r- 
 
BERKELEY 
 
 GENERAL 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
THE LOVERS OF 
 THE WOODS 
 
 WILLIAM H. BOARDMAN 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 McCLURE, PHILLIPS ^ CO. 
 MCMI 
 
Copyright, igoi, by 
 MCCLURE, PHILLIPS f Co. 
 
 UNIVERSITY PRESS . JOHN WILSON 
 AND SON CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. 
 

 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 INTRODUCTION v 
 
 LOST 3 
 
 CHILDREN OF THE STREAM 19 
 
 A MAN WITH AN AXE 39 
 
 THE Two LONS 64 
 
 THE PRAIRIE BOY 91 
 
 COLONEL WARREN 115 
 
 GEORGE'S MEMORY . 139 
 
 A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 164 
 
 JOHN'S CAKES . . 186 
 
 THE MINISTER 208 
 
 "HE CAME UNTO His OWN". .... 230 
 
 M8427G9 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 WOODCRAFT is a like art in all the 
 forests from Canada to either coast. 
 The only important differences are 
 in the ways of transportation. We go to the 
 woods to do with our own hands those things 
 which we have been accustomed to have done 
 for us, and to wait upon ourselves, sometimes, 
 just enough to see how it seems. It is an es- 
 sential part of the pleasure of catching trout to 
 feel that we are by our own labor earning food. 
 We sleep without complaining on the beds that 
 we have made,and sometimes try to eat the food 
 that we have cooked. We taste, somewhat 
 daintily, the ameliorated hardships of primitive 
 living and, knowing our own shortcomings, we 
 learn forbearance. 
 
 The sportsman who takes seriously his vaca- 
 tion inthewoods has satisfactionin learning how 
 
 v 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 to live properly and hunt and fish successfully. 
 It adds to his self-respect and self-reliance to 
 know how to cook and camp and pack ; to use 
 his legs and boats and horses ; to get out of 
 trouble and to keep out of trouble. While ac- 
 quiring these accomplishments he has, if he is 
 a good man, become sated with killing. He 
 has had abundant proof of his skill in approach- 
 ing game and in shooting straight, of knowl- 
 edge offish habits and handiness in taking them, 
 and he does not want to kill anything any more 
 unless he needs it in his business. If he is un- 
 worthy he keeps on killing ; if he is a limited 
 person his activities end and he sets up for a 
 sage ; but if he is wise his accomplishment of 
 being able to use his eyes is set to nobler pur- 
 poses, and he learns that it is a never-ending joy 
 to win acquaintance with the timber trees and 
 forest shrubs and plants ; to learn how the ani- 
 mals live and think; to know well and under- 
 stand the splendid simple men whom a lifetime 
 in the woods sometimes produces ; and, per- 
 vi 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 haps best of all, he finds the pictures in the 
 woods. 
 
 The sportsman who has studied this higher 
 woodcraft pities, and writes for and talks for, 
 his over-worked friend whocomes to each sum- 
 mer solstice longing for an outing and aimlessly 
 wavering among advertisements and sugges- 
 tions. 
 
 An idle vacation is not the best rest for the body 
 or for the mind. It is a poor diversion, this 
 turning from a full life to an empty one, and 
 there is little rest in it. That which is known 
 to some engineers as the " fatigue of metals," 
 a supposed loss of strength due to often-re- 
 peated small strains no one of which is a break- 
 ing strain, is not cured by a disuse of the metal. 
 An outing needs an occupation, a change of 
 work. It need not be strenuous, but it should 
 be a subject for diverting thought and reading 
 during the winter; one that makes the vacation 
 longed for ; that strengthens the muscles by use 
 and stimulates the mind with daily accessions 
 
 vii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 of knowledge. A changed occupation that 
 brings a daily appetite and has a daily motive 
 is what mostmen need to help them rest,and this 
 the Woods always yield to the seeker who 
 comes to them in the right spirit and with good 
 guidance. 
 
 viu 
 
THE LOVERS 
 OF THE WOODS 
 
THE LOVERS 
 OF THE WOODS 
 
 LOST 
 
 AT the edge of the evening Billy Drew 
 arrived. Although it was in the heart 
 of the Adirondack forest, miles away 
 from any known living place of human beings ; 
 although he came into camp by the creek val- 
 ley where no trail existed ; and although there 
 was no food in his small pack-basket ; never- 
 theless he came to the camp-fire with a stroll- 
 ing gait and a casual, unconcerned salute which 
 might have hid from a less expert woodsman 
 than John the fact that he had been very much 
 lost, and was tired and hungry. John was 
 cooking a supper of bacon, trout, and tea. It 
 was not an elaborate bill of fare, and his work- 
 ing kit was a two-quart pail and a frying-pan, 
 but the quantities were enormous and the 
 quality the best in the world. Everything was 
 
 3 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 clean. The supper-table was the leathery sur- 
 face of the inner side of a sheet of spruce bark. 
 The room was ample, limited only by the trees 
 that glowed in the light of the evening fire. 
 There was a dainty neatness and precision in 
 his way of camp-fire cooking. Before the ba- 
 con was fully done it had been taken from the 
 frying-pan and transferred to a tin plate set 
 near the coals, so that the process of keeping 
 it hot would just complete its cooking by the 
 time the trout were ready to be lifted from 
 the same frying-pan. A moment before this 
 the boiling water had been poured on the tea 
 and these three converging lines of supply met 
 at a point, the point of highest efficiency for 
 gratifying an appetite. 
 
 It was the work of a master, and Billy ad- 
 mired it in spite of its deliberation. He was 
 well-equipped for criticism and his admiration 
 was a tribute, all the more because the enforced 
 waiting for enjoying the hospitality that had 
 been heartily offered to him was an agony. It 
 4 
 
LOST 
 
 was a whole day since he had eaten his last 
 mouthful, and it had been a day of work and 
 anxiety as well as of hunger. He had nearly 
 exhausted his stock of woods' lore in trying 
 to orient himself and find a way out, until he 
 tried the last resort and doggedly followed a 
 winding creek through miles of alder beds and 
 black-ash swamps, sure of only one thing, that 
 water runs down hill and comes to where peo- 
 ple live. His whole instinct was to hide his 
 terrible experience, at least for the present, 
 while the memory of it was a bitter mortifica- 
 tion. Later, perhaps, it would be a story, but 
 now he was ashamed of his carelessness. 
 The realization of being lost comes suddenly 
 to the traveler who is winning his way gayly 
 and carelessly through the woods. An ex- 
 pected landmark does not appear; or the blazed 
 line is lost ; or the water in a brook is found to 
 be running the wrong way ; or the northing is 
 lost. There is an overwhelming paralysis of 
 the thinking powers and a childish impulse to 
 
 5 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 scream ; a feeling that there is not a moment 
 to spare, of suffocation, as if one were under 
 water and life depended on getting out imme- 
 diately. The untrained man hurries. His 
 pack is suddenly heavy and his rifle is a use- 
 less toy. He is afraid, as he climbs over lo^s. 
 through windfalls, swamps, and burnt ground, 
 to turn a yard from what he imagines to be a 
 straight line. Nervous tension is bad for the 
 wind and he is soon breathless. Then his char- 
 acter develops : the weak man longs for help 
 and calls for it, by shooting or screaming ; the 
 strong man grimly resolves to help himself, to 
 stop and sum up the situation with all the in- 
 formation he has, or can gather by close obser- 
 vation, and then go slow and not far. 
 The trained woodsman calmly fills his pipe 
 and sits down to think about it. He has no 
 anxiety about himself, for he knows that he 
 can live many days in the woods with only 
 small discomforts. His pride may be touched 
 or he may be missing an appointment, or caus- 
 6 
 
LOST 
 
 ing needless anxiety to others, but he knows 
 that he is in no present danger and does not 
 want to be helped out ; his whole training and 
 habit of mind lead him to help himself. If 
 he needs to know a point-of-compass before 
 he can determine his direction, he can wait for 
 it for the stars at night, or for 'the sun next 
 day or some other day. Perhaps he will idly 
 try for it by studying the mosses on rocks and 
 hard-wood trees, but this is for a diversion, not 
 for a reliance. 
 
 Usually he does not need to know his north- 
 ing, for he goes by the " lay of the land," and 
 he has not taken a step in a strange country 
 without knowing something of the watershed. 
 The smallest possible amount of casual or 
 general information of where the water goes 
 is expanded by every rod that he travels. He 
 never loses faith in the law of gravity. It is 
 beautiful to tramp with a woodsman in country 
 that is new to him. He drinks in the topog- 
 raphy. He is like a debutante, exhilarated by 
 
 7 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 new acquaintances and glowing with inspira- 
 tion from new friends, but, unlike her, he is not 
 doomed to disappointment. The ridges and 
 valleys stay. They are faithful to the end and 
 will guide him when he is lost. 
 The supper rested and soothed Billy. He re- 
 membered now that through the long days of 
 wandering he had often struggled with hyster- 
 ical feelings and he could easily understand 
 how insanity comes to a man who is lost. He 
 wondered if either John or the pale young 
 sportsman whom John was guiding suspected 
 his condition. The truth was that after John 
 had quietly asked him one question, " Come 
 from Horn Lake ? " and he had answered, 
 "Yes," the old woodsman had guessed out the 
 whole story and could have told it with reason- 
 able accuracy. 
 
 The simple camp-kit was cleaned and stowed 
 and the night fire was lighted. John disap- 
 peared in the back end of the low bark camp 
 and returned with a blanket which he dropped 
 8 
 
LOST 
 
 in a half careless, half motherly fashion on the 
 pale young man's shoulders. 
 " I guess, Mr. Hardy, you '11 do better to set 
 on this log where the smoke won't reach you." 
 The young man moved and established him- 
 self comfortably, and at the same time noted 
 that the guest was happier. He was mellowed 
 by his pipe and some borrowed tobacco. He 
 was content. Absolute comfort for body and 
 mind is perhaps not the keenest enjoyment, 
 but it is near it, it is worth working for, and it 
 can be had in the woods. It is not simply a 
 comparative condition, a relief from misery, or 
 a measurement of the distance from discom- 
 fort. With a conscience at ease, the appetites 
 gratified, the senses charmed by the beauty of 
 the woods, and with an inspiring conscious- 
 ness that there are lots of things to do, the 
 healthy woodsman can sit on a log and be very 
 happy and have comfort. He can have it in 
 rain or in sunshine, night or day. " Flannel is 
 flannel, wet or dry," and wet clothes are not 
 
 9 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 necessarily uncomfortable, although they be- 
 come so after a while. 
 
 In driving logs down a river in March, a crew 
 of thirty men are in and out of the cold water 
 during the day and sleep in wet woollen clothes 
 many nights without developing a case of rheu- 
 matism or of any other sickness. A healthy, 
 temperate woodsman does not become rheu- 
 matic, and surely a common belief that this 
 disease comes from pure water is an error. 
 The sportsman does not get it from wading the 
 stream ; the temperate log-drivers and lumber- 
 men never get it ; but the whiskey-drinker that 
 gets drunk and lies out, has rheumatism and 
 " lays it " to the water. 
 
 Comfort needs reasonably good health, capable 
 of being made perfect health by right living, 
 earnestness of purpose, and a capacity for get- 
 ting tired. With bones that ache a little, not 
 too much, a little added knowledge of Nature's 
 laws as a result of the day's experience, the best 
 food, the best cooking, a safe roof, a bright fire, 
 10 
 
LOST 
 
 a balsam-bough bed, and a partner that is a 
 lover of the woods, a reasonable man is con- 
 tent. All the exquisite refinements and amuse- 
 ments of the most highly civilized spot on earth 
 can do no more for him. 
 Hardy had neither seen norread,as John's keen 
 eyes had read, the manifest signs of Billy's late 
 experience. It was possibly unconscious cere- 
 bration which led him to ask : 
 " Billy, did you ever get lost in the woods ? " 
 " Yes, once," said Billy, cautiously. " It was 
 the first week I come in. Cy Harmer had a 
 contract up to Wakely Dam and he left word 
 for me. His wife " 
 
 Hardy rather unnecessarily interrupted at this 
 point to mention that he was acquainted with 
 Cy Harmer. 
 
 " No, you don't know Cy. He ain't round here 
 now. You know Andy Harmer, his brother- 
 in-law, and Cy has n't any use for him. Cy's 
 wife was up to the Dam too." 
 u Hold on a minute, Billy. Rather peculiar, 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 is n't it, that these two men had the same name 
 and were only brothers-in-law ? " 
 " Seems so, yes. The bottom fact is they be- 
 gun reg'lar brothers and stayed so till they 
 both knowed the Bascom girls. Sairey was 
 the youngest. She was likely and smart and 
 they both wanted her. Maria was sharp-faced 
 and red-headed, but somehow she stayed in the 
 game all one winter, till Andy Harmer drawed 
 Sairey, and Cy, jest to keep from bein' laughed 
 at, took up with Maria and tried to look cheer- 
 ful. He felt it though, and 'lowed that from 
 that day he would n't have Andy for no nearder 
 'n a brother-in-law, and he did n't. Maria was a 
 good worker and she was up to the Dam, doin' 
 the cookin', when I come. 
 " I got there, say a Wednesday, and worked the 
 ox-team haulin' in hemlocks for squarin' for the 
 flume timbers, till come Saturday night. Sun- 
 day mornin' we fixed up a little and turned the 
 cattle loose to peck and rest up while we sot 
 around. There cornea sugar snow in the after- 
 
 12 
 
LOST 
 
 noon and we built a fire in the stove and sot 
 there till Cy went out to see to the cattle and 
 could n't find 'em. It was good trackin' snow 
 and we both started out. We follered 'em and 
 follered 'em till, 'fore we knowed it, night shet 
 down on us like a jack-knife. 
 " We had n't noticed where we were goin' ; 
 had n't looked at a thing but the tracks, and 
 I 'm a-tellin' you, young gentleman, that is a 
 mighty keerless thing to do in these woods. 
 We back tracked a ways till we come to a creek, 
 and then we gave it up. It turned off cold, and 
 we had our Sunday clothes on and no blankets 
 and nothin' to eat. Of course I had matches, 
 and we whittled some kindlin' off 'n a riven pine 
 and got some dry stuff together and built a fire 
 alongside a spruce log until the log was well 
 a-goin', and let me tell you, young gentleman, 
 never do that as long 's you live. Then we lay 
 down alongside and went to sleep. When 
 one side got hot and the other side cold, we 'd 
 half wake up and roll over and warm up even. 
 
 13 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 When both sides got cold we 'd naturally in our 
 sleep roll a little nearder the log. A fired spruce 
 log is snappy. Better find a maple if you ever 
 have to lay out. We woke up at daylight, stiff 
 and cold and hungry. Our Sunday clothes had 
 a thousand holes burned in 'em. They looked 
 like gill nets. I said so to Cy and that made 
 him think of fish, an* of course he had a hook 
 and line in his pocket, an' he went to the creek 
 and ketched a mess of trout. 
 " Now Cy always was peculiar about trout. 
 He could n't eat 'em no way except fried. I 
 tried to argue him into saying biled would do, 
 'cause of course I had no grease to fry 'em in ; 
 but he would n't hev it ; said he spleened against 
 anything but fried. So I just gave up to him 
 and fried 'em in water. I told him I 'd done 
 it just to humor him, and he seemed satisfied, 
 but he 'lowed afterward to Maria that, as he 
 looked back, they seemed to taste for all the 
 world as if they'd been biled." 
 The young man laughed appreciatively, while 
 14 
 
LOST 
 
 John, without a word of comment, arose, and 
 putting his foot against the front of the green 
 birch fire,deftly pushed the burning sticks closer 
 to each other. The blaze sprang out and lighted 
 the amphitheatre of balsams. There was a long 
 silence, finally broken by Hardy : 
 u When you get ready, Billy, you can tell us 
 how far you had wandered from camp, how 
 you got back, and what became of the oxen." 
 " About eighty rod," said Billy, " and the oxen 
 was back." 
 " Circled," said John. 
 
 " I have heard of that," said Hardy, " that is, 
 I have heard that no man naturally travels in 
 the woods, off the trail, in a straight line ; that 
 it is hard to keep from curving to the right or 
 the left." 
 
 " It is hard," said John. " When the sun is 
 shinin', any body can walk straight, for you 
 steer by your shadow. On a cloudy day, or in 
 the dark, if you have n't forgot your compass, 
 as you generally have, you can look at that once 
 
 '5 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 in a while and hold a pretty good line, but you 
 need to learn to trust your compass, and not 
 fight it. 
 
 " A good while ago I went out in the afternoon 
 to put out six dogs for a party on Upper Plains. 
 I wanted to wait till the next mornin', but they 
 wanted the biggest buck in the woods the first 
 day. I had four young dogs on chain and two 
 old ones free. The dogs dragged me wherever 
 they wanted to, when they happened to pull 
 together, and at other times they girdled trees 
 and tore the witch hopples with the chains. I 
 let the last dog go on a fresh track and then 
 started for the river. I did n't know much 
 about that country then, but of course I had n't 
 forgot that water runs down-hill, and I knew 
 the lay of the land and that all the main ridges 
 run northeast. So I kep' a-quarterin' on 'em, 
 workin' down-hill, a-thinkin' I was goin' plumb 
 north. Fact was, I 'd been lookin' for tracks 
 and rasslin' with the dogs, and they'd led me 
 over the river divide without my knowin' it, and 
 16 
 
LOST 
 
 if I 'd kep' a-goin' I M V found the Mohawk, 
 the way the Injins used to. I 'd been careless, 
 and carelessness is the worst fault a man can 
 have, except lyin' about what he 's done. 
 " After walkin' awhile I got suspicious and 
 looked at my compass and found that the needle 
 pointed exactly wrong way. 'Course, I did n't 
 think that was queer, because I had four heavy 
 dog-chains wrapped on my belt ; so I kep' on 
 the bearin' that I knew was due north, for of 
 course I 'd strike the river that way. It was 
 beginnin' dark and I was gettin' tired when I 
 looked at the compass again. The chains were 
 holdin' the needle wrong-end-to just as before, 
 so I lit my pipe and stopped to think about it. 
 Pretty soon I got a little sense and took off my 
 chains and put the compass on a stump four 
 rod off, and it pointed wrong way just the same. 
 So I give up fightin' and went wrong way and 
 come in all right. 
 
 " If you only want to travel straight, that 's 
 easy, when you learn it. Keep your eye more 
 2 17 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 or less on peculiar trees far ahead and hold your 
 line. When you have to turn out for wind- 
 falls or swamps, allow for it and get back on 
 your line." 
 
 " But, John, why is it that a man naturally cir- 
 cles ? When he wobbles and varies, I should 
 think the errors would tend to neutralize each 
 other and keep him nearly straight, or at least 
 sometimes straight." 
 
 " He does, that 's all I know, and I don't rightly 
 know why. I used to think it was on the part 
 of the side-hills, because a man naturally turns 
 to easy goin', but I give that up. Last year a 
 fellow came up here and showed me a pattern 
 of his head that he said his hatter had made for 
 him with a machine. It wa'n't the shape of an 
 egg; it was bulged out on one side more than 
 on the other, and I said, ' Man alive, you don't 
 claim that your head is lop-sided like that ? ' 
 And he said it certainly was so; that every man's 
 head leaned out, one side or the other, front or 
 back. If that 's so, it accounts for circlin'." 
 18 
 
CHILDREN OF THE STREAM 
 
 HARDY'S boyhood in northern Illi- 
 nois was uneventful. He had a cred- 
 itable college career, and became an 
 athlete, always with one defect, an occasional 
 reminder of an old trouble with his throat. He 
 studied law, was admitted to the bar, and was 
 not quite definitively in love with a dearest girl, 
 when his defect reached its climax and he be- 
 came nearly voiceless. 
 
 It is hard indeed to lose any one of the senses 
 or any one of the powers. We use them un- 
 thinkingly until a defect appears, when, what- 
 ever it may be, it is to the sufferer the most 
 serious possible loss. Hardy's promising ca- 
 reer was ended at its threshold, and, as his only 
 chance for recovery was by living in mountain 
 air, his father's friend and law partner, Colo- 
 nel Warren, sent him to the care of John, a 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 wise and observant woods guide. He deter- 
 mined to learn woodcraft, and it was probably 
 well for him and for his zeal that he had no con- 
 ception of the size of his undertaking, although 
 he was nearly right in his idea that it was the 
 art of doing what you will in the woods. 
 The experienced sportsman is apt to learn to 
 dislike the name, " guide " ; or possibly only to 
 dislike being guided by any one in his rambles 
 in the woods. To him a large part of the 
 charm of it all is absolute freedom and self-re- 
 liance, and this is slightly dulled when the plan- 
 ning is done by an employe, or when he may 
 be skilfully and tamely led out of trouble like 
 an erring child. Nevertheless, the splendid 
 woodsmen who serve as guides are indispensa- 
 ble, both for creature comfort and as sources of 
 information. Without such a trained woods 
 housekeeper and boatman, a sportsman who 
 has a few weeks' outing each year learns slowly 
 and lives wretchedly. If he is zealous and will- 
 ing to work he can shorten his apprenticeship 
 20 
 
CHILDREN OF THE STREAM 
 in woodcraft and do it all alone, if he will study 
 Systematic Botany and Entomology ; read the 
 books of Seton Thompson and Livingston 
 Stone, and Wordsworth's poems ; and then, 
 with a proper mixture of energy and caution, 
 go into the woods with the zeal of a lover, pre- 
 pared for accidents and hardships, with eyes 
 wide open for minute inspection rather than 
 for general seeing. The object of his love is 
 not coy, and he need not be afraid to know too 
 much about her. 
 
 Nevertheless, any sportsman, young or old, can 
 do more, learn more, and enjoy more with a 
 good guide than without one. They vary, these 
 guides, in character and value, as do all other 
 human beings, but we are thinking only of the 
 thorough woodsman guide who has knowledge, 
 self-respect, and pride in his calling. He is a 
 keen, versatile sportsman. He cares for your 
 health and does the work of a valet in a moth- 
 erly fashion. He carves out the fuel while you 
 admire him as an athlete and a sculptor. He 
 
 21 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 cooks with the dignity and skill of a laboratory 
 'professor, but he is not professorial after the 
 dishes are washed, by the camp fire in the even- 
 ing, when he is your peer, a modest, simple 
 gentleman, whose life has been away from 
 men, among the mute works of God. 
 When Hardy came to the trout hatchery and 
 met John, it was in the early spring, before the 
 snow and ice had gone, while the forest was 
 still black and the only leaf colors were the 
 deep greens of the spruces, hemlocks, and bal- 
 sams. The hatchery was in its most interest- 
 ing and wonderful period. In shallow troughs 
 of blackened boards, in a gently flowing cur- 
 rent of spring water, he saw thousands of feeble 
 swimmers that looked like animated half-inch 
 finishing-nails. These were trout in the third 
 stage of their existence, learning to swim and 
 to eat ; being tenderly equipped for a fierce 
 struggle for life, in which the days without 
 hunger or danger would be few indeed ; in 
 which tragedies would be frequent and which 
 22 
 
CHILDREN OF THE STREAM 
 
 would surely end in tragedy. It is not reason- 
 able to expect any sportive or humorous ten- 
 dency to develop among the survivors of a race 
 whose energy is devoted to getting food and 
 avoiding danger. A trout is a fierce and 
 solemn brute, that does not fight unnecessarily, 
 and that does not hesitate to eat his own 
 brother, sister, or children, when by any chance 
 they most conveniently satisfy his appetite. He 
 is an exemplar of that singleness of purpose 
 and concentrated effort which we, as sages, ad- 
 vise the young to emulate, but which in our 
 own lives we find quite unsatisfactory. 
 These baby trout, the " fry," were being fed 
 five or six times a day by carefully distributing 
 minutely ground liver in the water in the 
 troughs. As the floury substance sank to the 
 bottom, Hardy, by careful watching, could oc- 
 casionally see a particle consumed by a listless 
 baby. Apparently none of them ate these par- 
 ticles except during the time they were float- 
 ing freely in the water, and it seemed to him 
 
 23 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 wasteful that the caretaker should, soon after 
 serving food, proceed to sweep the bottom 
 clean with a hawk's-wing feather. He learned, 
 later, how surely tainted food kills all the young 
 trout in a trough. 
 
 The hatchery had at this time many other pro- 
 cesses than the feeding-troughs which were of 
 interest, for, happily, the beginnings of life, 
 from the egg to the fry, are so delicate as well 
 as beyond all understanding, are accelerated or 
 retarded so subtly, that they do not come out 
 all at once like the blossoms of an apple tree, but 
 develop day by day, some early and some late, 
 covering a period of many days. If the pro- 
 visions of Nature were otherwise, few of those 
 born naturally in the streams could live, and 
 artificial hatching would have an almost insur- 
 mountable difficulty. 
 
 If Hardy had come a little earlier to the 
 troughs, he would have seen nearly submerged 
 blackened wooden frames with bottoms of 
 moderately coarse wire-netting, and these 
 24 
 
CHILDREN OF THE STREAM 
 
 paved with pearls, the yet unhatched eggs. He 
 did see, in adjoining troughs, little alevins lying 
 quietly in great masses. The eggs were still 
 attached to their slender bodies, and they re- 
 minded him of classic drawings of the heart 
 pierced with an arrow. This was their dawn 
 of consciousness, and their only movements 
 seemed to be made by the current of water that 
 was rustling among them. Nevertheless, their 
 little hearts were beating and their organs were 
 making muscle from the yolk of the egg to 
 which they were attached. 
 Hardy had so many questions to ask that he 
 was afraid of forgetting them, but it was cold 
 and damp, and the men were eagerly busy. 
 There was also great difficulty with his weak 
 voice in making himself heard. A rush of 
 water came into the hatchery through 5 -inch 
 pipes, and poured, as it seemed to him, with a 
 uselessly heavy fall into a head trough, where 
 it rushed noisily along until it was exhausted 
 by successive taps which took contributions 
 
 25 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 from it to the troughs that held the trout fry. 
 After supper, by the fire, he had no difficulty 
 in getting answers from John. 
 " Trout fry," said John, " are like all other 
 babies; they're always wantin' somethin'. 
 When they don't get enough food they hunt 
 up diseases, and when they have enough food 
 they yearn for accidents. The worst disease 
 is fungus, which grows on fry or on old trout 
 just as fungus grows on trees. Fact is, it comes 
 from fresh boards or from sawdust. The rea- 
 son a saw-mill kills all the trout is that saw- 
 dust breeds fungus, not because the sawdust 
 chokes the fishes' gills, as some people think. 
 Nothin' can save a trout after a white fungus 
 spot comes, for it grows larger and larger, until 
 he turns on his side and dies. It 's contagious, 
 and when fungus comes you can't pick the sick 
 ones out fast enough to save many. Of course 
 you can check it a little by puttin' salt in the 
 water, but the best way is to prevent it alto- 
 gether by burnin' all the wood in the troughs 
 26 
 
CHILDREN OF THE STREAM 
 
 and trays until the surfaces are charred, or else 
 by paintin' everything with asphalt, which is 
 about as sure. Then there is dropsy yr blue 
 swellin', gill fever, fin disease, and lots of other 
 small troubles which carry off weak ones that 
 are perhaps not worth savin'. But sometimes 
 the strong ones get logy, stop eatin' for a few 
 days and then die. This comes of high livin' 
 and pure water. It 's easy to cure it by puttin' 
 mud in the water. I know one hatchery where 
 they had pure spring water, right out of the 
 rock, and the fry fatted up and died. They led 
 the spring into an artificial pond where cattle 
 came to drink and riled it every day. After that 
 they had no more logy trout. You don't be- 
 lieve it ? It 's true. The hatchery is n't there 
 now, but I can show you the spring and the 
 cows. 
 
 " A good many trout are weak or imperfect 
 when they 're born, but after they 're thinned 
 out, I think starvation kills more than disease 
 does, so we feed 'em often and all they want. 
 
 27 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 It 's easy to feed the strong ones that stay up 
 in the lively water at the head of the trough ; 
 but the weak ones that get discouraged and drop 
 down the current toward the foot of the trough 
 need coddlin'. 
 
 u I don't see how these innocent fry can grow 
 up to be cannibals, but they do. All fish are 
 like some men that start right and go wrong. 
 Billy Drew tells a story and I know it 's true. 
 Last summer when he was fishi n' in Long Lake, 
 the buckskin thong that was fastened on his 
 watch slipped offhis pants' button and the watch 
 dropped out of his pocket into forty feet of 
 water. In the fall I was out with him spear- 
 in' pickerel, and when we come ashore I says, 
 c Billy, what makes that tickin' sound ? ' and 
 says he, ' I guess that's my watch.' And he 
 opened a ten-pound pickerel and found it, keep- 
 in' time just as natural as any watch. The 
 thong was looped on the pickerel's jaw, and 
 was more or less wound on the stem-winder, 
 and the motions of bitin' and digestin' kep' the 
 28 
 
CHILDREN OF THE STREAM 
 
 watch spring tight as a drum, for a pickerel 
 never rests." 
 
