HOOKING UP TROUT--THE LEFT BRANCH--THE RAPIDS--A FIGHT WITH A BUCK.
We started down stream in the morning, towards the forks, intending to
ascend the left branch to Little Tupper's Lake. We reached the forks
at three o'clock. Directly opposite to where the right branch enters,
a small cold stream comes in among a cluster of alder bushes on the
eastern shore. At the mouth of this little stream, which one can step
across, the trout congregate. We could see them laying in shoals along
the bottom; but the sun shone down bright and warm into the clear
water, and not a trout would rise to the fly, or touch a bait. We
wanted some of those trout, and as they refused to be taken in a
scientific way and according to art, it was a necessity, for which we
were not responsible, which impelled us to a method of capture which,
under ordinary circumstances, we should have rejected. I took off the
fly from my line, and fastened upon it half a dozen snells with bare
hooks, attached a small sinker, and dropped quietly among them. A
large fellow worked his way lazily above where the hooks lay on the
bottom, eying me, as if laughing at my folly in attempting to deceive
him, with fly or bait. I jerked suddenly, and two of the hooks
fastened into him near the tail. That trout was astonished, as were
half a dozen or more of his fellows, when they came out of the water
tail foremost, struggling with all their might against so vulgar and
undignified a manner of leaving their native element. We got as
beautiful a string in this way as one would wish to see, albeit they
laughed at our best skill with fly and bait; and the cream of the
matter was, that we had our pick of the shoal.
We pitched our tents at the foot of the second rapids, on a high,
moss-covered bank. The roar of the water sounded deep and solemn among
the old woods, as it went roaring and tumbling, and struggling through
the gorge. The night winds moaned and sighed among the trees above us,
while the night bird's notes came soothingly from the wilderness
around as.
"What a strange diversity of tastes exists among the people of this
world of ours," said the Doctor, addressing himself to me, as we sat
in front of our tents, listening to the roar of the waters. "You and
I, I take it, enjoy a fortnight or so, among these lakes, and old
forests, with a keener relish than Spalding or Smith here. I judge so,
because we indulge in these trips every year, while this is their
first adventure of the kind. But even you and I, however much we may
love the woods, however we may enjoy these occasional tramps among
their shady solitudes, would not enjoy them as a residence; and yet I
have sometimes thought I should love to spend the summers in a forest
home, alone with nature, with my pen and books, a fishing-rod and
rifle to supply my wants, and a friend to talk with occasionally.
"Many years ago, I was out on the Western prairies, some sixty days
beyond the region of bread; we had encamped on the banks of a stream,
along which a narrow belt of timber grew. More than a quarter of a
century has passed since I took that trip to look upon the Rocky
Mountains. There was no gold region laying beyond them then, or
rather, the enterprise of the Anglo-Saxon had not discovered its
existence, and the greed of the white man had not made the trail over
the mountains, or through their dismal passes, a familiar way. Along
in the afternoon we were visited by a trapper, who had, in his
wanderings, discovered the smoke of our camp fires. He was a
weather-beaten, iron man, of the solitudes of nature, who had wandered
away from his home in New England, and from civilization, into that
limitless wilderness. He was glad to see us, inquired the news from
the outer world, talked about York State, Vermont, the Bay State, and
then, after an hour's converse, as if his social instincts and
sympathies had been satisfied, he shouldered his rifle and started off
across the plain, towards a belt of timber lying dim and shadowy, like
a low cloud, upon the distant horizon. I watched him for an hour or
more, as he trudged away over the rolling prairie, growing less and
less to the view, until he became like a speck in the distance, and
then vanished from my sight. There was a solemn sort of feeling stole
over me, as this lonely hunter wended his way into the deep solitudes
of the prairies, to be alone with nature, communing only with himself
and the things scattered around him by the great Creator. He seemed to
be contented and happy. How different were his tastes from yours or
mine, my friends; and yet I felt as though it would have been easy for
me to have been like him, an isolated and solitary man, had
circumstances in early life thrown me into a position to have followed
the original bent of my nature."
"And yet," said Spalding, "if you will look into the philosophy of the
matter, you will see that this diversity of tastes, as you call it, is
not so great after all; that is, that the origin of the impulse which
sends some men away from society among the solitudes of the
wilderness, and of that which holds others in constant communion with
the busy scenes of life, is very nearly the same. It is the love of
adventure, of excitement, a restlessness for something new, a desire
for change. This impulse is controlled, shaped by circumstances of
early life, by education and association; but the foundation of it at
last is the thirst for excitement, the love of adventure. One man
wanders away into the wilderness in pursuit of it. Another plunges
into society in pursuit of the same thing. These hardy men who are
here with us, who were reared on the borders of civilization, enjoy
the solitudes of their wilderness quite as much, and upon the same
general theory, as we do the society to which we have been accustomed;
and they plunge alone into the one with quite as much zest as we do
into the other, in the pursuit of excitement. Here is Cullen, now, who
has spent more time alone in the wilderness than almost any other man
outside of the trappers and hunters of the prairies of the West, I
appeal to him if it is not rather a love of adventure than of nature
which sends him on his solitary rambles in the forests?"
