowed hard for a few minutes as if to re- lieve his mind by exercise, but presently returned to the old subject. "Talk about hard luck ! Well, there are oth- ers. Pete Crawford had several Dutchmen working for him. Sam had been the favorite, but the German hands combined against the darkey and finally set the boss against him. For revenge, Pete sent the Dutchmen to town on a fake errand, one at a time, waylaid them and gave each man a good drubbing. They sued Crawford for damages and he settled for ten dollars a piece. — I wouldn't have lost that fish for twenty-five !" "Sheriff, you're as bad as the old woman in church," broke in Larch. "Old Mrs. Pifer used to get a pail of milk each Sunday morning at a place beyond the church, and then come back for service and set the pail in the vestibule. One morning she had forgotten the cover to the pail and when the sermon was about half over she heard a suspicious lapping behind her where she sat in the rear pew. Turning 'round she saw a dog helping himself to the milk. Before she thought what she was doing, she shrieked in a shrill voice, 'My goodness, that dog's drink- ing my milk !' Then, realizing the breach of decorum, she said in a scared voice, 'My good- ness, I talked in church ! Why, there, I talked again ! Mercy me, I'm talking all the time !' " "Never mind, Lemuel," the sheriff answered, WILD GINGER 213 "You'll never be licked for holdin' your breath !" "But did you see how Falstaff worked on the portage?" said the "Baron." "Why, he worked just like a barrel of cider — sitting still." "But I wasn't standing on my head, like you. Baron, when you slipped from the gang plank this morning," retorted Falstafif, somewhat aroused. The sally brought a broadside from the entire flotilla, for it recalled the ludicrous spectacle presented by the towering Teuton when in undress uniform he fell into the water and stuck in the mud head first. Threading the maze of channels among the ten thousand islands, we reached our log cabin, after a delightful trip, unsurpassed by any river voyage in the world. The French River is the St. Lawrence at the Thousand Islands, but just as nature made it. The bunks, covered with fresh balsam, cedar, and spruce — if correctly done — are a veritable balm of Gilead to the weary voyager, but this is no time to stretch out, since the camp must be put in order for the business of taking pleas- ure in the wilderness. There were springs in the neighborhood, but we solved the water prob- lem more satisfactorily by putting down a driven well right at camp. The water thus obtained at 15 feet was cold, palatable, and wholesome. In the bank we dug a deep cave in which we stored our perishable provision and there our fish, game, butter, lard, ale, etc., kept as well as in any refrigerator. Wonderful is the river that so dearly loves the 214 WILD GINGER moss-covered rocks, the red-berried shrubs, the cardinal flower and the cone-clad trees that he goes miles out of his way at a hundred points to take them all into his fond embrace. For twelve miles from Nipissing to the head of Okikendawt Island there is, indeed, but one broad channel. Prom that point on to the Georgian Bay, over 50 miles by stream, there are two main channels, and almost countless minor ones, embracing innumerable islands. There are hundreds of rapids, most of which can be run by canoists of ordinary skill. But the river is treacherous in places least sus- pected, as testified to by the tragedy which over- took two fine young athletes from Pittsburgh one summer we were in camp on the French. The guides duly cautioned us to take no un- necessary chances in dangerous water. Despite this we had one or two narrow escapes, which, however, proving to be escapes, only added zest to our life in the wilds. The Little Chaudiere, where the north branch joins the main channel, was within long rifle shot above us, and that night its croning lulla- by hushed our tired eyes to sleep. Next morning, Ross Anderson, the guest from Chicago, was up by daylight and came back before the rest of the party had rolled out. When we arose he was helping Beaucage pre- pare six black bass, two pike, and a huge pick- erel for breakfast. The Indian was protesting against touching the pickerel — called pike in Canada — explaining, "Him snake fish — no good, eat heep frog." Ross shouted to the figures in Page 215. IN CAMP ON THE FRENCH RIVER. WILD GINGER 215 white in the doorway, "Saw tracks like oxen in the sand over in Loon Bay !" "Moose," grunted Beaucage. "Moose runway over dere." The side channel on which our camp is located is nearly a mile wide with an island in the cen- tre. We never tired of the beauty of the scene obtainable from our out-of-doors dining hall, which we had located midway between the living cabin and the cook shanty. Considerable lumbering had been done along the French, but there still remained a good deal of original forest, and the second growth was from twenty to forty years old. In 1900 the Ross government sent ten survey parties out to explore the Nipissing and adjacent districts with a view to conserving their re- sources. They learned that in the Nipissing district north of the C. P. R. there were at least 20,000,000 cords of standing pulp wood alone ; in the Algoma district 100,000,000 cords ; in the district of Thunder Bay 150,000,000 cords; in the district of Rainy River 18,000,000 cords. The camp was divided into four parties for the first day's expeditions. One went to the Little Chaudiere, or "Shy-air" as the guides call it; another to the Masog-Masing Creek, noted for its deer runways; another to the Woolsey River; another to the Five-Mile Rapids down on the main channel. Below the Little Chaudiere there is a whirl- pool 200 yards in diameter and famous for the 'lunge that lurk there. The judge and sheriflf tried their fortunes there. With 50 yards of 2i6 WILD GINGER 3-O hard braid linen line out and a gorgeous 3-O Palmer spoon whirling attractively at the end, they made the circuit of the pool, the sheriff determined to redeem himself. On the second turn just as the lure whirled under the overhanging pine near where the gigantic mill race of the upper French shoots into the chan- nel below, the sheriff cried, "I'm fast. Back water. Oh, no, I've got him. He's gone." That was the verbal kinetoscope reproduc- tion of their connecting up with old Esox no- bilior. Then the battle began. Thrice across the pool and then down into the stiller water the contest continued, when at the end of ten min- utes the big fellow surrendered. He was towed up to the boat and his career ended forever with a 22-calibre pistol bullet through the neck. Forty-two pounds, and with a spread of jaw that will comfortably take in and hold a derby hat! Trolling parallel with the shore line, so as to run the spoon in about six feet of water off each promontory or headland where the muskies love to lounge, we found to be a very effective way of fishing. Twenty-four 'lunge our party cap- tured in the two weeks, and many more we might have had merely by putting in the nec- essary time trolling. The splendid fish were not wasted, for what we didn't consume in camp, the Indians smoked for their winter use. The rush-lined Woolsey was a famous 'lunge, pike, and pickerel grounds. Near the mouth of the Woolsey are the Duquese rocks, held by a colony of pike. A turn around these rocks / Page 217. THE FIRE RANGER. WILD GINGER 217 always produced results. Making the circum- ference in twenty feet of water, we were quite certain to connect with a fish running anywhere from eight to fifteen pounds weight. Closer in, where the water was not so deep, lay smaller fish, just as ready to accept a glittering chal- lenge as their elders, and much friskier in a fight. Casting for pickerel from shore afforded much sport in the Woolsey. The stream seemed to be literally alive with them. Stickwell tested his steel rod on a fish that proved to be a husky musky, and for a time it looked as if the 'lunge would drag the angler into the river. At the mouth of this solitary river was the home of Fire Ranger Hayes, a silver-bearded, venerable hermit of kindly heart. In a little six by eight tent he dwelt there six months in the year, his only companion a collie. Nixie kept Hayes posted on the whereabouts of par- tridge which were plentiful. On our first visit, the bark of the dog was heard on a nearby ridge and the old man said, "Boys, if you want roast partridge for your Itmch, go up the trail a few rods and take yotir gun." The judge and Mix investigated matters and presently returned with seven fine birds. The whole flotilla had made the Woolsey trip that day and the rendezvous for two o'clock lunch was at Delmonico's rock, a half mile up stream. There Larch and the baron were already put- ting a ten-pound 'lunge and some bass and pike on the fire. The scout was busy dressing frogs' legs, much to the disgust of the Indian, who 2i8 WILD GINGER afterwards refused to eat fish because it had been fried in the same pan in which the frogs' legs had been cooked. Partridge, venison, and bacon, potatoes, blue berries, raspberries, and coffee, completed the meal which gave the name to the place — Del's Rock. We made an expedition back to various lakes, including Beaver Lake, where we found no beavers. Beaucage explained that the beaver had migrated inland "maybe hundred acre, two hundred acre, maybe more." But the guides' linear standard "acre" is indefinite enough with- out adding the Indian's "maybe," so we decided not to undertake an interminable journey for the glimpse of beaver in the wilds. One of nature's freaks was a small lake back two miles from the river. It contained nothing but the large-mouth black bass. In the French we never caught any bass but rock and small mouth. We named the pretty sheet of water "The Little Oswego of the Big Oswego" and Beaucage turned that into Indian for us : "Skitewaubou- bassing." But as "skitewaubou" is the Indian for "whiskey" the native was undoubtedly hav- ing a little fun with us. And by the way, phi- lologists, is "skitewaubou" at all related in deri- vation to the Celtic "usquebaugh," the name for the "mountain dew" of Ireland? But we decided that the most charming in- land mirror of all was a lake that some of us called Cardinal Lake and some Blue Flag Lake. The blue flags blooming in profusion in August made the lake a mass of blue, as if decorated for a Yale regatta, with here and there just a WILD GINGER 219 bit of envious crimson which the cardinal flow- ers threw forward in reflection from the banks to keep Harvard in countenance. And as spec- tators, there were the dragon tooth with its yel- low for Princeton, and the purple gentian for Williams. What a study in color for the ar- tist! A jaunt to the Five Mile, taking in the inter- vening four rapids, affords plenty of excite- ment en route and excellent fishing all the way. The best bass fishing we found below the sec- ond rapid which we christened the "Banquet Hall of the Fishes." Along the rocks we cast for bass. There we saw something that no an- gler in our party had ever witnessed before. Tossing a buck-tail spinner into the water, a bass struck, whereupon three more bass raced after him in his struggle to escape, rushing up to the very water's edge in their curiosity. Cast- ing in again and again the remaining three fish were captured in the same way. "Him fool bass here," grunted Beaucage, "can't learn de lessong from what killed hees brudaire. Mais, bong fishing — not too bad !" We leave it to the learned scientists to ex- plain why bass in that unfrequented country are absolutely without fear of man, while in civilization they are counted next to the trout in shyness and cunning. In the third pool Andersen hooked a 'lunge just at the head of the dangerous rapid. Be- fore the boatman was aware of his perilous position, the canoe had been sucked into the swift current and was going down stream in 220 WILD GINGER spite of all his efforts. Andersen claims the 'lunge saved them a ducking and possible drown- ing by heading up stream and drawing the boat after him. By no means fail to explore Masog-Masing Creek for at least a mile or two. Five of the party made a two-days' expedition up the "Creek where the woodpecker sings," the favorite home of the cock of the woods, the great black-bodied, red-headed woodpecker, who has no song, but a raucous cackle that can be heard a mile. In the two days they counted 42 deer and met a party of Indians from the reservation coming out with 15 carcasses. Around the camp fire at night — a little blaze is both cheerful and comfortable in the August evenings of upper Ontario — the guides and the cook, La Blanc, entertained us with stories of the great North. Some of them had made the trip to James Bay and all of them knew the country within a radius of 100 miles quite well. During our several trips to the French we became acquainted with at least four distinct types of Indian guides. Each gave the lie to the slander that "there is no good Indian but a dead Indian." Louis Beaucage, tall and straight as a shoot of arrow wood, had his cabin near Sturgeon Falls. Besides his native tongue, he speaks Ca- nadian French well and English picturesquely. In addition to deeming it his duty to make a trip successful from the angling and hunting standpoint, he thought it incumbent upon him to entertain his party with his own reminis- WILD GINGER 221 cences. These of themselves would fill a large volume. Alex Duquese, the son of the aged chief — in 1900 the old chief of the Duquese was reported to be 90 years old; he steadfastly refused to sell the valuable tract of original pine on the reser- vation, but the press dispatches in 1909 reported that he had died the previous fall and his suc- cessor had bartered away the magnificent stand of pine to a lumber company for $100,000 — lives on the French near the Big Chaudiere. He is friendly and faithful, but uncommunicative. Alex detests paddling for the troller, explaining, "Me hunt man ; me no fish man !" Louis Bonfield, a Mattawa, is an Indian who appreciates a joke, likes to perpetrate one him- self, and loves to laugh. A laughing Indian was something of a mystery until he explained that his grandmother was French. Ike Restoul came from the lake region back among the big pines. He was as silent and som- bre as his native forests. There was just a trace of disgust upon his face when Bonfield showed merriment over the weak jest of a pale- face. His sole contribution to the conversation, outside of the subject of the hunt, was apropos of Beaucage's "continued stories" : "A squaw's tongue runs faster than the legs of the wind." And that was the nearest we ever came to a tragedy in camp. Ike was the bravest canoeist of them all, and why they call the silent Restoul "Sure Rifle" is a story in itself, a romance of Wolf River. La Blanc invited us to spend a fortnight with 222 WILD GINGER him on his "hay farm" up in the Temiscaming country. "Plenty moose," he declared, "too much the moose dere — she tramp grass up, eet hay down, too much for the poor farmaire." La Blanc declared that one morning last fall he counted six moose in his hay fields around the stacks. He told the party that if they didn't care for the hardships of trailing through the wilderness and sleeping outdoors in order to get moose, he could assure the hunters of good sport right around his little clearing. "Peek out best head right from cabin door — shoot beeg ant- lers !" One day La Blanc's little boy Louis went down the wagon trail to meet his father. Not far outside of the clearing the boy encountered a bull moose coming from the opposite direc- tion and taking the beaten path. The lad was accustomed to seeing the big beasts around the haystacks, and was not much alarmed. He trudged right along until he came within three rods of the moose. The lad, telling his father about the experience, went on to say, "She big- ger, much bigger — mee leetle fellar — but she big fellar have ze grand mannaire and step out of trail, step 'round trough brush — easy for big fel- lar to do dat — me, I go along trail — look back and see she big fellar is trottin' in trail agin." La Blanc and his wife were annoyed by a moose that insisted on helping himself, not only to their hay, but to dessert in the shape of tur- nips from their garden patch. One evening La Blanc coming home from the hay field, saw the big brute lumbering out of the patch and go WILD GINGER 223 down to the river to drink. A shot gun was standing by the cabin door. He picked up the weapon intent on teaching the forest king a lesson on "meum et tuum," as the judge had put it, helping La Blanc out with his story. "No, et turnips," interrupted the sheriff. Just as the moose had finished his drink, he turned round to meet the irate eye of the owner of the purloined turnips within 20 yards of him. La Blanc put a load of bird shot into the beast's spongy nose. La Blanc shook with reminis- cent laughter, and then went on, "She beeg ant- lers shake lak ze top of ze Norway pine in gale —she keeck out behin', before lak t'ree t'ousan' mule runnin' bot' ways — Bish! Swish! Pouf! In ze wataire she leap and splash 'roun' lak feefty leetle hoy in swimmin' !" On another occasion La Blanc, assisted by 10 men, was commissioned to take 50 horses to a lumber camp back of Temagimi. At a river ford they came across 7 moose standing in the water. One of the teamsters shouted, "See the moose !" Notwithstanding the shout and the noise of the moving men and horses the wild animals stood there gazing intently at the drove of horses. They seemed to be fascinated by the novel sight of so many strange looking animals and it was several minutes before the moose finally satis- fied their curiosity and loped off into the for- est. The big fellows paid no attention to the men whatever, but devoted themselves entirely to the horses. But the moose in winter is not the same ami- able fellow he appears to be in summer. La 224 WILD GINGER Blanc related several experiences he had which led him to keep a respectful distance from the antlered king after the fall of the first deep snow. Rubichault, a noted old French hunter of the Lac du Talon region, confessed to Wit- beck, of the Cataract Club, whom he had fre- quently guided, that he always shinned up a tree when he met a bull moose in winter. The old guide explained that a bull in winter would usually take the aggressive, the sagacious ani- mal apparently realizing that he was compara- tively helpless in deep snow in a long chase and that it is to his advantage to bring mat- ters to an issue at once, particularly if he come upon his two-legged antagonist unexpectedly at close quarters. One day Rubichault came upon a great bull on rounding a bowlder. The beast was within 5 rods of him and plunged at him without a bellow of warning. The Frenchman swung up into the nearest tree, which was hardly more than a sapling. The furious animal tried his best to straddle and walk down the slender birch, and several times the hunted hunter was almost shaken from his perch. It was cold and Rubichault was fast succumbing to frost. His old comrade, Juisha, heard his cries for help after an hour which seemed a day, and coming to the rescue, shot the moose just as his friend was about to fall into the antlers of the in- veterate enemy below. We have seen the cu- rious weapon with which Juisha killed that par- ticular moose and many other moose besides. The old guide, who died in 1904 at the age of 80, an eager sportsman and perfect gentleman WILD GINGER 225 to the last, used as his sole weapon of the chase, a common double-barrel shot gun, such as a farmer's boy would buy at the village hard- ware store in exchange for 20 bushels of corn. With this he was prepared to bring down small and large game. He moulded a bullet that would just fit a brass-headed No. 12 gauge shot gun cartridge, loaded the cartridge with four grains of black powder, and then with two wads between, he fitted the leaden marble down snugly in its place and wrapped it over on top with soft paper to hold it in place. Juisha was good for deer, moose, fox, otter, or bear, at 100 yards, nine times out of ten. We still have in the den at home two of the "big game shot gun cartridges" which Juisha loaded for us and which we have carried on a score of hunting trips, having it along on about every occasion except the day when Stick- well and the writer were fishing down on the Three Mile and two moose swam the French in front of our boat, not 25 yards away. One pleasant afternoon in September we said good-bye to Camp Niagara on the French, leav- ing it to the loons, the 'lunge, the deer, the moose, the challenging cock of the woods and the scolding jays. We paddled up stream and camped over night on the portage. A doe and her pretty fawns were admiring themselves in the bay mirror as we rounded a point. Ducks wheeled in flight overhead to join the innumer- able aquatic caravans on the lake, like us, south- bound again. The night under the stars on the portage overlooking the lake was among the 226 WILD GINGER most pleasant features of the entire outing. There, as we gathered balsam boughs for our beds, in the twilight we joined in Home Sweet Home with the lingering songs of the forest. Pleasant memories are closely united with sweet odors. Recollection may lie hidden, se- curely locked up in a scent for years, until a perfume key restores it to light. As a sweet- scented conservatory of delightful reminiscence we have brought back from the Northland some- thing that shall recall the odor of the forest, the song of bird, the tint of sky, the ripple of wave — all the joys of the vast out-of-doors ; and if this halting recital of vacation hours shall have afforded you, patient reader, some little pleasure, we shall all the more enjoy our own woodland souvenir — a hunch of balsam from the FreiKh River. WILD GINGER 227 WILD GINGER, WOOD SORREL AND SWEET CICELY. A FAR CALL OF THE NORTH DAKOTA PRAIRIE CHICKEN. — September. IX. "Along the roadside, like the flowers of gold That tawny Incas for their gardens wrought Heavy with sunshine droops the golden-rod." Sportsmen and nature lovers have long been engaged in controversy as to the most delight- ful season of the year to make a tour for the enjoyment of scenery or to camp in the wilds. It is more or less a matter of taste and there- fore not a subject for final settlement by dis- cussion. We have experienced the joys of living in the woods in early spring, when the floral her- alds have just begun to swing to the May zephyrs their many colored signals which only the initiated may read, yet which cause joy in the most untutored breast. We have felt the deep delight which placidly emanates from the mountains, streams, lakes, and valleys of the Northland which summer has glorified. Each season has its own peculiar charm, and the nature worshipper hesitates to make the chief award to any one, lost in indecision as to 228 WILD GINGER whether the palm should fall to the time when the mountains "revel in the garniture of spring," when "the silver clouds of summer round them cling," when "the snows of winter crown them with a crystal crown," or when "autumn's scar- let mantle flows in richness down." In general, the best time for the out of doors pilgrimage is (My time the tired bn^siness man and the weary housewife can get away. If extraneous considerations were allowed to creep in, the trout angler would vote for spring, the man ambitious for bass and muscallonge would crown summer, but the hunters would be unanimous for the time of the "scarlet man- tle." Late one September a half dozen members of the Cataract Club, after a regretful farewell to the comrades of many a delightful expedition of the rod and gun who had foolishly permitted less important matters to keep them at home this time, started on their long journey from Niagara in response to the far call of the prairie chicken. As the luxurious Canadian Pacific train carried them swiftly northward, the scen- ery from the viewpoint of the sportsman became more attractive, but the travelers noted it but little, for the visions of the prairie anticipations interposed. Sherif? McKenna, he of the great frame and "still, small voice," the man with the body of a church organ and the notes of an asolian harp, piped out : "I've been shooting prairie chicken in my sleep for three weeks, and I've been re- trieving pillows, that I knocked out of bed in WILD GINGER 229 throwing my gun to my shoulder, till I've lost 95 pounds. I'm so nervous I don't believe I could hit a pinnated grouse if it was hobbled to the stubble." "I guess we're all like the men who spend so much time preparing an impromptu speech that they suffer from preliminary stage fright," observed Judge Hockey. "But once we get fir- ing away at the birds which are as helpless as the speaker's audience, although the former have sense enough to try to get