 "John," said Hardy, " is that all true ? " 
 "I'm afraid it ain't all true," said John. " You 
 can't depend on Billy on the part of the weights 
 he gives for fish. I never thought his pickerel, 
 without the watch, weighed more 'n about 
 eight pounds, but the point is true that all fish 
 are hungry sometimes, not all times, and '11 bite 
 almost anything. 
 
 " In a few weeks, when the fry in our troughs 
 have learned what fun it is to eat, they '11 begin 
 to object to our bill of fare, and call it monot- 
 onous and hold indignation meetin's and inquire 
 of each other if any one ever heard of havin' 
 nothin' but liver to eat six times a day. A 
 good many '11 conclude that there 's more va- 
 riety and excitement outside, and they '11 crowd 
 under the tail-board, and into the wire meshes, 
 and die there. Then the black flies and mos- 
 quitoes will come and hover over the troughs 
 and the trout '11 leap for 'em and throw them- 
 
 29 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 selves over the sides to die on the floor. The 
 only thing that has more appetite than trout is 
 a reptile. Every crack in the hatchery needs to 
 be closed tight to keep out snakes, lizards, and 
 frogs. I found a frog at the troughs one morn- 
 in' and cut him open and counted out four 
 hundred fry." 
 
 " He must have belonged, or wanted to belong, 
 to the c Smart Set,' " said Hardy. " But what 
 is the result of all these diseases and accidents ? 
 How many fish, out of a thousand eggs, live ? " 
 " That depends on the eggs, and the diseases 
 and the accidents. Some lots of eggs produce 
 mostly weak or deformed fish, while other lots 
 hatch out 95 per cent of good ones. With- 
 out figurin' on serious accidents, such as the 
 breakin' away of the dam or freezin' of the 
 water in the intake pipe, when everything in 
 the hatchery may be lost, it 's good work in 
 this region to save three-quarters of 'em until 
 May and June, when we put out fry ; or half 
 of 'em to October, when we call 'em finger- 
 30 
 
CHILDREN OF THE STREAM 
 
 lings. This, of course, is thousands of times 
 better luck than trout have when they spawn 
 naturally in the streams. One man's guess is 
 as good as another's, but I don't suppose that 
 more 'n one out of a thousand natural born 
 eggs makes a trout that lives. If it did, they 
 would pretty soon be thick enough to raise the 
 river a foot a year." 
 
 " Mr. Hardy," said John, one evening in April, 
 " would you like to go with me to look up put- 
 tin'-out places for fry ? It '11 be a long walk, 
 so that we '11 have to stay out one night, and a 
 good deal of it will be bad goin', so we can't 
 carry much for comfort and food." 
 " Shall we camp out ? " 
 " Sure, we will." 
 
 " Then please take me along, and give me the 
 greatest pleasure of my life." 
 " I don't rightly see how gettin' tired and then 
 fightin' for comfort, as you have to do in camp- 
 in,' is pleasure. Seems to me a good supper, 
 a rockin' chair, a pipe, bed-time, and a soft bedj 
 
 3 1 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 gets a man a little nearer heaven than any- 
 thing else does, but I ' ve got to go and of course 
 I 'd like to have you go along, if you think you 
 can stan' it. Last August I went over all the 
 spring brooks in this region and made a list of 
 all that went dry and of all that were alive in 
 the dry season, so that this spring we could 
 stock with fry all the livin' brooks." 
 u Why, then, John, do you need to go now and 
 look them all over again ? " 
 " Because a man with a carry-can and thirty 
 pounds of water hammerin' his back at every 
 step needs easy goin', and I want to look up 
 the shortest and easiest ways to get to the little 
 creeks and blaze out lines for the carry-men to 
 follow. If I don't do that, they are liable to 
 get tired and turn all the trout loose in the first 
 stream they come to, and then rest an hour or 
 so and come back to the hatchery lookin' just 
 as if they loved hard work. I want 'em to fol- 
 low my lines and cut a notch on a tree by the 
 brook wherever a can has been emptied, and 
 3 2 
 
CHILDREN OF THE STREAM 
 then when I come along I '11 know they have 
 been there." 
 
 " I see," said Hardy, " the tree takes a receipt 
 and holds it for you as cestui que trust. But 
 how many trout do you put in one stream, and 
 why do you put them in the very small spring 
 brooks ? " 
 
 " We put 'em in the smallest livin' brooks and 
 scatter 'em as much as possible, so they can hide. 
 Each one needs a sunk leaf, or a chip, or a 
 stone, or a twig, to hide under ; just big enough 
 to cover him and not attract the curiosity of an 
 enemy the smaller the better. You see every- 
 body is waitin' for him and lookin' for him from 
 the moment he is put out until he is killed, and 
 he 's a-goin' to live anywhere from one second 
 to ten years, accordin' to his luck, but the kill- 
 in' is sure. I never knew of a trout dyin' of 
 old age, although I 've heard of it ; but you 
 - hear of a good many things. His worst ene- 
 mies are his own kind, his older brothers and 
 sisters, father and mother, uncles and aunts ; and 
 3 33 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 that 's why we put out fry in the smallest possible 
 streams, too small to hold big trout. We put 
 out a can of little trout last year on a shoal in 
 the lake, and a few minutes afterward I flycasted 
 and caught a quarter-pounder that had fourteen 
 of our little home-made trout inside of him. 
 " Then there are the kingfishers, fish-hawks, 
 weasels, mink, muskrats, snakes, frogs, and 
 lizards, all a-lookin* for him with beady eyes. 
 He has a hard time tryin' to lead a quiet, re- 
 tired life and grow up and get fat and please 
 a fly fisherman, and that 's the reason they need 
 to be scattered at first as much as possible, so 
 each little fish can have his own pet leaf or stone 
 to live under. He '11 make short trips from it 
 to catch an insect, and then slip back to digest 
 it. A pack-can load, about 5000 fry, ought to 
 be scattered along eighty to a hundred and sixty 
 rod of a very small brook." 
 " When is the best time to put out trout ? " 
 " I don't know. I used to put J em out just 
 when they had used up the eggs they had been 
 34 
 
CHILDREN OF THE STREAM 
 fastened to and livin' on since they were born 
 and when they were gettin' free from the sacs 
 just before they'd learned to eat with their 
 mouths. This has a good many advantages, 
 for you can carry twice as many safe in the 
 can, and you save the expense of food and feed- 
 in* in the hatchery, and I hope that one in a 
 hundred of 'em lived, but I doubt it. A few 
 years ago I got orders to hold the fry in the 
 hatchery and feed 'em for a year before puttin' 
 out. Probably one-third of them lived to be 
 yearlin's, which was good enough, but we fig- 
 ured that from first to last these yearlin's cost 
 five cents apiece. Now we 're holdin' the 
 fry in the troughs and gettin' 'em as fat and 
 frisky as possible, so 's to put out just before hot 
 weather comes. Then we close the hatchery 
 and stop expense until September." 
 " I wish you would tell me, John, just how the 
 fry are carried and put out. You know I have 
 enlisted for that work when the time comes." 
 " If I tell it all, I '11 need to begin now and talk 
 
 35 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 fast so as to get through in the next three weeks. 
 If the weather 's cool and you have only a few 
 miles to carry, everything is easy. You can 
 put 5000 fry in about four gallons of water, 
 and with a forty-pound pack you can walk 
 through without stoppin' and not lose a trout. 
 You '11 only break your back and pound your 
 knees sore, for water 's the hardest load a man 
 can carry. Trout live in less water while be- 
 in' carried in a pack-can than in any other way, 
 because every step churns the water and mixes 
 fresh air with it, and that is just what the trout 
 want. They breathe air, not water. But if 
 the carry is a long one, the water '11 get warm, 
 because your can is patterned to fit your back 
 pretty close, and warm water does n't hold air 
 in it anything like so easy as cold water does. 
 Then when you stop to rest you '11 see a lot 
 of fry strugglin' with their heads at the top of 
 the water, try in' to get air, and they '11 begin 
 to die fast unless you do somethin* right away. 
 Always stop to rest where there 's cold water, 
 
 36 
 
CHILDREN OF THE STREAM 
 but don't be in a hurry to put cold water in the 
 can, for a sudden change will kill a good many. 
 Set the can in the water and let it cool gradu- 
 ally, even if it takes half an hour, and while 
 you 're waitin' pour water from the can into 
 your cup and, holdin' it high up, pour the water 
 back again. In a little while you can safely 
 pour water from the can and throw it away, 
 and dip from the cold water and pour it in the 
 can. It 's fine to see the fry gradually get enough 
 air to satisfy 'em, and then drop to the bottom 
 and be comfortable and contented. 
 " As the weather gets warmer, you need to use 
 ice, but you mus' n't put the ice loose in the 
 can. It '11 rattle 'round and bruise and destroy 
 more trout than a mink would. I suppose 
 there 's a good many ways of carryin' ice with- 
 out hurtin' the trout, and probably some of 
 'em are better than our way. We put a few 
 pounds of ice on a piece of cheese-cloth, then 
 gether the ends together and tie 'em to the top 
 of the can, lettin' the bag of ice swing inside, 
 
 37 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 just free from the top of the water. The great 
 thing is to keep the fish pleased and satisfied, 
 so they '11 stay at the bottom. When any of 
 'em come to the surface, you may know that 
 trouble has begun and you must give 'em air 
 in some way, even if you have to pump it in 
 with bellows. It is n't a bad idea to carry along 
 a common fireplace bellows, and occasionally 
 give 'em a blowin' up. 
 
 " When you come to the water where the trout 
 are to be set free, set your can in the water and, 
 by dippin' and pourin' and waitin',get the same 
 temperature in the can as in the stream. If you 
 have to wait for this, put in your time a- 
 strollin' along the stream to see if there are too 
 many natural enemies to make it healthy for 
 your little friends. Then you can turn your can 
 carefully in the water and float out afew at a time 
 in likely places. It 's well, when your can is 
 emptied, to go along back quietly and see what 's 
 happened. You're liable to see a big trout 
 havin' lots of fun with the innocents abroad." 
 
 38 
 
A MAN WITH AN AXE 
 
 IN the morning they made an early start, 
 and as Hardy followed John he was full 
 of boyish joy, of a kind of exaltation he 
 had not felt since he had long ago looked for- 
 ward to a Sunday-school picnic. There was 
 still snow in the thick swamps, and it had only 
 lately gone from the hills and the hard-wood 
 flats, but the water had sunk in the duff the 
 sponge that covers the Adirondack rocks and 
 acts as a reservoir, gradually releasing the water 
 during dry times and helping to maintain a 
 more uniform flow from the springs and in the 
 streams. The sponge consists largely of resi- 
 nous leaves of the evergreens, which are slow 
 to decay and thus prevent the formation of hard 
 soil. As long as the trees are preserved so 
 that their shade prevents too rapid evaporation, 
 the natural reservoir system is automatically 
 
 39 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 perfect. To ruin it is as easy as it is to spoil 
 a watch, and careless lumbermen know how to 
 do it. 
 
 It occurred to Hardy that it was hard to keep 
 his heels near the ground. His buoyancy of 
 spirits and the marvellous elasticity of the North 
 Woods trail gave him the feeling of bounding 
 and rebounding, and he thought of himself as 
 the striking bag in the gymnasium where he 
 had so often worked. John's equipment and 
 his carriage made a striking figure. His pack- 
 basket seemed to emphasize his erectness. He 
 stepped quickly and with the least possible ex- 
 ertion, but so lightly that Hardy could not hear 
 his footfalls. He never seemed to be looking 
 for his footing, yet he skipped the sticks and 
 stones on which Hardy, in spite of his care, 
 was often noisily stumbling. John's eyes kept 
 constant watch, both far and near, while Hardy 
 had need of all this sense to guide his steps. 
 u Better not watch your feet so much," said 
 John, as they halted for a rest. " Step high 
 40 
 
A MAN WITH AN AXE 
 and look ahead and all 'round and see what 's 
 goin' on. When you are trampin' in the woods 
 always be still and try to see everything unu- 
 sual. You '11 soon learn to watch the ground 
 the same time you 're lookin' ahead. You can 
 see logs and sticks, ahead of you, out of the 
 under side of your eyes, and allow for 'em when 
 you get to 'em, without lookin' at 'em. Don't 
 drag your toes, and never step on a stick or a 
 stone when there is any other footin', unless 
 you really want to slip and make a noise and 
 never see anything. Noise does n't do any good, 
 and it frightens everything that can run or hide. 
 You step on a twig and see only the flash of 
 a deer's flag as it goes out of sight over a knoll. 
 I 'm a-thinkin' you might cure that cough of 
 yours, Mr. Hardy, if you don't mind the bitter 
 taste of balsam blister. You '11 be more com- 
 fortable and have a chance to see more if you 
 git red of it." 
 
 As he was speaking, John had opened his 
 knife and neatly wiped and polished its blade 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 on a leaf. He turned to a balsam tree and 
 pricked the lower edge of a blister. He then 
 flattened the blister with his forefinger and 
 pressed out on the clean knife-blade a few 
 drops of thin, amber-colored gum, and offered 
 it to Hardy. 
 
 " It would be easier to swallow if I had a lump 
 of sugar to drop it on," said he. 
 " What a spicy woods' odor it has ! " said 
 Hardy, hesitating. " It is inspiring. It is the 
 heart of the woods." 
 
 " It smells good, but it tastes bad, and it '11 
 cure you, if you '11 carry lumps of sugar in your 
 pocket and take a few drops of balsam two or 
 three times a day. There 's plenty of cough 
 medicine 'round here. Now, there 's Indian 
 turnip, or Jack-in-the-Pulpit." 
 " No, John, you would n't lure me into biting 
 that root, would you ? I tried it when I was 
 a boy, and I shall never forget the frightful burn- 
 ing and choking taste of Indian turnip." 
 " That 's right, when it 's fresh, but when the 
 42 
 
A MAN WITH AN AXE 
 root is dried it loses its caustic and is as bland 
 as a baked potato. It 's like arrow-root j you 
 grate it and a teaspoonful three times a day is 
 good for colds or fevers or bronchitis. When 
 you can't find Indian turnip, you can always 
 take the inner bark of wild cherry and make a 
 tea that is nearly as good for a cough." 
 u John, is n't that the leaf of the trailing 
 arbutus ? " 
 
 " Good eye ! good boy ! " said John. " I 've 
 been watchin' for it on every likely slope since 
 we started, and while we 've been restin' here 
 I 've been preachin' instead of lookin'. You '11 
 be a woodsman, for you can see." 
 By brushing aside the coating of dead hard- 
 wood leaves they uncovered a quantity of the 
 sweet and beautiful blossoms, and John told 
 Hardy of the habits of this lovely early flower 
 which plays hide-and-seek with the sunlight. 
 " But I don't know what they 're good for," 
 he added, regretfully, for in John's mind was 
 listed nearly every plant and shrub that grows 
 
 43 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 in the woods, and opposite its name was a dis- 
 ease or an accident it was " good for." 
 "Put this down in your mind, John," said 
 Hardy : " trailing arbutus is good for envy, 
 hatred, and malice." 
 
 The day was spent in hard work, and it seemed 
 to Hardy unaccountable that, in spite of his ath- 
 letic training, in the vigor of his youth, he soon 
 exhausted himself, while old John, carrying the 
 pack and a light axe, was tireless. The "going" 
 was distinctly bad, for they were blazing lines 
 to small spring-brooks which naturally head in 
 swamps and rough country. He had a valu- 
 able first lesson in the art of getting through the 
 woods and holding a line while skirting burned 
 ground, windfalls, high hills, and swamps. The 
 sun was nearly down when they reached an open 
 camp, with a spruce-bark roof, where they were 
 to spend the night. John swung his pack-bas- 
 ket to the ground quickly, and, with almost no 
 halt in his easy stride, kept on to a young hem- 
 lock tree. With his axe he trimmed away the 
 44 
 
A MAN WITH AN AXE 
 lower branches and the near-by witch hopples; 
 then with a few blows he cut out a notch in 
 the trunk on the side toward the camp. A cut 
 on the opposite side of the tree started it and 
 it fell with a soft swish. 
 
 " Mr. Hardy, we have considerable to do to get 
 comfortable before dark, and the first thing to 
 be sure of is a dry bed. You can break off 
 these hemlock boughs pretty fast, and when you 
 get a handful, put 'em down a little careful, 
 with the butts all one way, until you get a pile 
 big enough for an armful, and carry 'em into 
 camp, and then put 'em down again careful, in 
 piles, with the butts all one way. This '11 save 
 you a heap of trouble in makin' a bed by plant- 
 in' all the butts down, so we can sleep on the 
 soft tops." 
 
 John's lecture on bed making was illustrated, 
 and Hardy felt so confident of having already 
 mastered the art that he asked for the job, and 
 in half an hour he had finished it and tried it, and 
 wondered why houses were built or beds were 
 
 45 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 bought. He had learned to thatch the boughs 
 carefully and tightly, with the stiff stems buried 
 under the elastic tips. The air of the camp 
 seemed to be purified by the healing odor of 
 the evergreen, and the soft cushion promised a 
 restorative for his aching bones. 
 Meantime John had been busy with his axe. 
 He had " felled " a ten-inch yellow birch, lopped 
 itsbranches,and cut it into lengths rather shorter 
 than ordinary cord-wood. He had found a red- 
 spruce stump and cut and split from it sev- 
 eral armfuls of quick-burning wood for kind- 
 ling and for cooking. Hardy had finished his 
 task in time to see John begin the delicate work 
 of building his cooking-fire. 
 Possibly a woodsman's tool more nearly per- 
 fect and capable of a greater variety of uses 
 than the axe may sometime be invented, but it 
 does not seem probable. A two-handed cross- 
 cut saw is more economical of time and of 
 material, in falling and cutting lengths of tim- 
 ber in large quantities. An adz is somewhat 
 46 
 
A MAN WITH AN AXE 
 more convenient for flattening the upper side 
 of timber that cannot be easily turned over. A 
 broad-axe hews to the line more accurately. 
 A hammer or a maul, for special services, is 
 better than the poll of an axe. But in the hands 
 of a master the axe does all this work and much 
 other work, well and quickly. In the matter 
 of weight and pattern the masters have their 
 fancies. One may prefer a few ounces more 
 in the poll and less in the cheek, while another 
 prefers the slightly fatter cheek because it 
 throws a chip more smartly ; but the variations 
 in pattern from the development of centuries 
 of fining down are small indeed. There are 
 preferences for extra weight or for lightness, for 
 use in hard wood or soft wood, or for service 
 where the axe is to be carried more than it is 
 used, but the man with a three or three-and-a- 
 half pound sharp axe who complains of his tool, 
 is not a master. 
 
 There are leaning forest trees that cannot be 
 cut and dropped where the master wants them 
 
 47 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 to go without the use of a rope, but they are 
 not common, and he will study long before los- 
 ing belief that with his axe alone he can put 
 the tree where he wants it. He may possibly 
 drop an adjoining tree so that its crotch will be 
 hung up on the leaning one and act as a sway- 
 ing brace to swing the obstinate one in the way 
 it should go. Ordinarily, when a doomed tree 
 has been viewed from two sides, the exact line, 
 within a yard, where it is to fall, is quickly fore- 
 told, and when bushes or limbs that might in- 
 terfere with the full swing are cleared away 
 the rhythmic strokes begin. You could dance 
 to the perfect time and musical ring of the axe 
 until the great notch is cut; and the blows have 
 followed each other with such wonderful pre- 
 cision that the cut surface is as smooth as a 
 baby's cheek. No golfer can swing more truly 
 or carry through more freely than the trained 
 woodsman swings his axe. A few strokes on 
 the opposite side and the tree crashes down on 
 the chosen line. 
 48 
 
A MAN WITH AN AXE 
 But tree cutting is only one of the many uses 
 of the axe. Miles away from a grindstone, its 
 edge is guarded with the greatest care, and al- 
 though other tools are handy, the axe alone is 
 equal to all the requirements of building woods' 
 structures and operating them. We used to 
 think that John had no razor, although he al- 
 ways kept clean shaven. 
 
 " It seems to me, John, that you have cut 
 enough wood to do our cooking for a good 
 many days." 
 
 " So I have, Mr. Hardy, but we need about 
 all of that birch in place of blankets to-night. 
 Can't carry blankets on a raidin' trip like this, 
 and besides, with a good fire at your feet and 
 your head and shoulders wrapped in your coat, 
 you 're as comfortable as blankets could make 
 you. Of course, somebody has to wake up 
 whenever the fire goes down and kick it to- 
 gether and put on a fresh stick, and that hap- 
 pens every few hours. It 's a hardship when 
 you 're not used to it, for in the mornin' you 
 4 49 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 feel broke of your rest. But it 's queer how 
 soon you get into the habit and don't notice it. 
 I sometimes think that I get up and fix the fire 
 without wakin' up at all. When you have an 
 axe and can get yellow birch, everything is easy, 
 and it 's better green than when it 's seasoned 
 for a night fire. It 's the only tree I know that 
 is good firewood when the leaves are on, and 
 the bark is fine kindlin'. I suppose it 's made 
 so on purpose, and made to grow everywhere 
 in these woods, on high ground and on low 
 ground, always ready and waitin' for us to 
 make ourselves comfortable with an axe and a 
 match. Perhaps it '11 be better to have the night 
 fire ready before we get supper." 
 With increasing wonder Hardy watched this 
 operation, and when the structure was built he 
 felt so sure that everything was exactly wrong 
 side up that he expected John to complete the 
 work by tipping it bodily over. John had 
 placed, about three feet apart, as andirons, two 
 water-logged pieces of balsam. Spanning these 
 5 
 
A MAN WITH AN AXE 
 were three birch sticks, closely laid, and two 
 more birch logs were placed on top, rather 
 tightly fitted into the chinks of the logs below. 
 On top of this compact mass he put a few 
 handfuls of birch curl and an open structure 
 made of the dry spruce kindling-wood. 
 "That," explained John, " is a top fire. We '11 
 light the curl just before supper and have light 
 and heat right away, without havin' to wait for 
 it as you do when the fire is laid with the kind- 
 lin' under and the heavy wood above. Then 
 the top fire will eat slowly down into the birch 
 and we '11 have a stiddy fire that '11 last four 
 hours and give about the same amount of heat 
 all the time, instead of blazin' up high and 
 drivin' us out of camp and then burnin' itself 
 out." 
 
 Although Hardy was extremely anxious to help 
 in preparing the evening meal, he soon saw that 
 it was a work of art which the self-respecting 
 John took seriously, and that until he had ac- 
 quired skill by observation it was better to rest 
 
 5 1 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 and watch. As soon as the cooking-fire was 
 in good order and a kettle of water was swing- 
 ing above it, John made a careful toilet. He 
 combed his hair, and then, with shining face and 
 hands as clean as soap and water could make 
 them, he began his work. A true gentleman, 
 as pure and wholesome and self-respecting in 
 the wilderness as he would have been among 
 the restraints of civilization, John sliced the 
 bacon with neatness and dignity. He slightly 
 parboiled the bacon before frying it. He made 
 some crisp toast and poured over it the con- 
 tents of a can of soft clams that he had heated 
 and seasoned. He made a large quantity of 
 very weak tea, opened and vented with the cor- 
 ner of his axe a can of condensed milk, and 
 then quite unnecessarily asked Hardy if he was 
 hungry enough to eat something. 
 After breakfast the next morning, John devel- 
 oped his plan for the day. " I 'm a-thinkin% 
 Mr. Hardy, you 'd like to try your fly-rod. 
 It 's too early for trout to rise, and the river is 
 5 2 
 
A MAN WITH AN AXE 
 too high, and it has snow water in it, but you 
 never can tell. I have a boat above here, hid 
 out, that I could put in and paddle you 'round 
 while you see if there 's anything movin'." 
 It amused and mystified Hardy to see John 
 follow a straight course for a long distance 
 through the woods, where there were no visible 
 markings, and stop beside a mossy ridge upon 
 which pieces of bark and small limbs had ap- 
 parently for years been accumulating. When 
 these were brushed off the boat appeared. It 
 was rather heavy for a carry boat, but John 
 took it without difficulty the short distance to 
 the river, followed by his companion with the 
 oars and thwart. 
 
 Hardy was not a novice in the use of a fly-rod. 
 He landed the flies lightly and drew them 
 slowly on the surface of likely still-waters, or 
 allowed them to be fidgeted on a rift. He made 
 no attempts to cast far, unless it seemed to be 
 necessary to reach water where a trout ought 
 to be. For half an hour he patiently tried his 
 
 53 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 lures without the reward of any sign of life, 
 and without the suggestion of a complaint, for 
 he enjoyed it. He knew that he was doing 
 good work and that this was the limit of his 
 responsibility. 
 
 u Was there ever anything as glorious as this ? 
 This purple morning, lovely woods, and beau- 
 tiful, beautiful river ? I never want to leave 
 it." 
 
 " Might 's well leave it now as any time. You 
 can't ketch anything, but you can cast a fly. I 
 wonder if you feel strong enough to take a little 
 walk. There are two ponds a few miles north 
 of here, I don't rightly know how far, for I ran 
 on to 'em a-puttin' out dogs from the other side. 
 I believe I could find 'em and that you could 
 have some fishin', for the trout most generally 
 come earlier in the ponds than they do in the 
 river, on the part of the snow that melts into the 
 river and makes the trout think spring has n't 
 come. It is n't so terribly much out of our way 
 back, and we can sure get home by dark." 
 54 
 
A MAN WITH AN AXE 
 But in this estimate John did not allow enough 
 for vicissitudes in a strange country, or for the 
 aberrations of a tenderfoot. They found what 
 even he admitted to be " bad goin'," through a 
 stretch of burned ground which he unsuccess- 
 fully tried to get around. Charred pine and 
 spruce logs with sharp-pointed limbs were hid- 
 den in the briers and fire-weed. Hardy re- 
 peatedly tore his clothes and wounded his legs 
 and hands, and he had, too, an unformulated 
 loss of self-respect, probably due to his stum- 
 bling as well as to his blackened hands and face. 
 His shoe-strings were an annoyance, for he 
 stopped to re-tie them many times before it 
 dully occurred to him to tie them in hard knots. 
 His feet were sore and he was on the point of 
 confessing his miserable condition when John 
 relieved him by saying : u This is gittin* to be 
 a little tough, but I see a line of green timber, 
 and likely there 's water there that helped to 
 stop the burnin'." 
 
 It was a relief to hear from John that now he 
 
 55 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 knew u the lay of the country, and we can't be 
 far from the lake," but nevertheless it was a 
 long distance, and it was past noon when they 
 ate their lunch on a jutting point opposite a 
 rocky shoal in the beautiful mountain pond. 
 There was a great splash in the water. 
 " Did you see that ? " said John. "That trout 
 weighed a pound if he weighed an ounce. Get 
 your rod together quick. We have time yet 
 to ketch a basketful and get home before dark 
 if you'll jint up quick." 
 
 What pain is so keen, or what misery so hope- 
 less as that which comes from the conscious- 
 ness of being a fool ? In such a case human 
 sympathy is odious. Pitying and encouraging 
 words are maddening. When Hardy had con- 
 fessed that he did not know where his rod was, 
 that he had laid it down somewhere in the 
 woods, he bitterly resented John's mild attempt 
 to palliate his inexcusable carelessness. 
 " Where were you when you felt it in your 
 hands last?" 
 56 
 
A MAN WITH AN AXE 
 "I don't know. I had it when we left the boat, 
 but I stopped seven times in the burned ground 
 to tie my shoes, and I fell down three times. I 
 know I had it in my hands each time I fell 
 down." 
 
 " You probably left it where we rested in the 
 green timber," said John, " and I '11 just step 
 back and get it." 
 
 " Now," said he, when he returned with the 
 rod more than an hour later, " work pretty fast, 
 if you want to sample this fishin' and get home 
 to-night. It 's a-goin' to rain, and there 's no 
 roof around here." 
 
 Hardy's casting was not as precise as the ex- 
 hibition he had made on the river. The bushes 
 interfered with the back cast, a storm was 
 coming and the flurries of rising wind made it 
 difficult, but the rewards were great. Nearly 
 every successful cast brought an answer from 
 the troubled water, and he had enough trout and 
 big enough trout when John called a halt. 
 " Now we are in trouble. That sky is a-goin' 
 
 57 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 to fall in, and it '11 be black dark in an hour 
 from now." 
 
