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THE DRAMA
OF
THE FORESTS
A strange apparition was seen crossing the lake. It appeared to
have wings, but it did not fly; and though it possessed a tail, it did
not run, but contented itself with moving steadily forward on its long
up-turned feet. Over an arm it carried what might have been a
trident, and what with its waving tail and great outspreading
wings that rose above its horned- like head, it suggested , . .
S3? Chiptcr VI
THE DRAMA OF
THE FORESTS
T^mance and <uidventure
BY
ARTHUR HEMING
w
ILLUSTRATED BY THE AUTHOR
WITH REPRODUCTIONS FROM A
SERIES OF HIS PAINTINGS OWNED
BY THE ROYAL ONTARIO MUSEUM
GARDEN CITY, N. Y., AND TORONTO
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
192 I
COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION
INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN
PBINTED AT THE COUNTBY LIFE PRESS, GABDEN CITY, N. Y.
Firtt Edition
V. 8. A.
TO
MR. AND MRS. DAVID A. DUNLAPj
WITH WHOM I SPENT MANY HAPPY SEASONS
IN THE GREAT NORTHERN FOREST
MS05393
CONTENTS
I. Romance and Adventure 1
II. In Quest of Treasure 34
III. Oo-Koo-Hoo's El Dorado ....... 70
IV. Oo-Koo-Hoo Plays the Game Ill
V. Meeting of the Wild Men 160
VI. Wild Animals and Men 207
VII. Life and Love Return 255
VIII. Business and Romance 297
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
A strange apparition was seen crossing the lake. It ap-
peared to have wings Frontispiece
FACING PAGB
I surmised at once who he was, for one could see by the
merest glance 20
Going to the brink, we saw a "York Boat" in the act of
shooting the cataract 52
Minutes passed while the rising moon cast golden ripples
upon the water 84
The lynx is an expert swimmer and is dangerous to tackle
in the water 100
Next morning we found that everything was covered with
a heavy blanket of snow 132
The bear circled a little in order to descend. Presently it
left the shadow ' 164
Going to the stage, he took down his five-foot snowshoes 180
As the wolf dashed away, the bounding clog sent the
snow flying 196
" There's the York Factory packet from Hudson Bay to
Winnipeg" 212
"It was on my father's hunting grounds, and late one
afternoon" 228
iz
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
FACING PAGE
Oo-koo-hoo could even hear the strange clicking sound 260
After half of May had passed away, and when the spring
hunt was over 292
The departure of the Fur Brigade was the one great event
of the year 308
INTRODUCTION
It was in childhood that the primitive spirit first came
whispering to me. It was then that I had my first day-
dreams of the Northland — of its forests, its rivers and lakes,
its hunters and trappers and traders, its fm--runners and
mounted police, its voyageurs and packeteers, its missionaries
and Indians and prospectors, its animals, its birds and its
fishes, its trees and its flowers, and its seasons.
Even in childhood I was for ever wondering . . . what
is daily going on in the Great Northern Forest? . . . not
just this week, this month, or this season, but what is actually
occurring day by day, throughout the cycle of an entire year?
It was that thought that fascinated me, and when I grew into
boyhood, I began delving into books of northern travel, but
I did not find the answer there. With the years this ever-
present wonder grew, until it so possessed me that at last it
spirited me away from the city, while I was still in my teens,
and led me along a path of ever-changing and ever-increasing
pleasure, showing me the world, not as men had mauled and
marred it, but as the Master of Life had made it, in all its
original beauty and splendour. Nor was this all. It led me to
observe and ponder over the daily pages of the most profound
and yet the most fascinating book that man has ever tried to
read; and though, it seemed to me, my feeble attempts to de-
cipher its text were always futile, it has, nevertheless, not only
taught me to love Nature with an ever-increasing passion, but
it has inspired in me an infinite homage toward the Almighty;
for, as Emerson says: "In the woods we return to reason and
faith. Then I feel that nothing can befall me in life — no dis-
xi
xii INTRODUCTION
grace, no calamity (leaving me my eyes) — ^which Natm-e cannot
repair. Standing on the bare gromid — ^my head bathed by the
bUthe air and uphfted into infinite space — all mean egoism
vanishes. ... I am the lover of micontained and im-
mortal beauty."
So, to make my life-dream come true, to contemplate in all
its thriUing action and imdying splendour the drama of the
forests, I travelled twenty-three times through various parts of
the vast northern woods, between Maine and Alaska, and
covered thousands upon thousands of miles by canoe, pack-
train, snowshoes, bateau, dog-train, buck-board, timber-raft,
prairie-schooner, lumber-wagon, and "alligator." No one
trip ever satisfied me, or afforded me the knowledge or the
experience I sought, for traversing a single section of the
forest was not unhke making one's way along a single street of a
metropohs and then trying to persuade oneself that one knew
all about the city's fife. So back again I went at all seasons of
the year to encamp in that great timber-land that sweeps from
the Atlantic to the Pacific. Thus it has taken me thirty-three
years to gather the information this volume contains, and my
only hope in writing it is that perhaps others may have had the
same day-dream, and that in this book they may find a rehable
and satisfactory answer to all their wonderings. But making
my dream come true — ^what delight it gave me! What sport
and travel it afforded me! What toil and sweat it caused me!
What food and rest it brought me! What charming places it
led me through! What interesting people it ranged beside me!
What romance it unfolded before me! and into what thrill-
ing adventures it plunged me!
But before we paddle down the winding wilderness aisle
toward the great stage upon which Diana and all her attendant
huntsmen and forest creatures may appear, I wish to explain
that in comphance with the wishes of the leading actors —
who actually lived their parts of this story — fictitious names
INTRODUCTION adii
have been given to the principal characters and to the prin-
cipal trading posts, lakes, and rivers herein depicted. Further-
more, in order to give the reader a more interesting, complete,
and faithful description of the daily and the yearly life of
the forest dwellers as I have observed it, I have taken the
hberty of weaving together the more interesting facts I have
gathered — ^both first- and second-hand — into one continuous
narrative as though it all happened in a single year. And in
order to retain aU the primitive local colour, the unique cos-
tumes, and the fascinating romance of the finr-trade days as I
witnessed them in my twenties — though much of the life has
already passed away — the scene is set to represent a certain
year in the early nineties.
Arthur Heming.
THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
I
ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE
HER FATHER THE FREE TRADER
It was September 9, 189-. From simrise to sunset
through mist, sunshine, shower, and shadow we travelled, and
the nearer we drew to our first destination, the wilder the
country became, the more water-fowl we saw, and the more the
river banks were marked with traces of big game. Here signs
told us that three caribou had crossed the stream, there muddy
water was still trickling into the hoofprint of a moose, and
yonder a bear had been fishing. Finally, the day of our arrival
dawned, and as I paddled, I spent much of the time dreaming of
the adventure before me. As our beautiful birchen craft still
sped on her way, the handsome bow parted the shimmering
waters, and a passing breeze sent Httle running waves gurgling
along her sides, while the splendour of the autumn sun was
reflected on a far-reaching row of dazzling ripples that danced
upon the water, making our voyageurs lower their eyes and the
trader doze again. There was no other sign of life except an
eagle soaring in and out among the fleecy clouds slowly
passing overhead. All around was a panorama of enchanting
forest.
My travelling companion was a "Free Trader," whose
name was Spear — a taU, stoop-shouldered man with heavy eye-
brows and shaggy, drooping moustache. The way we met was
amusing. It happened in a certain frontier town. His first
1
;i: v^ ^. ; . THE DBAMA OF THE FORESTS
question was as to whether I was single. His second, as to
whether my time was my own. Then he slowly looked me
over from head to foot. He seemed to be measuring my
stature and strength and to be noting the colour of my eyes
and hair.
Narrowing his vision, he scrutinized me more carefully than
before, for now he seemed to be reading my character — if not
my soul. Then, smiling, he blurted out:
"Come, be my guest for a couple of weeks. Will you?"
I laughed.
He frowned. But on realizing that my mirth was caused
only by surprise, he smiled again and let flow a vivid descrip-
tion of a place he called Spearhead. It was the home of the
northern fur trade. It was the centre of a great timber region.
It was the heart of a vast fertile belt that was rapidly becoming
the greatest of all farming districts. It was built on the
fountain head of gigantic water power. It virtually stood
over the very vault that contained the richest veins of mineral
to be found in the whole Dominion — at least that's what he
said — and he also assured me that the Government had realized
it, too, for was it not going to hew a provincial highway clean
through the forest to Spearhead? Was it not going to build a
fleet of steamers to ply upon the lakes and rivers in that sec-
tion? And was it not going to build a line of railroad to the
town itself in order to connect it with the new transcontinental
and thus put it in communication with the great conmiercial
centres of the East and the West? In fact, he also impressed
upon me that Spearhead was a town created for young men
who were not averse to becoming wealthy in whatever Une of
business they might choose. It seemed that great riches were
already there and had but to be lifted. Would I go?
But when I explained that although I was single, and quite
free, I was not a business man, he became crestfallen, but
presently revived enough to exclaim:
ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 3
"Well, what the dickens are you?"
"An artist," I repHed.
"Oh, I seel Well . . . we need an artist very badly.
You'll have the field all to yourself in Spearhead. Besides,
your pictures of the fur trade and of pioneer life would eventu-
ally become historical and bring you no end of wealth. You
had better come. Better decide right away, or some other
artist chap will get ahead of you."
But when I further explained that I was going to spend the
winter in the wilderness, that I had already written to the
Hudson's Bay Factor at Fort Consolation and that he was
expecting me. Spear gloated:
"Bully boy!" and slapping me on the shoulder, he chuckled:
"Why, my town is just across the lake from Fort Consolation.
A mere five-mile paddle, old chap, and remember, I extend to
you the freedom of Spearhead in the name of its future mayor.
And, man ahve, I'm leaving for there to-morrow morning in a
big four-fathom birch bark, with fom* Indian canoe-men. Be
my guest. It won't cost you a farthing, and we'll make the
trip together."
I gladly accepted. The next morning we started. Free
Trader Spear was a character, and I afterward learned that
he was an Oxford University man, who, having been
"ploughed," left for Canada, entered the service of the Hudson's
Bay Company, and had finally been moved to Fort Consola-
tion where he served seven years, learned the fur-trade business,
and resigned to become a "free trader" as all fur traders are
called who carry on business in opposition to "The Great
Company." We were eight days upon the trip, but, strange to
say, during each day's travel toward Spearhead, his conversa-
tion in reference to that thriving town made it appear to grow
smaller and smaller, until at last it actually dwindled down to
such a point, that, about sunset on the day we were to arrive, he
turned to me and casually remarked:
4 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
"Presently you'll see Fort Consolation and the Indian
village beyond. Spearhead is just across the lake, and by the
bye, my boy, I forgot to tell you that Spearhead is just my log
shack. But it's a nice httle place, and you'll like it when you
pay us a visit, for I want you to meet my wife."
Then our canoe passed a jutting point of land and in a mo-
ment the scene was changed — ^we were no longer on a river, but
were now upon a lake, and the wilderness seemed suddenly left
behind.
AT FORT CONSOLATION
On the outer end of a distant point a cluster of poplars
shaded a small, clapboarded log house. There, in charge of
Fort Consolation, Uved the Factor of the Hudson's Bay
Company. Beyond a httle lawn enclosed by a picket fence
stood the large storehouse. The lower floor of this was used as
a trading room; the upper story served for a fur loft. Behind
were seen a number of shanties, then another large building in
which dog-sleds and great birch-bark canoes were stored. Far-
ther away was a long open shed, under which those big canoes
were built, then a few small huts where the half-breeds lived.
With the exception of the Factor's house, all the buildings were
of rough-hewn logs plastered with clay. Around the sweeping
bend of the bay was a village of tepees in which the Indian fur
hunters and their famihes spend their midsummer. Crowning
a knoll in the rear stood a quaint httle church with a small tin
spire glistening in the sun, and capped by a cross that spread its
tiny arms to heaven. On the hill in the background the time-
worn pines swayed their shaggy heads and softly whispered to
that, the first gentle touch of civilization in the wilderness.
Presently, at irregular intervals, guns were discharged along
the shore, beginning at the point nearest the canoe and running
round the curve of the bay to the Indian camp, where a brisk
fusillade took place. A moment later the Hudson's Bay Com-
ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 5
pany's flag fluttered over Fort Consolation. Plainly, the
arrival of our canoe was causing excitement at the Post.
Trader Spear laughed aloud :
"That's one on old Mackenzie. He's taking my canoe for
that of the Hudson's Bay Inspector. He's generally due about
this time."
From all directions men, women, and children were swarming
toward the landing, and when our canoe arrived there must
have been fully four hundred Indians present. The first to
greet us was Factor Mackenzie — ^a gruff, bearded Scotsman
with a clean-shaven upper hp, gray hair, and piercing gray
eyes. When we entered the Factor's house we found it to be a
typical wilderness home of an officer of the Hudson's Bay
Company; and, therefore, as far unlike the interiors of fur-
traders' houses as shown upon the stage, movie screen, or in
magazine illustration, as it is possible to imagine. Upon the
walls we saw neither mounted heads nor skins of wild animals;
nor were fur robes spread upon the floors, as one would expect
to find after reading the average story of Hudson's Bay life.
On the contrary, the weU-scrubbed floors were perfectly bare,
and the waUs were papered from top to bottom with countless
iUustrations cut from the London Graphic and the Illustrated
London News. The pictures not only took the place of wall
paper, making the house more nearly wind-proof, but also
aiforded endless amusement to those who had to spend therein
the long winter months. The house was furnished sparingly
with simple, home-made furniture that had more the appearance
of utihty than of beauty.
At supper time we sat down with Mrs. Mackenzie, the
Factor's half-breed wife, who took the head of the table. After
the meal we gathered in the Hving room before an open fire,
over the mantelpiece of which there were no guns, no powder
horns, nor even a pair of snowshoes; for a fur trader would no
more think of hanging his snowshoes there than a city dweller
6 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
would think of hanging his overshoes over his drawing-room
mantel. Upon the mantel shelf, however, stood a few im-
framed family photographs and some books, while above hung a
rustic picture frame, the only frame to be seen in the room; it
contained the motto, worked in coloured yarns: "God Bless
Our Home." When pipes were Ughted and we had drawn
closer to the fire, the Factor occupied a quaint, home-made,
rough-hewn affair known as the "Factor's chair." On the
mider side of the seat were inscribed the signatures and dates of
accession to that throne of all the factors who had reigned at
the Post during the past eighty-seven years.
A MIGHTY HUNTER
After the two traders had finished "talking musquash" —
fur-trade business — they began reminiscing on the more pictur-
esque side of their work, and as I had come to spend the winter
with the fur hunters on their hunting grounds, the subject
naturally turned to that well-worn topic, the famous Nim-
rods of the North. It brought forth many an interesting tale,
for both my companions were well versed in such lore, and in
order to keep up my end I quoted from Warren's book on the
Ojibways: "As an illustration of the kind and abundance of
animials which then covered the country, it is stated that an
Ojibway hunter named No-Ka, the grandfather of Chief White
Fisher, killed in one day's hunt, starting from the mouth of
Crow Wing River, sixteen elk, foiu" buffalo, five deer, three
bear, one lynx, and one porcupine. There was a trader winter-
ing at the time at Crow Wing, and for his winter's supply of
meat, No-Ka presented him with the fruits of his day's
hunt."
My host granted that that was the biggest day's bag he had
ever heard of, and Trader Spear, withdrawing his pipe from his
mouth, remarked:
ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 7
"No-Ka must have been a great hunter. I would Hke to
have had his trade. But, nevertheless, I have heard of an
Indian who might have been a match for him. He, too, was an
Ojibway, and his name was Narphim. He hved somewhere
out in the Peace River country, and I've heard it stated that
he killed, in his lifetime, more than eighty thousand Hving
things. Some bag for one hunter."
Since Trader Spear made that interesting remark I have had
the pleasure of meeting a factor of the Hudson's Bay Company
who knew Narphim from boyhood, and who was a personal
friend of his, and who was actually in charge of a number of
posts at which the Indian traded. Owing to their friendship
for one another, the Factor took such a personal pride in the
fame the hunter won, that he compiled, from the books of the
Hudson's Bay Company, a complete record of all the fur-bear-
ing animals the Indian kiUed between the time he began to
trade as a hunter at the age of eleven, until his himting days
were ended. Furthermore, in discussing the subject with
Narphim they together compiled an approximate Ust of the
number of fish, wild fowl, and rabbits that the hunter must
have secured each season, and thus Narphim's record stands
as the following figures show. I would teU you the Factor's
name but as he has written to me : " For many cogent reasons
it is desirable that my name be not mentioned officially in your
book," I must refrain. I shall, however, give you the history
of Narphim in the Factor's own words:
"Narphim's proper name remains unknown as he was one
of two children saved when a band of Ojibways were drowned
in crossing a large lake that Hes S. E. of Cat Lake and Island
Lake, and S. E. of Norway House. He was called Nar-
phim— Saved from the Waters. The other child that was
rescued was a girl and she was called Neseemis — Our Little
Sister. At first Narphim was adopted and Hved with a
Swampy Cree chief, the celebrated Keteche-ka-paness, who
8 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
was a great medicine man. When Narphim grew to be eleven
years old he became a hunter, and first traded his catch at
Island Lake; then as the years went by, at Oxford House;
then at Norway House, then at Fort Chepewyan, and then
at Fort McMurray. After that he went to Lesser Slave Lake,
then on to the Peace River at Dunvegan, then he showed
up at Fort St. John, next at Battle River, and finally at
Vermihon.
"The following is a fist of the number of creatures Narphim
killed, but of course he also killed a good deal of game that
was never recorded in the Company's books, especially those
animals whose skins were used for the clothing of the hunter's
family.
"Bears 585, beaver 1,080, ermines 130, fishers 195, red
foxes 362, cross foxes 78, silver and black foxes 6, lynxes 418,
inartens 1,078, minks 384, muskrats 900, porcupines 19, otters
194, wolves 112, wolverines 24, wood buffaloes 99, moose 396,
caribou 196, jumping deer 72, wapiti 156, mountain sheep 60,
mountain goats 29; and rabbits, approximately 8,000, wild
fowl, approximately 23,800, and fish approximately 36,000.
Total 74,573.
"Yes, Narphim was a great hunter and a good man," says
the Factor in his last letter to me. "He was a fine, active,
well-built Indian and a reliable and pleasant companion. In
fact, he was one of Nature's gentlemen, whom we shall be, and
well may be, proud to meet in the Great Beyond, known as the
Happy Hunting Grounds."
Thus the evening drifted by. While the names of several
of the best hunters had been mentioned as suitable men for
me to accompany on their hunting trail, it was suggested that
as the men themselves would probably visit the Post in the
morning, I should have a chat with them before making my
selection. Both Mackenzie and Spear, however, seemed
much in favour of my going with an Indian called Oo-koo-hoo.
ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 9
Presently the clock struck ten and we turned in, the Free
Trader sharmg a big feather bed with me.
THEIR SUMMER LIFE
After breakfast next morning I strolled about the
picturesque point. It was a windless, hazy day. An early
frost had already clothed a number of the trees with their
gorgeous autumnal mantles, the forerunners of Indian summer,
the most glorious season of the Northern year.
When I turned down toward the wharf, I found a score of
Indians and half-breed trippers unloading freight from a
couple of six-fathom birch-bark canoes. Eager men and
boys were good-naturedly loading themselves with packs and
hurrying away with them to the storehouse, while others were
lounging around or applauding the carriers with the heaviest
loads. As the packers hurried by, Delaronde, the jovial,
swarthy-faced, French-Canadian clerk, note-book in hand,
checked the number of pieces. Over by the log huts a group
of Indian women were sitting in the shade, talking to Dela-
ronde's Indian wife. All about, and in and out of the Indian
lodges, dirty, half-naked children romped together, and savage
dogs prowled around seeking what they might devour. The
deerskin or canvas covers of most of the tepees were raised a
few feet to allow the breeze to pass under. Small groups of
women and children squatted or reclined in the shade, smoking
and chatting the hours away. Here and there women were
cleaning fish, mending nets, weaving mats, making clothes, or
standing over steaming kettles. Many of the men had joined
the "goods brigade," and their return was hourly expected.
Many canoes were resting upon the sandy beach, and many
more were lying bottom up beneath the shade of trees.
The most important work undertaken by the Indians during
the summer is canoe building. As some of the men are more
10 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
expert at this than others, it often happens that the bulk of the
work is done by a few who engage in it as a matter of business.
Birch bark for canoe building is taken from the tree early in
May. The chosen section, which may run from four to eight
feet in length, is first cut at the top and bottom; then a two-
inch strip is removed from top to bottom in order to make
room for working a chisel-shaped wooden wedge — about two
feet long — ^with which the bark is taken off. Where knots
appear great care is exercised that the bark be not torn. To
make it easier to pack, the sheet of bark is then rolled up the
narrow way, and tied with willow. In this shape, it is trans-
ported to the summer camping grounds. Canoes range in
size all the way from twelve feet to thirty-six feet in length.
The smaller size, being more easily portaged, is used by hunters,
and is known as a two-fathom canoe. For family use canoes
are usually from two and a half to three and a half fathoms
long. Canoes of the largest size, thirty-six feet, are called six-
fathom or "North" canoes. With a crew of from eight to
twelve, they have a carrying capacity of from three to four tons,
and are used by the traders for transporting furs and supphes.
Some Indians engage in "voyaging" or "tripping" for the
traders — ^taking out fur packs to the steamboats or railroads,
by six-fathom canoe, York boat, or sturgeon-head scow bri-
gades, and bringing in supplies. Others put in part of their
time on an occasional hunt for moose or caribou, or in shooting
wild fowl. On their return they potter around camp making
paddles or snowshoe frames; or they give themselves up to
gambling — a vice to which they are rather prone. Sometimes
twenty men or more, divided into equal sides, will sit in the
form of an oval, with their hair drawn over their faces that
their expression may not easily be read, and with their knees
covered with blankets. Leaders are chosen on either side,
and each team is suppUed with twelve small sticks. The game
begins by one of the leaders placing his closed hands upon his
ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 11
blanket, and calling upon the other to match him. If the latter
is holding his stick in the wrong hand, he loses; and so the game
goes on. Two sets of drummers are playing continuously and
all the while there is much chanting. In this simple wise they
gamble away their belongings, even to their clothing, and,
sometimes, their wives. When the wives are at stake, however,
they have the privilege of taking a hand in the game.
The women, in addition to their regular routine of summer
camp duties, occupy themselves with fishing, moccasiu mak-
ing, and berry picking. The girls join their mothers in picking
berries, which are plentiful and of great variety — ^raspberries,
strawberries, cranberries, blueberries, gooseberries, swamp-
berries, saskatoonberries, pembinaberries, pheasantberries,
bearberries, and snakeberries. They gather also wild celery,
the roots of rushes, and the inner bark of the poplar — all
which they eat raw. In some parts, too, they gather wild rice.
Before their summer holidays are over, they have usually
secured a fair stock of dried berries, smoked meats and bladders
and casings filled with fish oil or other soft grease, to help out
their bill of fare during the winter. The women devote most
of their spare moments to bead, hair, porcupine, or silk work
which they use for the decoration of their clothing. They
make mos-quit-moots, or hunting bags, of plaited hahiche,
or deerskin thongs, for the use of the men. The girl's first
lesson in sewing is always upon the coarsest work; such as
joining skins together for lodge coverings. The threads used
are made from the sinews of the deer or the wolf. These
sinews are first hung outside to dry a httle, and are then spKt
into the finest threads. The thread-maker passes each strand
through her mouth to moisten it, then places it upon her bare
thigh, and with a quick movement rolls it with the flat of her
hand to twist it. Passing it again through her mouth, she ties
a knot at one end, points the other, and puts it away to dry.
The result is a thread like the finest hair-wire.
12 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
For colouring moose hair or porcupine quills for fancy work,
the women obtain their dyes in the following ways: From the
juice of boiled cranberries they derive a magenta dye. From
alder bark, boiled, beaten, and strained, they get a dark,
slate-coloured blue which is mixed with rabbits' gall to make it
adhere. The juice of bearberries gives them a bright red.
From gunpowder and water they obtain a fine black, and
from coal tar a stain for work of the coarsest kind. They
rely chiefly, however, upon the red, blue, green, and yellow
ochres found in many parts of the country. These, when ap-
phed to the decoration of canoes, they mix with fish oil; but for
general purposes the earths are baked and used in the form of
powder.
From scenes such as I have described the summer traveller
obtains his impression of the forest Indians. Too often their
life and character are judged by such scenes, as if these truly
represented their whole existence. In reality, this is but their
holiday season which they are spending upon their tribal
summer camping ground. It is only upon their hunting
grounds that one may fairly study the Indians; so, presently, we
shall follow them there. And when one experiences the wild,
free life the Indian fives — ^hampered by no household goods or
other property that he cannot at a moment's notice dump into
his canoe and carry with him to the ends of the earth if he
chooses — one not only envies him, but ceases to wonder which
of the two is the greater philosopher — the white man or the
red; for the poor old white man is so overwhelmed with
absurd conventions and encumbering property that he can
rarely do what his heart dictates.
FAMILY HUNTING GROUNDS
Don't let us decide just yet, however, whether the Indian
derives more pleasure from life than does the white man, at
ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 13
least, not until we return from our voyage of pleasure and
investigation; but before we leave Fort Consolation it is well
to know that the hunting grounds in possession of the Indian
tribes that live in the Great Northern Forest have been for
centuries divided and subdivided and allotted, either by bargain
or by battle, to the main famihes of each band. In many cases
the same hunting grounds have remained in the undisputed
possession of the same famihes for generations. Family hunt-
ing grounds are usually delimited by natural boundaries, such
as hills, valleys, rivers, and lakes. The allotments of land
generally take the form of wedge-shaped tracts radiating from
common centres. From the intersection of these converging
boundary lines the common centres become the hubs of the
various districts. These district centres mark convenient
summer camping grounds for the reunion of families after their
arduous labour during the long winter hunting season. The
tribal summer camping grounds, therefore, are not only situ-
ated on the natural highways of the country — the principal
rivers and lakes — but also indicate excellent fishing stations.
There, too, the Indians have their burial grounds.
Often these camping grounds are the summer headquarters
for from three to eight main famihes; and each main family may
contain from five or six to fifty or sixty hunting men. Inter-
marriage between famihes of two districts gives the man the
right to hunt on the land of his wife's family as long as he
"sits on the brush" with her — is wedded to her — ^but the
children do not inherit that right; it dies with the father.
An Indian usually fives upon his own land, but makes frequent
excursions to the land of his wife's family.
In the past, the side boundaries of hunting grounds have
been the cause of many family feuds, and the outer bound-
aries have furnished the occasion for many tribal wars. The
past and the present headquarters camping grounds of the
Strong Woods Indians — as the inhabitants of the Great Northern
14 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
Forest are generally called — ^lie about one hundred and fifty
miles apart.
The natural overland highways throughout the country,
especially those intersecting the watercourses and now used as
the roadbeds for our great transcontinental railways, were
not originally discovered by man at all. The credit is due to
the big game of the wilderness; for the animals were not only
the first to find them, but also the first to use them. The In-
dian simply followed the animals, and the trader followed the
Indian, and the official "explorer" followed the trader, and the
engineer followed the "explorer," and the railroad contractor
followed the engineer. It was the buffalo, the deer, the bear,
and the wolf who were our original transcontinental path-
finders, or rather pathmakers. Then, too, the praise bestowed
upon the pioneer fur traders for the excellent judgment shown
in choosing the sites upon which trading posts have been
established throughout Canada, has not been deserved; the
credit is really due to the Indians. The fur traders erected
their posts or forts upon the tribal camping groimds simply
because they found such spots to be the general meeting places
of the Indians, and not only situated on the principal highways
of the wilderness but accessible from all points of the surround-
ing country, and, moreover, the very centres of excellent fish
and game regions. Thus in Canada many of the ancient
tribal camping grounds are now known by the names of
trading posts, of progressive frontier towns, or of important
cities.
Now, as of old, the forest Indians after their winter's hunt
return in the early summer to trade their catch of furs, to meet
old friends, and to rest and gossip awhile before the turning
leaf warns them to secure their next winter's "advances" from
the trader, and once more paddle away to their distant hunting
grounds.
The several zones of the Canadian wilderness are locally
ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 15
known as the Coast Country — the shores of the Arctic Ocean
and Hudson Bay; the Barren Grounds — the treeless country
between Hudson Bay and the Mackenzie River; the Strong
Woods Country — the whole of that enormous belt of heavy
timber that spans Canada from east to west; the Border
Lands — the tracts of small, scattered timber that he between
the prairies and the northern forests; the Prairie Country; the
Mountains; and the Big Lakes. These names have been
adopted by the fur traders from the Indians. It is in the Strong
Woods Country that most of the fur-bearing animals live.
MEETING OO-KOO-HOO
About ten o'clock on the morning after our arrival at Fort
Consolation, Free Trader Spear left for home with my promise
to paddle over and dine at Spearhead next day.
At noon Factor Mackenzie informed me that he had received
word that Oo-koo-hoo — The Owl — ^was coming to the Fort
that afternoon and that, taking everything into consideration,
he thought Oo-koo-hoo's hunting party the best for me to
join. It consisted, he said, of Oo-koo-hoo and his wife, his
daughter, and his son-in-law, Amik — The Beaver — and Amik's
five children. The Factor further added that Oo-koo-hoo
was not only one of the greatest hunters, and one of the best
canoe-men in that district, but in his youth he had been a great
traveller, as he had hunted with other Indian tribes, on Hudson
Bay, on the Churchill, the Peace, the Athabasca, and the
Slave rivers, and even on the far-away Mackenzie; and was a
master at the game. His son-in-law, Amik, was his hunting
partner. Though Amik would not be home imtil to-morrow,
Oo-koo-hoo and his wife, their daughter and her children were
coming that afternoon to get their "advances," as the party
contemplated leaving for their hunting grounds on the second
day. That I might look them over while they were getting
16 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
their supplies in the Indian shop, and if I took a fancy to the old
gentleman — who by the way was about sixty years of age — the
trader would give me an introduction, and I could then make
my arrangements with the hunter himself. So after dinner,
when word came that they had landed, I left the living room for
the Indian shop.
In the old days, in certain parts of the country, when the
Indians came to the posts to get their "advances" or to barter
their winter's catch of fur, the traders had to exercise constant
caution to prevent them from looting the establishments. At
some of the posts only a few Indians at a time were allowed
within the fort, and even then trading was done through a
wicket. But that applied only to the Plains Indians and to
some of the natives of the Pacific Coast; for the Strong Woods
people were remarkably honest. Even to-day this holds good
notwithstanding the fact that they are now so much in contact
with white men. Nowadays the Indians in any locality
rarely cause trouble, and at the trading posts the business of
the Indian shops is conducted in a quiet and orderly way.
The traders do most of their bartering with the Indians in
the early summer when the hunters return laden with the
spoils of their winter's hunt. In the early autumn, when the
Indians are about to leave for their hunting grounds, much
business is done, but Httle in the way of barter. At that season
the Indians procure their outfit for the winter. Being usually
insolvent, owing to the leisurely time spent upon the tribal
camping grounds, they receive the necessary supplies on
credit. The amount of credit, or "advances," given to each
Indian seldom exceeds one third of the value of his average
annual catch. That is the white man's way of securing, in
advance, the bulk of the Indian's prospective hunt; yet,
although a few of them are sometimes slow in settling
their debts, they are never a match for the civilized white
man.
ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 17
When I entered the trading room I saw that it was furnished
with a U-shaped counter paralleling three sides of the room,
and with a large box-stove in the middle of the intervening
space. On the shelves and racks upon the walls and from
hooks in the rafters rested or hung a conglomeration of goods to
be offered in trade to the natives. There were copper pails and
calico dresses, pain-killer bottles and Hudson's Bay blankets,
sow-belly and chocolate drops, castor oil and gxm worms, frying-
pans and ladies' wire bustles, guns and corsets, axes and
ribbons, shirts and hunting-knives, perfumes and bear traps.
In a way, the Indian shop resembled a department store except
that all the departments were jumbled together in a single
room. At one post I visited years ago — that of Abitibi — they
had a rather progressive addition in the way of a millinery
department. It was contained in a large hdless packing case
against the side of which stood a long steering paddle for the
clerk's use in stirring about the varied assortment of white
women's ancient headgear, should a fastidious Indian woman
request to see more than the uppermost layer.
Already a number of Indians were being served by the
Factor and Delaronde, the clerk, and I had not long to wait
before Oo-koo-hoo appeared. I surmised at once who he was,
for one could see by the merest glance at his remarkably pleas-
ant yet thoroughly clever face, that he was all his name impUed,
a wise, dignified old gentleman, who was in the habit of observ-
ing much more than he gave tongue to — a rare quality in men —
especially white men. Even before I heard him speak I liked
Oo-koo-hoo— The Owl.
But before going any farther, I ought to explain that as I am
endeavouring to render a faithful description of forest life, I am
going to repeat in the next few paragraphs part of what once
appeared in one of my fictitious stories of northern life. I then
made use of the matter because it was the truth, and for that
very reason I am now going to repeat it; also because this
18 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
transaction as depicted is typical of what usually happens
when the Indians try to secure their advances. Furthermore,
I give the dialogue in detail, as perchance some reader may feel
as Thoreau did, when he said: "It would be some advantage
to Kve a primitive and frontier life, though in the midst of an
outward civiUzation, if only to learn what are the gross neces-
saries of life and what methods have been taken to obtain
them; or even to look over the old day-books of the mer-
chants, to see what it was that men most commonly bought at
the stores, what they stored, that is, what are the grossest
groceries."
But while the following outfit might be considered the
Indian's grossest groceries, the articles are not really neces-
saries at all for him; for, to go to the extreme, a good woodsman
can hunt without even gun, axe, knife, or matches, and can hve
happily, absolutely independent of our civilization.
As the Factor was busy with another Indian when the Chief
entered — ^for Oo-koo-hoo was the chief of the Ojibways of
that district — ^he waited patiently, as he would not deign to do
business with a clerk. When he saw the trader free, he greeted :
''Quay, quay, Hugemowr (Good day, Master).
" Gude day, man Oo-koo-hoo, what can I do for ye the day? "
amicably responded the Factor.
" Master, it is this way. I am about to leave for my hunting
grounds; but this time I am going to spend the winter upon a
new part of them, where I have not hunted for years, and
where game of all kinds will be plentiful. Therefore, I want
you to give me liberal advances so that my hunt will not be
hindered."
"Fegs, Oo-koo-hoo, ma freen', yon's an auld, auld farrant.
But ye're well kenn'd for a leal, honest man; an' sae, Fse no be
unco haird upon ye."
So saying, the Factor made him a present of a couple of poimds
of flour, half a poimd of pork, half a pound of sugar, a quarter
ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 19
of a pound of tea, a plug of tobaccx), and some matches. The
Factor's generosity was prompted largely by his desire to keep
the Indian in good humour. After a httle friendly chaffing, the
Factor promised to give the hunter advances to the extent of
one hundred "skins."
A "skin," or, as it is often called, a "made beaver," is equiva-
lent to one dollar in the Hudson Bay and the Mackenzie River
districts, but only fifty cents in the region of the Athabasca.
Perhaps it should be explained here that while Oo-koo-hoo
could speak broken Enghsh, he always preferred to use his own
language when addressing the trader, whom he knew to be
quite conversant with Ojibway, and so, throughout this book,
I have chosen to render the Indian's speech as though it was
translated from Ojibway into Enghsh, rather than at any time
render it in broken English, as the former is not only easier to
read, but is more expressive of the natural quahty of the
Indian's speech. In olden days some of the chiefs who could
not speak Enghsh at all were, it is claimed, eloquent orators —
far outclassing our greatest statesmen.
Oo-koo-hoo, having ascertained the amount of his credit,
reckoned that he would use about fifty skins in buying traps
and ammunition; the rest he would devote to the purchase of
necessaries for himself and his party, as his son-in-law had
arranged with him to look after his family's wants in his
absence. So the old gentleman now asked for the promised
skins. He was handed one hundred marked goose quills repre-
senting that number of skins. After checking them over in
bunches of ten, he entrusted twenty to his eldest grandson,
Ne-geek — ^The Otter — to be held in reserve for ammunition and
tobacco, and ten to his eldest granddaughter, Neykia, with
which to purchase an outfit for the rest of the party.
For a long time Oo-koo-hoo stood immersed in thought.
At last his face brightened. He had reached a decision. For
years he had coveted a new muzzle-loading gun, and he felt
20 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
that the time had now arrived to get it. So he picked out one
valued at forty skins and paid for it. Then, taking back the
quills his grandson held, he bought twenty skins' worth of
powder, caps, shot, and bullets. Then he selected for himself a
couple of pairs of trousers, one pair made of moleskin and the
other of tweed, costing ten skins; two shirts and a suit of under-
wear, ten skins ; half a dozen assorted traps, ten skins. Finding
that he had used up all his quills, he drew on those set aside for
his wife and son-in-law's family and bought tobacco, five skins;
files, one skin; an axe, two skins; a knife, one skin; matches,
one half skin; and candy for his youngest grandchild, one half
skin. On looking over his acquisitions he discovered that he
must have at least ten skins' worth of twine for nets and snares,
five skins' worth of tea, one skin worth of soap, one skin worth
of needles and thread, as well as a tin pail and a new frying pan.
After a good deal of hagghng, the Factor threw him that
number of quills, and Oo-koo-hoo's manifest contentment
somewhat relieved the trader's anxiety.
A moment later, however, Oo-koo-hoo was reminded by his
wife, Ojistoh, that there was nothing for her, so she determined
to interview the Factor herself. She tried to persuade him to
give her twenty skins in trade, and promised to pay for them in
the spring with rat and ermine skins, or — should those fail her —
with her dog, which was worth fully thirty skins. She had been
counting on getting some cotton print for a dress, as well as
thread and needles, to say nothing of extra tea, which in all
would amount to at least thirty-five or forty skins. When,
however, the Factor allowed her only ten skins, her disap-
pointment was keen, and she ended by getting a shawl. Then
she left the trading room to pay a visit to the Factor's wife, and
confide to her the story of her expectations and of her disap-
pointment so movingly that she would get a cup of tea, a word of
sympathy, and perhaps even an old petticoat.
In the meantime, Oo-koo-hbo was catching it again. He had
.4.
/ surmised at once who he was, for one could see by the merest
glance at his remarkably pleasant yet thoroughly clever face, that he
was all his name implied, a wise dignified old gentleman, who was
in the habit of observing much more than he gave tongue to — a rare
quality in men — especially white men. Even before I heard him
speak I liked Oo-koo-hoo — The
Sec Chapter I
ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 21
forgotten his daughter; so after more hagghng the trader
agreed to advance her ten skins. Her mind had long been
made up. She bought a three-point blanket, a small head
shawl, and a piece of cotton print. Then the grandsons crowded
round and grumbled because there was nothing for them.
By this time the trader was beginning to feel that he had
done pretty well for the family already; but he kept up the
appearance of bluff good humour, and asked:
"Well, Oo-koo-hoo, what wad ye be wantin' for the laddies.^ "
"My grandsons are no bunglers, as you know," said the
proud old grandsire. "They can each kill at least twenty
skins' worth of fur."
"Aye, aye!" rejoined the trader. "I shall e'en gi'e them
twenty atween them."
In the goodness of his heart he offered the boys some advice
as to what they should buy: " Ye'll be wantin' to buy traps,
I'm jalousin', an' sure ye'll turn oot to be graun' hunters,
Nimrods o' the North that men'll mak' sangs aboot i' the comin'
years." He cautioned them to choose wisely, because from
henceforth they would be personally responsible for everything
they bought, and must pay, "skin for skin" (the motto of the
Hudson's Bay Company).
The boys hstened with gloomy civihty, and then purchased
an assortment of useless trifles such as ribbons, tobacco, but-
tons, candy, rings, pomatum, perfume, and Jew's harps.
The Factor's patience was now nearly exhausted. He
picked up his account book, and strode to the door, and held it
open as a hint to the Indians to leave. But they pretended to
take no notice of his action.
The granddaughters, who had been growing more and more
anxious lest they should be forgotten, now began to be voluble
in complaint. Oo-koo-hoo called the trader aside and explained
the trouble. The Factor realized that he was in a comer, and
that if he now refused further supphes he would offend the old
22 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
chief, and drive him to sell his best furs to the opposition
trader in revenge. He surrendered, and the girls received ten
skins between them.
At long last everyone was pleased except the unhappy
Factor. Gathering his purchases together, Oo-koo-hoo tied
up the powder, shot, tea, and sugar in the legs of the trousers;
placed the purchases for his wife, daughter, and granddaughters
in the shawl, and the rest of the goods in the blanket.
Then he made the discovery that he had neither flour nor
grease. He could not start without them. The Factor's
blood was now almost at the boiling pitch, but he dared not
betray his feelings; for the Indian was ready to take offence at
the slightest word, so rich and independent did he feel. Anger-
ing him now would simply mean adding to the harvest of the
opposition trader. He chewed his lower lip in the effort to
smother his disgust, and growled out with an angry grin:
"Hoots, mon, ye ha'e gotten ower muckle already. It's
fair redeeklus. I jist canna gi'e ye onythin' meiir ava!"
"Ah, but, master, you have forgotten that I am a great
hunter. And that my son-in-law is a great hunter, too. This
is but the outfit for a lazy man! Besides, the Great Company
is rich, and I am poor. If you will be stingy, I shall not trouble
you more."
Once again the Factor gave way, and handed out the flour
and grease. All filed out, and the Factor turned the key in the
door. As he walked toward the house, his spirits began to rise,
and he clapped the old Indian on the back good-naturedly.
Presently Oo-koo-hoo halted in his tracks. He had forgotten
something: he had nothing in case of sickness.
"Master, you know my voyage is long; my work is hard;
the winter is severe. I am not very strong now: I may fall
ill. My wife — she is not very strong — ^may faU ill also. My
son-in-law is not very strong: he may fall iU too. My daugh-
ter is not. . . ."
ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE
23
"De'il ha'e ye!" roared the Factor, "what is't the noo?"
"Never mind, it will do to-morrow," muttered the hunter
with an offended air.
"As Fm a leevin' sinner, it's noo or it's niwer," insisted
the Factor, who had no desire to let the Indian have another
day at it. "Come back this vena minnit, an' I'll gi'e ye a
wheen poothers an' sic like, that'll keep ye a' hale and hearty, I
houp, till ye win hame again."
The Factor took him back and gave him some salts, pepper-
mint, pain-killer, and sticking-plaster to offset all the ills that
might befall him and his party during the next ten months.
Once more they started for the house. The Factor was
ready to put up with anything as long as he could get them
away from the store. Oo-koo-hoo now told the trader not to
charge anything against his wife as he would settle her account
himself, and that as Amik would be back in the morning, he,
too, would want his advances, and if they had forgotten any-
thing, Amik could get it next day.
The Factor scowled again, but it was too late.
While the Indians lounged around the kitchen and talked
to the Factor's wife and the half-breed servant girl, the Factor
went to his office and made out Oo-koo-hoo's bill, which read:
(3^ S^^^JI^t^ /^^./65U=^ /^^^
©5^
24 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
The Indian now told the trader that he wanted him to send
the "Fur Runners" to him with supphes in ten weeks' time;
and that he must have a "geese-wark," or measure of days, in
order to know exactly when the Fur Runners would arrive at
his camp. So the Factor made out the following calendar:
T\(y 6 r' n )<. H I II I x.m 1 1 1 X III iM yv » u H i
/O
(f^ ^^jyucJLL <Sf\fyijuyiA^(2f2Ldth.
The above characters to the left are syllabic — a method of
writing taught to the Indians by the missionaries. They spell
the words September, October, and November. The I's
represent week days, and the X's Sundays. The calendar
begins with the 18th of September, and the crescent marks the
29th of November, the date of the arrival of the Fur Runners.
The Indian would keep track of the days by pricking a pin
hole every day above the proper figure.
Presently the Factor and I were alone for a few moments
and he growled:
"Whit d'ye think o' the auld de'il?"
"Fine, I'll go with him, if he will take me."
So I had a talk with the old Indian, and when he learned that
I had no intention of killing game, but merely wanted to ac-
company him and his son-in-law on their hunts, he consented
and we came to terms. I was to be ready to start early on the
ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 25
morning of the 20th. Then Oo-koo-hoo turned to the trader
and said:
"Master, it is getting late and it will be later when I reach
my lodge. I am hungry now, and I shall be hungrier still
when I get home. I am growing . . ."
"Aye, aye, ma birkie," interrupted the Factor, "I un'er-
staun' fine." He bestowed upon the confident petitioner a
further gratuity of flour, tea, sugar, and tallow, a clay pipe, a
plug of tobacco and some matches, so as to save him from
having to break in upon his winter supphes before he started
upon his journey to the hunting grounds. Oo-koo-hoo sol-
emnly expressed his gratitude:
"Master, my heart is pleased. You are my father. I shall
now hunt well, and you shall have all my fm*."
To show his appreciation of the compliment, the Factor gave
him an old shirt, and wished him good luck.
In the meantime, Oo-koo-hoo's wife had succeeded in ob-
taining from the Factor's wife old clothes for her grandchildren,
needles and thread, and some food. Just as they got ready to
go, the younger woman, Amik's wife, remembered that the
baby had brought a duck as a present for the Factor's children
so they had to give a present in return, worth at least twice as
much as the duck.
The Factor and his family were by this time suflQciently
weary. Right willingly did they go down to the landing to see
the Indians off. No sooner had these taken their places in the
canoes and paddled a few strokes away than the grandmother
remembered that she had a present for the Factor and his wife.
All paddled back again, and the Factor and his wife were each
presented with a pair of moccasins. No, she would not take
anything in return, at least, not just now. To-morrow, per-
haps, when they came to say good-bye.
"Losh me! I thocht they were aff an' gane," exclaimed
the trader as he turned and strode up the beach.
26 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
I inwardly laughed, for any man — red, white, black, or
yellow — ^who could make such a hard-headed old Scotsman as
Donald Mackenzie loosen up, was certainly clever; and the way
old Oo-koo-hoo made off with such a lot of suppUes proved him
more than a match for the trader.
THE BEST FUR DISTRICTS
While we were at supper a perfect roar of gun shots ran
around the bay and on our rushing to the doorway we saw the
Inspector's big canoe coming. Up went the flag and more gun
shots followed. Then we went down to the landing to meet
Inspecting Chief Factor Bell.
After supper the newcomer and the Factor and I sat before
the fire and discussed the fur trade. I liked to listen to the old
trader, but the Inspector, being the greater traveller of the two,
covering every year on the rounds of his regular work thou-
sands upon thousands of miles, was the more interesting talker.
Presently, when the subject turned to the distribution of the
fur-bearing animals, Mr. Bell took a case from his bag and
opening it, spread it out before us upon the Factor's desk. It
was a map of the Dominion of Canada, on which the names of
the principal posts of the Hudson's Bay Company were printed
in red. Across it many irregular hnes were drawn in different-
coloured inks, and upon its margins were many written
notes.
"This map, as you see," remarked the Inspector, "defines
approximately the distribution of the fur-bearing animals of
Canada, and I'll wager that you have never seen another Hke
it; for if it were not for the records of the Hudson's Bay Com-
pany, no such map could have been compiled. How did I
manage it.^^ Well, to begin with, you must understand that the
Indians invariably trade their winter's catch of fur at the
trading post nearest their hunting grounds; so when the
ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 27
annual returns of all the posts are sent in to the Company's
headquarters, those returns accurately define the distribution
of the fur-bearing animals for that year. These irregular
lines across the map were drawn after an examination of the
annual returns from all the posts for the last forty years.
Pubhsh it? No, siree, that would never do!"
But the Inspector's remarks did not end the subject, as we
began discussing the greatest breeding grounds of the various
fur-bearers, and Mr. Bell presently continued:
"The greatest centre for coloured foxes is near Salt River,
which flows into Slave River at Fort Smith. There, too, most
of the black foxes and silver foxes are trapped. The great
otter and fisher centre is around Trout Lake, Island Lake,
Sandy Lake, and God's Lake. Otter taken north of Lake
Superior are found to be fully one third larger than those
killed in any other region. Black bears and brown bears are
most frequently to be met with between Fort Pelly and Portage
La Loche. Cumberland House is the centre of the greatest
breeding grounds for muskrat, mink, and ermine. Manitoba
House is another great district for muskrat. Lynxes are found
in greatest numbers in the Iroquois Valley, in the foothills on
the eastern side of the Rockies. Coyote skins come chiefly
from the district between Calgary and Qu'AppeUe for a hundred
miles both north and south. Skunks are most plentiful just
south of Green Lake; formerly, they lived on the plains, but of
late they have moved northward into the woods. Wolver-
ines frequent most the timber country just south of the Barren
Grounds, where they are often found traveUing in bands. The
home of the porcupine hes just north of Isle a la Crosse. Forty
years ago the breeding grounds of the beaver were on the eastern
side of the Rockies. Nowadays that region is hardly worth
considering as a trapping ground for them. They have been
steadily migrating eastward along the ChurchiU River, then
by way of Cross Lake, Fort Hope, to Abitibi, thence north-
28 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
easterly clean across the country to Labrador, where few were
to be found twenty-five years ago. Don't misunderstand me.
I'm not saying that beaver were not found in those parts
years ago, but what I mean is that the source of the greatest
harvest of beaver skins has moved steadily eastward during
the last forty years. Strange to say, the finest marten skins
secured in Canada are not those of the extreme northern limit,
but those taken on the Parsnip River in Rritish Columbia."
WANTED, A SON-IN-LAW
Next morning I busied myself making a few additions to
my outfit for the winter. Then I borrowed a two-and-a-half
fathom canoe and paddled across the lake to Spearhead. The
town I had heard so much about from the Free Trader was
just a Httle clearing of about three acres on the edge of the
forest; in fact, it was really just a stump lot with a small one-
and-a-half story log house standing in the middle. Where
there was a rise in the field, a small log stable was set half under-
ground, and upon its roof was stacked the winter's supply of
hay for a team of horses, a cow, and a heifer.
At the front door Mr. and Mrs. Spear welcomed me. My
hostess was a prepossessing Canadian woman of fair education,
in fact, she had been a stenographer. On entering the house I
found the trading room on the right of a tiny hall, on the left
was the living room, which was also used to eat in, and the
kitchen was, of coiu-se, in the rear. After being entertained
for ten or fifteen minutes by my host and hostess, I heard fight
steps descending the stairs, and the next moment I beheld a
charming girl. She was their only child. They called her
Athabasca, after the beautiful lake of that name. She was
sixteen years of age, tall, slender, and graceful, a brunette with
large, soft eyes and long, flowing, wavy hair. She wore a
simple little print dress that was becomingly short in the skirt.
ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 29
a pair of black stockings, and low, beaded moccasins. I
admired her appearance, but regretted her shyness, for she was
almost as bashful as I was. She bowed and blushed — so did
I — and while her parents talked to me she sat demurely silent
on the sofa. Occasionally, I caught from her with pleasant
embarrassment a shy but fleeting glance.
