nam:
'
THE BOOK OF
CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
THE BOOK OF
CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
A GUIDEBOOK FOR THOSE WHO TRAVEL
IN THE WILDERNESS
BY
HORACE KEPHART
MCMX
OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY
NEW YORK
D K 4 0 i
Copyright, 1906, 1908, by
THE OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY
Copyright, 1905, by
FIELD AND STREAM
Entered at Stationers' Hall, London, England
All rights reserved
First Edition, December, 1906
Second Edition, April, 1908
Third Edition, April, 1909
Fourth Edition, November, 1910
Fifth Edition, Jahuaby, 1912
f
Co
THE SHADE OF
NESSMUK
IN THE HAPPY HUNTING GROUND
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
Foreword
I Outfitting .
II The Sportsman's Clothing .
III Personal Kits
IV Tents and Tools
V Utensils and Food
VI A Check-List — Packing Up
VII The Camp ....
VIII The Camp-Fire .
IX Marksmanship in the Woods
X Dressing and Keeping Game and Fish
XI Camp Cookery
XII Pests of the Woods ,
XIII Forest Travel. Keeping a Course
XIV Blazes — Survey Lines— Natural Signs
of Direction
XV Getting Lost — Bivouacs
xi
1
11
22
37
62
62
70
82
92
100
114
165
179
194
. 207
XVI Emergency Foods — Living off the
Country , . . . .217
vii
viii CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGB
XVII Edible Plants of the Wilderness . 232
XVIII Axemanship — Qualities of Wood and
Bark 256
XIX Trophies, Buckskin and Rawhide . 277
XX Tanning Pelts — Other Animal
Products ..... 290
YYT Accidents: Their Backwoods Treat-
ment 30C
Index . . . . . 325
ILLUSTRATIONS
Nearer the Fire the Shadows Creep Frontispiece
In Still Waters
A Proud Moment .
Real Comfort in the Open .
Starting a Lean-to Shelter
The Fixed Camp ....
A Good Day's Shoot
An Ideal Camp-Fire
The Camp in Order .
Crude, but Comfortable
Down the Snow-white Alleys
The Old, Old Story
But a Good Day's Luck Lands Them
A Stray Goose Wanders Near
Where Lurks the Lusty Trout ,
Facing
page
. 20
. 32
, 46
. n
, n
, 98
. 98
. 122
. 182
. 182
. 218
. 218
. 230
, 230
FOREWORD
MY one aim in writing this little book is to make it
of practical service to those who seek rest or
sport in the wilderness, or whose business calls them
thither. I have treated the matter of outfitting in some
detail, not because elaborate outfits are usually desir-
able, for they are not, but because in town there is so
much to pick and choose from. Thereafter, the body
of the book is mainly given up to such shifts and expedi-
ents as are learned in the wilderness itself, where we
have nothing to choose from but the raw materials that
lie around us.
As for camps situated within easy reach of towns or
supply-posts, every one, I suppose, knows best how to
gratify his own tastes in fitting them up, and prefers to
use his own ingenuity rather than copy after others.
Real woodcraft consists rather in knowing how to get
along without the appliances of civilization than in
adapting them to wildwood life. Such an art comes in
play when we travel "light," and especially in emergen-
cies, when the equipment, or essential parts of it, have
been destroyed. I am not advising anybody to travel
with nothing but a gun and ammunition, a blanket, a
frying-pan, and a tin cup; but it has been part of my
object to show how the thing can be done, if necessary,
without serious hardship.
Woodcraft may be defined as the art of getting along
well in the wilderness by utilizing nature's storehouse.
When we say that Daniel Boone, for example, was a
good woodsman, we mean that he could confidently
enter an unmapped wilderness, with no outfit but what
was carried by his horse, his canoe, or on his own back,
and with the intention of a protracted stay; that he
could find his way through the dense forest without
man-made marks to guide him; that he knew the habits
and properties of trees and plants, and the ways of fish
xi
xii FOREWORD
and game; that he was a good trailer and a good shot;
that he could dress game and cure peltry, cook whole-
some meals over an open fire, build adequate shelter
against wind and rain, and keep himself warm through
the bitter nights of winter — in short, that he knew how
to utilize the gifts of nature, and could bide comfortably
in the wilderness without help from outside.
The literature of outdoor sport is getting us used to
such correlative terms as plainscraft, mountaincraft, and
even icecraft, snowcraft, and birdcraft. This sort of
thing can be overdone; but we need a generic term to
express the art, in general, of getting on well in wild
regions, whether in forests, deserts, mountains, plains,
tropics or arctics; and for this I would suggest the plain
English compound wildcraft.
In the following chapters I offer some suggestions on
outfitting, making camps, dressing and keeping game
and fish, camp cookery, forest travel, how to avoid
getting lost, and what to do if one does get lost, living
off the country, what the different species of trees are
good for (from a camper's viewpoint) , backwoods handi-
crafts in wood, bark, skins and other raw materials, the
treatment of wounds and other injuries, and some other
branches of woodcraft that may be of service when one
is far from shops and from hired help. I have little or
nothing to say, here, about hunting, fishing, trailing,
trapping, canoeing, snowshoeing, or the management
of horses and pack-trains, because each of these is an
art by itself, and we have good books on all of them
save trailing.*
* This would seem an impossible subject to treat in a book; but
any one who reads German may come to a different conclusion after
studying a work by Eugen Teuwsen and Carl Schulze, entitled,
Fahrten und Spurenkunde (Tracks and Trailing), published in 1901
by J. Neumann of Neudamm, Prussia. This describes the tracks
made by the red deer, moose, fallow deer, roebuck, chamois, wild
boar, hare, rabbit, squirrel, bear, wolf, dog, fox, wildcat, badger,
otter, woods marten and stone marten, polecat, various weasels,
and of the capercailzie, black-cock, hazel-grouse, moor-hen, quail,
pheasant, curlew, bustard, crane, stork, heron, swan, wild goose,
and wild duck. The text is accompanied by capital woodcuts,
mostly life-size. An excellent series of illustrated articles on trail-
ing American game, written by Josef Brunner. appeared in Field
and Stream, 1906-7. I hope it will soon come out in book form.
FOREWORD xiii
I have preferred to give full details, as far as this
book goes. One's health and comfort in the wilds
very often depend upon close observance of just such
details as breathless people would skip or scurry over.
Moreover, since this is not a guidebook to any one
particular region, I have tried to keep in mind a variety
of conditions existing in different kinds of country, and
have suggested alternative methods or materials, to be
used according to circumstances.
In the school of the woods there is no graduation
day. What would be good woodcraft in one region
might be bad bungling in another. A Maine guide
may scour all the forests of northeastern America, and
feel quite at home in any of them; but put him in a
Mississippi canebrake, and it is long odds that he
would be, for a time,
Perplexed, bewildered, till he scarce doth know
His right forefinger from his left big toe.
And a southern cane-cracker would be quite as
much at sea if he were turned loose in a spruce forest
in winter. But it would not take long for either of
these men to "catch on" to the new conditions; for
both are shifty, both are cool-headed, and both are
keen observers. Any man may blunder once, when
confronted by strange conditions; but none will repeat
the error unless he be possessed by the notion that he
has nothing new to learn.
As for book-learning, it is useful only to those who
do not expect too much from it. No book can teach
a man how to swing an axe or follow a trail. But
there are some practical arts that it can teach, and,
what is of more consequence, it can give a clear idea
of general principles. It can also show how not to do
a thing — and there is a good deal in that. Half of
woodcraft, as of any other art, is in knowing what to
avoid. That is the difference between a true knot and
a granny knot, and the difference can be shown by a
sketch as easily as with string in hand.
If any one should get the impression from these
pages that camping out with a light outfit means little
xiv FOREWORD
but a daily grind of camp chores, questionable meals,
a hard bed, torment from insects, and a good chance
of broken bones at the end, he will not have caught
the spirit of my intent. It is not here my purpose to
dwell on the charms of free life in a wild country;
rather, taking all that for granted, I would point out
some short-cuts, and offer a lift, here and there, over
rough parts of the trail. No one need be told how to
enjoy the smooth ones. Hence it is that I treat chiefly
of difficulties, and how to overcome them.
This book had its origin in a series of articles, under
a similar title, that I contributed, in 1904-6, to the
magazine Field and Stream. The original chapters
have been expanded, and new ones have been added,
until there is here about double the matter that appeared
in the parent series. I have also added two chapters
previously published in Sports Afield.
Most of these pages were written in the wilderness,
where there were abundant facilities for testing the
value of suggestions that were outside my previous
experience. In this connection I must acknowledge
indebtedness to a scrap-book full of notes and clippings,
the latter chiefly from old volumes of Forest and Stream
and Shooting and Fishing, which was one of the most
valued tomes in the rather select "library" that graced
half a soap-box in one corner of my cabin.
I owe much, both to the spirit and the letter of that
classic in the literature of outdoor life, the little book on
Woodcraft by the late George R. Sears, who is best
known by his Indian-given title of Nessmuk. To me,
in a peculiar sense, it has been remedium utriusgue
fortunes; and it is but fitting that I should dedicate to
the memory of its author this humble pendant to his
work. Horace Kephart.
Dayton, Ohio
March, 1906.
THE BOOK OP
CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
CHAPTER I
OUTFITTING
"By St. Nicholas
I have a sudden passion for the wild wood —
We should be free as air in the wild wood —
What say you? Shall we go? Your hands, your hands!"
— Robin Hood.
TN some of our large cities there are professional out-
■*■ fitters to whom one can go and say: "So many of
us wish to spend such a month in such a region, hunt-
ing and fishing: equip us." The dealer will name a
price; you pay it, and leave the rest to him. When
the time comes he will have the outfit ready and packed.
It will include everything needed for the trip, well
selected and of the best materials. When your party
reaches the jumping-off place it will be met by pro-
fessional guides and packers, who will take you to the
best hunting grounds and fishing waters, and will do all
the hard work of paddling, packing over portages, mak-
ing camp, chopping wood, cooking, and cleaning up, be-
sides showing you where the game and fish are " using,"
and how to get them. In this way a party of city men
who know nothing of woodcraft can spend a season in
the woods very comfortably, though getting little prac-
tical knowledge of the wilderness. This is touring,
not campaigning. It is expensive; but it may be worth
the price to such as can afford it, and who like that
sort of thing.
But, aside from the expense of this kind of camping,
it seems to me that whoever takes to the woods and
waters for recreation should learn how to shift for him-
self in an emergency. He may employ guides and a
cook — all that; but the day of disaster may come, the
outfit may be destroyed, or the city man may find
himself some day alone, lost in the forest, and com-
1
ft CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
pelled to meet the forces of nature in a struggle for his
life. Then it may go hard with him indeed if he be
not only master of himself, but of that woodcraft that
holds the key to nature's storehouse. A camper should
know for himself how to outfit, how to select and make
a camp, how to wield an axe and make proper fires,
how to cook, wash, mend, how to travel without losing
his course, or what to do when he has lost it; how to
trail, hunt, shoot, fish, dress game, manage boat or
canoe, and how to extemporize such makeshifts as may
be needed in wilderness faring. And he should know
these things as he does the way to his mouth. Then is
he truly a woodsman, sure to do promptly the right
thing at the right time, whatever befalls. Such a man
has an honest pride in his own resourcefulness, a sense
of reserve force, a doughty self-reliance that is good to
feel. His is the confidence of the lone sailorman, who
whistles as he puts his tiny bark out to sea.
And there are many of us who, through some miscue
of the Fates, are not rich enough to give carte blanche
orders over the counter. We would like silk tents, air
mattresses, fiber packing cases, and all that sort of
thing; but we would soon "go broke" if we started in
at that rate. I am saying nothing about guns, rods,
reels, and such-like, because they are the things that
every properly conducted sportsman goes broke on,
anyway, as a matter of course. I am speaking only
of such purchases as might be thought extravagant.
And it is conceivable that some folks might call it
extravagant to pay thirty-five dollars for a thing to
sleep in when you lie out of doors on the ground from
choice, or thirty dollars for pots and pans to cook with
when you are "playing hobo," as the unregenerate call
our sylvan sport.
Nor can we deny that a man with an axe and a couple
of dollars' worth of cotton cloth can put up in two or
three hours as good a woodland shelter as any mere
democrat or republican needs between the ides of May
and of November; and if he wants a portable tent he
can generally buy very cheaply a second-hand army
one that will meet all his requirements for several sea-
OUTFITTING 3
sons. Tin or enameled ware, though not so smart nor
so ingeniously nested as a special aluminum kit, will
cook just as good meals, and will not burn one's fingers
and mouth so severely. Blankets we can take from
home (though never the second time, perhaps); and
a narrow bed-tick, filled with browse, or with grass
or leaves where there is no browse, in combination with
a rubber blanket or poncho, makes a better mattress
than the Father of his Country had on many a weary
night. A discarded business suit and a flannel shirt,
easy shoes and a campaign hat, are quite as respectable
in the eyes of woodland folk as a costume of loden or
gabardine, and they do not set one up so prominently
as a mark. Grocery boxes make good packing cases,
and they have the advantage that they are not too
good to be broken up for shelves and table in camp.
As for duffel bags, few things are more satisfactory
than seamless grain bags that you have coated with
boiled linseed oil. Such a bag, by the way, is a good
thing to produce now and then to show your friends
how ingeniously economical you are. It helps out
when you are caught slipping in through the back gate
with a brand-new gun, when everybody knows that
you already possess more guns than you can find
legitimate use for.
If one begins, as he should, six months in advance,
to plan and prepare for his next summer or fall vaca-
tion, he can, by gradual and surreptitious hoarding,
get together a commendable camping equipment, and
nobody will notice the outlay. The best way is to
make many of the things yourself. This gives your
pastime an air of thrift, and propitiates the Lares and
Penates by keeping you home o' nights. And there is
a world of solid comfort in having everything fixed just
to suit you. The only way to have it so is to do the
work yourself. One can wear ready-made clothing,
he can exist in ready-furnished rooms, but a ready-
made camping outfit is a delusion and a snare. It is
sure to be loaded with gimcracks that you have no use
for, and to lack something that you will be miserable
without.
4 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
It is great fun, in the long winter evenings, to sort
over your beloved duffel, to make and fit up the little
boxes and hold-alls in which everything has its proper
place, to contrive new wrinkles that nobody but your-
self has the gigantic brain to conceive, to concoct mys-
terious dopes that fill the house with unsanctimonious
smells, to fish around for materials, in odd corners
where you have no business, and, generally, to set the
female members of the household to buzzing around
in curiosity, disapproval, and sundry other states of
mind.
To be sure, even though a man rigs up his own out-
fit, he never gets it quite to suit him. Every season
sees the downfall of some cherished scheme, the failure
of some fond contrivance. Every winter sees you
again fussing over your kit, altering this, substituting
that, and flogging your wits with the same old problem
of how to save weight and bulk without sacrifice of
utility. All thoroughbred campers do this as regularly
as the birds come back in spring, and their kind have
been doing it since the world began. It is good for us.
If some misguided genius should invent a camping
equipment that nobody could find fault with, half our
pleasure in life would be swept away.
There is something to be said in favor of individual
outfits, every man going completely equipped and quite
independent of the others. It is one of the delights of
single-handed canoeing, whether you go alone or cruise
in squadron, that every man is fixed to suit himself.
Then if any one carries too much or too little, or cooks
badly, or is too lazy to be neat, or lacks forethought in
any way, he alone suffers the penalty; and this is but
just. On the other hand, if one of the cruisers' outfits
comes to grief, the others can help him out, since all
the eggs are not in one basket. I like to have a com-
plete camping outfit of my own, just big enough for
two men, so that I can dispense a modest hospitality
to a chance acquaintance, or take with me a comrade
who, through no fault of his own, turns up at the last
moment; but I want this outfit to be so light and com-
pact that I can easily handle it myself when I am alone.
OUTFITTING 5
Then I am always "fixed," and always independent,
come good or ill, blow high or low.
Still, it is the general rule among campers to have
"company stores." In so far as this means only those
things that all use in common, such as tent, utensils,
tools, and provisions, it is well enough; but it should
be a point of honor with each and every man to carry
for himself a complete kit of personal necessities, down
to the least detail. As for company stores, everybody
should bear a hand in collecting and packing them.
To saddle this hard and thankless job on one man,
merely because he is experienced and a willing worker,
is selfish. Depend upon it, the fellow who "hasn't
time" to do his share of the work before starting will
be the very one to shirk in camp.
The question of what to take on a trip resolves itself
chiefly into a question of transportation. If the party
can travel by wagon, and intends to go into fixed camp,
then almost anything can be carried along — trunks,
chests, big wall tents and poles, cots, mattresses, pots
and pans galore, camp stove, kerosene, mackintoshes
and rubber boots, plentiful changes of clothing, arsenals
of weapons and ammunition, books, folding bath-tubs
— what you will. Anybody can fit up a wagon-load
of calamities, and hire a farmer to serve as porter.
But does it pay ? I think not.
Be plain in the woods. In a far way you are emulat-
ing those grim heroes of the past who made the white
man's trails across this continent. Fancy Boone reclin-
ing on an air mattress, or Carson pottering over a
sheet-iron stove ! We seek the woods to escape civiliza-
tion for a time, and all that suggests it. Let us some-
times broil our venison on a sharpened stick and serve
it on a sheet of bark. It tastes better. It gets us
closer to nature, and closer to those good old times
when every American was considered "a man for a'
that" if he proved it in a manful way. And there is
a pleasure in achieving creditable results by the sim-
plest means. When you win your own way through
the wilds with axe and rifle you win at the same time
the imperturbability of a mind at ease with itself in any
6 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
emergency by flood or field. Then you feel that you
have red blood in your veins, and that it is good to be
free and out of doors. It is one of the blessings of
wilderness life that it shows us how few things we need
in order to be perfectly happy.
Let me not be misunderstood as counseling anybody
to "rough it" by sleeping on the bare ground and eat-
ing nothing but hardtack and bacon. Only a tender-
foot will parade a scorn of comfort and a taste for
useless hardships. As Nessmuk says: "We do not go
to the woods to rough it; we go to smoothe it — we get
it rough enough in town. But let us live the simple,
natural life in the woods, and leave all frills behind."
An old campaigner is known by the simplicity and
fitness of his equipment. He carries few impedimenta,
but every article has been well tested and it is the best
that his purse can afford. He has learned by hard
experience how steep are the mountain trails and how
tangled the undergrowth and downwood in the primi-
tive forest. He has learned, too, how to fashion on
the spot many substitutes for " boughten " things that
we consider necessary at home.
The art of going "light but right" is hard to learn.
I never knew a camper who did not burden himself,
at first, with a lot of kickshaws that he did not need in
the woods; nor one who, if he learned anything, did
not soon begin to weed them out; nor even a veteran
who ever quite attained his own ideal of lightness and
serviceability. Probably Nessmuk came as near to it
as any one, after he got that famous ten-pound canoe.
He said that his load, including canoe, knapsack,
blanket-bag, extra clothing, hatchet, rod, and two days'
rations, "never exceeded twenty-six pounds; and I went
prepared to camp out any and every night." This, of
course, was in summer.
In the days when game was plentiful and there were
no closed seasons our frontiersmen thought nothing of
making long expeditions into the unknown wilderness
with no equipment but what they carried on their own
persons, to wit: a blanket, rifle, ammunition, flint and
steel, tomahawk, knife, an awl, a spare pair of moc-
OUTFITTING 7
casins, perhaps, a small bag of jerked venison, and
another of parched Indian corn, ground to a coarse
meal, which they called "rockahominy" or "coal
flour." Their tutors in woodcraft often traveled
lighter than this. An Indian runner would strip to his
G-string and moccasins, roll up in his small blanket a
pouch of rockahominy, and, armed only with a bow
and arrows, he would perform journeys that no mam-
mal but a wolf could equal. General Clark said that
when he and Lewis, with their men, started afoot from
the mouth of the Columbia River on their return trip
across the continent, their total store of articles for
barter with the Indians for horses and food could have
been tied up in two handkerchiefs. But they were
woodsmen, every inch of them.
Now it is not needful nor advisable for a camper in
our time to suffer hardships from stinting his supplies.
It is foolish to take insufficient bedding, or to rely upon
a diet of pork, beans, and hardtack, in a country where
game may be scarce. The knack is in striking a happy
medium between too much luggage and too little. A
pair of scales are good things to have at hand when one
is making up his packs. Scales of another kind will
then fall from his eyes. He will note how the little,
unconsidered trifles mount up; how every bag and tin
adds weight. Now let him imagine himself toiling up-
hill under an August sun, or forging through thickety
woods, over rocks and roots and fallen trees, with all
this stuff on his back. Again, let him think of a chill,
wet night ahead, and of what he will really need to
keep himself warm, dry, and well ballasted amidships.
Balancing these two prospects one against the other,
he cannot go far wrong in selecting his outfit.
In his charming book The Forest, Stewart Edward
White has spoken of that amusing foible, common to us
all, which compels even an experienced woodsman to
lug along some pet trifle that he does not need, but
which he would be miserable without. The more
absurd this trinket is, the more he loves it. One of my
camp-mates for five seasons carried in his "packer" a
big chunk of rosin. When asked what it was for, he
8 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
confessed: "Oh, I'm going to get a fellow to make me
a turkey-call, some day, and this is to make it 'turk. ' '
Jew's-harps, camp-stools, shaving-mugs, alarm-clocks,
derringers that nobody could hit anything with, and
other such trifles have been known to accompany very
practical men who were otherwise in light marching
order. If you have some such thing that you know
you can't sleep well without, stow it religiously in your
kit. It is your "medicine," your amulet against the
spooks and bogies of the woods. It will dispel the
koosy-oonek. (If you don't know what that means,
ask an Eskimo. He may tell you that it means sor-
cery, witchcraft — and so, no doubt, it does to the chil-
dren of nature; but to us children of guile it is the
spell of that imp who hides our pipes, steals our last
match, and brings rain on the just when they want to
go fishing.)
No two men have the same "medicine." Mine is
a porcelain teacup, minus the handle. It cost me much
trouble to find one that would fit snugly inside the
metal cup in which I brew my tea. Many's the time
it has all but slipped from my fingers and dropped
upon a rock; many's the gibe I have suffered for its
dear sake. But I do love it. Hot indeed must be the
sun, tangled the trail and weary the miles, before I for-
sake thee, O my frail, cool-lipped, but ardent teacup!
The joys and sorrows of camp life, and the propor-
tion of each to the other, depend very much upon how
one chooses his companions — granting that he has any
choice in the matter at all. It may be noticed that
old-timers are apt to be a bit distant when a novice
betrays any eagerness to share in their pilgrimages.
There is no churlishness in this ; rather it is commend-
able caution. Not every good fellow in town makes a
pleasant comrade in the woods. So it is that experi-
enced campers are chary of admitting new members
to their lodges. To be one of them you must be of the
right stuff, ready to endure trial and privation without
a murmur, and — what is harder for most men — to put
up with petty inconveniences without grumbling.
For there is a seamy side to camp life, as to every-
OUTFITTING 9
thing else. Even in the best of camps things do hap-
pen sometimes that are enough to make a saint swear
silently through his teeth. But no one is fit for such
life who cannot turn ordinary ill-luck into a joke, and
bear downright calamity like a gentleman.
Yet there are other qualities in a good camp-mate
that are rarer than fortitude and endurance. Chief of
these is a love of nature for her own sake — not the "put
on" kind that expresses itself in gushy sentimentalism,
but that pure, intense, though ordinarily mute affection
which finds pleasure in her companionship and needs
none other. As Olive Shreiner says : " It is not he who
praises nature, but he who lies continually on her breast
and is satisfied, who is actually united to her." Donald
G. Mitchell once remarked that nobody should go to
the country with the expectation of deriving much
pleasure from it, as country, who has not a keen eye
for the things of the country, for scenery, or for trees,
or flowers, or some kind of culture; to which a New
York editor replied that "Of this not one city man in
a thousand has a particle in his composition." The
proportion of city men who do thoroughly enjoy the
hardy sports and adventures of the wilderness is cer-
tainly much larger than those who could be entertained
on a farm; but the elect of these, the ones who can find
plenty to interest them in the woods when fishing and
hunting fail, are not to be found on every street corner.
If your party is made up of men inexperienced in the
woods, hire a guide, and, if there be more than three of
you, take along a cook as well. Treat your guide as
one of yourselves. A good one deserves such consider-
ation; a poor one is not worth having at all. But if
you cannot afford this expense, then leave the real wil-
derness out of account for the present; go to some
pleasant woodland, within hail of civilization, and start
an experimental camp, spending a good part of your
time in learning how to wield an axe, how to build
proper fires, how to cook good meals out of doors, and
so forth. Be sure to get the privilege beforehand of
cutting what wood you will need. It is worth paying
some wood-geld that you may learn how to fell and
10 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
hew. Here, with fair fishing and some small game
hunting, you can have a jolly good time, and will be
fitted for something more ambitious the next season.
In any case, be sure to get together a company of
good-hearted, manly fellows, who will take things as
they come, do their fair share of the camp chores, and
agree to have no arguments before breakfast. There
are plenty of such men, steel-true and blade-straight.
Then will your trip be a lasting pleasure, to be lived
over time and again in after years. There are no,
friendships like those that are made under canvas and
in the open field.
CHAPTER II
THE SPORTSMAN'S CLOTHING
"C^OR ordinary camping trips an old business suit will
■* do; but be sure that the buttons are securely
sewn and that the cloth is not worn thin. It is some-
what embarrassing to come back home, as a friend of
mine once did, with a staring legend of XXX FAMILY
FLOUR emblazoned on the seat of his trousers. It
may be well to take along a pair of overalls; they are
workmanlike and win the respect of country folk. Men
who dwell in the woods the year 'round are practical
fellows who despise frills and ostentation. Many a
tenderfoot has had to pay double prices for everything,
and has been well laughed at in the bargain, because he
sported a big bowie knife or a fake cowboy hat-band.
When one is preparing for a long, hard trip, it pays
to give some heed to the clothing question. As a rule,
the conventional hunting costumes of the shops are as
unfit for the wilderness as they are for the gymnasium.
They are designed for bird hunters, who carry heavy
loads of shotgun shells, and little else, and who can
tumble into a civilized bed at night. Canvas and cordu-
roy are the materials most used. These cloths wear
well, are generally of fairly good color for the purpose,
are not easily soiled, and they do not collect burs; but
this is about all the good that can be said of them. Can-
vas is too stiff for athletic movements, a poor protection
against cold, and not so comfortable in any weather as
wool. Corduroy wears like iron, but it is too heavy for
hot days, not nearly so warm in cold weather as its
weight of woolen goods, and it is notoriously heavy and
hard to dry when it has been soaked through. Neither
canvas nor corduroy are good absorbents of perspira-
tion, nor do they let it evaporate freely. Both of them
11
12 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
are too noisy for still-hunting. Even when they are not
rasping against grass and underbush, there is a swish-
swash of the trousers at every step. They are also
likely to chafe the wearer.
A sportsman's clothing should be strong, soft, light,
warm for its weight, of inconspicuous color, and easy to
dry after a wetting. It should be self-ventilating, and
of such material as absorbs the moisture from the body.
It should fit so as not to chafe, and should be roomy
enough to give one's limbs free play, permitting him to
be active and agile.
The quality of one's underwear is of more impor-
tance than his outer garments. It should be of pure,
soft wool throughout, regardless of the
season. Cotton or silk are clammy and
unhealthful when one perspires freely, as he is sure to
do when liying an active life out of doors, even in mid-
winter, and they chill the skin when one is drenched by
a shower or when he rests after exertion. The air of
the forest is often damp and chilly, especially at night
and in the early morning hours. And you must expect
to get a ducking now and then, and to be exposed to a
keen wind when topping a ridge after a hard climb.
At such times you are likely to catch a bad cold, or sow
the seeds of rheumatism, if your underclothing is of any
other material than wool. Thick underwear is not rec-
ommended, even for winter. It is better to have a spare
undershirt of a size larger than what one commonly
wears, and to double-up in cold weather or on frosty
nights. Two thin shirts worn together are warmer
than a thick one weighing as much as both. This is
because there is a layer of warm air between them. The
more air contained ,in„a garment, other things being
equal, the warmer it is. One soon realizes this when
he spreads a blanket on the hard ground and lies down
on it, thus pressing out the confined air. Drawers
should be loose around the thighs and knees, but snug
in the crotch. Remember that woolen goods will shrink
in washing, unless the work is skilfully done; so do not
get a snug fit at the start.
It is unwise to carry more changes of underwear,
THE SPORTSMAN'S CLOTHING 13
handkerchiefs, etc., than one can comfortably get along
with. They will all have to be washed, anyway, and
so long as spare clean ones remain no man is going to
bother about washing the others. This means an ac-
cumulation of soiled clothes, which is a nuisance of the
first magnitude.
Overshirts should be loose at the neck, a size larger
than one ordinarily wears, for they will surely shrink,
n ,. and a tight collar is not to be tolerated.
The collars should be wide, if the shirts
are to be used in cold weather, so that they can be turned
up and tied around the neck. Gray is the best color,
the dark blue of soldiers5 or firemen's shirts being too
conspicuous for hunters. It is well to sew two small
pockets on the shirt just below where the collar-bone
comes. These are to receive the watch and compass,
which should fit snugly so as not to flop out when one
stoops over. If the watch is carried in the fob pocket
of the trousers it will be unhandy to get at, on account
of the belt, and it is more likely to be injured when one
wades out of his depth or gets a spill in shallow water.
A neckerchief should be worn, preferably of silk,
because that is easy to wash and dry out. It protects
,T , , . , the neck from sunburn, keeps it warm
Neckerchiefs. . , , ., ' r „ , . ..
in cold weather, and is usetul to tie
over the hat and ears when the wind is high or the frost
nips keenly. In case of cramps it is a good thing to
tie over the stomach. A bright color, white or red es-
pecially, should be avoided if one expects to do any
hunting.
A heavy coat is a nuisance in the woods. It would
only be worn as a "come-and-go" garment when one
-, , is traveling to and from the wilderness,
T and around camp in the chill of the
i ersevs •
morning and evening. For the latter
purpose a heavy jersey or sweater is much better, besides
being more comfortable to sleep in, and easier to dry
out. It should be of gray or light tan color, and
all-wool of course. The objections to a sweater are
that it is easily torn or picked out by brush, it attracts
burs almost as a magnet does iron filings, and it soaks
14 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
through in a smart shower. But if a coat of thin, very
closely woven khaki, "duxbak," or gabardine, large
enough to wear over the sweater, is taken along, the
perfection of comfort in all kinds of weather is attained.
Such a coat is rain-proof, sheds burs, and keeps out
not only the wind but the fine, dust-like snow which,
on a windy day in winter, drives through the air, forces
itself into every pore of a woolen fabric, and, melting
from the heat of the body, soaks the garment through
and through. With the above combination one is fixed
for any kind of weather. On hot days his overshirt
and trousers will be all the outer clothing he will want;
if it threatens rain, he will add the coat; mornings and
evenings, or on cold, dry days, he will substitute the
sweater; and when it is both cold and windy, or cold
and wet, all three will be worn. In any case the coat
is merely considered as a thin, soft, rain-proof and wind-
proof, but self-ventilating, skin, the heat-giving and
sweat-absorbing part of the clothing being worn under-
neath. To combine the two in one garment would
defeat the purpose, for it would be clumsy and would
not dry out quickly. A free outlet for the moisture
from the body, or a thick absorbent of it that can be
taken off and dried out quickly, is a prime essential of
health and comfort in all climates, and at no time more
so than when the mercury stands far below zero.
For those who prefer a single heavy coat, rather than
tolerate the "bunchy" feeling of several layers of dif-
ferent materials, I would recommend, for steady cold
weather, a Mackinaw coat of the best obtainable qual-
ity, such as sheds a light rain; poor ones soak up water
like a sponge.
Do not seek to keep your legs dry by wearing water-
proofed material. Nothing but rubber or pantasote
T will shed the water when you forge
through wet underbrush, and they would
wet you most uncomfortably by giving no vent to per-
spiration. Take your wetting, and dry out when you
get back to camp. Strong, firmly woven woolen trou-
sers or knickers are best for the woods in cold weather,
and khaki or duxbak for warm weather.
THE SPORTSMAN'S CLOTHING 15
The color of a woodsman's clothing should be as
near invisibility as possible — unless he ranges through
r - a country infested with fools with guns,
in which case a flaming red head-dress
may be advisable. By the way, it is bad practice
when one is calling turkeys to hide in the brush or
behind a tree. Sit right out in the open. So long as
you are motionless the turkey will not recognize you
as a human being, whereas a man attracted by your
calling will. The same rule holds good when one
is on a deer stand, or "holding down a log" on a
runway. As for inconspicuous clothing, take a hint
from the deer and the rabbit, from the protective
plumage of grouse and woodcock. Most shades of
cloth used for men's clothing are darker than they
should be for hunting. What seems, near by, to be a
light brown, for instance, looks quite dark in the woods.
The light browns, greens, and drabs are indistinguish-
able from each other at a few rods' distance. The
color of withered fern is good; so are some of the lighter
shades of covert cloth, such as top-coats are made of;
also the yellowish-green khaki. White (except amid
snow) and red are the most glaring colors in the woods.
An ideal combination would be a mottle of alternate
splotches of brown or drab and light gray, which, at a
short distance in the woods, would blend with the tree
trunks and would not look entirely opaque. Many
men who think themselves properly dressed for still-
hunting, and are so in the main, spoil it all by a flopping
hat, a bright neckerchief, a glittering buckle, or rasp-
ing covering for their legs.
Leggings should be of woolen cloth, preferably of
loden, which is waterproof. Those of canvas, pantasote,
j. . or leather are too noisy. When a man is
in the woods to see what is going on in
them he should move as quietly and make himself as
unnoticeable as possible, whether he carries a gun or
not. Buckles and exposed hooks catch in the grass
and glitter in the sunlight, besides being hard to man-
age when covered with mud or ice; hooks are easily
bent out of shape; springs are too stiff for pedestrians.
16 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
The Pettibone legging is a good pattern, as its hooks
and laces are covered by the outer flap. Many recom-
mend cloth puttees instead of leggings. A puttee of
the kind I mean is a piece of stout woolen cloth four or
five inches wide and fully nine feet long, to be wrapped
spirally around the leg, starting from the ankle and
winding up to the knee, overlapping an inch or two at
a turn, and fastened at the top by tapes sewn on like
horse-bandages. It is claimed that nothing else so
well supports the veins of the legs in marching, that
they are more comfortable and noiseless than ordinary
leggings, and that they afford better protection against
venomous snakes, as the serpent's fangs are not so
likely to penetrate the comparatively loose folds of
cloth. Puttees should be specially woven with selvage
edges on both sides, for if merely hemmed they will soon
fray at the edges. It is not advisable to wear them in
a thickety country.
Nothing in a woodsman's clothing is of more impor-
tance than his foot dressing. The two unpardonable
_, sins of a soldier are a rusty rifle and
sore feet. So they should be regarded
by us campers. The shoes and stockings should fit
snugly, so as not to chafe from friction, but they should
on no account be tight enough to bind. The shoes
should be well broken in before starting.
High-topped hunting boots that lace up the leg are
well enough for engineers and stockmen, but for hunt-
ers or others who travel in the wilderness, either afoot
or afloat, they are much too heavy and clumsy. A pair
of strong shoes with medium soles and bellows tongues,
not over seven inches high, nor weighing an ounce
more than two and a half pounds to the pair, will do
for ordinary wear. They should be pliable both in
soles and uppers. No one can walk well in boots with
thick, stiff soles. Hob-nails are recommended only for
fishermen and mountaineers. They should be of soft
iron, as steel ones slip on the rocks. Their heads
should be large and square, not cone-shaped. A few
hob-nails along the edges of the soles and heels will
suffice, those of most importance being the two on
either side of the ball of the foot. If the middle of the
THE SPORTSMAN'S CLOTHING 17
sole is studded with them they are likely to hurt the
feet. The leather should be well soaked before they
are driven in.
It is not a bad plan to drive a few protruding nails
in the heels and soles of one's shoes, in a particular
pattern, so that one can infallibly recognize his own
footprints when back-trailing. This will also assist
one's companions if they should have occasion to search
for him.
The best shoe-laces are made from rawhide belt-
lacing, cut in strips and hardened at the ends by slightly
roasting them in the fire.
Shoes to be worn in cool weather may well be water-
proofed, but for warm weather they should not, for
w - waterproofed leather heats the feet; and
j ih so, by the way, do rubber soles. If one
has much marching to do he had better
take his chances of getting his feet wet now and then
than to keep them overheated all the time, and con-
sequently tender.
An excellent Norwegian recipe for waterproofing
leather is this:
Boil together two parts pine tar and three parts cod-liver
oil. Soak the leather in the hot mixture, rubbing in while
hot. It will make boots waterproof, and will keep them
soft for months, in spite of repeated wettings.
For canoeing, still-hunting, and for long marches in
the dry season, as well as for use around camp, wear
« . either thick moccasins or light mocca-
sin-shoes (the latter should not weigh
over one and a half pounds to the pair).
The importance of going lightly shod when one is to
do much tramping is not always appreciated. Let me
show what it means. Suppose that a man in fair train-
ing can carry on his back a weight of forty pounds for
ten miles on good roads, without excessive fatigue.
Now shift that load from his back and fasten half of
it on each foot — how far will he go ? You see the dif-
ference between carrying on your back and lifting with
your feet. Very well; a pair of hunting shoes of con-
ventional store pattern weighs about three pounds; a
2
18 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
pair of moose-hide moccasins weighs eleven ounces. In
ten miles there are 21,120 average paces. It follows
that a ten-mile tramp in the big shoes means lifting
some eight tons more footgear than if one wore moc-
casins. Nor is that all. The moccasins are soft and
pliable as gloves; the shoes are stiff, clumsy, and likely
to blister the feet.
If your feet are too tender, at first, for moccasins, add
insoles of birch bark or the dried inner bark of red
cedar. After a few days the feet will toughen, the ten-
dons will learn to do their proper work without crutches,
and you will be able to travel farther, faster, more noise-
lessly, and with less exertion, than in any kind of boots
or shoes. This, too, in rough country. I have often
gone tenderfooted from a year's office work and have
traveled in moccasins for weeks, over flinty Ozark hills,
through canebrakes, through cypress swamps where
the sharp little immature "knees" are hidden under
the needles, over unballasted railroad tracks at night,
and in other rough places, and enjoyed nothing more
than the lightness and ease of my footwear. After
one's feet have become accustomed to this most rational
of all covering they become almost like hands, feeling
their way, and avoiding obstacles as though gifted
with a special sense. They can bend freely. One can
climb in moccasins as in nothing else. So long as they
are dry, he can cross narrow logs like a cat, and pass in
safety along treacherous slopes where thick-soled shoes
might bring him swiftly to grief. Moccasined feet feel
the dry sticks underneath, and glide softly over the
telltales without cracking them. They do not stick
fast in mud. One can swim with them as if he were
barefoot. It is rarely indeed that one hears of a man
spraining his ankle when wearing the Indian footgear.
Moccasins should be of moose-hide, or, better still,
of caribou. Elk-hide is the next choice. Deerskin is
too thin, hard on the feet for that reason, and soon
wears out. The hide should be Indian-tanned, and
"honest Injun" at that — that is to say, not tanned with
bark or chemicals, in which case (unless of caribou-
hide) they would shrink and dry hard after a wetting,
but made of the raw hide, its fibers thoroughly broken
THE SPORTSMAN'S CLOTHING 19
up by a plentiful expenditure of elbow-grease, the skin
softened by rubbing into it the brains of the animal,
and then smoked, so that it will dry without shrinking
and can be made as pliable as before by a little rubbing
in the hands. Moccasins to be used in a prickly-pear
or cactus country must be soled with rawhide.
Ordinary moccasins, tanned by the above process
(which properly is not tanning at all) , are only pleasant
to wear in dry weather. But they are always a great
comfort in a canoe or around camp, and are almost
indispensable for still-hunting or snow-shoeing. They
weigh so little, take up so little room in the pack, and
are so delightfully easy on the feet, that a pair should
be in every camper's outfit. At night they are the best
foot-warmers that one could wish, and they will be
appreciated when one must get up and move about
outside the tent.
In a mountainous region that is heavily timbered,
moccasins are too slippery for use after the leaves fall.
Oil-tanned shoe-packs are better than moccasins for
wet weather. When kept well greased with tallow (oil
" P k " d s°ftens them too much) they are water-
" Sh k » Proof, and much more comfortable than
rubber shoes. "Shanks "made by strip-
ping the hide from the hind legs of moose, caribou, or
elk, without splitting it, using the bend of the hock
for the heel of the boot, and sewing up the toe part,
when properly tanned are impervious to water and
snow, and are beyond comparison the warmest and
driest of footwear for high latitudes. Caribou or rein-
deer skin makes the best. It is remarkably tough,
moderately elastic, warmer for its weight than any
other material, more impervious to wind, drier than
any other kind of leather, and it has the singular prop-
erty of tightening when wet, or at least not stretching
like all other skins. Shanks are sometimes made of
green hide, but only for temporary purposes, as they
soon wear out; when tanned they are very durable.
The hide should be tanned with bark, as alum destroys
its good qualities. The hair should be left on and
worn outside, the shanks being carefully dried away
from the fire, after using, or the hair will drop out.
20 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
Never hang your moccasins before the fire to dry;
they would shrink too small for your feet, and become
almost as stiff and hard as horn. Scrape off as much
moisture as you can, stuff them full of dry grass or
some other elastic, absorbent substance, and hang
them in a current of air where they can dry slowly.
Then rub them soft.
Rubber boots I never wear, save when working in
the marshes, or for a short time in muddy, sloppy
w ,. weather around a cabin or fixed camp.
t» . I would rather get wet from water than
Boots. „ . .? n ,.
rrom perspiration. Canvas wading
shoes, with eyelets at the toes to let the water run out,
or old shoes with slits cut in them (not wide enough to
let in gravel), are good to use when fishing.
A mackintosh or other long-tailed coat is as out of
place in the woods as an umbrella on shipboard. An
w , oilskin slicker, topped off by a sou'wes-
r- y. ter, may be all right in a boat or over
decoys, on horseback, or when driving;
but anything of this sort is too heavy, too draggling,
too hot, too awkward to shoot from, when one is afoot;
and the brush soon tears it. For a woodsman an army
poncho is better, either of rubber or (much more du-
rable) of pantasote. It makes a good ground-sheet at
night. The infantry size is 45x72 inches, the cavalry
72x84, the latter being large enough to serve as a shel-
ter, but heavy to tote around. A waterproof poncho
weighing only one pound can be made from thin
enameled cloth, at a cost of about forty cents; but it
is easily torn.
The best head-gear for general wear is a Stetson hat
of army pattern. It stands rain, and keeps its shape
H . under a good deal of abuse. The
natural smoke-color of the felt is best.
The brim should be wide enough to keep rain and
snow from falling down the back of one's neck. Re-
move the leather sweat-band and substitute one of
flannel, which is far more comfortable in all weathers,
and sticks well to one's head, so that the hat is not
easily knocked off by wind or boughs.
In the fall or winter take also a knitted wool cap
In Still Waters
THE SPORTSMAN'S CLOTHING 21
that can be drawn down over the ears. It makes a
good nightcap, which you will need on cold nights
when sleeping in the open or under canvas.
For very hot weather a pith helmet with yellow lining
is better than a hat.
If a head-net is taken, get one long enough to button
under the coat, and dye the bobbinet black, for black
TT A N *s easier t° see through than white or
colored stuff. A head-net is somewhat
of a nuisance, particularly when you want to smoke or
spit; but in some localities, especially in the far north,
it is almost indispeu sable at times on account of the
thick clouds of mosquitoes. It is also useful in hunt-
ing wild bees.
A pair of buckskin gloves or gauntlets, pliable and
not too thick, should be carried by any man who goes
~. fresh from the office to the woods,
vxloves.
Rowing and chopping will quickly blis-
ter tender hands. Woolen gloves, as a protection from
cold, are too easily wet through, and then are little
better than none. But in very cold weather it is best
to wear woolen ones under loose fur mittens, the latter
being hung from the neck by strings.
The belt, if one is worn, should be loose. A belt
drawn tightly enough to hold up much weight may
■d ., cause rupture. Suspenders should be
worn if the trousers are heavy. A car-
tridge belt should be worn cowboy fashion, sagging
well down on the hips. Woven ones are more com-
fortable than leather, and do not cause verdigris to
form on the cartridges as any leather belt will do, no
matter how well it may be greased. Loops closed at
the bottom collect dirt and grit. A leather belt with
loops long enough to cover the bullets is best for a
sandy region. If there is a big, shiny buckle, wear it
to the rear; for sunlight glittering on it will scare away
game.
When traveling in foreign lands, where the climate
is different from our own, dress after the custom of the
country. In nearly all wild regions there are civilized
residents who can give the desired pointers.
CHAPTER III
PERSONAL KITS
TT is hard to generalize on outfits, because men's re-
*■ quirements vary, according to the country traversed,
the season of the year, and personal tastes. Let no one
imagine that he must lay in everything mentioned here,
for any one trip.
One's health and comfort in camp depend very much
upon what kind of bed he has. In nothing does a ten-
T, p . derfoot show off more discreditably than
,T . " in his disregard of the essentials of a
good night's rest. He comes into camp
after a hard day's tramp, sweating and tired, eats
heartily, and then throws himself down in his blanket
on the bare ground. For a time he rests in supreme
ease, drowsily satisfied that this is the proper way to
show that he can "rough it," and that no hardships of
the field can daunt his spirit. Presently, as his eyes
grow heavy and he cuddles up for the night, he discovers
that a sharp stone is boring into his flesh. He shifts
about, and rolls upon a sharper stub or projecting root.
Cursing a little, he arises and clears the ground of his
tormentors. Lying down again, he drops off peace-
fully and is soon snoring. An hour passes, and he rolls
over on the other side; a half hour, and he rolls back
again into his former position; ten minutes, and he
rolls again; then he tosses, fidgets, groans, wakes up,
and finds that his hips and shoulders ache from serving
as piers for the arches of his back and sides.
He gets up, muttering, scoops out hollows to receive
the projecting portions of his frame, and again lies
down. An hour later he reawakens, this time with
shivering flesh and teeth a-chatter. How cold the
22
PERSONAL KITS 23
ground is! The blanket over him is sufficient cover,
but the same thickness beneath, compacted by his
weight and in contact with the cold earth, is not half
enough to keep out the bone-searching chill that comes
up from the damp ground. This will never do. Pneu-
monia or rheumatism will follow. He arises, this time
for good, passes a wretched night before the fire, and
dawn finds him a haggard, worn-out type of misery,
disgusted with camp life and eager to hit the back trail
for home.
The moral is plain. This sort of roughing it is bad
enough when one is compelled to submit to it. It kills
twice as many soldiers as bullets do. When it is en-
dured merely to show off one's fancied toughness and
hardihood it is rank folly. Even the dumb beasts know
better, and they are particular about making their beds.
This matter of a good portable bed is the most seri-
ous problem in outfitting. A man can stand almost
any hardship by day, and be none the worse for it, pro-
vided he gets a comfortable night's rest; but without
sound sleep he will soon go to pieces, no matter how
gritty he may be.
For camping in summer or in early autumn, when
means of transportation permit it, the best camp bed
~ is a compactly folding cot, such as is
specially made for military and sports-
men's use; it weighs but sixteen pounds, and folds into a
package 3 ft. x 4 in. x 5 in. A thin mattress of cotton or
curled hair, or a doubled comforter as a substitute, is
of even more importance on such a cot than the blanket
that one covers himself with; for to sleep on taut can-
vas with nothing but a blanket under you is little more
restful than lying on a board floor, and, if the nights are
chilly, you will suffer from cold underneath. A cot and
mattress, when you can carry them, save much time
and work in bed-making and tent-trenching, and they
keep the bedding clean, besides affording a comfortable
lounge by day. A cot, however, is not at all comfort-
able in real cold weather, because, no matter how much
bedding you have, you cannot keep it tucked in snugly
around you, owing to the narrowness of the cot.
24 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
But suppose you are traveling light, perforce — what
then ? Cot or no cot, the first requisite is a mattress of
_, A some sort, either ready-made or extern -
Mattresses. . , ., t * •
ponzed on the spot. An air mattress
is luxurious, but expensive, unreliable and cold in zero
weather, and useless if punctured; but for summer
camping, especially by us middle-aged or older fellows,
who may have grown a trifle stiff and rheumatic from
many a night on the bare, damp ground, it is a perquisite
fairly won. Cork mattresses are favored by such canoe-
ists as are not obliged to make long portages, being
easily dried, and making good life-preservers. But
they are rather bulky, and none too soft nor warm.
Down quilts, though the warmest covering for their
weight, are not warm underneath one's body, as the
pressure squeezes out their confined air. A canvas
stretcher swung on long poles makes a good spring bed
for hot weather; but if the nights are chilly there will
be a cold draught along the floor (always the coldest
part of a tent) which will soon chill one to the bone. If
it be made double, forming a bag open at both ends
that can be stuffed with grass or browse, it is improved;
but any such contrivance takes considerable time to
rig up properly, and the tent may not be long enough
for the poles and their supports.
Nearly every book and magazine article on camping
that I have read extols a bed of balsam browse shingled
„ -d * in between a pair of logs. Balsam is
good; but, unfortunately, throughout
the greater part of our country there is no balsam, nor
even hemlock, nor spruce, nor any other kind of tree
that affords even passable browse, in the fall, for this
sort of bed.
For all-round service, in all sorts of countries, I pre-
fer to carry with me a narrow bag of 10-cent bed tick-
ing, 2^ feet wide and 6J feet long, to be filled with
grass, leaves, or such other soft stuff as one may find
on the camping ground. Such a bag weighs but 1J
pounds, takes up little room when empty, is useful in
packing, and a man can make a good mattress with it
—one that will not spread out nor pack hard — in less
PERSONAL KITS 25
than half the time it would take to shingle browse or
rig up a stretcher. If wet stuff must be used for fill-
ing, spread the rubber blanket or poncho on top of the
bag, and all will be well.
Blankets should be all-wool, and firmly woven, so
as to shed dirt. California blankets are best, then
r , ,. Hudson Bay or Mackinaw. The qual-
ity of our regular army blanket is ex-
cellent for the purpose, but do not get one that is nar-
row and folds at the end — you cannot roll up in it so
snugly as if it were almost square. For extremely cold
climates nothing equals a robe (not bag) of caribou-
hide with the hair on, as it is warmer and drier for its
bulk and weight than any other material.
A separate pillow-bag, to be filled in camp like the
bed-tick, is another soft thing that no experienced
woodsman despises. For horsemen a saddle is sup-
posed to be all the pillow needed; but it is nothing of
the sort — a mound of earth is better.
Sleeping-bags have their good and bad qualities.
Those which open only part way down are abomina-
„. . tions, hard to get into and out of, and
j. hard to air properly and to dry. No
matter how waterproof the outside cover
may be, the blanket or fur lining will surely get damp,
both from the air and from the exudations of the
sleeper. The only sleeping-bags worth considering are
those that can easily be opened and spread wide in the
sunlight or before the fire, which should be done every
morning. Even so, they cannot so quickly be aired
and dried as blankets, unless the lining is entirely
removable from the cover.
An explorer of wide experience both in the arctic and
antarctic regions gives his opinion of sleeping-bags as
follows :
For the first two or three days the sleeping-bag is a thing of
comfort and a joy, and then it gradually gets worse and worse.
The perspiration that collects in the bag during the night
freezes immediately we leave it in the morning, and there is
not sufficient heat from the sun to dry the bag when it is
packed on the sledge. The bag, therefore, has to be thawed
26 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
out by our bodies each night, so that it gradually becomes
heavy with moisture, and more and more uninviting. — Lieut.
Armitage, Two Years in the Antarctic.
It is snug, for a while, to be laced up in a bag, but
not so snug when you roll- over and find that some
aperture at the top is letting a stream of cold air run
down your spine, and that your weight and cooped-up-
ness prevent you from readjusting the bag to your com-
fort. Likewise a sleeping-bag may be an unpleasant
trap to be in when a squall springs up suddenly at night,
or the tent catches fire.
I think that one is more likely to catch cold when
emerging from a stuffy sleeping-bag into the cold air
than if he had slept between loose blankets. A water-
proof cover without any opening except where your
nose sticks out is no more wholesome to sleep in than
a rubber boot is wholesome for one's foot. Nor is
such a cover of much practical advantage, except
underneath. The notion that it is any substitute for
a roof overhead, on a rainy night, is a delusion.
Blankets can be wrapped around one more snugly,
they do not condense moisture inside, and they can be
thrown open instantly in case of alarm. In blankets
you can sleep double in cold weather. Taking it all
in all, I choose the separate bed-tick, pillow-bag, pon-
cho, and blanket, rather than the same bulk and
weight of any kind of sleeping-bag that I have so far
experimented with. There may be better bags that I
have not tried.
There is a form of camp bed known as a "carry-all"
that deserves mention. It may be described as a bag
T, open at both ends, with a flap on each
« C A 11 » S^e *° cover *ne sleePer5 an(i shorter
flaps for feet and head, the whole be-
ing made of stout waterproofed canvas, and fitted with
straps and buckles. Two large pockets at the head
end contain spare clothing, and thus form a pillow for
the night. The blankets, and other articles, can be
rolled up within this cover, and the whole affair is then
quickly buckled up, making a convenient pack, rain-
proof all around. The bag part of the affair can be
PERSONAL KITS 27
stuffed full of browse, grass, or such other bedding as
the country affords; and poles can be run through it
at either side, and across the ends, so as to form either
a spring-bed or a hammock. The chief objection to
this contrivance, as now made, is its weight, which is
10 pounds. A cotton bed-tick, pillow-bag, silk shelter-
cloth, and poncho of pantasote sheeting, together
weigh only 6^ pounds, and each of them is good for
something by itself when you are on the trail. The
addition of a good, heavy blanket brings the weight up
to about 15 pounds, for one man's bedding, pack-
cloth, and shelter — and these are plenty for anybody
until frosts set in.
The shelter-cloth here referred to is of waterproofed
balloon silk, 7x8 feet, with grommets (small steel rings
„. - n th sewed on by hand, not mere metal eye-
lets) around the edges at intervals of
about a foot, the contrivance weighing from 2 to 2^-
pounds. This makes a small roll on top of one's knap-
sack, or serves as a pack-cloth. It makes a good shel-
ter or windbreak when one takes a side trip of a day
or two from camp. Such side trips are generally the
pleasantest and most profitable days in my experience.
One sees more, learns more, and gets closer to nature
when he is far off in the woods by himself than when
he is around camp or hunting with companions.
To the same end it is well to take with you an indi-
vidual cooking kit. This is not formidable. A frying-
t a- -a i pan and a large tin cup, with the sheath-
c .. K. knife, are sufficient; though a quart
pail is a useful addition. Instead of a
frying-pan, for such trips, I like a U. S. Army mess kit,
procured from a dealer in second-hand military equip-
ments for twenty cents. It consists of two oval dishes
of tinned steel which fit together and form a meat can
8 inches long, 6^ inches wide, and 1^ inches deep,
weighing f of a pound. In this a ration of meat is
carried on the march. When the dishes are separated
the lower one serves as a plate, and is deep enough for
soup. The upper dish has a folding handle which
locks the two together, and it makes a fair frying-pan.
28 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
The Preston individual cooking kit, made of alumi-
num, is commendable for those who care to spend
more money on such a thing. It can be procured from
army outfitters.
On the subject of hunting knives I am tempted to
be diffuse. In my green and callow days (perhaps not
„. , yet over) I tried nearly everything in
„ . the knife line from a shoemaker's ski-
ver to a machete, and I had knives
made to order. The conventional hunting knife is, or
was until quite recently, of the familiar dime-novel
pattern invented by Colonel Bowie. Such a knife is
too thick and clumsy to whittle with, much too thick
for a good skinning knife, and too sharply pointed to
cook and eat with. It is always tempered too hard.
When put to the rough service for which it is supposed
to be intended, as in cutting through the ossified false
ribs of an old buck, it is an even bet that out will come
a nick as big as a saw-tooth — and Sheridan forty miles
from a grindstone! Such a knife is shaped expressly
for stabbing, which is about the very last thing that a
woodsman ever has occasion to do, our lamented grand-
mothers to the contrary notwithstanding.
A camper has use for a common-sense sheath-knife,
sometimes for dressing big game, but oftener for such
homely work as cutting sticks, slicing bacon, and fry-
ing "spuds." For such purposes a rather thin, broad-
pointed blade is required, and it need not be over four
or five inches long. Nothing is gained by a longer
blade, and it would be in one's way every time he sat
down. Such a knife, bearing the marks of hard usage,
lies before me. Its blade and handle are each 4^
inches long, the blade being 1 inch wide, |- inch thick
on the back, broad pointed, and continued through the
handle as a hasp and riveted to it. It is tempered
hard enough to cut green hardwood sticks, but soft
enough so that when it strikes a knot or bone it will,
if anything, turn rather than nick; then a whetstone
soon puts it in order. The Abyssinians have a saying,
"If a sword bends, we can straighten it; but if it breaks,
who can mend it ? " So with a knife or hatchet. The
PERSONAL KITS 29
handle of this knife is of oval cross-section, long enough
to give a good grip for the whole hand, and with no
sharp edges to blister one's hand. It has a \ inch
knob behind the cutting edge as a guard, but there is
no guard on the back, for it would be useless and in
the way. The handle is of light but hard wood, f inch
thick at the butt and tapering to \ inch forward, so as
to enter the sheath easily and grip it tightly. If it were
heavy it would make the knife drop out when I stooped
over. The sheath has a slit frog binding tightly on the
belt, and keeping the knife well up on my side. This
knife weighs only 4 ounces. It was made by a coun-
try blacksmith, and is one of the homeliest things I
ever saw; but it has outlived in my affections the score
of other knives that I have used in competition with
it, and has done more work than all of them put together.
The Marble "expert" knife is a good pattern.
For ordinary whittling a good jackknife is needed.
It should have one heavy blade 2f or 3 inches long,
T , , . tempered hard enough for seasoned
hickory, but thick enough not to nick
or snap off; also a small, thin blade that will take a
keen edge and keep it. The best pattern is an "easy-
opener," which has part of the handle cut away so that
one can open it without using his thumb-nail, which
may be wet and soft, or brittle from • cold. There
should be no sharp edges on the handle, which is pref-
erably of ebony.
A woodsman should' carry a hatchet, and he should
be as critical in selecting it as in buying a gun. The
„ , notion that a heavy hunting knife can
do the work of a hatchet is a delusion.
When it comes to cleaving carcasses, chopping kin-
dling, blazing thick-barked trees, driving tent pegs or
trap stakes, and keeping up a bivouac fire, the knife
never was made that will compare with a good toma-
hawk. The common hatchets of the hardware stores
are unfit for a woodsman's use. They have broad,
thin blades with beveled edge, and they are generally
made of poor, brittle stuff. A camper's hatchet should
have the edge and temper of a eood axe. It must be
30 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
light enough to carry in one's belt or knapsack, yet it
should bite deep in timber. There is but one way to
get this seemingly contradictory result, and that is to
make the blade long and narrow, like an Indian toma-
hawk, or like a Nessmuk double-blade, thus putting
the weight where it will do the most good. When
there is a full-grown axe in camp I carry a tomahawk
of 12-ounce head. The handle is just a foot long.
Its grip is wound with waxed twine to give a good hold
when one's hand is wet. This little tool has been my
mainstay on several bitter nights when I was lost in
the forest, or in a canebrake, and without it I would
have fared badly.
For a canoeing trip, or any journey on which a full-
sized axe cannot be taken with the camping equipment,
a half-axe with 2-pound head and 18-inch handle is
about right. With it one can fell trees big enough for
an all-night fire made Indian fashion. If such a tool
is carried from the belt (seldom advisable) its muzzle
should be attached by a frog that works on a loose
rivet, thus forming a hinged joint, then the handle will
swing free from brush and will not be in the way when
you sit down.
For a light and quick-cutting hone, to keep knives
and hatchet in* order, take a piece of cigar box about
w- two by six inches and glue to each side
a strip of emery cloth, coarse on one
side, fine on the other. Or, if you don't mind the
weight, get a quite small double whetstone, coarse and
fine on opposite sides. This may be carried in a light
leather wallet, along with the following articles:
Small coil of copper snare wire. Needle and thread.
Safety pins. One or two short fishing lines, rigged.
_ Spare hooks. Minnow hooks (with
K? half the barb filed off) for catching
bait.
These things with your gun, a dozen rounds of am-
munition, hatchet, knives, matches, compass, map,
money, pipe and tobacco, should always be with you,
or where they can be snatched up at a grab in case of
emergency. Then you are always "fixed."
PERSONAL KITS 31
If a needle compass is chosen, try to get one with a
pearl point on the north end of the needle; it is easier
to see in dark weather, and easily re-
p membered. If you must put up with
a common one in which the north end of the needle is
merely blackened, scratch B=N (Black equals North)
on the case. This seems like an absurd precaution,
does it not ? Well, it will not seem so if you get lost.
The first time that a man loses his bearings in the wil-
derness his wits refuse to work. He cannot, to save his
life, remember whether the black end of the needle
is north or south. A card compass [is better than
one with a needle, if the case is deep enough for the
card to traverse freely when inclined, but it is more
bulky.
An expensive watch should be left at home. A dol-
lar watch is good enough where there are no trains to
-,. . catch. Take with you the sheets of an
Timepiece
almanac for the months in which you
will be out. They are useful to regulate the watch,
show the moon's changes, and, by them, to determine
the day of the month and week, which one is apt to
forget when he is away from civilization.
Do not on any account omit a waterproof matchbox,
preferably of such pattern as has a cover that cannot
■jyj. - - drop off. A bit of candle is a good
thing to carry in one's pouch to start
fire in a driving rain.
Procure, if possible, a good map of the region to be
visited. The best maps for any part of the United
„ States for which they have been pub-
lished are the topographical sheets
issued by the U. S. Geological Survey, and sold at five
cents each. A list of those published up to date can
be had by applying to the Director, U. S. Geological
Survey, Washington, D. C. Most of these sheets are
on a scale of two miles to the inch. They are printed
in three colors, and show every watercourse, big or
little, every road and important trail, bridges, ferries,
fords, mines, settlements, and, what is of high impor-
tance to a traveler, they give contour lines (usually for
32 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
every 100 feet in mountainous regions, and at lesser
intervals for more level country).*
Maps should be cut up into sections about 4 by
6 inches, numbered, and carried (together with a key-
map that one makes himself) in an envelope made of
tracing cloth. The required sheet is placed on top,
and can be made out through the envelope without
removing it, thus protecting the map from tearing,
soiling, wet, and from blowing away.
Note-books should be of such paper as is ruled in
squares, which are useful in rough mapping and sketch-
es +-OT1 r mg- Take along some postal cards,
and a timetable of the road by which
you expect to return.
Wear a money belt. Gold coin is more trusty than
banknotes, as one is liable to get a ducking at any
time. Quarter eagles are best, being more easily
changed by country folks than higher denominations.
In the matter of medicines, every man must take
into account his personal equation and the ills to which
,-.,.. he is most subiect; but there are cer-
Medicmes. . . . , ,, , J ' ,,
tarn risks that we all run in common
when we venture far from civilization, such as wounds.
fractures, snake- bites, attacks of venomous insects,
malaria, footsoreness, ivy poisoning, and others that
will be mentioned in the chapter on Accidents.
As for myself, no matter how light I travel, I always
carry either in a pocket or in my hunting pouch a sol-
dier's first-aid packet. This can be procured from a
dealer in surgical instruments or from a camp out-
fitter. It contains two antiseptic compresses of subli-
mated gauze, an antiseptic bandage, an Esmarch tri-
angular bandage with cuts printed on it showing how
to bandage any part of the body, and two safety pins,
inclosed in a waterproof cover, the whole being very
light and compact.
In snake time I also keep by me at all times a hypo-
* I regret to say that these sheets are of uneven merit. Some of
them are accurate, while others, particularly of the wilder moun-
tainous districts, are filled with details that exist only in the draughts-
man's imagination. Thorough revision of many sheets is urgently
needed.
r- — - --v; v-;--
A Proud Moment
PERSONAL KITS 33
dermic syringe with tubes of potassium permanganate
and strychnin, the use of which will be explained
hereafter. A permanganate solution will precipitate
a sediment in a week or two. It is better to carry sep-
arately the crystals and a little vial of distilled water.
A small bottle of unguentine and some cathartic pills
generally complete the list for a short trip.
When going far from medical or surgical aid, I
might pack along a box containing the following kit:
3-in. artery forceps and needle-holder combined.
Tooth forceps.
Surgeon's needles: 2 straight medium,
1 curved medium,
1 curved small.
Surgeon's silk, coarse and fine.
Catgut ligatures.
3 2-in. rolled bandages.
1 yd. sublimated gauze, in bottle.
Absorbent cotton.
Mustard plasters.
Belladonna plasters.
Hypodermic syringe.
Bernays' antiseptic tablets.
* Potassium permanganate, £-grain tablets.
*Cocainand morphin tablets (cocain 1-5 gr., morphin 1-40
gr., sod. chlor. 1-5 gr.) — local ancesthetic.
* Morphin (| gr.) and atropin (1-150 gr.) tablets — intense pain.
* Strychnin sulphate, 1-30 gr. tablets — surgical shock, etc.
Quinin, 3 gr. capsules — malaria, etc.
Sun cholera tablets — dysentery, etc.
Senega compound, tablets — coughs, colds.
Compound cathartic pills.
Soda mint tablets — sour stomach, heartburn, ivy poisoning.
Tr ional — sleeplessness .
Unguentine — burns, sunburn, insect bites, bruises.
McClintock's germicidal soap — cleansing wounds.
Vaselin.
8 oz. brandy, in two small bottles.
One such kit is enough for a large party. It will be
used mostly on the natives.
An ulcerated tooth is a bad thing to fight in the wil-
derness— grizzly bears are nothing to it. Some na-
tives have an unpleasant way of extracting an aching
* The tablets starred are carried in the hypodermic case.
34 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
molar, a bit at a time, by prying it out with an awl.
Paul Kruger used to cut liis out with a knife. A word
to the wise is sufficient: Forceps.
When traveling in the South or Southwest (anywhere
from Missouri down), I add a 4-ounce bottle of chloro-
_,. _. . form, which, after exhaustive experi-
* ments, I have found to be the only
thing that can be depended upon to put chiggers (red-
bugs) to sleep in the cuticle of H. Kephart. I will
pay my respects to these microscopic fiends, and to
other torments of the woods and swamps, in the chap-
ter on Pests, wherein will also be found various for-
mulas for fly dopes, to which the reader is referred.
In spring and autumn I usually carry a tiny vial of
oil of anise, which is very attractive to various animals
whose acquaintance I wish to cultivate — from bees to
bears. One drop of anise will lure for half a mile
radius.
In hot weather it is well to carry, each for himself, a
little citric acid, if there are no lemons in the outfit.
. . - The crystals added to water make a
refreshing lemonade, and they are val-
uable to neutralize alkaline water and make it potable.
Wyeth's lemonade tablets are still better. When much
water is to be corrected, as when making a long trip
through an alkaline country, it is preferable to use
hydrochloric (muriatic) acid, one teaspoonful to the
gallon of water.
Spare clothing should be packed in a bag by itself.
It is well to make this in saddle-bag shape, one side
CI th B to ke used for clean clothes and the
other for soiled ones, the whole serving
as a pillow if you have no regular pillow-bag. For an
ordinary trip the following will suffice:
Jersey or sweater, two undershirts, two pairs drawers, three
pairs socks, spare overshirt, moccasins, gloves, three handker-
chiefs, woolen pyjamas (not linen), if you have room. In
summer add a head-net; in winter, German socks, lumber-
man's rubbers (if you cannot get shanks), knit cap, and a pair
of mitts.
Toilet Bag. In a sponge-bag carry:
PERSONAL KITS 35
Towel (old and soft), soap, comb, toothbrush, pocket
mirror; the soap in a soft rubber tobacco-pouch. The razor
and strop, if you carry them, go elsewhere.
If you smoke, stow a spare pipe in your kit — the
koosy-oonek will get one, sure. If you wear glasses,
take along an extra pair.
In one's camp kit it is advisable to have a holdall,
or a japanned box, in which are kept such things as
_. • rr-+ these (contents varying, of course, ac-
.t\.epair i\.it« *• v , ■, . . v
cording to personal requirements):
Rifle-rod and brush, gun grease, cut wipers, oiled rags,
screw driver (T-shaped, folding, with 3 blades), 6-in. half-
round bastard file, a few assorted nails and tacks, two sizes
soft wire, side- cutting parallel pliers, pocket tape-measure,
pocket scales, scissors, awl, waxed-ends (get a shoemaker to
make them for you if you don't know how), sewing and darn-
ing needles, linen thread, beeswax, strong twine, darning
cotton, spare buttons, safety pins, split rivets, small pieces of
mending cloth and leather, a rawhide belt-lace, 1 doz. large
rubber bands.
In fitting up such a repair kit, be sparing of bulk
and weight. Of nails, wire, rivets, include only enough
for a few small jobs.
In winter it pays to carry a pair of smoke-colored
goggles, to prevent snow-blindness — likewise in sum-
r . mer if you are much on the water.
These are better than green or blue
ones, because they are less opaque and there is less
loss of color in objects seen through them. They
should fit well. The glasses should be surrounded by
fine wire gauze, the edges covered with velvet, and the
part crossing the bridge of the nose similarly covered.
The Eskimo kind of eye-shades are better for high lati-
tudes than glasses. They consist of two wooden disks,
each with a T-shaped slit cut in it to see through, with
a narrow strap to go over the bridge of the nose and
another to go around the head. Such shades give
perfect vision, do not collect moisture, and, when re-
moved, do not give the sensation of darkness that is
experienced after removing colored glasses.
A pantasote pouch, 10x12 inches, is a convenient
36 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
receptacle for small stores, and makes a good carrier
p , for one's necessities when he is travel-
ing without a coat. For a knapsack,
the pattern used by our regular infantry is as good
as any.
A canteen should not be a cheap affair merely covered
with flimsy flannel, but one of service pattern, incased
r in felt and this covered with duck. If
the outside is immersed when the can-
teen is filled it will keep three pints of water cool for
several hours. Filled with hot water at night, it makes
a comfortable addition to one's blanket on a cold
night.
Every camper is supposed to have his own ideas
about guns, fishing tackle, boats and cameras. I will
p ir + i?*fl offer no advice here about any of these
things beyond saying that a fisherman,
or any one else who takes his vacation in the woods at
a time when most game is out of season, may do well
to carry a .22 caliber rifle, or a pocket rifle, for such
"small deer" as may be available for the pot, not over-
looking the comestible frog. A pocket rifle with 15-
inch barrel and skeleton stock is almost as easily car-
ried as a pistol, and can be shot with much greater
precision. If a telescope sight of three or four diame-
ters (not more) is mounted on it, you can drive tacks
with the tiny bullet at 40 feet, and hit squirrels in the
head nearly every time at 30 yards — if you are a marks-
man. The best .22 cartridges are the Long Rifle (not
to be confounded with the inferior .22 Long), the .22-7
and the .22 Automatic. See that the rifle is specially
chambered and rifled for one or other of these. They
are very accurate up to 100 yards or more.*
*For a detailed discussion of rifles for big game hunting I may
refer to my chapter on The Hunting Rifle in the book entitled
Guns, Ammunition, and Tackle (American Sportsman's Library;
edited by Caspar Whitney. New York, Macmillan).
CHAPTER IV
TENTS AND TOOLS
'T^ENTS were invented long before the dawn of his-
*■ tory, and they are still used as portable dwellings
by men of all races and in all climes — and still the per-
fect tent has not been invented. Every year sees count-
less campers busy with new contrivances in canvas or
other material — and still the prehistoric patterns hold
their own. There is a fascination about tent life that
may be partly due to its uncertainties. The utmost
pinnacle of comfort is reached when one lies at night
under taut canvas, with a storm roaring toward him
through the forest, and chortles over the blissful cer-
tainty that no wind can blow his tent down. And it
takes just one second of parting guys and ripping cloth
to tumble him off his perch and cast him headlong
into the very depths of woe.
A tent should be easy to set up. It should shed
heavy rains, and should stand securely in a gale. It
should keep out insects and cold draughts, but let in
the rays of the camp-fire and plenty of pure air. It
should be cool and airy on summer days, but warm
and dry at night. All of which is easily said.
For a fixed camp, or any camp that can be reached
by wagon, a wall tent is generally preferred. It is easy
w -. ^ to set up, and has plenty of head-room.
With the addition of a fly, a ground-
cloth, and a tent stove, it can be made cosy in any kind
of weather. But a wall tent, with its necessary poles,
is too heavy and bulky for anything but a wagon trip.
Men who travel in untracked forests, deserts, or moun-
tains, usually require a more portable shelter.
A 10x1 2-foot wall tent is large enough for a party of
four. It should be used only for sleeping quarters,
37
38 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
and as a shelter for personal kits and other perishables.
A separate fly should be taken along, to be used as a
roof for the dining space, and to cover the box or other
contrivance that is used for an outdoor cupboard. If
there are more than four in the party, take another
tent. Two small tents are easier to transport and to
pitch than one large one, and they have the supreme
advantage that the snorers can then be segregated in a
limbo of their own. Guides usually furnish their own
shelters, but this should be understood beforehand.
It is well to have the tents made to open at both ends,
so that they can have a complete circulation of air on
hot days. In this case, two tents may be joined to-
gether whenever desirable.
As for tent materials, the choice depends upon
whether it is the intention to go light or not. For fixed
T t C\ th camps, 10-ounce double-filling army
duck is the thing. The cheap single-
filling duck is neither strong nor rain-proof. Second-
hand army tents that are in good, serviceable condi-
tion, having been condemned only for stains or other
trifling defects, may be bought very cheaply from deal-
ers who get them at government auctions. These army
tents are always well designed and well made.
Where expense is not considered, and extra weight
is not objectionable, no material equals pantasote. It
w fis perfectly waterproof, embers from the
T ^ camp-fire will not burn holes in it, it
is not sticky in hot weather nor brittle
in cold, and it's wearing qualities are excellent. For a
light tent, sail drilling, and for a very light one, un-
bleached sheeting or silk, should be used, the material
in either case being waterproofed by one or other of
the processes mentioned hereafter. Tents of water-
proofed balloon silk of excellent quality and strongly
made can now be bought ready-made in all shapes and
sizes. A tent of this kind big enough for one man to
bivouac in is made that weighs only 2^ pounds; a 7^x
1\ miner's tent weighs but 6 pounds, and an A tent of
the same size only 1\ pounds. The strength of a tent
depends more upon the reinforcement of the grommets
TENTS AND TOOLS 39
and seams than upon the kind of cloth used. The
lines of greatest strain should be reinforced, in light
tents, by linen tape.
Thin, closely woven cotton goods, such as sheeting
or muslin, will shed ordinary rains if pitched at a higher
angle than 45°, but if set up at a lower angle than this,
the water will penetrate. A long, hard rain will soak
such cloth through and through, and even heavy can-
vas, if not waterproofed or protected by a fly, will ab-
sorb so much water that if the inside of the cloth be
touched by so much as one's finger a steady drip of
water will come through at that spot so long as the rain
lasts.
A fly not only makes the roof watertight, but keeps
the tent much cooler on a hot day.
When traveling light, a fly cannot be carried, and
the tent itself must be light and thin; consequently it
should be waterproofed. If such treatment is properly
applied it not only renders the tent dry throughout the
worst storm, but prevents it from absorbing water,
whereas a common tent will take up so much water
that its weight is greatly increased. Waterproofing
also delays mildew, and allows one to roll up his tent
when it is wet on the outside, if he is in a hurry. It is
only within a few years that ready-made waterproof
tents have been supplied by outfitters.
xtr . £ If a common tent is purchased, or
Waterproof- ., , r . . . '
c the camper makes one tor himseli,
he can waterproof it by either of the
following processes:
Dissolve | pound of alum in 4 gallons of boiling rain-water.
It is essential that soft water be used. Similarly, in a separate
vessel, dissolve ^ pound of sugar of lead (lead acetate) in 4
gallons of water. This is double the proportion of alum usually
recommended, and better results will follow from it, because
it insures the precipitation of all the lead in the form of sul-
phate. Let the solutions stand until clear; then pour the
alum liquor into a clean vessel, and add the sugar of lead
solution. Let stand a few hours. Then pour off the clear
liquor, thoroughly work the fabric in it, so that every part is
quite penetrated, squeeze out, stretch and dry. Remember
that sugar of lead is poisonous if taken internally.