away, I imagine we'll have things pretty much our own way." Lanky Alwater, the hero of many a trap shoot and brush skirmish, allowed, by way of in- creasing the courage of the party which was to face the critical eyes of some of the most fa- mous prairie wing shots of North Dakota, "Since we can occasionally stop the feathered bolt called the ruffed grouse in our overhunted country, I predict that his lumbering cousin of the plains will be easy for us." All were tenderfeet so far as prairie shooting was concerned. What had been said was the cue for some reminiscent "whistling to keep the courage up." George Washington Wynne squared his shoulders, remarking with a shrug, "Pshaw, there'll be nothing to it. This chicken business must be a cinch. Bowling over prairie hens is rolling marbles on the dining room table ; shooting partridge is hitting a spit-ball pitcher in the ninth innning with two out, two strikes, three balls, the score tied, the pennant depend- ing upon the game, and when you are braced to drive a homer he throws to second appar- 230 WILD GINGER ently, but instead turns around and puts a dandy over the plate when you're off your guard !" George, encouraged by the applause of the happily put contrast, continued : "I was hunt- ing with a couple of good fellows down in Cat- taraugus county where the hills are killers and the underbrush wearing when I made a double that caused my comrades to sit up and take notice. The dogs came to a point near a fallen tree right in front of me. Two birds got up. One straight away crumpled under my first bar- rel. The other flew to the left, by Strather, who missed. I took a long chance just as the bird was raising the trees on a ridge and he dropped on a 70-yard shot." "Surprised you some, too," concluded the sheriff's high soprano. "Like Mr. and Mrs. Lovejoy, of Adam Street, who, according to the piece put in the paper by a green reporter, 'were surprised this morning by the birth of a son' — you were expecting it and wanted it to happen, but it was a considerable surprise when it did happen." Wynne good naturedly joined the laughter at his expense. Duall, the mischievous young gas manager, would not let it rest there, but added his shot : "You said you 'took a chance,' but hasn't the sheriff taught you all these years that it is the bird that takes all the chances and that the hunter who is not afraid to burn his pow- der in the long run outbags the man who is always waiting for a reasonably sure thing?" "That rule is sound, but even when strictly ob- served, the swift and resourceful grouse of the WILD GINGER 231 Eastern woodlands often seem to have taken very few chances after a day's hunt," laughed C. Handy Mix, reminiscently. "What a long gauntlet of shot the princely birds will run scath- less !" "Run?" mockingly murmured the sheriff. "You're always watching for a chance on the ground, eh?" "Well, perhaps the metaphor didn't apply to this winged game, but you'll be sorry when I proceed to refesh your memory as to the gaunt- let I have in mind," continued Mix in response to the interruption. "Down in the valley of the Berkshire-born Kinderhook one bright October afternoon, you, Falstaff, were stationed in a broad, open ravine. Deployed above you were Stickwell and myself, then you and Alwater. Bob Whitegiver with the faithful Sport was on the hillside beating the cover, when out darted a splendid cock. The magnificent gamey chap disdained protection of the dense thicket, and propelled himself like a feathered cyclone right down the tree-lined aisle, in the open all the way for 600 yards. All of you had scored difficult shots during the day and must have had your eyes on your medals rather than on your sights, for Stickwell paid his double respects, then I, and then- — please don't interrupt — then you, sher- iff, emptied your Winchester pump and the feathers flew, but flew intact on the bird as before. Alwater seemed considerably unnerved at the frightful exhibition of marksmanship, be- cause he decapitated a small pine as the par- tridge went by. But the tall fellow whirled and 232 WILD GINGER just as the bird was bidding farewell to us all on the edge of the evergreen forest, a shot that was marked off at 76 paces laid the gallant grouse low." "Birdie Alwater's gun," chirped the sheriff, "must have been like Jim Starkwell's. I shot a mallard on the Eighteen Mile Creek and was about picking the bird up when Jim, who had fired fully 30 yards back of me, overtook me and claimed the game. I inquired if he con- tended that he killed the duck at go yards. Without a quiver, Jim patted his rusty old 34- inch shot gun that had done duty as a rifle in the War of 1812 and stuttered, 'Course I do, 'cause this here weepin IS A REACHER !' " The narrator chuckled at the recollection and continued : "I said, 'Jim, your old gun ain't tfie only smooth bore in this party — take the mal- lard !' " "Talking of remarkable shots," remarked Du- all, "Dispatcher Charley and I were sitting on the heights overlooking Tsatawassa Lake in Rensselaer after a hard tramp after partridge. We were taking in the beauty of the valley and the Massachusetts mountains in the dim dis- tance. Presently we heard somebody crushing through the brush below us. 'R-rrr-00-oo-ough !' Up sprang a partridge almost under the log on which we sat. Just a glimpse and the bird buried himself upward among the dense pines. About fifty yards beyond in the direction he had disappeared was a circular opening in the dark woods. The hole in the intertwined branches, not over three yards wide, glowed like the mouth WILD GINGER 233 of a furnace in the rays of the setting sun. Like a flash Charley raised his gun and fired at that opening without apparently aiming or waiting for a target. At the report the furnace door seemed to emit feathery sparks and a brown-red ingot dropped into the darkness beneath." "Charley had something to guide him, like old Jim Morrisey, of Hartland," commented the sylphlike voice of the big sheriff. The crowd looked its attention, of course, for the story. "Jim could bag more quail and partridge than any man in Niagara county. He had a mongrel dog called Rover, and Rove had most of the pedigreed hunters beaten to a frazzle as a side partner. Jim walked into the Checkered tav- ern one day with 10 partridge and a fine bunch of quail. A Rochester drummer remarked : 'You must be a great wing shot, old man.' Jim allowed he couldn't hit a barn door while it was swinging. The commercial traveler wanted to know how he could get so many game birds if he couldn't take 'em flying. 'Oh,' drawled Jim, 'I leave it mostly to Rove. He points the bird, I just squats down and shoots over his nose to where he's pointin' an' ginerally brings home to ma the bird without troublin' him to rise in his place.' " "That's easy grouse shooting for a change," laughed Mix. "And from what our host. Dr. La Moure, writes, prairie chicken hunting must be the luxurious pastime of kings in comparison with the rugged sport we love so well. Some of you remember the day we put up about 400 partridge, or 40 partridge ten times each, in a 234 WILD GINGER 20-acre pasture lot which had become densely covered with a growth of 20-year-old pines. The trees had plenty of sunshine, so the branches grew within three to four feet of the ground. Birds would get up under our feet, dart around a tree, and the whirligig game was over before anybody but the partridge could get into it. All afternoon we played hide-and-seek under the evergreens and when we gave up, the entire party had one bird that forgot the rules which prohibited leaving the cover." "That was hard work and I soon sat down to admire the Christmas trees," sighed the sher- iff. "There wasn't enough in it." "You were like the Swede Ross Anderson told so many amusing yarns about up in the French River camp. Ole had been fired for laziness, but soon came back, saying 'Misteer Yonsen, ay moost have yob.' The boss informed him there was none for him, but he told a pitiful story of a destitute family, so that Johnson relented and ordered him to return next Monday and he would give him $10 a week, having forgotten that he paid the man only $8 before. Ole looked at him dejectedly and blurted out, 'T'ank you, Misteer Yonsen, but ay cannot work for TEN, AY MOOST HAVE EIGHT !' " The train was now entering the famous Mus- koka region. It brought many agreeable recol- lections of earlier years when game and fish were plentiful in the larger lakes as well as in the more inaccessible waters. This section is one of the most conspicuous examples of im- providence with regard to the denizens of for- WILD GINGER 235 ests and streams on the American continent. The Canadians, fortunately, have awakened to the situation and are enforcing rigid laws for the protection of fish and game and for re- stocking lakes and covers. Very little good angling can be obtained in Muskoka, Rosseau, or Joseph, at present, but it is improving. Ed Cox, of the Port Sandfield hotel, tells some great stories of the fishing when he went with his father, a pioneer hotel man of the Muskokas, to the region back in the seventies. He claims that six and seven pound small-mouth black bass were common in those days. One summer when he was a young man a party of New Yorkers angled for an immense bass that made its home under the log pier. Once or twice they hooked the patriarch, but the monster outwitted the anglers. Cox got hold of the big fish several times, but he had no tackle or skill equal to the task of capturing him. To make a long story short, some lumber men came to the hotel, heard about the fish, and after a campaign of low cunning speared the bass underneath the logs where he lay. They used a common pike pole for the ignoble task. The fish weighed 8 pounds 2 ounces. "Those fellows," cuttingly remarked Falstaff, "were as mean as the dagoes that stole the Widow Simpson's barred Plymouth Rocks. The justice told her she could have them arrested for petty larceny. That struck the widow as too mild and she shrieked so the whole neigh- borhood could hear : 'Petty larceny for stealin' my keounty fair prize winners! Not much — I 236 WILD GINGER wants the miscreyants locked up for PETTY SNEAKERY !' " Cox in many respects was an ideal host. He took a Baltimore man out partridge shooting one September day and while the guest was sit- ting near a brook a buck came in to drink within 20 feet of him. Without thinking of the law he fired and killed the deer with No. 7 shot. The game warden was informed by parties who saw them dress the game and the Baltimorean was fined heavily, although he had gone home and never heard of the penalty. Cox paid the fine, invited the judge and witnesses to the vil- lage tavern, got them all feeling happy and then thrashed them all soundly. "Good, but what are deer and partridge, boys — we want prairie chicken," said Duall, with mock disdain. In the morning the Canadian Pacific railroad train was thundering through the deep ravines and along the dashing waters of the French River. Commerce had thrust its steel dart to the heart of the once seemingly impenetrable wilderness, where all of the party had followed the trail long before the minions of transpor- tation had marked where to strike. The puff of the engine in the forest where before they heard only the blow of the deer or the howl of the wolf seemed uncanny. On the grades the shriek of the whistle outmocked the loons that used to cry out their eerie warnings of the coming storm. Onward rushed the steam devil, unmindful of the cardinal flowers that waved WILD GINGER 237 the red flag of protest against the intrusion upon nature's privacy. "Down beyond that distant point where you see the broken pine top," said the judge ani- matedly, "we encountered our first moose up here." He indicated the place, continuing, "you remember how La Blanc called us all from sup- per, saying, 'Beeg moose, he in water makin' the noise like 50 leetle boy in swimmin.' " "Yes, but moose are not pinnated grouse," growled Alwater with simulated impatience. There is a more direct route to the Dakota prairies, of course, but the trip through the Ca- nadian wilds appealed to the nature lovers. As the traveler leans back in his comfortable seat he seems to be gliding through a wilder- ness fairyland. Every glimpse has a new set- ting, but the woodland lake or mountain lake is unfailingly present. Although so numerous that the train is never out of sight of some large body of water or some miniature of the more pretentious mirrors that the wood nymphs love, the aquatic setting ) never grows monotonous nor wearisome to the delighted eyes. Each pond or lake has its own characteristics, its own individuaHty, so that the tourists would fain have a souvenir photograph of every one to recall the pleasant memories. Impetuous riv- ers that pierce dark conifer-clad ravines, irre- sistible brooks that throw themselves against frowning mountains enliven the view and sug- gest to the angler the untold delights that would fall to the reward of him who would be brave enough to take his canoe and pack and follow 238 WILD GINGER the streams. But even the name "Nipigon," with its visions of giant Salmo fontinalis, has nothing to conjure with effectively. The prairie chicken are beyond. At Fort William two jolly hunters got aboard. They had been hunting for two days on a little lake a short journey away from the railroad and were coming home with three trunks filled with ducks, geese, and brant. But, pshaw ! What are water fowl? They enlivened an hour with tales of that superior region, all very charm- ing, but not to the point. How intolerable they must have found certain people "sot in their ways" and on a higher mission ! To illustrate the game possibilities of the sec- tion, through which we were hurrying none too fast to suit our purpose, one of the gentlemen told the story of an English sportsman who put up at a Fort William hotel with all his guns and luggage — "gros baggage — six or three," as the French Canadian guide who later had to "pack" it miles into the wilderness described it — and after registering asked the landlord where he could get a little shooting next morning before breakfast. Mine host advised his eager guest to take the street cars running to Port Arthur, three miles up the lake, get off anywhere and un- limber his artillery. Next morning he took the first car, got off about midway between the two cities and plunged into the wilds, leaving the electric lights glimmering behind him. About ID o'clock in the forenoon he returned and calmly inquired, "Landlord, will you kindly pro- vide a dray with which to bring back me two WILD GINGER 239 carcasses ?" The landlord in dismay, exclaimed : "What! Have you gone and shot some habi- tant's cows !" "Beastly strange cows !" indignantly rejoined the Englishman. A sled was sent out and pres- ently came back with two fine moose which had ".tumbled across the hunter's path within a half mile of the trolley line. The humor of the backwoodsman is in evi- dence on many occasions. He is willing to make any excuse in the solemn wilderness for a joke, or something that will add to the gayety of a somewhat monotonous existeUce. "Ping Pong Junction" is one of the many little aggregations of shacks along the Canadian Pacific railroad marked as stations on the map. Asked to ex- plain the whereforeness of the why of that strange nomenclature, a bear-skin crowned na- tive grinned, "You see, stranger, the feller that fust located a camp in these here parts after the Canadian Pacific railroad cum through had his shack moved across the track in the winter by a snow slide and back ag'in in the spring by a land slide. He thought the ping pong game with his abode had reached thu limit, score 2 to o in favor of natural forces, when a rompin' thunder storm heaved his place across thu track again !" Fellow travelers who had come from the head waters of the Kaministiqua actually got our minds oflf prairie chicken by tales of bear and moose that made the blood tingle. But it was not for long. The train rested in the heart of that long stretch of forest. No 240 WILD GINGER station was in sight, but near by were two or three loggers' humble homes. Two tots in blue gingham were following their mother about the little dooryard as she finished the chores. She was singing a Canadian folk song, the words coming to us distinctly on the quiet air: "The doors are shut, the windows fast. Outside the gust is driving past. Outside the shivering ivy clings, AA^hile on the hob the kettle sings — Margery, Margery, make the tea, Singeth the kettle merrily. "The fisherman on the bay in his boat Shivers and buttons up his coat; The traveler stops at the tavern door. And the kettle answers the chimney's roar, Margery, Margery, make the tea, Singeth the kettle merrily." All seemed musically inclined and the sheriff was importuned to sing "My Pet, O, My Buck Billy Goat," but he waved the petitioners aside. Instead, he warbled in his justly famous "true falsetto" : "Oh, the old farm bell, I remember it well, It was perched on a post near the back kitchen door. When it called weary toilers from the harvest field away, It was the sweetest of music in those good days of yore. The red bird in the thicket and the quail in the meadow. Would break forth in music beneath its magic spell, But nothing stirred the heart — the heart " "I forget the rest of the verse, but all in the chorus now : WILD GINGER 241 "The old farm, the dear farm bell, Its tone so sweet and clear Are yet to memory dear, The old farm bell." Duall forgot gas meters and began to recite William Henry Drummond's "The Family Lara- mie" : "Hush ! Look at ba-bee on de leetle blue chair ! W'at you t'ink he's tryin' to do? Wit pole on de han' lak de lumberman, A-shovin' along canoe. Dere's purty strong current behin' de stove. Where it's passin' de chimney-stone! But he'll come roun' yet if he don't upset, So long he was lef alone. "Dat's way ev'ry boy on de house begin. No sooner he's twelve mont' ole. He'll play cano up an' down de Soo, An' paddle an' push de pole. Den jfaaul de log all about de place, Till dey're fillin' up mos' de room, An' say it's all right, for de storm las' night Was carry away de boom ! "Mebbe you see heem, de young loon bird. Wit half de shell hangin' on, Tak' his firse slide to de waterside. An' off on de lake he's gone ! Out of de cradle de're goin' sam way, On reever an' lake and sea ; For born to de trade, dat's how de're made, De familee Laratnie!" "I'll not give you the verses about the mother waiting vainly on the shore for her river boys to return, because I'm afraid it would make you papas homesick and you would turn back," con- siderately explained the recitationist. 242 WILD GINGER In late September that north country misses even the hardy asters and the golden rods, but the lack of floral colors is more than compen- sated for by the brilliant tints and shades of the deciduous trees and the varying lights of the once green tamaracks. In the lowlands the transmuting brush of Jack Frost has turned the American larch into a delicate lemon color. A higher altitude shows them in feathery robes of gold, which grades into bronze and the deep- est copper. A study of the action of cold on this beautiful tree is alone worth the journey of I, GOO miles from Toronto to Winnipeg. The grasses, scouring rushes, and horse-tails, and most shrubs are now dead, but the ferns stand out in all the greater prominence. You greet old friends and make new acquaintances in that large and interesting family as you pass along. The partridge vine and wintergreen now have their day and no longer remember that they were thrust aside by the gaudy firebush and climbing wild roses not long since. In the open stretches the Canadian heather is now a lavender or pink, according to the amount of light or shade falling upon it, making a regal carpet for King Moose. At Wabigoon Lake a forerunner of winter overtook the express. Snow flakes began to fall, affording some intimation of the dreariness of the Northland locked in frost. The party was in the mood to appreciate Ar- thur Stringer's verses : WILD GINGER 243 i "Along the lonely shore stray snowflakes fall, The waves crash on the shattered ice and crush The surging floes upon a rock-fanged wall, Tinged gold and saffron with the evening's flush. "The sun goes down behind a blood-red west, A cold star glitters in the pallid light, And all the silent world draws to its breast The three-fold calm of Winter, Snow and Night !" "Cheer up !" chirped the sheriff. "You know the modern version assures us that 'Many are cold, but few are frozen !' " The run from Winnipeg down to Grafton, North Dakota, was a pleasing and inspiring one. Soon after crossing the border, where we found an old Niagara Falls friend in Uncle Sam's customs uniform and who kindly helped us on our way, we got our fifst sight of the dreamed of prairie chicken. A fine flock of a dozen or more rose in flight from the stubbled field through which the train was running. We had difficulty in restraining Alwater from un- packing his gun and getting off at the next sta- tion. A genial Dakota farmer volunteered the encouraging information that by a stricter en- forcement of the game laws, the chicken which had been growing rather scarce, were again get- ting quite plentiful even in the eastern part of the state. Good bags had been made around Grafton. "But you'll need a $25 license if you're from outside the state," our new friend explained. As the train pulled into Grafton we caught sight of Dr. La Moure waving his hat in salu- tation. A true Western welcome was accorded 244 WILD GINGER the Eastern sportsmen who were whirled away to one of the finest palaces in the state, an imposing structure of Moorish architecture — the North Dakota Institution for the Feeble Minded! Our host laughed as we pulled up before the main entrance, "This is the proper place for dreamers who would travel 2,500 miles to shoot a few prairie hens !" That evening at dinner the doctor remarked that he had the favorite prairie game in the larder, but he thought the birds would taste bet- ter if his guests shot them themselves. Upon invitation of Editor Pierce the visitors met a number of the leading sportsmen of Graf- ton and were entertained with delightful tales of the ways and wiles of Tympanuchus ameri- canus. At their request the guests were enlight- erled as to the provisions of the North Dakota gam'e laws which are strictlty enforced by deputy wardens in every township. For the comfort- able sum of $25 a man from another state is provided with a little blue certificate which reads: NONRESIDENT PERMIT— State of North Dakota, County of Walsh, District No. I — John Brown, a nonresident of North Dakota, is hereby licensed to hunt in North Dakota, un- der provisions and conditions of the game laws thereof, during the open season of 190X. This permit is not transferable. Dated at, etc. — Signed, W. N. Smith, state game warden, dis- trict No. I — the state is divided into two dis- tricts — and County Auditor B. M. Kram." Before the early breakfast was finished next morning the hunting rigs were at the door. WILD GINGER 245 Lucky are the sportsmen, especially if tyros in prairie shooting, who are conducted afield by veterans and good fellows like State Warden Smith and Editor Pierce. Like many devotees of the favorite Dakota sport, they have their special equipment for the hunt. A "chicken wagon" consists of a 12-foot vehicle equipped with extra strong springs that will stand the shock of a plunge across a three-foot ditch. There are two seats, a cage attached behind to accommodate two dogs and a niche for a six- gallon jug — it need not be explained that the vessel is for water, as Dakota is a dry state, ex- tremely dry as a rule in September. The ten- derfeet desired to know why so much water for four men. With a kindness unmarred by the suspicion of sarcasm the hosts explained that the dogs exercised so violently that they required a drink several times an hour and on the prairie wells and creeks were few and far between. "When I saw that big jug," gurgled the sher- ifif, "I thought of Sarah O'Riley, who lives with her bachelor brother, and who compli- mented him on his good sense. Jim came home one day with a four-gallon jug. It was a warm day and Sarah had just finished a hard washing. She looked at the demijohn and then at Jim approvingly, saying with fervent thanksgiving in her voice, 'Oh, Jamie, what a foresighted and sinsible bye ye be. I don't know what ye give fer it, but I'm sure 'twas a barg'in, and four gallons is none too much fer a family when the cow has gone dry dese t'ree wakes !' " "And what a disappointment for you, sheriff, 246 WILD GINGER now that you find our jug holds water !" laughed Billy Mcintosh. "Some disappointment," sighed the big chap in a thin, weak voice, "but I feel relieved to know that since we must ride