Presently, dinner was announced by a haK-breed maid,
and we four took our places at the table, Athabasca opposite
me. At first the talk was hvely, though only three shared in it.
Then, as the third seemed rather more interested in his silent
partner, he would from time to time lose the thread of the dis-
course. By degrees the conversation died down into silence. A
few minutes later Mrs. Spear suddenly remarked:
"Father . . . don't you think it would be a good
thing if you took son-in-law into partnership?"
Father leaned back, scratched his head for a while, and
then repUed:
"Yes, Mother, I do, and I'll do it."
The silent though beautiful Athabasca, without even
raising her eyes from her plate, blushed violently, and needless
to say, I blushed, too, but, of course, only out of sympathy.
"The horses are too busy, just now, to haul the logs, but of
course the young people could have our spare room imtil I
could build them a log shack."
"Father, that's a capital idea. So there's no occasion for
any delay whatever. Then, when their house is finished, we
could spare them a bed, a table, a couple of chairs, and give
them a new cooking stove."
Athabasca blushed deeper than ever, and studied her plate
all the harder, and I began to show interest and prick up my
ears, for I wondered who on earth son-in-law could be.^^ I
knew perfectly well there was no young white man in all that
region, and that even if he Hved in the nearest frontier town, it
would take him, either by canoe or on snowshoes, at least two
30 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
weeks to make the round trip to Spearhead, just to call on her.
I couldn't fathom it at all.
"Besides, Mother, we might give them the heifer, as a
starter, for she will be ready to milk in the spring. Then, too,
we might give them a few ducks and geese and perhaps a pig."
"Excellent idea. Father; besides, I think I could spare enough
cutlery, dishes, and cooking utensils to help out for a while."
"And I could lend them some blankets from the store,"
the trader returned.
But at that moment Athabasca miscalculated the distance
to her mouth and dropped a bit of potato on the floor, and when
she stooped to recover it, I caught a glance from the comer
of her eye. It was one of those indescribable glances that
girls give. I remember it made me perspire all over. Queer,
isn't it, the way women sometimes affect one? I would have
blushed more deeply, but by that time there was no possible
chance of my face becoming any redder, notwithstanding the
fact that I was a red-head. Ponder as I would, I couldn't
fathom the mystery . . . who Son-in-law could be . . •
though I had already begun to think him a lucky fellow — quite
one to be envied.
Then Mrs. Spear exclaimed, as we rose from the table:
"Good! . . . Then that's settled . . . you'll take
him into partnership, and I'm glad, for I hke him, and I think
he'll make an excellent trader."
Our getting away from the table rather reheved me, as I
was dripping perspiration, and I wanted to fairly mop my face —
of course, when they weren't looking.
Together they showed me over the estabhshment : the spare
bedroom, the trading shop, the stable, the heifer, the ducks and
geese, and even the pig — though it puzzled me why they singled
out the very one they intended giving Son-in-law. The silent
though beautiful Athabasca followed a few feet behind as
we went the rounds, and inspected the wealth that was to be
ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 31
bestowed upon her lover. I was growing more inquisitive
than ever as to who Son-in-law might be. Indeed, I felt like
asking, but was really too shy, and besides, when I thought it
over, I concluded it was none of my business.
When the time came for me to return to the Hudson's Ray
Post, I shook hands with them all — ^Athabasca had nice hands
and a good grip, too. Her parents gave me a pressing invita-
tion to visit them again for a few days at New Year's, when
everyone in the country would be going to the great winter
festival that was always held at Fort Consolation. As I
paddled away I mused:
"Ry George, Son-in-law is certainly a lucky dog, for Atha-
basca's a peach . . . but I don't see how in thunder her
lover ever gets a chance to call."
LEAVING FORT CONSOLATION
I was up early next morning and as I wished to see how
Oo-koo-hoo and his party would pack up and board their
canoes, I walked round the bay to the Indian village. After a
hasty breakfast, the women pulled down the lodge coverings of
sheets of birch bark and roUing them up placed them upon the
star-chi-gan — the stage — along with other things which they
intended leaving behind. The lodge poles were left standing in
readiness for their return next simMuer, and it wasn't long be-
fore all their worldly goods — save their skin tepees and most of
their traps, which had been left on their last winter's hunting
grounds — ^were placed aboard their three canoes, and o£F they
paddled to the Post, to say good-bye, while Amik seciured his
advances.
Just think of it, all you housekeepers — ^no gold plate or silver-
ware to send to the vault, no bric-a-brac to pack, no furniture to
cover, no bedding to put away, no rugs or furs or clothes to send
to cold storage, no servants to wrangle with or discharge,
32 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
no plumbers to swear over, no janitors to cuss at, no, not even
any housecleaning to do before you depart — ^just move and
nothing more. Just dump a little outfit into a canoe and then
paddle away from all your tiresome environment, and travel
wherever your heart dictates, and then settle down where not
even an exasperating neighbom* could find you. What would
you give to live such a peaceful Ufe?
"As I understand it," says Thoreau, "that was a vaHd ob-
jection urged by Momus against the house which Minerva
made, that she had not made it movable, by which means a bad
neighbourhood might be avoided; and it may still be urged, for
our houses are such unwieldy property that we are often
imprisoned rather than housed in them; and the bad neighbour-
hood to be avoided is our own scurvy selves."
On their arrival, Amik at once set about getting his ad-
vances. He was a stalwart, athletic-looking man of about
thirty-five, but not the equal of his father-in-law in character.
Oo-koo-hoo now told the Factor just where he intended to
hunt, what fur he expected to get, and how the fur runners
could best find his camp. As the price of fur had risen, the
Factor told him what price he expected to pay. If, however,
the price had dropped, the Factor would not have informed the
hunter untU his return next year. During the course of the
conversation, the old himter begged the loan of a second-hand
gun and some traps for the use of his grandsons; and the
Factor granted his request.
In the meantime, the women called upon the clergyman and
the priest and the nuns to wish them farewell, and incidentally
to do a little more begging. As they were not ready to go by
noon, the Factor's wife spread a cloth upon the kitchen floor,
and placed upon it some food for the party. After lunch
they actually made ready to depart, and everybody came down
to the landing to see us off. As the children and dogs scrambled
aboard the canoes, the older woman remembered that she had
ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE 33
not been paid for her gift of moccasins, and so another delay
took place while the Factor selected a suitable present. It is
always thus. Then, at last, the canoes push off. Amid the
waving of hands, the shouting of farewells, and the shedding of a
few tears even, the simple natives of the wilderness paddled
away over the silent lake en route for their distant hunting
grounds.
Thither the reader must follow, and there, amid the fastnesses
of the Great Northern Forest, he must spend the winter if he
would see the Indian at his best. There he is a beggar no
longer. There, escaped from the civilization which the white
man is ever forcing upon the red — a civilization which rarely
fails to make a degenerate of him — ^he proves his manhood.
There, contrary to the popular idea, he wiU be found to be a
diligent and skilful worker and an affectionate husband and
father. There, given health and game, no toil and no hardship
will hinder him from procuring fur enough to pay off his in-
debtedness, and to lay up in store twice as much again with
which to engage next spring in the dehghtful battle of wits be-
tween white man and red in the Great Company's trading
room.
II
IN QUEST OF TREASURE
THE PERFECT FOOL
It was an ideal day and the season and the country were in
keeping. Soon the trading posts faded from view, and when,
after trolling around Fishing Point, we entered White River
and went ashore for an early supper, everyone was smiling.
I revelled over the prospect of work, freedom, contentment,
and beauty before me; and over the thought of leaving behind
me the last vestige of the white man's ugly, hypercritical, and
oppressive civihzation.
Was it any wonder I was happy? For me it was but the be-
ginning of a never-to-be-forgotten journey in a land where a
man can be a man without the aid of money. Yes . . .
without money. And that reminds me of a white man I knew
who was born and bred in the Great Northern Forest, and who
supported and educated a family of twelve, and yet he reached
his sixtieth birthday without once having handled or ever hav-
ing seen money. He was as generous, as refined, and as noble
a man as one would desire to know; yet when he visited civih-
zation for the first time — in his sixty-first year — ^he was reviled
because he had a smile for all, he was swindled because he knew
no guile, he was robbed because he trusted everyone, and he was
arrested because he manifested brotherly love toward his fellow-
creatures. Our vaunted civihzation! It was the regret of his
decHning years that circumstances prevented him from leaving
the enhghtened Christians of the cities, and going back to live in
peace among the honest, kindly hearted barbarians of the forest.
34
IN QUEST OF TREASURE 35
Soon there were salmon-trout — fried to a golden brown —
crisp bannock, and tea for all; then a little re-adjusting of the
packs, and we were again at the paddles. Oo-koo-hoo's wife,
Ojistoh, along with her second granddaughter and her two
grandsons, occupied one of the three-and-a-haK fathom canoes;
Amik, and his wife, Naudin, with her baby and eldest daughter,
occupied the other; and Oo-koo-hoo and I paddled together in
the two-and-a-half fathom canoe. One of the five dogs —
Oo-koo-hoo's best hunter — travelled with us, while the other
four took passage in the other canoes. Although the going was
now up stream — the same river by which I had come — ^we
made fair speed until Island Lake stretched before us, when we
felt a southwest wind that threatened trouble; but by making
a long detour about the bays of the southwestern shore the
danger vanished. Arriving at the foot of the portage trail at
Bear Rock Rapids, we carried our outfit to a cliff above, which
afforded an excellent camping ground; and there arose the
smoke of our evening fire. The cloudless sky giving no sign of
rain, we contented ourselves with laying mattresses of balsam
brush upon which to sleep. While the sunset glow still filled
the western sky, we heard a man's voice shouting above the
roar of the rapids, and on going to the brink, saw a "York
boat" in the act of shooting the cataract. It was one of the
boats of "The Goods Brigade" transporting supphes for the
northern posts of the Hudson's Bay Company. As the craft
measured forty feet in length and was manned by eight men,
it was capable of carrying about seventy packs, each weighing
about a hundred pounds. But of these boat brigades — ^more
in due season.
After supper, when twilight was deepening, and tobacco — in
the smoking of which the women conscientiously joined — ^was
freely forthcoming, the subject of conversation turned to wood-
craft. Since it fell to Oo-koo-hoo, as the principal hunter, to
keep the party supplied with game while en route, I was won-
36 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
dering what he would do in case he saw a bear and went ashore
to trail it. Would he himself skin and cut up the bear, or would
he want the women to help him? If the latter, what sign or
signal would he use so that they might keep in touch with him?
But when I questioned Oo-koo-hoo, he rephed :
" My white son" — ^for that is what he sometimes called me —
" I see you are just like all white men, but if you are observant
and hsten to those who are wiser than you, you may some day
rank almost the equal of an Indian."
Afterward, when I became better acquainted with him, I
learned that with regard to white men in general, he held the
same opinion that aU Indians do, and that is, that they are per-
fect fools. When I agreed with the old gentleman, and assured
him he was absolutely right, and that the biggest fool I ever
knew was the one who was talking to him, he laughed outright,
and replied that now he knew that I was quite different from
most white men, and that he beUeved some day I would be the
equal of an Indian. When I first heard his opinion of white
men, I regarded him as a pretty sane man, but afterward, when
I tried to get him to include not only his brother Indians, but
also himself under the same definition, I could not get him to
agree with me, therefore I was disappointed in him. He was
not the philosopher I had at first taken him to be; for fife has
taught me that all men are fools — of one kind or another.
OO-KOO-HOO'S WOODCRAFT
But to return to woodcraft. Emerson says: "Men are
naturally hunters and inquisitive of woodcraft, and I suppose
that such a gazetteer as wood-cutters and Indians should fur-
nish facts for would take place in the most sumptuous drawing
rooms of all the * Wreaths' and 'Flora's Chaplets' of the book-
shops" and beheving that to be true, I shall therefore tell you
not only how my Indian friends managed to keep their bearings
IN QUEST OF TREASURE 37
while travelling without a compass, but how, without the aid of
writing, they continued to leave various messages for their
companions. When I asked Oo-koo-hoo how he would signal,
in case he went ashore to trail game — when the other canoes
were out of sight behind him — and he should want someone to
follow him to help-carry back the meat, he rephed that he would
cut a small bushy-topped sapling and plant it upright in the
river near his landing place on the shore. That, he said, would
signify that he wished his party to go ashore and camp on the
first good camping ground; while, at the same time, it would
warn them not to kindle a fire until they had first examined the
tracks to make sure whether the smoke would frighten the
game. Then someone would follow his trail to render him
assistance, providing they saw that he had blazed a tree. If
he did not want them to follow him, he would shove two sticks
into the ground so that they would slant across the trail in the
fonn of an X, but if he wanted them to follow he would blaze
a tree. If he wanted them to hurry, he would blaze the same
tree twice. If he wanted them to follow as fast as they could
with caution, he would blaze the same tree three times, but if
he desired them to abandon all caution and to follow with all
speed, he would cut a long blaze and tear it off.
Then, again, if he were leaving the game trail to circle his
quarry, and if he wished them to follow his tracks instead of
those of the game, he would cut a long blaze on one tree and a
small one on another tree, which would signify that he had
left the game trail at a point between the two trees and that
they were to follow his tracks instead of those of the game.
But if he wished them to stop and come no farther, he would
drop some article of his clothing on the trail. Should, however,
the game trail happen to cross a muskeg where there were no
trees to blaze, he would place moss upon the bushes to answer
instead of blazes, and in case the ground was hard and left an
invisible trail, he would cut a stick and shoving the small end
38 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
into the trail, would slant the butt in the direction he had
gone.
If traversing water where there were no saphngs at hand, and
he wished to let his followers know where he had left the water
to cross a muskeg, he would try to secure a pole, which he would
leave standing in the water, with grass protruding from the
spHt upper end, and the pole slanting to show in which direc-
tion he had gone. If, on the arrival at the fork of a river, he
wished to let his followers know up which fork he had paddled —
say, for instance, if it were the right one — ^he would shove a
long stick into either bank of the left fork in such a way that it
would point straight across the channel of the left fork, to
signify, as it were, that the channel was blocked. Then, a
Uttle farther up the right fork, he would plant a sapling or pole
in the water, slanting in the direction he had gone — to prove to
the follower that he was now on the right trail. Oo-koo-hoo
further explained that if he were about to cross a lake and he
wished to let his follower know the exact point upon which he
intended to land, he would cut two poles, placing the larger
nearest the woods and the smaller nearest the water, both in
an upright position and in an exact line with the point to which
he was going to head, so that the follower by taking sight from
one pole to the other would learn the exact spot on the other
shore where he should land — even though it were several miles
away. But if he were not sure just where he intended to land,
he would cut a willow branch and twist it into the form of a
hoop and hang it upon the smaller pole — that would signify
that he might land at any point of the surrounding shore of
the lake.
If he wanted to signal his family to camp at any particular
point along his trail, he would leave some article of his clothing
and place near it a number of sticks standing in the form of the
poles of a lodge, thus suggesting to them that they should erect
their tepee upon that spot. If he had woimded big game and
IN QUEST OF TREASURE 39
expected soon to overtake and kill it, and if he wanted help to
carry back the meat, he would blaze a tree and upon that
smooth surface would make a sketch, either with knife or char-
coal, of the animal he was pursuing. If a full day had elapsed
since the placing of crossed sticks over the trail, the follower
would abandon all caution and follow at top speed, as he would
realize that some misfortune had befallen the hunter. The
second man, or follower, however, never blazes trees as he
trails the first hunter, but simply breaks off twigs or bends
branches in the direction in which he is going, so that should it
be necessary that a third man should also follow, he could
readily distinguish the difference between the two trails. If a
hunter wishes to leave a good trail over a treeless district, he, as
far as possible, chooses soft ground and treads upon his
heels.
When a hunter is trailing an animal, he avoids stepping
upon the animal's trail, so that should it be necessary for him
to go back and re-trail his quarry, the animal's tracks shall not
be obhterated. If, in circling about his quarry, the hunter
should happen to cut his own trail, he takes great care to cut it
at right angles, so that, should he have to circle several times,
he may never be at a loss to know which was his original trail.
If the hunter should wish to leave a danger signal behind him,
he will take two sapHngs, one from either side of the trail, and
twist them together in such a way that they shall block the
passage of the follower, requiring him to pause in order to dis-
entangle them or to pass around them; and if the hunter were
to repeat such a signal two or three times, it would signify that
the follower should use great caution and circle down wind in
order to still-hunt the hunter's trail in exactly the same way
he would still-hunt a moose. Then, again, if the hunter should
wish to let the follower know the exact time of day he had
passed a certain spot, he would draw on the earth or snow a
bow with an arrow placed at right angles to the bow, but point-
40 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
ing straight in the direction where the sun had been at that
precise moment.
THE bear's deduction
Owing to their knowledge of wood-craft some Indians are
very clever at deduction.
On Great Slave Lake near Fort Rae an Indian cripple,
named Simpson's Brother, had joined a party of canoe-men for
the purpose of hunting eggs. After paddhng toward a group of
islands, the party separated, finally landing on different isles.
They had agreed, however, to meet at sunset on a certain
island and there eat and sleep together. While at work sev-
eral of the Indians saw Simpson's Brother alone on a Uttle
rocky islet, busily engaged in gathering eggs. Toward even-
ing, the party met at their rendezvous and took supper to-
gether, but strange to say, Simpson's Brother did not appear.
After smoking and talking for a while, some grew anxious about
the cripple. The Bear began to fear lest some mishap had
befallen him; but The Caribou scoffed at the idea: he was sure
that Simpson's Brother was still working and that he would
soon return with more eggs than any of them. The Bear, how-
ever, thought they ought to search for him, as his canoe might
have drifted away. But The Mink replied that if anything
hke that had happened, the cripple would certainly have fired
his gun. "But how could he fire his gun if his canoe had drifted
away?" asked The Bear, "for would not his gun be in his
canoe?" So they all paddled off to investigate the mystery.
On nearing the island, they saw the Brother's canoe adrift.
When they overhauled it, sure enough his gun was aboard.
They then landed on the little isle where the cripple had been
at work and began calling aloud for him. As they received no
answer, some of the Indians claimed that he must be asleep.
The Bear rephed that if he was asleep their shouting would
IN QUEST OF TREASURE 41
have awakened him and he would have answered, but that now
they had best search the island.
So they divided into two parties and searched the shore in
different directions until they finally met on the other side,
then they scattered and examined every nook and comer of the
place — but all in vain. Some now contended that the others
were mistaken, and that that could not be the island on which
the Brother had been working; but The Bear — though he had
not seen the cripple there — insisted that it was. They asked
him to prove it.
"The wind has been blowing steadily from the north,"
rephed The Bear, "the other islands are all south of this one,
and you know that we found his canoe adrift south of here
and north of all the other islands. That is sufficient proof."
Then he added: "The reason Simpson's Brother did not
answer is because he is not on the island, but in the water."
Again they all clam.oured for proof and The Bear answered:
" But first I must find where he landed, and the quickest way to
find that place is to remember that the wind was blowing too
strong for him to land on the north shore, and that the running
swells were too strong for him to land on either the east or west
sides, therefore he landed on the south side — the sheltered side.
Now let us go and see where he drew up his canoe."
But one of the others argued that that would be impossible
as Simpson's Brother was not such a fool as to act like a white
man and drag his canoe over the rocks. The Bear, however,
persisted that there would be some sign, at least where the bow
touched shore when the cripple got out, and that he. The Bear,
would go and find it. But first he would go and examine the
nests to learn from which of them the cripple had removed the
eggs. Thus they would learn where he had been working; and
the finding of the landing place would be made easier. So The
Bear set to work. From the empty nests he soon learned
where the cripple had been working, and after a careful search
42 THE DRA.MA OF THE FORESTS
lie presently found on a big rock a little white spot no larger
than a man's finger nail.
"There, my friends, is where Simpson's Brother landed, for
that white mark is of gum and proves where the bow of the
canoe bumped the rock."
They then asked The Bear where he thought the cripple was,
and pointing, he repUed:
"If we search long enough we shaU find him in the deep
water down there; for when Simpson's Brother was getting
aboard his canoe, he sHpped and in faUing struck his head upon
the rock; the blow stunned him, and without a struggle he slid
into the water, and was drowned."
When they had brought their canoes round and had peered
into the deep water, true enough, they discovered the body on
the bottom of the lake. Seciu*ing a long pole, they fastened a
gun worm to one end and, reaching down, twisted it into the
cripple's clothing and brought the body to the surface. Sadly
they placed it in the unfortunate man's canoe, towed the craft
and its bm"den to the other island, and sent to Fort Rae for the
priest. Father Roure, to come and perform the burial service.
BEASTS WITH HUMAN SOULS
Next morning we arose with dawn. After a hearty break-
fast of fish — taken from the gill-net that had been set over-
night below the rapid — the work of portaging round the rapids
was begim and by about ten o'clock was finished. Noon over-
took us near the mouth of Caribou River, up which we were to
ascend on the first half of our journey to Oo-koo-hoo's hunting
grounds. About two o'clock we entered that stream and
headed westerly toward a spur of mountains that lay about a
week's travel away and through which we had to pass to gain
our winter camping ground. An hour later, as Oo-koo-hoo and
I preceded the party, paddling up one of the channels caused
IN QUEST OF TREASURE 43
by a number of large islands dividing the river into mere
creeks, we chanced upon a woodland caribou bull, as it stood
among the rushes in a marshy bend watching us from a distance
of not more than forty yards. As I crouched down to be out of
the hunter's way, I heard him say:
" I'm sorry, my brother, but we need you for both food and
clothing, so turn your eyes away before I fire." The next
moment the woods echoed the report of his smooth-bore muzzle-
loader — the kind of gun used by about 90 per cent, of the
fur hunters of the forest. Why.^ Because of the simphcity of
its ammunition. Such a gun never requires a variety of cum-
bersome shells for different kinds of game, but with varying
charges of powder and shot or ball, is ready for anything from a
rat or duck to a bear or moose.
Before bleeding the deer, Oo-koo-hoo did a curious thing:
with his sharp knife he destroyed the deer's eyes. When I
questioned him as tahis purpose he replied: "As long as the
eyes remain perfect, the spirit remains within the head, and
I could not bear to skin the deer with its spirit looking at me."
Though Oo-koo-hoo was in many ways a wise old man, he held
some beliefs that were past my understanding, and others that,
when I tried to analyze them, seemed to be founded on the
working of a sensitive conscience.
Hearing the report of the gun, the others hurried to the
scene. While the deer was being bled the old grandmother
caught the blood in a pail — into which she threw a pinch of salt
to clot the blood — as she wished to use it for the making of a
blood pudding. Then the carcass was loaded aboard Oo-koo-
hoo's canoe, rather, indeed, overloading it. Accordingly, I
accepted Amik's invitation to board his craft, and at the first
good place we all went ashore to clear the ground for the
night's camp. There was a porcupine there, and though it
moved but slowly away, my friends did not kill it, for they had
plenty to eat, and did not want to be bothered with taking care
44 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
of those dangerous little quills that the women dye and use to
such good advantage in their fancy work. As to the Indian
method of dressing meat and skins — more anon, when we are
finally settled upon the fur trail.
That evening, while flames were leaping after ascending
sparks, and shadows were dancing behind us among the trees,
we lounged about the fire on packs and blankets and discussed
the events of the day. When I asked Oo-koo-hoo why he had
addressed the deer in such a manner, he replied that it was the
proper and regular way to speak to an animal, because every
creature in the forest, whether beast, bird, or fish, contained
the spirit of some former human being. He further explained
that whenever the men of the olden time killed an unusually
large animal with an extra fine coat, they did not save the skin
to sell to the trader, but burnt the carcass, pelt and all, and in
that way they returned the body to the spirit again. Thus
they not only paid homage to the spirit, but proved them-
selves unselfish men. He went on to say that from the time
of the Great, Great Long Ago, the Indian had always beheved —
as he did to-day — that every bull moose contained the
spirit of a famous Indian chief, that every caribou bull con-
tained the spirit of a lesser chief, and so on down through the
whole of the animal creation. Rears, however, or rather the
spirits animating them, possessed the greatest power to render
good or evil, and for that reason the hunter usually took the
greatest care to address Rruin properly before he slew him.
It is no wonder that the Indians still retain such ideas when,
as Lord Avebmy says: "We do not now, most of us, believe
that animals have souls, and yet probably the majority of
mankind from Ruddha to Wesley and Kingsley have done so."
Another thing Oo-koo-hoo told me was that out of respect
to the dignified spirit possessed by the bull moose, women were
never allowed to eat of the head, nor was a moose head to be
placed upon a sled upon which a woman had ever sat; for if
IN QUEST OF TREASURE 45
that were done, bad luck would follow the hunter to the end
of his days. He knew of a hunter who on one occasion had
been guilty of that irreverence; afterward, whenever that
hunter would see a moose, the moose — instead of trying to
escape — ^would indifferently bark at him, and even follow him
back close to camp; and when that hunter would go out again,
other moose would do the very same thing. Moreover, the
hunter was afraid to kill any moose that acted that way, for he
well knew that the animal was simply warning him of some
great danger that was surely going to befall him. So, in the
end, the hunter fretted himself to death. Therefore every
hunter should take great care to bum all the bones of a moose's
head and never on any account allow a woman to eat thereof
or to feed it to the dogs. In burning the head, the hunter was
merely paying the homage due to so noble a creature.
Again, a hunter might find that though he had fonnerly
been a good moose hunter, and had always observed every
custom, yet he now utterly failed to secure a moose at all. He
might come upon plenty of tracks, but the moose would always
escape, and prove the efforts of an experienced moose hunter
of no more avail than those of a greenhorn. In such a case,
there was but one thing to do, and that was to secure the
whole skin — head, legs, and all — of a fawn, stuff it into its
natural shape, set it up in the woods, wait till the new moon
was in the first crescent, and then, just after sundown, engage a
young girl to shoot five arrows at it from the regular hunting
distance. If she missed, it was proof that the spirit had
rejected the girl, and that another would have to be secured to
do the shooting. If success were then attained, the hunter
might go upon his hunt, well knowing he would soon be re-
warded by bringing down a moose. Of course such ideas seem
strange to us, but, after all, are we in a position to ridicule the
Indians' belief? I think not, if we but recall the weird ideas
our ancestors held.
46 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
The Indian, like the white man, has many superstitions,
some ugly, and some beautiful, and of the latter class, I quote
one: he beheves that the spirits of still-bom children or very
young infants take flight, when they die, and enter the bodies
of birds. A dehghtful thought — especially for the mother.
For as Kingsley says of St. Francis, "perfectly sure that he
himself was a spiritual being, he thought it at least possible that
birds might be spiritual beings hkewise, incarnate hke himself
in mortal flesh; and saw no degradation to the dignity of human
nature in claiming kindred lovingly, with creatures so beautiful,
so wonderful, who praised God in the forest, even as angels did
in heaven."
The forest Indian, however, is not content with merely
stating that the spirits of infants enter birds; but he goes on to
say that while the spirits of Indian children always enter the
beings of the finest singers and the most beautiful of all the
birds, the spirits of the children of white people enter the bodies
of stupid, ugly birds that just squawk around, and are neither
interesting to look at nor pleasant to hsten to, but are quarrel-
some, and thievish. When I asked Oo-koo-hoo to name a few
birds into which the spirits of white children entered, he men-
tioned, among others, the woodpecker — ^which the Indians
consider to have, proportionately, the longest and sharpest
tongue of all birds. That reminds me of the reply I received
from one of the characters in this book, when I wrote him,
among others, requesting that he grant me permission to make
use of his name, in order to add authority to my text. Like
others, he begged me to refrain from quoting his name, as he
was afraid that the information he had given me might be the
cause of the Hudson's Bay Company stopping his pension. I
had suggested that he refer the matter to his wife as she, too,
figures in this story, and the following is part of his reply:
"This being an affair between you and I — I have not consulted
my wife. For as you know, the human female tongue is very
IN QUEST OF TREASURE 47
similar to that of the female woodpecker: tmusually long, and
much too pointed to be of any use."
THE HONESTY OF INDIANS
But to return to the Indian's reproach of the white man's
dishonesty; when he states that the spirits of white children
enter only those birds that are counted great thieves, one can-
not wonder at it, for as far as honesty is concerned, a comparison
between the forest Indian and the white man brands the latter
as a thief. Not only is that the private opinion of all the old
fur traders I have met, but I could quote many other authorities;
let two, however, suffice: Charles Mair, the author of "Te-
cumseh," and a member of the Indian Treaty Expedition of
1899, says:
" The writer, and doubtless some of his readers, can recall the
time when to go to * Peace River' seemed almost like going to
another sphere, where, it was conjectured, life was lived very
differently from that of civilized man. And, truly, it was to
enter into an unfamiliar state of things; a region in which a
primitive people, not without fault or depravities, Uved on
Natmre's food, and throve on her unfailiug harvest of fur. A
region in which they often left their beaver, silver fox, or marten
packs — the envy of Fashion — lyiug by the dog-trail, or hang-
ing to some sheltering tree, because no one stole, and took
their fellow's word without question, because no one Hed. A
very simple folk indeed, in whose language profanity was un-
known, and who had no desire to leave their congenital soH-
tudes for any other spot on earth: sohtudes which so charmed
the educated minds who brought the white man's rehgion, or
traffic, to their doors, that, like the Lotus-eaters, they, too, felt
httle craving to depart. Yet they were not regions of sloth or
idleness, but of necessary toil; of the laborious chase and the
endless activities of aboriginal Ufe: the regions of a people
48 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
familiar with its fauna and flora — of skilled but unconscious
naturalists, who knew no science . . . But theft such as
white men practice was a puzzle to these people, amongst whom
it was imknown."
Another example worth quoting is taken from Sir William
Butler's "The Wild North Land":
"The * Moose That Walks' arrived at Hudson's Hope early
in the spring. He was sorely in want of gunpowder and shot,
for it was the season when the beaver leave their winter houses
and when it is easy to shoot them. So he carried his thirty
martens' skins to the fort, to barter them for shot, powder, and
tobacco.
"There was no person at the Hope. The dwelhng-house
was closed, the store shut up, the man in charge had not yet
come up from St. John's; now what was to be done? Inside
that wooden house lay piles and piles of all that the * Moose
that Walks' most needed. There was a whole keg of powder;
there were bags of shot, and tobacco — there was as much as the
Moose could smoke in his whole hfe.
"Through a rent in the parchment window the Moose looked
at all those wonderful things, and at the red flannel shirts, and
at the fom* flint guns and the spotted cotton handerchiefs,
each worth a sable skin at one end of the fur trade, haK a six-
pence at the other. There was tea, too — tea, that magic
medicine before which life's cares vanished like snow in spring
sunshine.
"The Moose sat down to think about all these things, but
thinking only made matters worse. He was short of ammuni-
tion, therefore he had no food, and to think of food when one is
very hungry is an imsatisfactory business. It is true that the
Moose that Walks had only to walk in through that parch-
ment window and help himself until he was tired. But no,
that would not do.
"*Ah,' my Christian friend will exclaim, *Ah, yes, the poor
IN QUEST OF TREASURE 49
Indian had known the good missionary, and had leamt the
lesson of honesty and respect for his neighbour's property.'
"Yes; he had leamt the lesson of honesty, but his teacher,
my friend, had been other than human. The good missionary
had never reached the Hope of Hudson, nor improved the
morals of the Moose That Walks.
" But let us go on. After waiting two days he determined to
set off for St. John's, two full days' travel. He set out, but his
heart failed him, and he turned back again.
"At last, on the fourth day, he entered the parchment win-
dow, leaving outside his conarade, to whom he jealously denied
admittance. Then he took from the cask of powder three
skins' worth, from the tobacco four skins' worth, from the shot
the same; and sticking the requisite number of martens' skins
in the powder barrel and the shot bag and the tobacco case, he
hung up his remaining skins on a nail to the credit of his ac-
count, and departed from this El Dorado, this Bank of England
of the Red Man in the wilderness. And when it was all over
he went his way, thinking he had done a very reprehensible
act, and one by no means to be proud of."
If it were necessary further to establish the honesty of the*
forest Indian, I could add many proofs from my own experience,
but one wiU suffice:
Years ago, during my first visit to the Hudson's Bay Post
on Lake Temagami, when the only white man hving in all that
beautiful region was old Malcolm MacLean, a "freeman" of
the H. B. Co., who had married an Indian woman and become
a trapper, I was invited to be the guest of the half-breed
Hudson's Bay trader, Johnnie Turner, and was given a bedroom
in his log house. The window of my room on the ground floor
was always left wide open, and in fact was never once closed
during my stay of a week or more. Inside my room, a foot from
the open window, a lidless cigar box was nailed to the wall, yet
it contained a heap of bills of varying denominations — ones,
50 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
fives, and tens, and even twenties; how much m all I don't
know for I never had the curiosity to count them — though, at
the time, I guessed that there were many hundreds of dollars.
It was the trader's bank. Nevertheless, beside that open win-
dow was the favourite loimging place of all the Indian trappers
and himters who visited the Post, and dm-ing my stay a group
of Indians that numbered from three or four to thirty or forty
were daily loitering in the shade within a few feet of that open
window. Sometimes, when I was in my room, they would
even intrude their heads and shoulders through the window and
talk to me. Several times I saw them glance at the heap of
money, but they no more thought of touching it than I did;
yet day or night it could have been taken with the greatest
ease, and the thief never discovered — ^but, of coiuse, there
wasn't a thief in all that region.
But now that the white man has made Lake Temagami a
fashionable summer resort, and the civihzed Christians flock
there from New York, Toronto, Pittsburgh, and Montreal,
how long would the trader's money remain in an open box
beside an open window on a dark night?
TRACKING UP RAPIDS
After breakfast next morning, while ascending Caribou River,
we encoimtered a series of rapids that extended for nearly a
quarter of a mile. Here and there, in midstream, rocks pro-
truded above the foaming water, and from their leeward ends
flowed eddying currents of back water that from their dark,
imdulating appearance rather suggested that every boulder
possessed a tail. It was always for those long, flowing tails
that the canoes were steered in their slow upward struggle
from one rock to another; for each tail formed a Httle harbour
in which the canoe could not only make easier headway, but
also might hover for a moment while the paddlers caught their
IN QUEST OF TREASURE 51
breath. Then out again they would creep, and once more the
battle would rage and, workmg with might and main, the
paddlers would force the canoe gradually ahead and over into
the eddy of another boulder. Sometimes the water would
leap over the gimwales and come aboard with a savage hiss.
At other times the canoes seemed to become discouraged and,
with their heads almost buried beneath the angry, spitting
waves, would balk in midstream and not move forward so
much as a foot to the minute. It was dangerous work, for if
at any time a canoe became incUned across the current, even
to the shghtest degree, it might be rolled over and over, like a
barrel descending an iucline. Dangerous work it was, but it
was interesting to see how powerfully the Indians propelled
their canoes, how skilfully they guided them, and how adroitly
even the Uttle children handled their paddles. However, we
landed safely at the head of the rapids, and upon going ashore
to drain the canoes, partook of a refreshing snack of tea and
bannock. Then to the canoes again. The aspect of the river
was now very beautiful, beautiful enough to ponder over and
to dream, so we took it easy. While pipes were gorug we
gazed, in peace and restfulness, at the reflections, for they were
wonderful.
After dinner we encountered another rapid, but though it
was much shorter than the former, the current ran too strong
to attempt the ascent with the aid of only paddles or poles.
The northern tripper has the choice between five methods of
circumventing "white waters," and his selection depends upon
the strength of the current: first, paddling; second, poHng; third,
wading ; fourth, tracking ; and fifth, portaging. You are already
famihar with the method of paddling, and also with that of
portaging, and a description of poling will shortly follow.
Wading is resorted to only when the trippers, unprovided with
poles, have been defeated in their effort to ascend with no other
aid than their paddles. Then they leap overboard and seizing
52 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
hold of the gunwales drag the craft up the rapids before it can
be overcome by the turbulent water, and either driven down
stream or capsized. Again, when the trippers encounter, in
shallow water, such obstacles as jammed timbers, wading
allows them carefully to ease their craft around or over the
obstruction.
When tracking their six-fathom canoes, or "York boats,"
or "sturgeon scows," the voyageurs of the north brigades use
very long lines, one end of which is attached to the bow of the
craft while to the other end is secured a leather harness of
breast straps called otapanapi into which each hauler adjusts
himself. Thus, while the majority of the crew land upon
the shore and, so harnessed, walk off briskly in single file along
the river bank, their mates aboard endeavour, with the^aid of
either paddles, sweeps, or poles, to keep the craft in a safe
channel.
In the present instance we had to resort to tracking, but it
was of a hght character, for the canoes were not too heavily
loaded, nor was the current too strong for us to make fair
headway along the rough, pathless bank of the wild little stream.
In each canoe one person remained aboard to hold the bow
off shore with a paddle or pole, while the others scrambled
along the river bank, either to help haul upon a Hne, or, in the
case of the younger children and the dogs, simply to walk in
order to refieve the craft of their weight and also for safety's
sake, should the canoe overturn. The greatest danger is for the
steersman to lose control and allow the canoe to get out of hne
with the current, as the least headway in a wrong direction is
apt to capsize it.
With us all went well until a scream from the children an-
noimced that Ah-ging-goos, the second son, had fallen in, and
anxiety reigned until the well-drenched Chipmunk partly
crawled and was partly hauled ashore; and then laughter
echoed in the river valley, for The Chipmunk was at times
IN QUEST OF TREASURE 53
much given to frisking about and showing oflf, and this time
he got his reward.
But before we had ascended half the length of the rapids
we encountered the usual troubles that overtake the tracker —
those of clearing our lines of trees and bushes, slipping into the
muck of small inlets, stumbling over stones, cutting the lines
upon sharp rocks, or having them caught by gnarled roots of
driftwood. As we approached the last lap of white water the
canoes passed through a rocky basin that held a thirty- or forty-
yard section of the river in a slack and unruffled pool. While
ascending this last section, the last canoe, the one in which the
old grandmother was wielding the paddle, broke away from
Oo-koo-hoo, the strain severing his well-worn Une, and away
Grandmother went, racing backward down through the turbu-
lent foam. With her usual presence of mind she exercised such
skill in guiding her canoe that it never for a moment swerved out
of the true line of the current, and thus she saved herself and all
her precious cargo. Then, the moment she struck slack water,
she in with her paddle, and out with her pole, stood up in her
unsteady craft, bent her powerful old frame, and — her pipe
still clenched between her ancient teeth — with all her might
and main she actually poled her canoe right up to the very
head of the rapids, and came safely ashore. It was thrilling
to watch her — for we could render no aid — and when she
landed we hailed her with approval for her courage, strength,
and skill; but Grandmother was annoyed — her pipe was out.
TRAVELLING AT NIGHT
While we rested a few minutes, the women espied, in a Uttle
springy dell, some unusually fine moss, which they at once be-
gan to gather. Indian women dry it and use it in a number of
ways, especially for packing about the Httle naked bodies of
their babies when lacing them to their cradle boards. The
54 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
incident, however, reminds me of what once happened to an
Indian woman and her eight-year-old daughter when they were
gathering moss about a mile from their camp on the shore of
Great Slave Lake. They were working in a muskeg, and the
mother, observing a clump of gnarled spruces a httle way off,
sent her daughter there to see if there were any berries. In-
stead of fruit the child found a nice round hole that led into a
cavern beneath the roots of the trees that stood upon the httle
knoll; and she called to her mother to come and see it. On
kneehng down and peering within, the mother discovered a
bear inside, and instantly turning about, hauled up her skirt
and sat down in such a way that her figure completely blocked
the hole and shut out all hght. Then she despatched her child
on the run for camp, to tell Father to come immediately with
his gun and shoot the bear.
To one who is not versed in woodcraft, such an act displays
remarkable bravery, but to an Indian woman it meant no such
thing, it was merely the outcome of her knowledge of bears, for
she well knew that as long as all hght was blocked from the
hole the bear would lie still. But perhaps you wonder why she
pulled up her skirt. To prevent it from being soiled or torn.^
No, that was not the reason. Again it was her knowledge of
bears that prompted her, for she knew that if by any strange
chance the bear did move about in the dark, and if he did
happen to touch her bare figure — for Indian ladies never wear
lingerie — the bear would have been so mystified on encountering
a Hving thing in the dark that he would make never another
move until light solved the mystery. However, Father came
with a rush, and shot the bear, and the brute was a big one, too.
During the rest of the afternoon we found the current quite
slack and therefore, making better headway, we gained Caribou
Lake about an hour before sundown; and on finding a fair wind
beneath a clear sky that promised moonlight, it was decided
to sail as far down the lake as the breeze would favour us, and
IN QUEST OF TREASURE 55
then go ashore upon some neighbouring isle for the balance of
the night. So two stout poles were secured and laid across our
two large canoes as they rested about a foot apart and parallel
to one another. Then, the poles being lashed to the thwarts, a
single "four-point" blanket was rigged horizontally to two
masts, one standing in each canoe and both guyed with tump-
lines, and leaning away from each other in order to spread the
improvised sail. Two canoes so rigged cannot only make good
headway, but can with safety run before a very strong wind.
While Oo-koo-hoo's canoe was kept free, he nevertheless
counted on having it towed, as it could then be cast off without
a moment's delay in case of our coming unexpectedly upon
tempting game.
Supper was no sooner over than we were lying lazily in our
canoes and, to the music of babbhng water and foaming wakes,
rushing toward the setting sun. Soon twihght overtook us,
and wrapping shadows about us, accompanied us for a while.
Next starhght appeeu'ed and with myriads of twinkling lanterns
showed us our way among the now silhouetted islands. Then
the moon uprose and pushed a shiny head through the upper
branches of the eastern trees. At first it merely peeped as
though to make sure we were not afraid; then it came out
boldly in glory and quickly turning our wake into a path of
molten gold, began to soar above the forest.
For a while I could hear the childish prattle of the children
and the crooning of Naudin as she hushed, with swaying body,
her baby to her breast.
Then even those gentle sounds died away as the httle forms
snuggled down beneath the blankets among the dogs and bales.
Occasionally a loon called to us, or an owl swooped, ghost-like,
overhead, and as we passed among pine-crested isles, those
weather-beaten old monarchs just stood there, and whispering
to one another, shook their heads as we swept by.
Then for a few moments a mother moose with her two calves
56 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
stood knee deep in a water-lily bay, and watched us on our way.
But Oo-koo-hoo was now too drowsy to think of anything but
sleep. So hour after hour went by while the moon rose higher
and higher, and circling round to the westward, began to
descend in front of us.
POLING UP RAPIDS
Out of the east came dawn with a sweep of radiant splendour.
StiU we sailed westward, ever westward, until the sun rose and
through the rising mist showed us that the mouth of Caribou
River opened right before us; then, happily, we landed on a
little island to breakfast, and to drowse away a couple of hours
on mossy beds beneath the shade of wind-blown pines.
Besides shooting a few ducks and a beaver, and seeing a
distant moose, nothing happened that was eventful enough to
deflect my interest from the endless variety of charming scenery
that came into view as we swept round bend after bend of that
woodland river; at least, not until about four o'clock, when
we arrived at the foot of another rapid. This Oo-koo-hoo and
Amik examined carefully from the river bank, and decided that
it could be ascended by pohng. So from green wood we cut
suitable poles of about two inches in diameter and from seven to
nine feet in length and knifed them carefully to rid them of bark
and knots. Then, for this was a shoal rapids, both bowman
and stemman stood up, the better to put the full force of their
strength and weight into the work; the children, however,
merely knelt to the work of wielding their slender poles; but in
deep water, or where there were many boulders and conse-
quently greater risk if the canoe were overturned, all would
have knelt to do the work.
Going bow-on straight for the mid-stream current, we plied
our poles to good advantage. Each man remembered, how-
ever, to lift his pole only when his mate's had been planted
IN QUEST OF TREASURE 57
firmly in the river bottom. Then he would fix his own a little
farther ahead and throw all his weight and strength upon it,
while at the same moment his companion went the same round.
Then he would firmly re-fix his pole a little farther up stream,
and then once again shoved in unison. Thus foot by foot we
crept up stream. It was hard but joyous work, for standing
up in a canoe surrounded by a powerful and treacherous cur-
rent gave us the thrill of adventure.
OO-KOO-HOO VISITS BEAVERS
All the canoes having mounted the white water, however,
in safety, it was decided, though sunset was several hours away,
to spend the night at the head of the rapids, as the place
afforded an excellent camping ground and besides, the next
day was Sunday, a day upon which aU good trippers cease to
travel. While the canvas tepee, and my tent, too, were being
erected, we heard the dogs barking and growhng several hun-
dred yards away, so Amik, shpping on his powder horn and
bullet pouch, ran to investigate. Presently the report of his
gun was added to the din, then silence reigned; and when we
went to see what had happened we found that the hunter had
shot a two-year-old moose heifer that the dogs had bayed.
Then, as was her custom, Granny came with her pail to catch
the blood, and to select the entrails she needed to hold it. By
supper time the moose had not only been skinned but the
carcass dressed, too. After the meal was over. Granny washed
the entrails inside and out and then stuffed them with a mixture
of blood and oatmeal that she had prepared and seasoned with
salt, and hung her home-made sausages high up inside the tepee
to let them congeal and also to be out of reach of the dogs. In
the meantime, Amik had made two frames, and Naudin and her
daughters had stretched and laced into them, not only the
moose hide, but the skin of the caribou as well; and when the
58 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
meat was cut up and hung from the branches of a tree, it was
time to sit aroimd the fire and have our evening talk.
But Oo-koo-hoo, shpping away in his hunting canoe, paddled
up a httle creek into a small lake in which he knew a colony of
beavers hved. He was gone about an hour and upon his return
he told us about it. On gaining the Uttle mere, he, without
removing his paddle from the water, propelled his canoe slowly
and silently along the shore in the shadow of the overhanging
trees, until a large beaver lodge appeared in the rising mist;
and then standing up in his canoe — in order to get a better
view — ^he became motionless. Minutes passed while the rising
moon cast golden ripples upon the water, and two beavers,
rising from below, swam toward and mounted the roof of their
island home. Then, while the moonhght faded and glowed,
other beavers appeared and swam hither and thither; some
hauhng old barkless poles, others bringing freshly cut poplar
branches, and all busily engaged. A twig snapping behind
the hunter, he turned his head, and as he caught a vanishing
glimpse of a lynx in a tree, he was instantly startled by a tre-
mendous report and a splashing upheaval of water beside his
canoe. A beaver had been swimming there, and on seeing the
hunter move, had struck the water with its powerful tail, to
warn its mates before it dived. The lynx had been watching
the beaver.
"Did you bring back anything?"
"No, my son," Oo-koo-hoo repUed, "that hunting-ground
belongs to an old friend of mine."
WOODCRAFT OF TRAILING
After a while the subject of woodcraft arose. When I in-
quired as to how I could best locate the north in case I happened
to be traveUing on a cloudy day without a compass, the old
hunter rephed, that though he never used a compass, he found
IN QUEST OF TREASURE 59
no difficulty in determining the north at any time, as the woods
were full of signs. For instance, the branches of trees had a
general tendency to be less numerous and shorter on the north
side, and the bark on the north side was usually finer in texture
and of a smoother surface. Also moss was more often found on
the north side of vertical trees. The tops of pine trees usually
leant toward the southeast — ^but that that was not always a
sure sign in all locaUties, as in some places the tree tops were
affected by the prevailing winds. The stumps of trees fur-
nished a surer indication. They showed the rings of growth
to be greater in thickness on the north side. When trees were
shattered by hghtning, the cracks more often opened on the
south side for hghtning generally struck from that direction.
Snow was usually deeper on the south side of trees on account
of the prevaihng northerly winds; and if one dug away the crust
from around a tree they would come to fine, granulated snow
much sooner on the north side, thus proving where the shadow
usually fell. Furthermore, as the snowdrifts always pointed
in the direction whither the wind had gone, knowing the direc-
tion of the prevaihng winds, one had no trouble in locating
the north even on the snow-covered surface of a great lake.
The old woodman cautioned me that if, while travelling
alone upon a big lake, I should be overtaken by a bhzzard,
in no case should I try to fight it, but stop right in my tracks,
take off my snowshoes, dig a hole in the snow, turn my sled
over on its side to form a wind-break, crawl into the hole with
the dogs, and wait until the storm subsided. If a bhzzard
came head-on it was useless to try to fight it, for it would easily
win; but ff the wind were fair and if one were still sure of his
bearings, he might drfft with the wind, although at heavy risk,
as the wind is apt to change its course and the tripper lose his
way. There was always one consolation, however, and that
was that the greater the storm the sooner it was over. Another
thing I should remember when travelling on a lake or over an
60 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
open country, in a violent snow-storm — I should allow for
drifting, much in the same way as one would if travelling by
canoe.
By that time, however, the women and children had gone
to sleep upon their evergreen beds, while we three men con-
tinued to converse in whispers over the glow of the fading
fire. Next I asked Oo-koo-hoo in which direction men usually
turned when lost in the woods — to the right or to the left?
He replied that circumstances had much to do with that, for
the character of the country affected the man's tiu-ning, as it
was natural to follow the hne of least resistance; also it de-
pended somewhat on the man's build — ^whether one leg were
shorter than the other. But though he had repeatedly ex-
perimented, he could not arrive at any definite conclusion.
However, when trying bhndfolded men on a frozen lake, he
noticed that they had a tendency to turn to the south regardless
of whether they were facing east or west. And he concluded
by remarking that he thought people were very foolish to put
so much faith in certain statements, simply because they were
twice-told tales.
Upon my questioning him as to how a hunter would act,
if, for instance, he were trailing a moose, and suspected that
he was being followed by enemies, say a pack of wolves, or
strange hunters, he informed me that if that happened to
him — that if he suspected some enemy were following his trail —
he would not stop, nor even look around, but at the first
favourable opportunity, when he was sure he couldn't be ob-
served, he would leave the game trail, circle back a mile or so
through the woods, and upon cutting his old track would at
once learn what was following him. Then if it were worth
while he could trail his pursuers and, coming up behind them,
could take them unaware. But if all this happened on a lake
or in open country, where he could not circle back under cover,
he would suddenly turn in his tracks, as though upon a pivot.
IN QUEST OF TREASURE 61
and without losing the least headway or causing a moment's
delay in his pace, he l7ould continue walking, but now in a
backward direction, long enough to give himself ample time to
scrutinize his distant trail. By manoeuvring thus, he could
study his pursuers without arousing their suspicion, for whether
they were animals or men, the chances would be — if they were
some distance away — that they would never notice that he
had turned about, and was now inspecting his own tracks.
As regards traihng game, whether large or small, he cautioned
me to watch my quarry carefully, and instantly to become rigid
at the first sign that the game was about to turn round or
raise its head to peer in my direction. More than that, I
should not only remain motionless while the animal was gazing
toward me, but I should assume at once some form that sug-
gested the character of the surrounding trees or bushes or rocks.