40 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
This treatment fixes acetate of alumina in the fibers
of the cloth. The final washing is to cleanse the cloth
from the useless white powder of sulphate of lead that
is deposited on it. Cloth treated in this manner sheds
rain, and makes a tent proof against sparks and embers
from the camp-fire. Clothing may also be made rain-
proof in this way, though still porous, so as to allow
perspiration to pass through and evaporate. Rain-
water will penetrate it wherever the cloth binds tightly.
To waterproof cloth with paraffin, proceed as follows :
Cut the paraffin into thin shavings, so as to dissolve readily.
Dissolve it in turpentine or benzin, using as much wax as the
liquid will take up. Apply with a varnish brush to the tightly
stretched goods. To hasten the solution of the paraffin, place
the mixture in a warm room, or where the hot sun will strike
it (but not, of course, near the fire) and stir it now and then.
Or, get a cake of paraffin, lay the cloth on a table, and rub
the outer side with the wax until it has a good coating, evenly
distributed. Then iron the cloth with a medium-hot flatiron,
which melts the wax and runs it into every pore of the cloth.
Do not oil a tent. Linseed oil rots the fiber, and
cloth so treated will be sticky in hot weather.
Tents to be used in very cold weather should not be
waterproofed, because, if they are, they will become
brittle at low temperatures and may break in folding.
Moreover, it should be borne in mind that a traveler's
greatest discomfort in cold weather is from moisture
generated from within and condensing on the inner
surface of clothing or tent cloth that is not sufficiently
porous to let it escape. Dr. Frederick A. Cook, the
antarctic explorer, says:
"A scientifically ideal tent wall would be a double sheeting
of some gauzy material, the two thicknesses being separated
from each other about one inch. This would freely permit the
escape of the internal humidity, which is always the curse of
polar workers, while it would sufficiently prevent the penetra-
tion of the wind. It would, perhaps, be an excellent idea
to have window spaces, spread with gauzy or porous material,
made in the front of this tent near the peak — mosquito netting
is by no means out of place on the polar ice-fields, for it is an
excellent wind guard, retaining the internal heat, while easily
allowing the escape of moisture."
TENTS AND TOOLS 41
The tent to which he refers is one of his own design,
a very light affair to be used in arctic work.
It is an advantage to have a tent dyed to a light
green or tan color. This moderates the glare of the
.p. . - . sun, makes the tent less attractive to
y 8 flies, and renders it less conspicuous in
the woods, which latter is worth con-
sidering in some localities where undesirable visitors
may drop in. A few packages of dye may be used be-
fore waterproofing. Two pounds of ground white oak
bark in 3^ gallons of boiling water will dye canvas a
tan color.
Every tent should have a sod-cloth, which is a strip
about nine inches wide joined to the bottom of the tent
9 H n th on *ne inside, to be held down by small
logs, stones, or earth. This keeps out
draughts, insects, and other pests. If the lower edges
of the tent are left loose, cold air will be sucked in
along the floor and will chill the sleepers.
A waterproof ground-cloth, covering most of the floor
of the tent and lapping over the sod-cloth, is a good
r . thing if it can be carried along. In
ri , small tents intended for mountaineering
and similar work, this ground-cloth is
sometimes sewed fast to the bottom of the tent, sod-
cloths being dispensed with. Such a tent cannot blow
away when the weight of the occupants is inside, and
it has the minor advantage that small articles dropped
on the floor will not be lost. But a fixed floor-cloth is
objectionable in cold weather, especially if water be
boiled within the tent, because the steam condenses
and runs down the inside of the tent, and it should be
allowed to run off into the snow along the edges.
In fly time a netting to keep out insects is a prime
necessity. The mesh of ordinary mosquito netting is
•jy, . too open, and the material is too easily
•d torn, and bobbinet is likewise too weak.
The best insect discourager is cheese-
cloth. In summer it is a good plan to have a duplicate
tent of cheese-cloth hung inside from the ridge or peak;
then the canvas may be left wide open on sultry nights.
42 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
If a stove is to be used in the tent, the pipe-hole
should be guarded by an asbestos ring or collar, which
_ „. . rolls up with the tent. A tin guard is a
squeaky thing when the wind blows.
Metal tent slides are better than wooden ones, being
lighter and not given to swelling, shrinking, and split-
ting. Steel tent pins, twisted somewhat like a lariat
pin, are better than wooden pegs, as they are more
easily driven in rocky ground, hold better, and are not
so bulky. They should be carried in a bag of their
own, or some of them will probably be misplaced or
lost. In a wooded region one can depend upon cutting
pegs where he camps, but it is better to carry them
unless one is going particularly light. Pegs should be
at least a foot long. If made of green wood, select hard
wood that has no pithy core, and harden the points by
slightly charring them in the fire.
All tents that are made to close up tightly at night
should have ventilators, covered with cheese-cloth, and
with flaps on the outside to tie down in bad weather.
It is more unhealthful to sleep in a tightly closed tent
than in an ordinary bedroom with all the windows
closed, for the cubic contents of an average tent are
less, the air in it is soon poisoned, and the interior is
damp besides. Napoleon declared that his troops kept
in better health when bivouacking under the stars than
when sleeping in tents. It is far better to leave the
front of the tent wide open, even in cold weather, than
to close it up and sleep in a damp, stuffy atmosphere.
The most healthful form of tent, and the one favored
by guides, lumbermen, and others who live in the woods,
T , is a lean-to or shed-roof affair with open
T , front, before which a big log fire is kept
going all through the night. The heat
from the fire is reflected by the tent roof upon the
ground below, drying it out, and keeping the sleepers
warm through the coldest night. This, however, takes
a lot of wood, a good-sized hardwood tree being con-
sumed in a single night, and the labor of chopping is
rather severe to any one but a good axeman; but the
work is well repaid by the exquisite comfort of lying
TENTS AND TOOLS 43
before the blazing backlogs on a cold night, warm as
toast, and breathing deeply the fresh air of the forest.
Such a tent is never damp and cheerless, as all closed
tents are apt to be. Tent-makers always make these
shed-roof or "baker" tents with a door-flap sewed to
the top, to be stretched out forward like an awning
when the tent is open. A better plan is to have the
door-flap separate from the tent, and so fitted with
grommets or eyelets that it can be attached either to
the top or to one side of the tent, as preferred. In
warm weather, when no all-night fire is needed, it may
be hung from the top as an awning, and the tent may
be closed up by it when the occupants are away; but
on nights when a fire is kept going the flap should be
stretched forward vertically from the windward side of
the tent front, so as to check the draught from that
direction, and the fire should be built close to the tent,
the front of which is left wide open. For a camp that
is not shifted every day or two, the shed-roof tent is
the most comfortable kind of shelter, for a timbered
region, in all kinds of weather.
For extreme portability, lightness, and ease of pitch-
ing, the A tent is recommended. Nothing is better,
. T t in the long run, for a trip in summer,
where portages must be made and camp
shifted at frequent intervals. In this case no poles are
used. A strong tape is sewed along the ridge of the
tent, ending in a loop at each end, from which a light
rope is extended and stretched between two trees, the
rope being made taut by two forked poles bracing it
up at each end of the tent, and outside of it. Such
an arrangement is secure against heavy gales. For a
small tent the ridge rope should be about twenty-five
feet long. It should be of braided cotton, treated to a
bath of hot linseed oil, and stretched until dry; then
it will neither shrink, stretch, nor kink. A metal slide
or tightener near each end of the rope will keep it taut
without crotched poles.
The Hudson Bay form of A or wedge tent economizes
cloth and weight by making the ends round and the
ridge short. A waterproof silk tent of this pattern,
44 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
6x9x7 feet, weighs only 6 pounds. A so-called "canoe
tent" is made that combines some of the advantages of
the shed-roof tent with an arrangement whereby it can
be set up with only one pole. The "protean" tent is
of similar pattern.
The pyramidal miner's tent, and the conical Sibley,
require only one pole, and this may be jointed, so as to
M. , , pack easily on an animal or in a canoe.
, T Both of these patterns have so steep a
^ pitch that they shed rain very well, and
on this account may be made of thin material. Thfty
also stand well in heavy winds, when properly pitched,
the Sibley especially. The miner's tent, which covers
a square ground space, affords more room for beds
than a conical tent of equal cubic capacity. Both u \
these forms are suitable for travel in a treeless region
where a tent pole must be carried. The claim that a
Sibley tent can be heated by an open fire inside is nut
well borne out, because the opening at the top is to&
small to let out the smoke when green wood is burned1,
as must often be the case. If the tent is to be heateti ,
a regular Sibley tent stove should be carried along.
There is only one kind of tent that can be heated
by an open fire, inside, without smoking the occupants
T out, and that is the Indian lodge or tee-
^ pee (pronounced tee-pee), and even it is
likely at times to resemble the inside of a chimney-flue
unless its owners know just how to manage it. How-
ever, taking it all around, the teepee is the most com-
fortable portable home for all regions, and for all kind*
of weather, that human ingenuity has devised. It ivs
more secure in a gale than any other form of tent thalfc
does not depend upon neighboring trees to hold it up.
It sheds rain well, because its pitch is steep. It can
be thrown wide open in a moment, or it can be closed
tightly all around and still kept well ventilated by
the hole at the top. A fire can be kept going within the
tent, directly under the smoke-hole, and right in the
middle of the inclosed space, where it will do the most
good. Meals can be cooked over this open fire, and
the steam and smells will be wafted out through the
TENTS AND TOOLS 45
smoke-hole. By manipulating the smoke-flaps or
wind-guards the "chimney" may be made to draw, in
almost any kind of weather. With the tent closed, and
a trifling smudge of dried fungus going in the center,
mosquitoes can be kept at a respectful distance. There
is no center-pole to stumble against, nor guy to trip
over. The tent is easily set up, and it can quickly be
taken down and rolled up into a small parcel. To set
up a teepee properly, ten or a dozen straight, slender
poles are needed, and these are often hard to find, even
in a dense forest. But one can make shift with three
poles set up as a tripod, or even with one, the latter
being braced against a tree, and its lower end jabbed
into the ground. Teepees are not to be had of tent-
makers, except to order.
An excellent form of tent for all-round service, being
warm, well-ventilated, rain-proof, easy to set up, secure
0 . ,, in a gale, and affording plenty of head-
T room tor its size, is the one here illus-
trated. It is the favorite tent of that
veteran canoeist, Mr. Perry D. Frazer, whose book on
Canoe Cruising and Camping is the most practical
manual of its kind that has been published. The cuts
and details here given are supplied by Mr. Frazer,
partly in a personal letter, and partly from an article
by him in Shooting and Fishing. (Figs. 1 and 2.)
The material is dark brown 10-ounce duck. The
tent is octagon in form, 8 §- feet in diameter and 8^ feet
high. Each width of duck measures 38 inches. The
length of each breadth, inclusive of the end left below
hem for sod-cloth, is 10 feet 2 inches. The door is 5
feet 6 inches (actual length along goods). The awning
is 5 feet 8 inches long; it fastens down with large brass
hooks and eyes, at sides and bottom. The door is
about 14 inches wide at top and about 20 inches
at bottom. The awning is usually left up, and a flap
of mosquito-bar closes the opening. The awning has
two thin jointed poles and cord guys.
In the rear of the tent is a window, 8 inches square,
filled with bobbinet, giving a good circulation of air.
Its flap is 13x14x18 inches, with grommets in outer
Fig. 1,
Fig. 2.
"Si
o
o
te
TENTS AND TOOLS
47
Fig. 3.
corners to hold stick, so that it can be stretched for air,
and to keep out rain. The sod-cloth is 6 inches wide.
(Fig. 3.)
The floor-cloth lies over the sod-cloth, making the
tent impervious to cold draughts, dampness, and
insects. The octagonal floor-cloth fastens to the sides
of the tent with grommets and small wooden buttons,
so that it can be left with tent when folded, or taken
out at will. It is slit from
front to pole, so that the for-
ward edges can be turned
back, as shown by the dot-
ted line, when one comes
into the tent with muddy
feet. The "sill" under the
door is 5 inches high. Its
rationale is this: It keeps
the bottom of the tent in
what is practically one piece,
so that when the latter is
stretched taut every peg finds
its proper place, without
any measuring, and the tent
sets true; besides, in con-
junction with the sod-cloth and floor-cloth, it makes the
bottom of the tent proof against cold and insects at
the very point where other tents are weak, namely,
at the door. Twelve-inch meat skewers are used for
pegs, and it will be noticed that the tent only requires
eight of them.
This tent folds into a parcel about 24x12x3
inches, and weighs about 32 pounds, with poles and
pegs. Mr. Frazer says: "This is my favorite tent for
canoeing trips early in the spring and late in the fall,
when a snug water and wind -proof tent is desirable.
It would be too heavy for inland trips, where it would
have to be carried; but if made of waterproofed muslin
or 6-ounce duck, it would be ideal for light trips. I
had the second one of this type that was made. It was
designed by J. E. G. Yalden of New York, but his
tent was too small, and I had mine made wider. A
Floor- cloUi
48 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
number of tents of this type are now used by canoeists,
and for all-round use they are grand tents. S. Hem-
menway and Son, 54 South St., New York, have the
working drawings. I think the price, without poles or
pegs, is twelve dollars, but it may be less. ... I
have timed the owner of one of these tents while in
the act of setting it. Three minutes were consumed in
driving the eight steel pegs and hoisting the pole into
position. Once set, let the wind blow as hard as it
may, the owner need never fret, for it would be hard
to trip this style of tent. Its sides being so steep, it
will turn water as readily as if it were greased. One
may stand upright in it, and there is room for one cot
or for two beds on the ground."
In any tent with a ridge-pole two screw-eyes should
be put in it at opposite ends from which to suspend by
_ cords a straight stick to hang clothes
xx on. Wire clothes hangers and candle
ciansrers
holders, and metal lantern hangers and
gun-racks, which fit on the upright poles of tents, and
wall pockets, which are very convenient receptacles for
odds and ends, are supplied by camp outfitters. The
hangers are particularly useful in Sibley, miner's, or
other one-pole tents. It pays to take such things.
Folding tables, stools, and chairs, and even folding
bath-tubs, are made in large quantities for military
T _ and campers' use. They save time and
trouble in fixing up a camp, but it is
better to make one's own simple furni-
ture on the spot, if anything like a hard trip is contem-
plated. There are two articles of ready-made furniture,
however, that are well worth packing along if the party
is not traveling very light indeed, and these are a rolling
table-top and a set of folding shelves. The table is
made of pantasote, with pockets on the under side
which are stiffened by thin wooden slats. The table is
set up by driving a stake into the ground at each corner,
connected by cross-pieces on which the top rests, the
latter being 2x3 feet when opened, and weighing only
3 pounds. The shelves are made of canvas, similarly
stiffened by slats, forming, when set up on four poles,
a cupboard of three shelves 2 feet long, weighing 3
TENTS AND TOOLS 49
pounds. As boards are seldom obtainable in the wil-
derness, the tables and shelves may be worth the trouble
of carrying them.
A full-sized axe should be taken along whenever it
is practicable to carry one. Its head need not weigh
. more than 3^ or 4 pounds. With this
one tool a good axeman can build any-
thing that is required in the wilderness, and he can
quickly fell and log-up a tree large enough to keep a
hot fire before his lean-to throughout the night.
If an axe is bought ready handled, see that the helve
is of young growth hickory, straight grained, and free
from knots. Sight along the back of the helve to see
if it is straight in line with the eye of the axe, then turn
it over and see if the edge of the axe ranges exactly in
line with the center of the hilt (rear end of handle), as
it should, and that the hilt is at right angles to the cen-
ter of the eye. A good chopper is as critical about the
heft and hang of his axe as a shooter is about the bal-
ance of his gun. If the handle is straight, score a 2^-
foot rule on it, in inches. Get the axe ground by a
careful workman. The store edge is not thin enough
or keen enough.
An axe lying around camp has a fatal attraction for
men who do not know how to use it. Not that they
will do much chopping with it; but somebody will
pick it up, make a few bungling whacks at a projecting
root, or at a stick lying flat on the ground, drive the
blade through into the earth and pebbles, and leave the
edge nicked so that it will take an hour's hard work to
put it in decent order again. And the fellow who does
this is the one who could not sharpen an axe to save his
life. It never seems to occur to him that an axe is
of no use unless its edge is kept keen, or that the
best way to ruin it is to strike it into the ground, or
that a chopping block will prevent that. You may
loan your last dollar to a friend; but never loan him
your axe, unless you are certain that he knows how
to use it.
c T . A file should be taken along, its chief
use being to sharpen the axe when you
are far from grindstones.
50 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
When going into fixed camp it is well to take along a
small hand-saw, which is very useful in making camp
furniture. The best pattern is a double-edged pruning
saw, which has one edge specially toothed for green
wood; the other can be used as a butcher's saw. A
spade may be taken for trenching, and for excavating
the oven, camp refrigerator, refuse pit, cache, and so
forth. A wooden spade, however, or a sapling chopped
to a wedge at one end and hardened in hot ashes, will
generally suffice.
A few small tools in a rolled holdall may be handy
at times, and an inch auger is often useful around a
permanent camp. Nails will be needed in such a camp ;
and, if the ground is reached by wagon, take with you
some boards for making a table, benches, etc.
When traveling with horses, take a hammer, a few
spare horseshoes and their nails, some copper rivets,
washers, and a set, awls, saddler's thread, rawhide
thongs, and a good length of rope. Never venture into
an arid region without one or two large canteens for
carrying water.
An acetylene lantern is a good thing. An ordinary
bicycle lamp, from which the clamp has been removed,
j. . and a wire bail attached to the top, is
especially good for coon hunting, night
fishing and picking up frogs at night. Carbide is much
easier to carry than kerosene, which, if so much as a
drop escapes anywhere near your provisions, will taint
them. If oil is preferred, though, a good way to carry
it is in quart cans such as are made for heavy oils,
leather dressings, etc. These have a stopper which
unscrews and exposes the opening of a small spout
within. A folding pocket lantern for candles is best
when one is in light marching order; but let it be of
brass; those made of tin or aluminum are much too
frail. Candles, for the amount of light they give, are
much bulkier than carbide.
A coil of fifteen or twenty yards of half -inch rope is
a good thing to have around a permanent camp. It
■n will be useful should you find a bee-
tree and elect to rob the bees, or as an
aid in reaching the nests of hawks, etc. If you have a
TENTS AND TOOLS 51
dog with you, take along a few yards of strong wire,
this to be strung between two trees as a "trolley wire,"
to which to chain him.
When camping in a canebrake country have a hunts-
man's horn in the outfit. Leave it with the camp-
„ keeper, who will blow it every evening
about an hour before supper. The
sound of a horn carries far, and its message is unmis-
takable. It is a dulcet note to one who is bewildered
in a thick wood or brake.
CHAPTER V
UTENSILS AND FOOD
"Old horse! old horse! what brought you here?"
"From Sacarap to Portland Pier
I've carted stone this many a year;
Till, killed by blows and sore abuse,
They salted me down for sailors' use.
"The sailors they do me despise;
They turn me over and damn my eyes;
Cut off my meat, and scrape my bones,
And pitch me over to Davy Jones."
— Old chanty.
A COLLAPSIBLE camp stove, or other sheet-iron
■*■*■ affair, may be convenient in a fixed camp, if one
has a darky to look after it. When you shift camp
every day or so, such a thing is an intolerable nuisance
to clean up and pack around. Either it or its pipe is
forever getting jammed "out of whack." Besides, it
compels you to cut all your cooking wood into short
lengths.
Meals as good as any that ever came out of stove
can be cooked over an open fire. Even when it rains,
„. T a bonfire can be built to one side and
hard coals shoveled from it to a spot
sheltered by bark or canvas where the cooking is done.
If they can easily be carried, it is a good scheme to take
along a pair of fire-irons. These are simply two pieces
of flat steel (iron would bend too easily when heated)
about 2 feet long, 1^ inches wide, and J inch thick,
which are used to support the frying-pan and coffee-
pot over the fire.
~ A Dutch oven of cast-iron is verv
Ovens. «ii • •
serviceable on any trip that permits
carrying so heavy a utensil. Why are none made of
cast aluminum?
When a Dutch oven cannot be carried, a folding
52
UTENSILS AND FOOD 53
reflector of sheet-iron or aluminum (the latter lighter,
but not nearly so strong) should be substituted. The
reflector here mentioned is such as our great-grand-
mothers used to bake biscuit in, before a hearth fire.
The top slants like a shed roof, and the bottom like
another shed roof turned upside down, the bread pan
being in the middle. The slanting top and bottom
reflect heat downward upon the top of the baking and
upward against its bottom, so that bread, for instance,
bakes evenly all around. A prime advantage of this
cunning utensil is that baking can proceed immediately
when the fire is kindled, without waiting for the wood
to burn down to coals, and without danger of burning
the dough. Fish, flesh and fowl can be roasted to a
turn in this contrivance. It has several better points
than an oven, chief of which is its portability, as it
folds flat; but it is inferior for corn bread, army
bread, etc., and impossible for pot-roasts or braising —
a Dutch oven being the thing for such purposes.
The best size of reflector for two men is 12x12x8
inches, the pan of which holds just a dozen biscuits.
For four men, a good size is 16x18x10. A wire
broiler packs inside the reflector; it is not necessary
for broiling meat, but it is handy for the purpose, and
especially for broiling fish.
When there are more than three men in the party,
take two frying-pans, one of the ordinary shallow-pat-
„ . p tern, and the other deeper, like the pan
* of a chafing-dish, with a tight cover.
The latter is for frying in deep fat, and also for use as
a sauce-pan. Frying-pans with folding handles are
convenient for tramping trips; but the common ones
with solid handles are more satisfactory when you are
cooking. There is no need of adding a long wooden
handle if you build the right kind of a cooking-fire.
The best coffee or tea this side of Elysium is brewed,
not in a spouted vessel, but in a little tightly lidded pail,
C ff P from which the volatile aromas that are
the quintessence of goodness in these
delectable fluids cannot escape as they would from an
open spout. If, however, you must be conventional,
54 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
then get a miner's coffee-pot, in which the spout is an
integral part of the pot. A soldered spout, the moment
your back is turned, begins to melt at the joint from
the fierce heat of an open fire, and then — potztausend
himmel donnerwetter, off goes the nozzle !
A party of four men, traveling in moderately light
order, should have a cup, plate, knife, fork and a full-
A K't F sized dessert spoon apiece; and, for
„ company kit, two frying-pans, a pan
or folding wash-basin to mix dough in,
and four small covered kettles or pails, nesting. The
smallest pail is for coffee or tea; the next size for cereals;
the next for hot water, boiling vegetables, and as a
double boiler in combination with No. 2; the largest
kettle (which should be of stout metal and with a wire
ring riveted on the cover) being for stews, soups and
baked beans, and for any other baking in a hole under
the camp-fire. Make a rule of using them in this
order; then you will never have more than one greasy
pot to clean, which is an item deserving forethought.
Kettles do all the work of saucepans, and they are
more useful all 'round, because they can either be set
on the coals or hung above the fire, or be buried under
it; besides, you can carry water in them, and they
have covers to keep the heat in and the ashes out.
Aluminum is the best material, especially for the larger
kettle. All such vessels should be low and broad; then
they will boil quickly and will pack well. If their
bottom edges are rounded they will be easier to clean
and less abrasive to one's back when making port-
ages.
Plates should be deep enough to eat soup out of;
pie pans are about right. They, too, are preferably
of aluminum, because this metal holds heat better
than tin, iron or crockery. This is well worth consider-
ing when you are to eat in the frosty air, for, if your
plate be not hot, your gravy will turn to tallow and
your flapjack be a clammy thing that your hungriest
dog will not eat. Venison fat, like that of mutton,
cools quickly to tallow; and I believe it was Colonel
Carter of Cartersville who declared that "there is no
UTENSILS AND FOOD 55
crime equal to putting a hot duck on a cold plate."
By the same token, aluminum is not so good for coffee
cups and for the handles of such vessels as are to be
used over the fire.
Copper utensils are dangerous, unless thoroughly
tinned on the inside; and tin is very easily melted off
from utensils placed over an open fire. Fruits should
be cooked in granite or other enameled ware; but if
you must use tinware remove the fruit as soon as it is
done. Tin plates are hard to wash. Enameled ware
is nice so long as it remains smooth, but its surface
flakes off easily, particularly in cold weather.
The handles of tablespoons used in cooking should be
bent over at the end so as to form hooks. Then if the
spoon should slip from your fingers when you are
stirring the kettle it is not so apt to fall into the soup.
This kink deserves special mention by the Young
Men's Guild of Good Life. To make ordinary cups
nest, cut through the lower part of the handles and
bend them outward a little.
The following utensils are also desirable if they can
be carried without too much trouble : A folding canvas
water bucket, an oven, or a folding reflector to bake
in, a wire broiler that fits in the reflector when packing
up, an extra tablespoon or two, a tea-ball or coffee-
strainer, and salt and pepper shakers capped. A
combined can-opener and corkscrew may be needed.
A party going into fixed camp can add to the above
equipment at its discretion; but it is unwise to add
much unless a hired cook goes along, for every utensil
must be washed frequently, and there is no chore that
the human male so cordially despises and so brazenly
shirks as dish- washing. Take as few dishes as you can
well get along with and keep them clean. Dirty dishes
lying around are even worse nuisances in camp than
they would be at home, for the woods have four-and-
twenty kinds of flies and doodle-bugs to the city's one.
So, I repeat, go light in pots and tableware. Plates,
trenchers, wash-basins, baskets, even cups, buckets and
barrels, can be made out of bark and withes, so as to
be very neat and clean. Directions how to select ma-
56 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
terials for the purpose and how to rig them up will be
given in another chapter.
When transportation is easy it pays to pack the
bread, bags of flour, etc., in a tin wash-boiler or two,
._. r , which are wrapped in burlaps and
^ crated. These make capital grub boxes
in camp, securing their contents from
wet, insects and rodents. Ants in summer and mice
at all times are downright pests of the woods, to say
nothing of the wily coon, the predatory mink, the
inquisitive skunk, and the fretful porcupine. The
boilers are useful, too, on many occasions, to catch
rain-water, boil clothes, waterproof and dye tents, and
so forth. After all these things have been done in
them they are properly seasoned for cooking a burgoo.
In a summer camp of the glorified picnic order,
wooden plates are always useful, saving much washing
and being convenient for side dishes. But in a paper
birch country they are superfluous.
No matter how lightly one travels he should carry
several yards of cheese-cloth. There is nothing so
rv. r\ *\y good to bar out mosquitoes and other
pests, to hang game and nsn in, to keep
flies out of things, and it is useful for strainers, pudding-
bags, table-cloth. There may come warm days, even
late in the fall, when the flies will come out and blow
your venison, if it be unprotected. A smudge is not
to be relied upon, for if the smoke be dense enough to
keep flies at a distance it will dry up the meat and
make it taste like very bad dried beef.
Plain dishes well cooked, of such food as "sticks to
the ribs," are what men want who«are taking hearty
c , A ... exercise in the open air. When weight
Substantial , t -, - &
„ , and bulk must be cut down as far as
practicable, and hard travel is ahead,
there is nothing so good as pork, flour, beans, tea (or
coffee) and salt. These are the mainstays of lumber-
men, trappers, prospectors, miners and soldiers, who
certainly know, if any men do, what kind of food the
human machine needs to keep it up to the highest
physical efficiency, and what will keep best in all
UTENSILS AND FOOD 57
weathers and stow most compactly. Anything added
to these staples is a luxury, to be carried or not, accord-
ing to one's means of transportation.
Many things that we crave in town would rank as
"baby foods" in the woods, and rightly so, for they will
not do to climb hills with, chop trees, paddle canoes,
tote burdens, nor will they sustain the wilderness hunter
from dawn to dusk. "After a hearty breakfast of oat-
meal,'* says an experienced mountaineer, speaking of
one of his craft, "he will be ravenously hungry in two
hours, of cornmeal, after three hours, of bacon and
bread, after four or five hours, while pork and beans
will sustain him from six to ten hours and give the ut-
most physical buoyancy and strength."*
As a rule, however, one can add to the variety of
this bill of fare by substituting, for some of the pork and
v . flour and beans, some butter, concen-
trated soups, dried milk, cereals, evap-
orated vegetables, dried fruits, and he may add sugar,
vinegar and a few other condiments, which, with game
and fish, will enable him to dine sumptuously every
day. Variety of food is quite as welcome in camp as it
is anywhere else. Canned goods, however, and fresh
vegetables, add enormously to the weights to be car-
ried, owing chiefly to the water that is in them. This
will be noticed in the "heavy" ration lists that follow.
The United States Army ration is often taken as the
standard of what men require in camp and field. But
c* a a ^ is more liberal than most campers
P . need, the soldiers getting a rebate for
food not used by them, and much being
allowed for accidental waste. I am speaking now of
the garrison ration. The army travel ration, which
consists only of bread, canned beef, canned baked
beans, roasted coffee and sugar, amounts to 2 68-100
pounds of solid food for one person one day. I will
give in the next chapter four ration lists for four men
two weeks, graded according as they travel, light or
heavy, in warm weather or in cold. The quantities are
sufficient without counting on game or fish. These
* F, Marion Wilcox, The Rockies of Canada.
58 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
lists are based upon my own experience. It has been
my practice for years to weigh personally, and note
down at the time, the amount of provisions taken on
my lone camping tours, as well as those taken by the
various parties that I have accompanied, and similarly
to record the quantities left over at the end of the trip.
I have also collected many ration lists compiled by
practical woodsmen, and have spent considerable time
in studying and comparing them. They vary remark-
ably, not so much in aggregate weights as in the pro-
portions of this and that. On the whole, my own
records r ave been of most assistance.
It will be noticed that the cold-weather ration that I
give is about one-third more liberal than that for warm
r . , w , weather, and that the addition is mostly
v^oid" w earner •»,, i m <» i * i
■p. j in tatty and oily toods. A man who
eats little fat meat when living in the
city will find that when he travels hard in cold weather
and sleeps in the open air his system will demand more
fatty food. The experience of travelers in the far
North bears out the results of scientific analysis, that
foods containing fats and oils are more nutritious and
heat-producing than any others. But a steady diet of
bread and bacon is likely to breed scurvy; so a supply
of dried vegetables and fruits should be added. Men
living in the open also develop a craving for sweets that
is out of all proportion to what they experience in town.
This is a normal demand, for sugar is stored-up energy.
I have allowed liberally for this, and also for the in-
creased consumption of coffee and tea that is the rule
(owing somewhat to the fact that they lose strength
from exposure to the air).
For those addicted to it, tobacco should be consid-
ered a necessity; and an extra supply should be carried
T . for presents, for it is always appreciated.
A good brand of cut plug is best for
outdoor smoking, as it holds fire well, burns "cool,"
keeps well and does not blow out of one's pipe with
every puff of wind. About six ounces a week per man
is a fair allowance for steady smokers.
If butter is not taken, its weight in my ration lists
UTENSILS AND FOOD 59
should be substituted in pork. Similarly other substitu-
_ , ... ',t tions may be made in the other compo-
Substitutions. . a j- .„ .ij -i
nents. Condiments will not be despised
when the game and fish supply is low; they make a
new dish out of yesterday's leavings.
A steady diet of baking-powder bread or biscuits will
ruin the stomach if persisted in. Bread can be raised
with yeast powder or lungwort, or by the sour-dough
process; otherwise one should vary his diet with un-
leavened bread of corn-meal or flour. Self-raising
flour is more likely to spoil than plain flour, and it
will not do for thickening, gravies, dredging, etc.
Flour and cornmeal should be sifted before packing.
Ham will keep, even in warm weather, if packed in
a paper bag so as to keep out flies. It will keep indefi-
p , . nitely if sliced, fried or boiled, and put
M up in tins with melted lard poured over
it to keep out the air. Meat of any
kind will quickly mold if packed in tins from which
air is not excluded.
Butter will keep well in a hot climate, with flavor
little impaired, if thoroughly boiled, skimming off the
_. . scum as it rises till the melted butter is
Preserving
_. clear as oil, and then soldering it up in
canisters. Another method, borrowed
from the Indians, is to melt it with slippery-elm bark,
in the proportion of a drachm of the latter to a pound
of butter, keeping them heated together a few minutes,
and then straining off the fat.
A frying fat superior to lard is made by melting to-
gether over a slow fire equal parts of lard and beef suet,
. r - and packing in a covered pail or pry-
_, . up tin. It has a higher melting point
than lard, and tastes better than plain
lard or bacon grease.
Ground coffee should be put up in small tins. If in
large canisters, it will lose strength rapidly from repeated
_, exposure to air. On trips of more than
Beverages. , r ■,..-, ,i
three weeks it is better to carry the
green berries, roast them in the frying-pan and pul-
verize by pounding in a bag. Tea is more bracing
60 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
than coffee. Cocoa and chocolate have high nutritive
value.
Canned meats do well enough for a quick luncheon
now and then, but are unwholesome and unappetizing
r , for steady diet. Canned corned beef,
M however, makes passable hash. Some
smoked herring and dried codfish might
be substituted for some of the meat. Ordinary canned
soups are mostly water; get condensed soups. Soup
from the raw materials can only be made in fixed
camps as it takes at least half a day to prepare.
I have added canned consomme to the "heavy"
ration-list because it is an ideal soup-stock for campers.
o ox i Without good stock it is impossible to
Soup-Stock. , & , j -. • 11
r make a good soup, and it is seldom
that men in the wilderness have both the material from
which to make it and the time to spare. Many camp-
ers carry beef extract in the fatuous hope of using it in
soup-stock or for beef tea, but it has neither the flavor
of soup-stock nor any nourishment whatever.
Don't depend upon buying fresh eggs, potatoes, etc.,
where you leave the railroad, unless you have been
„ there before and are sure of the place's
resources. Eggs can be carried any-
where if packed in pasteboard boxes with compart-
ments, and stowed in wooden boxes. To preserve
eggs, varnish them with vaselin, being careful not to
leave the smallest particle of shell unprotected with it.
This is a much more reliable preservative than salt,
bran, paper, paraffin, or other common methods.
Milk or cream is now put up in soluble powdered
form, which is better flavored and lighter to carry than
•«,.,. condensed milk or evaporated cream,
and not so mussy. It can be dissolved
even in ice-cold water, and its keeping qualities are all
that can be desired. Desiccated eggs can also be pro-
cured from camp outfitters. Their chief value is for
use in mixing flapjacks, etc.
Travel* v In a small box or basket carry sepa-
R ,. rately enough food for the meals to be
eaten while traveling from the railroad to
the first camping ground; it will save unpacking en route.
UTENSILS AND FOOD 61
Tar soap is best for campers' use, since it makes a
good lather in any kind of water, hard or soft, hot or
„ cold. A light coat of its lather helps
p* to keep off mosquitoes. Take along a
bar of naphtha soap for washing woolens; it can be
used with cold water, and will save the flannels from
shrinking.
Directions for preparing emergency rations, such as
jerked venison, pemmican and rockahominy or pinole,
will be given in another chapter.
CHAPTER VI
A CHECK-LIST— PACKING UP
/^\N the following list, such articles as should be
^-^ dispensed with when traveling light are starred;
those used only on special trips are queried. This is
intended as a check-list, to be modified according to
circumstances. No one expedition will require every-
thing that is listed here. Take only what you know
you will need. The things that "might come in handy"
should be left at home:
OUTFIT FOR FOUR MEN IN THE WILDERNESS.
EACH MAN.
Weak:
Coat (duxbak or khaki; Mackinaw, if preferred, in winter).
Knickers or trousers (firm, closely woven gray kersey, tweed,
or homespun).
Undershirt, drawers, stockings, or socks (woolen).
Overshirt (gray flannel).
Money belt.
Shoes (light leather hunting; heavier, with hobnails, for
mountaineering) .
Leggings (loden, or cloth puttees).
Hat (smoke-colored felt, flannel sweat-band, ventilators).
Neckerchief (gray silk).
Belt and sheath-knife.
In Pockets:
Purse.
Jackknife.
Waterproof matchbox.
Loose matches.
Pipe.
Tobacco.
Compass.
Watch.
Map.
Note-book.
Pencil.
Handkerchief.
Pocket lens (?)
62
A CHECK-LIST— PACKING UP 63
Pouch:
Tomahawk (muzzled).
Quart pail (containing cup, spoon, and small oiled silk bag
each of salt, sugar, tea).
Bouillon capsules.
Sweet chocolate.
Wallet, with fish lines, etc. (See page 30.)
First-aid packet.
10 cartridges.
Field cleaner for rifle.
Broken shell extractor.
Almanac sheets.
Timetable.
Postal cards.
Trapping scent (?).
In summer:
Hypodermic, etc.
Fly-dope.
Head-net (black) (?)
Chloroform (?)
Citric acid (?)
In winter:
Snow goggles.
Carry:
Rifle, gun, or rod, in case.
Camera (?).
Field glass (?).
Pack up:
Spare clothing, in double bag. (See page 34.)
Poncho.
Waders (?).
Knapsack, or pack-strap.
Canteen (?).
Ammunition.
Fishing tackle.
*Landmg net.
Individual mess kit.
Shelter-cloth (?).
*Cot.
Mattress or bed-tick.
Blankets.
Pillow-bag.
Toilet bag. (See page 34.)
*Razor and strop.
Toilet paper.
Repair kit (only part of it on a hard march). (See page 35.)
Medicines. (See page 32.)
64 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
Matches (tin box).
*Spare pipe.
Tobacco.
Spare glasses (?).
Stationery (?).
Shoe grease.
*Camp chair.
COMPANY STORES.
Tent, and ridge-rope, if any.
*Poles and pins (the latter in a bag).
*Fly for dining roof.
*Ground-cloth.
*Tent hangers.
*Roll-up table top.
*Roll-up shelves.
Axe.
File.
*Nails and tacks.
Screw eyes (?).
Lantern.
Carbide, candles, or oil.
*Spade.
*Pruning saw (tied between thin boards).
Prospecting pick (?).
Cold chisel (?).
Small tools in roll-up case.
*Rope.
Heavy twine.
Cheese-cloth.
Boards (?).
Huntsman's horn (?).
4 kettles with covers, nested.
2 frying-pans.
Reflector.
*Dutch oven.
*Wire broiler.
4 each, knives, forks, spoons, plates, cups.
2 tablespoons.
*Butcher knife, long.
Salt and pepper shakers.
Pantasote bucket, folding.
Pantasote wash basin, folding (on tramping trip used only for
mixing dough).
*Dish pan, small.
*Coffee strainer.
Can opener.
*Corkscrew.
*Fire irons.
Dish towels (2), dish clouts (3).
A CHECK-LIST— PACKING UP 65
Soap.
*Cook book.
^Thermometer.
^Sulphuric acid, or alum and saltpeter, for curing skins.
Insect powder and "gun" if you camp in summer, or
intend to occupy an old camp.
If traveling in boat or canoe, add a large sponge for
bailing, and a pound or two of beeswax for stopping
leaks.
If going by pack-train, add, besides horse trappings,
a shoeing and pack-mending kit.
If it is the intention to build a cabin, add:
Crosscut saw.
Froe. (Even if roofing paper is carried, this will be
useful.)
1£ in. framing chisel.
Window (glazed), or some oiled paper, or translucent
parchment.
Hinges.
Nails, including wrought nails for battening door.
Miner's shovel, instead of spade.
And perhaps a broadaxe, mattock, jack plane, and auger
If convenient, take some tin and a soldering set for mak-
ing a vermin-proof closet or chest, and some wire
netting for cages of wild animals you may capture,
RATION LISTS, FOUR MEN, TWO WEEKS. (56 RATIONS.)
LIGHT. HEAVY.
Meats, etc. Summer. Winter. Summer. Winter.
Salt pork « . . . 10 lbs. . . 10 lbs.
Bacon 12 lbs. 12 10 lbs. 10
Ham 5 5 5 5
Corned Beef (canned). .44 4 4
Concentrated soups ... 2^ 2\ li 1J
Canned consomme . . 2 .2
Fresh eggs . . . . 5 (4 doz.) 5
Butter 6 6
Cheese 1 1 1 1
Lard 3 3 3 3
Dried milk (or evap-
orated cream, 6 cans) 2£ 2\ 2\ 2 J
30 40 40 50
Bread, etc.
Fresh bread . . 5 5
Hard biscuit 5 5
Flour 25 25 25 25
Corn-meal (yellow) ... 3 10 3 10
Buckwheat flour 3 . . 3
Rolled oats 3 3 3 3
Rice 3 3 3 3
Macaroni 1 1 1 1
Baking powder (Royal) 11 1 1
Baking soda 1 1 1 1
42 52 42 52
5
66
CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
Vegetables.
Potatoes (fresh)
" (evaporated) .. 4
Onions (fresh) 4
Beans 4
Split peas 4
Tomatoes (canned)
Sweet corn (canned) . .
16
Beverages.
Coffee (roasted, whole, or
5 lbs. ground) 3
Tea i
Whitman's cocoa \
Sugar, etc.
Sugar (granulated) .... 5
Maple sugar 5
Maple syrup
Preserves, jam, marma-
lade
10
Acids.
Vinegar
Pickles
Lemons
Citric acid i
Fruits, etc.
Evaporated apples,
peaches, apricots. ... 2
Prunes (stoned) 1
Raisins (seeded) 1
Canned peaches, plums,
cherries, pears, cran-
berries
Shelled nuts 1
20
30 (£ bu.) 30
10
4
4
4
5 (2 cans)
2% (1 can)
49i
1 (1 pint)
6
6
4
5
_2£
53£
*
4
4
5
5
'3 (1 qt.)
*6(§gal.)
5
5
13
16
2
4 (2 doz.)
1
2
6
3
'2
2
1
2
2
1
10 (4 cans)
1
10
1
Condiments.
Salt (if allowing for cur-
ing skins, etc., take
10 lbs.). 2
Pepper (white) 1 oz.
Cayenne or Chili 1 oz.
Worcestershire sauce ■ .
Olive oil
Mustard „
Sage
Parsley
Mixed herbs
Nutmeg
Curry powder
Ginger
2
1 oz.
1 oz.
16
2
1 oz.
1 oz.
1 bot.
1 bot.
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
Total 109| lbs.
Add Soap, Matches
136J 11®. 176 lbs.
16
2
1 oz.
1 oz.
1 bot.
1 bot.
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
5
200 lbs.
A CHECK-LIST— PACKING UP 67
Pack the pork, cheese and bread in parchment paper;
the flour, meal, cereals, vegetables and dried fruits in
bags; the butter, frying fat, coffee, tea,
. sugar and salt in pry-up tin cans. Some
p" camp outfitters supply these small bags
and tins of proper size to stow in waterproof provision
bags of their own make, and it saves much trouble to
buy them ready made. Label everything plainly, and
especially the sugar and salt, so that one may not be
taken for the other. Bottles should be packed in cor-
rugated paper or in excelsior. Mason jars are nice to
pack butter, jam, etc., in, but they are heavy.
Camp chests are very convenient when it is practicable
to carry them; but they should be small, weighing not
over fifty or sixty pounds each when packed, so that
one man can easily handle them unassisted. If they
are specially made, cottonwood is the best material (if
thoroughly seasoned boards can be had — otherwise it
warps abominably). It is the strongest and toughest
wood for its weight that we have, and will not splinter.
For the ends and lids of small chests, f-inch stuff is
thick enough, and f-inch for the sides, bottoms and
trays. The bottom should have a pair of f-inch cleats
for risers and the top a similar pair to keep it from
warping, unless the chests are to go on pack animals.
Strap-hinges and hasp, a brass padlock and broad
leather end-straps (not drop-handles) should be pro-
vided, and the chest painted. The best size is 24xl8x
12 inches, this being convenient for canoes and pack-
saddles. A pine grocery box of this size, with f-inch
ends and f-inch sides, top and bottom, weighs only
12 pounds, and will answer the purpose very well.
Screw a wooden handle on each end, say 5x2 inches,
with a hand-hold gouged out of the under side. A tin
bread-box is convenient in a canoe for carrying the
utensils and food used while traveling.
Check off every article in the outfit as it is stowed
and keep the inventory for future reference.
I append here a list of things taken on a three-days'
side trip from camp in the fall of the year, when the
nights are frosty. It is assumed that the tramper
68 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
goes alone; also, that he proposes to have plenty to
. K , eat on the trip, with good shelter and
T . a warm bed at night. With this equiip-
^* ment, should he have fair luck in
hunting, he can keep to the woods for a week, with-
out stocking up :
COLD-WEATHER TRAMPING KIT.
Carried.
Clothes worn, sheath-knife, articles in pockets, as
hitherto specified.
Rifle, with sling 8 lbs.
Packed on Back.
Shelter-cloth 2 "
Blanket 8 "
Bed-tick 1 J "
Jersey 2J "
Half-axe, in muzzle 2| "
20 cartridges. 1 tl
Mess can, quart pail, tin cup, spoon 1 "
Pillow-bag, spare socks, toilet-bag, first-aid pkt., twine,
matches, wallet, field cleaner, wipers, vaselin f
Pack harness 1£ "
19* "
Three days' provisions, namely:
Bacon 2£ "
Bread (previously baked in camp) 3\ "
Tea £ "
Sugar f "
Salt, pepper | ' '
Sweet chocolate £ ' '
Total 35 lbs.
There are several things to be looked after in good
season before starting on a camping trip. If your
T- _ shoes are new, oil them and break them
T , in. If your rifle is new, do not dream
A , of carrying it into the wilderness until
Around. , J «.,.,.* „ . .• A„
you have sighted it up, testing tne
elevations at various ranges, and making sure that the
sights are accurately aligned. If your fishing tackle
A CHECK-LIST— PACKING UP 69
is old, overhaul and test it thoroughly. If you have a
hollow tooth, get it filled. Pare your nails closely, or
they will soon be badly broken. Get your hair cropped
short. See that you have a good supply of small
change when you start. Don't carry off your bunch of
keys. Be on hand early at the station and see to it
personally that your humble but precious duffel all
gets aboard.
And now, bon voyage!
CHAPTER VII
THE CAMP
"And they shall dwell safely in the wilderness and sleep in the
woods. " — Ezekiel.
/^OOD camping grounds are seldom far to seek in
^-* a hilly country that is well wooded. There are
exceptions, as in the Ozarks, where the rock is a porous
limestone, the drainage mostly underground, and there
are no brooks, nor are springs as common as one would
expect, though when you do strike one it is a big one.
Here a traveler must depend for water chiefly on the
creeks and rivers, which may be miles apart. In a
level region, whether it be open plain or timbered bot-
tom land, good water and a high and dry site may be
hard to find. In any case, when men are journeying
through a wild country that is strange to them, they
should begin at least two hours before sunset to keep
a bright lookout for a good place on which to spend
the night, and when such is found they had better
accept it at once than run the risk of "murdering a
night" farther on, wherever the powers of darkness
may force them to stop.
P „., The essentials of a good camp site
' are these:
1. Pure water.
2. Wood that burns well. In cold weather there
should be either an abundance of sound downwood or
some standing hardwood trees that are not too big for
easy felling.
3. An open spot, level enough for the tent and camp-
fire, but elevated above its surroundings so as to have
good natural drainage. It must be well above any
chance of overflow from the sudden rise of a neighbor-
ing stream. Observe the previous flood marks.
70
THE CAMP 71
4. Grass or browse for the horses (if there are any)
and bedding for the men.
5. Straight poles for the tent, or trees convenient for
attaching the ridge rope.
6. Security against the spread of fire.
7. Exposure to direct sunlight during a part of the
day, especially during the early morning hours.
8. In summer, exposure to whatever breezes may
blow; in cold weather, protection against the prevail-
ing wind.
It is well to avoid an old camping ground. Its
previous occupants will have stripped it of good kin-
dling and downwood, and they and their dogs may have
left behind them a legacy of rubbish and fleas.
Precautions as to elevation and drainage are especially
needful in those parts of our country that are subject
to cloudbursts. I have seen a ravine that had been
stone-dry for months fill fifteen feet deep, in a few min-
utes, with a torrent that swept trees and bowlders along
with it; and it is quite common in many parts of the
West for wide bottoms to be flooded in a night. When
I was a boy in Iowa, a "mover" camped for the night
on an island in Coon River, near our place. He had
a bag of gold coin, but was out of rations. A sudden
flood left him marooned the next morning on a knoll
scarce big enough for his team and wagon. He sub-
sisted for a week, like his horses, on the inner bark of
cottonwood, and when a rescue party found him he was
kicking his bag of gold over the few yards of dry ground
that were left of his domain.
Bottom lands, and deep woods where the sun rarely
penetrates, should be avoided, when practicable, for
they are damp lairs at best, and in warm weather they
are infested with mosquitoes. A ravine or narrow
valley between steep hills is a trap for fog, and the cold,
heavy air from the head of the hollow pours down it
at night, while an undertow of warmer air drawing
upward now and then makes the smoke from one's
camp-fire shift most annoyingly.
New clearings in the forest are unhealthy, for the
sun gets in on plants that are intolerant of strong light,
72 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
they rot, and poisonous gases arise from their decay,
as well as from the recently disturbed soil. If one is
obliged to camp in a malarial region he should not
leave the camp-fire until the sun is up and the fog
dispelled.
Sandy beaches, and low, gravelly points, are likely
to swarm in summer with midges.
Granting that one has much choice in the matter, he
should select, in summer, an open knoll, a low ridge,
or, better still, a bold, rocky point jutting out into a
river or lake. A low promontory catches the cool
breezes, which disperse fog and insects, and it is soon
dried whenever the sun shines. If one can be found
that has a clump of trees on it, pitch the tent in such
position that it will get the direct rays of the morning
and the evening sun/but will be shaded during the heat
of the day. This is the ideal site for a summer camp.
In cold weather seek an open, park-like spot in the
forest, where surrounding trees will break the wind;
or a "bench" (natural terrace backed by a cliff) on the
leeward side of a hill. In the latter case, build youi
fire against the cliff, and shield the tent with a wind-
break. The rock will reflect heat upon the tent, and
will serve as a smoke- conductor as well.
On a hillside that is mostly bare, if there be a thicket
or a cluster of evergreen trees, get on the downhill side
of it. The stream of cold air from above will jump
this obstacle and will leave an eddy of comparatively
warm, still air immediately below it.
The tent should not be set under a tree where it
would catch the drip of dew and rain or of snow-laden
boughs, nor near a dead tree, nor amid trees that are
shallow-rooted (such as basswood and hemlock), for
these are liable to be overthrown by a storm. Avoid,
if practicable, the neighborhood of large trees that have
brittle limbs (the aspens, poplars, willows, cottonwood,
butternut, catalpa, yellow locust, silver maple) . Trees
that are "poor in fat" (the oaks,- poplars, willows,
maples, elms, ashes) are much more likely to be struck
by lightning than are those "rich in fat" (beech, birch,
chestnut, basswood).
Starting a Lean-to Shelter
The Fixed Camp
THE CAMP 73
Having selected a site for the camp, clear it of brush,
stubs, dead leaves, and rotten wood. Decayed down-
wood and loose, flat stones are likely, in a southern
country, to harbor tarantulas and scorpions, which
abound as far north as Missouri. If dry leaves and
grass are so thick on the ground as to be dangerous, be
careful in burning them off to light them at only one
spot at a time, and stand by it with a green bough to
whip the fire into subjection if it burns too fast.
The celerity with which a camp is made depends upon
the training and willingness of the men, and the system
M , . by which their duties are parceled. Let
p us suppose that there are four in the
party, besides the teamster or packer.
Then let No. 1, who is cook, get out the provisions and
utensils, rig up the fireplace, build a fire, and prepare
the food for cooking, while No. 2 is rustling wood and
water. Meantime Nos. 3 and 4 clear the ground and
smooth it off, cut tent pegs and poles, unpack the tent,
and summon all hands for a minute to assist in raising
the tent and pegging it "square." Then the cook goes
on with his proper duties, the axeman cuts and beds a
chopping-block and gets in night- wood, and the canvas-
men turn bed-makers. Thus, by the time supper is
ready, which will be within an hour, or less, the camp
will be properly made, and every one's work is done
save the unfortunate scullion's.
To set up an A tent, draw the ridge rope tight be-
tween two trees, and fasten each end with a clove hitch,
p. , . unless the line has stretchers. Then
. T stake out the four corners in a true rect-
angle (that is, make each corner a right
angle, instead of having them askew). Then drive
the other pegs. If the soil is thin, drive each peg
at a sharp angle and lay a flat rock over the slant
of it. If the ground is so sopping wet, or so sandy,
that pegs will not hold, dig a rather deep hole where
each peg should stand, and in it bury a rock or a fagot
of brush that has a bit of rope tied to it which is left
sticking out a few inches above the ground; stamp the
earth down, and tie the projecting ends of rope into the*
74 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
grommets. Now stretch the ridge line taut with your
rope-slides, or by bracing it up with a forked sapling
near each end. Do not neglect to trench the tent. It
is miserable business to crawl out into a driving storm
at night and dig a ditch by lantern-light — worse still
to awake to a realization that trenching is too late to
save your soaking possessions. "Make yourself ready
in your cabin for the mischance of the hour, if so it hap."
Setting up a To pitch a wall tent, four men pro-
Wall Tent. ceed as follows :
Nos. 1 and 2 procure canvas, and Nos. 3 and 4 the
poles.
Nos. 3 and 4 lay the ridge-pole on the ground, in the
direction that the tent is to stand; then lay the up-
rights at each end of ridge-pole and at right angles
to it, on the side opposite that from which the wind
blows. They then drop the tent pins and hammers at
their respective ends of the tent; then drive a pin at
each end of the ridge to mark front and rear. Mean-
while, Nos. 1 and 2 unroll the tent and spread it out
over the ridge-pole and on both sides of it.
Nos. 1 and 3 now go to the rear, and Nos. 2 and 4 in
front, and slip the pins of the uprights through the
ridge-pole and tent. If a fly is used, it is placed in
position over tent, and the loops of the long guys over
the front and rear pole pins. No. 4 secures center
(door) loops over center pin in front, and No. 1 in rear.
Each goes to his corner, No. 1 right rear, No. 2 right
front, No. 3 left rear, No. 4 left front.
All draw bottom of tent taut and square, the front
and rear at right angles to the ridge, and fasten it with
pins through the corner loops, then stepping outward
two paces from the corner, and a pace to the front (Nos.
2 and 4) or rear (Nos. 1 and 3), each securely sets a
long pin, over which is passed the extended corner guy
rope. Care must be taken that the tent is properly
squared and pinned to the ground at the door and four
corners before raising it.
Nos. 1 and 3 now go to the rear, Nos. 2 and 4 to the
front pole, and raise the tent to a convenient height
from the ground, when Nos. 2 and 3 enter and seize
THE CAMP 75
iheir respective poles, and all together raise the tent
until the upright poles are vertical. While Nos. 2 and
3 support the poles, Nos. 1 and 4 tighten the corner
guys, beginning on the windward side. The tent being
thus temporarily secured, all set the guy pins and
fasten the guy ropes, Nos. 1 and 2 to the right, Nos. 3
and 4 left, and then the wall pins.
This is the army method, and it is the best.
For a Sibley tent, make a loop in one end of its lash
rope, and another at such distance from this as will
. _., mark the radius of the tent when set up
_ taut; also another loop farther out
marking the radius of the guys, if the
tent has a wall. Drive a peg in the center of the space
that the tent is to cover, loop the end of the line over
it, and, with another peg used alternately in the other
loops, draw two concentric circles on the ground. Drive
the pegs and guy stakes on these circles, respectively,
loop on the grommet lines to the former, raise the tent,
and then make all taut.
To erect a teepee: The site must be level, or very
nearly so. Cut the requisite number of straight, slim
_, T lodge-poles (ten or twelve), and two
longer poles for the smoke-flaps. Trim
them carefully, for if stubs are left on them they will
make the canvas leak. Tie three of them together with
the lash rope about eighteen inches from the top, and
about the same distance above where the top of the
teepee cover will come. Set these up as a tripod, the
butts equidistant on a circle described on the ground
as above. For a teepee of 12 feet diameter they will
be 10 feet 5 inches apart, measuring straight from one
to the other. Carry the rope around them a few times
where they are tied together, and let it trail. Lean all
the other poles, save one, against the top of the tripod,
spacing their butts equidistant around the circle. Tie
the top of the teepee cover, at the point between the
flaps, to the remaining lodge-pole, and lift it into place.
Insert the smoke-poles in the pockets of the flaps,
carry the cover around the outside of the framework,
and pin or lace it together in front. Peg the cover
76
CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
down, and anchor the tent by drawing the lash rope
tight to a crotch driven into the ground inside the tent
and on the windward side. Pitch the tent with its door
to leeward of the prevailing winds. When there is no
wind, keep both smoke-flaps open. When it blows,
raise the flap to windward and lower the other. When
the wind blows directly against the entrance, close both
flaps, and raise the bottom of the door cover a little to
create a draught. By the way, do not call the teepee
a wigwam; the latter is a fixed residence, the former
portable.
Some time it may be necessary to set up a tent or
other camp on ground which is so rocky that stakes
cannot be driven into it. In such case,
Tents on . . • j i , j .
t, , two tripods can be erected at a con-
Rocky r.. „ - . , ,
Ground venient distance apart tor the ridge-pole
or rope, the tops of the tripods inter-
locking as shown in the illustration. A self-supporting
framework for a shed-roof camp is also shown. (Figs.
4 and 5.)
To make a bed of browse, first smooth the ground,
leaving no stubs, stones, or hummocks. Then cut
Browse Bed nead- and foot-logs a foot thick, and
side-logs, which may be somewhat
THE CAMP
77
smaller, and pin them down with inverted crotches,
making a rectangular framework on the ground to keep
the browse in place. Next fell a thrifty balsam or hem-
lock (spruce, pine, or even cedar will do in a pinch)
and strip off the fans, using none that cannot be broken
off by one's fingers. Now lay a course of boughs a
foot long against the head-log, butts down and to the
front, then shingle another layer in front of these, and
so on down to the foot of the bed, leaving only the tips
of the boughs showing. Such a bed is luxurious in
proportion to its depth and freshness. It should be
renewed every day. It takes considerable time and
labor to make. I prefer the individual bed-tick, filled
by each man to suit himself.
Hang the salt pork or bacon to a tree beside the fire-
place, where it is handy; it will not spoil in the weather.
p . If mice, wood rats, porcupines, skunks,
or other thieving varmints annoy you,
hang the edibles by wires or cords from branches, or
from a stout wire run from one tree to another, and
shelter them from sun and rain. Put matches and
candles where they can quickly be found in the dark.
When camping with a pack-train, pile the packs
78 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
neatly together and cover them with canvas, and simi-
larly pile and protect the saddles, making especially
sure that the lash ropes cannot get wet, and that noth-
ing will be buried out of sight, off somewhere by itself,
if snow falls during the night. Soldierly system in all
such matters pays a big dividend in time and good
temper. A tenderfoot's camp looks like a hurrah's
nest.
Wild hogs are literally the betes noires of southern
campers. Your thin-flanked, long-legged, sharp-nosed
razorback, with tusks gleaming from his jaws — he or
she of the third or further removed generation of feral
lawlessness — is the most perverse, fearless, and mali-
ciously destructive brute in America, wolverines and
"Indian devils" not excepted. Shooting his tail off
does not discourage him, rocks and clubs are his amuse-
ment, and no hint to leave that is weaker than a hand-
ful of red pepper baked inside a pone o' bread will
drive him away. A hog-proof fence around camp, un-
sightly though it be, is one's only safeguard in southern
wildwoods.
If it is the intention to remain in one place for a con-
siderable time, the site should be chosen with particu-
p. , c lar care. It should have a good outlook
but not a free inlook, being picturesque
and secluded. The tent should be floored, other-
wise it will be unpleasant in wet weather and its
contents will get musty or mildewed. Mildew at-
tacks leather first, then woolens, and cotton goods last
of all.
A separate dining space and kitchen should be built,
if for no other reason than to keep insects and vermin
out of the sleeping tent. Make a dining-table by driv-
ing four stakes into the ground for legs, nailing cleats
across the ends, and covering the top with straight
sticks or boards, On each side of it build a bench on
the same principle. Over these erect a framework, on
which stretch a tarpaulin or tent fly. Near the fire-
place build a kitchen table, with a shelf underneath for
utensils, condiments, baking powder, lard, etc., and
THE CAMP 79
with space below for a box or other bin for potatoes
and onions.
Make some rustic chairs, stools, and benches. As
Thoreau says, "None is so poor that he need sit on a
pumpkin — that is shiftlessness."
Dig a sink or rubbish hole near the kitchen table,
for dishwater, tin cans, and such other refuse as will
„. , not burn, and into this throw every day
a layer of ashes or earth. Then you
will not be bothered so much by flies. Have a definite
place for the latrine, and build it as soldiers do, leav-
ing a paddle in the excavated earth behind it. Who-
ever wrote "Deuteronomy" was a good camper.
For a refrigerator, dig a hole in the ground, stone it
up or line it with bark, and cover the top; or, if you
r . , « have ice, bore a few holes for drainage
in the bottom of a box or barrel, sink it
in the ground to its top, and cover with burlaps or a
blanket. If fresh venison is put in a spring the out-
side of the meat will get white and stringy but the in-
side will keep sweet for several weeks. Tie a white
rag to a branch or bush directly over this water-cache,
to scare away animals. In winter, cut a hole in the ice,
fasten the meat to a stick by a rope or thong, let the
meat down into the water, just below the ice, with the
stick resting across the orifice. If it is desired to cache
meat in this way, put blocks of ice over the hole and
throw water on the mass until it freezes together. No
land animal can disturb such a store, and the venison
will keep fresh and palatable for a couple of months at
least.
Butter and milk should not be stored near anything
that has a pronounced odor, for they would be tainted.
As soon as the camp ground is reached the butter tin
or jar should be placed in a net or bag and sunk in the
spring or cold brook, the string being tied to the bank
so that a freshet may not carry the food away or bury
it out of sight. Later, if you stay in that place, a little
rock-lined well can be dug near the spring, and covered
securely so that coons and porcupines cannot plunder
80 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
it. There are camps so situated that the following
note may be of service: Milk can be kept sweet for
several days by adding a spoonful of grated horse-
radish to one or two gallons of milk.
To cache provisions in trees, fasten a pole from one
tree to another at a height of 15 to 20 feet from the
r , e ground, and peel the bark from the
tree trunks to hinder animals from
climbing them; wrap the provisions in canvas and
then in oilskin (if you have it), and wire or tie
them to the pole. The odor of oilskin is said to be
offensive to wolverines and other predatory beasts. A
further precaution is to make a St. Andrew's cross
(X-shaped), hang it from the pole, and suspend the
parcel from the end of one arm of the cross, so that
every puff of wind will set it swinging.
A cache or secret storehouse for heavy tools, bedding,
utensils, etc., that you may want to leave at the camp
until the next season, may be dug in a dry bank and
roofed over with logs and earth, the interior being lined
with dry grass and poles or bark. The old Indian
method of digging a jug-shaped hole in a knoll, casting
the excavated earth into a stream, lining the cache
with hay and hides, and sealing it with the same piece
of sod (about twenty inches in diameter) that was re-
moved when beginning to dig the neck of the hole is
an excess of precaution nowadays.
A chopping-block is the first thing needed about a
camp. The axe, when not in use, should always be
ttt j v j stuck in that particular block, where
Wood Yard. „ r, .. , ' ,
any one can find it when wanted, and
where it will not injure men or dogs.
Do not let the axe lie outdoors on a very cold night;
the frost would make it brittle, so that the steel might
shiver on the first knot you struck the next morning.
Stretch a stout line between two trees where the sun-
light will strike, and air your blankets on it every day
or two when the weather is pleasant. Against a straight
tree near the tent make a rack, somewhat like a billiard-
cue rack, in which fishing rods can be stood, full rigged,
without danger of being blown down.
THE CAMP 81
Of course, it takes time and hard work to make
everything snug and trim around camp; but it pays,
just the same, to spend a couple of days at the start in
rigging up such conveniences as I have described, and
getting in a good supply of wood and kindling. To
rush right off hunting or fishing, and leave the camp in
disorder, is to eat your dough before it is baked.
CHAPTER Vin
THE CAMP-FIRE
"I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a great fire." — All's
Well that Ends Well.
Cold night weighs down the forest bough,
Strange shapes go flitting through the gloom.
But see — a spark, a flame, and now
The wilderness is home!
— Edwin L. Sabin.
T^HE forest floor is always littered with old leaves,
■*■ dead sticks, and fallen trees. During a drought
this rubbish is so tinder-dry that a spark falling in it
may start a conflagration; but through a great part of
the year the leaves and sticks that lie flat on the ground
are too moist, at least on their under side, to ignite
readily. If we rake together a pile of leaves, cover it
higgledy-piggledy with dead twigs and branches picked
up at random, and set a match to it, the odds are that
it will result in nothing but a quick blaze that soon
dies down to a smudge. Yet that is the way most of
us tried to make our first outdoor fires.
One glance at a camper's fire tells what kind of a
woodsman he is. If one would have good meals cooked
out of doors, and would save much time and vexation
— in other words, if he wants to be comfortable in the
woods, he must learn how to produce at will either (1)
a quick, hot little fire that will boil water in a jiffy, and
will soon burn down to embers that are not too ardent
for frying; or (2) a solid bed of long-lived coals that
will keep up a steady, glowing, smokeless heat for bak-
ing, roasting, or slow boiling; or (3) a big log fire that
will throw its heat forward on the ground, and into a
tent or lean-to, and will last several hours without
replenishing.
82
THE CAMP-FIRE 83
These arts are not so simple as they look. To prac-
tice them successfully in all sorts of wild regions we
_, . must know the different species of trees
„ . one from another, and their relative
fuel values, which, as we shall see, vary
a great deal. We must know how well, or ill, each of
them burns in a green state, as well as when seasoned.
It is important to discriminate between wood that
makes lasting coals and such as soon dies down to
ashes. Some kinds of wood pop violently when burn-
ing and cast out embers that may burn holes in tents
and bedding or set the neighborhood afire; others
burn quietly, with clear, steady flame. Some are stub-
born to split, others almost fall apart under the axe.
In wet weather it takes a practiced woodsman to find
Kinder and dry wood, and to select a natural shelter
where fire can be kept going during a storm of rain or
•\now, when a fire is most needed.
There are several handy little manuals by which one
who has no botanical knowledge can soon learn how to
identify the different species of trees by merely examin-
ing their leaves; or, late in the season, by their bark,
buds, and habit of growth.*
But no book gives the other information that I have
referred to; so I shall offer, in the present chapter, a
little rudimentary instruction in this important branch
i >f woodcraft.
It is convenient for our purpose to divide the trees
into two great groups, hardwoods and softwoods, using
ihese terms not so loosely as lumbermen do, but draw-
ing the line between sycamore, yellow birch, yellow
* A complete manual of the trees of the United States and Canada
is C. S. Sargent's Manual of Trees (Houghton, Boston). A hand-
somely illustrated work of general scope is Julia Roger's The Tree
Book (Doubleday, N. Y.). Less expensive works which suffice
to identify the trees of northeastern America are H. L. Keeler's
Our Native Trees (Scribner, N. Y.); F. S. Mathews' Familiar Trees
and Their Leaves (Apple ton, N. Y.); Alice Lounsberry's Guide to
the Trees (Stokes, N. Y.); C. S. Newhall's Trees of Northeastern
America (Putnam, N. Y.); H. E. Parkhurst's Trees, Shrubs and
Vines of the N ortheastern United States (Scribner, N. Y.). On south-
ern trees, Alice Lounsberry's Southern Wild Flowers and Trees (Stokes,
N. Y.) is a convenient field-book. Simple methods for identifying
trees after the fall of leaves are given in A. O. Huntington's Studies
of Trees in Winter (Caldwell, Boston).
84 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
pine, and slippery elm, on the one side, and red
cedar, sassafras, pitch pine and white birch, on the
other.
As a general rule, hardwoods make good, slow-burn-
ing fuel that yields lasting coals, and softwoods make
a quick, hot fire that is soon spent. But each species
has peculiarities that deserve close attention. The
knack of finding what we want in the woods lies a good
deal in knowing what we dont want, and passing it by
at a glance.
The following woods will scarcely burn at all when
they are green: aspen (large-toothed), black ash, bal-
TT . a sam, box elder, buckeye, pitch pine,
Uninnamma- '- * ,
.,-_,. , sassatras, sourwood, sycamore, tama-
ble Woods. 1.1/ \ *. i
rack, tupelo (sour gum), water oak,
poplar (tulip), service berry. Butternut, chestnut, red
oak, red maple, and persimmon burn very slowly in
a green state. Such woods are good for backlogs,
hand- junks or andirons, and for side-logs in a cooking-
fire that is to be used continuously. Yellow birch and
white ash, on the contrary, are better for a camp-fire
when green than when they are seasoned. It may be
said, in general, that green wood burns best in winter,
when the sap is down. Trees that grow on high,
dry ground burn better than those of the same species
that stand in moist soil. Chestnut cut on the summits
of the southern Appalachians burns freely, even when
green, and the mountain beech burns as ardently as
birch.
Arbor- vitse (northern "white cedar") and chestnut
burn to dead coals that do not communicate flame.
„ . fi They, as well as box elder, red cedar,
Jjr , hemlock, sassafras, tulip, balsam, tama-
rack, and spruce, make a great crackling
and snapping in the fire. All of the soft pines, too, are
prone to pop. Certain hardwoods, such as sugar
maple, beech, white oak, and sometimes hickory, must
be watched for a time after the fire is started, because
the embers that they shoot out are long-lived, and
hence more dangerous than those of softwoods; but
they axe solendid fuel for all that. Split logs are more
THE CAMP-FIRE 85
likely to snap from the outside than from the inside,
and should be laid with the heart-side out.
Woods that are hard to split are enumerated in the
chapter on Axemanship. It should be noted, however,
0jL - . that some woods which are very stub-
btUDborn , , , „ i !•.
w , born when seasoned are easily split
while green, such as hickory, beech,
dogwood, sugar maple, birch, slippery elm.
Best of all firewoods is hickory, green or dry. It
makes a hot fire, but lasts a long time, burning dov*n
~, -n to a bed of hard coals that keep up an
The Best , . . , r Tt- i
„ . even, generous heat tor hours. Hick-
ory, by the way, is distinctly an Amer-
ican tree; no other region on earth produces it. Fol-
lowing the, hickory, in fuel value, are the chestnut oak,
overcup, post, and basket oaks, pecan, the hornbeams
(ironwoods), and dogwood. The latter burns finally
to a beautiful white ash that is characteristic; apple
wood does the same. Black birch also ranks here; it
has the advantage of "doing its own blowing," as a
Carolina mountaineer said to me the other day, mean-
ing that the oil in the birch assists its combustion so
that the wood needs no coaxing. All of the birches are
good fuel, ranking in about this order: black, yellow,
red, paper, and white. Sugar maple was the favorite
fuel of our old-time hunters and surveyors, because it
ignites easily, burns with a clear, steady flame, and
leaves good coals; but it is too valuable a tree, nowa-
days, to be cast into the fire, save where a hopelessly
defective one is found.
Locust is a good, lasting fuel; it is easy to cut, and,
when green, splits fairly well; the thick bark takes fire
readily, and the wood then burns slowly, with little
flame, leaving pretty good coals; hence it is good for
night-wood. Mulberry has similar qualities. The
best of the oaks for fuel, especially when green, is
white oak; it also splits very readily. The scarlet and
willow oaks are among the poorest of the hardwoods
for fuel. Cherry makes only fair fuel. White elm is
poor stuff, but slippery elm is better.
In some respects white ash is the best of green woods
86 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
for campers' fuel. It is easily cut and split, is lighter
to tote than most other hardwoods, and is of so dry a
nature that even the green wood catches fire readily.
It burns with clear flame, and lasts longer than any
other free-burning wood of its weight.
Most of the softwoods are good only for kindling, or
for quick cooking-fires. Liquidambar, magnolia, pop-
0 £j__ , lar (tulip), catalpa, red cedar, and
SoftWOOds .„ v r/ a , a J i_
T r . willow are poor tuel. seasoned chest-
nut and tulip split easily and make a
hot fire, but crackle and leave no coals. Balsam fir,
basswood, and the white and loblolly pines make quick
fires but are soon spent. The gray (Labrador) pine is
considered good fuel in the far North, where hardwoods
are scarce. Seasoned tamarack is fairly good. Spruce
is poor fuel, although, being resinous, it kindles easily
and makes a good blaze for "branding up" a fire.
Sycamore and buckeye, when thoroughly seasoned, are
good fuel, but hard to split. Alder burns readily and
gives out considerable heat, but is not lasting. The
wood of the large-toothed aspen will not burn in a
green state, but when dry it burns freely, does not crackle,
lasts well, and leaves good coals. The best green soft-
woods for fuel are white birch, paper birch, soft maple,
cottonwood, and quaking aspen. For a cooking-fire
that will burn quickly to coals, without smoke, the bark
of dead hemlock, hickory, pine, or sugar maple cannot
be excelled.
As a rule, the timber growing along the margins
of large streams is softwood. Hence driftwood is
T> 'ftw A generally a poor mainstay for an all-
night fire, unless there is plenty of
it on the spot.
Besides kindling and the firewood proper, one often
needs some kind of tinder to start a fire. The bark of
j~. ... all species of birch is excellent for this
purpose, as well as for torches. It is
full of resinous oil, blazes up at once, will burn in any
wind, and wet sticks can be kindled with it. The
shredded inner bark of dead cedar or cottonwood burns
like paper.
THE CAMP-FIRE 87
Tinder will not be needed if pine knots, or splits of
dry pine, or cedar, can be procured. Pine knots are
the heavy, resinous stubs of limbs that are found on
dead pine trees. They are almost imperishable, and
those sticking out from old rotten logs are as good as
any. Pitch pine affords the best knots. The knots of
balsam fir are similarly used; but hemlock knots are
worthless. A good way to start a fire is to take three
such knots, whittle some shavings from their less resin-
ous small ends, without detaching the shavings, set the
knots up as a tripod, butts together, small ends down,
and shavings touching — then light the latter. Splits
from a pine stump that has been burned on the outside
are fat with resin. A stump may often be found that
has rotted nearly to the ground but has a sound, dry
core from which good kindling can be split.
In a hardwood forest the best kindling, sure to be
dry underneath the bark in all weathers, is procured
by snapping off the small dead branches, or stubs of
branches, that are left on the trunks of medium- sized
trees. Do not pick up twigs from the ground, but
choose those, among the downwood, that are held
up free from the ground. Where a tree is found that
has been shivered by lightning, or one that has bro-
ken off without uprooting, good splinters of dry wood
will be found. In every laurel thicket there is plenty
of dead laurel, and, since it is of spr angling growth,
most of the branches will be free from the ground
and snap-dry. They ignite readily and give out intense
heat.
It is a good test of one's resourcefulness to make a
fire out of doors in rainy weather. The best way to
„ . . „. go about it depends upon local condi-
. w tions. Dry fuel, and a place to build
We th ^e ^re' can °ften be found under big
uptilted logs, shelving rocks, and simi-
lar natural shelters, or in the core of an old stump.
In default of these, look for a dead softwood tree that
leans to the south. The wood and bark on the under
side will be dry — chop some off, split it fine, and build
your fire under the shelter of the trunk, if you want to
88 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
use it for only a short time. If it is necessary to camp
in the rain without artificial shelter, and no rocky ledge
can be found, pick out a big green tree — the larger the
better — that leans a good deal. Be sure that it is big
enough not to be weakened by an all-night fire. If
the rain is driving, and you have a blanket, lean a
couple of saplings against the tree and spread your
blanket over them to shelter the fire until it is well
started, or lean large sticks or splits against the tree,
in the shape of half a cone, leaving a cavity at the base
in which you can insert kindling.
When there is nothing dry to strike it on, jerk the
head of the match forward through your teeth. Face
_ . , the wind. Cup your hands, backs to-
n/r f x. • j.u ward wind, match held with its head
Match in the . . . . , „ .
w W d Pomtmg toward rear ot cup — i.e., to-
' ward the wind. Remove right hand
just long enough to strike match on something very close
by; then instantly resume former position. Flame of
match will run up the stick, instead of blowing away
from it.