on the water wagon we have brought dogs along to drink the water." When little over a mile from Grafton, which seemed but a stone's throw away on the perfectly smooth country, King, a veteran English set- ter, and Spot, a three-year-old black and white pointer, were given their liberty. With eager bounds the youngster made for the field on the right. King followed more deliberately, as much as to say that it is not well to begin an im- portant undertaking recklessly. The setter had been trained to range far afield, while his younger companion had his work cut out for him closer to the vehicle. Spot followed along the edge of the field not thirty yards from the highway. Suddenly he turned half way round, then retraced his steps a few feet and running several yards at right angles to his orig- inal path lightly sank to earth. "Down 1" said the warden. "There's probably a stray bird there. King would have hit the others had there been more, as he almost circled that spot within fifteen paces." Three men dismoimted, leaped the ditch and approached the recumbent pointer. One was selected to fire first, as there was to be no pot hunting platoon firing. Spot was stationary, but visibly excited, yet perhaps less so than the Eastern tenderfeet who were to get their first LAST PRAIRIE GROUSE OF THE SEASON— NORTH DAKOTA. Page 247. WILD GINGER 247 sight of prairie chicken in action. The favored hunter stepped up even w^ith the dog and still the prairie held its secret. The wheat stubble was perhaps ten inches high, with very few weeds, and it seemed impossible that a bird the size of a two-thirds grown Plymouth Rock could be lurking within five yards, as indicated by the angle of Spot's nose. The intelligent animal never moved, except to turn his eyes up at the gunner with a look of scorn, as much as to say, "Huh, can't you see him right under your feet almost?" One step, two, three, ahead of the dog, and then a feathered geyser seemed to leap from the field not 25 feet away. "Bang !" and over tumbled our first speckled beauty of the prairie. Warden Smith laughed merrily, after shouting his congratulations. "Why, that bird," he ex- claimed, "hardly raised his feet from the ground before you nailed him ! You fellows come from the thicket country where you usually get but an instant glimpse of your game and it's gone unless you snuff it the first few feet." Mix took the chaffing good naturedly, admit- ting that his eagerness might have caused a miss, because the mark would have been easier had the bird been allowed to rise and get at least 20 yards away. "There's $25 worth of satisfac- tion right there!" exclaimed the delighted New Yorker as he walked back with the first trophy. The work of the dogs was a marvel to the visitors. Their intelligence and sagacity shown in a hundred different ways was a source of constant delight. King galloped at a steady 248 WILD GINGER rate in semi-circles many rods beyond Spot, the pair thoroughly covering the ground for a quar- ter mile from the wagon. The setter would oc- casionally throw up his head to locate the wag- on and to keep within distance of both the sight and orders of his master. A wave of the hand when the dog was so far away that he looked no larger than a rabbit was sufficient to direct his movements to any particular part of the field. Presently King was nowhere to be seen, but Spot had noticed him drop and was after him on a bee-line to back him up. Before the hunters could get out of the wagon both dogs were nestled in the stubble about lOO yards from a mammoth straw stack. "In skirmish or- der !" was the command from the warden. Four guns glistened in the sunlight as the men hur- ried forward. When within 80 or 90 yards of the dogs, a fine cock rose to his feet and began to strut away. "Take your time ; don't bother about that fellow," whispered Smith, "there's a bunch of chicken within range and they won't follow him until they have to !" Just then the "walker" took wing, and flying with the wind, came quartering toward the two outside men on the right of the firing line. The sheriflf was on the end. By the time the chicken got opposite him at fully 60 yards, the bird was making time equal to an Eastern partridge, but the sheriff was there, bringing down the game with a pretty shot. The crack of the gun seemed to fill the air with birds, five or six rising in different parts of the field, four of them within range. Three WILD GINGER 249 came to stubble. Alwater stepped ahead several rods when two chicken got up near the straw stack. He dropped one before it had flown five yards and the other doubled around the stack, rising above it on the other side. With his second barrel the long Yankee stopped this cun- ning bird, too. The feat was greeted with cheers. Through all the racket old King kept his place, apparently engrossed with the beauty of a frosted thistle just beyond him. Could it be possible that another bird had lingered through all that bombardment? To test the query, Duall walked toward the dog and a plump chicken scuttled for safety, but was fatally touched by the marksman's two barrels. As Spot went to retrieve the bird still another chick- en skimmed along the ground, a habit they have, evidently knowing that their feathers harmonize with the stubble, making the mark inconspicuous and a difficult one despite its size. Three nim- rods had a try at this last of the Mohicans, but he got away unscathed and was last seen sailing into the cover of a poplar grove near an old house over a mile away. The prairie chicken gets under headway much more slowly than the partridge, but after the first few yards develops splendid speed. He flaps his wings vigorously and then sails, re- peating the flapping and sailing, going at a rate that is very deceptive to the eye, as the novice soon learns to his sorrow. The beauty of the Dakota country from the sportsman's viewpoint is the scarcity of fences. He can drive for many miles without encounter- 250 WILD GINGER ing an obstacle except the road ditches which are easily negotiated by the sturdy team and stout wagon. King and Sport trotted through the few hay fields and flax stubbles without pretending to look for birds, taught by experience that the wheat and barley fields are the favorite haunts, and that sometimes it pays to search an oats patch. We started to hurry through an oat stubble without waiting for the dogs to overtake us, when the grandest flock of chicken that we ran across in the two days' hunting rose all about us. We saw two or three on the ground, stalking proudly away. The ground seemed to open and emit prairie chicken. They were just out of range and to attempt to get within gun- shot now without the dogs was useless. We sat and watched the splendid birds, fully 15 being in sight at one time. Presently with a cluck, cluck, cluck, an old hen fluttered into the air and her offspring followed. There apparently had been a reunion, taking in cousins, uncles, and aunts, for a flock of fully 50 chickens got out of that field while we sat there and fired never a shot. "Begins to look like the old days," remarked Warden Smith in a gratified tone. "The dis- continuance of the early summer shooting of half-grown chicks, limiting the bag, inducing the farmers to burn over their fields in the fall instead of in the spring and the strict enforce- ment of the game laws are having their effect. We were in a fair way of seeing our favorite game wiped out by the steam plows, the fires WILD GINGER 251 at nesting time and pot hunters, but now the birds are on a decided increase according to re- ports I get from all parts of my district." King and Spot came up in time to see the congregation of chicken depart and looked their disgust at the hunters who didn't have intelli- gence enough to let their trained allies cover the ground first. "We may run across that bunch again," observed Smith, "but not within a mile or two of this place. We looked too formidable." The thicket along the creek where the birds seemed to have settled, and the ad- jacent fields were beaten in vain, except for a brace of birds that were overtaken before reach- ing the locality. During the middle of the day we rested a couple of hours. The stubble was dry and the scent difficult for the dogs. Under unfavorable conditions the setter and pointer worked more faithfully than ever, leaving very little territory traversed by the team uncovered. The flocks seemed more scattered as the day wore on, the game turning up singly and at most in pairs. But this was sufficient to keep the sport at the highest pitch of interest. Toward evening the chicken began to congregate again, and three or four nice bevies were located by King and Spot, and from these we took only decent toll. We drove home over the prairies a tired, but happy party, initiated at last into the royal joys which the plainsmen know. That evening the host and his wife gave a reception and dance in honor of their guests, who soon forgot the arduous exercise of the 252 WILD GINGER day under the genial rays of Western hospitality. North Dakota has quite an extensive list of the 88 varieties of the North American golden rods, the asters, and other autumn flowers, but strange as it may seem, the Queen of the Prairie, the beautiful flower with the color of the peach blos- som and the fragrance of sweet birch, has not crossed the Mississippi. We can vouch for it that North Dakota has Queens of the Prairie that bloom the year round and are "sweeter than all the roses," including Ulmaria rubra, one of the most attractive of the large rose family. The second day brought more good sport. Impressive as the boundless expanse of country was at first sight, the prairie grew on us. The clare-obscure of sun-kissed wheat stubble and amber flax, the thin golden lines of apologies for trees along the streams, the deep blue of a sky that seemed wider and vaster than that at home possessed attractions that lovers of the mountain and hill country hardly dreamed pos- sible. We were not quite so eager for sport, as the first day had quit amply satisfied the longings of the hunter. . e had more time now to simply enjoy being alive and out of doors in the biggest out of doors the world can possi- bly know. That evening there was another reunion of the sportsmen at the Pierce headquarters. Chief Game Warden Smith favored us with some of his ideas on game protection which he has since embodied in his first biennial report to the gov- ernor of North Dakota. He went on to say: WILD GINGER 253 I "When man was compelled to take game with the bow there was little danger of extermination, as the proportion of game killed to the reproduc- tion was very small. Not longer than thirty years ago most of the shooting was done with a muzzle loader; then came the breecliloader, later the repeater, and finally the murderous au- tomatic shot gun. Thus we see how the killing power of the hunter is steadily increasing. The automobile which makes it possible for a man to cover many miles in a day, also makes it impossible for wild game to have many retreats where safety is assured. "At first it was thought necessary to protect game during the nesting season only, but other protection soon became necessary. Some sports- men and others have gone so far as to advo- cate the compulsory use of the old-style guns in hunting. It appears to me that this is out of harmony with the spirit of the times. Let us improve our firearms, as well as increase our comforts while hunting, then regulate by law and create by sentiment a spirit of not how much we can kill, but how much we can enjoy the sport outside the killing. I am in favor of only as many laws and such laws as the situation demands, with strict enforcement of them. I am opposed to the law which makes it harder for the man in the common walks of life to enjoy the sport as much as does his more fortunate brother who is able to lease the best hunting grounds in the state and travel from them in a private car. "I favor the following legislation : Prohibit- 254 WILD GINGER ing all spring shooting; the open season for wild fowl September ist to January ist; open season for grouse of all kinds, quail, and pheasant, September 15th to November ist; to make it prima facie evidence of law breaking for any one to be found off the public highways with gun, or gun and dog, before the season opens; to prohibit the taking of any dogs to be trained or worked on any chicken or grouse family during the closed season; a law to protect at all times all insect eating and song birds, not classed as game birds; to allow a game warden to search without warrant any rig or place where he has reason to believe that game is being kept in hiding out of season; to pay spe- cial deputies the sum of ten dollars each time he furnishes evidence sufficient to convict of violation of the game law ; to make the cost of a resident permit one dollar and the cost of a non-resident permit ten dollars. I favor making the open season for chicken begin fifteen days later so that the young ones may be much stronger and better able to care for themselves." These 'suggestions received the hearty en- dorsement of the members of the Cataract Club and of the New York State Fish, Game and Forest League present. "Your ideas are progressive and conservative in the best sense. You believe in using but not abusing the hunting privilege. It is the same idea as expressed by President Roosevelt when he said before the National Conserva- tion Congress : 'Forestry is the preservation of the forests by wise use.' R. L. McCormick, WILD GINGER 255 president of the Mississippi Valley Lumbermen's Association, voiced the same sentiment when he declared that 'Practical forestry means conser- vative lumbering.' One of our New York maga- zines has begun a campaign that is bound to gain many recruits in favor of less restriction of shooting game and more encouragement for hunting by increasing the amount of game by propagation." "I'm interested, of course," murmured the sheriff's gentle voice, "by your talk of game pro- tection, etc., but you have so many conventions, resolutions, and laws, that an old-time hunter is so nervous when he goes out lest he's not shoot- ing according to Hoyle that he misses most of the time. Your printed rules in that way protect more game than your wardens. Whenever I hear of a sportsmen's convention I'm as much excited as old Gus Grumbaker, a saloon man at home. Another saloon keeper told him that a temperance meeting had adopted indignation resolutions against the liquor trade. Gus wanted to know more about it, so his friend said, 'Gus, you shust look in der profiles of der Union and dere you read all about dat indication meet- ings: '" Editor Pierce concluded the evening with a delightful account of a faithful guardian of the feathered game, an old man named Jerry who lived on one of the small lakes in central Da- kota noted for its wild fowl. Ducks, geese, and swan, in enormous quantities visit that famous pond in the spring and fall. The lake is in- cluded in a private preserve now, but even the 256 WILD GINGER owners dare not violate the laws which Jerry has enacted for the observance of all comers. The "venerable venator" will permit himself un- der no circumstances to shoot more than three days a week, nor to take more than a dozen wild fowl in a single day. One morning we arrived at Jerry's lonely habitation, the only one on the lake, unexpectedly. Our host greeted us cordially, urged us in and insisted on our having somp bacon and coffee. While we were eating Jerry stepped outside on some errand. Looking out of the window we saw an immense flock of ducks circling the lake. Jerry raised his hand toward them, and talking to his feath- ered friends more than to himself, said, "Come on, blackies, settle down in the bay — ^you're safe to-day. This is no shooting day." And so it proved. A party had put in the day before gunning on the lake and the alter- nate day gave the fowl a respite. We knew better than to attempt to argue with Jerry. But the next day we made up for the delay. The old sportsman was wise in his moderation after all, and his friends were the gainers in the long run. He explained that in a pond not many miles away where they shot every day dur- ing the open season, they never had yet killed as many wild fowl as they had on his pond for the entire season. This was due to the fact, he thought, that ducks and geese will fight shy of a place where there is a constant bom- bardment during the hours of daylight, but they will take a chance on water where they often drop in and are undisturbed for an entire twen- WILD GINGER 257 ty-four hours. Let some of the greedy hunters ponder over old Jerry's idea. The outing in Dakota was soon over and adieus were said regretfully. Assurances of a return visit were exacted from the hosts. The mountains have their own peculiar glo- ries, but the prairies also have their claims upon the enthusiasm of the nature lover. The ris- ing sun comes up as if waking from the lap of Mother Earth to salute her fair face with a wakening kiss. At noon the King of Day rules with a majestic splendor not approached by his confined dominion over the valleys of the hill- limited land. In the evening he waves good night with a flaming torch that illumines every- thing with a promise and brightens the plain with a benediction. 2S8 WILD GINGER WILD GINGER, WOOD SORREL, SWEET CICELY. SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF RENSSELAER HILLS AND DALES. — October. X. "Thou waitest late, and com'st alone When woods are bare and birds have flown, And frosts and shortening days portend. The aged year is near his end. "Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye Look through its fringes to the sky, Blue — blue — as if that sky let fall A flower from its cerulean wall." — Bryant's Fringed Gentian. From the heights that slope gently down to the willow-lined and poplar-girt shores of Lake Tsatsawassa on the west, one can get just a glimpse of the blue tops of the Berkshires loom- ing up above the New York mountain line. Di- rectly eastward over the state wall lies the Hancock Valley, and a short jaunt from there takes the nature lover northward to the Wil- liamstown Valley, where Bryant wrote his Tha- natopsis, Green River, and the beautiful tribute to the fringed gentian. Every month in the year have we enjoyed the hills, streams, valleys, and lakes, of Rensselaer, but the favorite time for us in the Highlands Page 258. TSATSAWASSA LAKE— RENSSELAER. WILD GINGER 259 of the Hudson is October. The time and the place, too, make the fringed gentian the appro- priate club flower for the month. Nearly all the wild blossoms that bountiful mother nature pro- vides to deck the New England and Eastern States are found along the meadows of the Wy- nantskill, the thickets of Black Brook, in the deep Nassau woods and the tangled swamps around Black Pond, Crooked Lake, and Reich- ards Lake, but in October we wear the blue gen- tian. As often as four times in a single year have little parties of the Cataract Club journeyed across the state in their devotion to the hills of Rensselaer. Niagara county has its own peculiar glories, but the level, orchard-dotted country cannot satisfy the hill-born man long at a time. By ones and twos were the Niagarans intro- duced to the lakes in the hills east of the Hud- son, and each and every one soon learned to love that blissful region so, that the "pilgrimages" to Rensselaer became a fixed habit, their culmi- nation being the holding of the annual outing of the entire club in Rensselaer two whole hap- py days in June. Although not far from the "busy haunts of men," with the state capitol in sight from Pike's Peak near Brown's on Crooked Lake, and the pall of Troy rolling upward to the northwest not twenty miles away, it is surprising what splendid catches of fish and bags of game we have taken from among the hills of Rensselaer. Long strings of gray squirrels, partridge, duck, and even a sprinkling of woodcock and quail 26o WILD GINGER have more than once aroused the astonishment of travelers in the Albany station, when the homeward-bound Cataract hunters were about to take the "eleven-forty p. m." on the New York Central. Well laden creels of trout and pails of black bass and pike have stirred the envy of city folk who could not believe that there were such fine fish — "what, just over the hills within two hours' drive of Albany !" Impossible ? Not at all. Nature has been very lavish with Rens- selaer in supplying nearly a score of lakes and twice that number of ideal trout brooks, steep mountains, and dense cover for game. Then, too, the Rensselaer County Rod and Gun Club has assisted nature in stocking the waters and covers and protecting the fish and animals from the unseasonable and unreasonable attacks of man. Each time we have wandered into Keeler's at Albany on alighting from the 3.30 a. m. train, which we called our "Sportsman's special" — because it carries a Pullman that leaves Lock- port at 7. 1 1 p. m. and journeys across the state during a sleep, landing the sportsman in the hills of Rensselaer in time for the forenoon fishing or hunting — we have been more and more impressed by the lines carved above the great stone fireplace: "Who'er has traveled life's dull round, Where'er his wanderings may have been, Must sigh to think he still has found His warmest welcome in an inn." We do not recall that we ever heard who the WILD GINGER 261 pessimist was that penned those Hnes, but must admit that there is considerable foundation for the indictment of human nature contained in the stony verses. However, we know of one hostelrie where the motive of cupidity may not justly be charged against the cordiality and warmth of Mine Host's welcome. So long as Mr. and Mrs. "Bob" Whitegiver kept the cosy inn on Tsata- wassa, members of the Cataract Club were as- sured of a welcome as sincere and warm as any ever given at the home of devoted friends. At all hours of the day or night, in all seasons and in any kind of weather, "old Bob," the ideal host and the model hunter and sportsman, was ready to meet his expected guests and carry them over the seven mile or nine mile drive in- tervening between Tsatsawassa and the trolley station at Nassau or Averill Park, as the case might be. And no matter what time of day the clock indicated, it was always meal time when the hungry travelers arrived at Mrs. Bob's bountiful table. The thermometer might say freezing and the barometer might register rain outdoors, but within there was always cheer and sunshine for the Niagarans at the Tsatsa- wassa Inn. Standing at the foot of the sloping hill that stretched upward for a mile with its wooded ridges and copse-decorated parterres, the Tsatsa- wassa Inn looks out upon a beautiful heart- shaped body of water. Across the lake a half mile away is a dense wood of pine, hickory, chestnut, walnut, and oak, a typical eastern for- 262 WILD GINGER est. Above rises a hill that attains the dignity of a mountain. To the left runs a deep gully ex- tending up into the hills fully a mile. A chest- nut forest flanks the lake on the right. These are the favorite homes of gray squirrels and there partridges are abundant. Oh top of the hill on the west, back of the inn, one can look upon a circular panorama well worth the climb. To the southwest may be seen the dim blue outlines of the majestic Catskills; to the northeast range the foothills of the Adi- rondacks and on the east the Berkshires. With gun on shoulder, starting out on a crisp October morning in the sunlight that flames in the gold and red of the oaks, hickories, and chestnuts, and tinges the evergreens with copper, to match wits with the cunning gray or the clever par- tridge — "that were paradise enow." We usually made the trip to Tsatsawassa by going to Troy, then by trolley to Averill Park, and by carriage down the Pike's Pond Valley to our destination. This necessitated riding on three trolley lines, with a change of cars at Troy and one at Albia, but the scenery repaid one for the extra exertion. The ride along the romantic Wynantskill (an ideal brook trout stream, which was all but depleted of the speckled beauties years ago, but which now abounds with brown and rainbow trout, as well as native trout, thanks to McLaren's systematic restocking), up the West Sandlake valley is a delight. The line runs within a half mile of Snyder's lake, a quar- ter mile of Reichard's lake, and terminates on the shores of Sandlake, all haunts of the basses. WILD GINGER 263 On the drive from Albia we see on the way Glass Lake, Crooked Lake, Pike's Pond, and, if we care to drive two miles out of the direct route, can skirt for three miles the picturesque shores of Burden Lake. We never fail to stop at Brown's, on Crooked Lake, and pay our re- spects to the amiable host of the tavern where Governor Roosevelt had the good sense to spend some of his summer