The Traps

    There is a singular and romantic formation on the top of the Shawangunk mountain known as The Traps.  Quite a village has sprung up within its sheltering bosom, and boasts of a hotel, store and chapel. Benj. Burger and his wife Helena were among the first settlers.  They put up a log cabin and commenced housekeeping in a primitive way.  At first the wild animals were so fierce that fires had to be kept at night as a protection to their cattle.  A colt was killed by the blood letting brutes, and the mare was badly bitten and torn.  Burger sometimes worked for the farmers in the valley, and when he returned home at nightfall he was obliged to carry a torch to keep off the wolves.  He used to tell of seeing their teeth as they gathered about him in the darkness and followed him up the mountain, growling and snarling, yet keeping at a safe distance through fear of his blazing pine knots.
     On the east side, near to the highway leading over the mountain, there still stands a straggling building known as The Traps Tavern.  Many years ago, a number of young men from the vicinity of High Falls were at this tavern, and were having a grand frolic.  Their visit was protracted far into the night; and as the company seemed in no humor to depart, one of their number named Hill determined to go home.  So, mounting his horse, he set out alone over the mountain road.  While passing leisurely down on the opposite side, his horse began to prick up his ears, and exhibit other symptoms of alarm; and presently young Hill detected the stealthy tread of some animal that was moving in the underbrush by the roadside.  He at last awoke to the fact that wolves were on his track; and, giving the reins to his horse, the frightened animal went galloping down the rugged mountain road at a breakneck speed.  The iron shoes of his horse sent the sparks flying at every step; and the clatter of hoofs, the shouts of the rider, and the sharp quick cries of the wolves in close pursuit, startled the night air and awoke the sleeping echoes among the mountains.  A false step, or a failure to retain his seat, and all would have been over for young Hill.  In this way the cavalcade went dashing down the defiles, and finally brought up before another hotel at the foot of the mountain.  Here the pack turned off into the forest, and the panting horse and terrified rider sought the friendly shelter of the hostelry until morning.
     Some thirty years since the neighborhood of The Traps was the scene of a startling tragedy.  Ben Gosline, a man of middle age and married, became intimate with a young mulatto girl by the name of  Maria Cross.  One Sabbath afternoon he invited her to take a walk, and their rambles led them along the brink of one of the dizzy precipices with which the locality abounds.  Arrived at a point of the rocks where the crag juts out three hundred feet in perpendicular height over the base, Ben. marked to his companion that he knew where was an eagles' nest, and asked if she would not like to see it.  Stepping aside he went to the brink, and, holding by a small sapling, leaned forward over the frightful chasm until he could see the face of the precipice.  Presently he called out that he could see the nest, and that there were some young eagles in it.  Unsuspicious of treachery, Maria took his place, and leaned over the edge as far as she dared, but failed to see the nest. “Stand a little nearer,” said Ben, “I will not let you fall.”  So, taking his hand, she took a step forward until her head and shoulders hung over the beetling crag; at this moment Ben loosened his hold, gave her a gentle push, and, with a piercing shriek, the girl went over the precipice.




                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           
Table of Contents