For example, among straight-boled, perfectly vertical trees, I
should stand upright; among uprooted trees, I should assume
the character of an overturned stump, by standing with in-
clined body, bent legs, and arms and fingers thrust out at such
angles as to suggest the roots of a fallen tree. And he added
that if I doubted the wisdom of such an act, I should test it at a
distance of fifty or a hundred paces, and prove the difficulty
of detecting a man who assumed a characteristic landscape
pose among trees or rocks. That was years before the World
War had brought the word camouflage into general use; for as a
matter of fact, the forest Indians had been practising camou-
flage for centiu-ies and, no doubt, that was one reason why many
of the Indians in the Canadian Expeditionary Force did such
remarkable work as snipers.
INDIANS IN THE WORLD WAR
For instance: Sampson Comego destroyed twenty-eight of
the enemy. Philip Macdonald killed forty, Johnny Ballantyne
62 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
fifty-eight. "One of their number, Lance-Corporal Johnson
Paudash," as the Department of Indian Affairs states, "re-
ceived the Mihtary Medal for his distinguished gallantry in
saving life under heavy fire and for giving a warning that the
enemy were preparing a counter-attack at Hill Seventy; the
counter-attack took place twenty-five minutes after Paudash
gave the information. It is said that a serious reverse was
averted as a result of his action. Like other Indian soldiers, he
won a splendid record as a sniper, and is officially credited with
having destroyed no less than eighty-eight of the enemy. An-
other Indian who won fame at the front was Lance-Corporal
Norwest; he was one of the foremost snipers in the army and
was officially credited with one hundred and fifteen observed
hits. He won the Mihtary Medal and bar. StiU another, Cor-
poral Francis Pegahmagabow, won the Mihtary Medal and two
bars. He distinguished himself signally as a sniper and bears
the extraordinary record of having killed three hundred and
seventy-eight of the enemy. His Mihtary Medal and two bars
were awarded, however, for his distinguished conduct at Mount
Sorrell, Amiens, and Passchendaele. At Passchendaele, Cor-
poral Pegahmagabow led his company through an engagement
with a single casualty, and subsequently captured three hun-
dred Germans at Mount Sorrell.
"The fine record of the Indians in the great war appears
in a pecuharly favourable hght when it is remembered
that their services were absolutely voluntary, as they were
specially exempted from the operation of the Mihtary
Service Act, and that they were prepared to give their lives
for their country without compulsion or even the fear of
compulsion."
Many military medals were won by the Canadian Indians;
Captain A.G.E. Smith of the Grand River Band of the Iroquois
having been decorated seven times by the Governments of
England, France, and Poland, and many distinguished them-
IN QUEST OF TREASURE 63
selves by great acts upon the battlefield. "Another Indian to
be decorated was DaVe Kisek. During the heavy fighting
around Cambrai he unstrapped a machine gun from his
shoulder and advanced about one hundred yards to the German
position, where he ran along the top of their trench, doing deadly
execution with his machine gun. He, single-handed, took thirty
prisoners upon this occasion. This Indian came from the re-
mote regions of the Patricia district. Sergeant Clear Sky was
awarded the Mihtary Medal for one of the most gallant and
unselfish deeds that is recorded in the annals of the Canadian
Expeditionary Force. During a heavy gas attack he noticed
a wounded man lying in *No Man's Land' whose gas mask
had been rendered useless. Clear Sky crawled to him through
the poisonous fumes, removed his own mask, and placed it on
the wounded man, whose life was in consequence saved. Ser-
geant Clear Sky was himself severely gassed as a result of his
heroic action. Joe Thunder was awarded the Mihtary Medal
for a feat of arms of an exceptionally dramatic character. He
was separated from his platoon and surrounded by six Ger-
mans, each of whom he bayoneted. George McLean received
the Distinguished Conduct Medal in recognition of the per-
formance of a feat which was an extraordinary one even for
the great war. Private McLean, single-handed, destroyed
nineteen of the enemy with bombs and captured fourteen."
And yet not a single Canadian Indian has claimed that he
won the World War — not even Pegahmagabow, who shot
three hundred and seventy-eight Germans.
APPROACHING GAME
But to return to the land of peace. Of course, in attempting
to deceive game, one must always guard against approaching
down wind, for most animals grow more frantic over the scent
than they do over the sight of man. Later on, when I went
64 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
hunting with Oo-koo-hoo, he used to make me laugh, for at one
moment he would be a jolly old Indian gentleman, and just
as likely as not the next instant he would be posing as a rotten
pine stump that had been violently overturned, and now re-
sembled an object against which a bear might like to rub his
back and scratch himself.
Often have I proved the value of the old hunter's methods,
and I could recite not a few instances of how easy it is to de-
ceive either birds or animals; but I shall mention only one,
which happened on the borderline of Alaska. I was running
through a grove of heavy timber, where the moss was so deep
that my tread made no sound, when suddenly roimding a large
boulder, I came upon a black bear less than fourteen paces
away. It was sitting upon its haunches, directly in the foot-
path I was following. As good luck would have it, I saw him
first, and for the fun of it, I instantly became an old gray
stump — or tried to look like one. Presently the bear's head
swung round, and at first he seemed a bit uneasy over the fact
that he had not seen that stump before. It appeared to
puzzle him, for he even twisted about to get a better view; but
after watching me for about five minutes he contentedly turned
his head away. A few minutes later, however, he looked again,
and becoming reassured, yawned deKberately in my face. But
by that time, being troubled with a kink in my back, I had
to straighten up. Then, strange to say, as I walked quietly
and slowly round him to gain the path ahead, the brute did not
even get up off his haunches — but such behaviour on the part
of a bear rarely happens.
Perhaps you wonder why I didn't shoot the brute. I never
carry a gun. For when one is provided with food, one can carry
no more useless thing than a gun; so far as protection is con-
cerned, there is no more need to carry a gun in the north woods,
than to carry a gun down Broadway; in fact, the wolves of
Broadway — especially those of the female species — are much
IN QUEST OF TREASURE 65
more dangerous to man than the wolves of the Great Northern
Forest.
SUNDAY IN CAMP
Next morning being Sunday, we did not strike camp, and the
first thing the women attended to, even while breakfast was
imder way, was the starting of a fire of damp, rotten wood,
which smoked but never blazed, and over which, at a distance
of about four feet, they leant the stretched deerskins, hair side
up, to dry. Besides those, other frames were made and erected
over another slow fire, and here the flakes or slabs of moose
flesh were hung to be dried and smoked into what is caUed
jerked meat. The fat, being chopped up and melted in a pail,
was then poured into the moose bladder and other entrails to
cool and be handy for future use. Of course, it would take
several days to dry out the deerskins; so each morning when we
were about to travel, the skins were unlaced and roUed up, to
be re-stretched and placed over another fire the foUowing
evening.
Sunday was pleasantly spent, notwithstanding that so many
difi'erent rehgious denominations were represented in camp: for
while old Ojistoh counted her beads according to the Roman
CathoUc faith, Amik and Naudin were singing hynms, as the
former was an English Churchman and his wife a Presbyterian;
but Oo-koo-hoo would join in none of it as he had no faith what-
ever in the various rehgions of the white men and so he re-
mained a pagan. Part of the day we spent in pottering about,
in doing a Httle mending here and there, smoking, telling
stories, or in strolling through the woods; as both Oo-koo-hoo
and Amik were opposed to doing actual work on Sunday. In
the afternoon I turned to sketching, and my drawing excited
so much interest that Amik tried his hand, and in a crude way
his sketches of animals and birds were quite graphic in charac-
ter. One sketch I made, that of the baby, so pleased Neykia,
66 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
that I gave it to her, and when she reahzed my intention she
seized it with such eagerness that she criimpled and ahnost
tore the paper; for as the Ojibways have no word to express their
thanks, they show their gratitude by the eagerness with which
they accept a present.
That, however, reminds me of having read in one of the
leading American magazines an account of a noted Americsui
illustrator's trip into the woods of Quebec. While there he
presented a red handkerchief to an Indian girl. The fact that
she snatched it from him, and then ran away, was to him — as he
stated — a sign that she was willing to comply with any evil
intentions he might entertain toward her. Such absolute
rot! The poUte little maid was merely trying to express her
unboimded thanks for his gift.
The only thing that interrupted our paddhng the following
day was our going ashore to portage around a picturesque
waterfall where two huge rocks, on the very brink of the
cascade, split the river into three. When we had carried
up the canoes, we found the children making a great to-do
about wasps attacking them; for they had put down their
packs beside a wasps' hole; and old Granny, seeing the
commotion, had put down her end of the canoe, and with
disgust exclaimed:
"Oh, my foohsh people, always standing around and waiting
for old Granny to fix everything!" So saying, she pulled a
big bunch of long, dry grass, and lighting it, ran with a blanket
over her head, and placed the fire against the wasps' hole; in a
moment they ceased their attack and utterly disappeared.
We were now nearing the fork of Crane River, that in its
three-mile course came from Crane Lake, on the shore of which
was Oo-koo-hoo's last winter's camping ground; the men there-
fore decided that it was best for Amik to push on in the light
canoe and get the two deerskin winter tepee coverings, as well
as their traps, that had been cached there last spring; and then
IN QUEST OF TREASURE 67
return to the fork of the river where the family would go into
camp and wait for him.
NEARING trip's END
Transferring most of the cargo to the other canoes, Amik and
I provided ourselves with a Uttle snack and started at once for
Oo-koo-koo's old camping ground. It appeared ahout a three-
mile paddle to the fork of the river. Nothing save the quack-
ing of ducks rushing by on the wing, the occasional rise of a
crane in front of us, the soaring of an eagle overhead, and the
rippling wakes left by muskrats as they scurried away, en-
hvened our hmried trip. We found the leather lodge coverings
in good order upon a stage, and securing them along with several
bundles of steel traps that hung from trees, we put all aboard
and found we had quite a load, for not only were the tepee
coverings bulky, each bimdle being about two feet thick by
four feet long, but they were heavy, too, for each weighed
about a hundred pounds. Then, too, the traps were quite a
load in themselves. I didn't stop to count them, but it is
surprising the munber of traps a keen, hard-working hunter
employs; and they ranged all the way from smaU ones for rat
and ermine to ponderous ones for bears. Also we gathered up
a few odds and ends such as old axes, an iron pot, a couple of
slush scoops, a bundle of fish-nets, and a lot of old snowshoes.
Crane Lake, like many another northern mere, was a charming
httle body of water nestling among beautiful hills. After a cup
of tea and some bannock, we once more phed our paddles.
Now it was down stream and we glided swiftly along, arriving
at the confluence of the Crane and Caribou just before twilight
and found smiling faces and a good supper awaiting our return.
How human some Indians are, much more so than many a
cold-blooded white.
Next day we wanted to make the Height-of-land portage
68 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
for our camp. As it meant a long, stiff paddle against a strong
cm-rent for most of the distance, we were up early, if not bright,
and on our way before sunrise. This time, however, no rapids
impeded us and we reached the portage on the farther shore
of Height-of-land Lake, tired and hungry, but happy over a
day's work well done. It was a pretty little lake about two
miles long, surrounded by low-lying land in the midst of a range
of great rock-bound hills, and its waters had a whimsical fashion
of running either east or west according to which way the wind
struck it. Thus its waters became divided and, flowing either
way, travel afar to their final destinations in oceans thousands
of miles apart. But the western outlet. Moose Creek, being too
shallow for canoes, a portage of a couple of miles was made the
following day, to the fork of an incoming stream that doubles
its waters and makes the creek navigable. When we camped
that night the hour was late. Then a two-days' run — the
second of which we traveUed due north — took us into Moose
Lake; but not without shooting three rapids, each of which the
Indians examined carefully before we undertook the sport that
all enjoyed so much. An eastern storm, however, caught us
on Moose Lake and not only sent us ashore on an island, but
windbound us there for two days while cold showers pelted us.
Another day and a half up Bear River, with a portage round
Crane Falls, landed us on the western shore of Bear Lake at the
mouth of Muskrat Creek — and there we were to spend the
winter.
There, too, I remembered Thoreau when he said: "As I
ran down the hill toward the reddening west, with the rainbow
over my shoulder, and some faint tinkling sounds borne to my
ear through the cleansed air, from I know not what quarter,
my Good Genius seemed to say, — *Go fish and hunt far and
wide day by day, — ^farther and wider, — and rest thee by many
brooks and hearth-sides without misgiving. Remember thy
Creator in the days of thy youth. Rise free from care before
IN QUEST OF TREASURE 69
the dawn, and seek adventures. Let the noon find thee by
other lakes, and the night overtake thee everywhere at home'."
And furthermore: " Let not to get a living be thy trade, but thy
sport. Enjoy the land, but own it not. Through want of
enterprise and faith men are where they are, buying and seUing,
and spending their Kves like serfs."
Ill
00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO
OUR WINTER CAMP
Bear Lake was beautiful. Its shores were fringed here and
there with marshy reeds or sandy beaches; and its rivulets,
flowing in and out, connected it with other meres in other
regions. At dawn moose and caribou came thither to drink;
bears roamed its surrounding slopes; lynxes, foxes, fishers,
martens, ermines, and minks lived in its bordering woods.
Otters, muskrats, and beavers swam its inrushing creeks;
wolverines prowled its rocky glens, and nightly concerts of
howhng wolves echoed along its shores. The eagles and the
hawks built their nests in its towering trees, while the cranes
fished and the ruffed grouse drummed. Nightly, too, the owls
and the loons hooted and laughed at the quacking ducks and the
honking geese as they flew swiftly by in the hght of the moon.
Salmon-trout, whitefish, pike, and pickerel rippled its placid
waters, and brook-trout leaped above the shimmering pools of
its crystal streams. It was Oo-koo-hoo's happiest hunting
ground, and truly it was a hunter's paradise ... a poet's
heaven ... an artist's home.
"What fools we mortals be!" — ^when we five in the city!
The site chosen for the lodges was on one of two points jutting
into the lake, separated by the waters of Muskrat Creek. On
its northwest side ran a heavily timbered ridge that broke the
force of the winter winds from the west and the north, and thus
protected Oo-koo-hoo's camp, which stood on the southeast side
of the fittle stream. Such a site in such a region afforded wood,
70
00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 71
water, fruit, fish, fowl, and game; and, moreover, an enchanting
view of the surrounding country. Furthermore, that section of
The Owl's game-lands had not beenhunted for forty-two moons.
Immediately after dinner the men began cutting lodge poles,
while the women cleared the tepee sites and levelled the ground.
On asking Oo-koo-hoo how many poles would be required for
the canvas lodge which he had kindly offered me the use of for
the coming winter, he repHed:
" My son, cut a pole for every moon, and cut them thirteen
feet in length, and the base of the tepee, too, should be thirteen
feet across." Then looking at me with his small, shrewd, but
pleasant eyes, he added: "Thirteen is our lucky number. It
always brings good fortune. Besides, most canoes are made of
thirteen pieces, and when we kill big game, we eJways cut the
carcasses into thirteen parts. My son, when I have time I shedl
carve a different symbol upon each of the thirteen poles of your
lodge; they shall represent the thirteen moons of the year, and
thus they will enable you to keep track of the phase of the
season through which you are passing."
All the poles were of green pine or spruce. The thin ends
of three of the stoutest were lashed together; on being erected,
they formed a tripod against which the other poles were leant,
while their butts, placed in a circle, were spread an equal distance
apart. Over that framework the lodge covering was spread by
inserting the end of a pole into the pocket of each of the two
windshields, and then hoisting the covering into place. Next
the lapping edges, brought together over the doorway, were
fastened securely together with wooden pins, while the bottom
edge was pegged down all round the lodge with wooden stakes.
In the centre of the floor-space six little cut logs were fastened
down in the form of a hexagon, and the earth scooped from
within the hexagon was banked against the logs to form a
permanent and limited fireplace. The surrounding floor
space was covered with a layer of fir-brush, then a layer of
72 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
rushes, and finally, where the beds were to be laid, a heavy
mattress of balsam twigs laid, shingle-fashion, one upon
another, with their stems down. Thus a springy, comfortable
bed was formed, and the lodge perfumed with a dehghtful
forest aroma. Above the fireplace was hung a stage, or frame-
work of fight sticks, upon which to dry or smoke the meat.
Around the wall on the inner side was hung a canvas curtain
that overlapped the floor, and thus protected the lodgers from
draught while they were sitting about the fire. The doorway
was two feet by five, and was covered with a raw deerskin
hung from the top. A stick across the lower edge kept the skin
taut. A log at the bottom of the doorway answered for a door-
step and in winter kept out the snow. Now the lodge was
ready for occupation.
As there are six diflferent ways of building campfires, it
should be explained that my friends built theirs according to
the Ojibway custom; that is, in the so-caUed "lodge fashion",
by placing the sticks upright, leaning them together, and cross-
ing them over one another in the manner of lodge poles. When
the fire was lighted, the windshields formed a perfect draught
to carry the smoke up through the permanently open flue in the
apex of the structure, and one soon reafized that of all tents
or dwellings, no healthier abode was ever contrived by man.
Indeed, if the stupid, meddlesome agents of civifization had
been wise enough to have left the Indians in their tepees, instead
of forcing them to five in houses — the ventilation of which was
never understood — they would have been spared at least one of
civilization's diseases — ^tuberculosis — and many more tribes-
men would have been afive to-day.
On entering an Indian tepee one usuaUy finds the first space,
on the right of the doorway, occupied by the woodpile; the
next, by the wife; the third, by the baby; and the fourth, by
the husband. Opposite these, on the other side of the fire,
the older children are ranged. To the visitor is aUotted the
00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 73
warmest place in the lodge, the place of honour, farthest from
and directly opposite the doorway. When the dogs are al-
lowed in the tepee, they know their place to be the first space
on the left, between the entrance and the children.
While the two leather lodges of the Indians stood close to-
gether with stages near at hand upon which to store food and
implements out of reach of the dogs and wild animals, my
tepee, the canvas one, stood by itself a little farther up the
creek. Taking particular pains in making my bed, and settling
everything for service and comfort, I turned in that night
in a happy mood and fell asleep contemplating the season
of adventure before me and the great charm of living in such
simplicity. "In the savage state every family owns a shelter
as good as the best, and sufficient for its coarser and simpler
wants," says Thoreau, "but I think that I speak within
bounds when I say that, though birds of the air have their nests,
and the foxes their holes, and the savages their wigwams, in
modem civihzed society not more than one half the families
own a shelter. In the large towns and cities, where civilization
especially prevails, the nmnber of those who own a shelter is
a very small fraction of the whole. The rest pay an annual
tax for this outside garment of all, become indispensable simi-
mer and winter, which would buy a village of Indian wigwams
but now helps to keep them poor as long as they live. . . .
But how happens it that he who is said to enjoy these things is
so commonly a poor civihzed man, while the savage, who has
them not, is rich as a savage .►^"
Next morning, while roaming about the point, I discovered
two well-worn game trails that, converging together, led directly
to the extreme outer end of our point. The tracks were the wild
animals' highways through that part of the woods, and were
used by them when they desired to make a short cut across that
end of the lake by way of a neighbouring island. Worn fairly
smooth, and from three to five inches in depth, by from eight
74 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
to ten inches in width, these tracks were entirely free of grass
or moss. In following them a few hundred paces, I could
plainly recognize the prints of the moose, the bear, the wolf, and
the fox; and a few smaller and lesser impressions with regard to
the origin of which I was not so sure. The trails were much
like the buffalo trails one used to see upon the plains. To my
dehght, my lodge door was not more than ten paces from that
wild Broadway of the Wilderness.
INDIAN POLITENESS
After breakfast Oo-koo-hoo suggested that a "lop-stick"
should be cut in honoiu* of the white man's visit. Selecting
a tall spruce, Amik, with a half-axe in hand, began to ascend it.
When he had climbed about three parts of the way up he began
to chop off the surrounding branches and continued to do so as
he descended, until he was about halfway down, when he
desisted and came to earth. The result was a strange-looking
tree with a long bare trunk, surmounted by a tuft of branches
that could be seen and recognized for miles around.
Cutting lop-sticks is an old custom of the forest Indians.
Such trees are used to mark portages, camping grounds, meet-
ing places, or dangerous channels where submerged rocks he in
wait for the unsuspecting voyageur. In fact, they are to the
Indian what hghthouses are to the mariner. Yet, sometimes
they are used to celebrate the beginning of a young man's hunt-
ing career, or to mark the grave of a famous hunter. When
made to indicate a wilderness rendezvous, the meeting place is
commonly used for the purpose of coming in contact with their
nearest neighbours or friends, and halting a day or so, while
upon their voyage to the post, in order to discuss their affairs —
the winter's hunt, the strange tracks they have seen, the strange
sounds they have heard, the raiding of their hunting ground,
and the like. Always at such meetings a fire is kindled regard-
00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 75
less of the season, an ancient custom of their old religion, but
used to-day more for «the purpose of hghting pipes. Beside
the fire a post stripped of its bark is erected, and on it a fire-
bag containing tobacco for the use of all hands is hung. Around
the fire the women and children spread a carpet of brush,
upon which the men sit while conversing. At such meetings
one never hears two Indians talk at once — a fine example
for white people to heed — ^nor do they openly contradict one
another as the vulgar white man does, for such an offence would
be considered, by the savage, rude — and the offender would be
regarded as no better than a white man; for they believe them-
selves to be not only the wisest and the bravest, but the politest
people in the world; and when one stops to compare the average
Indian with the average white man in North America, one must
grant that the savage is right.
In relation to their pohteness I can go beyond my own
observation and quote the experience of Sir Alexander Henry —
whom they called Coseagon — ^while he was held a prisoner.
"I could not let all this pass without modestly remarking
that his account of the beginning of things was subject to
great uncertainty as being trusted to memory only, from woman
to woman through so many generations, and might have been
greatly altered, whereas the account I gave them was written
down by direction of the Great Spirit himseff and preserved
carefully in a book which was never altered, but had ever re-
mained the same and was undoubtedly the truth. * Coseagon,'
says Canassatego, *you are yet almost as rude as when you first
came among us. When young it seems you were not well
taught; you did not learn the civil behaviour of men. We
excused you; it was the fault of your instructors. But why
have you not more improved since you have long had the
opportunity from our example? You see I always believe
your stories. That is, I never contradict them. Why do you
not beheve mine.^' Contradiction, or a direct denial of the
76 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
truth of what another says, is among the Indians deemed
extremely rude. Only great superiority, as of a father to a
child, or of an old counsellor to some boy, can excuse it. Ala-
quippy and the other Indians kindly made some apology for me,
saying I should be wiser in time, and they concluded with an
observation which they thought very pohte and respectful
toward me, that my stories might be best for the white people,
but Indian stories were undoubtedly best for Indians."
Furthermore, if we compare the philosophy of the red man
and the white, we find that just because the white man has
invented a lot of asinine fashions and customs, a lot of im-
necessary gear and junk, and feeds himself on unhealthy
concoctions that give him indigestion and make his teeth fall
out, he flatters himself that he is the wisest man on earth,
whereas, all things considered, in my humble opinion, he is the
prize fool of the universe — ^for removing himself so far from
nature. And when the female follower of Dame Fashion goes
mincing along the cement-paved street in her sharp-toed,
French-heeled slippers, on her way to the factory, she flatters
herself that she knows better than God how to perfect the hu-
man foot; then the All Wise One, in His just wrath, strikes back
at her by presenting her with a luxuriant crop of v£iricose veins,
corns, ingrowing nails, faUen arches, and bunions that supply
her with suffering in plenty for the rest of her days. Her
red sister, on the contrary, in moccasined feet, walks naturally
through the forest; and The Master of Life, beholding her
becoming humility, rewards her with painless pleasure.
But to return to the Indians' meeting places in the wilderness.
The important meetings held in the forest are always opened by
smoking. No man speaks without first standing up, and his
dehvery is always slow and in short, clear sentences. In the
past there were great orators among the red men as many of the
old writers and traders afl&rm — ^but again I quote Sir Alexan-
der Henry:
00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 77
"Old Canassatego, a warrior, counsellor, and the chief man of
our village, used to come frequently to smoke and talk with
me, while I worked at my new business (mending of gim locks),
and many of the younger men would come and sit with him,
pleased to hear our conversations. As he soon saw I was curi-
ous on that head he took a good deal of pains to instruct me
in the principles of their eloquence, an art (it may seem strange
to say it, but it is strictly true) carried much higher among
these savages than is now in any part of Europe, as it is their
only poHte art, as they practice it from their infancy, as every-
thing of consequence is transacted in councils, and all the force
of their government consists in persuasion."
Once when questioning Oo-koo-hoo regarding old Indian
customs, he informed me that among Indians bowing was a very
recent innovation, and that the men of the olden time — the
fire-worshippers or sun-worshippers — never deigned to bow to
one another: they bowed to none but the Deity. They took
not the Great Spirit's name in vain; nor did they mention it
save in a whisper, and with bowed head. He regretted that
since coming in contact with the irreverent and blaspheming
white men, his people had lost much of their old-time godly
spirit.
TRAPPING EQUIPMENT
For the next few days the work done by the men was con-
fined to odd jobs in preparation for the coining winter, and the
laying out of their future trapping trails. They built some
stages upon which to store the canoes, and others nearer the
lodges, upon which to place their guns, sleds, and snowshoes.
They cut and shaved axe-handles and helved them. They
overhauled traps, and got ready all their trapping gear. It
was always interesting to watch Oo-koo-hoo and Amik, even
when they were engaged upon the most trivial forest work, for
much of it was new to me and it was all so different from the
78 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
ways of civilization. Then, too, they had taken the boys in
hand and were instructing them in relation to the hunter's art.
The first thing they did with the traps, after seeing that the
old ones were in working order, was to boil both the new ones
and the old ones for about half an hour in pots in which was
placed either pine, or spruce, or cedar brush. This they did —
Oo-koo-hoo explained — to cleanse the old traps and to soften
the temper of the new ones, thus lessening the chances of their
breaking in zero weather; and also to free both old and new
from all man-smell and to perfume them with the natural scent
of the forest trees, of which no animal is afraid. The traps they
used were the No. 1, "Rat," for muskrats, ermines, and minks;
the No. 2, "Mink," for minks, martens, skunks, and foxes; the
No. 3, "Fox,"for foxes, minks, martens, fishers, wolves, wolver-
ines, skunks, otters, and beavers; the No. 4, "Beaver," for beav-
ers, otters, wolves, wolverines, and fishers; the No. 5, "Otter,"
for otters, beavers, wolves, wolverines, and small bears; and the
"Bear" trap in two sizes — A, large, and B, small, for all kinds
of bears and deer. Traps with teeth they did not use, as they
said the teeth injured the fur.
Next to the knife, the woodsman uses no more useful imple-
ment than the axe. Even with the professional hunter, the
gun takes third place to the knife and the axe. As between the
two makes of axes — the American and the Canadian — the for-
mer appears the best. It is really a good fair-weather axe, but
winter work proves the superiority of the Canadian implement.
The latter does not chip so readily in cold weather. Further-
more, the eye of the American axe is too small for the soft-wood
helve usually made in the northern forest, since in many parts
no wood harder than birch is to be had. But to reduce the high
temper of the American axe, the hunter can heat the head in fire
imtil it becomes a slight bluish tinge and then dip it in either fish
oil or beaver oil. The sizes of axes run: "Trappers," Ij lbs.;
" Voyageurs, " 2l lbs., " Chopping, " 3|lbs., and " Felling, " 4 lbs.
00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 79
At last the eventful morning arrived. Now we were to go
a-hunting. The trap-setting party was to be composed of four
persons: Oo-koo-hoo, the two boys, and myself. Our ne-mar-
win — provisions — for four, to last a week, consisted of: one
pound of tea, eight poimds of dried meat, four pounds of
grease, four pounds of dried fish, and a number of small ban-
nocks; the rest of our grub was to be secured by hunting.
Of course, while hunting, Oo-koo-hoo always carried his gun
loaded — lacking the cap — but it was charged with nothing
heavier than powder and shot, so that the hunter might be
ready at any moment for small game; yet if he encountered
big game, all he had to do was to ram down a ball, shp on a cap,
and then be ready to fire at a moose or a bear.
SETTING FOX TRAP
After the usual affectionate good-bye, and the waving of
farewell as we moved in single file into the denser forest, we
followed a game trail that wound in and out among the trees
and rocks — always along the line of least resistance — and for a
while headed westward through the valley of Muskrat Creek.
Oo-koo-hoo led the way and, as he walked along, would oc-
casionally turn and, pointing at the trail, whisper:
"My white son, see, a moose passed two days ago . . •
That's fox — this morning," and when we were overlooking the
stream, he remarked: "This is a good place for muskrats, but
ril come for them by canoe."
The principal object of the trip was to set fox and marten
traps. Hilly timberland of spruce or pine, without much
brushwood, is the most likely place for martens; and in fairly
open country foxes may be found. The favourite haunt of
beavers, otters, fishers, minks, and muskrats is a marshy region
containing little lakes and streams; while for lynxes, a willowy
valley interspersed with poplars is the usual resort.
80 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
Coming to an open space along the creek, the wise old Owl
concluded from the fox signs he had already seen, and from the
condition of the soil on a cut bank, that it was a desirable place
in which to set a steel trap for foxes. Laying aside his kit,
he put on his trapping mits, to prevent any trace of man-smell
being left about the trap, and with the aid of his trowel he
dug into the bank a horizontal hole about two feet deep and
about a foot in diameter. He wedged the chain-ring of the trap
over the small end of a five-foot pole to be used as a clog or
drag-anchor in case the fox tried to make away with the trap.
The pole was then buried at one side of the hole. Digging a
trench from the pole to the back of the hole, he carefully set
the trap, laid it in the trench near the back of the hole, so that
it rested about half an inch below the surface of the surround-
ing earth, covered it with thin layers of birch bark (sewed
together with watap — thin spruce roots) then, sifting earth over
it, covered all signs of both trap and chain, and finally, with a
crane's wing brushed the saad into natural form. Placing at
the back of the hole a duck's head that Ne-geek had shot for
the purpose, Oo-koo-hoo scattered a few feathers about. Some
of these, as well as the pan of the trap, had been previously
daubed with a most stinking concoction called "fox bait" —
hereafter called "mixed bait" to prevent confusing this with
other baits.
It was composed of half a pound of soft grease, half an
ounce of aniseed, an eighth of an ounce of asafcetida, six to
ten rotten birds' eggs, and the glands taken from a female fox —
all thoroughly mixed in a jar and then buried imderground to
rot it, as well as for safe keeping. The reason for such a con-
coction is that the cold in winter does not affect the stench of
asafoetida; aniseed forms a strong attraction for many kinds of
animals; foxes are fond of eggs; and no stronger lure exists for
an animal than the smell of the female gland. So powerful is
the fetor of this "mixed bait," and so dehcious is the merest
00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 81
whiff of it, that it forms not only an irresistible but a long-
range allurement for many kinds of fur-bearers. Indeed, so
pungent was it, that Oo-koo-hoo carried merely a little of it
in a cap-box, and found that a tiny daub was quite sufficient
to do his work. The reason for using the two kinds of bait
was that while the mixed bait would attract the animal to the
trap by its scent, the sight of the duck's head would induce the
fox to enter the hole, step upon the unseen trap while reaching
to secure its favourite food, and thus be caught by a foreleg.
The mention of an animal being caught by a foreleg reminds
me of the strange experience that Louison Laferte, a French
half-breed, manservant at Fort Rae, once had with a wolf.
Louison was quite a wag and at all times loved a joke. One
day while visiting one of his trapping paths with his four-dog
team he came upon a wolf caught in one of his traps by the
foreleg. After stunning the brute, he found that its leg was in
no way injured, for it had been in the trap but a short time.
Louison, in a sudden fit of frolic humour, unharnessed his Num-
ber 3 dog and harnessed in its place the unconscious wolf.
When the wild brute came to, and leaped up, the half-breed
shouted: '' Ma-a-r-r-che!'' and whipped up his dogs. Off they
went, the two leading dogs puUing the wolf along from in
front, while the sled-dog nipped him from behind and en-
couraged him to go ahead. Thus into Fort Rae drove the gay
Louison with an untamed timber-woff in harness actually help-
ing to haul his sled as one of his dog-team. The haff-breed
kept the wolf for more than a month trying to train it, but it
proved so intractable and so vicious that fearing for the children
around the Post, eventually he killed it.
DOG TRAILING FOX
It is generally conceded by the most experienced fur-hunters
of the northern forest, that while the wolverine is a crafty brute
82 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
and difficult to hunt, yet of all forest creatures the coloured fox
is the hardest to trap. In hunting the two animals with dogs,
however, there is httle comparison. The wolverine, being a
heavy, short-legged beast, can soon be overhauled in an open
country or on a beaten trail by a dog, or in deep snow even by
a man on snowshoes; while the chances of a fox being run down
by a dog are not so good. Some hunters, however, kill many
foxes by running them down with dogs, and for such work
they use a hght-weight, long-legged dog possessed of both long
sight and keen scent. Hunters declare that no animal, not
even the wolf, has so much endurance as a good hunting-dog.
When a hunting-dog sights a fox on a frozen lake he runs
straight for him. The fox, on realizing that he is being pur-
sued, leaps wildly into the air two or three times, and then
makes off at tremendous speed — ^much faster than the dog can
run. But in about half a mile the fox, becoming played out,
stops to rest a moment and to look around to see if the dog is
still following. Then, on seeing the dog still in pursuit, he
sets off in another great burst of speed. Meanwhile, the dog
has gained on him, and the fox, discovering this, bolts off at
a different angle. The dog, however, observing what has
happened, takes advantage of his quarry, and cuts the corner
and thereby makes another gain. The fox, now more alarmed
than ever, makes another turn, and the dog cuts another corner
and makes another gain. Thus the race goes on until the fox
comes to the conclusion that the dog is sure to get him, loses
both heart and wind and finally lies down from sheer exhaus-
tion. The dog rushes at him, seizes him between the forelegs,
and with one crunch the hunt is over.
It is much the same in the deep snow of the timberland.
There the fox will start off with great bounds that sink him deep
into the snow and make the scent only the stronger for the
dog. Meanwhile, the dog lopes steadily along, though far
out of sight. The fox stops to Hsten and learn if his enemy is
00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 83
still pursuing him. When the dog finally comes into view, the
fox changes his course, and the dog cuts the comer, and thus
the story ends in the usual way.
OTHER WAYS OF TRAPPING
As the methods of hunting the wolf, the marten, the lynx,
and the wolverine are founded on the various ways of trapping
the fox, a full description of how foxes are hunted may be of
interest. Then, too, the reader will be enabled to understand
more easily, without unnecessary repetition, the modes of
trapping other animals. My description, however, will apply
only to the hunting of the crafty coloured foxes of the forest,
and not to their stupid brethren of the Arctic coasts — the white
and the blue foxes.
Of course, every Indian tribe believes its own manner of
hunting to be the master way, but it is conceded by experi-
enced fur-traders that the Ojibway method is the best. When
setting a fox trap in the winter time, the first thing an Ojibway
does is to jab into the snow, small end down, and in an upright
position, the clog or drag-pole. With his knife he then cuts
a hole in the snow exactly the size of the set trap, the plate
of which has already been daubed with mixed bait. In this
hole the trap is placed in such a position that it rests about
half an inch below the surface of the snow. A thin shield of
birch bark covers this, and then with a crane's wing the snow is
brushed over both trap and chain so that no sign remains.
Then in addition to the mixed bait, he plants about the spot
food bait, such as bits of rotten fish or duck.
Most hunters have a regular system for setting their traps
so that they may know exactly where and how they are placed.
Usually he sets them east and west, then cutting a notch
on a branch — about a foot from the butt — he measures that
distance from the trap, and thrusts the branch into the snow
84 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
in an upright position, as though it were growing naturally.
The stick serves not only to mark the trap, but in an open
space to furnish the same attraction for a fox as a tree does for
a dog; besides, when the hunter is going his rounds, at the sight
of the branch he will remember where and how his trap is set,
and can read all the signs without going too near. The object
of laying the sheet of birch bark over the trap is that when any
part of the bark is touched the trap may go off; besides, it
forms a hollow space beneath, and thus allows the animars
foot to sink deeper into the trap, to be caught farther up, and
to be held more securely.
The foregoing is the usual way of setting a fox trap, yet the
Wood Crees and the Swampy Crees set their fox traps on
mounds of snow about the size of muskrat houses. For that
purpose they bank the snow into a mound about eighteen inches
high, bury the drag-pole at the bottom, set the trap exactly in
the crest of the mound, and, covering up all traces of trap and
chain with powdered snow, sprinkle food bait and mixed bait
around the bottom of the mound. The approaching fox,
catching scent of the mixed bait, follows it up and then eats
some of the food bait, which presently gives him the desire to
go and sit upon the mound — ^which is the habit of foxes in such
a condition — and thus he is caught.
A ciu'ious thing once happened to a Dog-rib Indian at Great
Slave Lake. One day he found a wolf caught in one of his traps
and fooHshly allowed his hunting-dog to rush at it. The wolf
leaped about so furiously that it broke the trap chain, and ran
out upon the lake, too far for the hunter's gun. In pursuit of
the wolf, the dog drew too near and was seized and overpowered
by the wolf. In order to save his dog the hunter rushed out
upon the lake; and when within fair range, dropped upon one
knee and fired. Unluckily, the ball struck the trap, smashed it,
and set the wolf free; emd all the himter got for his pains was
a dead dog and a broken trap — ^while the wolf went scot free.
^''■^^*: ^^w^-v<^fc<;l^f3^^T^?5f^ ^ /,
Minutes passed while the rising moon cast golden ripples upon
the water and two tteavers, rising from below, swam toward and
mounted the roof of their island home. A twig snapping behind the
hunter, he turned his head, and as he caught the vanishing glimpse
of a lynx in a tree, he was instantly startled by a tremendous report
and a splashing upheaval . . , See Chapter II
00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 85
The Chipewyan and Slave Indians set their traps inside
a lodge made of eight or ten poles, seven or eight feet in length,
placed together lodge fashion and banked round with a wall of
brush to prevent the fox entering except by the doorway. The
trap is set in the usual way, just outside the entrance, the chain
being fastened to one of the door poles. Instead, however,
of being placed on the snow around the trap, the mixed bait is
put on a bit of rabbit skin fastened in the centre of the lodge;
the idea being that the fox will step on the trap when he en-
deavours to enter. The Louchieux Indian sets his trap the
foregoing way, but in addition he sets a snare in the doorway of
the lodge, not so much to catch and hold the fox, as to check him
from leaping in without treading on the trap.
Oo-koo-hoo told me that whenever a trap set in the usual
way had failed to catch a fox, he then tried to take advantage
of the cautious and suspicious nature of the animal by casting
about on the snow Httle bits of iron, and re-setting and covering
his trap on the crest of some Uttle mound close at hand without
any bait whatever. The fox, returning to the spot where he
had scented and seen the bait before, would now scent the iron,
and becoming puzzled over the mystery would try to solve it
by going to the top of the mound to sit down and think it over;
and thus he would be caught.
Another way to try for a fox that has been nipped in a trap
and yet has got away is to take into account the strange fact
that the animal will surely come back to investigate the
source of the trouble. The hunter re-sets the trap in its old
position and in the usual way; then, a short distance off, he
builds a Uttle brush tepee, something like a lynx-lodge, which
has a base of about four feet, and by means of a snare fastened
to a tossing-pole, he hangs a rabbit with its hind feet about six
inches above the snow. A mixed-bait stick is placed a Kttle
farther back, in order to attract the fox, while another trap is
set just below the rabbit. The idea of re-setting the first trap
86 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
in the old position is to put the fox off his guard when he ap-
proaches the dead rabbit hanging in the snare. As, no doubt,
he has seen a rabbit hang many times before, and snares so
baited he has often robbed. The Indian in his extreme care
to avoid communicating man-smell to the rabbit will even
remain to leeward of it while he handles it, lest man-scent
should blow against the rabbit and adhere to the fur. If that
happened, the fox would be so suspicious that he would not go
near the rabbit.
But to illustrate how stupid the white fox of the Arctic coast
is in comparison with the coloured fox of the forest, the following
story is worth repeating. It happened near Fort Churchill on
the northwest coast of Hudson Bay. The trader at the post
had given a certain Eskimo a spoon-bait, or spoon-hook, the
first he had ever seen; and as he thought it a very wonderful
thing, he always carried it about with him. The next fall, while
going along the coast, he saw a pack of white foxes approaching,
and having with him neither a trap nor a gun, he thought
of his spoon-hook. Tearing a rag off his shirt, he rubbed on it
some porpoise oil which he was carrying in a bladder, fastened
the rag about the hook, laid it on a log directly in the path of
the approaching foxes, and, going to the end of the hue, lay down
out of sight to watch what would happen. When the foxes
drew near, one of them seized the bait, and the Eskimo, jerking
the line, caught the fox by the tongue. In that way the native
caught six foxes before he returned to the post; but then, as
everyone in the Far North knows, white foxes are proverbially
stupid creatures.
The more expert the hunter, the more pride he takes in his
work. Before leaving a trap, he will examine its surroundings
carefully and decide from which angle he wishes the animal
to approach; then by arranging cut brush in a natural way in
the snow he will block all other approaches, and thus compel
the unsuspecting fox to carry out his wishes.
00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 87
When a fox springs a trap without being caught, he rarely
pauses to eat the bait, but leaps away in fright. The hunter,
however, knowing that the fox will soon return, not only
leaves the trap as the fox left it, but sets another trap, or even
two more, without bait, close to the first, where he thinks the
fox will tread when he makes his second visit. If that fails,
he will trace the fox's trail to where it passes between thick
brush and there he will set a trap in the usual way, but without
bait, right in the fox's track. Then he will cut brush and shore
up the natural bushes in such a way that, no other opening
being left, the fox must return by his own track, and run the
chance of being caught. Should that method also fail, the
hunter will set another trap in the trail close to the first, in the
hope that if one trap does not catch the fox, the next will.
Another device is to break a bit of glass into tiny sHvers which
the hunter mixes with grease and forms into Kttle tablets that
he leaves on the snow. If the fox scents them, the chances
are that he will swallow each tablet at a single gulp. Presently
he will feel a pain in his stomach. At first this will cause him
to leap about, but as his sufferings will only increase, he will He
down for an hour or so. When he finally rises to move away, he
will feel the pain again. Once more he will he down, and the
chances are that he will remain there until found either dead or
aUve by the hunter.
FASHIONABLE FOOLS
If my readers, especially my women readers, should feel
regret at the great suffering resulting from fur-hunting, they
should recall to mind its chief contributory cause — those devo-
tees of fashionable civihzation who mince around during the
sweltering days of July and August in furs. The mere thought
of them once so filled with wrath a former acting Prime Minister
of Canada — Sir George Foster — that he lost his usual flow of
88 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
suave and classic oratory, and rearing up, roared out in the
House of Parliament: "Such women get my goat!"
Truly, there is much suffering in the wilderness, especially
on account of civilization; but if my readers will be patient
enough to wade through these few paragraphs of pain, they may
later on find enough novelty, beauty, and charm in the forest
to reward them for reading on to the end.
But to return to foxes — they are much given to playing dead.
Once, while traveUing in Athabasca with Caspar Whitney,
the noted American writer on Sport and Travel, we came upon
a black fox caught in a steel trap. One of our dog-drivers
stunned it and covered it with a mound of snow in order to
protect its pelt from other animals, so that when the unknown
trapper came along he would find his prize in good order.
Three days later, when I passed that way, the fox was sitting
upon the mound of snow, and was as ahve as when first seen.
This time, however, my half-breed made sure by first hitting
the fox on the snout to stun it, and then gently pressing his
moccasined foot over its heart until it was dead — the proper
way of kiUing small fur-bearing animals without either injuring
the fur or inflicting unnecessary pain.
CoHn Campbell, a half-breed at York Factory, once had
a different experience. He had been on a visit to an Indian
camp with his dog-train and on his way back found a white
fox in one of his traps. He stunned it in the usual way and
pressed his foot over its heart; and when he was sure it was
dead, placed it inside his sled-wrapper and drove home. On
arriving at the Fort he uohitched his sled from the dogs, and
leaviQg them harnessed, pulled his sled, still containing its load,
into the trading room; where, upon opening the wrapper to
remove the load, the fox leaped out and, as the door was
closed, bolted in fright straight through the window, carrying
the_glass with it, and escaped before the dogs could be released
from their harness.
00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 89
There are, however, other ways of catching the fox. One
is to chop a hole in the ice on a river or lake, fill the hole with
water and place in it a "hung" white-fish, in such a position
that, when the water freezes, about one third of the fish will
protrude above the ice. Then in the usual way, but without
bait or sign, set one or two traps near the fish. When the
fox arrives, he may succeed in eating the fish's head, but
when he tries to dig the rest of the fish out of the ice, he will
become too interested to remain cautious, and in shifting his
place of stance will soon be taken prisoner. But sometimes
a knowing old fox will first dig about in the snow, and on
finding the trap, will thereafter be able to eat the fish in safety.
Mention of the fish bait recalls what strange things occa-
sionally happen in relation to hunting. A half-breed hunter,
named Pierre Geraud, hving near Fort Isle a la Crosse, in
laying out his trapping trail one winter, had set one of his
mink deadfalls in a swamp close to the water-line; and on visit-
ing the trap after the spring flood, found a large pike caught in
it. All the signs showed that when the flood had been at its
height the fish had been swimming about, and on discovering
the bait set for mink had seized it, and in trying to make away
with it had set off the trap, the heavy drop-log faUing and
killing the fish.
When I expressed surprise that an animal should have in-
telligence enough not only to find a buried trap, but to dig
it up and then spring it without being caught, Oo-koo-hoo
explained that it was not so much a matter of animal in-
telligence as of man's stupidity; for whenever that happened it
did not prove to the animal's credit, but to man's discredit;
the careless hunter having simply left enough man-smell on the
trap to form a guide that told the animal exactly where the trap
lay. Then, the overwhelming curiosity of the fox had com-
pelled it to investigate the mystery by digging it up, and when
found, the fox in its usual way would play with the strange
90 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
object; just as a domestic kitten would do, and so the fox would
set off the trap.
THE LAST RESORT
On my first trips into the forest, whenever I questioned
an Indian hunter as to the cause of this or that, the complete-
ness of his graphic explanation always puzzled me; for I could
not understand how it was that when he was not an eye-
witness, he knew all the details of the affair as well as though
the dead animal itseff had told him the full story. But when I,
too, began to study Nature's book on woodcraft, it amazed me
no longer; for then I realized that to those who had studied
enough it was easy to read the drama of the forest; especially
in the winter, for then Nature never fails to record it, and
every story is always published just where it happens. Even
to those who have not taken the Indian degree in woodcraft,
it is not difficult to read in winter time the annals of animal
life in the forest, for then Natiu-e describes with ample detail
many an interesting story. In winter time, too, even a bhnd
Indian can follow a trail of which a town-bred man with normal
sight could see no trace.
If his steel traps fail, the Indian may resort to still another
method — the gun trap — regardless of the fact that this may
lessen the value of the animal's pelt. A gun, first carefully
cleaned and loaded with the exception of the cap, is placed in
a nearly horizontal position about two feet above the snow and
lashed securely to two posts; the barrel slanting downward to
a point about a foot in height and eight feet away. At that
precise spot the bait stick is so fixed that when the fox seizes the
bait, its head will be directly in line with the gun-barrel. Fas-
tened to the bait by one end will be a thong, the other end of
which will be attached to the trigger, and will discharge the gun
when the bait is seized. When all is in readiness, the cap is
00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 91
put on the nipple, and a birch-bark shelter arranged to keep
the gun-lock free from falling snow. Brush is then placed in
the snow in such a way that it will cause the fox to approach
from only one direction, and that the one the hunter desires.
It is not a good trap, being very uncertain, as whiskey-jacks,
ermine, mice, or rabbits may meddle with it, and set it oflF. It
is seldom used except for wolverine.
Frequently the value an Indian places upon a certain pelt
is determined not according to its quaUty, but according to
the trouble the animal caused him in securing it, and for that
reason he will sometimes expect more for a red fox pelt than
for the skin of a beautiful black fox. Then, in order to retain
the Indian's goodwill, the experienced trader will humour him
by giving the price asked, and count on making up his loss in
another way.
In hunting fur-bearers poison should never be used, since it
bleaches the fur and thus reduces its value. Moreover, it is
apt to kill in an almost endless chain many forest creatures
besides the animal sought, as they may feed on the first victim
to the deadly drug.
The hunter's last resort in trapping the coloured fox is to set a
snare for him. In setting a snare the Chipewyan and northern
Indians always use a tossing-pole, while most of the southern
and eastern Indians use a spring-pole; the difference being
that a tossing-pole is usually made by bending down a small
tree — the size of the tree being determined by the size of the
game — to the top of which is fastened the snare; or the tossing-
pole may be made by cutting a pole for that purpose. The
result, however, being that the moment the snare is sprung the
tossing-pole flies free, and hauhng the game into the air, holds
it there out of reach of other animals that might rob the hunter
of his prize. A spring-pole is made by setting a springy pole
in such a position that when the snare is sprung, the tension is
released, and the pole, springing up, hauls the animal against
92 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
a stationary bar set horizontally above the loop of the snare,
and holds the quarry there. Many kinds of animals are caught
with snares, and in size they run all the way from rabbits to
bears and even to the great bull-moose.
HUNTER CAUGHT IN SNARE
Snares, steel traps, and deadfalls that are set for large game
are dangerous even for man to approach carelessly, and some-
times even the trapper himself has the misfortune to be caught
in the very trap he has set for some other animal. Early one
winter, in fact, just after the first heavy snowfall, and while
some bears were still roaming about, before turning in for their
long winter sleep, an Indian hunter — I have forgotten his
name — assisted by his son, had just set a powerful snare for
bears. Soon after starting for home, the hunter, discovering
that he had left his pipe by the trap, told his son to go on to
camp, and he would return to recover his treasure. On arriving
at the snare, he saw his pipe lying just beyond his reach at the
back of the loop, but instead of walking round the brush fence
and picking it up from behind, as he should have done, he
foolishly put his leg through the snare in order to reach and
dislodge his pipe. By some evil chance his foot caught upon
the loop; and instantly he was violently jerked, heels over head,
into the air, and there hung head downward strugghng for his
fife. He had made the tossing-pole from a strong tree, up
which his son had climbed with a hne, and by their combined
weight they had forced the tree top over and down until they
could secure it by setting the snare. The tossing-pole, when
the snare went off, sprung up with such force that it not only
dislocated the hunter's right leg at the knee, but it threw his
knife out of its sheath, and, consequently, he had no means by
which he could cut the hne, nor could he unfasten it or even
climb up — for he was hanging clear of the tree. Presently,
00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 93
however, he began to bleed from the nose and ears; and in his
violent effort to struggle free, he noticed that he was swinging
from side to side; then it dawned upon him that if he could only
increase the radius of his swing he might manage to reach and
seize hold of the tree, climb up to slacken the Hne, unfasten the
snare, and set himself free. This, after much violent effort,
he finally accomphshed; but even when he reached the ground,
everything seemed utterly hopeless, for on account of his dis-
located leg, he could not walk. So there he lay all night long.