leisure. Albany is only about fifteen miles on a bee- line west of Tsatsawassa, but the route around by Albia means about twice that distance and almost completing a circle. The circuitous jour- ney recalled the story told by the rotund Hop- kins, of La Salle, a notorious practical joker. On the way South one winter Hopkins' train was delayed for several hours at Louisville. A fussy, dyspeptic little man from Michigan made the life of his wife and the other passengers miserable by complaining about the halt. "Why don't this train go? I didn't pay my fare to sit in the cars and look at an old sta- tion," the querulous traveler rambled, in a thin, piping voice that got on the nerves of every- body. "I'm in a hurry to get South. The doc- tor sent me there. If I die I'll sue the railroad company for damages, I will ! My, this is worse than waiting for the undertaker to arrive !" After an hour of this, Hopkins looked out, and seeing the Louisville belt line pull in, re- marked to the chronic : "You say, sir, you want to go somewhere at once — there is the train you want. That'll get you going all right!" The Michigander became all animation at once. He 264 WILD GINGER gathered up his baggage, hustled his wife out and into the train on the adjoining track they scrambled. In half an hour back came the same belt-line train, and the mirth-exhausted passen- gers in the south-bound express awaited the en- counter when they saw the Michigander and his meek wife alight. In bustled the dyspeptic, fire in his eye, which was alight with battle. "You infernal scoundrel," he began, "point- ing an umbrella at the imperturbable Hopkins, "you knew that was a local-round-the-circle train, and here I am again." "I see you are," smiled Hopkins ; "shake ! Glad to renew acquaintanceship." "Not glad to see you, though," sputtered the victim ; "you made me spend my time and money for nothin'!" "Oh, no, my friend," serenely suggested Hop- kins. "You wanted to go somewhere at once. You went. You saw Louisville. You thought you were on your way and you were. You were contented, and so were the rest of us, because, my friend, we didn't put up our money for a pleasure trip in company with a weeping Jerry. Cheer up. Forget it. Hear that ! We are off !" The Michigander looked at the smiling, good- natured, affable fellow passenger for a moment, undecided whether to take further offence or not, but presently exclaimed : "Put her there. Come to think of it all, you're right. I had no right to make all of you miserable with my com- plaints. I was wrong. As a matter of fact, I have all winter to get South and am going for the fun of it. I can go to-morrow or next day WILD GINGER 265 as well as to-day. I'm in good company. That's one on me, all right. I'll call the waiter and what'll you have. I don't care if we stay here a week, now, because that swing around the circle just swung all of the bile out of me." The "Twenty-seven Pines" were now in sight two miles down the valley, the green sign-board which said to the travelers : "Three miles to Tsatsawassa." Reddy, who was driving, ex- changed witticisms with his rural friends along the way, much to the entertainment of the pas- sengers in the carryall. On the veranda of the inn stood Mr. and Mrs. Bob as the carryall swung around the corner of the road. "Just in time for breakfast; how are you all?" came the hostess' cheery greeting. "Hustle up, because I expect you to get a dozen birds before dinner. Bob circled the lake yes- terday afternoon and put up thirty partridge — thirty, wasn't it. Bob?" Bob's corroboration ac- celerated the dismounting of sportsmen. Al- though they had breakfasted at Keeler's at four, the appetites were renewed by the brisk air of the country fifteen hundred feet above sea level, and they were ready for a second breakfast. During the meal in the dining room, looking out on the lake. Bob was subjected to a running fire of cross-questioning concerning the game, to which he submitted good-naturedly. "Any woodcock down in the alder thickets, Bob? A few there, eh? mostly local birds — the fall flight not in yet! Remember the twentieth of October last year — thermometer eighty in the shade — when we put up over a hundred 266 WILD GINGER birds down in the thickets along the valley, shot away boxes of ammunition, and counted up only nineteen birds to three guns at night! Mowed down most of the alders with shot, so the shoot- ing ought to be easier this fall ; eh, Bob ?" "How about the bevies of quail over on Brain- ard hills this side of the Kinderhook?" asked Stickwell. "Do you remember the bombard- ment when a nice bunch got up in the ravine, with three of us on each side? We were all so^ rattled at the sight of so many bob whites, after all these years of absence of the feathered bul- lets, that only two birds fell. I was so eager that I stalked a cripple and actually forgot to put him up, but potted him on the ground. I hadn't shot a quail for so long that I wasn't sport enough to take any chances." "Any ducks and geese in yet. Bob? Only a few small flocks of ducks, eh? Need a cold spell and storms to drive them into the shelter of these hill-protected lakes, of course. Remem- ber two years ago?" rambled Mix, between bites. "We had a rainy spell which spoiled our squirrel and partridge shooting the first day, and we got up next morning to find an all day drizzle the apparent meteorological programme. In some gloom we had settled down to whist, when the restless McLaren burst in from a ram- ble on the veranda and shouted that electrifying word : 'Ducks, fellows ; ducks !' We tumbled out onto the front porch, and, making spyglasses of our fists, scanned the east shore. Yes, down there in the cove there was a glisten of feathers in the mist as a duck rose in the water to flap WILD GINGER 267 his wings. Then far over to the right there was a similar signal, and presently a large flock dotted on the surface of the lake was outlined there. Still another flock was descried over near the outlet among the weeds along the woods. To boat, to boat ! Remember how McLaren abused me and Alwater when on the way we insisted on taking a shot at a flock of five yel- low-legs among the flags at the mouth of Tsat- sawassa Creek, and were gloating over three birds, when over us sailed a flock of canvas- backs and after them a flock of pintails, fright- ened out by the volley? But the big flock, tired from buffeting the storm of the night before, stuck to the lake. We stationed men in the woods on three sides and sent three boats around the ducks. Up they got, but flying toward the wind to get up, sailed within range of Alwater's long pump artillery, with the result that he crip- pled a fine drake, who settled into the lake and decoyed back the entire flock. What a fusillade followed, continuing all day. At night we counted thirty-six ducks out of a flock of forty- two, six redheads and thirty black, orange- beaked American scoters !" "Yes, scoters !" sneered the sheriff, "the kind of ducks you boil with soft soap and then throw outdoors." "Not if you know anything about cookery," rebuked Alwater. Bob retold, too, how he bagged four geese one night when a bewildered flock repeatedly flew through the rays of a large reflector light in front of the inn. 268 WILD GINGER "How about the family of grays that used to feed in the big hickory in the field above the road on the hill and outwitted us by jumping into open?" asked the judge. "Oh, they're still there and up to their old tricks," laughed Bob, "all except the one you managed to circumvent by covering his runway when the rest of us put out the bunch from the hickory." "And the pair who have holes in the twin poplars over in the Big Woods, Bob? Got one, eh?" "I suppose the old gray that played the trick on you and Mix is still on deck," laughed Sam Ward, recalling an incident at the expense of the host and one of the hunters. "Mix and Bob came upon a gray in a hickory in a field near a hillside. Mix shot at the squirrel as he ran down the side of the tree and missed. Bob got on one side of the tree and Mix on the other to locate the hider. When the game of hide and seek got too warm for Mr. Gray, out he leaped forty feet from the ground, and ran right at Bob. As the squirrel was rushing by within six feet of him Bob fired, and plowed up the ground just behind the flying bunch of fur. Wheeling 'round for the second shot, there was no squirrel in sight. The mystery of the bold coup was explained by locating a wood- chuck hole a few paces behind the hunter and into which the wily old squirrel had darted as he had doubtless done many times before when danger threatened during his meal in the hickory." WILD GINGER 269 This recalled the near tragedy in which Larch and Alwater were the chief actors in one of sev- eral famous hunting trips in Yates County in the nineties, when a party of six or eight used to bag a hundred or more squirrels in two or three days' hunting. Larch had scared up two partridge out of a hemlock and missed both birds on difficult shots. As he fired, a black squirrel leaped from an oak near by and hid in the very hemlock from which the birds had flown. A half hour's search failed to locate Mr. Blacksides. As he sat on a log waiting for the reappearance of the black, a gray came ambling along the ground, hunting for nuts. Larch fired quickly, and the squirrel leaped into a tree, and a run- ning race, the gray through the tree tops and Larch on the ground, ensued. Two more shots failed to stop the leaper, and the squirrel holed in a small oak, about thirty feet up. Larch's fighting blood was now thoroughly aroused, by being outgeneraled and defeated by two birds and two squirrels; so, throwing off his coat, he climbed up. He was prodding down into the hole and getting angry sputters from the gray when along came Alwater through the woods. He, too, had just missed a black squirrel, and he was eager to retrieve himself when he caught sight of the hunter's black topknot bobbing in the oak leaves. He saw just enough to indicate the waving tail of a black squirrel, and he shot as quick as a flash. "What in the name of the sacred sycamore are you shooting at?" came a fierce shout from the tree. Up came Alwater, terrified to think that he had shot his friend. 270 WILD GINGER "Not much harm done," came Larch's assurance, although a number-six shot had plowed a light furrow across his forehead and there were sting- ing sensations in his scalp. "Now, get ready and shoot this pesky squirrel when he bobs out, and if you miss I'll take a shot at you," cried Larch. Presently out popped the gray, down the tree he went, and then bounded out through the woods, Alwater vainly saluting him with two shots. After the late breakfast, six pairs of hunters, assigned to different parts of the country around the lake, started out, each intent upon making the best record for the first day. Hunting coat pockets were stored with sandwiches and the report was to be made at supper time — "any time you get back," as Mrs. Bob had accom- modatingly fixed the hour for the evening meal. The judge and sheriff and Bob took Sport, the setter, and sallied forth for a tour of the lake. At night they returned, somewhat wearied from the first day's tramp, always the hardest for the hunter, but flushed with success. The hills of Rensselaer afforded vigorous exercise, but the game is to be had by men who enjoy rough tramping. Bob, as usual, took the brunt of the hunting by beating the thickets and gullies with the dog, allowing his guests the easier and more advantageous positions on either side. Eight fine birds, plump partridge, and four gray squir- rels, and two rabbits was their count. At noon they rested for lunch near the spring in the wooded blufif overlooking Tsatsawassa. Their Ineal was interrupted by the "quah, cuck, cuck. WILD GINGER 271 quah, qu-ah-qu-ah-ah" of a curious gray, and one of the big sheriff's famous weasel-Hke stalks re- sulted in adding fur to their feathers. Stickwell and Nick and the much-traveled pointer Cody, which, the sheriff said, "was the best saloon-broke dog in the United States," a slander resented by the owner, went in quest of the elusive bevies of quail. They located one bunch in the stub pines over the hill, but lost them after bagging three. On the way home they shot a brace of partridge. John Wilson Teller and Sam journeyed far beyond the lake, over toward Black Brook, in hopes of getting a glimpse of the big swamp rabbits, which are snow white in winter. The great bunnies kept out of sight; but besides two partridge and a gray squirrel, they exhibited with much pride a cock of the woods, a bird rarely found in New York State of late yea!rs, a fine specimen which is prided by a Lockport naturalist to-day. Larch and Alwater, to prove that they were not afraid of each other, paired for the day's hunt, and climbed the hill, bound for the Chest- nut woods, taking in the Hill of the Giant Pines, Sam's Landmarks. They devoted themselves to the grays. Hunting in the great chestnut grove afiforded rare sport. The squirrels were quite plentiful, but constantly on the lookout for ene- mies, and the sportsmen had to exert their ut- most skill and cunning to bag nine grays be- tween them. Alwater had the best success on the edge of a corn field, where he bagged three on the fence. 272 WILD GINGER Duall and Wynne tried their fortunes in the long stretch of woodlands along the creek val- ley, each man taking a woods to himself. They entered the first piece together, and the moment they set foot in the leaves there was a commo- tion in the tree tops, three squirrels starting for the home tree at once. They stopped two of the lively little fellows. Crossing the valley, Wynne leading fifty rods below, Duall witnessed a pretty shot. Looking down into the plateau below, he saw a partridge flush from the woods and fly across the open space directly toward his com- rade. Wynne fired at the oncoming bird, missed him, but wheeling on the straight away, tumbled the partridge in fine style. Cutting through the corner of the woods where the bird got up, Duall flushed three, one of which he bagged, and Wynne got his mate on a quarter- ing shot at sixty yards. Five partridge, five squirrels, and a rabbit was their score at night. Mix and Lea trudged over the hill to the Big Woods in the western valley. It is three miles in length, and a good place to lose one's bearings, as some of the party used to level country dis- covered. Stickwell tells about tramping trium- phantly homeward — homeward, as he thought — when he deemed it well to confirm his opinion of directions by asking a farmer how far it was to Tsatsawassa Lake. "Be you going to Tsatsa- wassa to-night, young man?" queried the resi- dent. "I hope so, for I'm mighty hungry," laughed the hunter. "M^ell, then, young man, you'd better turn right around and head back over yon hill !" Page THE RAIN AND SHINE CLUB— BURDEN LAKE, RENSSELAER. 273- WILD GINGER 273 Nick boasted that he couldn't get lost in that country, because when in doubt, he said, he al- ways picked out the highest hill in sight, climbed that, and he invariably found himself in sight of Tsatsawassa Lake. To Mix and Lea belonged the honor of bring- ing in the prize "mixed bag." They came tramping over the hill at night, singing "The mountains, the mountains, we greet you with a song," carrying a fine fox. From their coats they produced, besides the reynard, four gray squirrels, one rabbit, two woodcock, two par- tridge, and two quail. Duall the next day tried to outdo this range of variety, and was much encouraged in the early morning by securing a coon, a woodchuck, a partridge, and two squir- rels, but he failed to put up any quail or wood- cock. That night, after supper, weariness was for- gotten in the cheery blink o' Bob's fireside, and reminiscence was in order. McLaren, Doc Myers, Cipperly, Gruver, and "Fergy the Guide," the intrepid game protector of the Rensselaer Club, drove down from West Sandlake, to help entertain their brothers of the Cataract Club and be with them for the second day's hunt. The day's bag was inspected and compliments passed 'round. "You did pretty well, but you ought to have picked up more rabbits in a country thick with them," growled McLaren. "Last November Charley and Billy Mack got twenty-seven on the hillside above the hotel in one afternoon." "Yes, Long John," exclaimed Mix, "but you 274 WILD GINGER want snow and a beagle for rabbit hunting. We were after better game to-day." "Speaking of baygles," said the sheriff, "Mrs. Bob's supper to-night, Mack, disappeared just Hke the hare before the baygle." In dropped little Mike, the cripple hermit from the hill, to get his portion of toddy and then creep back home, three miles over the hill in the dark. Mike insisted on giving a lecture on the evils of drink, at the same time "downing the vile stuff," or as much as the landlord would permit him to have, which was a very limited quantity. Mike claimed to be an expert on whisky. Said he: "I can tell by the taste of the stuff which it is of forty different brans. And from two swal- lows I can tell by the taste the name of the boy who hoed the corn the whisky was made from." "Down home we had two experts that could beat that, Michael," remarked the sheriff, in a fatherly, pitying tone. "Eph and Sylvester were called in by Steele to pass judgment on a new barrel. Eph remarked, after a glass or two : ' 'Peers to me that stuff kinder tastes of leather.' Ves sampled it, and after a time observed : 'Nice, but she has a taste of iron.' Steele drew off the Hquor, and found an old-fashioned leather- headed carpet tack in the bottom of the barrel!" At a signal from Bob, Mike made his adieus. When he had passed out, Lea remarked : "Mike's nose looks Hke a late Crawford — it's certainly a peach." "Time to go to bed," suggested one unusu- ally tired nimrod. "Oh, pshaw ! you can sleep WILD GINGER 275 at home," was the chorus which repeated the popular saying in Rensselaer. The conversation drifted into politics, but just for a brief time, for that was a tabooed subject. "How's the Boss of Rensselaer?" asked Stick- well, directing his remark to Mack. "Oh, I'm out of politics," answered Mack. "I'm disgusted with politics. One of my neigh- bor's little girls, the other day, said to a little friend, after town meeting : 'How much did your father get for his vote?' The second little girl replied : 'Nothin'.' 'Pshaw !' exclaimed the first child, in disgust, 'my pa got ten dollars for hisn, but brother Henry only got eight, 'cause the men said he wuz only nineteen.' " The sheriff, apropos of the political game, re- marked : "Politics is all right, if you lose ; but if elected you're game for the strikers. I'd rather pick stone and earn the honest right to walk along the streets and tell the bums that I'm just out of quarters to-day." The judge opined that there was something worse than holding public office. He related that when a mere boy he worked for a skinflint farmer along with several other lads of the neighborhood, who needed the money. The farmer required them to pick stones an hour be- fore breakfast and then turn in and do a full day's work. The boys got together and agreed to strike against the extra stone picking; but when the farmer told them to pick stone or quit, the strikers all showed the yellow feather except the judge. "And the stone pickers are picking stone yet." 276 WILD GINGER This reminded the sheriff of the farmer who was not only a hard taskmaster, but who starved his help. Instead of bread, the hired men were given stale crackers, which the farmer bought for three cents a pound. They agreed to strike against the stale food, but an Irishman allowed that he could cure Symonds of the cracker habit. At noon Mike sat down to his plate of crackers, he filled his mouth full, and by agree- ment one of the other men told a funny story. At the climax Mike exploded, and the pow- dered crackers flew over the entire table in a fine shower. No more crackers were served at that table." "That farmer would hardly care to have Mike sit down again, like your Falls Italian barber. Tell about that, sheriff," some one requested. "I went up to the Falls to levy on some prop- erty of a barber. When I went into the shop it was full of customers. I whispered my errand to Tony, so as not to embarrass him before his trade ; but he declared angrily that he wouldn't pay the bill and I shouldn't so much as touch a thing in his shop. I sat down, remarking that I would stay there until he changed his mind. Tony concluded that the sheriff occupying a front seat and awaiting 'Next' was not a good advertisement for his business, rushed up to me, took me by the shoulders, and shrieked : 'No, no, sheriff e, no sitte de down, gode de out!' There was one place I wasn't welcome where I stayed until I got ready to go.'' "Your office doubtless put you in a position that Bump Witts says he usually found himself WILD GINGER 277 at home. Bump loved to get out with the boys, but wifey thought he ought to be at home more. He said : 'Married life is a strange mixture. Here am I — with you to-night, all right — ^but I had to fight like a Trojan to get out, and when I get home I'll have to fight even worse to get in!" Somebody remarked that the sheriff had gone through some trying situations and rough bat- tles dealing with the tough element at Niagara Falls during the construction of the power tun- nel, but he had come out without a scratch. This recalled the court incident, in which old man Peabody, a sharp-tongued farmer, figured as plaintiff in a damage action against the rail- road company. The old man had been pretty badly marked in a railroad accident. His at- torney had him partially stripped and was ex- hibiting his wounds to the jury. Attorney King asked him who his doctor was. Peabody pointed to Dr. X., a witness for the defendant company, and shouted scornfully : "That sawbones there, and I'm alive yet!" After the rebuke from the judge, Peabody put his hand to his side and jerked at the attorney for the defence: "Now, ain't there a lump there that you overlooked?" Of course the railroad lawyer ignored the thrust. Angrily the old plaintiff shouted at the opposing attorney: "Come up and feel of me — I won't charge you for anything you can learn from my old body — and you, too. Dr. X." Peabody's daughter appeared as a witness. She was asked whom she had married, and she replied, naming a well-known dentist. With a 278 WILD GINGER baneful glare at the corporation attorney, Pea- body interrupted: "Yes, she was courted by a lawyer as well as by the doctor" — with another glare for Dr. X. — "and she took the less of two evils." "That doctor," remarked Lea, "must have felt as much of a fool as a certain other Niagara physician. The doctor I refer to had occasion to make out commitment papers for an insane person, and in the document he absent-mindedly inserted his own name where the patient's should have been. Fortunately the error was discovered by the judge forwarding the papers to the asylum. The doctor profusely apologized to the judge for the mistake, but the story got out, and it cost the young medic a dinner for the county medical society to which he belonged." That "doc" must have felt a good deal like old man Rafferty, of Lowertown, who said that he thought "apologizin' for somethin' never helps nawthin', an' it usually makes hot' madder than they wuz before." Rafferty was instructed by the court to apologize to a certain money-lender for threatening to strike the Shylock if he ever came to collect his interest again. The de- fendant stood in doubt between the apology and the fine for several minutes, and then, bowing to the judge in acquiescence, and with a glance of murderous hate at the Shylock, he hissed : 'I'm beggin' yez pardon for tretnin' to give yer owld hide the batin' it so richly desarves, but tliafs the ony ting I couM beg of ye, ye owld shkin- nint!" "That court scene must have been worth go- WILD GINGER 279 ing to see," remarked Wynne. "I'd been as anxious to hear old man Rafferty, as another Lowertown Irishman was to attend the Civic League banquet when he heard that Mr. Black- stock, of Toronto, King's Council, was to be the chief speaker. The papers announced that Mr. Blackstock, 'K. C.,' was to be the guest of honor. Jim Duff read the notice, and remarked to his cronies : T must go to that if I have to sell the owld pig fer the ticket, 'cause this mon Black- stone is wan av the big guns of the Knights of Columbus.' " The stories came with the rapidity and pre- cision of a rapid-fire battery, although they were punctuated now and again by the yawns of tired nimrods. "You're getting on toward old age, Teller," asserted the sheriff, when the former indicated a desire to turn in. "Yes, and I want to tell you that you are all aching for bed and feel the effects of age after your hard tramps if you'd only admit it," re- joined