 The warning was even shorter than that, for 
 they had just reached the outlet and stood by a 
 riven pine, when a record-breaking downpour 
 of rain came upon them. They were quick- 
 ly soaked, and John prophesied, " It '11 keep 
 a-comin' all night." To Hardy the situation 
 seemed hopeless, and it was not softened by re- 
 membering that it was due to the delay caused 
 by his own carelessness with his rod. But 
 John rose to the emergency. He seemed to 
 love trouble. 
 
 " Put your waterproof over that pack-basket, 
 Mr. Hardy. We have n't much there to eat, 
 but we want to keep what there is. This don't 
 look very promisin', but there 's no place in the 
 woods where you can't get comfort if you hev 
 an axe and matches." 
 
 Hardy stood in the downpour and watched, 
 and helped handily wherever he could, while 
 John with his axe quickly girdled a large 
 
 58 
 
A MAN WITH AN AXE 
 spruce, making one cutting near the ground 
 and a second one as high as he could reach ; 
 and then with a long wedge, which he called 
 a " spud," made from a sapling, prized the 
 sheet of bark from the tree. He secured sev- 
 eral of these sheets. 
 
 Like a shop foreman, who knows exactly 
 where each tool is, and where the raw material 
 is stored, John went without hesitation to a 
 bunch of second growth in a near-by windfall 
 and chose and cut two birch saplings whose 
 main crotches were about six feet from the 
 ground. He quickly cut and trimmed an arm- 
 ful of poles of various sizes, which Hardy helped 
 to carry in. He planted the birch saplings in 
 the duff, four feet apart, and drove them until 
 the crotches were only four feet high. A short 
 cross-bar was put in the crotches, and the fa- 
 cade was complete. Two strong poles, eight 
 feet long, sloped from each crotch downward 
 and backward, parallel to each other, to where 
 they were embedded in the duff. A few poles 
 
 59 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 were laid on this wedge-shaped frame to sup- 
 port the sheets of bark that were put on it. A 
 sheet of bark was braced to each side and part- 
 ly supported by a few armfuls of moss which 
 were packed against them, and the one-night 
 stand was complete. It was made by a man 
 with an axe. 
 
 It seemed barely possible for two men to get 
 cover and to sleep comfortably in this little 
 camp, if it were not for the fact that the sponge 
 inside the camp was reeking with rain water 
 and that their clothing was equally wet. 
 " That 's easy," said John, " if we can get fire." 
 He cut up two young birch-trees, but did not 
 split the logs, leaving the bark to keep the wood 
 dry. Hardy gathered from the dry side of a 
 huge birch-tree as much of its resinous bark, or 
 "curl," as he could protect with his water- 
 proof until it was under the shelter of the camp. 
 Then John cut out of the dead riven pine, slabs 
 and slivers for kindling, which Hardy hastily 
 put under cover. When all was ready for the 
 60 
 
A MAN WITH AN AXE 
 fire, he held up a sheet of bark as a roof while 
 John started the tiny flame. When the heat 
 became intolerable John made another roof for 
 it of heavy spruce boughs, which deflected 
 enough rain to protect the now increasing fire. 
 This was slow work, and it was late in the even- 
 ing when the camp was dried by the roaring fire 
 in front of it, the supper of trout, bacon, and 
 tea cooked and eaten, their clothes hung inside 
 the shelter, steaming before the fire, and the 
 two sportsmen, in their first-birthday suits, 
 were comfortably smoking while the rain con- 
 tinued to come. Perfect comfort came later, 
 won, as John had said, with an axe and a match. 
 With dried clothes in a dry camp they watched 
 the fire and exultingly listened to the rain. 
 " Rain leaves you in better shape than salt wa- 
 ter does," said John. " At Fort Fisher we had 
 to dry out without any fire." 
 " Were you in the Civil War ? " 
 All through." 
 
 Sleep was beginning to have charms for Har- 
 
 6t 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 dy, but stories of the Civil War had a fascina- 
 tion which he never resisted. 
 " Tell me what you did at Fort Fisher." 
 " I did n't do much in the first attack, nor very 
 much in the second one. General Butler sent 
 our regiment ashore in surf-boats and of course 
 we were soaked. We crawled up in the night 
 pretty near to the stockade of the fort and lay 
 there without a sound, about as uncomfortable 
 as men could be, waitin' and hopin' for an order 
 to rush the fort and get warm. Then we got an 
 order to march back to the boats, and that 's all 
 I know of the first attack on Fort Fisher." 
 John's story, as he told it, was much longer 
 than this, and Hardy was now really sleepy. 
 Nevertheless, he could not resist the temptation 
 to start John on the story of the second attack 
 on Fort Fisher. 
 
 " General Terry commanded us the second 
 time. I only know the part of it I was in. The 
 fort was full of Johnnies when we got there, 
 and our company was ordered to make holes 
 62 
 
A MAN WITH AN AXE 
 through the stockade, on the part of our all be- 
 in' woodsmen and handy with an axe and a 
 rifle. The Rebels had a mean way of hangin' 
 their rifles over the top of the stockade andspat- 
 terin' us while we were choppin'. So we paired 
 off, one man to chop and the other to watch with 
 a rifle. Billy Drew and I were partners. He 
 did the shootin' while I did the chopping and he 
 always claimed that he had good luck. When 
 I got an openin' we went in to see what was 
 goin' on and we saw a white flag and felt pretty 
 good. There was a good deal goin' on, on the 
 parade-ground, so Billy and I kep' together and 
 walked along by the bomb-proofs, till a Rebel 
 captain, who had n't heard about his surrender, 
 suddenly jumped out and knocked Billy down 
 with the butt of his revolver. He was so spry 
 that before I could turn my musket he had an 
 under holt on me and we rassled " 
 John's story was stopped by a sound not unlike 
 the soughing of the pines. Nature's sweet re- 
 storer was wrestling with Hardy. 
 
 63 
 
THE TWO LONS 
 
 FOR a fortnight they had been carrying 
 brook trout from the hatchery and set- 
 ting them free in the streams. Every 
 morning the train of men started soon after 
 daylight, each man carrying a ten-gallon tin 
 can, slightly concave on the inside next to the 
 back, and supported by two broad straps, which 
 started from the middle of the inside upper rim. 
 Each strap passed forward over a shoulder and 
 returned under the arm to where it was again 
 attached to the lower inside corners of the can. 
 A pack-basket is strapped in the same way, but 
 a pack-basket is a joy, while a pack-can is some- 
 thing else. The basket is elastic and, properly 
 adjusted, it fits the back, so that as the carrier 
 leans slightly forward the pressure of the load 
 is taken somewhat evenly along the back and, 
 64 
 
THE TWO LONS 
 
 through the straps, upon the shoulders. An 
 ordinary man with some training carries forty 
 pounds easily and learns to love his pack, while 
 a trained woodsman does not usually begin to 
 formulate his objections until he has been loaded 
 beyond seventy pounds. A pack-can, with four 
 gallons of water in which four or five thousand 
 trout fry are taking their first long journey, is 
 an uncompromising, ill-behaving load. Hardy 
 faithfully performed his new duties, carrying 
 his water load sometimes as far as ten miles 
 with the rest of the carriers, and returning to 
 the hatchery the same day; but the first week 
 was a week of trials. His easy, swinging, ath- 
 letic walk was not adapted to the service. He 
 was a race horse hitched to a plow. He had 
 to learn, and he did learn, to walk straight, with 
 no side motion ; to plant his foot, bearing on 
 the sole more than on the heel, with the toes 
 pointing exactly-forward, so as to make his foot- 
 prints nearly tandem. Any variation from this 
 way of walking sent thirty pounds of water 
 S 65 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 surging from side to side and developed many 
 foot-pounds of energy which he must bracehim- 
 self to counteract. 
 
 When he had learned to walk in this Indian 
 fashion, he wondered why any one should ever 
 have been taught to walk in any other way. He 
 soon learned that he could walk a log spanning 
 a stream with confidence and certainty, that he 
 made less noise and gathered less dew from the 
 moose maples and witch hopples that hovered 
 to the edge of the narrow trails, and that after 
 a long tramp he still had something left in him. 
 John was not often with the carrying party ; 
 he had other duties ; but Hardy was conscious 
 of being carefully looked over every night by 
 his watchful guardian, who asked fewquestions, 
 but was prompt in diagnosis and with remedies. 
 For the bodily damage done by the can and the 
 straps before he became hardened, John had 
 an infallible ointment, made from an infusion 
 of St. John's-wort flowers in lard, The heal- 
 ings were quick, but this healthy young man 
 66 
 
THE TWO LONS 
 
 was a splendid patient. He rebelled once when 
 John offered him, as he came in tired and hun- 
 gry, a teaspoonful of powder grated from the 
 root of the moccasin flower. 
 " What is that good for, John ? " 
 " It stiddies the nerves. It would make a crazy 
 woman set still." 
 
 " Then it is not what 1 want. I want to swim 
 in the river, and then I want food." 
 u That 's a good sign, but I am a-thinkin', Mr. 
 Hardy, that change-works would be good for 
 you, if you won't take the moccasin root. I 
 have an errand. Lon Yule, over on IndianLake, 
 has a boat that I want. It 's a 'leven-foot-bot- 
 tom carry-boat, with spruce oars, that Dwight 
 Grant built for him last winter. It weighs 
 forty five pounds, yoke and all. It 's too light 
 for him, but it 's just what I want. I hear that 
 he upset a sportsman the other day, and I lay 
 he '11 sell it for forty dollars. Would you like 
 to go and buy it ? " 
 There was never any question as to Hardy's 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 willingness for a new experience, and he ex- 
 pressed his eagerness to go. 
 " The river trail to the big bend that we call 
 the Devil's Elbow is pretty good goin', but it 
 must be a matter of seven miles. You can't 
 miss it if you are careful. The blazes are old, 
 but they 're all there, and you stick right to 'em, 
 even if they do seem to lead back from the river 
 most of the time. The river is crooked, and 
 besides, the best goin' is generally back on the 
 slopes and the ridges. When you get to the 
 Elbow you '11 know it, because the trail ends 
 there. At this stage of water you can wade 
 across, but I think you '11 find it more comfort- 
 able to take your stockin's out of your shoes 
 before you wade, and put 'em on dry when you 
 get across, for you have three miles further to 
 go on the trail that leads to Lon's place on 
 Indian Lake. You speak my name to Lon and 
 he '11 treat you right. If I should go he 'd know 
 just what I come for and his boat would come 
 dear. With your college education you can 
 68 
 
THE TWO LONS 
 
 do better than I can. When you buy it, you 
 might hire Lon to carry it back as far as the 
 Elbow and put it away careful in the shade 
 where nobody '11 run on to it, but be sure and 
 remember where you put it. Be careful to 
 stand the oars with the handles up in the thick 
 branches of a balsam or hemlock, so hedge- 
 hogs can't reach the handles and gnaw 'em." 
 " What are hedgehogs good for, John ? " 
 " I wish I knew, and if I ever find out I '11 get 
 somebody to start a factory and gether 'em all 
 in and work 'em up. A scientific party, I don't 
 rightly know what his speciality was, come 
 here last year and he had a terrible curosity. 
 He asked about most everything and kep' me 
 so busy talkin' that I did n't take notice, at first 
 of how much he knew. Then the first question 
 I asked him was what hedgehogs was good for. 
 I wrote down what he said because it was what 
 I had thought of, but I could n't have told it. 
 He said : 
 " ' I do not know that \ but I do know that Na- 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 ture is perfect and that all living things are 
 mutually dependent. There is a delicate bal- 
 ance, far beyond our present understanding, 
 which we might disturb by exterminating any 
 one of God's creatures/ 
 
 " That sounds true," said John ; " but there 
 must be a mistake on the part of hedgehogs, for 
 they put in ten hours a day lookin' for boats 
 and oars and camps to gnaw and destroy." 
 "I think," said Hardy,"that I should very much 
 like to make the trip to Indian Lake, and I will 
 do my best to make a good bargain for you and 
 carry the boat back to the Elbow. I shall not 
 need Lon's help in that, for I have seen you 
 carry a boat and I should like to learn how to 
 do it." 
 
 u There is n't much to learn, except to just do 
 it, and be careful. Always be careful where 
 you step when you have a boat over your head, 
 for the boat yoke fits the shoulders and close 
 'round the neck,and if you slip or stumble some- 
 thin' will likely be damaged." 
 70 
 
THE TWO LONS 
 
 Hardy started early in the morning for his first 
 long tramp alone in the woods, and he was de- 
 lighted to observe that he was learning to see. 
 An Illinois boy, with a prairie training, he was 
 most impressed by the exhibit of timber trees, 
 but he knew so little of them that he soon de- 
 cided to save the subject of woods botany for 
 camp-fire talks with John. The solemn still- 
 ness of the woods, which he had earlier tried 
 to describe in a letter, did not now appear to 
 his better trained senses. The air was full of 
 small sounds, and in trying to locate and deter- 
 mine them he became involved in his favorite 
 diversion. 
 
 " I see a squirrel every ten steps that I take, 
 no, every thirty steps, but surely I do not see 
 half of them. It is safe to say that there is one 
 to each fifty feet ; one to each twenty-five hun- 
 dred square feet ; seventeen to the acre. I have 
 heard that the State of New York owns more 
 than a million acres of forest ; more than seven- 
 teen million squirrels. They ought to be worth 
 
 7 1 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 as much as a cent apiece ; an asset of more than 
 $170,000; but feres natures are not a legal 
 asset. That is a pipe dream." 
 As he attentively watched for the blazes that 
 indicated the trail, he learned to admire the in- 
 genuity of the man who had cut out the small 
 chips, breast high, so as to make the spot of 
 color, or blaze. In difficult country these signs 
 were numerous, but where it was open and the 
 trail was straight, the blazes were six or eight 
 rods apart. Nevertheless, as he passed one he 
 could always see the next one if he paid at- 
 tention. 
 
 An unfamiliar trail is always a long one, for it 
 is instinctively measured by experiences and not 
 by time. Hardy saw deer, ruffed grouse, ducks, 
 hedgehogs, and a great variety of smaller animal 
 life, but he probably did not see one-twentieth 
 of the animals that were watching him. He 
 remembered John's warning : 
 w There 's somethin' lookin' at you every step 
 you take." 
 72 
 
THE TWO LONS 
 In order to see things in the woods one needs 
 to look specifically and not generally. A trout 
 is small when seen from a boat or from the 
 bank. He does not need a boulder or a log for 
 a hiding-place, although he may sometimes be 
 found near either one. A stick or a stone that 
 is just large enough is good enough for him, 
 and he seems to know that it is less obtrusive 
 and less dangerous to lie quietly in the shadow 
 of a small stick, or alongside small blackened 
 stones, than in larger and more strongly marked 
 hiding-places. In learning to see, it is well to 
 experiment. Find a bank overhanging a likely 
 trout pool ; or still better, climb a few feet up 
 an overhanging tree. Look thoroughly, and 
 carefully count all the trout in sight ; then wave 
 your hat violently and make a fisherman's guess 
 at the number you may see scurrying away. 
 One person's eyesight is better than another's, 
 but the difference has only a slight effect in the 
 power of observation . The all-important qual- 
 ity is the habit of noting what is in sight, but 
 
 73 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 to the untrained woodsman there is so much in 
 sight, and so little is known of the leaves and 
 trunks of the timber trees, of the logs, rocks, 
 and undergrowth. He gazes broadly and his 
 eyes drink in the whole landscape, getting only 
 a slight taste of any one of its constituents. As 
 the patient takes a dose of" Warbourg's Tinc- 
 ture," which is said to be a blend of sixty-four 
 separate drugs, and which has but one flavor 
 a vile one so does the young deer-hunter 
 win noisily through bad going to an open space 
 and study the landscape in the large. He does 
 not know the leaves or their colors. He does 
 not note one that is in plain sight a dozen rods 
 off, of slightly different color, shape, and size 
 from any that ever grew on a tree. It is a 
 deer's ear, and the ever alert animal has heard, 
 or smelled, or seen him. He will stand still 
 until some one or all of his senses tell him where 
 his disturber is and that it is a man. He may 
 then noiselessly steal away and leave only a 
 fresh track to interest the sportsman, or he may 
 74 
 
THE TWO LONS 
 
 defiantly romp, bounding over the undergrowth 
 and showing a white flag to the mortified still 
 hunter. 
 
 Still hunting is perhaps the best possible train- 
 ing in the art of seeing. " Good form " con- 
 sists in lifting the foot at each step as high as 
 the knee and then slowly pushing the toe for- 
 ward over the witch hopples, and insinuating 
 it gently, without sound, through small obstruc- 
 tions to the next footstep on the ground ; al- 
 ways looking ahead through small openings 
 for small unusual spots ; peering over ridges, 
 or resting in cover where the open can be mi- 
 nutely studied. The pace is not rapid, perhaps 
 half a mile an hour, and in stealing along noise- 
 lessly the attitudes are absurd, but there are no 
 onlookers except wild animals. 
 The pleasure of being a sleuth hound and an as- 
 sassin is keen at first, but it is not lasting. The 
 best preparation for making every day and hour 
 in the woods a recreation, a training-school 
 in self-help, patience, generosity, and religion, 
 
 75 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 is to study and observe closely the form and 
 growth of every tree and smaller plant, the 
 habits and motives of every animal. Seeing 
 with knowledge is quite different from ignorant 
 looking. 
 
 Hardy had a thrill of pleasure when the trail 
 opened out at the great Elbow of the river. It 
 was his first landmark and he had made it surely, 
 and all by himself. He crossed the broad 
 beautiful rift easily, and as he was told to do 
 it. He poured the water from his shoes, re- 
 stored his dry stockings, and tramped merrily 
 on. " Wet leather is good leather," and he felt 
 refreshed. When he came to the lake, he swung 
 along the beach toward the boat-house that had 
 been described to him, and felt half mortified 
 when he noted that, long before he saw her, he 
 had been seen from the cabin and studied by a 
 woman's eye. The other eye and the portly 
 form of Mrs. Yule were characteristically with- 
 drawn from the open doorway. 
 John's name, when he mentioned it by way 
 
THE TWO LONS 
 
 of introduction of himself, caused a ripple of 
 pleasant recognition, a ripple not limited to her 
 countenance, but expanding into a gentle con- 
 vulsionwhich involved the whole quakingmass. 
 He felt that he was distinctly well received, al- 
 though the taciturn Alonzo, when he appeared, 
 was not at all demonstrative. He had been 
 warned that "Lon is slow gettin' acquainted," 
 so he made advances cautiously, determined to 
 give to this forty-dollar purchase his finest 
 diplomatic effort. The present duty is the all- 
 important one. Mrs. Lon seemed to be her 
 husband's facsimile in size and weight, and his 
 opposite in all other qualities. The supper was 
 abundant and the interval to bed-time was short. 
 Hardy noted that while Lon, in brief statements 
 of his own experiences, carefully repressed all 
 indications of his skill or strength, nevertheless 
 his massive helpmate always affectionately and 
 ingeniously brought into the open these qualities 
 which he undoubtedly possessed. 
 Hardy had acquired the early-rising habit, and 
 
 77 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 soon after daylight he was in the boat-house to 
 quietly inspect the subject of his embassy. He 
 saw, resting in stalls or pockets made of smooth 
 poles, boats which to his unaccustomed eye 
 seemed to be duplicates of each other. The 
 stern and bow were alike and were decked for 
 a foot or so from the stem toward the waist. 
 The gunwale lines swelled sharply out from 
 the bow and ran to amidships in a gradually 
 softened curve, becoming nearly but not quite 
 straight lines. They exactly repeated them- 
 selves from there to the stern. Hardy could not 
 discover a straight line in the hull. It was a 
 tangle of beautiful, varying curves, the result 
 of lives of study by skilful designers and expert 
 woodsmen. The strips of quartered pine that 
 formed the graceful shell were, in places, less 
 than an eighth of an inch thick. Each strip 
 had been chisel-edged and perfectly matched, 
 and riveted to its adjoining strip as it had been 
 moulded and screwed to the spruce knees which 
 had been fashioned to model the boat. The 
 
THE TWO LONS 
 
 matching and finishing had been so perfectly 
 done that the joints were not visible to him. 
 The surface was leathery ; it was a dainty, 
 graceful, and seaworthy boat, 
 
 " Built for freight, and yet for speed, 
 A beautiful and gallant craft." 
 
 Its place was on the water, right side up, but it 
 was well within an ordinary man's capacity to 
 carry one of them bottom side up, over the 
 head, balanced at the centre on a wooden yoke 
 carved out to fit the shoulders. 
 No man can be said to have invented or de- 
 signed the carry-boat, for it has been a slow 
 development, with improvements suggested by 
 use. A man can carry for a short distance 
 a pointed scow that may weigh two hundred 
 pounds and be capable of transporting four 
 men comfortably. Light canoes can be easily 
 carried by one man, but those that are light 
 enough for this purpose, being designed for 
 movement by a paddle instead of by oars, are 
 necessarily unseaworthy, even in small waters. 
 
 79 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 A light canoe is a pleasure toy, quite unsatis- 
 factory for most sporting purposes. 
 The designing of a boat fitted with oars and 
 a carrying yoke seems to have been begun 
 seriously by different persons -after the year 
 1860. In 1865 it was best known as the 
 " Saranac boat." The bow alone was pointed, 
 the gunwale lines tapering inward on nearly 
 a straight line from amidships to a narrow, 
 square stern. They were clinker-built, of thin 
 boards, each of whose lower edges lapped over 
 the board next below. They rarely weighed 
 less than one hundred and twenty-five pounds; 
 they leaked after much exposure to the sun and 
 wind ; but they were swifter and more stanch 
 than any canoe of similar weight, and the de- 
 signers were on the right track. 
 Since then it has been a pretty race in com- 
 petitive designing by men who have used the 
 boats as well as built them ; sturdy, ingenious 
 woodsmen who generously applauded each 
 
 other's successes. One of them was easily a 
 80 
 
THE TWO LONS 
 
 leader, for all got their best suggestions from 
 Henry Dwight Grant. Hulls have been built 
 of canvas, paper, aluminum, rawhide, Spanish 
 cedar, and pine ; but there is nothing like pine, 
 and it should come from the region of the 
 Great Lakes. It must be the very old white 
 pine that is called u cork pine," or " pumpkin 
 pine." It has narrow sapwood. It is received 
 in huge planks, five or six inches thick, each 
 containing two hundred or more feet, board 
 measure, and the honest builder overhauls many 
 of them to get and use one that is absolutely 
 free from shakes and knots, straight-grained 
 and strong. Then the planks are " quartered ; " 
 strips from a quarter to an eighth of an inch 
 thick rived out on a line toward the heart of 
 the tree. These are slowly seasoned and tested ; 
 and only the perfect, toughest strips, selected by 
 a master, should be used. A fourteen-foot ship 
 that weighs only sixty pounds and carries a 
 thousand pounds of load over rough water; 
 which is safe ; which travels easily faster than 
 6 81 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 four miles an hour ; which never leaks ; and 
 which lasts, with ordinarily good care, for 
 twenty years, needs to be made by a man 
 who knows how, and who is passionately fond 
 of being honest. 
 
 Hardy turned from his study of the boats and 
 stood on the landing platform. The morning 
 light and the yellow sand gave to the water the 
 color and glow of melted gold, It was irresist- 
 ible ; he took off his clothes and dove into the 
 amber bath. He dearly loved water and sun- 
 light, and he had discovered the charm of being 
 absolutely alone. He had the world to himself, 
 and no one saw him. He had noticed, resting 
 on wooden pins on the boat-house wall, a fly- 
 rod, strung up and ready for use. If the trout 
 had arrived on the shoals they would surely 
 come to this amber water. Everything was 
 coming his way this morning, and it was not 
 long before he had fastened a good trout. He 
 was in no mood to hurry or to end his pleasure, 
 so he played him long and carefully. He finally 
 82 
 
THE TWO LONS 
 
 led him to a smooth beach, giving the butt so 
 
 that the spring of the rod kept a uniform and 
 
 gentle tension, holding up the fish's head so that 
 
 his struggles caused him to travel slowly and 
 
 surely from the water to a quiet rest high up on 
 
 the beach. 
 
 " Good work ! " 
 
 He was not alone, for the two Lons, as he 
 
 named to himself this matched pair, were more 
 
 than filling the cabin doorway, from which 
 
 they had artlessly watched and enjoyed his 
 
 morning diversions. 
 
 After breakfast, when Hardy was considering 
 
 a natural and easy opening of the subject of his 
 
 mission, Alonzo was moved by the morning's 
 
 event to be communicative. 
 
 " That fly-rod was left by a young feller who 
 
 was here a spell ago. You can handle it, but 
 
 he could n't. He was all for fly-fishin'. I 
 
 took him to the creek and he kep' me a-climbin' 
 
 trees for his leader all day. Could n't get his 
 
 flies in the water very often, and I told him he 
 
 83 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 stood to ketch more birds than fish. Nothin' 
 would do but I must take him where he could 
 fly-fish from a boat, so I put the raider over 
 my head and took him to Round Pond. I set 
 in the stern and paddled with him in the bow, 
 facin' forrad. He throwed a fly with his 
 whole body and kep' the gunwales dippin', but 
 whenever he drawed back to throw I flatted the 
 blade of my paddle on the water and managed 
 to keep her right side up. Then he said his 
 legs cramped and he wanted to stan' up." 
 "Stan* up in a 'leven-foot boat !" Mrs. Lon 
 chorused. 
 
 " I told him I was willin' to try it if he was, 
 and we done it, but it was a chore. I spatted 
 the flat of the paddle on the water, first on one 
 side of the boat and then on the other, until I 
 was about to give it up, when he sot down and 
 said I did n't seem to know how to hold a boat 
 stiddy for a man that was fly-castin'. Said I 
 let the boat roll so 's 't he could n't do real fine 
 work. Pretty soon he had a new idee, for he 
 84 
 
THE TWO LONS 
 
 was pretty near crazy, seein' the trout bilin' all 
 around us and jumpin' for his flies, that were 
 most of the time tangled or caught in the back 
 of his shirt. He said he could put a fly jest 
 where he wanted to, if he could only set where 
 his feet wa'n't cramped under the forrad deck. 
 " c Let me set right up on the deck,' says he, 
 1 with my legs hangin' over forrad, and I '11 
 show you how to ketch them fish ! ' 
 " c No, you won't,' says I, for I was 'most be- 
 ginnin' to get mad. 
 " ' Be you a coward ? ' says he." 
 " Ast Lon if he was a coward ! " chorused 
 Mrs. Lon with indescribable scorn. 
 " ' No, I ain't a coward,' says I ; c you set there, 
 damn you !' So he slid his feet forrad and sot 
 on the deck, and I folded my arms and smoked 
 my pipe, and the boat went bottom side up, as 
 of course I knew it would. He come up, holdin' 
 his rod. 
 
 u ' Can you swim ? ' says he. 
 " ' No, I can't,' says I, ' but you keep away from 
 
 85 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 me and go to the bottom or go ashore, I don't 
 care which.' So he swum off and I straddled 
 my boat and paddled ashore with my hands." 
 Again Mrs. Alonzo was anxious to show off 
 her partner. u You did n't let your pipe go out, 
 did you, Lon ? " 
 
 " No, my pipe did n't go out, but it was as much 
 as that 'leven-fbot boat could do to keep it 
 dry. It 's rather light for me." 
 Lon had himself made the opening and a few 
 minutes later he no longer owned the eleven- 
 foot-bottom carry-boat. 
 
 The oars were laid in the boat, with the han- 
 dles forward and the blades aft, and tied fast 
 with buckskin thongs. The yoke was set in 
 its notches inside each gunwale and made fast 
 with thongs. Hardy tucked his hat and coat 
 under the forward deck and then carefully imi- 
 tated the form he had watched but had never 
 before attempted. He stood at the starboard 
 side and, leaning over the boat, grasped the port 
 gunwale with his right hand, the starboard gun- 
 86 
 
THE TWO LONS 
 
 wale with his left hand, and lightly lifted the 
 boat over his head. When the yoke nestled 
 to a firm bearing on his shoulders, he cheer- 
 fully said good-bye and strode off on the trail 
 with a confident feeling that everything was all 
 right. Before he had gone a quarter of a mile 
 he believed that he had reached the limit of 
 human endurance. He was partly suffocated, 
 but he rested and thought about it. His too 
 free swinging had often shifted the yoke against 
 his neck and checked a free circulation, which 
 he very much needed. After many experi- 
 ments he learned to carry easily, and although 
 he was tired, he was not at all exhausted as he 
 stepped carefully down the hill to the bend in 
 the river. He found a great deal of pleasure 
 and just a little annoyance in meeting John 
 there. 
 