Fire may be made without matches by drawing the
bullet or shot from a cartridge, pouring out all but
M , . „. about one-fourth of the charge, putting
W-J^ , the cartridge in the gun (muzzle up),
M , and loosely ramming down a piece of
dry cotton cloth upon it. Fire the gun
either toward the ground or straight up into the air;
it will ignite the rag. One should have some punk or
tinder by him at the time.
Punk is of two kinds: (1) dry fungus, such as the
shelf-like toadstools (polyphori) that grow on the boles
T. , of trees (oak, maple, birch, beech,
locust, especially), not the hard, woody
fungi, but those that are soft and leathery; also dried
puff-balls; (2) wood that has decayed from a fungus
growth ("conkesy," "dozed" or "dotey" wood, it is
called by timbermen), such as is often found in dead
trees or stumps, or under the excrescences of growing
maples, birches, and other trees. Green toadstools
can soon be dried out before the fire. The inner part
THE CAMP-FIRE 89
of such a fungus, as well as dozed wood, will ignite
readily from a spark, but does not flame, and will carry
fire for hours. It makes a very good smudge to drive
away mosquitoes.
Extemporized tinder is quickly made by tearing (not
cutting) a strip of cotton cloth, leaving the edges fluffy,
and rolling it up like a roller bandage, leaving one end
projecting a little; into this end rub crushed gunpow-
der, leaving a few grains uncrushed, or the ashes of a
cigar will do. The ashes of tobacco, Indian corn, sun-
flower, and some other plants, contain enough saltpeter
to make good touch-paper, by rubbing them into cloth
or soft paper. Dry dung, especially horse-dung, when
broken up, takes a spark readily, and so do dried moss
and dried willow catkins.
Sparks may be struck from flint, quartz, or pyrites,
by striking them a glancing blow with the back of a
knife, or other piece of hard steel. It takes more skill
to catch the spark than to produce it. When the sun
shines, the lens of a camera, field-glass, or telescope
sight may be used as a burning-glass. Even a watch
crystal, removed, and three-fourths filled with water,
forms a lens that, if held very steadily, will ignite punk
or tinder.
To make a fire burn well there is one thing even more
necessary than kindling or firewood, and that is air.
tt - b .,i It is from neglecting this invisible factor
How to Build , & . ?., m, , , .
„. that most novices tail. I he tuel must
SL l1 lfG
not be tumbled together; it must be
built systematically, so that air can draw under it and
upward through it, even after the tinder and small
kindling have burned up. The latter should never be
used to support the larger sticks.
The best way to make a fire quickly, and one that is
sure to keep on burning as long as it is fed, is, first, to
lay two good-sized sticks on the ground as a foundation,
then across them at right angles lay a course of dry
twigs or splinters, not quite touching each other; on
these, at one side, place your tinder, of paper, bark, or
whatever it may be; then on top of this put two other
cross-sticks, smaller than the bed-sticks; over this a
90 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
cross-layer of larger twigs, and so on, building the pile
cob-house style, and gradually increasing the size of
the sticks. Such a pile will roar within half a minute
after a match is touched to it, -and if the upper courses
are of split hickory, or other good hardwood, it will all
burn down to live coals together.
In cold weather, when the camp-fire is depended upon
to keep the men warm all night, it should be built
higher than the general level of the camp, first, because
you will get more heat from a fire built somewhat
higher than your bed, and, second, because, unless it
is built upon a rock, or hard, naked earth, it will eat
its way down in the forest refuse.
There are forty-eleven ways of building a camp-fire;
but only three of them are basic and orthodox. The
others are mere variants, or schisms, from the true
faith. The three are: (1) the hunter's fire; (2) the
trapper's fire; (3) the Indian's fire. This is how to
build them:
The Hunter's Fire. — Best for a shifting camp, be-
cause it affords, first, a quick cooking-fire with proper
supports for the utensils, and afterward a good camp-
fire for the night when the weather is not severe. Select
a tree not less than a foot thick at the butt (ash or soft-
wood if you have not a full-sized axe). Fell it, and cut
from the butt end two logs about six feet long. Lay
these side by side, about fifteen inches apart at one end
and six or eight inches at the other. Lay a course of
small, dry sticks across the middle of them, and on
this place your tinder. At each end of this course lay
a green hand- junk, about eight inches thick, to support
the larger wood. Across them, parallel with the bed-
logs, lay dry sticks, and on them build a cob-house of
short split wood that will make coals. Fill in with
small kindling around the tinder, and touch it off. The
upper courses of wood will soon burn to coals, which
will drop between the logs and set them to blazing on
the inner side. After supper, night-wood is piled on
top of the junks. In the morning there will be fine
coals with which to cook breakfast.
THE CAMP-FIRE 91
The Trapper's Fire. — Best for a fixed camp in cold
weather, before a lean-to, or shanty tent. If there is no
big bowlder or ledge of rocks on the camp site, build a
wall of rocks about six feet in front of the lean-to, with
two stone "andirons" at right angles to them; or,
drive two big stakes in the ground, slanting backward,
against them pile on top of each other three logs at
least a foot thick, and place two thick, short hand-
junks in front of them to support the fore-stick. Select
for this purpose green wood that is hard to burn.
Plaster mud in the crevices between the logs, around
the bottom of stakes, and around the rear end of hand-
junks, for otherwise the fire will quickly attack these
places. Such a fireplace is meant to reflect the heat
forward, conduct the smoke upward, and serve as a
windbreak in front of camp. Build the fire between
the hand- junks, and cut plenty of six-foot logs for
night-wood. Have a separate cooking-fire off to
one side.
The Indian's Fire. — Best where fuel is scarce, or
when one has only a small hatchet with which to cut
night-wood. Fell and trim a lot of hardwood saplings.
Lay three or four of them on the ground, butts on top
of each other, tips radiating from this center like the
spokes of a wheel. On and around this center build
a small, hot fire. Place butts of other saplings on this,
radiating like the others. As the wood burns away,
shove the sticks in toward the center, butts on top of
each other, as before. This saves much chopping, and
economizes fuel. Build a little windbreak behind you,
and he close to the fire. Doubtless you have heard
the Indian's dictum (southern Indians express it just
as the northern and western ones do): "White man
heap fool; make um big fire — can't git near: Injun
make um little fire — git close. Uh, good!"
Fires built especially for purposes of cookery will be
described hereafter.
CHAPTER IX
MARKSMANSHIP IN THE WOODS
^~\UT of the thousands of men who go out every „all
^^ to hunt with the rifle, only a few have any op-
portunities, during the close season, for rifle practice
under conditions similar to those they will meet in the
wilderness. By far the larger number must be content
with such facilities as they can find on a rifle range,
where the shooting is done at known distances, over a
clear field, at stationary targets, and with no time limit.
The fortunate few who live all the year 'round in
thinly settled regions, where they can try their rifles in
the woods whenever they feel like it, are prone to
think lightly of the city man's rifle clubs. I will never
forget the remark that a backwoodsman once made
when I was trying to entertain him at a rifle match
near St. Louis. I had shown him the shooting-house,
the target-house, and their appurtenances; had explained
our system of scoring and our code of rules; had told
him the reasons for using such heavy rifles, sensitive
triggers, pronged butt-plates, cheek-pieces, palm-rests,
vernier and wind-gauge sights — all that; and then I
bade him watch some of our experts as they made
bull's-eye after bull's-eye, seldom missing a space the size
of a man's head, shooting offhand, at 200 measured
yards. I thought that my friend would be impressed.
He was; but not quite as I had anticipated. After
watching the firing for a long time in silence, he turned
to me and remarked: "If it weren't for the noise and
the powder smoke, this would be a very ladylike game."
Of course, I was piqued at this, and felt like giving
the honest fellow a peppery reply. And yet, many a
time since, as I have sat, chilled to the bone, on some
crossing in the high Smokies, straining my cars for the
92
MARKSMANSHIP IN THE WOODS 93
bear-dogs far below; or, tired beyond speech and faint
from hunger, as I lay down beside a log in the great
forest, all alone; or, blown by hard climbing till my
heart seemed bursting, as I wiped the mist from my
eyes, and got down on all fours to follow a fresh spoor
into the hideous laurel fastness of Godforsaken — aye,
many a time I have looked backward and thought,
"You were right, partner; it was a very ladylike game."
But let us not be too hard on the city man's rifle
range. It is all he has, to burn powder on, and it is
far better than no range at all. The pity is that he
does not make better use of it. (I speak now of civilian,
not military, ranges.) It was a blunder when we
abandoned the old Standard American rules, which
did at least recognize the rifle as a weapon instead of a
toy, and were led astray by a foreign system for which
we have not yet found so much as an English name.
The "schuetzen" system does teach a man to hold
steadily and to let off delicately, and this is the ABC
of marksmanship. But it stops there. It teaches the
ABC forward and backward till the pupil becomes,
perhaps, wonderfully expert in such exercise; but it
never gets beyond ABC and Z Y X. It weds a man
to a toy, so that any practical weapon seems awkward
to him. It teaches him to drive a nail with a bullet;
but it makes him too slow — altogether too slow for the
man's game of hunting or war. The most hopeful sign
of our time, from a rifleman's viewpoint, is the move
to establish, near all of our large cities, military rifle
ranges, to which civilians will be admitted for target
practice. Offhand shooting at the shorter ranges with
regular hunting rifles, or with military rifles, together
with skirmish drill, is excellent training for hunters of
big game.
But in any case, practice! Use a .22 in a city base-
ment, if you can do no better. It is practice, intelli-
gently varied practice, that makes the marksman.
As for a hunting rifle, get the best that you can, of
course; but do not worship it. Bear in mind that,
whatever its trajectory and killing power, it is only a
gun, and can kill nothing that you miss with it. When
94 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
you get into the real wilderness, far away from rich
men's preserves and summer hotels, you will find there
some mighty hunters who make mighty kills with guns
of the vintage of 1866, or earlier — guns that would
bring only the price of scrap-iron in New York.
Get sights that you can see, and such as you are not
likely to overshoot with when taking quick aim. Take
pains to get what suits your eyes, and spare no time in
the adjustment. Never take an untried gun into the
woods. That is no place to align sights and test ele-
vations. Never trust the sights as they are placed on
the gun at the factory. Test them not only from rest,
but offhand, too; for a light rifle charged with high-
power ammunition is likely to shoot several inches
higher (or in some other direction) when fired from
muzzle-and-elbow rest, at 50 yards, than it does when
shot offhand, albeit it may be an accurate weapon
when rightly used.
Now, as for adjusting the elevation — a most impor-
tant matter — first, by all means, find the "point-blank"
of your weapon by actual test. Take nobody's say-so
for it. If your dealer assures you that a certain rifle
shoots practically point-blank up to 200 or 300 yards,
"trust him not; he's fooling thee." Never lose sight of
the fact that, in a timbered country, nine-tenths of big
game is shot inside of 75 yards. Now it is a prime
essential that your rifle should be so sighted that its
bullet will not rise or fall outside a one-inch circle at
25 yards, a two-inch circle at 50 yards, a three-inch
circle at 75 yards. If it has been sighted to strike cen-
ter at 200 yards, it will shoot far above these limits at
the short distances here mentioned, no matter how
powerful may be the charge. Let me give an ex-
ample, to show how easily one can be fooled in such
matters :
Here is a high-power rifle. The initial velocity of
its bullet is 2,000 feet a second; trajectory 5^ inches at
100 yards, when shot 200 yards. At the factory the
sights have been set for the latter distance, by aiming
with top of bead just touching bottom of an eight-inch
bull's-eye. In other words, the gun shoots four inches
MARKSMANSHIP IN THE WOODS 95
above the point actually aimed at. Now, at 100 yards
this gun will shoot two inches too high, plus the tra-
jectory (5 J inches), minus sight allowance (angle of
line of aim to line of fire depending upon height of
front sight above axis of bore — say one-half-inch al-
lowance midway of range) — that is to say, this rifle
shoots seven inches too high at 100 yards! Is that
"practically point-blank"? How would you like it?
As a general rule, a high-power rifle for hunting big
game should have its sights adjusted, with precision,
for two distances, namely, to strike the 'point actually
aimed at, when shooting offhand, first at 80 yards, and
(second adjustment) at 160 yards. Then fix the rear
sight so that it cannot work down below the 80-yard
point, and notch the 160-yard point so you can feel it
with your thumb-nail, without looking. With the 80-
yard elevation your rifle will shoot on a line practically
level up to 100 yards; with the 160-yard elevation it is
"good" for a deer's vitals at any distance up to 200
yards, under all conditions that make such long shots
justifiable. It will not shoot over nor under an eight-
inch circle at any distance up to 200 yards, when
aimed for the center. But carry the rifle habitually
with sight set for 80 yards; then you can decapitate
a grouse or squirrel, strike a bear through the eye at
close quarters, and kill a deer 100 yards away when
only his head is visible, without making any allowance
for distance in either case — always provided, my
brother, that your own part of the performance is up
to scratch. A rifle using black powder should be
sighted for 50 and 100 yards, respectively.
As for trigger-pull, suit yourself; but never tolerate
a trigger that will easily jar off. Remember, too, that
your trigger finger will soon get calloused in the woods,
and that it will often be numb with cold.
Have a sling-strap on your gun, particularly if you
are to hunt in the mountains.
Take only one kind of ammunition when you go
after big game. On such a trip one seldom shoots at
small fry, unless the large animals fail to show them-
selves; even then, one shoots no more than he needs,
96 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
and if he does occasionally blow a grouse to pieces it
doesn't matter. If he should take along both full-
power and reduced charges, he would always be fussing
over his elevations, and he might some day find himself
with a squirrel load in his gun, confronting a moose.
Be sparing in your load of ammunition. When one
hunts large game, even where it is plentiful and unpro-
tected, he will not average two shots a day, allowing
liberally for misses and for pot-boilers on small game.
Fifty rounds are ample for a two-months' trip into
farthest no-man's land, and twenty are enough for a
month wherever the number of heads allowed is limited.
Remember what a weight of lead you carried around
last year, and how much of it you lugged back home,
or gave away.
The targets offered by large animals in the woods are
about as different as anything could be from the targets
used on rifle ranges. If you are still-hunting, the odds
are long that you will not see the game until it is sneak-
ing stealthily but swiftly away. Then there are trees
in the way, and brush; your footing may not be secure;
the light may be shining in your eyes; and, with it all,
you must shoot quick, or lose the opportunity. Yet,
if you shoot so quickly that you merely aim at the ani-
mal as a whole, instead of at some one particular spot,
the chances are that you will miss altogether — yes,
miss a full-grown deer at twenty paces. The points
to be observed are : To be as alert at all times as though
you were hunting grouse without a dog; to get your
gun in position the instant that you see the game; to
pick out, as quick as lightning, a clear space through
which to fire; but, above all things, not to shoot
until you are absolutely certain that it is game you are
shooting at; and then to dwell on the aim just long
enough to see your bead clearly and to hold for a
vital spot. Beyond that, do not hesitate the fraction of
a second. To give a novice an idea, I would say that
three or four seconds is a fair average interval between
raising the rifle and firing, when a deer has been jumped
in the forest. It is not so much the hands, but the
eyes and brain, that must be quick, very quick.
MARKSMANSHIP IN THE WOODS 97
Of course, this is only a general proposition. Many
times one has a chance for deliberate aim (though not
often when he is still-hunting). Yet I think it is best
to spend most of one's target ammunition in snap-
shooting. By snap-shooting with the rifle I do not
mean merely glancing along the barrel and disregard-
ing the sights. You must see your bead, and, in case
of open sights, you must see that the bead is well down
in the notch; but it is snap-shooting to press the trigger
instantly when it first touches, or rather when it swings
close to, the object that you want to hit, instead of
waiting to swing back and steady down, as one would
do when aiming deliberately. To snap-shoot at the
right instant, without pulling off to one side, is a
fine art.
The main trouble, in such cases, is to select the right
spot to shoot at, and then to find it over the sights.
With a deer, for example, the color is so neutral and
the outlines are so indistinct, even in good light, that
a man's eyes can seldom distinguish the exact spot that
he wants to hit. He judges where it must be, from
the general bulk of the animal and the position in which
it is presented.
For a broadside shot, the best point to shoot for is
immediately behind the shoulder and only one-third
of the way up from breast to withers — that is, where
the heart lies. When the body is presented in any
other position, shoot, as a rule, at such a point that the
bullet, in ranging forward, will pass through or close
to the heart. When an animal stands looking at me
as a deer often will when it comes in on a runway and
one bleats or whistles at it, my favorite shot is the neck.
A bullet passing through any animal's neck is almost
sure to strike a paralyzing, knock-out blow, because it
can scarcely miss a vital part.
In shooting at a running animal, when you are in
the timber, do not hold first on the beast and then
swing ahead; but pick out an open space that the
game will cross, and shoot an instant before it crosses.
Then you will, at least, not send your bullet whack
into an intervening tree.
98 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
Aim low when shooting downhill, because then you
see more of the upper side of the animal than you ordi-
narily would. A shot high up is seldom fatal, unless
you hit the spine. In making long shots downhill, do
not forget that the only distance to be allowed for is
that from the mark to a point directly under you and
level with the mark.
Aim dead-on when shooting uphill, unless the range
is greater than your rifle is sighted for on a level. The
extra allowance for "lift" is so trifling at ordinary
ranges that you had better disregard it than overdo
the matter.
Deliberate shooting, as distinguished from snap-
shooting, can often be practiced at game in an open
country, such as many parts of the West. In the East
and South, nearly all shooting is in thick timber, al-
though one sometimes gets a shot over the water.
Long shots at game standing clearly outlined against
the sky or water call for no comment, as they are com-
paratively easy for one who has had considerable
experience on the rifle range, if he does not misjudge
the distance and sighting allowance — and if he does
not get buck-ague.
This latter affliction is more likely to seize upon the
novice when he is sitting on a stand and hears the
dogs baying toward him. It is hard on a fellow's
nerves to sit there, praying with all his soul that the
bear may not run some other way, and yet half doubt-
ful of his own ability to head it off if it does come his
way. The chances are that it will by no means run
over him, but that it will come crashing through the
brush at some point on one side, toward which he will
have to run with all his might and main before firing.
Now if he does let that bear go through, after all the
hard work of dogs and drivers, his shirt-tail will be
amputated that night by his comrades and hung from
a high pole in the midst of the camp — a flag of dis-
tress indeed! Who wouldn't get buck-ague in the face
of such alternative?
It is hard on a fellow's nerves, I say, to hear those
dogs coming toward him, and to know from the racket
A Good Day's Shoot
An Ideal Camp Fire
MARKSMANSHIP IN THE WOODS 99
that a bear is certainly ahead of them, but not to know
where or when the brute may emerge, nor what infernal
trees and thicket and downwood may be in the way.
Can you hit him ? That is the question. The honor
of the camp is on your shoulders. Ah, me! it is easy
to follow the pack on horseback — to chase after some-
thing that is running away. But to sit here chewing
your mustache while at any moment a hard-pressed
and angry bear may burst out of the thicket and find
you in his way — nothing but you between him and
near-by freedom — gentlemen, it tests nerve! Ask any
old soldier whether he would rather charge or be charged.
Buck-ague is not the effect of fear. In fact, fear has
nothing to do with it. It is a tremor and a galloping
of the heart that comes from over-anxiety lest you
should fail to score. Precisely the same seizure may
come upon you on the target range. That is the only
place that I ever experienced it. There is no telling
when it may strike. I have known seasoned sports-
men to be victimized by it. Yet, when the critical
moment does come, it often turns out that the man
who has been shaking like a leaf from pent-up anxiety
suddenly grows cold and steady as a rock. Especially
is this apt to be the case when a fighting beast comes
suddenly in view. Instantly the man's primeval in-
stincts are aroused; his fighting blood comes to the
surface; the spirit of some warrior ancestor (dead,
maybe, these thousand years) possesses and sways your
mild-eyed modern man, and he who trembled but a
moment ago now leaps into the combat with a wild
joy playing on his heart strings.
CHAPTER X
DRESSING AND KEEPING GAME AND FISH
"DUTCHERING is the most distasteful part of a
•*""* hunter's work — a job to be sublet when you can;
but sometimes you can't.
When an animal is shot, the first thing to do is to
bleed it. Even birds and fish should be bled as soon
as secured. The meat keeps better, and, in the case
of a bird, the feathers are more easily plucked. Speak-
ing, now, of large game, do not drop your gun and
rush in on a dying beast to stick it, for it might prove
an ugly customer in its death struggle. First put a
bullet through its heart or spine.
To cut a deer's throat would ruin the head for
mounting. Twist its head to one side, with the throat
downhill, if possible, so that blood will not flow over
the hide; then stick your knife in at the point of the
breast, just in front of the sternum or breastbone, and
work the point of the knife two or three inches back
and forth, close up to the backbone, so as to sever
the great blood-vessels. Then if you must hurry on,
perhaps after another animal, toss some brush over the
carcass, or hang a handkerchief over it, to suggest a
trap, and make a brush blaze here and there as you go
along, to guide you back to the spot.
If practicable, remove the entrails at once. To do
this, it is not necessary to hang the animal up. If you
are in a hurry, or if the camp is not far away, it will do
merely to take out the paunch and intestines; but if
this is neglected putrefaction will soon set in. A bear,
especially, will soon spoil, because the fur keeps in the
vital heat, so that the body will smoke when opened, even
after it has lain a long time in hard-freezing weather.
If the ground is not too rough, nor the distance too
100
DRESSING GAME AND FISH 101
great, a deer may be dragged to camp over the snow
j. . or leaves; but drag it head- foremost;
_r if pulled the other way every hair will
act as a barb against the ground. Be-
fore starting, tie the front legs to the lower jaw. The
carcass will slide easier, and the hide will not be so
disfigured, if you first drop a bush or small tree by
cutting through the roots, leaving a stub of a root
projecting for a handle, then tie the animal on the
upper side of the bush, and drag away.
To pack a deer on horseback: first, if your horse is
green in the business, let him smell the deer, pet him,
p , . -. and, if necessary, blindfold him until
9 jji y°u get the carcass lashed in place.
Even then you may have trouble. I
have seen a mule get such a conniption fit at the smell
of blood that he bucked himself, deer, and saddle, off
a cut-bank into a swift river; the girth broke, and that
saddle is going yet.
Re-cinch your saddle, and, if the deer is too heavy
to lift upon the horse's back, fasten your picket-rope
to the deer's hind legs, throw the line over the saddle,
get on the other side, and haul away until the deer's
hocks are up even with the saddle; then quickly snub
the rope around the saddle-horn, go around, swing the
burden over the saddle, balancing it evenly, and lash
it fast. Or, if you wish to ride, move the deer behind
the saddle and lash it there, bringing the legs forward
on either side and tying them to the rings of the cinch.
For thongs, cut strips from the skin of the deer's fore
legs. Be sure to fasten the load securely, so that it can-
not slip, or you will have a badly frightened horse. By
skinning the legs from hoofs to ankles, partly disarticu-
lating the latter, and then tying the legs snugly, they will
not dangle and scare the horse, nor catch in underbrush.
Two men can carry a deer on a pole by tying its legs
together in pairs, slipping the pole through, and tying
c . the head to the pole. Unless the car-
£. cass is tied snugly to the pole, such a
burden will swing like a pendulum as
you trudge along, especially if the pole is at all springy.
102 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
A more comfortable way is to make a litter of two
poles by laying them parallel, about two and one-half
feet apart, and nailing or tying cross-pieces athwart
the poles. Whittle the ends of the poles to a size con-
Diagram of an Improvised Litter for Carrying a Deer.
venient for your hands, and fasten to each end of the
litter a broad strap, in such a way that it may pass over
the shoulders of the carrier and thus take up much of
the weight. Then lash the animal securely to the top
of the litter.
One man can carry a small deer entire by dragging
it to a fallen tree, boosting it up on the log, lengthwise
p . „. and back down, then grasping the hind
1 h A A ^e£s w^ one nand and the fore legs
with the other, and carrying the load
so that its weight is on the back of his neck and
shoulders.
A better scheme is to cut a slit through the lower
jaw and up through the mouth, and another slit through
each of the legs between the tendons, just above the
hoof; tie the head and legs together, but not too close,
and then, by the loop thus formed, swing the burden
over your shoulder.
To carry a larger animal pickaback: gut it, cut off
the head and hang it up to be called for later, skin the
legs down to the knees and hocks, cut off the shin-
bones, tie the skin of each fore leg to the hind leg on
the same side, put the arms through the loops thus
formed, and "git ep!" Or, remove the bones from the
fore legs from knee to foot, leaving the feet on, tie the
hind legs together and the fore legs to them, thrust
your head and one arm through, and carry the burden
as a soldier does a blanket-roll.
When one has a long way to go, and can only carry
DRESSING GAME AND FISH 103
the hide and the choicer parts of the meat, the best way
_ _ ■ is to make up an Indian pack, as shown
, in the illustration. Skin the deer, place
a stick athwart the inside of the skin,
pack the saddles, hams, and tid-bits in the latter, and
roll up and tie in a convenient bundle.
Fig. 6. The Indian Pack.
It is not necessary to hang a deer up to skin and
butcher it; but that is the more cleanly way. One
tt • , man, unassisted, can hang a pretty
B ? . heavy animal in the following way:
Drag it headforemost to a sapling that
is just limber enough to bend near the ground when
you climb it. Cut three poles, ten or twelve feet long,
with crotches near the ends. Climb the sapling and
trim off the top, leaving the stub of one stout branch
near the top. Tie your belt into a loop around the
deer's antlers or throat. Bend the sapling down until
you can slip the loop over the end of the sapling. The
latter, acting as a spring-pole, will lift part of the deer's
104 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
weight. Then place the crotches of the poles under
the fork of the sapling, the butts of the poles radiating
outward, thus forming a tripod. Push first on one
pole, then on another, and so raise the carcass free
from the ground. If you do not intend to butcher it
immediately, raise it up out of reach of roving dogs
and "varmints," and put a smudge under it of rotten
wood, well banked with stones and earth so that it
cannot blow around and set the woods afire. The
smudge will help to keep away blow-flies and birds of
prey. It is common practice to hang deer by gambrels
with the head down; but, when hung head up, the
animal is easier to skin, easier to butcher, drains better,
and does not drip blood and juices over the neck and
head, which you may want to have mounted for a
trophy. Dried blood is very hard to remove from
hair or fur. If the skin is stripped off from rear to
head it will be hard to grain.
The more common way of skinning a deer, when the
head is not wanted for mounting, is to hang it up by
one hind leg and begin skinning at the hock, peeling
the legs, then the body, and finally the neck, then
removing the head with skin on (for baking in a hole),
after which the carcass is swung by both legs and is
eviscerated.
Now let us suppose that you have killed a deer far
away from camp, and that you wish to skin and butcher
-> . . it on the spot, saving all parts of it that
-j are good for anything. You are alone.
You wish to make a workmanlike job
of it. You can carry only the choicer parts with you
that evening, and must fix the rest so that it will not be
molested over night.
Of course, you have a jackknife, and either a
pocket hatchet or a big bowie-knife — probably the lat-
ter, if this is your first trip. First hang the deer, as de-
scribed above. By the time you are through cutting
those poles with your knife your hand will ache between
thumb and forefinger; a tomahawk would have been
better.
Skinning. — This is your first buck, and you wish to
DRESSING GAME AND FISH
105
save the head for mounting. For this, the skin of the
whole neck must be preserved, clear back to the shoul-
ders. Cleanse away any blood that may have issued
from the nose and mouth, and stuff some dry moss, or
other absorbent, in the beast's mouth. Stick your big
knife into a log alongside : it is only to look at, for the
present. Open your jackknife, insert the point, edge
up, where the neck joins the back, and cut the skin in a
circle around the base of the neck, running from the
withers down over the front of the shoulder-blade
to the brisket or point of the breast on each side. Do
not skin the head at present — you may not have time
for that. Insert the point of the knife through the skin
over the paunch, and, following
the middle line of the chest, slit
upward to meet the cut around
the neck. Then reverse, and
continue the slit backward to
the end of the tail, being care-
ful not to perforate the walls of
the belly. Then slit along the
inside of each leg from the hoof
to the belly slit. If you wish to
save the feet for mounting, be
particular to rip the skin in a
straight line up the under side
of the leg, starting by inserting the point of the knife
between the heel-pads.
Now comes a nice trick, that of severing the shanks.
Nearly every inexperienced person starts too high.
Study the accompanying illustrations of these joints,
noting where the arrow points, which is the place to
use your knife. In a deer the joint is about an inch
and a half below the hock on the hind leg, and an inch
below the knee on the fore leg. Cut square across
through skin and muscles, in front, and similarly be-
hind; then, with a quick pull backward against your
knee, snap the shank off. The joint of the fore leg is
broken in a similar manner, excepting that it is snapped
forward.
Having stripped the vertebrae from the tail, now peel
Fig. 7. — ■> The Place to
Use Your Knife.
From Forest and Stream.
106 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
the skin off the whole animal, from the shoulders down-
ward, assisting with your closed fist, and, where neces-
sary, with the knife; but wherever the knife is used
be careful to scrape the skin as clean as you can, with-
out cutting it, for every adhering bit of fat, flesh, or
membrane must be thoroughly removed before the
skin is ready for tanning, and that is easier to do now
than after it dries. The whole operation of skinning
is much easier while the animal is still warm than after
the body has become cold. To skin a frozen animal
is a desperately mean job. I have known four old
hunters to work nearly a whole afternoon in skinning
a frozen bear.
The skin of the body and limbs having been removed,
stretch it out flat, hair side down, alongside of you to
receive portions of the meat as it is butchered.
Gralloching. — Now take up your big knife, insert its
point alongside the breastbone, and cut through the
false ribs to the point of the sternum. In a young ani-
mal this is easy; but in an old one the ribs have ossified,
and you must search for the soft points of union be-
tween the ribs and the sternum, which are rather hard
to find. Here your knife's temper, and perhaps your
own, will be put to the test. The most trifling-looking
pocket hatchet would do the trick in a jiffy.
Open the abdominal cavity, taking care not to rup-
ture anything, and prop the chest open a few inches
with a stick, or by merely pulling the ribs away from
each other. Cut the diaphragm free at both sides and
at the back. (It is the membrane that separates the
organs of the chest from those of the abdomen.) Every-
thing now is free from the body except at the throat and
anus. Reach in and take in your grasp all the vessels
that run up into the neck. With knife in the other
hand, cut them across from above downward, taking
care that you do not cut yourself. Now pull away
gradually, helping a little here and there with the knife
until all the contents of the visceral cavity lie at your
feet, save the lower end of the rectum, which is still
attached. With a hatchet, if you had one, you would
now split the pelvis. The thing can be done with a
DRESSING GAME AND FISH 107
large knife, if the animal is not too old, by finding the
soft suture at the highest part of the bone and rocking
the knife-edge on it. But you may not be able to
accomplish this just now. So reach in with the jack-
knife, cut carefully around the rectum and urinary
organs, keeping as close to the bone as possible, and
free everything from the cavity. If water is near, wash
out the abdominal cavity and let it drain.
To remove the head: flay back the skin for several
inches at base of neck, cut through flesh, etc., to the
backbone. Search along this till you find the flat joint
between the faces of two vertebrae, separate these as far
as you can; then twist the attached part of the body
round and round, until it breaks off. Directions how
to skin a head for mounting are given in the chapter
on Trophies, etc.
In butchering, save the liver, heart, brain, milt
(spleen), kidneys, and the caul fat. The caul is the
fold of membrane loaded with fat that covers most of
the intestines. In removing the liver you need not
bother about a gall-bladder, for a deer has none.
Many a tenderfoot has been tricked into looking for it.
In the final cutting up, save the marrow-bones (es-
pecially of elk) for eating; the ligaments that lie on
either side of the backbone, from the head backward,
for sinew thread; the hoofs for glue (if you are far
from supply-stores and expect to remain a good while) ;
and perhaps the bladder, paunch, large intestine, and
pericardium (outer skin) of the heart, for pouches and
receptacles of various kinds, and to make catgut. The
scrotum of a buck, tanned with the hair on, makes a
good tobacco-pouch.
If one is in a hurry, and is not particular about the
hide, he can do his butchering on the ground. In that
B , . . case, lay the animal on sloping ground,
h g with its head uphill; or bend its back
c . over a log or rock; or turn it on its back
with its head twisted around and wedged
under one side. The old-time way of butchering a
buffalo was to turn the carcass on its belly, stretching
out the legs on either side to support it. A transverse
108 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
cut was made at the nape of the neck; then the work-
man, gathering the long hair of the hump in one hand,
separated the skin from the shoulder, laid it open to the
tail, along the spine, freed it from the sides, and pulled
it down to the brisket. While the skin was thus still
attached to the belly it was stretched upon the ground
to receive the dissected meat. Then the shoulder was
severed, and the fleece, which is the mixed fat and lean
that lies along the loin and ribs, was removed from
along the backbone, and the hump ribs were cut off
with a tomahawk. These portions were placed on the
skin, together with the boudins from the stomach, and
the tongue. The rest of the meat was left to feed the
wolves.
In butchering an elk or moose that has antlers, first
remove the head. Then turn the body on its back and
„« , prop it in position with a couple of
M three-foot stakes sharpened at both ends,
a hole being dug for a moose's withers.
Sometimes only the haunches, sirloins and tongue are
saved, these being cut away without skinning or gutting
the carcass. If a complete job of butchering is to be
done, there must be a horse, or several men with a
rope, to elevate the body. In this case the lower legs
are skinned, the shanks removed, the hide split from
throat to tail, the sides skinned free, the windpipe and
gullet raised, the pleura and diaphragm cut loose, and
the carcass then raised high enough so that the hide
can be removed from the rump and back. The rectum,
small intestines, and paunch are then loosened and
allowed to roll out on the ground. The gullet is cut,
the liver taken out, and the diaphragm, lungs and
heart removed. Then the skinning is finished over
the shoulders and arms. It is best not to cut up the
meat until it is quite cold and firm. Then split the
carcass in halves along the backbone, and quarter it,
leaving one rib on each hind quarter.
Bears are butchered in a similar manner, but with-
out removing the head, of course.
If a hide is to be preserved for some time in a green
state, use nothing on it but salt. Spread it out flat,
DRESSING GAME AND FISH 109
hair side down, stretch the legs, flanks, etc., and rub
all parts thoroughly with salt, particular pains being
taken to leave no little fold untreated. A moose-hide
will take ten or even fifteen pounds of salt. As soon
as the salting is done, fold in the legs and roll the
hide up.
When a deer has merely been eviscerated and is hung
up to be skinned and cut up at a more convenient sea-
_ , son, prop open the abdominal cavity
_ with a stick, so that it may dry out
quickly. If the weather is warm enough
at any hour of the day for flies to come out, keep a
smudge going under the carcass. It takes flies but a
few minutes to raise Ned with venison. If blows are
discovered on the meat, remove them, looking espe-
cially at all folds and nicks in the meat, and around the
bones, for the blows work into such places very quickly.
So long as they have not bored into the flesh they do
it no harm.
It may be said here that even smoked bacon is not
immune from blows, and it should not be hung up
without a cheese-cloth cover. The fly that blows
smoked meats is the same that starts "skippers" in
cheese.
Hornaday gives the following rule, in his Natural
History, for computing the live weight of deer from
c . the dressed weight: Add four ciphers
w . , to the dressed weight in pounds, and
divide by 78,612; the quotient will be
the live weight in pounds.
Now for what Shakespeare calls "small deer":
I must take issue with Nessmuk on the art of skinning
a squirrel. He says: "Chop off head, tail, and feet
t. . with the hatchet; cut the skin on the
jjrgssins"
o . , back crosswise, and, inserting the two
middle fingers, pull the skin off in two
parts (head and tail). Clean and cut the squirrel in
halves, leaving two ribs on the hind quarters." The
objection is that, in this case, you throw away the best
part of the squirrel, the cheek meat and brain being its
special tid-bits. A better way is this: Sever the tail
110 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
from below, holding your left forefinger close in be-
hind it, and cutting through the vertebrae close up to
the body, leaving only the hide on the top side. Then
turn the squirrel over and cut a slit down along each
ham. Put your foot on the tail, hold the rear end of
the squirrel in your hand, and pull, stripping the skin
off to the fore legs. Peel the skin from the hind legs,
and cut off the feet. Then cut off the fore feet.
Skin to the neck; assist here a little with the knife;
then skin to the ears; cut off the butts of the ears; then
skin till the blue of the eyeballs shows, and cut; then
to the nose till the teeth show, and cut it off. Thus
you get no hair on the meat, and the whole thing is
done in less than a minute.
Turkeys, geese, ducks, and grouse are usually dry
picked. If this could be done while the bodies were
^ . still warm, it would be no job at all;
_. , but after they are cold it generally re-
sults in a good deal of laceration of the
skin — so much so that sometimes the disgusted opera-
tor gives up and skins the whole bird. It would be
better to scald them first, like chickens. In dry pick-
ing, hang the bird up by one leg, pluck first the pinions
and tail feathers; then the small feathers from shanks
and inside of thighs; then the others. Grasp only a
few feathers at a time between finger and thumb, as
close to. the skin as possible, and pull quickly toward
the head. Then pick out all pin-feathers and quills.
Singe the down off quickly, so as not to give an oily
appearance to the skin. Ordinarily the down can be
removed from a duck's breast by grasping the bird by
the neck and giving one sweep of the open hand down
one side of the body and then one down the other. In
plucking geese or ducks some use finely powdered
resin to remove the pin-feathers. The bird is plucked
dry, then rubbed all over with the resin, dipped in and
out of boiling water seven or eight times, and then the
pin-feathers and down are easily rubbed off. To draw
a bird: cut off the head, and the legs at the first joint.
Make a lengthwise slit on back at base of neck and
sever neck bone close to body, also the membrane
DRESSING GAME AND FISH 111
which holds the windpipe. Make a lengthwise incision
froni breastbone to (and around) the vent, so you can
easily draw the insides, which must be done carefully,
so as not to rupture the gall-bladder (a pheasant has
none). The idea that ducks and other game birds
should hang until they smell badly is monstrous. If
you want to know where such tastes originated, read
the annals of mediaeval sieges.
A small trout is easily cleaned without washing by
tearing out the gills and drawing the inside out with
ri . them. In a large trout the gills should
_,. , be cut free from the lower jaw and back
of head, and a slit cut along the under
side from head to fin; the inside is then drawn out by
the gills, leaving the fish clean within.
To scale a fish: grasp it by the head, and, using a
knife that is not over-keen, scale first one side and then
the other, with swift, steady sweeps. The scales below
the gills, and those near the fins, are removed by mov-
ing the point of the knife crosswise to the fish's length.
Next place the knife just below the belly fin and with
a slant stroke cut off this, the side fins, and the head,
all in one piece. Then remove the back fin, and the
spines beneath it, by making a deep incision on each
side of the fin and pulling the latter out. The ventral
part is removed in the same way. Open the fish, wash
it in cold water, scrape off the slime, and then wipe it
dry with a clean cloth or towel. Large fish, for broil-
ing, should be split open.
To skin a bullhead: cut off the ends of the spines,
slit the skin behind and around the head, and then from
t, ... , this point along the back to the tail, cut-
, p . ting around the back fin. Then peel the
two corners of the skin well down, sever
the backbone, and, holding to the corners of the skin
with one hand, pull the fish's body free from the skin
with the other. To skin an eel : nail it up by the tail
at a convenient height, or impale it thus on the
sharpened end of a little stake; cut through the skin,
around the body, just forward of the tail, work its
edges loose, then pull, stripping off the skin entire.
Venison keeps a long time without curing, if the cli'
112 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
mate is cool and dry. To cure a deer's ham, hang it
r . up by the shank, divide the muscles
v . just above the hock, and insert a hand-
ful of dry salt. The meat of the deer
tribe gets more tender and better flavored the longer it
is hung up. In warm weather dust flour all over a
haunch or saddle of venison, sew it up in a loose bag of
cheese-cloth, and hang it in a shady place where there
is a current of air. It will keep sweet for several weeks,
if there is no crevice in the bag through which insects can
penetrate. Ordinarily it is best not to salt meat, for salt
draws the juices. Bear meat, however, requires much
salt to cure it — more than any other game animal.
It is a curious fact that blow-flies work close to the
ground, and will seldom meddle with meat that is hung
more than ten feet above the ground. Game or fish
suspended at a height of twenty feet will be immune
from "blows."
To keep fish that must be carried some distance, in
hot weather : clean them as soon as you can after they
„ . „. , are caught, and wipe them dry. Then
* rub a little salt along their backbones,
but nowhere else, for salt draws the juices. Do not
pile them touching each other, but between layers of
cheese-cloth, nettles, or basswood leaves.
To keep fish in camp: clean, behead, and scale them;
then string them by a cord through their tails, and hang
them, head down, in a cool, dry, breezy place.
To dry fish for future use: split them along the back,
remove the backbones and entrails, salt the fish, and
-. . „. , hang them up on a frame over a smudge
until they are well smoked. Or, make
a trough by hewing out a softwood log, place the split
fish in this and cover them with a weak brine for one
or two nights. Make a conical bark teepee on a tripod,
suspend the fish in it, and dry and smoke them over a
small fire for three days and nights.
p . , To ship rabbits, squirrels, etc. : do not
J^. skin them, but remove the entrails, wipe
the insides perfectly dry, wrap in paper,
and pack them back down.
DRESSING GAME AND FISH 113
Never pack birds or fish in straw or grass, for in
damp or warm weather this will heat or sweat them.
Do not let them freeze, as they will quickly spoil after
thawing. Food in a bird's crop soon sours; the crop
should be removed.
To preserve birds in warm weather for shipment:
draw them, wash the inside perfectly clean, dry thor-
oughly, and then take pieces of charcoal from the fire-
place, wrap them in a thin rag, and fill the abdominal
cavity with this. Also fill the bill, ears, eyes, and anal
opening with powdered charcoal, to keep off flies and
prevent putrefaction. Reject all pieces of charcoal
that are only half-burnt or have the odor of creosote.
Birds stuffed in this way will keep sweet for a week in
hot weather.
If you pack birds or fish in ice, wrap them first in
many thicknesses of paper or grass, so that no ice can
touch them.
Colonel Park gives the following method for packing
fish that are to be transported a considerable distance,
and says that it is also a good way to pack venison:
Kill the fish as soon as caught; wipe them clean and
dry; remove the entrails; scrape the blood off from
around the backbone; remove the gills and eyes; wipe
dry again; split the fish through the backbone to the
skin, from the inside; fill this split with salt; spread
the fish over night on a board or log to cool. In the
morning, before sunrise, fold the fish in dry towels, so
that there is a fold of towel between each fish and its
neighbor; carefully wrap the whole package in a piece
of muslin, and sew it up into a tight bag, and then in
woolen blanketing, sewing up the ends and sides. Now
put the roll in a stout paper bag, such as a flour sack.
"Fish prepared in this way can be sent from Maine
to New Orleans in August, and will remain fresh
and nice."
The methods of jerking venison, preparing trophies
for mounting, curing pelts, and making buckskin, will
be described in other chapters.
8
CHAPTER XI
CAMP COOKERY
"A true epicure can dine well on one dish, provided it is excellent
of its kind." — Grimod de la Reyniere. , *, j
"There is nothing between the high art of a cordon-bleu and
a steak toasted on a stick/'— Lord Dunraven.
"A good cook makes a contented crew. — Noah.
TUfOME cookery is based upon milk, butter, and
eggs : nine- tenths of the recipes in a standard
cook-book call for one or more of these ingredients.
But it often happens to us campers that our "tin cow'*
has gone dry, our butter was finished long ago, and
as for eggs — -we have heard of eggs, but for us they do
not exist. In such case, no ordinary cook-book is of
any use to us.
When one can carry milk and butter and eggs, he
can also carry a standard cook-book; * so I will not
burden these pages with many recipes other than the
do-without kind. Only such dishes are described as
can be cooked with the most primitive utensils (or
none at all) over an open fire, or in an earth oven dug
on the spot. Let it not be thought that this spells
misery, or even privation. Some of the dishes here
described surpass anything that can be had at the
Waldorf or the Maison Doree. Full details are given
for each dish, because I know from experience that an
amateur cook needs them.
Poor cookery is not so much the result of inexperi-
ence as of carelessness and inattention to details. A
man who has never cooked a meal in his life can suc-
ceed with almost any of these recipes at the first or
second trial, provided he follows the directions reli-
*The best all-round treatise on camp cookery with which I am
acquainted is the Manual for Army Cooks, which you can procure
for 50 cents (stamps not accepted) from the Superintendent of
Documents, Washington, D. C.
114
CAMP COOKERY 115
giously; but let him not discard the book and fall back
upon the light of nature, which is but another name
for main strength and awkwardness.
A bad mess is sure to follow from (1) a poor fire,
(2) seasoning too much or too early in the game, (3)
too little heat at the start, or too much thereafter,
(4) handling or kneading dough made with baking
powder; and it is more likely than not to result from
guessing at quantities instead of measuring them.
Half of cookery is the fire thereof. It is quite im-
possible to prepare a good meal over a higgledy-piggledy
_, r . . heap of smoking chunks, or over a
„. fierce blaze, or over a great bed of coals
that will warp cast-iron and melt every-
thing else. One must have a small fire, free from
smoke and flame, with coals or dry twigs in reserve;
there must be some way of regulating the heat; and
there must be some sort of rampart around the fire on
which pots and pans will perch level and at the right
elevation, and perhaps a frame from which kettles can
be suspended. It is a very simple matter to build the
fire aright in the first place.
When merely making a "one-night stand," in sum-
mer, start a small cooking-fire the moment you stop
A O td ^or camPmg' and put your kettle on.
.p Then you will have coals and boiling
water ready when you begin cooking,
and the rest is easy — supper will be ready within twenty
minutes. To make an outdoor range: fell a small,
straight tree, and cut from it two logs, about 6 feet
long and 8 or 10 inches thick. Flatten the top and
one side of each with the axe. Lay these bed-logs
side by side, flat sides toward each other, and about
3 inches apart at one end and 8 or 10 inches at the
other. (This is provided you have no fire-irons; if
you have, all that is needed is a short chunk
or thick rock at each end to support the irons.)
Build a fire of small sticks and bark from end to
end. The bark of hemlock and of hardwoods is
better fuel than wood when you want coals in a
hurry.
116 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
Then plant at each end of the fire a forked stake
about 4 feet high and across the forks lay a cross-
stick (lug-pole) of green wood. Now cut two or three
green crotches from branches, drive a nail in the small
end of each, invert the crotches, and hang them on the
lug-pole to suspend kettles from. These pot-hooks are
to be of different lengths so that the kettle can be
adjusted to different heights above the fire, first for hard
boiling, and then for simmering. If kettles were hung
from the lug-pole itself, this adjustment could not be
made, and you would have to dismount the whole
business in order to get one kettle off.*
Many and many a time I have watched old and
experienced woodsmen spoil their grub, and their tem-
pers, too, by trying to cook in front of a roaring winter
camp-fire, and have marveled at their lack of common-
sense. Off to one side of such a fire, lay your bed-logs,
as above; then shovel from the camp-fire enough hard
coals to fill the space between the logs within three
inches of the top. You now have a steady, even heat
from end to end; it can easily be regulated; there is
level support for every vessel; and you can wield a
short-handled frying-pan over such an outdoor range
without scorching either the meat or yourself.
In windy weather, or where fuel is scarce, it is best
to dig a trench about 18 inches wide, 12 inches deep,
and 4 feet long, with a little chimney of flat stones or
sod at the leeward end, to encourage draught. Build
the fire in this trench with fire-irons or green sticks
* It is curious how many different names have been bestowed upon
the hooks by which kettles are suspended over a fire. Our forefathers
called them pot-hooks, trammels, hakes, hangers, pot-hangers, pot-
claws, pot-crooks, gallows-crooks, pot-chips, pot-brakes, gibs or
gib-crokes, rackan-crooks (a chain or pierced bar on which to hang
hooks was called a rackan or reckon), and I know not what
else besides. Among Maine lumbermen, such an implement is
called a lug-stick, a hook for lifting kettles is a hook-stick, and a
stick sharpened and driven into the ground at an angle so as to
bend over the fire, to suspend a kettle from, is a wambeck or a
spygelia — the Red Gods alone know why! The frame built oyer a
cooking-fire is called by the Penobscots kitchi-plak-wagn, and the
Micmacs call the lug-stick a chiplok-waugan, which the white guides
have partially anglicized into waugan-stick. It is well to know,
and heresy to disbelieve, that, after boiling the kettle, it brings bad
luck to leave the waugan or spygelia standing. .
If this catalogue does not suffice the amateur cook to express his
ideas about such things, he may exercise his jaws with the Romany
(gypsy) term for pot-hook, which is kekauviscoe saster.
CAMP COOKERY 117
laid across it for the frying-pan, and a frame above for
the kettles.
In permanent camp, if you have no oven, a good
substitute can soon be made in a clay bank or steep
_. n knoll near by. Dig down the bank to
^ a vertical front. Back from this front,
about 4 feet, drive a 4» or 5-inch stake down to what
will be the bottom level of the oven. Draw the stake
out, thus leaving a hole for flue. It is best to drive the
stake before excavating, as otherwise it might cause
the roof of your oven to cave in from the shock of
driving. Now, from the bottom of the face, dig a
horizontal hole back to the flue, keeping the entrance
as small as you can, but enlarging the interior and
arching its top. When the oven is finished, wet the
whole interior, smooth it, and build a small fire in the
oven to gradually dry and harden it.
To bake in such an oven: build a good fire in it of
split hardwood sticks, and keep it burning hard for an
hour or two; then rake out the embers, lay your dough
on broad green leaves (basswood, from choice) or on
the naked floor, and close both the door and the flue
with flat stones or bark.
If no bank or knoll lies handy, build a form for your
oven by first setting up a row of green-stick arches,
like exaggerated croquet wickets, one behind the other,
and cover with sticks laid on horizontally like a roof.
At the rear, set up a round stake as core for the chimney.
Now plaster wet clay thickly over all except the door.
Let this dry naturally for a day in hot sunlight, or build
a very small fire within and feed it only as needed to
keep up a moderate heat. When the clay has hard-
ened, give it another coating, to fill up the cracks that
have appeared. Then give it a final firing.
When you have a bed of coals that you want to save,
and there are not enough ashes in the fire, cover the
coals with bark; this will leave plenty of ash on top.
BREAD
Bread is the staff of life, no less in camp than else-
where; yet, to paraphrase Tom Hood,
118 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
Who has not met with camp-made bread,
Rolled out of putty and weighted with lead?
It need not be so. Just as good biscuit or johnny-
cake can be baked before a log fire in the woods as in
a kitchen range. Nor is any special knack required.
The notion that a man is either a born cook or a hope-
less " dodunk " at the business is all moonshine. Bread-
making is a chemical process. Pay close attention to
details, as a chemist does, from building the fire to
testing the loaf with a sliver; then if you do fail it will
be because of bad materials. As for me, I was not
born a cook, nor do I like to cook; but during the past
year of almost continuous camping alone, I have made
some sort of bread or biscuit about every other day,
and my only failure is chargeable to a razorback who
nosed into camp and upset my pan of dough. Strange
to say, something invisible zipped through the air just
then and nipped off that pig's tail !
Biscuit. — These are best baked in a reflector (12-
inch holds 1 doz., 18-inch holds 1^ doz.), unless a camp-
stove is carried or an oven is dug. Build the fire high,
by leaning sticks on the leeward side of a large back-
log. Split wood burns better than round. Have spare
dry sticks in reserve (slender ones) with which to re-
plenish the fire. Grease the bake-pan with a bit of
pork rind. For 2 doz. biscuit:
3 pints flour,
3 neaping teaspoonfuls baking powder,
1 " teaspoonful salt,
2 " tablespoonfuls cold grease,
1 scant pint cold water.
Mix thoroughly, with big spoon or wooden paddle,
first the baking powder with the flour, and then the
salt. Rub into this the cold grease (which may be
lard, pork grease, drippings, or bear's grease), until
there are no lumps left and no grease adhering to bot-
tom of pan. This is a little tedious, but don't shirk
it. Then stir in the water and work it with spoon until
you have a rather stiff dough. Do none of the mixing
with your fingers; it makes biscuit "sad." Squeeze
CAMP COOKERY 119
or mold the dough as little as practicable; because the
gas that makes a biscuit light is already forming and
should not be pressed out. Flop the mass of dough to
one side of pan, dust flour on bottom of pan, flop dough
back over it, dust flour on top of loaf. Now rub some
flour over the bread board, flour your hands, and
gently lift loaf on board. Flour the bottle or bit of
peeled sapling that you use as rolling pin, also the edges
of can or can-cover used as biscuit cutter. Gently
roll loaf to three-quarter-inch thickness. Stamp out
the biscuit and lay them in pan. Roll out the culls
(what do women call those remaining fragments ?) and
make biscuit of them too. Bake until edge of front
row turns brown; reverse pan and continue until rear
row is similarly done. Don't expect to brown the tops
in a reflector. Time, twenty to twenty-five minutes in
a reflector, ten to fifteen in a closed oven.
Different brands of baking powder vary in strength;
Royal is here assumed. The amount of water required
varies somewhat according to quality of flour. Too
much water makes the dough sticky and prolongs the
baking.
Another way to make biscuit (they taste different
from the above, but are perhaps just as good) is to use
enough water to make a thick batter, and drop this
from a big spoon into the pan. Do not stir the batter
more than you can help.
Dumplings. — If you are going to have boiled meat
or a stew for dinner, make enough extra biscuit dough
so that you can drop the culls into the pot about half
an hour before the meat is done. They make capital
dumplings.
Baking in Dutch Oven. — This time-honored utensil
is a cast-iron pot on short legs, with heavy iron cover,
the rim of which is turned up to receive coals from the
fire. If it were not for its weight it ought to be in every
camp outfit, for it is the best portable oven for all
kinds of baking. The delicious corn bread of the
South, made from nothing but meal, salt, and water,
owes its excellence to the Dutch oven, which not only
bakes but cooks the dough in its own steam. The
120 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
juices of meats cannot escape from such an oven. To
use the Dutch oven, place it and its lid separately on
the fire. Get bottom of oven moderately hot, and the
•id quite hot, but not red, lest it warp so that it will
never fit thereafter. Grease the bottom and sprinkle
flour over it, put the bread in it, and cover. Rake a
thin bed of coals out in front of the fire, stand oven
on them, and cover the lid thickly with more live coals.
Replenish occasionally. Have a stout hook to lift lid
with, so you can inspect the progress of baking from
time to time.
Army Bread.—Bannocks.
1 quart flour,
1 teaspoonful salt,
1 tablespoonful sugar,
2 heaping teaspoonfuls baking powder.
As this is made without grease, it is easier to mix
than biscuit dough. Mix the ingredients thoroughly
and stir in enough cold water (about one and a half
pints) to make a thick batter that will pour out level.
Mix rapidly with spoon until smooth, and pour out at
once into Dutch oven or bake-pan. Bake about forty-
five minutes, or until no dough adheres to a sliver
stuck into the loaf. Keeps fresh longer than yeast
bread, and does not dry up nor mold. This is the
kind of b^ead to bake when you are laying in a three-
Jays supply. It is more wholesome than biscuit, and
w Dest eaten cold-
'Fri)ing-,p&-n B?-ead. — If you have no reflector or
ovtin, make up dough as for biscuit, but work it into
flat loaves, handling as little as practicable. Grease or
&>;ir a frying-pan and put a loaf in it. Rake some
embers out in front of the fire and put pan on them
just long enough to form a little crust on bottom of
loaf. Then remove from embers, and, with a short
forked stick, the stub of which will enter hole in end
of handle, prop pan up before fire at such angle that
top of loaf will be exposed to heat- IWn loaf now
and then, both sidewise and upside down. When firm
enough to keep its shape, remove it, prop it by itself
CAMP COOKERY 121
before the fire to finish baking, and go on with a fresh
loaf. In this way you can soon lay in a two-days'
supply. A tin plate, or a thick slab of non-resinous
wood heated till the sap begins to simmer, may be
used in place of frying-pan.
Unleavened Bread. — Quickly made, wholesome, and
good for a change. Keeps like hardtack.
%\ pints flour,
1 tablespoonful sait,
1 " sugar.
Mix with water to stiff dough, and knead and pull
until lively. Roll out thin as a soda cracker, score
with knife, and bake as above. If you have no utensil,
work dough into a ribbon two inches wide. Get a
club of sweet green wood (birch, sassafras, maple),
about two feet long and three inches thick, peel large
end, sharpen the other and stick it into ground, lean-
ing toward fire. When sap simmers wind dough
spirally around peeled end. Turn occasionally. Sev-
eral sticks can be baking at once. Bread for one man's
meal can be quickly baked on a peeled stick as thick
as a broomstick, holding over fire and turning.
Unleavened bread that is to be carried for a long
time must be mixed with as little water as possible
(merely dampened enough to make it adhere), for if
any moisture is left in it after baking, it will mold.
To Mix Dough without a Pan. — When bark will
peel, use a broad sheet of it. A sheet of canvas, or a
dried hide, will do. It is easy enough, though, to mix
unleavened dough in the sack of flour itself. Stand
the latter horizontally where it can't fall over. Scoop
a bowl-shaped depression in top of flour. Keep the
right hand moving round while you pour in a little
water at a time from a vessel held in the left. Sprinkle
a little salt in. When a thick, adhesive dough has
formed, lift this out and pat and work it into a round
cake about %\ inches thick.
Australian Damper. — Build a good fire on a level
bit of ground. When it has burned to coals and the
ground is thoroughly heated^ mix dough as above,
122 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
rake away the embers, lightly drop the loaf on the hot
earth, pat it smooth, rake the embers back over the
loaf until it is thickly embedded in them, and let it
bake from 1^ to 2 hours, depending upon size of loaf.
This is the next best thing to an ash-cake of corn meal
— which is a dish fit for a king.
Sour-dough Bread, irreverently known as "pizened
dog," is the stand-by of Alaska miners. Mix a pail
of batter from plain flour and water, and hang it up
in a warm place until the batter sours. Then add salt
and soda (not baking powder), thicken with flour to a
stiff dough, knead thoroughly, work into small loaves,
and place them before the fire to rise. Then bake.
Salt-rising Bread. — This smells to heaven while it
is fermenting, but makes wholesome and appetizing
bread, which is a welcome change after a long diet of
baking-powder breadstuffs.
For a baking of two or three loaves take about a
pint of moderately warm water (a pleasant heat to the
hand) and stir into it as much flour as will make a good
batter, not too thick. Add to this ^ teaspoonful salt,
not more. Set the vessel in a pan of moderately warm
water, within a little distance of a fire, or in sunlight.
The water must not be allowed to cool much below the
original heat, more warm water being added to pan as
required. In six to eight hours the whole will be in
active fermentation, when the dough must be mixed
with if, and as much warm water (milk, if you have it)
as you require. Knead the mass till it is tough and
does not stick to the board. Make up your loaves,
and keep them warmly covered near the fire till they
rise. They must be baked as soon as this second
rising takes place; for, unless the rising is used immedi-
ately on reaching its height, it sinks to rise no more
forever — selah !
To Bake Raised Bread in a Pot. — Set the dough to
rise over a very few embers, keeping the pot turned as
the loaf rises. When equally risen all around, put hot
ashes under the pot and upon the lid, taking care that
the heat be not too fierce at first.
Lungwort Bread. — On the bark of maples, and some-
The Camp in Order
Just Starting Out
CAMP COOKERY 123
times of beeches and birches, in the northern woods,
there grows a green, broad-leaved lichen variously
known as lungwort, liverwort, lung-lichen, and lung-
moss, which is an excellent substitute for yeast. This
is an altogether different growth from the plants com-
monly called lungwort and liverwort — I believe its
scientific name is Sticta pulmonacea. This lichen is
partly made up of fungus, which does the business of
raising dough. Gather a little of it and steep it over
night in lukewarm water, set near the embers, but not
near enough to get overheated. In the morning, pour
off the infusion and mix it with enough flour to make
a batter, beating it up with a spoon. Place this "sponge"
in a warm can or pail, cover with a cloth, and set it
near the fire to work. By evening it will have risen.
Leaven your dough with this (saving some of the sponge
for a future baking), let the bread rise before the
fire that night, and by morning it will be ready to
bake.
It takes but little of the original sponge to leaven a
large mass of dough (but see that it never freezes),
and it can be kept good for months.
Flapjacks made without milk or eggs are not equal
to those that mother used to make, but they fill the
hiatus when a quick meal is demanded.
1 quart flour,
1 teaspoonful salt,
2 teaspoonfuls sugar (to make 'em brown),
2 level tablespoonfuls baking powder.
Rub in, dry, 2 heaped tablespoonfuls grease. If you
have no grease, do without. Make a smooth batter
with cold water — thin enough to pour from a spoon,
but not too thin, or it will take all day to bake enough
for the party. Stir well, to smoothe out lumps. Set
frying-pan level over thin bed of coals, get it quite hot,
and grease with piece of pork in split end of stick.
Pan must be hot enough to make batter sizzle as it
touches. Pour from end of a big spoon successively
enough batter to fill pan within one-half inch of rim.
When cake is full of bubbles and edges have stiffened,
124 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
shuffle pan to make sure that cake is free below and
stiff enough to flip. Then hold pan slanting in front
of and away from you, go through preliminary motion
of flapping once or twice to get the swing, then flip
boldly so cake will turn a somerset in the air, and catch
it upside down. Beginners generally lack the nerve
to toss high enough. If you land a hot cake on the
other fellow's eye, it serves him right for monkeying
so near the cook. Grease pan anew and stir batter
every time before pouring.
John's Pancakes. — Some time when you have eggs,
etc., and wish to produce something really fine, try
the following recipe, which I have modified a little
from Boardman's Lovers of the Woods. It is the inven-
tion of his guide, or helper, John.
Crumb up a thick slice of stale bread, rejecting the
crust, and put it to soak in a medium-sized pail with a
cupful of water. When the crumbs have soaked soft,
stir in with them 1 big tablespoonful evaporated
cream, or the equivalent, 2 tablespoonfuls syrup, and
2 more cupfuls water. Melt carefully, so as not to
burn, butter the size of an egg; remove from fire, and
stir in 2 eggs and 1 tablespoonful salt. Stir this into
your crumb dope. Now stir in 1 quart flour, or enough
to make the batter as thick as molasses. Just before
baking, stir in 2 teaspoonfuls baking powder. Have
the frying-pan snapping hot, and keep it so. Above
is a meal for two or three hungry men. Such cakes
rest lightly on the cook's conscience, and buoy up the
whole crowd.
Plain Corn Bread. — Pone or johnny-cake is easily
and quickly made, more wholesome than baking-pow-
der bread, more appetizing than unleavened wheat
bread and it "sticks to the ribs." To be eaten hot,
and, like all hot breads, should be broken with the
hands, never cut. Bread left over should be freshened
by moistening and reheating.
The amount of water to be used depends upon
whether the meal is freshly ground (moist) or old (dry),
and yellow meal requires one-half more water than
white.
CAMP COOKERY 125
1 quart meal,
1 teaspoonful salt,
1 pint warm (but not scalding) water (1£ pints for yellow
meal).
Stir together until light. Bake to a nice brown all
around, preferably in Dutch oven. Test with sliver.
Done in about forty-five minutes, but improved by
letting stand fifteen minutes longer, away from fire,
to sweat in oven. Eat with bacon gravy.
If you have no oven, plank the bread on hot slab
before a high fire, having previously formed slight
under crust by laying on hot ashes; or, make ash cake
by forming into balls as big as hen's eggs, roll in dry
flour, lay in hot ashes and cover completely with them.
Time for ash cake, fifteen to twenty minutes.
Corn Dodgers. — Salt some white corn meal to taste.
Mix with cold water to stiff dough, and form into
cylindrical dodgers four or five inches long and one and
a half inches diameter, by rolling between the hands.
Have frying-pan very hot, grease it a little, and put
dodgers on as you roll them out. As soon as they
have browned, put them in oven and bake thoroughly
to a crisp brown. (See also p. 164.)
Snow Bread. — After a fall of light, feathery snow,
superior corn bread may be made by stirring together
1 quart corn meal,
£ teaspoonful soda,
1 " salt,
1 tablespoonful lard.
Then, in a cool place where snow will not melt, stir
into above one quart light snow. Bake about forty
minutes in rather hot oven. Snow, for some unknown
reason, has the same effect on corn bread as eggs have,
two tablespoonfuls of snow equaling one egg. It can
also be used in making batter for pancakes, the batter
being made rather thick, and the snow mixed with
each cake just before putting in the pan.
Corn Bread with Baking Powder. — Mix together I
1£ pints yellow corn meal,
£ pint flour,
1 tablespoonful sugar,
1 teaspoonful salt,
3 heaping teaspoonfuls baking powder,.
126 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
Work in a cupful of cold lard or grease. Add enough
cold water or milk to make a stiff batter (about 2
pints). Grease and flour your baking-pan, frying-pan,
or Dutch oven, pour the' batter in, and bake forty
minutes. Above makes a cake 9jx2 inches, weighing
3f pounds.
Buckwheat Cakes. — Nobody knows what real buck-
wheat cakes are until he has eaten those baked by a
Pennsylvania Dutchwoman from batter made with
genuine dark-colored buckwheat flour ground in a
country mill, and raised over night with yeast. There
is as much difference between them and the city-res-
taurant kind as there is between a ripe fig and a dried
codfish. However, we can't have them in camp; so
here is the next best:
1 pint buckwheat flour,
£ " wheat flour,
2 tablespoonfuls baking powder,
J teaspoonful salt.
Mix to a thin batter with milk, if you have it; other-
wise water.
Rice Cakes. — When you have cold boiled rice left
over, mix it half and half with flour, and proceed as
with flapjacks. Cold boiled potatoes or oatmeal may
be used in the same way. Rice cakes are best mixed
with the water in which rice has been boiled.
Oat Cakes. — (1) Mix oatmeal with cold water and
a little salt into a thick paste, pat it out as thin as pos-
sible with a spoon, and bake on the frying-pan.
(2) Mix ^ pound oatmeal, 1 ounce butter, and a
pinch of salt with enough water to make a moderately
thick paste. Roll to a thickness of § inch, bake in
frying-pan, and give it to the Scotchman — he will bless
you.
Fried Quoits. — Make dough as for frying-pan bread.
Plant a stick slanting in the ground near the fire.
Have another small, clean stick ready, and a frying-
pan of lard or butter heated sissing hot. There must
be enough grease in the pan to drown the quoits.
Take dough the size of a small hen's egg, flatten it
CAMP COOKERY 127
between the hands, make a hole in the center like that
of a doughnut, and quickly work it (the dough, not
the hole) into a flat ring of about two inches inside
diameter. Drop it flat into the hot grease, turn al-
most immediately, and in a few seconds it will be
cooked. When of a light brown color, fish it out with
your little stick and hang it on the slanting one before
the fire to keep hot. If the grease is of the right tem-
perature, the cooking of one quoit will occupy just the
same time as the molding of another, and the product
will be crisp and crumpety. If the grease is not hot
enough, a visit from your oldest grandmother may be
expected before midnight. (Adapted from Lees and
Clutterbuck.)
Stale Bread. — Biscuit or bread left over and dried
out can be freshened for an hour or two by dipping
quickly in and out of water and placing in the baker
until heated through; or, the biscuit may be cut open,
slightly moistened, and toasted in a broiler. If you
have eggs, make a French toast by dipping the slices
in whipped eggs and frying them. With milk, make
milk toast: heat the milk, add a chunk of butter and
some salt, toast the bread, and pour milk over it.
MUSH, PORRIDGE
Corn-Meal Mush. — Mix 2 level tablespoonfuls salt
with 1 quart meal. Bring 4 quarts of water (for yellow
meal, or half as much for fresh white meal) to a hard
boil in a 2-gallon kettle. Mix the salted meal with
enough cold water to make a batter that will run from
the spoon; this is to prevent it from getting lumpy.
With a large spoon drop the batter into the boiling
water, adding gradually, so that water will not fall
below boiling point. Stir constantly for ten minutes.
Then cover pot and hang it high enough above fire to
insure against scorching. Cook thus for one hour,
stirring occasionally, and thinning with boiling water
if it gets too thick.
Fried Mush. — This, as Father Izaak said of another
dish, is "too good for any but very honest men." The
128 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
only drawback to this gastronomic joy is that it takes
a whole panful for one man. As it is rather slow to
fry, let each man perform over the fire for himself.
The mush should have been poured into a greased pan
the previous evening, and set in a cool place over night
to harden. Cut into slices | inch thick, and fry in
very hot grease until nicely browned. Eat with syrup,
or au naturel.
Oatmeal Porridge. — Rolled oats may be cooked much
more quickly than the old-fashioned oatmeal; the lat-
ter is not fit for the human stomach until it has been
boiled as long as corn mush. To two quarts boiling
water add one teaspoonful of salt, stir in gradually a
pint of rolled oats, and boil ten minutes, stirring con-
stantly, unless you have a double boiler. The latter
may be extemporized by setting a small kettle inside
a larger one that contains some water. "Our parritch
may nae be sae gude as the laird's, but it's as hot!"
Boiled Rice. — Good precedent to the contrary not-
withstanding, I contend that there is but one way to
boil rice, and that is this (which I first learned from a
Chinaman, but is described in the words of Captain
Kenealy, whose Yachting Wrinkles is a book worth
owning) :
To cook rice so that each grain will be plump, dry,
and separate, first, wash the measure of rice thoroughly
in cold salted water. Then put it in a pot of furiously
boiling fresh water, no salt being added. Keep the
pot boiling hard for twenty minutes, but do not stir.
Then strain off the water, place the rice over a very
moderate fire (hang high over camp-fire), and let it
swell and dry for half an hour.
Remember that rice swells enormously in cooking.
Once when we camped " 'way down in Arkansaw," it
came Bob Staley's turn to cook. Our commissariat
was low; and Bob wanted a new dish. We had rice;
and a Dutchwoman had given us some "snits" (dried
apples). Bob put dry rice and unsoaked snits into a
pot till the vessel was almost full, poured cold water
over them, and set the pot on the fire; then he went
fishing. Rice and snits overflowed into White River,
CAMP COOKERY 129
and White River went out of its banks that very night.
Fact, I assure you!
BEVERAGES
Coffee. — There are two ways of making good coffee
in an ordinary pot. (1) Put coffee in pot with cold
water (one tablespoonful freshly ground to one pint,
or more if canned ground) and hang over fire. Watch
it, and when water first begins to bubble, remove pot
from fire and let it stand five minutes. Settle grounds
with a tablespoonful of cold water poured down spout.
Do not let the coffee boil. Boiling extracts the tannin,
and drives off the volatile aroma which is the most
precious gift of superior berries. (2) (Safer.) Bring
water to hard boil, remove from fire and quickly put
coffee in. Cover tightly and let steep ten minutes. A
better way, when you have a seamless vessel that will
stand dry heat, is to put coffee in, place over gentle
fire to roast until aroma begins to rise, pour boiling
water over the coffee, cover tightly, and set aside.
Tea. — Pour boiling water over tea (one teaspoonful
tea to the pint), cover tightly, and steep away from fire
four minutes by the watch. Then strain into separate
vessel. If tea is left steeping more than five or six
minutes the result is a liquor that will tan skin into
leather.
MEAT, GAME, AND FISH
The main secrets of good meals in camp are to have
a proper fire, good materials, and then to imprison
in each dish, at the outset, its natural juice and char-
acteristic flavor. To season camp dishes as a French
chef would is a blunder of the first magnitude. His
art is the outcome of siege and famine, when repulsive
food had to be so disguised as to cheat the palate. The
raw materials used in city cuisine are often of inferior
quality, from keeping in cold storage or with chemical
preservatives; so their insipidity must be corrected by
spices, herbs, and sauces, to make them eatable. In
cheap restaurants and boarding houses, where the
chef's skill is lacking, "all things taste alike," from
130 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
having been penned up together in a refrigerator and
cooked in a fetid atmosphere. But, in the woods, our
fish is freshly caught, our game has hung out of doors,
and the water and air used in cooking (most important
factors) are sweet and pure. Such viands need no
masking. The only seasoning required is with pepper
and salt, to be used sparingly, and not added (except
in soups and stews) until the dish is nearly or quite
done. Remember this : salt draws the juices, no mat-
ter what may be the process of cooking.
The juices of meats and fish are their most palatable
and nutritious ingredients. We extract them purposely
in making soups, stews, and gravies, but in so doing we
ruin the meat. Any fish, flesh, or fowl that is fit to
be eaten for the good meat's sake should be cooked
succulent, by first coagulating the outside (searing in a
bright flame or in a very hot pan, or plunging into
smoking hot grease or furiously boiling water) and
then removing farther from the fire to cook gradually
till done. The first process, which is quickly performed,
is "the surprise." It sets the juices, and, in the case
of frying, seals the fish or meat in a grease-proof en-
velope so that it will not become sodden but will dry
crisp when drained. The horrors of the frying-pan
that has been unskillfully wielded are too well known.
Let us campers, to whom the frying-pan is an almost
indispensable utensil, set a good example to our grease-
afflicted country by using it according to the code of
health and epicurean taste.
Game, and all other kinds of fresh meat, should be
hung up till they have bled thoroughly and have cooled
through and through — they are tenderer and better
after they have hung several days.
All mammals from the 'coon size down, as well as
duck and grouse, unless young and tender, should be
parboiled from ten to thirty minutes, according to size,
before frying, broiling, or roasting. Salt meats of all
kinds should either be soaked over night in cold water
or parboiled in two or three waters before cooking.
Frozen meat or fish should be thawed in ice-cold water
and then cooked immediately — warm water would steal
CAMP COOKERY 131
their flavor. Canned meats are unwholesome at best;
they should at least be heated through, and are pref-
erably served in hash or stews. Never eat canned
stuff of any kind that has been standing open in the
can: it is likely to sicken you. If any is left over,
remove it to a clean vessel. The liquor of canned
peas, string beans, etc., is unfit for use and should be
thrown away; this does not apply to tomatoes.
There is no excuse for serving hot food on cold plates.
Put the plates in a pan of hot water, or fill them with
boiling water. They will quickly dry themselves when
emptied.
Meat, game, and fish may be fried, broiled, roasted,
baked, boiled, or stewed. Frying and broiling are the
quickest processes; roasting, baking, and boiling take
an hour or two; a stew of meat and vegetables, to be
good, takes half a day, and so does soup prepared from
the raw materials. Tough meat should be boiled or
braised in a pot.
Do not try to fry over a flaming fire or a deep bed of
coals; the grease would likely burn and catch aflame.
_, . Rake a thin layer of coals out in front
8" of the fire; or, for a quick meal, make
your fire of small dry sticks, no thicker than your fin-
ger, boil water over the flame, and then fry over the
quickly formed coals.
If you have a deep pan and plenty of frying fat, it
is much the best to completely immerse the material
in boiling grease, as doughnuts are fried. Let the fat
boil until little jets of smoke arise (being careful not
to burn the grease) and until the violent first boil sub-
sides. When fat begins to smoke continuously it is
decomposing, and will impart an acrid taste. When
a bread crumb dropped in will be crisp when taken
out, the fat is of the right temperature. Then quickly
drop in small pieces of the material, one at a time so
as not to check the heat. Turn them once while cook-
ing. Remove when done, and drop them a moment
on coarse paper to absorb surplus grease, or hang
them over a row of small sticks so they can drain.
Then season. The fry will be crisp, and dry enough
132 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
to handle without soiling the fingers. This is the way
for small fish.
Travelers must generally get along with shallow pans
and little grease. To fry (or, properly, to saute) in
this manner, without getting the article sodden and
unfit for the stomach, heat the dry pan very hot, and
then grease it only enough to keep the meat from
sticking (fat meat needs none). The material must be
dry when put in the pan (wipe fish with a towel) or it
will absorb grease. Cook quickly and turn frequently,
not jabbing with a fork; for that would let juice escape.
Season when done, and serve piping hot.
Chops, fat meats, squirrels, rabbits, and the smaller
birds are best sauted or fricasseed and served with
gravy.
Bacon or salt pork should be sliced thin. Put pan
half full of water on fire; when water is warm, drop
the bacon in, and stir around until water begins to
simmer. Then remove bacon, throw out water, heat
pan thoroughly, fry, and turn often. Remove slices
while still translucent, and season with pepper. They
will turn crisp on cooling.