Teller, with his characteristic good-na- tured smile. "You are like two octogenarian ladies I know in Lockport, who would never admit for a moment that they were verging to- ward old age. Mrs. Holly, aged eighty-nine, was overcome by coal gas, and they despaired of her life, as she remained unconscious a whole day after her condition was discovered. Fi- nally she revived, sat up in bed, and asked for and ate a hearty breakfast. She remarked : 'I was just finishing the last chapter of my book. I had been reading six hours uninterruptedly and must have fainted — the first time that ever 28o WILD GINGER happened to me in my life. I surely must not read over five hours a day hereafter and take more exercise. I guess I shall have to dis- charge my maid and do my own housework again, or I may expect to get stale physically. I can't understand what made me faint. Can it be possible I'm growing old?' "She had a friend, Mrs. Parke, who was eighty-six, and who had suffered with gangrene in her right foot for several weeks. Her doctor and relatives told her that unless she submitted to an amputation she would die. She waved the surgeon and relatives aside with an angry sniff, exclaiming with the finality of authority in that household : 'I do not propose to hobble through life on one foot !' " "Yes, we probably all want to go to bed to rest up for to-morrow's campaign — but we're not ready to go yet, nice as it would be," ob- served Mix. "That reminds me of a remark my son made to his mother the other day Sit still; you must hear this 'bright-boy' story from a proud father. The three-year-old had been detected putting matches in his mother's teacup. She rebuked him, saying that the match heads were poisonous and would kill her if she drank the tea containing them. The boy looked at her with innocent eyes, and calmly declared : 'But then you would go to heaven, mamma.' His mother said she hoped so, but added : 'But I don't want to go yet.' This puzzled the young- ster, apparently, for he rejoined : 'Why don't you want to go to heaven right away, mamma — Jesus and the angels are there.' " WILD GINGER 281 When in good company, going to bed is like going to heaven ; it is doubtless nice, and we need the rest, but we do not like to leave the comfortable fireside and the loved faces around it — just yet. It was nearing eleven o'clock. Mrs. Bob thrust her head in the doorway of the sitting room, crying : "Late lunch is ready !" What, another meal? To be sure. That's the Tsatsawassa style. And, oh, the memories of those salads and cakes ! The bountiful table reminded the sheriff of a Chicago police captain who entertained some Niagara friends at a famous German hostelrie which was renowned for serving a meal for twenty-five cents. It was known throughout all western New York that a quarter bought twenty-five different kinds of meats, poultry, fish, vegetables, desserts, and pastry. The Chi- cago guest enjoyed the supper, and asked the Swarmsville boniface for the bill. Almost fall- ing over in astonishment at the ridiculously small charge for six big dinners, the captain exclaimed : "My heavens, host, where do you get your grub here — steal it?" Wynne thereupon ejaculated : "Bob don't steal his supplies, but some just fly his way of their own accord. Last fall I was sitting on the front veranda when I saw a big bird come sail- ing over the lake from the chestnut woods, al- most straight for the hotel. As it went by I saw it was a partridge, and observed that it lit in the field near by. I ran in, got my gun, and, shouting to Mrs. Bob and several lady guests in 282 WILD GINGER a joking way to come out and see me kill a partridge, started in search of the bird. I walked slowly up the. hillside where I had marked it down, and hadn't gone far when the partridge got up behind me and started back across the lake. I wheeled and pulled in a foot above the swift flyer, and down he came, whirl- ing over and over, and falHng right on the steps of the hotel porch at the ladies' feet. It was a spectacular, chance shot, but there was grub coming to the hotel free of charge, all right." "You were better prepared to take advantage of an emergency than I was," remarked Teller. "I was hunting deer up on the Georgian Bay. I stopped to rest on the beach, and had opened a bottle of ale and was pouring it into my hunt- ing cup, when I heard a noise in the bushes. Out stepped a fine buck. He stood within twenty paces of me, but didn't seem to be aware of my presence. My rifle lay on a log not three yards away, but a move meant that the buck would leap into the bushes and get away. For ten minutes I stood there and watched the deer feeding. Presently he got a whiff of me and located me. Even then he seemed bent on sat- isfying his curiosity as to who I was and what I was doing there. I knew it was useless to reach for my gun, so let the buck gaze at me to his heart's content and watched him slip away into the woods." The Rensselaer Club quintette, Gruver, Mc- Laren, Doc Myers, Cipperly, and Fergy, livened things with a rendition of "Sweet Adeline," fol- lowing it with the "Whip-poor-will," a favorite WILD GINGER 283 song at Tsatsawassa, where the melodious bird abounds : "I love to stray by the wooded rill Where the evening shadows play, And list to the song of the whip-poor-will As he tunes his evening lay. "Whip-poor-will !^ — Oh, list ! Whip-poor-will ! — Oh, list ! Whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will. "Oh, soft he sings his evening lay. By breezes borne along, A saddened feeling o'er me creeps. As I listen to his song." Teller was nodding in the corner, but he woke up when somebody remarked that it would be a good day for woodcock to-morrow. "I'm with you for a jaunt through the alder thickets in the morning," he said cheerfully. "You can't lose John when there's any shoot- ing to be done," laughed Duall. "One day, down in Hartland, Billy Patterson and Strather Leonard were resting in a fence comer after a hard morning's tramp after snipe. Billy was dozing with back comfortably fitted against the rails. Strather saw a snipe come sailing along silently from Patterson's direction. Billy's eyes were closed, and Strather thought it would be a good joke to drop the bird at his feet. He raised his gun to fire, when 'Bang!' spoke Billy's gun just as the snipe got opposite him, and down came the bird within ten feet of the astonished Strather. 'That Billy, he's got sec- 284 WILD GINGER ond sight,' laughed Strather, in relating the in- cident, 'for when it comes to shootin' he can tell with his eyes shut when it's time to wake up' — and John is like him in that respect." The conversation drifted back to the subject of shotguns and their efficiency. The sheriff recalled the story related of Sol. Pinkerton, of Somerset, and the smart boys of the town. Sol used to win all the chicken and turkey shoots as regularly as they were held. He had an old muzzle-loader made out of a smooth-bore that was "a reacher." He got wind of the fact that some of the boys were going to get him into a target-shooting match and take some money away from him. He smelled a mouse, and be- fore wandering down to the field where he heard the lads banging away he put a generous charge in his gun. Arrived on the scene, the lads bet him two dollars that he couldn't put forty shot in a foot-square board at forty-five yards. Sol accepted the challenge. All loaded up their muzzle-loaders, but Sol held back the powder from his horn and rinly put a charge of shot into the barrel of his weapon. While Sol was putting up the board, the boys drew the charge of shot, and on his return to the firing line they doubled the bet. Sol made it eight dollars, and he was given first shot. The confi- dent boys couldn't suppress a snicker as the old man raised his smooth-bore and took deliberate aim at the target. To their astonishment, at the report the splinters flew, and an examination showed that Sol had filled the mark with shot. The smarties had forgotten to inquire if Sol's gun was loaded when he arrived. Just to se- WILD GINGER 285 cure settlement of the bet, Sol carried home their two shotguns and kept them until the boys pro- duced the amount of the wager. This led up to the trick Frank Gardner, a noted hunter of western New York, played on a Michigan friend. During the noon siesta his friend fell asleep, and Gardner cut the shot out of the cartridges in the Michigander's gun. During the day the Westerner had made an un- usual number of misses. So when he awoke, Gardner suggested that his gun was not any good and bantered him to shoot at him at sixty yards. The Michigander suggested that Gard- ner was "crazy with the heat" ; but the latter persisted until he irritated his friend very per- ceptibly. "I'll teach you to make fun of my gun," the Westerner shouted, with considerable heat. "If your shins get peppered it's your own doings." In answer Gardner paced off sixty yards, and called out : 'Let go with your pop- gun." The Michigander fired, but Gardner laughed : "Never touched me." The Michi- gander suddenly picked up Gardner's own gun, shouting : "Well, I'll see if your gun will do any better." Gardner leaped to get out of range, crying in terror: "Hold up, George, hold up; my gun has shot in the cartridges !" John Teller was constrained to give a disserta- tion on the best shot to use for various kinds of game, and he had a respectful audience, for he was known as an expert on shotguns and rifles and ammunition. He went on to say that he could make a shotgun shoot almost any kind of pattern desired. "I tell you," he went on, "I 286 WILD GINGER can take the same cartridges and make them shoot a half-dozen different styles of patterns. See here! Take this shell and cut almost through the paper, leaving one wad between the shot, and the charge will carry practically as one mass for forty to sixty yards, depending upon the penetration of the gun. Cut perpendicular slits in the shell and the shot will scatter more and more, according to the number of slits." "Now for woodcock to-morrow," went on the nimrod Solon, "you want No. lo's, for you'll be shooting at close range in the thick underbrush, and the birds have slender bones and are easily killed. No. 8's is right for snipe, in order to reach the swift flyers that usually get up at long range, heavier shot than for woodcock are re- quired. I never use larger than 6's for par- tridge, though some good hunters prefer 5's." Teller was asked to explain why the Rens- selaer fields were so much stonier than the fields in Niagara, and the man who always had a theory ready, responded without a second's hesitation : "Well, I'll tell you : frost will raise the stones from under the surface, working them up from way down into the subsoil. My men have cleared a field of all stones, and in two years there would be quite a sprinkling on the surface, with no plowing having been done whatever. The thermometer averages ten de- grees colder in Rensselaer than in Niagara, and the stones are in consequence raised up from below faster than in our milder climate." The late John T. Murray, who was full of amusing reminiscences of Pompey Hill, the WILD GINGER 287 home of Lady Randolph Churchill, used to tell a story of an old friend, Deacon Terry. The deacon was driving by a neighbor's place one day. The neighbor and hired man were picking stones in a field which was dotted with a hun- dred stone piles. The deacon waved his whip at the stone heaps, and shouted : "Waal, Jonas, where did you get all them stones?" The farmer looked up, and replied: "Why, deacon," I raised this crop of stones myself." "Raised them yourself, did yer? Waal, I reckon ye must have raised them, 'cause I hain't missed any on my place !" "Speaking of farmers," said Lea, "it's hard to get ahead of the Reuben. But one of our Ni- agara County farmers admits that he was out- generaled in a horse trade by a city man. A Buffalo politician bought a stock farm near Lockport. Soon afterward he traded horses with a neighbor. The Niagara farmer was so well pleased with the trartsaction that he sought the city agriculturist again on business bent, and the result was they traded four horses. When spring work began, the farmer and the agricul- turist had another horse-trading bee. When the politician took stock after the third trade, he found that he had his first horse back and twenty-five dollars to boot, both clear gain. The farmer met him in town one day, and in an ap- preciative crowd, remarked: "Well, G , since you moved out here we Niagara County farm- ers don't have to go to Bufifalo to get cheated in a horse trade !" Despite the late hour when the captain of the 288 WILD GINGER hunt sounded "Lights out," an early breakfast was promised by the hostess, and the nimrods retired to pleasant dreams of the morrow and another golden day in the glowing woods of Rensselaer. WILD GINGER 289 WILD GINGER, SWEET CICELY, AND WOOD SORREL. AN AUTUMN HUNT IN THE ADiRONDACKS. — No- vember. XI. "Has time grown sleepy at his post, And let the exiled Summer back? Or is it her regretful ghost, Or witchcraft of the almanac?" — Edward Rowland Sill. Wandering in the garden or orchard of a mild November day, how delightfully surprised we have been to come upon a solitary apple blos- som, or perhaps a stray cluster of red rasp- berries. Discoveries like these in Indian sum- mer prompt the query which the poet has so charmingly expressed. But the orchard and gar- den by no means monopolize the "witchcraft of the almanac," for in the forests the hunter is greeted by the golden fringy clusters of the witch-hazel long after Summer has left for the Southland, but returned in sheer pity for the withered flowers. Sill must have had in mind the Hamamelis Virginiana, the shrub which il- lumines stream-bordering thickets with its clus- ters of fruit and flowers which hang together in the same bunch, as the book name indicates. The American witch-hazel, entirely unlike its 290 WILD GINGER English namesake, except a similarity in leaves, is the appropriate flower for the autumnal nim- rod, because this shrub is something of a shooter itself. Anybody who has been hit in the face by one of the little black, white-tipped seeds, ex- pelled with considerable velocity by the bursting of the woody capsule, can testify to the force, if not to the intended accuracy of the woodland marksman. The haze of Indian summer was spread over the broad landscape which greeted the Cataract Club nimrods from the heights above Parish- ville, as their Adirondack carryall toiled toward Sterling Lodge. The prospect in autumn was more restricted than that enjoyed in the clear atmosphere of springtime, but the fall view from that vantage point has its own peculiar charms. Off to the north, where in May we were accus- tomed to look for the white ribbon denoting the St. Lawrence, there was to-day a broad bank of feathery, foamlike clouds. In the east, Blue Mountain wore a silver collar well toward the crown of his bald head, as if the old veteran had just returned from an exciting chase and had forgotten to adjust his neckwear. A white veil shut off the forests around Cranberry Lake, forty miles to the south, but still left in sight a vast panorama of brown fields, yellow, golden, and emerald hills, undulating in huge, glistening billows under the autumnal sun. Our conveyance plunged into a deep forest. The leaves rustled near the roadside, and from a clump of low evergreens two partridge flushed with a whirr that startled the horses. Ahead of STERLING Page 29 1. LODGE, STERLING LAKE— ADIRONDACKS. WILD GINGER 291 them a rabbit scurried. These first glimpses of game set the pulses of hunters beating faster, and although the ride was enjoyable along every rod of it, they were impatient to reach the com- fortable camp on the banks of Sterling, and sally forth "to seek the red deer." It was close to the hour of the midday meal. From a settler's cabin came the incense of a wood fire and the odor of bacon. Oyer the door was a fresh pair of antlers, a trophy signifying that the woman of the house was cooking a savory pot of veni- son for the old man who was coming toward the shanty driving a patient old nag attached to an apology of a wagon loaded to its full capacity with a half dozen shocks of corn. In response to coligratulations on killing a fine buck, the typical hill "farmer" drawled : "Waal, he'll do; but they be purty scurse here- abouts. But yew'll start deer up thick enough over beyant Sterling way an' the Ten-Mile. Ged-dap, Jerusy!" And so we found it along that somewhat in- hospitable mountain road — the natives were glad to stop you and advise you that the hunting was excellent — a few miles farther on. But at last our team broke into a gallop down the gentle slope approaching Sterling, and pres- ently swung into the old wood road leading around to the camp. There stood Lon, smoking his old briar as usual and grinning a welcome. "You fellers needn't unpack your guns," re- marked the veteran guide, philosopher, and friend, with a solemnity he knew so well how to assume. 292 WILD GINGER "No hunting now — good last week — and will be good the week after we leave, eh, Lon?" in- quired the judge. "Good enough, I expect; but I've got a big buck hung up in the ice house pantry now, and another up on a tree over on Dead Creek; so you lazy city chaps can sit by the cozy fire, smoke your pipes, tell the yarns you love so well, and play pedro. Camp's well stocked with game now. Still, if you insist on stretching your legs, after dinner, which Hattie is now put- ting on the table, you can go out and see if you can bag any of those ducks that have been hang- ing around the pond for several days." It required physical restraint to force Duall, Wynne, and Mix, hungry as they were, to take a seat at the waiting table instead of rushing to the boats. From the veranda, fifty feet above the lake, could be seen a fine flock feeding in the bay. During the meal it was learned that the ducks, when disturbed, flew back to Dead Creek, but returned after a time. So, after lunch, the sheriff, Alwater, and Larch took the trail along the lake to the outlet, where they strung out on ridges overlooking the tiny stream which led to the creek, while the judge, Duall, Mix, Wynne, Farree embarked in pairs on the lake. The ducks quickly took alarm, expecting mischief, although they had not been shot at in the pond, and before the boats got within range they rose in detachments and headed for the creek. A salute from the woods drove one bunch of twenty back, and, dipping over the tree tops, they were upon the hunters in the boats WILD GINGER 293 before either gunners or birds were aware of the close proximity of each other. Up they bunched, in an effort to get back from the lake, and the quartette in the boats took advantage of the psychological moment. At least ten birds came to water, but when the word to retrieve was shouted by Captain Wynne, only five were on their backs and two more were swimming away rapidly. The pair of cripples dove, and presently two more were descried scurrying along the rocky, stump-lined shore. An hour's work resulted in bagging three of the five crip- ples, and another was discovered on the other side of the cove, when Wynne whistled his sig- nal. The boats were close to shore now. Against the narrow horizon visible down the val- ley was dotted a flying V. An immense flock of ducks or geese were apparently headed for the lake for the late afternoon feeding. The hunters backed their boats into the shadow of the woods, and Duall leaped ashore to warn the trio on the ridge to be on their guard. On came the flying wedge, and it proved to be a flock of geese. Three times they circled the pond, each time keeping at a respectful distance from the boathouse. The leader was evidently suspicious, for presently he elevated the course of the great flock, and they headed off down the valley toward the creek a mile away. Presently the flock lowered, almost grazing the tallest dead pine. Before the report reached us we saw the leader suddenly reel in the air, and followed by a goose near the end of the right line, plunge down through the trees. Not suspecting a lurk- 294 WILD GINGER ing foe in that wilderness cover, the flock had lowered in sailing toward the creek valley so that they came within reach of the concealed hunters, who had hastily changed their small cartridges for double B's, on Duall's tip. The flock was perceptibly demoralized, part of it fly- ing in disordered haste for Dead Creek Valley, the rest circling for the pond. Down the great birds came with a plunge, scattering out within ninety yards of the boat hunters. With a vigor- ous shove, the light skiffs were sent out into the lake thirty feet, and two or three strong pulls on the oars put the sportsmen within range as the geese came toward them against the wind. The firing was quick, but remarkably accurate for boat shooting. Down came six grand birds, one for each gunner and one extra for the cook in the kitchen. Gathering up the prizes, the boating party rowed to the dock, where they were met by the gloating trio from the woods bearing two splen- did ganders. "Great Nimrod of Old!" shouted the captain of the hunt. "Why didn't you stick to your posts in the woods till I signaled to come in?" Pointing down to the outlet, he began count- ing a flock that had just come back from Dead creek — thirty or more ducks. An attempt was made to surround the birds for a bombardment, but the wily ducks made their exit for good without a shot being fired. Lon said there had been no severe cold snaps and winter this season would be almost a month late in arriving. Wild fowl were still plentiful, WILD GINGER 295 although they usually left the North Woods re- gions by the middle of October. Within two weeks he had even seen snipe along the creek and St. Regis marshes. The late lingering of mild autumn recalled the contrast experienced a few years before on Big Moose Lake, when some of the hunters present experienced zero weather on a deer-hunting trip on the 7th of November, just six days later than the commencement of the hunt so auspiciously inaugurated on Sterling. At supper one of the party unkindly compelled Mix to tell of his humiliation on Big Moose Lake. It was an old story, often repeated in the scribe's presence by his alleged friends, but it had to be retold for Lon's benefit by the vic- tim of the historic mishap. Six members of the Cataract Club were in camp on Big Moose in company with gentlemen from Rome, Syracuse, and Utica. The first two days were unsuccess- ful, and the party arranged to have their guides get up a drive on the point. The hunters were arranged across a narrow neck of land near the lake, about one hundred yards apart, and the guides went back a mile or more and came to- ward them. Hounding is illegal, but the Adi- rondack guides imitated the baying of hounds to perfection, and it would take an old and very experienced buck to detect the difference be- tween the canine and human voices. The bay- ing drew nearer and nearer. Every hunter at his post was on the alert. Presently Mix saw a fine buck loping toward him. The hunter whistled, and the deer stopped. Mix had re- 296 WILD GINGER turned but a few weeks before from British Co- lumbia, where he had made one or two shots that undoubtedly had produced what is known as "swelled head," a condition apt to interfere with good' work in any game. At any rate, he quickly decided that he was good for a bull's-eye and would take no chances on a body shot, be- cause the deer, even if hard hit, might stagger along a few rods and fall a legitimate but un- earned prey to some of the men from the in- terior cities who were on the firing line. As the buck looked up to locate the sound, Mix drew a bead on his forehead and fired at the object not twenty-five yards away. At the report the buck leaped into the air, shaking his head, as much as to say: "Miserable work." Past the sheriff he leaped, not stopping for two salutes; the judge paid his respects^ then a Syracusan fired. On down in front of the line sped the frightened deer, and just as he was rounding the end to safety, the man from Rome landed the fatal bullet — at any rate, the buck stopped there and there was no dispute over ownership. When re- viled by the sheriff, who witnessed the first in- credibly easy miss. Mix acknowledged that he had fired at the deer's head to make a sure kill. Turning over the head of the dead deer, the sheriff pointed to a 32-40 bullet hole through the ear within a quarter of an inch of the head, laughing: "A close call to a score for Lockport — but a miss is as good as a mile and forty times as aggravating." This recalled the story of old guide Juisha's pointblank shot that missed, almost leading to a Page 297. A WILD CARNIX'AL OF WATERS. WILD GINGER 297 tragedy. Juisha was the good old French Cana- dian who guided us on our first trip to Canada up