 " Why did you follow me, John ? I wanted 
 to do this all alone." 
 
 " And so you did, Mr. Hardy, and I see you 
 done it well. I knew you 'd do it, but I was 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 a little anxious about your carryin' the boat. 
 It 's easy to strain an ankle or break a leg un- 
 der that kind of load, and I thought it would 
 do no harm if I happened along in case of 
 accidents." 
 
 " Before I came up here," said Hardy, " Colo- 
 nel Warren told me a story of being watched 
 in this same way when he wanted to be alone. 
 " Said he : 
 
 " c When I had been in the woods long enough 
 to have some confidence in my woodcraft, I 
 used to leave my guide in camp and hunt alone. 
 My wife felt anxious about this, but instead of 
 remonstrating with me, she made a private ar- 
 rangement with my guide, George, so that it 
 was extra money in his pocket always to know 
 where I was. I ought to have guessed it, once 
 when I was coming back on my course and ran 
 on to him and he said he had come out to pick 
 spruce-gum to send home to the children ; and 
 another time when he explained that he was 
 looking for huckleberries. This was in Oc- 
 88 
 
THE TWO LONS 
 tober, but I was dull. One morning I laid out 
 enough work for him at the camp to keep him 
 busy, as I thought, most of the day. I hunted, 
 traveling very slowly, for perhaps two or three 
 hours, and in following an old lumber-road 
 came up a hill to a hard-wood flat, where the 
 road was straight for a quarter of a mile. It was 
 a beautiful vista, all the more beautiful because 
 I could make out a deer at the end of it. I 
 stepped along very quietly, perhaps half the dis- 
 tance, and what I had imagined to be a deer 
 had not moved. I went still nearer and sat 
 down on an old skidway. It is wonderful how 
 a bunch of leaves or a rotten stump will de- 
 ceive a deer-hunter. I looked back down the 
 long straight road and fairly caught George this 
 third time. He came on as still as a cat, and 
 as he sat down beside me he whispered, " Why 
 don't you shoot ? " 
 
 " 1 1 was annoyed, both because I now knew 
 that he had followed me and also because my 
 dear old guide was failing, and capable of being 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 mistaken andfoolish. I showed him and proved 
 to him that the dark line which he had mis- 
 taken for a deer's back, with the light bunch of 
 color which he had mistaken for the deer's tail, 
 was at least nine feet high from the ground, and 
 that nine-feet deer were not common in these 
 woods, and that, moreover, it had not moved 
 for fifteen minutes. He said that if he was all 
 alone here with a rifle he would put a hole 
 through the bunch and then go and see what 
 had happened. This annoyed me exceedingly, 
 and I presume I raised my voice sharply when 
 I answered that twenty-three other stark crazy 
 idiots killed last season twenty-three innocent 
 men, mistaking them for deer. At this, our 
 deer lifted up a pair of horns with five prongs 
 each, and George said, " He is a good one for 
 o' course he J s nine foot high." : 
 
 90 
 
THE PRAIRIE BOY 
 
 EE tne young patridges under that 
 bunch of striped maples," said John. 
 u Two, three, four, five of 'em, and 
 probably as many more that we can't see. See ! 
 See ! Can you see them ? " 
 " No," said Hardy, " I can't make them out." 
 " They 're scatterin' now, holdin* their heads 
 low and creepin' away under cover. The old 
 hen '11 show pretty soon a few rods off* and ap- 
 pear to be terribly crippled. There she is now, 
 ahead on the trail." 
 
 u I see her," said Hardy, " trailing one wing 
 and walking lame. She does not seem to have 
 a whole bone in her body. She wants either 
 pity or pursuit, and she does not care which, 
 anything to coax us to go away and leave her 
 little family alone, but it is strange that I could 
 not see the covey. Where were they ? Nearly 
 
 9 1 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 all the undergrowth around here is young maple 
 and witch hopple, and I did not know where to 
 look." 
 
 " But," said John, " that 's the only bunch of 
 striped maple in sight. Now look at it close and 
 learn to know it. It does n't grow to be much 
 of a tree ; I call it a shrub, for I never knew it 
 to grow to more than three or four inches thick. 
 It 's a soft, brittle wood and seems to have a 
 short life, but I 'm not sure about it. Of course, 
 you can't identify it by its size, for there 's plenty 
 of moose maple and young hard maple that 's 
 just as small, but you can learn to know the 
 leaf, soon as you see it, for it 's dull-finished, 
 while the other maple leaves are bright and look 
 as if they was varnished ; and besides, look at 
 the bark. It has stripes like bed-tickin'." 
 " What is it good for, John ? " 
 "Theleaf isgood for inflammationand swellin's, 
 when you can't find anything better, and it 's 
 always handy in the summer time. The wood 
 makes a fine soft charcoal, the best woods pen- 
 92 
 
THE PRAIRIE BOY 
 cil in the world. The lumbermen use it for 
 markin' logs, because it 's always easy to get, 
 and the marks don't rub out. Now look at this 
 moose maple. The bark is gray, and you '11 al- 
 ways know it. See how tender it is. See that 
 clump where all the tender tops are bit off by 
 deer. The deer must have been here over a 
 week ago, for the ends are dried. Moose maple 
 and tender tops of wild-raspberry bushes saved 
 my life once." 
 " How was that, John ? " 
 u 'T was a good while ago, when I was quite 
 a small boy. I reckon I was n't more 'n twelve 
 years old when my father sent me out to bring 
 in some clean clothes. I knew the trail and 
 got home all right. Next day when I started 
 back, two lumbermen went with me and they 
 said they knew a short cut through the woods. 
 At noon we stopped and ate all our lunch, and 
 the men began to drink whiskey and would n't 
 move. I could n't leave 'em, for I did n't know 
 where I was. They sang and I cried. We 
 
 93 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 stayed there all night and in the mornin' the 
 men drank more whiskey, and got bewildered. 
 We tramped all day with nothin' to eat and 
 laid out another night. The third day we kep' 
 movin' until one of the men gave out and we 
 left him by a brook where he could get water. 
 That night I got afraid of the other man, for 
 we were both nearly starvin' and he kep' lookin' 
 at me. I stole away from him at daylight on 
 the fourth day, while he was sleeping and fol- 
 lowed the brook all day, wherever I could walk. 
 I ate moose maple and raspberry tips and drank 
 water. J T was after dark when I heard a dog 
 bark, and 't was the best sound I ever heard. 
 Seemed like a good while before I got to the 
 house ; my clothes was tore to pieces and I 
 was wild ; but I told them there was two men 
 up the creek starvin' to death and then the wo- 
 man took care of me. She was very kind, and 
 at first wanted me to eat pie, but of course I 
 could n't." 
 
 " What did you eat first, John ? " 
 94 
 
THE PRAIRIE BOY 
 " I don't know. I was sick a good while, and 
 they said I kep' askin' for moose maple. 
 " I 'm a-thinkin', Mr. Hardy, you '11 do well 
 to learn to know timber trees by their bark as 
 well as by their leaves, for more 'n half the time 
 you have n't got the hard-wood leaves to go by. 
 Of course you '11 always know the beech, for 
 it 's gray and white spotted, young or old, al- 
 ways the same, but yellow birch may bother you 
 at first, for it has so many kinds of bark. Most 
 of the big ones have a shaggy curl that looks as 
 if it was just goin' to fall off, but some of them 
 have no curl, just flat scales, like fish scales ; 
 only they are three or four inches long. And 
 the young birch is silver-gray and satiny, but 
 sometimes it is red as cherry for its first few 
 years. I don't know why. 
 u The hard-maple bark cracks into narrer straps 
 and sometimes looks a little like black ash, 
 but you '11 always know black ash because it 
 grows in swamps and most always has moss 
 spots, and not always on the north side either. 
 
 95 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 All the trees are fitted with a nice smooth coat 
 of bark when they are young, but the wood 
 keeps a-growin' inside, and the bark keeps a- 
 stretchin' and crackin'. They aint like growin' 
 boys; no matter how big they get, they never 
 get a new coat. 
 
 " Hemlock bark is so thick that it cracks deep 
 and looks like pine, but balsam bark is thinner 
 and has strong grains that run around the tree 
 as well as up and down, so it stretches easy and 
 does n't crack at all ; and you '11 always know 
 it by the blue-gray color, and the blisters, and 
 the smell, and by the four or five branches 
 that start out the same height from the ground. 
 You can always tell a balsam from a spruce or 
 a hemlock wayoff, by its sharp-pointed top. It's 
 easy to learn 'em all, and then you 've got some- 
 thin' to go by." 
 
 " I had no chance," said Hardy, " to learn trees 
 when I was a boy, but Professor Graves has told 
 me how they grow, and it is interesting. Of 
 course you know that a new ring of wood is 
 
THE PRAIRIE BOY 
 made every year between the bark and the old 
 wood. The roots gather sap, which is water 
 with all sorts of raw food-material in it. The 
 sap is pumped up to the leaves through the small 
 pipe lines, or ducts, in the sap wood. Of course 
 water does not run up hill without help. The 
 pipe lines are filled with cells and partitions. I 
 do not fully understand the process by which 
 the sap is drawn up, but it is called ' osmosis.' 
 None of it goes up in the heart wood. The sap 
 is digested in the leaves by a peculiar chemical 
 process. The leaves absorb carbonic acid gas 
 from the air, and the green coloring matter, 
 helped by the light, separates and sets free the 
 oxygen and uses the carbon to digest the food 
 in the sap. The digested sap then travels down 
 the ducts in the inner bark, and all the way down 
 it is distributed to feed a layer of living cells, 
 called Cambium, which lie between the bark and 
 the wood. As these cells are fed they swell up 
 and divide,and swell and divide again until there 
 is an enormous number of them ; and their walls 
 7 97 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 thicken and they stick together and make the 
 cell structure of the new wooden ring. 
 "Of course you can see that the better they are 
 fed the fatter they will grow, for they are just 
 like your baby trout, so that in a good year the 
 new wood ring may be twice as thick as in an- 
 other year. It depends on the rains and the 
 soil, and on the amount of sunlight the leaves 
 get. When trees are close together the lower 
 limbs die, because the sun cannot get at their 
 leaves and keep up the digesting process. The 
 lower limbs starve to death. Then the tree's 
 only chance for life is to race up to where the 
 light is, and it grows spindling." 
 " I J m glad you told me that," said John, " but 
 I ought to have found it out long as I ? ve been 
 in these woods. It accounts for a plant 's dy- 
 in' when bugs eat off the leaves. Mr. Hardy, 
 can you see a reddish spot in the long grass by 
 the river, about eighty rod, just at the left of 
 the tallest tamarack ? Now it 's movin' and 
 of course you can see it. It 's a pretty big deer, 
 
THE PRAIRIE BOY 
 
 though helooks small at that distance. Our trail 
 leads back in the woods from here and comes 
 out pretty near to where he is. If we go quiet, 
 perhaps he '11 stay and give us a nearer look 
 at him." 
 
 The wind was right and Hardy had his first 
 chance to study a deer from near-by. It was 
 a buck " in the red coat," with horns " in the 
 velvet," and to Hardy his most notable accom- 
 plishment was his ability to extend his neck. 
 When he reached for a tender top, the neck 
 seemed absurdly disproportionate to the length 
 of his body, and he looked like a giraffe. He 
 was continually alert. He put his head in the 
 shallow water and drew out by the roots a bunch 
 of deer grass, which he carefully rinsed first and 
 then ate only the tender parts. He was dainty 
 and he wanted variety. He studied the trees 
 and occasionally nipped a bud. Where a spring 
 was oozing from the bank he found the celan- 
 dine and ate it, flowers, leaves, and stem. But 
 he was not dining quietly, for he was quiver- 
 
 99 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 ing with fear, always watching, listening, and 
 smelling for unknown dangers. His ears and 
 nostrils were even more occupied and active 
 than his eyes, and at frequent intervals he put 
 up his head and studied everything far and near. 
 " A deer's ears," said John, " are his surest pro- 
 tection. He can depend on his nose only when 
 the wind is right. His eyesight is no better 
 than ours,perhaps not so good ; besides, he can't 
 see when he 's asleep ; but he 's never so sound 
 asleep that he can't hear a footstep or a snappin' 
 twig. After he drops his horns about Christ- 
 mas, he is dull and gets poor, and of course the 
 does are quiet and get poor. Now, the new 
 horns are growin' out and hardenin' and the 
 does are sucklin' the fawns, and all hands are 
 doin'their level best to get fat and strong enough 
 to last through the winter, when the snow is 
 deep and they have to paw a good while to get 
 a mouthful. Now is the best time of the year 
 to see deer, because the deer-grass and lilypads 
 tempt 'em into the open, even in the daytime ; 
 100 
 
 
THE PRAIRIE BOY 
 
 though naturally they rest daytime and eat at 
 night. Toward the end of August, the food 
 that grows in water will be too tough to suit 
 'em, and they '11 work in the hard-wood flats for 
 sheep-sorrel and tender plants. In September 
 they shed the red hairs, and the velvet from the 
 horns, and come out with smooth horns and a 
 blue-gray glossy winter coat. Later they paw 
 for beech-nuts and get fat, and in November 
 they are on the ridges, fightin' for their lives, 
 and for their mates." 
 
 A woodsman is an accurate observer of facts, 
 and his few mistakes are apt to be made when 
 he mixes them with inferences. John should 
 have known that the deer's eye is a larger and 
 more powerful seeing machine than ours, and 
 that he sorely needs this slight advantage in 
 competing with the man who is looking for 
 him. The hunter is trained, as is the deer, 
 by practice, but he has also the tremendous ad- 
 vantage of a fund of knowledge got from words 
 spoken and written. Nearly all that has ever 
 
 101 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 been learned of the habits of wild animals is 
 available to him, while the deer's ancestors have 
 left no records. The deer gets something from 
 the past which we call a mysterious instinct. 
 It seems to consist of accidental developments 
 of power, and habits of avoidance of danger, 
 perpetuated because those of his kind that have 
 not happened to develop them have met early 
 death. 
 
 The hunter is looking intensely and carefully 
 for one thing. The deer is looking for food 
 and for all the dangers of which he has inher- 
 ited fear, or which he may have learned to fear 
 during his two years of living. Even terms in 
 the matter of seeing would require that the 
 hunted one should have power of vision many 
 times quicker and longer than the hunter has. 
 But seeing power has comparatively little to do 
 with it. The photographer learns that a cheap 
 lens is nearly as quick, but not nearly so accu- 
 rate, as a more costly one. Effective seeing 
 means definition and understanding. It needs 
 102 
 
THE PRAIRIE BOY 
 
 knowledge, and the deer's knowledge is slight. 
 He is no mean botanist, geologist, and weather 
 prophet, but his attainments are wonderful only 
 when we consider that they are got in a few 
 years full of trouble. He may never before 
 have seen a man, and at the first seeing he does 
 not always run from him, although those best 
 fitted to survive generally do run from any 
 strange object that seems to be capable of mo- 
 tion. The fact that most deer are not startled 
 at seeing a man sitting or standing quietly, when 
 they have no means of knowing that he is dan- 
 gerous, is often mistakenly interpreted to mean 
 that man's eyesight is better than that of a deer. 
 John did not speak of the deer's yearly miseries 
 in the late winter and early spring ; when deep 
 snow softens and freezes and traveling is diffi- 
 cult ; when almost the only obtainable food is 
 the few balsam and hemlock or cedar tips that 
 can be reached ; and when weak deer die of 
 starvation and the lives of strong ones are short- 
 ened. It is " yarding " season ; not that misery 
 
 103 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 loves company, but the hungry, miserable crea- 
 tures huddle in the swamps, where the snow 
 does not drift and where some protection and 
 a little food can be got. Fewer deer are shot 
 in any year than are " winter-killed " in a bad- 
 weather season. 
 
 It is pitiful, this suffering and decimation, and 
 it seems at first to be a fault of Nature's order- 
 ing that the power to store up food for a hard 
 winter should not have been given to them. 
 But possibly, having this power, they would 
 crowd the woods and disturb the delicate bal- 
 ance, as the trout would fill the river and over- 
 flow it if all their eggs should produce full-grown 
 fish. Nevertheless,when we interfere, and shoot 
 part of the deer, we can well help to protect 
 those that are left. Colonel Soper, a true lover 
 of the woods with a heart full of pity, was once 
 with difficulty restrained from sending in train- 
 loads of bales of hay and having them dragged 
 about and distributed where deer are yarding 
 in hard winters. It would have been a useless 
 104 
 
THE PRAIRIE BOY 
 
 and probably a dangerous experiment, but the 
 suggestion is inspiring. Surely it would not be 
 difficult to travel on snow-shoes with an axe 
 through the valleys and swamps and, in likely 
 places, cut down young balsams and hemlocks. 
 These are natural food, and the axe easily puts 
 them within reach. Winter-killing might be 
 nearly stopped, but the greater benefit would be 
 the increased strength of the survivors. There 
 would be fewer barren does if they were better 
 fed. 
 
 " I suppose," said Hardy, " the number of 
 points on each horn tells the age exactly ? " 
 " I don't think so, but of course I 'm not sure. 
 I know only one certain case where it was n't 
 true. I was pretty well acquainted with a small- 
 bodied buck for more'n two years, and every 
 time I saw him he had five points on each horn, 
 and he must have been gettin' older all that 
 time." 
 
 That evening after supper they were as usual 
 by the bonfire, and were quietly smoking. The 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 firelight on the trees gave the effect of an exact 
 semicircle in front of them, which grew smaller 
 and smaller as the fire died down, and suddenly 
 expanded and doubled in a startling fashion 
 when John occasionally kicked the logs to- 
 gether or threw on spruce boughs. There were 
 long pauses in the conversation, but the brook 
 always tinkled. They were good camping part- 
 ners and loved to talk, but both had learned to 
 give the musical brook and the playing firelight 
 a chance, while they mused. 
 " You was n't used to this before you come 
 here, Mr. Hardy?" 
 
 " No, I am a prairie boy. These are the only 
 woods and mountains I ever saw, and I have 
 been thinking of your story of getting lost when 
 you were a boy." 
 
 " Of course you can't get lost on a prairie ? " 
 " Yes, on the prairie as it was before the corn- 
 fields came, you could get lost and get hungry, 
 and have all the hardships and dangers, espe- 
 cially prairie fire." 
 106 
 
THE PRAIRIE BOY 
 
 " Tell me about that," said John ; " I never saw 
 a prairie, for I never was away from these 
 woods, except during the War." 
 There was a long pause, while the brook talked, 
 and then Hardy slowly began, measuring his 
 words and trying to make clear to John con- 
 ditions that were entirely novel to him. 
 " A good many years ago, a little boy in north- 
 ern Illinois became possessed of a single-bar- 
 relled, muzzle-loading shot-gun. He loved it 
 and petted it because it was all his own. He 
 could not hold it out and sight it without a rest, 
 but as he grew stronger and a little older and 
 could use it, he became ambitious to try it on 
 real game. He thought that perhaps his chance 
 had come when his father was planning to go 
 with a friend to the big marsh for a few days' 
 duck-shooting. He made himself as useful as 
 possible in the preparations. He casually men- 
 tioned that he could build a fire and could boil 
 potatoes. He had the good luck to be able to 
 remind his father that, in the stock of ammuni- 
 
 107 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 tion, percussion-caps had been forgotten. This 
 was, to the old sportsman, impressive thought- 
 fulness, and it led him to ask the boy if he 
 would like to go along. The boy had what you 
 call buck-fever, for he had arrived at the high- 
 est peak of his hopes. He had to swallow once 
 or twice before he could say yes. 
 " The marsh was a few miles wide and many 
 miles long and was about twenty miles from the 
 village. After leaving the fringe of farms, the 
 wide upland prairie, only a few feet above 
 the water-level, Had no houses or roads. You 
 traveled entirely by landmarks, a distant meet- 
 ing-house spire or some one of the few groves 
 of trees that showed on the horizon-line. The 
 knee-high prairie grass and the longer reeds in 
 the marsh made nearly a dead level, so that the 
 marsh line was only a color line. 
 " Tenting on the hard ground at the edge of 
 the swamp was easy and comfortable, barring 
 one drawback. There was not much firewood 
 except dead willow-twigs, and these had to be 
 108 
 
THE PRAIRIE BOY 
 economized. The sportsmen left the little boy 
 alone in the tent every morning about four 
 o'clock and went a mile or so into the marsh 
 to locate a fly-way and get the morning shoot- 
 ing. They also went out in the afternoon for 
 the evening shooting, and of course 'did not get 
 back to camp until after dark. 
 u The first day there were no ducks. The sec- 
 ond day a few were seen, but none were killed. 
 The third day two things happened : the 
 ducks moved in great numbers, the shooting 
 was good and it promised to be very good, but 
 the provisions of flour, bacon, and potatoes gave 
 out. Apparently the sportsmen had not counted 
 on the boy's appetite and his great opportuni- 
 ties to learn how to cook when left alone in 
 camp. 
 
 ct Probably few sportsmen were ever driven to 
 leave good shooting for such a little matter as 
 lack of variety in food. These men stayed and 
 ate roast duck for their breakfast. They also 
 ate roast duck for dinner. They tried to eat 
 
 109 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 it for supper, but they could n't do it ; they had 
 had enough duck. Next morning they made 
 a measly breakfast on fried livers. At noon it 
 was broiled gizzards ; and, from then out, the 
 only part of a duck they had stomach for was 
 the gizzard roasted in the coals hard and black. 
 A man cannot live on ducks, and parched giz- 
 zards, carried in his pockets, just barely beat 
 nothing. 
 
 " Stray flocks of ducks now occasionally flew 
 near the tent, and one evening when the little 
 boy was alone, he went into the marsh as far as 
 he dared to go and got a few chances to miss. 
 The sun had gone down and his attention was 
 attracted by the wonderful afterglow. The 
 whole western horizon was a rich dull red. 
 It was magnificently beautiful, even to an un- 
 observant little boy. A little later, when he 
 looked, it had crept higher and grown brighter. 
 It occurred to him that the sun had changed 
 its mind and was coming back. He had an un- 
 accountable feeling that something was wrong, 
 no 
 
THE PRAIRIE BOY 
 The color now increased more rapidly until he 
 believed he could see a fringe of smoke above 
 the glow, and finally the truth dawned on him. 
 He had never been near a prairie fire, but he 
 knew it by tradition, and this was a great one 
 and coming directly on him. 
 " He flew, as fast as a very small bog-trotter 
 could fly, from the marsh to the tent. The fire- 
 line was well in sight and extended right and 
 left as far as he could see. His only thought 
 was to run, and the only thing that kept him 
 from running was the conviction that he could 
 neither run around it nor before it. He was 
 baffled, so he threw himself on his face and 
 cried. 
 
 " I think that this soothed and steadied him, for 
 there gradually came into his poor little addled 
 memory the stories he had heard of fighting fire. 
 He looked again, and there was no time to be 
 lost. From around the tent he tore up the 
 grass by the roots until his hands were cut and 
 bleeding. It was too slow. He could never 
 
 in 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 do it. He could hear the fire now, and the air 
 began to be filled with flying prairie birds. He 
 could hear, and occasionally see, wolves run- 
 ning past, and one almost brushed him as it 
 ran between him and the tent. 
 " When he recalled what little he had heard 
 of back-firing, it was none too soon ; it was 
 almost too late. He brought a blanket from 
 the tent and carefully fired the grass on the 
 windward side. By thrashing with his blan- 
 ket he tried to control and guide his fire so as 
 to burn a swath around the tent. He had just 
 succeeded in this and was singed and choked 
 and utterly exhausted, when the great hissing, 
 snapping prairie-fire enveloped the spot he had 
 burned over. 
 
 u The top of the fire went by him like a 
 race horse. The under part was slower, and it 
 seemed as if it would never leave him. Then 
 he had a paroxysm of sobbing and screaming. 
 He had no shame in it perhaps because there 
 was no one to see ; and besides, he was only a 
 112 
 
THE PRAIRIE BOY 
 
 very ordinary little boy, not very bright and 
 not very courageous. His father was probably 
 burned up, and he had nothing but gizzards to 
 eat. He was miserable and lonesome. 
 " However, it finally occurred to him that he 
 had work to do. It was dark, and on the chance 
 that his father had escaped the fire he must be 
 signalled into camp. He naturally thought of 
 firing his gun, which he did, and then he 
 thought that a beacon light would be better, but 
 there was now no grass in the region and he was 
 slow in remembering the grass bedding inside 
 the tent. He was dazed and sluggish in his 
 mind, but at last he got an armful of the bed- 
 ding and twisted wisps of it, which he lighted 
 and flared, at what he tried to make regular in- 
 tervals. Finally, it seemed like many hours, 
 he got a signal, two shots from his father's gun, 
 and not very long after he heard his father's 
 voice. 
 
 " What occurred just after this the boy does not 
 know. His reason gave way under the strain, 
 8 113 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 for, as I said, he was not an unusually bright 
 little boy." 
 
 Without a sound John left the fire and stood 
 for a long time by the tinkling brook. When 
 he came back into the light his voice was un- 
 steady. He said : " Poor little cuss. I guess 
 I know how you felt." 
 
 114 
 
COLONEL WARREN 
 
 FOR twenty years Colonel Robert War- 
 ren had not missed his spring fishing- 
 trip to the woods in May, and John 
 had never failed to meet him during this out- 
 ing, as his guide, mentor, and friend. To John 
 it had grown to be the most important event 
 of the year, and in all his tramps during the 
 early spring he kept a watchful eye for likely 
 water for the Colonel's fishing and for beauti- 
 ful spots to gladden the Colonel's artistic eye. 
 To the Colonel it was even more important, 
 and his planning and preparation began long 
 beforehand. 
 
 Mrs. Warren had become accustomed to note 
 the first symptoms of restlessness in February 
 or March, when her Robert brought from his 
 closet and hung in his study a small canvas 
 side-bag, which contained his fly-book, leader 
 
 "5 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 box, reel, compass, file, pincers, cork-screw, 
 can-opener, buckskin thongs, tar oil, adhesive 
 plaster, bandage roll, safety pins, drinking-cup, 
 and other things. This "ditty bag" had ac- 
 quired, during its years of service in camp, an 
 odor of balsam, with a blend of smoke, tar oil, 
 fish, and a powerful reminder of fried bacon. 
 The Colonel loved it, and Mrs. Warren always 
 knew when it was hung in the study. The 
 sight of it or the smell of it was usually a suffi- 
 cient diversion for a few weeks, until at odd 
 times during an evening he would overhaul the 
 flies, and one at a time, hesitatingly, regretfully, 
 throw in the fire those that were frazzled or 
 unreliable. This was a slow process and often 
 a painful one, for each old lure was a reminis- 
 cence. 
 
 It was hard to part with a Montreal, a Split 
 Ibis, a Reuben Wood, a Black Hackle, or a 
 Lord Baltimore,that had served him well; while 
 the Grizzly King, that had held for five min- 
 utes and then lost the biggest trout he ever saw, 
 116 
 
COLONEL WARREN 
 ought to be kept, as a hair shirt, to remind him 
 of his utter worthlessness. He loved these 
 pangs, but he was too good a fisherman to al- 
 low his fly-book to hold anything unsound, so 
 the fire burned up all the old leaders and flies. 
 There had been a time in his life when he had 
 been accustomed to make presents of old flies 
 and old leaders to young fishermen, and to ac- 
 company the gifts with stories of their tried 
 value. He did not do this any more, because 
 as he grew older he learned to love young 
 fishermen. 
 
 He made a list of all that was needed, and cor- 
 rected it, added to it and cut out from it, un- 
 til it grew to be a complete accompaniment to 
 the rod for the spring campaign. He cared for 
 his own rod, and the work of making its numer- 
 ous slight repairs was distributed over many 
 days. After an evening of work or reading he 
 liked to turn to it and fuss over it for a few 
 minutes. 
 
 This season his engagements had detained him, 
 
 117 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 and,ashistripwas postponed from week toweek, 
 John grew anxious and the Colonel fretted un- 
 til early in July he appeared at the hatchery. He 
 hugged Hardy and patted John. He shouted, 
 sang,and quoted poetry, mean while noting with 
 his keen, experienced eye every change in and 
 about the hatchery, the brook,and thesurround- 
 ing trees. He shouted : 
 
 " I have brought you six feet and four inches 
 and two hundred and forty pounds of bad health 
 and low spirits, John ! " 
 
 " I 'd never 'a' knowed it, Colonel, but we'll 
 make it two hundred and ten pounds and high 
 spirits in about a week. We 've got plenty of 
 black flies to bleed you, and you've got me to 
 tramp with ; that makes two reducers ; and 
 you '11 drink a little tamarack tea every night 
 and mornin' ; that '11 cure your dyspepsia and 
 give you an appetite." 
 