To make gravy that is a good substitute for butter,
rub into the hot grease that is left in the pan a table-
spoonful of flour, keep on rubbing until smooth and
brown, then add two cups boiling water and a dash of
pepper. If you have milk, use it instead of water (a
pint to the heaping tablespoonful of flour), and do not
let the flour brown; this makes a delicious white gravy.
Birds or squirrels for frying should be cut in con-
venient pieces, parboiled until tender in a pot with
enough water to cover, then removed, saving the liquor.
Sprinkle with salt, pepper, and flour (this for the sake
of the gravy), fry in melted pork fat, take out when
done, then stir into the frying fat one-half cupful dry
flour till a dark brown, add parboiling liquor, bring to
a boil, put game in dish, and pour gravy over it.
Small fish should be fried whole, with the backbone
severed to prevent curling up ; large fish should be cut
into pieces, and ribs cut loose from backbone, so as to
lie flat in pan. Rub the pieces in corn meal, thinly and
CAMP COOKERY 133
evenly (that browns them). Fry in plenty of very hot
grease to a golden brown, sprinkling lightly with pepper
and salt just as the color turns.
What our average camper calls "frying" is to drop
any old kind of grease into a shallow pan (perhaps even
into a cold pan!), slap in a thin slice of meat, or small
pieces of fish or fowl, and then torture both the fry
and the frier over a blazing, smoking fire. Thus the
juices are all fried out of the meat, its natural flavor is
lost, and the result is an indigestible mass, tasteless as
a burnt chip or sodden with pork grease. This time-
honored and strictly American way of frying has pro-
duced myriads of dyspeptics, even among men living
otherwise wholesome lives in the open air!
Fresh meat that is tender enough to escape the boil-
ing pot or the braising oven should either be broiled
or roasted before a bed of clear, hard coals. Both of
these processes preserve the characteristic flavor of the
meat, and add that piquant, aromatic-bitter "taste of
the fire" which no pan nor oven can impart. Broil
when you are in a hurry; but, when you have leisure
for a good job, roast your meat, basting it frequently
with drippings from the pan below, so as to keep the
surface moist and flexible, and insure that precise
degree of browning which delights a gourmet.
Cut the meat at least an inch thick. Only tender
pieces are fit for broiling. Venison usually requires
_ ... some pounding;, but don't gash it in
Broillnsf. . .
doing so. Have a bed of bright coals
free from smoke, with clear flaming fire to one side.
Sear outside of meat by thrusting for a moment in the
flame, and turning; then broil before the fire, rather
than over it, so as to catch drippings on a pan under-
neath. Do not season until done. A steak 1 inch
thick should be broiled five minutes, 1^- inches ten
minutes, 2 inches twenty minutes. Serve on hot dish
with drippings poured over.
To broil enough for a party, when you have no
broiler, clean the frying-pan thoroughly and get it
almost red hot, so as to seal pores of meat instantly.
Cover pan. Turn meat often, without stabbing. A
134 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
large venison steak will be done in ten minutes. Put
on hot dish, season with pepper and salt, and pour
juices over it. Equal to meat broiled on a gridiron,
and saves the juices.
To broil by completely covering the slice of meat
with hot ashes and embers is really the best way of all.
Bacon or pork, before broiling, should be soaked in
cold water an hour or longer.
Birds should be split up the back, broiled over the
coals, and basted with a piece of pork on tined stick held
over them. Fillets of ducks or other large birds may be
sliced off and impaled on sticks with thin slices of pork.
Small fish may be skewered on a thin, straight,
greenwood stick, sharpened at the end, with a thin
slice of bacon or pork between every two fish, the stick
being constantly turned over the coals like a spit, so
that juices may not be lost.
Another way is to cut some green hardwood sticks,
about three feet long, forked at one end, and sharpen
the tines. Lay a thin slice of pork inside each fish
lengthwise, drive tines through fish and pork, letting
them through between ribs near backbone and on
opposite sides of the latter — then the fish won't drop
off as soon as it begins to soften and curl from the heat.
Place a log lengthwise of edge of coals, lay broiling
sticks on this support, slanting upward over the fire,
and lay a small log over their butts.
Large fish should be planked as described under
Roasting.
To Grill on a Rock. — Take two large flat stones of a
kind that do not burst from heat (not moist ones), wipe
them clean of grit, place them one above the other,
with a few pebbles between to keep them apart, and
build a fire around them. When they are well heated,
sweep away the ashes, and place your slices of meat be-
tween the stones.
To roast is to cook by the direct heat of the fire, as
on a spit or before a high bed of coals. Baking is per-
t* .. formed in an oven, pit, or closed vessel.
No kitchen range can compete with an
open fire for roasting,,
CAMP COOKERY 135
Build a rather large fire of split hardwood (soft-
woods are useless) against a high backlog or wall of
rocks which will reflect the heat forward. Sear the
outside of the roast (not a bird or fish) in clear flames
until outer layer of albumen is coagulated. Then
skewer thin slices of pork to upper end; hang roast
before fire and close to it by a stout wet cord; turn fre-
quently; catch drippings in pan or green-bark trough,
and baste with them. This is better than roasting on
a spit over the fire, because the heat can be better
regulated, the meat turned and held in position more
easily, the roast is not smoked, and the drippings are
utilized.
A whole side of venison can be roasted by planting
two stout forked stakes before the fire, a stub of each
stake being thrust through a slit cut between the ribs
and under the backbone. The forward part of the
saddle is the best roasting piece. Trim off flanky parts
and ends of ribs, and split backbone lengthwise so that
the whole will hang flat. To roast a shoulder, peel it
from side, cut off leg at knee, gash thickest part of
flesh, press bits of pork into them, and skewer some
slices to upper part.
When roasting a large joint, a turkey, or anything
else that will require more than an hour of steady heat,
do not depend upon replenishing your roasting-fire
from time to time, unless you have a good supply of
sound, dry hardwood sticks of stove-wood size. If
green wood or large sticks must be used, build a bon-
fire of them to one side of your cooking-fire, and shovel
coals from it as required. It will not do to check the
cooking-fire.
A good way to suspend a large bird before the fire
is described by Dillon Wallace in his Lure of the Labra-
dor Wild:
George built a big fire — much bigger than usual. At the
back he placed the largest green log he could find. Just in
front of the fire, and at each side, he fixed a forked stake, and
on these rested a cross-pole. From the center of the pole he
suspended a piece of stout twine, which reached nearly to the
ground, and tied the lower end into a noose-
136 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
Then it was that the goose, nicely prepared for the cooking,
was brought forth. Through it at the wings George stuck a
sharp wooden pin, leaving the ends to protrude on each side.
Through the legs he stuck a similar pin in a similar fashion.
This being done, he slipped the noose at the end of the twine
over the ends of one of the pins. And lo and behold ! the goose
was suspended before the fire.
It hung low — just high enough to permit the placing of a
dish under it to catch the gravy. Now and then George gave
it a twirl so that none of its sides might have reason to com-
plain at not receiving its share of the heat. The lower end
roasted first; seeing which, George took the goose off, reversed
it, and set it twirling again.
A goose or a middling-sized turkey takes about
two hours to roast, a large turkey three hours, a
duck about forty-five minutes, a pheasant twenty to
thirty minutes, a woodcock or snipe fifteen to twenty
minutes.
Fish Roasted in a Reflector. — This process is simpler
than baking, and superior in resulting flavor, since the
fish is basted in its own juices, and is delicately browned
by direct action of the fire. The surface of the fish is
lightly moistened with lard (you would use butter or
olive oil if you had them). Then place the fish in the
pan and add two or three morsels of grease around it.
Roast in front of a good fire, just as you would bake
biscuit. Be careful not to overroast and dry the fish
by evaporating the gravy. There is no better way to
cook a, large fish, unless it be planked.
Planked Fish. — More expeditious than baking, and
better flavored.
Split and smoothe a slab of sweet hardwood two or
three inches thick, two feet long, and somewhat wider
than the opened fish. Prop it in front of a bed of coals
till it is sizzling hot. Split the fish down the back its
entire length, but do not cut clear through the belly.
Clean, and wipe it quite dry. When plank is hot,
spread fish out like an opened book, tack it, skin side
down, to the plank and prop before fire. Baste con-
tinuously with a bit of pork on a switch held above it.
Reverse ends of plank from time to time. If the flesh
is flaky when pierced with a fork, it is done. Sprinkle
salt and pepper over the fish, moisten with drippings,
CAMP COOKERY 137
and serve on the hot plank. No better dish ever was
set before an epicure.
Braising Meat. — Neither fish, flesh nor fowl should
be baked in an oven. When baking is resorted to, let
it be by one of the outdoor processes described below.
Tough meat, however, is improved by braising in a
Dutch oven, or a covered pot or saucepan. This
process lies between baking and frying. It is pre-
eminently the way to cook bear meat, venison shoulders
and rounds.
Put the meat in the oven or pot with about two
inches of hot water in the bottom. Add some chopped
onion, if desired, for seasoning. Cover and cook,
about fifteen minutes to the pound. A half hour
before the meat is done, season it with salt and
pepper.
The gravy is made by pouring the grease from the
pot, adding a little water and salt, and rubbing flour
into it with a spoon.
Baking in a Hole. — This is a modification of brais-
ing. Dig a hole in the ground, say eighteen inches
square and deep. Place kindling in it, and over the
hole build a cob house by laying split hardwood sticks
across, not touching each other, then another course
over these and at right angles to them, and so on till
you have a stack two feet high. Set fire to it. The
air will circulate freely, and the sticks, if of uniform
size, will all burn down to coals together.
Cut the fowl, or whatever it is, in pieces, season, add
a chunk of fat pork the size of your fist, put in the
kettle, pour in enough water to cover, put lid on kettle,
rake coals out of hole, put kettle in, shovel coals around
and over it, cover all with a few inches of earth, and
let it alone over night. It beats a bake-oven. In case
of rain, cover with bark.
Baking an Animal in its Hide. — If the beast is too
large to bake entire, cut off what you want and sew it
up in a piece of the hide. Have your hole in the
ground glowing hot. In this case it is best to have the
hole lined with flat stones. Rake out embers, put meat
in, cover first with green grass or leaves, then with the
138 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
hot coals and ashes, and build a fire on top. When
done, remove the skin,
A deer's head is placed in the pit, neck down, and
baked in the same way: time about six hours.
Baking in Clay. — This hermetically seals the meat
while cooking, and is better than baking in a kettle.
Draw the animal, but leave the skin and hair on. If
it be a large bird, as a duck or goose, cut off head and
most of neck, also feet and pinions, pull out tail feathers
and cut tail off (to get rid of oil sac), but leave smaller
feathers on. If a fish, do not scale. Moisten and work
some clay till it is like softened putty. Roll it out in a
sheet an inch or two thick and large enough to com-
pletely incase the animal. Cover the latter so that no
feather or hair projects. Place in fire and cover with
good bed of coals and let it remain with fire burning on
top for about an hour, if a fish or small bird. Larger
animals require more time, and had best be placed in
bake-hole over night.
When done, break open the hard casing of baked
clay. The skin peels off with it, leaving the meat per-
fectly clean and baked to perfection in its own juices.
This method has been practiced for ages by the
gypsies and other primitive peoples.
Baking in the Embers. — To bake a fish, clean it —
if it is large enough to be emptied through a hole in
the necjk, do not slit the belly — season with salt and
pepper, and, if liked, stuff with Indian meal. Have
ready a good bed of glowing hardwood coals; cover it
with a thin layer of ashes, that the fish may not be burnt.
Lay the fish on this, and cover it with more ashes and
coals. Half an hour, more or less, is required, accord-
ing to size On removing the fish, pull off the skin,
and the flesh will be found clean and palatable.
A bird, for example a duck, is baked in much the
same way. Draw it, but do not remove the feathers.
If you like stuffed duck, stuff with bread crumbs or
broken biscuit, well seasoned with salt and pepper.
Wet the feathers by dipping the bird in water; then
bury it in the ashes and coals. A teal will require
about half an hour; other birds in proportion.
CAMP COOKERY 139
The broader the pot, and the blacker it is, the quicker
it boils. Fresh meats should be started in boiling
„ ... water; salt or corned meats, and those
intended for stews or soups in cold
water. The meat (except hams) should be cut into
chunks of not over five pounds each, and soup bones
well cracked. Watch during first half hour, and skim
off all scum as fast as it rises, or it will settle and adhere
to meat. Fresh meat should be boiled until bones are
free, or until a fork will pierce easily (ten pounds take
about two and a half hours). Ham. bacon, and salt
pork require fifteen to twenty minutes per pound.
Save the broth for soup- stock. Meat that is to be eaten
cold should be allowed to cool in the liquor in which it
was boiled. A tablespoon ful or two of vinegar added
to the boiling water makes meat more tender and fish
firmer. Turn the meat several times while boiling, If
the water needs replenishing, do it with boiling, not
cold, water. Season a short time before meat is done.
If vegetables are to be cooked with the meat, add them
at such time that they will just finish cooking when the
meat is done (potatoes twenty to thirty minutes before
the end; carrots and turnips, sliced, one to one and a
half hours).
Remember this: put fresh meat in hard boiling
water for only five minutes, to set the juices; then
remove to greater height over the fire and boil very
slowly — to let it boil hard all the time would make it
tough and indigestible. Salt meats go in cold water
at the start, and are gradually brought to a boil; there-
after they should be allowed to barely simmer.
Fish, however, should be placed in boiling salted
water. This makes their flesh firmer and better
flavored. They cook quickly this way, especially if
vinegar is added; six to seven minutes to the pound is
generally time enough.
At high altitudes it is impossible to cook satisfactorily
by boiling, because water boils at a lower and lower
temperature the higher we climb. The decrease is at
the rate of about one degree for every 550 feet up to
one mile, and one degree for 560 feet above that, when
140 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
the temperature is 70°. With the air at 32° F., watei
boils at 202.5° at 5,000 feet, 193.3° at 10,000 feet, and
184.5° at 15,000 feet.
Stewing. — This process is slow, and should be re-
served for tough meats. Use lean meat only. First
brown it with some hot fat in a frying-pan; or, put a
couple of ounces of chopped pork in a kettle and get it
thoroughly hot; cut your meat into small pieces; drop
them into the fat and "jiggle" the kettle until the sur-
face of the meat is coagulated by the hot fat, being care-
ful, the while, not to burn it. Add a thickening of a
couple of ounces of flour, and mix it thoroughly with
the fat? then a pint of water or soup-stock. Heat the
contents of the kettle to boiling, and season with salt,
pepper, and chopped onion. Now cover the kettle
closely and hang it where it will only simmer for four
or five hours. Stews may be thickened with rice,
potatoes, or oatmeal, as well as with flour. Add con-
diments to suit the taste. A ragout is nothing but a
highly seasoned stew.
The method given above is the one I have followed;
but I take the liberty of adding another by Captain
Kenealy, which 1 believe may be superior;
Stewing is ac admirable way of making palatable coarse and
tough pieces of meat, but it requires the knack, like all other
culinary processes. Have a hot fry-pan ready, cut the meat
up into small squares and put it (without any dripping or fat)
into the pan. Let it brown well, adding a small quantity of
granulated sugar, and sliced onions to taste. Cook until the
onions are tender and well colored. Then empty the fry-pan
into a stew-pan and add boiling water to cover the meats and
let it simmer gently for two or tb^ee nours. Flavor with salt,
pepper, sweet herbs, curry powder or wuat you will. The
result will be a savory dish of tender meat called by the French
a ragout. It is easy to prepare it this wj^v. Do not boil it
furiously as is sometimes done, or it will become tough. This
dish may be thickened with browned flour, a»d vegetables may
be added — turnips, carrots, celery, etc., cut mto small pieces
and browned with the meat. The sugar improves the flavor
vastly. The only condiments actually necessary are pepper
and salt. Other flavorings are luxuries.
Steaming in a Hole. — To steam meat or vegetables:
build a largre fire and throw on it a number of smooth
CAMP COOKERY 141
stones, not of the bomb-shell kind. Dig a hole in the
ground near the fire. When the stones are red-hot,
fork them into the hole, level them, cover with green
or wet leaves, grass, or branches, place the meat or
potatoes on this layer, cover with more leaves, and
then cover all with a good layer of earth. Now bore a
small hole down to the food, pour in some water, and
immediately stop up the hole, letting the food steam
until tender. This is the Chinook method of cooking
camass.
The following additional details are supplementary to
__ , what has gone before, and presuppose a
Mammals. £ , &,. „ ., ' j-
caretul reading ot the preceding pages :
Deer's Brains. — Fry them; or boil slowly half an
hour.
Heart. — Remove valves and tough, fibrous tissue;
then braise, or cut into small pieces and use in soups
or stews.
Kidneys. — Soak in cold water one hour. Cut into
small pieces, and drop each piece into cold water, as
cut. Wash well; then stew.
Liver. — Carefully remove gall-bladder, if the animal
has one — deer have none. Parboil the liver, and skim
off the bitter scum that rises; then fry with bacon;
or, put the liver on a spit, skewer some of the caul fat
around it, and roast before the fire; or, cut the liver
into slices \ inch thick, soak it one hour in cold salt
water, rinse well in warm water, wipe dry, dip each
slice in flour seasoned with salt and pepper, and
fry.
Marrow Bones. — Cover ends with small pieces of
plain dough made with flour and water, over which tie
a floured cloth; place bones upright in kettle, and
cover with boiling water. Boil two hours. Remove
cloth and paste, push out marrow, and serve with dry
toast.
Milt (Spleen). — Skewer a piece of bacon to it, and
broil.
Tongue. — Soak for one hour; rinse in fresh water;
put in a kettle of cold water, bring to a boil, skim, and
continue boiling moderately two hours.
142 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
Venison Sausages. — Utilize the tougher parts of the
deer, or other game, by mincing the raw meat with
half as much salt pork, season with pepper and sage,
make into little pats, and' fry like sausages. Very
good.
Squirrels. — Parboil, then fry in pork grease, and
make gravy as directed under Frying. This dish soon
palls. Then try stewing them along with any vege-
tables you may have. For a large party, with plenty
of squirrels, prepare a
Virginia Barbecue. — Build a hardwood fire between
two large logs lying about two feet apart. At each end
of the fire drive two forked stakes about fifteen inches
apart, so that the four stakes will form a rectangle,
like the legs of a table. The forks should all be about
eighteen inches above the ground. Choose young,
tender squirrels (if old ones must be used, parboil them
until tender but not soft). Prepare spits by cutting
stout switches of some wood that does not burn easily
(sassafras is best — beware of poison sumach), peel
them, sharpen the points, and harden them by thrust-
ing for a few moments under the hot ashes. Impale
each squirrel by thrusting a spit through flank, belly,
and shoulder, on one side, and another spit similarly
on the other side, spreading out the sides, and, if neces-
sary, cutting through the ribs, so that the squirrel will
lie open and flat. Lay two poles across the fire from
crotch to crotch of the posts, and across these lay your
spitted squirrels. As soon as these are heated through,
begin basting with a piece of pork on the end of a
switch. Turn the squirrels as required. Cook slowly,
tempering the heat, if needful, by scattering ashes
thinly over the coals; but remove the ashes for a final
browning. When the squirrels are done, butter them,
and gash a little that the juices may flow.
As squirrels are usually hunted in regions where
canned goods can easily be procured, I append direc-
tions for a
Brunswick Stew. — The ingredients needed, besides
several squirrels, are:
CAMP COOKERY 143
1 qt. can tomatoes,
1 pt. " butter beans or limas,
1 pt. " green corn,
6 potatoes, parboiled and sliced,
\ lb. butter,
\ lb. salt pork (fat),
1 teaspoonful black pepper,
\ " Cayenne
1 tablespoonful salt,
2 tablespoonfuls white sugar,
1 onion, minced small.
Soak the squirrels half an hour in cold salted water.
Add the salt to one gallon of water, and boil five
minutes. Then put in the onion, beans, corn, pork
(cut in fine strips), potatoes, pepper, and squirrels.
Cover closely, and stew very slowly two and a half
hours, stirring frequently to prevent burning. Add the
tomatoes and sugar, and stew an hour longer. Then
add the butter, cut into bits the size of a walnut and
rolled in flour. Boil ten minutes. Then serve at once.
This is a famous huntsman's dish of the Old Domin-
ion. One can easily see how it can be adapted to other
game than squirrels.
Rabbit. — Remove the head; skin and draw; soak
in cold salted water for one hour; rinse in fresh cold
water, and wipe dry.
For frying, select only young rabbits, or parboil
first with salt and pepper. Cut off legs at body joint,
and cut the back into three pieces. Sprinkle with
flour, and fry brown on both sides. Remove rabbit to
a dish kept hot over a few coals. Make a gravy as
follows: Put into the pan a small onion previously
parboiled and minced, and add one cup boiling water.
Stir in gradually one or two tablespoonfuls of browned
flour; stir well, and let it boil one minute. Season
with pepper, salt, and nutmeg. Pour it over the rabbit.
To roast in reflector : cut as above, lay a slice of pork
on each piece, and baste frequently. The rabbit may
be roasted whole before the fire.
To bake in an oven: stuff with a dressing made of
bread crumbs, the heart and liver (previously parboiled
144 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
in a small amount of water), some fat salt pork, and a
small onion, all minced and mixed together, seasoned
with pepper, salt, and nutmeg, and slightly moistened
with the water in which heart and liver were parboiled.
Sew up the opening closely; rub butter or dripping
over rabbit, dredge with flour, lay thin slices of fat
pork on back, and place it in pan or Dutch oven, back
uppermost. Pour into pan a pint or more of boiling
water (or stock, if you have it), and bake with very
moderate heat, one hour, basting every few minutes if
in pan, but not if in Dutch oven. Prepare a gravy with
the pot juice, as directed above.
Rabbit is good stewed with onion, nutmeg, pepper
and salt for seasoning.
Rabbits are unfit to eat in late summer, as their
backs are then infested with warbles, which are the
larvae of the rabbit bot-fly.
Possum. — To call our possum an opossum, outside
of a scientific treatise, is an affectation. Possum is his
name wherever he is known and hunted, this country
over. He is not good until you have freezing weather;
nor is he to be served without sweet potatoes, except
in desperate extremity. This is how to serve "possum
hot."
Stick him, and hang him up to bleed until morning.
A tub is half filled with hot water (not quite scalding)
into which drop the possum and hold him by the tail
until the hair will strip. Take him out, lay him on a
plank, and pull the hair out with your fingers. Draw,
clean, and hang him up to freeze for two or three nights.
Then place him in a 5-gallon kettle of cold water, into
which throw two pods of red pepper. Parboil for one
hour in this pepper-water, which is then thrown out
and the kettle is refilled with fresh water, wherein he
is boiled one hour. While this is going on, slice and
steam some sweet potatoes. Take the possum out,
place him in a large Dutch oven, sprinkle him with
black pepper, salt, and a pinch or two of sage. A
dash of lemon will do no harm. Pack sweet potatoes
around him. Pour a pint of water into the oven, put
the lid on, and see that it fits tightly. Bake slowly
CAMP COOKERY 145
until brown and crisp. Serve hot, without gravy.
Bourbon whiskey is the only orthodox accompaniment,
unless you are a teetotaler, in which case any planta-
tion darky can show you how to make "ginger tea"
out of ginger, molasses and water. Corn bread, of
course.
It is said that possum is not hard to digest even
when eaten cold; but the general verdict seems to be
that none is ever left over to get cold.
When you have no oven, roast the possum before a
high bed of coals, having suspended him by a wet string,
which is twisted and untwisted to give a rotary mo-
tion, and constantly baste it with a sauce made from
red pepper, salt, and vinegar.
Possum may also be baked in clay, with his hide on.
Stuff with stale bread and sage, plaster over him an
inch of stiff clay, and bake as previously directed. He
will be done in about an hour.
Coon. — It is likewise pedantic to call this animal a
raccoon. Coon he always has been, is now, and shall
ever be, to those who know him best.
Skin and dress him. Remove the "kernels" (scent
glands) under each front leg and on either side of spine
in small of back. Wash in cold water. Parboil in one
or two waters, depending upon the animal's age. Stuff
with dressing like a turkey. If you have a tart apple,
quarter it and add to the dressing. Roast to a delicate
brown. Serve with fried sweet potatoes.
Porcupine. — I quote from Nessmuk: "And do not
despise the fretful porcupine; he is better than he
looks. If you happen on a healthy young specimen
when you are needing meat, give him a show before
condemning him. Shoot him humanely in the head,
and dress him. It is easily done; there are no quills
on the belly, and the skin peels as freely as a rabbit's.
Take him to camp, parboil him for thirty minutes,
and roast or broil him to a rich brown over a bed of
glowing coals. He will need no pork to make him
juicy, and you will find him very like spring lamb,
only better."
The porcupine may also be baked in clay, without
10
146 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
skinning him; the quills and skin peel off with the
hard clay covering.
Muskrat. — You may be driven to this, some day,
and will then learn that muskrat, properly prepared,
is not half bad. The French-Canadians found that
out long ago. The following recipe is from Aber-
crombie & Fitch's catalogue:
"Skin and clean carefully four muskrats, being par-
ticular not to rupture musk or gall sac. Take the
hind legs and saddles, place in pot with a little water,
a little julienne (or fresh vegetables, if you have them)9
some pepper and salt, and a few slices* of pork or
bacon. Simmer slowly over fire until half done. Re-
move to baker, place water from pot in the baking
pan, and cook until done, basting frequently. This
will be found a most toothsome dish."
Muskrat may also be broiled over the hot coals,
basting with a bit of pork held on a switch above the
beastie.
Woodchuck. — I asked old Uncle Bob Flowers, one
of my neighbors in the Smokies: "Did you ever eat
a woodchuck ?"
"Reckon I don't know what them is."
"Ground-hog."
"O la! dozens of 'em. The red ones hain't good,
but the gray ones! man, they'd jest make yer mouth
water!"
"How do you cook them?"
"Cut the leetle red kernels out from under their fore
legs; then bile 'em, fust — all the strong is left in the
water — then pepper 'em, and sage 'em, and put 'em in
a pan, and bake 'em to a nice rich brown, and — then
I don't want nobody there but me!"
Beaver Tail. — This tid-bit of the old-time trappers
will be tested by few of our generation, more's the pity!
Impale tail on a sharp stick and broil over the coals
for a few minutes. The rough, scaly hide will blister
and come off in sheets, leaving the tail clean, white,
and solid. Then roast, or boil until tender. It is of
a gelatinous nature, tastes somewhat like pork, and is
considered very strengthening food. A young beaver,
CAMP COOKERY 147
stuffed and baked in its hide, is good; old ones have a
peculiar flavor that is unpleasant to those not accus-
tomed to such diet.
Beaver tail may also be soused in vinegar, after boil-
ing, or baked with beans. The liver of the animal,
broiled on a stick and seasoned with butter, salt, and
pepper, is the best part of the animal.
^ , -»«■ A These are good to fall back on when
Canned Meat. j n T £ -i j t_ *• j
, _,. , game and fish tail, and you nave tired
UT led Jl 1SX1« p i ■ l 11
ot salt pork and bacon.
Corned Beef Hash. — Chop some canned corned beef
fine with sliced onions. Mash up with freshly boiled
potatoes, two parts potatoes to one of meat. Season
highly with pepper (no salt) and dry mustard if liked.
Put a little pork fat in a frying-pan, melt, add hash,
and cook until nearly dry and a brown crust has formed.
Evaporated potatoes and onions can be used accord-
ing to directions on packages.
Stew with Canned Meat. — Peel and slice some onions.
If the meat has much fat, melt it; if not, melt a little
pork fat. Add onions, and fry until brown. Mix
some flour into a smooth batter with cold water, season
with pepper and salt, and pour into the camp kettle.
Stir the whole well together. Cut meat into slices, put
into the kettle, and heat through.
Stewed Codfish. — Soak over night in plenty of cold
water. Put in pot of fresh, cold water, and heat grad-
ually until soft. Do not boil the fish or it will get hard.
Serve with boiled potatoes, and with white sauce made
as directed under Fish.
Codfish Hash. — Prepare salt codfish as above.
When soft, mash with potatoes and onions, season with
pepper, and fry like corned beef hash.
Codfish Balls. — Shred the fish into small pieces. Peel
some potatoes. Use one pint of fish to one quart of
raw potatoes. Put them in a pot, cover with boiling
water, cook till potatoes are soft, drain water off, mash
fish and potatoes together, and beat light with a fork.
Add a tablespoonful of butter and season with pepper.
Shape into flattened balls, and fry in very hot fat deep
enough to cover.
148 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
Broiled Salt Fish. — Freshen the flakes of fish by
soaking for an hour in cold water. Broil over the
coals, and serve with potatoes.
Smoked Herrings.— (1) Clean, and remove the skin.
Toast on a stick over the coals.
(2) Scald in boiling water till the skin curls up, then
remove head, tail, and skin. Clean well. Put into
frying-pan with a little butter or lard. Fry gently
a few minutes, dropping in a little vinegar.
Any kind of bird may be fricasseed as follows: Cut
it into convenient pieces, parboil them in enough water
tj. , to cover; when tender, remove from
the pot and drain. Fry two or three
slices of pork until brown. Sprinkle the pieces of bird
with salt, pepper, and flour, and fry to a dark brown
in the pork fat. Take up the bird, and stir into the
frying fat half a cup, more or less, of dry flour, stirring
until it becomes a dark brown; then pour over it the
liquor in which the bird was boiled (unless it was a
fish-eater), and bring the mixture to a boil. Put the
bird in a hot dish, and pour gravy over it.
Wild Turkey, Roasted. — Pluck, draw, and singe.
Wipe the bird inside and out. Stuff the crop cavity,
then the body, with either of the dressings mentioned
below, allowing room for the filling to swell. Tie a
string around the neck, and sew up the body. Truss
wings to body with wooden skewers. Pin thin slices
of fat pork to breast in same way. Suspend the fowl
before a high bed of hardwood coals, as previously
described, and place a pan under it to catch drippings.
Tie a clean rag on the end of a stick to baste with.
Turn and baste frequently. Roast until well done
(two to three hours).
Meantime cleanse the gizzard, liver, and heart of
the turkey thoroughly in cold water; mince them; put
them in a pot with enough cold water to cover, and
stew gently until tender; then place where they will
keep warm until wanted. When the turkey is done,
add the giblets with the water in which they were
stewed to the drippings in pan; thicken with one or
two tablespoonfuls of flour that has been stirred up in
CAMP COOKERY 149
milk or water and browned in a pan; season with
pepper and salt, and serve with the turkey.
Stuffing for Turkey. — (1) If chestnuts are procurable,
roast a quart of them, remove shells, and mash. Add
a teaspoonful of salt, and some pepper. Mix well
together, and stuff the bird with them.
(2) Chop some fat salt pork very fine; soak stale
bread or crackers in hot water, mash smooth, and mix
with the chopped pork. Season with salt, pepper, sage,
and chopped onion.
No game bird save the wild turkey should be stuffed,
unless you deliberately wish to disguise the natural
flavor.
Boiled Turkey. — Pluck, draw, singe, wash inside
with warm water, and wipe dry. Cut off head and
neck close to backbone, leaving enough skin to turn
over the stuffing. Draw sinews from legs, and cut off
feet just below first joint of leg. Press legs into sides
and skewer them firmly. Stuff breast as above. Put
the bird into enough hot water to cover it. Remove
scum as it rises. Boil gently one and one-half to two
hours. Serve with sauce.
Waterfowl have two large oil glands in the tail, with
which they oil their feathers. The oil in these glands
imparts a strong, disagreeable flavor to the bird soon
after it is killed. Hence the tail should always be
removed before cooking.
To Cook a Large Bird in a Hurry. — Slice off several
fillets from the breast; impale them, with slices of
pork, on a green switch; broil over the coals.
Baked Duck. — The bird should be dry-picked, and
the head left on. Put a little pepper and salt inside
the bird, but no other dressing. Lay duck on its back
in the bake-pan. Put no water in the pan. The oven
must be hot, but not hot enough to burn; test with the
hand. Baste frequently while cooking. A canvas-
back requires about thirty minutes; other birds accord-
ing to size. When done, the duck should be plump,
and the flesh red, not blue.
This is the way to bring out the distinctive flavor of
a canvasback. Seasoning and stuffing destroy all that.
150 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
Stewed Duck. — Clean well and divide into convenient
pieces (say, legs, wings, and four parts of body). Place
in pot with enough cold, water to cover. Add salt,
pepper, a pinch of mixed herbs, and a dash of Worces-
tershire sauce. Cut up fine some onions and potatoes
(carrots, too, if you can get them). Put a few of these
in the pot so they may dissolve and add body to the
dish (flour or corn starch may be substituted for thick-
ening). Stew slowly, skim and stir frequently. In
forty-five minutes add the rest of the carrots, and in
fifteen minutes more add the rest of the onions and
potatoes, also turnips, if you have any. Stew until
meat is done.
A plainer camp dish is to stew for an hour in water
that has previously been boiled for an hour with pieces
of salt pork.
Fish-eating Ducks. — The rank taste of these can be
neutralized, unless very strong, by baking with an
onion inside. Use plenty of pepper, inside and out.
Mud-hens and Bitterns. — Remove the breast of a
coot or rail, cut slits in it, and in these stick thin slices
of fat salt pork; broil over the embers.
The broiled breast of a young bittern is good.
Fish caught in muddy streams should be cut up and
soaked in strong salted water. Never put live fish on
_,. . a stringer and keep them in water till
you start for home. Does it not stand
to reason that fish strung through the gills must breathe
with difficulty and be tormented? Why sicken your
fish before you eat them? Kill every fish as soon as
caught and bleed it through the throat.
Fish Chowder. — Clean the fish, parboil it, and re-
serve the water in which it was boiled. Place the dry
pot on the fire; when it is hot, throw in a lump of
butter and about six onions sliced finely. When the
odor of onion arises, add the fish. Cover the pot
closely for fish to absorb flavor. Add a very small
quantity of potatoes, and some of the reserved broth.
When cooked, let each man season his own dish. Ask
a blessing and eat. (Kenealy.)
Roasted Eel. — Cut a stick about three feet long and
CAMP COOKERY 151
an inch thick; split it about a foot down from one end;
draw the eel, but do not skin it; coil it between the two
forks of the stick, and bind the top of split end with
green withes; stick the other end in the ground before
a good fire, and turn as required.
Steived Eel. — Skin the eel, remove backbone and cut
the eel into pieces about two inches long; cover these
with water in the stew-pan, and add a teaspoonful of
strong vinegar or a slice of lemon, cover stew-pan
and boil moderately one half hour. Then remove,
pour off water, drain, add fresh water and vinegar as
before, and stew until tender. Now drain, add cream
enough for a stew, season with pepper and salt (no
butter), boil again for a few minutes, and serve on
hot, dry toast. (Up De Graff.)
Fish Roe. — Parboil (merely simmer) fifteen minutes;
let them cool and drain; then roll in flour, and fry.
Frog Legs. — First after skinning, soak them an hour
in cold water to which vinegar has been added, or put
them for two minutes into scalding water that has
vinegar in it. Drain, wipe dry, and cook as below:
To fry: roll in flour seasoned with salt and pepper
and fry, not too rapidly, preferably in butter or oil.
Water cress is a good relish with them.
To grill: Prepare 3 tablespoonfuls melted butter,
^ teaspoonful salt, and a pinch or two of pepper, into
which dip the frog legs, then roll in fresh bread crumbs,
and broil for three minutes on each side.
Turtles. — All turtles (aquatic) and most tortoises
(land) are good to eat, the common snapper being
far better than he looks. Kill by cutting throat or
(readier) by shooting the head off. This does not kill
the brute immediately, of course, but it suffices. The
common way of killing by dropping a turtle into boil-
ing water I do not like. Let the animal bleed. Then
drop into a pot of boiling water for a few seconds.
After scalding, the outer scales of shell, as well as the
skin, are easily removed. Turn turtle on its back, cut
down middle of under shell from end to end, and then
across. Throw away entrails, head, and claws. Salt
and pepper it inside and out. Boil a short time in the
152 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
shell. Remove when the meat has cooked free from
the shell. Cut up the latter and boil slowly for three
hours with some chopped onion. If a stew is pre-
ferred, use less water, and add some salt pork cut into
dice.
Crayfish. — These are the "craw-feesh!" of our streets.
Tear off extreme end of tail, bringing the entrail
with it. Boil whole in salted water till the crayfish
turns red. Peel and eat as a lobster, dipping each
crayfish at a time into a saucer of vinegar, pepper,
and salt.
VEGETABLES, ETC.
The general rules for cooking vegetables are few and
simple.
(1) Do not wash fresh vegetables until just before
they are to be cooked or eaten. They lose flavor
quickly after being washed. This is true even of
potatoes.
(2) Green vegetables go into boiling salted water.
Salt prevents their absorbing too much water. The
water should be boiling fast, and there should be plenty
of it. They should be boiled rapidly, with the lid left
off the pan. If the water is as hot as it should be, the
effect is similar to that which we have noted in the
case of meats: the surface is coagulated into a water-
proof envelope which seals up the flavor instead of
letting it be soaked out. In making soup, the rule is
reversed.
(3) Dried vegetables, such as beans and peas, are
to be cooked in unsalted water. If salted too soon
they become leathery and difficult to cook. Put them
in cold, fresh water, gradually heated to the boiling
point, and boil slowly.
(4) Desiccated vegetables are first soaked in cold
water, according to directions on package — potatoes
require long soaking, and they should be boiled in
three waters. Place in boiling water slightly salted,
and proceed as with fresh vegetables.
To clear cabbage, etc., from insects, immerse, stalk
upward, in plenty of cold water salted in the propor-
CAMP COOKERY 153
tion of a large tablespoonful to two quarts; vinegar
may be used instead of salt. Shake occasionally. The
insects will sink to bottom of pan.
To keep vegetables, put them in a cool, dry place
(conditions similar to those of a good cellar). Keep
each kind away from the other, or they will absorb
each other's flavor.
Potatoes, Boiled. — Pick them out as nearly as possi-
ble of one size, or some will boil to pieces before the
others are done; if necessary, cut them to one size.
Remove eyes and specks, and pare as thinly as possi-
ble, for the best of the potato lies just under the skin.
As fast as pared, throw into cold water, and leave until
wanted. Put in furiously boiling salted water, then
hang kettle a little higher where it will boil moderately,
but do not let it check. Test with a fork or sliver.
When the tubers are done (about twenty minutes for
new potatoes, thirty to forty minutes for old ones)
drain off all the water, dust some salt over the potatoes
(it absorbs the surface moisture), and let the pot stand
uncovered close to the fire, shaking it gently once or
twice, till the surface of each potato is dry and pow-
dery. Never leave potatoes in the water after they are
done; they would become watery.
Potatoes, Boiled in their Jackets. — x\fter washing
thoroughly, and gouging out the eyes, snip off a bit
from each end of the potato; this gives a vent to the
steam and keeps potatoes from bursting open. I pre-
fer to put them in cold water and bring it gradually to
a boil, because the skin of the potato contains an acid
poison which is thus extracted. The water in which
potatoes have been boiled will poison a dog. Of course
we don't "eat 'em skin and all," like the people in the
nursery rhyme; but there is no use in driving the bit-
terness into a potato. Boil gently, but continuously,
throw in a little salt now and then, drain, and dry before
the fire.
Mashed Potatoes. — After boiling, mash the potatoes,
and work into them some butter and cream, gin you
have any. Then beat them up light with a fork.
However it may be with " a woman, a dog, and a walnut
154 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
tree," it is true of mashed potatoes, that "the more you
beat 'em, the better they be."
Potatoes, Steamed.— After -you have once learned the
knack, you will find that the best of all ways to cook
potatoes is by steaming in a hole in the ground, as
directed in the last chapter. No danger of them being
watery then.
Baked Potatoes. — Nessmuk's description cannot be
improved: "Scoop out a basin-like depression under
the fore-stick, three or four inches deep, and large
enough to hold the tubers when laid side by side; fill
it with bright hardwood coals, and keep up a strong
heatpor half an hour or more. Next, clean out the
hollow, place the potatoes in it, and cover them with
hot sand or ashes, topped with a heap of glowing coals,
and keep up all the heat you like. In about forty
minutes commence to try them with a sharpened hard-
wood sliver; when this will pass through them they
are done, and should be raked out at once. Run the
sliver through them from end to end, to let the steam
escape, and use immediately, as a roast potato quickly
becomes soggy and bitter."
Fried Potatoes. — Boiled or steamed potatoes that
have been left over may be sliced \ inch thick, and
fried. They are better a la Lyonnaise: fry one or
more sliced onions until they are turning yellowish,
then add sliced potatoes; keep tossing now and then
until the potatoes are fried somewhat yellow; salt to
taste.
Potatoes, Fried Raw. — Peel, and slice into pieces \
inch thick. Drop into cold water until frying-pan is
ready. Put enough grease in pan to completely im-
merse the potatoes, and get it very hot, as directed
under Frying. Pour water off potatoes, dry a slice in
a clean cloth, drop it into the sizzling fat, and so on,
one slice at a time. Drying the slices avoids a splutter
in the pan and helps to keep from absorbing grease.
If many slices were dropped into the pan together, the
heat would be checked and the potatoes would get
soggy with grease. When the slices begin to turn a
faint brown, salt the pptatoes* nour off the grease at
CAMP COOKERY 155
once, and brown a little in the dry pan. The outside
of each slice will then be crisp and the insides white
and deliciously mealy.
Sweet Potatoes, Boiled. — Use a kettle with lid. Select
tubers of uniform size; wash; do not cut or break
the skins. Put them in boiling water, and continue
boiling until, when you pierce one with a fork, you
find it just a little hard in the center. Drain by rais-
ing the cover only a trifle when kettle is tilted, so as to
keep in as much steam as possible. Hang the kettle high
over the fire, cover closely, and let steam ten minutes.
Sweet Potatoes, Fried. — Skin the boiled potatoes and
cut them lengthwise. Dust the slices with salt and
pepper. Throw them into hot fat, browning first one
side, then the other. Serve very hot.
Potatoes and Onions, Hashed. — Slice two potatoes
to one onion. Parboil together about fifteen minutes
in salted water. Pour off water, and drain. Mean-
time be frying some bacon. When it is done, remove
it to a hot side dish, turn the vegetables into the pan,
and fry them to a light brown. Then fall to, and
enjoy a good thing!
Beans, Boiled. — Pick out all defective beans, and
wash the rest. It is best to soak the beans over night;
but if time does not permit, add \ teaspoonful of bak-
ing soda to the parboiling water. In either case, start
in fresh cold water, and parboil one pint of beans (for
four men with hearty appetites) for one-half hour, or
until one will pop open when blown upon. At the
same time parboil separately one pound fat salt pork.
Remove scum from beans as it rises. Drain both;
place beans around the pork, add two quarts boiling
water, and boil slowly for two hours, or until tender.
Drain, and season with salt and pepper.
It does not hurt beans to boil all day, provided boil-
ing water is added from time to time, lest they get dry
and scorch. The longer they boil the more digestible
they become.
Baked Beans. — Soak and parboil, as above, both the
beans and the pork. Then pour off the water from
the pork, gash the meat with a knife, spread half of it
156 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
over the bottom of the kettle, drain the beans, pour them
into the kettle, put the rest of pork on top, sprinkle not
more than ^ teaspoonful of salt over the beans, pepper
liberally, and if you have molasses, pour a tablespoon-
ful over all; otherwise a tablespoonful of sugar. Hang
the kettle high over the fire where it will not scorch,
and bake six hours; or, better, add a little of the water
that the beans were boiled in, place kettle in bake-hole
as elsewhere directed, and bake all night.
Baked beans are strong food, ideal for active men in
cold weather. One can work harder and longer on
pork and beans, without feeling hungry, than on any
other food with which I am acquainted, save bear meat.
The ingredients are compact and easy to transport;
they keep indefinitely in any weather. But when one is
only beginning camp life he should be careful not to
overload his stomach with beans, for they are rather
indigestible until you have toned up your stomach by
hearty exercise in the open air.
Onions, Boiled. — More wholesome this way than
fried or baked. Like potatoes, they should be of as
uniform size as possible, for boiling. Do not boil
them in an iron vessel. Put them in enough boiling
salted water to cover them. Cover the kettle and boil
gently, lest the onions break. They are cooked when
a straw will pierce them (about an hour) . If you wish
them mild, boil in two or three waters. When cooked,
drain and season with butter or dripping, pepper, and
salt.
Green Corn. — If you happen to camp near a farm
in the " roasting-ear " season, you are in great luck.
The quickest way to roast an ear of corn is to cut
off the butt of the ear closely, so that the pith of the
cob is exposed, ream it out a little, impale the cob
lengthwise on the end of a long hardwood stick, and
turn over the coals.
To roast in the ashes: remove one outer husk,
stripping off the silk, break off about an inch of the
silk end, and twist end of husks tightly down over the
broken end. Then bake in the ashes and embers as
directed for potatoes. Time, about one hour.
CAMP COOKERY 157
To boil: prepare as above, but tie the ends of husks;
this preserves the sweetness of the corn. Put in enough
boiling salted water to cover the ears. Boil thirty
minutes. Like potatoes, corn is injured by over-boil-
ing. When cooked, cut off the butt and remove the
shucks.
Cold boiled corn may be cut from the cob and fried,
or mixed with mashed potato and fried.
Greens. — One who camps early in the season can
add a toothsome dish, now and then, to his menu by
gathering fresh greens in the woods and marshes.
Many of these are mentioned in my chapter on The
Edible Plants of the Wilderness. They may be pre-
pared in various ways; here are a few:
As a salad (watercress, peppergrass, dandelion,
sorrel, etc.): wash in cold salted water, if necessary,
although this abstracts some of the flavor; dry im-
mediately and thoroughly. Break into convenient
pieces, rejecting tough stems. Prepare a simple French
dressing, thus:
1 tablespoonful vinegar,
3 tablespoonful s best olive oil,
^ teaspoonful salt,
| black pepper.
Put salt and pepper in bowl, gradually add oil, rubbing
and mixing till salt is dissolved; then add by degrees
the vinegar, stirring continuously one minute. In de-
fault of oil, use cream and melted butter; but plain
vinegar, salt and pepper will do. Pour the dressing
over the salad, turn the latter upside down, mix well
and serve.
A scalded salad is prepared in camp by cutting
bacon into small dice, frying, adding vinegar, pepper,
and a little salt to the grease, and pouring this, scald-
ing hot, over the greens.
Greens may be boiled with salt pork, bacon, or other
meat. To boil them separately: first soak in cold
salted water for a few minutes, then drain well, and
put into enough boiling salted water to cover, pressing
them down until the pot is full. Cover, and boil
158 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
steadily until tender, which may be from twenty min-
utes to an hour, depending upon kind of greens used.
If the plants are a little older than they should be, par-
boil in water to which a little baking soda has been
added; then drain, and continue boiling in plain water,
salted.
Some greens are improved by chopping fine after
boiling, putting in hot frying-pan with a tablespoonful
of butter and some salt and pepper, and stirring until
thoroughly heated.
Poke stalks are cooked like asparagus. They should
not be over four inches long, and should show only a
tuft- of leaves at the top; if much older than this, they
are poisonous. Wash the stalks, scrape them, and lay
in cold water for an hour; then tie loosely in bundles,
put in a kettle of boiling water and boil three-fourths of
an hour, or until tender; drain, lay on buttered toast,
dust with pepper and salt, cover with melted butter,
and serve.
Jerusalem artichokes must be watched when boiling
and removed as soon as tender; if left longer in the
water, they harden.
Dock and sorrel may be cooked like spinach: pick
over and wash, drain, shake and press out adhering
water; put in kettle with one cup water, cover kettle,
place over moderate fire, and steam thus twenty min-
utes; then drain, chop very fine, and heat in frying-
pan as directed above,,
Mushrooms. — Every one who camps in summer
should take with him a mushroom book, such as Gib-
son's, Atkinson's, or Nina Marshall's. (Such a book
in pocket form, with colored illustrations, is a desidera-
tum.) Follow recipes in book. Mushrooms are very
easy to prepare, cook quickly, and offer a great variety
of flavors.
Canned Tomatoes. — When you can get butter, try
this: To a pint of tomatoes add butter twice the size
of an egg, some pepper, very little salt, and a table-
spoonful of sugar. Boil about five minutes. Put
some bread crumbs or toast in a dish, and pour toma-
toes over them.
CAMP COOKERY 159
Canned Sweet Corn. — Same as tomatoes, but omitting
sugar and bread. Add a cup of cream, if convenient.
Jambolaya. — This is a delicious Creole dish, easily
prepared. Cut up any kind of small game into joints,
and stew them. When half done, add some minced
ham or bacon, \ pint rice, and season with pepper and
salt. If rabbit is used, add onions. Serve with toma-
toes as a sauce.
Pot Pie. — Take J teaspoonful baking powder to J
pint of flour, sift together, and add 1 teaspoonful lard
or butter by rubbing it in, also a pinch of salt. Make
a soft biscuit dough of this, handling as little as possible,
and being careful not to mix too thin. Roll into a
sheet, and cut into strips about 1^ inch wide and 3
inches long, cutting two or three little holes through
each to let steam escape. Meantime you have been
boiling meat or game, and have sliced some potatoes.
When the meat is within one-half hour of being done,
pour off the broth into another vessel and lift out most
of the meat. Place a layer of meat and potatoes in
bottom of kettle, and partially cover with strips of the
dough; then another layer of meat and vegetables,
another of dough, and so on until the pot is nearly full,
topping off with dough. Pour the hot broth over this,
cover tightly, and boil one-half hour, without lifting
the pot cover, which, by admitting cold air, would
make the dough "sad." Parsley helps the pot, when
you can get it.
Slumgullion. — When the commissariat is reduced to
bacon, corned beef, and hardtack, try this sailor's
dish, described by Jack London: Fry half a dozen
slices of bacon, add fragments of hardtack, then two
cups of water, and stir briskly over the fire; in a few
minutes mix in with it slices of canned corned beef;
season well with pepper and salt.'
When Napoleon said that "soup makes the soldier,"
he meant thick, substantial soup — soup that sticks to
e the ribs — not mere broths or meat ex-
tracts, which are fit only for invalids
or to coax an indifferent stomach. "Soup," says
Nessmuk, * 'requires time, and a solid basis of the
160 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
right material. Venison is the basis, and the best
material is the bloody part of the deer, where the bullet
went through. We used to throw this away; we have
learned better. Cut about four pounds of the bloody
meat into convenient pieces, and wipe them as clean
as possible with leaves or a damp cloth, but don't wash
them. Put the meat into a five-quart kettle nearly
filled with water, and raise it to a lively boiling pitch.
Let it boil for two hours. Have ready a three-tined
fork made from a branch of birch or beech, and with
this test the meat from time to time; when it parts
readily from the bones, slice in a large onion. Pare
six large, smooth potatoes, cut five of them into quar-
ters, and drop them into the kettle; scrape the sixth
one into the soup for thickening. Season with salt
and white pepper sto taste. When, by skirmishing
with the wooden fork, you can fish up bones with no
meat on them, the soup is cooked, and the kettle may
be set aside to cool."
Any kind of game may be used in a similar way,
provided that none but lean meat be used. Soup is
improved by first soaking the chopped-up meat in cold
water, and using this water to boil in thereafter. Soup
should be skimmed for some time after it has started
simmering, to remove grease and scum.
Bean Soup. — Boil with pork, as previously directed,
until the beans are tender enough to crack open; then
take out the pork and mash the beans into a paste.
Return pork to kettle, add a cup of flour mixed thin
with cold water, stirring it in slowly as the kettle sim-
mers. Boil slowly an hour longer, stirring frequently
so that it may not scorch. Season with little salt but
plenty of pepper.
Pea Soup. — Wash well one pint of split peas, cover
with cold water, and let them soak over night. In the
morning put them in a kettle with close-fitting cover.
Pour over them 3 quarts cold water, adding J pound
lean bacon or ham cut into dice, 1 teaspoonful salt,
and some pepper. When the soup begins to boil, skim
the froth from the surface. Cook slowly three to four
hours, stirring occasionally till the peas are all dis-
CAMP COOKERY 161
solved, and adding a little more boiling water to keep
up the quantity as it boils away. Let it get quite thick.
Just before serving, drop in small squares of toasted
bread or biscuits, adding quickly while the bread is
hot. Vegetables may be added one-half hour before
the soup is done.
Dried Fruit. — Soak over night in cold water, just
enough to cover — too much water makes them insipid.
They are quite eatable then, without cooking. Add
half a cup of sugar and some spice; simmer until done.
Fruit should not be cooked in an iron vessel, nor in
tin, if it can be avoided.
Suits und Knepp. — This is a Pennsylvania-Dutch
dish, and a good one for campers. Take some dried
apples (not evaporated ones, which are tasteless, but
the old-fashioned dried apples of the country) and soak
them over night. Boil until tender. Prepare knepp
as directed for pot-pie dough, only make a thick bat-
ter of it instead of a dough. It is best to add an egg
and use no shortening. Drop the batter into the pan
of stewing apples, a large spoonful at a time, not fast
enough to check the boiling. Boil about one-half hour.
Season with butter, sugar, and cinnamon.
Plain Plum Duff. — Put into a basin one pound of
flour, one heaping teaspoonful of baking powder, one
-. pound raisins (stoned, if possible), three-
quarters of a pound of fat of salt pork
(well washed and cut into small dice, or chopped), and
two tablespoonfuls of sugar. Add half a pint of water
and mix well together. Dip a cloth bag large enough
to hold the pudding into boiling water, wring it out,
and apply flour well to the inside. Put in the pudding
and fasten it up, leaving a little room in the bag for
the pudding to swell. Now place the whole in enough
boiling water to cover the bag, and boil two hours,
turning the bag several times to prevent its scorching
against the bottom or sides of the pot. If necessary,
add boiling water to keep the bag covered. When done
take the pudding from the pot, plunge it into cold water
for an instant, and then turn it out to be eaten. Suet
may be used to advantage instead of pork fat. Spices
11
162 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
and molasses also, if you have them, and want a richer
duff. (Kenealy.)
Pie. — It is not to be presumed that a mere male
camper can make a good pie-crust in the regular way;
but it is easy to make a wholesome and very fair pie-
crust in an irregular way, which is as follows: Make
a glorified biscuit dough by mixing thoroughly 1 pint
flour, 1 teaspoonful baking powder, \ teaspoonful salt,
rubbing in 4 heaped tablespoonfuls of lard, and mak-
ing into a soft dough with cold water. In doing this,
observe the rules given under Biscuit. The above
quantity is enough for a pie filling an 8x12 reflector
pan. Roll the dough into a thin sheet, as thin as you
can handle, and do the rolling as gently as you can.
From this sheet cut a piece large enough for bottom
crust and lay it in the greased pan. The sheet should
be big enough to lap over edge of pan. Into this put
your fruit (dried fruit is previously stewed and mashed),
and add sugar and spice to taste. Then, with great
circumspection and becoming reverence, lay on top
of all this your upper crust. Now, with your thumb,
press the edges of upper and lower crust together all
around, your thumb-prints leaving scallops around the
edge. Trim off by running a knife around edge of
pan. Then prick a number of small slits in the top
crust, here and there, to give a vent to the steam when
the fruit boils. Bake as you would biscuits.
Note that this dough contains baking powder, and
that it will swell. Don't give the thing a name until
it is baked; then, if you have made the crust too thick
for a pie, call it a cobbler or a shortcake, and the boys,
instead of laughing at you, will ask for more.
Doughnuts.— Mix one quart of flour with one tea-
spoonful of salt, one tablespoonful of baking powder
and one pint of granulated sugar, and half a nutmeg
grated. Make a batter of this with four beaten eggs
and enough milk to make smooth. Beat thoroughly
and add enough flour to make a soft dough. Roll
out into a sheet half an inch thick and cut into rings
or strips, which may be twisted into shape. Fry in
very hot fat; turn when necessary. Drain and serve hot.
CAMP COOKERY 163
Or, mix with less water into a stiff dough, and manipu-
late as explained under Fried Quoits.
And now, having done my share, I will loll back at
q ... mine ease and smoke mine pipe, while
y' the other fellow does the dish-washing!
Gilbert Hamerton, in his Painter's Camp, dwells
lovingly upon all the little details of camp life, excepting
this:
5 p. m. Cease painting for the day. Dine . . . After
dinner the woeful drudgery of cleaning-up! At this period of
the day am seized with a vague desire to espouse a scullery-
maid, it being impossible to accommodate one in the hut
without scandal, unless in the holy state of matrimony: hope
no scullery-maid will pass the hut when I am engaged m wash-
ing-up, as I should be sure to make her an offer.
There is a desperately hard and disagreeable way of
washing dishes, which consists, primarily, in "going
for" everything alike with the same rag, and wiping
grease off one dish only to smear it on the next one.
There is another, an easier, and a cleaner way : First,
as to the frying-pan, which generally is greasiest of
all: pour it nearly full of water, place it level over the
coals, and let it boil over. Then pick it up, give a quick
flirt to empty it, and hang it up. Virtually it has
cleaned itself, and will dry itself if let alone. Greasy
dishes are scraped as clean as may be, washed
with scalding water, and then wiped. An obdurate
pot is cleaned by first boiling in it some wood
ashes, the lye of which makes a sort of soap of the grease;
or it may be scoured out with sand and hot water.
Greasy dishes can even be cleaned without hot water,
if first wiped with a handful or two of moss, which
takes up the grease; use first the dirt side of the
moss as a scourer, then the top. To scour greasy
knives and forks, simply jab them once or twice into
the ground. Rusty ones can be burnished by rubbing
with a freshly cut potato dipped in wood ashes. The
scouring rush (Equisetum hymenale), which grows in
wet places and along banks throughout the northern
hemisphere, has a gritty surface that makes an excel-
lent swab. It is the tall, green, jointed, pipe-stem-like
164 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
weed that children amuse themselves with, by pulling
the joints apart. In brief, the art of dish-washing
consists in first cleaning off nearly all the grease before
using your dish-cloth on it. Then the cloth will be
fit to use again. Dish-cloths are the supplies that first
run short in an average outfit.
When green corn has become too hard for boiling,
but is still too soft for grinding into meal, make a
r . "gritter," as follows: Take a piece of
_ tin about 7x14 inches (unsolder a tin
pail by heating, and flatten the sides);
punch holes through it, close together, with a large nail;
bend the sheet into a half cylinder, rough side out, like
a horseradish grater; nail the edges to a board some-
what longer and wider than the tin. Then, holding
the ear of corn pointing lengthwise from you, grate it into
a vessel held between the knees.
The meal thus formed will need no water, but can
be mixed in its own milk. Salt it, and bake quickly.
The flavor of "gritted bread" is a blend of hot pone
and roasting ears — delectable !
Hard corn can be grated by first soaking the ears
overnight.
CHAPTER XII
PESTS OF THE WOODS
OUMMER twilight brings the mosquito. In fact,
^ when we go far north or far south, we have him
with us both by day and night. Rather I should say
that we have her; for the male mosquito is a gentleman,
who sips daintily of nectar and minds his own business,
while madame his spouse is a whining, peevish, veno-
mous virago, that goes about seeking whose nerves she
may unstring and whose blood she may devour. Strange
to say, not among mosquitoes only, but among ticks,
fleas, chiggers, and the whole legion of bloodthirsty,
stinging flies and midges, it is only the female that
attacks man and beast. Stranger still, the mosquito
is not only a bloodsucker but an incorrigible wine-
bibber as well — she will get helplessly fuddled on any
sweet wine, such as port, or on sugared spirits, while
of gin she is inordinately fond.
Such disreputable habits — the querulous sing-song,
the poisoned sting, the thirst for blood, and the practice
of getting dead drunk at every opportunity, are enough
of themselves to make the mosquito a thing accursed;
but these are by no means the worst counts in our in-
dictment against her. We have learned, within the
past few years, that all the suffering and mortality
from malaria, yellow fever, and filariasis (including the
hideous and fatal elephantiasis of the tropics) is due to
germs that are carried in no other way than by mos-
quitoes. Flies spread the germs of typhoid fever and
malignant eye diseases; fleas carry the bubonic plague;
the sleeping-sickness of Africa is transmitted by in-
sects. There is no longer any guesswork about this:
it is demonstrated fact. Professor Kellogg, summing
up what is now known of the life history of malaria-
165
166 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
bearing mosquitoes (Anopheles) says: "When in
malarial regions, avoid the bite of a mosquito as you
would that of a rattlesnake— one can be quite as serious
in its results as the other."
The worst of it, from a sportsman's view-point,
is that the farther we push toward the arctics or the
tropics, the worse becomes this pest of dangerous in-
sects. It is into just such countries that, nowadays
and in future, we must go in order to get really first-
class hunting and fishing. Consequently the problem
of how best to fight our insect enemies becomes of ever
increasing importance to all who love to hunt over and
explore the wild places that are still left upon the earth.
Mosquitoes are bad enough in the tropics, but they
are at their worst in the coldest regions of the earth.
M . e Harry de Windt reports that at Verk-
hoyansk, in Siberia, which is the arctic
pole of cold (where the winter temperature often sinks
to-75° Fahr., and has been known to reach-81°) the
mosquitoes make their appearance before the snow is
off the ground, and throughout the three summer
months, make life almost unbearable to the wretched
natives and exiles. The swamps and shoaly lakes in
the surrounding country breed mosquitoes in such in-
credible hosts that reindeer, sledge-dogs, and sometimes
even the natives themselves, are actually tormented
to death by them.
Throughout a great part of central and western
Canada, and Alaska, there are vast tundras of bog
moss, called by the Indians muskegs, which in summer
are the breeding-grounds of unending clouds of mos-
quitoes whose biting powers exceed those of any
insects known in the United States. Even if the
muskeg land were not a morass, this plague of mosqui-
toes would forever render it uninhabitable in summer.
The insects come out of their pupae at the first sprout-
ing of spring vegetation, in May, and remain until
destroyed by severe frosts in September. In Alaska,
all animals leave for the snow-line as soon as the mos-
quito pest appears, but the enemy follows them even
to the mountain tops above timber-line. Deer and
PESTS OF THE WOODS 167
moose are killed by mosquitoes, which settle upon
them in such amazing swarms that the unfortunate
beasts succumb from literally having the blood sucked
out of their bodies. Bears are driven frantic, are
totally blinded, mire in the mud, and starve to death.
Animals that survive have their flesh discolored all
through, and even their marrow is reduced to the
consistency of blood and water. The men who pene-
trate such regions are not the kind that would allow
toil or privation to break their spirit, but they become
so unstrung from days and nights of continuous tor-
ment inflicted by enemies insignificant in size but in-
finite in number, that they become savage, desperate,
and sometimes even weep in sheer helpless anger.
In regions so exceptionally cursed with mosquitoes
no mere sportsman has any business until winter sets in.
p . But even in the more accessible wood-
lands north and south of us the insect
pest is by far the most serious hardship that fishermen
and other summer outers are obliged to meet. Head-
nets and gauntlets are all very well in their way, but
one can neither hunt, fish, paddle, push through the
brush, nor even smoke, when so accoutered. Con-
sequently everybody tries some kind or other of "fly-
dope," by which elegant name we mean any prepara-
tion which, being rubbed over the exposed parts of
one's skin, is supposed to discourage insects from
repeating their attacks.
™ D The number of such dopes is legion.
They may be classified in two groups:
(1) Thick ointments that dry to a tenacious glaze
on the skin, if the wearer abstain from washing;
(2) Liquids or semi-fluid unguents that are supposed
to protect by their odor alone, and must be renewed
several times a day.
The latter vary a great deal. It is safe to say that
everything in the pharmacopceia that seemed in the
least promising has been tried. The oils of penny-
royal, cloves, lavender, citronella, verbena and lemon-
grass are often used singly; eucalyptol is favored by
some, others find the tincture of ledum palustre (a
168 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
European relative of our Labrador tea) efficacious;
while mixtures of camphor (1) and paraffin oil (3),
or of sweet oil (16) and carbolic acid (1), or of creosote
and glycerin, each has its coterie that swears by it.
The personal equation seems to cut some figure in
such matters: what works satisfactorily with some
people is of no avail with others. A crushed dock
or caribou leaf gives temporary relief.
. Among the glazes, Nessmuk's recipe, published in
his Woodcraft, is perhaps as well known and as
widely used as any. He says this about it:
I have never known it to fail: 3 oz. pine tar, 2 oz. castor
oil, 1 oz. pennyroyal oil. Simmer all together over a slow
fire, and bottle for use. You will hardly need more than a
2-oz. vial full in a season. One ounce has lasted me six weeks
in the woods. Rub it in thoroughly and liberally at first,
and after you have established a good glaze, a little replenish-
ing from day to day will be sufficient. And don't fool with soap
and towels where insects are plenty. A good safe coat of this
varnish grows better the longer it is kept on — and it is cleanly
and wholesome. If you get your face or hands crocky or
smutty about the camp-fire, wet the corner of your handker-
chief and rub it off, not forgetting to apply the varnish at once
wherever you have cleaned it off. Last summer I carried a
cake of soap and a towel in my knapsack through the North
Woods for a seven weeks' tour, and never used either a single
time. When I had established a good glaze on the skin, it
was too valuable to be sacrificed for any weak whim connected
with soap and water . . . It is a soothing and healing appli-
cation for poisonous bites already received.
Aside from my personal tests of many dopes, I have
had some interesting correspondence on this topic
with sportsmen in various parts of the world. I quote
from one letter, received last year from Col. Norman
Fletcher of Louisville:
Upon the swampy trout streams of Michigan on a warm May
day . . . when the insects are abundant and vicious . . .
pure pine tar is by far the best repellant when properly used.
I give two recipes:
(1) Pure pine tar 1 ounce,
Oil pennyroyal 1 '*
Vaselin 3 ounces.
Mix cold in a mortar. If you wish, you can add 3 per cent,
carbolic acid to above. Sometimes I make it 1^ oz. ta*.
PESTS OF THE WOODS 169
(2) Pure pine tar 2 ounces,
Castor oil 3
Simmer for half an hour, and when cool add
Oil pennyroyal 1 ounce.
There are many others of similar nature, but the above are
as good as any . . . Now as to use of above: apply freely
and frequently to all exposed parts of person, and do not wash
off until leaving the place where the pests abound. You can
wash your eyes in the morning, and wash the palms of your
hands as often as may be necessary, but if you wish to be
immune, don't wash any other exposed parts . . . When
you get accustomed to it you will find some compensating
comfort ... I have had to contend with mosquitoes, deer-
flies, black-flies, and midges . . . and have found "dope"
with tar in it the best. I know that where mosquitoes are not
very bad, oil of citronella, oil of verbena or of lemon-grass or
of pennyroyal mixed with vaselin will keep them off, if the
mixture is applied frequently. These essential oils are
quickly evaporated, however, by the heat of the body. Cam-
phorated oil is also used by some; this is simply sweet oil with
gum camphor dissolved in it: the camphor is volatile and
soon evaporates . . . Now I don't much like tar dope be-
cause I can not wash my face and hands as often as I could
wish; but when it is necessary to get some trout, without being
worried too much by the insects, I can stand the tar for a few
days.
The fruit of my own experiments thus far is that tar
dopes are the most effective ones in comparatively
cool climates, but that they are of little avail in hot
countries, because when one perspires freely both by
night and day, there is no chance for a glaze to be es-
tablished.
In the high mountains of North Carolina and ad-
joining states there are no mosquitoes, at least none
tj,. that sting or bite; but if a man sits
down on a log, it may be five miles
from any house, the chance is good that he will arise
covered with fleas. I have been so tormented by these
nimble allies of Auld Reekie, when spending a night
in a herder's cabin on the summit of the Smokies,
that I have arisen in desperation and rubbed myself
from head to foot with kerosene. That settled the
fleas, and almost settled me. Here I may offer a bit
of a discovery, not copyrighted, that I believe is new;
170 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
fleas can't swim. When you catch one, don't try to
crush him or examine him {her, I should say) , but keep
a tight grip until you get your thumb and finger into
some water; then let go, and she will sink, and drown,
and go to meet her reward, which, let us hope, is a
warm one.
In northern forests we have several species of flies
that attack man. The deer-fly or "bull-dog" is a
_,, - , . small gad-fly that drives her dasrger-
Blood-sucking ,., & ,., / . . , , . . ?&
_.. like mandibles into one s skm so vicious-
ly that she takes out a bit of flesh and
makes the blood flow freely. The black-fly (Similium
molestum) is a stout, humpbacked, black termagent
with transparent wings, from one-sixth to one-quarter
inch long. This creature is a common nuisance of
the forests and along the streams of northern New
England, the Adirondacks, the Lake region, and
Canada. She keeps busy until late in the afternoon,
poisoning everything that she attacks, and raising a
painful lump as big as a dime at every bite. Closely
related species are the buffalo-gnat and turkey-gnat
of the South, which sometimes appear in incredible
numbers, driving animals frantic and setting up an
inflammatory fever that may prove fatal. Black-
flies and their ilk are easily driven away by smudges.
Worst of all flies, though fortunately rare in the
North (it has been known to reach Canada), is the
■d- .p,.. screw- worm fly (Compsomyia macel-
laria), a bright metallic-green insect
with golden reflections and four black stripes on the
upper part of the body. This is a blow-fly which has
the sickening habit of laying its eggs in wounds, and
even in the nostrils of sleeping men. Several fatalities
from this cause have been reported in our country;
they have been much more numerous in South America.
The gusanero of tropical America is described by a
traveler as "a beast of a fly that attacks you, you know
not when, till after three or four months you know that
he has done so by the swelling up of the bitten part
into a fair-sized boil, from which issues a maggot of
perhaps an inch and a half in length." Another
PESTS OF THE WOODS 171
Amazonian fly of similar habits is the birni, whose
larva generates a grub in one's skin that requires care-
ful extraction, lest it be crushed in the operation,
"and then," said a native, "gentlemen often go to o
outro mundo" (the other world). The motuca of
Brazil has ways similar to those of our black-fly, and,
like it, can easily be killed with one's fingers.
While I am on this topic, it may add a little to the
contentment of those outers who are unable to seek
p , - adventure in faraway lands, but must
T . needs camp within a hundred miles
" or so of home, if I transcribe from the
pages of a well-known naturalist the following notes
on some of the impediments to travel in the tropics:
But the most numerous and most dreaded of all animals in
the middle Amazons are the insects. Nearly all kinds of
articulate life here have either sting or bite. The strong trade
wind keeps the lower Amazons clear of the winged pests; but
soon after leaving Mariaos, and especially on the Maranon
in the rainy season, the traveler becomes intimately acquainted
with half a dozen insects of torture:
(1) The sanguinary mosquito. . . . There are several
species, most of them working at night; but one black fellow
with white feet is diurnal. Doctor Spruce experimented upon
himself, and found that he lost, by letting the blood-letters have
their own way, three ounces of blood per day. . . . The
ceaseless irritation of these ubiquitous creatures makes life
almost intolerable. The great Cortez, after all his victories,
could not forget his struggles with these despicable enemies
he could not conquer. Scorpions with cocked tails, spiders
six inches in diameter, and centipedes running on all dozens,
are not half so bad as a cloud of mosquitoes. . . .
(2) The pium, or sand-fly, a species of trombidium called
mosquito in Peru. It is a minute, dark-colored dipter with
two triangular, horny lancets, which leave a small, circular red
spot on the skin. It works by day, relieving the mosquito at
sunrise. It is the great scourge of the Amazons. Many a
paradisaic spot is converted into an inferno by its presence.
There are several species, which follow one another in suc-
cession through the day, all of them being diurnal. Their
favorite region is said to be on the Cassiquiare and upper
Orinoco.
(3) The maruim, which resembles the pium. They are
infinitely numerous on the Jurua. Humboldt estimated there
were a million to a cubic foot of air where he was.
(4) The mutuca, called tdbono on the Maranon (Hadaus
172 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
lepidotus), resembling a small horse-fly, of a bronze-black
color, with the tips of the wings transparent, and a formidable
proboscis. ...
(5) The moquim . ... a microscopic scarlet acarus, re-
sembling a minute crab under the glass. It swarms on weeds
and bushes, and on the skin causes an intolerable itching. An
hour's walk through the grassy streets of Teffe was sufficient
to cover my entire body with myriads of moquims, which it
took a week, and repeated bathing with rum, to exterminate.
(6) Carapdtos, or ticks (Ixodes), which mount to the tips
of blades of grass, attach themselves to the clothes of passers-
by, and bury their jaws and heads so deeply in the flesh that
it is difficult to remove them without leaving the proboscis
behind to fret and fester. In sucking one's blood they cause
no pain; but serious sores, even ulcers, often result. . . .
These few forms of insect life must forever hinder the settle-
ment of the valley. . . . Besides these there are ants . . .
innumerable in species and individuals, and of all sizes, from
the little red ant of the houses to the mammoth tokandera, an
inch and a half long. . . . The latter . . . bites fiercely,
but rarely causes death. . . . Doctor Spruce likens the pain
to a hundred thousand nettles. . . . On the Tapajos lives
the terrible fire-ant . . . whose sting is likened to the punc-
ture of a red-hot needle. The saubas are not carnivorous, but
they make agriculture almost impossible. . . . There are
black and yellow wasps. . . . The large, hairy caterpillars
should be handled with care, as the irritation caused by the
nettling hairs is sometimes a serious matter. Cockroaches are
great pests in the villages. Lice find a congenial home on the
unwashed Indians of every tribe, but particularly the Andean.
Jiggers and fleas prefer dry, sandy localities; they are accor-
dingly most abounding on the mountains. The Pacific slope
is worthy of being called flea-dom. — Orton, The Andes and
the Amazons, pp. 484-487.
The moquim mentioned above answers the descrip-
tion of our own chigger, jigger, red-bug, as she is vari-
~ ,, ously called, which is an entirely different
p, . beast from the real chigger or chigoe
of the tropics. I do not know what
may be the northern limit of these most unlady-
like creatures, but have made their acquaintance on
Swatara Creek in Pennsylvania. They are quite at
home on the prairies of southern Illinois, exist in
myriads on the Ozarks, and throughout the lowlands
of the South, and are perhaps worst of all in some parts
of Texas. The chigger, as I shall call her, is invisible
on one's skin, unless you know just what to look for.
PESTS OF THE WOODS 173
Get her on a piece of black cloth, and you can dis-
tinguish what looks like a fine grain of red pepper.
Put her under a microscope, and she resembles, as
Orton says, a minute crab. She lives in the grass,
and on the under side of leaves, dropping off on the
first man or beast that comes her way. Then she pros-
pects for a good place, where the skin is thin and
tender, and straightway proceeds to burrow, not
contenting herself, like a tick, with merely thrusting
her head in and getting a good grip, but going in body
and soul, to return no more. The victim is not aware
of what is in store for him until he goes to bed that
night. Then begins a violent itching, which continues
for a week or two. I have had two hundred of these
tormenting things in my skin at one time.
If one takes a bath in salt water every night before
retiring, he can keep fairly rid of these unwelcome
guests; but once they have burrowed underneath
the skin, neither salt, nor oil, nor turpentine, nor
carbolized ointment, nor anything else that I have
tried will kill them, save mercurial ointment or the
tincture of stavesacre seed, both of which are dan-
gerous if incautiously used. After much experiment, I
found that chloroform, dropped or rubbed on each
separate welt, will stop the itching for about six
hours. It is quite harmless, and pleasant enough to
apply. The country people sometimes rub themselves
with salty bacon-rind before going outdoors, and claim
that this is a preventive; also that kerosene will do
as well. If one keeps an old suit of clothes expressly
for chigger-time, puts the suit in a closet, and fumigates
it thoroughly with the smoke of burning tobacco stems,
no chigger will touch him. Alas! that the preventives
should all be so disagreeable.
The chigoe or sand-flea of Mexico, Central America,
and South America, is a larger and more formidable
T . . pest than our little red-bug. It attacks,
Pi- preferably, the feet, especially under-
neath the nail of the great toe, and
between the toes. The insect burrows there, becomes
encysted, swells enormously from the development
174 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
of her young, and thus sets up an intolerable itching in
the victim's skin. If the female is crushed or ruptured
in the tumor she has formed, the result is likely to be
amputation of the toe, if nothing worse. She should
be removed entire by careful manipulation with a
needle. This chigoe is a native of tropical America,
but seems to be gradually spreading northward. About
1872 it was introduced into Africa, and spread with
amazing rapidity over almost the entire continent. It
will probably soon invade southern Europe and Asia.