on Lac du Talon. Juisha was fond of tell- ing how he got his first moose. That was forty years ago, soon after he became the proud pos- sessor of the double-barreled shotgun, in which he shot a bullet moulded to fit the barrel, a deadly weapon for big game at two hundred yards or less. Juisha found the track of a moose not far from his cabin. Getting provision for a fortnight, he started after the big animal, whose track indicated that he was a monster. For ten days the persistent hunter followed the game. The moose traveled in a circle. Every day he got sight of the forest king, but no chance for a fair shot was afforded the keen sportsman. Once the moose startled the hunter by rising up before him almost within reach of his arm, but escaped by plunging into a thicket. Juisha re- turned to his cabin for more food and returned to the chase. The moose had evidently put in the respite by resting, for he had not traveled more than "two acres" from where the hunt had been interrupted. One afternoon he surprised the moose on a side hill. Not over twenty yards away stood the immense brute, in an attitude of defiance. "Me not too much lak de look of him — too much fight in de eyes of him — but me, I fire. De ole gun, perhaps me, no good. Miss ! Down from de hill come de moose lak a church let out after de long serveece. Me, I haf no time to say de prayer. I dodge 'roun' tree an' jump down ledge. Moose, him tumble after. Two times I shoot order barrel, but she 298 WILD GINGER only snap. Dodge, dodge, run, turn 'roun', snap, and dis time gun go, smash moose horn, an' he run leetle way, turn 'roun', an' say: 'Come, fight me.' Shoot and kill dat time. Comrade come an' help bring beeg moose in." The captain of the hunt, George Washingfton Wynne, issued peremptory orders that early bed- time would be observed until each man had brought in his deer. On unanimous petition, he authorized one pipe and Lon's story about his first Rebel. Lon, protesting much, finally began : "I was a lad of sixteen when I enlisted at Parishville. I went through the entire war. I've killed a good many deer, but only one Rebel that I am sure of. Our regiment held an iso- lated post near the Potomac. We were much troubled by the Rebels picking off our pickets at night. Most of the work was done by bush- whackers,. bewhiskered fellows who would creep up on the sentries and shoot them and make off in the darkness. My turn came for night sen- try duty, and I was stationed near a large corn field. For an hour I made my beat regularly, but presently grew weary and sat down under a tree. My nervousness about the bushwhacking Johnnies had somewhat worn off, and I was thinking of home and mother, when I was aroused from my pleasant reveries by a rustle in the corn field. It was a bright moonlight night. I peered in the direction from which the sound came, but could see nothing suspicious. All was quiet. Then again I heard something moving through the corn. Presently out through the shadow of the corn I saw a man creeping on WILD GINGER 299 hands and knees, a slouch hat pulled down over his ears. Our orders were to call 'Halt!' three times before firing. I did as instructed. The Rebel stopped short at my first word, but con- tinued to advance after the third challenge. I drew a bead for his forehead and fired. My knees " Lon's story was interrupted at this point by a loud report outside. "Somebody else has got your Rebel," laughed the sheriff. The party looked around their circle and saw nobody missing. Presently in tramped Joey, car- rying a porcupine. He held the quilled beast on high, laughing: "I jes came in from the Five- Mile to pay yer a visit — got hyar in thu nick o' time to save yer pork barrel — somebody left the ice house door open !" "Well, now go ahead and kill the Rebel your- self, Lon," said Wynne. He resumed : . "I was cool enough when I drew up my gun, but when I saw the Reb roll over on the ground, my knees began to wave under me like two saplins in a gale. The guard sergeant came run- ning up. 'Down there he is, down there on the ground, deader'n a burnt stump,' I chattered, my jaws keeping time with my shaking legs. 'And remember, if he's got gold buttons on, they're mine,' I shouted, as we started to inspect the corpse. When we got up, the sergeant kicked over a big bloodhound, shot through the head !" When we arose next morning the air was 3CX) WILD GINGER crisp. A white frost, the third in succession, indicated that a storm was not many days away. The party of nine was divided into three sec- tions, one going over to the shack in Randall meadow, five miles away north of the St. Regis, and noted as a great place for deer. The sheriff led a party up the Dead Creek valley, into the vast forest beyond. The third division packed off enough provisions and bedding for a three days' stay in the Five-Mile camp. Deer shooting is an old story, but, like love, the hunter, as a rule, likes to hear it repeated. However, we shall spare the reader detailed de- scriptions of the hits and misses, the hardships and the comforts, the disappointments and the pleasures. The country is ideal for the pursuit of the deer. That northwest section of the Adi- rondacks is less frequented than the more ac- cessible eastern and southern portions of the great North Woods, and the hunter feels that he is running very much less risk of being mis- taken by some foolish fellow for legitimate game than in other parts of the forest. In the first three days nine deer were scored, and the hunt- ers repaired to the lodge to rest for a day. Before the camp fire that night the reunion of the three divisions was a jolly one. Each had thrilling adventures and amusing incidents to re- late. Lon told of how the Sterling region had been rid of an outlaw who had upon one occasion honored him with a shot from ambush, a fellow who boasted of killing eighty deer in one season. One of the party recalled being in camp up on WILD GINGER 301 the Ten-Mile with the same outlaw, and losing a fine buck that the fellow had made off with early one morning before the rest of the hunters had arisen. This reminded some one of old Jack Angell, who belied his name by being a terror to the cor- porations, although he was a good neighbor. Jack used to say that he wanted to be buried twelve feet deep, so the Devil couldn't get him. Several times the Buffalo Railroad set fire to his woods, and each time Jack turned out with all his hired men and greased the tracks for a mile, stopping all traffic for a half day at a time. He repeated the dose until the company gladly settled for the timber on a liberal basis. A train killed a pig belonging to Jack. He waited until the carcass rotted, and then, taking his stand near the track, tossed the putrid mass on a pitch- fork into the cab of a passing freight engine. The telegraph company forced a right of way through Jack's property. One night he sawed all the poles halfway through, and when the first storm came up all blew down. The company then paid for the right of way. "Speaking of railroads," said Farree, "a rail- road foreman named Mclntyre told me a lot of amusing stories of his experience building a branch of the Grand Trunk in Canada. He had a gang of Chinese working for him, and he and his section bosses had to devote all their shrewd- ness to keep the Celestials from shirking. But Mclntyre had the closest call at losing money at the hands of an unscrupulous con- tractor. A friend advised him that in years past, 302 WILD GINGER Contractor Brown had the reputation of leaving his men in the lurch on final settlements. The contract in hand had reached completion, all but a few finishing touches. Brown instructed Mc- Intyre to finish up while he ran up to town to see the division superintendent of the railroad, saying he was going up to get his money and would be back in three or four days to pay up the men. When Brown took the train Mclntyre got aboard, too, and, following Brown into the smoker, engaged him in conversation. Presently Mclntyre produced an order for his pay and re- quested the contractor to sign it. Brown de- murred, saying he would be back in a few days and fix everything. 'Fix it now, or I'll fix you,' exclaimed the brawny Irishman. Brown looked him over, and, being convinced that the foreman meant business, he signed the order. Mclntyre got off at a small station near the junction where the contractor had to change cars for the city, where the railroad superintendent had his headquarters, explaining before bidding Brown good-by that he was going to remain there with a friend overnight. Mclntyre had a letter ad- dressed to the treasurer of the company all ready, and, inserting the signed order in the same envelope, slipped the latter into the letter box on the mail car. Next morning at ten o'clock Brown called at the superintendent's of- fice to get his pay. The treasurer of the com- pany was just finishing opening his morning's mail. Brown presented his bill, which had been O. K.'d by the division superintendent in the next room. The treasurer said the bill was all WILD GINGER 303 right, but he would deduct therefrom twelve hundred dollars, the amount of the order from Foreman Mclntyre. " 'What ! Where did you get that ?' exclaimed the astounded contractor, hardly believing his own eyes, as he gazed on the order shoved un- der his eyes by the treasurer. " 'Isn't that your signature ?' calmly asked the treasurer, who knew something about Brown's reputation. " 'Yes, but I signed that at four this morning at Saw-log station and I saw Mclntyre get oiif there. . Was he here before me ?' " 'No, but the mail was,' said the treasurer, with a cool smile. And the smart contractor got a check for what was due him, less the amount of Mclntyre's order." A crash was heard in the ice house. Lon came in with a serious face, remarking presently, in response to inquiring looks: "We had only one case of ale and I dropped it. But nothing broke." With stern visage, the sheriff piped : "Do you want to see us come to the end that overtook Col. Rowland, of Louisville. During the height of the Alaska gold craze the colonel was reading an account of a shipload of liquor that ran on the rocks two miles from its des- tination, with all the mining camps out of liquid supplies. The colonel read that far and dropped dead, not getting far enough along in the dis- patch to learn that the entire cargo was rescued by small boats. Don't frighten us again like 304 WILD GINGER that, Lon. Remember we haven't touched that one solitary case yet." "Now, honest, sheriff," observed Alwater, "you're not so nervous as all that over a little matter." "Well, Birdie," warbled the sherifif, in dulcet tones, "I don't like to hear anybody lecture about honesty. You remember how old Deacon Perrins down home used to go about the streets advising his neighbors to live honest, act honest, and die honest. These street corner lectures continued for years, until one day the railroad company got after the deacon on a charge of billing cars of pears as apples, because the freight rate was lower on apples." That brought on a discussion of honesty and an honest difference of opinion. One of the party related the story of two ministers in a country village who held an honest difference of opinion on the mooted question as to whether the year 1900 ended the nineteenth century or began the twentieth century. The Methodist minister held that 1900 saw the last of the nine- teenth century, while the Baptist was equally emphatic in declaring that January i, 1900, be- gan the twentieth century. It happened that on New Year's day a joint service was held in the Methodist church. In opening the service with prayer, the Methodist divine prayed that the nineteenth century would be closed in the year they were just entering upon with a great uplift morally, socially, and intellectually. The visiting minister, in the second prayer, thanked God that the nineteenth century had been closed to WILD GINGER 305 His glory, and begged divine assistance in order that His people might begin the new century that day with high resolves to live better lives in the new than they had in the old century just ended. The Methodist clergyman retaliated in announcing the hymn, asking the congregation to sing "to a bright and glorious closing of the eighteenth century in the present year of grace, 1900." The Baptist minister preached the ser- mon, and devoted all of his remarks to prophe- cies of what the twentieth century, "upon which we are embarking to-day," would bring forth. In the benediction, the host thanked God that His people still had one year of grace remain- ing in which to close the nineteenth century in a manner that would glorify Him. Even the devout, it was agreed, could enter with warmth into a controversy involving a comparatively insignificant point. The story was then told of the little five-year- old who had been given two pennies for himself and two pennies for his sister, with the explana- tion that each could have one for Sunday school and one for candy. Franny ran into the other room, and presently came back, saying: 'Mam- ma, I did give to Grace the two pennies for Sunday school, and I kept the two that are for candy.' " Mix related a story that the late John T. Mur- ray used to tell about Leonard Jerome, the fa- ther of Lady Randolph Churchill, illustrative of the Jerome family's impatience of ceremony and pomp. Murray and Jerome were neighbors as boys at Pompey Hill, N. Y. Leonard and his 3o6 WILD GINGER brother, Lawrence Jerome^ made a lot of money in New York during the war. A United States cabinet officer called on the brothers when the latter were spending the summer at their old home in Pompey Hill, after they had become millionaires. The secretary sent in his card. Leonard jumped up and ran to the door, and, grabbing his distinguished guest by the hand, pulled him insde, saying: "Old boy, glad to see ye; but I agree with Lawrence that you can hike right back to Washington next time if you stop on ceremony and don't walk right in." Lawrence Jerome went to England unbe- known to his niece. When he called at Lady Randolph Churchill's mansion the butler stuck out a tray for the visitor's card. The American remarked : "Never mind your plate and my pasteboard, but just run along in and tell your mistress her Uncle Larry wants to see her." The flunky did not move. Uncle Larry repeated his request so loud this time that Lady Churchill heard him, and she came out, bounding into his arms just as Jennie Jerome used to do as a lit- tle girl at Pompey Hill. The conversation took another tack presently. Lon had to repeat the story of his encounter with the mamma bear and her cubs at Hog-back Brook, not far from the spot where Farree had shot a fine buck that day. Lon's amusing anec- dote recalled the similar incident related by La Blanc, our French-Canadian cook in our French River camp. He was hunting partridge one morning, and hearing something stirring in the brush he thought it was birds. He parted the WILD GINGER 307 bushes, and found himself standing face to face with a big black bear. La Blanc had been told that if one stood perfectly still a bear would not attack a man, provided it had not been wounded. "Me, I stood, lookin' heem in eye, mais I would so mooch lak to run lak h — 1," jabbered the Frenchman, in telHng the story. "Heem look at me — me, I look at bear. One, two, tree, six, or nine minuate we stan' — I tought heem one h — 1 fine, nice bear, and me no want to hurt dat bear — not den. Bear, I fraid he tink me nice man, too — nice to eet. It mak me sheever now right here — dat bear so close ! By em by, he size me up too tuff for hees stomak an' walk away. Walk away, lookin' back now an' some more, to see if I mak some more conversaciong. Not me — I mighty dam glad to say au revoir until I come up wit' heem some odder day whan I haf my moose gun." "Speaking of moose," recalled Larch, "La Blanc had a neighbor named Perrichon, whose boast was that he had moose meat in his shack the year round. The game warden and deputies heard that Perrichon was too neighborly with moose meat and was not only supplying most of his own neighborhood, but was sending sa- vory pieces to his friends in North Bay. The deputies called at Perrichon's house one day, but faithful friends who had tasted of his bounty warned him of the coming visit. The news traveled in a mysterious way much faster than the officers could travel, too. Perrichon was away, but he left la femme to take care of matters. Madame received the inspectors with 3o8 WILD GINGER smiles and courtesies, and expressed pained sur- prise when they apprised her of the nature of their errand. She implored them to search the house, the cellar, the barn, and not to omit the cradle or the bed. It seems Perrichon had suc- ceeded in getting most of the game back into the woods, but one large piece still remained in the house when the deputies hove in sight on the edge of the clearing. Madame told him to slip out the back way. She slipped the remain- ing tell-tale moose meat into a pillow case, stuffed rags around it, and laid it in its proper place on the bed. After a long hunt, in which madame assisted with many a joke and quip that put the men in good humor, they were about to give up when one of the officers ap- proached the bed and was about to put his hand on the pillow when she exclaimed, with a shrug: "Non, non, you get what is said in ze game 'hunt ze button' too warm — run away." The inspectors smiled at her ready wit and bade her adieu, but cautioning her to be more careful in making up her bed another time. The legs of reminiscence are long, especially when they are stretched out before a comforta- ble fire in congenial company. From North Bay to James Bay, the southern extremity of Hudson Bay, was a short journey for the re- counters in Sterling lodge that night. The judge retold in part the interesting account which La Blanc gave of his first trip to James Bay country. Thirteen days they spent going down and seventeen coming back. The French- man described the country along the way as flat WILD GINGER 309 and uninteresting from the scenic standpoint, but for the sportsman, or student of the flora and fauna of a wild region, the rough pilgrimage must be one of unending delight. His account of the immense flocks of ducks, geese, brant, and swan that they saw seemed incredible. They saw plenty of caribou. Moose were compara- tively tame, but they shot only three on the en- tire trip, sufficient to supply fresh meat. Bear, he said, were almost impudent in their familiar- ity on two or three occasions, but as a rule bruin was shy of acquaintanceship with the tour- ists. La Blanc missed the red deer, none being seen a hundred miles north of North Bay, On- tario, on that trip. Bass, pike, and pickerel could be captured with any bright lure. A piece of red flannel on a single hook was as good as anything. On the way back the party lost their fishing outfit. La Blanc took a broken steel rifle cleaner, bent the end into the shape of a hook, and filed a barb into it near the point. He then punched a hole into a Canadian quarter and wired it to the steel. Holding this three-foot steel rod under water as they paddled along, all the pike and bass they could eat were landed. With over two hundred miles of water journey still to go one of their canoes was smashed, and caused several days' delay. Two Indian trappers helped them mend the canoe, but as companions in camp they found the natives a sullen lot, ap- parently suspicious of the white man, and look- ing upon them as intruders on their hunting grounds. The red men hurried the repairs along more rapidly than La Blanc ever saw an Indian 3IO WILD GINGER work. The Frenchman laughed as he told this, saying : "Indian not good feller — he work hard on canoe so quicker say good-by — not au re- voir." La Blanc laughed still more heartily when he told us that he had left the Indians some to- bacco which had made the party sick whenever they tried it. The joke must have been on La Blanc, because no man yet has seen tobacco rank enough to make a red man raise an eyelash. This doubtful gift left behind for the unsus- pecting red men recalled the story of the dis- charged printer's revenge. A Rochester type- setter, who had worked on one of the oldest newspapers there for years, grew insubordinate and was discharged. The last night he worked he left on the composing stone, ready to the hand of the unsuspicious make-up man, verses of his own composition, entitled, "The Rube at the Race Track." The versification was clev- erly handled, but the subject matter scandalized the whole community. The outraged publisher offered as high as a dollar apiece for the limited edition that got into circulation before the trick that had been played on him by his discharged employe was discovered. "Those verses, I recall, were a little off color — of the chocolate eclair order," remarked Mix. "Speaking of chocolate eclair — my young hopeful of six is very fond of that dessert. His mother asked him what kind of dessert he would like the cook to prepare for dinner. The little chap puzzled for a few moments, evidently searching for the name that eluded him, but his WILD GINGER 311 favorite would not come to his tongue. Then he said, giving it up, 'I can't think of the name, mamma, but it's the cakes that make me say this is awful good I declare — chocolate I de- clare !' " "If you keep on yarning," yawned Lon, "the sun will catch you here when you ought to be ofiE on the trail early to-morrow morning." "The sun as a detective," is the story sug- gested by your words. Colonel Alonzo," declared Wynne. "You started this romance session with your First Rebel and you are our prisoner until we say the word releasing you. Fred Specht's father, who came from Germany, used to relate a story about a wicked farmer of the Black for- est near the Specht homestead who had a bad name among his neighbors. One da^ Schwartz- mann met a Jew going to town. He seized the peddler and told him he would have to give him both his money and his life. The Jew begged piteously, offering all his ready cash to Schwartzmann if he would spare him, but the cruel fellow laughed, saying the world would be better off with one accursed Jew less. The Jew warned him that the murder would be dis- covered and he would be hanged. To which Schwartzmann grinned, 'Who'll see me strangle you in this deep forest?' The Jew pointed to the sun, saying, 'The sun through the tree tops sees you and will bring you to justice before you die.' The highwayman mocked at this, killed the peddler and went his way. Years later Schwartzmann was lying in bed and his wife heard him snickering. His wife asked what 312 WILD GINGER amused him, but he refused to tell. Every morning for a week thereafter she insisted on knowing what had caused him to laugh in bed when nobody had said anything to him. Worn out by her importunities he said finally: 'Twen- ty-five years before the morning you heard me laughing to myself I met a rich Jew in the Black forest. Before I took his money and killed him he told me the sun would witness the deed and deliver me to justice. I saw the sun peeping in the window and his face made me laugh to think what a fool the Jew was.' The old wife was much troubled by the confession and confided her terrible secret to the minister, who in turn found it his duty to inform the authorities. Schwartzmann was arrested and confessed and on the gallows advised the young to beware of evil deeds because even the sun could bring them to justice as it had him." Lon warned the hunters that they had killed nearly their legal allowance of deer for that season and for the remainder of the stay they should put in their time largely enjoying the scenery. "You recall," he said, "how I punished the fish hog for catching more trout than he could use up on the Five Mile. I cured his son of the same habit by taking him on a trip and losing him. I managed to recover him about dark and then told him that I always got lost when I had played the porker with my rod. He took the hint, and thereafter his catch- es were always within a decent limit, although I was with him in the woods many seasons after he learned the lesson." WILD GINGER 313 "I ought to have my bulldog here to scatter you fellows to bed," remarked the judge from his corner near the blinking andiron owls on the hearth. The speaker chuckled, and then con- tinued : "I laugh every time I think of the time some of you sports and others came up to serenade me with a miserable rendition of my old tune 'Way out in Idaho.' I stood it as long as I could and then let Don out of the front door. Don wouldn't bite a lamb, but he recog- nized you and dashed at you in play and you scattered like a flock of sheep pursued by a wolf. Let's scatter now." It was late and the logs in the fireplace were worn thin and flickered low. Three days more of tramping over the golden hills and shadowed valleys brought health, hap- piness, and enough game to satisfy the hunters of the Cataract Club. Captain Wynne sounded the end of the hunt at eventide and all hands turned in to pack up for the return trip on the morrow. With a sprig of witch-hazel in each lapel and giving three cheers for old Stir- ling Lodge, the happy band started homeward next day, carrying with them a great reserve store of vigor and an inestimably valuable fund of pleasant reminiscence. 