 " That is good, John. It is what I came here 
 for, but I have an idea that you can condense the 
 medical treatment into one sweet moment of 
 118 
 
COLONEL WARREN 
 
 medicinal bliss if you will scrape a little of the 
 tender bark of the mountain ash and make 
 an extract with two ounces of whiskey. Two 
 ounces of spring water and a lump of sugar 
 mixed with this in a tin cup and handed to me 
 will blind me to your few faults, and, 
 
 11 * I '11 take no care, though the weather prove fair, 
 
 And reck not e'en though it rain. 
 We'll banish all sorrow, and wait for the morrow, 
 And angle, and angle again.' ' 
 
 The Colonel roared through the fishing song 
 with a deep and not unmusical voice thatseemed 
 to shake the walls. He had pride in his voice's 
 volume, although he was accustomed to call it 
 untrained. 
 
 " I 'm a-thinkin', Colonel," said John, in the 
 evening, " that you '11 want to start for the 
 Wilderness camp to-morrow mornin' ? " 
 " Not until after breakfast. We will wait here 
 just long enough for that, but have it early. 
 George will go along and take care of me, while 
 you give Mr. Hardy a good time ; so you will 
 
 119 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 need to lay out four days' provisions for four 
 men. Are you equal to doing that, John, with- 
 out waste and without running short ? I know 
 you are ; you never failed, but I should like to 
 know how you guess so closely." 
 " There 's only one thing I have to guess about, 
 and that 's how many fish '11 come into the fry- 
 in' -pan. The rest is easy. When we have 
 cakes for breakfast,one pound of flour is enough 
 for four or five men, or about half as many 
 boys, and a half a pint of ground coffee will 
 satisfy 'em. Besides that, I generally allow 
 for each man two ounces of maple syrup ; an 
 ounce of white sugar ; a quarter of a pound 
 of bacon ; a third of a pound-and-a-quarter 
 loaf of bread ; a quarter of a pound of butter; 
 a quarter of a can of milk ; two potatoes and 
 a tablespoonful of tea a day. Pepper, salt, 
 and baking powder don't weigh much, so we 
 take enough." 
 
 " That makes it very simple," said Colonel 
 Warren, "but you do not take into consider- 
 120 
 
COLONEL WARREN 
 ation the abnormal capacity of a man who has 
 been waiting for this for nearly a year." 
 " Yes, I 've heard a good deal about the ' woods 
 appetite ' and have seen city men start in with 
 one that ought to make their hair curl. Some- 
 times we need a pound and a half or two pounds 
 of flour, first mornin' out, but everything gits 
 down to an everidge in a few days. That me- 
 chanical engineer who was here with you two 
 years ago 'lowed that he begun by pushin' his 
 furnace beyond his boiler capacity." 
 " I had heard much before I came here," said 
 Hardy, " about the effect of this out-door life 
 on the appetite. I was told that a man could 
 eat anything, and in large quantity, and enjoy 
 it. I have eaten John's provisions, of his cook- 
 ing; other people's provisions, of their cook- 
 ing ; and, I am sorry to say, some of my own 
 cooking ; and I am inclined to think that the 
 woods appetite is not a coarse desire. It is 
 rather a sharpened sense of what the body needs. 
 If a man knows what good food and good cook- 
 
 121 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 ing are, he longs for them when he is healthily 
 hungry." 
 
 " My dear boy," said Colonel Warren, " I am 
 proud of your rapid progress in woodcraft. It 
 took me years to learn that the best there is 
 is none too good for me. It is the first one of 
 the thirty-nine articles, and the second one is, 
 go to bed early. 
 
 A bower quiet for us, and a sleep 
 
 Full of sweet dreams and health, and quiet breathing. 
 
 Therefore, on every morrow are we wreathing 
 
 A flowery band to bind us to the earth, 
 
 Spite of despondences of the inhuman dearth 
 
 Of noble natures, of the gloomy days, 
 
 Of all the unhealthy and o'erdarken'd days 
 
 Made for our searching.' ' 
 
 The Colonel recited perfectly, without the fault 
 of over expression, and, as Hardy lay awake for 
 a time that evening, perhaps because of the ex- 
 citement of meeting his oldest and best friend, 
 he thought lightly of his own " o'erdarken'd 
 days " that were past. His room at the hatch- 
 ery overhung the brook, where the current was 
 122 
 
COLONEL WARREN 
 partly choked by boulders, where the water 
 always sang him to sleep, and to-night it sang 
 hopefully. 
 
 The train which started on the trairnext morn- 
 ing was impressive. First,a portly formcarrying 
 a pack-basket neatly covered with water-proof 
 canvas, and a cover buckled down tight. No 
 camping partner ever became so intimate with 
 the Colonel as to dare explore the mysteries of 
 his pack. Hardy followed him, easily carry- 
 ing his heavy load, while John and George fol- 
 lowed with the boats, which looked like huge, 
 shining water-beetles. 
 
 It was a long trail to Wilderness camp, but, as 
 the Colonel expressed it, u The centre of iso- 
 lation is worth working for." It was a u closed 
 camp ; " externally simply a log-house, but its 
 interior fittings and furnishings had been to 
 John and to Colonel Warren a continual study 
 for many years, until it was an ideal headquarters 
 from which to make one and two day trips in 
 regions not desecrated by tourists. Hardy was 
 
 123 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 learning to use his eyes, and while he observed 
 the mice-proof closets, the bough beds on poles 
 raised above the floor, and the generous expanse 
 of shelves for a sportsman's belongings, he also 
 noted the peculiarities of construction. 
 u You used split balsam poles for shingle lath," 
 said he. " I did not know that that lumber had 
 any use." 
 
 " And yet," said Colonel Warren, " you see it is 
 still sound there, where it has done its work for 
 twelve years. Outside of the woods its use as 
 lumber is often fraudulent. The mills cut it 
 into siding and 'mix it in ' with spruce siding, 
 with intent to deceive the house-builder, and 
 as George says, it stays sound just a little longer 
 than it takes to nail it on. Like hemlock, it 
 does not decay when it is protected from the 
 weather, but it is not strong enough to be used, 
 as is hemlock, for house-frames. Its grain is 
 always straight and it splits easily, and makes 
 a splendid floor when you can't get a better one. 
 It is the woodsman's tree, for medicine, bough- 
 124 
 
COLONEL WARREN 
 beds, benches, table-tops, floors, and generally 
 useful. I am inclined x to think, too, that it is 
 a part of the scheme of Nature that balsam fir 
 has not had much commercial value, so that 
 lumbermen have left it here. It is the one ever- 
 green that thrives abundantlyon low flats, where 
 its shade is especially needed to protect the 
 sponge. l They also serve who only stand and 
 wait.' " 
 
 In his youth the Colonel had had strong opin- 
 ions about those who were content to cast from 
 a boat rowed by a guide. He preferred, as he 
 still preferred, to walk alone in the stream, look- 
 ing for beautiful pictures, as well as for deep 
 pools where he could drop his fly gently as a 
 snowflake. But years and weight had changed 
 his habits, and George was not at all surprised 
 at the suggestion that they should row up the 
 Stillwater and examine the mouths of some 
 spring-brooks where the trout might be lying 
 in the spring-holes, while John should walk 
 down stream with Hardy and see what devel- 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 oped in the pools below the rifts. Spring-hole 
 fishing was at its best, and no one knew, bet- 
 ter than George knew, how to handle a boat in 
 swift water, or when wind was blowing, so that 
 the fisherman could first cast carefully around 
 the edges of the incoming cold water and pick 
 ofF the outside trout ; and whenever one was 
 fastened, move the boat gently away so that the 
 skilful Colonel could play and capture his trout 
 without alarming the others. 
 "It's jest like robbin' a hen-roost," said George, 
 u If you want* em all, don't take the inside ones 
 first." 
 
 The Colonel was soon satisfied ; supper and 
 breakfast were provided for, when there hap- 
 pened the sad event that rarely fails to come 
 to every fisherman every fishing-day he lost 
 the biggest one. Most of us have watched 
 the biggest trout in the pool, cooling his side 
 by a submerged rock or protected by a root, 
 holding as by right the most desirable water, 
 quietly alert and lazily dignified. The choicest 
 126 
 
COLONEL WARREN 
 morsels float to him, and when he marks them 
 for his own the other trout keep away. He 
 may be a quarter-pounder or a three-pounder; 
 he is lordly and pompous simply because he 
 is relatively big. When the great head broke 
 the water the Colonel's rod snapped back 
 responsively. 
 
 u I have got the alderman, George ! I knew 
 he was there, but I was just about to go away 
 because we have enough." 
 Possibly some fishermen look at a watch when 
 they fasten, for the reports of time taken for 
 playing a trout are often precise, but the Colo- 
 nel did not do so, and he might have had five 
 minutes or fifteen minutes of pleasurable anx- 
 iety when the fish showed his great size near 
 the boat. A good guide never loses his en- 
 thusiasm ! 
 
 " If you lose that one, Colonel, I '11 hide your 
 pack-basket ! " 
 
 " There is only one chance to lose him now. 
 He is on the dropper and there are two flies 
 
 127 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 trailing below, looking for a log or a root and, 
 holy smoke ! they 've got it ! " 
 A few violent throbs, and the fish was lost. 
 Not a word was spoken as the line was reeled 
 in and George rowed home. Colonel War- 
 ren was accustomed to maintain the proposi- 
 tion that good fishermen do not swear. 
 Two men who know how to do it make quick 
 work of the preparations for comfort for a night 
 in camp. Long experience and keen observa- 
 tion, coupled with a naturally strong inclina- 
 tion to secure results with the least possible 
 labor, enabled George to get a generous sup- 
 ply of firewood by the time Colonel Warren 
 had freshened the bough-beds. Among the 
 many decayed spruce trees in the woods there 
 are always some with limbs saturated with rosin 
 so that they resist decay. George never failed 
 to find near camp some of these tough, dry 
 "horns," which are easily gathered and serve 
 for kindling and quick heat. 
 The nearest hemlock stub always caught his 
 128 
 
COLONEL WARREN 
 
 eye. These brittle timber trees, with massive 
 evergreen foliage, are often caught by heavy 
 winds and the tops are twisted off, leaving a 
 " stub " that quickly dies and its thick resinous 
 bark hangs loosely or falls off in great slabs. 
 It produces probably a more intense heat than 
 any other natural fuel found in the woods. For 
 welding iron it is a good substitute for charcoal, 
 and for jerking venison or for broiling or mak- 
 ing toast it is incomparable. 
 Everything was tidy, supper was ready to be 
 cooked, and they waited. At dark they lighted 
 the bonfire and still waited for John and Hardy. 
 Supper time is an uncertain appointment for a 
 hunter or a fisherman, and it was long after 
 dark when John's shining face appeared in the 
 firelight. He was in a glow ; his story could 
 not wait. 
 
 "Colonel, Mr. Hardy ain't a tenderfoot. He's 
 a fisherman after your own heart. You ought 
 to see him jump the boulders and go through 
 swift water. When he gits hold of a fish, 
 9 129 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 nothin' stops him. We 've got somethin' to 
 show you ! " 
 
 u That is all right, John. He got my heart 
 a good while ago and he has running gear some- 
 thing like a katydid, as I used to have, but he 
 looks as if he should have been web-footed. 
 Better get him into dry clothes." 
 "Oh, Colonel, just look at that," said Hardy, 
 drawing from his basket a two-pound trout. 
 " Is n't he worth living for ? But I can't live 
 up to him ! This is the beginning of living ! 
 Everything dates from to-day ! " 
 u We went clean down to the Grindstone," 
 said John, "and Mr. Hardy was out in the 
 middle of the river, and " 
 " I saw a rise," said Hardy ; " in a hole near 
 the farther shore, and I worried through a 
 pretty stiff current to a boulder where I could 
 reach him." 
 
 " And he made a long cast and dropped the fly 
 like a feather, and the big fellow took it and 
 throwed himself slick and clean out of water, 
 130 
 
COLONEL WARREN 
 
 and Mr. Hardy struck him so hard that he 
 
 throwed himself plumb into the river." 
 
 " No, I only slipped off the boulder, and when 
 
 I got straightened up " 
 
 u About two rod below," said John. 
 
 u Yes, that is where I lost my hat. I had to 
 
 follow him, for he just tore down stream." 
 
 "A rollin'and a swimmin'and a tryin' to wade! 
 
 I was runnin' 'long the bank, and every time Mr. 
 
 Hardy's head went under, his hand went up, a- 
 
 holdin' the rod, but I could hear the reel sing, so, 
 
 of course, I knowed the trout was all right." 
 
 " Then I came to deep water," said Hardy. 
 
 "Yes, in the pool below the Grindstone, and 
 
 he swum ashore, a-holdin' the rod up clean out 
 
 of water." 
 
 " When I got ashore, the binding ring at the 
 
 butt of the rod slipped down and the reel fell 
 
 to the ground." 
 
 " And I picked up the reel and put it in my 
 
 pocket,and,says I, Mr. Hardy, you gimme that 
 
 rod, and you watch that trout ! " 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 " And I saw the trout leave the pool and run 
 through a chink between two boulders that 
 touched each other above water, so that John 
 could not follow him." 
 
 " ' And,' says I, ' Mr. Hardy, I '11 stay right 
 here and hold him while you go below and gill 
 him/ " 
 
 " Wise guide ! " roared Colonel Warren. 
 " Pretty dry one, so far," said George. 
 " It was deep below the two boulders," said 
 Hardy ; " but I went in carefully and could 
 see him, pretty well tired out. That encour- 
 aged me, for I was getting tired myself. It 
 was so deep that, when I stooped down to reach 
 him, my head went under water." 
 " Soused in three times ! " said John, " be- 
 fore he come up with both hands gripped on 
 the trout. ' Throw him ashore ! ' I yelled, 
 and " 
 
 " Now stop, John," said Colonel Warren. 
 " Your generalship has been perfect, and you 
 are dry. A sportsman should be proud to serve 
 132 
 
COLONEL WARREN 
 
 under so wise and canny a guide, but get dry 
 clothes for Mr. Hardy at once and dose him 
 and feed him." 
 
 Sitting by the fire after supper,Colonel Warren 
 said : 
 
 " I suppose, of course, my boy, you lost your 
 biggest trout and had your grief before you had 
 the swimming race that John umpired ? " 
 " I lost a big one, and it was my fault. I felt 
 bitterly ashamed and wanted to quit, but John 
 said " 
 
 " Says I, ' Mr. Hardy, you stay right here. 
 Every fisherman does it every day.' ' 
 u Yes," said Colonel Warren, " learn to' re- 
 gard such happenings as purely educational. 
 Let no sorrows come on the stream, or, rather, 
 when they do come, brush them aside." 
 " Like mosquitoes," said George. " We had 
 rather a quiet ride back from the spring-hole 
 this afternoon, Colonel ? " 
 " Yes, but that loss was not a severe one, al- 
 though I admit there was a time, as I was 
 
 '33 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 watching those trailing flies, when I would 
 have given you a new suit of clothes to have 
 had that trout transferred from the dropper to 
 the leader fly." 
 
 u When did you first learn," said Hardy, " to 
 mourn not as one without hope when the tail 
 fly weakens ? " 
 
 Colonel Warren studied the pictures in the live 
 coals during a long pause, and the others were 
 content to wait. They knew that, in time, he 
 would speak, and it occurred to Hardy that the 
 panorama of years of fishing was shimmering 
 through the firelight before the Colonel's eyes. 
 " I think it was twenty years ago,when I came 
 here for the summer, for my health. I could 
 not find trout, and it gradually became some- 
 what annoying to me to hear cruel repetitions 
 of tales of extraordinary trout-fishing in days, 
 weeks, or years before I came. One lazy July 
 morning I was sitting on the beach tying new 
 leaders, and George was there watching the 
 process. He was very good at that at 
 134 
 
COLONEL WARREN 
 
 watching a process. He finally said : c They 
 ketched a three-pound speckled in Raven Run 
 spring-hole last year.' Out of the bitterness of 
 my heart I tried to make a melancholy joke 
 about the Raven and Nevermore, but George 
 said : c I don't believe they 've ketched out the 
 biggest ones/ This was at last something other 
 than history. It pertained to the present and 
 it seemed to point to me. 
 " We were soon on the trail, George with the 
 boat, I with my rod and ditty bag, and my little 
 son with his new knife, intent on whistle tim- 
 ber. We boated down the river to near the 
 spring-hole,where I got out and waded. I found 
 a few small trout around the edges, but did not 
 get them because I had not learned to strike 
 promptly. I dropped a fly on the centre of 
 the deepest water and the largest trout-head 
 I had ever seen showed itself to the gills and 
 lazily sank back. My tardy strike was suited 
 to his size, and he was fastened. 
 u The boat was out of sight above the bend, 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 but I called to George and he heard and started 
 down. I thought I needed help. The trout 
 ran wildly up and down the stream. I did not 
 try to control him, for I was afraid of break- 
 ing something. I just wound in line whenever 
 he turned toward me and let him pull it out 
 when he passed me. He passed close to me 
 several times, until I was tempted ; and with 
 one wild scoop of the net I lifted him high in 
 the air. I was in nearly waist-deep water, 
 with a heavy brass-rimmed landing-net in one 
 hand, the rod in the other hand, a pipe in my 
 mouth, and both banks were heavily fringed 
 with alders. 
 
 " The net was shallow, and the trout seemed 
 to stand in it on his tail, with that same old head 
 as I had at first seen it, but now projecting high 
 above the brass rim of the landing-net, and 
 thrashing from one side to the other. I was 
 anxious and helpless, but George was hurrying 
 toward me. I presume that I unconsciously 
 helped the trout to jump out of the net, just 
 
 136 
 
COLONEL WARREN 
 
 before the boat reached me, by straining on the 
 short line, because I was insanely holding the 
 rod high. Indeed, I think I was holding every- 
 thing high, rod, net, pipe, and voice. As he 
 jumped out, the snood broke and my first great 
 trout sailed away with a No. 8 Professor fly 
 in his mouth. 
 
 " I have lost friends and money, but never be- 
 fore had I experienced a more piercing regret. 
 I went ashore, took down my rod, poured the 
 water out of my shoes and prepared to go home. 
 George spoke words of encouragement, but he 
 had laughed when the trout jumped the net, 
 and I remembered it. Nevertheless, when my 
 little boy put his arm around my neck and said 
 nothing, I jointed up and waded in again. In 
 less than an hour I had that same trout in the 
 boat, with two Professor flies in his mouth, the 
 old one and a new one. 
 
 " The following winter I was telling this story 
 to some friends who were visiting us. The 
 little boy was present, and it occurred to me 
 
 137 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 to point a moral at the end, for the benefit of 
 
 the boy, so I added : c I am glad to say that, 
 
 although it was as bitter a disappointment as 
 
 I ever knew, I did not utter a single profane 
 
 word.' 
 
 " But the boy said : ' Oh, papa ! I never heard 
 
 a man swear so in all my life ! ' 3 
 
 " And," said George, " I 've quit carryin' an 
 
 extry fly, with the snood broke off, to hook in 
 
 a big trout's mouth as I land him." 
 
 138 
 
GEORGE'S MEMORY 
 
 COLONEL WARREN had proposed 
 two days of hard work away from the 
 river for the entire party, and they 
 were discussing it at breakfast time. 
 "Some men," said George, "plan for six 
 months and travel three hundred miles and 
 tramp under a load all day to find fishin', and 
 if they happen to strike it just right, as we 've 
 done, they can't git away from it too quick. 
 There 's a pretty good trout up the Stillwater 
 a-waitin' for you, Colonel, and he give you one 
 chance. Misfortunes generally come single, 
 as the man said when he buried his third 
 wife." 
 
 u Perhaps we shall get him some time," said 
 Colonel Warren, "and, if not, I hope some- 
 one else may have the pleasure of doing so, for 
 we have plenty of other things to do. There 
 
 139 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 are fishermen who go to the woods filled with a 
 desire to kill, and the thirst for blood grows with 
 every fish they catch. They fish while day- 
 light lasts, and in the night as long as trout will 
 bite. The worst of them seem to lose their 
 self-respect, or what to them stands for self- 
 respect, which is little more than a fear of their 
 neighbors' opinions. They c cut loose ' in 
 language and habits. They are liable to drink 
 too much whiskey, and go back from their out- 
 ing haggard and depressed in body and in mind. 
 They have caught more fish than they can eat, 
 and when they have carried them home and 
 sent them around to the neighbors, they imagine 
 that they are generous, that they have been 
 working in order to give pleasure to their 
 friends, whereas the assassins are simply get- 
 ting rid of their loot and tickling their own 
 pride. We have enough fish ; let us go up on 
 the mountain." 
 
 During the hunting season, George and the 
 Colonel had discovered a mountain pond. 
 140 
 
GEORGE'S MEMORY 
 Doubtless others, and possibly many others, 
 had discovered it before them, but there was 
 now no indication that any person had ever 
 been there. To make an investigation of such 
 an unsullied spot gave the Colonel more pleas- 
 ure than fine fishing, and to do it thoroughly 
 and comfortably they needed a camp, and he 
 was determined to build a model one. He had 
 never seen indeed, no one has ever seen a 
 perfect open camp. They are faced the wrong 
 way for the prevailing winds, so that they are 
 smoky ; or they are too high in front, or too 
 low behind; or the roof leaks; or they are 
 badly located for wood, or for water, or for 
 sporting ; or they are too small, or too large ; 
 or the bed is not raised from the ground. 
 Whatever Colonel Warren wanted to do be- 
 came at once John's chief aim, and they had 
 many times talked over the ways of making 
 the ideal open camp. John proposed : 
 " We '11 take a cross-cut saw, an axe, and a 
 few nails along, and build two open camps, 
 
 141 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 jest alike, facin' each other, five foot apart, and 
 hev the cookin' fire and the evenin' fire be- 
 tween the two camps. That '11 leave jest 
 enough room for the smoke to get away, and 
 hev the fire near enough to keep us warm on 
 a cold night. We 've tried most every other 
 spacin' and this is right. When we've got 
 the tools it won't take us much longer to build 
 the two than to build one, and then, no matter 
 which way the wind blows, we 've got com- 
 fort. But before we build it, we '11 find a dry 
 knoll not too near the pond, so 's to scare deer 
 away, and not far from it, so 's to be tiresome. 
 I 'd lay three or four tier, dependin' on the 
 size, of eight-foot logs, around three sides for 
 each camp, and then slope up to a seven-foot 
 front. I 'd make a tight roof if I had to peel 
 every spruce in sight, and then make a raised 
 floor, fifteen inches from the ground, out of 
 inch-and-a-half spruce poles, so it will be 
 springy, and cover it with hemlock boughs. 
 I 'd have the floor stop about a foot and a half 
 142 
 
GEORGE'S MEMORY 
 from the front of each camp, so 's to leave a 
 comfortable place to set before the fire. Then 
 we have a choice of sleepin' in either camp, 
 accordin' to the wind, and have plenty of room 
 for the packs and kit." 
 
 " The specifications are adopted," said Colo- 
 nel Warren. u We will take boats with us 
 and get the camp livable to-day, and finish it 
 to-morrow. We will take some spoons, and 
 troll as well as fly-cast the pond this evening, 
 so as to know surely whether or not the trout 
 are native there. To-morrow we will sound 
 it and examine the bottom, and study the weeds 
 and mosses with the magnifying glass to see 
 if there is enough natural food to justify stock- 
 ing it with trout, in case there are none there 
 already." 
 
 " I would n't like to swear " 
 " I don't believe you ! " George interrupted. 
 " I would n't like to swear," repeated John, 
 u that there are no trout there, even if they don't 
 come to a hook, 'specially if there 's deep water. 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 Now, I '11 take along somethin' to test it, and 
 then we '11 know." 
 
 " Johnny 's got a gill net, sure, hid away some- 
 where 'round here," said George. 
 " Then it must not be used here," said Colo- 
 nel Warren. " It must go back with us to the 
 hatchery where it belongs. We will do our 
 fishing in a legal way, or not at all." 
 "Now, Colonel, don't get excited about my gill 
 net. I won't let it catch a fish to be killed. 
 The game law is just as much to me as most 
 of the Ten Commandments. I own it would 
 look bad if some one come along and saw us 
 puttin' it out, but they won't come along here, 
 and there 's lots of things that ain't wicked on- 
 less you git ketched. The net is made of fine 
 thread, inch and a quarter bar, nearly a hun- 
 dred feet long, and, with the leads and floats, 
 the whole thing is only a matter of about thirty 
 pounds. If we fasten one end at the shore, in 
 a good place, and pay out and anchor the other 
 end in deep water, some of the trout, if there 
 144 
 
GEORGE'S MEMORY 
 
 are any, will be the right size to getgilledin the 
 meshes, and then we '11 know what 's there." 
 " But if you put out that net at night," said 
 Colonel Warren, "and take it up in the morn- 
 ing, most of the trout that are gilled will be 
 dead." 
 
 u Sure they would," said John, " but we won't 
 do that. We '11 set the net at dark, when the 
 trout begin to move, as they always do at night, 
 and I '11 take along a lantern so we can go out 
 in the boat and lift the net and examine it every 
 hour, until about midnight, when we '11 take it 
 up, and I '11 guarantee no fish will be killed, 
 and we '11 know what 's there." 
 "Very well,"said Colonel Warren. "It seems 
 to be in the interest of science, and we observe 
 the spirit of the law. We will take the net 
 along, and may use it carefully." 
 An hour later they were laboring up the steep 
 mountain-side, heavily loaded with the boats, 
 blankets, kit, and provisions. As they rested, 
 George philosophized : 
 
 10 I45 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 u Goin' up always makes you think how pleas- 
 ant 'twill be comin' down. We ain't like the 
 old woman a-goin' to town with her market- 
 basket, facin' a drivin' snow-storm, and all the 
 while pray in' to the Lord to hev the wind change 
 by the time she turned to come back home." 
 The plan made for the trip was fulfilled with- 
 out change. It is probable that Colonel War- 
 ren was rather more pleased than disappointed 
 at finding no trout with the fly, the spoon, or 
 the net, although the water was deep and cold, 
 and at one end there was a great shoal with 
 water plants, carrying, as his glass showed, 
 plenty of minute crustacea. He could recog- 
 nize the one-eyed water-flea (Daphne cyclops) 
 and shrimp (Gammarus pulex), and he studied 
 many others which he could not identify. He 
 mourned over his ignorance,but John consoled 
 him. 
 
 u What more do you want to know ? The 
 fish'll eat 'em. You've seen 'em before in trout 
 I 've cut open for you." 
 146 
 
GEORGE'S MEMORY 
 Plainly, it was the accident of the subsidence 
 of the waters long ago that left no native trout 
 trapped in this pond. " John, you may carry 
 up here from the river this summer one to two 
 hundred trout. Next summer we will test it, 
 and if they are growing fast we will bring up 
 a lot more,and in two years somebody can have 
 sport." This was work that the Colonel loved 
 more than he loved fishing. 
 It happened that the camp was located by a 
 bunch of young spruces, and that the whole 
 structure, roof, walls, and poles, was built of 
 spruce, and this was naturally a topic at the 
 evening housewarming. 
 
 " Spruce is the curse of the woods," said John, 
 " on the part of its makin' men greedy. They 
 come first and cut for lumber all the big spruce 
 that's sound and over ten or twelve inches 
 thick at the stump. Then after a few years 
 they find they've forgotten somethin' and they 
 come back for pulp wood to make paper, and 
 they cut what 's left. Then the dead tops dry 
 
 147 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 out and the fire comes and kills the hard wood. 
 The lumbermen are just like bass. Put black 
 bass in a small lake and in a few years they '11 
 eat up all the minnies ; in a few more they '11 
 eat up all the trout ; and in a few years more 
 they '11 eat each other up, and you have the 
 water left ; and if they could take the water 
 along with 'em they'd do it. I reckon that bass 
 and lumbermen and hedgehogs all go to one 
 place when they die, but they are too dinged 
 slow a-dyin'." 
 
 u Of course you are wrong, John," said Colo- 
 nel Warren, "but you always come out right. 
 The wealth in these woods has been terribly 
 wasted, but the people were ignorant and did 
 not know what they were doing. They are 
 usually more careful, nowadays. Does it oc- 
 cur to you that we, too, are wasteful ? In peel- 
 ing the bark for the camp we have just built, 
 we have killed spruce to the amount of four or 
 five thousand feet, board measure. Spruce has 
 been the one great valuable crop to be har- 
 148 
 
GEORGE'S MEMORY 
 vested. It has taken more than one hundred 
 years to produce it, that is, as it grew here nat- 
 urally. A twelve-inch spruce tree is at least a 
 hundred years old. A great many of them die 
 before they grow to be two hundred years old, 
 so you see that if a crop of spruce is not cut it 
 is wasted. If they would take the big trees only, 
 there would be a profitable crop to cut at in- 
 tervals of about fifteen years. Spruce grows 
 faster, nearly twice as fast sometimes, when the 
 trees have been skilfully thinned out, or when 
 other conditions are favorable. This makes an 
 estimate of growth deceptive, if you count, in 
 an end section, the rings which show the yearly 
 growth in any one tree, as you can count them 
 on the end of one of the ten-inch logs in the 
 walls of this camp. You may perhaps find that 
 one of those ten-inch spruces has fifty rings and 
 that another one has a hundred rings. Mr. 
 Giffbrd Pinchot found good reason for believ- 
 ing that generally North-woods spruce thick- 
 ens an inch in eight years. Beech and maple 
 
 149 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 grow more slowly. Professor B. E. Fernow 
 finds many that increase an inch in ten to fif- 
 teen years, while yellow birch grows nearly 
 twice as fast. 
 
