The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1893-12-08
THE LOST TRAPPER,
EVENTS OF A WINTER DAY IN THE
GREAT MAINE WOODS.

~ y VI ~ In LII iN
GREAT MAINE WOODS.
Caught In q Snow Storm on the Mountain
While Going Over the Line of Traps.
Hunting For Blazed Trees-The Sweet
Music of the Rifles Voice.
"There are times in the life of Maine
woods trapper," said Captain Barker, who
is an old time Maine woods trapper him
SELF when he'd rather catch sight of his
old log camp in the wilderness than run up
against gold mine, for the camp at such
times can do for him what all the gold
mines on the face of the earth couldn't do
save his life. If you had ever tried trap
ping in the Maine woods in the depth Of
winter, you would know what l mean.
For the sake of an illustration, just i'm
agine yourself trapping there, say along in
the month of December. There is a foot of
snow on the ground. 1t doesn't require
much imagination to see foot of snow on
the ground in the Maine woods in Decem-
Der. You might multiply it by three and
get nearer the truth You have two camps,
and if they are Is miles apart. it will be
nothing unusual. Leading from one of
these camps to the other you have two
lines of traps, one to the right over the
hardwood mountains, where there is good
ground for the sable and fishercat, and the
other to the left, up brook and around
small pond, where the otter and beaver and
mink work in their various ways, and then
up another brook valley to the camp.
early in the morning you take your ak
and rifle, your bag Of bait and lunch and
follow the mountain line of traps, while
YOUR partner takes the valley line, or vice
versa, as the case may be, but the result
will be the same. The eXpectation and cal
culation is that you are to meet each other
at the camp before dark. You go up into
the mountains. 1t begins to snow about 10
O'Clock. Your partner has no difficulty in
following the valley line, for the creek
shows the way, and he will get to camp be-
fore dark, cut the wood for the night, get
it in, build fire and prepare for getting
supper, expecting to hear you stamping in
before long.
"But things 20 differently with you on
the mountain line. There is more snow up
there than in the valley. The travelling is
hard. The traps need good deal of setting
over and fixing, for the wildcats have been
busy along the line robbing you of a sable
here and q fisher there, which otherwise
Then fisher, fast in a trap, has dragged
it away into the woods, and it takes you
good while to find it. A light wind drives
the fast falling damp snow against the
trunks of the trees, and it sticks there, SO
that in couple of hours or SO you can't see
the blaze marks on them until you have
brushed off the snow.
''By and by you find blazed tree, and
then look ahead and try to make up your
mind which tree the next blaze is on. You
pick out tree that you think is the one
and brush off the snow. No blaze there.
| Then you go Oh to another tree, perhaps
off to the right, and brush again. No blaze
there Some distance ahead, off to the
left, you see a tree. That must be blazed
tree surely, you think. You scrape the
snow off that tree. No blaze there. And
then you go on, hunting here and there for
the next blazed tree, until at last you find
it, only to have to repeat the proceeding
| perhaps before you locate the next one aft
| ter that one on your course. All this takes
much time and annihilates but little dis
lance, and almost before you are aware Of
| it darkness begins to fall around you. You
| have lost the line altogether now. You
! don't know whether it is to the right or to
the left of you, but you do know that you
are still long way from camp. You have
a compass, but as you don't know your
course it is of no use to you.
"By this time you have begun to think
| that there is good chance for your having
| to lie out on the mountain that night. You
| slip your hands into your pockets to make
| sure that your matchbox is all safe, and feel
a little faint when you fail to find it. The
| likeliest explanation for its absence is that
| it slid out Of your pocket while you were
| sleeping in your bunk last night Never
| before have you realized the Importance Of
always being sure that you have everything
| that can possibly be necessary on a tramp
| when you leave camp.
| Your situation now can't be described
| as pleasant one. The damp snow through
the day, together with the perspiration due
to your hard working, has wet your cloth
| ing through and through. By and by it
| stops showing. The wind has shifted around
| into the northwest and is blowing Il gale
| The snow comes pilfng down from the
trees upon you, and it hurts, forit is frozen.
| The fast scudding clouds look white and
| feecy, and you occasionally see cold look
| ing star up through them. The mercury is
| liable to tumble down to IS or 30 degrees
below zero before morning. 1t is madness
| to think of lying out. You must get to
camp or die.
You are struggling on through the snow
and night, fully conscious of the peril of
| your situation, when suddenly you hear the
| distant report of a rifle. No one who has
| ever been there knows how sweet the re-
| port of O rife can sound to his ears when
plunging aimlessly about in the darkness,
lost in wintry woods, and what change it
| can make in his feelings ON the instant. If
| YOU ever want to hear music that is sweeter
| than the swell of the grandest organ, let
| the report of a rifle come to your ears I'M
der circumstances such as those AT first
| you find yourself rushing in the direction
from which the sound came. Then you
stop suddenly. The awful thought comes
over you that it was not rifle shot you
heard; that you only imagined it to be one;
that your nerves are forsaking you; that
| you are losing your senses under the strain.
Then there is what seems an age Of torture,
but it is really only moment. Then you
hear the report again. This time you nc
| longer doubt your ears or your senses 1t is
your partner, uneasy at your hardness, and
fearing it's cause signaling in hope that
| you will hettr. You answer with shot and
stride ON for camp, knowing that you are
saved.
by and by you come out in sight of the
camp. Bright sparks are shooting up in
showers out of the smoke hole. 1t is but a
rough, rude log hut, but no illuminated
palace of kings could awaken such joy
within your breast as that same hut, with
its blazing fire The finest dinner that was
ever spread could never taste as good as
the meal of flapjacks, venison and black
coffee that your partner has ready for you
when you knock the snow off of you and
go in. And no downy couch ever brought
such rest to mortal man as that bed Of
spruce boughs ON the cabin floor will by
and by bring to you. New York Sun.
I Blue.