was able to let us have enough provisions for the remainder of our tramp; but when we came to “foot” the bill, it was unexpectedly “steep.” People must “make,” you see, in a place like this.
Starting after breakfast that Monday morning, we took the shorter route by way of Lake Henderson. We were not sorry to get a good view of this lake, but our voyage on it was far from pleasant. A guide from M——’s came with us. He had two boats: one a sort of “scow” with a paddle, the other a boat like Trumble’s, only lighter and smaller. Trumble and brother, dog and baggage, went in the scow; we three in the other, with the guide for oarsman. Our boat was loaded to within three inches of the water’s edge, and, there being a slight breeze, it was the greatest risk I ever ran of an upset. Had the breeze increased, we must have gone over. All three of us could swim; but to risk a drenching with its consequences, and under such circumstances, seemed to me the most provoking stupidity. One of us might easily have gone in the scow. The guide was to blame, for he knew the boat’s capacity. However, through the favor of Our Lady and the angels, under whose joint protection our excursion had been placed, we were safely landed, and soon found ourselves in the woods once more, and on a trail that seemed made for wild-cats.
But now our fears of rain were verified. The menacing west had not hindered us from setting out; but we found the shelter of trees inadequate, and, of course, they kept dripping upon us after the shower had passed over. In short, we got wet enough to feel very uncomfortable; and the sun could not
penetrate to us satisfactorily. We had hoped the rain was a mere thunder-shower; but when we saw more clouds, dense and black, we made up our minds that we were “in for it.” Trumble put forth the assurance that nobody ever caught cold in the woods. But I, less contented with this than the others, resolved to try the supernatural. I vowed Our Blessed Lady some Masses for the souls in purgatory most devoted to her; and behold, as each succeeding cloud came resolutely on, the sun broke through it triumphantly, till, after an hour or two, all danger had disappeared, and we were left to finish our journey under a cloudless sky. Of course this favorable turn may have been due to purely natural causes; but I mention it as what it seemed to me, because I know you believe in “special providences,” and always rejoice in acknowledging Our Blessed Mother’s goodness and power.
The trail became more perilous to eyes and ankles than any we had followed yet. Indeed, it was a constant marvel that we met with no sprain or fracture. Such an accident would have been extremely awkward, remote as we were from the habitations of men, to say nothing of surgical aid. But, of course, we took every care, and the prayers of friends, together with our own, drew Heaven’s protection round us.
At last we came in sight of the gigantic cliff which forms the western side of the pass—very grand, certainly, but not what we had anticipated from the glowing accounts of brother-pilgrims. Then, too, we saw but that one side; being on the other ourselves, and not between the two, as we had supposed we should be. When we reached “Summit Rock,” we stopped for
dinner. The view that met our retrospection from this rock repaid our climb. In fact, it was this view alone that made us think anything of “Indian Pass.” “Summit Rock,” though, is not easy to scale; and I, having taken the wrong track, in turning to descend had the narrowest escape from a very serious fall. I shall always feel grateful for that preservation when I recall our Adirondack experiences. How forcibly and consolingly the words of the Psalmist came to me then, as they do now: “Quoniam angelis suis mandavit de te, ut custodiant te in omnibus viis tuis. In manibus portabunt te, ne forte offendas ad lapidem pedem tuum” (Ps. xc. 11, 12.[87] )
We camped that afternoon, and for the night, at a spot about “half way”—that is, half way between the Iron-Works and North Elba (a distance of eighteen miles); for the pass proper is of no great length. The camp there is excellent. We reached it in time for the Judge and myself to get a capital bath, while the Colonel caught a string of trout, before supper. We did not cook all the fish for that meal, but kept a supply for the morrow’s breakfast. The trout thus reserved were hung upon a stump about fifteen yards from the camp, at the risk of having them stolen in the night by some animal. And, sure enough, some animal was after them in the night, for the dog got up and growled, and went outside; but this scared the marauder away, for we found the fish untouched in the morning.
Tuesday dawned serenely, and we lost no time after breakfast in
getting under way for Blinn’s Farm—our chosen destination in North Elba County. The walk seemed interminably long, but was almost all down-hill, and over ground covered with dried leaves. We lunched, rather than dined, on the march; for we knew a good dinner was to be had at the farm. The last difficult feat to be performed was crossing our old friend the Au Sable, which flows between the hill we had descended and the slope leading up to Blinn’s. We had to take boots and socks off, and make our way over a few large stones, some of which were awkwardly far apart. The others managed it all right. I might as well have kept boots and socks on; for just as I got to the last stone but one, and where a jump was necessary, I slipped and came down on my hands, sousing boots and socks under water. Even this, though, was preferable to slipping ankle-deep into black mud, as I had done again and again on the tramp; and when we gained the house and changed our things, I was as well off as anybody.