 " Since the white pine has gone, red spruce is 
 probably the most generally valuable building 
 material left in the country, and it is altogether 
 the best pulp wood. On most of the acres in 
 the Adirondacks it is worth many times more 
 than the land, the hemlock, and the broad-leaf 
 trees all put together ; so, of course, they are 
 going to take out all the larger spruce. The 
 uses of civilization demand it, but if the cutting 
 is not recklessly done, less than one-tenth of the 
 shade is taken, the rest of the trees are bene- 
 fited, the downed tops and the young growth 
 about them give cover and food for deer, and the 
 woods are lightened and made more beautiful 
 for the sportsmen. All things work to gether for 
 good, unless the lumbermen are pretty bad." 
 " The Colonel 's right," said George. " You 
 find more deer now in the slashin's than any- 
 
GEORGE'S MEMORY 
 where else, and they git fat and git more to live 
 on through the winter, so they don't winter kill. 
 I remember findin' and countin'thirty dead deer 
 in one spring-fishin' season, but now I don't 
 find nearly as many as I used to. They are fat, 
 and John lays it to the feed they git in lumbered 
 country." 
 
 u I wish I could trust your memory, George,"" 
 said Colonel Warren. 
 
 " So do I, Colonel. I kin jest barely remem- 
 ber somethin' about your first deer." 
 " I believe George is right," said John. c< I 've 
 traveled over these woods ever since the War, 
 all times of the year, and 'specially when there 's 
 snow-shoein' and in the early spring. I always 
 see sick deer and starvin* deer and dead ones. 
 Of course the deer ain't so plenty as they used 
 to be, but they 've been increasin' late years 
 and in the slashin's they are fatter, and not so 
 many of 'em winter kill." 
 u Did you see the Colonel kill his first deer, 
 George ? " said Hardy. 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 " Not to say see," said George. cc I thought 
 I heard a few dozen of the shots, but the Colo- 
 nel says my memory has weakened, so of course 
 it has." 
 
 u Then you may tell your dream, George," said 
 Colonel Warren. 
 
 " The Colonel was a dream when he first come. 
 He 'd been in the War while I 'd been lumber- 
 in' in Canada, and I got my first job here a- 
 waitin' on him. His clothes and cap was all 
 made out of one piece, soft and smooth, brown- 
 yellow, I call it jest the color of a rotten 
 stump. Everything was fitted to him and 
 must have cost a hundred dollars. He had a 
 patent on rolling the tops of his long stockin's 
 toward the inside, 'stead of havin' an outside 
 roll, so when the lower ends of his knee- 
 pants was buckled over the roll, the stockin's 
 stayed up without garters. He was pretty ! 
 and I used to look at him and then step out 
 into the woods and laugh all alone by myself. 
 He had a patent single-shot rifle and carried 
 152 
 
GEORGE'S MEMORY 
 his catridges loose in his left-hand pocket; 
 said he could shoot ten to the minute and hit 
 at four hundred yards. I ast him how far that 
 was, and when he said it was about seventy 
 rod, I had to step out in the woods and laugh 
 to myself. 
 
 u I had two dogs that had never run a deer, but, 
 as luck had it, they were good. I had luck, 
 too, in settin' the Colonel on the runway at 
 the mouth of the creek, and I left him a boat, 
 so he could ride down to camp when he got 
 through waitin' and missin'. Then I took the 
 dogs, on the chain, up the mountain, a-lookin' 
 for fresh tracks. In an hour or so I had started 
 both dogs and was pickin' gum when I heard 
 him open, and keep on raisin' the ante about 
 every ten seconds. I did n't begin countin' un- 
 til he had fired a good many shots, and, any- 
 way, my memory is n't good. Then it was 
 quiet for a spell and I went on pickin' gum, 
 until his battery opened again and there was 
 more fast shootin'. 
 
 153 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 " I was rested and it seemed about time to work 
 down hill and git a chance to laugh. I hap- 
 pened to strike the river half a mile below the 
 mouth of the creek and saw the boat comin' 
 toward me. When it come near I changed my 
 mind about the Colonel. He was a blooded 
 sport. The little twelve-foot boat was piled 
 with hair and hoofs and horns and dogs. The 
 dogs was fightin' to set on the biggest deer, and 
 the Colonel was kneelin' behind, a-paddlin'. I 
 would n't have known him, for he 'd lost his 
 cap and was smeared with blood from his brown 
 hair to his russet shoes. It did n't seem right for 
 a hundred-dollar suit to be treated so, but the 
 Colonel's looks was really improved. I did n't 
 laugh at him, but I swung my old hat and yelled, 
 and he roared, and the dogs bayed and begun 
 fightin' agin and nearly upset the boat. After 
 that we had a good deal of camp work to do 
 and the Colonel saved his story for the even- 
 in'. He kin 
 member it. " 
 '54 
 
GEORGE'S MEMORY 
 
 u Your memory is all right, George, in this case, 
 except that my cap was not lost ; it was in my 
 pocket. After George showed me my watch 
 point I looked and listened for hours, or min- 
 utes, so intensely that every grasshopper was a 
 deer and every squirrel was a drove of elephants. 
 I had never heard so manyunexplainable sounds 
 and I was so fearful that a deer might pass me 
 unobserved, and make me a laughing stock, 
 that I soon had a thousand-volt tension in my 
 eyes and ears. I could not stand it, so I crawled 
 to the high bank at the mouth of the creek, 
 where there is a gravelly pool below the rift, and 
 I was much interested in watching some large 
 red-bellied trout. They were slowly sawing 
 forward and back and sideways over the gravel 
 bottom. I could see them nosing the larger 
 stones out of the way and then, with their tails, 
 dusting the sediment from the gravel, leaving 
 white places. Occasionally they would quit 
 work and fight each other. I did not then know 
 that these were male trout, cleaning the spawn- 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 ing beds, putting the house in order for their 
 wives, who would come later. 
 u While I was watching the trout a tall insect 
 began a peculiar operation on a spruce log near 
 my head. He had wings about the size of the 
 caddice fly, and four or five legs about half an 
 inch long. He clinched all his toes on the 
 spruce bark and sent down a shaft, like a cam- 
 bric needle, and drilled a hole. At first I thought 
 his drill was revolving, but I got my magnify- 
 ing glass on him and saw that it was a recipro- 
 cal twist a screw to the right, nearly one turn, 
 and then another to the left. He drilled three 
 holes for me while I held a watch on him. Then 
 I carefully cut out a section of the bark and 
 found that he could drill a hole three-eighths of 
 an inch deep in three minutes. He furnished 
 a pretty exact pattern and model to the inven- 
 tor of the steam drill. I believe he was one of 
 the Trichoptera. 
 
 " I was dissecting him and examining him, and 
 had forgotten all about deer, when I heard a 
 
 156 
 
GEORGE'S MEMORY 
 
 rustle back in the woods and saw something that 
 looked like the comet of '6 1 . It was glinting 
 through the trees like a streak, and I shot at it. 
 There was more streak and I shot at it again, 
 and kept on shooting, I don't know how many 
 times, until there was no more streak and no 
 sound. Between shots I had been running to 
 get nearer the deer and to keep out of the black 
 powder-smoke. I kept on running until I came 
 upon a two-pronged buck that was very dead. 
 I tried to get him on my shoulders, but he was 
 too heavy. Then I noticed that a good deal of 
 his weight seemed to be inside of him, and I re- 
 membered George's speaking of having ' skun 
 out ' a deer, so I c skun him out,' but it was a 
 chore. It did not occur to me to take off my 
 new coat, and, being inexperienced and very 
 eager, I naturally absorbed a good deal of that 
 deer. Nevertheless my bungling work seemed 
 to reduce his weight about fifty per cent, so 
 that I shouldered him and carried him to the 
 landing. 
 
 157 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 " I had just got him in my boat and was going 
 to wash up, when, whish ! another buck broke 
 out through the alders and came racing toward 
 me. I don't think I saw my sights when I 
 fired then, for he was almost upon me. I blazed 
 away generally, and the buck dropped dead. It 
 was my day." 
 
 " I have been trying," said Hardy, after a pause, 
 u for good photographs of deer, and I have been 
 thinking that you had the chance of a lifetime, 
 when the second buck was coming almost 
 upon you, if you had had a camera instead of 
 a rifle." 
 
 " No reason why you should n't hev both," 
 said George. " Tie a little camera tight and 
 well back on the under side of the barrel, with 
 buckskin thongs, take aim, push the button, 
 and then shoot." 
 
 " I have had nearly uniform failures so far," said 
 Hardy. u That is, I have not succeeded in 
 getting a thoroughly satisfactory near-by pic- 
 ture out of more than a dozen fairly good op- 
 
 158 
 
GEORGE'S MEMORY 
 portunities. Strange to say, I have come nearer 
 to success with a camera mounted on its tripod 
 than with a hand-camera. I set up and level 
 the camera at the edge of the pond ; then trim 
 it with boughs, and sit down behind it waiting 
 for something to come along. I thought, at 
 first, that this would be dreary, but on the con- 
 trary, it is exciting. I find that by a quiet pond 
 or on the river there is always something going 
 on. A fox came in opposite me and worked 
 for perhaps a quarter of a mile along the beach, 
 in and out of the bushes and in the edge of the 
 water. He was too far away for photograph- 
 ing, but I got a good idea of the way he passes 
 his time, of his alertness and watchfulness. I 
 think that he caught one frog ; but I had no 
 field glass with me. 
 
 " And why should a big deer be afraid of a 
 measly little fox ? A few minutes after the fox 
 had gone, a deer came out of the woods and I 
 was ready to take his portrait as soon as he 
 showed his whole body at the edge of the water. 
 
 '59 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 He was nearly out when he had a spasm. He 
 made three leaps back toward the woods and 
 struck a stiff-legged attitude, with his head and 
 nose as high as he could raise them. He whis- 
 tled a shrill sneeze that seemed to rasp his pret- 
 ty nostrils. He ran, making a short loop back 
 in the woods, and came out just above. He 
 stamped the ground with his right forefoot and 
 whistled again and again. It was abject terror, 
 and yet he had seen nothing alarming, for the 
 fox was long gone; but I suppose the smell of 
 the track was associated in his mind with some 
 kind of danger. When he finally went away, 
 he ran with no caution. He broke twigs and 
 crashed through tops for as far as I could hear 
 such sounds. 
 
 " In using the camera, I have been mightily 
 interested in the way green forest leaves drink 
 sunlight. Photographs in the dense woods on 
 the brightest days need one to two seconds' 
 exposure with a full opening of the lens, or a 
 proportionally longer time forthe smaller open- 
 160 
 
GEORGE'S MEMORY 
 ings. This is many times longer time than is 
 needed in any other shade, and I like to think 
 it is an example of the correlation of forces; that 
 light is taken by the leaves and perhaps converted 
 into power to pump the sap, or perhaps used as 
 a chemical agent in the making of timber and 
 bark. I do not know surely, for I am getting 
 the woodsman's fondness for learning things 
 from seeing, and not from books. The dreamy 
 theory rounds out well when you consider how 
 easy it is to re-convert the timber into light by 
 burning it." 
 
 "You can git tanned with biled hemlock bark," 
 contributed George. 
 
 " I have noticed," said Hardy, " several in- 
 stances of a peculiar habit, if it is a habit. A 
 doe comes from the woods without hesitating 
 or looking around carefully, until she is in plain 
 sight in the open. Then she studies the whole 
 lake, looking apparently over every foot of the 
 beach. She looks directly at me for a while, 
 but if I keep perfectly still she turns to some- 
 ii 161 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 thing else, and presently studies me again, until 
 she is quite satisfied and puts down her head 
 to take a drink. About this time, or shortly 
 after, the buck boldly walks in and, without 
 any hesitation, drinks and feeds on the tender 
 plants. Once, while the doe was doing her five 
 minutes of videtting, I saw a little flash of light 
 a short distance back in the woods from where 
 the doe had come. By watching there for a 
 while I made out the buck's tail. He was 
 standing in safety, lazily flicking at flies with 
 his tail, apparently waiting for his mate to take 
 all the risks of determining whether or not it 
 was a safe spot for eating and drinking, and 
 when it was so determined he stepped out with 
 a lordly, confident, protecting air. The doe 
 seemed to be grateful and proud of his coming. 
 To her the old coward was a hero." 
 u Neither of them was a coward," said Colonel 
 Warren. " Both were timid and cautious, as 
 all good woodsmen learn to be, but the buck 
 will fight well when he must. I met an Indian 
 162 
 
GEORGE'S MEMORY 
 
 boy last summer selling black-ash and grass 
 baskets, woven with a good deal of skill and 
 with some taste. I asked him if he had made 
 them. 
 
 uc No; woman make 'em.' 
 " c Then, who gets the money, you or the wo- 
 man ? ' 
 " c Old man ; he gits it.' " 
 
 163 
 
A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 
 
 HARDY had acquired some power of 
 observation. As he traveled alone, 
 he saw so much that he thought he 
 saw all there was to see, and was uncon- 
 sciously becoming proud of his dawning sense. 
 Sitting in the stern of a boat, with John row- 
 ing him, he had a feeling of elation whenever 
 he was able to say, " There is a deer ! " But, 
 as often occurred when John, with a turn of 
 his head and a keen glance forward, replied, 
 " There 's two of 'em, both does," he was mor- 
 tified. He was tempted to lie and say, " Of 
 course." This temptation to small lying was 
 one of his discoveries, and he sometimes 
 thought that his character was not yet formed, 
 his moral sense only partly cultivated, when a 
 distant object was pointed out to him and he 
 hesitated to confess, the devil prompting him 
 to say, " Yes, I see it." 
 164 
 
A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 
 
 He was muscular, and the apparent strength 
 of woodsmen or guides, carrying a pack, or 
 under a sixty-pound boat, was a mystery to him 
 until he learned that skill was more important 
 than muscle. He was pleased at finding that 
 his careful bringing up and thorough physical 
 training counted for something, and that, as he 
 learned the woods, he could do and endure more 
 than men who had not been so well cared for 
 if it were not for the accidents. At first he 
 was rarely without a cut, a bruise, or a strain, 
 and these were still too frequent. John ad- 
 vised him to learn how to be careful by watch- 
 ing the habits of the wild animals. " They 
 know these woods better than we do," said he. 
 George warned him as they were going over 
 some rocky ledges : " Step careful ; these rocks 
 were throwed in careless. Nobody took no 
 pains with 'em." 
 
 Eternal caution was not a bore to him ; it was 
 an exercise of skill, and distinctly a pleasure, 
 but he was hampered by a lack of knowledge. 
 165 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 The woodsman knows the root, or rock, or log 
 . that is slippery ; one look is enough. It is not 
 instinct, it is knowledge that tells him where a 
 charred log with sharply pointed branches is 
 hidden in the briers in burnt ground, and his 
 marvellous way. of choosing the best going in 
 rough country is simply the result of a great 
 fund of information about little things, acquired 
 by experience and not capable of being taught 
 by words. The good woodsman of course 
 goes slowly up hill and down hill, and fast where 
 the going is easy, and watches for head room 
 for his pack or his boat, as well as for good 
 footing, but this care and watchfulness require 
 only a small part of his attention, because he 
 has acquired the habit of seeing at one glance 
 and of printing everything notable on his 
 memory. 
 
 When the party started down the mountain 
 from the double camp, the packs were light- 
 ened and Hardy offered to carry a boat, but 
 George was positive that he needed his boat 
 166 
 
A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 
 over his head to protect his complexion, espe- 
 cially when going down hill. John was also re- 
 luctant, but yielded to Hardy's courtesy with 
 a warning : " Remember you 're in a trap when 
 your head is under a boat with a wood collar 
 close 'round your neck." He always tried to 
 heed these warnings and he knew the dangers ; 
 but on a strong, erect man the weight of a 
 boat rests lightly when the yoke fits the shoul- 
 ders. Going down the slopes, ahead of the 
 rest, he had occasional warnings when the boat 
 was not perfectly balanced and he felt its stern 
 touch the ground behind him, but it is hard to 
 be always careful, and he yielded to the temp- 
 tation to go faster, until finally the stern caught 
 and held him for a moment as he was stepping 
 over a log. He took a few quick, unthinking 
 steps forward to recover his balance and heard 
 a miserable sound of breaking as he saw a 
 spruce horn pierce the shell of the boat in front 
 of his head. 
 The grief of a child is probably more poignant 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 than that of a man, and a young soldier wastes 
 more time than an old one in vain regret. 
 Hardy put down his boat, and looked at the 
 rent in the beautiful hull. He wanted to hurt 
 himself. He pressed back into their places the 
 thin fibres of white pine and longed for the 
 conditions of two minutes ago, just like a child. 
 He heard George coming, heard him put down 
 his boat and stop near him without speaking. 
 George was filling his pipe and admiring him- 
 self for having clung to his own boat. Colo- 
 nel Warren came up and sat on a log while 
 John made a careful examination of the rent, 
 and finally broke the silence : 
 " Might hev been worse." 
 " How could it have been worse ? " 
 " No rib broken ; only the shell, but that 's 
 bad enough. I don't see how we can fix it in 
 the woods." 
 
 There was a shrill note in Hardy's voice as he 
 asked : " Why don't some one ask how I did 
 this fool thing ? " 
 1 68 
 
A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 
 
 "No need of that," said George. "I knowed 
 you had n't stopped for a rest soon as I saw that 
 little flick of paint on the spruce horn." 
 u Sit down and fill your pipe, my boy," said 
 Colonel Warren, " while John finds a way. I 
 never gave up to a broken reel or fly-rod or 
 anything else lost, missing, or busted, except a 
 carry-boat. I suppose, John, it would not be 
 really sportsmanlike to wad some underclothes 
 in that hole ? " 
 
 " No," said John, thoughtfully, " sure there 's 
 a better way." 
 
 As they neared Wilderness camp, John quietly 
 asked Colonel Warren : 
 " It might n't be that you have adhesive plas- 
 ter in your pack ? " 
 
 u Always, and rubber cement ; and there ought 
 to be a rubber boot-top under the eaves of the 
 camp. We are thinking the same way, John." 
 " How easy ! " 
 
 All the splinters were carefully pressed into 
 place, or pared down, and the varnish was 
 
 ,6 9 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 scraped and roughened, inside and outside, 
 around the jagged hole. Two rubber patches 
 were secured from the leg of an old wading- ' 
 boot, and the cloth lining was peeled from the 
 inside. A coating of rubber cement was put 
 on the boat and on the patches, and allowed to 
 dry for an hour. After a fresh coating with 
 cement the patches were pressed on. The 
 repair was firm, smooth, and water-tight, and 
 lasted through the season, until the boat was 
 taken in the fall to the shop, where the builder 
 dove-tailed in new strips. 
 There is often a first vulgar impulse to laugh 
 at an accident to another person, and woods- 
 men, who spend much of their time in soli- 
 tude, are probably most prone to it. Among 
 kindly people it is quickly followed by anxiety 
 to lessen the mortification of the one who has 
 had the misfortune. In the evening, by the 
 camp fire, three men, each in his own way, 
 were doing what they could do to lighten Har- 
 dy's spirits. George made an effort : 
 170 
 
A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 
 
 " Billy Drew come out of the woods in the 
 spring, years ago, with a back load of furs, and 
 they made him rich. He must have got more 'n 
 a hundred dollars for 'em. Then he went back 
 and brought in a load of tanned buckskin, and 
 his wife made moccasins and gloves and sold 
 'em. He did n't do a stroke of work all 
 summer, and I sot 'round with him, evenin's, 
 whenever I could. Toward fall he told me 
 he had a big scheme, and he 'lowed he 'd sell 
 his trap-lines and winter-camp to the right man 
 who'd appreciate 'em. Of course I was the 
 right man, and when he showed me the place 
 and the lines I was pleased. I could see where 
 marten worked along the hemlock ridges, and 
 the rock ledges where I knew I 'd get fisher, 
 and there was plenty of mink sign in the wet 
 places. Thecamp wasbuilt just right for winter. 
 It was tight and hed a little door to it, and was 
 roomy enough for two men to crawl in." 
 " What did you do with all that extry room, 
 George ? " 
 
 171 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 " Kep' it for my dog, John, and he was good 
 company. He never interrupted me, all win- 
 ter, when I was a-tellin' him stories. 
 u One end of the little camp was against a big 
 boulder, and that 's where the chimney was. 
 The fire by that rock through the evenin' made 
 it hot enough to keep the camp warm nearly 
 all night. The early part of December I went 
 in, and of course I wanted bait for my traps, 
 so I stepped back about eighty rod from the 
 camp and felled a balsam. I left it quiet for 
 a few days and then went back over the ridge 
 with my rifle to see what had happened. The 
 deer was standin' so clost around that felled 
 tree that I could n't see much of it. Their 
 sides was a touchin' each other. They looked 
 like cattle 'round a haystack, and I s'pose there 
 was more behind 'em waitin' for a chance, but 
 I did n't bother to look. They went away 
 pretty soon, all but one buck that stayed, for 
 bait for my traps. I skun out the deer right 
 there and had to make two trips to camp to 
 172 
 
A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 
 carry him in, for he was a good one, and the 
 queerest thing was that I forgot all about my 
 rifle and left it leanin' agin the balsam top. 
 " Next mornin' I went back after it and was 
 steppin' along, quiet like, when I saw fresh 
 bear sign, and the biggest track I ever see. It 
 was fresh ; it was dinged fresh, and that big 
 bear was right where I killed the buck, and he 
 had with him, right under his eye, the only 
 rifle within ten miles. I set down to think 
 about it, and was goin' to fill my pipe so 's to 
 get an idee, but I did n't do it, 'though the 
 wind was right. I crawled along, careful, to 
 see what was goin' on. Pretty soon I could 
 hear him, workin' on what was left of the deer. 
 I thought he would eat what he could and then 
 drag away the rest, and as he was makin' a 
 good deal of noise, I kep' workin' closter. 
 When I saw him he had his back to me, and 
 I kep' on workin' in. Pretty quick he saw 
 me, and, instead of runnin' away, he rared up 
 and looked at me, unpleasant. 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 " I 'd got in pretty clost, thinkin' when he 
 started to run I 'd sprint for my gun and every- 
 thing would be pleasant, but his settin' up and 
 darin' me to come on, and gittin' ready to come 
 my way instead of goin' his 'n, made it bad. He 
 acted as if he knew he was bigger 'n me, and 
 I could n't help wonderin' if he knew about the 
 rifle. We looked at each other quite a spell ; 
 he a-keepin' up a low growl and me a figurin' 
 on a birch crotch where I thought perhaps I 
 could swarm up. Pretty soon he begun eatin' 
 again, but I could see he was n't swallerin' any- 
 thing. He was fakin',solfelt better and turned 
 on my eyes fiercer, but kep' still and did n't al- 
 together give up the idee of the birch crotch. 
 Then he weakened a little more and began 
 backin' away, but draggin' with him some of 
 the insides of the deer. When he was out of 
 sight in the bushes I reached my rifle and felt 
 better. When I got a chance to put a bullet 
 in his shoulder he was some distance ofFand a- 
 rackin' along through the woods at a pretty 
 174. 
 
A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 
 good gait. He went somethin' like a half a 
 mile after that; I a-follerin' him, and nearly out 
 of lead by the time he was quiet. 
 u He was the biggest bear and the fattest bear 
 I ever see. I 'd heard that bear's-ile was worth 
 ten dollars a gallon, and of course the skin was 
 a beauty, and so of course my fortune was made 
 and Billy Drew was mighty foolish or mighty 
 kind to give up such a chance and let me into 
 it. I worked over him nearly a week, for he 'd 
 made it a long carry, back and forrads to the 
 camp, but I kep' him froze up and all safe. 
 The skin was so heavy with fat that it took me 
 half a day to work it into camp. I filled the 
 little camp full with the skin and the fat, that 
 I expected to get enough ile out of to make me 
 rich. Then about New Year's I snow-shoed 
 out home with seventy pound of fat, and my 
 wife tried it out and filled every bottle and can 
 in the house with bear's-ile, and that 's all I ever 
 got out of that bear. 
 "The January thaw come on,and it was nearly 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 a month before I could work back through the 
 soft snow to the camp. I knowed I was near 
 it before I could see it, for I could wind it ; 
 so I did n't come any nearder, but just geth- 
 ered in a few traps and went home. 
 " In the spring I went out to the drug stores 
 and they all told me bear's-ile was n't worth 
 anything any more, because ilin' hair had gone 
 out of fashion. So I bought a lot of small fancy 
 bottles and put ile in 'em and had red and gilt 
 labels, ' Genuine and Guaranteed Pure,' put on 
 'em ; and went 'round recommendin' bear's- 
 ile for rheumatism and consumption, but never 
 sold a bottle. I recommended it for ilin' shoes, 
 but people would n't take to it, on account of 
 the smell." 
 
 " You was n't so much to blame," commented 
 John, " except on the part of leavin' your rifle 
 out. I don't see how you could 'a' done that, 
 way off in the woods all alone." 
 " 'T was n't that," said George, " 't was not 
 knowin' that hair ile had gone out. A man 
 176 
 
A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 
 
 has to know a mighty sight to deal with people 
 outside and make anything out of 'em. If I 
 had n't left the rifle out I 'd never seen the 
 bear." 
 
 " Of course," said John, " a man never ought 
 to have an accident in these woods ; they 're 
 no use,but they come quick and sometimes you 
 hardly know what 's happened, even when you 
 think you 're careful. There used to be an old 
 camp, half a mile from here, the roof broke 
 down with the weight of snow, and all grown 
 up to briers and pin-cherry. The Colonel 
 did n't like it, called it a ' blot in the wilder- 
 ness ; ' so I went there, when snow come in 
 November, to burn it when it was safe. It 
 was slow burnin', and I was usin' my axe to 
 get the logs together so they 'd heat each other. 
 I was alone and in a hurry and was careless, 
 and swung the axe into a pin-cherry crotch just 
 behind me. It hung in the brittle thing just 
 long enough to drop back and split the calf of 
 my right leg. 
 
 12 177 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 " I always claimed that pin-cherry is the mean- 
 est tree in the woods. It starts in, in a wind- 
 fall or a clearin', and chokes out young birch 
 and maple. It grows fast at first, and lays out 
 to be a good tree, and makes everything 'round 
 it grow spindlin'. It is n't good for much, even 
 for firewood, and when it 's done all the dam- 
 age possible, it dies ; but it stays there, black and 
 brittle to catch an axe. It 's just like a bass." 
 "Ora lumberman, or a hedgehog," said Hardy. 
 " No, not so bad as that, but just plain bad. 
 The blood come strong and I was pretty weak 
 and tired by the time I got the arms of my 
 shirt tied around the leg, with a stick through 
 the wrappin', twisted tight enough to choke the 
 flow. When I had crawled a while, I had to 
 stop and tidy up. The stick was a little too 
 long, and it and the shirt trailin' behind my 
 back leg rassled with the witch hopples, and 
 made it bad goin'. I was near here when I re- 
 membered somethin'. The Colonel has a way 
 of hidin' out what 's left of a bottle of whiskey, 
 
 .78 
 
A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 
 
 and I had noticed him looking at a birch stump 
 a few rods out. I got there and dug under the 
 root and found a bottle. I pulled the cork, and 
 things looked better." 
 
 " Only four or five ounces left in that bottle, I 
 think," said Colonel Warren. u That is my ob- 
 vious for hiding, in order to satisfy and stop 
 the fool hunter." 
 