During twihght, as fate ordained, the wounded man had a
visitor; it was a bear, and no doubt the very bear for which he
had set his snare. But the bear, in approaching, did not notice
the man until it was almost on top of him, and then it became
so frightened that it tore up into a neighbouring tree and there
remained for hours. By midnight, however, it came down,
and then it was the suffering hunter's turn to become alarmed,
for the big brute passed very close to him before it finally walked
away. A little after sunrise the hunter's son arrived, but not
being able to carry his father, and fearing lest the bear might
return before he could secure help, he decided to leave his
father there, while he went in search of the bear. Tracking it,
he soon came upon it and shot it dead. Back he hastened to
camp and, with his mother, returned with a sled and hauled
the wounded man home.
THE FOX AT HOME
The "coloured" foxes, including the red, the cross, the silver,
and the black — the latter three being merely colour phases
of the former and not separate species, as has frequently been
proved, but all four having been found in the same fitter — ^mate
in February and March. They pair and remain faithful partners.
The father also helps in feeding and caring for the young which
are born about fifty days after the mating season. The fitter
94 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
contains from three to ten, and when a few weeks old the young
are as playful and as interesting as domestic kittens. The den
in which they are born may be a hollow tree, a hollow log, or
more often an underground tunnel with several entrances and
a storeroom besides the hving chamber. The nest is never
hned, but left quite bare and is kept clean. Their principal
food is derived from mice, birds, fowl, and rabbits; and the
parents frequently cache food for both their young and them-
selves. No wonder they are good providers, for what with
their keen sense of scent and their great speed they seldon
fail in their hunts. They are fond of open country and have
an individual range of very few miles, perhaps ten at the most.
In winter they run singly imtil the mating season; seldom
are the tracks of more than two foxes seen together, and their
principal enemies are men, wolves, lynxes, and dogs.
As the district through which we were passing was rich in
fox-signs, Oo-koo-hoo set a number of traps. Such work takes
time, and when we reached a well-wooded grove of second-
growth birch, poplars, and — along a little creek — willows, we
began to think of where we should camp for the night. Be-
sides, the old hunter deemed it an ideal spot in which to set
lynx and rabbit snares. So while the boys cut wood for the
fire and brush for our beds, and then turned to the cooking of
supper, Oo-koo-hoo cut a great mass of birch, poplar, and willow
branches and tops, and threw them into piles, not only to at-
tract the rabbits thither, but to afford them a prolonged feast
for many weeks, and thus fatten them for his own use; more-
over, the gathering of the rabbits would prove a strong attrac-
tion for the lynxes of the region. Sometimes, at such a spot,
hmidreds of rabbits will feed, and in winter time the place may
become such a network of runways that if it happens to be a
fedrly open hillside one can see from half a mile away the
shadows of the endless tracks that mark the ghstening snow in
all directions.
00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 95
During the years of great plenty — ^which the Indians and
traders assert come about every seventh year — the number of
rabbits in some sections of the northern forest is ahnost beyond
belief. Then a plague suddenly overtakes them, almost wiping
them out of existence, and several years elapse before the dis-
ease disappears and they begin to increase again. The plague,
of course, is the rabbit's greatest enemy, then follows the lynx,
the fox, the wolf, and many other animals and even birds such
as the owl and the hawk; but somewhere among that destruc-
tive group man plays a prominent part.
THE RABBIT AND THE HUNTER
The rabbit, or more properly the varying-hare, of the north-
em forest is also called the snowshoe rabbit, from the fact that
nature has provided it with remarkable feet that allow it to run
with ease over the deepest and softest snow. It wears a coat
that changes colour with the changing seasons: brown in summer
and white in winter. Its food is derived principally from the
bark of the poplar, the willow, and the birch. In winter time
rabbits are found to be fattest when the moon is full, and that is
accounted for by the fact that they feed at night, and feed most
when the moon is giving hght. Besides, on stormy nights,
especially between moons, they remain more under cover and
feel less inclined to venture out even to secure their needed
food. In all the north woods there is no animal that is of more
use to man, beast, or bird, than the rabbit, nor is there any
goiimal that is so friendly to aU alike; yet no other creature of
the wilderness is so preyed upon as the rabbit. But in winter
its safety hes not so much in the great speed it possesses as in
its snowshoe feet and in its skill in dodging. Rabbits mate in
March and April, the usual htter of three or four being bom
about a month later. The nest is usually on the ground in
some sheltered place under brushwood that forms a good pro-
96 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
tection, and the nest is lined with leaves, grass, or their own
cast-off fur.
A rabbit snare is made of fine babiche, sinew, cord, or
wire, and the loop is hung over a rabbit runway just high
enough to catch it round the neck. In its struggles it sets off
the spring or tossing-pole, thus usually ending its sufferings.
When thus caught the flesh is tender and sweet; but when
caught by a leg the flesh is flabby and tasteless, the reason being
that when caught by the neck the rabbit is kiUed almost in-
stantly; but when snared by a leg it hangs struggling in pain for
hours before it finally bleeds at the nose and dies, or is frozen
to death. When the latter happens, however, the rabbit is
usuaUy thrown to a dog or used for trap bait. The reason
Oo-koo-hoo set the rabbit snares was not so much for present
needs as to provide meals for the hunter while on his futm-e
rounds; also to keep on hand a goodly supply of trap bait.
Expert hunters, when they have time, prefer to hunt rabbits
by calling them. In the rutting season they imitate the love-
call of the female, and in other seasons they mimic the cries of
the young; in either case, the unsuspecting animals come loping
from all directions, and the hunter bowls them over with fine
shot. CaUing takes much practice, but when the hunter has
become an adept, it is the easiest and the quickest way of
catching them.
In relation to setting snares for rabbits, Mrs. Wm. Corn-
wallis King, the wife of a weU-known Hudson's Bay Company's
chief trader, once had an unusual experience. She had set for
rabbits a munber of snares made of piano wire, and when visiting
them one morning she was astonished and delighted, too, to
find caught in one of her snares a beautiful silver fox; stranger
still, the fox was caught by its tongue. As usual, after in-
vestigation, the snow told the whole story in a graphic way.
It showed that the fox had been pursuing a rabbit, both going
on the full run, and the latter always dodging in the effort to
00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 97
escape from its enemy. Finally, the rabbit had bolted past the
snare, and the panting fox, with its tongue hanging out, follow-
ing close behind, accidentally had touched its wet tongue
against the wire, and the frost of many degrees below zero had
instantly frozen it there. Then the fox, struggling to get free,
had set off the snare, which closing on its tongue had hauled it
into the air, where it had hung with just the tip of its tail and
its hind toes resting on the snow. When Mrs. King found it,
it was dead.
That evening, when the fire sank low and we tmned in, a
pack of timber wolves for fully an hour sang us a most interest-
ing lullaby; such a one, indeed, that it made the goose-flesh run
up and down our backs — or rather my back — just as really
fine music always does; and to tell the truth, I enjoyed it more
than many a human concert I have heard.
HUNTING THE LYNX
It was cool next morning and cloudy and threatening snow.
Five rabbits had been caught during the night, and after break-
fast we turned to setting lynx snares. The steel trap is set for
the lynx much in the same way as it is for the fox; but for
the lynx, a snare is preferable. It is set with or without a
tossing-pole, at the entrance of a brush-lodge, the base of which
is about five feet wide. The bait used is made by rubbing
beaver castorum on a bit of rabbit skin placed in a spUt stick set
vertically in the centre of the lodge. A surer way, however, is
to also set a steel trap in front of the lodge door, so that if the
lynx does not enter, he may be caught while looking in. The
Indians often hunt them with dogs, for, when pursued, the
lynx soon takes to a tree and then is easily shot. But the most
proficient hunters like to hunt them by calling. They imitate
its screech and also its whistle, for the lynx whistles some-
what like a jack-rabbit, though the sound is coarser and
98 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
louder. Some Indians are very successful in this mode of
hunting.
Besides being able to whistle, the lynx far surpasses the
domestic cat in the range and volume of his evening song; and
during the rutting season, at sunrise and sunset, he has a
pecuhar habit of beating or drumming with his forepaws on
the hard snow or earth. No doubt it is a form of challenge,
used much in the same way as the drumming of cock-grouse;
martens and rabbits do the same. The lynx is a wonderful
swimmer and is dangerous to tackle in the water, for he can
turn with remarkable agihty, and board a canoe in a moment.
Of all northern animals he is perhaps the most silent walker,
for in the night a band of five or six lynxes may pass close beside
one's tent and never be heard, though a single rabbit, passing
at the same distance, may make enough noise to awaken a
sound sleeper. Though he often behaves hke a coward,
hunters approach him with care when he is caught in a steel
trap, as he can make a great spring and when he chooses, can
fight desperately. While in summer he is a poor runner, in
winter he is greatly aided by his big feet, which act as snow-
shoes and help him over the soft snow and the deep drifts. Few
animals succeed in killing him, for what with his unusual speed
in water and the fact that he can climb a tree with almost the
ease of a monkey, his chances of escape are always good.
Lynxes mate in March, the young being born about three
months later, the Ktter consisting of from one to five. The
father assists in the support of the kittens, which are much hke
those of the domestic cat. The lynx's coat is gray mottled
with brown, but in winter it turns a fighter colour; in weight he
runs from thirty-five to forty-five pounds. His principal food
is derived from rabbits and any other animals he can kill, from
beaver down, as well as grouse, ptarmigan, and other birds
and fowl; occasionally he will tackle the young of deer, but
he never dares to molest man. When his catch is more than
00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 99
sufficient for his present need, he caches the remainder in snow
or earth for future use. He is as cleanly as a house cat, and his
flesh when cooked resembles a cross between rabbit and veal.
MARTEN TRAPPING
After setting a number of snares for lynxes we resumed our
march, and on rounding the end of a httle lake, saw two fresh
moose-tracks. Following them up, we finally came to a park-
Uke region, where was very httle imderbrush, and where most
of the trees were pine and spruce — an ideal spot for marten.
So Oo-koo-hoo, forgetting all about his moose-tracks, made
ready to set some marten traps.
For one marten an Indian catches in a steel trap he catches
a dozen in wooden deadfalls; but with the white trapper it is
different — ^he rehes chiefly on the steel traps. Steel traps are
set either in the open or in the tracks of the marten in ex-
actly the same way as for foxes, and either with or without
tossing-poles. The largest and best deadfalls used by the In-
dians are those they set for bears. The city-dweUing author,
or iUustrator, who has not hved in the wilderness, would never
think of depicting an Indian trapper with a big hand-auger
hanging from his belt, perhaps no more than he would depict
a pirate armed with a big Bible; yet, nevertheless, it is a fact
that the Indian trapper nowadays carries an auger much as
the old buccaneer carried his cutlass — thrust through his belt.
Somehow or other, I never could associate Oo-koo-hoo's big
wooden-handled auger with his gun and powder-horn, and all
the whfle I was curious as to what use he was going to make of
it. Now I was to have my curiosity satisfied.
First he selected an evergreen tree about a foot in diameter —
this time it was a pine — and with his axe cut a horizontal notch
one to two inches deep; then he blazed the tree six or eight
inches down to the notch, in order to form a smooth, flat sur-
100 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
face; then he took his big auger and bored down into the tree, at
an indine of about twenty degrees, a hole of two inches' diame-
ter and nine inches deep. Allowing at that spot for two feet of
snow, he had bored the hole about thirty inches above ground.
Then taking two inch-and-a-quarter, thin, sharp-pointed nails
he drove them obhquely into the tree just above the hole, so
that about three quarters of each protruded into the hole. He
did the same with two other nails below the hole, but this time
drove them upward until they, too, protruded into the hole.
Both sets of nails were driven in about an inch and a quarter
apart. The bait used was a duck's head placed at the bottom
of the hole. The idea was that when the marten scented the
bait, he would crawl into the hole to secure it; but when he
tried to withdraw, he would find himself entrapped by the four
sharp-pointed nails that, though they allowed him to slip in,
now prevented him from backing out as they ran into his flesh,
and held him until the hunter, placing two fingers of each hand
over the four nail-points, seizing with his teeth the animal's
tail, and throwing back his head, would draw his victim out.
But such work is rather risky, as the hunter may be bitten
before he has a chance to kill the marten.
Though it is a very recent mode of trapping — only about
thirty-five years old — ^it is now considered the best of all ways
for taking marten, as the traps not only remain set all winter,
but they last for years. Later I learned from a chief factor
that it was invented by a Saulteaux Indian named Ke-now-
keoose, who was at one time employed as a servant of the
Hudson's Bay Company, where he learned the use of car-
penter's tools — later, when he left the service, he hunted and
trapped along the Athabasca, the Slave, and the Mackenzie
rivers. Sometimes twenty-five to thirty such traps are set by
a hunter in a single day. Mink and ermine are often caught
in them, and on one occasion even a wolverine was taken. The
wolverine, having scented the bait, followed it up, and while
The lynx is an expert swimmer and is dangerous to tackle in
the water, for he can turn with remarkable agility, and board a
canoe in a moment. Of all northern animals he is perhaps the most
silent walker. Though he often behaves like a coward, hunters
approach him with care when he is caught in a steel trap, as he can
make a great spring and when he chooses, can . . . See Chapter III
00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO lOl
endeavouring to secure the dainty duck's head, thrust his
forepaw into the hole and was thus taken prisoner.
Oo-koo-hoo took pains to teach the boys everything in rela-
tion to trapping, and as soon as he was sure they had mastered
the details of setting such traps, he went ahead with his axe to
blaze the right trees, while the boys followed with the auger,
and in the work of boring the holes and driving the nails took
turn and turn about. But after all, the old-fashioned deadfall
is more humane than any other way of trapping, as it often
ends the animal's suffering at once by kiUing it outright, instead
of holding it a prisoner till it starves or is frozen to death, before
the hunter arrives on his usual weekly round of that particular
trapping path.
Martens mate in February or March, the young being born
about three months later, either in a hole in the ground or in a
hollow tree; the nest being hned with moss, grass, or leaves, and
the htter numbering usually from two to four. The marten is a
wonderfully energetic httle animal, even more tireless than the
squirrel and as great a climber. It is an expert hunter and its
food includes birds, fish, chipmimks, birds' eggs, mice, fruit,
and rabbits; and it stores its surplus food by burying it.
MINK ON THE FUR TRAIL
By the time Oo-koo-hoo and his grandsons had set twelve
or fifteen traps it was nearing noon, so we had lunch before
starting off in search of another rich game region. While on
our way that afternoon the old hunter again discovered signs
of wolverines and it worried him, for it meant not only the
destruction of many of his traps, but also the ruining of
the pelts of some of the animals he might catch. Continuing,
we soon entered an ideal valley for mink, where two tm-bulent
httle crystal streams roared at one emother as they sprang
together among the rocks and then fell down into dark.
102 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
eddying pools where, no doubt, trout leaped after flies in due
season.
The mink is a small animal, about two feet long, including
his tail. In colour he is of a dark, rich brown. Though he is
not a swift runner and is rather a poor climber, he is an excel-
lent swimmer and is a desperate fighter of great strength.
Minks mate in February and March; the female burrowing in a
bank, a rocky crevice, or beneath a log or a stump, or perhaps in
a hollow tree; the nest is lined with moss, feathers, or grass, and
the young are born about forty days after the mating season.
The minks' food may be flesh, fish, or fowl and, if overstocked,
it is stored for future use.
On land, the mink is caught exactly as the fox, the fisher, or
the marten is caught, except, of course, that there is a difference
in the size of the traps. In water, the steel trap is set just be-
low the surface and rests on the muddy or sandy bottom, where
it is half covered with soil as it hes in readiness close to the bank
where the mink is in the habit of passing in and out of the
stream. Mixed bait is placed on the branches of the near-by
bushes. In order, however, to better his chances of catching
the mink, the hunter may build a deadfall near the trap, where
the animal is in the habit of entering the bush. Then extra
bait of rancid fish or duck is used. This mode of water-
trapping applies, also, to muskrat, otter, and beaver. The
mink, however, is a stupid creatiu-e, and it does not require
great skill to trap him; but the hunter, nevertheless, must take
care when removing him from the trap, for the little brute
has the heart of a Hon and will tackle anything, regardless of
size.
We camped that night on the hillside overlooking "Mink
Creek" as Oo-koo-hoo called it, and next morning we again
set out on our circular way, for on leaving our lodges, we first
headed almost due west for about three miles, then we turned
south for two more, and gradually working round, we were soon
00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 103
facing east; that course we followed for a day, then on the
morrow we worked round toward the north, and finally to
the west again, as we neared home. Thus the trapping path
was laid in an eUiptic form, somewhat suggesting the letter C,
with the home camp between the two ends of the letter. Many
times during the winter circumstances proved the wisdom
of Oo-koo-hoo's plan, especially when the sled became over-
loaded with game, and a short cut to camp became desirable.
Though no part of his fur path lay more than five miles from
the lodges, yet to make the full circuit on showshoes, to examine
the traps, and to set some of them, it required a long day, as the
path must have covered in a zig-zagging way more than twenty
miles. Later on he and Amik laid out two more such trapping
paths: one to the north and the other to the east of Bear Lake.
The one to the northward was to be especially for bears and
wolves as it was a good region for both those animals. At sup-
per time a snow flurry overtook us and whitened the forest.
As we sat around the fire that evening, the last evening of
our trip, Oo-koo-hoo again began worrying about the presence
of wolverines, recalling many of his experiences with those
destructive animals. But none of his stories equalled the
following, told once by Chief Factor Thompson.
MEGUIR AND THE WOLVERINE
It happened years ago when an old Dog-rib Indian, called
Meguir, was Hving and hunting in the vicinity of Fort Rae on
Great Slave Lake. The Dog-rib and his family of five had been
hunting Barren Ground Caribou, and after kiUing, skinning, and
cutting up a number of deer, had built a stage upon which they
placed the venison. Moving on and encountering another
herd of caribou, they killed again, and cutting up the game,
stored it this time in a log cache. Again setting out on the
hxmX — fpr they were laying in their supply of deer meat for the
104 THE DRA.MA OF THE FORESTS
winter — ^they again met with success; but as it was in a district
devoid of trees, they simply covered the meat with brush; and
while Meguir and his wife set off to haul the first lot of meat to
camp, the three grandchildren set to work to haul in the last.
On continuing their work the next day the children brought
in word that a wolverine, or carcajou, had visited the log
cache; so Meguir set off at once to investigate the story.
When he arrived, he found the cache torn asunder, and the
meat gone. Wolverine tracks were plentiful and mottled the
snow in many directions, but on circHng, Meguir found a trail
that led away, and on following it up, he came upon a quarter
of deer. He circled again, trailed another track, found more
meat, and after a few hours' work he had recovered most of the
venison; but on smeUing it, he found that the wolverine, in its
usual loathsome way, had defiled the meat. Then, on going to
his stage, Meguir found that it, too, had been visited by the
wolverine, as the stage had been torn down and the meat
defiled. Indignant.at the outrage, the old Dog-rib determined to
hunt the carcajou and destroy it. But before doing so, he made
sure that all his deer meat was hauled to camp and safely stored
upon the stages beside his lodge. That night, however, his old
wife woke up with a start and hearing the dogs growhng, looked
out, and discovered a strange animal scrambhng down from one
of the stages. At once she screamed to her old man to get his
gun as fast as The Master of Life would let him, as the wolverine
was robbing them again.
Haff-awake, and that half all excitement, the old man rushed
out into the snow with his muzzle-loading flintlock and let
drive. Instantly one of his dogs fell over. Roaring with
rage, the old Indian re-loaded with all speed, and catching
another glimpse of the wolverine in the faint light of the Aurora
BoreaHs, let drive again; but as ill-luck would have it, the gun
went off just as another of his dogs made a gallant charge, and
once more a dog fell dead — and the wolverine got away !
00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 105
Nothing would now do but that the old man must seek his
revenge at the earliest possible moment, so when dawn broke
he was already following the trail of the mahcious raider. All
day he trailed it through the snow, and just before dusk the
tracks told him that he was very near his quarry; but rather
than run the risk of firing in a poor hght, he decided not to
despatch the brute until dayhght came.
According to the northern custom, when he camped that
night, he stood his gun and snowshoes in the snow far enough
away to prevent their being affected by the heat of the fire.
In the morning his snowshoes were gone. Tracks, however,
showed that the wolverine had taken them. Again the old man
trailed the thief; but without snowshoes, the going was extra
hard, and it was afternoon before he stumbled upon one of his
snowshoes lying in the snow, and quite near his former camp,
as the "Great Mischief Maker" had simply made a big circuit
and come back again. But of what use was one snowshoe? So
the old hunter continued his search, and late that day found the
other — damaged beyond repair.
That night, filled with rage and despondency, he returned to
his old camp, and as usual placed his gun upright in the snow
away from the heat of the fire. In the morning it was gone.
New tracks marked the snow and showed where the carcajou
had dragged it away. Several hours later the old man found
it with its case torn to ribbons, the butt gnawed, and the
trigger broken.
Tired, hungry, dejected, and enraged, old Meguir sought his
last night's camp to make a fire and to rest awhile; but when he
got there he found he had lost his fire bag containing his flint
and steel — ^his wherewithal for making fire. Again he went in
search, but fresh-falling snow had so obhterated the trail and
so hindered his progress, that it was late before he recovered his
treasure, and regained his dead fireplace. Yet still the wolver-
ine was at large.
106 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
But instead of thinking of wreaking his rage upon the
wolverine, the poor old Indian was so completely intimidated
by the wily brute, so discouraged and so despondent, that he
imagined that the whole transaction was the work of some evil
spirit. As a result, he not only gave up hunting the wolverine,
but he gave up hunting altogether, and he and his family would
have starved had not friends come to their rescue and rendered
them assistance until his grandsons were old enough to take
charge.
PREPARING FOR WINTER
After our return to the home-camp we experienced several
weeks of perfect Indian summer, and its passing was marked by
one of the most beautiful natural phenomena I have ever seen.
It happened when the deciduous trees were at their height of
autumnal glory, and when — as though to add still more to the
wonderful scene — three inches of clinging snow having fallen
during the night, ghttered under the briUiant morning sun.
Truly it was a glory to behold — a perfect panorama of rioting
greens, yellows, browns, blues, reds, grays, crimsons, purples, in
fact, every colour which an artist's palette could carry; and
through it all was ever woven a mass of lace-like briUiant white
that dazzled the eyes of the beholder. Only once in fifty years
have I beheld a scene so enchanting.
Next day, however, a strong wind blew wild-looking leaden
clouds over the forest, and Autumn, taking fright, threw aside
her gorgeous rustUng mantle and fled away; while the loons on
the lake fairly shrieked with laughter.
Meanwhile, the work in preparation for the coining of winter
had made good progress. Already the women and children
had laid out their own httle trapping paths — ^principally for
ermine, rabbits, partridges, muskrats, and skunks, the game
found nearest camp; and many another thing had the women
attended to. Though they still possessed the sticking-plaster
00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 107
and the painkiller supplied by the trader, they refused to rely on
the white man's trivial cure-alls, as they could gather better
remedies from their own woods. Their chief reason for buying
"painkiller'* was that they, like other Indians, rehshed it as a
cocktail on festival occasions; and many a time have I seen a
group of Indians — ^like civihzed society people — topping off
cocktails (of painkiller) before sitting down to dinner.
In case of illness, however, the Indians resort much to bleed-
ing, and this is the mode of operation: a sharp flint is fastened
to the spht end of a stick, a U-shaped piece of wood is laid over
the intended spot, and the thickness of the wood determines the
depth of the incision. The flint end of the stick is raised while
the other end is held down in such a way as to bend the stick; on
releasing the end containing the flint, the stick strikes down-
ward and drives the flint into the flesh to the required depth
and no more. The bowl of a pipe is then applied to the cut,
and the blood is drawn off through the stem. Young birch
roots boiled in a second water make a tea which they sweeten
with sugar and use as a laxative. Yellow water-lily roots are
boiled until a black sediment forms — ^somewhat similar to
iodine in appearance — and with a feather dipped in this liquid
wounds are painted in order to consume proud flesh and to
prevent mortification. The upper tips — about four inches
long — of juniper trees having been boiled, and the outer bark
removed, the inner bark is scraped off and mashed up for
poultices. The liquor in which the juniper has been boiled is
employed for washing wounds, as it causes the rapid formation
of a healing cicatrix. To cm-e cohc, the dried root of the "rat
root" is chewed, and the juice swallowed.
Among other work that was well under way was the making
of the moccasins, known as the "mitten moccasin" — ^by far
the best for snowshoeing, as the seam runs round only the outer
side of the foot and leaves no puckering above the toes to cause
blistering. True, the mitten moccasin is not of the Ojibway
108 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
style, but Mrs. Oo-koo-hoo had learned to make it when she
and her husband formerly sojourned among the Wood-Crees
on the upper Athabasca.
Supplying the family with socks was a very easy affair,
as these articles were simply rectangular shapes, 12 x 18 inches
(for adults) cut from duffle — a woollen material resembling an
extra closely woven H.B.G. blanket — and worn wrapped about
the foot. Such socks have an advantage over the ordinary kind
as they are more easily dried, and they wear much longer, as the
sock can be shifted about every time the wearer puts it on, thus
warding off the evil day when holes appear.
Amik, during the summer, had made a number of snowshoe
frames, and now the women were lacing them. They used
fine caribou thongs, especially fine for the heel and toe. I have
seen snowshoes that white men have strung with cord; but
cord is of little use, for cord, or rope, shrinks when wet and
stretches when dry, whereas deerskin stretches when wet and
shrinks when drying. Of all deerskin, however, that of caribou
stretches less when wet than any other; besides, it is much
stronger and that is why it makes the best mesh for snowshoes.
In lacing a shoe, a wooden needle is used, but the eye, instead of
being at one end, is in the centre. Amik had also started
work on several hunting sleds of the toboggan type — the only
kind used by the natives of the Great Northern Forest. They
are made of birch wood and not of birch bark, as a noted Ameri-
can author asserted in one of his books on northern life.
A hunting sled is made of two thin boards, split from a birch
log by using wooden wedges, and the boards are shaved flat and
smooth, first with the aid of a very sharp axe and then with a
crooked knife. A hunting sled is ten to twelve inches wide, and
commonly eight feet long. The widest part of the sled is at the
first cross-bar, then it tapers both ways, an inch less at the tail,
and four or five inches less at the end of its gracefully curved
prow. That is done to prevent jamming among trees. The
00-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO 109
two boards are fastened to four cross-bars with deerskin thongs,
never with pegs or nails, and the ground-lashing is made fast to
the cross-bars. A wrapper of deerskin is provided in which to
lash the load. The lashing thong is eighteen to twenty feet
in length. Dog-sleds are made much longer, and up to about
sixteen inches in width, and are provided with an extra hne
that trails out behind, by which the driver holds back the sled
when going down hill, in order to prevent it from over-running
the dogs. A hunting-sled, however, is usually hauled by man
by means of a looped strap, or tump-hne, with a broad centre
which goes over the hunter's shoulders or head, and has its two
ends fastened to the first cross-bar below the prow.
During the next few days Oo-koo-hoo and Amik had also
finished setting their traps, snares, and deadfalls for all the
furred creatures of the woods, including wolves and bears.
Already the camp had taken on a business-hke air, for the big
stretching frames for the skins of moose, bear, and caribou had
been erected near the lodges; and as the hunters had secured
both moose and caribou, the frames were already in use.
Trapping had begun in earnest, and though fairly successful —
a number of fine skins having been already taken — the hunters
were still worried over the wolverines. On one path alone they
had found nothing but a fox's foot, and the tails of four martens;
besides, several of their traps were missing. In another place,
where they had dressed a caribou killed by Oo-koo-hoo, and had
left the meat overnight for the women and boys to haul in next
day, wolverines had found it and defiled it in their usual way.
The women, too, had had their troubles as owls had visited
their snares, and robbed them of many a pelt. Worse in some
respects than the wolverine is the owl, for while the wolverine
leaves a track that one can trail, and either find what is left of
the game, or overtake and punish the marauder, the owl leaves
no trail at all, and though he frequently eats only the brain or
eyes of the game, he has a habit of carrying the game away and
110 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
dropping it in the distant woods where it is seldom found. So
the women took to setting steel traps on the ends of upright
poles upon which they judged the owls would ahght, as these
birds are much given to resting upon the tips of "ram-pikes,"
and in that way they had caught several.
One evening early in November, after a hard day's travel
through a big storm of wet, cHnging snow, we sat by the fire
in Oo-koo-hoo's lodge, and happily commented on the fact
that we had got everything in good shape for the coming of
winter. Next morning, when we went outside, we found that
everything was covered with a heavy blanket of cUnging snow,
and the streams and the lake beginning to freeze over. We
found, also, to our amazement that a big bull-moose had been
standing on the bank of Muskrat Creek and watching the smoke
rising from our lodges as the fires were lighted at sunrise — just
as I have shown in my painting.
After a hurried breakfast, we three men set out in pursuit of
the moose which we overtook within a mile, and then there was
meat to haul on sleds to our camp. That day the temperature
fell rapidly, and by night the httle streams were strongly frozen,
and around the lake the ice stretched far out from the shore.
So we gathered up the canoes and stored them for the winter
upside down upon stages made for the purpose; and that night
before we turned in we saw, for the first time that season,
Akwutinoowe — "The Freezing Moon."
IV
00-KOO-HOO PIAYS THE GAME
TRAILING THE BEAR
"My son, a good hunter is never long in doubt; for when
he discovers a bear track and follows it for a few hundred paces,
he knows whether the track was made by day or by night,
whether the bear was large or small, old or young, male or fe-
male; whether its coat was in condition or not; whether the beast
was merely wandering or travelling with a purpose in view;
whether it was frightened or undisturbed; whether going
fast or slow; and whether seeking friends or food. Also, the
hunter knows which way the wind was blowing when the
track was made, he knows whether the bear felt tired or
active, and, fmthermore, whether or not it wanted to go to
bed."
I laughed aloud.
Instantly the old man's kindly face was clouded with a
frown and he exclaimed :
"My son . . . that was the laugh of a monias (green-
horn)", and glaring at me, he added: "At first, I thought
better of you, but now I am sure that all white men are
fools!"
Reahzing my mistake, I sobered, and suggested that if he
would explain I would have a chance to learn the ways of a
great hunter.
"My son, it is a simple matter to read a track — ^that is, when
one has learned the game. For then one has but to look, re-
member, and reason, and then the whole story unfolds before
111
112 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
your eyes; just as when you open and read what you white men
call a book. And some day, my son, if you try hard to learn,
you, too, may be able to read the tales of the Strong Woods
Coimtry. Now listen to your grandfather and he will explain:
under ordinary conditions a deep, clear track implies action;
a faint, shallow one, inaction; the length of the stride indicates
the speed; if, when travelling slow, hair is found upon the under-
wood, the animal passed at night, for in daylight a bear is as
careful as a lynx to avoid striking things; if the bear is young
or middle aged, the claw marks are sharp and clean cut; if it is
old, they are blunt and blurred. The tracks of the male,
though larger, are not so round as those of the female, and the
male's toes are not only longer and spread farther apart, but the
underside of his foot is not so hairy as that of his mate. Then,
too, as you know, there are other signs by which a tracker tells
the sex of his quarry. Now if the bear was travelling with a
definite purpose in mind, he would travel straight, or as nearly
straight as he could through the woods, and in order to save
time, he might even occasionally climb a tree to spy out the lay
of the land — as he frequently does. Then, again, if he were
feeding, the ground and growth beside his trail would show it;
if suddenly startled, he would leave the familiar sign that all
large animals usually leave when frightened; and, moreover, it
would be left within fifty paces of the place where he took
fright. Furthermore, if he were tired and wanted to rest, he
would begin circling down wind, so that he could come about
close to his back trail, and then He down, facing down wind, in
such a position that he could see anything he could not scent,
and scent anything he could not see. Thus if an enemy ap-
proached, his eyes would guard his front while his scent would
guard his rear. And now, my son, as a bear usually travels up
wind, even a monias of a white man could surmise which way
the wind was blowing when the track was made. And always
remember, my son, that only fools laugh at common sense.
00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 113
But don't get discouraged, keep on trying hard to leam, and
then perhetps some day, if you Uve long enough, you may be-
come ahnost as wise as an ordinary Indian."
The perfect season for hunting the black bear, and in fact all
other fur-bearing animals, is between the coming of the snow
in late autumn and the going of the snow in early spring, for
during that intervening season the coat is in its prime; but as
the bear spends much of the winter in hibernation, the hunter
must make the best of his two short opportunities; that is, un-
less he already knows where the bear will "den up," and is
counting on killing him in his o-wazhe — or as the white hunters
and traders call it "wash" — ^his den. His wash may consist
of a hollow tree or a hollow log, a cave, or any suitable shelter
formed by an uprooted tree.
The finest wash I ever saw was in the woods of Quebec, where,
many years ago, three birch saplings had taken root in a huge,
hollow pine stump, and where, as time passed, the stump,
gradually decaying, had allowed the roots of the fast-growing
birches to penetrate through the cracks in the stump to the
ground. The roots eventually formed the rafters of a moss-
and rotten-wood chinked, water-tight roof to the httle cavern
in which the old pine stump had once stood and where two
winters ago slept a bear. There was but a single entrance
between two of the now massive birch roots, and it must have
proved a tight squeeze when its tenant last entered. The den
was shown to me by a hunter who the spring before had hap-
pened that way. While pausing to listen to some distant
sound, he had heard a stranger one within ten feet of where he
stood. He had heard deep breathing and turning to look down
at the roots of the birches, he had discovered a full-grown
black bear lying there with its head protruding out of the den.
The head was turned toward him and the eyes were fixed
upon him with a friendly expression. Without moving a
single step the hunter raised his rifle and fired, instantly killing
114 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
the bear that lay motionless scarcely beyond the muzzle of his
gun.
THE TRUTH ABOUT BEARS
The black bear's coat is all of a glossy black, save just the
muzzle, which is light brown. In weight the black bear runs
from two hundred to five hundred pounds. Though he is
found throughout the Great Northern Forest, he is a com-
parative stay-at-home, for he seldom roams, even in summer
time, more than ten miles from his den, where, if undisturbed,
he goes into the same winter quarters, year after year. Con-
sequently, his paths are often clearly defined and weU-beaten,
for he has the habit of treading repeatedly in his old tracks,
and occasionally he blazes his trail by clawing and biting, as
high as he can reach, a neighbouring tree. There, too, he fre-
quently leaves other signs — as a dog does at a post. Dog-like,
also, other bears that happen along manifest pleasure or rage
according to whether the sign has been left by friend or foe.
The mating season is in June, though the female rarely bears
young except every second year. The young are born in
January while the mother is hibernating; and the cubs, usually
two in number, are at birth very small, weighing only about ten
ounces. The she-bear makes a good mother, for though she
shows great affection for her babies, she nevertheless repri-
mands them, and cuffs them as well, whenever they misbehave
or fail to comply with her wishes. The cubs are easily tamed,
and being natural Kttle romps, they soon become proficient
wrestlers and boxers, and in latter years, show so much agihty
in the manly art that they strike and parry with amazing
power, speed, and skill. When hurt, however, the cubs whimper
and cry just like children, and if the httle tots are badly
wounded, the distress of the mother is pitiful to see, for she
moans and sheds tears just as any tender-hearted human
mother would. Bear-cubs are droU Httle mischiefs. Not only
OO-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 115
do they, when tamed, frequently get mto trouble through the
pranks they play, but they like to imitate at any risk to them-
selves the doings of others. As the following example shows:
Years ago, near Fort Pelly, on the Assiniboine River, an
old Indian killed a she-bear that was followed by two cubs.
Though he skinned and cut up the carcass of the mother, he did
not touch the whimpering babes, and on going to camp, he sent
his wife out with a horse to bring in the meat. When the
Indian woman arrived at the spot, she found the two cubs
cuddled up against the dressed meat of their mother, and
crying as if their poor hearts would break. Their affectionate
behaviour so touched the motheriy heart of the old woman
that, after loading the meat aboard the travois — a framework
of poles stretched out behind the horse — she picked up the
sobbing children and, wrapping them in a blanket to keep them
from falling off the travois, bestrode her horse, and brought
them whimpering into camp.
For some time she kept them tethered beside her lodge where
she took good care of them, but when they grew larger and
seemed well behaved, she released them and allowed them to
run and play with the dogs around camp. In the fall it was
her habit to take a hand-net and go down to the river to fish.
Standing upon a rock and every once in a while casting in her
net, she would land a fish on the bank. For several days the
cubs watched her with interest, and then one day, it seems,
they decided they ought to try and help their foster-mother;
so wading in on their hind legs till the water covered their Httle
round tummies, they would stand perfectly still until a fish
would swim near. Then they would make a violent lunge for
it, and striking hghtning-like blows with their paws, they, too,
would land a fish upon the bank. Over and over they repeated
the manoeuvre, with evident excitement and pleasure. At
last, every time the old woman picked up her net to go fishing,
these two went along and helped her with her work. So fond
116 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
of the sport did they become that, presently, they didn't even
wait for her to accompany them, but scurried down to the river
by themselves and would often have a day's fishing caught and
ready for her before she had put in her appearance.
But a few months later, when the cubs had grown still larger
and stronger, they became so boisterous and mischievous that
they not only handled the dogs too roughly, but when the old
Indian and his wife left camp at any time, they went on the
rampage: chasing the dogs about, ransacking the larder, turn-
ing the camp topsy-turvy, and scattering everything in con-
fusion. So the old couple decided that it was now high time
to put their skins upon the skin-stretcher in readiness to sell
to the fur-trader.
The black bear is a good swimmer and an excellent tree
climber, and the speed with which he can rush up a hillside is
surprising. His diet is a varied one, for he is always ready to
eat vegetables, roots, berries, insects, nuts, fish, eggs, meat,
fruit, and of course sugar or honey; furthermore, he is a killer
of small game — ^when he is extra-hungry. The black bear has
been given so bad a name by uninformed writers and dishonest
story-tellers that most people dread to meet him in the woods;
whereas, in truth he is usually more frightened at meeting
human beings than they are of meeting him — for man is always
his greatest and most dangerous enemy. Though I have seen
many bears in the bush — seventeen on one trip — they never
caused me any anxiety, and at once took flight. But on one of
two rare occasions they did not run, perhaps because they were
three in number and all full-grown.
It happened up on the borderhne of Alaska. I was walking
alone through the mountains on my way to Stewart, and wish-
ing to cross the Marmot River, I took advantage of a great,
permanent snowshde that had been annually added to by
avalanches from the snow-capped glaciers. The snowshde
not only completely blocked the canon, but on either side it
00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 117
reached many hundreds of feet up the ahnost perpendicular
mountains, yet in the middle, where it bridged the river, it
was no more than two hundred feet high, though it was about
two thousand feet in width. Year in and year out that great
snow-bridge spanned the httle river, and now when I wanted
to make use of it, I had no sooner started over than I dis-
covered three bears with the same intention. They, too, had
just come out of the woods, and were only forty paces from me
— as I afterward measured. We were all going in the same
direction, and though we were exactly opposite one another and
all walking in a parallel hne, no one ran, and for two thousand
feet or more, without stick or stone between us, we had a good
opportunity to study each other. As usual, I was armed — as
I always take care to be — ^with a penknife and a pocket hand-
kerchief.
Occasionally one reads in the daily press shocking stories
of the ferocity of bears. What a pity that the truth of these
stories cannot always be run to earths Billy Le Heup, a
prospector and guide of northern Ontario, once having occasion
to call for his mail in a Uttle backwoods settlement, opened a
newspaper and was shocked to learn that a most harrowing
affhction had befallen an old friend of his, by name — ^But I'm
sorry I have forgotten it, so let us call him Jones. The paper
reported that whUe several of Jones's children were out berry-
picking, a great, black bear had attacked them, and killing the
youngest, a httle girl, had devoured her entirely, save only one
tiny fragment; for when the rescue party went in search of
the poor httle child they found nothing but her blood-stained
right hand. Le Heup was so overcome with sorrow and so
filled with indignation that he then and there determined to
get together a few trapper friends of his and at once start by
canoe for the scene of the tragedy, only a few miles away; there
to condole with the poor father, trail the huge brute and wreak
vengeance upon the child-eating monster. So Bill, with several
118 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
of the best bear-hunters in that region, all well armed, set out
in haste for the Jones's clearing. When they arrived, Jones
was sphtting wood outside his shack. The sorrowing trappers,
with downcast eyes, moved slowly toward the bereaved father,
and Le Heup, appointed spokesman, offered their condolences
on the terrible death of his favourite child. Jones was com-
pletely dimabfounded. When it was explained to him what a
dreadful thing had happened to his child, he swore he had no
idea a bear had ever eaten any one of his children; but he was
wiUing to put their story to the proof, so as he had a lot of
children, he called them all out of the house to check them over.
To the joyful surprise of the visitors, there among them was
little Eva — supposed to be eaten, and she even retained her
right hand. Thus another newspaper Hbel upon the poor old
black bear — the buffoon of the forest — ^was shown to be devoid
of truth; yet that story was published in the Toronto papers,
and, no doubt, was copied all over the United States.
But though the black bear is a shy, playful brute, usually
ready for fhght if danger approaches, the tyro should remember
that if wounded or cornered he will readily fight. Further-
more, if one is unlucky enough to get between a bear cub and
its mother, and if the cub should cry out as though you were
giving it pain, the mother will attack you as readily as any
mother would — be she chicken, moose, or woman.
THE WAYS OF THE BEAVER
A few days later Oo-koo-hoo and Amik set out to hunt beav-
ers— those wonderful amphibious animals of the Northland
that display more intelligence, perseverance, prudence, and
morahty than many a highly civilized human being.
In appearance the beaver somewhat resembles a greatly
magnified muskrat, save that the beaver's hairless, scaly tail
is very broad and flat. The coat of the beaver is brown, and
00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 119
the darker the colour the higher the price it brings. An adult
beaver may measure from thirty-five to forty-five inches in
length, and weigh anywhere from thirty to sixty pomids. The
beaver's home is usually in the form of an island house, built
in the waters of a small lake or slowly running stream, to af-
ford protection from prowling enemies, much in the same way
that the old feudal lords surrounded the ramparts of their
castles with broad moats and flooded the intervening space with
a deep canal of water, in order to check the advance of enemy
raiders. The surrounding shores of the beaver's castle are
nearly always wooded with poplars, as it is upon the bark
of that tree that the beaver depends most for his food; though
at times, other hardwoods contribute to his feast as well as
water-lily roots and other vegetation.
The beaver's island-like lodge is a dome-shaped structure that
rises from four to seven feet above the water, and measures
from ten to thirty feet in diameter on the water-line. It is
composed mostly of barkless sticks and poles from one to four
inches in diameter, although at times much heavier material
is used; and it is tightly chinked with stones and mud and
matted vegetation. Frequently, I have watched the building
of their lodges. A foundation of water-logged poles and sticks
is laid upon the lake or river bottom, next mud and stones
are added, then another lot of branches, thus the structure
rises in a fairly solid mound until its dome-like top reaches the
desired height above the water-line. Then the beavers tunnel
their two runways into the centre of the mass from an under-
water level on the outside to an over-water level on the inside
of the mound. Next, by gnawing away the inside sticks and
excavating the inner mass, the inside chamber is formed,
measuring anywhere from four to fourteen feet in width, and
a Uttle over two feet in height, with its walls finished fairly
smooth. Furthermore, the chamber is provided with two floors
each of which covers about half the room. While the lower
120 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
floor rises from three to six inches above the water level, the
upper floor rises from fom* to eight inches above the lower floor.
The tmmels open in the lower floor and it is the lower floor or
level that is used as a drying place and a dining room. The
upper level, covered with a mattress of shredded wood, grass,
or moss, forms the hving and sleeping half of the chamber.
Though in winter time most of their meals are eaten in the
house, the green, bark-covered sticks being brought into the
chamber through the straightest tunnel, the house is kept
quite clean and free of aU rubbish or filth. In fact, beavers are
better housekeepers than some human beings I have known.
A certain amount of ventilation is derived from a few httle
chinks in the apex of the roof. During the first freezing nights
of late fall the beavers plaster the above-water dome of their
house with mud which they carry up between their forelegs
and chin from the lake bottom, and placing it upon the roof
of their house, spread it about in a thick coating, not with their
tails, but with their forefeet, where it soon freezes into so
soHd a mass that it protects the inmates from the attacks of
both the severest winter weather and the most savage of four-
footed enemies. So strong indeed does the roof then become
that even a moose could stand upon it without it giving way.
While some writers doubt that beavers plaster the outside of
their house with mud, I wish to add that I have not only ex-
amined their houses before and after the plastering was done,
but on several moonlight nights I have actuaUy sat within forty
feet of them and watched them do it.
The winter supply of food, being mostly poplar bark, is
derived from the branches of green trees which the beavers cut
down in the autumn for that very purpose. While engaged in
gnawing down trees the beavers usuaUy work in pairs — one
cutting while the other rests and also acts as a sentinel to give
warning in case an enemy approaches. While cutting down
trees they stand or sit in an upright position upon their hind
00-KOO-HOO PIAYS THE GAME 121
legs and are firmly supported by the tripod formed by the
spreading out of their hind feet and tail. They generally
choose trees nearest the water on an inclined bank, and usually
leaning toward the stream; and while they show no particular
skill in felling trees in a certain position, they do display great
perseverance, for if it happens, as it sometimes does, that a tree
in its descent is checked and eventually held up by its neigh-
bours, the beavers will cut the trunk for the second time, and
in some cases even for the third time, in order to bring it down.
At night I have frequently sat by the hour at a time, with
the brush-screened bow of my canoe within ten feet of a party
of beavers, while they were busily engaged in cutting the
branches off a tree that they had felled into the water the
previous evening. They work quickly, too, for some mornings
I have paddled past a big tree lying in the water, which they
had dropped the night before and — on returning next day —
have found all the branches removed, though some of them
would have measured five inches in diameter. But watching
beavers work at night is not only interesting, it is easy to do,
and I have frequently taken both women and children to share
in the sport. Sometimes, right in the heart of the wilderness,
I have placed children within fifteen feet of beavers while they
were engaged in cutting up a tree.
When branches measure from one to three inches in diameter
they are usually cut in lengths of from five to ten feet, and the
thicker the branch the shorter they cut the lengths. If the
cutting is done on land, the butt of the long thinner length is
seized by the beaver's teeth and with the weight resting upon
the animal's back, is dragged along the ground — over a spe-
cially cleared road — and eventually deposited in the water. The
shorter lengths, sometimes no longer than a couple of feet, but
measuring perhaps six or eight inches in diameter, are rolled
along the ground by the beaver pushing the log with the fore-
feet or shoulder. When the wood is placed in the water, the
122 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
beaver propels it to its under-water storage place near its lodge,
where — the wood being green and heavy — it is easily secured
from floating up and away, by placing a little mud over one end
or by interlocking the stick with the rest of the pile. The
green wood, however, soon becomes waterlogged and gives no
further trouble. Thus, when the lake or river is frozen over,
the beaver — ^for it does not hibernate — ^may Hve in comfort
all winter long in its weather-proof lodge with plenty of food
stored beneath the ice and just beyond the watery doorway of
its home.
HUNTING THE BEAVER
The hunters, arriving at a small lake that lay about three
miles to the northwest of Bear Lake, crossed it, and tiuning up
a winding creek, followed the little river imtil they came to a
beaver dam which caused the stream to expand into another
little lake that flooded far beyond its old water-line. In it
was to be seen three beaver lodges.
Oo-koo-hoo said the scene was somewhat altered since he had
visited it four years before, as the dam had been increased both
in height and length, and the pond, increasing, too, had reached
out close to many a tree that formerly stood some distance from
the water. It was a beautiful little mere containing a few
spruce-crowned islands, and surrounded by thickly wooded
hiUs whose bases were well fringed with poplars, birches, wil-
lows, and alders — an ideal home for beaver. Among the little
islands stood three snow-capped beaver lodges. Here and
there wide-spreading, wind-packed carpets of snow covered
the ice, while in between big stretches of clear, glassy ice,
acting as skyHghts, lit up the beavers' submarine gardens
aroimd their ice-locked homes.
The hunters were accompanied by three of their dogs, and
before they had time to decide where they should first begin
work, the dogs began barking at a point between the west lodge
00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 123
and the bank; so they went over to investigate. Evidently
the dogs had spied a beaver, for now, though none was in sight,
the canines were rushing back and forth in great excitement
over a fairly deep submarine runway or clear passageway,
through the shallow, rush-matted water under the ice.
Chopping a hole through the ice with his axe, Oo-koo-hoo
drove down a couple of crossed poles to block the passageway,
and Amik, finding other runways, did likewise at other places.
Several of the passageways led to the bank, where, Oo-koo-hoo
said, they had what is called "bank lodges" — natural cavities
in the river bank to which the beavers had counted on resorting
in case their house was raided. In other places, where the snow
obscured the view, the Indians knocked on the ice with the
backs of their axes, to find and follow the hollow-sounding ice
that told of runways below, that other stakes might be driven
down. The rapping sound, however, instead of driving the
beavers out of their lodge, had a tendency to make them remain
at home, for as Oo-koo-hoo explained, cutting ice and working
around their homes does not always frighten the beavers.
Securing two stouter poles, the hunters now chopped the
butts into wedge-shaped chisels, with which they proposed
to break open the beavers' lodge. Work was begun about a
foot above the level of the snow on the south side, as they
explained that the lodge would not only be thinner on that side,
but that the sun would make it shghtly softer, too — and before
much headway was made the dogs, all alert, discovered that
several of the beavers had rushed out of their house, but finding
the passageways blocked had returned home.
Now, strange to say, as soon as the side of the house was
broken open and dayhght let in, the beavers, becoming curious
over the inflowing fight that dazzled their eyes, actuaUy came
toward the newly made hole to investigate. Then Oo-koo-hoo,
with the aid of a crooked stick, suddenly jerked one of the un-
suspecting animals out of the hole and Amik knocked it on the
124 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
head. Thus they secured four large ones, but left a number
of smaller ones unharmed, as Oo-koo-hoo never made a practice
of taking a whole family.
In that house the portion of the chamber used for sleeping
quarters was covered with a thick mattress of dry "snake-
grass," and the whole interior was remarkably clean. After
blocking and patching up the hole and covering the place with
snow, the himters threw water over it until it froze into a solid
mass, then they removed the stakes from the runways and
left the rest of the beavers in peace. Loading their catch upon
their toboggans, all set out for home.
BEAVER DAMS AND CANALS
Besides erecting their remarkably strong houses there are
two other ways in which the beavers display wonderful skill:
in the building of their dams and in the excavating of their
canals. Their dams are built for the purpose of retarding, rais-
ing, and storing water, in order — in summer time — to circum-
vent their enemies by placing a well-watered moat between
their foe and their castle; also to flood a wider area so that
the far-reaching waters of their pond may lap close to the roots
of many otherwise inaccessible trees and thus enable them to
fell and float them to their lodge; and — ^in winter time — to raise
the water high enough to secm^e their pond from freezing sohd
and imprisoning them in their lodges where they would starve
to death, or if they gnawed their way to freedom, the intense
cold of mid-winter would freeze their hairless tails and cause
their death; furthermore, should they escape from the weather,
they would be at the mercy of all their enemies and would not
long survive.