The wood-ticks that fasten on man are, like the
chiggers, not true insects, but arachnids, related to
T. . the scorpions and spiders. They are
leathery-skinned creatures of about the
same size and shape as a bedbug, but of quite different
color and habits. They "use" on the under side of
leaves of low shrubs, and thence are detached to the
person of a passer-by just as chiggers are. They also
abound in old mulchy wood, and are likely to infest
any log that a tired man sits on. They hang on like
grim death, and if you try to pull one out of your skin,
its head will break off and remain in the epidermis,
to create a nasty sore. The way to get rid of them is
to drop oil on the bug, or clap a quid of moistened
tobacco on her, or touch her with nicotine from a
pipe, or stand naked in the dense smoke of a green
wood fire, or use whiskey externally, or hot water, or
flame; in either case the tick will back its way out.
Preventive measures are the same as for chiggers.
The meanest ticks to get rid of are the young, which
are known as "seed-ticks." They are hard to discover
until they have inflamed the skin, and then are hard
to remove because they are so small and fragile. The
ticks that infest birds, bats, sheep, and horses, are true
insects, in no wise related to the wood-ticks, dog-ticks,
and cattle-ticks. The cattle-tick is responsible for the
fatal disease among cattle that is known as Texas fever.
The punky or "no-see-um" of the northeastern
Punk'e wildwoods, and her cousin the sting-
ing midge of western forests, are
minute bloodsuckers that, according to my learned
PESTS OF THE WOODS 175
friend Professor Comstock, live, "under the bark of
decaying branches, under fallen leaves, and in sap
flowing from wounded trees."
With all due deference to this distinguished entomolo-
gist, I must aver that they don't live there when I am
around; they seem particularly fond of sap flowing
from wounded fishermen. Dope will keep them from
biting you, but it won't keep them out of your eyes.
Punkies are particularly annoying about sunset. Oil
of citronella is the best preventive of their attacks.
If you want mosquitoes to leave your tent in a
hurry, explode a little black' gunpowder in it. Burning
T . insect powder in the tent is also effective,
Insects in , . .
r but it is not so prompt nor so sports-
p* manlike. The best way, though, is
to keep them out from the first, by the device men-
tioned in White's book The Forest: have an inside
tent of cheese-cloth, which is hung up out of the way
in the daytime, and can be dropped and made snug
all around the bottom before you turn in.
If ants are troublesome about a permanent camp,
pour kerosene on their runways. They will not cross
a broad line drawn with chalk or charcoal. Oil of
sassafras sprinkled about will keep flies and ants out
of a cabin. The fresh leaves of the Kentucky coffee
tree, bruised and sweetened, are good to poison flies.
Black walnut leaves will drive fleas out of a bed; the
leaves, soaked in water for some hours, then boiled,
and applied to the skins of horses or other animals,
will prevent their being worried by flies. To get rid
of flies, if you have milk, add to 1 pint of milk £ lb.
of sugar and 2 oz. ground pepper; place in a shallow
dish; the flies will eat greedily, and choke to death.
A good smudge is raised by using cedar "cigars,"
made as follows: Take long strips of cedar bark and
~ , bunch them together into a fagot
six or eight inches in diameter, about
one strip in three being dry and the others water-
soaked; bind them with strips of the inner bark of
green cedar. Ignite one end at the camp-fire, and
set up two or more such cigars on different sides of
176 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
the camp, according as the wind may shift. Punky
wood piled on a bed of coals is also good. The am-
moniacal vapors from a smudge of dried cow-dung
is particularly effective. I have elsewhere referred to
smudges made of dried toadstools; these are peculiarly
repellent to punkies. A toadstool as large as one's
two fists will hold fire for six or eight hours. A piece
of one can be carried suspended by a string around
one's neck, the burning end out. If the fungus is
too damp at first, it can soon be dried out before the
fire.
The pain or itching caused by insect bites is quickly
relieved by rubbing the spot with a lump of indigo,
or by touching it with glycerin or ammonia, or by
rubbing a bit of raw onion over it.
Scorpions are not uncommon as far north as Mis-
souri. I often used to find them in the neighbor-
„ . hood of St. Louis — little red fellows
' about 4 inches long. In the southwest,
where they abound, they grow to a length of 6 or 7
inches. They hide by day under flat rocks, in dead
trees, and in moist, dark places generally, and do their
foraging at night. They are very belligerent, always
fighting to the death. They carry their tails curled
upward and forward, and can only strike upward and
backward. They are sometimes unpleasantly familiar
around camp, especially in rainy weather, having a
penchant for crawling into bedding, boots, coat sleeves,
trousers' legs, etc. The sting of a small scorpion is
about as severe as that of a hornet; that of a large
one is more serious, but never fatal, so far as I know,
except to small children. After a person is stung a
few times he is inoculated, and proof against the poison
thereafter. If you get stung, take a hollow key or small
tube, press the hollow with force over the puncture,
causing the poison and a little blood to exude, hold
firmly in place for several minutes, and, if the scorpion
was a large one, you have a good excuse for drinking
all the whiskey you want. Ordinarily a quid of moist
tobacco locally applied eases the pain and reduces the
swelling. Tobacco juice, by the way, is fatal to scor-
PESTS OF THE WOODS 177
pions, tarantulas, and centipedes, and will set a snake
crazy.
I first witnessed the leaping powers of a tarantula
one night when I was alone in a deserted log cabin
,_ , , in southern Missouri. The cabin had
Tarantulas. , . , „ nP
not been occupied tor ntteen years,
and there was no furniture in it. I had scarcely made
my bed on the board floor when a tornado struck the
forest. It was a grand sight, but scared me stiff.
Well, the electric plant was working finely, just then,
the lightning being almost a continuous glare. A
tarantula that spread as broad as my hand jumped
out of the straw that I was lying on and — it was hard
to tell which was quicker, he or the lightning.
He seemed disturbed about something. Not being
able to fight the tornado, I took after the big spider
with an old stumpy broom that happened to be in the
cabin. When the broom would land at one side of the
room, the tarantula would be on the other side. I
was afraid he would spring for my face, but presently
he popped into a hole somewhere, and vanished. The
cabin somehow stuck to terra firma, and I returned to
my pallet.
The tarantula's habits are similar to the scorpion's.
The fangs are in its mouth. The bite is very severe,
but not fatal to an adult. Cases of men being injured
by either of these venomous arachnids are extremely
rare, considering the abundance of the pests in some
countries, and their habit of secreting themselves in
clothes and bedding. If you want to see a battle royal,
drop a scorpion and a tarantula into the same box.
They will spring for each other in a flash, and both are
absolutely game to the last.
c ,. , I have had no personal experience
with centipedes. Paul Fountain says:
The centipedes were an intolerable nuisance for they had
a nasty habit of hiding among the bed-clothes and under the
pillows, attracted there to prey on the bugs, as I suppose: one
evil as a set-off to another. But the centipedes were something
more than a mere nuisance. It is all very well to be blandly
told by gentlemen who think they know all about it that the
12
178 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
bites of centipedes and scorpions are not dangerous. It may
not be particularly dangerous to have a red-hot wire applied
to your flesh, but it is confoundedly painful. Yet that is to
be preferred to a centipede bite, which will not only make you
dance at the time of infliction, but leave a painful swelling
for many days after, accompanied by great disturbance of the
system.
Concluding this rather painful essay, I will say that
the most satisfactory all-around "dope" that I have
found, to discourage attack by mosquitoes, flies,
midges fleas, and ticks, is oil of citronella, which, for
the two last mentioned pests, as well as for bed-bugs,
must be rubbed all over one's body before going into
the woods, or before retiring. I have used it thus,
daily, for months, with no ill effect. It is not un-
pleasant to use, and can be procured at any city drug
store, or at a barber shop.
CHAPTER XIII
FOREST TRAVEL— KEEPING A COURSE
Quand na pas choual, monte bourique;
Quand na pas bourique, monte cabri;
Quand na pas cabri, monte jambe.
(When you have no horse, you ride a donkey;
When you have no donkey, you ride a goat;
When you have no goat, you ride your legs.)
— Creole Saying.
TN walking through a primitive forest, an Indian or
■*■ a white woodsman can wear out a town-bred
athlete, although the latter may be the stronger man.
This is because a man who is used to the woods has
a knack of walking over uneven and slippery ground,
edging through thickets, and worming his way amid
fallen timber, with less fret and exertion than one
who is accustomed to smooth, unobstructed paths.
There is somewhat the same difference between a
townsman's and a woodsman's gait as there is between
„ a soldier's and a sailor's. It is chiefly
w ., a difference of hip action, looseness of
joints, and the manner of planting one's
feet. The townsman's stride is an up-and-down
knee action, with rather rigid hips, the toes pointing
outward, and heels striking first. The carriage is
erect, the movement springy and graceful, so long as
one is walking over firm, level footing — but beware
the banana-peel and the small boy's sliding-place !
This is an ill-poised gait, because one's weight falls
first upon the heel alone, and at that instant the walker
has little command of his balance. It is an exhausting
gait as soon as its normally short pace is lengthened by
so much as an inch.
A woodsman, on the contrary, walks with a rolling
motion, his hips swaying an inch or more to the stepping
side, and his pace is correspondingly long. This hip
179
180 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
action may be noticed to an exaggerated degree in the
stride of a professional pedestrian; but the latter walks
with a heel-and-toe step, whereas an Indian's or sailor's
step is more nearly flat-footed. In the latter case the
center of gravity is covered by the whole foot. The
poise is as secure as that of a rope-walker. The toes
are pointed straight forward, or even a trifle inward,
so that the inside of the heel, the outside of the ball
of the foot, and the smaller toes, all do their share of
work and assist in balancing. Walking in this manner,
one is not so likely, either, to trip over projecting roots,
stones, and other traps, as he would be if the feet
formed hooks by pointing outward. The necessity is
obvious in snowshoeing.
A fellow sportsman, H. G. Dulog, once remarked:
"If the Indian were turned to stone while in the act of
stepping, the statue would probably stand balanced on
one foot. This gait gives the limbs great control oyer
his movements. He is always poised. If a stick
cracks under him it is because of his weight, and not
by reason of the impact. He goes silently on, and with
great economy of force. . . . His steady balance
enables him to put his moving foot down as gently as
you would lay an egg on the table."
There is another advantage in walking with toes
pointing straight ahead instead of outward: one gains
ground at each stride. I have often noticed that
an Indian's stride gains in this manner, as well as
from his rolling motion on the hips. The white man
acquires this habit, if he ever gets it, but an Indian is
molded to it in the cradle. If you examine the way in
which a papoose is bound to its cradle-board, this will
be made clear. Immediately after birth the infant is
stretched out on the board, its bowlegged little limbs
are laid as straight as possible, and. the feet are placed
exactly perpendicular and close together before being
swaddled. Often the squaw removes the bandages
and gently drags and works on the baby's limbs and
spine to make them as straight as possible. Then, in
rebandaging, care is always taken that the toes shall
point straight forward.
FOREST TRAVEL 181
The custom of wearing moccasins also increases the
normal stride beyond what it would be if one wore
boots.
When carrying a pack on your back, do not over-
exert yourself. Halt whenever your breathing is very
n „ . labored or exertion becomes painful.
Rig your pack at the start so that it can
be flung off whenever you sit down for a moment's
rest; it pays. Nobody who understands horses would
think of driving them ahead when they show signs of
distress, and there is quite as much common sense in
treating yourself with the same consideration, if you
want to travel far. Over-exertion is particularly dis-
astrous in mountain-climbing.
One who is unused to long marches may get along
pretty well the first day, but on the second morning it
r f xt. wih seem as if he could not drag one
_, foot after the other. This is the time
when the above remarks do not apply;
for if one uses the gad and goes ahead he will soon
limber up. But by the morning of the third day it is
likely that complications will have set in. The novice
by this time is worn, not only from unaccustomed
exertion, but from loss of sleep — for few men sleep
well the first night or two in the open. He is prob-
ably constipated from change of diet, and from drink-
ing too much on the march. More serious still, he
probably has sore feet. This latter ailment is not so
much due to his feet being tender at the start as from
his not having taken proper care of them. Aside from
the downright necessity of seeing that one's shoes and
stockings fit well, and that the shoes were well broken
in before starting, there are certain rules of pedestrian
hygiene that should be observed from the word "go."
Every morning before starting, dust some talc powder
inside your stockings, or rub some vaselin, tallow, or
soap on the inside of them. Then wash your feet every
evening, preferably in hot salted water, and, if they feel
strained, rub them with whiskey. The underwear
should also be dusted inside with powdered soapstone,
or otherwise treated like the stockings, at all places
182 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
where the garments are likely to chafe. Socks should
be washed every other day.
If a blister has formed on the foot, do not merely
prick it and squeeze the water out, but thread a needle
with soft cotton or worsted, draw the latter partly
through the blister, snip off the ends about one-fourth
inch from the blister, and leave the thread there to act
as a drainage tube. Then cover the part with a soft,
clean rag greased with vaselin, or tallow rubbed up
with a little whiskey. This will prevent the skin being
rubbed off, and a consequent painful wound. Corns
may be removed by a plaster of pine turpentine (not
spirits, but the raw sap of the tree).
In warm weather, one's first few days in the open
air will bring an inordinate thirst, which is not caused
T, . by the stomach's demand for water,
but by a fever of the palate. This may
be relieved somewhat by chewing a green leaf, or by
carrying a smooth, non-absorbent pebble in the mouth;
but a much better thirst-quencher is a bit of raw
onion carried in the mouth. One can go a long time
without drinking if he has an onion with him; this
also prevents one's lips from cracking in alkali dust.
Drink as often as you please, but not very much at
a time. If the water is cold, sip it slowly so as not to
chill the stomach. Never try to satisfy thirst by swal-
lowing snow or ice; melt the snow first by holding it in
the mouth, if no fire can be made.
The way to find game, or to get the best of anything
else that the forest hides, is not to follow well-beaten
P , paths. One must often make his own
T . trails, and go where the going is hard-
est. As he travels through the unbroken
woods he may come, now and then, to a glade where
the trees do not crowd each other, where the under-
growth is sparse, and the view so unobstructed that he
can see to shoot for a hundred yards in any direction;
such spots may be about as common, relatively, as are
safe anchorages and deep-water harbors along the
coast. But, most of the time, a wanderer in the forest
primeval must pick a way for his feet over uneven
Crude, but Comfortable
Down the Snow-white Alleys
FOREST TRAVEL 183
ground that is covered with stubs, loose stones, slippery
roots, crooked saplings, mixed downwood, and tough,
thorny vines. He is forever busy seeking openings,
parting bushes, brushing away cobwebs, fending off
springy branches, crawling over or under fallen trees,
working around impenetrable tangles, or trying to find
a foot-log or a ford. There is no such thing as a short-
cut. It is beyond the power of man to steer a straight
course, or to keep up a uniform cadence of his steps.
Unless the traveler knows his ground there is no telling
when he may come to a "windfall" where several acres
of big timber have been overthrown by a hurricane and
the great trees lie piled across each other in an awk-
ward snarl. Or maybe there is an alder thicket or a
cedar swamp in the way, or a canebrake or a cypress
slough, or a laurel or rhododendron "slick," wherein
a man will soon exhaust his strength to no purpose, if
he be so unwise as to try to force a passage.
A brule or burnt- wood is a nasty place to pass through.
Every foot of ground that is not covered by charred
snags, or fallen trunks and limbs, bristles with a new
growth of fireweed, blackberry and raspberry briers,
young red cherries, white birches, poplars, quaking
aspens, scrub oaks, or gray pines. Where the fire has
occurred on one of those barren ridges that was covered
with dwarfish oaks (post, black, or blackjack), the
sharp, fire-hardened stubs of limbs protrude, like bayo-
nets, at the height of one's face, menacing his eyes. An
old "lumber works," where the trees have been chopped
out, leaving nothing but stumps, tree-tops, and other
debris, grows up with the same rank tenants as a burnt-
wood, and is as mean to flounder through. As a gen-
eral rule, a mile and a half an hour of actual progress is
"making good time" in the woods.
Rivers are often spoken of as having been man's
natural highways in the days before railroads. This
jj , was true only to a limited extent. A
.jy ., few great rivers such as the Hudson,
the Ohio, the Mississippi, and the Mis-
souri, were highways for down-stream travel, and smaller
waterways were, and still are, used in summer in the
184
CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
muskeg country of the North, where land travel is im-
practicable until everything freezes up. But the gen-
eral rule of aboriginal travel was to keep away from
streams and follow the ridges between them. This
rule still holds good when a party travels afoot or with
Fig. 8.
pack-train in a country where there are no bridges. A
glance at the accompanying diagram will show why.
In this figure, AG represents a river, and CF the
main divide or summit of watershed separating it from
another river basin. It is assumed that a party afoot
or with horses desires to advance from A to G. Evi-
dently, if they try to follow either bank of the main
stream, they will have many fords to make, not only
FOREST TRAVEL 185
crossing tributaries here and there, but fording or
swimming the main stream itself, many times, where
cliffs, bogs, or impenetrable thickets make one of the
banks impassable. If the region through which the
river runs is wide bottom-land, the mouths of its tribu-
taries are likely to be deep, or to run over fathomless
mud as dangerous as quicksand, and this will neces-
sitate long detours. The vegetation up to the very
bank of the river will be exceedingly rank, a wretched
tangle of bushes, vines, briars, and tall grass, and
fallen trees will be plentiful and large. At any time a
heavy rainstorm may send the river out of its banks,
and the party may find itself marooned where it can
neither go forward nor backward. On the other hand,
if the river runs through a mountainous country, it is
probable that the travelers will come to a canon that
will compel them to retreat. In any case, the party
will never have an outlook; it will never know what
lies beyond the next bend of the river.
A comparatively easy way around all of these diffi-
culties is shown by the dotted line ABDEG. Leaving
the river by a ridge that leads to the main divide, and
following the crest to a similar abutting ridge that runs
down to the valley at the objective point, there will be
no fords to make, the footing will be much better be-
cause vegetation is thinner on the more sterile, wind-
swept heights, the fallen trees will be smaller, there will
be no mud or quicksand or miry bogs, and every here
and there a coign of vantage will be climbed from
which a far outlook can be had over the surrounding
country.
The chief precaution to be observed in trying to
follow a divide where there is no trail, or where there
are many intersecting trails, is not to stray off on some
abutting ridge. Thus, at the points B and D there
may be in each case a gap between knolls or peaks, and
the lead to the left might easily be mistaken for the
main divide. If the party were enticed along either
of these leads, on account of its trending in the de-
sired direction, they would soon find themselves in a cut
de sac.
186 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
The city man's gait, to which I have already referred,
is peculiarly exhausting in mountain-climbing. He is
__ . accustomed .to spring from the toe of
_ , . the lower foot, in going uphill. That
throws nearly the whole weight of the
body upon the muscles of the calf of the leg, a mis-
adjustment of strain that would soon wear out even a
native mountaineer. The latter walks uphill with a
woodsman's gait, planting the whole foot on the ground,
and swinging or rolling the hip at each stride, thus not
only gaining an inch or two in his pace, but distribut-
ing the strain between several groups of muscles.
In Dent's Mountaineering are given some useful hints
to climbers that I take the liberty of condensing here:
In walking up a steep hill, go slowly and steadily. If you
cannot talk without catching your breath, it is a sure sign that
you are going too fast.
If you slip on a loose stone, do not try to recover your lost
ground quickly, but slip away until your foot is checked a
few inches below. Thus keep up the rhythm of your footfall.
On an average mountain, where the slope is tolerably uni-
form, and the climber has no long journey before him, an
ascent of 1,000 ft. in an hour is quick walking. In beginning
a long climb, 800 ft. of vertical ascent in an hour is good work.
On a good trail, for a moderate distance, 1,500 ft. an hour is
quick walking. Under favorable conditions a good climber
can ascend from a height of 7,000 ft. to 14,000 ft. in seven
hours; at greater altitudes the pace will slacken.
In descending a mountain, the pace, however slow, should
be continuous. To remain stationary, even for a moment, not
only necessitates a fresh start, but demands an adjustment of
balance which implies an unnecessary outlay of muscular
effort. To descend rapidly and safely without exertion, a
certain looseness of joints should be cultivated. On a steep
slope one should descend sideways, so that the whole length of
the foot can be planted fairly on any hold that offers.
A man will never sprain his ankle when he expects to do so
at any moment, nor will he be likely to slip if he is always
prepared to fall.
If you have to cross a deep, rocky ravine or danger-
ous mountain stream by passing over a high foot-log
„ . T or fallen tree, then, if the log is tilted
at an uncomfortable angle, or if its sur-
face is wet, or icy, or treacherous with loose bark, or
if, for any reason, you fear dizziness or faintness, don't
FOREST TRAVEL
187
be ashamed to get down and straddle the log, hunching
yourself along with hands and thighs. Let your com-
panions laugh, if they will. It is not nice to break a
limb or a jaw when you are in a country so rough that
your comrades may have to pack you out, by each,
in turn, carrying you on his own back and crawling
with you.
When a man ventures into strange woods far from
settlements, he should blaze a tree here and there
along his course, and, between the
blazes, every now and then he should
Breaking a
Trail.
bend a green bush over in the direction
he is going, snapping the stem or clipping it with the
hatchet, but letting it adhere by the bark so that the
Fig. 10.
under side of the bushy top will "look at him" when
he returns. The under side of the leaves, being of
lighter shade than the upper, makes such a bush-sign
conspicuous in the woods. Marks like these can be
made without slacking one's pace. Have it mutually
understood that a single blaze on a tree is always to be
made on the side away from camp, and that if the side
toward camp is marked at all it should be with two
blazes. Even when a man is bewildered he can re-
member "A blaze means a-way from; two blazes mean
to-ward."
188 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
Never leave your bed without making sure that you
have your pocketbook, jackknife, watch, and your
waterproof matchbox filled. - Make a practice of load-
ing the latter, if it needs it, every night when you wind
your watch. In cold weather do not leave camp with-
out your hunting hatchet. If you leave a boat for the
purpose of hunting along the bank while the boat
drifts on her way, have it understood by your compan-
ions that you will blaze a tree on the bank about every
half mile. Then they can keep on down-stream as long
as they pass fresh blazes.
In a treeless country piles of rock or freshly upturned
earth can be used; or signals that will attract attention
„. - from a great distance can be made
with smoke; from one to three smudges
being made, according to a prearranged code. The
distress signal with a gun is a shot, a pause, and then
two shots in quick succession. It is disregarded until
after, say, 4 p.m., at which hour the campkeeper (in a
fixed camp) should blow his horn.
This gunshot code is reversed in some countries.
Learn what is the custom in the land where you travel;
but, in any case, have some signal agreed upon so that
your comrades will understand it.
All dense woods look much alike. Trees of all
species grow very tall in a forest that has never been
_, , cut over, their trunks being commonlv
Sameness or ■
th F r t straight and slender, with no branches
within, say, forty feet of the ground.
This is because they cannot live without sunlight for
their leaves, and they can only reach sunlight by grow-
ing tall like their neighbors that crowd around them.
As the young tree shoots upward, its lower limbs
atrophy and drop off. To some extent the character-
istic markings of the trunk that distinguish the differ-
ent species when they grow in the open, and to a greater
extent their characteristic habits of branching, are neu-
tralized when they grow in dense forest. Consequently
a man who can readily tell one species from another, in
open country, by their bark and branching habits,
may be puzzled to distinguish them in aboriginal for-
FOREST TRAVEL 189
est. Moreover, the lichens and mosses that cover the
boles of trees, in the deep shade of a primitive wood, give
them a sameness of aspect, so that there is some excuse
for the novice who says that "all trees look alike" to him.
The knowledge of trees that can be gained, first
from books and secondly from studies of trees them-
selves in city parks or in country wood-lots, must be
supplemented by considerable experience in the real
wilderness before one can say with confidence, by
merely glancing at the bark, "that is a soft maple, and
the other is a sugar tree." And yet, I do not know
any study that, in the long run, would be more service-
able to the amateur woodsman than to get a good
manual of American trees and then go about identify-
ing the species in his neighborhood. Having gained
some facility in this, then let him turn to studying
peculiarities of individual growth. Such self-training,
which can be carried out almost anywhere, will make
him observant of a thousand and one little marks and
characteristics that are sign-boards and street-numbers
in the wilds.
This sort of knowledge has direct bearing upon the
art of following a course, or retracing one's course, in
„ , the wilderness. We hear much about the
^. ,. "extraordinary bump of locality," the
Direction
"phenomenal memory of landmarks,"
the "preternatural sense of direction," of certain wood-
craftsmen. I do not like those phrases, if by them is
meant that certain men are born with a "gift," a sixth
sense, that is denied to others. I do not believe that
any man is a "born woodsman." In the art of wil-
derness travel, as in other things, some men are more
adept than others who have had equal advantages,
and a few possess almost uncanny powers, amounting
to what we call genius. To my notion this means
nothing more than that some individuals are quicker
to observe than others, reason more surely from cause
to effect, and keep their minds more alert; and I be-
lieve that this is far more due to their taking unusual
interest in their surroundings than to any partiality of
Mother Nature in distributing her gifts.
190 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
After a novice has had some preliminary training
of the kind I have indicated, so that all things in the
w. woods no longer look alike to him, he
N . will meet another difficulty. His mem-
ory will be swamped! It is utterly im-
possible for any man, whether he be red, white, black,
or piebald, to store up in his mind all the woodland
marks and signs that one can see in a mile's tramp, to
say nothing of the infinite diversity that he encounters
in a long journey. Now, here is just where a skilled
woodcraftsman has an enormous advantage over any
and all amateurs. He knows what is common, and
pays no attention to it; he knows what is uncommon,
it catches his eye at once, and it interests him, so that
he need make no effort to remember the thing. This
disregard for the common eliminates at once three-
fourths, perhaps nine-tenths, of the trees, plants, rocks,
etc., from his consideration; it relieves his memory of
just that much burden. He will pass a hundred birch
trees without a second glance, until his eye is riveted
by a curly birch. Why riveted ? Because curly birch is
valuable. In the bottom lands he will scarcely see a
sour gum, or a hundred of them; but let him come
across one such tree on top of the ridge, and he will
wonder how it chanced to stray so far from home.
And so on, through all categories of woodland features.
A woodsman notices such things as infallibly, and with
as little conscious effort, as a woman notices the crumbs
and lint on her neighbor's carpet.
A compass is like a pistol, seldom used, but invalu-
able in an emergency. Ordinarily a traveler in the
. . forest does not use a compass — in fact
w. j- I never knew a native of the wilderness
who ever used one — he relies chiefly on
the sun and the general lay of the land to guide him.
In thick woods, canebrakes, swamps, big thickets,
and other places where the course is necessarily very
tortuous, a compass is of no use while one is on the
march. Wherever the traveler can get an outlook he
fixes on some landmark in advance, notes how the sun
strikes him when facing the mark, and thenceforth
FOREST TRAVEL 191
averages up his windings as well as he can. The com-
pass is only of service when he can no longer see
the sun, and is in doubt as to the direction he is
traveling in.
In the wilderness one never knows when he may-
want to retrace his steps. Hence, when passing any-
Pote Star
Fig. 11.
thing that has particularly caught his eye, let him turn
and see how it looks from the other side.
To find the sun on a cloudy day : hold a knife-blade
perpendicularly on the thumb-nail, or on a watch-case,
p - . - and slowly twirl it around. It will
_ . , cast a faint shadow, unless the day is
very dark. Choose an open spot in
the woods for this, rather than under the trees, and
don't try it near noon, when scarcely any shadow would
be cast anyway.
To determine the points of the compass from a
watch: The watch being set by local (sun) time, then,
when the sun is shining, turn the face of the watch to
the sun in such position that the hour-hand shall point
to the sun. Half-way between the hour-hand and
12 o'clock will then be the south point. South of the
equator this would indicate the north point. When
192
CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
the sun is near the zenith this method is of little
use.
To find the pole star: In the constellation of the
Great Bear, the seven stars called the "Dipper" never
set. The two stars forming the front of the dipper's
bowl point toward a conspicuously bright star almost
in line with them, and higher, which is Polaris, the
north star.
When rough-and-ready methods of determining the
meridian are not precise enough for one's purpose, the
Fig. 12. To Find the Meridian by Sun.
following method will be found more accurate than an
ordinary pocket compass: Level a piece of ground a
few feet square, and plant in it a straight rod AB, truly
perpendicular, testing with a plummet. At an hour
or two before noon (say at 10:30 a.m.) mark accurately
the extremity C of the shadow BC thrown by the rod,
the sun being at S. Then from the base B as a center,
with the radius BC, describe with a string a circle CDF
on the ground. As the sun's altitude increases, the
shadow of the rod will gradually grow shorter until
noon, after which it will grow longer until, when the
sun has reached the position S', the shadow will again
FOREST TRAVEL 193
reach the circumference of the circle, at Z). Divide
the arc CD into two equal parts, and from E, a point
equidistant from C to D, draw the line BE. This line
will approximate closely to the true meridian, E being,
of course, north, in north latitude.
When traveling in the dark, torches may be needed.
If a dead pine tree can be found, chop off one of the
T , old stubs of limbs, cutting deep into the
trunk at the joint, so as to get as much
of the heavy resinous bulb as you can. Cut a few
splinters on this big end, if necessary, and light it.
A bark torch is made by peeling several strips of
birch bark four or five inches wide; double or fold them
two or three times if the strips are long, and place
these bunches in the split end of a stick, for handle.
A good torch is made by winding cotton yarn or
rags around a forked stick, in the form of a ball, and
soaking in oil or melted tallow.
To make a "pig-afire," cut a piece of fat pork about
1x1x4 inches, slit each end about 1^ inches, drive a
sharpened stick through the center of the strip, and
light the slit ends. It does not last long, but makes a
good enough temporary flare.
Southern Indians, when exploring caves, used joints
of cane filled with deer's tallow and supplied with wicks.
IS
CHAPTER XIV
BLAZES— SURVEY LINES— NATURAL SIGNS
OF DIRECTION
THHE chief difficulty in forest travel, especially in
*• flat lands that are heavily timbered, is the lack of
natural outlooks from which one could get a view of
distant landmarks. Although there are plenty of marks
in the woods themselves by which a trained woodsman
can follow a route that he traversed not long before,
yet these signs are forever changing, vanishing, being
superseded by others. Not only do new growths
spring up, but old ones are swept away, sometimes
suddenly, as by flood or fire. Hence, when men have
once picked out a course through the woods that they
intend to follow again, they leave permanent marks
along the way for future guidance. The most con-
spicuous and durable waymarks that can easily be
made are blazes on the trees. It is of no little conse-
quence to a traveler in the wilds that he should know
something about blazes and the special uses made of
them in the backwoods.
On a thin-barked tree, a blaze is made by a single
downward stroke, the axe being held almost parallel
_.. with the trunk; but if the bark is thick,
an upward and a downward clip must
be made, perhaps several of them, because, in any
case, the object usually is to expose a good-sized spot
of the whitish sapwood of the tree, which, set in the
dark framework of the outer bark, is a staring mark in
the woods, sure to attract attention, at least while fresh.
Outside of white birch forests, white is the most con-
spicuous color in the woods, until snow falls.
If a blaze is made merely on the outer bark, it will
not show so plainly by contrast. This kind of blaze,
194
BLAZES, SURVEY LINES, ETC. 195
however, may be preferred for some purposes; for ex-
ample, by a trapper who does not want to call every-
body's attention to where his traps are set. A bark-
blaze has the peculiarity that it lasts unaltered, so long
as the bark itself endures, preserving its original out-
lines and distinctness, no matter how much the tree
may grow. But if a wound, however slight, be made
through the bark into the sapwood of the tree, so that
the sap, which is the tree's blood, exudes, a healing
process will at once set in, and the injury, in time, will
be covered over. So, as soon as a blaze is made that
exposes the wood, the tree begins at once to cover up
its scar. This is a slow process. First the edges of
the cut will widen, then a sort of lip of smooth new
inner bark will form, and this will gradually spread
inward over the gash. Once this new skin has formed,
the wound will be covered by new annual layers of
wood, as well as by new outer bark. Years after the
blaze was made, nothing will show on the surface but
a slight scar, a sign that takes practised eyes to detect
and read.
Old blazes that are completely grown over can only
be proven by chopping into the wood until they are un-
covered. The original marks of the axe are then
plainly visible, and the age of a blaze can be deter-
mined to within, at most, a few years, by the number
of rings that have grown over it, except in the case of
tupelo and winged elm trees, the fiber of which is very
irregular.
A blaze always remains at its original height above
the ground, and, where two or more spots have been
cut in the same tree, they will always stand at the same
distance apart. This is because a tree increases its
height and girth only by building on top of the pre-
vious growth, not by stretching it.
An old line of blazes on spruce or pine trees is much
easier to follow than if made on non-resinous trees,
-, ., • because the resin deposited by the ooz-
Following a , r ..11 i
, . mg sap leaves a very noticeable and
durable mark. Similarly, when an
inscription has been penciled or painted on a fresh
196 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
blaze on a pine tree, the sap glazes over the mark and
makes it almost imperishable.
In searching out a line of- blazes, one should keep his
eyes glancing horizontally along a plane about breast-
high, because that is the height at which surveyors
leave their marks, and others usually follow the cus-
tom, unless the line has been spotted by a man on
horseback, or from a boat during time of overflow.
When a blazed line turns abruptly, so that a person
following might otherwise overrun it, a long slash is
made on that side of the tree which faces the new
direction.
It is difficult to follow a line of blazes when snow is
falling, because the wind drives the damp flakes against
the tree, where they adhere, and must be brushed
away to find the blaze.
Now, it is often of much consequence to a traveler
to remember such facts as these. For example, there
is nothing more common in the annals of misadventure
than for a novice to stray off on a deer trail, or, in
southern forests, on a cattle trail, which, although
seductively plain at first, leads nowhere in particular
and soon dwindles to nothing. When undecided, look
for blazes along the path. In heavily timbered regions,
such as we are now considering, any trail that is, or
ever has been, used as a highway by white men is al-
most sure to have been blazed.
Again, it is often of moment to determine, when one
strikes a strange trail, what its nature is — for what
purpose it was made — and thus be able to figure out
whether it is likely to lead directly to a settlement or
camp. This ought not to be very difficult when one
knows what classes of men have preceded him in this
particular forest. Generally speaking, a line spotted
in a wide forest that as yet has no farmers' clearings
is likely to have been made by either (1) a trapper, (2)
a lumberman or timber-looker, or (3) a surveyor.
. T , usually leads from one stream or lake
j - to another. The blazes are likely to
be inconspicuous. The line probably
meanders a good deal, but not to escape ordinary
BLAZES, SURVEY LINES, ETC. 197
obstacles, not disdaining a steep climb for a short-cut.
Along its course, at intervals of eight or ten miles,
there are probably rude shanties containing supplies,
or the ruins of such shacks, if the line is no longer used.
Such a line does not lead to any settlement, and can
seldom be of any use to a wayfarer.
Timber-lookers may or may not leave evidence of
their wanderings — more likely not, for, like other seek-
. T - ers after bonanzas, they may have ex-
, _ . cellent reasons for not doing so. At
most, they would merely mark the easi-
est route for a prospective road from the river to some
"bunch" of timber. Where logging operations have
already begun, then, wherever a stump stands it will
not be hard to determine the direction in which the
logs were twitched to the nearby "lizard road," where
they were loaded on lizards (forks of timber used as
sleds), or on wagons, and dragged to the river or saw-
mill. (I am assuming primitive operations in a re-
mote wilderness.) The lizard road was blazed when
first laid out. Logs are never dragged uphill if that
can be avoided; consequently the trend of the road will
be downhill, or on a level. The lizard road will show
ruts, trees barked along the way by whiffle- trees, and
other characteristic marks. Once the old lumber-
camp site is reached, even though it be deserted,
the signs of an old "tote road" can be discerned,
leading toward a settlement from which supplies
were transported.
. 0 , is always absolutely straight. When it
,. reaches an impassable obstacle, such as
a swamp or a cliff, an offset is made to
right or left; but this offset is also a straight line, at
right angles, of course, to the main one, the latter being
continued in the original direction as soon as the ob-
stacle has been passed. For this, and other reasons
that presently will appear, a surveyor's line can never
be mistaken for any other.
If one understands the merest rudiments of public
surveying, and has a township map of the locality he
is in, then, whenever he runs across a section line, he
198 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
can soon tell just where he is, and what is the most
direct route to any other point in the neighborhood.
In those parts of the United States that are still wild
enough to offer attractions to campers, the method of
numbering, subdividing, and marking township sec-
tions is usually that adopted by the public land surveys,
a brief description of which follows:
The public lands of the United States are generally
divided into townships of six miles square (23,040
-, ,. , acres), as nearly as convergence of
Township and .{. „ J . . i • • i
_ . meridians allows. A township is sub-
T . divided into thirty-six sections, each
Lines. n J , ,
one mile square, as nearly as may be,
which, as a general rule, are numbered as shown in the
first diagram here given, and are legally subdivided
as indicated in the second diagram.
Starting from an established corner, all trees that
stand directly on the line of survey have two chops or
notches cut on each side of them, without any other
marks whatever. These are called "sight trees" or
"line trees" (sometimes "fore and aft trees"). Since
there may not be enough trees actually intercepting
the line of sight to make such a line conspicuous, a
sufficient number of other trees standing within not
more than two rods of the line, on either side of it, are
blazed on two sides diagonally, or quartering toward the
line, or coinciding in direction with the line where the
trees stand very near it. Blazes are not omitted where
trees two inches or more in diameter are found.
Bushes on or near the line are bent at right angles
therewith, and receive a blow with the axe at the usual
height of blazes from the ground, sufficient to leave
them in a bent position, but not to prevent growth.
When the course is obstructed by swamps, lakes, or
other impassable objects, the line is prolonged across
by taking the necessary right angle offsets, or by trav-
erse, etc., until the line is regained on the opposite
side. At the intersection of lines on both margins, a
post is set for a witness point, and two trees on oppo-
site sides of the line are here marked with a blaze and
notch facing the post; but on the margins of navigable
BLAZES, SURVEY LINES, ETC. 199
6
S
4
3
2
1
7
8
9
JO
//
12
18
17
l€
J*
IM
/3
/9
20
21
23
23
24
30
29
W
27
26
2f
31
32
33
34
3&
36
Plan for Numbering Sections of a Township.
(TToAtk)
Se\c.
w.%
26
e.%
320A.
i
320/1.
n. yz
320 A
Sec.
-2-5-
s.y*
320A
80A.
N.W.fy
S.W. '4
4M-
4oA.
WW'/*
SOA. '
Sec.
- - -afs-
I AC^ N.E. 4
I 80 A.
I
SOA
N.E.%
S.Vf.'A,
4<M !-5
's
S-E.H, I
S.W4 •
toA. I
/eoA
40 ch.
See.
36
640A
30J>.
Township C*0Mtky Line
Sections 25, 26, 35 and 36 Divided.
Plate II. Subdivision of a Township,
200 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
rivers or lakes the trees are marked with the number of
the fractional section, township, and range. Arabic
figures are used exclusively. -
The following corners are marked:
(1) For township boundaries, at intervals of every
~ ,._. . six miles.
(Jorncr JVLar&s
(2) For section boundaries, at inter-
vals of every mile.
(3) For quarter-section boundaries, at intervals of
one-half mile (with exceptions).
(4) Meander corners, wherever lines intersect banks
of rivers, etc., directed to be meandered.
Witness corners bear the same marks as those of
true corners, plus the letters W. C.
Four different modes of perpetuating corners are
employed, in the following order of choice :
(1) Corner trees, when a tree not less than five
inches in diameter stands immediately in place.
(2) Stone corners, where procurable. These must
be at least 14 inches long. Stones 14 to 18 inches long
are set two-thirds and larger ones three-fourths of
their length in the ground.
(3) Posts and witnesses. The latter are trees ad-
jacent, in opposite directions, each with a smooth blaze
facing the corner, with a notch at the lower end, and
with the number of township, range, and section; be-
low this, near the ground, on a smooth blaze are
marked the letters B. T. ("bearing tree"). Blazes
may be omitted from smooth-barked trees. Where
there are no trees, witness pits are dug, two feet square,
and at least one foot deep.
(4) Posts and mounds. A mound is erected around
the corner post, and a marked stone, or some charcoal,
or a charred stake, is deposited a foot below the sur-
face on the side toward which the line runs.
Township Corner Post. — This projects two feet
above the ground, the projecting part being squared.
When the corner is common to four townships, the
post is set cornerwise to the lines, and on each flattened
side is marked the number of the township, range, and
section, thus: T. 1 8.; R. % W.; S. 3Q,
BLAZES, SURVEY LINES, ETC. 201
This example reading "Township 1 South, Range 2
West, Section 36." Six notches are cut on each of
the four edges.
If the post is on a closing corner, where the line does
not continue straight ahead, but is offset to allow for
convergence of meridians, this closing corner being
common to two townships south of the base line, six
notches are cut on each of the east, south, and west
sides, but none on the north, and C. C. ("closing cor-
ner") is cut on the surface.
The position of all township corner posts is witnessed
by four "bearing trees," or pits, or stones. Bearing trees
are marked like the post; stones are merely notched.
Section Corners. — When the corner is common to
four sections, the post is set cornerwise to the lines,
the numbers of sections being marked on the surfaces
facing them, and on the northeast face the number of
township and range is inscribed. All mile-posts on
township lines have as many notches on the two cor-
responding edges as they are miles distant from the
respective township corners. Section posts in the in-
terior of a township have as many notches on the south
and east edges as they are miles from the south and
east boundaries of the township, but none on the north
and west edges. All section posts are "witnessed" as
above. Section corner stones are merely notched.
Quarter-section Corners. — These are merely marked
j and "witnessed."
Red chalk is used to make marks more conspicuous.
In older sections of the United States, and in Canada,
other systems of marks may be used; but the general
principles are much the same. On arriving in a new
country, it pays to inquire about the methods of mark-
ing survey lines that are there in vogue.
Are there any natural signs of direction that will
give a man his bearings when the sky is obscured ?
-T , , 0. This is a question on which there has
Natural Signs , , /. . ., . ,
, tp.. been much discussion m the sportsmen s
of Direc- ^ , , \ £
press. Every one has heard, tor ex-
ample, that "moss grows thickest on
the north side of a tree," and nearly every one has heard
202 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
this as flatly contradicted. The general opinion seems
to be that such signs are "important if true." The
Indians and white frontiersmen of fiction never have
any difficulty in finding their way by noting where
moss grows thickest on the trees; but when our novel-
reader goes into the woods, compass in hand, and puts
the thing to actual test, he will probably be disgusted
to find that, in densely shaded primeval forest, there
seems to be no regularity in the growth of moss, one
tree having a thick layer of it on the north side, another
on the east, another on the south, and so on. He is
then ready to declare that the old saying is a "fake."
I shall endeavor to show that there is more in this
matter than is generally credited. There are certain
signs of direction that are fairly constant in given
regions, so that by their help a native, or even a stran-
ger who has good powers of observation, some patience,
and a fair knowledge of the life habits of trees and
plants, can steer his course without a compass, and
without help from sun or stars. But let us clearly
understand what is involved in this use of nature's
compass-marks .
No universal rule can be established from such signs
as the growth of moss on trees, the preponderance of
branches on one side of a tree, or the direction toward
which the tips of tall conifers point. Such things are
modified by prevailing winds, shadows and shelter of
nearby mountains, depth or sparseness of forest growth,
and other local conditions. Everywhere exceptions
will be found; if there were none, it would be child's
play, not woodcraft, to follow such signs.
No one sign is infallible. A botanist can tell the
north side of a steep hill from the south side by exam-
ining the plant growth; but no one plant of itself will
tell him the story. So a woodsman works out his
course by a system of averaging the signs around him.
It is this averaging that demands genuine skill. It
takes into account the prevailing winds of the region,
the lay of the land, the habits of shade-loving and
moisture-loving plants (and their opposites), the ten-
dency of certain plants to point their leaves or their
BLAZES, SURVEY LINES, ETC. 203
tips persistently in a certain direction, the growth of
tree bark as influenced by sun and shade, the nesting
habits of certain animals, the morning and evening
flight of birds, and other natural phenomena, depend-
ing upon the general character of the country traversed.
Moreover, in studying any one sign, a nice discrimina-
tion must be exercised. Let us glance at a few ex-
amples :
First, as to the time-honored subject of moss — not
confusing real moss with the parasitic lichens that
_.. incrust rocks and trees. Moss favors
_ that part of a tree that holds the most
moisture; not necessarily the part that
receives the most moisture, but the part that retains it
longest. Consequently it grows more abundantly on
the upper side of a leaning tree than on the under side,
on rough bark than on smooth bark, on top of project-
ing burls rather than on the lower side, and in the
forks of trees, and on their buttressed bases. These
factors are, of course, independent of the points of the
compass.
Does it follow, then, that exposure has nothing to
do with the growth of moss ? Not at all. It merely
follows that a competent woodcraftsman, seeking a
sign of direction from the moss on trees, would ignore
leaning trees, uncommonly rough bark, bossy knots,
forks of limbs, and the bases of tree trunks, just as he
would give no heed to the growth on prostrate logs.
He would single out for examination the straight
shafted old trees of rather smooth bark, knowing that
on them there would be fairly even lodgment for mois-
ture all around, and that the wet would evaporate
least from the north and northeast sides of the tree,
as a general rule, and, consequently, that on those
sides the moss would preponderate. He would expect
to find such difference more pronounced on the edge
of thick forests than in their densely shaded interior.
He would give special heed to the evidence of trees
that were isolated enough to get direct sunlight through-
out a good portion of the day, while those that were
in the shade of cliffs or steep mountains so that they
204 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
could only catch the sunbeams in the morning or the
afternoon would be ruled out of court.
You see how much more -swiftly and surely such a
man could reach a decision than could one who tried
to take into account all kinds and conditions of trees,
regardless of surroundings, and how much less he
would have to puzzle over contradictory evidence.
Among a hundred trees he might only examine ten,
but those ten would be more trustworthy for his pur-
pose than their ninety neighbors. This is woodcraft
— the genuine article — as distinguished from the mys-
terious and infallible "sixth sense" of direction that, I
think, exists nowhere outside of Leatherstocking Tales.
A rule that holds good- in the main, wherever I have
had a chance to study it, is that the feathery tip, the
T. , topmost little branch, of a towering
_ ., pine or hemlock, points toward the ris-
ing sun, that is to say, a little south of
east. There are exceptions, of course, but I have
generally found this to be the case in three-fourths of
the trees examined, leaving out of consideration those
growing in deep, narrow valleys, or on wind-swept
crests. I do not know whether it is characteristic of
all conifers, throughout their ranges; but I commend
this peculiar phenomenon to travelers, for observation.
The bark of old trees is generally thicker on the
north arid northeast sides than on the other sides. A
^ . . more reliable indicator of direction,
. . though one that a traveler seldom has
j\T\ till 9.1
„. opportunity to test, is the thickness of
annual rings of wood growth, which is
more pronounced on the north than on the south side
of a tree. This has been noted in widely separated
parts of the earth, and has been known for many cen-
turies. More than four hundred years ago it was
mentioned by Leonardo da Vinci, that universal genius
who was scarcely less celebrated as an engineer and
scientist than as an artist and litterateur. "The rings
of trees," wrote Leonardo, "show how many years
they have lived, and their greater or smaller size shows
whether the years were damper or drier. They also
BLAZES, SURVEY LINES, ETC. 205
show the direction in which they were turned, because
they are larger on the north side than on the south, and
for this reason the center of the tree is nearer the bark
on the south than on the north side." In 1893 this
matter was put to a definite test by the New York State
Forest Commission, which directed its foresters to ex-
amine the regularity of the northward thickening of
annual rings in the black spruce of the Adirondacks.
The foresters examined 700 trees, of varying exposure,
noting in each case the compass-point toward which
the longest radius of wood growth pointed. The
result was:
North 471 South 1
Northeast 81 Southeast 0
East 106 West 27
Southwest 6
Total north and east. . 658 Northwest 8
94%
Total south and west. . 42
6%
These figures deserve more than a passing glance.
Some plants show a decided polarity in their habit
of growth. The compass-plant or rosin-weed (Sil-
r phium laciniatum) that once abounded
p. on the prairies of the Mississippi valley,
from Minnesota to Texas, is a con-
spicuous example. It is a tall plant with long, stiff
leaves, that do not grow horizontally but with their
edges perpendicular. Its natural habitat is the open,
shadeless prairie. If plants are examined that grow
thus in the open, especially those in the little swales
where they are not fully exposed to fierce winds, it
will be found that the great majority of them present
their radical leaves north and south. The large flower
heads on short, thick stems point, like the hemlock's
"finger," to the eastward, and show no such tendency
to follow the sun towards the west as is characteristic
of many plants. I have often used the compass-
plant as a guide, and never was ted astray by it; in
fact, the old settlers on the prairies, if they chanced to
get lost on a dark night, would get their bearings by
feeling the leaves of the compass-plant.
206 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
The closely related prairie dock (Silphium terebin-
thinaceum) and that troublesome weed known as prickly
lettuce (Laduca scariola), .show a similar polarity.
This characteristic is lost if the plants are grown where
they receive much shade. Of course, terrestrial mag-
netism has nothing to do with the polarity of plants; it
is the sunlight, received on the two sides of the leaves
alternately, that determines their position.
I am of the opinion that there are natural compass-
signs in the forest, and on the plain, that we are igno-
T A rant of, but that were well known to
.Lost Arts. . ,, , n -i
savages in a state 01 nature, bucn
men, dependent from childhood upon close observa-
tion of their environment, but observation urged by
entirely different motives from those of our naturalists,
and directed toward different ends, would inevitably
acquire a woodland lore different from ours, but quite
as thorough in its own way. That they should de-
velop keen perceptive faculties is no more remarkable
than that a carpenter should hit a nail instead of the
thumb that steadies it. That they should notice and
study signs that no modern hunter or scientist would
bother his head about is a matter of course. Unques-
tionably we have lost many arts of wildcraft that were
daily practised by our ancestors of the stone age, just
as we have lost their acquaintance with the habits of
animals' now extinct. Probably no white man of the
future will ever equal Jim Bridger as a trailer ; and it
is but natural to suppose that Bridger himself had
superiors among the savages from whom he learned
his craft. It is a superficial judgment to rate as an
old-wives' tale every story of exploits in the past that
we cannot at present duplicate. However, we need
not go to novelists to find out how such things were
done. There is much pleasure to be gained in seek-
ing to recover some of the lost arts of a primitive age;
and, I believe, some profit as well.
CHAPTER XV
GETTING LOST— BIVOUACS
Questa selva selvaggia, aspra e forte!
"I^THEN a man fixes up his pack and strikes out
* ' alone into strange woods, just for a little ad-
venture, not caring where he may come out, he may be
lost all the time, in one sense, but in a better sense he
is at home all the time. Not for a moment does he
worry about the future; he is exploring new territory
— that is all.
But if one sets out for a certain destination, expect-
ing to reach it by a given time, and loses the trail, he
will be anxious at once, and the longer this continues,
the more it will get on his nerves. Still we would
hardly call him lost, so long as he retains a good idea
of the general direction in which he should travel.
A man is really lost when, suddenly (it is always
suddenly), there comes to him the thudding conscious-
ness that he cannot tell, to save his life, whether he
should go north, east, south, or west. This is an un-
pleasant plight to be in, at any time; the first time that
it is experienced the outlook will seem actually des-
perate. Instantly the unfortunate man is overwhelmed
by a sense of utter isolation, as though leagues and
leagues of savage forest surrounded him on all sides,
through which he must wander aimlessly, hopelessly,
until he drops from exhaustion and starvation. Nerv-
ously he consults his compass, only to realize that it is
of no more service to him now than a brass button.
He starts to retrace his steps, but no sign of footprint
can he detect. He is seized with a panic of fear, as
irrational but quite as urgent as that which swoops
upon a belated urchin while he is passing a country
207
208 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
graveyard at night. It will take a mighty effort of will
to rein himself in and check a headlong stampede.
In such predicament as this, a man is really in seri-
ous peril. The danger is not from the wilderness,
. which, pitiless niggard though it be to
the weak-minded or disabled, can yet
be forced to yield food and shelter to him who is able-
bodied and who keeps his wits about him. No: the
man's danger is from himself. We hear it said that
no one ever was lost for more than twenty-four hours
without suffering a derangement of mind. This is not
true; thousands of wayfarers have been lost for much
longer periods than that without losing their self-
command. But it is literally true that a lost man who
permits panic to conquer him is likely either to perish
or to come out of the woods a gibbering idiot. If that
does happen, it is the victim's own fault. There is no
valid excuse for an able-bodied man losing heart from
being lost, so long as he has a gun and ammunition,
or even a few matches and a jackknife.
I have heard old woodsmen say that there is no use
in offering advice to novices about what they should do
if they get lost, because a lost man is an insane man,
anyway, and will remember nothing that has been told
him. From my own experience I know that this is a
mistake. The first time that I was lost, I was rattled
and shook all over. Something seemed to tell me that
camp lay in a certain direction, and I felt the same
impulse to rush madly toward it that one feels to dash
for the door when there is a cry of "fire!" in a theater.
But I did remember what old Barnes had told me:
"If you get lost, sit doivn! — sit down and give yourself
half an hour to think it over." I sat down, and for
five minutes could not think of anything, except cold,
and rain, and hunger. Then I got to drawing dia-
grams on the ground. Making no headway at this, I
began considering how to pass the night if I remained
just where I was. This cleared my mind, robbed the
woods of their spooks, and presently I was myself
again. Then the actual situation flashed upon me. I
saw just how I had got into this scrape, and knew that
GETTING LOST— BIVOUACS 209
if I made a circuit of 200 yards radius I would strike
the trail. Before this it had seemed at least two miles
away. Well, I found it, all right. Had I listened to
the demon of flight, in the first place, I would have
plunged into one of the worst canebrakes in all Arkan-
sas, and might have struggled there till I died — all
within a mile and a half of my own camp.
I have been lost several times since then — twice in
canebrakes, twice in the laurel, twice in flat woods,
Th P" U- once *n ^°£' once a^ove tne clouds (in
the sense that I did not know on which
side to descend from an aiguille or bare pinnacle of
rock), and three times in caverns. The latter experi-
ences were hair-raising, but the others were only inci-
dents to chuckle over in retrospect, although I have
scorched the back of more than one coat from lying
too near a bivouac fire. A bad record, you will say,
for one who pretends to tell others how to keep from
getting lost! Well, maybe so; but the fact that I am
still on deck may be some excuse for offering a little
counsel as to what to do if you should get lost.
I do not think that one can get the best of wild life
if he does not often "go it alone." Men who are in-
terested in the guiding business may say otherwise.
If one does go it alone, he may as well take it for granted
that, sooner or later, he will get lost and have to stay
out over night, or for several nights, alone. There is
no man, white or red, who is not liable to lose his bear-
ings in strange woods if he is the least bit careless.
If an Indian is seldom at fault as to his course it is be-
cause he pays close attention to business; he does not
lose himself in reverie, nor is his mind ever so concen-
trated on an object of pursuit that he fails to notice
irregular or uncommon things along the way. And
yet, even Indians and white frontiersmen sometimes
get lost. I have been with a first-class woodsman when
he got mixed up on his own home hunting-ground —
an overflow from the Mississippi, flooding sixty miles
inland, had swept away old landmarks, replaced them
with new ones, and changed the appearance of the
country; then, subsiding, it had even altered the drain-
14
210 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
age of the land. In fog or snowstorm anybody can
get lost. You may take a professional guide from
New Brunswick, let us say, or from Florida — it matters
not where — place him in a country where outlooks are
few, and where the vegetation, the rocks and soil, and
the general features of the country, are strange to him,
and, if he does not get lost, it will be because he thinks
more about avoiding it than he does about anything
else. Those who scout the idea of their ever losing
bearings are such as have traveled little in "strange
londes," or have never ventured far without a native
guide. Personally, I would rather get lost now and
then than be forever hanging on to a guide's coat-tail.
It is a matter of taste. Anyway, I shall never again
have the willyjigs as I had 'em that first time, when I
was actually within forty rods of a plain trail.
There is little excuse for getting lost, in fair weather,
in a mountainous or undulating country where there
_ . are plenty of watercourses, unless one
_, , . gets on the wrong side of a divide that
Mountams. & . ° , . , ,
separates two streams winch do not run
into each other. Thus, in Fig. 13, let ABC be a main
divide, BD a spur to the southward separating two
streams that eventually flow in opposite directions, and
let X be the location of the camp. A stranger who
had spent the day on the upper mountains might
return toward evening to B, and, thinking to follow
the creek from / to X, might turn down at e, by mis-
take, and travel a considerable distance before he real-
ized that he was going in the wrong direction.
In flat woods, where the watercourses are few and
very meandering, the vegetation rank and monoto-
Fl t W d nously uniform in appearance, and land-
marks rare, a man may return with-
in 200 yards of his own camp and pass by it, going
ahead with hurrying pace as he becomes more and
more anxious. In Fig. 14 a man leaves camp X in the
morning, going in the direction indicated by the dotted
line. He consults his compass at intervals during the
day, tries to allow for his windings, and, returning in
the evening, strikes the river at Z. If he follows its
GETTING LOST— BIVOUACS
211
bank in either direction, he is likely to spend the night
alone in the woods. If the camp were at A, and the
homeward-bound hunter should reach the stream at
B, he would be dumfounded to find himself, apparently,
on the wrong bank of the river.
Another easy way to get bewildered is as follows: In
Fig. 14 we will assume that the current runs from A
toward Z, that a party un-
familiar with the river is de-
scending it in a boat, and that
one of the men leaves the boat
at A, going ashore to hunt
along the bank. At X he
comes to the mouth of a deep
creek, or some other obstruc-
tion, or he starts game that
leads him back into the woods.
Not long afterward he reaches
the river again at Z, and, after
hallooing and firing a shot or
two, but getting no answer, he
hurries on down stream, think-
ing that the boat got ahead of
him while he was making his detour. The boat,
meanwhile, has been rounding a great ox-bow curve,
and may be a couple of miles behind the man ashore.
Fig. 14.
212 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
In each of these examples the country is assumed
to be fairly easy to traverse, and in each case the mis-
adventure might have been, avoided by a little fore-
thought. A bush bent over, here and there, a blaze
on a tree where the underbrush was dense, would
have saved all that. Without such precautions, there
are places where a good man can get badly muddled in
a forty-acre tract. This is no exaggeration. One of
my companions was once lost from early morning
until after nightfall in a thirty-acre patch of blue cane.
He struggled until almost completely exhausted, and
when we found him he looked like a scarecrow. At no
time had he been half a mile from the cabin.
A canebrake is bad enough, but it is not so bad as
those great tracts of rhododendron which, in the region
Th . , between Clingman Dome and the Bal-
sam Mountains (Tennessee and North
Carolina) cover mile after mile of steep mountainside
where no white man, at least, has ever been. The
natives call such wastes "laurel slicks," "woolly heads,"
"lettuce beds," "yaller patches," and "hells." The
rhododendron is worse than laurel, because it is more
stunted and grows much more densely, so that it is
quite impossible to make a way through it without
cutting, foot by foot; and the wood is very tough.
Two powerful mountaineers starting from the Tennes-
see side to cross the Smokies were misdirected and
proceeded up the slope of the Devil's Court House,
just east of Thunderhead. They were two days in
making the ascent, a matter of three or four miles,
notwithstanding that they could see out all the time
and pursued the shortest possible course. I asked one
of them how they managed to crawl through the
thicket. "We couldn't crawl," he replied, "we swum,"
meaning that they sprawled and floundered over the
top. These men were not lost at all. In another
slick not very far away, an old hunter and trapper
who was born and bred in these mountains, was lost
for three days, although the slick was not more than
a mile square. His account of it gave it the name that
it bears to-day, "Huggins's hell." I could give many
GETTING LOST— BIVOUACS 213
such instances, but these will suffice to show that
there is still virgin ground in some of our oldest states.
If one is ambitious in such matters, he might tackle
the Everglades. Swamps are the worst places of all,
above ground.
The first thing that one should do when he realizes
that he has lost his bearings is to stop and sit down.
Wh T> Think how long it was since you were
where you were sure of your location.
Probably not a long time. One does not go far before
he realizes that he is off his course. Suppose you have
traveled half an hour after leaving a known landmark.
What is half an hour in the woods ? You are not more
than three-quarters of a mile from that place. So keep
your shirt on. Don't take one more step until you
have recovered your wits so that you can trace on the
ground with a stick your probable course since leaving
camp, and mark on it the estimated location of such
watercourses and other landmarks as you have passed.
Then make up your mind that if you must stay out all
night, alone in the woods, it is no killing matter, but
rather an interesting adventure. Having recovered
your mental balance, then take note of the lay of the
land around you, the direction of its drainage, the char-
acter of its vegetation, and the hospitalities that it
offers to a night-bound traveler, in the way of drinking-
water, sound downwood, natural shelter, and browse.
Then blaze a tree on four sides — make big blazes that
can be seen from any direction. Do this even though
there be several hours of daylight ahead, and although
you have no present intention of staying here; for you
do know that this spot is only so many hours from
camp by back trail, and that you may have good rea-
son to return to it. This blazed tree will be of great
assistance to your camp-mates in searching for you, if
you should not turn up before morning.
If you start out to recover a trail, make bush-marks
as you go along, for it will otherwise be the easiest
thing in the world to lose that blazed tree, and that
you must not do. In searching for a trail, do not look
close to your feet, but fifteen or twenty feet ahead of
214 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
you, for a faint trail is more readily seen at that angle
than by looking straight down upon it. Cast your
eyes, also, from side to side, bearing in mind what a
trail ought to look like when you walk parallel with
it, as well as when approaching at right angles.
But we will suppose that you find no trail. Now
try to get an outlook over the surrounding country. In
flat woods this will be difficult. If you
n , can risk climbing a tall tree, do so.
Select one that has a slender tree grow-
ing beside it from which to clamber into the limbs of
the larger one. If necessary (and you have a hatchet)
chop partly through one side of the slender tree and
lodge it against the other. A tree trunk of large girth
can be climbed by twisting a withe of hickory or other
tough wood, putting it around the tree, and holding
the ends. It will assist the feet if you make from some
part of your clothing a strong band with a loop in each
end for a stirrup (the feet should fit tightly, so as not
to slip through), wet the band, fix the feet in the stir-
rups, spread the legs a little, get your withe in position
with a good grip as high up as you can reach, then,
raising your legs, press the band against the tree, some
inches above the ground, stand in the stirrups, and so
go clambering up. The descent is in reverse order.
Having gained your outlook, note the compass direc-
tion of watercourses and other landmarks, mapping
them on a bit of paper, for a lost man's memory is
treacherous. The courses of small streams show where
the main valley lies. If the creeks are very meander-
ing, or if their banks are very brushy, look for a divide.
Decide where to go, take the compass direction, note
how the sun strikes it, and descend.
Now, as you travel, make bush-marks and blazes
along your course. Do not neglect this; for it may be
important thereafter to return to the place where you
first realized that you were lost. Consult your com-
pass every ten minutes, or oftener if the timber and
underbrush are thick, average up your windings, allow
for the westward motion of the sun, and steer for your
destination. Do not venture aside into one of those
GETTING LOST— BIVOUACS 215
attractive woodland trails that, as Nessmuk says,
"'peters out into a squirrel track, runs up a tree, and
disappears into a knot-hole."
No signs nor compass can aid a man if he does not
know in what direction his destination lies; nor is it
_ _ possible to keep a course by compass
Fog or Snow- r, ., „ .r ., . , ir j •
when the tog is thick or a blizzard is
storm. . Ti. i-- i
raging. In such case, bivouac where
you are, and wait for clearing weather. This is no
hardship in warm weather; but when the temperature
is below freezing, or when an all-night rain is coming,
it may put one to his trumps.
Look first for a wind-break — it may be a cliff, a large
rock, a fallen tree; if you cannot find one ready-made,
„. construct one by piling up a two-foot
Bivouacs t .
wall of rocks, or by driving stakes into
the ground and piling against them several saplings or
sticks of downwood five or six inches thick and seven
feet long. If it threatens to rain, lay some poles over
this backing, slanting sharply upward and projecting
over your bed, and shingle them with sheets of bark,
or with browse, on top of which lay other poles to hold
the roof in place. The best kinds of bark for such
purpose are paper birch, basswood, slippery elm, spruce,
chestnut, pignut hickory, balsam fir, hemlock, white
elm, white ash, cotton wood. I have never seen a rain-,
proof roof of browse. If one has an axe he can soon
rive enough boards or slabs from cedar, spruce, arbor-
vitae, ash, basswood, chestnut, balsam, or other easily
split wood, to make a good shelter. Build your fire
on the leeward side of this wind-break and within about
four feet of it (if the weather be cold). Build this fire
above the level that you sleep on, for the higher it is
(within reason) the more good it will do you, and the
less smoke you will get. Stake a couple of backlogs
behind the fire. Have ready some evergreen boughs
to plant in front of you as a screen if the fire gets too
hot. Now get in plenty of long poles for night-wood,
make a bed of browse or boughs in front of the wind-
break, or at least lay some poles or a coupZe of logs
there, and lie parallel with the fire. A very small fire,
216 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
if it is kept up, will keep a man warm in bitterly cold
weather if he lies lengthwise with it, close to it, and
has browse underneath and- a log behind him. Such
preparations take an hour of smart work; hence do
not struggle on until dark in the hope of finding camp.
In very cold weather, build a fire first against the
wind-break. After it has burned down, rake the em-
bers forward, rebuild the fire in front, spread boughs
where the first fire was, and lie on them over the hot
ground. This can be done several times alternately
through the night. There is no danger whatever of
freezing.
If the snow is deep, you must shovel down to the
ground, using the toe of a snowshoe, or a riven board,
for a shovel. Dig out a triangular space of about
seven feet base and eight feet long. At the smaller
end, which should be downhill, build the fire. Make
a bed at the upper end. The walls of snow make an
excellent wind-break all around. If it be snowing, lay
poles over the wide end and cover with browse.
On a prairie where there is no wind-break, build
two fires at right angles to the wind, and get between
them. The smoke will then have a tendency to blow
away in columns parallel with your body.
A hollow log is about the last place I would think
of crawling into to spend the night. Even though no
snake nor skunk had preempted the den, it would
surely be alive with insects, and the draught through it
would be most unwholesome. The Indians of dime
novels often sleep in hollow logs, but I think they must
be drunk.
A standing hollow tree is all right, provided there is
no prospect of a high wind. I have spread my blanket
inside a hollow cypress where three men could have
stretched out at ease. But don't light a fire in such
a place; the inside of a dead tree is very inflammable.
CHAPTER XVI
EMERGENCY FOODS— LIVING OFF THE
COUNTRY
But mice and rats, and such small deer,
Have been Tom's food for seven long year.
\\ 7HEN men go to explore an untracked wilderness,
* * with no equipment but what they must carry
on their own backs a good part of the time, there can
be no such thing as a trifle in their outfit. Every
article in it, and every part of every article, has weight;
and that weight, small though it be, should be sternly
challenged as to whether it is indispensable, whether
something more essential might not be substituted for
it. The very buckle on one's belt may some day be
balanced, in tortured imagination, against its weight
in meal.
I have tried several kinds of army emergency rations,
but have not found any that is suitable for explorers'
use, save as an accessory. When used continuously
they make one's stomach rebel. The best of them, I
think, is the pea-meal sausage that is known by its
German name of Erbswurst; but, although it makes a
good soup or porridge for an occasional quick meal,
as an article of steady diet it is not as palatable nor as
wholesome as an equal weight of bacon and hardtack.
The problem of an emergency ration is not merely
one of condensing the utmost nutriment into the least
bulk and weight. One cannot live on Swiss cheese or
the yolks of hard-boiled eggs, however nutritious they
may be in theory. The stuff must be digestible; it
must neither nauseate nor clog the system. When a
man is faint from hunger his stomach must not be
forced to any uncommon stunts. And so I hold that
a half ration of palatable food that is readily assimi-
217
218 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
lated does more good than a full quota of stuff that
taxes a man's gastric strength. Military precedent in
such matters is not a safe guide for explorers, who may
be cut off from their base of supplies, not for a few
days only, but for weeks and months at a time. Canned
meat, for example, is unfit for the human stomach,
and is likely to sicken the man who persists in using it
as a steady diet. For those who go far from civiliza-
tion, the only emergency food worthy the name is such
as is nutritious and wholesome to a man who has been
weakened by much toil and fasting, and such as can
be eaten with relish at the hundredth consecutive serv-
ing. It is my opinion that the best efforts of army
commissary and medical departments in this respect
fall far below the emergency foods that have been used
by the Indians of North and South America for many
thousands of years. These latter preparations, in the
forms of parched meal, jerked meat, and pemmican,
have also been the mainstays of all our white frontiers-
men and explorers who became adept in wildcraft.
The first European settlers in this country were
ignorant of the ways of the wilderness. Some of them
had been old campaigners in civilized lands, but they
did not know the resources of American forests, nor
how to utilize them. The consequence was that many
starved in a land of plenty. The survivors learned to
pocket their pride and learn from the natives, who,
however contemptible they might seem in other re-
spects, were past masters of the art of going "light but
right." An almost naked savage could start out alone
and cross from the Atlantic to the Mississippi, without
buying or begging from anybody, and without robbing,
unless from other motives than hunger. This was not
merely due to the abundance of game. There were
large tracts of the wilderness where game was scarce,
or where it was unsafe to hunt. The Indian knew the
edible plants of the forest, and how to extract good
food from roots that were rank or poisonous in their
natural state; but he could not depend wholly upon
such fortuitous findings. His mainstay on long jour-
neys was a small bag of parched and pulverized maize,
The Old, Old Story —
But a Good Day's Luck Lands Them
EMERGENCY FOODS 219
a spoonful of which, stirred in water, and swallowed
at a draught, sufficed him for a meal when nature's
storehouse failed.
All of our early chroniclers praised this parched
meal as the most nourishing food known. In New
p , , T England it went by the name of "no-
M . cake," a corruption of the Indian word
nookik. William Wood, who, in 1634,
wrote the first topographical account of the Massa-
chusetts colony, says of nocake that "It is Indian corn
parched in the hot ashes, the ashes being sifted from
it; it is afterwards beaten to powder and put into a
long leatherne bag trussed at the Indian's backe like
a knapsacke, out of which they take three spoonsful a
day." Roger Williams, the founder of Rhode Island,
said that a spoonful of nocake mixed with water made
him "many a good meal." Roger did not affirm, how-
ever, that it made him a square meal, nor did he men-
tion the size of his spoon.
In Virginia this preparation was known by another
Indian name, "rockahominy " (which is not, as our
dictionaries assume, a synonym for plain hominy, but
a quite different thing). That most entertaining of
our early woodcraftsmen, Colonel Byrd of Westover,
who ran the dividing line between Virginia and North
Carolina in 1728-29, speaks of it as follows:
Rockahominy is nothing but Indian corn parched without
burning, and reduced to Powder. The Fire drives out all
the Watery Parts of the Corn, leaving the Strength of it be-
hind, and this being very dry, becomes much lighter for
carriage and less liable to be Spoilt by the Moist Air. Thus
half a Dozen Pounds of this Sprightful Bread will sustain a
Man for as many Months, provided he husband it well, and
always spare it when he meets with Venison, which, as I said
before, may be Safely eaten without any Bread at all. By
what I have said, a Man needs not encumber himself with
more than 8 or 10 Pounds of Provisions, tho' he continue half
a year in the Woods. These and his Gun will support him
very well during the time, without the least danger of keeping
one Single Fast.
The best of our border hunters and warriors, such
as Boone and Kenton and Crockett, relied upon this
220 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
Indian dietary when starting on their long hunts, or
when undertaking forced marches more formidable
than any that regular troops could have withstood.
So did Lewis and Clark on their ever-memorable
expedition across the unknown West. Modern ex-
plorers who do their outfitting in London or New York,
and who think it needful to command a small army of
porters and gun-bearers when they go into savage
lands, might do worse than read the simple annals of
that trip by Lewis and Clark, if they care to learn
what real pioneering was.
In some parts of the South and West the pulverized
parched corn was called "coal flour" or "cold flour."
By the Delawares it was called citamon. The Indians
of Louisiana gave it the name of gofio. In Mexico it
is known as pinole (Spanish pronunciation, pee-no-l&y;
English, pie-no-lee). It is still the standby of native
travelers in Spanish-American countries, and is used
by those hardy hunters, "our contemporary ancestors,"
in the Southern Appalachians. Quite recently, one of
my camp-mates in the Great Smoky Mountains ex-
pressed his surprise that any one should be ignorant
of so plain a necessity of the hunter's life. He claims
that no other food is "so good for a man's wind" in
mountain climbing.
Some years ago Mr. T. S. Van Dyke, author of The
Still Himter and other well-known works on field
sports, published a very practical article on emergency
rations in a weekly paper, from which, as it is now
buried where few can consult it, I take the liberty of
making the following quotation:
La comida del desierto, the food of the desert, or pinole, as
it is generally called, knocks the hind sights off all American
condensed food. It is the only form in which you can carry
an equal weight and bulk of nutriment, on which alone one
can, if necessary, live continuously for weeks, and even months,
without any disorder of stomach or bowels. . . . The
principle of pinole is very simple. If you should eat a break-
fast of corn-meal mush alone, and start out for a hard tramp,
you will feel hungry in an hour or two, though at the table the
dewrinkling of your abdomen may have reached the hurting
point. But if, instead of distending the meal so much with
water and heat, you had simply mixed it in cold water and
EMERGENCY FOODS 221
drunk it, you could have taken down three times the quantity
in one-tenth of the time. You would not feel the diherence
at your waistband, but you would feel it mightily in your legs,
especially if you have a heavy rifle on your back. It works
a little on the principle of dried apples, though it is quite an
improvement. There is no danger of explosion; it swells
to suit the demand, and not too suddenly.
Suppose, now, instead of raw corn-meal, we make it not only
drinkable but positively good. This is easily done by parching
to a very light brown before grinding, and grinding just fine
enough to mix so as to be drinkable, but not pasty, as flour
would be. Good wheat is as good as corn, and perhaps better,
while the mixture is very good. Common rolled oats browned
in a pan in the oven and run through a spice mill is as good
and easy to make it out of as anything. A coffee mill may do
if it will set fine enough. Ten per cent, of popped corn ground
in with it will improve the flavor so much that your children
will get away with it all if you don't hide it. Wheat and corn
are hard to grind, but the small Enterprise spice mill will do it.
You may also mix some ground chocolate with it for flavor,
which, with popped corn, makes it very fine. . . . Indigesti-
ble? Your granny's nightcap! . . . You must remember
that it is "werry fillin' for the price," and go slow with it until
you have found your coefficient. . . .
Now for the application. The Mexican rover of the desert
will tie a small sack of pinole behind his saddle and start for
a trip of several days. It is the lightest of food, and in the
most portable shape, sandproof, bug and fly proof, and every-
thing. Wherever he finds water he stirs a few ounces in a cup
(I never weighed it, but four seem about enough at a time for
an ordinary man), drinks it in five seconds, and is fed for five
or six hours. If he has jerky, he chews that as he jogs along,
but if he has not he will go through the longest trip and come
out strong and well on pinole alone. — Shooting and Fishing,
Vol. xx, p. 248.
Not having any spice mill, I pulverize the corn in a
hominy-mortar, which is only a three-foot cut off of a
two-foot log, with a hole burnt and gouged in the top,
and a wooden pestle. The hole in the mortar is of
smaller diameter at the bottom than at the top, so that
each blow of the pestle throws most of the corn upward,
and thus it is evenly pulverized. I often carry a small
bag of this parched meal when mountaineering. Four
heaping tablespoonfuls (4 ounces) stirred in a pint of
water is enough to fill the stomach. A few raisins, or
a chunk of sweet chocolate or maple sugar, make the
meal quite satisfactory. Generally I prefer to use
222 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
only half the above quantity at a time, and take it
oftener during the day.
"Jerky" or jerked meat has nothing to do with our
common word "jerk." It is an anglicized form of the
T t a Spanish charqui, which is itself derived
_~ . from the Quichua (Peruvian) ccharqui,
meaning flesh cut in flakes and dried
without salt. It is the same as the African biltong.
Those who have not investigated the matter may be
surprised to learn that the round of beef is 61 per cent,
water, and that even the common dried and smoked
meat of the butcher shops contains 54 per cent, water.