 " An' I think I saw you takin' notice of the 
 big hemlock log below the spring ? " 
 " Yes, John, there is a better bottle there." 
 " And the turned-up spruce root, on the other 
 side of camp, with a spike that shows ten foot 
 high, ought to be a good landmark ? " 
 " You have taken the third degree, John." 
 " There 's others," said John. 
 " There are several others," said Colonel War- 
 ren. 
 
 " I '11 put an axe in my leg, soon as this party 
 goes out," said George. 
 
 " The minister who was here two years ago 
 learned of my childish practice," said Colonel 
 
 179 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 Warren, u and when he went out he told me 
 in mysterious whispers that he had left two 
 flasks hid out, and that I was welcome to them 
 if I could find them. He quivered and looked 
 about cautiously as he spoke to me about it. 
 The edge of hypothetical iniquity is, to some 
 mild persons, like a precipice that they feel 
 drawn to peek over. It did not take long to 
 find the first flask. Of course he would not 
 go far from the trail, so I stood still and imag- 
 ined myself to be a minister. I got quite in 
 the spirit of it, and as soon as I had done so, 
 walked to his flask without error. I tasted his 
 liquor and never looked for the other flask. I 
 am convinced that he is a temperate gentle- 
 man." 
 
 " Your stump bottle was good," said John. "It 
 made a wonderful difference, right away. I 
 crawled into camp and made a fire and biled a 
 couple of towels for about an hour. Then I 
 cut 'em in strips and made a good job of ban- 
 dagin',and slep' right through the afternoon and 
 180 
 
A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 
 
 night. I put on fresh bandage in the mornin' 
 and went home easy." 
 
 " The best work you did," said Hardy, " was 
 remembering to boil out the towels." 
 u And the stump," said George. 
 "It was good work all the way through," said 
 Colonel Warren, " sportsmanlike and good 
 woodcraft. There is always a way outof trouble 
 in the woods, but some of us are foolish. A 
 good many years ago I was in the woods, with 
 George, floating for deer. The lake was con- 
 siderably more than a mile across, and toward 
 morning we found a deer in the marsh at the 
 head and brought him in. My little boy, six 
 years old, was in camp and he wakened as we 
 were hanging up the deer. The day was break- 
 ing, the lake was very beautiful, and as I had an 
 errand to the other side, I took the boy with me 
 in the carry-boat and rowed across. When we 
 started to come back, I paid out a trolling line 
 and passed the rod to the boy in the stern. Pres- 
 ently a good fish struck the troll and pulled so 
 
 181 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 hard that little Russell's strength was not equal 
 to it, and he partly stood up to pass the rod to 
 me. I also partly stood up to reach for it. I 
 was careless. The boat tipped and nearly filled 
 and then righted. A forty-pound carry-boat is 
 a good ship when it is dry on the inside. When 
 it is full of water it will float only a few pounds 
 more than its own weight, partly because of its 
 metal trimmings. 
 
 " I instantly placed each hand on opposite gun- 
 wales of the boat, and, straightening my arms, 
 raised my body free and gently balanced out in 
 the lake,and clung to the bow stem. Of course, 
 in balancing out, I completely filled the boat 
 with water, but I kept it right side up and hoped 
 that, swamped as it was, it would sustain the 
 boy and also allow me to bear a part of my weight 
 on it while I swam and pushed it along. This 
 did not work. Russell's e'nd of the boat sank 
 until the water rose to his chin, and the whole 
 thing was unmanageable. I treaded water and 
 tended the boat while I was soothing and en- 
 182 
 
A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 
 
 couraging the plucky little boy to keep steady 
 and work forward to the centre and sit on the 
 bottom. He behaved well and things looked 
 better, for the boat would just carry him, and 
 not a pound more. My hunting-clothes and 
 boots were heavy and the water was cold, but 
 I swam and pushed as carefully as I could, aim- 
 ing for the point of the island. It was slow, 
 terribly slow. I saved my strength in every 
 possible way, and began to speculate on how 
 long I could work in the cold water and heavy 
 clothes. I certainly could not reach the island, 
 but I kept going, and while encouraging the boy 
 to keep still and, at intervals, to scream at the 
 top of his voice, I used the fewest possible words 
 and the least amount of breath. 
 a A numbness began at my feet and crept grad- 
 ually up my legs until they were almost useless. 
 I swam now mostly with my arms, and at every 
 second or third stroke pushed the boat carefully 
 ahead with one hand. It was plain that I could 
 not swim to the island and that, even if George 
 
 183 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 heard us, he could not reach us in time to help 
 me. I therefore gave Russell final precise di- 
 rections ; trying to give him the impression that 
 I was simply going away after help. I wanted 
 to say good-by to him and give a message 
 to his mother, but this should not be done. 
 My pains were so intense and I was so nearly 
 helpless that it needed no courage to let 
 myself slowly sink. It came as a blessed 
 relief. It was almost a disappointment, after 
 I had sunk, to find that my feet touched 
 bottom. 
 
 u We had barely reached the edge of the shoal 
 and were in a trifle over six feet of water. I 
 thought that I was dying and the hope that the 
 footing gave was only a languid stimulus. It 
 was the thinking of the dear little courageous 
 boy that gave me enough pluck to thrust my 
 head again above the surface. A few more 
 sinkings and a few more thrusts brought me 
 to wading ground. 
 " c Are you on bottom, papa ? ' 
 184 
 
A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 
 
 u I had enough strength to answer, and to push 
 
 the boat slowly to the island. I lifted the boy 
 
 out and said : 
 
 " * Russell, say " Thank God ! " ' 
 
 ' Thank God, papa ! ' " 
 
 185 
 
JOHN'S CAKES 
 
 " T T 'S jest as I told you," said John, as he 
 cheerfully passed to the out-door break- 
 fast table the twentieth plate of cakes. 
 " Sometimes your appetite is above the everidge, 
 but if settles back. I thought it 'd be so from 
 the way you all slep' after comin' down the 
 mountain, so I mixed two pounds of flour, and 
 it 's a-goin', but there 's plenty." 
 " The cakes of John," said Colonel Warren, 
 " are not made by any one else in any camp or 
 in any kitchen. They are light ; as a vehicle 
 for pure maple syrup they rival the sponge. 
 They are resilient; their restful light-brown sur- 
 faces seem to come scarcely in contact. Only 
 two more, John, and I am done. c Wouldst thou 
 both eat thy cake and have it ? ' Yes, when 
 John mixes the batter there is always enough. 
 They are moist, yet not too moist, and always 
 tender and good. They " 
 1 86 
 
JOHN'S CAKES 
 
 " stick to the ribs, I 'm a-tellin' you," inter- 
 rupted George. " Your fly-rod '11 work better 
 on the few dozen cakes you 've pecked at than 
 on the hardtack you had in the war. When the 
 Colonel's leader fouls and climbs trees, I 've 
 learned to lay it to the feed." 
 u I wish, John, that some time you would show 
 me how to make cakes," said Hardy. 
 "Sure I will some time," answered John. 
 Hardy was reminded that he had many times 
 asked the same question and had the same an- 
 swer. To Colonel Warren the question and 
 answer had acquired the familiarity of years. He 
 knew all the ingredients ; he might have learned 
 them by differentiation, if in no other way, for 
 whenever, in the vicissitudes of camp life, any 
 were missing, John mentioned it and repeated 
 it, again and again, in the way of apology. 
 He was tender of the reputation of his cakes. 
 George wanted to know ; he needed this ac- 
 complishment in his business. He rarely asked 
 questions ; he used his eyes and never forgot 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 what he had seen once. Many a morning he 
 had exhausted his pretexts for being near John 
 during the mixing, but too often John's back 
 would unaccountably be turned to him, and yet 
 it was so naturally done as not to arouse sus- 
 picion, until, as George once described it to his 
 wife when he had again failed to bring home 
 the recipe she had often asked for, 
 " Says I to myself, I '11 spot the dinged thing 
 if I hev to crawl between his legs when he 
 turns, so he '11 swivel over me. So I tended 
 him for half an hour; reachin' 'round him for a 
 cup, lookin' over his shoulder, droppin' on the 
 floor for a knife,handin' him the milk can,which 
 he said he did n't need jest yet, doin' everything 
 to be sociable and clost. Twice he told me 
 to go to the spring for him, but I was ready for 
 that and hed every kittle in camp filled before- 
 hand. He was worried about the fire, but I 'd 
 thought of that, and hed all kinds of dry wood 
 where I could reach it and drop it on without 
 movin' from my tracks, while my head was 
 1 88 
 
JOHN'S CAKES 
 
 turned full 'round over my shoulders, a-watch- 
 in' him. He did n't seem to be restless, but 
 he did n't get any furwarder ; all the time busy 
 and never gettin' ahead, but we was both get- 
 tin' hungry. Course he had his coat on, for 
 when he 's ready to get breakfast he 's ready for 
 church, and I was so busy watchin' his batter 
 pail that I did n't notice, till all at once I see 
 there wa'n't a ding thing left on the table. He 
 hed some melted butter in the bottom of the 
 pail, and he grabbed the flour can and struck off 
 in the woods. Said 't was too warm by the fire. 
 Then I see his pockets bulgin' with eggs, surup 
 bottle, milk can, bakin' powder can and every- 
 thing we hed to cook with. I follered him, for 
 John is always so soft-like you'd never 'spicion 
 him, and, besides, he said he liked my company, 
 when I ast him. But he kep' a-goin', and when 
 I sot down on a log to fill my pipe he went out 
 o' sight. I thought about it a spell and then 
 worked back to camp, and there he was a-bak- 
 in' cakes ! " 
 
 189 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 " John," said Colonel Warren, " answer me. 
 What do you put in the pail first, when you 
 make cakes ? " 
 
 " Nothin'," answered John. " You have to 
 put your butter on to melt first ; and you must 
 be careful to have it melt slow, so 's not to burn. 
 And you don't need to use the freshest butter 
 you 've got. Old butter '11 do, if it ain't spoilt, 
 and it won't spoil if you keep it in the spring, 
 where it 's cool. And I 'm a-thinkin', Colo- 
 nel, that after breakfast George and I could 
 split a few balsam into halves, and wall up the 
 sides of the spring, sheet-pile it, so 's to keep 
 the drift out and make a deeper pool to dip 
 from." 
 
 " John, that won't do ; you are blinding your 
 trail. We were speaking of cakes. Twenty 
 years ago we had a talk on this subject, and al- 
 though I do not think you intentionally mis- 
 led me, nevertheless, in my cockiness, I went 
 home firm in the belief that I knew it all. I 
 often spoke of John's cakes when our cook 
 190 
 
JOHN'S CAKES 
 sent in pale, leathery disks that stacked up 
 about ten to the inch thick. My offer to go in 
 the kitchen and instruct the cook was declined, 
 first by Mrs. Warren, and later by the cook, 
 when I insisted on making the offer direct to 
 her. Strangely enough, this tended to make 
 me more firm in the belief that I knew how, 
 and I spoke to the neighbors about it, and be- 
 came known as the man who knew how to 
 make cakes that were thick, light, sweet, and 
 healthy. I had quoted from Dr. Marston's 
 essay on ripe peaches and applied it to my 
 cakes : c They can be eaten in enormous quan- 
 tities, without injury, and sometimes with pos-' 
 itive benefit.' They were ' my cakes ' now ; 
 they were John's no longer, and although I had 
 never made them, they had become to me a 
 pleasing entity. 
 
 " There was to be a children's frolic, ours and 
 the neighbors', in our kitchen on Christmas af- 
 ternoon, and I was to make cakes for them. 
 I prepared for it the evening before, by look- 
 
 191 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 ing up my fishing record where I had notes of 
 my talk with you, and by doing some hard 
 thinking. I also studied the cook-books so as 
 to learn what to avoid, and I tried to move 
 around the kitchen range with the air of a mas- 
 ter. This is important in making cakes as well 
 as in trying a case before a jury, and I still think 
 that my cakes would not have been so very dif- 
 ferent from John's cakes, if I had not forgot- 
 ten the baking-powder. The children ate them 
 until their mothers enticed them away, and I 
 hope their ailments were not beyond the aver- 
 age of Christmas nights. 
 u But, John, you are growing old ; I am grow- 
 ing old ; and we alone have the secret. It 
 should not die with us : let us develop it now. 
 That is, you explain and I will write." 
 " There ain't any secret, Colonel, except that 
 the butter must be melted careful, and I '11 be 
 pleased to show how I do it some time but 
 I ain't gifted to rightly talk so you could write 
 it down." 
 192 
 
JOHN'S CAKES 
 
 tc I think, John, that in a decent interval after 
 you have overcome your reluctance, your lan- 
 guage will not be unfit for publication. After 
 a quarter of a century of hiding you may need 
 a minute to get used to the glare. Begin slow- 
 ly, but begin now." 
 " You melt your butter," said John. 
 " How much butter ? " 
 
 "About the size of an egg, and you stir in two 
 eggs and a teaspoonful of salt. Then you 
 crumb up a thick slice of stale bread, but not 
 the crust, and let it soak in the pail with a cup- 
 ful of water, and when it 's soaked you stir in 
 three big tablespoonfuls of condensed milk and 
 two tablespoonfuls of syrup and two more cup- 
 fuls of water and your butter, eggs, and salt. 
 Then you stir in flour, about a pound, until the 
 batter is nearly as thick as molasses. Before 
 you bake, stir in two teaspoonfuls of baking- 
 powder, and your griddle has to be snappin' hot 
 and kep' so. It 's easy ; anybody can do it," 
 
 13 193 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 said John, and there was a note of regret, or 
 relief, in his voice as he said it. 
 u Easier, I sh'd think," said George, " to do it 
 in camp, than to go off in the woods and work 
 from your pockets. Do you happen to know 
 that there ain't a trout in camp and there 's one 
 left, that you touched up in the spring-hole, 
 Colonel ? " 
 
 "Are the provisions low ? " said Colonel War- 
 ren. u Strange what a pleasing stimulus that 
 condition is to the sportsman. We like to be- 
 lieve that we are unwilling to take the life of 
 a game animal unless it is necessary, but we 
 work hard and wait long to make it necessary. 
 We really like to kill, and, when you think of 
 it, the whole science of hunting and fishing is 
 simply that of killing with the least possible 
 discomfort and danger, limited by a few Mar- 
 quis of Queensbury rules, made to prevent 
 too fast killing and to prolong the agony. Like 
 assassins we lie in wait for a deer, or steal after 
 
 194 
 
JOHN'S CAKES 
 
 him like a sleuth hound and shoot the harm- 
 less, beautiful creature from ambush. We con 
 over flies, spoons, and gangs, or sit by baited 
 buoys and study the habits of trout, in order to 
 bring death to their happy homes at meal time. 
 Of course we bar nets, traps, and salt licks,and 
 try to make assassination a fine art, but it is bru- 
 tal, and I am inclined to think the instinct for 
 it is a revulsion from high civilization, a de- 
 sire to get out of its attenuated atmosphere into 
 primitive conditions, and work with our hands 
 for food and shelter. Clarence King's merry 
 thesis, c Civilization is a Nervous Disease,' has 
 truth in it, although this brilliant gentleman 
 probably did not care a rap forthat feature when 
 he developed it. The specific for this disease is 
 to wait on yourself, to hunt, kill, and cook your 
 own food, and " 
 
 " The trout of which we was speakin', Colonel, 
 is good medicine, and you can't be always on- 
 lucky. Best cure for misfortune is to marry 
 agin." 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 " I am not forgetting him, George," said Colo- 
 nel Warren, u but it is not necessary to fish all 
 the time, and early morning is not the best 
 time." 
 
 " Sure it is n't," said John, " and if you can 
 spare us for an hour, George and I could 
 sheet-pile the spring with split balsam and have 
 things more comfortable." 
 u Could fix it better 'n that," said George, " all 
 by myself in less time. There 's a beech, just 
 beyond, that come down last fall. Of course 
 its heart has rotted out by this time. I 'd split 
 a piece out of it and make a trough, and hev 
 runnin' water so 's to set a pail and let it fill 
 while I 'm smokin' my pipe, 'stead of havin' 
 to stoop and dip. It 's queer how quick beech 
 rots at the heart and keeps sound in the sap 
 after you fell it. I had a contract to cut and 
 haul twenty cord, guaranteed sound. After 
 I 'd get a load on the sled I dasn't take my eye 
 oft* it for fear it 'd rot while I was drawin' it. 
 I never hurried in my life, except then, and 
 196 
 
JOHN'S CAKES 
 
 when I got the last load in I hurried the man 
 out to view it the same night." 
 "This is all new tome," said Hardy. "The 
 beech is such a buxom tree. It seems so clean, 
 wholesome, sound, and healthy." 
 " And yet ' it rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf,' 
 said Colonel Warren. George is right, but of 
 course he did not mean to include the variety 
 blue beech, which is a useful timber tree. But 
 we are dawdling on Lethe wharf. John and 
 George might fix the spring while we tidy up 
 the camp; then we '11 put up lunches and part 
 to meet again toward night." 
 There is a charm in all phases of trout-fishing 
 through the open season and it is well not to be 
 bigoted, although we may have strong prefer- 
 ences. After the ice goes out, the sleepy trout 
 is not at his best ; he is yawning and recover- 
 ing slowly from his half hibernation ; he is not 
 lively in snow water; he does not take a fly, 
 or anything else unless it is drifted near to him ; 
 he nibbles gingerly ; he won't play or be 
 
 197 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 played ; he is not fat, but he is good, and the 
 fisherman has also had a hard winter, and is 
 longing to wade the stream and to eat fried 
 trout. It is the vulgarest fishing, but perhaps 
 it is the most fun. In May, or thereabouts, 
 the fly-fisherman may gorge himself with sport, 
 when the trout go on the shoals in the ponds, 
 or on the rifts in the river, to race about in 
 swift water and rest in shallow pools. They 
 are scouring off the winter coating, we com- 
 monly say, but are they not, rather, looking up 
 their old haunts, noting the changes, and sat- 
 isfying themselves that water still runs down 
 hill, just as all of us like to do in the spring ? 
 They are plenty and get-at-able. The brutal 
 fisherman's thirst for blood may be quenched 
 for a while, and the gentle sportsman can pick 
 and choose. With falling water and warmer 
 days and nights, our friends in the stream drift 
 to deep water and the pools at the mouths of 
 spring brooks, alert for food and comfort and 
 wary of danger. They are fat and at their best 
 198 
 
JOHN'S CAKES 
 
 in every sense. The fisherman needs to plant 
 his finest darkened leader straight and quiver 
 the flies gently, to deceive the trout, which sees 
 with eyes that, sleeping or waking, never seem 
 to close. If he could only hear and smell, the 
 fly-rod would not be known and the gill-net 
 none too sure. Everything in Nature seems 
 to be fixed and balanced just right. 
 In the evening, Hardy and John were in camp 
 and settled, with supper waiting for the others 
 to come in, when Colonel Warren's voice 
 roared at the edge of the clearing : 
 "'The air nimbly and sweetly recommends 
 itself unto our gentle senses. The Heaven's 
 breath smells wooingly here ! ' What have 
 you got for supper, John ? But pause for a 
 moment while I unbuckle the cover of my 
 pack-basket and George scrapes a little of the 
 bark of the mountain ash ; and cut some 
 sugar, John, and bring cold water from the 
 spring. Whoop ! This has been a white day 
 and we '11 mark it ! " 
 
 199 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 " Two-pound ten-ounces, full," whispered 
 George, as he laid on the curled-birch log a 
 beautiful fish for Hardy to study and admire. 
 " And you just ketched him," said John, as he 
 noted the un faded colors. 
 " Jest landed him ; ben ketchin' him a good 
 while," said George. 
 
 u ' Swing low, sweet chario-ot ; comin' for to 
 carry me home,' " sung Colonel Warren, as he 
 bent over his pack. 
 
 Of course, the true fisherman does not fish for 
 fish. His happiness comes from the outing 
 and the chance for skill. Good luck or bad 
 luck must have nothing to do with it, but there 
 is a spontaneity in his contentment when the 
 big fish comes. 
 
 " If I 'd hed my way," said George, " I 'd V 
 gone this mornin' and anchored by that spring- 
 hole and stayed right there, and taken no 
 chances, so 's to be ready when he was willin' to 
 come. Of course, if the Colonel had 'a' let 
 me, I 'd gone ashore and dug a worm, but he 
 200 
 
JOHN'S CAKES 
 
 would n't hear to it. I stood the boat off while 
 he drawed his flies over the pool twice, and then 
 he reeled up and said it was too bright and the 
 water was too flat, and we 'd leave the boat and 
 walk up to the Elbow and spend the mornin ? 
 fishin' the holes comin' back. We got some 
 good ones and had lunch and the Colonel took 
 a nap in the shade, while I set and smoked and 
 worried about the big one. Come four o'clock 
 and I could n't stan' it, so I built a punkey 
 smudge, two or three steps up the wind from 
 where the Colonel was sleepin.' Lord, how 
 the smoke did waller over him ! 
 " Course he got uneasy and set up, and I told 
 him how they used to throw stones in a spring- 
 hole, to stir up the trout and make 'em run 
 out half-scared and come back livened up and 
 habited to things fallin' among 'em. 
 " ' Stun 'em out ! ' says I. 
 u ' Better smoke 'em out,' says he. 
 " Pretty soon he said, quiet like, as if it jest 
 happened to occur to him, that we might go 
 
 201 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 to the boat and try the big spring-hole for a 
 minute before goin' back to camp ; but he 
 studied his fly-book for half an hour before 
 he 'd move. He took down the leader, with 
 three flies he 'd been usin', and put on the fin- 
 est brown leader I ever see, and only one fly, 
 a No. 8 Montreal. Fish took it, most every 
 cast, some good ones, but he let most of 'em 
 go. I moved the boat away, while he changed 
 to a little black hackle, about No. 14, and it 
 was beautiful to see him fire that little punkey 
 up to the mouth of the creek and draw it down 
 at the edge of the eddy. And it went out o' 
 sight, jest sucked down, and the Colonel struck 
 slow. We had him; and the Colonel didn't 
 say a word for half an hour, except once he 
 whispered : ' You know where the log is, 
 George ! ' " 
 
 " I never saw prettier handling of a boat," said 
 Colonel Warren. The tackle was, I think, 
 rather light for that sized trout. We had to 
 take time and be careful. And now, my boy, 
 202 
 
JOHN'S CAKES 
 
 what have you been doing ? You brought 
 in fish for supper, and I see you have some 
 beauties left, nicely packed in brakes by the 
 spring." 
 
 "John and I concluded to fish the river below 
 again," said Hardy, " and to walk some dis- 
 tance down the bank before we struck in, so 
 as to get to the pools below. The fish were 
 not biting well, but it was very beautiful, and 
 we got a few before lunch time. John carried 
 my camera, and I have got I hope I have 
 got some good pictures. While we were 
 eating lunch, John told me that we were within 
 half a mile of Cross's Pond ; that it had no fish 
 in it, but of course I wanted to see it. We 
 went there, and I made the worst break that 
 I have made since I went away from my rod 
 on the edge of the burnt ground. I left my 
 camera at the river, instead of taking it with 
 me. We walked part way around the pond 
 and sat down, and pretty soon a doe came in 
 opposite, perhaps forty rods. She came with- 
 
 203 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 out a sound, slowly, not like a cat, not like any- 
 thing else but a deer ; just slipped in a quiet, 
 smooth glide, and drank and nibbled. Of 
 course she looked around and studied the whole 
 pond, but she seemed most anxious about the 
 direction she had come from. She kept look- 
 ing back." 
 
 u Course I knew she hed a fawn back in the 
 woods, soon as I see her actin' that way," said 
 John, " and then I thought about Mr. Hardy's 
 camera, for she 'd come to stay, and would 
 work 'round nearer to us. And I 'd left the 
 dinged thing at the river, 'though I might have 
 known we stood to see deer, any time of day, 
 at Cross's Pond. Ef I hed it to do agin, I 
 would n't 'a' done it." 
 
 " Yes, John said that she was probably wor- 
 rying about a fawn back in the woods, and di- 
 rectly the fawn came scampering in. It stood 
 stiff-legged and stared at its mother with its 
 head turned comically, so that one of the big 
 ears was partly over the other one. Then it 
 204 
 
JOHN'S CAKES 
 
 turned down the beach, kicked up its dainty 
 hind legs, took a few high leaps, and stopped 
 stiff-legged again. It bucked, like a broncho, 
 going straight up into the air and lighting 
 squarely with all four feet close together. It 
 was a continuous performance, a little, but not 
 much, like a lamb's gambols, for it was grace- 
 ful. The mother waded breast-deep in the 
 water for grass-roots and lily-pads, but watch- 
 ing the fawn and seeming to coax it. Several 
 times it put its toes into the water and quickly 
 sprang back. Directly the doe went in deeper 
 water, and swam slowly toward us, often stop- 
 ping for a tender lily-pad and to look back very 
 earnestly at the little one. 
 " Suddenly, with a rush, the fawn sprang into 
 the water, tore in and made it fly, and in doing 
 so, fell on its knees and wet its pretty little nose. 
 It was plainly frightened at what it had done, 
 but its mother was ahead, so it kept going. It 
 churned and pounded the water with its fore 
 feet, and soon got too high in front and was 
 
 205 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 frightened. It bleated, calling for its mother, 
 and when she swam alongside, the little rascal 
 immediately climbed on her back and ducked 
 her. When she came out from under, she cau- 
 tiously kept a short distance away, working 
 toward us, but with her head over her shoul- 
 der watching the fawn. About the middle of 
 the pond the fawn got in trouble again ; got 
 too high in front, and apparently had another 
 panic. The doe swam near him, and he threw 
 his fore-feet over her back a second time ; but 
 she was wary, and kept her head above water. 
 Then, for the first time, she made a sound, not 
 a bleat, but a cooing sound, such as pigeons 
 make, and it seemed to soothe the excited little 
 fellow. He swam more steadily, but not at 
 all smoothly, for he appeared to get his legs 
 tangled and lose his stroke. Sometimes his 
 neck was high out of water, and sometimes 
 his nose was buried, but he finally came ashore, 
 just twenty-one feet from where I was sitting 
 on a balsam log. I paced it after they left, but 
 206 
 
JOHN'S CAKES 
 
 they did not go for several minutes. The fawn 
 trembled so that it could scarcely stand, while 
 the mother licked it and kept making the coo- 
 ing, crooning sound. It was a very tired, meek- 
 looking fawn that slowly followed its mother 
 into the woods. I have the picture in my mind. 
 It was not over-exposed or under-developed, 
 and it will never fade, but I can't show it to 
 any one else. I feel as John does, about leav- 
 ing the camera : If I had it to do over again, 
 I would n't 'a' done it." 
 
 "I understand," said Colonel Warren, "that 
 you have been observing two specimens, a 
 mother and a child, Cervus Virginiensis ; and 
 these are the tender, loving, lovable creatures 
 men breed dogs to chase, and invent deadly 
 rapid-fire guns and soft-nosed explosive bullets 
 to mangle and kill. Gentle, kindly sportsmen 
 are we ! Let us go to bed." 
 
 207 
 
THE MINISTER 
 
 " r I "AHERE is no one thing," said Hardy, 
 u that has so impressed me in my 
 shortexperience in the woods as has 
 the fact that a man needs so little here. No, 
 that is not quite right ; it is that it is easy to 
 get every comfort in the woods, because so 
 much has already been done by the Almighty 
 and is ready to our hand. Each thing that 
 grows here seems to be adapted to the needs of 
 other living things, and all for us. The Earth 
 was made for man, and there is a God. I don't 
 want to preach, but the perfect ordering of nat- 
 ural things fills me with awe and has made 
 some of my beliefs certainties." 
 " I never happened to know a good woods- 
 man," said Colonel Warren, "who was not de- 
 vout. He is liable to go a step farther and be 
 superstitious, for, however long and minutely 
 208 
 
THE MINISTER 
 
 he studies Nature, he finds so many things un- 
 accountable that he is apt to believe in super- 
 natural intervention. ' When a man 's barkin',' 
 says Billy Drew, c he learns what the moon 
 kin do. In the full o' the moon, hemlock bark 
 '11 fall off if you look at it, but when she 
 changes, the bark '11 squeeze to the log tighter 
 'n a weasel.' 
 
 " I almost wish I could be superstitious, it is so 
 picturesque, and it stops a man plumply before 
 he gets beyond his depth searching for reasons 
 why. I don't know why whirlwinds come to 
 tear great swaths and make desolate windfalls 
 among the beautiful timber-trees; or why briers 
 grow in burnt ground. I am glad to know why 
 spruce bark cannot usually be peeled later than 
 July. In the spring the sap is feeding a soft 
 film between the bark and the wood and we can 
 easily get roofing for camps. The chemical 
 process of changing this film into a cylinder of 
 hard fibre is an extremely interesting and beau- 
 tiful one. It is the spawning season for tim- 
 14 209 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 her, and the bark is again cemented to the new 
 ring of wood. 
 
