They've been icons of the Adirondacks sporting population for over one hundred and fifty years. Thousands of city slickers, also referred to as greenhorns, dudes, and sports, trusted a guide to point the way when navigating the mountain wilderness.

The era of the old-time woodsman and resident guide approached its twilight by 1900. Walk into any saloon in the North Coy back then, and chances were any number of drinkers would be guides with idle time, all suffering from a debilitating illness of the tongue called storytelling.

The Morrison Inn, across the tracks from the old Forestport train depot, was one such watering hole where "goyds" would congregate. The gathered men of the woods were what any client would call first-class guides-all experienced, congenial, respected, loyal, and crack shots to boot. Add to the list yarn-spinners.

Like all the other guides, George Wendover served his apprenticeship by observing the senior men in action and soaking up all the counsel and wisdom they could hand him. Then too, of course, by carefully examining the habits of the big game animals, he was able to pick up a great deal by himself. He went on to become one of the Black River headwater country's best guides.

George guided fishing and hunting parties deep into the headwaters country. It was said that if George had any decent chance at all he usually got two out of every three running deer he shot at. In aiming his gun he looked down along the side of the barrel and kept pumping the lever and pulling the trigger every time the deer crossed an opening through the trees. The report sounded very much as though he was using an automatic.

Guiding kept George busy during the spring, summer and fall. When waiting for a party to arrive at the train depot, friend Rev. Byron-Curtiss knew George to join the local boys at the Morrison Inn.

Like other trusted woodsmen of the golden age of guides, George was also a storyteller. Gathered together and a bit whisked up, the men enjoyed telling good-natured stories when they got together and recalled the names and exploits of their most unforgettable characters among the sports they shepherded. It was their yarns, Byron-Curtiss said, that gave the saloon a goodly part of its particular notability. In the 1960s, Lloyd Blankman interviewed George Wendover's relatives. The story that follows is his restatement of one of George's accounts. Such ever-green memories provide convincing proof that George was also a bit of a prankster.

Soon after a party of tired hunters got back to camp, George sneaked out, cut off one of the feet of a hedgehog he had recently caught and sprang the trap on it, pulling the trap out of the hole, until the chain was tight. Next morning, a city boy hustled up to tend the trap. He soon came back with the "bear's foot" that he had found in the trap. He went back to the city with the story in his head of the bear that he had caught and lost, leaving the foot behind.

Of course this was just one of the tricks that George played on any unsuspecting person that he could find.

George liked to have fun at the expense of greenhorns. He invented the Drawboys, who lived in small caves under the roots of large spruce trees. When a greenhorn came into camp the Drawboys were always present just outside among the bushes. They never bothered people when they were awake, but as soon as they went to sleep the little men came in groups and took the city men out the window and-?