The proportions of water in some other common foods
are bacon 17 per cent., fat salt pork 8, corn-meal 12 J,
wheat flour 12, wheat bread 35, dried beans 12^, fresh
potatoes 63. To condense the nutritive properties of
these substances, the water, of course, must be ex-
hausted. In ordinary dried beef this is only partially
done, because the pieces are too thick. To jerk veni-
son or any other kind of lean meat, proceed as follows :
If you can afford to be particular, select only the
tender parts of the meat; otherwise use all of the lean.
Cut it in strips about half an inch thick. If you have
time, you may soak them a day in strong brine. If
not, place the flakes of meat on the inside of the hide,
and mix with them about a pint and a half of salt for
a whole deer, or two or three quarts for an elk or moose;
also some pepper. These condiments are not neces-
sary, but are added merely for seasoning. Cover the
meat with the hide, to keep flies out, and let it stand
thus for about two hours to let the salt work in. Then
drive four forked stakes in the ground so as to form
a square of eight or ten feet, the forks being about four
feet from the ground. Lay two poles across from fork
to fork, parallel, and across these lay thin poles about
two inches apart. Lay the strips of meat across the
poles, and under them build a small fire to dry and
smoke the meat. Do not let the fire get hot enough
to cook the meat, but only to partially cook it, so that the
flesh becomes dry as a chip . The best fuel is birch, espe-
cially black birch, because it imparts a pleasant flavor.
EMERGENCY FOODS 223
This will reduce the weight of the meat about one-
half, and will cure it so that it will keep indefinitely.
You may have to keep up the fire for twenty-four
hours. The meat of an old bull will, of course, be as
tough as sole leather; but, in any case, it will retain
its flavor and sustenance. When pounded pretty fine,
jerky makes excellent soup; but it is good enough as
it is, and a man can live on it exclusively without
suffering an inordinate craving for bread.
In the dry air of the plains, meat does not putrefy,
even when unsalted, and it may be dried in the sun,
without fire. Elk flesh dried in the sun does not keep
as well as that of deer.
The staple commissary supply of arctic travelers, and
of hunters and traders in the far Northwest, is pemmi-
p . can. This is not so palatable as jerky,
at least when carelessly prepared; but
it contains more nutriment, in a given bulk, and is
better suited for cold climates, on account of the fat
mixed with it.
The old-time Hudson Bay pemmican was made
from buffalo meat, in the following manner: First a
sufficient number of bags, about 2x1 \ feet, were made
from the hides of old bulls that were unfit for robes.
The lean meat was then cut into thin strips, as for
jerky, and dried in the sun for two or three days, or
over a fire, until it was hard and brittle. It was then
pounded to a powder between two stones, or by a flail
on a sort of hide threshing-floor with the edges pegged
up. The fat and marrow were then melted and mixed
with the powdered lean meat to a paste; or, the bags
were filled with the lean and then the fat was run in
on top. After this the mass was well rammed down,
and the bags were sewed up tight. No salt was used;
but the pemmican thus prepared would keep sweet
for years in the cool climate of the North. A piece as
large as one's fist, when soaked and cooked, would
make a meal for two men. When there was flour in
the outfit, the usual allowance of pemmican was \\ to
\\ pounds a day per man, with one pound of flour
added. This was for men performing the hardest
224 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
labor, and whose appetites were enormous. Service
berries were sometimes added. "Officers' pemmican"
was made from buffalo humps and marrow.
Pemmican nowadays is made from beef. Bleasdell
Cameron gives the following details: A beef dressing
698 pounds yields 47 pounds of first-class pemmican,
47 pounds of second-class pemmican, and 23 pounds of
dried meat, including tongues, a total of 117 pounds,
dried. The total nutritive strength is thus reduced in
weight to one-sixth that of the fresh beef. Such pem-
mican costs the Canadian government about forty
cents a pound, equivalent to six pounds of fresh beef.
Pemmican is sometimes eaten raw, sometimes boiled
with flour into a thick soup or porridge called robiboo;
or, mixed with flour and water and fried like sausage,
it is known as rascho. The pemmican made nowadays
for arctic expeditions is prepared from the round of
beef cut into strips and kiln-dried until friable, then
ground fine and mixed with beef suet, a little sugar,
and a few currants. It is compressed into cakes, and
then packed so as to exclude moisture.
Ordinary beef extract is not a food. If a man tried
to subsist on it he would starve to death. But there
- . A , is a way of concentrating much of the
Concentrated . , J .<.!<. i • m *
M nourishment ot beet or veal m the torm
of little cubes of a gluey consistency
from which a strengthening soup can quickly be pre-
pared. It is superior to the concentrated soups sold
in our markets. Take a leg of young beef, veal, or
venison (old meat will not jelly easily). Pare off every
bit of fat and place the lean meat in a large pot. Boil
it steadily and gently for seven or eight hours, until
the meat is reduced to rags, skimming off, from time
to time, the grease that arises. Then pour this strong
broth into a large, wide stew-pan, place it over a mod-
erate fire, and let it simmer gently until it comes to a
thick jelly. When it gets so thick that there may be
danger of scorching it, place the vessel over boiling
water, and stir it very frequently until, when cold, it
will have the consistency of glue. Cut this substance
into small cubes and lay them singly where they can
EMERGENCY FOODS 225
become thoroughly dry. Or, if you prefer, run the
jelly into sausage skins and tie up the ends. A cube
or thick slice of this glaze, dissolved in hot water, makes
an excellent soup. A small piece allowed to melt in
one's mouth is strengthening on the march. This
is a very old recipe, being mentioned in Byrd's History
of the Dividing Line, and recommended along with
rockahominy. The above can be made in camp, when
opportunity offers, thus laying in enough concentrated
soup stock to last a month, which is quite convenient,
as it takes at least half a day to make good soup from
the raw materials, and these are not always at hand
when most wanted.
It has been demonstrated times without number that
civilized men, no less than savages, can keep in good
health and perform the hardest kind of work on a diet
of either meat alone or cereals alone, a cold climate
being more favorable for the former, and a hot one for
the latter.
Personally, if I were going afoot into an uninhabited
land, I would cut out all utensils save a small aluminum
pail and a tin cup, and would carry no provisions
other than some rockahominy in a waterproof silk bag,
some tea, and a little hoard of salt. I would carry no
meat at all, for, if by the time my meal was half gone I
had not found game or fish, it would be time to retreat.
When a man deliberately stakes his life upon the
chance of finding food in an unknown land, he should
<<M begin early in the game to habituate his
„. . , „ digestive organs to whatever nutriment
the country may afford, thereby hoard-
ing his packed rations, rather than fall back upon un-
accustomed food as a last extremity when his stomach
has been seriously weakened by starvation. He should
especially get used to living on "meat straight." This
will at first cause some bowel troubles, as every one
knows who has partaken freely of venison as soon as
he got to the woods; but this soon wears off when
one's system is in a healthy condition. It is a curious
fact that a man who has been eating nothing but game
and fish for several months is unable, at first, to as-
15
226 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
similate the food of civilization when he returns to it.
Even though he eats more sparingly than his appetite
demands, he will be troubled with indigestion for a
week or more; bread and vegetables will lie on his
stomach like lead, and he will suffer from constipation.
It goes without saying that men traveling through a
barren region cannot be fastidious in their definition
tt„ .. of "game." All's meat that comes to
^ „ a hungry man's pot. A few words here
may not be amiss as to the edible qual-
ities of certain animals that are not commonly regarded
as game, but which merit an explorer's consideration from
the start; also as to some that are not to be recommended.
Probably most sportsmen know that 'coon is not
bad eating, especially when young, if it is properly
prepared; but how many would think to remove the
scent-glands before roasting a 'coon? These glands
should be sought for and extracted from all animals
that have them, before the meat is put in the pot.
Properly dressed, and, if necessary, parboiled in two
or three waters, even muskrats, woodchucks, and fish-
eating birds can be made palatable. Prairie-dog is as
good as squirrel. The flesh of the porcupine is good,
and that of the skunk is equal to roast pig. Beaver
meat is very rich and cloying, and in old animals is
rank; but the boiled liver and tail are famous tid-bits
wherever the beaver is found. A man would have to
be hard pressed to tackle any of the other fur-bearers
as food, excepting, of course, bear and 'possum.
The flesh of all members of the cat tribe, wildcats,
lynxes, and panthers, is excellent. Doctor Hart Mer-
riam declares that panther flesh is better than any
other kind of meat. The Englishman Ruxton, who
lived in the Far West in the time of Bridger and the
Sublettes and Fitzpatrick, says: "Throwing aside all
the qualms and conscientious scruples of a fastidious
stomach, it must be confessed that dog meat takes a
high rank in the wonderful variety of cuisine afforded
to the gourmand and the gourmet by the prolific moun-
tains. Now, when the bill of fare offers such tempting
viands as buffalo beef, venison, mountain mutton,
EMERGENCY FOODS 227
turkey, grouse, wildfowl, hares, rabbits, beaver-tails,
etc., etc., the station assigned to dog as No. 2 in the
list can be well appreciated — No. 1, in delicacy of flavor,
richness of meat, and other good qualities, being the
flesh of panthers, which surpasses every other, and all
put together."
Lewis and Clark say of dog flesh: "The greater
part of us have acquired a fondness for it. ...
While we subsisted on that food we were fatter, stronger,
and in general enjoyed better health than at any period
since leaving the buffalo country." Again they say:
"It is found to be a strong, healthy diet, preferable to
lean deer or elk, and much superior to horse flesh in
any state." They reported that horse flesh was "un-
wholesome as well as repellant." Many other travel-
ers and residents in the early West commended dog
meat; but the animals that they speak of were such
as had been specially fattened by the Indians for food,
and not starved and hard-worked sledge animals.
One who was driven by starvation to eat wolf's flesh
says that it "tastes exactly as a dirty, wet dog smells,
and it is gummy and otherwise offensive." But it
seems that tastes differ, or, more likely, that all wolves
are not alike. Ivar Fosheim of Sverdrups second
Norwegian polar expedition says: "They were two
she-wolves in very much better condition than beasts
of prey usually are, with the exception of bears. The
fat really looked so white and good that we felt inclined
to taste it, and if we did that, we though we might as
well try the hearts at the same time. Although most
people will consider this a dish more extraordinary
than appetizing, I think prejudice plays a large part
here; as, at any rate, we found the meat far better
than we expected."
I am assured by more than one white man who has
eaten them that the flesh of snakes and lizards is as good
as chicken or frogs' legs. One of my friends, however,
draws the line at the prairie rattler. Once when he
was on the U. S. Geological Survey he came near starv-
ing in the desert, and had to swallow his scruples along
with a snake diet. "Probably," he said, "a big, fat
228 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
diamond rattler might be all right, but the little prairie
rattlei is too sweetish foi my taste; it's no comparison
to puff-adder; puff-adder, my boy, is out of sight!"
This much I can swallow, by proxy; but when Dan
Beard speaks approvingly of hellbenders as a side dish,
I must confess that I'm like Kipling's elephant when
the alligator had him by the nose: "This is too buch
for be!" If Dan ever really ate a hellbender he is the
most reckless dare-devil I ever heard of.
Another of my acquaintances declares that the
prejudice against crow (real Corvus) is not well founded.
The great gray owl is good roasted, despite what it
may be when "biled." The flesh of the whippoorwill
is excellent. Turtles' eggs are better than those of
the domestic fowl (soft-shell turtles deposit their eggs
on sandbars about the third week in June).
It is the testimony of gourmets who survived the
siege of Paris that cats, rats, and mice are the most
misprized of all animals, from a culinary point of view.
"Stewed puss," says one of them, "is by far more
delicious than stewed rabbit. . . . Those who
have not tasted couscoussou of cat have never tasted
anything."
Anyway, who are we, to set up standards as to the
fitness or unfitness of things to eat? We shudder with
horror at the idea of eating dog or cat, but of such a
downright filthy animal as the pig we eat ears, nose,
feet, tail, and intestines. How about our moldy and
putrid cheeses, our boiled cabbage and sauerkraut,
raw Hamburgers, lambfries, and "high" game? The
hardihood of him who first swallowed a raw oyster!
And if snails are good, why not locusts, dragon flies,
and grubs? I tell you from experience that when you
get to picking the skippers out of your pork, and be-
grudge them the holes they have made in it, you will
agree that any kind of fresh, wild meat that is not car-
rion is clean and wholesome. Caspar Whitney, after
describing his menu of frozen raw meat in the Barren
Grounds, says: "I have no doubt some of my readers
will be disgusted by this recital; and as I sit here at
my desk writing, with but to reach out and press a
EMERGENCY FOODS 229
button for dinner, luncheon — what I will — I can hardly
realize that only a few months ago I choked an Indian
until he gave up a piece of muskox intestine he had
stolen from me. One must starve to know what one
will eat."
I trust that none of my readers may be cast down by
reading this somewhat lugubrious chapter. After all,
it is not so bad to learn new dishes; but think of the
predicament of that poor wight — he was a mission-
ary to the Eskimo, I believe — who, being cast adrift
on an ice floe, and essaying to eat his boots, did incon-
tinently sneeze his false teeth into the middle of Baf-
fin's Bay!
Perhaps the greatest privation that a civilized man
suffers, next to having no meat, is to lack salt and
c , . tobacco. In the old days they used to
OllDStltUtCS t ,i ■•! r- ■ i «ii
, „ . burn the outside of meat and sprinkle
gunpowder on it in lieu of salt; but in
this age of smokeless powder we are denied even that
consolation. The ashes of plants rich in nitre, such
as tobacco, Indian corn, sunflower, and the ashes of
hickory bark, have been recommended. Coville says
that the ash of the palmate-leaf sweet coltsfoot (Petas-
ites palmetto) was highly esteemed by western Indians
as a substitute for salt. "To obtain the ash the stem
and leaves were first rolled up into balls while still
green, and after being carefully dried they were placed
on top of a very small fire on a rock, and burned."
Many Indians, even civilized ones like the Qualla
Cherokees, do not use salt to this day. Strange to
say, the best substitute for salt is sugar, especially
maple sugar or syrup. One soon can accustom him-
self to eat it even on meat. Among some of the north-
ern tribes, maple syrup not only takes the place of salt
in cooking, but is used for seasoning the food after it
is served. Wild honey, boiled, and the wax skimmed
off, has frequently served me in place of sugar in my
tea, in army bread, etc.
__. .. . . . Men who use tobacco can go a good
Kinnikinick. , .. , ... . , b J?.
while hungry without much grumbling,
so long as the weed holds out.
230 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
Thou who, when cares attack,
Bidd'st them avaunt! and Black
Care, at the horseman's back
Perching, unseatest!
But let tobacco play out, and they are in a bad way!
Substitutes for it may be divided into those that are a
bit better than nothing and those that are worse.
Among the latter may be rated : Tea. Yes, tea is smoked
by many a poor fellow in the far North! It is said to
cause a most painful irritation in the throat, which is
aggravated by the cold air of that region. Certainly
it can have no such effect on the nerves as tobacco, for
it is full of tannin, and tannin destroys nicotin.
Kinnikinick is usually made of poor tobacco mixed
with the scrapings or shavings of other plants, although
the latter are sometimes smoked alone. Chief of the
substitutes is the red osier dogwood (Cornus stoloni-
fera) or the related silky cornel (C. sericea) commonly
miscalled red willow. These shrubs are very abun-
dant in some parts of the North. The dried inner bark
is aromatic and very pungent, highly narcotic, and
produces in those unused to it a heaviness sometimes
approaching stupefaction. Young shoots are chosen,
or such of the older branches as still keep the thin, red
outer skin. This skin is shaved off with a keen knife,
and thrown away. Then the soft, brittle, green inner
bark is scraped off with the back of the knife and put
aside for use ; or, if wanted immediately, it is left hang-
ing to the stem in little frills and is crisped before the
fire. It is then rubbed between the hands into a form
resembling leaf tobacco, or is cut very fine with a knife
and mixed with tobacco in the proportion of two of
bark to one of the latter.
A more highly prized kinnikinick is made from the
leaves of the bear-berry or uva-ursi (Ardostaphylos
uva-ursi), called sacacommis by the Canadian traders,
who sell it to the northern Indians for more than the
price of the best tobacco. The leaves are gathered in
the summer months, being then milder than in winter.
Inferior substitutes are the crumbled dried leaves of
the smooth sumac (Rhus glabra) and the fragrant
rl
A Stray Goose Wanders Near
Where Lurks the Lusty Trout
EMERGENCY FOODS 231
sumac (R. aromatica), which, like tea, contain so much
tannin that they generally produce bronchial irrita-
tion or sore throat.
In my chapters on Camp Cookery are described many
processes for cooking without utensils; but, it may be
"R *r w asked, how could one boil water with-
. .7 out a kettle? There are two ways of
_- . doing this. One of them, which many
have heard of, but few have seen, is to
split a log, chop out of it a trough, pour water in, heat
a number of stones red hot, pick them up, one at a
time, with a forked stick (or with one beathed in the
fire, at its middle, and bent into hairpin shape), and
drop them one by one into the water. To do this
successfully, one must choose such stones as will
neither burst in the fire nor shiver to pieces when
dropped in the water.
Another way, which will be news to many, is to boil
the water in a bucket made of birch bark, heated by
direct action of the fire. The only difficulty about
this is in so fastening the sheet of bark, below the
waterline, that it will not leak.
Take a thin sheet of birch bark, free from knots or
"eyes," and make a trough-shaped bucket, as illus-
trated in another chapter. Pin the folds with green
twigs below the waterline. Pour the water in, set the
bucket on a bed of fresh coals that do not flame,
pile coals around it up almost to the waterline, and
let it hum.
It might seem impossible to melt snow in such a
bark utensil, but the thing can be done when you know
how. Place the bucket in the snow before the fire, so
it will not warp from the heat. In front of it set a
number of little forked sticks, slanting backward over
the bucket, and on each fork place a snowball. Thus
let the snowballs melt into the bucket until the vessel
is filled above the pins that hold it together. Then set
the bucket on the coals, and the water will boil in a
few moments.
CHAPTER XVII
EDIBLE PLANTS OF THE WILDERNESS
rT1HERE is a popular notion that our Indians in olden
-*■ times varied their meat diet with nothing but
wild roots and herbs. This, in fact, was the case only
among those tribes that pursued a roving life and had
no settled abodes, such as the "horse Indians" and
"diggers" of the Far West — and not all of them. The
"forest Indians" east of the Mississippi and south of
the Great Lakes, particularly such nations as the Iro-
quois and Cherokees, lived in villages and cultivated
corn, beans, squashes and pumpkins. Still, wild plants
and roots were often used even by these semi-agricul-
tural peoples, in the same way that garden vegetables
are used by us, and, in time of famine or inva-
sion, they were sometimes almost the sole means of
sustenance.
To-day, although our wild lands, such as are left,
produce all the native plants that were known to the
redmen, there is probably not one white hunter or
forester in a thousand who can pick out the edible
plants of the wilderness, nor who would know how to
cook them if such were given to him. Nor are many
of our botanists better informed. Now it is quite as
important, in many cases, to know how to cook a wild
plant as it is to be able to find it, for, otherwise, one
might make as serious a mistake as if he ate the vine
of a potato instead of its tuber, or a tomato vine instead
of the fruit.
Take, for example, the cassava or manioc, which is
still the staple food of most of the inhabitants of trop-
ical America and is largely used elsewhere. The root
of the bitter manioc, which is used with the same
impunity as other species, contains a milky sap that is
232
WILDERNESS EDIBLE PLANTS 233
charged with prussic acid and is one of the most viru-
lent vegetable poisons known to science. The Indians
somehow discovered that this sap is volatile and can
be driven off by heat. The root is cleaned, sliced,
dried on hot metal plates or stones, grated, powdered,
the starch separated from the meal, and the result is
the tapioca of commerce, or farina, or Brazilian arrow-
root, as may be, which we ourselves eat, and feed to
our children and invalids, not knowing, perchance,
that if it had not been for the art of a red savage, the
stuff taken into our stomachs would have caused almost
instant death.
Another example, not of a poisonous but of an ex-
tremely acrid root that the Indians used for bread,
and which really is of delicious flavor when rightly
prepared, is the common Indian turnip. Every coun-
try schoolboy thinks he knows all about this innocent
looking bulb. He remembers when some older boy
grudgingly allowed him the tiniest nibble of this sacred
vegetable, and how he, the recipient of the favor, started
to say "Huh! 'tain't bad" — and then concluded his
remark with what we good, grown-up people utter
when we jab the black-ink pen into the red-ink bottle !
However, not all of our wild food-plants are acrid
or poisonous in a raw state, nor is it dangerous for any
one with a rudimentary knowledge of botany to experi-
ment with them. Many are easily identified by those
who know nothing at all of botany. I cannot say that
all of them are palatable; but most of them are, when
properly prepared for the table. Their taste in a raw
state, generally speaking, is no more of a criterion than
is that of raw beans or asparagus.
To give a detailed account of the edible wild plants
of the United States and Canada, with descriptions
and illustrations sufficing to identify them, would re-
quire by itself a book at least as large as this. I have
only space to give the names and edible properties of
those that I know of which are native to, or , as wild plants,
have become naturalized in the region north of the
southern boundary of Virginia and east of the Rocky
Mountains. Besides those mentioned below, there are
234 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
others which grow only in the southern or western states,
among the more important being the palmetto, palm,
yam, cacti, aloe, Spanish bayonet, mesquite, wild sago
or coontie, tule plant, western camass, kouse root, bread
root, screw bean, pimple mallow, manzanita, pinons,
juniper nuts, many pine seeds, squaw berry, lycium
berry — but the list is long enough. Those who wish
further details should examine the publications of the
U. S. Department of Agriculture, and especially those
of one of its officers, Mr. F. V. Coville, who has made
special studies in this subject.
I have given the botanical name of every plant cited
herein, because without it there would be no guarantee
of identification. The nomenclature adopted is that
of Britton and Brown in their Illustrated Flora of the
Northern States and Canada (Scribner's Sons, New
York), which, as it contains an illustration of every
plant, is of the first assistance to an amateur in identi-
fying. Wherever Gray's nomenclature differs, it is
added in parentheses.
The months named under each plant are those in
which it flowers, the earlier month in each case being
the flowering month in the plant's southernmost range,
and the later one that of the northernmost. In the
case of wild fruits, the months are those in which the
fruit ripens. It is necessary to remember that most
of the edible plants become tough and bitter when
they have reached full bloom.
SUBSTANTIAL FOODS
Acorns. — The eastern oaks that yield sweet mast are the
basket, black jack, bur, chestnut, overcup, post, rock chestnut,
scrub chestnut, swamp white, and white oaks, the acorns of
chestnut and post oaks being sweetest; those producing bitter
mast are the black, pin, red, scarlet, shingle, Spanish, water,
and willow oaks, of which the black and water oak acorns are
most astringent.
None of these can be used raw, as human food, without more
or less ill effect from the tannin contained. But there are
tribes of western Indians who extract the tannin from even the
most astringent acorns and make bread out of their flour. The
process varies somewhat among different tribes, but essentially
it is as follows:
WILDERNESS EDIBLE PLANTS 235
The acorns are collected when ripe, spread out to dry in the
sun, cracked, and stored until the kernels are dry, care being
taken that they do not mold. The kernels are then pulver-
ized in a mortar to a fine meal, with frequent sif tings to remove
the coarser particles, until the whole is ground to a fine flour,
this being essential. The tannin is then dissolved out by
placing the flour in a filter and letting water percolate through
it for about two hours, or until the water ceases to have a
yellowish tinge. One form of filter is contrived by laying a
coarse, flat basket or strainer on a pile of gravel with a drain
underneath. Rather fine gravel is now scattered thickly over
the bottom and up the sides of the strainer, and the meal laid
thickly over the gravel. Water is added, little by little, to set
free the tannin. The meal is removed by hand as much as
possible, then water is poured over the remainder to get it
together, and thus little is wasted. The meal by this time has
the consistency of ordinary dough.
The dough is cooked in two ways: first, by boiling it in
water as we do corn-meal mush, the resulting porridge being
not unlike yellow corn-meal mush in appearance and taste;
it is sweet and wholesome, but rather insipid. The second
mode is to make the dough into small balls, which are wrapped
in green corn leaves. These balls are then placed in hot ashes,
some green leaves of corn are laid over them, and hot ashes
are placed on the top, and the cakes are thus baked.
Acorns possess remarkable fattening power, and their
nutritive value, when the tannin has been removed, is high.
(Coville, Contrib. to U. S. Herbarium, VII, No. 3. — Palmer,
in Amer. Naturalist, XII, 597. Another method, used by the
Porno Indians, who add 5 per cent, of red earth to the dough,
is described by J. W. Hudson in the Amer. Anthropologist,
1900, pp. 775-6.)
Nuts. — Among the Cherokees, and also in Italy and in the
Austrian Tyrol, I have eaten bread made from chestnuts.
The Cherokee method, when they have corn also, is to use the
chestnuts whole, mixing them with enough corn-meal dough to
hold them together, and then baking cakes of this material
enclosed in corn husks, like tamales. The peasants of southern
Europe make bread from the meal of chestnuts alone — the
large European chestnut, of course, being used. Such bread
is palatable and nutritious, but lies heavily on one's stomach
until he becomes accustomed to it.
Our Indians also have made bread from the kernels of
buckeyes. These, in a raw state, are poisonous, but when
dried, powdered, and freed from their poison by filtration,
like acorns, they yield an edible and nutritious flour. The
method is to first roast the nuts, then hull and peel them, mash
them in a basket with a billet, and then leach them. The
resulting paste may be baked, or eaten cold.
Hazel nuts, beech nuts, pecans, and wankapins may be used
like chestnuts. The oil expressed from beech nuts is little
236 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
inferior to the best olive oil for table use, and will keep sweet
for ten years. The oil from butternuts and black walnuts used
to be highly esteemed by the eastern Indians, either to mix
with their food, or as a frying tat. They pounded the ripe
kernels, boiled them in water, and skimmed off the oil, using
the remaining paste as bread. Hickory nut oil was easily
obtained by crushing the whole nuts, precipitating the broken
shells in water, and skimming off the oily ' milk," which was
used as we use cream or butter. The nut of the ironwood
(blue beech) is edible.
The kernel of the long- leaved pine cone is edible and of an
agreeable taste. Many western pines have edible "nuts."
The acridity of pine seeds can be removed by roasting.
All nuts are more digestible when roasted than when eaten
raw.
Arrowhead, Broad-leaved. Swan or Swamp Potato.
Sagittaria latifolia (S. variabilis). In shallow water; ditches.
Throughout North America, except extreme north, to Mexico.
July- Sep.
Tuberous roots as large as hens' eggs, were an important
article of food among Indians. Roots bitter when raw, but
rendered sweet and palatable by boiling. Excellent when
cooked with meat. Indians gather them by wading and loosen-
ing roots with their feet, when the tubers float up and are
gathered. Leaves acrid.
Arum, Green Arrow. Peltandra Virginica (P. undulata,
Arum Virginicum) . Swamps or shallow water. Me. and
Ont. to Mich., south to Fla. and La. May-June.
Rootstock used by eastern Indians for food, under the name
of Taw-ho. Roots very large; acrid when fresh. The method
of cooking this root, and that of the Golden Club, is thus
described by Captain John Smith in his Historie of Virginia
(1624),. p. 87: "The chief e root they haue for food is called
Tockawhoughe. It groweth like a flagge in Marishes. In one
day a Salvage will gather sufficient for a week. These roots
are much of the greatnesse and taste of Potatoes. They vse
to cover a great many of them with Oke leaues and Feme,
and then cover all with earth in the manner of a Cole-pit
[charcoal pit]; over it, on each side, they continue a great fire
24 houres before they dare eat it. Raw it is no better than
poyson, and being roasted, except it be tender and the heat
abated, or sliced and dryed in the Sunne, mixed with sorrell
and meale or such like, it will prickle and torment the throat
extreamely, and yet in sommer they vse this ordinarily for
bread."
Arum, Water. Wild Calla. (Calla pallustris.) Cold
bogs. Nova Scotia to Minn., south to Va., Wis., Iowa.
May-June.
Missen bread is made in Lapland from the roots of this
plant, which are acrid when raw. They are taken up in
spring when the leaves come forth, are extremely well washed,
WILDERNESS EDIBLE PLANTS 237
and then dried. The fibrous parts are removed, and the re-
mainder dried in an oven. This is then bruised and chopped
into pieces as small as peas or oatmeal, and then ground.
The meal is boiled slowly, and continually stirred like mush.
It is then left standing for three or four days, when the acridity
disappears. (Lankester.)
Broom-Rape, Louisiana. Orobanche Ludoviciana (Aphyl-
lan L.). Sandy soil. 111. to N. W. Ty., south to Texas,
Ariz., Cal. June-- Aug.
"All the plant except the bloom grows under ground, and
consequently nearly all is very white and succulent. The Pah
Utes consume great numbers of them in summer. . . . Be-
ing succulent, they answer for food and drink on these sandy
plains, and, indeed, are often called sand-food." (Palmer.)
Bulrush, Great. Mat-rush. Tule-root. Scirpus lacus-
tris. Ponds and swamps. Throughout North America; also
in Old World. June-Sep.
Roots resemble artichokes, but are much larger. Eaten
raw, they prevent thirst and afford nourishment. Flour made
from the dried root is white, sweet, and very nutritious. A
great favorite with the western Indians, who pound the roots
and make bread of them. When the fresh roots are bruised,
mixed with water, and boiled, they afford a good syrup.
Camass, Eastern. Wild Hyacinth. Quamasia hyacyn-
thia (Camassia Fraseri). In meadows and along streams.
Pa. to Minn., south to Ala. and Texas. Apr-May.
Root is very nutritious, with an agreeable mucilaginous
taste.
Golden Club. Orontium aquaticum. Swamps and ponds.
Mass. to Pa., south to Fla. and La., mostly near coast. Apr-
May.
The Taw-kee of coast Indians, who liked the dried seeds
when cooked like peas. The raw root is acrid, but becomes
edible when cooked like arrow-arum.
Grass, Drop-seed. Sand Drop-seed. Sporobolus cryp-
tandrus. Also Barnyard or Cockspur Grass (Panicum Crus-
galli).
When the seeds, which are gathered in great quantities by
western Indians, are parched, ground, mixed with water or
milk and baked into bread or made into mush, they are of
good flavor and nutritious. Also eaten dry.
Grass, Panic. Panicum, several species.
The ripe seeds are collected, like the above, cleaned by
winnowing, ground into flour, water added, and the mass is
kneaded into hard cakes, which, when dried in the sun are
ready for use. Also made into gruel and mush.
Grass, Floating Manna. Panicularia fluitans (Glyceria
/*■>■
The seeds are of agreeable flavor and highly nutritious
material for soups and gruels.
Greenbrier, Bristly. Stretch-berry. Smilax Bona-nox.
'238 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
Thickets. Mass. and Kansas, south to Fla. and Texas.
Apr.-July.
The large, tuberous rootstocks are said to have been used
by the Indians, who ground them into meal and made bread
or gruel of it.
In the South a drink is made from them.
Geeenbrier, Long-Stalked. Smilax Pseudo-China.
Dry or sandy thickets. Md. to Neb., south to Fla. and
Texas. March-Aug.
Bartram says that the Florida Indians prepared from this
plant "a very agreeable, cooling sort of jelly, which they call
conte [not to be confounded with coontie or wild sago]; this is
prepared from the root of the China brier {Smilax Pseudo-
China). . . . They chop the roots in pieces which are
afterwards well pounded in a wooden mortar, then being mixed
with clean water, in a tray or trough, they strain it through
baskets. The sediment, which settles to the bottom of the
second vessel, is afterwards dried in the open air, and is then
a very fine reddish flour or meal. A small quantity of this,
mixed with warm water and sweetened with honey, when
cool, becomes a beautiful, delicious jelly, very nourishing and
wholesome. They also mix it with fine corn flour, which being
fried in fresh bear's oil makes very good hot cakes or fritters."
Ground-Not. Wild Bean. Indian Potato. Apios Apios
{A. tuberosa). Moist ground. New Bruns. to Fla., west to
Minn, and Kan., south to La. July-Sep.
This is the famous hopniss of New Jersey Indians, the saaga-
ban of the Micmacs, openauk of Virginia tribes, scherzo of the
Carolinas, taux of the Osages, and modo of the Sioux, under
one or other of which names it is frequently met by students
of our early annals. "In 1654 the town laws of Southampton,
Mass., ordained that if an Indian dug ground-nuts on land
occupied by the English, he was to be set in the stocks, and for
a second offence, to be whipped." The Pilgrims, during
their first winter, lived on these roots.
The tubers vary from the size of cherries to that of a hen's
egg, or larger. They grow in strings of perhaps 40 together,
resembling common potatoes in shape, taste, and odor. When
boiled they are quite palatable and wholesome. The seeds
in the pod can be prepared like common peas.
Indian Tdrnd?. Jack-in-the-Pulpit. Aris&ma triphyl-
lum {Arum triphyllum). Moist woods and thickets. Nova
Scotia to Florida, west to Minn., Kan., La. April-June.
Fruit ripe, June-July.
The root of this plant is so acrid when raw that, if one but
touch the tip of his tongue to it, in a few seconds that un-
lucky member will sting as if touched to a nettle. Yet it was
a favorite bread-root of the Indians. I have found bulbs as
much as 11 inches in circumference and weighing half a pound.
Some writers state that the acridity of the root is destroyed
by boiling, while others recommend baking. Neither alone
WILDERNESS EDIBLE PLANTS 23^
will do. The bulb may be boiled for two hours, or baked as
long, and, while the outer portion will have a characteristically
pleasant flavor, half potato, half chestnut, the inner part will
still be as uneatable as a spoonful of red pepper. The root
should either be roasted or boiled, then peeled, dried, and
pounded in a mortar, or otherwise reduced to flour. Then
if it is heated again, or let stand for a day or two, it becomes
bland and wholesome, having been reduced to a starchy
substance resembling arrowroot. Even if the fresh root is
only grated finely and let stand exposed to air until it is thor-
oughly dry, the acridity will have evaporated with the juice.
The roots may be preserved for a year by storing in damp
sand.
It is said that the Indians also cooked and ate the berries.
Lily, Ttjrk's-Cap. Lilium swperbum. Meadows and
marshes. Me. to Minn., south to N. C. and Tenn. July-
Aug.
Lily, Wild Yellow. Canada Lily. Lilium Canadense.
Swamps, meadows and fields. Nova Scotia to Minn., south
to Ga., Ala., Mo. June-July.
Both of these lilies have fleshy, edible bulbs. When green
they look and taste somewhat like raw green corn on the ear.
The Indians use them, instead of flour, to thicken stews, etc.
(Thoreau.)
Lily, Yellow Pond. Spatter-dock. Nymphasa advena
(Nuphar ad.). Ponds and slow streams. Nova Scotia to
Rocky Mts., south to Fla., Texas, Utah. Apr.-Sep.
The roots, which are one or two feet long, grow four or
five feet under water, and Indian women dive for them.
They are very porous, slightly sweet, and glutinous . Generally
boiled with wild fowl, but often roasted separately. Musk-
rats store large quantities for winter use, and their houses are
frequently robbed by the Indians. The pulverized seeds of
the plant are made into bread or gruel, or parched and eaten
like popcorn.
Nelumbo, American. Wankapin or Yoncopin. Water
Chinquapin. Nelumbo lutea. Ponds and swamps. Locally
east from Ontario to Fla., abundant west to Mich., Ind. Ty.,
La. July-Aug.
Tubers of root somewhat resemble sweet potatoes, and are
little inferior to them when well boiled. A highly prized food
of the Indians. The green and succulent half -ripe seed-pods
are delicate and nutritious. From the sweet, mealy seeds,
which resemble hazel nuts, the Indians made bread, soups,
etc. The ' ' nuts " were first steeped in water, and then parched
in sand, to easily extricate the kernels. These were mixed
with fat and made into a palatable soup, or were ground into
flour and baked. Frequently they were parched without
steeping, and the kernels eaten thus.
Orchis, Showy. Orchis spectabilis. Rich woods. New
Brunsw. to Minn., south to Ga., Ky., Neb. Apr-June.
240 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
"One of the orchids that springs from a tuberous root, and
as such finds favor with the country people [of the South] in
the preparation of a highly nourishing food for children.'*
(Lounsberry.)
Peanut, Hog. Wild peanut. Falcata comosa (Glycine
comosa). Moist thickets. New Brunsw. to Fla., west to
Lake Superior, Neb., La. Aug -Sep.
The underground pod has been cultivated as a vegetable.
(Porcher.)
Potato, Prairie. Prairie turnip. Indian or Missouri
Breadroot. The pomme blanche of the voyageurs. Psoralea
esculenta. Prairies. Manitoba and N. Dak. to Texas.
June.
The farinaceous tuber, generally the size of a hen's egg, has
a thick, leathery envelope, easily separable from the smooth
internal parts, which become friable when dry and are readily
pulverized, affording a light, starchy flour, with sweetish,
turnip-like taste. Often sliced and dried by the Indians for
winter use. Palatable in any form.
Rice, Wild. Zizania aquatica. Swamps. New Brunsw.
to Manitoba, south to Fla., La., Texas. June-Oct.
The chief farinaceous food of probably 30,000 of our
northern Indians, and now on the market as a breakfast food.
The harvesting is usually done by two persons working to-
gether, one propelling the canoe, and the one in the stern
gently pulling the plants over the canoe and beating off the
ripe seed with two sticks. The seed, when gathered, is spread
out for a few hours to dry, and is then parched in a kettle over
a slow fire for half an hour to an hour, meanwhile being
evenly and constantly stirred. It is then spread out to cool.
After this it is hulled by putting about a bushel of the seed into
a hole in the ground, lined with staves or burnt clay, and beat-
ing or punching it with heavy sticks. The grains and hulls
are separated by tossing the mixture into the wind from
baskets. The grain will keep indefinitely.
Before cooking, it should have several washings in cold
water, to remove the smoky taste. It is cooked with game,
or as gruel, or made into bread, or merely eaten dry. Its
food value is equal to that of our common cereals. "An acre
of rice is nearly or quite equal to an acre of wheat in nutri-
ment." (For details see Bulletin No. 50 of the Bureau of
Plant Industry, U. S. Dep't. of Agriculture.)
Silverweed. Wild or Goose Tansy. Goose-grass. Po-
tentilla Anserina. Shores and salt meadows, marshes and
river banks. Greenland to N. J., west to Neb. ; Alaska, south
along Rocky Mts. to N. Mex. and Cal. May-Sep.
Roots gathered in spring and eaten either raw or roasted.
Starchy and wholesome. When roasted or boiled their taste
resembles chestnuts.
Sunflower. Helianihus, many species. Prairies, etc.
Julu-Sen. ' ' The seeds of these plants form one of the staple
WILDERNESS EDIBLE PLANTS 241
articles of food for many Indians, and they gather them in
great quantities. The agreeable oily nature of the seeds ren-
ders them very palatable. "When parched and ground they
are highly prized, and are eaten on hunting excursions. The
meal or flour is also made into thin cakes and baked in hot
ashes. These cakes are of a gray color, rather coarse looking,
but palatable and very nutritious. Having eaten of the bread
made from sunflowers, I must say that it is as good as much of
the corn bread eaten by whites." (Palmer.)
The oil expressed from sunflower seeds is a good substitute
for olive oil.
Valerian, Edible. Tobacco-root. Valeriana edulis. Wet
open places. Ontario to B. C, south to O., Wis., and in
Rocky Mts. to N. Mex. and Ariz. May-Aug.
"I ate here, for the first time, the kooyah or tobacco-root
(Valeriana edulis), the principal edible root among the Indians
who inhabit the upper waters of the streams on the western
side of the [Rocky] mountains. It has a very strong and
remarkably peculiar taste and odor, which I can compare to
no other vegetable that I am acquainted with, and which to
some persons is extremely offensive. . . . To others, how-
ever, the taste is rather an agreeable one, and I was afterwards
always glad when it formed an addition to our scanty meals.
It is full of nutriment. In its unprepared state it is said by the
Indians to have very strong poisonous qualities, of which it is
deprived by a peculiar process, being baked in the ground for
about two days." (Fremont, Exploring Expedition, 1845,
p. 135.)
POT-HERBS AND SALADS
All of the plants hitherto mentioned are native to
the regions described. In the following list will be
found many that are introduced weeds; but a con-
siderable proportion of these foundlings may now be
seen in clearings and old burnt tracts in the woods,
far from regular settlements. Directions for cooking
greens are given in the chapter on Camp Cookery.
Adder's-Tongue, Yellow. Dog's-tooth, Violet. Ery-
thronium Americanum. Moist woods and thickets. Nova
Scotia to Minn., south to Fla., Mo., Ark. Mar -May.
Sometimes used for greens.
Bean, Wild Kidney. Phaseolus polystachyus (P. per-
ennis). Thickets. Canada to Fla., west to Minn., Neb.,
La. July-Sep.
Was used as food by the Indians; the Apaches eat it either
green or dried.
Bell wort. Uvularia perfoliata. Moist woods and thick-
ets. Quebec and Ont. to Fla. and Miss. May-June.
16
242 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
The roots of this and other species of Uvularia are edible
when cooked, and the young shoots are a good substitute for
asparagus. (Porcher.)
Brooklime, American. Veronica Americana. Brooks
and swamps. Anticosti to Alaska, south to Pa., Neb., N.
Mex., Cal. Apr -Sep.
"A salad plant equal to the watercress. Delightful in
flavor, healthful, anti-scorbutic." (Sri. Amer.)
Burdock, Great. Cockle-bur. Arctium Lappa. Waste
places. New Brunsw. to southern N. Y., and locally in the
interior. Not nearly so widely distributed as the smaller
common burdock (A. minus). July-Oct.
A naturalized weed, so rank in appearance and odor that
nothing but stark necessity could have driven people to ex-
periment with it as a vegetable. Yet, like the skunk cabbage,
it is capable of being turned to good account. In spring, the
tender shoots, when peeled, can be eaten raw like radishes, or,
with vinegar, can be used as a salad. The stalks cut before
the flowers open, and stripped of their rind, form a delicate
vegetable when boiled, similar in flavor to asparagus. The
raw root has medicinal properties, but the Japanese eat the
cooked root, preparing it as follows: The skin is scraped or
peeled off, and the roots sliced in long strips, or cut into pieces
about two inches long, and boiled with salt and pepper, or
with soy, to impart flavor; or the boiled root is mashed, made
into cakes, and fried like oyster plant.
Charlock. Wild Mustard. Brassica arvensis (B. Sina-
pistrum). Fields and waste places. Naturalized everywhere.
May-Nov.
Extensively used as a pot-herb; aids digestion.
Chickweed. Alsine media (Stellaria m.). Waste places,
meadows, and woods. Naturalized; common everywhere.
Jan-Dec.
Used like spinach, and quite as good.
Chicory. Wild Succory. Chichorium Intybus. Road-
sides, fields, and waste places. Nova Scotia to Minn., south
to N. C. and Mo. July-Oct.
All parts of the plant are wholesome. The young leaves
make a good salad, or may be cooked as a pot-herb like
dandelion. The root, ground and roasted, is used as an
adulterant of coffee.
Clover. Trifolium, many species.
The coast Indians of California use clover as a food. The
fresh leaves and stems are used, before flowering. " Deserves
test as a salad herb, with vinegar and salt."
Comfrey. Symphytum officinale. Waste places. Newf.
to Minn., south to Md. Naturalized. June- Aug.
Makes good greens when gathered young.
Cow Pea. China Bean. Vigna Sinensis. Escaped from
cultivation. Mo. to Texas and Ga. July-Sep.
The seeds are edible.
WILDERNESS EDIBLE PLANTS 243
Cress, Rocket. Yellow Rocket. Bitter Cress. Barba-
rea Barbarea (B. vulgaris). Fields and waste places. Nat-
uralized. Labrador to Va., and locally in interior; also on
Pacific coast. Apr. -June.
The young, tender leaves make a fair salad, but inferior
to the winter cress.
Cress, Water. Roripa Nasturtium (Nasturtium offici-
nale). Brooks and other streams, Nova Scotia to Manitoba,
south to Va. and Mo. Naturalized from Europe. Apr.-Nov.
A well-known salad herb. The leaves and stems are eaten
raw with salt, as a relish, or mixed as a salad.
Cress, Winter. Scurvy Grass. Barbarea praecox. Waste
places, naturalized. Southern N. Y., Pa., and southward.
Apr-June.
Highly esteemed as a winter salad and pot-herb; sometimes
cultivated.
Crinkle-Root. Two-leaved Toothwort. Dentaria di-
phylla. Rich woods and meadows. Nova Scotia to Minn.,
south to S. Car. and Ky. May.
The rootstocks are crisp and fleshy, with a spicy flavor like
watercress. Eaten with salt, like celery.
Crowfoot, Celery-Leaved or Ditch. Ranunculus
sceleratus. Swamps and wet ditches, New Brunsw. to Fla.,
abundant along the coast, and locally westward to Minn.
Apr.-Aug.
Porcher cites this as a good example of the destruction of
acrid and poisonous juices by heating. The fresh juice is so
caustic that it will raise a blister, and two drops taken inter-
nally may excite fatal inflammation. Yet the boiled or baked
root, he says, is edible. When cleansed, scraped and pounded,
and the pulp soaked in a considerable quantity of water, a
white sediment is deposited, which, when washed and dried,
is a real starch.
Cuckoo-Flower. Meadow Bitter-cress. Cardamine pra-
tensis. Wet meadows and swamps. Labrador to northern
N. J., west to Minn, and B. C Apr-May.
Has a pungent savor and is used like water cress; occasion-
ally cultivated as a salad plant.
Dandelion. Taraxacum Taraxacum (T. officinale). Fields
and waste places everywhere; naturalized. Jan.-Dec.
Common pot-herb; also blanched for salad. In boiling,
change the water two or three times.
Dock, Curled. Rumex Crispus. Fields and waste places,
everywhere; naturalized. June-Aug.
The young leaves make good pot-herbs. The plant pro-
duces an abundance of seeds, which Indians grind into flour
for bread or mush.
Ferns. Many species.
The young stems of ferns, gathered before they are covered
with down, and before the leaves have uncurled, are tender, and
when boiled like asparagus are delicious.
244 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
The rootstocks of ferns are starchy, and after being baked
resemble the dough of wheat; their flavor is not very pleasant,
but they are by no means to be despised by a hungry man.
Fetticus. Corn Salad. 'Valerianella Locusta. Waste
places. N. Y. to Va. and La. Naturalized. Apr -July.
Cultivated for salad and as a pot-herb. The young leaves
are very tender.
Flag, Cat-tail. Typha latifolia. Marshes. Through-
out North America except in extreme north. June-July.
The flowering ends are very tender in the spring, and are
eaten raw, or when boiled in water make a good soup. The
root is eaten as a salad. "The Cossacks of the Don peel off
the outer cuticle of the stalk and eat raw the tender white
Eart of the stem extending about 18 inches from the root. It
as a somewhat insipid, but pleasant and cooling taste."
Garlic, Wild or Meadow. Allium Canadense. Moist
meadows and thickets. Me. to Minn., south to Fla., La.,
Ark. May-June.
A good substitute for garlic. "The top bulbs are superior
to the common onion for pickling."
Ginseng, Dwarf. Ground-nut. Panax trifolium (Aralia
trifolia). Moist woods and thickets. Nova Scotia to Ga.,
west to Minn., Iowa, 111. Apr-June.
The tubers are edible and pungent.
Honewort. Deringa Canadensis (Cryptotamia C).
Woods. New Brunsw. to Minn., south to Ga. and Texas.
June-July.
In the spring this is a wholesome green, used in soups, etc.,
like chervil.
Hop. Cannabis saliva. Waste places. New Brunsw. to
Minn., south to N. C, Tenn., Kansas. Naturalized. July-
Sep.
Used for yeast. "In Belgium the young shoots of the plant
just as they emerge from the ground, are used as aspara-
gus"
Indian Cucumber. Medeola Virginiana. Rich, damp
woods and thickets. Nova Scotia to Minn., south to Fla. and
Tenn. May-June.
"The common name alludes to the succulent, horizontal,
white tuberous root, which tastes like cucumber, and was in all
probability relished by the Indians." (Mathews.)
Jerusalem Artichoke. Canada Potato. Girasole. Top-
inambour. Helianthus tuber osus. Moist soil. New Brunsw.
to N. W. Ty., south to Ga. and Ark. "Often occurs along
roadsides in the east, a relic of cultivation by the aborigines."
Now cultivated and for sale in our markets. The tubers are
large, and edible either raw or cooked, tasting somewhat like
celery root. They are eaten as vegetables, and are also
pickled.
Lady's Thumb. English Smartweed. Polygonum Persl-
caria. Waste places throughout the continent, except ex-
WILDERNESS EDIBLE PLANTS 245
treme north. Naturalized; often an abundant weed. June-
Sep.
Used as an early salad plant in the southern mountains.
Lamb's Quarters. White Pigweed. Chenopodium album.
Waste places, range universal, like the above. Naturalized.
June-Sep.
A fine summer green and pot-herb, tender and succulent.
Should be boiled about 20 minutes, the first water being thrown
away, owing to its bad taste. The small seeds, which are not
unpleasant when eaten raw, may be dried, ground, and made
into cakes or gruel. They resemble buckwheat in color and
taste, and are equally nutritious.
Lettuce, Spanish. Indian or Miner's Lettuce. Clay-
tonia perfoliata. Native of Pacific coast, but spreading east-
ward. Apr -May.
The whole plant is eaten by western Indians and by whites.
In a raw state makes an excellent salad; also cooked with salt
and pepper, as greens.
Lupine, Wild. Wild Pea. Lupinus perennis. Dry,
sandy soil. Me. to Minn., south to Fla., Mo., La. May-
June.
Edible; cooked like domestic peas.
Mallow, Marsh. Althaea officinalis. Salt marshes.
Mass. to N. J. Summer.
The thick, very mucilaginous root, has familiar use as a
confection; also used in medicine as a demulcent. May be
eaten raw.
Mallow, Whorled or Curled. Malva aerticillata (M.
crispa). Waste places. Vermont. Naturalized. Summer.
A good pot-herb.
Marigold, Marsh. Meadow-gowan. Cowslip. Caltha
palustris. Swamps and meadows. Newfoundland to S. C,
west through Canada to Rocky Mts., and south to Iowa.
Apr-June.
Used as a spring vegetable, the young plant being thoroughly
boiled for greens. The flower buds are sometimes pickled
as a substitute for capers.
Beware of mistaking for this plant the poisonous white
hellebore (Veratrum viride).
Meadow Beauty. Deer Grass. Rhexia Virginica. Sandy
swamps. Me. to Fla., west to north N. Y., 111., Mo., La.
Jidy-Sep.
The leaves have a sweetish, yet acidulous taste. Make a
good addition to a salad, and may be eaten with impunity.
Milkweed. Asclepias Syriaca (A. Cornuti). Fields and
waste places generally. June-Aug. Also other species.
The young shoots, in spring, are a good substitute for aspara-
gus. Kalm says that a good brown sugar has been made by
gathering the flowers while -the dew was on them, expressing
the dew, and boiling it down£ bn.
Mushrooms. The number of edible species is legion. It
246 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
is not difficult to distinguish the poisonous ones, when one has
studied a good text-book; but no one should take chances with
fungi until he has made such study, for a few of the common
species are deadly, and for some ot them no remedy is known.
A beginner would do well, perhaps, to avoid all of the genus
Amanita. All mushrooms on the following list are of delicious
flavor.
Coprinus comatus. Lactarius volemus.
Hypholoma appendiadatum. deliciosus.
Tricholoma personatum. Russula alutacea.
Boletus sub aureus. " virescens.
" bovinus. Cantharellus cibarius.
" subsanguineous. Marasmius oreades.
Clavaria botrytes. Hydnum repandum.
" cinerea. " caput-Medusa.
inaqualis. Morchella esculenta.
" vermicularis. deliciosa.
" pistillaris.
It would be well for every outer to learn the easily distin-
guishable beefsteak fungus (Fistulina hepatica) and sulphur
mushroom (Polyporus sulphureus) that grow from the trunks
of old trees and stumps, as they are very common, very large,
and very ' ' filling."
Mustard. Brassica, several species. Fields and waste
places. Naturalized.
The young leaves are used for greens.
Nettle. Urtica dioica, and other species; also the Sow
Thistle, Sonchus oleraceus. Fields and waste places.
Should be gathered, with gloves, when the leaves are quite
young and tender. A pleasant, nourishing and mildly aperient
pot-herb, used with soups, salt meat, or as spinach; adds a
piquant taste to other greens. Largely used for such purposes
in Europe.
Nightshade, Black or Garden. Solanum nigrum.
Waste places, commonly in cultivated soil. Nova Scotia to
N. W. Ty., south to Fla. and Texas. July-Oct.
This plant is reputed to be poisonous, though not to the
same degree as its relative from Europe, the Woody Night-
shade or Bittersweet (S. Dulcamara). It is, however, used as
a pot-herb, like spinach, in some countries, and in China the
young shoots and berries are eaten. Bessey reports that in
the Mississippi Valley the little black berries are made into
pies.
Onion, Wild. Allium, many species. Rich woods, moist
meadows and thickets, banks and hillsides.
Used like the domestic onions. ..
Parsnip, Cow. M-&sterwoTt» diHeracleum lanatum. Moist
ground. Labrador to N. C and Mo., Alaska to Cal. June-
July. 19'
WILDERNESS EDIBLE PLANTS 247
"The tender leaf and flower stalks are sweet and very agree-
ably aromatic, and are therefore much sought after [by coast
Indians] for green food in spring and early summer, before
the flowers have expanded. In eating these, the outer skin
is rejected."
Peppergrass, Wild. Lepidium Virginicum. Fields and
along roadsides. Quebec to Minn., south to Fla. and Mexico.
May-Nov.
Like the cultivated peppergrass, this is sometimes used as
a winter or early spring salad, but it is much inferior to other
cresses. The spicy pods are good seasoning for salads,
soups, etc.
Pigweed, Rough. Beet-root. Amaranthus retroflexus.
Fields and waste places. Throughout the continent, except
extreme north. Naturalized. Aug.-Oct.
Related to the beet and spinach, and may be used for greens.
Pigweed, Slender. Keerless. Amaranthus hybridus (A.
chlorostachys) . A weed of the same wide range as the pre-
ceding. Naturalized. Aug.-Oct.
Extensively used in the South, in early spring, as a salad
plant, under the name of "keerless."
Plantain, Common. Plantago major. A naturalized weed
of general range, like the preceding. May-Sep.
Used as early spring greens.
Pleurisy-Root. Asclepias Tuberosa. Dry fields. Me. to
Minn., south to Fla., Texas, Ariz. June-Sep.
The tender young shoots may be used like asparagus. The
raw tuber is medicinal; but when boiled or baked it is edible.
Pokeweed. Phytolacca decandra. A common weed east
of the Mississippi and west of Texas. Now cultivated in
France, and the wild shoots are sold in our eastern markets.
In early spring the young shoots and leaves make an ex-
cellent substitute for asparagus.
The root is poisonous (this is destroyed by heat), and the
raw juice of the old plant is an acrid purgative. The berries
are harmless.
Prickly Pear. Opuntia. Several species. Dry, sandy
soil. Along eastern coast, and on western prairies and plains.
The ripe fruit is eaten raw. The unripe fruit, if boiled
ten or twelve hours, becomes soft and resembles apple-sauce.
When the leaves are roasted in hot ashes, the outer skin, with
its thorns, is easily removed, leaving a slimy but sweet and
succulent pulp which sustains life. Should be gathered with
tongs, which can be extemporized by bending a green stick
in the middle and beathing it over the fire.
Primrose, Evening. Onagra biennis (Oenothera b.).
Usually in dry soil. Labrador to Fla., west to Rocky Mts.
June-Oct.
Young sprigs are mucilaginous and can be eaten as salad.
Roots have a nutty flavor, and are used in Europe either raw
or stewed, like celery.
248 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
Purslane. Pussley. Portulaca oleracea. Fields and waste
places. A weed of almost world-wide distribution. Summer.
This weed was used as a pot-herb by the Greeks and
Romans, and is still so used in Europe. The young shoots
should be gathered when from 2 to 5 inches long. May also
be used as a salad, or pickled. Taste somewhat like string
beans, with a slight acid flavor. The seeds, ground to flour,
have been used by Indians in the form of mush.
Red-Bud. Cercis Canadensis.
French-Canadians use the acid flowers of this tree in salads.
The buds and tender pods are pickled in vinegar. All may
be fried in butter, or made into fritters.
Saxifrage, Lettuce. Saxifraga micranthidifolia. In
cold brooks. Appalachian Mts. from Pa. to N. C. May-
June.
Eaten by Carolina mountaineers as a salad, under the name
of "lettuce."
Shepherd's Purse. Bursa Bursa-pastoris (Capsella B.).
Fields and waste places everywhere. Naturalized. Jan-
Dec.
A good substitute for spinach. Delicious when blanched
and served as a salad. Tastes somewhat like cabbage, but
is much more delicate.
Skunk Cabbage. Spathyema fatida (Symplocarpus /.).
Swamps and wet soil. Throughout the east, and west to
Minn, and Iowa. Feb. -April.
The root of this foul-smelling plant was baked or roasted
by eastern Indians, to extract the juice, and used as a bread-
root. Doubtless they got the hint from the bear, who is very
fond of this, one of the first green things to appear in spring.
Solomon's Seal. Polygonatum biflorum. Woods and
thickets. New Brunsw. to Mich., south to Fla. and W. Va.
April- July.
Indians boiled the young shoots in spring and ate them;
also dried the mature roots in fall, ground or pounded them,
and baked them into bread. The raw plant is medicinal.
Sorrel, Mountain. Oxyria digyna. Greenland to Alas-
ka, south to White Mts. of N. H. and in Rocky Mts. to Colo.
July-Sep.
A pleasant addition to salads.
Sorrel, Sheep. Rumex Acetosella. Dry fields and hill-
sides. Throughout the continent, except in extreme north.
May-Sep.
The leaves are very acid. Young shoots may be eaten as a
salad. Also used as a seasoning for soups, etc.
The European sorrels cultivated as salad plants are R.
Acetosa, R. scutatus, and sometimes R. Patientia.
Sorrel, White Wood. Oxalis Acetosella. Cold, damp
woods- Nova Scotia to Manitoba, mts. of N. C, and north
shore of Lake Superior. May-July.
Not related to the above. "The pleasant acid taste of the
WILDERNESS EDIBLE PLANTS 249
leaves, when mixed with salads, imparts an agreeable, re-
freshing flavor." The fresh plant, or a "lemonade" made
from it, is very useful in scurvy, and makes a cooling drink for
fevers. Should be used in moderation, as it contains binoxa-
late of potash, which is poisonous. Yields the druggist's
"salt of lemons."
Storksbill. Pin-clover. Erodium cicutarium. Waste
places and fields. Locally in the east, abundant in the west.
April-Sep. Naturalized.
The young plant is gathered by western Indians and eaten
raw or cooked.
Strawberry Blite. Blitum capitatum (Chenopodium c).
Dry soil. Nova Scotia to Alaska, south to N. J., 111., Colo.,
Utah, Nev. June-Aug.
Sometimes cultivated for greens. Used like spinach.
Trillium. Wake-robin. Beth-root. Trillium erectum;
also T. undulatum and T. grandiflorum. Woods. Nova
Scotia to Minn., and south to Fla. April-June.
The popular notion that these plants are poisonous is in-
correct. They make good greens when cooked.
Tuckahoe. Pachyma cocos. A subterranean fungus which
grows on decaying vegetable matter, such as old roots.
It is found in light, loamy soils and in dry waste places, but
not in very old fields or in woodlands. Outwardly it is
woody, resembling a cocoanut or the bark of a hickory tree.
The inside is a compact, white, fleshy mass, moist and yielding
when fresh, but in drying it becomes very hard, cracking from
within. It contains no starch, but is composed largely of
pectose. The Indians made bread of it, and it is sometimes
called Indian Bread. (For details, see an article by Prof. J.
H. Gore in Smithsonian Report, 1881, pp. 687-701.)
Unicorn Plant. Martynia Louisiana (M. proboscidea).
Waste places. Me. to N. J. and N. C. Native in Mississippi
Valley from Iowa and 111. southward. July-Sep.
Cultivated in some places. The seed-pods, while yet tender,
make excellent pickles. The Apaches gather the half -ripe
pods of a related species and use them for food.
Vetch, Milk. Astragalus, several species. Prairies.
May-Aug.
Used as food by the Indians. The pea is hulled and
boiled.
Violet, Early Blue. Viola palmata. Dry soil, mostly
in woods. Me. to Minn., south to Ga. and Ark. April-
May.
The plant is very mucilaginous, and is employed by negroes
for thickening soup, under the name of "wild okra." (Por-
cher.)
Waterleaf. Hydrophyllum Virginicum. Woods. Que-
bec to Alaska, south to S. C., Kan., Wash. May-Aug.
"Furnishes good greens. Reappears after being picked off,
and does not become woody for a long time."
250 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
WILD FRUITS
It would extend this chapter beyond reasonable
limits if I were to give details of all the wild fruits
native to the region here considered. As fruits may be
eaten raw, or require no special treatment in cooking,
a mere list of them, with the time of ripening, must
suffice:
Carolina Buckthorn. Rhamnus Caroliniana. Sep.
Woolly-leaved Buckthorn. Bumelia languinosa. June-
July.
Buffalo-berry. Lepargyraa argentea. July-Aug.
American Barberry. Berberis Canadensis. Aug.-Sep.
Common Barberry. Berberis vulgaris. Sep. Naturalized.
Bailey's Blackberry. Rubus Baileyanus.
Bristly Blackberry. R. setosus.
Dewberry. R. Canadensis. June-July.
High Bush Blackberry. R. villosus. July-Aug.
Hispid Blackberry. R. hispidus. Aug.
Low Bush Blackberry. R. trivialis.
Millspaugh's Blackberry. R. Millspaughii. Aug.-Sep.
Mountain Blackberry. R. Alleghaniensis. Aug.-Sep.
Sand Blackberry. R. Cuneijolius. Jidy-Aug.
Dwarf Bilberry. Vaccinium caespiiosum. Aug.
Great Bilberry. V. uliginosum. July-Aug.
Oval-leaved Bilberry. V. ovalijolium. July-Aug.
Thin-leaved Bilberry. V. membranaceum. Jidy-Aug.
Black Blueberry. V . atrococcum. July-Aug.
Canada Blueberry. V. Canadense. July-Aug.
Dwarf Blueberry. V. Pennsylvanicum. June-July.
High Bush Blueberry. V. corymbosum. July-Aug.
Low Blueberry. V. vaciUans. July-Aug.
Low Black Blueberry. V. nigrum. July.
Mountain Blueberry. V. pallidum. July-Aug.
Southern Black Huckleberry. V. virgatum. July.
Mountain Cranberry. Windberry. V. Vitis-Idaea. Aug.-
Sep.
Black Huckleberry. Gaylussacia resinosa. July-Aug.
Box Huckleberry. G. brachycera.
Dwarf Huckleberry. G. dumosa. July-Aug.
Tangleberry. G. frondosa. July-Aug.
Appalachian Cherry. Primus cuneata.
Choke Cherry. P. Virginiana. July-Aug. (Edible later.)
Sand Cherry. P. pumila. Aug.
Sour Cherry. Egriot. P. Cerasus. June-July. Natural-
ized.
Western Wild Cherry. P. demissa. Aug.
Western Sand Cherry. P. Besseyi.
WILDERNESS EDIBLE PLANTS 251
Wild Cherry. Crab Cherry. P. Avium. Naturalized.
Wild Black Cherry. P. serotina. Aug -Sep.
Wild Red Cherry. P. Pennsylvanica. Aug.
American Crab-Apple. Sweet-scented C. Malus coronaria.
Sep.-Oct.
Narrow-leaved Crab- Apple. M. angustifolia.
Soulard Crab-Apple. M. Soulardi.
Western Crab-Apple. M. loensis.
American Cranberry. Oxycoccus macrocarpus. Sep.-Oct.
Small Cranberry. Bog C. O. Oxycoccus. Aug.-Sep.
Southern Mountain Cranberry. O. erythrocarpus. July-
Sep.
Cranberry Tree. Viburnum Opulus. Aug.-Sep.
Crowberry. Curlew-berry. Empetrum nigrum. Summer.
Golden Currant. Buffalo or Missouri C. Ribes aureum.
Northern Black Currant. R. Hudsonianum.
Red Currant. R. rubrum.
Wild Black Currant. R. floridum. July-Aug.
Elderberry. Sambucus Canadensis. Aug.
Wild Gooseberry. Dogberry. Ribes Cynosbati. Aug.
Missouri Gooseberry. R. gracile.
Northern Gooseberry. R. oxyacanihoides. July-Aug.
Round-leaved Gooseberry. R. rotundijolium. July-Aug.
Swamp Gooseberry. R. lacustre. July-Aug.
Bailey's Grape. Vitis Baileyana.
Blue Grape. Winter G. V. bicolor.
Downy Grape. V. cinerea.
Frost Grape. V. cordifolia. Oct.-Nov.
Missouri Grape. V. palmata. Oct.
Northern Fox Grape. V. Labrusca. Aug.-Sep.
Riverside Grape. Sweet-scented G. V. vulpina. July-
Oct.
Sand Grape. Sugar G. V. rupestris. Aug.
Southern Fox Grape. V. rotundifolia. Aug.-Sep.
Summer Grape. V. aestivalis. Sep.-Oct.
Ground Cherry. Physalis, several species.
Hackberry. Celtis occidentalis. Sep.-Oct. Berries dry
but edible.
Black Haw. Viburnum prunifolium. Sep.-Oct.
Scarlet Haw. Red H. Crataegus mollis. Sep.-Oct.
May Apple. Mandrake. Podophyllum peltatum. July.
Passion-flower. Passiflora incarnata. Also P. lutea. Fruit
known as Maypops.
Pawpaw. Asimina triloba. Fruit edible when frost-bitten.
Persimmon. Diospyros Virginiana. Fruit edible after
frost.
Beach Plum. Prunus maritima. Sep.-Oct.
Canada Plum. P. nigra. Aug.
Chickasaw Plum. P. angustifolia. May-July.
Low Plum. P. gracilis.
Porter's Plum. P. Alleghaniensis. Aug.
252 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
Watson's Plum. P. Watsoni.
Wild Goose Plum. P. hortulana. Sep.-Oct.
Wild Red Plum. Yellow P. P. Americana. Aug -Oct.
Ground Plum. Astragalus ' crassicar pus; also A. Mexi-
canus. Unripe fruit resembles green plums, and is eaten raw
or cooked.
Black Raspberry. Thimble-berry. Rubus occidentalis.
July.
Cloudberry. R. Chamaemorus.
Dwarf Raspberry. jB. Americanus. July-Aug.
Purple Wild Raspberry. R. neglectus. July-Aug.
Purple-flowering Raspberry. R. odoratus. July-Sep.
Salmon-berry. R. parviflorus. July-Sep.
Wild Red Raspberry. R. strigosus. July-Sep.
Service-berry. June-berry. Amelanchier Canadensis.
June-July.
Low June-berry. A. spicata.
Northwestern June-berry. A. alnifolia.
Round-leaved June-berry. A. rotundifolia. Aug.
Shad-bush. A. Botryapium. June- July.
Silver berry. Elaagnus argentea. July-Aug.
Creeping Snowberry. Chiogenes hispidula. Aug. -Sep.
Berries have flavor of sweet birch.
American Wood Strawberry. Fragaria Americana.
Northern Wild Strawberry. F. Canadensis.
Virginia Strawberry. Scarlet S. F. Virginiana.
Black Thorn. Pear Haw. Crataegus tomentosa. Oct.
Large-fruited Thorn. C. punctata. Sep.-Oct.
Scarlet Thorn. C. coccinea. Sep.-Oct.
MISCELLANEOUS
All substitutes for coffee are unsatisfying. In the
South during the Civil War many pitiful expedients
were tried, such as parched meal, dried sweet potatoes,
wheat, chicory, cotton-seed, persimmon-seed, dandelion-
seed, and the seeds of the Kentucky coffee-tree; but
the best were found to be rye, the seeds of the coffee
senna (Cassia occidentalis) called "Magdad coffee,"
and the parched and ground seeds of okra. None of
our wild plants contain principles that act upon the
nerves like caffein or thein.
Teas, so-called, of very good flavor can be made from
the dried root-bark of sassafras, or from its early buds,
from the bark and leaves of spicewood, from the leaves
of chicory, ginseng, the sweet goldenrod (Solidago
odor a), and cinquefoil. Other plants used for the pur-
WILDERNESS EDIBLE PLANTS 253
pose are Labrador tea, Oswego tea, and (inferior) New
Jersey tea. Our pioneers also made decoctions of
chips of the arbor-vitae (white cedar), the dried leaves
of black birch, and the tips of hemlock boughs, sweeten-
ing them with maple sugar. The list of medicinal
teas is unending.
Agreeable summer drinks can be made by infusing
the sour fruit of the mountain ash (Pyrus Americana),
from sumac berries (dwarf and staghorn), and from
the fruit of the red mulberry. The sweet sap of both
hard and soft maples, box elder, and the birches (ex-
cept red birch) is potable. Small beer can be made
from the sap of black birch, from the pulp of honey
locust pods, the fruit of the persimmon, the shoots and
root-bark of sassafras, and the twigs of black and red
spruce. Cider has been made from the fruit of crab-
apples and service-berries. .
Sugar or syrup is made by boiling down the sap,
not only of sugar maple, but of red and silver maples,
box elder, the birches, butternut, and hickory, and
from honey locust pods. Vinegar also can be made
from these saps, as well as from fruit juices, by dilut-
ing with water and adding a little yeast. The very
sour berries of sumac turn cider into vinegar, or they
may be used alone.
IN EXTREMIS
The Far North is Famine Land, the world over,
and to it we must look for examples of what men can
subsist on when driven to the last extremity.
In all northern countries, within the tree limit, it is
customary, in starving times, to mix with the scanty
hoard of flour the ground bark of trees. It is possible
to support life even with bark alone. The Jesuit mis-
sionary Nicollet reported, more than two centuries ago,
that an acquaintance of his, a French Indian-agent,
lived seven weeks on bark alone, and the Relations of
the order, in Canada, contain many instances of a like
expedient. Those were hard times in New France!
Such an experience as this was dismissed with a single
254 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
sentence, quite as a matter of course: "An eelskin was
deemed a sumptuous supper; I had used one for mend-
ing a robe, but hunger obliged me to unstitch and eat
it." Another brother says: "The bark of the oak,
birch, linden, and that of other trees, when well cooked
and pounded, and then put into the water in which
fish had been boiled, or else mixed with fish-oil, made
some excellent stews." Again: "they [the Indians]
dried by a fire the bark of green oak, then they
pounded it and made it into a porridge." It seems
that the human stomach cau stand a lot of tannin, if
it has to do so.
The young shoots of spruce and tamarack, the inner
bark (in spring) of pine, spruce, and hemlock, young
leaf-stems of beech, hickory and other trees, and wild
rose buds, are nutritious; but these can be had only,
of course in spring. Far better than oak bark are the
inner barks of alder, quaking aspen, basswood, birch,
sweet bay, cottonwood, slippery elm (this especially is
nutritious), white elm, pignut hickory, yellow locust,
striped maple, and sassafras. The Chippewas boil the
thick, sweetish bark of the shrubby bittersweet or staff-
tree (Celastrus scandens) and use it for food. Young
saplings of white cedar have a sweet pith of pleasant
flavor which the Ojibways used in making soup.
The following entry in the diary of Sir John Franklin
sounds naive, when stripped of its context, but there
is a world of grim pathos back of it: "There was no
tripe de roche, so we drank tea and ate some of our
shoes for supper." The rock tripe here referred to
(JJmbilicaria arctica or Dillenii) is one of several edible
lichens that grow on rocks and are extensively used as
human food in lands beyond the arctic tree limit.
Reindeer moss (Cladonia rangiferinci) and the well-
known Iceland moss (Cetraris Icelandicd) are other
examples. These are starchy, and, after being boiled
for two or three hours, form a gelatinous mass that is
digestible, though repulsive in appearance, one of the
early Jesuits likening it to the slime of snails, and
another admitting that "it is necessary to close one's
eyes to eat it."
WILDERNESS EDIBLE PLANTS 255
It is pleasanter to turn, now, to the wild condiments
that our fields and forests afford. Sassafras, oil of
birch, wintergreen, peppermint and spearmint will
occur to every one. Balm, sweet marjoram, summer
p, . savory and tansy are sometimes found
in wild places, where they have es-
caped from cultivation. The rootstock of sweet cicely
has a spicy taste, with a strong odor of anise, and is
edible. Sweet gale gives a pleasant flavor to soups and
dressings. The seeds of tansy mustard were used by
the Indians in flavoring dishes. Wild garlic, wiM
onions, peppergrass, snowberry and spicewood may
also be used for similar purposes.
CHAPTER XVIII
AXEMANSHIP— QUALITIES OF WOOD AND
BARK
"DEFORE starting to fell a tree, clear away all under-
'^ brush and vines that are within reach of the
extended axe, overhead as well as around you. Neg-
lect of this precaution may cripple a man for life. Next
decide in which direction you wish the tree to fall.
This will be governed partly by the lay of the ground
» ' 4
[Fig 15. Illustrating how to Cut a Tree and Split a Log.
and the obstacles on it. The tree should fall where it
will be easy to log-up. A matter of more consequence,
however, in thick forest, is to throw the tree in such
direction that it will not catch and hang on one of its
neighbors, obliging you to fell the latter also.
Now, suppose that you decide, to throw the tree to
the south. Cut a kerf or notch on the south side of
.p ... the tree, half way through the trunk, as
T s shown at A in Fig. 1. In making this
cut you should not start it so narrow
that you will soon find yourself wedging your axe.
Make a nick at c as a guide, then another at d, which
256
AXEMANSHIP 257
should be as far above c as the intended depth of the
cut ce. Then chop out your kerf, making as big
chips as you can. To do this, chop alternately at
the notches d and c, and split out the block between
with a downward blow of the axe. A green axeman is
known by the finely minced chips and haggled stump
that he leaves.
Beginners invariably over-exert themselves in chop-
ping, and are soon blown. An accurate stroke counts
for much more than a heavy but blundering one. A
good chopper lands one blow exactly on top of the
other with the precision and regularity of a machine;
he chops slowly but rhythmically, and puts little more
effort into striking than he does into lifting his axe for
the blow. Trying to sink the axe deeply at every
stroke is about the hardest work that a man can do,
and it spoils accuracy.
If the tree is of such wood as is easy to cut, make the
cut ce as nearly square across the butt as you can. To
do this keep the hand that holds the hilt of the axe-
helve well down. But if the tree is hard and stubborn
to fell, or if you are rustling firewood in a hurry, it is
easier to make this cut in a slanting direction, so as
not to chop squarely across the grain.
Having finished this south kerf (which is two-thirds
the labor of felling the tree), now begin the opposite
one, B, at a point three or four inches higher than the
other. By studying the diagram, and taking into
account the tree's great weight, you can see why this
method will infallibly throw the tree to the south, if it
stands anywhere near perpendicular, and if there is
not a strong wind blowing. Comparatively few blows
are needed here. When the tree begins to crack, step
to one side. Never jump in a direction opposite that
in which the tree falls. Many a man has been killed
in that way. Sometimes a falling tree, striking against
one of its neighbors, shoots backward from the stump
like lightning. Look out, too, for shattered limbs.
If a tree leans in the wrong direction for your pui-
pose, insert a billet of wood in the kerf B, and drive A
wedge or two above it in the direction of the kerf. A
17
258 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
tree weighing many tons can be forced to fall in any
desired direction by the proper use of wedges; "and a
good axeman, in open woods, can throw a tree with
such accuracy as to drive a stake previously stuck in
the ground at an agreed position. He can even do
this when a considerable wind is blowing, by watching
the sway of the tree and striking his final blow at the
right moment.
When the tree is down and you go to log it up, make
the outside chip not less in length than the diameter
T . TT of the log. This will seem absurdly
86 s p* long, until you have cut a log in two.
