The driver, who intended to make an all-night journey to the railroad terminus, was an employé of one of the Blue Mountain Lake hotels. He was a native of the district, well versed in all the stories and traditions of the wilderness, and was evidently glad of an audience. He told of the last of the Indians in that region; of the deer and bear that had been shot at different points as we passed; the uselessness of attempting to farm on the rocky precipitous slopes; and, now that the section was open to competition with the products of more fertile localities, the dependence of the inhabitants on the summer tourists. Despite the talk, the banter, and the songs, our not over-soft seats on the bow of the canoe and the sides of the springless wagon became no easier. As the result of our two days’ severe work and the lateness of the hour, we would find ourselves dropping off into a short doze, to awake just in the nick of time to avoid falling out of the wagon by a desperate grab at the first available support. The small hours of the morning overtook us: still the wheels rolled on in their dusty course, still the horses trotted down a decline to toil panting up the crest of the next hill; still the dim shadows ahead would, as we approached, disclose the faintly outlined forms of rocks, stumps and trees; still the mountains bathed their feet in the fogs of the valley and in their sable garments draped the scene in mourning. Soon black, threatening clouds shut out the small remnant of light that the giant mountains failed to obscure. Presently we heard a deep muttering, as if these Titans roared in anger to each other, then the illuminating flashes, as if they exchanged shots with one another, proclaimed more certainly than a weather bulletin that it would become moist in our vicinity. Rubber coats afforded us as good protection as could be expected in the postures we were obliged to assume.
But soon the stars reasserted their sway; then the first glimmer of the river, as after its long détour through the virgin forest, it once more approached the highway, could be caught through the trees from the hill we were descending. Then a house or two appeared, and we rattled up in front of the inn at North River, a hamlet about six miles above North Creek, the terminus of the railroad.
Very thankful we were to see a light burning. Our elation was but short-lived, for we were told that every room in the house was occupied. We were, however, more prepared for emergencies than the ordinary traveler, and carrying our blankets into the barn, we were easily convinced, and not for the first time, that a haymow has its advantages as a sleeping-place.
Before launching next morning we repaired to the only store in the place to make a few purchases. In this remote country store, surrounded by a well-nigh uninhabited and inaccessible region, we did not expect to find anything to remind us of the teeming marts of trade from which we had recently come. Judge then our surprise when upon entering the place we found the proprietor cornered by the everlasting, ubiquitous drummer. This particular specimen was not carrying a general line, but was a specialist, traveling for a soap powder. I expressed my astonishment, and was informed by the storekeeper that there had been already ten salesmen in there that day. Probably these fellows had an idea that in a place so remote from the ordinary routes of travel, if the storekeeper wanted anything in their line, he would take a large amount. Be that as it may, it furnished a striking illustration of American business enterprise.
In the store was a child, not over three years of age, complacently smoking a full-sized cigar. This was the proprietor’s son, and it seemed to give the father much pleasure to exhibit the little wretch’s accomplishment. “He uses tobacco just like a man,” he beamingly remarked. “He takes to it naturally. He chewed a piece of my fine-cut before he was out of the cradle, and he is now never without a cigar, pipe, or quid. He can take his little toddy, too, without winking, just like his old man,” and the unnatural parent fairly gloated over the precocious depravity of his offspring. It must be said, though, in favor of this “infant prodigy,” that he seemed to survive the treatment with remarkable success. A sturdier young sinner, with rosier cheeks, would be hard to find.
Directly across the road, opposite the hotel and the few houses comprising the hamlet, flowed the river, which at this point was much contracted, booming and roaring for half a mile in a not insignificant rapid. As soon as it became noised about that we intended to embark at the head of this, the place was on the tiptoe of expectation. The inhabitants were accustomed to nothing but rowboats, and could not appreciate the advantages possessed by a canoe in lightness and in the ability of the occupant to see his course as he proceeds, so many skeptics were found. As we loitered about, making purchases and getting things in shape, the number of doubters increased, some of them being unkind enough to hint at a lack of “sand” on the part of “them city dudes.” This was our first rapid of the season, and it must be confessed that as we shoved off we did not feel exactly stiff in the knees.
We made directly for the centre with our quickest, most powerful strokes, and sooner almost than thought itself the banks were whizzing past us, and we were plunging in the midst of the foam and the billows, dodging the rocks as they sought our frail craft, and zigzagging from one side of the stream to the other in quest of a channel. We had hardly time to get frightened, hold our breath hard, and receive a few dashes of spray before we found ourselves in comparatively smooth water at the foot of the run.
The distance to North Creek, six miles, was, in the high state of the river, very easily and most enjoyably made. The sun was shining, the water clear, the current swift but free enough from dangerous stretches to allow us to give our full attention to the charms of the landscape, rendered doubly attractive by the rain of the previous night. The road ran close to the river. The driver of a conspicuous red wagon, drawn by a team of spirited horses, going in our direction, became filled with a desire to show us the greater expedition of his method of travel. With this end in view he lashed his horses up hill and down, speeding them to the best of his ability. Not being in the racing mood, we enjoyed at our leisure his manifest desire to leave us in the lurch, finding that, aided by the swift water, we were able to keep the lead by the exercise of only ordinary effort.
In less than an hour we had traveled the six miles to North Creek. While there it rained heavily, to the relief of my chum, who utilized the time by flirting with the pretty post-mistress. Female charms must always be recognized as dangerous, especially when placed in the vantage-ground of a post-office. Owing to the indiscretion of Uncle Sam in placing this maiden in a position to practise her seductive wiles on my susceptible friend, our departure was delayed till late in the afternoon, so bringing upon us a catastrophe before the day was done.
Although it was five o’clock before we started, we judged from the quick and easy run that we had already made, that the ten miles to Riverside, the point at which we intended to leave the Hudson, could readily be made before darkness overtook us. The road had now turned off from the river, and for the nonce we plunged once more into the primitive wilderness.