"May be the Judge is right," replied Cullen, as he rubbed the shavings
of plug tobacco in the palm of his left hand with the ball of his
right, while he held his short black pipe between his teeth,
preparatory to filling it, "may be the Judge is right, I rather think
he is, and let me tell you I've met with some queer adventures, as you
call them, in these woods too; some that I wouldn't have gone out
arter if I'd known what they were to've been afore I started. I've
been movin' back from what you call civilization for five and twenty
year, because I didn't like to live where people were too thick, and
where there was nothing but tame life around me. I've a kind of liking
for the deer and moose, and haven't any ill will towards, now and then,
a wolf or a painter. I like a rifle better than I do the handles of a
plow, and I'd rayther bring down a ten-pronger than to raise an acre
of corn, and I don't care who knows it. There's a place in the world
for just such a man as I am yet, and will be till these old woods are
gone. Do you see that?" said he, rolling up his pantaloons to his
knees, revealing a deep scar on both sides of the calf of his leg, as
if it had been pierced by a bullet. "And do you see that?" as he
exhibited another deep scar above his knee. "And that?" as he showed
another on his arm, above the elbow. "Wal, I reckon I had a time of it
with the old buck that made them things on my under-pinin', and on my
corn-stealer, as they say out West. Fifteen years ago I was over on
Tupper's Lake, shantyin' on the high bank above the rocks, just at the
outlet, fishin' and huntin', and layin' around loose, in a promiscuous
way, all alone by myself, havin' nobody along but the old black dog
that you," appealing to Hank Wood, who nodded assent, remember. "That
dog," continued Cullen, "was human in his day, and if anybody has
another like him, and wants a couple of months lumberin' in the place
of him, I'm ready for a trade; he may call at my shanty. Wal, Crop and
I had Seen about all there was to be looked at about Tupper's Lake,
and havin' hearn some pretty tall stories about the deer and moose up
about the head of Bog River from an Ingen who'd hunted that section, I
mentioned to Crop one mornin' that we'd take a trip into them parts.
'Agreed,' said he, or leastwise he didn't say a word agin it, and, by
the wag of his tail, I understood him to be agreeable.
"Mud Lake, as you've discovered, aint very near now, and it was a good
deal farther off then. The settlements hadn't been pushed so far into
the woods then as now. But we put out, Crop and I, for Mud Lake; we
passed the eight carryin' places afore night, and reached the first
chain of ponds while the sun was hangin' like a great torch in the
tree-tops. I've seen a good many deer in my day, but the way they
stood around in those ponds, and in the shallow water of the river
below, among the grass and pond lilies, was a thing to make a man open
his eyes _some._ I saw dozens of 'em at a time, and if it didn't seem
like a sheep paster I would'nt say it. I had my pick out of the lot,
and knocked over a two-year-old for provision for me and Crop. I aint
at all poetical, but if there was ever a matter to make a man feel
like stringin' rhymes, that evenin' that Crop and I spent on the lower
chain of ponds, or little lakes on Bog River, was a thing of that
sort. The sun threw his bright red light on the tops of the mountains
away off to the East, spreading it all over the lofty peaks, like a
golden shawl, while the gorges and deep valleys around their base
rested in deep and solemn shadow. The loon spoke out clear, like a
bugle on the lakes, and his voice went echoin' around among the hills;
the frogs were out and out jolly, while the old woods were full of
happy voices and merry songs as if all nater was runnin' over with
gladness and joy; even the night breeze, as it sighed and moaned among
the tree-tops, seemed to be whisperin' to itself of the joy and
brightness and glory of such an evenin'. As the night gathered, the
moon, in her largest growth, came up over the hills and walked like a
queen up into the sky, and the bright stars gathered around her,
twinklin' and flashin' and dancin', as if merry-makin' in the
brightness of her presence. Away down below the bottom of the lake
were other mountains and lakes, another moon with bright stars
shinin' and twinklin' around her, other broad heavens just as distinct
and glorious as those which arched above us. Don't laugh, Judge, for
me and Crop saw and heard all that I've been describin' to you, and we
felt it too, may be quite as deeply as if we'd been bred in colleges
and stuffed with the larnin' of the books.
"I heard the cry of the painter, the howl of the wolf, and the hoarse
bellow of the moose that night, and Crop crept close alongside of me,
in our bush-shanty, and answered these forest sounds by a low growl,
as if sayin' to himself, that while he'd rayther keep oat of a fight,
yet, if necessary, in defence of his master, he was ready to go in.