A dam, in the beginning, is usually erected in a small way,
just to raise and expand the waters of some small creek or even
those of a spring; then, as the years go by, it is constantly added
00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 125
to, to increase the depth and expansion of the pond, and thus
the dam grows from a small one of a few yards in length to a
big one of several hmidred feet — sometimes to even fom- or five
hmidred feet in length — that may bank up the water four or
five feet above the stream just outside the dam, and turn the
pond into a great reservoir covering hundreds of acres of land.
The dam is more often built of branches laid parallel to the
current with their butts pointing up stream, and weighted
down with mud and stones; thus layer after layer is added until
the structure rises to the desired height and strength. Some
dams contain hundreds of tons of material. They are usually
built upon a soHd bottom, not of rock — ^though big, stationary
boulders often are included in the construction for the extra
support they furnish. When thus used, boulders often cause
the beavers to divert the line of the dam out of its usual graceful
and scientific curve that well withstands the pressure from
even a large body of water.
The beavers excavate canals — sometimes hundreds of feet
in length — to enable them to reach more easily and float home
the wood they have cut from freshly felled trees lying far
beyond the reaches of their pond. The canals measure from
two to three feet in width and a foot to a foot and a half in
depth, and are not only surprisingly clean-cut and straight
but occasionally they are even provided with locks, or rather
little dams, to raise the water from one level to another —
generally about a foot at a time — to offset the disadvantage of
the wood lying on higher and more distant groimd than is
reached by the waters of the residential pond. Sometimes
their canals are fed by springs, but more often by the drainage
of rainwater. The building of many of their dams and canals
displays remarkable skill and a fine sense of engineering, to-
gether with a spirit of perseverance that is astounding. Is it
any wonder that the Indians say that the beavers were once
human beings, whom, for the punishment of some miscon-
126 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
duct, The Master of Life condemned to get down and grovel
upon the ground as four-footed animals for the rest of their
days.
"Yes, my son," replied Oo-koo-hoo, when we were discussing
beavers, "they are a very clever and a very wise people, and it
would be better for us if we emulated them more than we do,
for as you know, they beheve in not talking but in working and
making good use of the brains The Master of Life has given
them, and that is the only way to be really happy in this world.
Besides, he is always true to his wife — a fine example to men —
furthermore, he is a good provider who looks after his children,
and is a decent, clean-Hving fellow who never goes out of his
way to quarrel with any one, but just minds his own business
and cuts wood."
Could any nation choose a creature more fit for a national
emblem? I beheve not. For would any wise man compare
a useless, screeching eagle, or a useless, roaring lion — each a
creature of prey — to a silent, hard-working, and useful beaver
who remains true to his wife all his life, who builds a comfortable
home for his children, provides them well with food and teaches
them . . . not how to kill other creatures . . . but
how to work, . . . how to construct strong, comfortable
houses, how to build dams to protect, not only their children,
but their homes, too, how to chop down trees for food, how to dig
canals to float the food home, how to store it for the winter, how
to keep the home clean and in good order, how to mind their
own business and never seek a quarrel, and, at the same time,
how to defend themselves desperately if an enemy attacks
them.
For his size, the beaver is powerful, so powerful, indeed, that
Oo-koo-hoo said: "Remember, my son, the beaver is a very
strong animal, he can drag a man after him, and the only way
for a hunter to hold him — if he is caught in a trap — is to lift
him off his feet."
00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 127
Notwithstanding his great strength, however, he is a peace-
loving chap, but when a just occasion arises, you ought to see
him fight!
BEAVER FIGHTS WOLVERINE
One spring while hunting along a river, some years ago,
Oo-koo-hoo discovered a beaver at work upon the bank, and
¥nshing to observe him for a while, kept perfectly still. The
beaver was cutting poplar sticks to take them through a hole
in the ice to the under-water entrance of his near-by home for
his family to feed upon. But presently Oo-koo-hoo discovered
another moving object; it was a wolverine, and it was stalking
the beaver. When it drew near enough to the unsuspecting
worker, it made a sudden spring and landed upon his back.
A desperate fight ensued. The wolverine was trying to cut the
spinal cord at the back of the beaver's neck; but the short, stout
neck caused trouble, and before the wolverine had managed it,
the beaver, realizing that the only chance for life was to make
for the water-hole, lunged toward it, and with the wolverine
still on his back, dived in. On being submerged, the wolverine
let go and swam around and around in an effort to get out; but
the beaver, now in his element, took advantage of the fact, and
rising beneath the foe, leaped at it, and with one bite of his
powerful, chisel-like teeth, gripped it by the throat, then let
go and sank to watch it bleed to death. A Httle later, the
beaver had the satisfaction of seeing old Oo-koo-hoo walk off
with the wolverine's skin.
No . . . beavers do not beheve in divorce . . .
and on their wedding day — usually in February — they promise
to be true to each other for the rest of their Uves, and, more-
over, unlike many human beings, they keep their promise.
About three months later the husband, seeing his wife is getting
ready to welcome new relations, leaves his comfortable home
just to be out of the way, and takes up new quarters in a hole
128 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
in the river bank. While he is there the children — any number
from one to six — arrive, and then can be heard much gentle
whimpering, just as though human babies were now Hving in
the old homestead.
When the beaver children grow older they romp in the water
much as puppies do on land. If danger approaches, the first
beaver to sense it slaps the surface of the water with his broad,
powerful tail, making a noise that resounds through the forest
as though a strong man had struck the water a violent blow with
the broad side of a paddle blade. Instantly the first beaver's
nearest companion signals the danger to others by doing the
same; then a second later they plunge out of sight in the water
and leave behind nothing but a great sound — as though an
elephant had fallen in.
When married and settled down, the beaver is very domestic
— a great stay-at-home — ^but when seeking a mate, he travels
far and wide, and leaves here and there along the shore scent
signals, in the hope of more easily attracting and winning a
bride. Beavers are full grown at three years of age, and by that
time they have learned how to erect houses, build dams, dig
canals, chop down trees, cut up wood, float it home and store
it for the winter, and by that time too, they have, no doubt,
learned that man is their worst enemy, though the wolverine,
wolf, otter, lynx, and fisher are ever ready to pounce upon them
whenever a chance offers.
USEFULNESS OF BEAVER
But I had almost forgotten that I owed the reader an ex-
planation when I said that the beaver was a very useful crea-
ture. I was not thinking of the value of his fur, because that
is as nothing compared to the great service he has been render-
ing mankind, not only to-day, but for endless generations.
How.^^ By the great work he has been doing during the past
00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 129
hundreds and thousands of years. How? By going into rocky,
useless valleys and building the dams that checked the rushing
rivers that were constantly robbing much rich soil from the
surrounding country and carrying it down and out to sea. And
his dams, moreover, not only held up those treacherous highway-
men, but took the loot from them and let it settle in the valleys,
where, as years rolled on, it grew and grew into endless great
expansions of level meadow lands that now afford much of the
most fertile farming soil to be found in North America; and
thus the great industry of those silent workers, who hved ages
and ages ago, is even to-day benefiting mankind. And thus,
too, that great work is being steadily carried on by the living
beavers of to-day. Could any country in the world have chosen
a more inspiring creature than Canada has chosen for her
national symbol?
When, on his fall and spring expeditions, Oo-koo-hoo was
hunting beavers with the waters free of ice, he placed steel traps
in their runways, either just below the surface of the water, or
on the bank; and the only bait he used in both cases was the
rubbing of castorum on near-by bushes. Also, he built dead-
falls much like those he built for bear, but of course much
smaller; and again the bait was castorum, but this time it was
rubbed on a bit of rabbit skin which was then attached to the
bait stick of the deadfall. The deadfalls he built for beavers
were nearly always made of dead tamarack — ^never of green
poplar — otherwise the beavers would have pulled them to
pieces for the sake of the wood.
Further, Oo-koo-hoo told me that in the spring he sometimes
broke open beaver dams and set traps near the breaks in order
to catch the beavers when they came to repair the damage.
Such a mode of trapping was, he said, equally successful
whether or not there was ice upon the water. He also told me
that he had seen other Indians catch beaver with a net made of
No. 10 twine, with a three-and-a-half-inch mesh, but that,
130 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
though the method worked rather well, he had never tried it.
The way of all others, that he liked best, was to hunt them
by calling, and the best time for that was during the mornings
and evenings of the rutting season.
Later in the year, when the ice is gone, and the beaver is
swimming, say a foot under water, the hunter can easily follow
his course from the appearance of the surface. The same
apphes to the muskrat, mink, and otter. Muskrats and beav-
ers swim much alike, as they are usually going in search of
roots, and, knowing exactly where to find them, they swim
straight; but minks and otters swim a zig-zag course for the
reason that they are always looking for fish and therefore are
constantly turning their heads about; and that rule apphes
whether their heads are above or below the surface.
When a beaver — ^providing he has not slapped the water with
his tail — or an otter dives, an observant hunter can judge fairly
well as to where the animal is heading for, by simply noting the
twist of the tail, a point that helps the hunter to gauge the
place where it may rise. The same applies to whales when they
sound, though I found — ^while whale hunting — that few whalers
realized it, and fewer still took advantage of it, for much time
was lost while waiting for the whale to rise before the boat could
be headed in the right direction. But then the average Indian
is much more observant than the average white man.
If a beaver is caught in a steel trap, he will do his utmost
to plunge into water and remain there even though he should
drown, yet his house may not be in that river or pond; but
if he is wounded, he will either try to reach his house or take to
the woods.
When in pursuit of beavers it is advisable to watch for them
on moonlight nights about eight or nine o'clock, and it is best
to be in a canoe, as then there is less danger of the beaver sink-
ing before he can be removed from the water. The hunter,
while waiting for a shot, makes a noise with the handle of his
00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 131
knife against a stick in imitation of a beaver cutting wood —
a sound somewhat similar to that of the boring of a large auger.
It is astonishing how far, on a still night, beavers will hear such
a sound and come to help their friends at work. When Oo-koo-
hoo shot beaver he charged his gim with four slugs and fired for
the head, as he explained that ordinary shot was too fine and
scattered too much, while a single ball was too large.
OO-KOO-HOO SHOOTS A BEAR
The following morning Oo-koo-hoo and I set out to go the
round of the northern trapping trail which for some distance
followed the valley of Beaver River, upon the bank of which
traps, snares, and deadfalls for bears were set. Along that
section of the river there were also traps set for otters, beavers,
and muskrats; but the hunting of these amphibious animals
was pursued with more dihgence in the spring than in the
winter. Though we hauled a hunting toboggan, the snow
was not yet deep enough for snowshoes, but what a feast
of reading the forest afforded us ! What tragedies were written
in the snow ! Here we followed a mink's track as it skirted the
river bank that wound in and out among the trees, showing that
the mink had leaped here, crouched there, or had been scratch-
ing beyond in the snow. Evidently it was in search of food.
Presently we noticed another track, that of an ermine. The
two trails were converging. Now, apparently, the mink had
seen its enemy, and, therefore, in order to get past the ermine
and escape trouble, it had increased its speed. At this point
the ermine had spied it and had redoubled its speed. Now
they had both bounded along with all their might. But as
ill-fate would have it, they had met. A violent struggle had
ensued. Blood was spattered upon the snow. From the
battle-ground only one trail led away. It was that of the
ermine. But though the snow was marked by the footprints
132 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
of only one animal, the trail of two tails plainly showed. It
was evident that the ermine had seized its victim by the throat
and throwing it over its back, had carried it away. Many
other tracks of beasts and birds were printed upon the snow and
told in vivid detail stories of life in the winter wilderness.
Beaver River was now frozen firmly enough to bear a man,
except in a few places where rapid water kept the ice thin or
left the stream open; and as we tramped along we examined
a number of traps, from two of which we took an otter and a
beaver. But the bear and the wolf traps remained undisturbed
though we saw a number of wolf tracks near at hand. Turning
westward we ascended a slope and came suddenly upon the
fresh track of a bear. It was fairly large, and was travelling
slowly; merely sauntering along as though looking for a den
in which to pass the winter.
At once Oo-koo-hoo was all alert. Carefully re-charging his
gun with ball, and seeing that his knife and axe were at hand,
he left the toboggan behind, lest it make a noise among the
trees and alarm the quarry. In less than a quarter of a mile,
however, we came upon a sign that the bear had passed but a
few minutes before. The hunter paused to suggest that it would
better his approach if I were to follow a httle farther in the
rear; then he noiselessly continued his pursuit. Slowly he
moved forward, cautiously avoiding the snapping of a twig or
the scraping of underbrush. After peering through the
shrubbery ahead or halting a moment to reexamine the track,
he would move on again, but with scarcely any perceptible
motion of the upper part of his body. When in doubt, he
would stand stock-still and try by sight or hearing to get news
of the bear. Luckily, there was no wind, so it made Httle differ-
ence which way we turned in following the trail. But just
then there happened a disturbing and irritating thing, for a
whiskey jack — Canada Jay — took to following us, and chirping
about it, too. Crossing a rocky patch on the hillside, the bear
2^-^ 52 - '^ =:
sS-tS
-ft» •« "^ ^ fe «c <aj
ctS.F
00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 133
came into view as it circled a little in order to descend. Pres-
ently it left the shadow of the forest and emerging into smi-
light on a snow-covered ledge, turned its head as though it had
heard a sound in the rear. It was Oo-koo-hoo speaking:
"Turn your head away, my brother . . . " but the report
of his gun cut short his sentence, and the bear, leaping forward,
disappeared among the growth below. Re-loading his gun,
the hunter slowly followed, more cautiously than ever, for he
saw from the blood upon the snow that the beast was wounded
and, therefore, dangerous. As he went he covered every likely
place with his gun, lest the bear should be lurking there and
rush at him. At last I saw him pause much longer than usual,
then move forward again. Finally he turned, and in a satisfied
tone exclaimed : ' * It's dead 1"
The ball had struck just behind the left shoulder and had
entered the heart; and the hunter explained that when he saw
his best chance, he spoke to the bear to make it pause in order
to better his aim.
"And what did you say to him.^"
"My son, I said: Turn your eyes away, my brother, for I
am about to kill you.' I never care to fire at a bear without
first teUing him how sorry I am that I need his coat."
Then the skinning began, and by noon we had it finished.
Loading the head and part of the meat on the sled, I hauled it,
while the hunter rolled up the heavy pelt and packed it upon
his back with the aid of a tump-line. Taking our loads back to
the river and caching them there, we continued along the
trapping trail.
A DEADFALL FOR BEAR
Soon we came to one of the best deadfalls I had ever seen.
It was set for bear, and was of the "log-house" kind, with
walls nearly six feet high, and a base that was eight feet long
by five feet wide in front, while only two feet in width in the
134 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
rear. It was built in conjunction with two standing trees that
formed the two corner posts retaining the huge drop-log. The
front of the big trap was left quite open, save for the drop-log
that crossed it obliquely. While the thin end of the log was
staked to the groimd, the thick end, loaded with a platform
weighted with stones, projected beyond the far side of the trap
at a height of about five feet from the ground. It was ready
to fall and crush any imlucky creature that might venture
in and touch the bait-trigger. Whatever the drop-log might
fall upon, it would hold as though in a vise, and if the bear
were not already dead when the hunter should arrive, he would
take care to shoot the animal in the head before removing the
drop-log.
Snares are also set for bears, and the best of them are made
of twenty strands of babiche twisted into the form of a
rope. The loop is set about eighteen inches in diameter, and is
attached to either a spring-pole or a tossing-pole — or, more
correctly speaking, a tree sufficiently large to raise and support
the weight of the bear. Sometimes a guiding-pole is used in
connection with a snare. One end is planted in the ground in
the centre of the path and the other, slanting up toward the
snare, is used as a guide toward the loop, since a bear walking
forward would straddle the pole. In a further effort to getting
the animal's head in the right place, the himter smears the
upper end of the pole with syrup.
Another wooden trap is that of the stump and wedge. It
is made by chopping down a tree of not less than half a foot in
diameter, so that a stump is left about six feet high. The
stump is then spht, and a long, tapering wedge, well greased, is
driven in, and upon it is smeared a coating of syrup or honey
as a bait. The bear will not only try to Hck off the bait, but in
his eagerness to pull out the wedge and hck it, too, will spring
the trap and find a paw caught between the closing stump.
Also, the Indians sometimes use a stage from the top of which
00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 135
they shoot the bear at night while he passes on his runway;
and to attract the bear they imitate the cry of a cub in distress.
Steel traps, too, are set for bears. They are very strong with
big double springs and weigh about twenty pounds. They,
too, are set on the runway of the bears, and are carefully
covered with leaves or moss. No bait is used on the trap, but
syrup or honey is spread upon a near-by tree to induce the bear
to step in the trap.
MARASTY AND THE BEAR
But all bear traps are dangerous to mankind and not in-
frequently a man is caught in one. In 1899 a half-breed
hunter by the name of Marasty, who Hved near Green Lake,
about 150 miles north of Prince Albert, went one late spring day
to visit his traps, and in the course of his trip came upon one of
his deadfalls set for bear, from which he noticed the bait had
been removed, although the trap had not been sprung. Before
rebgdting it, however, he buUt a fire to boil his tea-pail, and sat
down to eat his lunch.
After refreshment, Marasty, being a lazy man, decided to
enter the trap from in front, instead of first opening up the
rear and entering from that quarter, as he should have done.
He got along all right until he started to back out, when in
some way he jarred the trigger, and, just as he was all free of
the ground-log save his right arm, down came the ponderous
drop-log with its additional weight of platform and stones. It
caught hiTTi just above the elbow, crushed his arm flat, and
held him a prisoner in excruciating pain. The poor wretch
nearly swooned. Later, he thought of his knife. He would
try to cut the log in two and thus free himself. He knew that,
handicapped as he was, though he worked feverishly and
incessantly, the task would demand many hours of furious toil.
After a while the wind arose and re-kindled his dying fire
136 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
into life. The sparks flew up and the flames ran over the dry
moss toward him. Now there was added the dread of being
bmut alive. But he worked his feet violently and succeeded
in roughening the ground sufficiently to turn the fire so that
it passed on either side of him, and though it continued beyond
the wooden trap, eventuaUy died down.
Then he went on with his cutting, but night came on before
he had dug into the log more than a few inches. Growing
faint, he rested awhile, and later fell asleep. When he awoke,
he discovered a full-grown black bear sitting upon its haunches
watching him. He shouted to drive the beast away, but,
strange to say, the noise did not frighten the bear, for several
times it got up and attempted to reach the syrup on the trap.
When the captive renewed his shouting and kicking, the bear
merely stepped back, sat down, and persisted in maintaining
its fearsome watch all night. Nevertheless, the half-breed was
afraid to stop shouting, so he kept it up at intervals all night
long. When, however, dawn came, the bear went away.
At sunrise Marasty renewed his efforts to escape, and though
his hand was now blistered and sore, he worked for several
hours. Then thirst attacked him; and he dug in the ground,
but without avail, in the hope of finding moisture. Again he
turned to the cutting of the log, but soon exhaustion weakened
his exertions. Night came on again and with it came the
bear; but this time he was glad to see the brute, for its presence
made him feel less lonely and drove away despair. This time,
too, the bear sat around in such a friendly way, that Marasty
felt reheved enough to sing some hymns and do a Httle pray-
ing; but when he began to sing a second time, the big black
beast lost patience, got up and walked away, much to the
regret of the imprisoned hunter.
In the morning the now almost lifeless Marasty heard in
the distance the voice of his brother caUing his name; but
though he shouted wildly in answer, no response came, for the
00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 137
wind was blowing in the wrong direction, and defeated his
attempt to benefit by the help that was so near. Later, the
imhappy man swooned.
About noon the brother, finding the suEFerer's trail, arrived
upon th^ scene, removed the drop-log, picked up the uncon-
scious man, and carrying him to his canoe, cut away the thwarts
and laid him in. After a paddle of fifteen miles to the portage
landing, he left the stricken wretch in the canoe, and ran four
miles to get help. With other men and two horses he speedily
returned, rigged up a stage swung between the horses, and lay-
ing Marasty thereon, transported him through the bush to his
home.
In the meantime, an express had been despatched to Prince
Albert to summon a doctor; but the old Indian women could
not bear to wait so long for the coming of rehef , so fihng a big
knife into a fine-toothed saw, they cut away the bruised flesh
and sawed off the broken bones. They made a clean amputa-
tion which they dressed with a poultice made from well-boiled
inner bark of juniper, and not only did no mortification set in,
but the arm healed nicely; and when the doctor arrived ten
days later, he examined the amputation carefully and said that
there was nothing for him to do: the old women had done their
work so well. Marasty quickly recovered, and next winter he
was on the hunting trail again.
HOW BEARS ARE HUNTED
After spending three days upon the trapping trail we re-
turned to camp; but because our toboggan was loaded with
game, and also because we did not return by our outgoing route,
the grandmother and the two boys set out to bring in the bear
meat and the bear's head. During the feast that followed
Oo-koo-hoo addressed the bear's head with superstitious awe
and again begged it not to be offended or angry because it had
138 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
been killed since they needed both its coat and its fat and flesh
to help tide them over the winter. In this entreaty Amik
did not join — ^perhaps because he was too civihzed. After the
meal, the skull was hung upon a branch of a pine that stood
near the lodges. It reminded me that once I had seen at an
old camping place eleven bear skulls upon a single branch;
but the sight of bear skulls upon trees is not uncommon when
one is travelhng through the Strong Woods Country.
That night, when I was sitting beside Oo-koo-hoo, we began
talking about bear himting and he said: "My son, some day
you, too, may want to become a great bear-hunter, and when
you do go out to hunt alone, don't do as I do, but do as I say,
for I am growing old and am sometimes careless about the way
I approach game." Puffing away at his pipe, he presently
continued: "In trailing bear, the hunter's method of approach,
of course, depends entirely upon the information he has gained
from the tracks he has discovered. If the hunter sees the
bear without being seen, he will approach to within about
twenty paces or even ten of the brute before he fires; being,
however, always careful to keep some object between him and
his quarry. And when he does fire, he should not wait to see
the effect, but should immediately run aside for a distance of
fifteen or twenty paces, as the first thing a bear does when it
is shot is to bite the wound on account of the pain, next it tries
to discover who hit it, and remembering from which direction
the sound came, it looks up, and seeing the smoke, rushes for
it. Then the hunter has his opportunity, for on seeing the
beast pass broadside, he fires, and thus stands a good chance of
hitting a vital spot.
"At a critical moment a good hunter's movements are not
only swift but always premeditated. Nor does he ever treat
a bear with contempt: from first to last, he is always on guard.
He never takes a chance. Even if the bear drops when the
hunter fires, he will immediately re-load and advance very
00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 139
slowly lest the brute be feigning death. The hunter advances,
with his gun cocked and in readiness, to within perhaps five
paces, and then waits to see if his quarry is really dead. If the
bear is not dead and sees that the hunter is off his guard, the
chances are it will rush at him. But an experienced hunter is
not easily fooled, for he knows that if an animal makes a
choking sound in its throat, caused by internal bleeding, it is
mortally wounded; but if it makes no such sound — ^watch
out!"
"My son, no animal is ever instantly killed, for there is
always a gradual collapse, or more or less of a movement
caused by the contraction of its muscles, before death actually
comes; but when an animal feigns death, it is always in too
much of a hurry about it, and drops instantly without a final
struggle, or any hard breathing — ^that is the time when one
should wait and be careful.
"Then again, my son, if a wounded or cornered bear comes
suddenly upon a hunter, the beast will not at once rush at him,
grab him or bite him, but will instantly draw back, just as the
hunter will do; then it will sit up upon its haunches for a
moment, as though to think over the situation; that pause,
shght as it is, gives the hunter a moment to uncover his gun,
cock it, and £iim, and fire it at the beast's mouth. In such a
situation the hunter prefers to fire at its mouth, because if shot
in the heart, the bear can still lunge at the hunter before it
falls, but if struck in the mouth, the brute is dazed and stops
to rub its face; meanwhile, the hunter has a chance to re-load
and try for a shot behind the ear, as that is even more fatal than
one in the heart. But if the bear happens to be in a tree, the
hunter does not try for either the brain or the heart, because
the former is usually out of aim, and the latter is protected by
the trunk or limb of the tree; so he shoots at the small of the
back for that will paralyze it and cause it to let go hold of the
tree, and drop to the ground. The fall will leave very little
140 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
fight in it, or will finish it altogether. But if hit in the head or
even in a paw, the chances are that the bear will jump; and
then watch out, for it will either run or fight!
"In hunting bears, however, the hunter must remember that
he should guard most against scent and sound betraying him,
since a bear's sight is not very keen. If the bear happens to be
feeding, the hunter may easily approach, provided that the wind
is right and he keeps quiet; but if the bear hears the slightest
sound or catches a single whiff of scent — away he goes! If,
however, the hunter approaches in an open place and the bear,
seeing him, sits up to get a better look, the himter should
immediately stand perfectly still, and wait thus until the bear
again resumes feeding or moves away. Then the hunter rushes
forward, but all the while watches keenly to see when it stops
to look again; and at the first sign of that the hunter becomes
rigid once more. Such tactics may be successful two or three
times but rarely more, so then the hunter had best fire. Now,
my son, when you go hunting you will know what to do, and if
Amik would only pay attention to what I say, he, too, might
become a better hunter, for I have had much experience in
hunting both black and grizzly bears."
NEYKIA AND HER LOVER
As the weeks passed, the children devoted themselves to
their winter play and spent most of their days in the open air.
Tobogganing was their greatest sport. Often did they invite
me to take part in this, and whenever, in descending a slope,
a sled-load was upset, it always created hilarious laughter.
The younger children, even during the severest part of the
winter when it registered forty or more degrees below zero,
were always kept comfortably warm, sometimes uncomfortably
warm, in the rabbit-skin coats that their mother and their
grandmother had made for them. The rabbit skins were cut
00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 141
into thin, spiral strips and twisted, with the hair-side out, about
thin thongs, and woven together like a small-meshed fish-net,
so that, though the hair overlapped and filled every mesh
completely, one's fingers might be passed through the garment
anywhere. They also made rabbit-skin blankets in the same
way; and of all blankets used in the north woods, none has
so many good qualities. A rabbit-skin blanket is less bulky
than that of the caribou skin ; it is warmer than the famous four-
point woollen blanket of the H. B. Co., and not only ventilates
better than either of the others, but it is fight to carry. It has
the drawback, however, that unless it is enclosed in a covering
of some fight material, the hair gets on everything, for as long
as the blanket lasts it sheds rabbit hair. I have tried many
kinds of beds, and many kinds of blankets, and sleeping bags,
too, even the Eskimo sleeping bag of double skin — hairless
sealskin on the outside and hairy caribou skin on the inside —
and many a night I have slept out in the snow when it was fifty
degrees below zero, and experience has taught me that the
rabbit skin blanket is best for winter use in the northern forest.
A sleeping bag that is large enough to get into is too large when
you are in it; you cannot wrap it aroimd you as you can a
blanket, therefore it is not so warm; besides, it is harder to
keep a bag free of gathering moisture than a blanket.
But to return to the children. It used to amuse me to see the
boys returning from their hunts carrying their guns over their
shoulders. The contrast in size between the weapons and the
bearers of them was so great that by comparison the lads looked
fike Lifiputians, yet with aU the dignified air of great hunters
they would stalk up to their sisters and hand them their guns
and game bags to be disposed of while they slipped oflf their
snowshoes, lighted their pipes, and entered the lodge. By the
way, I don't befieve I have mentioned that in winter time the
gims are never kept in the lodges, but always put under cover
on the stages, as the heat of the lodges would cause the guns to
142 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
sweat and therefore to require constant drying and oiling;
and for the same reason, in winter time, when a hunter is
camped for the night, he does not place his gun near the open
fire, but sets it back against a tree, well out of range of the heat.
On one of their rounds of the trapping trails the boys dis-
covered a splendid black fox in one of Oo-koo-hoo's traps,
and it was with great pride that the httle chaps returned
home with the prize.
One sunny day, late in November, while tobogganing with
the children on the hillside, our sport was interrupted by the
approach of a young stranger, an Indian youth of about seven-
teen. He came tramping along on snowshoes with his little
hunting toboggan behind him on which was lashed his caribou
robe, his tea-pail, his kit bag, and a haunch of young moose as a
present to Amik and his wife. In his hand he carried his gun
in a moose-skin case. He was a good-looking young fellow,
and wore the regulation cream-coloured H. B. capote with hood
and turned-back cuffs of dark blue. He wore no cap, but his
hair was fastened back by a broad yellow ribbon that encir-
cled his head. At first I thought he was the advance mem-
ber of a hunting party, but when I saw the bashful yet
persistent way in which he sidled up to Neykia, and when
I observed, too, the shy, radiant glance of welcome she
gave him, I understood; so also did the children, but the
little rogues, instead of leaving the young couple alone, teased
their sister aloud, and foUowed the teasing with boisterous
laughter. It was then that I obtained my first impression of
the mating of the natives of the northern forest. The sylvan
scene reminded me of the mating, too, of the white people of
that same region, and I thought again of the beautiful Atha-
basca. Was it in the same way that her young white man
had come so many miles on snowshoes through the winter
woods just to call upon her.^^ It set me thinking. Again, I
wondered who "Son-in-law" could be.^ Whence did he come.^
00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 143
But, perhaps, after all he was no super-man, or, rather, super-
lover, for had not Neykia's beau travelled alone in the dead of
winter, over ninety miles, just to see her once again and to
speak to her? Shing-wauk — ^The Little Pine — as the Indians
called him, stayed three days, but I did not see much of him,
for I left early the following morning on another round of
another trapping-path.
OO-KOO-HOO AND THE WOLF
As a faint gray light crept through the upper branches
of the eastern trees and warned the denizens of the winter
wilderness of approaching day, the door-skin flapped aside
and a tall figure stepped from the cozy fire-Ht lodge into the
outer sombreness of the silent forest. It was Oo-koo-hoo.
His form clad in fox-skin cap, blanket capote, and leggings, made
a pictm-esque silhouette of hghter tone against the darker
shadows of the woods as he stood for a moment scanning the
starry sky. Reentering the lodge, he partook of the breakfast
his wife had cooked for him, then he kissed her and went out-
side. Going to the stage, he took down his five-foot snowshoes,
shpped his moccasined feet into the thongs, and with his gim
resting in the hollow of his bemittened hand, and the sled's
hauHng-line over his shoulder, strode off through the vaulted
aisles between the boles of the evergreens; while through a tiny
sht in the wall of his moose-skin home two loving eyes watched
the stalwart figure vanishing among the trees.
Later on, though the sun was already shining, it was still
intensely cold. As we went along, Oo-koo-hoo's breath rose
like a cloud of white smoke fifteen or twenty feet in the air
before it disappeared. Only the faintest whisper of scuffling
snowshoes and scrunching snow could be heard; the sound of
the occasional snapping of a twig came as a starthng report
compared with the almost noiseless tread of the hunter. A
144 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
little cloud of powdery snow rose above the dragging heels of his
snowshoes, and, whirling about, covered the back of his leg-
gings with a coating of white. Onward he strode, twisting
through the tangled scrub, stooping under a fallen tree, stepping
over a snow-capped log, or pacing along a winter-locked stream.
When Oo-koo-hoo came to a district overgrown with willows
interspersed with poplars, he stopped to examine a snare set for
lynx. It had not been disturbed, but a little farther on we saw
the form of a dead lynx hanging from a tossing-pole above the
trail. The carcass was frozen stiff, and the face still showed
the ghastly expression it had worn in its death struggle. The
rigid body was taken down and lashed to the sled. Resetting
the snare, we continued our way. Farther on, in a hilly
country timbered with spruce, where there was not much under-
growth, we came to marten traps. In swampy places, or
where there were creeks and small lakes, we examined traps
and deadfalls set for mink, muskrat, beaver, fisher, and otter.
Where the country was fairly open and marked with rabbit
runways we came upon traps set for foxes and wolves.
The gray, or timber, wolf is trapped in the same way as the
coloured fox, save only that the trap is larger. Though the
steel trap is much in vogue among white men and half-breeds,
the deadfall, even to this day, is much preferred by the Indian.
Though, in the first place, it requires more labour to build, yet
it requires less for transportation since the materials are all
at hand; and, besides, when once built it lasts for years. Then,
again, it is not only cheaper, but it is more deadly than the
steel trap, for once the animal is caught, it seldom escapes.
With the steel trap it is different, as animals often pull away
from the steel jaws or even gnaw off a foot in order to get free.
If, however, the hunter's deadfalls and traps have been set in
vain, and if the wolf has been causing trouble and the hunter is
determined to secure him, he will sit up for him at night in the
hope of getting a shot at him. Years ago many wolves were
00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 145
destroyed with poison, but nowadays it has gone out of use —
that is, among the fur-hunters of the forest.
When a wolf is caught in a trap and he sees a hunter ap-
proaching, he will at first he down, close his eyes, and keep as
still as possible to escape notice; but should he find that the
hunter is still coming on, say to within twenty paces from him,
he will fly into a rage, show his fangs, bristle his hair, and get
ready for a spring. The hunter usually takes a green stick
about a yard long by two inches thick, and instead of striking
a great, swinging blow with both hands, he holds the stick in
one hand and strikes a short, quick, though powerful, blow,
hitting the brute on the snout close to the eyes. That stuns
him, and then the hunter, with either foot or knee, presses
over the heart until death ensues. But clubbing the wolf is
dangerous work, for the hunter may hit the trap and set the
captive free, or it may bi*e him. So the gun is frequently
used, but only to shoot the wolf in the head, as a wound any-
where else would injure the fur.
Late in the afternoon, as we were approaching a wolf trap,
Oo-koo-hoo, who was leading the way, suddenly stopped and
gazed ahead. A large wolf was lying in the snow, evidently
pretending to be dead. One of its forepaws was held by the
trap, and the hunter drew his axe and moved forward. As we
came near, the beast could stand the strain no longer, but rose
up with bristling hair, champing fangs, and savage growl.
When Oo-koo-hoo had almost reached the deeply marked cir-
cle in the snow where the wolf had been strugghng to gain its
freedom, he paused and said:
"My brother, I need your coat, so turn your eyes away
while I strike." A momentary calmness came over the beast,
but as the hunter raised his axe it suddenly crouched, and with
its eyes flashing with rage, sprang for Oo-koo-hoo's throat. Its
mighty leap, however, ended three feet short of the mark, for
the trap chain grew taut, jerked it down and threw it violently
146 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
upon its back. Instantly regaining its feet, it dashed away on
three legs, and in its ejffort to escape dragged the clog through
the snow. The bounding clog sent the snow flying, and the
hunter rushed in pursuit, while the wolf dodged among the
trees to escape a blow from Oo-koo-hoo. Then it bolted again,
and ran straight for a few yards until the clog caught and held
fast. The hunter, pressing on with raised axe, had no time to
draw back when the brute sprang for him as it did; luckily,
however, his aim was true: the back of the axe descended upon
the wolf's head, and it fell dead. This was fortunate for the
himter, as unwarily he had allowed himself so to get between
the clog and the beast that the chain almost swung over his
snowshoes. If he had missed his aim, no doubt it would have
gone hard with him.
A few slant rays of the sun penetrating the deep gloom of
the thick forest and reminding us that day was fast passing,
we decided to camp there for the night. So we cut a mattress
of brush, made a fire, and refreshed ourselves with supper before
we started to skin the wolf.
THE WAYS OF A WOLF
Talk of wolves prevailed all evening, and Oo-koo-hoo cer-
tainly had a store of information upon that subject. In ex-
pressing surprise that a woK had strength enough to jerk about
a big drag-log, as though it were merely a small stick, he replied
that once when he had killed a full-grown bull-moose and
dressed and hung up the meat, he had left for camp with part of
his prize, but on returning again to the cache, he had found
a wolf moving off with one of the hindquarters. It must
have weighed close upon a hundred pounds. But perhaps, if
I quote Charles Mair, the strength and endurance of a wolf
will be better reaUzed: "In the sketch of *North- Western
America' (1868) Archbishop Tache, of St. Boniface, Manitoba,
00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 147
recounts a remarkable instance of persevering fortitude ex-
hibited by a large, dark wolf caught in a steel trap at Isle a la
Crosse many years ago. A month afterward it was killed
near Green Lake, ninety miles distant, with the trap and con-
necting wood-block still attached to one of its hind legs. It had
evidently dragged both around in the snow for many a mile,
during a period of intense cold, and it is, therefore, not sur-
prising that it was a * walking skeleton' when finally secured."
Though the timber-wolf is a fast traveller, it cannot out-
distance the greyhound or wolf hound; but though it is seldom
seen in water it is a good swimmer. Its weight may run from
seventy-five to one himdred and fifty pounds, and an extra
large wolf may stand close to thirty inches at the shoulder,
and be over five feet in length. In colour they range from white
to nearly black, but the ordinary colour is a light brownish gray.
Usually they mate in February, but whether or not for life, it is
hard to say. They breed in a hollow log, or tree or stump, or
in a hole in the ground, or in a cave. The young are normally
born in April, usually six or eight in a fitter, and the father helps
to care for them.
Many of the wolves I have seen were nmning in pairs, some
in families, and the greatest number I have ever seen together
was seven. That was in Athabasca in the winter time. The
seven were in a playful mood, racing around and jumping over
one another; and though all were fuU-grown, five of them dis-
played the romping spirits of puppies, and I wondered if they
could be but one family. Though my dog-driver and I, with
our dog-train, passed within about a hundred paces of them,
and though we were all on a sunny lake, they never ceased
their play for a single moment, nor did they show in any way
that they had seen us.
There are several voices of the wilderness that cause some
city people alarm and dread, and they are the voices of the
owl, the loon, and the timber-wolf. But to me their voices
148 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
bring a solemn, at times an eerie, charm, that I would gladly go
miles to renew. Though much of the wolf -howling has been of
httle appeal, I have heard wolf concerts that held me spell-
bound. On some occasions — but always at night — they lasted
without scarcely any intermission for three or four hours. The
jfirst part of the programme was usually rendered — according
to the sound of their voices — by the youngest of the pack; later
the middle-aged seemed to take the stage; but of all the
performance, nothing equalled in greatness of volume or in rich-
ness of tone the closing numbers, and they were always ren-
dered by what seemed to be some mighty veteran, the patriarch
of the pack, for his effort was so thrilling and awe-inspiring
that it always sent the gooseflesh rushing up and down my
back. Many a time, night after night, beneath the Northern
Lights, I have gone out to the edge of a lake to listen to
them.
When hunting big game, such as deer, wolves assist one an-
other and display a fine sense of the value of team-work in
running down their prey. Though the wolf is a shy and cau-
tious animal, he is no coward, as the way he will slash into a
pack of dogs goes far to prove. In the North the stories of the
wolf's courage are endless; here, for example, is one: "During
our residence at Cumberland House in 1820," says Richardson,
**a wolf, which had been prowling and was wounded by a
musket ball and driven off, returned after it became dark,
whilst the blood was still flowing from its wound, and carried
off a dog, from amongst fifty others, that howled piteously,
but had no courage to unite in an attack on their enemy."
Nevertheless, wolves rarely attack man, in fact, only when
they are affhcted with rabies or hydrophobia. No doubt every-
one has read, at one time or another, harrowing stories of the
great timber-wolves of our northern forest forming themselves
into huge packs and pursuing people all over the wilderness
until there is nothing left of the unfortunate conamunity save
00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 149
a few odds and ends of cheap jewellery. Even our most digni-
fied and reliable newspapers are never loath to pubhsh such
thrilling drivel; and their ignorant readers gulp it all down,
apparently with a relishing shudder; for the dear pubhc not
only loves to be fooled, but actually gloats over that sort of
thing, since it is their hereditary behef.
When I was a boy, I, too, thrilled over such nonsense, and
when I made my first trip into the forest I began to delve
for true wolf stories, and I have been delving ever since. So
far, after over thirty years of digging, I have actually dug up
what I beheve to be one authentic story of an unprovoked
wolf having actually attacked and killed a man. On several
occasions, too, I have had the satisfaction of running to cover
some of the wolf stories pubhshed in our daily press. I
read a few years ago in one of Canada's leading daily papers —
and no doubt the same account was copied throughout the
United States — a thrilling story of two lumber-jacks in the
wilds of Northern Ontario being pursued by a pack of timber-
wolves, and the exhausted woodsmen barely escaping with
their Uves, being forced by the ferocious brutes to spend a whole
night in a tree at a time when the thermometer registered —
below zero. I am sorry I have forgotten the exact degree of
frost the paper stated, but as a rule it is always close to 70 or
80 degrees below zero when the great four-legged demons of the
forest go on the rampage.
THE WOLVES AND GREENHORNS
Several years later, when I was spending the summer at
Shahwandahgooze, in the Laurentian Mountains, I again met
Billy Le Heup, the hunter, and one night when we were hsten-
ing to a wolf concert I mentioned the foregoing newspaper
thriller. Billy laughed and acknowledged that he, too, had
read it, but not until several weeks after he had had a chance to
150 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
investigate, first hand, the very same yarn; for he, too, had
been trailing wolf stories all his hfe.
It so happened that Le Heup's work had taken him through
the timber country north of Lake Temiscamingue. While
stopping one day at a lumber camp to have a snack, three men
entered the cookery where he was eating. One of them was
the foreman, and he was in a perfect rage. He had discharged
the other two men, and now he was warning them that if they
didn't get something to eat pretty quick and leave the
camp in a of a hurry, he would kick them out. Then, just
before he slammed the door and disappeared, he roared out at
them that not for one moment would he stand for such
rot, as their being chased and treed all night by wolves.
When quiet was restored and the two men had sat down
beside Le Heup at the dining table, he had questioned them
and they had told him a graphic story of how they had been
chased by a great pack of wolves and how they had managed
to escape with their lives by climbing a tree only just in the
nick of time; and, moreover, how the ferocious brutes had kept
them there all night long, and how, consequently, they had
been nearly frozen to death.
It was a thrilling story and so full of detail that even "old-
timer" Le Heup grew quite interested and congratulated him-
self on having at last actually heard, first hand, a true story of
how Canadian timber-wolves, though unprovoked, had pur-
sued, attacked, and treed two men. Indeed, he was so im-
pressed that he decided to back-track the heroes' trail and
count for himself just how many wolves the pack had numbered.
So he got the would-be lumber-jacks — for they were greenhorns
from the city — to point out for him their incoming trail, which
he at once set out to back-track. After a tramp of three or
four miles he came to the very tree which from all signs they
had climbed and in which they had spent the night. Then
desiring to count the wolf tracks in the snow, he looked around,
00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 151
but never a one could he see. Walking away for about a
hundred yards he began to circle the tree, but still without
success. He circled again with about an eighth of a mile
radius, but still no wolf tracks were to be seen. As a last resort
he circled once more about a quarter of a mile from the tree,
and this time he was rewarded; he found wolf tracks in the
snow. There had been three wolves. They had been running
full gallop. Moreover, they had been traiUng a white-tailed
deer; but never once had either deer or wolves paused in their
run, nor had they come within a quarter of a mile of the tree
in which the greenhorns from the city had spent the night. Of
such material are the man-chasing, man-killing wolf stories
made.
Frequently I have had timber-wolves follow me, sometimes
for half an hour or so; on one occasion two of the largest and
handsomest timber-wolves I ever saw followed me for over two
hours. During that time they travelled all round me, ahead,
behind, and on either side; and occasionally they came within
sixty or seventy feet of me. Yet never once, by action or ex-
pression, did they show any signs other than those which two
friendly but very shy dogs might have shown toward me.
THE WOLF THAT KILLED A MAN
Of com^e, wolves will attack a man; when they are trapped,
wounded, or cornered — just as a muskrat will; but of all the
wolf stories I have ever heard, in which wolves killed a man,
the following is the only one I have any reason to beUeve, as
it was told me first-hand by a gentleman whose word I honour,
and whose unusual knowledge of animal hfe and northern
travel places his story beyond a doubt.
One winter's day in the seventies, when Mr. WiUiam Com-
waUis King was in charge of Fort Rae, one of the Hudson's
Bay Company's posts on Great Slave Lake, he was snowshoe-
152 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
ing to a number of Indian camps to collect furs, and had under
his command several Indians in charge of his dog-trains. On
the way they came upon a small party of Dog-rib Indians, who,
after a smoke and a chat, informed him that, being in need of
meat, one of their party, named Pot-fighter 's-father, had set
out three days before to hunt caribou; and as he had not re-
turned, they were afraid lest some evil had befallen him. When
Mr. King learned that it had been Pot-fighter's-father's inten-
tion to return to camp on the evening of the first day, he ad-
vised the Indians to set out at once in search of him.
After following his tracks for half a day they came suddenly
upon the footprints of an unusually large wolf which had
turned to trail the hunter. For some miles the brute had
evidently followed close beside the trail of Pot-fighter's-father,
diverging at times as though seeking cover, and then again
stalking its prey in the open. One Indian continued to follow
the old man's trail, while another followed that of the wolf.
They had not gone far before they discovered that Pot-fighter's-
father had come upon a herd of caribou, and a httle farther
on they found, lying on the snow, a couple of caribou carcasses
that he had shot. Strange to say, the animals had not been
skinned, nor had their tongues been removed. More re-
markable still, the wolf — although passing close to them —
had not stopped to feed. Soon they came upon another dead
caribou, and this time Pot-fighter's-father had skinned it,
and had cut out its tongue; but again the wolf had refused to
touch the deer.
Continuing their pursuit, they discovered a brush wind-
break where the hunter had evidently stopped to camp for
the night. Now they noticed that the tracks of the wolf took
to cover among the scrub. Approaching the shelter, they read
in the snow the signs of a terrible struggle between a man and
a wolf. The hunter's gun, snowshoes, and sash containing his
knife, rested against the windbreak, and his axe stood in the
00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 153
snow where he had been cutting brush. From the snow the
Indians read the story of the long-drawn fight. Here it told
how the great wolf had leaped upon the back of the unsuspect-
ing man while he was carrying an armful of brush, and had
knocked him down. There it showed that the man had grap-
pled with the brute and rolled it over upon its back. Here the
signs showed that the wolf had broken free; there, that the two
had grappled again, and in their struggle had rolled over and
over. The snow was now strewn with wolf-hair, and dyed with
blood. While the dreadful encounter had raged, the battle-
ground had kept steadily shifting nearer the gun. Just a couple
of yards away from it lay the frozen body of poor old Pot-
fighter's-father. His deerskin clothing was sht to tatters;
his scalp was torn away; his fingers were chewed off, but his
bloody mouth was filled with hair and flesh of the wolf.
After burying the body of old Pot-fighter's-father in a
mound of stones, the Indians determined to continue in pur-
suit of the wolf. Its tracks at last led them to a solitary lodge
that stood in the shelter of a thicket of spruce. There the
hunters were greeted by an Indian who was hving in the tepee
with his wife and baby. After having a cup of tea, a smoke,
and then a httle chat, the hunters enquired about the tracks
of the great wolf that had brought them to the lodge. The
Indian told them that during the night before last, while he
and his wife were asleep with the baby between them, they had
been awakened by a great uproar among the dogs. They had
no sooner sat up than the dogs had rushed into the tepee fol-
lowed by an enormous wolf. Leaping up, the hunter had
seized his axe and attacked the beast, while his wife had grab-
bed the baby, wrapped it in a blanket, and rushing outside,
had rammed the child out of sight in a snowdrift, and returned
to help her husband to fight the brute. The wolf had already
killed one of the dogs, and the Indian in his excitement had
tripped upon the bedding, fallen, and lost his grip upon his
154 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
axe. When he rose, he found the wolf between himself and his
weapon. His wife, however, had seized a piece of firewood
and, being unobserved by the wolf, had used it as a club and
dealt the beast so powerful a blow upon the small of the back
that it had been seriously weakened and had given the Indian
an opportunity to recover his axe, with which at last he had
managed to kill the wolf.
It was Mr. King's belief, however, that such unusual be-
havioiu' of a wolf was caused by distemper, for the brute
seemed to display no more fear of man than would a mad dog.
And he added that the behaviom* of the wolf in question was no
more typical of wolves in general than was the behaviour of a
mad dog typical of dogs.
COMING OF THE FUR-RUNNERS
That night, when we returned home, Oo-koo-hoo said to his
grandsons: "Ne-geek and Ah-ging-goos, my grandchildren,
the fur-runner is coming soon. To-morrow do you both take
the dogs and break a two-days' trail on Otter River in order to
hasten his coming."
Next morning the boys set out to break the trail. When
they camped on Otter River on the afternoon of the second day
they cached in the river ice some fish for the trader's dogs.
They chopped a hole and, after placing the fish in, filled it up
with water, which they allowed to freeze, with the tail of
a single fish protruding, in order to show the fur-runner what
was cached below. To mark the spot, they planted a pole
with its butt in the hole, and rigged up a tripod of sticks to
support it. At the top of the pole they tied a little bag of tea
and a choice piece of meat for the trader. At the bend of the
river below, where he would surely pass, they erected another
pole with a bunch of fir twigs attached, for the piu-pose of at-
tracting his attention to their tracks.
00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 155
On their return home they found Oo-koo-hoo and Amik
sorting their furs in anticipation of the fur-runner's arrival.
Before them lay, among the other skins, the skin of the black
fox, and when the boys entered the lodge Oo-koo-hoo ad-
dressed the whole family, saying:
"Do not mention the black fox to the fur-runner, since
I intend keeping it until I go to the Post, in the hope of making
a better bargain there. Now sort your skins, and set aside
those you wish to give in payment on your debt to the Great
Company."
During the afternoon of the following day Lawson the fur-
runner for the Hudson's Bay Company arrived with his dog-
train. He shook hands with Oo-koo-hoo and Amik and the
boys, and kissed the women and the girls, as the custom of the
traders is. It being late in the day, Oo-koo-hoo decided not to
begin trading until next morning. So they spent the evening
in spinning yams around the fire. Shortly after breakfast
strange dogs were heard. The boys ran out and saw an un-
known man approaching. When the newcomer — a French-
Canadian half-breed — had eaten, and had joined the others in
a smoke, he gave me a letter from Free Trader Spear. Then
Oo-koo-hoo began questioning him:
"My brother, you are a stranger in this country; so I have
given you fire and food and tobacco in friendship. Tell me
now why and from whence you come.^"
The half-breed replied: "My brother, I come from the
Border Lands — where the plains and the forests meet — and
my name is Gibeault. I have come to trade regularly with
you as I am now working for Free Trader Spear, whose post,
as you know, is near Fort Consolation. You will do well to
encourage opposition to the Great Company, and thus raise
the price of furs."
The half-breed then presented the hunters with several
plugs of "T & B," some matches, tea, sugar, flour, and a piece
156 THE DK\MA OF THE FORESTS
of "sow-belly." For some time Oo-koo-hoo sat holding a
little fresh-cut tobacco in his hand, until Gibeault, taking
notice, asked him why he did not smoke it.
"The Great Company always gives me a pipe," rephed the
hunter.