314 WILD GINGER WILD GINGER, WOOD SORREL AND SWEET CICELY. THE ROUND TABLE OF SPORTSMEN'S STATE CON- VENTION. — December. XII. "Pale flowers ! pale perishing flowers, Ye're types of precious things ; Types of those better moments That flit, like Life's enjoyments. On rapid, rapid wings." — Anon. It has been well said, and oft repeated, that "It is not all of fishing to catch fish." True, for it sometimes involves catching a cold, but noth- ing more. Yet, the hardships, the lack of suc- cess, as relates to the creel, and even the jibes of friends can detract very little from the in- eflfable joys of forest and stream. The rule is, as a matter of fact, at least in the case of the genuine sportsman, that these minus signs really add to the sum total of enjoyment. But we cannot let the analyzation of the propo- sition, "It is not all of fishing to catch fish," stop there, for the joys of the outing are not of the present alone, but extend into the future and are cumulative : the anglers go home and talk over with brother anglers the success in catch- ing and the failure to catch. And, please note. WILD GINGER 315 that the adjective "cumulative" does not apply to the catch, because we beHeve no fish story gains in weight by adding anything to it. The word applies to the joys which come from re- counting the incidents of the outing. Thomas Moore expressed this idea so much better that we must quote his lines: "When Time, who steals our years away, Shall steal our pleasures, too. The memory of the past will stay, And half our joys renew. "Then talk no more of future gloom — Our joys shall always last; For Hope shall brighten days to come. And Memory gild the past." As we have said in a previous chapter, the un- attached sportsman misses many joys that come to his brother who has associated himself with other sportsmen for the promotion of angling and hunting and for the advancement of the cause of reforestation and forestry. We know of no organization of the kind enjoying a higher rank, both as to its practical work for the uplift of the sportsman and all things which appeal to him, than the New York State Fish, Game and Forest League. The Niagara County An- glers' Club — The Cataract Club — has been a member of the state organization since the lat- ter's inception, has contributed one distinguished president and several individual members for its support and encouragement. Attendance upon a state convention at Syra- cuse is an inspiration, both as to the higher 3i6 WILD GINGER and more serious aims of the organization, and the social atmosphere which prevails at the famous "Round Table" presided over by the ro- tund provocative of risibility, Secretary John D. Whish, of the State Forest, Fish and Game Com- mission. At the business sessions, the devotee of the rod and gun may listen to the helpful lectures on the best methods of enforcing the laws for the protection of fish and game and become imbued with the lofty spirit which inspires Commission- er James S. Whipple. We believe that Com- missioner Whipple struck the right note when he said that the public must be educated and public sentiment must be arrayed on the side of fish and game propagation and protection be- fore any great advancement can be made toward the restoration of our covers and our water of the state. His campaign of publicity, carried on by lectures throughout the state by the commis- sioner himself, and by instructive and luminous literature furnished the press from the gifted pen of Secretary Whish, are accomplishing won- ders. Where before ignorance prompted hostil- ity, we find enlightenment working hand in hand with the department for the restocking of woods and waters everywhere. If the state authorities can be persuaded to incorporate within their present intelligent platform a plank for the lib- eralization of the game laws so as to encourage the rearing of fish and game on farms and pri- vate estates, then, we believe, the state of New York will lead in the great work which is to WILD GINGER 317 restore to the people the recreative and remuner- ative pleasures of field, forest, and stream. But this is no place to recite the serious pro- ceedings of the New York State Fish, Forest and Game League, because that important duty falls to the secretary of that renowned organi- zation. Adjournment of the business session is the signal for the getting together of good fellows at the Round Table in the Yates where it is "always fair weather." On the previous year Andrew Irving, the noted recounter of the St. Lawrence frontier, sent regrets urging his brothers that if the toast, "The St. Lawrence Club," be drunk, "let there be no heel taps." In his pathetic letter, he ex- plained his inability to be present that year by saying, "I have taken unto myself a farm. I am now 'Rural New Yorker' ; with diligence in sowing I may become an 'American Agricultur- ist' ; and with success in reaping hope to style myself eventually a 'Country Gentleman.' " At the session, noted in years to come as the "Round Table of One Hundred Reminiscences," Irving was there, likewise McLaren, Lee, Wick- er, Bowman, Cornwall, Gould, Forey, Wolcott, Mowry, Eddy, Grant, Conger, Mallison, Law- rence, Fanning, Jordan, Ferris, Gavitt, Amsden, Uncle W. H. Thompson, Wood, Manning, Almy, Hatch, Mather, Annin, Killick, and others of angling fame. Rex Conviviendi Whish, his head adorned with ivy and bay, called for the song, "It's always good weather, when good 3i8 WILD GINGER fellows get together," and the battle of the ball of yarn was on. Aurora Borealis Irving was directed to lead off. "This is going to be like a surgical opera- tion," said the Northern New Yorker with his winning smile, "it will be 'entirely successful,' but I have fears for the patient audience. Here is a story from Monticello, N. J., and as Bret Harte says, 'I tell it as 'twas told to me.' Two Montclair fishermen spent a day on Greenwood Lake fishing through the ice. They tendered live minnows to the scaly residents of the fa- mous pond. But nary a nibble did they get, so they shifted their scene of operations to a little cove, the inlet of which was a small brook around the mouth of which the water had not frozen over. The ice contiguous to the open water was thin and transparent. The eager an- glers could plainly see hundreds of fish lying on the bottom. Cutting a hole through the ice, a baited hook was lowered and the instant it sank two feet there was a grand rush of bass and pickerel for the dainty morsel. The minnow vanished in a flash and not a fish was hooked. Several attempts met a similar fate. The fish were too greedy to let any one of them get the minnow into his mouth. Almost discouraged, one of the anglers proposed changing their tac- tics. He went to the shore and presently came back with an ice-coated plank. This he thrust into the hole in the ice so one end of the board rested on the bottom and the other end pro- jected a foot above the ice, making a perfect inverted toboggan. One of the fishermen, after "^'-*B^^^- THE 'LUNGE THAT DINED OK BLACK BASS. Page 319. WILD GINGER 319 permitting the fish to recover from the intru- sion of the plank, dropped a lively minnow into the hole just over the plank. He was promptly knocked over by an enormous pickerel which shot up at the bait, continuing up the plank by a momentum he couldn't overcome in time to save landing on the ice. An Oswego bass was the next fish to shoot the chutes, taking the iced incline like a country maiden of her first trip on the figure eight. The display of a min- now in the water over the plank brought on a perfect fusillade of fish, so intent were the water tigers on bolting the minnow. The anglers' bas- kets were filled and they were about starting for home when they were interrupted by a crash caused by the breaking of the ice under the weight of fish. They were precipitated into the water and managed to save themselves by the same plank which they had used in luring the bass and pickerel to the fatal upward plunge. If a moral there be to this veracious tale, let any fish hog present take it unto himself — every fish escaped !" "That's a hard one to swallow," interjected Sheriff McKenna amidst the various ejacula- tions. "Pass me the water, as the whale said when he wanted a chaser after he swallowed Jonah." Lee said if any angler present swallowed that yarn he must have been like the Newfane school trustee, Dempsey, who made his first annual re- port orally to the school meeting : "Whin I con- descended to accept this thankless and unremu- neratin' office I found on hand six dollars an' 320 WILD GINGER nine sinse; I sphent durin' the year four dollars an' nine sinse; an' after it all I have two dollars an' no sinse left." Hi Wicker responded to the demand for a story from the president of the league by giving a true account of the wonderful experience of Justice of the Supreme Court Cuthbert W. Pound and son Alexander. "This is a statement, gentlemen," began the president, "vouched for and which will be sworn to, if necessary, by Jus- tice Pound, who gave me the facts and I believe them to be absolutely true. The judge and his family were spending a few weeks in August at Oak Orchard on Lake Ontario. They had been fishing for black bass with indifferent success for a week, when one day a Buffalo man came up to the hotel veranda where were seated a number of loungers and presented the judge with a fine three-pound bass. The donor banteringly re- marked that hook and line were superfluous where luck was present, explaining that the bass had leaped into his boat, adding that two or three other bass had leaped over his craft. The judge's curiosity was aroused, so he called for the launch he had been using and with his son steering, they proceeded up the creek at a leisurely speed. As they entered a narrow part of Oak Orchard Creek the bass began to jump from the lilies and cat-tails on either side and presently a big bass leaped into the boat, while several others narrowly missed the boat. The bass were jumping now by scores. The judge said he never saw such a sight in his life and had never heard of such a phenomenon. Through WILD GINGER 321 a mass of flying fish the launch went, picking up one now and then. In the course of a mile no less than eighteen black bass had leaped into the boat and were taken back to the as- tonished people at the hotel in triumph." The leaping bass reminded Mix of Baron Speck and Scout Carson's feat in Malaspina In- let, British Columbia. The pair were trolling for salmon and had hooked several. The fish were leaping on every hand and when in that playful mood they rarely strike a spoon. When they do, they touch it gingerly and as if more in sport than to satisfy the appetite. Five fish had been lost when presently the hooks were firmly set in a lusty salmon. The scout was trolling and on the strike nearly had his arm jerked off. The battle was a pretty one to witness from the shore, especially, because of the excited condition of the two comparatively green anglers. The scout would haul in his fish hand over hand and then implore the baron to 'bat him to death.' The baron made several futile passes at the great fish, which would run out a dozen yards before the intended fatal blow struck the spot where the silver beauty had been. Up was drawn the salmon again and the baron made a particularly vicious swipe at him. 'Landed him at last !' exultantly shouted the ba- ron as an eighteen-pound salmon turned over on his back near the boat. 'No you haven't !' shrieked the scout, as the line burned through his smarting fingers once more. The baron looked his incredulity, for under his hand floated the dead salmon he had just struck. To con- 322 WILD GINGER vince him, the scout braced himself and by sheer strength flopped his fish into the boat from which the new occupant nearly evicted the exhausted anglers — a twenty-five-pound salmon ! 'How did it happen?' panted the baron as he eyed the two fish. 'Easy explained,' gasped the scout. 'I saw it all. Just as you struck at the salmon on my hook another salmon leaped into the air and came in contact with your bat— you connected with his curves for a home run — that's all !' " The man from Rome made a great outcry at this point. Rex Whish looked at him sternly, observing, "Don't bark like that, or I'll have you shot !" Charley Hatch coughed politely and not in disbelief, he said : "That is one way to catch fish. Rufe Gibbs, of Lockport, used to tell about a friend of his at Niagara Falls who had great success in land- ing enormous catfish in the eddies below the cataract. This enterprising angler one day picked up a dead swallow and put it on his hook. Presently he found himself engaged with- out previous notice as anchor in a tug of war with bright prospects of being dragged into the fatal current that broke into foam at his feet on the slippery rocks. Working his way down to calmer water where he got better footing on a broad platform of rocks he finally landed a twenty-pound catfish. After that when he went fishing he took a shot gun along and pro- cured his bait from the air. The big cat seemed positively starved for swallows and it frequently WILD GINGER 323 took more than one swallow to make a meal for the overgrown bullheads." The shot gun in connection with fishing re- called the judge's famous violation of law, when he took a fowling piece to get ducks, but landed fish unintentionally. The judge was directed by Rex to relate the incident, although advising him that he need not testify if the recital would, in his opinion, tend to incriminate him. "This is a fish story," began the judge, "al- though a gun figures in it. I was duck hunting down on Cayuga Lake late one March. At least two of the gentlemen who have spun yarns for you to-night were with me on the occasion, al- though I fear they have impaired their use- fulness as credible witnesses, so I will show you a photograph which I happen to have with me, to strengthen my case. The shooting proved indifferent sport. In the warm sunshine we grew drowsy, and presently the guide, the sher- iff and I were sound asleep. After a time I awoke and my attention was attracted by a slight commotion in the cat-tails near the boat. Little ripples appeared on the water, as if a muskrat were moving about underneath. When this had gone on for some time I aimed at the spot where the cat-tails stirred and fired. To my intense astonishment, three fish came to the surface and floundered around half stunned. My companions were very much awake now and helped me pull the prey into the boat. There were three pickerel, one seventeen, one twelve, and one six pounds. It was mating sea- son and the two larger fish were a pair. The 324 WILD GINGER little fellow apparently had got into trouble by spying on the courtship. I was innocent of any intention to kill fish, and although it was in violation of law, the feat was so unusual that I took the pickerel home and exhibited the interesting trio landed at one shot, with the game not in sight when I fired !" "Those fish," remarked the Rochester savant, "must have been like the rattlers of the West. The cowboys claim that even the poorest shot with a revolver or rifle cannot miss a rattle- snake because the serpents attract lead!" "So far mere men have figured in the fish catching incidents," observed Bowen, the Me- dina enthusiast. "I must tell you about the famous angling collie owned by Harry Cornell, the Lewiston, N. Y., hotel man. Jolly, the col- lie, was born with only three legs, but he had been adopted by a family which does not catch fish with its feet, so the handicap didn't count. Harry taught Jolly to fish. The hook is well baited so that it will last for several fish. Jolly takes the end of a light bamboo pole in his mouth, whisks it sideways until the line swings into the water and then the dog, with an expect- ant and eager look in his eyes, sits back on his haunches on the dock and waits for the electric thrill we human anglers so much enjoy. When he feels the tug, Collie's one weakness is a temp- tation to bark with delight, but having lost several fish through giving away too soon to expressions of delight, keeps his mouth shut until the business is finished. Jerking his head upward suddenly, he usually hooks his perch and WILD GINGER 325 then backs swift from the edge of the dock until he draws his fish triumphantly into a safe place. Putting a paw on the line, he then catches the fish by the tail and pulls his catch from the hook. Then is the time for cheering and Jolly gives way to a series of joyful barks. With the fish in his mouth he runs up the bank to the hotel and deposits his prize proudly at his master's feet. When the bait is exhausted, the knowing dog howls in piteous tones that he is sure will bring somebody to his assistance in sheer distress at the outcry. One day Jolly nearly met his match. A large black bass seized the bait and almost pulled the dog into the river before timely help arrived. For three weeks after that proud feat, Jolly would stop fishing after capturing the first perch, apparently in disgust at hooking something unworthy of his prowess as an angler." Apparently apropos of nothing, the sheriff dryly murmured in his flutelike voice, "A young man of our town, somewhat overfond of the flowing bowl, took a girl to Olcott Beach for a day's outing and they came home that night married. The bride's stern father wanted to know who told 'you silly children to marry.' The girl blushed and stammered and finally re- plied, T guess the waves, father.' The old gen- tleman scowled and growled, 'Huh, you mean the waves with brown foam on them!' I guess, Medina, the same kind of waves told you that dog tale." "Novelty in pursuit of the gentle art of an- gling is the order of the evening," gravely ob- 326 WILD GINGER served Rex, "but I need not caution you to ad- here to the truth, gentlemen. Thus far I have not detected any signs of any departure from our strict rule in that regard. Lea took the floor next. "A Falls fisher- man " "Can anything true come from Niagara Falls?" interrupted the big sheriff. He was promptly overruled and Lea resumed. "A Falls fisherman told me of his novel method of catching eels. He attached a ball of lead weighing several pounds to a strong line on which he fastened several gangs of large hooks. Getting into a boat he would allow the current below the falls on the American side to carry him down near the edge of the rapids and then he would pull across to the Canadian side where the current would take him up stream again. Playing the line out he would draw it up through the rapids where the eels were feeding under the foam and frequently hook two and three big fellows at a time. In this way he made large catches. This fishing required nerve, but only the brave deserve the fat eels that abound in dangerous places." "That story," laughed Irving, "is as smooth as the hair of a guide I used to journey with in the wilderness of Quebec. I once summoned courage enough to ask Ambrose why he oiled his raven locks. He explained, 'It mak' slippery place for ze bugs, so she slide off and I laf lak ze ball batter cry — nevaire touch moi !' " Uncle St. Lawrence Thompson unlimbered his casting arm. "Some of these stories are a little WILD GINGER 327 thin, but they are averaging up very fair, con- sidering the occasion. Deacon Swift used to run a rickety old saw mill up near Antwerp which turned out lumber often subject to just criticism. One day a customer complained, 'Dea- con' look at them boards — a half inch at one end and an inch and a half at tether. Jemminy Crickets, do you call them inch board?' The deacon smiled benignly, patted his neighbor on the back and drawled, 'Waal, Jabez, you admit a half inch at one end an' an inch and a half at tother — don't that average up an inch ?' " That reminded Cornwall of another anecdote of the same Antwerp deacon. At the time of the first appearance of the Universalists the village blacksmith, who had become a convert to the new religious denomination, made a strong ef- fort to carry the deacon, a devout Baptist, with him into the strange fold. After wrestling long and arduously with the deacon, the latter from sheer exhaustion was driven to admit that doubt- less the Universalists were as good as the Bap- tists. Lige was elated at this first sign of the success of his proselyting efforts, but his zeal would not be satisfied with any middle ground. With intense earnestness he returned to the as- sault: 'I'm powerful glad, deacon, to hear you admit that us Universalists are as good as you Baptists, but I say we are a long sight better, because don't the scarcity of an article increase its value !' " Cornwall applied his story by saying that stories like those being related that night were a very scarce article. 