Wal, we started on up stream next mornin', passed the second chain of
lakes, and went along up the crooked and windin' course of the stream,
till towards night we came in sight of Mud Lake. That lake is anything
but handsome to my thinkin'; you saw it was gloomy and solemn enough,
situated as it is away up on the top of the mountain, higher than any
other waters I know of in these parts. All about it are fir, and
tamarack, and spruce, the lichens hanging like long grey hair away
down from their stinted branches, while all around low bushes grow,
and moss, sometimes a foot thick, covers the ground. That, Judge, is
the place for black flies and mosquitoes in June. The black flies are
all gone before this time in the summer, but if you'd a taken this
trip the latter part of June, you'd have admitted that I'm tellin' no
lie. If there's any place in the round world where mosquitoes have
longer bills, or the black flies swarm in mightier hosts, I don't know
where it is, and shan't go there if I happen to find out its location.
I've a tolerably thick hide, but if they didn't bite me _some_, I
wouldn't say so. But you ought to have seen the deer feedin' on the
pond-lilies and grass in that lake I They were like sheep in a
pasture; and out some fifty rods from the shore was a great moose,
helpin' himself to the eatables that grew there. I laid my jacket down
for Crop to watch, and waded quietly in towards where the moose was
feedin'. I got within twelve or fifteen rods of him, and spoke to him
with my rifle. He heard it, you may guess. Without knowin' who or what
hurt him, he plunged right towards me for the shore; but he never got
there alive. You ought to have seen the scampering of the deer at the
sound of my rifle! Maybe there wasn't much splashin' of the water, and
whistlin', and snortin', and puttin' out for the shore among 'em.
"The next mornin', I got up just as the sun was risin', and a little
way down on the shore of the lake I saw a buck. Wal, he was one of
'em--that buck was. The horns on his head were like an old-fashioned
round-posted chair, and if they hadn't a dozen prongs on 'em, you may
skin me! He wasn't as big as an ox, but a two-year-old that could
match him, could brag of a pretty rapid growth. I crept up behind a
little clump of bushes to about fifteen rods of where he stood on the
sandy beach, and sighting carefully at his head, let drive. My gun
hung fire a little, owin' to the night-dews, but that buck went down,
and after kickin' a moment, laid still, and I took it for granted he
was dead. So I laid down my rifle, and went up to where he
was, and with my huntin' knife in my hand, took hold of his
horn to raise his head so as to cut his throat. If that deer
was dead, he came to life mighty quick; for I had no sooner
touched him, than he sprang to his feet, and with every hair standin'
straight towards his head, came like a mad bull at me. In strugglin'
up he overshot me; and as he made his drive one prong went
through the calf of my leg. I plunged my knife into his body, and the
blood spirted all over me. But it wasn't no use. He smashed down upon
me again, and made that hole in my leg above the knee. I handled my
knife in a hurry, and made more than one hole in his skin, while he
stuck a prong through my arm. I hollered for Crop, who was watching
the shanty as his duty was. The old buck and I had it rough and
tumble; sometimes one a-top, and sometimes the other, and both growin'
weak from loss of blood. May be we didn't kick and tussle about, and
tear up the sand on the beach of the lake _some!_ The buck was game to
the backbone, and had no notion of givin' in, and I had to fight for
it, or die; so up and down, over and over, and all around, we went for
a long time, until Crop made up his mind that my callin' so earnestly
meant something, and round the point he came. When he saw what was
goin' on, you ought to've seen how _he_ went in! He didn't stop to
ask any questions, but as if possessed by all the furies of creation
he lit upon that buck, and the fight was up. He with his teeth, and I
with my knife, settled the matter in less than a minute. But, Judge,
let me tell you, that buck was dangerous; and if Crop hadn't been
around, may be ther'd have been the bones of man and beast bleachin'
on the sandy beach of Mud Lake! I bound up my wounds as well as I
could--but it was tough work backin' my bark canoe over the carryin'
places on Bog River, and across the Ingen carryin' place, and from the
Upper Saranac to Bound Lake, with them holes in my leg and arm, and
the other bruises I received. When I got out to the settlements I was
mighty glad to lay still for six weeks, and when I got around again I
was a good deal leaner than I am now.
"My gun hangin' fire made my bullet go wide of the spot I aimed at. It
had grazed his skull and stunned him for a little time, and crazed him
into the bargain. I learned more fully a fact that I'd an idea of
before, by my fight with that deer, and it is this--that it's best to
keep out of the way of a furious buck with tall, sharp horns on his
head. He's a dangerous animal to handle.
"That's one of the adventures that I went out into the wilderness
arter, and found without lookin' for it; and I've found a good many
others that put me and Crop in a tight place more than once. I backed
him over all the carryin' places between Little Tupper's and the
Saranacs once, when he was too lame and weak to walk, and nussed him
for a month afterwards. But that's an adventer I'll tell another time.
There's a deal of excitement, as the Judge calls it, outside of the
fences, if people will take the pains to look for it there."