The runner for the free trader, not to be outdone, gave him
a pipe.
"I suppose," began Oo-koo-hoo, "that your heart is glad to
see me."
"Yes," rephed Gibeault, "and I want to get some of your
fur."
"That is all very well, but I will see which way you look at
me," returned the Indian.
"Have you much fur? " asked the haK-breed.
" I have enough to pay my debt to the Great Company."
"Yes, I know, but you will have some left, and I want to do
business with you, so bring out your furs and I will treat you
right."
"That sounds well, but you must remember that though the
Great Company charges more, their goods are the best goods,
while yours are all cheap rubbish."
Thinking the opportunity a favourable one, Gibeault as-
sumed an air of friendly solicitude and said:
"The Company has cheated your people so many hundred
years that they are now very rich. No wonder they can af-
ford to give you high prices for your furs. Free Trader Spear
is a poor but honest man. It is to your great advantage to
trade part of your furs with me in order to make it worth
his while to send me here every winter. As you know, my
presence here compels the Company to pay full value for
your furs and so you are the one who reaps the greatest
benefit."
"That is partly true," answered Oo-koo-hoo, "but I must
be loyal to the Company. You are here to-day and away to-
00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 157
morrow; but the Company is here for ever. But I will not be
hard on you; I will wait and see how you look at me.'*
For a while the dignified Indian sat puffing at his pipe
and gazing at the fire. Every line of his weather-beaten and
wrinkled but handsome face was full of sterling character.
At times his small eyes twinkled as a flash of cunning crept
into them, and a keen sense of humour frequently twitched the
comers of his determined mouth. Then he brought out a
pack of furs and, handing it to Lawson, said :
"This is to pay the Great Company for the advances they
gave us last summer."
Lawson took the bundle without opening it, as it would not
be checked over until he dehvered it at Fort Consolation.
Resenting the Indian's attitude toward Gibeault he began:
"I see, now that there's another trader here, it's easy for you
to forget your old friends. The free trader comes and goes.
Give him your furs, an' he doesn't care whether you're dead
to-morrow. It's not like that with the Great Company. The
Company came first among your people, and since then it has
been like a father, not only to all your people before you, but
to you as well. Whenever your forefathers were smitten with
hunger or disease, who looked after them? It wasn't the free
trader; it was the Company. Who sells you the best goods .^
It isn't the free trader; it's the Company. Who gave you your
debt last fall and made it possible for you to hunt this winter?
It wasn't the free trader; it was the Company. My brother,
you have none to thank but the Great Company that you're
ahve to-day."
With a grunt of disapproval Oo-koo-hoo sullenly retorted:
"The Priest says it is The Master of Life we have to thank
for that. I am sure that the Commissioner of the Great Com-
pany is not so great as God. It is true you give us good prices
now, but it is also true that you have not given us back the
countless sums you stole from our fathers and grandfathers
158 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
and all our people before them; for did you not wait until the
coming of the free traders before you would give us the worth
of our skins? No wonder you are great masters ; it seems to me
that it takes great rogues to become great masters."
The angry Lawson, to save a quarrel, bit his moustache,
smiled faintly and, presenting the hunter with even more than
Gibeault had given, said :
"Never mind, my brother, you're a pretty smart man."
Without replying, Oo-koo-hoo accepted the present so eagerly
that he jerked it out of the trader's hand. That pleased Law-
son. Presently the Indian threw down a bear skin, saying:
"My brother, this is to see how you look at me."
Now the way of the experienced fur-runner is to offer a big
price — often an excessive price — ^for the first skin. He cal-
culates that it puts the Indian in a good humour and in the
end gives the trader a chance of getting ahead of the native.
That is just what Lawson did, and Gibeault refused to raise the
bid.
"My brother," said the Indian addressing the latter, "you
had better go home if you cannot pay better prices than the
Great Company."
Gibeault, nettled, outbid his rival for the next skin, and thus
it went on, first one and then the other raising the prices higher
and higher, much to the dehght of the Indians. Oo-koo-hoo
had already sold a number of skins for more than their market
value before it dawned on the white men that they were play-
ing a losing game. Though glaring savagely at each other,
both were ready to capitulate. Lawson, pretending to ex-
amine some of Gibeault's goods, stooped and whispered:
"We're actin' hke fools. If we keep this up our bosses will
fire us both."
"Let's swap even — ^you take every other skin at your own
figure," returned the French half-breed.
"Agreed," said Lawson, straightening up.
00-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME 159
No longer outbidding one another, they got the next few
skins below the market price. But before the traders had
made good their loss the Indian gathered up his furs and turn-
ing to the fur-runners with a smile, said :
"My brothers, as I see that you have agreed to cheat me, I
have decided that I and my people will keep all our furs until
we go out next spring; so it is now useless for you to remain
any longer."
Having read the note Gibeault brought me from Free
Trader Spear, I hastened to hand the half-breed my reply,
accepting Mr. and Mrs. Spear's invitation to be their guest
for a few days when everyone would be gathering at Fort
Consolation to attend the New Year's dance; and again I
wondered if "Son-in-law" would be there.
V
MEETING OF THE WILD MEN
WHO IS SON-IN-LAW?
Christmas week had arrived and now we were off for the
New Year's dance to be held at Fort Consolation. Instead of
travelling round three sides of an oblong as we had done to
reach Oo-koo-hoo's hunting ground by canoe, we now, travelling
on snowshoes, cut across country, over hill and valley, lake and
river, in a southeasterly direction, until we struck Caribou
River and then turned toward White River and finally arrived
at God's Lake. Our httle party included Oo-koo-hoo, his
wife Ojistoh, their granddaughter Neykia, and myself. Our
domestic outfit was loaded upon two hunting sleds in the
hauling of which we all took turns, as well as in reheving each
other in the work of track beating. At night we camped in
the woods without any shelter save brush windbreaks over
the heads of our beds, our couches being made of balsam-twigs
laid shingle fashion in the snow. For the sake of warmth
Ojistoh and Neykia slept together, while Oo-koo-hoo and I
cuddled up close to one another and fitted together like spoons
in a cutlery case, for the cold sometimes dipped to forty
below.
The prisoner of the city, however, may think sleeping under
such conditions not only a terrible hardship but a very dan-
gerous thing in the way of catching one's death of cold. I
can assure him it is nothing of the kind — ^when the bed is prop-
erly made. And not only does one never catch cold under
such conditions, but it is my experience that there is no easier
160
MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 161
way to get rid of a bad cold than to sleep out in the snow,
wrapped in a Hudson's Bay blanket, a caribou robe, or a rab-
bit-skin quilt, when the thermometer is about fifty below zero.
But rather than delay over a description in detail of the mere
novelty of winter travel, let us hurry along to our first destina-
tion, and visit the Free Trader Mr. Spear and his family,
and find out for our own satisfaction whether or not the
mysterious "Son-in-law" had recently been courting the
charming Athabasca.
When we reached God's Lake, for a while we snowshoed
down the centre, imtil at the parting of our ways we said good-
bye, for the Indians were heading directly for Fort Consolation.
As I neared Spearhead and came in view of its one and only
house, the Free Trader's dogs set up a howl, and Mr. Spear
came out to greet me and lead me into the sitting room where
I was welcomed by his wife and daughter. Now I made a dis-
covery: quartered in a box in the hall behind the front door
they had three geese that being quite free to walk up and down
the hall, occasionally strolled about for exercise. As good
luck would have it, supper was nearly ready, and I had just
sufficient time to make use of the tin hand-basin in the kitchen
before the tea bell rang. Again, during the first half of the
meal we all chatted in a Hvely strain, all save Athabasca,
who, though blushing less than usual, smiled a Httle more,
and murmured an occasional yes or no; all the while looking
even more charming. But her composure endured not long,
for her mother presently renewed the subject of "Son-in-
law":
"Father, don't you think it would be a good idea if you took
son-in-law into partnership very soon.^"
"Yes, Mother, I do, because business is rapidly growing,
and I'll need help in the spring. Besides, it would give me a
chance to do my own fur-nmning*in winter, and in that way I
believe I could double, if not treble, our income."
162 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
Athabasca turned crimson and I followed suit — ^for being
a bom blusher myself, and mortally hating it, I could never
refrain from sympathizing with others similarly afflicted.
"Precisely, Father," rephed Mrs. Spear, "that's exactly
what I thought. So you see you wouldn't be making any
sacrifice whatever, and such an arrangement would prove an
advantage all round. Everybody would be the happier for it,
and it seems to me to delay the wedding would be a vital mis-
take."
From that moment imtil we left the table Athabasca con-
centrated her vision on her plate; and I wondered more than
ever who "Son-in-law" could be. Then an idea came to me,
and I mused: "We'll surely see him at Fort Consolation."
After supper I discovered a new member of the household,
a chore-boy, twenty-eight years of age, who had come out from
England to learn farming in the Free Trader's stump lot, and
who was paying Mr. Spear so many hundred dollars a year
for that privilege, and also for the pleasure of daily cleaning
out the stable — and the pig pen. When I first saw him, I
thought: "Why here, at last, is 'Son-in-law.' " But on second
consideration, I knew he was not the lucky man, for it was
evident the Spears did not recognize him as their social equal,
since they placed him, at meal time, out in the kitchen at the
table with their two half-breed maid-servants.
That evening, while sitting around the big wood stove, we
discussed Shakespeare, Byron, Scott, and even the latest novel
that was then in vogue — "Trilby," if I remember right — ^for
the Spears not only subscribed to the Illustrated London
News and Blackwood's but they took Harper s and
Scribners, too. And by the way, though Athabasca had
never been to school, her mother had personally attended to her
education. When bedtime arrived, they all peeled off their
moccausins and stockings and hung them round the stove to dry,
and then pitter-pattered up the cold, bare stairs in their bare
MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 163
feet. I was shown into the spare room and given a candle,
and when I bade them good-night and tmned to close the door,
I discovered that there was no door to close, nor was there
even a cmtain to screen me from view. The bed, however,
was an old-fashioned wooden affair with a big sohd footboard,
so I concluded that in case of any one passing the doorway,
I could crouch behind the foot of the bed. Then, when I
blew out my candle, I got a great surprise, for lo and behold!
I could see all over the house! I could see "Paw and Maw"
getting undressed, Athabasca saying her prayers, and the half-
breed maids getting into bed.
How did it happen? The cracks between the upright boards
of my partition were so wide that I could have shoved my
fingers through. As a matter of fact, Mr. Spear explained next
day, the lumber being green, rather than nail the boards tightly
into place, he had merely stood them up, and waited for them
to season.
During the night the cold grew intense, and several
times I was startled out of my sleep by a frosty report from
the ice and snow on the roof that reminded one of the firing of a
cannon.
In the morning when the geese began screeching in the
lower hall, I thought it was time to get up, and was soon in the
very act of puUing off a certain garment over my head when
one of the half-breed maids — the red-headed one whose hair
Mr. Spear had cut off with the horse chppers — ^intruded
herself into my room to see if I were going to be down in
time for breakfast, and I had to drop behind the foot of
the bed.
At breakfast, the first course was oatmeal porridge; the
second, "Son-in-law"; the third, fried bacon, toast, and tea;
after which we all put on our wraps for our five-mile trip across
God's Lake to Fort Consolation. Everyone went, maids,
chore-boy, and all, and everyone made the trip on snowshoes —
164 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
all save the trader's wife, who rode in state, in a carriole,
hauled by a tandem train of four dogs.
THE NEW year's DANCE
It was a beautiful sunny day and the air was very still;
and though the snow was wind-packed and hard, the footing
was very tiresome, for the whole surface of the lake was just one
endless mass of hard-packed snowdrifts that represented noth-
ing so much as a great, stormy, white-capped sea that had been
instantly congealed. And for us it was just up and down, in
and out, up and down, in and out, all the way over. These
sohd white waves, however, proved one thing, and that was
the truth of Oo-koo-hoo's woodcraft; for, just as he had previ-
ously told me, if we had been suddenly encompassed by a
dense fog or a heavy snowstorm, we could never for a moment
have strayed from our true course; as all the drifts pointed
one way, south-by-southeast, and therefore must have kept us
to our proper direction.
There were many dogs and sleds, and many Indians and half-
breeds, too, about the Fort when we arrived; and as the dogs
heralded our approach, the Factor came out to greet us and
wish us a Happy New Year. At the door Mrs. Mackenzie,
the half-breed wife of the Factor, was waiting with a beaming
smile and a hearty welcome for us ; and after we had removed our
outer wraps, she led us over to the storehouse in which a big
room had been cleared, and heated, and decorated to answer
as a baUroom and banqueting hall. Tables were being laid
for the feast, and Indian mothers and maidens and children,
too, were already sitting on the floor around the sides of the
room, and with sparkhng eyes were watching the work in
happy expectation. Around the doorway, both out and in,
stood the men — Indians and half-breeds and a few French
and Enghsh Canadians. Some wore hairy caribou capotes,
The bear circled a little in order to descend. Presently it left the
shadow of the forest and, emerging into sunlight on a snow-covered
ledge, turned its tiead as though it had heard a sound in the
rear. It was Oo-koo-hoo speaking: ''Turn your head away, my
brother . . .'' butthe report of his gun cut short his sentence, and
the bear, leaping forward .disappeared among , . . . See Cfiapter IV
MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 165
others hairless moose-skin jackets trimmed with otter or beaver
fur, others again were garbed in duffel capotes of various colours
with hoods and turned-back cuffs of another hue; but the
majority wore capotes made of Hudson's Bay blanket and
trimmed with slashed fringes at the shoulders and skirt; while
their legs were encased in trousers gartered below the knee,
and their feet rested comfortably in moccasins. Though, when
snowshoeing, all the men wore hip-high leggings of duffel or
blanket, the former sometimes decorated with a broad strip of
another colour, the latter were always befringed the whole way
down the outer seam; both kinds were gartered at the knee.
Such leggings are always removed when entering a lodge or
house or when resting beside a campfire — ^in order to free the
legs from the gathered snow and prevent it from thawing and
wetting the trousers. The children wore outer garments of
either blanket or rabbit skin, while the women gloried in bril-
hant plaid shawls of two sizes — a small one for the head and a
large one for the shoulders. The short cloth skirts of the
women and girls were made so that the fullness at the waist,
instead of being cut away, was merely puckered into place, and
beneath the lower hem of the skirt showed a pair of beaded
leggings and a pair of silk-worked moccasins.
All the Indians shook hands with us, for in the Canadian
Government's treaty with them it is stipulated that: "We
expect you to be good friends with everyone, and shake hands
with all whom you meet." And I might further add that the
Indian — when one meets him in the winter bush — is more
pohte than the average white man, for he always removes his
mitten, and offers one his bare hand. Further, if his hand
happens to be dirty, he will spit on it and rub it on his leggings
to try and cleanse it before presenting it to you. But when he
did that, I could never decide which was the more acceptable
condition — before or after.
When the Factor entered, he was greeted with a perfect gale
166 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
of merriment, as it was the ancient custom of the Great Com-
pany that he should kiss every woman and girl at the New
Year's feast. After that historical ceremony was over — in
which Free Trader Spear also had to do his duty— and the
laughter had subsided, the principal guests were seated at the
Factor's table, the company consisting of the three clergymen,
the Spears, myself, the two North- West Mounted Pohcemen —
who had just arrived from the south — and a few native head-
men, including my friend Oo-koo-hoo. Though the feast was
served in relays, some of the guests who were too hungry to
await their turn were served as they sat about the floor. The
dishes included the choice of moose, caribou, bear, lynx,
beaver, or muskrat.
Then a couple of picturesque, shock-haired French Cana-
dians got up on a big box that rested upon a table, and tuning
up their fiddles, the dance was soon in full swing. In rapid
succession the music changed from the Double Jig to the Reel
of Four, the Duck Dance, the Double Reel of Four, the Reel
of Eight, and the Red River Jig, till the old log storehouse shook
from its foundation right up to its very rafters. The breath-
less, perspiring, but happy couples kept at it until exhaustion
fairly overtook them, and then dropping out now and then, they
sat on the floor around the walls tiU they had rested; and then,
with aU their might and main, they went at it again. Among
other things I noticed that the natives who were smoking
were so considerate of their hosts' feelings that they never
for a moment forgot themselves enough to soil the freshly
scrubbed floor, but always used their upturned fur caps as
cuspidors.
The children, even the little tots, showed great interest in
the dancing of their parents, and so delighted did they become
that they would sometimes gather in a group in a corner and
try to step in time with the music.
Everyone that could dance took a turn — even Oo-koo-hoo
MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 167
and old Granny did the "light fantastic" — and at one time or
another all the principal guests were upon the floor; all save —
the priest. The scarlet tunics of the corporal and the con-
stable of the Royal North- West Mounted Police as well as the
sombre black of the English Church and the Presbyterian
clergymen, added much to the whirling colour scheme, as well
as to the joy of the occasion. But look where I would I could
not find "Son-in-law," and though the blushing Athabasca
was often in the dance, it was plain to see her lover was not
there, for even the handsome pohcemen, though they paid
her marked attention, gave no sign, either of them, of being
the lucky one. In the number of partners, Oo-koo-hoo's
granddaughter outshone them all, and, moreover, her lover
was present. At every chance Shing-wauk — The Little Pine —
was shyly whispering to her and she was looking very happy.
Even I rose to the occasion and had for my first partner our
host's swarthy wife, a wonderful performer, who, after her
husband's retirement from the service of the Hudson's Bay
Company, became the most popular dancer in aU Winnipeg.
Nor must I forget my dance with that merry, muscular, iron-
framed lady, Oo-koo-hoo's better half — old Granny — who at
first crumpled me up in her gorilla-hke embrace, and ended by
swinging me clean off my feet, much to the merriment of the
Indian maidens.
As the afternoon wore on the Rabbit Dance began, and was
soon followed by the Hug-Me-Snug, the Drops of Brandy, and
the Saskatchewan Circle, and — ^last but not least — the Kissing
Dance. And when the Kissing Dance was encored for the fifth
time, the company certainly proclaimed it a Happy New Year.
THE BEAUTIFUL ATHABASCA
Again at tea time the guests gathered round the festive
board; then, a little later, the music once more signalled the
168 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
dancers to take their places on the floor. Hour after hour it
went on. After midnight another supper was served; but still
"the band" — consisting of a violin and a concertina — ^played
on, and still the moccasined feet pounded the floor without
intermission. At the very height of the fun, when the Free
Trader's charming daughter was being whirled about by a
scarlet tunic, Mrs. Spear turned to me and beamed:
"Doesn't Athabasca look radiantly beautiful.^"
" Indeed she does ! " I blushed.
"And what a dehghtful party this is . . . but there's
just one thing lacking ... to make it perfect."
"What's that? " I enquired.
"A wedding . . . my dear." Then, after a long pause,
during which she seemed to be staring at me — but I didn't
dare look — she impatiently tossed her head and exclaimed:
"My . . . but some men are deathly slow!"
"Indeed they are," I agreed.
About four o'clock in the morning the music died down,
then, after much hand-shaking, the company dispersed in
various directions over the moonht snow; some to their near-by
lodges, some to the log shacks in the now-deserted Indian
village, and others to their distant hunting grounds. It must
have been nearly five o'clock before the ladies in the Factor's
house went upstairs, and the men lay down upon caribou,
bear, and buffalo skins on the otherwise bare floor of the hving
room. It was late next morning when we arose, yet already
the pohcemen had vanished — they had again set out on their
long northern patrol.
At breakfast Mr. and Mrs. Spear invited me to return and
spend the night with them, and as Oo-koo-hoo and^his wife
wanted to remain a few days to visit some Indian friends, and
as^the_Factor_had told me that the north-bound packet with
thewinter'smail from the railroad was soon due; and as,
moreover, the Fur Brigade would be starting south in a few
MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 169
days, and it would travel for part of the way along our home-
ward trail, I accepted Mr. Mackenzie's invitation to return
to Fort Consolation and depart with the Fur Brigade.
It was a cold trip across the lake as the thermometer had
dropped many degrees and a northwest wind was blowing in
our faces. As I had frequently had my nose frozen, it now
turned white very quickly, and a half-breed, who was crossing
with us, turned round every once in a while and exclaimed to
me:
"Oh my gudi your nose all froze!"
The snow seemed harder than ever, and for long stretches
we took off our snowshoes and ran over the drifts, but so wind-
packed were they that they received httle impression from our
feet. Of course, when we arrived at Spearhead, the house was
cold and everything in it above the cellar — except the cats and
geese — ^was frozen sohd; but it is surprising how quickly those
good old-fashioned box stoves will heat a dwelling; for in
twenty or thirty minutes those wood-burning stoves were red-
hot and the whole house comfortably warm.
It's strange, but nevertheless true, that "Son-in-law" was
never once mentioned at dinner, but later on, when Athabasca
and I were sitting one on either side of the room, Mrs. Spear
got up and, getting a pictm-e book, asked:
"Mr. Heming, are you fond of pictures? Daughter has a
dehghtful httle picture book here that I want her to show you,
so now, my dears, both sit over there on the sofa where the
light will be better, and look at it together."
Moving over to the old horsehair sofa — the pride of all
Spearhead and even of Fort Consolation — we sat down to-
gether, much closer than I had expected, as some of the springs
were broken, thus forming a hollow in the centre of the affair,
into which we both shd without warning — just as though it
were a trap set for bashful people. Then Mrs. Spear with a
sigh, evidently of satisfaction, withdrew from the room, and
170 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
we were left alone together. With the book spread out upon
our knees we looked it over for perhaps Well, I am not sure
how long, but anyway, when I came to, I saw something just
in front of me on the floor. Really, it startled me. For in
following it up with my eye I discovered that it was the toe of
a moccasin, and the worst of it was that it was being worn
by Mrs. Spear. There, for ever so long, she must have been
standing and watching us. The worst of that household was
that all its members wore moccasins, so you could never hear
them coming.
That night, when we were sitting around the stove, Mrs.
Spear explained to me how she had educated her daughter and
added: "But perhaps, after all, if the wedding is not going to
take place right away, it might be well to send Daughter to
some finishing school for a few months — say in Toronto," and
then, after a Uttle pause, and still looking at me, she asked :
"To which school would you prefer us to send Athabasca?"
When I named the most fashionable girls' school in that
city, "Paw and Maw" settled it, there and then, that Daughter
would attend it next fall, that is, unless it was decided to
celebrate her wedding at an earher date.
Next morning, at breakfast, Mrs. Spear suggested that
Athabasca should take me for a drive through the woods and
Mr. Spear remarked:
"You know, Mr. Heming, we haven't any cutter or any
suitable sleigh, and besides, one of the horses is working in the
stimip lot; but I think I can manage."
In a little while he led a horse round to the front door. The
animal had a pole attached to either side, the other end of
which dragged out behind; across the two poles, just behind
the horse's tail, was fastened a rack of cross poles upon which
was placed some straw and a buffalo robe. It was really a
travois, the kind of conveyance used by the Plains Indians.
Getting aboard the affair, off we went, the old plug rumbling
MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 171
along in a kind of a trotting walk, while Athabasca held the
reins. The morning being a fine sunny one, and the trees
being draped and festooned with snow, the scene was so beauti-
ful when we got into the thicker woods that it made one think
of fairyland. A couple of fluffy httle whiskey jacks followed
us all the way there and back, just as though they wanted to
see and hear everything that was going on; but those Uttle
meddlers of the northwoods must have been disappointed,
for both Athabasca and I were not only too shy to talk, but too
bashful even to sit upright; in fact, we both leaned so far
away from one another that we each hung over our side of the
trap, and did nothing but gaze far off into the enchanted wood.
We must have been gone nearly two hours when the house
again came into view. Yes, I enjoyed it. It was so romantic.
But what I couldn't understand was why her parents allowed
her to go with me, when they were already counting on "Son-
in-law" marrying her. It was certainly a mystery to me.
However, that afternoon I left for Fort Consolation.
BACK TO FORT CONSOLATION
On my way across the lake I noticed that the wind was
veering round toward the east and that the temperature was
rising. When I arrived in good time for supper Factor
Mackenzie seemed reheved, and remarked that the barometer
indicated a big storm from the northeast. That night, in
front of the big open fire, we talked of the fur trade. Among
other books and papers he showed me was a copy of the Com-
pany's Deed Poll; not published a century ago, but printed
at the time of which I am writing, and thus it read :
"To aU whom these presents shall come. The Grovemor
and Company of Adventurers of England Trading into Hud-
son's Bay send greeting. Whereas His Majesty King Charles
the Second did, by His Royal Charter, constitute the Governor
172 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
and Company of Adventurers of England trading into Hud-
son's Bay in a Body Corporate, with perpetual succession and
with power to elect a Governor and Deputy Governor and
Committee for the management of their trade and affairs ."
From it I learned that the commissioned officers appointed
by the Company to carry on their trade in Canada were:
a Commissioner, three Inspecting Chief Factors, eight Chief
Factors, fifteen Factors, ten Chief Traders, and twenty-one
Junior Chief Traders, all of whom on appointment became
shareholders in the Company. While the Governor and Com-
mittee had their offices in London, the Commissioner was the
Canadian head with his offices in Winnipeg, and to assist him
an advisory council, composed of Chief Factors and Chief
Traders, was occasionally called. The Company's territory
was divided into four departments — the Western, the South-
em, the Northern, and the Montreal — ^while each department
was again sub-divided into many districts, the total number
being thirty-four. The non-commissioned employees at the
various posts were: clerks, postmasters, and servants. Besides
the regular post servants there were others employed such as:
voyageurs, among whom were the guides, canoe-men, boatmen,
and scowmen; then, again, there were fur-runners, fort-hunters,
and packeteers.
In the morning a miserable northeaster was blowing a heavy
fall of snow over the country, and the Factor offered to show
me the fur-loft where the clerk and a few half-breed men-
servants were folding and packing furs. First they were put
into a collapsible mould to hold them in the proper form, then
when the desired weight of eighty pounds had been reached,
they were passed into a powerful home-made fur-press, and
after being pressed down into a sohd pack, were corded and
covered with burlap, and marked ready for shipment. The
room in which the men worked was a big loft with endless
bundles of skins of many sizes and colours hanging from the
MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 173
rafters, and with long rows of shelves stacked with folded furs,
and with huge piles of pelts and opened bales upon the floor.
Also there were moose and caribou horns lying about, and
bundles of Indian-made snowshoes hanging by wires from the
rafters, and in one corner kegs of dried beaver castors.
THE WINTER MAIL ARRIVES
On the morning of the second day of the stonn I happened
to be in the Indian shop, where I had gone to see the Factor
and the clerk barter for the furs of a recently arrived party of
Indian fur-hunters, when presently I was startled by hearing:
" Voyez, voyez, lepacquet .'" shouted by Bateese as he flound-
ered into the trading room without a thought of closing the
door, though the drifting snow scurried in after him. Vocifer-
ously he called to the others to come and see, and instantly
trade was stopped. The Factor, the clerk, and the Indians,
rushed to the doorway to obtain a glimpse of the long-expected
packet. For two days the storm had raged, and the snow was
still blowing in clouds that blotted out the neighbouring forest.
"Come awa', Bateese, ye auld fule! Come awa' ben, an
steek yon door! Ye dinna see ony packet! " roared the Factor,
who could distinguish nothing through the flying snow.
''Bien, m'sieu, mebbe she not very clear jus' now; but w'en
I pass from de Mad Wolf's HiU, w'en de storm she lif ' a leetle,
I see two men an' dog- train on de lac below de islan's," rephed
the half-breed fort-hunter, who had returned from a caribou
cache, and whose duty it was to keep the fort supphed with
meat.
"Weel, fetch me the gless, ma mon; fetch me the gless
an' aibUns we may catch a ghnt o' them through this smoorin'
snaw; though I doot it's the packet, as ye say." And the
Factor stood shading his eyes and gazing anxiously in the
direction of the invisible islands. But before the fort-hunter
174 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
had returned with the telescope, the snowy veil suddenly
thinned and revealed the gray figure of a tripper coming up the
bank.
''Quay, quay! Ke-e-e-pling!" sang out one of the Indians.
He had recognized the tripper to be Kipling, the famous snow-
shoe runner. Immediately all save the Factor rushed for-
ward to meet the Httle half-breed who was in charge of the
storm-bound packet, and to welcome him with a fusilade of
gunshots.
Everyone was happy now, for last year's news of the ''Grand
Pays'' — the habitant's significant term for the outer world —
had at last arrived. The monotonous routine of the Post
was forgotten. To-day the long, dreary silence of the winter
would be again broken in upon by hearty feasting, merry music,
and joyous dancing in honour of the arrival of the half-yearly
mail.
All crowded round the voyageur, who, though scarcely
more than five feet in height, was famed as a snowshoe runner
throughout the wilderness stretching from the Canadian
Pacific Raihoad to the Arctic Ocean. While they were eagerly
plying him with questions, the crack of a dog-whip was heard.
Soon the faint tinkling of bells came through the storm. In
a moment all the dogs of the settlement were in an uproar,
for the packet had arrived.
With a final rush the gaunt, travel-worn dogs galloped
through the driving snow, and, eager for the shelter of the
trading room, bolted pell-mell through the gathering at the
doorway, upsetting several spectators before the driver could
halt the runaways by falhng headlong upon the foregoer's
back and flattening him to the floor.
AU was excitement. Every dog at the post dashed in with
bristhng hair and clamping jaws to overawe the strangers.
Amid the hubbub of shouting men, women, and children, the
cracking of whips, and the yelping of dogs, the packet was
MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 175
removed from the overturned sled and hustled into the Factor's
office, where it was opened, and the mail quickly overhauled.
While the Factor and his clerk were busily writing despatches,
a relay of dogs was being harnessed, and two fresh runners were
making ready to speed the mail upon its northward way.
Before long the Factor's letters were sealed and carefully
deposited in the packet box, which was lashed on the tail of the
sled, the forepart of which was packed with blankets, flour,
tea, and pork for the packeteers, and frozen whitefish for the
dogs. Then amid the usual handshaking the word ''Marche!''
was given, and to the tune of cracking whips, whining dogs, and
crunching snow, the northern packet ghded out upon the lake
with the Indian track-beater hmrying far ahead while the half-
breed dog-driver loped behind the sled. Thus for over two
centuries the Hudson's Bay Company had been sending its
mails through the great wilderness of Northern Canada.
THE DOG BRIGADE
That afternoon five dog-trains arrived from outlying posts.
They had come to join the Dog Brigade that was to leave Fort
Consolation first thing in the morning on its southern way to
the far-off railroad. As I wished to accompany the brigade, I
had arranged with Oo-koo-hoo that we should do so, as far as
we could without going out of our way, in returning to his
himting grounds. So to bed that night we all went very early,
and at four o'clock in the morning we were astir again. Break-
fast was soon over, then followed the packing of the sleds, the
harnessing of the dogs, the shpping of moccasined feet into
snowshoe thongs, the shaking of hands, and the wishing of
farewells. Already the tracker, or track-beater, had gone
ahead to break the trail.
'*M-a-r-r-cke!" (start) shouted the guide — as the head dog-
driver is called. Every driver repeated the word; whips cracked;
176 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
dogs howled, and the brigade moved forward in single file.
At the head went the Factor's train of four powerful-looking and
handsomely harnessed dogs hauling a decorated carriole in
which the Factor rode and behind which trotted a pictm-esque
half-breed driver. Next in order went the teams of the Church
of England clergyman and the Roman Catholic priest, both of
whom happened to be going out to the railroad. Behind these
followed twelve sleds or toboggans, laden with furs, which the
Hudson's Bay Company was shipping to its Department
Headquarters. When one remembers that black or silver fox
skins are frequently sold for over a thousand dollars each, one
may surmise the great value of a cargo of furs weighing nearly
four thousand pounds, such as the Dog Brigade was hauHng.
No wonder the Company was using all haste to place
those furs on the London market before the then high prices
feU.
The brigade formed an interesting sight, as the Indians,
half-breeds, and white men were garbed most curiously; and in
strong contrast to the brilliant colours worn by the members
of the brigade, the clergymen trotted along in their sombre
black — the priest's cassock flowing to his snowshoes, and his
crucifix thrust, daggerlike, in his girdle.
The four dogs comprising each of the fur-trains hauled
three hundred pounds of fur besides the camp outfit and grub
for both driver and dogs — ^in all, about five hundred pounds to
the sled. When the sleighing grew heavy, the drivers used
long pushing-poles against the ends of the sleds to help the
dogs.
TRAVELLING WITH DOG-TBAINS
While the march always started in a stately way — the Fac-
tor's carriole in advance — ^it was not long before the trains
abandoned their formal order; for whenever one train was
delayed through any one of many reasons, the train behind
MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 177
invariably strove to steal ahead so that after a few hours'
run the best dogs were usually leading.
For several hours we followed the lake and the river, and
just before dayhght appeared in the southeastern sky the Aurora
Boreahs vanished from view. Later, a golden glow tipping the
tops of the tallest trees, heralded the rising of the sun. Coming
out upon a httle lake — for we were now short-cutting across
the country — ^we saw that the hght over the distant hills had
broken into a glorious flood of sunshine. Half over the far-ofiT
trees, along the horizon, the sun was shining, and the whole
southeastern sky seemed aflame with bsuids and baUs of fire.
A vertical ribbon of graduaUy diminishing lustre, scarcely wider
than the sim, was rising into the heavens to meet a vast semi-
circle of rainbow beauty arched above the natural sun. Where
the strange halo cut the vertical flame and the horizon on either
side three mock suns marked the intersection. Above the
natural sun and beneath the halo, four other mock suns studded
the vertical band of hght. It was a wonderful sight and
lasted fully twenty minutes — the sky was just as I have shown
it in my picture of the York Factory Packet.
Now the brigade was halted, in voyageur parlance, "to
spell the dogs one smoke," which, being translated, meant that
the dogs could rest as long as it took their masters to smoke a
pipeful of tobacco. The drivers, conversing in httle groups or
sitting upon sleds as they puffed at their pipes, watched the
beautiful phenomenon, and the talk turned to the many re-
markable sun-dogs that they had seen. Presently the mock
suns grew dim; the arch faded away; the band lost its colour;
the true sun rose above the trees and then, as ashes were
knocked from pipes, we resumed our journey.
After leaving the lake we entered a muskeg that extended
for miles. Its uneven surface was studded with countless
grassy hummocks, many of them crowned with wiUow and
alder bushes or gnarled and stunted spruces or jack pines.
178 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
It made hard hauling for the dogs. From a distance, the
closely following trains reminded one of a great serpent passing
over the comitry, that — ^when it encountered a hummocky
section requiring the trains to turn from side to side, and to
glide up and down — seemed to be writhing in pain. Near
the end of the swamp an open hillside rose before us, and upon
its snowy slopes the sun showed thousands of rabbit-runs
intersecting one another in a maze of tracks that made one
think of a vast gray net cast over the hill.
Passing into a "bent-pole" district we encountered an
endless number of Httle spruce trees, the tops of which had
become so laden with snow that their slender stems, no longer
able to sustain the weight, had bent almost double as they
let their white-capped heads rest in the snow upon the ground.
Later, we entered a park-like forest where pine trees stood
apart with seldom any brushwood between. Fresh marten
tracks were noticed in the snow. A httle farther on, two timber-
wolves were seen shnking along like shadows among the distant
trees as they paralleled our trail on the right. The dogs noticed
them, too, but they, like their masters, were too busy to pay
much attention. The wolves were big handsome creatures
with thick fluffy coats that waved Uke taU grasses in a strong
breeze as they bounded along.
Coming to a steep hill everyone helped the dogs in their
climb. When at last the brigade, puffing and panting, reached
the summit, pipes were at once in evidence and then another
rest followed. When the descent began, the drivers — most
of them having removed their snowshoes that their feet might
sink deeper into the snow — ^seized their trail-hnes, and, acting
as anchors behind the sleds, allowed themselves to be hauled
stiff-legged through the deep snow in their effort to keep the
sleds from over-running the dogs. It was exciting work. The
men throwing their utmost weight upon the lines sought every
obstruction, swerving against trees, bracing against roots,
MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 179
grasping at branches, and floundering through bushes. Often
they fell, and occasionally, when they failed to regain their
footing, were mercilessly dragged downhill; the heavy sleds,
gathering momentum, overtook the fleeing dogs, and their
unfortunate masters were ploughed head-first through the
snow. At the foot of the steepest incline a tumult arose as
men and dogs struggled together in an effort to free themselves
from overturned sleds. Above the cursing in French and
Enghsh — but not in Indian — ^rose the howHng of the dogs as
lead-loaded lashes whistled through the frosty air. One won-
dered how such a tangle could ever be unravelled, but soon all
was set straight again.
About eight o'clock we had our second breakfast and by
twelve we stopped again for the noon-day meal, both of which
consisted of bannock, pork, and tea. While we ate, the dogs,
stiU harnessed, lay curled up in the snow.
Again the guide shouted " Ma-r-r-che! " and again the brigade
moved forward. Some of the trains were handsomely har-
nessed, especially the Factor's. The loin-cloths of the dogs,
caUed tapis, were richly embroidered and edged with fringe.
Above the collars projected pompons of broken colours and
clusters of streaming ribbons, while beneath hung a number of
bells. All the dogs were hitched tandem, and every train
was made up of four units. Except the dogs of the Factor's
train, there were few real "huskies, " as Eskimo dogs are called,
for most of the brutes were the usual sharp-nosed, heavy-
coated mongrels that in the Strong Woods Country go by the
name of giddes; some, however, had been sired by wolves.
The track-beater's snowshoes, which were the largest used
by any of the brigade, were Wood Cree "hunting shoes" and
measured nearly six feet in length. The other men wore
Chipewyan "tripping shoes" about three feet long — ^the only
style of Canadian snowshoes that are made in "rights and
lefts."
180 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
For a number of miles we passed through heavily timbered
forest where shafts of sunlight threw patches of brilhant white
upon the woodland's winter carpet, and where gentle breezes
had played fantastically with the falhng snow, for it was
heaped in all manner of remarkable forms. Here and there
long, soft festoons of white were draped about groups of
trees where the living stood interlocked with the dead.
Among the branches huge "snow-bosses" were seen, and
"snow-mushrooms" of wondrous shape and bulk were perched
upon logs and stumps. "Snow-caps" of almost unbelievable
size were mounted upon the smallest of trees, the slender
trunks of which seemed ready to break at any moment. It
was all so strangely picturesque that it suggested an enchanted
forest.
Early that afternoon we came upon an Indian lodge hiding
in the woods, and from within came three little children. It
was then fully twenty below zero, yet the little tots, wish-
ing to watch the passing brigade, stood in the most unconcerned
way, holding each other by the hand, their merry eyes shining
from their wistful faces while their bare legs and feet were
buried in the snow. Though they wore nothing but Uttle
blanket shirts, what healthy, happy children they appeared to
be!
Then out upon a lake we swung where the wind-packed
snow made easy going. Here the heavy sleds slid along as if
loadless, and we broke into a run. On rounding a point we saw
a band of woodland caribou trot off the lake and enter the
distant forest. By the time we reached the end of the lake,
and had taken to the shelter of the trees, dusk weis creeping
through the eastern woods and the rabbits had come out to
play. They were as white as the snow upon which they
ran helter-skelter after one another. Forward and backward
they boimded across the trail without apparently noticing
the dogs. Sometimes they passed within ten feet of us. The
Going to the stage, he took down his five-foot snowshoes, slipped
hvi moccasined feet into the thongs, and with his gun resting in the
hollow of his hemittened hand, and the sled's hauling-line over his
shoulder, strode off through the vaulted aisles between the boles of
evergreens; while through a tiny slit in the wall of his moose-skin
home two loving eyes watched his stalwart figure vanishing among
the . . . See Chapter IV
MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 181
woodland seemed to swarm with them, and no wonder, for it
was the seventh year, the year of Northland game abmidance,
when not only rabbits are most nmnerous, but also all the
other dwellers of the wilderness that prey upon them. Al-
ready, however, the periodical plague had arrived. When I
stopped to adjust a snowshoe thong I counted five dead hares
within sight; next year starvation would be stalking the
forest creatures.
CAMPING IN THE SNOW
While the sunset glow was rapidly fading, the brigade halted
to make camp for the night. All were to sleep in the open, for
dog brigades never carry tents but bivouac on the snow with
nothing but a blanket between the sleeper and the Aurora
Boreahs — though the thermometer may fall to sixty below
zero. Some of the men moved off with axes in their hands, and
the sound of chopping began to echo through the forest. On
every side big dry trees came crashing down. Then the huge
"long fires", driving darkness farther away, began to leap and
roar. Then, too, could be seen the building of stages on which to
place the valuable fur-laden sleds out of reach of the destructive
dogs; the gathering of evergreen brush; the unhitching of dogs
and the hanging up of their harness in the surrounding trees;
the unloading of sleds; the placing of frozen whitefish to thaw
for the dogs; the baking of bannocks, the frying of pork, and the
infusing of tea. Then, in silence, the men ate ravenously, while
the hungry dogs watched them.
When pipes had been filled and hghted each driver took his
allotment of fish, called his dogs aside, and gave them a
couple each. Some of the brutes bolted their food in a few
gulps and rushed to seize the share of others, but a few blows
from the drivers' whips drove them back.
When the dogs had devoured their day's rations — ^for they
182 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
are fed only once every twenty-four hours — their masters
sought out sheltered spots for them and cut a few branches of
brush for their beds. Some of the men cooked a supply of
bannock to be eaten the following day. Others hung their
moccasins, mittens, and leggings on little sticks before the
fires to dry. It was an animated scene. The "long fires"
were huge structures, twelve or fifteen feet in length, so that
each man might bask in the heat without crowding his
neighbour. A number stood with their back to the blaze while
the rest- sat or loimged on their blankets and, puffing away at
their pipes, joined in the conversation that before long became
general.
Just then the dogs began to blow and then to growl, as a
strange Indian strode out of the gloom into the brilliant
glare of the fires.
" Wat-che! wat-che?'' (What cheer, what cheer?) sang out the
men. The stranger replied in Cree, and then began a lively
interchange of gossip. The Indian was the track-beater of the
south-bound packet from the Far North that was now approach-
ing. All were keenly interested. The cracking of whips and
the howling of dogs were heard, and a Httle later the tinkhng of
bells. Then came a train of long-legged, handsomely har-
nessed dogs hauling a highly decorated carriole behind which
trotted a strikingly dressed half-breed dog-driver. When the
train had drawn abreast of oiu- fire an elderly white man, who
proved to be Chief Factor Thompson, of a still more northerly
district of the Hudson's Bay Company, got out from beneath
the carriole robes, cheerfully returned our greeting, and accepted
a seat on the dunnage beside Factor Mackenzie's fire. Two
other trains and two other dog-drivers immediately followed
the arrival of the Chief Factor, for they were the packeteers in
charge of the packet. Now the woods seemed to be full of
talking and laughing men and snarling, snapping dogs. Twenty-
two men were now crowding round the fires, and seventy-two
MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 183
dogs and eighteen sleds were blocking the spaces between the
trees.
NORTHERN MAIL SERVICE
Chief Factor Thompson was the "real thing," and therefore
not at aU the kind of Hudson's Bay officer that one ever meets
in fiction. For instead of being a big, burly, "red-blooded
brute," of the "he-man" type of factor — the kind that springs
from nowhere save the wild imaginations of the authors who
have never Uved in the wilderness ... he was just a real
man . . . just a fine type of Hudson's Bay factor, who
was not only brother to both man and beast, but who knew
every bird by its flight or song; who loved children with all his
heart — flowers, too — and whose kindly spirit often rose in song.
Yes, he was just a real man, like some of the men you know — ^but
after all, perhaps he was even finer — ^for the wilderness does
nothing to a man save make him healthier in body and in
soul; while the cities are the world's cesspools. He was rather
a small, slender man, with fatherly eyes set in an intelligent
face that was framed with gray hair and gray beard.
After the Chief Factor and his men had been refreshed with
bannock, pork, and tea, pipes were filled and hghted and for
a time we talked of all sorts of subjects. Later, when we were
alone for a httle while, I found Mr. Thompson a man richly
informed on northern travel, for he had spent his whole life in
the service of the Hudson's Bay Company, and at one time or
another had been in charge of the principal posts on Hudson
Bay, Great Slave Lake, and the Peace, the Churchill, the
Athabasca, and the Mackenzie rivers. Among other subjects
discussed were dogs and dog-driving; and when I questioned
him as to the loading of sleds, he answered:
"UsuaUy, in extremely cold weather, the Company allots
dogs not more than seventy-five pounds each, but in milder
weather they can handily haul a hundred pounds, and toward
184 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
spring, when sleds slide easily, they often manage more than
that." Then dreamily pufifing at his pipe he added : " I remem-
ber when six dog-trains of four dogs each hauled from Fort
Chipewyan on Lake Athabasca to Fort Vermillion on the
Peace River loads that averaged six hundred and fifty pounds
per sled — ^not including the grub for the men and dogs and the
men's dunnage. Then, again, William Irving with Chief Factor
Camsell's dogs brought to Fort Simpson a load of nine hundred
pounds. The greatest load hauled by four dogs that I know
of was brought to Fort Good Hope by Gaudet. When it ar-
rived it weighed a trifle over one thousand pounds. But
Factor Gaudet is one of the best dog-drivers in the country."
Then, re-settling himself more comfortably before the fire,
he continued:
"And while I think of it we have had some pretty fine dogs
in the service of the Company. The most famous of all were
certainly those belonging to my good friend Chief Factor Wm.
Clark. He bred them from Scotch stag hounds and "hus-
kies"— ^the latter, of course, he procured from the Eskimos.
His dogs, however, showed more hoimd than husky. Their
hair was so short that they had to be blanketed at night. Once
they made a trip from Oak Point on Lake Manitoba to Winni-
peg, starting at four o'clock in the morning, stopping for a
second breakfast by the way, and reaching Winnipeg by one
o'clock at noon, the distance being sixty miles. They were
splendid dogs and great pets of his. They used to love playing
tricks and romping with him. Frequently, when nearing a
post, they would purposely dump him out of his carriole and
leaving him behind, go on to the post, where, of course, on their
arrival with the empty sled, they were promptly sent back for
Mr. Clark. Understanding the command, they would at once
wheel about and, without a driver, return on the full
gallop to get their master. When coming upon him they would
rush aroimd and bark at him, showing all the while the greatest
MEETING OF THE WILD MEN lU
glee over the trick they had played him. He never used a whip
upon them. No snowshoer could be found who was swift
enough to break a trail for those dogs and no horse ever over-
took them. Once, while going from Oak Point to Winnipeg,
Factor Clark's train ran down six wolves, allowing him to shoot
the brutes as he rode in his carriole. Another time they over-
hauled and threw a wolf which Mr. Clark afterward stunned,
and then bound its jaws together. When the brute came to, it
foimd itself harnessed in the train in place of one of the dogs,
and thus Chief Factor Clark drove a wild timber-wolf into the
city of Winnipeg.'*
"They must have been wonderful dogs," remarked Father
Jois, "but it's too bad they don't breed such dogs nowadays."
" That's so," returned the Chief Factor. " Twenty or thirty
years ago at each of the big posts — the district depots — they
used to keep from forty to fifty dogs, and at the outposts, from
twenty to thirty were always on hand. At each of the district
depots a man was engaged as keeper of the dogs and it was his
duty to attend to their breeding, training, and feeding."
" Speaking of feeding, what do you consider the best food for
dogs?" I asked.
"By all means pemmican," repUed the Chief Factor, "and
give each dog a pound a day. The next best rations for dogs
come in the following order: two pounds of dried fish, four
pounds of fresh deer meat, two rabbits or two ptarmigan, one
pound of flour or meal mixed with two ounces of tallow. That
reminds me of the way the old half-breed dog-drivers used to
do. In such districts as Pelly and Swan River, where fish
and other food for dogs was scarce, we had frequently to feed
both men and dogs on rations of flour. Some of the half-breeds
would leave their ration of flour with their family, and
count on eating the dog's ration while on the trip and
letting the poor brutes go hungry, just because the dogs be-
longed to the Company. So we put a stop to that by mixing
186 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
coal oil with the dog's rations and having them baked
into cakes before the trip was begun. Such a mixture made the
men sick when they tried to eat it, but the dogs didn't seem to
mind it at all."
"Then kerosene is not included in the regular rations the
Company supphes for its trippers and voyageurs?" I ven-
tured, laughingly.
"Hardly, for in the Northland that would be rather an
expensive condiment." The old gentleman smiled as he con-
tinued: "In outfitting our people for a voyage, we supply what
is known as a full ration for a man, a half ration for a woman
or a dog, and a quarter ration for a child. For instance, we
give a man eight pounds of fresh deer meat per day while we
give a woman or a dog only four pounds and a child two pounds.
A man's ration of fish is four pounds per day, of pemmican two
pounds, of flour or meal two poimds, of rabbits or ptarmigan
four of each," said he, as he knocked the ashes from
his pipe. I was afraid he was going to turn in, so I quickly
asked:
"Which is the longest of the Company's packet routes at the
present day .^"
"That of the Mackenzie River packet from Edmonton to
Fort Macpherson. In winter it is hauled two thousand and
twelve miles by dog-train; and in summer it is carried by the
Company's steamers on the Athabasca, the Slave, and the
Mackenzie rivers. Next comes the Peace River packet from
Edmonton to Hudson's Hope, a distance of over a thousand
miles. In summer it goes by steamer, and in winter by dog-
train. There's the York Factory packet from Winnipeg to
Hudson Bay by way of Norway House, a distance of seven hun-
dred miles. In winter it is hauled by dogs from Selkirk as far
as Oxford House, and from there to York Factory by men with
toboggans. In summer it is carried by canoe on Hay River
and by steamboat on Lake Winnipeg. Then there's the Liard
MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 187
River packet and the Reindeer Lake packet. Each travels
about five hundred miles by dogs in winter and by canoe in
summer. The Moose Factory packet from Temiscamingue to
James Bay goes by canoe in summer, but by men in winter.
All mails in and out from Hudson Bay or James Bay to or from
the next post in the interior, are hauled by men. Dogs are
seldom used on those routes, on account of the depth of the
snow and the scarcity of dog feed."
Though I weU knew that packeteers did not carry firearms, I
asked Chief Factor Thompson — just for the sake of getting
the truth from him and giving it to the pubhc:
"How does the Hudson's Bay Company arm their
packeteers?"
"Arm them.^" the Chief Factor laughed outright, "why, we
always provide them with an axe."
"Firearms, I mean."
"Firearms! Why, they aren't allowed to carry firearms at
all. It's against the rules and regulations of the Company.
In the first place, packeteers are suppHed with plenty of grub
for the trip; in the next place, if they had a gun they might go
hunting £uid fooling around with it instead of attending to their
business; and, moreover, it doesn't matter whether the mail
travels two himdred or two thousand miles, there is no occasion
for packeteers to carry firearms, for there are no highwaymen
and no animals in this country that would make an offensive
attack upon them."