328 WILD GINGER "Perhaps it's just as well," chirped the sheriff, with an assumed air of surly criticism that sat poorly on his amiable countenance. "Old Phil Carpenter, down in Newfane, was an awful sav- ing old soul. He'd begin in the fall making the family eat the specked apples so as to save the good ones and the result was that Phil's folks ate rotten apples all winter. We've begun with the rotten ones and I can see the diet we're to feed on all night." The sheriff's pseudo cynicism had a delicious flavor and it lent zest to the feast. "Do you object to the subject matter or the way in which these veracious tales are related?" sternly inquired Rex. The sheriff tried to scowl, but the shining moon face beamed through the clouds, as he re- joined. "Well, perhaps a leetle bit of both and mostly more of the former, as old mother Crouch said to the minister when he asked her if she was staying away from church because she didn't like his doctrine or because she ob- jected to his delivery." With a searching look around the circle, the sheriff shook his head sadly and went on : "You are a bad lot of players. You remind me of young Thad Taylor. His family was very pious. They were Methodists and the children were brought up very strict. No games of any kind were allowed at home and they couldn't whistle on Sunday. They used to mark spots on pieces of pasteboard and play dominoes back of the barn. Thad loved music and with the first money he earned he bought a violin unbeknown to his WILD GINGER 329 parents. The father was very wroth and Thad was under the shadow of his displeasure for months because the mother had prevailed to let the boy keep the instrument. Shortly after this strained decision, Thad's brother Joe confided to me that Thad had begun to take lessons, but the music did not seem to dispel the gloom in the household occasioned by the sad breach in morals persisted in by the elder boy. After he had taken a dozen lessons the district preacher came along and he decided that it was very wrong to have 'the instrument of dancing and Satan' in the house. Thad stuck it out for a few more lessons, Joe said, but losing the en- tire sympathy of the family, finally quit the lessons. He continued to saw away on the vio- lin, Joe told me, adding with sadness in his voice, 'An' the way brother Thad plays makes me think the minister is right !' " When the laughter subsided, Mix remarked: "Sheriff, when you try to take the part of a kill- joy, you look as silly as a couple I once saw at the Rushville county fair one beautiful September afternoon. A country beau and his blushing sweetheart had consented to be the victims of a public marriage on the fair grounds, lured by the promise of a set of dining room furniture offered by an enterprising merchant. They drove away after the ceremony in front of the grand stand, cheered by the crowd. Near the gate the newly-made groom, overwhelmed by the congratulations of friends, neighbors, and strangers, sought to hurry the pace of the nag he was driving, when at the cut of the 330 WILD GINGER whip the horse planted his front feet and the carriage came to a stop with such suddenness that the couple were nearly precipitated into the middle of their first real grief. The brave boy caught his bride just as she was going over the dashboard, saving her life at the ex- pense of a very important part of her going- away gown. It was the case of a balky horse under the most distressing circumstances imagi- nable. During the half hour that Dobbin rested, no less than three hundred suggestions as to how to start the stubborn nag were offered and half that number were tried, but all with the same result. Dobbin was evidently proud of the newly-married couple in his charge and he wanted the populace to get well acquainted with them. A gallant young man in the crowd generously offered to lend his rig to the groom and drove up for the transfer, but the bride stuck to her seat and in pleading tones assured the groom that she was well satisfied to sit right where she was, and in fact asserted that she would not move an inch. After another trying wait, a kind-hearted woman in the crowd, sus- pecting the cause of the bride's reluctance to change seats in public, handed the girl a shawl, and then turning to the gaping multitude, com- manded : 'It's your time for supper. I mean each an' every one of ye. Now git!' And they got ; whereupon, the bride slipped the protect- ing shawl around her and was quickly trans- ferred to the other carriage. As soon as it started, Dobbin seemed to think his part of the performance had been concluded and he WILD GINGER 331 submissively fell in behind the procession which was led by his master." "Now, the fractious sheriff ought to stand without hitching," remarked Presiding Elder Whish with mock austerity. "Let the breeze of your reminiscence circulate freely and drive these smoke clouds of dull care away. Landlord, an- other bowl of that sparkling water. Now, then, who's the next sparkler?" "Well, since you have ordered water," meekly trilled Falstaff McKenna, "here's something to go with it on the side." All eyes were on the big sheriff, because he was famous for his "true stories." Respectful attention, too, was depicted upon every face, because it was notorious that he had almost drowned a Canadian prison in- spector because the giant had seriously insinu- ated that he doubted the truth of one of the sherift"s reminiscences of the woods. Lighting a fresh cigar, he continued in his justly celebrated "honey-laden voice" : "I was once angling below the Little Chau- diere on the French River in the most treach- erous water just below the chute. With my guide paddling, we made the circle of the foam- ing basin twice without a response from the depths, so we sheered off toward the shore rocks for a rest. I don't know how it hap- pened, but a silver flask in the canoe stern near the Indian slipped into the water. Yes, dropped into the water, and it contained the last drop we had in camp! — Now don't interrupt me to ask about what kind of snakes inhabit that re- gion, because down at the mouth of the French 332 WILD GINGER not over forty miles away there are really rat- tlers, and annyhow, the water snakes anywhere on the French are uncommon size. Well, the last of our anti-snake juice or anti-microbe so- lution, or just plain old 'red eye' as you please, gentlemen, had disappeared in the limpid depths. Undismayed, or rather in the last throes of desperation, I drew in my three-gang spoon and began angling for the crown jewel ten feet down. We took turns grappling for the key to the Indies. After a time the nervous tension grew on both of us and I caught myself calHng the Indian some uncomplimentary names unworthy of the son of a great chief and tried to square myself by promising to send him a whole case like the sample we were dredging for if he would overlook my unkind language. Alec grunted something about my being somewhat awkward myself and kept on chugging. At the end of four hours a hook point fastened itself un- der the slender ridge which marked the beginning of the screw threads of the metallic cork. Thank the powers that protect a lone wanderer in the vast and awesome wilderness, my guide had not succeeded in unscrewing the cork before the frightful catastrophe occurred. Neither of us breathed as we slowly, delicately, prayerfully, almost tearfully drew the prize to the surface. I was about to shout for joy when there was a splash and a plunge and away whizzed the trolling line. 'It's lost!' I groaned. For the first time in his Hfe, the veteran woodsman, Alec, was plainly rattled. He dropped his pad- dle. Instantly we were out in deeper water and Page 333- WHERE THE LUNGO SAVED THE SHERIFF. WILD GINGER 333 the current was hurrying us toward the worst part of the river. Death by drowning stared us in the face. The canoe lurched sideways and we shipped water. I was so intent holding onto the line which was attached to the fish which had attacked my flask that I never real- ized that I was kneeling on a paddle. I was determined to die fighting in defense of my rights as owner of that beautiful silver bottle which had been presented to me by a dear friend. Why that flask was marked with my own mono- gram, so it couldn't belong to a foreign mus- callonge. I could see through the foam of the death threatening waves ahead all the deli- cate threads of the silver lettering on my prop- erty which some impudent fish was trying to confiscate. Just then the craft swung round, for the line had tightened. The 'lunge was ac- tually towing us now. I hung unto the tow line like grim death. Away ploughed the musky, straight for the opposite shore. There he turned into an eddy and the canoe drifted against a Norway pine lying along the shore. We leaped out. From land we fought a vicious battle with the thief, forgetting for the time that he had been for us the chief of that woodland life saving station, and bearing in mind only the ugly truth that he had snatched away from us our life- preserver. We landed him. Yes — it was there — the flask. Alec and I sank down on the rocks exhausted. You see, when the 'lunge grabbed the flask, his upper and lower jaws met and were pinned together by two of the three hooks, so that he could not possibly open his mouth to 334 WILD GINGER disgorge the metal flask. — Oh, don't groan like that — cheer up, the worst is yet to come! — but one of his sharp teeth had penetrated the thin silver, so that the fluid contents had escaped in sufficient quantities to intoxicate the king of the Chaudiere. My bottled prescription, there- fore, was responsible for our salvation, for drunk, instead of sober, that 'lunge had headed for shore instead of deep water, as any respect- able musky in his proper senses would have done !" "I hear that the man from Rome has one that has made Rome howl. Try it on us." The man from Rome, unabashed by the intro- duction, began : "Up in the Temiscamingue country the prize trout are caught. A party of four of us landed twenty-eight one day, the smallest being several ounces over three pounds and the largest seven pounds " Rex here suspended to rule that all running comment should be eliminated. "My guide and I found ourselves six miles from camp one day with my flybook behind in a fishing coat. We were about to start back when from an inner pocket I fished out a stray brown hackle. It had done duty on several occasions and was the worse for wear. But after several casts I landed a trout. In a fine pool farther down I had a jarring strike, but through awkward work lost a beautiful fish and with it my last artificial bait. From the dead trout I took an eye and with this tough little bait I landed four pretty fish. In the excite- WILD GINGER 335 ment of rapid work where big ones were ris- ing, I picked up a fish just landed and forgot to kill him before plucking out an eye for fresh bait. In retribution for my unintentioned cru- elty, the fish slipped through my fingers to liberty. On the way back to camp we passed that spot again. Just behind a rock I had a response, but the trout missed the hook. Four times that performance was repeated in the iden- tical spot, a fish striking but failing to con- nect. The guide paddled around on the other side and that time I landed the persistent fish. To my surprise it was the trout from which I had borrowed the bait " "Silence, 'ye hard hearts, ye cruel men of Rome,' " growled Rex Whish above the roar of protest from the round table. Unperturbed the Roman continued: "That game fish had been caught on his own eye. In our country trout are shy, but up there hunger makes them f 01 get even a surgical operation. I missed the one-eyed trout the first four times, it seems, be- cause I was fishing on his blind side." "The police coop for this man from Rome," insisted the sheriff, as he went through the mo- . tions of handcuiifing him. "Jim Hilton, of Low- ertown, used to refer with pride to a grandfather in London who could afford to ride in his own 'coop.' I gladly pay the fare for a coop for this offender to take him to the station." "The long bow will be laid aside long enough to permit it to recover," announced the Rex with a sigh. There was a murmur of approval around the circle. On urgent solicitation, the regent 336 WILD GINGER sang his favorite ditty, "The Hunter's Lament," and refused to desist until he had finished the very last line of the seventeenth stanza. The conversation drifted into a discussion of tackle and the various methods of fishing in dif- ferent localities. Each member of the round ta- ble symposium had something interesting and more or less instructive to relate. One of the anglers told of the genius of the Muskoka In- dians as fishermen. Lake trout in the Muskokas have grown scarce and wary of late years and the average angler, untutored in the Indian methods of capturing them, may cover many miles of water without landing a single fish. The Indians make their own trolling spoons. These they hammer out of an alloy of cop- per, fashioning a graceful spoon about the size of a teaspoon. To this they attach a gang with only two hooks, adorning it with red, black, and white feathers. At the end of the line they put a two-pound lump of lead; then a small lead sinker ten feet from the hook and heavier sink- ers at intervals of ten feet. This ponderous apparatus they cause to skim over the bottom of the lake with great skill, rarely getting the line caught. If an Indian loses a spoon more than once in a season he is deemed a bungler and unworthy to seek the deep-lying trout. The slightest touch from a fish is recognized instantly by the trained troller. He can distinguish in- fallibly between the bump of a sinker and a strike of a trout in the flash of an eyelash, and while the less experienced would be trying to decide whether he had a bite or not, the red WILD GINGER 337 man would have his fish hooked and well on his way to the boat. Another present was reminded by this account of a young Canadian of Lake Joseph who pos- sessed not only the angling skill of the Muskoka Indians, but their stoicism and patience as well. Young Art Hill looked at life in its every phase through roseate glasses, although he was bom in a dark nook of the great woods and his every- day path was briar covered. The eldest of a large family, he was depended upon- from the time he was a little boy to provide a goodly share of the family's support. The greater the hardship, the harder Art laughed. When he had to work himself to death, he seemed to think the joke was on him and was therefore in duty bound to laugh with the rest at his own ex- pense. At first, newly-made friends were apt to en- tertain the suspicion that young Hill was a trifle weakminded because of his abnormal optimism, but they soon discovered that there was not a brighter or keener youth in all that region. What a glorious gift was this rare disposition of the young woodsman. He seemed constitu- tionally incapable of entertaining a percept of misfortune as affecting himself personally! After a long pull of twelve miles up the lake and back, with no fish to show for the ardu- ous labor, he laughed good-naturedly in the faces of the two sportsmen, assuring them that the lack of trout that day meant more left to catch next day. His prophecy came true, for the trout were biting the next day and Art laughed every 338 WILD GINGER time one was landed, saying that the removal of a trout left more feed for the fish in the lake. He told tales of hardship in the logging camps. He fell into a blow hole when the thermometer was thirty degrees below zero and was nearly drowned. That was funny. When he got out it was near night and he wandered in the woods until morning, being found near camp more dead than alive. That was a side-splitting comedy. Once a distant camp ran out of provisions. Art and a driver were sent to the distant town for flour and meat. Wolves attacked them and killed his comrade, wounding Art so that he was laid up for weeks. The rescuing party took him back to the starving camp and there the fever- ish wounded lad kept body and soul together by chewing up a piece of pork as large as his thumb each day. At the recollection, the young Canadian laughed till the tears came into his eyes. He showed the stump of a finger that had been frozen off and in his eyes it was an amusing deformity. At the hotel we learned that Art laughed as heartily, and even more so, when he was enduring the hardships as when he was telling about them. Young Hall one day paddled the sportsmen to a remote part of Lake Joseph and pointed out the almost completely hidden cabin of a her- mit who had lived in that woods for forty years. The strange man was well educated and an art- ist of no mean ability. He had come originally from New York, murmuring of some great sor- row, but with no definite confidences to repose in anybody. He painted beautiful and appeal- WILD GINGER 339 ing pictures of the lake and forest, but he had no canvases for sale. He never invited any- body to his woodland studio, but to all who came he gladly showed his art treasures. The hermit painter had no visible means of support, but he had abundant means. A still more interesting person was found at Port Sandfield in the Rev. Doctor Wild, in many respects the modern repHca of Izaak Wal- ton. He was at the time of his thirtieth annual summer vacation at Port Sandfield, 75 years of age, yet 75 years young in spirits, vivacity, and powers of entertainment. During the six weeks' stay at the lake he fished regularly twice each day, rain or shine, two hours in the morning and two hours in the evening. He used to say with a good-natured laugh: "God made the fish to seek their food in the morn and the even- ing, and if he meant them to be caught, it was at these appointed times. And if an angler can- not capture all the fish for his needs in four hours each day, then he deserves to go fish hun- gry, he and his house. I confess that the four hours daily bring me much fewer fish here than they did even ten years ago, but I am content. The air is as fresh, the sun is as invigorating, the birds sing as sweetly, and the company is as good as it was thirty years ago and I enjoy them all even more, for each year has enabled rne to more and more appreciate the value of ozone, sunshine, music, and good companion- ship, all wholesome and life-giving gifts from the Giver of all good and perfect gifts." Doc- tor Wild was learned in ichthyology. He de- 340 WILD GINGER clared that the black bass came into the cut be- tween Lake Joseph and Lake Rosseau when the tide ran through. He was authority for the statement that the bass of one lake never ran through the cut into the other lake. From the Muskokas it was but a short jour- ney for the recounters to drift farther north- ward and reminiscences of the Canadian wilds came thick and fast. Speaking of the voca- cious appetites of the fish in the north country, Mix said : In Shakespeare's Pericles we read this scrap of conversation : "Fisherman — Master, I marvel how the fishes live in the sea. "Second Fisherman — Why, as men do a-land; the great ones eat up the little ones." Anglers are all well aware of the cannibal trait of fish, and so minnows are the favorite bait for catching most game fish. Chubs do very well in ordinary waters, but up in the French River wilds they are too small for the prize fish, the muscallonge. Old Esox nobilior will strike a 4-O Palmer spoon in pure disdain or spite occasionally, but for real biting incited by appetite he wants a plump black bass. Par- don me, if some of you think I am playing with your credulity, but that is a commonplace among those who have fished on the French River. One day below the Big Chaudiere Rapid I was troll- ing for 'lunge when a bass struck the spoon. I pulled him in and was about to return him to the water and try again when I decided to go to camp and take the bass with me on the end WILD GINGER 341 of the line. I had almost forgotten the bass, a four-pounder, when the heavy braided line tightened around my fingers until the ends be- came purple. I realized something was hap- pening to my first caller. It was a lively fight, but in time I landed a magnificent 'lunge. He had only one hook in his throat, but the dorsal fins of the bass, which was well on its way down the big fish's gullet, acted as a series of hooks and helped hold him fast. You all know the size of a four-pound black bass. The head of that 32-pound muscallonge adorns my den at home, and the tips of the jaws stretch eight and a half inches apart, so that he could have taken that bass in sideways if his kind ever did it that way, but they don't. A post mortem showed that the voracious musky had dined on a two-pound fish for his breakfast that very day. Tell the man who has never caught muscallonge that a twenty-pound fish can open his mouth wide enough to take the crown of a derby be- tween his teeth and he'll look at you with a look of suspicion, but nevertheless the statement is readily established by experiment." Irving smiled and his blue eyes twinkled as he observed : "Pretty swift pace we have been following at this round table to-night in the story race, yet in the wilds I have repeatedly run across incidents even more marvelous than any- thing yet related, marvelous as that may seem to be. The competition this evening reminds me of a unique race between a moose and a horse which I witnessed in part. David Macin- tosh, the village justice, postmaster, and general 342 WILD GINGER store man, wagered a barrel of sugar against a moose carcass to be delivered that winter that his delivery horse Heather could beat Ronal Du- bois' trained moose from the village up to Lone Pine Camp on the Ottawa, a distance of twenty miles. Each man was to ride his own animal. A motley crowd witnessed the start in front of Macintosh's store. The starter was the village priest. Father Donahue, and the umpires James Donaldson, an attorney, located in the village, and Tim Duffey, foreman in the logging camp, the end of the course. The road to the camp was fairly good most of the way, but the last four miles was no better than the average log road in the forests. Heather was used to gal- loping over rough and stony ground and could pick his way home on a short cut route through the woods as accurately and swiftly almost as a deer. Ronal depended upon the length of limb and native swiftness of Le Chute, a moose he had raised from a sucking calf when the mother had died in defending the little fellow from log- gers who sought to capture him. At the word. Heather sprang into the lead and raced for the woods a mile away, but before they entered the forest, the long, apparently leisurely lope of Le Chute enabled the moose to easily overtake his competitor. "The French partisans of Ronal's shouted to Macintosh's clerk's to roll out the sugar and they'd take it over to the Frenchman's cabin, insisting that the moose as good as had the race won already. Donaldson, however, urged them to bide a wee, suggesting that the finish WILD GINGER 343 of a story is often different from what the in- troduction promises. The Frenchmen laughed derisively, declaring confidently, 'Dat storee have mighty dam sweet finesh for Ronal.' "Next day back came the racers. Heather trotted up to the store porch blithely alone, while Le Chute had taken a back trail for Ronal's cab- in on the outskirts of the town. It was Heath- er's race. Presently the crestfallen Ronal crept into the centre of the emporium and his cronies gathered around him, some with dark looks be- cause of side bets they had lost on the moose. 'Drink, drink, it was the ruin of my beeg moose.' Ronal burst into tears as he went on, 'I tell you, drink did it. Le Chute get 'bout acre ahead of Heather, p'r'aps only half acre, oh, well, maybe quarter acre ahead of dat dam horse, when he mus' drink, oui, he mus' take one drink. No listen to me, not Le Chute, but he trot to river and drink, drink, drink and den drink some more. I hear dat Le Heather comin' — I beg Le Chute to stop drinking, but he no stop. He ac' as eef he had one contrac' to drink up de whole dam river. Heather trot by an' I pray my bon moose, him good Le Chute to run along. Mais, non ! Sacre ! He is just start to drink after long trail an' he drink and when I keeck him in de ribs he roll over in water and splash me lak paddle wheel of a t'ousand boats in de canal. By em by, Le Chute sorry and go on, run lak hell, he feel so good after big drink, but when we again see Macintosh, dat beeg Irishman Duf- fey is tying some fool ivy on his head, an' his red-headed, freckled-face wife, she, dat saucy 344 WILD GINGER femme, she have been feeding dat dam horse a bowl full of sugar out of de barrel lak dat one I expected to roll off of Macintosh's porch to- night !' "No, gentlemen, I attempt no application of my story," Irving continued. "I'm no moralizer. Do I wish to imply that but for stopping to drink, some of the contestants in this story sym- posium to-night might have taken the prize? Not at all — and besides, that moose stopped to drink water!" The sheriff looked searchingly around the cir- cle and then piped, "After that, I think we'd bet- ter be on our way. Whish has sat in that one position so long that all of his joints are stiff ^except his elbow." "I preach the value of exercise and practice it," blithely responded Rex, amid the laughter at his expense. Time was forgot and nobody noticed the hours chimed off by the tall clock in the corner. Dur- ing that historic symposium of the Round Ta- ble more deer than the famous valley of the Ma- sog-Masing had ever seen fell before the unerr- ing aim of the sportsmen's rifles, while very few got away; more muscallonge than ever leaped the foaming caldron of the Big Chaudiere were played and landed in full view of the enthralled company of seasoned anglers; and, as for trout that were lured to their doom and the bass that were foiled in their wiles, there was not enough hampers and tubs in Syracuse to hold them. It was winter in Onondaga, but the happy hunters at the Round Table in the Saline Tabard Inn I'ai/c 345. ■•THE SPRAY OF E-MILE RAPID." WILD GINGER 345 could hear the birds of Nipissing sing, feel the spray of the Five Mile Rapid and scent the balm of balsam and wintergreen as reminiscence carried them far northward where the happy hunting grounds were fast locked that night in the Frost King's embrace. As the smoke rose from the table, it seemed the haze of forest camp fires long since dead through which com- rades looked upon the wraiths of never-to-be- forgotten joys in the land of the white violet, the cardinal flower, the closed gentian and the blue flag. In the silence that fell upon the com- pany now and again, as when a shift of wind carries away the garrulous and unceasing rum- ble of a distant chaudiere, the felicitous dreamers caught themselves filing after each other in moc- casined feet along the blazed trail, or toiling over the interminable portage. The far-away halloo of a newsboy calling the morning papers was to their ears the gloomy cry of the loon foretelling a storm, but it brought the recounters back with the suggestion that there would be a storm for them to face at home if it ever be- came known that they had lingered until dawn in the hospitable lodge of the Onondagas. Now, before the good nights are said — or more appropriately the good morrows — let us rise in unbroken circle around this historic ta- ble to the toast, THE FRIENDSHIP OF TRUE SPORTSMEN: It is the WARMTH of MORNING sunshine that kisses the damp from the brow of the mountain and dispels the mists from the bosom of the valley; it is the grace of budding branches in the SPRING- 346 WILD GINGER TIME, and the beauty of clustered blossoms imaged in the SUMMER pool; it is the warm- ing color that the cardinal flower lends to the sombre forest in early AUTUMN, and the evergreen of the Christmas fern in WINTER'S snows ; it is the perfume of flower, odor of balsam and warble of bird; it is the weapon which never misses fire, and, with sights always set true, is ever ready to keep the wolf from the door or hold worse ene- mies at bay; it is the canoe which never leaks, carrying its occupant safely through rapid or tranquil water; it is the fidelity of the compass which guides the steps unerringly over flowery plain and tangled thicket to a restful abode ; it is the camp where the firelight glows with wel- come at EVEN and where the eyelids close un- der the benign benediction of comfort, rest, and peace.