The Forest

The Forest [with accents]

The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Forest, by Stewart Edward White
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Title: The Forest
Author: Stewart Edward White
Release Date: November, 2005 [EBook #9376] [Yes, we are more than
one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on September 26,
2003]
Edition: 10
Language: English

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[Illustration: THE INDIANS WOULD RISE TO THEIR FEET FOR A
SINGLE MOMENT]
THE FOREST
BY
STEWART EDWARD WHITE

CONTENTS
I. THE CALLING II. THE SCIENCE OF GOING LIGHT III. THE
JUMPING-OFF PLACE IV. ON MAKING CAMP V. ON LYING
AWAKE AT NIGHT VI. THE 'LUNGE VII. ON OPEN-WATER
CANOE TRAVELLING VIII. THE STRANDED STRANGERS IX.
ON FLIES X. CLOCHE XI. THE HABITANTS XII. THE RIVER
XIII. THE HILLS XIV. ON WALKING THROUGH THE WOODS
XV. ON WOODS INDIANS XVI. ON WOODS INDIANS
_(continued)_ XVII. THE CATCHING OF A CERTAIN FISH XVIII.
MAN WHO WALKS BY MOONLIGHT XIX. APOLOGIA
SUGGESTIONS FOR OUTFIT

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
THE INDIANS WOULD RISE TO THEIR FEET FOR A SINGLE
MOMENT
THIS OLD SOLDIER HAD COME IN FROM THE LONG TRAIL
TO BEAR AGAIN THE FLAG OF HIS COUNTRY
AT SUCH A TIME YOU WILL MEET WITH ADVENTURES
EACH WAVE WAS SINGLY A PROBLEM, TO FAIL IN WHOSE
SOLUTION MEANT INSTANT SWAMPING
WATCHED THE LONG NORTH-COUNTRY TWILIGHT STEAL

UP LIKE A GRAY CLOUD FROM THE EAST
IN THIS LOVABLE MYSTERY WE JOURNEYED ALL THE REST
OF THAT MORNING
NOR NEED YOU HOPE TO POLE A CANOE UPSTREAM AS DO
THESE PEOPLE
THEN IN THE TWILIGHT THE BATTLE

THE FOREST

I.
THE CALLING.
"The Red Gods make their medicine again."
Some time in February, when the snow and sleet have shut out from the
wearied mind even the memory of spring, the man of the woods
generally receives his first inspiration. He may catch it from some
companion's chance remark, a glance at the map, a vague recollection
of a dim past conversation, or it may flash on him from the mere
pronouncement of a name. The first faint thrill of discovery leaves him
cool, but gradually, with the increasing enthusiasm of cogitation, the
idea gains body, until finally it has grown to plan fit for discussion.
Of these many quickening potencies of inspiration, the mere name of a
place seems to strike deepest at the heart of romance. Colour, mystery,
the vastnesses of unexplored space are there, symbolized compactly for
the aliment of imagination. It lures the fancy as a fly lures the trout.
Mattágami, Peace River, Kánanaw, the House of the Touchwood Hills,
Rupert's House, the Land of Little Sticks, Flying Post, Conjuror's
House--how the syllables roll from the tongue, what pictures rise in
instant response to their suggestion! The journey of a thousand miles
seems not too great a price to pay for the sight of a place called the
Hills of Silence, for acquaintance with the people who dwell there,
perhaps for a glimpse of the saga-spirit that so named its environment.
On the other hand, one would feel but little desire to visit Muggin's
Corners, even though at their crossing one were assured of the deepest
flavour of the Far North.
The first response to the red god's summons is almost invariably the
production of a fly-book and the complete rearrangement of all its
contents. The next is a resumption of practice with the little pistol. The

third, and last, is pencil and paper, and lists of grub and duffel, and
estimates of routes and expenses, and correspondence with men who
spell queerly, bear down heavily with blunt pencils, and agree to be at
Black Beaver Portage on a certain date. Now, though the February
snow and sleet still shut him in, the spring has draw very near. He can
feel the warmth of her breath rustling through his reviving