The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1894-03-09
miscellaneous.
The LOST TRAPPER.


"There are times in the life of
Maine woods trapper," said Captain
Barker, who is an old time Maine
woods trapper himself, 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
trapping in the Maine woods in the
depth of winter you would know
what l mean.
just imagine yourself trapping there,
say along in the month of December
There is foot of snow on the ground.
1t doesn't require much Imagination
to see q foot of snow on the ground in
the Maine woods in December. You
might multiply it by three and get
nearerthe truth. You have two camps,
and if they are Is miles apart, it will
be nothing unusual. Leading from
one of those 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 fisher-cat, and the ground
to the left, up a brook and around
small pond, where the otter and bea-
yer and mink work in their various
ways, and then up another brook to
the camp.
early in the morning you take
your axe 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 part
ner has no difficulty in following the
valley line, for the creek shows the
way, and he will get to camp before
dark, cut the wood for the night, get it
in, build a fire and prepared for get
ting supper, expecting to hear you
stamping in before long.
But things go differently with you
on the mountain line. There is more
snow up there than in the valley. The
travelling is hard. The traps need
great deal of setting over and fixing,
for the wild cats have been busy along
the line robbing you of sable here
and fisher there, which otherwise
"Oulll DCCll goul "Cll wv
ply. Then fisher, fast in trap,
has dragged it away into the woods,
and it takes you good while to find
it, A light wind drives the fast fall
ing, damp snow against the trunks of
the trees, and it sticks there, so that
in a 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 a blazed tree
and then look ahead and try to make
up which tree the next blaze is on
You pick out a tree that you think is
the one and brush off the snow. No
blaze there. Then you go on to an
other tree, perhaps off to the right
and brush again. No blaze there
Some distance ahead, off to the left
you see tree. That must be blaz-
ed 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, I'M
til at last you find it, only to have to
repeat the proceeding perhaps before
you locate the next one on your course.
All this takes much time and ami
hilates but little distance, 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 a long ways from
camp. You have a compass but as
you don't know your course it is ofno
use to you.
But by this time you have begun
to think that there is a 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 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 every
thing that can possibly be necessary
OH tramp when you leave camp.
Your situation now can't be de-
scribed as pleasant one. The damp
snow through the day, together with
the perspiration due to your hard
working, has wet your clothes through
and through. By and by it stops
showing. The wind has shifted
around into the northwest and is
blowing a gale. The snow comes pill
ing down from the trees upon you
and it hurts, for it is frozen. The fast
scudding clouds look white and fleecy
and you occasionally see cold looking
star up through them. The mercury
is liable to turn down to % or 30 de-
grees 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 sudden
ly you hear the distant report of
rifle. No one who has never been
there knows how sweet the report of
a rifle can sound to his ears when
plunging aimlessly about in the dark
ness, lost in wintery woods, and what
a change it makes in his feelings on
the instant. If you ever want to hear
music that is sweeter than the grand
est organ, let the report of a rifle come
to your ear under 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
you are losing your senses under the
strain. Then there is what seems an
age of torture, but it is really only a
| moment Then you hear the report
| again. This time you no longer doubt
your ears or your senses. 1t is your
| partner, uneasy at your hardness,
| and fearing its cause, signaling in
hope that you will hear. You an
swer with shot and stride on for
camp; knowing that you are saved.
h by and by you come out in sight
\ of the camp. Bright sparks are shoot
j ing up in showers out of the smoke
A hole 1t is but rough, rude, log hut,
/ but no illuminated palace of kings
| could awaken such joy within your
breast as that same hut, with its blaz-