The night that I spent on Tahawas was not distinguished by any event more remarkable than a regular rain-storm. Our canopy was composed of hemlock branches, and our only covering was a blanket. The storm did not set in until about midnight, and my first intimation of its approach was the falling of rain-drops directly into my ear, as I snugged up to my bed-fellow, for the purpose of keeping warm. Desperate indeed were the efforts I made to forget my condition in sleep, as the rain fell more abundantly, and drenched me, as well as my companion, to the very skin. The thunder bellowed as if in the enjoyment of a very happy frolic, and the lightning seemed determined to root up a few trees in our immediate vicinity, as if for the purpose of giving us more room. Finally Cheney rose from his pillow (which was a log of wood), and proposed that we should quaff a little brandy, to keep us from catching cold, which we did, and then made another attempt to reach the land of Nod.
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At the break of day, we were awakened from a short but refreshing sleep by the singing of birds; and when the cheerful sunlight had reached the bottom of the ravines, we were enjoying a comfortable breakfast in the cabin of my friend.
The principal attractions, associated with Tahawas are the Indian Pass, the Adirondac Lakes, the Adirondac Iron Works, and the mighty hunter of the Adirondacs, John Cheney. The Pass, so called, is only an old-fashioned notch between the mountains. On one side is a perpendicular precipice, rising to the height of eleven hundred feet; and, on the other, a wood-covered mountain, ascending far up into the sky, at an angle of forty-five degrees. Through this Pass flows a tiny rivulet, over which the rocks are so thickly piled, as frequently to form pitfalls, that measure from ten to thirty feet in depth. Some of these holes are never destitute of ice, and are cool and comfortable even at midsummer. The Pass is nearly half a mile in length, and, at one point, certain immense boulders have come together and formed a cavern, which is called the “meeting house,” and is, perhaps, capable of containing a thousand people. The rock on either side of the Pass, is a grey granite, and its only inhabitants are eagles, which are very abundant, and occupy the most conspicuous crag in the notch.
The two principal lakes which gem the Adirondac wilderness are named Sanford and Henderson, after the two gentlemen who first purchased land upon their borders. The former is five miles in length, and the latter somewhat less than three, both of them varying in width from half a mile to a mile and a half. The mountains which swoop down to their bosoms are covered with forest, and abound in a great variety of large game. There is not, to my knowledge, a single habitation on either of the lakes, and the only smoke ever seen to ascend from their lonely recesses, comes from the watch-fire of the hunter, or the encampment of surveyors and tourists. The water of these lakes is cold and deep, and moderately supplied with salmon trout. Lake Henderson is admirably situated for the exciting sport of deer-hunting, and though it contains two or three canoes, cannot be entered from the West Branch of the Hudson without making a portage.
Through Lake Sanford, however, the Hudson takes a direct course, and there is nothing to impede the passage of a small boat to within a mile of the Iron Works, which are situated in a valley between the two lakes. The fact is, during the summer, there is an extensive business done on Lake Sanford, in the way of “bringing in” merchandize, and “carrying out” the produce of the Forge. It was my misfortune to make the inward passage of the Lake in company with two ignorant Irishmen. Their boat was small, heavily laden, very old and leaky. This was my only chance, and on taking my seat with a palpitating heart, I made an express bargain with the men that they should keep along the shore on their way up. They assented to my wishes, but immediately pulled for the very centre of the lake. I remonstrated, but they told me there was no danger. The boat was now rapidly filling with water, and though one was bailing with all his might, the rascals were determined not to accede to my wishes. The conclusion of the matter was, that our shallop became water-logged; and on finally going ashore, the merchandize was greatly damaged, and I was just about as wet as I was angry at the miserable creatures, whose obstinacy had not only greatly injured their employers, but also endangered my own plunder as well as my life.
The Iron Works alluded to above are located in a narrow valley, and in the immediate vicinity of Lake Henderson at a place called McIntyre. Sometime in the year 1830, a couple of Scotch gentlemen, named Henderson and McIntyre, purchased a large tract of wild land lying in this portion of New York. In the summer following, they passed through this wilderness on an exploring expedition, and, with the assistance of their Indian guide, discovered that the bed of the valley in question was literally blocked up with iron ore. On making farther investigations, they found that the whole rocky region about them was composed of valuable mineral, and they subsequently established a regular built Iron Establishment, which has been in operation ever since. A gentleman named Robinson afterwards purchased an interest in the concern, and it is now carried on by him and Mr. McIntyre, though the principal stock-holders are the wife and son of Mr. Henderson, deceased.
The metal manufactured by this company is of the very best quality of bar-iron; and an establishment is now in progress of erection at Tahawas, twelve miles down the river, where a party of English gentlemen intend to manufacture every variety of steel. The Iron Works give employment to about one hundred and fifty men, whose wages vary from one dollar to four dollars per day. The society of the place, you may well imagine, is decidedly original; but the prominent individual, and only remarkable man who resides here, is John Cheney, the mighty hunter of the Adirondacs. For an account of this man, the reader will please look into the following chapter.
CHAPTER VII.
John Cheney, the Adirondac hunter, and some of his exploits.