 "I am glad to guess why hemlock, spruce, pine, 
 and balsam do not shed their leaves all at once, 
 but keep a stock on hand alive through the 
 year, to make an everlasting cover for the rocks; 
 and why the broad leaves of birch, beech, maple, 
 and ash are shed once a year and whirl in and 
 work together to make rich soil on the hard- 
 wood flats and slopes ; and why witch hopple 
 and moose maple bestir themselves to make 
 cover wherever too much sunlight gets in be- 
 tween the hard-wood tops ; and why water 
 washes soil to the shallows in the ponds so 
 that lily-pads, deer-grass, mosses, rushes, and 
 weeds can grow for food for deer and support 
 for the insects that trout feed on ; but facts, 
 rather than guessed reasons, interest the woods- 
 man. 
 
 " Black flies come precisely when trout are 
 careless as they go on the rifts, about the first 
 of June. John says there would n't be a trout 
 210 
 
THE MINISTER 
 
 left in the river in five years, if it were not for 
 black flies. They certainly keep a good many 
 fishermen out of the woods, and often compel 
 a man to go ashore and heal his wounds before 
 his basket is filled. John claims that they like 
 c fish-hogs ' better than decent men, and it is 
 likely to be true that brutal men, who like to 
 hurt and kill, are most afraid of pain. 
 " Notice, too, how well the punkeys do their 
 work when the black flies tire and turn gray in 
 July and lose their power for good. The little 
 midget thrives in the shade; he can't do good 
 work in the sunlight, or in the night, or at any 
 time in the year except in the spring-hole sea- 
 son. In the cool of the evening, when trout are 
 at supper, ten thousand millions of these infer- 
 nal gnats, the size of a needle-point, 'lost to 
 sight, to memory dear,' too small to be seen be- 
 fore they are felt, establish themselves about a 
 quarter of an inch apart all over the body, and 
 each one digs a hole. One bite does not hurt 
 much, but the cumulative effect is a frenzy, and 
 
 211 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 he is a stolid man who can clean out a spring- 
 hole in the edge of the evening when the pun- 
 keys are defending the trout there. It used to 
 be an Indian torture, and it is said that a man, 
 stripped and tied to a tree in a punkey hole, soon 
 loses his mind, and dies in one evening. It 
 seems to me believable. 
 
 " Comfort means exactly the same here as it 
 does at home, provision for a lot of small ne- 
 cessities and luxuries that we have become ac- 
 customed to, and the good woodsman gets them 
 with the least possible amount of work. There 
 are defective persons whose idea of camping is 
 a squalid, unrighteous, and not sober life, which 
 they call c roughing it.' When you learn how, 
 it is always possible to have dry clothes in your 
 pack, a tight roof, a good fire, the best food and 
 the best cooking in the world, good society, and 
 plenty of water for bathing. What more do 
 you want, unless it is a library ? Nothing, I 
 think, and books in the running brooks serve 
 for the present. 
 
 212 
 
THE MINISTER 
 u There are others who over-provide, but they 
 err on the safe side and are on the right track 
 if they are ready to learn. They bring a rain 
 coat, while a rain cape is better and weighs only 
 a quarter as much ; they bring wading-boots, 
 when an extra pair of stockings is better, and 
 the boots weigh five or ten pounds, a consid- 
 erable straw to break the carrier's back ; a 
 heavy toilet-case, when a pocket comb and the 
 few necessaries suffice and weigh less. A man 
 needs something like fifteen pounds of personal 
 belongings for a few days in camp, but when 
 he does not know, it is better to take fifty 
 pounds than to be uncomfortable. 
 u I invited a friend to meet me in camp last 
 year, and as he was inexperienced in fly-fish- 
 ing and I was over-supplied with tackle, I told 
 him to bring only a comb and a tooth-brush and 
 I would do the rest. I walked down the trail to 
 meet him, and observed that, in order to dis- 
 encumber himself so as to shake hands with me, 
 he carefully transferred his comb from his right 
 
 213 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 hand to his left hand, which was also holding 
 the tooth-brush. It was a warm day and as 
 we walked in my friend took off his cap. He 
 was bald-headed, extremely so, and of course 
 I always knew it, but forgot it when I sent th-e 
 facetious messagewhich he had taken seriously. 
 I was at first mortified, for he was interroga- 
 tive in the matter of the comb, often so dur- 
 ing the first day in camp. ' He said he did not 
 own one and had not owned one for years, but 
 as he knew nothing of the woods he had pro- 
 vided himself with a strong one and was ex- 
 tremely anxious to know its uses in woodcraft. 
 I at last succeeded in convincing him that it was 
 desirable, even necessary, to comb out his flies 
 after using them, until they were thoroughly 
 dry. I quite enjoyed watching him at work, 
 evenings, with a tool to which he had been long 
 unused, for I disliked to admit that I had caused 
 him to make the error of over-providing. Still, 
 bringing too much is a good fault j he might have 
 needed a comb." 
 214 
 
THE MINISTER 
 u But," said Hardy, " the woods supply every- 
 thing. If he had needed a comb I have no doubt 
 John could have made one." 
 " I made one once," said John, " out of horn- 
 beam, worked it out careful and polished it with 
 scourin' rush, the kind we use for cleanin' 
 knives, and it lasted me a hull winter." 
 " They come ready-made here," said George. 
 " A trout's back-bone is good enough for me, 
 unless there 's comp'ny comin', and then I spear 
 a sucker." 
 
 u I have been puzzled," said Hardy, " to un- 
 derstand how you put up in this camp the row 
 of wooden pins that are about an inch thick 
 and six or eight inches long ; those that we hang 
 coats, hats,and pack-baskets on, inside the camp 
 and put our rods on, outside the camp under 
 the eaves. I can see that no auger holes were 
 bored for them." 
 
 " That," said Colonel Warren, " is one of the 
 most important of the small conveniences in 
 camp, and the easiest to provide. Cut beech, 
 
 215 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 or maple saplings in lengths three inches longer 
 then you want them to project. Sharpen one 
 end to a long, tapering wedge. Make a nice 
 job of this sharpening and the pins can easily be 
 driven three inches in any soft-wood log. Neat- 
 ness and good order are prime necessities for 
 comfortable camping, and with plenty of these 
 wall-pins it is easy to be tidy. You are right, 
 my boy, in concluding that the woods supply 
 everything, that is, everything in reason. Ask 
 now for anything you want that might fairly 
 be needed, andyou shall have it. Of course you 
 will not ask for effeminate luxuries, or means 
 of idle dissipation." 
 
 " The Colonel," said George, " don't want his 
 stumps meddled with, Mr. Hardy." 
 " I think," said Hardy, after a pause, " that if 
 I wanted to make a raft I should be very much 
 bothered to do it without either nails or strong 
 rope, and, if you please, I accept your challenge 
 and ask John to get some." 
 " The Colonel just told you," said John, " how 
 216 
 
THE MINISTER 
 to make tree-nails. Hard wood, sharpened, 
 drives easy in the spruce or balsam logs you '11 
 probably make your raft of, but the trouble is 
 they're apt to split the small poles you use for 
 crossbars to hold the logs together, and your 
 raft is likely to spread in swift water. Better 
 use good rope, and that 's almost ready made. 
 I '11 get you a length of strong rope and then 
 you '11 know where it 's kep', always ready and 
 waitin' for you." 
 
 John went to a bunch of second-growth birches 
 and showed Hardy how these slender, tall sap- 
 lings were running a race for their lives. The 
 lower branches were feeble twigs ; all the en- 
 ergy was devoted to gaining height, each try- 
 ing to over-top and capture the sunlight and kill 
 the others. One of them, only, could possibly 
 survive to maturity, and when the fittest wins 
 his race the others near-by must slowly die. Mr. 
 Pinchot classes the birch as a tolerant tree, and 
 he knows, but I never happened to see a young 
 birch very near to an old one, although young 
 
 217 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 beeches, maples, and spruces seem to love that 
 protection. 
 
 John narrowed the competition of the birches 
 by choosing a sapling an inch thick at the butt, 
 and about twenty feet high. He did not cut 
 it down ; he bent it towards him as he trimmed 
 all its twigs and branches,and then began slowly 
 twisting its tender top. It was easy to twist 
 the recent growth, partially separating the fibres 
 and making a strong, pliable rope. When he 
 reached tougher wood he held the sapling firmly 
 in his left hand, while, with his right, he bent 
 and turned as a crank the part above. As he 
 so worked down toward the butt it became 
 more and more difficult to twist and separate 
 the fibres. 
 
 Hardy remarked : u I think I see your finish, 
 John." 
 
 " Not yet, not till I get to the ground. There 's 
 sixteen foot of rope in this saplin'." 
 John cut a short stick, killing off another one 
 of the competitors, and ingeniously wrapped 
 218 
 
THE MINISTER 
 
 and tangled it in the kinked rope already made. 
 This made a powerful twisting-bar, and, as he 
 turned it, it was beautiful to see the line of burst- 
 ing bark and rending grains slowly travel down 
 toward the root. As the sapling writhed under 
 pressure it exuded sweet sap and the air was 
 filled with the pungent odor which reminded 
 Hardy of a familiar sign in a country tavern : 
 ct Birch beer tastes queer sold here." As the 
 bar was twisted, the maltreated sapling kinked 
 in curious folds and wound itself on the bar, so 
 that, when it was finally cut off at the root, it 
 remained a queer mass of curves, clinging to 
 the weapon that had killed it. 
 u You 'd never think that was sixteen foot of 
 good rope," said John, cc but unkink it from the 
 bar and you '11 find it 's strong enough for a har- 
 ness trace." 
 
 " I '11 never unkink it," said Hardy. " It is a 
 fine wall ornament and I shall keep it as it is, 
 for it means something." 
 " You can't always tell what you '11 need," said 
 
 219 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 George, " specially when you start in a hurry. 
 You remember when the minister was here five 
 years ago ? We put out the dogs on a Satur- 
 day and he missed the only shot he had, and 
 come Sunday, of course he would n't let any 
 huntin' be done. Drawin' pay for Sundays and 
 all, I did n't mind settin' still, but I kep' thinkin' 
 of one of my dogs that had n't come in, and 
 'lowed I 'd step out in the woods a piece and 
 look for him. I had an idee of strikin' the camp 
 up North Elby way, for there was a party there 
 runnin' dogs and my dog might 'a ' led into it. 
 They was no need of carryin' lunch, for I 
 knowed one of the guides there and of course 
 he 'd ask me to stay to dinner and I 'd get a 
 change of feed. But when the minister see 
 me bucklin' on my belt and chain, he was all for 
 goin' along. I hed calklated on goin' alone 
 and bein' more sure of gettin' ast to dinner, and 
 perhaps a little mountain ash, and havin' every- 
 thing comfortable, but the minister spoke about 
 the ' virgin wilderness ' and the ' holy temple on 
 220 
 
THE MINISTER 
 
 the Sabbath day ' and lit out. Nothin' could 
 stop him. 
 
 " We made the camp about one o'clock, jest as 
 I figured to, but the party was gone. They'd 
 left that mornin', for the ashes was hot, and they 
 were good campers, for they 'd burnt all the food 
 that was left over, so 's not to attract mice and 
 vermin ; but it made it bad for us. The only 
 thing I found was a little pork grease, and I 
 gethered a hatful of mushrooms and fried 'em, 
 but the minister spleened agin it ; called 'em 
 toadstools. 
 
 " Then we struck off about four miles to Indian 
 Clearin', where I 'd heard shootin' the day be- 
 fore, and perhaps my dog had pulled in there, 
 and perhaps whoever was there would ask us 
 to eat with 'em. I never see a worse-lookin' 
 party than we found. They said no strange dog 
 had come in, and of course I did n't believe 'em 
 and began lookin' 'round, careless like, but they 
 was unpleasant and seemed to want to get rid 
 of us. So I looked for the minister, to take 
 
 221 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 him away and start for home, and there he was 
 standin'near the cookin'-fire. His nostrils flick- 
 ered as he smelled the coffee, and when he 
 looked at the patridges, all split and flatted out 
 ready to brile, he jest drilled ; but they never 
 even ast him if he had a meouth on him." 
 " It 's queer," said John, " how many minis- 
 ters do come to these woods. I 've seen a good 
 many in my time,more 'n a dozen, I reckon, and 
 gen'lly good ones. It 's probably the best of 
 'em that comes, but I don't know. I have n't 
 seen one outside since I was a boy. One Sep- 
 tember I was a few miles above here on the 
 river with my boat. It was about two o'clock 
 and I had stepped back on the hard-wood flat 
 to where the Colonel had a cache under the big 
 maple by the hemlock stub. There 's a spring 
 brook there and I was cookin' a meal of vittels, 
 when I heard two rifle shots in the line of my 
 boat, and of course I stepped out to see what 
 was goin' on. Two men were restin' on the 
 bank opposite. They said they 'd seen my boat, 
 
 222 
 
THE MINISTER 
 and noticed it was fresh grounded on the bank, 
 and thought they 'd find the owner of it by fir- 
 in' a couple of shots, so 's to ask on which side 
 the trail led down the river. 
 " I brought 'em over and did n't ask questions, 
 'though it was puzzlin' to locate 'em. Course 
 I noticed they stepped in a boat right and knew 
 how to take care of themselves, 'though they 
 were strange to this country. Their shoes was 
 good,but thestrings had been brokeand knotted. 
 Their pants was tore in a good many places, 
 but mended good, except a few places fixed with 
 safety pins, so it was pretty sure they 'd come 
 from Indian River way, through the big burnt 
 ground. They were gritty and did n't ask for 
 help, but I could see things wa'n't altogether 
 pleasant, so I asked 'em to take a meal with 
 me. 
 
 " Seemed as if I could hear their teeth click 
 when they accepted, so I stepped across to the 
 Colonel's maple for some more provisions. I 
 dug out his bottle and put it with a tin cup by 
 
 223 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 the spring where they was washin' up. Then 
 I could see they was all right, for they took 
 only about an ounce apiece. You can find out 
 a good deal about a man by the way he treats 
 whiskey. They were tender of it and showed 
 they took it only when 't was needed. 
 " After dinner the older man told me he used 
 to come to the woods when he was young. 
 He 'd been a missionary to Turkey or some- 
 where way off, most all his life, and, since he 'd 
 come back, wanted to see the woods again. 
 They 'd started in to walk across, guidin' by 
 a map, and of course they 'd had some troubles, 
 but he made light of 'em. When they 'd come 
 to wide water that they could n't get 'round, 
 they 'd made a little raft for their clothes and 
 packs, and swum and pushed across. They 
 were sandy and good, but they had been out 
 six days, and provisions was low. The old man 
 asked if there was a camp where they could 
 stay over Sunday, so I told 'em all about the 
 Colonel and his camp, and how glad he 'd be, 
 224 
 
THE MINISTER 
 
 when he come up in the spring, to hear from 
 me that his camp had been of use to people 
 who loved the woods. I told 'em they was 
 all right, and would be well fixed after about 
 two hours' tramp ; and that 's where I made a 
 break, for, as it turned out, it was a good while 
 before they saw Wilderness camp. 
 u The weather had changed while we was talk- 
 in', and I 'd been careless, not noticin'. It was 
 growin' black, and south of west I could see 
 a cloud risin' that looked like a bag of bluin'. 
 I struck off through the woods fast as I could 
 make it, for we had five miles to go. The 
 ministers kep' up well. We could hear roarin' 
 and crashin' ahead of us, and we had n't gone 
 fur before the tops near us begun to whistle 
 and moan, and I knew it would n't be long be- 
 fore they 'd begin twistin' and breakin'. We 
 was on a ridge, and I wanted to get down 
 where some high rocks would shelter us, but 
 it was black dark, except when it was lightnin', 
 which was most of the time. When I saw a 
 15 225 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 birch, about two foot through, that had fell 
 acrost a little gully, I dodged down by it and 
 called to the ministers to come in and make 
 themselves small. They crawled in careful, 
 without a word. The old one was the coolest 
 man I ever see in these woods. When a hem- 
 lock come down across our birch and broke in 
 two, it lightened and I could see his face. It 
 was shiny, and he was smilin'. 
 " A flurry of rain come and stopped, and the 
 wind stopped, and everything was dead for a 
 minute, before the whirlwind struck us. I 
 never heard such a noise since we bombarded 
 Fort Fisher roarin', hissin', and snappin', 
 with thud, thud, thud, as the big trunks struck 
 the ground. It was a long time passin', and we 
 were just about the middle of the path, where 
 there was n't a big tree left standin'. We never 
 got a scratch, but our birch was pretty well 
 covered with tops. Then the rain come and 
 it poured stiddy and was cold. I got dry curl 
 off the birch and started a little fire and fed it 
 226 
 
THE MINISTER 
 with branches until it made light enough for 
 me to work with the minister's little two-pound 
 axe. It was slow, but I done it. The evenin' 
 was gone and 't was late night when I got a 
 fire the rain could n't drown. It lit up the 
 windfall and we could see what had happened. 
 " It 's wonderful how comfortable you can be 
 a-standin' straight up in a pourin' rain before 
 a hot fire. The old man asked me about the 
 war, and I told him about our defeat at Drury's 
 Bluff, where I was taken prisoner. I must 'a' 
 made it a long story, for when I stopped, the 
 young man turned the face of his watch to the 
 fire and said it was Sunday. I asked the old 
 minister if he would n't preach me a sermon. 
 I had n't heard one since I was a boy. He 
 seemed to forget about the rain, for he stepped 
 to his pack and took out two leather-covered 
 books, but he covered 'em up again and stood 
 on the far side of the fire, a-facin' me acrost it. 
 Then he said, 'Hymn number four hundred 
 and fourteen,' and the young man sung with 
 him: 227 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 " ' Guide me, O Thou great Jehovah, 
 Pilgrim through this barren land j 
 I am weak, but Thou art mighty : 
 Hold me with Thy powerful hand.' 
 
 " I never heard such music, and did n't know 
 folks could sing so. They sung all the verses, 
 standin' there in the windfall, and the rain 
 comin' all the while. When they begun the 
 last verse, 
 
 " ' When I tread the verge of Jordan, 
 Bid my anxious fears subside,' 
 
 I found I was cryin', not because I felt bad, 
 but I seemed to be a little child again, and it 
 was natural. Then he said : 
 " c The Lord is in His holy temple : Let all the 
 earth keep silence before Him.' 
 "He repeated Scripture word for word, and 
 said prayers, sometimes kneelin' and some- 
 times standin'. I knelt when he did, and when 
 he come to the Lord's prayer I remembered 
 it and cried again, for I was a little child. 
 " Before he begun his sermon, he said : 
 228 
 
THE MINISTER 
 
 " c For we must needs die, and are as water 
 spilt on the ground, which cannot be gathered 
 up again ; neither doth God respect any per- 
 son ; yet doth He devise means that His ban- 
 ished be not expelled from Him.' 
 " Then he stood, a-lookin' at me acrost the 
 fire, and preached. It was all to me, me all 
 alone, and I could n't take my eyes off him. 
 I can remember a good deal of what he said, 
 and I '11 never forget it. The fire lit up the 
 downed tops, and he stood with his back to 
 the felled hemlock, preachin' a sermon to me 
 through the hot flame. He glowed and shone 
 and seemed to rise up tall in the firelight. He 
 must V talked for hours, but I did n't know 
 it until he said, ' Let us pray,' and we knelt 
 down. 
 
 " When I stood up and turned away from the 
 fire, the rain had stopped, and it was sun-up. 
 He was a good man ! " 
 
 229 
 
"HE CAME UNTO HIS OWN" 
 
 IT was October in the woods and Hardy's 
 swinging steps were covering the miles of 
 the long trail to Wilderness camp. The 
 October maples had shone and glowed for 
 weeks before the month that gave them their 
 name, but now they and the evergreens were 
 infrequent variants from the prevailing yellow, 
 and this only when the wind was still. With 
 each swirl the air was filled with yellow swarms 
 of rippling confetti, as the leaves left the hard- 
 wood trees and floated in the open spaces. Shin- 
 ing through them, the light was dulled and 
 softened and colored, and the pale-yellow mon- 
 otone was continued by the carpeting of the 
 ground. The dainty chemists had spent their 
 lives making sound wood out of sunlight, and, 
 faithful after death, they seemed to try to stay 
 in the upper air and spray their lovely color on 
 the landscape. 
 230 
 
"HE CAME UNTO HIS OWN" 
 
 Hardy enjoyed his steps and would not hurry 
 
 them through the glowing forest, even though 
 
 
 he had before him the meeting again with his 
 
 dearest friends. As he neared them, he went 
 more slowly, for as he thought of them he be- 
 gan to think of himself a thing he had long 
 and happily forgotten to do. He had worked 
 as he had never worked before and had exu- 
 berantly enjoyed every day with John. There is 
 never an idle time about a hatchery for the man 
 who loves it. All the while there is something 
 to think about, something to study and to do, 
 and in this zealous work and learning Hardy 
 had forgotten himself, the morbid man of a year 
 ago who warped every thought with miserable 
 consciousness. His life had a new birth, but 
 his old hopes and ambitions were coming back 
 to him as he drew along to the camp where the 
 Colonel had finally enticed Mrs. Warren to 
 come for a fall outing. 
 
 At Wilderness camp things were different. It 
 was the Colonel's camp-fire conversation motto 
 
 231 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 that, "ladies are always present," and even 
 when he camped alone with George in the open 
 air he dressed for dinner to the extent that his 
 outfit permitted. George had an altruistic re- 
 gard for the Colonel's habits ; he did not 
 emulate them. In the spring he had made as- 
 surances of the tried value of the soft hat given 
 to him in the fall : " I 've slep' in it every night. 
 It ain't ben off my head for a minute sence you 
 went out." Nevertheless, there was a change 
 in the near-by landscape that the camp had never 
 before known. There was a newly made sleep- 
 ing lodge at the edge of the clearing, and on 
 the flattened log near it were neatly arranged 
 articles new to the woods and not essential to 
 the Colonel's comfort. 
 
 Mrs. Warren was sitting alone before the 
 smouldering day-fire as Hardy came in, and it 
 seemed to him that the dear old lady could 
 never have been so beautiful at any time or in 
 any other surroundings. Whenever Hardy felt 
 conscious that she was dearer to him than any 
 232 
 
"HE CAME UNTO HIS OWN" 
 
 other woman on earth, he did not formulate 
 the exception. He had a lurking sense of it, 
 but the other one was younger and it was dif- 
 ferent and hopeless. 
 
 Down by the landing Mary Warren was lin- 
 gering to watch the clouds of yellow leaves that 
 were being drawn into the valley of the stream 
 and swept down it like flocks of migrating birds. 
 She had been hunting for bear. She felt hu- 
 manely incapable of killing a deer, unless it 
 might be one who wanted to hook people, and 
 she preferred to hunt for bear, very savage ones. 
 She always intended to like practising with her 
 rifle at a target, and she had often planned for 
 a daily hour of serious banging until she could 
 overcome the habit of pulling to the right, and 
 become a dead shot. Meantime, this accom- 
 plishment must of course be unnecessary for 
 close conflict with the desperate animal she 
 was seeking. She knew she had courage, but 
 it did not occur to her that she could not climb 
 a tree. George encouraged her and offered ad- 
 
 233 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 vice only as to keeping still and going slow, 
 very slow indeed. He was willing to sit on a 
 log and wait for her any length of time, pro- 
 vided only that it was between meals. There 
 was no chance to talk during the still hunt, 
 and she had half purposely stopped here be- 
 fore going back to camp in order to ask George 
 a few questions, if she could arrive at them 
 naturally and easily, and lead him to tell of 
 winter-living in the woods. She was fond of 
 information, general information, and as she 
 looked at the stream before her she felt satis- 
 faction in thinking that she knew why water 
 runs down hill. 
 
 She had not told herself, definitely, why she 
 wanted to know howa manwho had been gently 
 nurtured could live and enjoy living in the 
 woods at all seasons. She wanted like infor- 
 mation as to a woman, any young woman who 
 was strong and skilful and not afraid of bear ; 
 who was prepared for great dangers and hard- 
 ships from which she could come with renown 
 234 
 
"HE CAME UNTO HIS OWN' 
 
 unhurt and comfortable. If she could get 
 these two items of information, there was no 
 doubt that she would be able to put them to- 
 gether and form an opinion as to whether such 
 a man and such a woman could have a glori- 
 ous and comfortable career in the wilderness 
 but she had not seriously considered think 
 ing it out as far as this. It was not difficult 
 to direct George's attention to winter occupa- 
 tions, but it was less easy to keep him from 
 wandering to incidents which to him were more 
 unusual. 
 
 " Hatchery is too stiddy for me and there's more 
 to trappin'. When I was a boy I got more 
 money I thought it was more money than 
 I ever hed sence then, for two mink pelt, and 
 I 'lowed I 'd walk out and have a ride on the 
 cars. It was evenin' when a train come along 
 and the conductor was the shiniest man I ever 
 see. He looked like a new-blazed spruce ; a 
 gold watch chain, a brass puncher and his left 
 arm through the bale of a brass lantern. I ast 
 
 235 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 him how fur he 'd carry me for a dollar ; and 
 he said, seein' it was me, he 'd take me to the 
 end of his run. I handed him a silver dollar 
 and he flipped it up to the top of the car, 
 and ketched it as it come back and put it in his 
 left-hand pocket. Of course I was watchin' 
 and wonderin', but I was n't askin' questions. 
 Byme-by he come back and set down and ast 
 me everything he could think of, and advised 
 me always to be honest. He said he made that 
 his motto, and that he always dealt square with 
 the company and gave 'em a fair chance. Says 
 he : ' Ef that dollar had ketched on the bell cord 
 and stuck, it would hev belonged to the com- 
 pany. I always give 'em a fair chance.' ' 
 " But, George, how do you catch minks ? " 
 " I generally don't. When they smell trap bait 
 they come up, but not clost, and think it over, 
 and most always they can see or smell a mark 
 or a place that tells 'em a man has been there, 
 and then they lose interest. Best way is not 
 to touch the ground or anything near where you 
 236 
 
"HE CAME UNTO HIS OWN" 
 set your trap. Wade up in the stream and 
 reach over, and if you want to do it jest right, 
 you'll always hev your hands greased with 
 skunk-ile." 
 
 " I do not seem to be growing fond of trap- 
 ping," said Mary. " What else is there to do 
 in the winter ? " 
 
 " Set clost to the stove," said George, " and 
 it 's handiest to hev your bed in the kitchen, and 
 to hev your wood corded up in it, wherever 
 there 's room for it." 
 
 u Dear me ! " said Mary. " It is time for us 
 to go back to camp." 
 
 It seems incredible, but it is true, that it was 
 Mrs. Warren who discovered for Hardy that 
 his ailment was gone and that his world was 
 again waiting for him to conquer it. Of course 
 it was known to John, who had noted day by 
 day every step in the young man's recovery of 
 his voice, of his increasing strength of mind 
 and body and of his self-forgetfulness, that he 
 was, in John's language, " a well man," but he 
 
 2 37 
 
THE LOVERS OF THE WOODS 
 
 feared to tell him or in any way lead him to think 
 of himself. For this reason he put a mighty 
 curb upon himself and gradually stopped the 
 boiling of herbs and the grating of roots and 
 the making of things that were " good for " his 
 patient. The habit of a lifetime is not easily 
 broken, and John made and threw away a good 
 many nostrums, but it was now more than a 
 month since he had dosed Hardy. 
 It was dark when Colonel Warren came into 
 camp, but his coming rilled the whole timber 
 opening with glow and sound and presence. He 
 had left a buck hung up in the woods ; he loved 
 his wife ; he loved his daughter Mary ; and he 
 roared his appreciation of their being here with 
 him, in the centre of the wilderness. When 
 he greeted Hardy and knew of his recovery, the 
 trees swayed and the earth trembled at his ex- 
 plosions of joy, until he partly disappeared in 
 his mysterious pack to recover something fit to 
 celebrate this great day of this great year in the 
 life of the finest fellow that ever walked a trail ! 
 238 
 
"HE CAME UNTO HIS OWN" 
 
 By the camp fire that night, charming as it was, 
 Hardy could not stay. All who were dearest 
 to him were there, but he needed to be alone. 
 He looked back to the years of growing anxi- 
 ety, to the year of despair and of recovery. He 
 had learned in the woods from the works of God 
 the lessons of self-help. His ship had found it- 
 self, and he seemed to walk on air as he went 
 away from the fire down the silent trail. 
 
 239 
 
YB 74147