The Rutland daily globe. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1873-1877, 1875-09-08
Especial Correspondence OF THE GLoDEl
ADIRONDACK SCENES.
unbroke,i Solitude A Night on Ragged
Lake Tho Buck Fever-Night Hunting on
RouJ ID Pond.
Is CAMP, ;
RAGGED LAKE, Sept. A, 1876. !

Il resort little known to city sportsmeu.
Far up in this northern country It Is shut
In by almost impossible roads. And this
preserves one Of its most entcing charms.
Who that loves the woods, loves nature in
her solitudes and In her unframed beauty
cares To seek resorts where modern civiliza-
ton has thrust her painted face ? Not /
for one. Here the tinlling of the piano,
ecboing strongly from the solemn woods, is
not heard. The soughing of the wind
among the pines, the wash of water on the
beach, the derisive boot of the owl or the
painful cry of distant wildcat are the
only sounds that reach the ear.
But alas these woods that lately knew
bat the presence of the hunter aud his
game, some day shalt yield their quiet
haunts
"Where modest Beauty hides her graceful
torm'--
TO the demands or mercenary man.
Twas but the other day, while | was
fishing in my skiff, that the shrill screech
of distant engine awoke the echos from
their sleep. How strange and sad it
seemed Strange that few miles only
from here where all ia wild and unculti-
waited, the great pulse of civilization should
beat. Sad the thought that at no distant
day 1t shall come with all its foibles, strifes
ard crimes to invade the sanctity of these
"iempled hills" But as yet, thanks 10
lack of capitalists, only the subdued laugh
of the hunters around their evening camp
fire disturbs the ,aim of night
We are three: Your humble servant
who sits upon the outspread blankets
smoking his pipe 60 keep the flies away,
his old chum, Hal, on his college vacation,
full OF college pranks and watching every
opportunity 10 spring joke upon good,
jolly Adam, our guide. who sits upon the
end of log cleaning the jack preparatory
for the nightly hunt. 1t is free and easy
time we have of it here. far away from the
conventionalities OF our every day life No
grand parties, no white gloves and s,arched
neckties, no simpering remarks in regard
to the weather, no hollow ,mplments.
This bracing mountain air is not at all
congenlal with such as that, But in the
day time, the hearty laugh of III Il bubbling
over with mirth racy song or the excite
the dusk OF evening comes protouni aud
quiet lest We disturb the fearful buck, or
hunting stories told beneath the breath. 1t
is evening how. All signs of supper have
been cleared away and Hal, who has ''got
the latest rig upon tue guide, lies sprawed
upon the blankets, kicking his heels in the
air and chuckling with suppressed merri-
ment. But Adam, half in anger hall in
fun, leans forward and utters two words
"buck- fever" They are enough to silence
the gurge in Halls throat and draw down
the corners of his mouth. For las. night
on Mud lake he caught that most dreadful
malady and the very mention OF il 80 him
is shame and torture. Bat villa. il the
"buck fever? Al, had forgotten that
perhaps you were not vcrscd in the phrase
ology of the woods. Don't take
that psnderous Webster f.um tho
shelf for he is ~ ignorant as
you. Nor that book uf medical n0men.
clature for only concei!cd Lplin phrases
are imprisoned between its covers. 1, is
simply excitement. You hardly believe
that? How Can excitement be 50 dread.
full? But you little know the excitement
OF deer hunt. Il is II short lived palsy
mental and physical paralysis pro ten.
Many are the amusing stories told Of it
around the camp fire, and many one in
the midst of II hoastfnl recital OF hunt has
blushed and stammered and broken down
| at its mere recital.
| remember very well when | was first
attacked. The story is not amusing, but it
will illustrate the power of the " disease. "
1t happened on the Round Pond years
ago l had never seen wild deer, and
though young and small, was anxious for
the sport We had as guide Frenchman
well known in these parts as The Old
Salamander." What man he was and is
yet, for aught know. Over sixty years
of age. yet straight and staunch as in his
prime. He did not possess gray hair,
notSne sign of weakness or decay. The
smoke of a thousand camp fires had pre-
served him, living mummy.
He sas considered the best hand at the
paddle that the woods could afford, and
with him as our paddler felt the laurels
even then tickling my brow. How slowly
the hours crept on! Evening already
brooded over nature and the water was rs
placid as summer sky. While the guide
was polishing the reflectors and glasses of
the jack and my brother carefully loaded
my gun, another of the party rehearsed for
my benefit all the anecdotes Of "Buck
Fever" that crept INTO his head. heard
with contempt the stories of those who,
bound by its "chilly spell" allowed the
game to escape without an attempt at cap
ture and made my boast that the spectre
should quail before my steady nerve aud
resolute will. All ! how little did / know
of its power
There are three things requisite to jack
hunting: First-A dark, calm night.
Second-A good still paddler Third-A
sure gun. All these conditions were full
filled. The wind, which had ruflled the
water in the early part of the evening, had
died away There was no moon, and from
where we were cncamped the lake was
only discernble as light surface.
Did you ever SIT by your window at the
setting of the sun and while all the heavens
were aglow with the glory of the dying
day and the mournful cries of the robins
were ringing in your ears, teel your whole
soul expand. as it were, with struggling
emotions and your heart grow big and beat
hurriedly as your castles in the air grow
tall and stately. Even so tet that night.
oh, Af ~ la