With a narrow cut you would be wedging your axe
before you were nearly half through; and your work
would be harder, anyway, because you would be
cutting more nearly across the grain of the wood, in-
stead of diagonally with it. In making these side
cuts, be sure to make them perpendicular to the ground;
otherwise you will soon find that the upper side of the
log is cut away, but that you have no way of getting at
the under side. When cutting close to the ground,
look out for pebbles. A nick in the axe will make
your work doubly hard. Before felling a tree on stony
ground it is well worth while to place a small log across
the way for the butt of the tree to fall on, so as to keep
it off the ground. This will also make it easier to log-
up. Speaking of nicks in the axe, beware how you
cut into hemlock knots; in trimming limbs close to a
hemlock trunk, you can ruin the best steel that ever
was made.
In logging-up a large tree it is necessary for the axe-
man to stand on the prostrate trunk, with his legs well
apart, and to cut down between his feet. This, to a
beginner, looks like a risky performance; but I have
seen one of my woodland neighbors, who professes to
be "only a triflin' hand with an axe," stand on a slen-
der tree-trunk that was balanced about ten feet over
a gulch, whack away between his feet, with the trunk
swaying several inches at every stroke, nor did he step
over on the main trunk until two or three light blows
sufficed to cut the end log free. But such a perform-
AXEMANSHIP 259
ance is tame compared with the feats of axemanship
that regular choppers and river drivers do every day
as a mere matter of course.
Certain woods, such as cedar, can be riven into
serviceable boards with no other tool than an axe; but
. in general, if one has much splitting to
T. « do, he should make a maul and some
gluts, steel wedges being, presumably,
unobtainable. When one has no augur with which to
bore a hole for the handle, a serviceable maul can be
made in club shape. Beech, oak, and hickory are
good materials, but any hardwood that does not splin-
ter easily will do. Choose a sapling about five inches
thick at the butt, not counting the bark. Dig a little
below the surface of the ground and cut the sapling
off where the stools of the roots begin. (The wood is
very tough here, and this is to be used for the large
end of the maul, which should be about ten inches
long.) From this, forward, shave down the handle,
which should be twenty inches long. Thus balanced,
the maul will not jar one's hands.
Gluts are simply wooden wedges. The best woods
for them are dogwood and hornbeam or ironwood, as
they are very hard and tough, even when green. Chop
a sapling of suitable thickness, and make one end
wedge-shaped; then cut it off square at the top; and
so continue until you have all the gluts you want. It
takes no mean skill to chop and shave a glut to a true
wedge shape, and much depends upon getting the
angles and surfaces correctly proportioned. A novice
is apt to make a glut too short and thick. The gluts
may well be fire-hardened, by placing them in hot
ashes until the sap has been driven out, but leaving the
surface only slightly charred.
To split a log, start the wedges in the smaller or top
end of the log. If there is a crack or large check at the
right place, drive two wedges into it, as the log will
probably split best that way. If not, then with the axe
in one hand and maul in the other, make a crack across
the end of the log. Drive the wedges home, and others
into the crack along the side of the log. The general
260 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
rule in riving rails is to split a stick through the middle,
then quarter it, then split the quarters through the
middle, and so on until the required dimensions are
reached. Figure 2 shows, for example, the method of
splitting rails from a large log. The quarter of log is
first halved along the line ab; then the rail bed is split
off; the remaining section is then halved as before;
the rails are split off in the direction ef, and others are
split from the remaining segments; or the method
shown in the lower eighth is used, according to the
dimensions required.
Figure 3 shows how clapboards, or the rough shingles
called shakes, are riven. For splitting such wide, thin
pieces a tool called a froe is used, it being a heavy steel
blade, with a wooden handle set at right angles. A
cut of the desired length is sawed from the log and
stood on end. It may then be quartered, and from
each quarter the shakes may be split off by placing the
edge of the froe on the end of the billet and striking it
with a mallet. The usual way, however, is to split
around, but not through the core, detaching the latter
now and then by the axe at right angles to the splits.
The heart of oak, for example, is so tough that it would
be impracticable to continue the split through the core.
In splitting puncheons the log is merely halved, and
the round side left as it is, being turned under in floor-
ing. With some woods, however, it is not difficult to
rive out slabs that are flat on both sides, by working
after the method shown in Figure 4.
Much depends upon the right selection of wood for
the purpose in hand. For instance, it would be worse
than useless to try to split shingles from cherry, because
it splits irregularly; or from hemlock, for it splits spirally;
or from sour gum, tupelo, or winged elm, because they
cannot be split at all. Much depends, though, upon
the individual tree. A timberman can tell whether a
tree will split well or not by merely scanning the bark;
if the ridges and furrows of the bark run straight up
and down, in the main, the wood will have a correspond-
ing straight grain, but if they are spiral, the wood will
split waney, or not at all. Peculiarities of soil and
AXEMANSHIP 261
climate also affect the riving qualities of wood. In the
southern mountains, for example, one may see thou-
sands of shingles and palings or clapboards split from
hemlock, even up to the length of four or five feet.
To make a puncheon out of a log that will not split
straight: cut deep notches along one side, one after
the other, and of uniform depth, like saw teeth; then
split or hew off the remaining blocks until the log is
flattened as desired.
The working qualities of common woods ought to be
known by every one who has occasion to use timber, and
~ .. . - especially by a woodsman, who may at
w H any time De driven to shifts in which a
mistake in choosing material may have
disagreeable consequences. A few simple tables are
here given, which, it is hoped, may be of assistance.
Only common native trees are included. The data
refer to the seasoned wood only, except where green is
specified. Such tables might easily be extended, but
mine are confined to the qualities of most account to
campers and explorers, and to trees native to the region
north of Georgia and east of the Rocky Mountains.
Very Hard Woods
Osage Orange
(hardest),
Persimmon,
Dogwood,
Hickory,
Black Haw,
Service-berry,
Yellow Locust,
Black Jack Oak,
Post Oak,
Chestnut Oak,
Overcup Oak,
Mountain Laurel,
Sugar Maple,
Winged Elm.
Crab-Apple,
Hard Woods
Other Oaks,
Pecan,
Hornbeam,
Black Birch,
Ash,
Hackberry,
Elm,
Plum,
Cherry,
Sourwood,
Beech,
Sour Gum,
Tupelo,
Walnut,
Red-bud,
Silver Maple,
Red Maple,
Mulberry,
Holly,
Honey Locust,
Sycamore,
Yellow Birch.
Yellow Pine,
262
CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
Very Soft Woods
Spruce,
Balsam Poplar,
White Pine,
Pawpaw,
Aspen,
Balsam Fir,
Catalpa,
Buckeye,
Basswood,
Arbor-vitse (softest).
(Common woods not mentioned above are of medium soft
ness.)
Very Strong Woods
Yellow Locust,
Yellow Birch,
Shingle Oak,
Shellbark Hickory
Yellow Pine,
Hornbeam,
Service-berry,
Big-bud Hickory,
Basket Oak,
Other Oaks,
Paper Birch,
Silver Maple,
Red Birch,
Dogwood,
Ash,
Persimmon,
Plum,
White Elm,
Cherry,
Red Pine,
Pignut Hickory,
Chestnut Oak,
Black Birch,
Spanish Oak,
Sugar Maple,
Beech,
Osage Orange,
Bitternut Hickory.
Strong Woods
Rock Elm,
Water Locust,
Chinquapin,
Honey Locust,
Tamarack,
Loblolly Pine,
Slippery Elm,
Black Walnut,
Sour Gum,
Red Maple.
Very Stiff Woods
Yellow Birch, Yellow Pine,
Sugar Maple, Black Birch,
Spanish Oak, Shellbark Hickory
Hornbeam, Overcup Oak,
Paper Birch, Yellow Locust,
Tamarack, Beech.
Very Tough Woods
Beech, Water Oak,
Osage Orange, Tupelo.
Tough Woods
Black Ash, White Ash,
Basswood, Paper Birch,
Yellow Birch, Cottonwood,
Dogwood, Elm,
Sour Gum, Hickory,
AXEMANSHIP
263
Hornbeam,
Basket Oak,
Overcup Oak,
Yellow Pine,
Black Walnut,
Liquidambar,
Bur Oak,
Swamp White Oak,
Tamarack.
Woods that Split Easily
Ash,
Beech (when green),
White Birch,
Black Birch (green),
Dogwood (green),
Balsam Fir,
Basket Oak,
White Oak.
Arbor-vitae,
Basswood,
Cedar,
Chestnut,
Slippery Elm (green),
Hackberry,
Red Oak,
The Soft Pines,
Spruce,
Woods Difficult to Split
Blue Ash (seasoned),
Buckeye,
White Elm,
Sour Gum,
Liquidambar,
Sugar Maple (seasoned),
Tupelo (unwedgeable),
Box Elder,
Wild Cherry,
Winged Elm (unwedgeable),
Hemlock,
Honey Locust (seasoned),
Sycamore.
Woods that Separate Easily into Thin Layers
Black Ash, Basket Oak.
Basswood,
Hackberry,
Red-bud,
Witch Hazel,
Black Ash,
Hickory,
Honey Locust,
White Oak,
Service-berry,
Basswood,
Paper Birch,
Buckeye,
Catalpav
Cherry,
Cottonwood,
Hackberry,
Silver Maple,
Yellow Poplar
Flexible, Pliable Woods
Elm,
Big-bud Hickory,
Yellow Poplar.
Springy Woods
White Ash,
Hornbeam,
Yellow Locust,
Osage Orange,
Spruce.
Woods Easily Wrought
Black Birch,
Red Birch,
Butternut,
Cedar,
Chestnut,
Cypress,
Red Maple,
White Pine,
Black Walnut.
264
CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
Woods Liable to Check in Seasoning
Beech,
White Birch,
Chestnut,
Crab-Apple,
Dogwood,
Sour Gum,
Hickory (except Shellbark), Hornbeam,
Yellow Locust,
Most Oaks,
Sassafras,
Sycamore.
Black Walnut,
Woods Liable to Shrink and Warp
Chestnut,
Cottonwood,
White Elm,
Sour Gum,
Hemlock,
Shellbark Hickory,
Liquidambar,
Loblolly Pine,
Pin Oak,
Sycamore.
Yellow Poplar,
Woods Difficult to Season
Beech,
Cottonwood,
Sour Gum,
Sugar Maple,
Red Oak,
Rock Chestnut Oak,
Water Oak,
Osage Orange.
Woods that Can Be Obtained in Wide Boards
Free from Knots
Basswood,
Cottonwood,
Cypress,
Yellow Poplar.
Woods Durable in Soil, Water and Weather
Arbor-vitse,
Butternut,
Catalpa,
Cedar,
Cherry,
Chestnut,
Cucumber,
Cypress,
Slippery Elm,
Hop Hornbeam,
Juniper,
Kentucky Coffee Tree,
Honey Locust,
Yellow Locust,
Mulberry,
Bur Oak,
Chestnut Oak,
Overcup Oak,
Post Oak,
Rock Chestnut Oak,
Swamp White Oak,
White Oak,
Osage Orange,
Yellow Pine (long leaved).
Pitch Pine,
Sassafras,
Tamarack,
Black Walnut.
Perishable Woods
White Birch,
Box Elder,
Hackberry,
Silver Maple,
Black Jack Oak,
Pin Oak,
Spanish Oak,
Water Oak,
Loblolly Pine,
The Poplars,
Service-berry,
Sycamore.
(Sapwood is more liable to decay than heart-wood.)
AXEMANSHIP 265
Naturally, these are only general guides. Trees have
their individual peculiarities, just as people have.
The best woods for dugouts are butternut, cedar,
chestnut, cucumber, cypress, sassafras, yellow poplar,
-_r , , and black walnut. Those best for the
Woods for -i j £ e j i
„ . . ribs and frames of canoes and boats are
_f arbor- vitag, white cedar, elm, sour gum,
Purposes. , . j * i
r oak, gray pine, spruce, and tamarack,
depending on locality and available species; for sheath'
ing, arbor- vitse, paper birch (bark), cedar, cypress,
slippery elm (bark), pignut hickory (bark), mulberry,
white pine, sassafras, spruce (bark), tamarack(for bot-
toms); for oars or paddles, ash and spruce. One will
choose, of course, according to what is available on the
spot. For snowshoe bows, black ash is best; for ski,
birch; for toboggans, oak, ash, beech, birch; for axe-
helves, hickory, or (if from green wood) hornbeam; for
handspikes, (green) hornbeam, dogwood, hickory, serv-
ice-berry, birch, maple; for wooden bowls or trenchers,
black ash, cucumber, yellow poplar, sassafras, maple,
sycamore; for treenails, yellow locust, bur oak, mul-
berry; for gunstocks, black walnut, cherry, sugar
maple, red maple, yellow wood; for fishing rods, Osage
orange, ash, service-berry; for sledge frames, etc., ash,
yellow birch, slippery elm, hickory, oak; for runners,
sourwood; for any such purpose as a wheel-hub, re-
quiring toughness, and strength, yellow birch, dog-
wood, rock elm, winged elm, sour gum, liquidambar,
honey locust, yellow locust, post oak, Osage orange,
large tupelo; for anything requiring a very hard and
close-grained wood, beech, birch, dogwood, rock elm,
slippery elm, winged elm, hickory, holly, hornbeam,
laurel, locust, maple, Osage orange, persimmon, plum,
service-berry, thorn.
In building a log cabin, choose timber that is not
only straight but light in weight, and, for the first
course of logs, at least, pick out wood that will not rot
easily when in contact with the ground; such are easily
determined by using the tables here given; similarly,
proper wood for shingles may be selected by consulting
the tables for a wood that is both easy to split and dur-
266 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
able. For a raft, pick out, if you can find them, dry
logs of any very light wood; some timbers, such as
black walnut and sour gum will not float at all when
green. The weight of seasoned wood is no criterion
of the weight of the green wood : for example, the dry
wood of the sequoia or big tree of California is lighter
than white pine, but a freshly cut log of it, full of sap,
will scarcely float in water.
Green wood can quickly be seasoned by heating it
in the embers of the camp-fire till the sap sizzles out.
n . , o The old English word for such treat-
v . ment of wood was "beathing." This
also makes the wood, for the time be-
ing, so pliable that it can be bent into any required
shape, or it can be straightened by hanging a weight
from one end, or by fastening it to a straight form.
The application of heat, without deeply charring, also
hardens green wood, and makes it more durable.
Ordinarily, small pieces of green wood can be bent
to a required form by merely soaking the pieces for
j. ,. two or three days in water; but if it is
w ,s desired that they should retain their
new shape, they should be steamed.
Small pieces can be merely immersed in a kettle of hot
water; large ones may be steamed in a trench partly
filled with water, by throwing red-hot stones into it.
Then' drive stout stakes into the ground in the outline
desired, and bend the suppled wood over these stakes,
with small sticks underneath to keep the wood from
contact with the ground, that it may dry more readily.
If a simple bow-shape is all that is wanted, it can be
secured by merely sticking the two ends of the
wood into the ground and letting the bow stand
upright to dry.
To wedge a wooden pin in an auger-hole, as in build-
ing a raft, split the bottom of the pin, insert a wedge
Wedging. part way' and drive home- This is
called by raftsmen "witch-wedging."
By the way, a wedge of soft wood will hold better, in
an axe-helve, for instance, than one of hard wood.
AXEMANSHIP 267
When one has no auger, he can readily drive hard-
wood pins (sharpened at the point, or wedge-shaped)
into softwood logs, in the same way that he would
drive iron spikes.
The bark of the following trees makes good roofs
and temporary shelters, and is useful for many other
B , . purposes : paper birch, basswood, buck-
T eye, elm, hickory, spruce, hemlock,
chestnut, balsam fir, white ash, cotton-
wood. Cedar bark may do, but it is very inflammable.
It is only when the sap is up (spring and summer)
that bark will peel freely, although elm peels through
eight months of the year, and some basswood trees can
be found that will peel even in winter. But, as a rule,
if one wishes to strip bark in cold weather, he will have
to roast a log carefully without burning the outside.
Remember that barking a tree generally kills it, and
that it is illegal in some regions, as in the Adirondacks.
In the real wilderness, however, bark has so many
uses, that a knowledge of how to select and manipulate
it is one of the essentials of a woodsman's education.
Before stripping bark, select a large tree with smooth
and faultless trunk. If it is birch, choose one with
bark that is thick and with few and small "eyes." For
a temporary roof it will be enough merely to skin the
bark off in long strips eight or ten inches wide, and
lay them overlapping, with alternately the convex and
concave sides out. But for nicer jobs the bark must
be flattened, and the rough outer bark (except in case
of birch) must be removed, only the tough, fibrous,
soft inner bark being used. For rough work the outer
bark may simply be "rossed" off with a hatchet, but
for nice jobs the bark should be treated as described
below.
If only a moderate sized sheet is needed, the tree
may not have to be felled. First girdle the tree just
above the swell of the butt, by cutting through into the
sapwood. Then girdle it again as high up as you can
reach. Connect these two rings by a vertical slit
through the bark. Now cut into wedge -shape the
larger end of a four-foot length of sapling; this is your
268
CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
"spud" or barking tool. With it gently work the bark
free along one edge of the upright slit, and thus pro-
ceed around the tree till the whole sheet falls off. If
the girdles are 5 feet apart, a tree % feet in diameter
will thus yield a sheet about 5x^6^ feet, and a 3-foot
5=*
Fig. 16.
tree will afford one 5x9j feet. The bark is laid on
the ground for a few days to dry in the sun, and is then
soaked in water, which supples it and makes the inner
bark easy to remove from the outer.
I have no space in which to describe all the utensils,
etc., that can be made from bark. One or two simple
examples must suffice. A tray or trough
that will hold liquids is quickly made
by rossing off the outer bark from the
ends pf a sheet of suitable size, but leaving it on the
middle part to stiffen the vessel. The rossed ends are
Bark
Utensils.
&4**r&»
Fig. 17.
then folded over in several overlaying laps, gathered
up somewhat in the shape of a canoe's bow and stern,
and tied with bark straps. To make a dipper: take
a forked stick of green wood, heat the fork, bend and
bind it into bow form, and sew a bark bowl to it with
AXEMANSHIP
269
£ki Bar^krrd
Fig. 18.
A
D
Fig. 19. Bark Dipper.
270 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
rootlets or bark twine; or a slender straight stick can
similarly be bent into shape for a frame. A rough-
and-ready dipper is made -in three minutes as shown
in the illustration. A sheet of bark, say 8x10 inches,
is trimmed to spade-shape, folded lengthwise, opened
out, the second finger placed behind A, the fold up-
ward made as shown, and a split stick added as handle.
The sewed seams of bark buckets, etc., are closed with
a mixture of pine resin or spruce "gum" and grease
or oil, laid on while hot, and the upper edges are
stiffened with hoops or withes of pliable wood. Birch,
elm, and basswood are the best barks to use.
A bark bucket for carrying fish or berries is quickly
made by taking from a young poplar, for example, a
sheet of bark twice as long as the intended depth of
bucket. Fold this through the middle. Pass a bark-
strap through slits at four upper corners to hold the
sides together. The concavity of the bark holds the
edges together without sewing. Add a bark sling-strap.
Straps, fish-stringers, etc., are made from the whole
bark of pawpaw, leatherwood (remarkably strong), and
_ P hickory shoots. Very good ropes and
, T . twine can be made from the fibers of
the inner bark of the slippery, white,
and winged elms, the pignut and other hickories, and
buckeye, red cedar, yellow locust, red mulberry, and
Osage orange. One who has not examined the fin-
ished work would scarce believe what strong, soft, and
durable cordage, matting, braided tumplines, and
even thread, fish-nets, and garments can be made from
such materials by proper manipulation. The Indians
first separate the bark in long strips, remove the woody
outer layer, and then boil it in a lye of sifted wood
ashes and water, which softens the fiber so it can be
manipulated without breaking. After it is dried it can
be separated into small filaments by pounding, the
strings running with the grain for several feet. Slip-
pery elm especially makes a pliable rope, soft to the
touch; it can be closely braided, and is very durable.
If the woody splinters and hard fragments have not
been entirely removed by pounding, the shoulder blade
AXEMANSHIP 271
of a deer is fastened to an upright post, an inch hole is
drilled through it, and bunches of the boiled bark are
pulled backward and forward through the hole. The
filaments are then put up in hanks and hung aside for
use, being boiled to supple them when needed.
Bark twine is made by holding in the left hand one
end of the fiber as it is pulled from the hank, and
separating it into two parts, which are laid across the
thigh. The palm of the right hand is then rolled for-
ward over both, so as tightly to twist the pair of strands,
when they are permitted to unite and twist into a cord,
the left hand drawing it away as completed. Other
strands are twisted in to make the length of cord
desired. Twine and thread are made from the bark
of young sprouts.
The bast or inner rind of basswood (linden) makes
good rope. More than a century ago, two Indians
whose canoe had drifted, while they were in a drunken
sleep, upon Goat Island, between the American and
Canadian falls of Niagara, let themselves down over
the face of the cliff by a rope that they made from bass-
wood bark, and thus escaped from what seemed to the
on-lookers as certain death by starvation.
Mulberry and Osage orange bast yield a fine, white,
flax-like fiber, that used to be spun by squaws to the
thickness of packthread and then woven into garments.
The inner bark of Indian hemp (Apocynum canna-
binum), collected in the fall, is soft, silky, and exceed-
ingly strong. The woody stems are first soaked in
water; then the bast, with bark adhering, is easily
removed; after which the bark is washed off, leaving
the yellowish-brown fiber ready to be picked apart and
used. A rope made from it is stronger, and keeps
longer in water, than one made from common hemp.
It was formerly used by the Indians, almost all over
the continent, not only for ropes, but for nets, threads,
and garments. The fibers of the nettle were also sim-
ilarly used.
In the southern Appalachians, it is not many years
since the mountain white women used to make bed-
cords (perhaps you know how strong such cords must
272 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
be) by twisting or plaiting together long, slender splits
of hickory wood (preferably mocker-nut) that they
suppled by soaking. Such bed-cords are in use to this
day.
The remarkably tough and pliable rootlets of white
spruce, about the size of a quill, when barked, split,
„ , and suppled in water, are used by In-
v. dians to stitch together the bark plates
c . of their birch canoes, the seams being
smeared with the resin that exudes from
the tree; also for sewing up bark tents, and utensils
that will hold water. The finely divided roots are
called by northern Indians watab or watape.
Twine and stout cords are also made of this material,
strands for fish-nets being sometimes made as much
as fifty yards in length. The old-time Indians used
to say that bark cords were better than hemp ropes, as
they did not rot so quickly from alternate wetting and
drying, nor were they so harsh and kinky, but, when
damped, became as supple as leather. "Our bast
cords," they said, "are always rather greasy in the
water, and slip more easily through our hands. Nor
do they cut the skin, like your ropes, when anything
has to be pulled. Lastly, they feel rather warmer in
winter."
The fibers of tamarack roots, and of hemlock, cedar,
and cottonwood, are similarly used.
Grapevine rope is made in a manner similar to
bark rope. The American wistaria (Kraunhia jru-
tescens) is so tenacious and supple that it was formerly
used along the lower Mississippi for boats' cables; it
can be knotted with ease.
The long, tough rootstocks of sedge or saw-grass are
much used by our Indians as substitutes for twine.
Baskets made of them are the strongest, most durable
and costliest of all the ingenious products of the ab-
original basket-maker. The fiber is strongest when
well moistened.
A favorite basket plant of the Apaches and Navajos
is the ill-scented sumac or skunk-bush (Rhus trilobata) ,
which is common from Illinois westward. The twigs
AXEMANSHIP 273
are soaked in water, scraped, and then split. Baskets
of this material are so made that they will hold
w-,, water, and they are often used to cook
in, by dropping hot stones in the water.
A southern shrub, the supple-jack (Berchemia scan-
dens), makes good withes. The fibers of the red-bud
tree are said by basket-makers to equal in strength
those of palm or bamboo. For such purpose as basket-
making, withes should be gathered in spring or early
summer, when the wood is full of sap and pliable. If
the material is to be kept for some time before weav-
ing, it should be buried in the ground to keep it fresh.
In any case, a good soaking is necessary, and the work
should be done while the withes are still wet and soft.
Other good woods for withes are leatherwood, liquid-
ambar, willow, and witch hazel. Large withes for
binding rails, raft logs, etc., are made from tall shoots
of hickory or other tough wood, by twisting at one end
with the hands until the fiber separates into strands,
making the withe pliable so that it can be knotted. A
sapling as thick as one's wrist can be twisted in this
way. To fasten a withe to a log, chop a notch in the
log, making it a little wider at the bottom than at the
top, trim the butt of the sapling to fit loosely, and
drive a wedge in alongside of it, then twist.
The best hoops are made from hickory, white or
black ash, birch, alder, arbor-vitse, cedar, dogwood.
Splints are easily made from slippery elm, for in-
stance, by taking saplings or limbs three or four inches
„ .. in diameter, and hammering them with
", a wooden mallet until the individual
layers of wood are detached from those underneath,
then cutting these into thin, narrow strips. The strips
are kept in coils until wanted for use, and then are
soaked.
Black ash and basket oak, when green, separate
easily into thin sheets or ribbons along the line of each
annual ring of growth, when beaten with mallets. The
Indians, in making splint baskets, cut the wood into
sticks as wide along the rings as the splints are to be,
and perhaps two inches thick. These are then bent
18
274 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
sharply in the plane of the radius of the rings, when
they part into thin strips, nearly or quite as many of
them as there are rings of growth.
A broken axe-helve is a not uncommon accident in
the woods, and a very serious one until a new helve is
_. . made and fitted. Now it often happens
. „ . that the stub of old handle cannot be
Axe- Helves
removed by ordinary means: it must
be burnt out. To do this without drawing the temper
of the steel might seem impracticable; but the thing
is as simple as rolling off a log, when you see it done.
Pick out a spot where the earth is free from stones
and pebbles, and drive the blade of the axe into the
ground up to the eye. Then build a fire around the
axe-head — that is all. If the axe is double-bitted, dig
a little trench about six inches deep and the width of
the axe-eye, or a little more. Lay the axe flat over it,
cover both blades with two inches of earth, and build
a small fire on top.
In making a new axe-helve, do not bother to make
a crooked one like the store pattern. Thousands of
expert axemen use, from preference, straight handles
in their axes — single-bitted axes at that. I have seen
such handles full four feet long, to be used chiefly in
logging-up big trees. Two feet eight inches is a good
length for ordinary chopping.
To smoothe any article made of wood, when you
have no sandpaper, use loose sand in a piece of buck-
skin.
To make a vise: cut a good-sized hardwood sapling,
leaving a square-topped stump of convenient height.
. v- Split the stump through the middle as
far as necessary. Trim the upper part,
if needful for the purpose. Then, about eighteen inches
from the top, lash the stump firmly with a rope, and
twist it tight with a stick, like a tourniquet. Open the
split with wedges, insert the article to be held, knock
out the wedges, and — there you are.
For a cold-weather camp, a log hut is more comfort-
able than any tent, and it is much more secure at all
times. The saving in firewood, over an open camp, is
AXEMANSHIP 275
immense, Jor it takes a good-sized tree to keep up a
good all-night fire before a lean-to. If you intend to
_ .. build a cabin, take along either a cross-
cut saw and a froe for splitting shingles,
or a roll of roofing paper. A bark roof is only fit for
a temporary lodge, as it soon gets leaky, tatterdemalion,
and inflammable. To hold a shingled roof in place,
if you have no nails, overlap the shakes like ordinary
shingles, but with several inches more "to the weather,"
and fasten them down with "binders" or "weight-
logs." These are poles laid over the butts of the
shakes and immediately over the stringers of the roof,
the ends of binders and stringers being withed tightly
together. For details in the construction of log cabins,
and many designs from the rudest to large club-houses,
see Wicks's book Log Cabins and Cottages (Forest &
Stream Pub. Co., New York).
A cabin without a window is a cheerless, fusty den,
and there is seldom good excuse for such shiftlessness.
If you cannot carry window panes and a knock-down
sash into the woods, take along some oiled paper or
translucent parchment. A recipe for the latter is
given in the next chapter.
For chinking between logs, moss mixed with clay or
tenacious mud is sufficient, but this should not be used
,-. in a chimney. For such purpose, mix
thoroughly blue clay and wet sand; this
makes a particularly hard and durable cement, but
yellow clay will do. A tenacious mortar may be made
from the slime of a swamp mixed with deer's hair,
feathers, etc. Better, however, is one made by pound-
ing mussel shells to a fine powder, mixing this with
clay freed from pebbles, pouring water over the mass,
kneading, and then letting the fire do the rest.
This may be as good a place as any in which to de-
scribe some rough-and-ready but effective ways of pro-
c« . curing charcoal and lime. For the
former, dig a pit 5 feet square by 3 feet
deep and build a fire in it. Keep adding fuel as the
fire burns down, until the pit is almost full of embers.
Then pile on split sticks of uniform size until the pile
276 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
stands a foot above the ground, whereupon shovel over
it the earth that was dug out of the pit. After letting
the pit cool for twenty-four hours, it will be found
nearly full of charcoal.
Lime can be made, without much trouble, wherever
there is limestone, by a process similar to that of burn-
T . ing charcoal. If you want enough of
it to mix mortar for a cabin chimney,
inclose a circular space of 5 feet diameter by a rude
stone wall 3 feet high; cover the bottom of this inclos-
ure with brush to facilitate kindling the kiln; then fill
with alternate layers of dry hardwood and limestone
broken into moderate-sized pieces, piling the top into
conical form. Light the pile and when it is well going
cover the top with sods to make the calcination slow
and regular. Keep it going for two days and nights.
CHAPTER XIX
TROPHIES, BUCKSKIN, AND RAWHIDE
N skinning the head of any animal of the deer tribe,
if it is to be given to a taxidermist for mounting,
the slit should be made up the back of the neck,
~, . . instead of the throat, so that no seam
„ , may show in the finished trophy. After
cutting around the neck, close to the
shoulders and brisket, make an opening cut from the
center of the top of the skull, just back of the antlers,
and slit the skin along the top of the neck, back to the
end of the neck skin. Then make a straight cut to
the base of each antler, the result being a Y-shaped
incision as shown in the figure. Then work off the
skin of the neck, being careful not to rupture any of
the large blood-vessels in doing so.
Now, turn the head to one side and insert the knife
between the base of the skull and the first or atlas
vertebra, severing the muscles and tendons; then turn
the head in the opposite direction and perform a sim-
ilar operation there; give a wrench, and the skull is
detached. Cut off the cartilage of the ears close to
the skull, and cut and pry the skin away from the base
of each antler, inserting under the skin a wedge-shaped
stick and pounding a little on it. Peel off the skin
until the eye sockets are reached. Be careful here not
to cut the eyelids; use the small blade of your pocket-
knife and work deliberately. Then peel the skin off
as far as the lips, taking pains not to cut the skin where
it sinks into the pit below the eye. When the lips are
reached, cut close to the bone all around, so as to leave
the cartilage attached to the skin. Sever the cartilage
of the nose well back of the nostrils. The skin is now
free from the skull. If the head is that of a moose,
277
278 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
split the bell all the way down on the back side. Pare
off all the flesh, especially from the butts of ears, lips
and nose, but do not trim away the cartilage. Split
the lips on the inside to allow the salt to penetrate.
Detach the skin of the back of the ears from the carti-
lage, and skin them clear to the tips if you can, but at
Fig. 20. How to Skin a Deer's Head.
any rate skin up the back side as far as you can do so;
then the salt will get in its work and keep the hair of
the ears from slipping. Having carefully trimmed off
all flesh that adheres to the skin, wash the latter clean
of blood and wring it dry. Then cut and scrape all
flesh from the skull. Disarticulate the lower jaw so
that you can work better, and clean it. Now get a
stiff stick small enough to enter the hole in the base of
the skull, splinter one end of it by beating it, and work
this end around inside the skull so as to break up and
TROPHIES, BUCKSKIN, RAWHIDE 279
remove the brain, using water to assist you; wash out
the inside of the skull and tie the lower jaw in place;
turn the skin inside out while it is still damp and soft.
On arriving at camp, rub 'plenty of fine salt over
every inch of the inner surface of the skin; then roll
r . , the skin up and let it lie until morning;
„. . do not stretch it nor hang it up by the
nose. The next morning examine it
carefully for soft spots where the salt has not struck
in and hardened the tissues; shave these down and
rub salt into them. All told, it may take fifteen pounds
of salt for a moose head. Do not use any alum, for it
would shrink the skin. Now hang up the skin and
skull in a shady place, well out of reach of dogs and
vermin. Never dry a skin by the fire nor in the sun.
When all is dry, pack the skin in a sack, if you have
one. If salt and blood once get into caribou hair they
cause a rust that cannot be eradicated.
A bear is skinned in the same manner as a deer, save
that the opening slit is made by extending the belly
„ „, . cut up along the throat between the
angles of the jaws. The bottoms of the
feet must be opened. Remove the skin with the bones
of the feet still in position. Remove the skull and
clean it; split the lips from the inside, turn the ears
wrong side out and wash the skin well to remove blood
stains. To cure the skin, spread is out on the ground,
rub salt into it and roll it up, flesh to flesh. Next morn-
ing fix up a sapling for a "beam" (as described below),
throw the skin over it, flesh side up, rub some corn-
meal or ashes on it and thoroughly scrape off the fat;
then salt the skin again and roll it up.
Pelts of any kind can be preserved indefinitely in a
soft state, without any slipping of the hair, by keeping
Preserving them immersed in a liquor prepared by
Pelts boiling some water, dissolving salt in
it, in the proportion of one quart of
salt to the gallon, and adding to each gallon one ounce
by measure of sulphuric acid. Let the liquor cool be-
fore immersing the skins.
Hides should not be salted if it is intended to make
CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
buckskin from them. The latter is a hard job; but
■d t_ l_- it is well for every big game hunter to
understand .the process, if for no other
reason than to avoid being humbugged. Much of the
so-called buckskin used by glovers and others is a base
imitation. Genuine Indian-tanned buckskin is, prop-
erly speaking, not tanned at all. Tanned leather has
undergone a chemical change, from the tannin or other
chemicals used in converting it from the raw hide to
leather. Buckskin, on the contrary, is still a raw skin
that has been made supple and soft by breaking up
the fibers mechanically and has then merely been
treated with brains and smoke to preserve its softness.
In color and pliability it is somewhat like what is called
chamois skin, but it is far stronger and has the singular
property that, although it shrinks some after wetting
and gets stiff in drying, it can easily be made as soft
as ever by merely rubbing it in the hands. For some
purposes buckskin is superior to any leather. It was
used by our frontiersmen, as well as by the Indians,
for moccasins, leggings, hunting shirts, gun covers and
numerous other purposes. It is warmer than cloth,
pliable as kid, noiseless against bushes, proof against
thorns, collects no burs, wears like iron and its soft
neutral color renders the wearer inconspicuous amid
any surroundings. When of good quality it can be
washed like a piece of cloth. Its only fault is that it
is very unpleasant to wear in wet weather; but against
this is the consideration that buckskin can be prepared
in the wilderness, with no materials save those furnished
on the spot by the forest, the stream, and the animal
itself. Not even salt is used in its manufacture. Neither
tannin nor any substitute for it has touched a piece of
buckskin; its fibers have been loosened and rendered
permanently soft and flexible, its pores have been
closed up, but there has been little or no chemical
change from the raw state of the skin and consequently
it has no tendency to rot.
Different Indian tribes have different methods of
making buckskin, but the essential processes are the
same, namely: (1) soaking, (2) depilating and flesh-
TROPHIES, BUCKSKIN, RAWHIDE 281
ing, (3) stretching and treating with brains, with re-
peated soaking and drying, (4) smoking. The skin of
<<T ,. a deer, for example, is first soaked in
T „ water from three to five days, depend-
ing upon temperature. Elk or buffalo
hides were immersed in a lye of wood ashes and water
or rolled up in ashes moistened with warm water.
After soaking, the hide is taken to a graining log, which
is simply a piece of sapling or small tree about 8 feet
long and 6 or 8 inches thick at the butt. The bark is
removed from the thick end and the other end is stuck
under a root or otherwise fastened in the ground at an
angle, leaving the smooth end about waist high, like
a tanner's beam. Or, a short log may be used — one
that will reach to a man's chin when stood on end; in
which case a notch is cut in the butt by which the
stick is braced against the limb of a small tree, with
smoothe surface facing the operator, and the small end
sticking in the ground about two feet from the tree.
A graining-knife is now required. It was formerly
made of hardwood, of flint, of the sharpened rib or
scapula of an animal, or of the attached bones of a
deer's foreleg with the front end of the ulna scraped
sharp, the latter instrument being used like a spoke-
shave. Sometimes a large, strong mussel shell was
used. A favorite instrument was an adze or hoe-
shaped tool made from the fork of an elk antler. After
they could get iron, the squaws made skin-scrapers
shaped as in the accompanying illustration, the handle
being about a foot long. Dealers in taxidermists' sup-
plies sell scrapers made specially for this purpose. The
back of a thin butcher-knife does well enough, if the
point of the blade be driven into a stick so as to give a
handle at each end. In fact, almost anything with a
scraping rather than a cutting edge will answer the
purpose. The skin is placed on the graining log with
the neck drawn over the upper end of the log about
six or eight inches; the operator places a flat stick
between the neck and his body, to prevent slipping,
and presses his weight against it. If the short notched
log is used, the neck is caught between the notch and
CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
the limb. The hair and grain (black epidermis) are
scraped off by working the knife down the skin the
way the hair runs. If the hair is stubborn, a little
ashes rubbed into such spots will offer resistance to the
knife and will make the grain slip. The hide is now
turned over and fleshed with a sharp knife, by remov-
ing all superfluous tissue and working the skin down
to an even thickness throughout. This operation must
be performed with extreme care or the buckskin will
have thick and stiff spots which make it comparatively
worthless — a point to be considered in buying buck-
skin. In olden times, when a squaw wanted to make
something particularly nice, she would patiently work
O O
Front
Fig. 21. Indian Skin-Scraper.
down a deerskin until it was almost as thin and pliable
as a piece of cotton cloth. After cleaning in this man-
ner the skin is allowed to dry and then is re-soaked
over night.
Now comes the job of stretching and softening the
hide. There is only one recipe for this: elbow-grease
Softening the an? plenty of **' T¥ skin is Pulled>
g, . twisted, and worked in every direction
until it becomes white and soft, after
which the operator rubs into it the brains of the animal,
which have been removed by splitting the skull length-
wise half in two. Sometimes the brains are first dis-
solved in tepid water, being allowed to simmer over a
slow fire while the lumps are rolled between the fingers
till they form a paste which will dissolve more freely.
This solution is then rubbed into the hide on the
hair side, which is coarser than the flesh side.
TROPHIES, BUCKSKIN, RAWHIDE 283
The brains act as a sort of dubbing; if there is not
likely to be enough for the job, the macerated liver
of the animal is added to the brains. Deer brains
may be preserved by mixing them with moss so as to
make the mass adhere enough to be formed into a
cake, which is hung by the fire to dry. Such a cake
will keep for years. When wanted for dressing a hide,
it is dissolved in hot water and the moss is removed.
A skin may be treated by soaking it in the solution,
wringing out, drying and re-soaking till it is thoroughly
penetrated. After this process the skin must again be
pulled, stretched, kneaded, and rubbed, until the fiber
is thoroughly loosened and every part becomes as pli-
able as chamois skin. If two men are available they
saw the hide back and forth over the sharpened edge
of a plank or over a taut rope, lariat, or a twisted sinew
as thick as one's finger. Large and refractory hides
may be softened by stretching them firmly on elevated
frames and dancing on them. It is a hard job for one
man to soften a large hide, but he can accomplish it by
throwing the wet skin over a convenient limb, forming
a loop at the other end, passing a stout stick through
it, and twisting into a hard knot — leaving it to dry;
then he re-soaks it and repeats the operation as often
as necessary. The oftener a skin is wet and softened,
the more pliable it becomes.
The final process is smoking, which closes the pores,
toughens the skin, gives it the desired color, and insures
o i • **. its drying soft after a wetting. Ordi-
omokinff tne ... .
«,. narily the skin is made its own smoke-
house. A small hole is dug in the
ground and a smudge started in it. The best smudge
is made from "dozed" wood, that is, from wood
affected with dry rot until it is spongy; this, when
dried, gives out a pale blue smoke without flame. If a
particular shade of yellow or brown is desired, some
discrimination must be used in selecting the fuel.
Above all things, the smudge must not be allowed to
break out in flame, for heating would ruin the skin.
Several small poles are stuck around the hole and the
skin is wrapped around them somewhat like a teepee
284 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
cover, the edges being sewed or skewered together; it
is best, when practicable, to smoke two or more skins
at once, so as to have plenty of room around and above
the smudge. When two skins of about equal size are
ready, a good way to smoke them is to loosely baste
their edges together in the form of a bag, the outside of
the skins forming the inside of the bag and the after
part of the skins forming its bottom, the neck end be-
ing left open; to the edges of the open end sew a cloth
continuation, leaving it open. Suspend this bag from
its bottom to a tree or pole. Bend a small green stick
into a hoop and place it within the bottom of the bag;
under the mouth of the bag place a pan containing the
smouldering wood (the cloth mouth is to prevent the
skin from heating). Inspect the inside of the skins
from time to time and when they are smoked to a deep
yellow or light brown the process is finished; some-
times both sides of the skins are smoked; otherwise,
fold the skins with the smoked side within and lay them
away for a few days to season. This sets the color,
making it permanent. The skins of antelope or any
of the deer tribe are treated in the same way. Antelope,
deer, moose and caribou hides make good buckskin, but
elk hides are comparatively weak and inferior material.
Rawhide is often useful in camp and is easily pre-
pared. Soak the fresh hide in water, or in a weak lye
j. , .j made by adding wood ashes to water,
until the hair will slip. The alkali is
not necessary for deerskins. Then remove the hair
and stretch the hide with great force on a frame or on
the side of a building, extending it in all directions as
tightly as possible, so that when it dries it will be as
taut as a drumhead. Dry it in the shade; use no salt
or other preservative. This is all, unless you wish to
make the rawhide supple, in which case rub into it
thoroughly a mixture of oil and tallow. A convenient
way of making a stretching frame in the woods is to
go where two trees grow at the right distance apart;
notch them at the proper height to receive a strong,
jstiff sapling that has been cut to fit the notches, the
deep cut of the latter being at the lower side so that no
TROPHIES, BUCKSKIN, RAWHIDE 285
force can pull the pole down; similarly fit another
pole into reversed notches just above the ground; cut
slits in the edges of the hide and from them stretch
thongs or very strong cords to the trees and poles,
twisting them up tightly.
The plains Indians used to make rawhide trunks or
boxes which would stand any amount of abuse in pack-
p flv , ing and travel. These were called by
the voyageurs parfteche. (Our diction-
aries surmise that this is a French adaptation of some
Indian word, but it is simply Canadian-French, mean-
ing an arrow-fender, because it was from rawhide that
the Indians made their almost impenetrable shields.
The word is commonly pronounced by Americans
"par-flesh," with the accent on the last syllable.) In
making these rawhide receptacles the thickest hides of
buffalo bulls were dehaired, cut into the required shapes
and stretched on wooden forms to dry; they then re-
tained their shapes and were almost as hard as iron.
A hide bucket can be made by cutting off from the
rawhide some thin strips for lacing, soaking the skin
until it is quite soft, shaping from it a bag, sewing this
up with the lace-leather, fitting to it a handle of twisted
or plaited hide, then filling the bucket with dry sand or
earth and letting it stand till dry.
Woodchuck skins are proverbially tough, and are
good for shoestrings and whangs. Squirrel skins can
w- be used for thinner ones. An old sum-
- . mer coon's skin is very good for this
purpose; wildcat's skin is best of all.
To prepare a hide for whang-leather: soak it until the
hair will slip. Do not use wood ashes unless you must,
for lye will weaken the hide. Remove the hair, and
then take a large tablespoonful of alum, and not quite
half as much salt, and rub this into the flesh side. Roll
up the skin, cover with a cloth to keep moist, and let
it stand about two days and a night. Then pull and
work it until dry. Soften by rubbing over the edge of
a plank or shake. Some use soap in tanning such
skins, but it makes the strings too slippery thereafter,
and makes them draw dampness till they rot.
£86 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
Lace-leather is cut of uniform width by the follow-
ing means. With a pair of compasses (a forked stick
with pencil or metal scoring point attached to one leg
will serve) draw a circle on a piece of hide; cut out this
round piece with a keen knife; make a starting cut of
the desired width on the edge of the circular piece of
hide. Drive an awl or a slender round nail into a
board, and alongside of it, at precisely the width of the
lace, stick the knife, edge foremost, and inclining a
little to the rear; then lay the round bit of hide in
front of the knife, draw the cut strip between the awl
and the knife and steadily pull away; the round leather
will revolve as the knife cuts its way, and the awl, act-
ing as a gauge, will insure a uniform width of lacing.
To make a rawhide riata: select carefully skinned
hides that have no false cuts in them. A 30-foot riata
. <„. will require two large cowhides if it is
to be made three-stranded, or four small
ones if four-stranded. Having removed the hair, stake
the hides out on level ground, keeping them well
stretched and constantly wetted so as not to harden;
keep them pegged out two days. Cut up the hide in
the manner of laces, the width of the strip not exceed-
ing one-half inch; wet each strip, when cut, and wrap
it around a stick; then fasten the strips to a tree and
plait them to a uniform circumference and tightness of
twist. Keep the strands and plaited portion wet; a
Mexican fills his mouth with water which he squirts
slowly over the work and materials. When the rope
is finished, stretch it thoroughly, and then grease it.
To preserve its pliability, keep it continually greased.
The catgut of commerce is never made from cats,
any more than chamois skin is made from chamois;
r but it can be made from the intestines
of almost any good-sized animal. Thor-
oughly cleanse the intestine from all impurities, inside
and out; this is more easily done while the gut is still
warm from the animal. Wash it and then scrape it
with a blunt knife to remove slime and grease; then
steep it in running water for a day or two, so as to
loosen both the inner and outer membranes, which are
TROPHIES, BUCKSKIN, RAWHIDE 287
then removed by scraping. To turn the gut inside
out, double back a few inches of one end, invert this,
take the bag thus formed between finger and thumb
and dip water up into it till the double fold is nearly
full, when the weight of the water will cause the gut to
become inverted. The fibrous inner membrane is then
soaked three or four hours in water to which wood
ashes have been added. It is then washed free from
lye and can either be split into thin fibers when it has
dried or may be twisted into a bowstring or similar
cord. To twist it, plant two stout stakes in the ground,
a little wider apart than the length of the gut; make
a saw-cut in the top of each stake; cut two narrow,
flat pieces of wood into the shape of knife-blades, thin
enough to enter the saw-cuts, and notch one end of
each; firmly lash each end of the gut to one of these
notched ends. By alternately twisting these and fixing
them in the saw-cuts, to prevent their running back,
the gut may be evenly and smoothly twisted like a
single-strand cord. Let it dry and then rub it smooth
with a woollen rag and a little grease.
Bladders only need cleaning, inflation with air and
drying to preserve them. They may then be made
,.. , pliable by oiling. The paunches of ani-
Membranes. r , ,* , & . r , , j
mals, atter cleaning, can be expanded
with grass until dried. Such receptacles have many
uses in wilderness camps, where bottles and cans are
unobtainable; for example, to hold bear's oil, wild
honey, and other fluid or semi-fluid substances.
A very strong, pliable and durable sewing thread is
made from sinew. It splits into even threads, is easy
„. to work with when damp, and, on
drying, it shrinks tightly and becomes
almost as hard as horn; hence it is a better material
than any vegetable fiber for certain kinds of sew-
ing, particularly in sewing leather or buckskin, and for
binding together any two parts, such as a tool and its
handle, where the former has no eye. For bow-
strings and heavy sewing, the Indians preferred the
sinews of the buffalo or the moose, and then the elk,
these being coarse in texture; for finer work they chose
288 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
those of the deer, antelope, and bighorn. The sinew
of the panther or mountain-lion was esteemed as the
finest and most durable. The ligaments that extend
from the head backwards along each side of the spinal
process were preferred to those of the legs. The
aboriginal method of preparing and using sinew is
thus described by Isham G. Allen: "The sinew is pre-
pared for use by first removing all adhering flesh with
the back of a knife; it is then stretched on a board or
lodge-pole and left to dry for an hour or so, preparatory
to the separation of the fibers or threads by twisting in
the hands. By the same or similar twisting motion,
and by pulling, the fiber can be extended to a reason-
able length. [Dried sinews may readily be shredded
by wetting, and, if necessary, by gentle hammering.]
Cords or small ropes are made by twisting many fibers
together between two forked sticks fastened in the
ground, and, during the process, rubbing with thin
skins of the elk or deer to soften them; the largest cord
I have seen made in this manner was one-fourth of an
inch in diameter. To prepare it for sewing, the sinew
is wet, and, at the needle end, rolled on the knee with
the palm of the hand to a fine, hard point, like that of
a shoemaker's bristle. As suggested, the sinews are
made sufficiently fine for use in fixing the guiding
feathers, and fastening the iron or flint heads of arrows,
and in wrapping of clubs, etc. Formerly the awl used
in sewing was of bone taken from the leg of the eagle;
this has been displaced by the common sailor's needle;
the overstitch is that most commonly employed in
aboriginal sewing."
It may sometime happen that one wishes to prepare
a sheet of parchment on which to write an important
p . , document; this can be done in the wil-
derness, if one can kill some animal that
has a gall-bladder. Make the parchment like ordinary
rawhide, from the thin skin of a medium-sized animal,
say a fawn or a wildcat. Rub it down with a flat piece
of sandstone or pumice-stone. Then get a smooth,
water-worn pebble and with it rub every part of one
surface (hair side) of the skin, making it firm and
TROPHIES, BUCKSKIN, RAWHIDE 289
srnoothe. Then give this a coat of gall diluted with
water. The old-fashioned way of making ox-gall was
as follows : take the gall of a newly killed ox and after
having allowed it to settle twelve or fifteen hours in a
basin, pour the floating liquor off the sediment into a
small pan or cup, put the latter in a larger vessel that
has a little boiling water in the bottom, and keep up a
boiling heat until the liquor is somewhat thick; then
spread this substance on a dish and place it before a
fire till it becomes nearly dry. In this state it can be
kept for years in a pot covered with paper, without
undergoing any alteration. To use it, dissolve a piece
the size of a pea in a tablespoonful of water. It makes
ink or watercolors spead evenly on parchment, paper,
or ivory. A coating of it sets lead-pencil or crayon
marks so that they cannot be removed. It is also used
for taking out spots of grease or oil.
To make parchment translucent, as for a window:
take a raw skin, curried, and dried on a stretcher
_ . . without any preservative; steep it in an
x r ansrucem, .<■. * 1 *i 1 1 iji
■b , infusion oi water, boiled honey, and the
white ot eggs.
Another method is to soak a thin skin of parchment
in a strong lye of wood ashes, often wringing it out,
until you find that it is partly transparent; then stretch
it on a frame and let it dry. This will be improved
and made rain-proof if, after it is dry, you coat it on
both sides with a clear mastic varnish, made as directed
below.
Unsized paper or a thin skin is made waterproof and
translucent by applying lightly to both sides a varnish
made by putting \ ounce gum mastic in 6 ou aces best
spirits of turpentine, and shaking it up thoroughly, day
by day, until dissolved. The bottle should ita kept in
a warm place while contents are dissolving.
Or, use equal parts Canada balsam (fir balsam) and
turpentine: this dries slowly, but is flexible like map
varnish.
Or, dissolve J ounce beeswax in \ pint turpentine
19
CHAPTER XX
TANNING PELTS— OTHER ANIMAL
PRODUCTS
'l^T'HILE the methods used by regular furriers in
* * tanning pelts with the fur on are complicated
T . and beyond the resources of men in the
T? h '+fi WOO(is, at the same time very good re-
A« -, suits may be obtained by the simpler
the Fur on. , J ., , , , J r
means described below.
The best work is done with skins fresh from the
animal. Cleanse all blood and dirt from the pelt by
soaking it in running water from one to four hours,
depending upon temperature of water and quality of
fur; or, if the skinning has been carefully done, the
fur can be cleaned by sponging. Soaking is necessary
to relax a dried skin. If a skin be immersed too long,
the hair or fur will slip — particularly if the water be
warm. Next thoroughly rub into the flesh side plenty
of table salt. Double the skin, fur side out, roll it up,
and let it lie over night. Then work it over a beam
with the scraper, carefully removing all flesh and fat.
A greasy skin will not take the tan. Hot corn-meal,
hot sand, or sawdust, will help to remove grease; but
be particular not to get it on the fur, for it may be hard
to remove. If benzin were to be had, the skin could
be immersed in it for an hour and then dried.
The pelt is now ready for tanning. The easiest way
to do this is to soak it at least two days in the tan liquor
described in the preceding chapter. (One quart of salt
boiled in a gallon of water, then 1 ounce of sulphuric
acid added.) If you prefer to keep the fur dry through
the process, simply sponge the tan liquor on the flesh
side from time to time, keeping it moistened thus for
290
TANNING PELTS 291
a couple of days; then rinse out the superfluous salt
with clear water. Let the skin become partially dry
and then work it over the edge of a plank or a tightly
stretched rope, until the fiber is broken up.
To stretch a dressed skin so that it will lie flat on
the floor, moisten the flesh side with water, and, when
it is relaxed, tack it, fur side out, on a board or the side
of a building in a shady place. If the skin has hardened
when dry again, work it once more over the plank.
After a skin has thoroughly dried it may be worked
down as thin and soft as desired by rubbing with a
piece of sandpaper folded over a block of wood.
To tan a pelt with alum, first cleanse it and rub salt
into it, as described above, then rub into it a good
sprinkling of powdered alum, but keep this out of the
fur, for alum makes it hard to wash afterwards. Roll
the skin up and let it lie at least two days — preferably
longer; then place it in a stretcher and draw it tightly
in every direction, so that there will be no wrinkles,
but not tightly enough to make the fur thin. Smear
the flesh side with a paste of flour, oatmeal, and water,
and let it dry thoroughly in the shade; now work off
the paste with a dull knife. Afterwards place the
stretched skin in a damp place, until the superfluous
salt comes out in beads of brine on the flesh side; wash
this off, or the skin will turn damp thereafter in moist
weather; then dry the skin again thoroughly. After
this, wash and scour it with yellow soap and water, to
which a little ammonia has been added (the water
should be as hot as the hand can bear). Thor-
oughly rinse all soap from the fur, but let as little water
get on it as possible. Give the pelt a hard shaking and
hang it fur side out, to dry. When it is about half dry,
work it over the edge of a plank or a square bar of
iron, to draw out and soften every part of the skin;
then work it with a knife, finish off with sandpaper or
pumice-stone, and comb out the fur.
In preparing a rug on which the animal's head is to
be mounted — as, for example, a bear's head with the
mouth open — the skin of the head should not be tanned,
but merely salted.
292 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
It is possible to make a soft and pliable robe with-
out tanning, after the Indian method, but it is hard
w . <<T work. The method employed on buf-
,. - „ falo robes has been described by Col.
Dodge as follows: "The skin of even
the youngest and fattest cow is, in its natural condi-
tion, much too thick for use, being unwieldy and lack-
ing pliability. This thickness must be reduced at least
one-half and the skin at the same time made soft and
pliable. When the stretched skin has become dry and
hard from the action of the sun, the woman goes to
work with a small implement shaped somewhat like
a carpenter's adze; it has a short handle of wood or
elkhorn, tied on with rawhide, and is used with one
hand [this was before iron or steel tools were ob-
tainable]. With this tool the woman chips at the hard-
ened skin, cutting off a thin shaving at every blow.
The skill in the whole process consists in so directing
and tempering the blows as to cut the skin, yet not cut
too deep, and in finally obtaining a uniform thickness
and perfectly smooth and even inner surface. To ren-
der the skin soft and pliable the chipping is stopped
every little while and the chipped surface smeared with
brains of buffalo, which are thoroughly rubbed in with
a smoothe stone. When very great care and delicacy
are required the skin is stretched vertically on a frame
of poles. It is claimed that the chipping process can
be much more perfectly performed on a skin stretched
in this way than on one stretched on the uneven and
unyielding ground, but the latter is used for all common
robes, because it is the easiest. When the thinning
and softening process is completed, the robe is taken
out of its frame, trimmed, and sometimes smoked. It
is now ready for use. This is a long and tedious pro-
cess and no one but an Indian would go through it."
Sometimes, after the fleshing of the hide was completed,
a mixture of boiled brains, marrow grease, and pounded
roast liver was thickly spread on the flesh side and
allowed to dry in; then the hide was rubbed with fat,
dampened with warm water, rolled up and laid awaji
for a day. After this the hide was slowly dried in th<
TANNING PELTS 293
sun or very carefully before a fire, being frequently
and thoroughly rubbed over a riata while drying.
Furs that one intends to sell to a furrier should be
stretched and dried without any preservative, not even
salt.
A snake's skin is easily tanned, either with the tan
liquor or with alum. All foreign matter is scraped
T . from it; the skin is then re-soaked and
<? k » sL' washed clean with soap and water. If
a smooth board be procurable, the skin
can be "squee-geed" to the planed surface and it will
cling to the board naturally. A tack on each side
every eight or ten inches will keep it in place while
drying. After two or three days the skin can be re-
moved, softened with oil, and rolled up until wanted.
The Indian method of making and using glue may
come in handy at times when one is far in the wilder-
p, ness. The glue is made from the hoofs
of deer, or any other hoofed animals, by
boiling. A stick is then cut about six inches long and
as thick as one's little finger; one end of this is dipped
in the melted glue, which is allowed to harden; this
process is then repeated until there is a considerable
bulb of glue on the end of the stick. To use it, the
stick is dipped in hot water and then rubbed on the
object to be glued.
Horn is easily manipulated by soaking it in boiling
water. The western Indians used to make superior
w , . . bows of buffalo horns, and from those
jr of the mountain sheep, by leaving the
horns in hot springs until they were
perfectly malleable, then straightening them and cutting
them into strips of suitable width. Two buffalo horns
were pieced in the center and riveted; then bound
strongly at the splice with sinew.
To make a horn cup: Select a large horn with a
sharp bend in it; trim the butt end smooth and even
for the bottom of the cup; then, back from this, at a
distance equal to the proposed height of the cup, saw
through the greater part of the horn, as shown in the
diagram, but leave enough of the top for a handle, the
294 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
latter strip being about 6 inches long and J inch wide.
Scrape the handle gradually down to |- inch thickness
at the end. Then soak the handle in a strong boiling
solution of lime until it is soft, bend it backward around
a stick and bind the end fast to base of handle at top,
until it has cooled and hardened; then fit a wooden
bottom in it, and tack and lute it in place. A powerful
cement or lute for such purpose, as well as for mending
broken vessels, is made by kneading with a stick a
strong solution of newly slaked lime into a doughlike
mass with glue or blood or white of egg. Before putting
in the bottom, scrape and sandpaper the cup inside and
out. Such a cup is light, it stands the hard knocks of
travel better than a metal one, and it is pleasanter to
Fig. 22. Horn Cup.
drink hot coffee from. It can be ornamented with
scrimshaw carvings.
The following description of how to make a hunts-
man's horn is condensed from one given some years
. tt + ago by D. M. Morris : Select a cow's
, H horn 14 to 16 inches long; 12 inches
will do. With a limber stick determine
how far the hollow extends and saw off the tip about
an inch above that point. With a gimlet bore down
to the hollow, taking care to hit it fairly. Ream out
the hole from j to 5-16 inch diameter. Dress the horn
down with a half-round file but do not scrape it. Be
careful to get a fair and even surface. To avoid work-
ing the horn too thin, press with thumb on doubtful
places to see if there is any spring. Work down the
neck as much as it will safely bear. A brass ferrule
TANNING PELTS 295
should now be fitted tighly around the neck to prevent
the stem of the mouthpiece from splitting it. Now, to
polish the horn : take a piece of sandpaper 2 or 3 inches
square, and a little finer than the file, in the palm of the
right hand; then, grasping the horn with the left hand,
twist it round and round from end to end, occasionally
rubbing it lengthwise. Continue this process with finer
grades of sandpaper till the very finest has been used
and complete the polishing with pumice or rotten
stone and water. Then get from any dealer in musi-
cal instruments an E flat or cornet mouthpiece, fit it
perfectly, drive it in tightly and your horn is complete.
Or take the small end of another horn, or the piece
sawed off, and with a sharp and round-pointed pocket-
knife work out a conical cavity at the large end, and
make a hole through the small end for the stem. Work
off the outside, shaping it in the form of a cone the sides
of which are concaved near the base and convexed
toward the stem. This shape will look well, and the
top will be thick enough to rest easily against the lips.
The hole should be about the size of a rye straw. The
shape of the mouthpiece and the size of the hole — pro-
vided it be large enough — do not materially affect the
horn. The stem of the mouthpiece should be f to 1
inch long. If shorter, the sound will be too harsh; if
longer, too soft and not far-sounding. Long horns
produce flat sounds, shorter ones sharp sounds. A
good horn may be heard three to three and a half miles.
The best horns have a double curve (crooks in two
directions), gradually tapering from butt to tip, highly
colored, or with black or dark points. A part of the
butt must always be removed, as it is thin and brittle.
It is easy to make excellent gun oil from the fat of
almost any animal. Never use a vegetable oil on a
r ft., firearm — it is sure to gum. Rattlesnake
oil has more body than almost any
other animal oil; but that of woodchucks, squirrels,
'coons, etc., is good. A fine oil can also be made from
the fat of the ruffed grouse, or from the marrow of a
deer's leg bones. Put the fat on a board and with a
sharp knife cut it up fine; then put it out in the hot
296 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
sunlight, or warm it gently (do not let it get hot) before
the fire; now force the oil through a strong cloth bag
by squeezing it. To clarify it so that it will never
become viscid, put it in a bottle with a charge of shot,
or some shavings of lead, and stand the boltle where
the sun's rays will strike it. A heavy deposit will fall.
Repeat, and you will then have an oil equal to that of
watchmakers, but with enough body to stay where it
is put, rather than running down into the chamber of
the gun so as to leave unprotected spots in the barrel.
A large squirrel will yield over an ounce of tried oil,
a fat woodchuck nearly a pint, and a bear several gal-
lons— eight gallons of grease have been procured from
a big grizzly.
Bear's oil, by the way, is better than lard for short-
ening biscuit and for frying, and, when mixed with
jy , -... sugar and spread on bread, is not a bad
substitute for butter and syrup. It is
rendered by cooking in a pot hung high over a slow
fire, so as not to scorch the fat, which would give off
an acrid smell and make the oil less bland. No salt is
added; the oil will keep sweet without it, unless in
very hot weather (when it should be kept in a cool
room, or in a spring, or in a pot sunk in the earth). The
Indians, who were very fond of bear's grease, used to
preserve it so that it would not turn rancid even when
they were traveling in summer, by adding the inner
bark of the slippery elm (1 drachm to a pound of grease),
keeping them heated together for a few minutes, and
then straining off. They also used sassafras bark and
wild cinnamon for the same purpose. Bear's oil is
superior to olive oil for the table, and can be used with
impunity by people whose stomachs will not endure
pork fat. I happen to be rendering some bear's grease
at the time of this writing. The yield is a gallon of oil
to ten pounds of fat.
Rattlesnake oil is solemnly regarded by the old-
„ ... . fashioned Pennsylvania Dutch as a spe-
Rattlesnake .n „ , V . F
0>. cmc tor rheumatism, ringworm, sties,
sore eyes generally, and even for hydro-
phobia. A large, fat snake yields from two to two
TANNING PELTS 297
and a half ounces of oil. A piece of muslin is stretched
over a glass jar, and the fat, which resembles that of a
chicken, is spread on this. The hot summer sun ren-
ders it, and the muslin strains it. The Dutch are
reported to have a curious way of telling whether the
snake has bitten itself and thereby poisoned its fat.
They drop a little of the oil into a glass of milk. If
the oil floats as a film on top it is good; but if it sepa-
rates into small beads and the milk gathers in thick
white flakes, as though soured, it is a sign that the
snake bit itself.
While I am on the subject of animal fats and oils, I
may as well say something about extemporized lights
ot , T for a fixed camp that is far in the wil-
blusn- Lamps. , A , L 1 . . , ,
derness. A slusn-lamp is made by
taking a tin can, half filling it with sand or earth,
sticking in it a thin rod of pine or other inflammable
wood, wrapping around this a strip of soft cotton cloth,
and filling the can with melted fat which contains no
salt. Grease can be freed from salt by boiling it in
water. This is a much better arrangement than to use
a shallow dish, or, as some have done, a mussel shell,
and letting the end of the immersed wick project over
one side, where it will drip grease. But such a light,
although it was the best that many of our pioneers had
in the olden days, is at best a smoky and stinking affair.
The estimation in which it was held by those who had
to use it may be judged from the fact that in English-
speaking countries it has universally been known as a
"slut," except in the Klondike, where they call it a
"bitch."
A rush-light is made by soaking the pith of rushes
in melted tallow. When dry, a length of the rush is
then placed in a split stick, or any kind of clip, and
lighted.
Wherever deer, elk, or other animals whose fat is
tallow, are procurable, there is no excuse but laziness
c ,. for such vile illumination. Very satis-
factory candles can be made by the
following process, which is called "dipping." For
wicking, use cotton cord loosely unwound, or dry
298 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
shredded bark. Put your tallow in a kettle with some
boiling water. One part of hog's lard to three of tal-
low may improve the product. Scald and skim twice.
Lay two poles sidewise and about a foot apart on sup-
ports, so that they shall be about as high from the
ground as the top of an ordinary chair; cut some
sticks about 15 or 18 inches long for candle rods;
twist your wicking one way, then double it; slip the
loop over the candle rod and twist the other way, mak-
ing a firm wick; put about six wicks on each rod, a
couple of inches apart. Dip a row of wicks into the
melted tallow, place the rod across the two long poles,
and thus dip each row of wicks in turn. Each will
have time to cool and harden between the dips. If
allowed to cool too fast they will crack: so work slowly.
When the first dipping has hardened, repeat the pro-
cess, and so on until the candles are of desired thick-
ness. Replenish the tallow as needed, taking it off the
fire, of course, for each dip. This is the way our fore-
mothers made candles before they got candle molds.
For a candlestick, split the end of a stick for several
inches, then again crosswise; open these segments by
pushing a flat, thin stick down each; insert candle,
and remove wedges; sharpen the other end of the stick,
and jab it into the ground wherever wanted. Or, put
a loop of bark in the cleft end of a stick, the loop pro-
jecting at one side. Or, cut the end of a large potato
square off, and gouge a hole for the candle in the op-
posite end.
Soap can be made wherever there is wood and grease.
A rough-and-ready way is to boil wood ashes from the
<? M ir' camp-fire in a little water and allow them
^ 8* to settle, the clear liquid being decanted
off; this can be done from day to day until the required
quantity of weak lye has accumulated. Evaporate
this by boiling until it is strong enough to float an egg.
Then melt down any kind of animal fat (do not have
the kettle more than half full), and, while it is hot, add
it to the boiling lye. Continue boiling and stirring
until the mixture is of about the consistency of thick
porridge; then pour it into any flat vessel and let it
TANNING PELTS 299
cool. The result is soft soap. To make hard soap,
you have merely to stir into the above, as soon as it is
poured out, some salt, in the proportion of two or three
pints to five gallons of soap. A little powdered rosin
added gradually to the melted tallow, before mixing
with the lye, will make the soap firmer. Soap can be
made without boiling, but it takes longer.
Only the ashes of hardwoods are good for lye; those
of resinous woods will not mix with the fat in boiling.
T p . The woods richest in potash are hick-
y 8* ory, sugar maple, ash, beech and buck-
eye. The poisonous kernels of buckeye are soapy and
can be used to cleanse fine fabrics. As lye is often use-
ful to a backwoods tanner, and for other purposes, it
may be worth while to put up an ash-hopper at a
permanent camp. Take a section of hollow tree,
or a barrel with both heads knocked out. Stand it on
a wide board that is elevated high enough for a bucket
to stand below it. Cut a groove in the board around
the bottom of the barrel and out to one end of the board.
Tilt the board a little and fasten it so that the liquor
from the barrel will follow the grooved channel to the
end of the board and thus trickle into a pail set below
it. Now put two or three layers of small round sticks
in the bottom of the barrel, laying each course cross-
wise of the one below, cob-house fashion, and on top
of this lay a couple of inches of straw or coarse grass;
now put your ashes in the barrel, tamping them down
firmly as they are shoveled in; make a funnel-shaped
depression in the top and pour a bucket of water into
it. It will be from half a day to a day before the leach
will run. Thereafter keep some water standing in the
depression, adding only when the other water has dis-
appeared. If the ashes have been firmly tamped, the
leach will only trickle through, and that is what you
want. The first run will be strong enough to cut grease;
later runs should be put through twice. Such lye needs
no boiling down.
«
CHAPTER XXI
ACCIDENTS— THEIR BACKWOODS
TREATMENT
'HE present chapter is boiled down for the use of
men of no surgical experience, who may suddenly
find themselves wounded, or with an injured compan-
ion on their hands, when far from any physician, and
with no special surgical appliances.
In operating upon a comrade, the main things are
to keep cool, act promptly, and make him feel that you
have no doubt that you can pull him through all right.
Place him in a comfortable position, and expose the
wound. If you cannot otherwise remove the clothing
quickly and without hurting him, rip it up the seam.
First stop the bleeding, if there is any; then cleanse
the wound; then close it, if a cut or torn wound; then
apply a sterilized dressing; then bandage it in place.
Of course, if the injury is serious, you will immedi-
ately send a messenger hot-footed for a surgeon, pro-
vided there is any chance of getting one.
As for the patient himself, let him never say die.
Pluck has carried many a man triumphantly through
what seemed the forlornest hope. Let me take space
for an example or two.
Kit Carson once helped to amputate a comrade's
limb when the only instruments available were a razor,
a handsaw, and the kingbolt of a wagon. Not a man
in the party knew how to take up an artery. Fine
teeth were filed in the back of the saw, the iron was
made white-hot, the arm was removed, the stump seared
so as to close the blood-vessels, and — the patient re-
covered.
Charles F. Lummis, having fractured his right arm
so badly that the bone protruded, and being alone in
300
ACCIDENTS 301
the desert, gave his canteen strap two flat turns about
the wrist, buckled it around a cedar tree, mounted a
nearby rock, set his heels upon the edge, and threw
himself backward. He fainted; but the bone was set.
Then, having rigged splints to the injured member with
his left hand and teeth, he walked fifty-two miles with-
out resting, before he could get food, and finished the
700-mile tramp to Los Angeles with the broken arm
slung in a bandanna.
Richardson tells of a Montana trapper who, having
his leg shattered in an Indian fight, and finding that
gangrene was setting in, whetted one edge of his big
hunting knife, filed the other into a saw, and with his
own hands cut the flesh, sawed the bone, and seared the
arteries with a hot iron. He survived.
Stop the flow of blood temporarily by raising the in-
jured part as high as you can above the heart, and
_ ., , pressing very firmly with thumb or finger
_1 ,. either on or into the wound. The pa-
tient can do this for himself, and can
control the bleeding until his hand gives out. There is
record of an Austrian soldier who stopped bleeding
from the great artery of the thigh for four hours by
plugging the wound with his thumb; if he had let go
for a minute he would have bled to death.
Observe whether the bleeding is arterial or venous.
If it comes from a vein, the blood will be dark red or
purplish, and will flow in a steady stream. Press upon
the vein below the wound; then prepare a clean pad
(compress) and bind it upon the wound firmly enough
to stop the bleeding permanently.
If an artery is cut, the blood will be bright red, and
it will probably spurt in jets. Try to locate the artery
above the wound (between it and the heart) by pressing
very hard where you think the artery may pass close
to a bone, and watch if this checks the flow. When
you find the artery, then, if the wound be in leg, arm,
head, or any other place where a, tourniquel can be
applied, proceed as follows:
Tie a strong bandage (handkerchief, belt? s*ispen'
der, rope, strip of clothing) around the wounded m^o*
302 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
ber, and between the wound and the heart. Under it,
and directly over the artery, place a smooth pebble, a
cartridge, piece of stick, or other hard lump. Then
thrust a stout stick under the bandage, and twist until
the wound stops bleeding. The lump serves two pur-
poses : it brings the most pressure where it will do the
most good, and it allows passage of enough blood on
either side to keep the limb from being strangled to death.
If the position of the artery above the wound cannot
be determined, then, in case of a gaping wound that
would be hard to plug, apply the tourniquet without
any lump, and twist it very tight indeed. This can
only be done for a short time, while you are preparing
to ligate the artery; if prolonged, it will kill the limb,
and gangrene will ensue. In case of a punctured
wound, such as a bullet hole, it is better to push a plug
hard down in the wound itself, leaving the outer end
projecting so that a bandage will hold the plug firmly
on the artery. This must be done, anyway, wherever
a tourniquet cannot be used.
The above expedients are only temporary; for a cut
artery, if of any considerable size, must be ligated —
that is to say, permanently closed by tying one or both
of the severed ends. To do this you must have at
least a pair of sharp-pointed forceps or strong tweezers.
Perhaps you may have to extemporize them — if you
have' no iron, make a little pair of tongs by heating the
middle of a green hardwood stick, bending over, and
then shaping and fire-hardening the ends. Get hold
of the end of the artery with this, draw it out, and have
some one hold it. Then take a piece of strong thread
that has been sterilized in boiling salt water, make a
loop in it as for a common knot, but pass the right
hand end of the thread twice around the other, instead
of once (surgeon's knot — it will never slip) . Slip this
loop down over the forceps and around the end of the
artery, and draw tight. If the vessel bleeds from both
ends, ligate both. When an artery is merely ruptured,
not severed, cut it clean in two before operating; it
will close better.
Powdered alum, tamped hard into a wound will stop
ACCIDENTS 303
bleeding from all but a large artery. So will sub-
stances rich in tannin, such as powdered sumac leaves
(dried over the fire, if green) and pulverized oak or
hemlock bark. Do not use cobwebs, nor the woolly
inside of puffballs — these old-fashioned styptics are
likely to infect a wound with micro-organisms, and thus
do more harm than good.
If a finger or toe is cut off, as with an axe, clap it
quickly into place and bind it there; it may grow on
again.
Nosebleed is sometimes uncontrollable by ordinary
means. Try lifting the arms above the head and
snuffing up alum water or salt water. If this fails,
make a plug by rolling up part of a half-inch strip of
cloth, leaving one end dangling. Push this plug as far
up the nose as it will go, pack the rest of the strip tightly
into the nostril, and let the end protrude. If there is
leakage backward into the mouth, pack the lower part
of plug more tightly. Leave the plug in place several
hours; then loosen with warm water or oil, and remove
very gently.
After stopping the flow of blood, cleanse the wound
of any foreign substances that may have entered it.
p. . To remove a splinter, slip the point of
w - a small knife-blade under the protrud-
ing end and catch it with the thumb
nail. A fish-hook imbedded in the flesh should be
pushed on through; then nip or file off the barb, and
withdraw. If a bullet is deeply imbedded, let it alone;
the chances are that it will do no harm.
After picking out dirt, bits of cloth, or other matter
that would make the wound sore and slow to heal,
wash the injured part with perfectly clean water. If
there be any doubt about the water, boil it. Do not
mop the wound with a rag. Hold the water a few
inches above it and let a small stream gently trickle
i down upon it. A clean cut needs no washing; simply
i draw the edges together and fasten them in place.
Whenever it can be done, shave the skin for some dis-
l tance around the wound. Hairs, no matter how small,
are grease-coated and favor the growth of germs.
304 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
Shaving also scrapes off the surface dirt and dead
scales of skin.
Never cover a wound with court plaster. It prevents
the free escape of suppuration, inflames the part, and
_ . makes the place difficult to cleanse
w ^ thereafter. The only legitimate uses
for sticking plaster are to hold dressings
in place where bandaging is difficult (as on the buttock) ,
or, in case of a cut, to keep the edges closed without
sewing the skin. In the latter case the cut may be
crossed with narrow strips of plaster, leaving spaces
between; but a better way, if you have regular surgeon's
plaster, is as follows: Lay a broad strip on each side
of the cut, half an inch apart, and extending beyond
the wound at each end. Stick these strips firmly in
place, except about a quarter of an inch of the inner
margins, which are left loose for the present. With
needle and thread lace the strips (deep stitches, so
they'll not pull out) so as to draw the edges of the
wound together, and then stick the inner margins down,
not covering the wound.
Sewing a wound should be avoided by inexperienced
persons, unless it really is necessary, as in the case of a
foot almost severed by an axe cut. If an ordinary needle
and thread must be used, sterilize them by soaking in
a boiling solution of salt and water. (It is here assumed
that no better antiseptic agents are available. Sugar
and water, or vinegar will do in a pinch.) Do not sew
continuously over and over, but make a deep stitch and
snip off the thread, leaving enough at each end to tie
with by and by. Repeat this at proper intervals, until
enough stitches have been taken; then, go back and
tie them, one after another, with surgeon's knot. Such
sewing is easy to remove when the proper time comes,
say within about six days.
All inflammation of wounds, suppuration, and blood
poisoning, are due to living germs, and to nothing else.
j. • These germs are not born in the wound,
w , but enter from the outside. We may
as well say that they are present every-
where. To prevent their entrance is much easier than
ACCIDENTS 305
to kill them once they have gained foothold. The
only guarantee of a wound healing nicely is to make
it antiseptic — that is to say, surgically clean. That
means sterilize everything used about a wound (by
heat, if you have no antiseptics) , not trusting that any-
thing is germ-free merely because it looks clean. The
micro-organisms that cause inflammation of a wound,
fever, putrefaction, cannot be seen with the eye, and
they may lurk anywhere. The unparalleled medical
and surgical record of the Japanese in their late war
was chiefly due to unparalleled cleanliness in camp and
field.
Do not use a mere bandage directly on an open
wound. First, cover the injury with a compress (soft
pad, made by folding a strip of cloth in several layers) ;
then bandage. Unless you have a first-aid packet, or
are otherwise provided with sterilized dressings or anti-
septics, hold the material of the compress over a clear
fire until it is fairly scorched; then let it cool. A little
charring of the surface will do no harm; in fact, char-
coal is itself a good application to the surface of a
wound. Of course the compress is to be renewed every
time that the wound is dressed.
Directions for bandaging cannot be given here from
lack of space. The cuts printed on the triangular band-
age in a soldier's first-aid packet show, at a glance,
how to bandage any part of the body. I cannot too
highly recommend that every woodsman carry one of
these packets in his pouch or pocket. It costs but a
quarter, is no larger than a purse, and weighs practi-
cally nothing.
If clothing sticks to the burn, do not try to remove
it, but cut around it and flood it with oil. Prick blis-
„ ters at both ends with a perfectly clean
needle, and remove the water by gentle
pressure, being careful not to break the skin. A
good application for a burn, including sunburn, is car-
ron oil (equal parts linseed oil and limewater). Drug-
gists supply an ointment known as "solidified carron
oil" that is easier to carry. A three per cent, solution
of carbolic acid, applied with absorbent cotton or a
20
306 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
bandage, is an excellent application. Better still is
the salve known as unguentine. Lacking these, the
next best thing is common baking soda.* Dissolve
some in as little water as is required to take it up; sat-
urate a cloth with this, and apply. Another good ap-
plication for burns is the scrapings of a raw potato,
renewed when it feels hot. If you have none of these,
use any kind of clean oil or unsalted grease, or dust
flour over the burn, or use moist earth, preferably clay :
then cover with cotton cloth. Do not remove the dead
skin until new skin has formed underneath.
Ordinary bruises are best treated with cold, wet
cloths. Raw, lean meat applied to the part will prevent
■d . discoloration. Severe bruises, which
are likely to form abscesses, should be
covered with cloth wrung out in water as hot as
can be borne, to be reheated as it cools; afterwards
with hot poultices.
p . . Poultices may be needed not only for
bruises but for felons, boils, carbuncles,
etc. They are easily made from corn-meal or oat-
meal. Mix by adding a little at a time to boiling
water and stirring to a thick paste; then spread on
cloth. Renew from time to time as it cools.
To prevent a poultice from sticking, cover the under
surface with clean mosquito netting, or smear the
bruise with oil. It is a good idea to dust some char-
coal over a sore before putting the poultice on. The
woods themselves afford plenty of materials for good
poultices. Chief of these is slippery elm, the mucilag-
inous inner bark of which, boiled in water and kneaded
into a poultice, is soothing to inflammation and softens
the tissues. Good poultices can also be made from
the soft rind of tamarack, the root bark of basswood
or cottonwood, and many other trees or plants. Our
frontiersmen, like the Indians, often treated wounds
by merely applying the chewed fresh leaves of alder,
striped maple (moosewood), or sassafras. You may
remember Leatherstocking (he was "Hawkeye" then)
* Baking soda is the bicarbonate; washing soda, or plain soda,
is the carbonate: do not confuse them.
ACCIDENTS 307
advising a wounded companion that "a little bruised
alder will work like a charm."
Balsam obtained by pricking the little blisters on
the bark of balsam firs is a good application for a
_ . wound; so is the honey-like gum of the
liquidambar or sweet gum tree, raw
turpentine from any pine tree, and the resin procured
by "boxing" (gashing) a cypress or hemlock tree, or
by boiling a knot of the wood and skimming off the
surface. All of these resins are antiseptic and sooth-
ing to a wound.
The regular medical treatment is to plunge a sprained
ankle, wrist, or finger, into water as hot as can be
_ . borne at the start, and to raise the heat
' gradually thereafter to the limit of en-
durance. Continue for half an hour, then put the
joint in a hot, wet bandage, reheat from time to time,
and support the limb in an elevated position, the leg
being stretched as high as the hip, or the arm carried
in a sling. In a day or two begin gently moving
and kneading the joint, and rub with liniment, oil, or
vaselin.
In case of necessity, a sprain of the ankle can be tvalked
off. You may shudder, but the thing has been done
more than once. Similarly I have overcome, in a few
hours, an attack of lumbago, though I had to start
almost on all-fours. It was better than lying around
a damp camp for a week — decidedly better after I got
limbered up.
As a soothing application for sprains, bruises, etc.,
the virtues of witch hazel are well known. A decoc-
tion (strong tea) of the bark is easily made, or a poul-
tice can be made from it. The inner bark of kinni-
kinick, otherwise known as red willow or silky cornel,
makes an excellent astringent poultice for sprains. The
pain and inflammation of a sprained ankle are much
relieved by dipping tobacco leaves in water and bind-
ing them around the injured part.
^. . A dislocation of the finger can gener-
Dislocations. „ , , , , .,. ° . ,° j
ally be reduced by pulling strongly and
at the same time pushing the tip of the finger backward.
308 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
If a shoulder is thrown out of joint, have the man lie
down, place a pad in his armpit, remove your shoe,
and seat yourself by his side, facing him; then put
your foot in his armpit, grasp the dislocated arm in
both hands, and simultaneously push with your foot,
pull on his arm, and swing the arm toward his body
till a snap is heard or felt.
For any other dislocation, if you can possibly get a
surgeon, do not meddle with the joint, but surround
it with flannel cloths, wrung out in hot water, and sup-
port with soft pads.
If a bone is broken, and a surgeon can be summoned
within a couple of days, do not try to reduce the frac-
R . ture, for unskilled handling may do more
.p harm than good. Place the man in a
comfortable position, the injured part
resting on a pad, and keep him perfectly quiet.
It may be, however, that you must act the surgeon
yourself. If the bone is broken in only one place, and
it does not protrude, the injury is not serious. Get
splints and bandages ready. Rip the clothing up the
seam, and steadily pull the broken parts in opposite
directions, without the slightest twisting. Begin gently,
and gradually increase the strain. It may take a strong
pull. When the two pieces are end to end, an assistant
must gently work them till they fit. This will be an-
nounced by a slight thud. Then apply splints, and
bandage them so as to hold the injured member immov-
able while the fracture heals.
Bark, when it can be peeled, makes the best splints
for an arm or leg. Pick out a sapling (chestnut, bass-
wood, elm, cedar, spruce) as near the size of the limb
as possible. Remove the bark in two equal pieces by
vertical slits. It is well, in some cases, to have these
somewhat longer than the bone that is broken, so as
to clamp the connecting joints as well. Cover the con-
cave insides with cloth, dry moss, crumpled grass, or
other soft padding, to cushion the limb and prevent
irritation. The edges of splints should not quite meet
around the limb. Then get a long bandage, about
two inches wide. Having set the bone, apply the
ACCIDENTS 309
splints on each side, and bandage them firmly enough
to hold in place, but by no means so tightly as to im-
pede circulation.
In default of bark, almost anything will do for splints
that is stiff enough to hold the parts in place — barrel
staves, thin boards, sticks, bundles of rushes, etc.
If a bone is broken in more than one place, or if it
protrude through the skin, and you cannot fetch a
surgeon to the patient, then get him out of the woods
at all hazards. The utmost pains must be taken in
transporting him, lest the sharp edges of the bones saw
off an artery or pierce an important organ. The best
litter is a big trough of bark, padded, and attached to
a frame swung between two poles. A two-horse litter
is better than a travois; but if the latter must be used,
then make one shaft a little shorter than the other, so
that, in crossing uneven places, the shock will not all
come at one jolt.
Lay the patient on his back, with feet higher than
his head. Loosen tight clothing, and let him have
„ . . plenty of fresh air. Sprinkle his face
with cold water and rub his arms with
it. When consciousness returns, give him a stimulant.
For an attack of dizziness, bend the head down firmly
between the knees.
In case of collapse following an accident, operation,
fright : treat first as for fainting. Then rub the limbs with
„, . flannel, stroking the extremities toward
the heart. Apply hot plates, stones, or
bottles of hot water, wrapped in towels, to the extremi-
ties and over the stomach. Then give hot tea or coffee,
or, if there is no bleeding, a tablespoonful of whiskey
and hot water, repeating three or four times an
hour.
Concussion of the brain: Lay the man on his
back, with head somewhat raised. Apply heat, as for
„ . shock, but keep the head cool with wet
cloths. Do not give any stimulant —
that would drive blood to the brain, where it is not
wanted.
Lay the patient in a cool place, position same as for
310 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
stunning. If the skin is hot, remove clothing, or at
_ . least loosen it. Hold a vessel or hatful
bunstroKe. » ,, . » r. » . r *•
ot cold water tour or nve teet above mm
and pour a stream first on his head, then on his body,
and last on his extremities. Continue until conscious-
ness returns. Renew if symptoms recur.
If the skin is cool (a bad sign) apply warmth, and
give stimulating drinks.
Take a stimulant or hot drink when you get to
Excessive camp (but not until then), and im-
Fatigue. mediately eat something. Then rest
between blankets to avoid catching cold.
Do not let a starved person eat much at a time. Pre-
pare some broth, or a gruel of corn-meal or oatmeal
_ . , . thoroughly cooked, and feed but a small
Jbamisninfir
spoonful, repeating at intervals of a few
minutes. Give very little the first day, or there will
be bloating and nausea.
T, . Allow the sufferer only a spoonful of
water at a time, but at frequent inter-
vals. Bathe him, if possible.
Keep away from heat. To toast frost-bitten fingers
or toes before the fire would bring chilblains, and
„ . thawing out a badly frozen part would
Freezing. .
probably result in gangrene, making
amputation necessary. Rub the frozen part with snow,
or with ice-cold water, until the natural color of the
skin is restored. Then treat as a burn.
Chilblains should be rubbed with whiskey or alum
water.
A specific for poison ivy or poison sumac is tincture
of grindelia. I have cured cases two or three days old,
p . where both eyes were swollen shut and
p. other parts correspondingly affected.
Prompt application of a saturated solu-
tion of baking soda will generally check the trouble at
the start. Dissolve plenty of the soda in hot water,
and let it stand until cool, when the excess will be pre-
cipitated, and the liquor will be a saturated solution.
Weak ammonia water serves as well. A hot decoction
of the green bark of witch hazel is useful; apply as
ACCIDENTS 311
hot as can be borne. Other woodland remedies are
decoctions of sassafras root, or of the bark and berries
of common spice bush, taken both internally and ex-
ternally. The druggist's prescription is : add powdered
sugar of lead (lead acetate) to weak alcohol (50 to 75%)
until no more will dissolve; strain, and wash the affected
parts with it several times a day. To render the skin
proof against these irritant poisons, bathe face and
hands freely, before going out, in salt water, or the
baking soda solution, or weak ammonia water.
If one swallows a vegetable poison, the remedy is an
emetic, followed by whiskey or strong coffee, and, if
necessary, artificial respiration as for drowning. To
make an emetic, add a tablespoonful of common salt,
or powdered mustard, to a tumblerful of lukewarm
water.
Extract the sting, if left in the wound, and apply a
solution of baking soda, or a slice of raw onion, or a
T paste of clay, mixed with saliva, or a
„ . moist quid of tobacco. Ammonia is
the common remedy, but oil of sassa-
fras is better. A watch key or other small hollow tube
pressed with force over the puncture and held there
several minutes will expel a good deal of the poison.
The bite of a mad dog, wolf, skunk, or other animal
subject to rabies, requires instant and heroic treat-
R. , ment. Immediately twist a tourniquet
T? wa very tight above the wound, and then
. . . cut out the whole wound with a knife,
or cauterize it to the bottom with a hot
iron; then drink enough whiskey to counteract the
shock.*
* The notion that skunk-bite is very likely to cause hydrophobia is
common in the Southwest, and is borne out by the reports of army
surgeons. The facts seem to be, as explained by W. Wade in the
American Naturalist, that men and other animals have occasionally
been stricken mad by skunk-bite and have died therefrom; but this
has only happened during an epidemic of rabies, in which skunks,
being slow-moving and utterly fearless creatures, fell easy prey to
rabid dogs or wolves. Becoming mad, in their turn, they would
bite men sleeping in the open, and their bites would usually be in-
flicted upon the men's faces, hands and other exposed parts of their
persons. In such cases, since none of the poisonous saliva was
wiped off by clothing, the result was almost certain death. But
rabies is very exceptional among skunks, and the bite of a healthy
animal is a trifling matter.
312 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
The only dangerous snakes in the United States are
the rattlesnake, the copperhead, and the cottonmouth
moccasin. - The small coral snake (har-
lequin, bead snake) of the Gulf states,
and the Sonoran coral snake of New Mexico and Ariz-
ona, are somewhat venomous, but their bite is not
fatal to a healthy adult. The Gila monster of the
Southwest is a dangerous lizard — the only one that is
venomous — but can scarcely be provoked to bite.
All other reptiles of our country and Canada are
harmless — their bite is no more to be feared than that
of a mouse. The notion that the bite of a puff-adder
nostril
Head of Rattlesnake. (After Stejneger.)
must be dangerous, because the snake puffs up its neck
and hisses like a goose, or that the common water-
snake is a moccasin and consequently venomous, is all
moonshine, like the story of the hoop-snake and the
snake with a poisonous sting in its tail.
However, that other notion that a rattlesnake's bite
is not a serious matter is moonshine, too. Men who
know nothing about other rattlers than the little prairie
rattlesnake are not competent to express an opinion on
the subject.
A bite from any venomous snake is dangerous, in
proportion to the size of the snake, and to the amount
of venom that enters the circulation. A bite that does
not pierce an important blood vessel is seldom fatal,
even if no treatment is given, unless the snake be quite
large.
The rattlesnake, copperhead, and cottonmouth are
easily distinguished from all other snakes, as all three
ACCIDENTS 313
of them bear a peculiar mark, or rather a pair of
marks, that no other animal possesses. This mark is
the pit, which is a deep cavity on each side of the face
between the nostril and the eye, sinking into the
upper jaw-bone. Its position is shown in the accom-
panying cut.
All venomous snakes have fangs, and no harmless
ones have them. The fangs are in the upper jaw only.
In the coral snakes they are permanently erect, but in
the other venomous snakes here named they lie flat
against the roof of the mouth, when not in use, point-
ing backward, and are erected by the reptile in striking.
They are long, slender, sharply pointed, perforated,*
and connected by a duct with the venom glands which
lie behind the eyes. Auxiliary fangs lie in a sac under-
neath the regular fang on each side, and, in case the
latter is broken off or extracted, a new fang will be
ready for business within a few days.
Here are a few characteristics of the pit vipers, as
our three deadly snakes are collectively called:
1. Copperhead (also called deaf adder, upland moccasin,
pilot snake, chunk head). A small snake, 2 to 3 ft. long,
with moderately thick body, broad and triangular head quite
distinct from the neck, tail short, dark colored, and pointed.
Color of back, a bronze hazel or light reddish brown; with
15 to 20 darker bands, which are narrow on the back and ex-
pand to wide blotches on the flanks, the shape being some-
what like that of a dumb-bell with very short handle. Head,
£ bright copper-red, with two small dark-brown spots close
together on the forehead at upper part of head-shield, and with
a cream-colored band around the mouth.
The copperhead inhabits the mountainous and hilly regions
from Massachusetts southward to the Gulf, and westward
(south of Michigan, Wisconsin, Iowa, and Nebraska) to
Kansas, Indian Ty., and Texas.
Its venom is as deadly as that of the rattlesnake, but it is
not secreted in as large quantity as that of the larger rattlers ;
consequently the wound is not likely to be so serious. Still,
the copperhead is a particularly dangerous creature, because
♦High authorities have declared that the fang of the rattlesnake
is not perforated, but only grooved. They are mistaken. I have
examined many mature fangs of timber rattlesnakes killed by my-
self or by my companions, and every fang was perforated throughout,
the front opening being exactly like that of a hyDodermic needle.
A fine wire can be run through, from base to point.
314 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
it gives no warning of its presence, nor, according to my ob-
servation, does it try to get out of the way, but holds its ground
and springs at any intruder.
Only one species.
2. Cottonmouth moccasin (water moccasin). A larger
snake, ordinarily about 3 ft., sometimes 4 ft. long. Stout
body, head shaped like that of the copperhead and similarly
distinct from the neck. Back brown, reddish, or olive, with
11 to 15 rather inconspicuous bars, or pairs of bars, of dark
brown, with light centers on each flank. Tail short, pointed,
and dark brown or banded. Belly brownish-yellow mottled
with dark blotches.
Habitat, North Carolina southward to the Gulf, westward
through Kentucky, southern Illinois, and Missouri, to Okla-
homa and eastern Texas.
Not so poisonous as the larger kinds of rattlesnakes, but
still dangerous to human life. Quite numerous in the southern
states. More aggressive than the rattlesnake, striking at
everything within reach; but usually rather deliberate about
striking, first opening its mouth widely for some seconds, as
if to intimidate, and showing the white interior (hence the
name "cottonmouth"). Usually found near water, and often
on low limbs overhanging the water.
Only one species. The other so-called "moccasins" are
either the copperhead or harmless snakes.
3. Rattlesnake. Of rattlers we have no less than sixteen
species, but only two of them, the massasauga and the banded
or timber rattlesnake, are found in the eastern and central
states. The little prairie rattlesnake, which is not very
dangerous, is abundant on the plains west of the Missouri
River. The great diamond rattlesnake of the South, which
sometimes grows to a length of nearly nine feet, is the most
formidable member of this group. The small ground
rattlesnake of the southern states is aggressive, and gives only
a faint warning, and on this account is more dreaded by the
negroes than the larger species; but its bite is seldom fatal
to grown people. The other species are confined to the south-
west and the Pacific coast.
Rattlesnakes are easily identified by their rattles. These
generally last only long enough to become 8 or 10 jointed.
Rattles with as many as 15 or 18 joints are quite rare. The
number of rattles does not indicate the snake's age. Their
office is not clearly understood. Doctor Stejneger says:
"They are a substitute for a voice."
When a rattlesnake sees a man approaching, it generally
lies quiet to escape observation, so long as it thinks itself
concealed. It does not strike unless provoked. If alarmed
when it is wide-awake, it always springs its rattle before
striking, the sound being very similar to that made by our
common ' ' locust " or cicada. If the reptile is trodden on when
asleep, it strikes like lightning, and does its rattling afterward.
ACCIDENTS 315
Unfortunately for us, the poisonous snakes sleep in the day
time and hunt at night. They are prone to seek the warmth
of bed-clothes, and will sometimes coil up alongside of a
sleeping man. Mosquito netting is an effective bar against
snakes. Snakes despise musk, tobacco, and turpentine.
A snake is not obliged to coil before striking, but
can strike from any position; it will coil first, however,
unless attacked very suddenly or taken at a disadvan-
tage. A snake does not intentionally throw its venom ;
but, if it misses its mark, the act of hissing may throw
the poison several feet. The blow is delivered with
lightning rapidity, and the fangs are instantly sunk into
the victim. No snake can leap entirely from the
ground, nor can it strike more than two-thirds its own
length, unless it has the advantage of striking down-
hill or from some purchase on a rock or bush. A
snake does not expend all its venom at one blow. It
is not rendered permanently harmless by extracting
its fangs, for it will promptly grow new ones. A venom-
ous snake is immune against its own poison, and prob-
ably against that of other poisonous reptiles, but non-
poisonous snakes are not immune. The bite of even
a newly-born snake of venomous species is serious.
The bite of a venomous reptile is intensely painful.
The victim soon becomes dull and languid, breathing
with difficulty. The venom first enfeebles the heart,
then the breathing apparatus. If this early depression
passes over, recovery is often sudden; but if the quan-
tity of venom injected be large, death may follow, in
man, within twenty minutes. The tendency of the
poison is to spread very rapidly through the system,
making the blood thin, and destroying its power to clot.
At the same time it rots the blood-vessels, and, in
fatal cases, causes a general seepage of blood through-
out the system. In some cases a whole limb is soaked
to the bone with decomposed blood. There is always
inflammation around the wound, with great pain.
Much depends upon the part struck. Bites on the
bare skin are more dangerous than those received
through the clothing. A bite in the extremities is
rarely fatal. In a large majority of cases the wound
316 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
does not touch an important blood-vessel, and the
patient will recover with no other treatment than a
ligature promptly applied, and a free bleeding and
sucking of the wound.
Many species of wild plants are supposed to have the
property of neutralizing the poison of serpents or coun-
„ '. teracting its effects. In almost any
_ ,. backwoods communitv there mav be
|« PIT) PfllPC v %I
found some one who claims to know
some sovereign herb that will do this. Most, if not all,
of these simples are adopted from the Indian's pharma-
copoeia, or from that of the plantation darky. The
Ojibway and other Indians use the Virginia snakeroot
(Aristolochia serpentaria) , chewed and applied to the
wound. There are ten species of Nabalus, all called
"rattlesnake root," of which JV*. serpentarius especially
is in high repute among herbalists as a cure for snake-
bite. The Pueblo Indians, who handle rattlesnakes
with astonishing familiarity, and even carry them in
their mouths when engaged in their snake dances, use
the cut-leaved Eriocarpum spinulosum to cure the bites
which they occasionally receive. Sampson wood
(Echinacea angustifolia) is also employed.
My grandfather recovered from rattlesnake bite with
the aid of bush clover leaves boiled in milk. A tea
made from the common dittany is recommended as a
venom antidote by some physicians, and so is the fluid
extract of cedron seed.
Scientists who have made special studies of the action
of snake venom put little or no trust in these reputed
herbal remedies, and physicians, as a class, will have
nothing to do with the backwoods medicaments.
There are, however, some respectable medical authori-
ties who believe that these plants deserve investigation.
The late Dr. Elliot Coues, in his edition of Lewis and
Clarke's Journals, has this to say of herbal remedies:
The relation is universal tradition in the west . . .
everybody knows the plant except the botanists. . . .
There are certain orchids, as Goodyerc rcpeno. called rattle-
snake plantain. The fleabane, baneberry, or black cohosh,
Cimifugia racemosa, is a rattlesnake-herb. Some rattlesnake
ACCIDENTS 317
masters are Liastris [Lacinaria] scariosa, L. squamosa, and
others called button-snakeroot. Other composites, related
to chicory and lettuce, are rattlesnake-roots. . . . Yet
another rattlesnake-weed ... is Hieracium venosum, of
reputed medicinal virtues. In the West, however, if you
should require your old scout or trapper to produce you a
genuine "rattlesnake-master," it would probably prove to be
a leguminous plant of the genus Astragalus, or a related genus,
and he would be likely to call it by the Spanish name golon-
drina. There is no natural reason why the vegetable kingdom
should not afford an antidote to certain animal poisons, nor
any reason why one plant [only] should possess such properties ;
and I doubt that the belief would have become so universal
without some basis in fact.
The golondrina used by Indians of Arizona and
Southern California, who rely upon it entirely in such
cases, is the Euphorbia pohjcarpa. A strong decoction
of this plant is applied directly to the wound, and it is
said that reaction soon follows and that many cures are
effected in this way.
Speaking of the practice of the "mountain doctors"
in the Appalachians, Dr. W„ J. Hoffman says respecting
snake-bite treatment:
The plant used for this purpose, and the only one claimed
by most to possess value, is the Sanicula marylandica, or san-
icle, termed by the mountaineers "master-root," because it
masters the rattlesnake's bite. The fresh plant is bruised,
boiled in milk, and applied to the wound, while a decoction is
made with milk to be taken internally. Violent diaphoresis
[sweating] ensues, which may in reality have some effect toward
expelling the secretions. I believe this to be the first time this
matter has been openly mentioned, and a chemical and thera-
peutical examination of the plant might result in some prac-
tical good to the public. (American Anthropologist, Jan.,
1894.)
We have four species of sanicles, all of them called
"snake-root."
In hie Handbook of Materia Medica (8th ed., 1901),
Dr. S. 0= L. Potter states that
Viola cucullata (palmata), the common violet, is used in
Pennsylvania with success as an internal antidote against
rattlesnake venom. The leaves are eaten, and a poultice of
salt and indigo is applied to the wound.
318 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
A poultice made from the root of this common blue
violet is in high repute among Indians in the treatment
of felons (whitlows) .
In the primitive settlements of the southern Appala-
chians, where white people of colonial ancestry are still
living after the fashion of Daniel Boone's time, and
where cases of snake-bite from rattlers or copperheads
are quite frequent, I find that faith in herbal remedies
is the rule, and that it is shared by regular physicians
who practice among the mountaineers. Common salt
is also applied to the wound (preferably as a very salty
cornmeal poultice), and whiskey is drunk to stimulate
the heart's action.
Undoubtedly the hypodermic treatment hereafter
described is preferable, but since very few victims of
snake-bite are ever equipped for such medication, or
can get prompt medical treatment, I think that this
matter of herbal cures should be thoroughly in-
vestigated. Results obtained with dried plants are
not at all conclusive; fresh specimens only should be
used in the experiments, and not cultivated, but wild
ones.
When a man is bitten he should instantly twist a
tourniquet very tightly between the wound and the
P . heart, to keep the poison, as far as pos-
T Z. t sible, from entering the system. Then
cut the wound wide open, so it may
bleed freely, and suck the wound, if practicable (the
poison is harmless, if swallowed, but not if it gets into
the circulation through an abrasion in the mouth, or
through a hollow tooth). Loosen the ligature before
long to admit fresh blood to the injured part, but tighten
it again very soon, and repeat this alternate tightening
and loosening for a considerable time. The object is
to admit only a little of the poison at a time into the
general circulation. Meantime drink whiskey in
moderate doses, but at frequent intervals. If a great
quantity is guzzled all at once it will do more harm than
good. Whiskey is not an antidote; it has no effect at
all on the venom; its service is simply as a stimulant
for the heart and lungs, thus helping the system to
ACCIDENTS 319
throw off the poison, and as a bracer to the victim's
nerves, helping him over the crisis.
The only known positive antidotes for snake venom,
in the form of drugs, are chromic acid, potassium per-
manganate, and strychnin, administered hypodermically.
Of the former, a one per cent, solution is used. As for
the permanganate, it' is easy to carry in crystallized
form, and I have frequently seen recommendations that
it be carried in that way, to be dissolved in water be-
fore injecting, or to be merely rubbed into the opened
wound. But a man may be struck when he is far from
water. I do not believe that the crystals can be brought
into close enough contact with the seat of the wound
(bottom of puncture) with certainty, nor that they will
dissolve quickly enough in blood, to do very much good.
My own practice, when traveling in a "snake country,"
is to carry a solution of the permanganate in a glass-
stoppered tube, a similar tube containing a solution of
strychnin, and a hypodermic syringe. Promptitude
with these remedies, after ligating, may be depended
upon to cure the bite. Fresh permanganate solution
should be made at intervals to avoid precipitation.
Chromic acid does not precipitate.
As for the use of the hypodermic syringe, I here
copy, by permission, a clear and concise article on
this subject prepared expressly for explorers and other
campers by Dr. H. Plympton, and published in Aber-
crombie & Fitch's catalogue :
THE USE OF THE HYPODERMIC SYRINGE
The following article gives directions for using the syringe
and four remedies which are most likely to be needed.
These four remedies are:
First — Potassium permanganate in half -grain tablets.
Second — Cocain and morphin tablets composed of cocain,
one-fifth grain; morphin, one-fortieth grain; soda chlor.,
one-fifth grain.
Third — Morphin in one-quarter-grain tablets.
Fourth — Strychnia in one-fortieth-grain tablets.
These four remedies are all that are absolutely necessary for
emergencies, such as venomous insect, reptile or snake bite,
exhaustion, shock, heart failure, minor surgical operations,
and allaying intense pain.
320 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
The object of hypodermic medication is to get the remedy
into the blood as quickly as possible and to introduce it as
near as may be to the seat of injury or the pain. To insure
its rapid assimilation by the blood, the medicine should be
injected just between the skin and the muscles underneath;
in other words, into the fat.
USE — Dissolve the tablet to be used in the proper amount
of water, or put any solution to be used into a teaspoon or
what you may have that will hold it. A leaf properly folded
will do; even the hollow of the hand in an emergency. You
will find a fine wire run through the hollow needle to keep it
clear. Remove this. Remove the cap from the end of the
syringe and suck up the solution from the teaspoon by draw-
ing out the piston of the syringe. Screw the needle firmly on
the end of the syringe from which the cap was removed. Hold
the syringe with the needle pointing upwards and press gently
on the piston until the fluid begins to come out of the needle.
This is to force all the air out of the syringe.
Now take up a fold or pinch of skin between the thumb
and forefinger, insert the needle with a rotary motion of the
syringe, as when boring a hole with an awl, being careful not
to press on the piston while so doing. Keep the needle in a
line with the line of the fold and it will be in correct position.
The needle will slip through the skin quickly and almost
painlessly. Push it in its full length. Now press firmly on
the piston and force it in slowly until the contents have been
injected, being careful to keep the syringe in position. With-
draw the needle, and with the thumb press on the little hole
made by the needle; with the first and second fingers rub the
swelling made by the injected fluid for a few moments and it
will disappear, leaving nothing but a tiny, red spot.
LOCATION — If the injection be made between the skin
and the muscles, as described, it may be made anywhere on
the body, although just over a bone that is close to the surface,
as the shin bone, or on the back of the hand, are places to be
avoided. Also in the bend of the elbows and knees and in
the armpits are vessels that would be injured by the careless
use of the syringe. The outside of the forearm or the upper
arm, the calf of the leg, or the thigh, the big muscles of the
buttocks, and the shoulder, and anywhere on the back are
all places where the needle may be used without hesitation.
A short needle, three-eighths of an inch long, accompanies
most outfits, and this may be used without taking up a fold
of the skin; simply jabbed quickly and firmly as deep as it
will go straight into any one of the big muscles.
The dangers in the use of the hypodermic are practically
nothing. Exercise the same amount of care as in adminis-
tering medicine by the mouth and no harm can be done;
and as, in the case of a rattlesnake wound, the advantages
are so immeasurably ahead of any treatment by the mouth,
even if it were dangerous, it would be worth taking the chance.
ACCIDENTS 321
PRECAUTIONS— Be sure that the tablet is thoroughly
dissolved, or you may force a piece into the needle and spoil
it. Ten drops of water will dissolve any one tablet, and
fifteen will suffice for any two, especially if the water be warm.
Do not use more tablets than this, unless by direction. After
using the syringe, and before removing the needle, draw up
some water ana eject it to clear the needle. A little vase-
line or gun grease on the wire will prevent the needle from
rusting.
FIRST — For venomous insect and snake bite, tie a piece of
small rope, a heavy handkerchief, or a bandage, loosely around
the limb two and one-half inches from the wound and be-
tween the wound and the heart. (If the wound be on the face
or the body, this is manifestly impossible.) Tighten this binder
by twisting a stick in it till the binder sinks into the flesh and
is quite painful. This is to stop circulation as much as pos-
sible. Prepare the syringe, using a short needle. Dissolve
one one-half-grain tablet of potassium permanganate in two
teaspoonfuls of water. Fill the syringe and inject at once
half the contents directly into the swelling made by the bite.
Inject the remainder about an inch nearer the body. Use
deep injection if possible, otherwise just under the skin.
Two more injections must now be made in the immediate
neighborhood of the wound, each of them being about half a
svrmgeful and all between the wound and the bandage. As
the swelling of the limb increases, the binder may be grad-
ually loosened, and after half an hour it may be removed
entirely.
Immediately after giving the injection of potassium per-
manganate dissolve one tablet of strychnia sulph. (one-fortieth
of a grain) in about fifteen drops of water and inject it into
the outside surface of the upper arm, midway between the
elbow and the shoulder and just under the skin. Dissolve
another strychnia tablet and prepare it in the syringe. Note
the symptoms. The first symptoms are excitement, quickened
pulse and rapid breathing, followed by depression, shallow
breathing and drowsiness. This condition must be treated
by tablespoonful doses of brandy or whiskey at half-hour
intervals. Three doses will be enough. Large amounts of
whiskey will not cure snake-bite, but will do much harm.
The condition of the respiration must be carefully watched,
and if there is a continuance or recurrence of "shallow" or
quick breathing, the second syringeful of strychnia should
be injected into the arm as before. This strychnia injection
may be repeated at fifteen-minute intervals — one tablet at
^ach injection until five tablets have been given, or the breath-
ing becomes more nearly normal.
The patient should not be allowed to slecH for more than
two hours continuously during the first twenty-four hours.
The bowels should be made to move freely by means of cathar-
tic pills, salts or oil. Cheerful and encouraging suggestions
SI
322 CAMPING AND WOODCRAFT
will do much to counteract the depression following the ab-
sorption of the poison.
Careful investigation and close observation of properly
authenticated cases of rattlesnake poisoning have led to the
positive conclusion that a man in good general health will stand
an even chance of recovery from a rattlesnake strike without
any treatment whatever. With a hypodermic syringe and
proper remedies at hand, there is no danger of a serious result.
SECOND — For minor surgical operations the cocain and
morphin tablet should be used as follows: Dissolve one tablet
in one teaspoonful of water and take up a syringeful of the
solution. Inject half the quantity under the skin, not deep,
where the cut is to be made. Almost immediately the skin
will become waxlike — this will indicate that the part is be-
numbed, so that an incision can be made without causing
pain. Make a sufficient number of injections to cover the
part to be cut. The surface benumbed by each injection will
be about the size of a 25-cent piece.
THIRD — For allaying intense pain and physical suffering
morphin should be used by dissolving one tablet (one-quarter
grain) in about ten drops of water and injecting it under the
skin as near the seat of the pain as possible. If the pain is
caused by some injury, such as a broken bone or a severe
burn, and is likely to last, a second tablet may be given in
fifteen minutes and a third one twenty minutes later. Pain
is the antidote for morphin, and as long as pain exists there
is no danger from a much larger dose than the above. If,
however, the pain arises from some cause, such as cramps,
that is likely to end abruptly, the above dose is enough.
FOURTH — For exhaustion, shock, great fatigue, hunger,
heart failure, strychnia should be used as follows: Dissolve
the tablet in ten drops of water and inject into the outside
of the arm, midway between the elbow and the shoulder.
The condition of exhaustion, whether from great exertion,
loss of blood, or hunger, has caused a marked depression of
the heart's action and the nervous system is noticeably affected.
The patient is pale, a cold perspiration covers the face, the
breathing is shallow and quick, and the pulse is faint and very
rapid. One injection will show a decided effect, but if a
second is necessary fifteen minutes afterward do not hesitate
to give it.
[A traveler should examine the syringe from time to time so
as to ensure that it is in working order.]
j. . On this subject I can do no better
than reprint the instructions issued by
the U. S. Volunteer Life-Saving Corps, which are as
follows :
RESCUING — Approach the drowning man from behind,
seizing him by the coat collar, or a woman by the back hair,
ACCIDENTS 323
and tow him at arm's length to boat or shore. Do not let
him cling around your neck or arms to endanger you. Duck
him until unconscious if necessary to break a dangerous hold
upon you; but do not strike to stun him.
RESUSCITATION— First: Immediately loosen the cloth-
ing about the neck and chest, exposing them to the wind,
except in very severe weather, and get the water out of the body.
First try tickling in the throat by a straw or feather, or ammo-
nia to the nose; try a severe slap with the open hand upon
the chest and soles of feet; if no immediate result, proceed
as follows:
Second — Lay the body with its weight on the stomach,
across any convenient object, a keg, box, boat, timber or your
knee, in the open air, with the head hanging down. Open
the mouth quickly, drawing the tongue forward with hand-
kerchief or cloth so as to let the water escape. Keep the mouth
clear of liquid. Then roll the body gently from side to side
so as to relieve the pressure on the stomach, then back to the
stomach. Do this several times to force the water from the
stomach and throat.
Third — Laying the body on the back, make a roll of coat
or any garment, place it under the shoulders of patient, allow-
ing the head to fall back. Then kneel at the head of the
patient. Grasp the arms at the middle of the forearms, folded
across the stomach, raise the arms over the head to a perpen-
dicular position, drawing them backwards straight, then for-
ward overhead to the sides again, pressing the arms on the
lower part of the ribs and sides, so as to produce a bellows
movement upon the lungs. Do this sixteen or eighteen times
a minute. Smelling salts, camphor or ammonia may be
applied to the nostrils to excite breathing. But give no spirits
internally until after breathing and circulation are restored.
The clothing should be removed, the body dried, and the
legs rubbed briskly upwards, from foot to knee, occasionally
slapping the soles of the feet with the open hand.
Fourth — On signs of life, or when breathing is restored,
wrap in warm blanket or hot cloths. To encourage circu-
lation, hot tea, brandy or any spirits may be given in small
doses, with care to avoid strangulation, and brisk rubbing
and warmth applied to the entire body.
Keep at work until recovery, or death is pronounced certain
by a physician. Persons have revived after two hours' steady
work, but most cases revive within thirty minutes.
INDEX
Accidents, 300
Alkaline water, 34
Alone, Going, 4, 27, 209
Aluminum utensils, 3, 54
Anise as lure, 34
Ankle, Sprained, 307
Antiseptics, 304, 305, 307
Ants, 175
Arteries, Ligating, 302
Arts, Lost, 206
Australian damper, 121
Precautions, 49, 256, 258
Axe-helve, Making, 274
Removing broken, 274
Selecting, 49
Axemanship, 256
Bacon, Boiled, 139
Broiled, 134
Fried, 132
Baking an animal in its hide, 137
bread, 117
in a hole, 137
clay, 138
Dutch oven, 119
the embers, 138
Bannocks, 120
Barbecue, Virginia, 142
Bark as food, 253
sign of direction, 204
Peeling, 267
Preparing, 267, 270
rope and twine, 270
shelters, 267
utensils, 268
Barks, Useful, 267
Basket making, 272, 273
Bast. (See Bark.)
Beans, Baked, 155
Boiledl55
soup, 160
Bear, Butchering, 108
meat, Curing, 112
Bear skins, 279
Bear's oil, To render, 296
Beaver tail, Cooking, 146
Beds, Browse, 24, 76
Camp, 22, 27
Belts, 21
Money, 32
Birds, Broiled, 134
Broiling, large, 149
Dressing, 110
Fried, 132
Fricasseed, 148
Keeping, 112
Packing for shipment, 112
Biscuit, 118
Bite of rabid animal, 311
Bitterns, Broiled, 150
Bivouacs, 215
Black-flies, 170
Bladders, To prepare, 287
Blankets, 24, 26
Blazes, 187, 194
Bleeding, To check, 301
Blisters, 182, 305
Blow-flies, 56, 104, 112, 144, 170
Boiling, 139
at high altitudes, 139
without a kettle, 231
Bones, Broken, 308
Marrow, 141
out of joint, 307
Book-learning, Value of, xiii
Boots, Rubber, 20
Bottles made from membranes,
287
Boxes, Provision, 56
Rawhide, 285
Brain, Concussion of, 309
Brains, Cooking, 141
Braising, 137
Bread, Acorn, 235
Army, 120
Australian damper, 121
Baking, 117
on a stick, 121
Chestnut, 235
Corn, 124, 125
Frying-pan, 120
"Gritter," 164
Lungwort, 122
raised in a pot, 122
Salt-rising, 122
Snow, 125
Sour-dough, 122
Stale, 127
Unleavened, 121
Bread-roots, 234
Broiling, 133
Browse, 24, 76
Bruises, 306
Brtlle, Bois, 183
Buck ague, 98
Buckets, Hide, 285
Buckskin, 18, 19
Making, 280
Buckwheat cakes, 126
Bullet wounds, 302, 303
Bullheads, Skinning, 111
Burns, 305
Burnt-woods, 183
Bush-signs, 187, 198
Butchering, 100, 104
325
326
INDEX
Butchering bear, 108
deer, 104
elk, 108
moose, 108
on the ground, 107
Butter, Preserving, 59
Storing, 79
Cabbage, Cleaning, 152
Cabin building, 64. 265, 275
chinking, 275
Caches, 80
Cakes, Buckwheat, 126
Oat, 126
Rice, 126
Camp, The, 70
Experimental, 9
fire, 82, 89
Fixed, 78
Making, 73
pests, 77, 165
sites, 70
(See also Bivouacs.)
Candle-making, 297
Candles, 31
Canebrakes, 183
Canteens, 36
Canvas, Dyeing, 41
Waterproofing, 39
Caps, 20
Caribou hide, 19, 25
"Carry-all" beds, 26
Catgut, To make, 286
Centipedes, 177
Charcoal making, 275
Check-lists, 62
Cheese-cloth, 56
Chests, Camp, 67
Chiggers, 172
Chigoes, 173
Chilblains, 310
Chopping, 256
Chowder, Fish, 150
Citric acid, 34
Citronella, Oil of, 178
Clapboards, Splitting, 260
Climbing mountains, 186
trees, 214
Cloth, Dyeing, 41
Waterproofing, 39
Clothes-bag, 34
Clothing, Color, 15
Materials, 11
Porousness, 14
Sportsman's, 10, 34
Waterproof, 20
"Coal-flour," 219
Coats, 13
Cocoa, 59
Codfash, Cooking, 147
Coffee, 59
Making, 129
Substitutes for, 252
Coffee-pots, 53
Cold storage in camp, 79
Collapse, 309
Companions, Choosing, 8, 10
Company stores, 5, 64
Compass, 31
Use of, 190
Watch used as, 191
Compass-plants, 205
Concussion of the brain, 309
Conifers, Tips of, 204
Cookery, Camp, 114
(See also Baking, Boiling,
Braising, Broiling, Pricassee-
ing, Frying, Grilling, Plank-
ing, Roasting, Seasoning,
Steaming, Stewing, and the
names of dishes and mate-
rials.)
Cooking kits, Individual, 27
Poor, 114, 116, 133
utensils, 52, 54
'Coon, Cooking, 145
Copperhead, 313
Corn bread, 124, 125, 164
Canned, 159
dodgers, 125, 164
Grating, 164
Green, 156, 164
mush, 127
Parched, 219
Corner marks, 200
Cots, 23
Course, Keeping a, 188
Cramps, Abdominal, 13
Crayfish, Cooking, 152
Cream, Evaporated, 60
Cuts, 301, 303
Deer, Butchering, 104
Carrying, 101, 102
Computing weight of, 109
Cooking. (See Venison.)
brains, 141
head, 138
heart, 141
kidneys, 141
liver, l4l
milt, 141
tongue, 141
Dragging, 101
Indian pack for, 103
Packing on saddle, 101
Skinning, 104
head for mounting, 277
Deerskin. (See Buckskin, Skins.)
Desserts, 161
Details, Attention to, xiii
Dining place, 78
Direction, Sense of, 189
Signs of, 190, 201
Dish washing, 163
Dislocated joints, 307
Divides, Use of, 183
Dock, Cooking, 158
Dodgers, Corn, 125, 164
"Dopes," Insect, 34, 167
Dough, Mixing without pan, 121
Doughnuts, 162
Driftwood, 86
Drinks, Summer, 253
Drowning, 322
Duck, Baked, 149
INDEX
327
Duck, Dressing, 110, 149
Stewed, 150
Ducks, Fish-eating, 150
Wild. (See also Birds.)
Dumplings, 119
Dyeing canvas, 41
Economies, 2, 3
Edible animals (not game), 226
Edible wild plants, 232
Eel, Roasted, 150
Skinning, 111
Stewed, 151
Eggs, Packing, 60
Elk, Butchering, 108
Cooking. (See Venison.,
Emergency foods, 217
kits, 30, 32
Erbswurst, 217-
Eye-glasses, 35
Fainting, 309
Famishing, 228, 253, 310
Fatigue, Excessive, 310
Feet, Care of, 181
Finger, Dislocated, 307
Fire, Building, 89
Fire, Camp, 82, 89
Cooking. 115
Hunter's, 90
Indian's, 90
making in the wet, 87
making without matches, 88
Trapper's, 90
(See also Fuel.)
Fire-irons, 52
Fires, Forest, 73, 82
First-aid packet, 32, 305
Fish, Boiled, 139
Broiled, 134
Carrying, 150
Chowder, 150
Cleaning, 111
Dried, Cooking, 147
Drying, 112
Fried, 132
from muddy streams, 150
Keeping, 112
Planked, 136
Preparing for shipment, 112,
113
Roasted, 136
Roe, Cooking, 151
Salt, Cooking, 148
Fish-hook, Removing from finger,
303
Flapjacks, 123, 124, 126
Flavoring, Wild, 255
Fleas, 165, 169, 175
Flies, 79, 165, 170, 175
Blow, 56, 104, 112
Flint-and-steel, 89
Floods, 70
Floor-cloths, 41 , 47
Fly dopes, 34, 167
Food, 56
Cold weather, 58
Packing, 59, 67
Food, Storing, 77, 79, 80
Substitutions, 59
Variety, 57
Foods, Emergency, 217
Foot-logs, Crossing, 186
Footwear, 16
Forest fires, 73, 82
Sameness of, 188
travel, 179
(See also Trees.)
Fractured bones, 308
Freezing, 310
Fricasseeing, 148
Froe, 260
Frog legs, Cooking, 151
Frostbite, 310
Fruits, Dried. 161
Wild, 250
Frying, 131
-fat, 59
-pans, 53
Fuel, Choosing, 83
Good, 85
Kindling, 86
Poor, 84, 86
Tinder, 88
Furniture, Camp, 48
Gait, Indian's, 180
Woodsman's, 179
Game, Cooking, 130
Dressing, 100
Preparing for shipment, 112
Goggles, 35
Gloves, 21
Glue, Making, 293
Gluts, Making, 259
Gnats, 170, 174
Going alone, 4, 27, 209
light, xi, 5, 55, 217, 225
Goose, Dressing, 110, 149
Roast, 135
(See also Birds.)
Gralloching deer, 106
ravy, Pork, 132
Greens, Cooking, 157, 232
Grilling on a rock, 134
Grinding meal, Substitutes for,
164, 221
Ground-cloths, 41 , 47
Groundhog, Cooking, 146
Grouse, Dressing, llO
Guides, 9
Celestial, 191
Gun oil, To make, 295
Gunshot signals, 188
wounds, 302, 303
Ham, Boiled, 139
Fried, 132
Hash, Corned beef, 147
Hatchets, Hunting, 29
Hats, 20
Head, Skinning an animal's, 277
Head-nets, 21
Heart, Cooking, 141
Helmets, Pith, 21
Herrings, Smoked, 148
328
INDEX
Hiding-places for stores, 80
Hogs, Wild, 78, 118
Hob-nails, 16
Hominy-mortar, 221
Hoops, 273
Horn, Working in, 293
cup, To make. 293
Huntsman's, 51
To make, 294
Hypodermic medication, 320
In extremis, 253
Indian gait, 180
meal, Parched, 219
pack for deer, 103
"Indian tan," 281
woodcraft, 7, 209, 218
Insect dopes, 167
pests, 21, 56, 79
{See also Blow-flies.)
stings, 311
Ivy poisoning, 310
Jambolaya, 159
Jerked venison, 222
Jerseys, 13
Jerusalem artichokes, 158
Jiggers, 172
Johnny-cake, 124
Kidneys, Cooking, 141
Kindling, 86
Kinnikinick, 229
Kits, Emergency, 30, 32
Individual, 22
Repair, 35
Tramping, 68
Kits (See also Outfits.)
Knives, Hunting, 28
Pocket, 29
Lace-leather, To cut, 286
Lamps, Slush, 297
Landmarks, Woodland, 190
Lanterns, 50
Lasso, To make, 286
Laurel' 'slicks," 212
Leather, Waterproofing, 17
Leggings, 15
Lemonade tablets, 34
substitutes, 253
Light, Going, xi, 5, 55, 217, 225
Lightning, Trees and, 72
Lights. (See Candles, Lamps,
Lanterns, Torches.)
Lime, Making, 276
Line, Following a, 195
Lumberman's, 197
Surveyor's, 197
Trapper's, 196
Lines, Township and Section, 198
Litters, 309
Liver, Cooking, 141
Locality, Bump of, 189
Lost, Getting, 31, 207
in a cavern, 209
flat woods, 210
fog, 210, 215
Lost in a hilly country, 210
snowstorm, 210, 215
swamp, 213
thickets, 212
To avoid getting, 187, 196,
208
What to do when, 213
Lungwort as yeast, 122
Lye-running, 299
Mad animals, Bites of, 311
Malaria, 71
Maps, 31
Marksmanship in the woods, 92
Marrow-bones, Cooking, 141
Matchboxes, 31
Matches, To light in the wet, 88
wind, 88
Mattresses, 24
Mauls, Making, 259
Meal, Parched Indian, 219
Meat, Canned, 59, 131, 147
Concentrated, 224
Keeping, 109, 111
Packing, 59
straight, 225
(See also Cooking.)
Medicines, 32
Membranes, To prepare, 287
Meridian, To find, 192
Mess kits, 27
Mildew, 39, 78
Milk, Concentrated, 60
Storing, 79
To keep sweet, 80
Milt, Cooking, 141
Mittens, 21
Moccasin, Cottonmouth, 314
Moccasins, Buckskin, 17
Drying, 20
Money-belts, 32
Moose, Butchering, 108
Cooking. (See Venison.)
Mortar, Making, 275
and pestle, 221
Mosquito bar, 41
Mosquitoes, 165, 175
(See also Insects.)
Moss as sign of direction, 201, 203
Mountain-climbing, 186
Mud-hens, Broiled, 150
Mush, Corn, 127
Mushrooms, 158, 245
Muskrat, Cooking, 146
Nature, Love of, 9
Neckerchiefs, 13
North star, 191
Nosebleed, 303
"No-see-ums," 174
Note-books, 32
Oat cakes, 126
Oatmeal porridge, 128
Oil, Bear's, To render, 296
Gun, To make, 295
Rattlesnake's, 296
Onions, Boiled, 156
INDEX
329
Opossum, Cooking, 144
Outfitting, xi, 1
Outfits, 62
Home-made, 4
Individual, 4, 62, 68
Simplicity, 6
Oven, Clay, 117
Dutch, 52, 119
Overshirts, 13
Overstrain, 181
Ox-gall, To prepare, 289
Pancakes, 123, 124. 126
Panic, 207
Panther, Flesh of, 226
Parchment, To make, 288
Translucent, 289
Parfleche, 285
Pea soup, 160
Pelts, Preserving, 279
Tanning, 290
Pemmican, 223
Pests of the woods, 165
(See also Insects.)
Pheasant. (See Birds.)
Pie, 162
Pillow-bags, 25
Pine knots, 87
Pinole, 220
Pins, Hardwood, 267
Wedging, 266
Pipes, 35
Planking bread, 121
fish, 136
Plants, Edible wild, 232
Pluck, 300
Plum duff, 161
Poison ivy, 310
of snakes, 312
sumac, 310
Poisons, Vegetable, 310
Poke stalks, Cooking, 158
Pole star, 191, 192
Ponchos, 20
Pone, 124
Porcupine, Cooking, 145
Puck, Boiled, 139
Broiled, 134
Fried, 132
Porridge, Cornmeal, 127
Oatmeal, 128
Possum, Cooking, 144
Pot-herbs, 157, 241
Pot-pie, 159
Potatoes, Boiled, 153
Fried, 154
Hashed with onions, 155
Mashed, 153
Steamed, 154
Sweet, 155
Pouches, Hunting, 36
Poultices, 306, 307
Precautions before starting, 68
Provisions, 56
Public lands, Surveying, 198
Pudding, Plum, 161
Puncheons, Making, 260, 261
Punk, 88
Punkies, 174
Puttees, 16
Quail. (See also Birds.)
Quoits, Fried, 126
Rabbit, Cooking, 143
Rabies, 311
Raccoon, Cooking, 145
Raft building, 266
Ragouts, 140
Range, Outdoor cooking, 115
Ration lists, 57, 65
Rations, Emergency, 217
Rattlesnake, 312, 3"l4
oil, 296
Rawhide, To make, 284
Red-bugs, 172
Reflectors, 53
Refrigerators, Camp, 79
Rendering oil, 296
Repair kits, 35
Resourcefulness, 2, 5
Rhododendron "slicks," 212
Riata, To make a, 286
Rice, Boiled, 128
cakes, 126
Ridges, Following, 183
Rifle, Adjusting, 95
Pocket, 36
shooting, 92
sights, 94
(See also Shooting.)
" Roasting ears," 156
Robes, Tanning, 290, 292
Rockahominy, 219
Roofs, Bark, 267, 275
Root and vine cordage, 272
Rope, 51
Bast and vine, 270
"Roughing it," 6, 7,22
Rush-lights, 297
Salad dressing, 157
Salads, Wild, 157, 241
Salt, Substitute for, 229
Salves, 307
Sandpaper, Substitute for, 274
Sanitation, Camp, 79
Sausages, Venison, 142
Saws, 50
Scorpions, 176
Scullionry, 163
Seasoning dishes, 129
Section corners, 201
"Shanks," 19
Shelter, Extemporized, 215, 267
Shelter-cloths, 27
Shiftiness, 1, 5
Shingles, Splitting, 260
Shock, 309
Shoe-laces, 17, 285, 286
Shoe-packs, 19
Shoes, 16
Wading, 20
Shooting at game, 96
running game, 97
downhill, 98
330
INDEX
Shooting quickly, 97
uphill, 98
Shoulder, Dislocated, 308
Signals, 188
Signs of direction, 190
Sinew, To prepare, 287
Sinks, Camp, 79
Skin-scrapers, 281, 282
Skinning animals. (See Bear,
Deer, etc.)
Skins, Curing. (See Bearskin,
Buckskin, Pelts.)
Skins, Curing for mounting, 279
Skunks, Rabid, 311
Sleeping-bags, 25
"Sleeping out," 22, 215
Slumgullion, 159
"Sluts," 297
"Small deer," 226
Smoke signals, 188
" Smoothing it," 6
Smudges, 175
Snake, Tanning skin of, 293
Snakes, Antipathies of, 315
Venomous, To distinguish,
313
Tables, Camp, 48
Tanning a robe with fur on, 290
Indian, 281,292
snake's skin, 293
with alum, 291
(See also Buckskin, Raw-
hide.)
Tarantulas, 177
Tea, 59
Making, 129
Substitutes for, 252
Teepees, 44
Tent fittings, 42
flies, 38, 39
furniture, 48
hangers, 48
materials, 38
pegs, 42
slides, 42
ventilators, 42
Tents, A or Wedge, 43
to pitch, 73
Canoe, 44, 45
Lean-to, 42
Miner's, 44
on rocky ground, 76
Sibley, 44
To pitch, 75
Teepee, 44
To set up, 75
Wall, 37
To pitch, 74
Waterproof, 38, 40
Thickets, 183, 212
Thirst, 182, 310
Thread, Bast, 271
Sinew, To make, 287
Ticks, 172, 174
Timber. (See Trees, Wood.)
Tinder, 88
Tips of conifers, 204
Tobacco, 58
Substitutes for, 229
Toilet-bag, 34
Tomahawks, 29
Tomatoes, Canned, 158
Tongue, Cooking, 141
Tools, 49
Toothache, 33
Torches, 193
Touring vs. Campaigning, 1
Tourniquet, 301
Township corners, 200
Trail, Breaking a, 187
Trailing, xii
Trails, Nature of, 196
Tramping kit, 68
Travel, Forest, 179
Rate of, 183
Rough, 182
Tree, Felling a, 256
Logging-up a, 258
rings as sign of direction, 204
Trees, Climbing, 214
How to distinguish, 83
Lightning and, 72
"Line," 198
Peeling bark from, 267
Shallow rooted, 72
Utilities of, 189, 261
(See also Forest.)
Trophies, Preparing, 277
Trousers, 14
Turkey, Boiled, 149
Dressing, 110
Roasted, 135, 148
Wild. (See also Birds.)
Turtle, Cooking, 151
eggs, 228
Twine, Bast and root, 271, 272
Sinew, To make, 288
Underwear, 12
Utensils, 52
Bark, 268
Vegetables, Boiled, 1S9
Canned, To cock, 158, 159
Cooking, 152
Dessicated, 152
Keeping, 153
Steamed, 140
Stewed, 140
Venison, Broiled, 133
Curing, 111
Jerked, 222
Roasted, 134
sausages, 142
soup, 160
(See also Deer.)
Venom, Serpent, 312
Vermin, 77
Vise, Extemporized, 274
Walk, How to, 179, 186
Warbles, 144
Watch, 31
used as compass, 191
INDEX
331
Water, Alkaline, 34
Waterfowl, Dressing, 110, 149
Waterproof clothing, 20
Waterproofing, cloth, 39
leather, 17
Wedges, Wooden, 259
Wedging, 266
Whang leather, To make, 285
Whetstones, 30
Wildcraft, xii
"Windfalls," 183
Windings, Averaging, 190
Windows, Paper, 289
Parchment, 289
Withes, 273
Wood, Bending, 266
Seasoning, 266
Selection of, 265
Smoothing, 274
Splitting, 259
yard, 80
Woodcraft, 209, 218
defined, xi
Varieties of, xiii
Woodchuck, Cooking, 146
Woods easily wrought, 263
Durable, 264
Hard, 261
hard to burn, 84
season, 264
split, 85, 263
liable to check, 264
warp, 264
Perishable, 264
Pliable, 263
Soft, 262
Spitfire, 84
Springy, 263
Stiff, 262
Strong, 262
that burn well, 85
make wide boards, 264
split well, 260, 263
Tough, 262
Weight of, 266
Working qualities of, 261
Wounded, Transporting, 309
Wounds, 301
Cleansing, 303
Closing, 304
14 A WnROOif Q The new textbo°b fir
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OUT INC'PUB L I SHIN G CO M PAN Y
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THE AIREDALE, by Williams Haynes. The book
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things that every man needs to know if he is to buy the right car
and get the most out of it. The various details of operation and
care are given in simple, intelligent terms. From it the car owner
can easily learn the mechanism of his motor and the art of locating
motor trouble, as well as how to use his car for the greatest pleasure.
A chapter is included on building garages. r
BACKWOODS SURGERY AND MEDICINE, by
Charles S. Moody, M. D. A handy book for the prudent lover
of the woods who doesn't expect to be ill but believes in being on the
safe side. Common-sense methods for the treatment of the ordinary
wounds and accidents are described — setting a broken limb, reduc-
ing a dislocation, caring for burns, cuts, etc. Practical remedies for
camp diseases are recommended, as well as the ordinary indications
of the most probable ailments. Includes a list of the necessary med-
ical and surgical supplies.
The manager of a mine in Nome, Alaska, writes as fol-
lows: "J have been on the trail for years (twelve in the
Klondike and Alaska) and have always wanted just such
abook as Dr. Moody' s Backwoods Surgery and Medicine."
THE BULL TERRIER, by Williams Haynes. This
is a companion book to "The Airedale" and "Scottish and Irish Ter-
riers" by the same author. Its greatest usefulness is as a guide to
the dog owner who wishes to be his own kennel manager. A full
account of the development of the breed is given as also description
of best types and standards. Recommendations for the care of
the dog in health or sickness are included. The chapter heads
cover such matters as: — The Bull Terrier's History — Training the
Bull Terrier — The Terrier in Health — Kennelling — Diseases.
CAMP COOKERY, by Horace Kephart. "The less
a man carries in his pack the more he must carry in his head", says
Mr. Kephart. This book tells what a man should carry in both pack
and head. Every step is traced — the selection of provisions and
utensils, with the kind and quantity of each, the preparation of game,
the building of fires, the cooking of every conceivable kind of food
that the camp outfit or woods, fields or streams may provide — even
to the making of desserts. Every recipe is the result of hard practice
and long experience. Every recipe has been carefully tested. It is
the book for the man who wants to dine well and wholesomely, but
in true wilderness fashion without reliance on grocery stores or
elaborate camp outfits. It is adapted equally well to the trips of
every length and to all conditions of climate, season or country; the
best possible companion for one who wants to travel light and live
well. The chapter headings tell their own story. Provisions —
Utensils — Fires — Dressing and Keeping Game and Fish — Meat —
Game— Fish and Shell Fish — Cured Meats, etc. — Eggs — Breadstuffs
and Cereals — Vegetables — Soups — Beverages and Desserts.
"Camp Cookery is destined to be in the kit of every tent
dweller in the country . ): '—Edwin Markham in the San
Francisco Examiner.
CANOE AND BOAT BUILDING, by Victor
olocum. All of us like to think we could build a boat if we had
to. Mr. Slocurn tells us how to do it. Designs are given for the
various types of canoes as well as full descriptions for preparing the
material and putting it together, Small dories and lapstreak boats
are also included.
3
CATTLE DISEASES, by B. T. Woodward. Mr.
Woodward takes up in detail the various common diseases to which
cattle are liable. His book is designed for the aid of the practical
farmer in cases where the skilled veterinarian is not necessary. A
careful description of the various diseases is given and the accepted
forms of treatment stated.
EXERCISE AND HEALTH, by Dr. Woods Hutch-
mson. Dr. Hutchinson takes the common-sense view that the
greatest problem in exercise for most of us is to get enough of the
right kind. The greatest error in exercise is not to take enough,
and the greatest danger in athletics is in giving them up. The Chap-
ter heads are illuminating. Errors in Exercise — Exercise and the
Heart — Muscle Maketh Man — The Danger of Stopping Athletics-
Exercise that Rests. It is written in a direct matter-of-fact manner
with an avoidance of medical terms, and a strong emphasis on the
rational, all-round manner of living that is best calculated to bring a
man to a ripe old age with little illness or consciousness of bodily
weakness.
"One of the most readable books e<ver ^written on physi-
cal exercise." — Luther H. Gulick, M.D., Department
of Child Hygiene, 'Rjissell Sage Foundation.
FARM DRAINAGE & IRRIGATION, by W. J.McGee.
Sometimes it is necessary to spend money to get water on the land;
sometimes to get it off. Mr. McGee has studied the question from both
angles in his work for the Department of Agriculture and this book
will contain his latest and fullest conclusions. Particular attention
will be paid to the matter of sub-surface irrigation to which little
heed has been given until lately.
FENCING, by Edward Breck. Dr. Breck was for many
years one of the best-known amateur fencers in America and is ac-
quainted with the best swordsmen of the present day, here and
abroad. His book is a practical guide for those who wish to know
the most approved practice in the use of the foil, duelling sword, or
saber. Suggestions are given on training and condition, as well
as on the finer points of the game.
4
THE FINE ART OF FISHING, by Samuel G. Camp.
Combines the pleasure of catching fish with the gratification of fol-
lowing the sport in the most approved manner. The suggestions
offered are helpful to beginner and expert anglers. The range of
fish and fishing conditions covered is wide and includes such sub-
jects as "Casting Fine and Far Off", "Strip-Casting for Bass", "Fish-
ing for Mountain Trout" and "Autumn Fishing for Lake Trout".
The book is pervaded with a spirit of love for the streamside and the
out-doors generally which the genuine angler will appreciate. A
companion book to "Fishing Kits and Equipment". The advice on
outfitting so capably given in that book is supplemented in this later
work by equally valuable information on how to use the equipment.
>lWill encourage the beginner and give pleasure to the
expert fisherman." — N. Y. Sun.
FISHING KITS AND EQUIPMENT by Samuel G.
Camp. A complete guide to the angler buying a new outfit. Every
detail of the fishing kit of the freshwater angler is described, from rod-
tip to creel, and clothing. Special emphasis is laid on outfitting for
fly fishing, but full instruction is also given to the man who wants
to catch pickerel, pike, muskellunge, lake-trout, bass and other fresh-
water game fishes. Prices are quoted for all articles recommended
and the approved method of selecting and testing the various rods*
lines, leaders, etc., is described.
t(A complete guide to the angler buying a new outfit." —
— Peoria Herald.
FISHING WITH FLOATING FLIES by Samuel G.
Camp. This is an art that is comparatively new in this country
although English anglers have used the dry fly for generations. Mr.
Camp has given the matter special study and is one of the few Amer-
ican anglers who really understands the matter from the selection of
the outfit to the landing of the fish. His book takes up the process
in that order, namely— How to Outfit for Dry Fly Fishing — How,
Where, and When to Cast — The Selection and Use of Floating Flies
— Dry Fly Fishing for Brook, Brown and Rainbow Trout — Hooking,
Playing and Landing — Practical Hints on Dry Fly Fishing.
5
THE FOX TERRIER, by Williams Haynes. As in
his other books on the terrier, Mr. Haynes takes up the origin and
history of the breed, its types and standards, and the more exclusive
representatives down to the present time. Training the Fox Terrier
— His Care and Kenneling in Sickness and Health — and the Various
Uses to Which He Can be Put — are among the phases handled.
THE GASOLINE MOTOR, by Harold Whiting
Slauson. Deals with the practical problems of motor operation.
The standpoint is that of the man who wishes to know how and
why gasoline generates power and something about the various
types. Describes in detail the different parts of motors and the
faults to which they are liable. Also gives full directions as to re-
pair and upkeep. Various chapters deal with Types of Motors —
Valves — Bearings — Ignition — Carburetors — Lubrication — Fuel —
Two Cycle Motors.
GUNSMITHING FOR THE AMATEUR, by Edward
C Grossman. Mr. Crossman, who is one of the best-known
rifle experts in the country, takes up in detail the care and repair
of the gun. He discusses such questions as The Present Develop-
ment of the Gun — Tools for the Amateur — Rifle Barrels — Smooth
Bore Barrels — Rifle Actions — Pistol and Gun Actions — Refinishing
and Processing — The Stock, Sights and Aids to Accuracy.
THE HORSE— Its Breeding, Care and Use, by
David Jjunum. Mr. Buffum takes up the common, every-day
problems of the ordinary horse-user, such as feeding, shoeing,
simple home remedies, breaking and the cure for various equine
vices. An important chapter is that tracing the influx ot Arabian
blood into the English and American horses and its value and limi-
tations. Chapters are included on draft-horses, carriage horses, and
the development of the two-minute trotter. It is distinctly a sensible
book for the sensible man who wishes to know how he can improve
his horses and his horsemanship at the same time.
INTENSIVE FARMING, by L. C. Corbett. A dis-
cussion of the meaning, method and value of intensive methods in
agriculture. This book is designed for the convenience of practical
farmers who find themselves under the necessity of making a living
out of high-priced land.
LAYING OUT THE FARM FOR
PROFIT, by L. G. Dodge. One of the
farmers' great problems is to put every acre of
his land to the best possible use. This book
discusses the methods ot obtaining this result.
The author is an investigator for the Department
of Agriculture and has given particular atten-
tion to this subject.
THE MOTOR BOAT— Its Selection, Care and Use,
by H. W . Slauson. The intending purchaser is advised as to the
type of motor boat best suited to his particular needs and how to
keep it in running condition after purchased. The Chapter headings
are: Kinds and Uses of Motor Boats — When the Motor Balks —
Speeding of the Motor Boat — Getting More Power from a New Motor
— How to Install a Marine Power Plant —
Accessories — Covers, Canopies and Tops —
Camping and Cruising — The Boathouse.
NAVIGATION FOR THE AMA-
TEUR, by Capt. E. T. Morton. A short
treatise on the simpler methods of finding
position at sea by the observation of the sun's
altitude and the use of the sextant and chro-
nometer. It is arranged especially for yachts-
men and amateurs who wish to know the simpler formulae for the
necessary navigation involved in taking a boat anywhere off shore.
Illustrated with drawings. Chapter headings: Fundamental Terms —
Time — The Sumner Line — The Day's Work, Equal Altitude, and
Ex-Meridian Sights — Hints on Taking Observations.
OUTDOOR PHOTOGRAPHY, by Julian A. Dimock.
A solution of all the problems in camera work out-of-doors. The
various subjects dealt with are The Camera — Lens and Plates— Light
and Exposure — Development — Prints and Printing — Composi-
tion — Landscapes — Figure Work — Speed Photography — The
Leaping Tarpon — Sea Pictures — In the Good Old
Winter Time — Wild Life. The purpose of the book
is to serve as a guide not only for the man or
woman who has just taken up the use of the
camera, but also for those who have progressed
far enough to know some of the problems that
confront them.
OUTDOOR SIGNALLING, by Elbert Wells. Mr.
Wells has perfected a method of signalling hy means of wig-wag,
light, smoke, or whistle which is as simple as it is effective. The
fundamental principle can be learnt in ten minutes and its applica-
tion is far easier than that of any other code now in use. It permits
also the use of cipher and can be adapted to almost any imaginable
conditions of weather, light, or topography.
"I find it to be the simplest and most practical book on
signalling published."- — Frank H. Schrenk, Director of
Camp Belgrade.
"One of the finest things of the kind I have ever seen. I
believe my seven year old boy can learn to use this system,
and I know that we will find it very useful here in our
Boy Scout work." — Lyman G. Haskell, Physical Direc-
tor , T. M. C. A.% Jacksonville, Fla.
Ml
PACKING AND PORTAGING, by Dillon Wallace.
Mr. Wallace has brought together in one volume all the valuable
information on the different ways of making and carrying the
different kinds of packs. The ground covered ranges from man-
packing to horse-packing, from the use of the tump line to throwing
the diamond hitch. The various chapters deal with Packing and
the Outfit — The Canoe and Its Equipment — Camp Equipment for
the Canoe Trip— Personal Equipment — Food — The Portage — Travel
with Saddle and Pack Animals — Saddle and Pack Equipment —
Adjusting the Pack — Some Practical Hitches — Traveling Without a
Pack Horse — Afoot in Summer — With Snowshoes and Toboggan —
With Dogs and Komatik.
PRACTICAL POULTRY KEEPING, by R. B. Sando.
In effect a comprehensive manual for the instruction of the man
who desires to begin poultry raising on a Ifcrge or small scale and to
avoid the ordinary mistakes to which the beginner is prone. All
the statements are based on the author's own experience, and special
care has been taken to avoid sensationalism and exaggeration. The
general contents are Poultry Keeping and Keepers — Housing and
Yarding — Fixtures and Equipment — Choosing and Buying Stock-
Foods and Feeding — Hatching and Raising Chicks — Poultry Diseases.
Illustrated.
8
PROFITABLE BREEDS OF POULTRY, by Arthur
o. W heeler. Mr. Wheeler discusses from personal experience
the best-known general purpose breeds. Advice is given froni the
standpoint of the man who desires results in eggs and stock rather
than in specimens for exhibition. In addition to a careful analysis
of stock — good and bad — and some conclusions regarding housing
and management, the author writes in detail regarding Plymouth
Rocks, Wyandottes, Orpingtons, Rhode Island Reds, Mediterraneans
and the Cornish.
"This is an invaluable book for those <who would make
a success in the poultry business." — Grand Rapids,
(Mich.) Herald.
RIFLES AND RIFLE SHOOTING, by Charles
Askins. A practical manual describing various makes and mechan-
isms, in addition to discussing in detail the range and limitations in
the use of the rifle. Among other things, the chapters deal with
The Development of the American Breech-Loading Rifle — Single
Shot Rifle — Lever-Action Repeater — Pump-Action Repeater and
Military Bolt- Action — Double Rifle — Rifle and Shotgun— Self-Loading
Rifle — Rifle Cartridges, Miniature and Gallery— Small Game —
Match-Rifle Cartridges and Their Manipulation — High Power,
Small Bore Hunting Cartridges — Big Bore, High Power Cartridges
— Trajectory, Accuracy, and Power of Hunting Cartridges — Weight
of Rifle and Recoil — Stocks and Triggers — Rifle Sights — Positions
for Rifle Shooting — Outdoor Target Shooting, — Quick Firing and
Running Shots — Fancy Snap and Wingshooting — Two-Hundred Yard
Sharpshooting.
SCOTTISH AND IRISH TERRIERS, by Williams
rlaynes. This is a companion book to "The Airedale", and deals
with the history and development of both breeds. For the owner
of the dog, valuable information is given as to the use of the
terriers, their treatment in health, their treatment when sick, the
principles of dog breeding, and dog shows and rules.
"The happy owner of a terrier for the first time could
not go (wrong if he follows Mr. Haynes' advice,"—
"Brooklyn Standard Union.
9
SPORTING FIREARMS, by Horace Kephart. This
book is the result of painstaking tests and experiments. Practically
nothing is taken for granted. Part I deals with the rifle, and Part
II with the shotgun. The man seeking guidance in the selection
and use of small firearms, as well as the advanced student of the
subject, will receive an unusual amount of assistance from this work.
The chapter headings are: Rifles and Ammunition — The Flight of
Bullets — Killing Power — Rifle Mechanism and Materials — Rifle
Sights — Triggers and Stocks — Care of Rifle — Shot Patterns and
Penetration — Gauges and Weights — Mechanism and Build of
Shotguns.
TRACKS AND TRACKING, by Josef Brunner.
After twenty years of patient study and practical experience, Mr.
Brunner can, from his intimate knowledge, speak with authority on
this subject. "Tracks and Tracking" shows how to follow intelli-
gently even the most intricate animal or bird tracks. It teaches
how to interpret tracks of wild game and decipher the many tell-
tale signs of the chase that would otherwise pass unnoticed. It
proves how it is possible to tell from the footprints the name, sex,
speed, direction, whether and how wounded, and many other things
about wild animals and birds. All material has been gathered first
hand; the drawings and half-tones from photographs form an im-
portant part of the work, as the author has made faithful pictures of
the tracks and signs of the game followed. The list is: The White-
Tailed or Virginia Deer — The Fan-Tailed Deer — The Mule-Deer —
The Wapiti or Elk — The Moose — The Mountain Sheep — The
Antelope— The Bear — The Cougar — The Lynx — The Domestic Cat
—The Wolf— The Coyote— The Fox— The Jack Rabbit— The Vary-
ing Hare — The Cottontail Rabbit — The Squirrel — The Marten and
the Black-Footed Ferret— The Otter— The Mink— The Ermine— The
Beaver — The Badger — The Procupine — The Skunk — Feathered
Game — Upland Birds — Waterfowl — Predatory Birds. This book is
invaluable to the novice as well as the experienced hunter.
'''This booh, studied carefully, nvill enable the reader to
become as nvell versed in tracking lore as he could by
years of actual experience." — Leuoiston Journal.
10
WING AND TRAP-SHOOTING, by Charles Askins.
The only practical manual in existance dealing with the modern
gun. It contains a full discussion of the various methods, such as
snap-shooting, swing and half-swing, discusses the flight of birds
with reference to the gunner's problem ol lead and range and makes
special application of the various points to the different birds com-
monly shot in this country. A chapter is included on trap shooting
and the book closes with a forceful and common-sense presentation
of the etiquette of the field.
"// is difficult to understand hotu anyone who takes a de-
light in hunting can afford to be without this "valuable
book.'''' — Chamber of Commerce Bulletin, Portland, Ore.
"This book will prove an invaluable manual to the true
sportsman, whether he be a tyro or expert. " — 'Book News
Monthly.
"Its closing chapter on field etiquette deserves careful
reading." — N. Y. Times.
THE YACHTSMAN'S HANDBOOK, by Herbert L.
otone. The author and compiler of this work is the editor of
"Yachting". He treats in simple language of the many problems
confronting the amateur sailor and motorboatman. Handling
ground tackle, handling lines, taking soundings, the use of the lead
line, care and use of sails, yachting etiquette, are all given careful
attention. Some light is thrown upon the operation of the gasoline
motor, and suggestions are made for the avoidance of engine
troubles.
11
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