And in truth, in all that wild brigade there were no fire-
arms save Oo-koo-hoo's old muzzle-loader; but then The
Owl was a himter by profession, and he carried a gun only as a
matter of business. Now for the last twenty-five years that is
exactly what I have wanted to tell the pubKc. When one reads
a story, or sees a play or a moving picture, in which characters
bristling with firearms are set forth as veritable representatives
of life in the Canadian wilderness, he may rest assured that the
188 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
work is nothing but a travesty on life in Canada. Any author,
any illustrator, any playwright, any scenario writer, any actor
or any director who depicts Canadian wilderness Hfe in that
way is either an ignoramus or a shameless humbug. And to
add strength to my statement I shall quote the experience of a
gentleman who was the first City Clerk, Treasurer, Assessor,
and Tax Collector of Dawson City — ^Mr. E. Ward Smith:
POLICE AND GUNMEN
"The Mounted Pohce generally received word in advance
when any particularly bad character was headed for the
Yukon, and in all such cases he was met when he slipped off the
boat. I remember particularly one case of the kind, as I
happened to be on hand when the American gunman landed.
He was a quiet enough looking individual and had no weapons
of any kind in sight, but a close scrutiny revealed the fact that
he had a particularly evil eye in his sandy-freckled face. One
of the Mounties picked him out unerringly and tapped him on
the shoulder.
" *Gat Gardiner .^^' he asked.
"*No,' said the newcomer. *My name is Davidson.'
***! happen to know you as Gat Gardiner,' insisted the pohce-
man. *Got any weapons on you.^^'
"*Leave go of me,' flared the so-called Davidson, all the
veneer of civihty gone. * You got nothing on me. Let go, I
sayl'
"T've got something on you,' declared the policeman, haul-
ing a revolver from the hip pocket of the man. * Carrying con-
cealed weapons is against the law on this side the line. Back
on the boat, you, and don't you dare put foot ashore or I'll have
you in jail. You go back the way you came.'
"And Gardiner went. I saw him leaning over the rail when
the boat started on the return trip and he shook his fist at the
MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 189
policeman on the wharf and emitted a string of vile oaths. But
he never came back.
"When the notorious *Soapy' Smith was killed at Skagway,
Alaska, his gang of desperadoes was promptly broken up and
word came to Dawson that some of them were headed for
the Canadian side. They were gathered in as soon as they
crossed the line, denuded of weapons, and sent back. Not one
of the gang eluded the vigilance of the poKce.
"The law against carrying concealed weapons was a big
factor in keeping the peace. Comparatively few men took
advantage of their legal right to carry a revolver in sight. I
remember seeing an open box in a pawnshop containing the
most amazing collection of weapons I had ever set eyes on —
revolvers with silver handles, pistols of carved ivory, anti-
quated breech-loaders, weapons of fantastic design, and, prob-
ably, of equally fantastic history, strange implements of death
that had come from all climes and bespoke adventures on all
the seven seas.
" * Where did you get the lot.^^' I asked the proprietor.
" *They all sell their shooting irons. No use for them here.
I get 'em for practically nothing. Help yourself if you have
any fancy that way. I'll make you a present of anything you
want.'
"So much for the wild Yukon of the novehstsl Instead of
lurching into the dance hall and blazing away at the ceiling,
picture the *old-timer', the hardened miner of a hundred camps,
planking down his pistols on the counter of the pawnshop and
asking *How much.^' That's the truer picture."
As part of my boyhood education was derived from the study
of American illustrated magazines, I was led by those periodi-
cals to believe that the North American wilderness was in-
habited by wild and woolly men bedecked with firearms, and
ever since I have been on the lookout for just such characters.
Now while I cannot speak for the Western States, I can at least
190 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
speak for Canada; and I must now admit that, dm-ing my thirty-
three years of contact with wilderness life, on one occasion-
but on one only — I found that there was justification for de-
scribing the men of the northern wilderness as carrying firearms
for protection. But does not the one exception prove the rule?
It happened near Stewart, on the borderline of Alaska,
several years ago. I encountered a prospector who wanted to
cross Portland Canal from Alaska to Canada, and as I was
rowing over, I offered to take him across. When, however, he
turned to pick up his pack I caught sight of something that
fairly made me burst out laughing; for it was as funny a sight
as though I had witnessed it on Piccadilly or Broadway. At
first I thought he was a movie actor who, in some imaccount-
able way, had strayed from Los Angeles and become lost in
the northern wilderness before he had had time to remove his
ridiculous "make-up"; but a moment later he proved beyond
doubt that he was not an actor, for he blushed scarlet when he
observed that I was focussing a regular Mutt-and-Jeff dotted-
line stare at a revolver that himg from his belt, and he faltered:
"But . . . Why the mirth?"
"Well, old man," I laughed again, "for over twenty-five
years I have been roaming the Canadian wilderness from the
borderhne of Maine right up here to Alaska, and in all that
time — ^with the exception of the Constables of the North- West
Mounted Police — ^you are the first man, woman, or child, I
have seen carrying a revolver. And I swear, old dear, that
that's the truth. So now, do you wonder that I laugh?"
RECORD TRAVELLING
But to return to the Hudson's Bay Company's packet sys-
tem, I asked Chief Factor Thompson:
"Which is the more important, the summer or the winter
maU?"
MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 191
"Oh, the winter; for, when inward bound, it bears the
Commissioner's instructions to the district chief factors; and,
when outward bound, it contains information regarding the
results and the progress of the fur-trade, and orders for addi-
tional supplies.**
"How many miles a day do the packeteers average on their
winter trips?"
"Well," replied the Chief Factor, "I think the rate of speed
maintained by our packeteers is remarkable; especially when
one considers the roughness of the country, the hardships of
winter travel, the fact that the men must make their bread,
cook their meals, care for their dogs, and, when on the trail,
cannot even quench their thirst without halting to build a fire
and melt snow. Yet the packeteers of the Mackenzie River
mail cover their two thousand miles on snowshoes at an average
rate of twenty-seven and a half miles a day, including all
stoppages."
"That is certainly splendid travelling. Some of the packe-
teers, I should judge, have made great records; haven't they.^"
"Yes, that's true," acknowledged the trader, "the packe-
teers do make great eflForts to break records between posts.
But, though they may have succeeded in cutting down the
time, their achievement is never mentioned on the way-bill,
nor does it affect the time allowed for the completion of the
trip; for, though the mail be brought in ahead of time, it is
never handed over to the relay until the appointed hour has
struck. Otherwise, the whole system would be thrown out of
gear. Exceptionally fast runs are not shown upon the way-
bills, because they would eventually affect the average time
allowed for the trip; and in stormy weather that would be
hard upon the packeteers. The time allowed for the transmis-
sion of a packet is calculated on a ten-years' average. No ex-
cuse for delay, except death, is tolerated. At each post on
certain fixed dates relays of men and dogs are kept in readiness
192 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
to forward the mail without delay. A through way-bill ac-
companies every packet from point of departure to point of
dehvery. At each post along the route the time of arrival
and the time of departure of the mail must be entered upon
the way-bill, as well as the names of the packeteers and of the
officers in charge."
"I understand that packets contain not only the despatches
of the Company, but the private mail of the employees, that
of missionaries of all denominations, that of chance 'explor-
ers' or travellers, and even that of opposition fur-traders. Is
that a fact?"
"Yes, sir, and moreover, no charge is made by the Company."
"Do the Company's officers experience much trouble in
procuring men to act as packeteers?"
"Oh, no; none whatever. As a rule, when men enter the
Company's service, they stipulate that they shall be given a
place on the packet; for that affords them an opportunity to
pay a visit to the next post, and to join in the dance which is
always held on the arrival of the mail. Trippers consider
themselves greatly honoured on being given charge of a packet;
for it means that they are held to be trustworthy, and thor-
oughly famihar with the topography of the district."
"Before the advent of the railroad and the steamboat,
which was the longest of the Company's packet routes?"
"By all odds that of the Yukon packet. It made the journey
from Montreal to Fort Yukon, which was then situated at the
junction of the Porcupine and Yukon rivers. It was routed
by way of the Ottawa River, Lake Hiu-on, Lake Superior,
Lake of the Woods, Lake Winnipeg, the Athabasca River,
the Slave River, and the Mackenzie River. It was forwarded
in summer by canoe, in winter by dog-train, for the enormous
distance of four thousand five hundred miles. And let me tell
you, it is to-day, as it was two hundred years ago, the pride
of the Company's people that not one packet was ever lost
MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 193
beyond recovery. Packeteers have been drowned, frozen,
burned, shot, smothered, and even eaten; but the packet has
always reached its destination somehow."
BEAR HOLDS UP MAIL
A sudden burst of laughter from the men at a neighbouring
fire attracted the attention of Chief Factor Thompson, and
glancing over, he remarked to me:
"Telling yams, eh I Let's go over and Hsten."
Twelve or fifteen men were crowded round that fire — ^in-
cluding Factor Mackenzie, the Rev. Mr. Wilson, Father Jois,
and Oo-koo-hoo — and they were now coaxing "Old Billy
Brass" to tell the next story. He was a wiry little white man
of about sixty who had seen much service in the Hudson's Bay
Company. He hesitated. They clamoured again, and he
began:
"But talkin' 'bout bears reminds me of a little affair I once
had on the Peace River," said the old man, glancing slyly from
the comer of his eye to see what effect his statement made
upon his campfire companions. Billy was sitting cross-legged
upon his caribou robe; and, as he turned the browning bannocks
before the fire, he continued:
"Well, as I was sayin', me an' Old-pot-head's son once had
a go with a great big black bear away up on the Peace River.
But, don't you forget it, Billy Brass didn't lose the packet."
"Come, Billy, tell us aU about it," coaxed the Chief Factor,
well knowing that if he were once started there would be on his
part httle need of urging in order to extract from the old tripper
all he knew, or could invent to suit the occasion.
"Well, gentlemen, if you ain't too sleepy, an' if some o'
you boys'll watch the bannock, I don't mind tellin'," rephed
Billy as he leaned toward the fire, picked up a red-hot coal,
and palmed it into his pipe.
194 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
"But I can't give a funny bear story, the same as you've
been tellin', because all my experiences with bears have been
mighty serious. However, I'll try and tell you 'bout me an
Old-pot-head's son; an' to my mind it's the most serious of 'em
aU.
"As I was sayin', we was in charge of the Peace River
packet; an' if it hadn't been for the charm Father La Mille
blessed for me at Fort Good Hope, I don't know 's I'd be here
to tell about it.
"Anyway, me an' Old-pot-head's son was carryin' the
packet and headin' for Hudson's Hope. It was the fall packet,
an' — as winter was just about due — ^we was hustlin' 'long for
all we was worth, an' jabbin' holes in the river with our paddles
as fast as we could, in fear o' the freeze up
"As bad luck would have it, that very night the ice over-
took us, an' we had to leave the canoe ashore an' finish the
voyage afoot. Lucky for us, we was only about three-days'
travel from the Fort, so we leaves our axe an' whatever we
don't pgu'ticular need with the canoe.
"Mile after mile we walks along the river bank; an' as we
don't have no extra moccasins, our bare skin was soon upon the
sand. What with havin' our duds torn by bushes, an' our
fallin' in the mud once or twice, and several times a-wadin'
creeks, we was a pretty sight when we stops to camp that
night. When the sun went down, we was so tired that we just
stopped dead in our tracks. We had been packin' our blank-
ets, our grub, an' cookin' gear to say nothin' o' the packet; so,
of course, we didn't give much thought to the campin' ground.
But after supper I looks round an' sees that we'd made our
fire down in a little hollow, an' that the place was bare o' trees
'ception three that stood in a row 'bout four lengths of a three-
fathom canoe from our fire. The middle one was a birch with
a long bare trunk, an' on each side stood a pine. Now, I
want you gentlemen to pay perticler 'tention to just how they
MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 195
stood; for them three trees is goin' to do a mighty lot o' fig-
gerin' in this here story.
"As I was sayin', there was two pines with a birch in between,
an' all standin' in a row, with the upper branches o' pines
nmnin' square in among the branches o' the birch. 'Bout
half ways between the birch and the east pine, but a trifle off
the line, was a pool o' water. Before I turns in for the night,
I takes the packet an' sticks it on the end of a long pole, an'
shoves it up against the birch tree, for fear o' the fire spreadin'
an' burnin' up the mail.
"Me an' Old-pot-head's son turns in an' sleeps as sound as
any trippers could. Some time in the night I wakes up with
a mighty start that almost busts me heart. Somethin' was
mauhn' me. So, with me head still under the blanket, for I
dassn't peep out, I sings out to the Injun an' asks him what in
creation he's kickin' me for; an' if he couldn't wake me with-
out killin' me. Old-pot-head's son yells back that he hasn't
touched me. Then you bet I was scared; for the thing hauls
off agen an' gives me a clout that knocks the wind plum' out o'
me.
"Just then I heard Old-pot-head's son shout, *Keep still,
Bill, it's a big black bear.' I grabs the edges o' me blanket an'
pulls 'em in under me so hard I thinks I've bust it. But the
bear keeps on maulin' me, an' givin' me such hard swats that
I began to fear it'd cave in me ribs."
"But, Billy, why didn't you shoot it.^" asked the Reverend
Mr. Wilson.
"Shoot? Why, your reverence, don't you know, packeteers
never carries a gun.^" the old man exclaimed with disgust, and
then continued his story :
"Not content with that, the brute starts to roll me over an'
over. An' all the time I'm doin' me best to play dead. Now
you needn't laff. I'd like to see any o' youse pretendin' you
was dead while a big bear was poundin' you that hard that you
196 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
begin to beKeve you ain't shammin'. An' when that ugly brute
hauls off an' hits me agen, I decides then an' there that there's
no occasion to sham it. But just as soon as I makes up my
mind I'm dead, the bear leaves me; an' when I can no longer
hear him breathin', I peeps out of a tiny little hole, and sees the
big brute mauhn' me old friend the Injun. Then I takes an-
other peep roun', an' don't see no escape 'cept by way o' them
three trees, so I just jumps up, an' hghts out like greased
lightnin' for the nearest tree. After me comes the bear
gallopin'. I guess that was the quickest runnin' I ever
done in all me life. I just managed to chmb into the lower
branches o' the west pine as the bear struck the trunk
below me.
"When I stops for breath in the upper branches, I sees the
old bear canterin' back agen to have another go with me pard-
ner.
"Just as soon as I was safe, the whole performance struck me
as bein' pretty funny, an' I couldn't help roarin' out and a-
laffin' when I saw the beast maulin' Old-pot-head's son, an'
him tryin' for all he was worth to play dead.
"Thinks I, I'll make me old friend laff. So I starts in to
guy him, an' he begins to snicker, an' that makes the bear mad,
an' he begins to roll the Injun. Then, you bet, I couldn't
make him laff no more; for, what with shammin' dead, an' bein'
frightened to death into the bargain, I don't think there was
much laff left in him.
"You know how bears will act when they sometimes comes
across a handy log.^ Well, that's just what the beast was doin'
with Old-pot-head's son — ^it was rolhn' him over an' over. The
very next second it rolls his feet into the fire. Down the tree
I shd, Hke snow down a mountain, an' stood at the foot of it
an' pelted the bear with stones. The Injun's blanket began to
smoke. It was no laffin' matter, for I knowed if I didn't drive
the brute off in a jiffy Old-pot-head's son would be a comin'
j~e c
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cc _^."r* '^
6C ^ ^
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^ "^j
<w
I
CO
MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 197
out of his trance mighty sudden an' that meant a catch-as-
catch-can with a great, big, crazy black bear.
**As good luck would have it, the next time I threw a stone,
it landed on the tip of the bear's snout, an' with a snarl he
comes for me. I waits as long as I dares, then up the tree I
skips, with the brute follerin' me. About half ways up I
thinks I hears a human bein' laflfin' in the east pine. So I looks
over, an' sure enuff, I sees me old pardner settin' on a limb an'
fairly roarin'. All the same, I was feelin' mighty squeemish, for
the bear was comin' up Kckety sphnter after me.
"Just then I spies a good stout branch that reaches out close
against a big limb of the birch, an' I crawls over. As the bear
follers me, I shdes down the trunk o' the birch, an' hghts out
for the east pine where me pardner was doin' the laflfin'. On
its way down the bear rammed itself right smack against the
mail-bag; and when the beast struck ground, it smelt the man
smell on the packet, an' began to gnaw it.
"Now me an' Old-pot-head's son knowed well enuff we
had to save the mail-sack, so I slips down the east pine a ways,
an' breaks off dead branches, an' pelts them at the bear while
the Injun crosses over into the top o' the west pine. Then we
both at once shdes down as low as we dares, an' I begins to lamm
the brute with a shower o' sticks. Up the tree it comes for
me, while me pardner shps down, grabs the mail-sack, an' sails
up the west pine again.
"That was a mighty clever move, thinks I, but a bag is an
orkad thing to portage when you're meanderin' up an' down
a tree with a bear after you. But the tump-line was on it,
just as we carried it the day before, so it wasn't as bad as it
might 'a' been.
"Well, when I went up the east pine, the bear follered, an',
as there wasn't any too much room between me an' the bear,
I crosses over into the birch an' shdes down its shppery trunk
as tho' it was greased. I hits the ground a httle harder than
198 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
I wanted to, but didn't waste no time in lightin' out for the
west pine, where the Injun was restin' ; an' all the time the bear
was tryin' to grab me coat-tails.
" It was just a case of up to the west pine, cross over and down
the birch; then up the east pine, cross over an' down the birch;
then up the west pine, cross over an' down the birch, till we got
so dizzy we could a hardly keep from fallin'. If you could
just 'a' seen the way we tore roun' through them trees, I'll bet
you would 'a' done a heap o' laflfin'.
"The bear was mighty spry in goin' up, but when it came to
goin' down he'd just do the drop-an'-clutch, drop-an'-clutch
act. That's just where me an' me pardner had the advantage
on the brute; for we just swung our arms an' legs roun' that
birch an' did the drop act, too; but, somehow, we hadn't time
to do the clutch, so our coat-tails got badly crushed every time
we landed.
"It was a kind of go-as-you-please until about the tenth
roun', when I accidentally drops the mail-bag on the bear's
head, aa' that makes him boihn' mad; so he lights out after us
as tho' he had swallered a hornet's nest.
"Then away we goes up an' down, up an' down, an' roun'
an' roun' that perpendicular race track, imtil we made such a
blur in the scen'ry that any fool with half an eye an' standin' half
a mile away could 'a' seen a great big figger eight layin' on its
side in the middle o' the landscape. We took turns at carryin'
the packet, but sometimes I noticed Old-pot-head's son was
havin' a good deal of trouble with it. It didn't seem to bother
him much when he was cHmbin' up; for he just swung it on his
back with the loop o' the tump-line over his head, an' so he had
his hands free. But it was when he was comin' down the
shppery birch that the weight of the bag made him rather more
rapid than he wanted to be; an' so, when he an' the bag struck
groun', they nearly always bounced apart; an' if the Injun
failed to get his feet in time to ketch the sack on the first bounce,
MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 199
I ketched it on the second bounce as I glode by. So between
the two of us we managed to hang on to the packet.
"By-an'-by, we was gettin' terribly tuckered out. It was a
good thing for us that the bear was gettin' winded an' dizzy
as well; because, at about the sixty-seventh roun', the brute
had no sooner gone down the birch than he bounded up agen
just when Old-pot-head's son was a-climbin' thro' the upper
branches o' the birch. So he shps over into the top o' the
east pine, while I stays in the top o' the west pine, an' the bear
sits down in a upper crotch o' the birch.
"Well, we puts in a good many heats of anywhere from
twenty-five to seventy-five laps roun' that track by the time
daylight comes, an' sunrise finds us all ketching our wind in
the upper branches. I noticed that whenever the brute wanted
to stop the whirhgig it always climbed up the birch just in time
to separate me an' me pardner; an' there we would sit, me in
the west pine, me pardner in the east pine, an' the black In-ute
right in between.
"About breakfast time me an' the Injun was feelin' mighty
himgry. There we sat cussin' our luck an' castin' longin'
glances down at the grub bag. By the time I'd caught me
wind a great idea strikes me. Durin' the next heat I would
rush out. So I sings out my intentions to me pardner; an' he
says he thinks we can do it. So while he was carryin' Her
Majesty's mail I was to try an' grab the grub bag.
"We got ready, an' dropped down them pines so fast that
we both hits groun' before the bear knows what's doin'. Then
I leaves that tree like as if all the animals in the woods was after
me. I got on so much speed that by the time I grabs the grub
bag I was goin' so fast that I couldn't turn roun' without
slackin' down. That's where I loses a terrible amount o' time,
an' I was beginnin' to think it was all up with me. By the time
I got headed roun' agen for the tree, I sees that the bear is
comin' down with his back to me. When he hits groun' he sees
200 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
the Injun dancin' roun' the foot o' the west pine; so he
makes for the redskin, an* chases him up while I chmbs the
east pine.
"Then we all went roun' an' roun' for maybe fifty laps, an'
the way we wore the bark off them trees an' trod down the
grass between 'em was a caution. By-an'-by the bear gets so
dizzy that he bucks up the birch agen, an' sure enuff that stops
the performance.
"I didn't need any breakfast bell to remind me to open the
grub bag. I just reaches in an' pulls out some busted bannock
an' throws a chunk over to Old-pot-head's son, an' without even
sayin' grace, we starts in. Every little while I'd toss another
chunk of bread over to me pardner an' just out o' sheer spite
I'd chuck it so that it would go sailin' thro' the air right in
front o' the bear's snout. That makes him mad. So he tried
to catch the stuif as it flies by; but I just puts on a httle more
curve, an' that makes him madder still, an' he ups an' comes for
me.
"Then we all knocks off breakfast an' goes for another
canter. But it don't do no good, 'ceptin' that we all gets puffed
out agen. After a bit, the bear stops to ketch his breath, an'
then me an' me pardner goes on with our breakfast.
"With the bear exercisin' us the way he did, we had to take
our breakfast in a good many courses. That makes it so long
drawn out that we gets mighty thirsty. The Injun asks me if
the cups is in the grub bag. I puts me ban' in an' feels, but
they ain't there. Then I remembers that we left them down
by the fire. We didn't either of us care to risk snakin' a cup,
so I tells me pardner that the next time we goes roun' we'd best
try an' grab a handful o' water. We didn't have long to wait,
for the bear soon gets another move on; an' then away we all
goes sailin' roun' agen. Every time me an' the Injun canters
past the pool, we just makes a sudden dip an' grabs up a hand-
ful o' water an' throws it in.
MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 201
" It took so much exercise to get so little water that I thought
Vd die of thirst while I was tryin' to drink me fill. When the
bear caught on to what we was doin', it just made him madder
an* madder; an' he hghts out after us at such a breathless chp
that we had to fairly gallop up them pines, an' slide down the
birch faster than ever. It wasn't long before nearly every
button was wore off, an' our clothes was so ripped up an' torn
down that I'd blush every time I'd ketch the bear lookin' at me.
An' every time we ran 'long the groun' from one tree to another,
me an' me pardner had to use both hands on our garments in
order to keep up oiu: — er — respectabihty. However, the bear
didn't have the laff on us altogether, for he had gone up an'
down them trees so often an' so fast that he had worn all the
hair off his stomach.
"After a while we all gets tuckered out agen; an' while
we rests in the trees me an' me pardner talks about the weather,
lettin' on that there ain't no bear anywheres nigh. So the time
passed. As we didn't recollect just how much grub we had at
the start, or how much water there was in the pool first off, we
couldn't for the fife of us reckon just how long we'd been there.
Neither me nor Old-pot-head's son would care to take om* oaths
whether we'd been there a night an' half a day, or half a dozen
nights an' days; the night time an' the day time was so mixed up
together that we hadn't time to separate 'em. We were sure,
tho', that our grub was givin' out, the water was dryin' up, an'
death was get tin' good an' ready for us.
** We was in such a terrible tight place that I begins to think
o' takin' off me shirt an' flyin' it from the top o' the tallest pine
as a signal o' distress; for we was worse off than if we'd been
shipwrecked. Talk about bein' cast adrift on a raft! Why, it
wasn't in it with bein' fixed the way we was. We just stayed
in one spot with no chance of ever driftin' to'rds help. As
long as the bear kept tab on us there wasn't no sign of our ever
gettin' a wink o' sleep. And more, besides starvin' to death,
202 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
we had to face bein' frozen; for our clothes was all wore ofif,
an' winter was comin' on mighty fast.
"At last, when me an' Old-pot-head's son had about given
up hope, an' was just pickin' out which would be the easiest
death, what should we see but somethin' bobbin' in an' out
among the bushes. Say, it was another bear! When it comes
a little closer, we makes out it was a httle lady bear. No sooner
does our old stern-chaser spy her than he sHdes down to the
groun', an' risin' up on his hind legs, throws out his chest, an'
cocks his eye at her, for all the world like a man when he sees
a pretty girl comin' his way. But when her dainty little lady-
ship ketches sight of his bald-headed stomach, she just tosses
up her nose with disgust, an' wheels roun' an' makes for the
tall timbers with our affectionate friend limpin' the best he
can after her.
**An' that's the last we sees o' the bear that tried to hold
up the Company's packet."
After the laughter had died down, Chief Factor Thompson
yawned:
"Well, gentlemen, it's getting on. I must be turning in
or my men will be late in getting under way in the morning."
GOD AND THE WIIJD MEN
Drowsiness had indeed overtaken the camp. But now I
must digress a moment to tell you something that the public —
at least the public that has derived its knowledge of northern
wilderness life from fiction — may find it hard to believe. And
this is what I want to say: that every one in that whole brigade
of wild men of the wilderness, from the lowest dog-driver right
up to the Chief Factor — ^when each had fixed his bed in readi-
ness for the night — knelt down, and with bowed head, said his
evening prayer to The Master of Life. Moreover, the fact that
two clergymen were present had nothing whatever to do with it,
MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 203
for the "barbarians" of the forest would have done just the
same had no priest been there — just as I have seen them do
scores and scores of times. In fact, in some sections of the
forest the native wilderness man — ^red, white, or half-breed —
who does not, is not the rule, but the exception. Then, too —
unless one's ears are closed to such sounds — one may oc-
casionally hear the voyageurs of the "North canoe" and the
"York boat" brigades, while straining on the tracking line,
singing, among other hymns:
Onward, Christian soldiers,
Marching as to war,
With the Cross of Jesus,
Groing on before.
And, furthermore, I wonder if the fiction-reading public will
beheve that the majority of the men in the fur brigades always
partake of the holy sacrament before departing upon their
voyages? Nevertheless, it is the truth — though of course
truth does not agree with the orgies of gun-play that spring
from the weird imaginations of the stay-at-home authors, who,
in their wild fancy, people the wilderness with characters from
the putrescence of civilization. It is time these authors were
enhghtened, for a man, native to the wilderness, is a better
man . . . more honest, more chivalrous, more generous,
and — at heart, though he talks less about it — ^more God-
respecting . . . than the man born in the city. That is
something the pubhc should never forget; for if the pubUc re-
members that, then the authors of wilderness stories will
soon have to change their discordant tune.
Yes, it is true, every one of those wild men said his evening
prayer and then, with his blanket wrapped about him, lay down
upon his thick, springy mattress of fir-brush, with his feet
toward the fire, and slumbered as only a decent, hard-working
204 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
man can. Out among the dancing shadows that flitted
among the snow-mantled bushes and heavily laden trees a
hundred and fifty eyes glared in the brooding darkness — as
though all the wolves in the forest were gathering there. Later,
when the sound of heavy breathing was heard round the fires,
a fierce, wolfish-looking dog, bolder than the rest, left its snowy
bed to hunt for more sheltered quarters. There was a whine,
a snarl, then the sound of clashing teeth. In a moment every
dog leaped up with bristHng hair. Instantly bedlam reigned.
Over seventy dogs waged the wildest kind of war and the dis-
tant woods reechoed the horrible din. A dozen blanketed
mounds rose up, and many long lashes whistled through the
air. The seething mass broke away and flew howling and
yelping into outer darkness followed by a roar of curses — but
only in civilized tongues.
Presently all was still again. The men lay down, and the
dogs, one by one, came slinking back to their resting places.
But in a couple of hours one of the half -frozen brutes silently
rose up, cautiously stepped among the sleeping men, and lay
couched close to a smouldering fire. Another followed and
then another until most of the dogs had left their beds. Grow-
ing bolder, a couple of the beasts fought for a warmer spot.
In their tussle they sprawled over one of the men, but a few
lusty blows from a handy frying-pan restored calm. As the
night wore on some of the dogs, not contented with sleeping
beside the men, curled up on top of their unconscious masters.
Then for hours nothing but the heavy breathing and snoring
in camp and the howling of distant wolves was heard. Slum-
ber had at last overtaken the wild men of the wilderness — who
always made it a rule to kneel down every night, and ask God
to bless their little children at home.
Now, though time still sped on, silence possessed the
forest — until:
"Hurrah, mes bons hommes! Levey, levey, levey! Up, up
MEETING OF THE WILD MEN 205
up, up, up!" ending in a shrill yell from the guide startled the
drowsy crew. It was three o'clock in the morning. Had it not
been for the brilhancy of the Northern Lights all would have
been in darkness. An obscure form bent over an ash-bed and
fumbled something. A tiny blaze appeared and rapidly grew
until the surroimding forest was aflare. Over the fires frying-
pans sizzled, while tea-pails heaped with snow began to steam.
A hurried breakfast followed. The sleds were packed. The
dogs, still curled up in the snow, pretended to be asleep.
"Caesar! Tigre! Cabri! Whiskey! Tete Noire! Pilot!
Michinass! Coffee! Bull! Brandie! Caribou! "shouted the
men. A few of the dogs answered to their names and came to
harness while some holding back were tugged forward by the
scruff of the neck. Others were still in hiding. The men
searched among the moimds and bushes. Every now and then
the crack of a whip and the yelp of a dog annoimced the finding
of a truant. Two trackers on large snowshoes had already
gone ahead to break the trail. It was easy to follow their tracks
though the woods were still in darkness and remained so for
several hours. At dawn Oo-koo-hoo and our httle outfit parted
company with the Dog Brigade. Already the packet was
many miles ahead. As I turned on my western way, I thought
of the work of these postmen of the wilderness, of the hardships
they endured, and the perils they braved; and the Chief
Factor's assertion that no packet had ever been lost beyond
recovery, recalled to mind other stories that were worth re-
membering: For instance, a canoe express was descending the
Mackenzie River; the canoe was smashed in an ice jam, and
the packeteers were drowned. A few weeks later passing
Indians caught sight of a stick bobbing in the surface of the
stream. Though the water was deep and the current was
running at the rate of three miles an hour, the stick remained
in the same place. So the Indians paddled over to investi-
gate. They found that to the floating stick was fastened a
206 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
long thong, which on being pulled up brought the missing
packet to hght.
Again, while making camp near the Athabasca River, the
packeteers had slung the packet in a tree, the usual place
for it while in camp. During the night their fire spread and
burned up the whole equipment except the tree, which, being
green, received Uttle more than a scorching. The packet was
unharmed.
On Great Slave Lake during a fierce snowstorm the packe-
teers became separated from their dogs, and were frozen to
death. But the packet was recovered.
In one autumn two packeteers journeying from George's
River Post to Ungava Post drew up their canoe on a sandy
beach, and camped beneath a high, overhanging bank. During
the night the bank gave way and buried them as they slept.
When the ice formed, the trader at Ungava sent out two men
to search for the missing packet. They found the canoe on the
beach; and from the appearance of the bank, conjectured what
had happened. Next spring the landsHde was dug into, and
the packeteers were found both lying under the same blanket,
their heads resting upon the packet.
VI
WILD ANIMALS AND MEN
WOLVEmNE AND HUNTER
One evening, while sitting before the fire in Oo-koo-hoo's
lodge, we heard soimds that told us that Amik had returned,
and presently he entered the tepee, full of wrath over the havoc
a wolverine had wrought along his trapping path. The pelts
of more dead game had been ruined; deadfalls had been broken;
and even some of his steel traps had been carried away. There
and then Oo-koo-hoo decided that he would drop all other work
and hunt the marauder.
For its size — ^being about three feet in length and from
twelve to eighteen inches high — the wolverine is an amazingly
powerful creature. In appearance it somewhat resembles a
small brown bear. Though it is not a fast traveller its
home range may cover anywhere from five to fifty miles. It
feeds upon all sorts of small game, and has been known to kill
even deer. It mates about the end of March, dens in any
convenient earthen hole or rocky crevice or cave that may
afford suitable shelter; and it makes its bed of dry leaves, grass,
or moss. The young, which number from three to five, are bom
in June. Whenever necessary, the mother strives desperately
to protect her young, and is so formidable a fighter that
even though the hunter may be armed with a gun, he runs
considerable risk of being injured by the brute. It has been
known to take possession of the carcass even of a caribou and
to stand off the hunter who had just shot it. Also, it has been
known to drive a wolf, and even a bear, away from their quarry.
207
208 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
The superstitious Indian not only believes that the wolverine
is possessed of the devil — for it is the most destructive animal
in the northern world — ^but he considers it also to be endowed
with great inteUigence. The wily Indian, however, knowing
the animal's habit of trying to destroy what it cannot carry
away, takes advantage of that very fact and hunts it ac-
cordingly.
All that has been said in relation to trapping the fox apphes
also to le Carcajou — i. e., the wolverine — save that the trap chain
should be doubled, and everything else made stronger and
heavier in proportion to the wolverine's greater size and
strength. That evening Oo-koo-hoo talked much of wolverines.
"My son, no other animal surpasses it in devihsh cunning.
For it is not content to merely spring a trap, but it will carry
it away — ^more often for a short distance, but sometimes for
miles — and hide or bury it. Later on the wolverine may visit
it again, carry it still farther away and bury it once more.
The wolverine has good teeth for cutting wood, and will some-
times free a trap from its clog by gnawing the pole in two. My
son, I have even known a wolverine go to the trouble of digging
a hole in which to bury a trap of mine; but just in order to fool
me, the beast has filled up the hole again, carried the trap to
another place, and there finally buried it. But as a good
hunter is very observant, he is seldom fooled that way, for the
wolverine, having very short legs, has difficulty in keeping both
the chain and the trap from leaving tell-tale marks in the snow.
"Yes, my son, the wolverine is a very knowing brute, and if
he thinks he may be trailed, he will sometimes — ^without the
shghtest sign of premeditation — ^jump sideways over a bush, a
log, or a rock, in order to begin, out of sight of any trailer, a new
trail; or he may make a great spring to gain a tree, and ascend
it without even leaving the evidence of freshly fallen bark.
Then, too, he may climb from tree to tree, by way of the
interlocking branches, for a distance of a hundred paces or more.
WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 209
all the while carrying the trap with him. Then, descending to
the ground, he may travel for a considerable distance before
eventually burying the trap. I have known him even leave a
trap in a tree, but in that case it was not done from design, for
signs proved that the chain had been caught upon a branch."
"How many wolverines," I asked, "do you suppose are caus-
ing all the trouble on your and Amik's trapping paths .^^"
" Only one, my son, for even one wolverine can destroy traps
and game for twenty or thirty miles around; and the reason
the brute is so persistent in following a hunter's fur path is
that it usually affords the wolverine an abundance of food.
Then, when the hunter finds the brute is bent on steady mis-
chief, it is time for him to turn from all other work and hunt
the thief. If at first steel traps fail, he may build special dead-
falls, often only as decoys round which to set, unseen, more steel
traps in wait for the marauder.
"If a hunter still fails, he may sit up all night in wait for
the robber, knowing that the more stormy the night, the
better his chance of shooting the brute. Sometimes, too, I
have found a wolverine so hard to catch that I have resorted
to setting traps in the ashes of my dead fires, or beneath the
brush I have used for my bed, while camping upon my trap-
ping path." Then he added with a twinkle about his eye and a
shake of his finger : "But, my son, I have another way and I am
going to try it before the moon grows much older."
I asked him to explain, but he only laughed knowingly, so I
turned the subject by asking :
"Does an animal ever eat the bait after it is caught.^"
"No, my son, no animal ever does that, not even if it be
starving, but it may eat snow to quench its thirst. Animals,
however, do not often starve to death when caught in traps,
but if the weather be very severe, they may freeze in a single
night. If, however, the beast is still ahve when the hunter
arrives, the prisoner will in most cases feign death in the hope
210 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
of getting free. That is true of most animals, and, fmihermore,
it will feign death even when other animals approach; but then,
more often, its purpose is to secure the advantage of making a
sudden or surprise attack."
An Indian named Larzie, who was engaged to hunt meat
for the priests at Fort Resolution, once came upon a wolverine
in one of his traps that had done that very thing and won the
battle, too. The snow, the trap, and the carcass of a wolf,
silently told Larzie every detail of the fight. The wolverine,
having been caught by the left hind leg, had attempted by
many means to escape, even trying to remove the nuts from the
steel trap with its teeth, as well as trying to break the steel
chain, and gnaw in two the wooden clog to which the trap was
fastened. But before accomphshing this, the wolverine had
spied a pack of five wolves approaching. In an effort to save
its life the wolverine worked itself down low in the snow and
there lay, feigning death. The cautious wolves, on sighting the
wolverine, began circling about, each time drawing a Httle
nearer. StiU suspicious, they sat down to watch the wolverine
for a while. Then they circled again, sat down once more, and
perhaps did a httle howling, too. Then they circled again, each
time coming closer, until at last, feeling quite sure the wolverine
was dead, one of the wolves, in a careless way, ventured too
near. No doubt it was then that the wolverine, peeping
through his almost closed eyehds, had seen his chance — that
the nearest wolf was now not only within reach, but off guard,
too — ^for the snow gave evidence of a sudden spring. The
wolverine had landed upon the back of the wolf, clung on with
his powerful forelegs, and not only ripped away at the wolf's
beUy with the long, sharp claws of his free hind foot, but
with his terrible jaws had seized the wolf by the neck and
chewed away at the spinal cord. Then, no doubt, the other
wolves, seeing their comrade overpowered and done to death,
had turned away and left the scene of battle. Later, Larzie
WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 211
had arrived, and after kilCng the wolverine and skinning both
the conquerer and the conquered, had lighted his pipe and
leisurely read every detail of the story in that morning's issue
of the forest pubhcation called The Snow,
Next morning, when I turned out before breakfast, I found
that Oo-koo-hoo had left camp before dayhght; and half the
afternoon passed before he returned. That evening he ex-
plained that during the previous night, the thought of the
wolverine having haunted him and spoilt his rest, he had
decided on a certain plan, risen before dawn, and started upon
the trail. Now he was full of the subject, and without my ask-
ing, described what he had done. Securing a number of fish
hooks — trout size — ^he had wired them together, enclosed them
in the centre of a ball of grease which he had placed inside an old
canvas bag, and fastened there with the aid of wires attached to
the hooks. Then, carrying the bag to where he foimd fairly
fresh wolverine signs, he had dropped it upon the trail as
though it had accidentally fallen there. The wolverine, he
explained, would probably at first attempt to carry away the
bag, but on scenting the grease it would paw the bag about;
then, upon discovering the opening, it would thrust its head
inside, seize the ball of grease in its mouth, and start to pull it
out. "If that should happen," commented Oo-koo-hoo,
"the wolverine would never leave that spot aHve; it would
just he there and wait for me to come and knock it on the
head."
But now at last — as later events proved — Oo-koo-hoo, the
great hunter, had encountered his match. Now it was no
longer an unequal contest, for now two could play at cunning —
especially when both were masters at the game. Three times
The Owl visited his latest wolverine trap, only to learn that
twice the brute had inspected it and spurned it, for its tracks
proved that caution had kept the animal more than five feet
away. Later, as the winter wore on, the subject of wolverines
212 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
was rarely mentioned as it did not add to the cheerfulness of
Oo-koo-hoo*s otherwise happy mood.
THE BEST FOOT-GEAR
About a week later, with a few days' outfit loaded upon our
sled, Oo-koo-hoo and I were heading first for the Moose Hills
where we were to hunt moose, and if successful, to cache the
meat where Granny and the boys could find it; then continuing
farther north we were to call upon The Owl's sister to deliver
her a present from the children of Oo-koo-hoo. In the meantime,
Amik had gone upon one of his trapping paths, and the boys
were off to a swampy region to examine deadfalls set for mink
and fisher. The boys had taken the dogs with them.
It was a fine, cold, sunny morning when Oo-koo-hoo and I set
out upon om* hunt, and with every breath we seemed to be
drinking aerial champagne that made us fairly tingle with the
joy of living — ^for such is the northern air in winter time.
As we snowshoed along I felt thankful for the excellent
socks with which the old hunter had provided me. On thelast
hunt my snowshoe thongs had blistered my feet, but now,
thanks to Oo-koo-hoo, I was shod with the most perfect foot-
gear for winter travel I have ever known — a natural sock that
was both bHster- and cold-proof. I had never heard of it before,
but The Owl assured me that it had been long in fashion among
the Indians. On each foot I was now wearing next my bare
skin a rabbit pelt — ^minus legs and ears — ^put on, hair side out,
while the skin was still green and damp, and then allowed to
dry and shape itself to the foot. Over the rabbit pelts I wore
my regular woollen socks, duffel neaps, and c£a*ibou-skin mitten
moccasins. The pelts had been removed from the rabbits by
simply cutting them between the hind legs, and then peeling
them off inside out. With the inside of the skin next the foot
bhsters never form, nor does the hair wear off and ball up under
''There s the York Factory packet from Hudson Bay to Winnipeg,
a distance of seven hundred miles. In winter it is hauled by dogs
between Selkirk and Oxford House, but between the latter post and
York Factory it is hauled by men with toboggans. All mails in and
out from Hudson Bay to or from the next post in the interior are
hauled by men. Dogs are seldom used on thu)se routes, on account
of . . ." See Chapter V
WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 213
the foot in such a way that it may hurt the wearer. Though
the rabbit pelt is very tender and tears easily, it can be worn for
five or six days of hard travel. For warmth and comfort it is
unexcelled.
Early that afternoon we came upon many lynx tracks,
evidently there had been a "pass of lynxes" as the hunters
call it, for lynxes have a way of gathering in bands of about four
to eight and passing through the forest. Oo-koo-hoo stated
that they migrated in that way from one region to another,
covering many miles in search of game, especially during the
years when the rabbit plague causes a great shortage of food;
and had he known of their presence in time, he would have cut
big heaps of poplar, birch, and willow branches to attract the
rabbits, and thus furnish more food for the lynxes. Hoping,
however, that he was not too late, he set what few snares he
had; nevertheless, he regretted that the boys had gone off
with the dogs, for, if they had not, he would have tried to trail
and tree the lynxes.
The boys had taken the dogs because they wanted them
to haul their sled. It was, however, against the advice of
their grandfather, for he had admonished them that only
white men and half-breeds would use dogs to haul a sled on a
trapping path; that a good hunter would never do such a foolish
thing, and for many reasons: the traps — being usually set
close to the path — ^were apt to be either set off or destroyed by
the swinging sled; besides, the dogs' tracks would obhterate
the tracks of game; also the dogs might be caught in the traps;
furthermore, the smell of dogs always inspired fear in animals,
again, the noise of driving dogs frightened the game away. So,
according to Oo-koo-hoo, the wise hunter either packs his load
upon his back, or, by himself, hauls it upon his sled. But one
must remember that The Owl was an Ojibway and that those
Indians as well as the Saulteaux Indians prefer to haul their
own sleds on the hunting trail and to keep their dogs solely
214 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
for trailing game; though all other Indians of the Strong Woods
use their dogs for hauling sleds. One advantage of the Ojihway
custom is that hunting dogs — ^when running loose — ^never have
to be fed.
Amik, however, being a rather shiftless fellow, often spoilt
his boys as much as the average white father spoils his, for
he never thrashed them, though they frequently deserved it,
and having given in to them on many previous occasions, he
had now let them take the dogs. But speaking of parents'
treatment of children, even an old she-bear could give many a
civilized father or mother pointers on how to bring up children,
for even among animals and birds one frequently finds a model
parent.
According to the verdict of the old fur-traders, the best
trapper is the uncivilized Indian. Though, apparently, he
does not derive the same amount of sport from his work as the
white man does, he never shirks his work and always takes
great pains to prepare for and perfect the setting of his traps.
Though he is slow, he is, nevertheless, sure and deadly in his
work. Oo-koo-hoo assiu-ed me that the secret of successful
hunting was inteUigence, caution, and patience.
During December and January, or according to the Indians,
Yeyekoopewe Pesim — "The Rime Moon," and Kakisapowa-
tukinum — "The Moon When Everything Is Brittle," there is
always a lull in the trapping, for the reason that then the
days are shorter and the weather colder, and on that account
and also on account of the fact that the sun and winds of March
have not arrived to harden the deep soft snow, the forest
creatures prefer to remain more at home.
APPROACHING MOOSE
In approaching the Moose Hills we saw many moose tracks,
but they were old, the freshest having been made two days
WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 215
before. The age of these the hunter was able to detennine
from the amount of newly fallen snow in the track, as well as
from other conditions; for he well remembered how much snow
had fallen each day for the last week or two, when and which
way the wind had blown, and when the sun was strong and the
cold severe. Now selecting a two-day-old trail as the best
for us to follow, he decided to camp for the night, and we spent
the interval between supper and bedtime discussing not only
the hunting of moose, but also their range and habits.
The extreme range of a moose covers from five to fifteen
miles. More often it is confined to a much smaller area that
merely includes the low-lying river and lake valleys that afford
him the choicest of summer food — the pineapple-hke roots of
waterlihes — and also affords him protection from flies while
he is wading and delving for those very roots; and the
higher lands among the hills, where he spends the winter in
the denser forest.
But it is in midsummer that we can study the moose with
greatest ease, for then he spends the sunrises and sunsets
wading among the lily pads, and if we £tre careful to observe the
direction of the wind to guard against being scented, and also
careful to cease paddhng or any other motion before the big
brute looks at us, we may, with the greatest ease and safety,
propel our canoe to within from a hundred yards to fifty or
forty feet of the great beast as he stands looking at us
with raised head and dilating nostrils trying to catch our scent.
If he catches it, he suddenly tosses his ponderous head, drops
back slightly on his hind legs as he swings round, and is off
with a grunt. Nevertheless, he — or she — will pause long enough
to leave the sign that all deer leave upon the ground when
suddenly startled by — to them — the dreadful smeU of human
beings. Or if it happens to be moonhght and the moose is a
bit mystified by the steady, but silent, scentless, and motionless
approach of our canoe, he may at first stand gazingat us, then
216 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
grunt at us, then back out of the water up on to the bank and
there stand, not fifty feet away, towering above us — ^for he
may measiu-e from six to seven feet at the shoulder and
weigh three quarters of a ton — shaking his great antlers and
grunting, or perhaps, more properly speaking, barking at us
while he stamps his big fore hoofs ,until he shakes the very
river bank.
How children love to take part in such sport! How they
thrill over such an experience! Many a time I have taken
them right up to even the largest of bulls until the Httle tots
could look into the very eyes of the greatest of all living deer.
What fine httle hunters, too, they made, never speaking, not
even in a whisper; never moving — ^save only their eyelids.
In fact, I have been so close to wild moose that on one occasion
I could have spanked a huge bull with my paddle. He was
standing belly-deep in the river with his head under water,
and so close did my canoe ghde past him that I had to turn it
to prevent it from running in between his hind legs. It was
the sound of turning aside the canoe that brought his head up,
and when he beheld the cause, he lunged forward and trotted
away leaving a great wake of surging foam behind him. His
head, crowned with massive antlers, was a ponderous affair.
His body was as large as that of a Shire staUion and his back
just as flat, while his legs were very much longer. He was
the largest moose I have ever seen — and yet, by leaning shghtly
toward him, I could have spanked him with my paddle! One
such experience with a great, wild animal, is more adventure-
some, more thrilling and more satisfactory, than the shooting
of a hundred such creatures. It is more than the sport of kings
— ^it is the sport of men of common sense.
On another occasion, at Shahwandahgooze, in Quebec,
in broad dayhght, I paddled a friend of mine right in between
three bulls and a cow, and there we rested with moose on three
sides of us. They were standing in a semicircle and no one of
WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 217
them was more than fifty paces away. They were unusually
fine specimens and had the bulls been triplets they could not
have been more alike even to the detail of their antlers. The
cow paid httle attention to us and went on feeding while the
bulls, with heads held much higher than usual, stood as though
in perfect pose for some sculptor. There wasn't a breath of
wind and the wondrous spell must have lasted from eight to ten
minutes; then a faint zephyr came and carried our tell-tale
scent to them and they wheeled round and trotted away. Yet
the head hunter from the city, who usually stands off at long
range and fires at the first sight of game, will argue that killing
is the greatest sport; when in truth it requires greater courage
and greater skill to approach, unarmed, so close to game that
one may touch it with a fish pole, and the reward is a much
greater and a more satisfactory thrill than the head hunter
ever gets from lying off at long range with a high-powered rifle
and utterly destroying life. Fiu-thermore, think of how much
better one can study natural history by observing live animals
in action, rather than motionless ones in death! An artist, in
his effort to render a perfect portrait of a human being, never
murders his sitter, as the so-called "sportsman-naturalist"
does. It seems to me that if sportsmen were more active,
more skilful, and more courageous, they would give up slaugh-
tering animals and birds for the sake of the unbounded pleasure
and adventure of observing wild game at closer quarters; but in
truth, long experience has taught me that the average hunter
from the city is something of a coward — never daring to
walk alone in the forest without his trusty, life-destroying
machines.
But if those same hunters would only take a little more
interest in nature, pluck up a little more courage, and re-
member that the wild animals of the northern forest are less
vicious — when unmolested — than are many of the tame animals
of civilization, how much more sane they would be. Re-
218 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
member, it is much safer to approach the great bulls of the
forest than it is to approach the smaller bulls of the farmers'
fields. Likewise, when tramping along the rural road one runs
a much greater chance of being bitten by the farmer's dog, than
one does, when travelling through the forest, of being bitten by
a wolf. Then, too, it is just the same of men, for the men of
the cities are much more quarrelsome, dishonest, and evil-
minded than are those of the wilderness, and that, no doubt,
accoimts for the endless slandering of the wilderness dwellers
by fiction writers who live in towns, for those authors — never
having lived in the wilderness — form their judgment of hfe,
either as they have experienced it in cities or as they imagine
it to be in the wilderness.
THE OUTLAW AND NEW YORKER
Now, in order to confirm my statement, I shall go to the very
extreme and quote what Al Jennings, the notorious outlaw, says
upon this very subject. The quotation is taken from Jen-
nings' reminiscences of his prison days, when he and the late
lamented Wilham Sydney Porter — the afterward famous
author 0. Henry — ^formed such a strong friendship. In the
following dialogue Jennings is in New York City visiting Porter
— ^whom he calls "Bill" — and Porter is speaking:
"I have accepted an invitation for you, Colonel." He was
in one of his gently sparkhng moods. "Get into your armor
asinorum, for we fare forth to make contest with tinsel and
gauze. In other words, we mingle with the proletariat. We
go to see Margaret Anghn and Henry Miller in that superb and
realistic Western libel, *The Great Divide.' "
After the play the great actress, Porter, and I, and one or two
others were to have supper at the Breslin Hotel. I think Porter
took me there that he might sit back and enjoy my unabashed
criticisms to the young lady's face.
WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 219
"I feel greatly disappointed in you, Mr. Porter," Margaret
Anglin said to Bill as we took our places at the table.
"In what have I failed?"
"You promised to bring your Western friend — that terrible
Mr. Jennings — to criticize the play."
"Well, I have introduced him." He waved his hand down
toward me.
Miss Anglin looked me over with the trace of a smile in her
eye.
"Pardon me," she said, "but I can hardly associate you
with the lovely things they say of you. Did you like the
play.^"
I told her I didn't. It was unreal. No man of the West
would shake dice for a lady in distress. The situation was un-
heard of and could only occur in the imagination of a fat-
headed Easterner who had never set his feet beyond the
Hudson.
Miss Anglin laughed merrily. "New York is wild over it;
New York doesn't know any better."
Porter sat back, an expansive smile spreading a hght in his
gray eyes.
"I am inclined to agree with our friend," he offered. "The
West is unacquainted with Manhattan chivalry."
That is the truth in a sentence; and while 0. Henry and
Jennings have spoken for the West, may I add my own exper-
ience of wilderness men and say that the North, also, is unac-
quainted with Manhattan chivalry.
LAW AND ORDER ENFORCED
Furthermore, while upon this subject, I wish to add to my
own protest against the novelists' wild dreams of outlawry in
the Canadian wilderness, a quotation from E. Ward Smith's
"Chronicles of the Klondyke." Mr. Smith — as you no doubt
220 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
remember — ^was the first city clerk, treasm-er, assessor, and tax
collector of Dawson City; and this is what he says:
" I want to say at the very outset that the Yukon was, in my
opinion at least, one of the most orderly corners of the earth.
Even in the early days of the boom, when miners and ad-
venturers of all nationalities poured in, the scales of justice
were held firmly and rigidly. The spell of the Mounted Police
hung over the snow-bound land and checked the evil-doer. It
may sound ridiculous when I assert that the Yukon — ^that
gathering spot of so much of the scum of the earth — ^was better
poHced than Winnipeg, or Toronto, or Halifax; but, neverthe-
less, I beheve it to be a fact.
**0f com-se, crimes were conamitted, some of which were
never solved. Doubtless, also many deeds of violence occurred
whose authors never came to fight. But, on the whole, life
and property were surprisingly secure. One day I visited
the cabin of my friend Lippy, who made a million or so upon
El Dorado. The door was partly open, so, on receiving no
response to my knock, I walked in. The cabin was empty.
On the table was a five-gallon pail heaped high with ghttering
nuggets of gold! I glanced around the place. On the shelves
and rafters, on chairs and under bunks, were cans fiUed with
gold. There was a snug fortune in sight. Any one could have
sfipped in and stolen the lot. I took Lippy to task about it
when he came in. He did not seem at all concerned, however.
"Pshaw," he said, "I always have quite a lot of gold about.
But no one would steal it. I've never lost anything."
But as the Yukon and New York are a long way from where
Oo-koo-hoo was hunting, let us return to his Moose Hills.
THE WAYS OF THE MOOSE
Moose mate in September and October, and during this
period great battles between bulls frequently occur before the
WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 221
victor walks off with his hard-won spouse. The young — either
one or two, but generally two after the mother's first experience
— are bom in May, in some secluded spot, and the calves soon
begin to follow their mother about, and they follow her, too,
into their second year. Horns begin to grow on the young
bull before he is a year old, but they are mere knobs until he
is a year and a half old, when spikes form; by the third year
he is supphed with antlers. The perfect antlers of a big
bull sometimes measure seventy inches across, yet every
winter — ^in January or February — the horns are shed. During
the mating season moose are frequently hunted by the method
known as "calling. " The hunter, with the aid of a birch-bark
megaphone, imitates the long-drawn call of the cow, to attract
the bull. Then, when a bull answers with his guttural grunt of
Oo-ah, Oo-ahy the Indian imitates that sound, too, to give the
first bull the impression that a second is approaching, and thus
provokes the first to hurry forward within range of the hunter's
gun. But when the rutting season is over, the hunting is done
by snaring or stalking or trailing. The moose derives its
winter food principally from browsing upon hardwood twigs,
and when the deep snows of midwinter arrive, he is generally to
be found in a "yard" where such growth is most abundant.
A moose yard is usually composed of a series of gutters from
one foot to eighteen inches wide, intersecting one another at
any distance from ten to fifty feet or more apart, and each
gutter being punctured about every three feet with a post hole
in which the moose steps as it walks. The space between the
tracks is generally nothing but deep, soft snow, anywhere from
three to five feet in depth.
Beside the moose tracks that Oo-koo-hoo and I had seen that
day was much silver birch and red willow, and from the signs of
freshly cropped twigs we knew that the moose were not un-
usually tall, and we knew, too, from the fact that the tracks were
sharply defined as well as from their ordinary size and that they
222 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
were not deeply impressed in the snow, that the moose were
those of about three years old.
THE OWL TRACKS MOOSE
That night, as Oo-koo-hoo was in a talkative mood, he told
me much about the hunting of moose, as we sat before our
snow-encircled fire in the still, silent, sombre woods.
"We hunters usually take moose by shooting or snaring
them, and the first thing to do is to find a track, and if it is old,
foUow it up until new signs appear. And now, my son, as you
may some day want to hunt moose on your own account, I shall
tell you how to trail them and what to do when you find them.
Listen to my words and remember : As soon as you find a fresh
track, look toward the sun to learn the time of day; for if it is
between eight and nine on a winter morning the moose will be
feeding, as it seldom hes down until between ten and three.
If feeding, the track will zig-zag about, and for a time head
mainly up wind, until its feeding is nearly done, then if the wind
is from the right, the moose will turn to the left and circle down
wind and finally come about close to its old trail where it will
He down to rest. So when you find a zig-zagging track about
which the brush has been browsed, and when the wind comes
from the right of the trail, you, too, should circle to the left, but
instead of circhng down wind as the moose has done, or is now
doing, you circle up wind until you either approach the danger
point where the wind may carry your scent to the moose,
or otherwise, until you cut the moose's track. In either case
you should now retrace your steps for some distance and then
begin a new circle, and this time, a smaller one. If you now
find a new trail, but still no sign that the moose has turned up
wind, or is about to do so, you retrace your steps and begin a
still smaller circle, then when you strike the trail again, you can
judge fairly well — ^without even getting a sight of it — the exact
WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 223
position of your quarry. Then is the time to take off your
snowshoes and approach with greater care then ever; but re-
member, always keep to leeward of the track and always look
up wind. Should you now come to an open space, watch care-
fully any clumps of trees or bushes; if passing through heavy
timber, watch for an opening, and if there should be fallen tim-
ber there, scan it most carefully where the dead trees lie, for
there, too, your game may be lying. Remember, my son, if you
approach a moose directly he will either see or scent you, and
in circling, you must understand that only the skill of the
hunter in reading the signs can successfully determine the size
of the circle — sometimes it may cover a quarter of a mile.
"Then, too, my son, the seasons play a part in hunting. In
winter, a moose, of course, does not go to water, but eats snow
to slake its thirst. But whenever there is open water, a moose
will go to drink about sunrise; in the fly season, however, all
rules are broken, as the brute then goes to water night or day,
to get rid of the pests, and it will even remain submerged with
nothing above the surface — save its nose. In stormy weather
look for moose among heavy timber, and in fair weather search
the open feeding places. But in bad weather, though the hun-
ter gains one advantage, the moose gains another; for while
many twigs and sticks are apt to be broken by the high wind
and thus the sound of the hunter's approach is less likely to be
heard, the eddying currents of air are then more apt to carry
the hunter's scent to the moose regardless of the fact that his
approach may be faultless.
"Also, my son, you must be careful not to disturb the httle
tell-tale creatures of the woods or success that seems so near
may vanish in a moment; for a raven may fly overhead, and
spying you, circle about — just as the pigeons used to do —
and then crying out may warn the moose of your presence.
Or you may flush a partridge; or a squirrel, taking fright,
may rush up a tree and begin chattering about you; or a rabbit
224 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
may go druimning into a thicket, and the moose, reading these
signs of alarm, will surely look about to learn the cause.
"But, my son, should you spy a moose lying down, it is
rather risky to fire at it in that position, as it is then hard to hit
a vital spot. The better way is to stand with cocked gun
covering the game, and then break a twig — not too sharply
though, or you may scare away your quarry. Watch its ears:
if they flop back and forward, it has heard nothing, but if both
ears point in your direction, keep still and be ready, for it has
heard you, and now with one great spring it may disappear
into a thicket. Instead of breaking a twig, some hunters prefer
to whistle like a startled rabbit while other hunters prefer to
speak to the moose in a gentle voice, always taking care to use
none but kindly words, such as for instance: *0h, my lazy
brother, I see you are sleeping long this morning.'
"For we Indians never speak harshly to so good an animal,
nor do we ever use bad words, as bad words always bring bad
luck to the hunter.
"In winter, my son, a moose makes much noise in walking
and feeding, for then he often breaks off the tops of Httle trees —
though some of the trimks may be as thick as a man's arm.
The moose breaks down trees of such a size by placing his big
shoulder against it, and curving his powerful neck round it, and
then bending it over with his massive head. Then, too, he often
rides down small trees, such as birch or poplars, just by strad-
dling his fore legs about them and using his chest to force them
over.
"In shooting a moose, remember the best spot is just behind
the shoulder, and while the next best is in the kidneys, the head
is not a good shot for a smooth-bore gun, for bone often deflects a
round ball. A good hunter always tries to get a clear view of
his quarry, for even a twig may deflect his bullet. And re-
member, too, my son, that as a rule, when coming upon a fresh
track, it is wiser to back-track it than to follow it up at once.
WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 225
as back-tracking will provide the hunter with about all the
information he may require, as the back trail will tell him if the
game was traveUing fast or slow, whether it was fleeing in
fright or feeding; and if feeding, whether it was feeding quietly
or in haste; and if in haste, the twigs would be torn oflf instead of
being clean cut. Sometimes a good hunter will back-track a
trail several miles in order to assure the success of his hunt.
" My son, if a moose is badly frightened by man-smell it may
at first go off on the gallop and then settle down to a steady trot
for four or five miles before it stops to hsten — ^but not to feed.
Then, turning its head this way and that, and even trembUng
with excitement, as it throws its snout into the air, to test if
danger is still following, it may then start off again on another
long trot, but all the time it will, as much as possible, avoid open
places. Later it may attempt to feed by tearing off twigs as
it hurries along, and then at last it will circle to leeward and
finally rest not far from its old trail. Under such conditions,
the distance a moose travels depends largely upon the depth of
the snow. Two or three feet of snow will not hamper it much,
but when the depth is four feet, or when the moose's belly begins
to drag in the snow, the brute will not travel far. An old bull
will not run as far as a young one, and a cow will not travel as
far as a bull; but when tired out a moose sleeps soundly, so
soundly, indeed, that a hunter can easily approach as close
as he pleases. But don't forget, my son, that a good hunter
never runs a moose — at least, not unless he is starving — as
running a moose spoils the meat.
" Sometimes, my son, a hunter may use a dog to trail a moose,
but it is dangerous work for the dog, as the moose may turn at
bay and strike at the dog with any one of its chisel-like hoofs
or may even seize the dog by the back in its mouth, carry it for
a httle way, then throw it into the air and when it falls trample
it to death. So, my son, when hunting moose in that way, it
is best to have two dogs or more, as then one dog may attack
226 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
while another is being pursued. But I warn you, if you are in
pursuit of a moose and if he turns at bay for the first time . . .
look out ... for then he wiU surely attack you; if, how-
ever, he turns at bay through sheer exhaustion or from over-
whelming pain, he wiQ not always fight; but under the first
condition, the hunter is a fool if he approaches within ten paces
of a bayed moose."
* THE owl" makes A KILL
Rising early next morning we made a very small fire to cook
our breakfast and were ready to start as soon as dawn came to
light us on our way. Oo-koo-hoo took great care in loading his
gun as he expected to come upon moose at any time. He
placed a patch of cotton about the ball before ramming it in,
and made sure that the powder showed in the nipple before
putting on the percussion cap. And as he took his fire-steel
and whetted a keener edge upon his knife, a smile of hunter's
contentment overspread his face, because he well knew how
soon he was to use the blade. That morning he did not fight his
pipe as usual because, as he explained, he wanted to have his
wits about him; furthermore, he did not wish to add to the
strength of his man-smell; and whispering to me he added with
a smile:
l%"My son, when I smell some men, especially some white
men, I never blame the animals of the Strong Woods for
taking fright and running away."
And that reminds me that while we white people consider the
negro the standard-bearer of the most offensive of all human
body smells, the Indiein always unhesitatingly awards the pahn
to the white man, and sometimes even the Indian children and
babies, when they get an unadulterated whiff from a white
man, wiU take such fright that it is hard for their mothers to
console them — a fact that has often made me wonder what
WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 227
the poor little tots would do if they scented one of those highly
painted and perfumed "ladies" that parade up and down
Piccadilly, Fifth Avenue, or Yonge Street?
After following the trail for about fifteen minutes, we came
to where the moose had been lying down, and the hunter whis-
pered:
"My son, I am glad I did not smoke, but I am sorry that we
camped so near." Then he added as he pointed to the im-
pression of a moose's body in the snow: "A moose seldom lies
twice in the same place in the snow, as the old bed would be
frozen and hard as well as dirty."
But as we had not made much noise, nor cut any big wood
to make a fire, he was hopeful that our chances were still good;
and at sunrise he concluded that it was time we should leave our
sled behind and begin to track om* quarry more cautiously.
From then on there was to be no talking — not even in a whis-
per. Soon we came upon yesterday's tracks, then farther on we
saw where the moose had circled before lying down again for the
night, with their eyes guarding their front while their scent
guarded their rear.
At last we came upon still fresher signs that told that the
moose might be within a hundred paces or less. At a signal
from the old hunter I imitated him by shpping off my snow-
shoes, and standing them upon end in the snow, and Oo-koo-
hoo leading the way, began to circle to our right as a gentle
wind was coming on our left. Now our progress was indeed
slow, and also perfectly noiseless. It seemed to take an age
to make a semicircle of a couple of hundred paces. Again we
came upon the tracks of the moose. The signs were now
fresher than ever. Retracing our own tracks for a httle way
we started on another circle, but this time, a smaller one, for we
were now very near the moose. Silent ages passed, then
we heard the swishing of a pulled branch as it flew back into
place; a few steps nearer we progressed; then we heard the
228 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
munching sound of a large animars jaws. Oo-koo-hoo rose
slightly from his stooped position, peered through the branches
of a dense spruce thicket, crouched again, turned aside for
perhaps twenty paces . . . looked up again . . .
raised his gun and saying in a gentle voice: "My brother, I
need . . ." he fired.
Instantly there was a great commotion beyond the thicket,
one sound running off among the trees, while the other, the
greater sound, first made a brittle crash, then a ponderous thud
as of a large object falling among the dead under-branches.
The hunter now straightened up and with his teeth pulled
the plug from his powder horn, poured a charge into his gun,
spat a bullet from his mouth into the barrel, struck the butt
violently upon the palm of his left hand, then slipping a cap
upon the nipple, moved cautiously forward as he whispered:
" Its neck must be broken." Soon we saw what had happened.
One moose was lying dead, the ball had struck it in the
neck; it was a three-year-old cow — the one Oo-koo-hoo had
selected — while the other, a bull, had left nothing but its
tracks.
Presently The Owl re-loaded his gim with greater care, then
we returned for our snowshoes and to recover our toboggan
before we started to skin the carcass. On the way Oo-koo-hoo
talked of moose hunting, and I questioned him as to why he
had turned aside for the last time, just before he fired, and he
answered:
"My son, I did it so that in case I should miss, the report
of my gun would come from the right direction to drive the
moose toward home and also toward our sled; and in case,
too, that I hit the moose and only wounded it, the brute would
run toward our sled and not take us farther away from it.
Also, my son, if I had merely wounded the beast, but had seen
from the way it flinched that it had been struck in a vital spot,
■| I would not have followed immediately, but would have sat
WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 229
down and had a smoke, so as not to further disturb the wounded
animal before it had time to bleed to death. Besides, a mere
glance at the trail would tell me whether or not I had mortally
wounded the moose — ^whether the brute was hit high or low, and
whether the blood was dark or hght. If hit high, the blood
would be upon the branches as well as upon the snow; if the
blood was black it would mean that an artery had been severed
and that the moose was mortally wounded. If the latter had
happened, then would be the time for me to get out my pipe
and have a smoke."
SKINNING ANIMALS
As we were to be busy for the rest of the day, we made a
suitable camp and started a fire and by that time the moose
had stiffened enough for proper handling while removing the
skin. As usual the hunter's first act was to cut the eyes, then
to cut off the head, which he at once skinned and, removing the
tongue, hung the head beside the fire to cook while we went on
with our work.
But while we propped up the moose and got it into good
position, three whiskey jacks (Canada Jays) came, as they
always seem to come at the first sign of smoke, to pay us a
visit and partake of the feast. They are fluffy, heavily feath-
ered httle birds of gray, with wings and tail of darker hue,
and with a white spot on their forehead. They are not un-
like the blue jay in their calls and shrieks, though they have
some notes of their own that are of a quieter, softer tone. They
are friendly httle beggars that will at times come so near that
they may occasionally be caught in one's hand; but while
one likes to have them about for the sake of their companion-
ship, they will, uninvited, take a share of anything that is good
to eat. They are the most famihar birds to be seen in the
winter forest, and they have a remarkable way of laying their
230 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
eggs and nesting in the month of Mairch when the weather
may register from twenty to forty below zero.
In the forest there are several different ways of skinning
animals: one is called "case skinning" and another is called
"split skinning." To case skin an animal such as ermine, fox,
fisher, lynx, marten, mink, otter, muskrat, rabbit, or skunk,
the skin is cut down the inner side of each hind leg until the
two cuts meet just under the tail, and then the pelt is peeled
off by turning it inside out. To split skin an animal such
as wood-buffalo, moose, wapiti, caribou, deer, bear, beaver,
woff, or wolverine, the skin is cut down the belly from throat
to tail and also on the inside of each leg to the centre cut,
and then the pelt is peeled off both ways toward the back.
All spht skins are stretched on rectangular frames — all save
beaver skins which are stretched on oval frames. All case
skins are stretched over wedge-shaped boards of various sizes —
all save muskrat skins which are more often stretched over a
hooped frame or a looped stick. So, of course, our moose pelt
was "spHt skinned," but there is still another way to skin an
animal that is too large for one man to turn over, and that
is — in case the animal is lying on its belly — to spHt the skin
down the back and then peel it off both ways toward the
beUy.
If the skin is to be used as a robe, the hair is left on, and the
animal's brains are rubbed into the inner side of the pelt, after
the fat has been removed, and then the skin is left to dry.
That softens the pelt; but traders prefer skins to be sun-dried
or cold-dried. If the skin is to be used as leather, the hair
is cut off with a knife, and a deer's shin-bone is used as a
dressing tool in scraping off the fat; both sides of the skin are
dressed to remove the outer surface. It is easier to dress a
skin in winter than in summer, but summer-made leather
wears better, for the reason that the roots of the hair run all
through a summer skin; whereas in winter the roots show only
WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 231
on the outer side; that is why a fur-trader — ^when looking only
at the inner side — can tell whether a skin has been taken in
winter or summer. In dressing leather the inner side is rubbed
well with brains which are then allowed to soak in for three or
four days; then the skin is soaked in a vessel filled with water —
but not in a river — for about two days more; then it is stretched
again and let dry, then scraped with a bone, shell, or steel
scraper — ^if it is a moose skin, only on one side, but if it is a
caribou skin, on both sides. The object of scraping is to
further soften the skin. After that, it is taken ojff the stretcher
and rubbed together between the hands and pulled between
two people. Then it is stretched again and smoked over a
slow fire that does not blaze.
Woodsmen hunt moose for food and clothing. Townsmen
hunt moose for the satisfaction of killing. But should the
townsman fail in his hunt, he may hire a native "Head Hun-
ter" to secure a head for him; and that reminds me of one night
during the early winter, when a strange apparition was seen
crossing the lake. It appeared to have wings, but it did not
fly, and though it possessed a tail, it did not run, but contented
itself with moving steadily forward on its long, up-turned feet.
Over an arm it carried what might have been a trident, and
what with its waving tail and great outspreading wings that
rose above its horned-like head, it suggested that nothing less
than Old Beelzebub himself had come from his flaming region
beyond to cool himself on the snow-covered lake. But in
reahty it was just Oo-koo-hoo returning with a fine pair of
moose horns upon his back, and which he counted on turning
over to the trader for some city sportsman who would readily
pahn it off as a trophy that had faUen to his unerring aim, and
which he had brought down, too, with but a single shot . . .
of $25.
While at work I recaUed how Oo-koo-hoo had surmised,
before be had examined the carcass, that he had broken the
232 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
moose's neck with his ball, and on questioning him as to how he
knew, he repUed:
"My son, if an animal is hit in the neck and the neck is
broken, the beast will collapse right where it is; but if hit in the
heart, it will lunge forward; if hit in the nose, it will rear up;
if hit in the spine, it will leap into the air. Yes, my son, I
have seen a great bull buffalo leap lynx-like, into the air,
when it was struck in the spine."
Knowing that the hunter had wanted to procure more than
one moose I asked him why he had not at once pursued the
other? And he explained :
"For two reasons, my son: first, because I don't want a bull,
I want the tenderer meat and the softer skin of a cow; and
secondly, even if I had wanted him, I would not have pursued
him at once as that would cause him to run. If a moose is
pinrsued on the run, it overheats, and that spoils the meat,
because the moose is naturally a rather inactive animal that
lives on a small range and travels very Uttle; but it is quite
different with the caribou, for the caribou is naturally an active
animal, a great traveller, that wanders far for its food, and to
pursue it on the run only improves the flavour and the texture
of its meat."
OLD-TIME HUNTING
After supper, as we sat in the comfortable glow of the fire,
we talked much of old-time hunting, for in certain parts of the
Great Northern Forest many of the ancient methods are
practised to-day. Fire is often made by friction ; many hunters
still use the bow and arrow, while others use the flintlock gun;
frequently, too, they rely upon their spears; bone knives and
awls as well as stone axes are still applied to work; fish nets are
yet woven from the inner bark of cedar; and still to-day wooden
baskets and birch-bark rogans are used for the purpose of heat-
ing water and boiling food. Notwithstanding our far over-
WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 233
rated civilization the natives in some sections are dressed to-day
in clothing entirely derived from the forest.
One of the most ancient methods of hunting and one which
is still in vogue in some remote localities is the "drive." Two
famous places for drive hunting in olden days were Point
Carcajou on Peace River, and the Grand Detour on Great
Slave River. The former driving ground was about thirty
miles long by about three miles across, while the latter was
about fifteen miles long by about three miles across. The
mode of hunting was for a party of Indians to spread out
through the woods, and all, at an appointed time, to move for-
ward toward a certain point, and thus drive the game before
them, until the animals, on coming out into the open at the
other end, were attacked by men in ambush. At those driving
grounds in the right season — even if a drive of only a few miles
were made — the Indians could count on securing two or three
bears, three or four moose, and twelve or fifteen caribou. But
in later years, a number of the drivers having been accidentally
shot from ambush, the practice has been discontinued in those
localities.
THE BEAR IN HIS WASH
It is not an uncommon occurrence for a hunter, when travel-
ling through the winter woods, to discover the place where a
bear is hibernating; the secret being given away by the
condensed breath of the brute forming hoar frost about the im-
perfectly blocked entrance to the wash. The Indians' hunting
dogs are experts at finding such hidden treasure, and when they
do locate such a claim, they do their best to acquaint their
master of the fact.
One day when Oo-koo-hoo was snowshoeing across a beaver
meadow, his dogs, having gained the wooded slope beyond,
began racing about as though they had scented game and
were trying to connect a broken trail. So The Owl got out his
234 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
pipe and sat down to have a smoke while his dogs were busily
engaged. Presently they centred on a certain spot, and
Oo-koo-hoo, going over, discovered the tell-tale hoar frost.
Twisting out of his snowshoes — ^for an Indian never has to
touch his hands to them when he puts them on or takes them
off — ^he used one of them for a shovel, and digging away the
snow, he came upon a bear's wash. It was quite a cave and
dark inside, and as the dogs refused to enter, the hunter crawled
into the entrance and reaching in as far as he could with his
hand, felt the forms of two bears. Making sure of the exact
position of the head of one of them, he then shoved his gun
in until the muzzle was close to the ear of one of the bears
and then he fired. The explosion aroused the other bear and
as it crawled out Oo-koo-hoo killed it with his axe. The latter
was a brown bear while the former was a black.
When a bear in his den shows fight and threatens danger,
the hunter may wedge two crossed poles against the opening
of the wash, leaving only enough space for the brute to squeeze
through and thus prevent it from making a sudden rush.
Then when the bear does try to come out, the hunter, standing
over the opening, kills it with the back of his axe. Sometimes
a second hole is dug in order to prod the beast with a pole to
make it leave its den. The white hunter frequently uses fire
to smoke a bear out, but not infrequently he succeeds in ruin-
ing the coat by singeing the hair. It requires more skill, how-
ever, to find a bear's wash than it does to kill him in his den.
The Indians hunt for bear washes in the vicinity of good fishing
grounds or in a district where berries have been plentiful.
One winter when I happened to be spending a few days
at Brunswick House an old Indian woman came to call upon
the Hudson's Bay trader's wife, and, while she was having
afternoon tea, she casually remarked that while on her way
to the Post she had espied a bear wash. Digging down into
its den with one of her snowshoes, she had killed the brute with
WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 235
her axe, and if the other guests would care to see her prize,
it was lying on her sled, just outside the door. What a con-
trast to the way the Wild West movie actors would have done
the deadly work with the aid of all their absurd artillery!
Nevertheless, that kindly spoken, smiling-faced, motherly old
lady, did the deed with nothing but her little axe.
But while the men of the wilderness laugh over the serious
drivel of most fiction writers who make a specialty of northern
tales, nothing is so supremely ludicrous as the attempts made
by the average movie director to depict northern life in Canada.
Never have I seen a photoplay that truthfully illustrated north-
em Canadian life.
THE WOLVERINE AND GILL NET
Next day we again set out on a moose trail, but, as iU luck
followed us in the way of a heavy snowstorm, we gave up the
chase and continued on our way. It was hard going and we
stopped often. Once we halted to rest beside a number of
otter tracks. Otters leave a surprisingly big trail for animals
of their size. A good imitation could be made of an otter's
trail by pressing down into the snow, in a horizontal position,
a long, irregular stove pipe of the usual size. The reason the
otter's trail is so formed, is that the animal, when travelling
through deep snow, progresses on its belly and propels itself
principally by its hind legs, especially when going down hill.
When making a hillside descent an otter prefers to use an old,
well-worn track and ghdes down it with the ease and grace
of a toboggan on its shde. It was the sight of the otter's trail
that set Oo-koo-hoo thinking of his younger days.
"Years ago, my son, I very nearly killed a man. It hap-
pened at just such a place as this: a httle lake with a patch
of open water above a spring. It was on my father's hunting
grounds, and late one afternoon, after passing through heavy
236 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
timber, I came out upon its shore, and there I discovered two
men robbing one of my otter traps. One man was holding up
the otter by the tail and laughingly commenting on his gain,
while the other was resetting the trap beneath the ice. I raised
my gun and was about to fire, when it occurred to me that,
after all, a man's hfe was worth more than an otter's skin; so I
let them go, and left it to the Redcoats (Mounted Pohce)
to settle with them. I knew them both. They were half-breeds
from near Montreal, and were well learned in the ways of the
whites."
But before setting out on our way — I forgot to tell you — ^we
cached our moose meat in a tree as was previously agreed upon
with old Granny, who, with the boys, was to come and take it
home; and in order to prevent wolverines from stealing or
spoihng the meat> the hunter wrapped round the trunk of the
tree an old bag to which were fastened many fish hooks, all
with their barbs pointing downward and ready to impale any
creature that tried to chmb the tree. Needless to say, as that
tree stood alone, no wolverine touched that meat.
That day we covered about twenty miles, and by the after-
noon of the second day we had arrived at the lake on the far
shore of which lived Oo-koo-hoo's sister, Ko-ko-hay — The
Perfect Woman — ^with her daughter and her son-in-law and
four granddaughters. As we drew near the camp we found the
women about a mile from shore fishing through the ice for
salmon trout. There were a number of holes — each of which
was marked by a spruce bough set upright in the snow — and
the fishing was being done with hook and line. The hook
dangling below the ice about a third of the water's depth,
was held in position by a branch fine to which was attached
a suitable sinker. The trout they had caught ran from ten
to thirty pounds each — as near as I could judge — and as the
women had already gained a good haul, they loaded their catch
upon their sled and returned home with us.
WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 237
Gill nets are also used in the winter time. They are strung
under the ice beneath a series of holes by means of which the
net is passed imder the ice with the aid of a pole. The hnes
being then secured at either end, the net can be readily drawn
back and forth for the purpose of emptying and resetting. Of
course, floats and sinkers are used to spread the 'net and
keep it in proper position. In some locahties — ^where the
water is muddy — ^the nets are occasionally boiled with
willow bark to keep them from being destroyed by
worms.
Gill nets, however, are frequently injured by animals, not
only amphibious ones such as beaver and otter, but even by
such animals as wolverines. Some years ago, a Yellowknife
Indian hunting near Fort Resolution had an experience of
that kind. He having set a gill net beneath the ice, failed
to visit it for several days. When, however, he did arrive, he
saw that it had been tampered with, and found no difficulty
in reading the story in the snow. A wolverine, happening by
on a mild day when the fishing holes were open, began sniffing
about one of the poles to which the end Hnes of the net were
secured; then scenting the smell of fish, he began chewing the
pole; and incidentally his sharp teeth severed the cords that
held the net. Then, for the want of something better to do,
he went to the other end, to which were attached the hnes
of the other end of the net. Again scenting fish, he began to
chew the second pole, but this time finding it give way, he
hauled it out of the hole; and with the pole came part of the
net; and with the net came a few fish. In trying to free the
fish from the tangled mesh, he hauled out more net which
contained more fish; then, in an effort to feast royally, he ended
by hauling out the whole net. The following day the Indian
arrived and reading the story in the snow, set a trap for the
robber. Again the wolverine came, but so did the hunter,
and much to his dehght found the wolverine caught in the trap.
238 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
Such an incident, indeed, is not rare, for the same thing has
happened in other parts of the forest.
"the perfect woman"
The Perfect Woman's daughter was married to a half-breed by
the name of Tastowich and the four granddaughters were nice-
looking girls ranging in age from fourteen to twenty. Though
very shy, they were bubbhng over with quiet fim and I en-
joyed my visit. That evening, among other subjects, we
discussed the various hunting caps worn by Indian big-game
hunters, and The Perfect Woman offered to make me one if I
could supply her with the needed material; but when she saw
that I had nothing but a double "four-point" Hudson's Bay
blanket, she offered to make me a complete suit from that
article and to lend me, for the rest of the winter, a rabbit-skin
quilt to take the place of the blanket. I accepted her kindly
offer, but of course paid her for both the work and the quilt.
So the older women set to work with nothing more modern
in the way of tools than a pair of scissors, a thimble, and a
needle and thread; and by bed time I was well rigged in Indian
fashion, for the hunting trail. The cap they made me was the
same as Amik wears in my picture of the lynx hunter. The
suit consisted of a coat and hip-high leggings, and though I
have worn that suit on many a winter trip, and though it is now
over twenty-five years old, I have never had to repair their
excellent hand-sewing.
When the work was finished the father and the mother
crawled into a double bunk that was surrounded by a ciu'tain;
Ko-ko-hay wound herself up in a blanket and lay down upon the
floor, and Oo-koo-hoo did hkewise, yet there were two bimks
still unoccupied. But I was informed that I was to occupy the
single one, while the four girls were to sleep in the big double
one. As I had not had my clothes off for several days and as
WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 239
I was counting on the pleasure of sleeping in my night-shirt, I
planned to sit up late enough to make my wish come true,
though I knew that the intended occupants of those two bimks
would have to rely solely upon darkness to form a screen, as
neither bunk was provided with a curtain. After a little while,
however, it began to dawn upon me that the girls were counting
on doing the same thing, for they made no move to leave the
open fire. But the Sand Man finally made them capitulate.
At last, rising from their seats, they piled a lot of fresh wood
upon the fire, then climbing into their big bimk, they took off
their shawls and hanging them from the rafters, draped them
completely about their bed. Now my opportunity had arrived,
and though the fire was filling the one-room log house with
a blaze of fight, I made haste to discard my clothes — for now
the older people were all sound asleep. In a few moments I
was in the very act of sfipping on the coveted garment when
I heard a peal of merriment behind me. On looking round I
discovered that the shawls had vanished from around the bunk
and four merry young ladies, all in a row, were peering at me
from beneath their blankets and fairiy shaking their bed with
laughter.
INDIANS AND CIVILIZATION
Tastowich's home was built entirely of wood, deerskin, and
clay. The house was of logs, the glassless windows were of
deerskin parchment, the door-lock and the door-hinges were
of wood, the latch string was of deerskin, the fireplace and
the chimney were of clay, the roof thatch was of bark. The
abode was clean, serviceable, and warm; and yet it was a house
that could have been built thousands of years ago. But con-
sider, for instance, Oo-koo-hoo's comfortable lodge; a similar
dwelling, no doubt, could have been erected a million years
ago; and thus, even in our time, the pre-historic still hovers
on the outskirts of our flimsy civilization. A civilization that
240 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
billions of human beings for millions of years have been strug-
ghng violently to gain; and now after all that eternal striving
since the beginning of time — ^what has been the great out-
standing gain — as the Indian sees it? "Baldness and starched
underwear for men, high-heeled shoes and corsets for women,
and for both — spectacles and false teeth." Is it any wonder
the red man laughs?
But some of you will doubt that the Indian laughs, and more
of you will even doubt whether the red man possesses a sense of
humour. A few days ago my Toronto ocuhst — ^you see I have
been justly rewarded for hovering around civihzation — and
I were discussing Indians. The doctor quoted his experience
with them. Some years before he had taken a trip into the
forest where he had met an old Indian chief whose wife had had
her eye injured by accident. The doctor told the old man if
ever he contemplated taking his wife to Toronto, to let the
doctor know of their coming, and he would see what he could do
to repair the injury. A year or so later a letter arrived from the
very same Indian reservation. Though it was hard to read,
the doctor made out that the Indian intended to bring his wife
to Toronto so that the oculist could fulfil his promise; but as
luck would have it, the doctor had not only forgotten the
Indian's name, but he had great difficulty in reading the
signature. After much study, however, he decided that the
old Indian had signed his name as "Chief Squirrel" so thus the
doctor addressed his reply. A couple of weeks later the post-
man arrived with a letter he was rather loath to leave at the
doctor's house. The oculist, however, on seeing that it was
addressed to his own number on Bloor Street West, and that
the name was preceded by the title of Doctor, believed that it
was intended for him. On opening it he found it was from the
old Indian whom he had addressed as " Chief Squirrel. " Now,
however, he reahzed he had made a mistake in giving the red
man such a name, for another glance at the outside of the
WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 241
envelope not only proved that the Indian was indignant, but
that he also possessed a sense of humour, for "Chief Squirrel"
had, in return, addressed the noted oculist as "Doctor
Chipmunk."
While spending a couple of days at Tastowich's house the
subject of himting was never long omitted from the general
conversation; and upon learning from the half-breed that cari-
bou were plentiful about a day's travel to the westward, noth-
ing would do but Oo-koo-hoo must take that route on his re-
turn home; though of course it meant many more miles
to cover. The excursion, however, was inviting, as a good
trail could be followed all the way to the caribou country,
as the Tastowichs had been hauling deer meat from that
region.
By the evening of the first day, as good fortune would have
it, we halted among many signs of caribou, and not only were
fresh caribou tracks to be seen, but also those of wolves, for the
latter were traihng the deer. The incident reminded Oo-koo-
hoo of a former experience which he told as we sat by the fire.
WOLVES RUNNING CARIBOU
" It happened years ago. For weeks, my son, I had had ill
luck and my family were starving. For days I had hunted
first one kind of game and then another, but always without
success. Then, as a last resort, I started after caribou, though
I well knew that I should have to travel a long distance before
faUing in with them. But in the end I was rewarded. The
going was bad, mostly through a dense growth of small black
spruce, where the trees stood so close together that I had
difficulty in hauling my sled, being compelled, at times, to turn
on edge, not only my toboggan, but also my snowshoes, in
order to pass between. After several hours' hard work the
forest grew more open and, about noon of the third day, I
242 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
discovered a band of caribou quietly sunning themselves on a
large muskeg.
"Some were feeding, others were lying down, fawns were
scampering about in play, and young bulls were thrusting at
each other with their prong-like horns. There were over a
hundred in all. I watched them for some time before I was dis-
covered by seven young bulls, and as they were nearest me,
they stopped in their play, left the others, and came down wind
to investigate the strange two-legged creature that also wore a
caribou skin.
"With heads held high and expanded nostrils quivering in
readiness to catch scent of danger, they came on very slowly
yet not without a great deal of high stepping and of prancing,
with a sort of rhythmical dancing motion. Every now and then
they threw their heads down, then up, and then held them rigid
again. They were brave enough to come within sixty or
seventy paces and even a little closer. But as ill luck ordained,
while I was waiting for a better chance to bring down one of
them with my old flint-lock, they caught scent of me, and sud-
denly falling back — almost upon their haunches — as though
they had been struck upon the head, they wheeled round, then
fled in alarm to the main body. Then, as caribou usually do,
the whole band began leaping three or four feet into the air —
much as they sometimes do when hit by a bullet. Then, too,
with tails up they swept away at full gallop and, entering the
forest beyond, were lost to view.
"It was a great disappointment, my son, and I became so
disheartened that I made but a poor attempt to trail them
that day. That evening, when I lay down to rest upon the edge
of a muskeg, the moon was already shining; and by midnight
the cold was so intense that the frost-bitten trees went off with
such bangs that I was startled out of my slumber. It was then
that I discovered a pack of eight wolves silently romping about
in the snow of the muskeg— just like a lot of young dogs.
WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 243
Their antics interested me and it was some time before I fell
asleep again.
"In the morning, though a heavy rime (frozen mist) was
falling and though it was so thick that it obliterated the sur-
rounding forest, I set out again in search of game tracks,
and having crossed the muskeg, not only found the tracks of
many caribou, but learned, too, that the eight wolves were now
trailing the deer in earnest.
"About half way between sunrise and midday I came upon
a lake, and there I discovered not only the same herd of caribou
and the same wolves, but the deer were running at full speed
with the wolves in full chase behind them. My son, it was a
fascinating sight. The caribou were going at full gallop, cover-
ing twenty feet or more at a bound, and all running at exactly
the same speed, none trying to outstrip the others, for the
fawns, does, and bucks were aU compactly bunched together.
It was as exciting and as interesting a sight as one may see in
the Strong Woods. Though the wolves did not seem to be
putting forth their utmost speed, they nevertheless took care
to cut every corner, and thus they managed to keep close
behind, while their long, regular lope foretold their eventually
overhauling their quarry.
"Protected by a gentle southwest wind and a thick screen
of underbrush, I watched the chase. Three times the deer
circled the lake, which was about half a mile in length. For
safety's sake the caribou carefully avoided entering the woods,
even rounding every point rather than cut across among the
trees. On the fourth round I saw that the wolves had set
their minds upon running down a single deer, for as they now
suddenly burst forward at their top speed, the herd, sphtting
apart, allowed the wolves to pass through their ranks. A few
moments later an unfortunate doe, emerging in front, galloped
frantically ahead with the wolves in hot pursuit; while the
rest of the herd slowed down to a trot, then to a walk, and finally
244 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS ^
halted to rest in perfect indifference as to their companion**
fate. i,
"Round and round the lake the frightened creature sped,
with the determined wolves behind her. Presently, however,
the wolves one by one turned aside, and lay down to rest,
until only two continued the pursuit. But as the deer came
round the lake again several of the now-refreshed wolves
again entered the chase, thus they reheved one another. The
ill-fated doe, in a vain hope of throwing aside her piu"suers,
twice rushed into the very centre of the caribou herd; but it
was of no avail, for, as the wolves relentlessly followed her,
the other deer wildly scattered away to a safer distance, where,
however, they soon came together again, and stood watching
their enemies running down their doomed comrade. Now
first one wolf and then another took the lead; closer and closer
they pressed upon the exhausted doe whose shortening stride
told that her strength was fast ebbing away.
"My son, perhaps you wonder why I did not use my gun?
I was out of range, and, moreover, while I was afraid that if I
ventured out of the woods I might frighten the game away,
I knew I had but to wait a little while and then I should be sure
of at least one deer without even firing my gun. I did not
have to wait long. With a few tremendous leaps the leading
wolf seized the doe by the base of the throat and throwing her,
heels over head, brought her down.
"Realizing that I must act at once, I rushed out upon the
lake, but in my haste I fell and broke the stock off my gun —
just behind the hammer. But as I still had my axe, I picked
up the broken gun, and charged in among the wolves that
now began to back away, though not without much snarhng,
glaring of angry eyes, and champing of powerful jaws. As
one remained too near, I let drive at it with a charge from my
almost useless gun; and though I missed my aim, the report
reheved me of any further trouble. Cutting up the deer, I
WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 245
feasted upon it for several hours, then loaded my sled and hur-
ried home with the meat for my starving family."
There are three principal species of Canadian caribou: the
smallest Uving on the Barren Grounds and taking their name
from that region; the largest frequenting the Rocky Mountains
west of the Mackenzie River and known as Woodland or Moun-
tain caribou; and the intermediate size inhabiting the Great
Northern Forest and called Woodland caribou.
In comparison with moose, wapiti, and other deer of North
America, the Woodland caribou ranks third in size. In colour
its coat is of a grayish brown with a white neck and belly. In
winter the heavy growth of neck hedr really amounts to a mane.
Of the three breeds, the Woodland caribou have the smallest
horns, the Barren Ground the slenderest, while the Mountain
caribou have the most massive. Record antlers range from
fifty- to sixty-inch beams, with a forty- to fifty-inch spread, and
possessing from sixty to seventy points. The does are usually
provided with small horns, and in that way they are distinct
from all other Canadian deer.
On account of its wide-spreading and concave hoofs the
Woodland caribou does not have to "yard" as other deer do
in winter time, for thus provided with natural snowshoes,
the caribou can pass over the deepest snow with little trouble.
Also, throughout the year it is an extensive traveller, and as
its food is found everywhere within its wide range, its wander-
ings are determined chiefly by the wind. Indeed, so great a
traveller is it that, when thoroughly alarmed, it may cover
from fifty to a himdred miles before settling down again.
Rivers and lakes do not hinder its roaming for it is a powerful
and a willing swimmer. The mating takes place in October
and the calves are bom in June.
The following morning while at breakfast Oo-koo-hoo dis-
coursed upon the game we were about to himt:
"My son, everything that applies to hunting the moose,
246 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
appKes to hunting the caribou, except that the hunter never
tries to *call' the caribou. But now I recollect that there is
one thing about moose hunting that I forgot to tell you and it
apphes also to hunting the caribou. In some locahties bar-
riers are still in use, but nowadays they seldom make new
ones. In the old days whole tribes used to take part in bar-
rier hunting and sometimes the barriers would stretch for
fifteen or twenty miles and were usually made from one part
of the river to another, and thus they marked off the woods
enclosed in a river's bend. Barriers are made by felling trees
in a Une; or, in an open place, or upon a river or lake, placing a
line of little trees in the snow about ten paces apart. SmaU
evergreens with the butts no thicker than a man's thumb were
often used; yet an artificial line of such brush was enough to
tm*n moose or caribou and cause them to move forward in a
certain direction where the hunters were hiding. Even big
clumps of moss, placed upon trees, will produce the same
effect. Frequently, too, snares for deer are set in suitable
places along the barrier, and while the snares are made of
babiche the loops are kept open with blades of grass.
"There is still another thing I forgot to tell you about moose
hunting — ^my son, I must be growing old when I forget so much.
While my Indian cousins in the East use birch-bark horns for
caUing moose, my other cousins in the Far North never do,
yet they call moose, too, but in a different way. They use
the shoulder blade of a deer. Thus, when a bull is approaching,
the hunter stands behind a tree and rubs the shoulder blade
upon the trunk or strikes it against the branches of a neigh-
bouring bush, as it then makes a sound not unlike a bull thrash-
ing his horns about. Such a sound makes a bull beUeve that
another is approaching and ready to fight him for the posses-
sion of the cow, and he prepares to charge his enemy. At
such a moment the hunter throws the shoulder blade into
some bushes that may be standing a Httle way off, and the
WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 247
enraged bull, hearing this last sound, charges directly for
the spot. Then, as the brute passes broadside, the hunter fires.
"But, my son, to return to caribou hunting, you probably
know that those deer are very fond of open places during sunny
weather in winter time, such places as, for instance, rivers and
small lakes where the wind will not be strong. There they
will spend most of the day resting or playing together in big
bands of perhaps fifty or more. Sometimes, however, when a
high wind springs up, they have a curious custom of all racing
round in a circle at high speed. It is a charming sight to
watch them at such sport. Most of their feeding is done right
after sunrise and just before sunset, and at night they always
resort to the woods.
"Then, too, when caribou go out upon a lake they have a
habit of lying down beside the big ridges that rise three or four
feet above the rest of the surface, where the ice has been split
apart and then jammed together again with such power that
the edges are forced upward. They lie down there to avoid
the wind while resting in the sun. There the hunter sometimes
digs a trench in the snow and Hes in wait for the unsuspecting
deer. When he shoots one, he inamediately skins it, but takes
care to leave the head attached to the skin; then ramming a
pole into the head at the neck, he drapes the skin over the pole
and getting down on all fours places the skin over his back and
pretends to be a caribou. Thus he will approach the band,
and should he tire of crawHng along on his hands and knees
he will even lie down to rest in sight of the deer, but he always
takes care to keep down wind. In such a guise it is not hard
to come within gun-range of the band.
"A very good thing to carry when hunting deer in the
woods is a bunch of tips of deer horns, each about four inches
long and all suspended from the back of the hunter's belt; as
the horn tips will then tinkle together at every movement of
the hunter, and make a sound as though the horns of a distant
248 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
band of closely marching caribou were striking together. In
that way, my son, it is easier to approach, and when you are
ready to fire, look carefully for a large, white, fat doe, and then
let drive at her; for bands of deer are never led by bulls, but
always by does and usually by a barren one. If you shoot the
leader first, the chances are the band will stand waiting for one
of their number to lead the way. Remember, too, that deer are
never so frightened at seeing or hearing you as they are at
scenting you, for the merest whiff of man-smell will drive them
away. When they first scent you they will take two or three
jumps into the air with their heads held high, their nostrils
extended, and their eyes peering about; then swinging roimd,
they will gallop off and later settle down into a great high-
stepping, distance-covering trot that will carry them many
miles away before they halt. There is still another good way to
himt caribou on a lake and that is to put on a wolf skin and
approach on all fours, but it is not so successful as when the
hunter wears a caribou skin."
TRAILING IN THE SNOW
Breakfast over, we sHpped on our snowshoes and set out to
follow a mass of tracks that led southward. It was easy going
on a beaten trail, a bhnd man could have followed it; and that
reminds me of something I have failed to tell you about winter
trailing in the Northland. In winter, the men of the North-
land don't trail human beings by scent, they trail them by sight
or sometimes by touch. Sight trailing, of coiuse, you under-
stand. Trailing by touch, however, when not understood by
the spectator, seems a marvellous performance. For instance,
when a husky dog, the leader of a sled-train, will come out of
the forest and with his head held high, and without a moment's
hesitation, trot across a lake that may be three or four miles
wide, upon the surface of which the wind and drifting snow
WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 249
have left absolutely no visible sign of a trail, and when that
dog will cross that great unbroken expanse and enter the woods
on the far shore exactly where the trail appears in sight again,
though no stick or stone or any other visible thing marks the
spot — it does seem a marvellous feat. But it is done, not by
sight, sound, or scent, but by touch — the feel of the foot. In
winter time man, too, follows a trail in the same way, not-
withstanding that he is generally handicapped by a pair of
snowshoes. Some unseen trails are not hard to follow —
even a blind man could follow them. It is done this way :
Suppose you come to a creek that you want to cross, yet you
can see no way of doing it, for there is nothing in sight — ^neither
log nor bridge — spanning the river. But suppose someone
tells you that, though the water is so muddy that you cannot see
an inch into it, there is a flat log spanning the creek about six
inches below the surface, and that if you feel about with your
foot you can find it. Then, of course, you would make your
way across by walking on the unseen log, yet knowing all the
time that if you made a misstep you would plunge into the
stream. You would do it by the feel of the foot. It is just
the same in following an unseen trail in the snow — it hes hard-
packed beneath the surface, just as the log lay imseen in the
river. What a pity it is that the writers of northern tales so
rarely understand the life they have made a specialty of de-
picting.
But to return to the caribou we were trailing, and also to
make a long himt short — for you now know most of the inter-
esting points in the sport — I must tell you that we spent a full
day and a night before we came up with them. And that night,
too, a heavy fall of snow added to our trouble, but it made the
forest more beautiful than ever. It was after sunrise when we
picked up fresh tracks. A heavy rime was faUing, but though
it screened all distant things, we espied five caribou that were
still lingering on a lake, over which the main band had passed.
250 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
They were east of us and were heading for the north side of a
long, narrow island. As soon as they passed behind it, Oo-
koo-hoo hurried across the intervening space, and ran along the
southern shore to head them off. The eastern end of the island
dwindled into a long point and it was there that The Owl hoped
to get a shot. Sure enough he did, for he arrived there ahead
of the deer. Though he had lost sight of them, he knew they
were nearing him, for he could hear the crunching sound of
their hoofs in the frosty snow, and later he could even hear that
strange cHcking sound caused by the muscular action of the
hoofs in walking — a soimd pecuHar to caribou.
Oo-koo-hoo cautiously went down on one knee and there
waited with his gun cocked and in position. The air was
scarcely moving. Now antlered heads appeared beyond the
openings between the snow-mantled trees. The hunter, taking
aim, addressed them:
* * My brothers, I need your . . . " Then the violent report
of his gun shattered the stillness, and the leader, a doe, limged
forward a few paces, staggered upon trembling legs, and then
sank down into the briUiantly sunny snow. But before Oo-koo-
hoo could re-load for a second shot the rest of the httle band
passed out of range, and, with their high-stepping, hackney ac-
tion, soon passed out of sight. So, later on, with our sled again
heavily loaded, and with packs of meat upon our backs, we set
out for home.
THE MAN WHO HIBERNATED
Next morning, soon after sunrise, while I was breaking trail
across a lake, I espied a log house in a little clearing beside a
large beaver meadow. As it was about the time we usually
stopped for our second breakfast, I turned in the direction of
the lonely abode. It was a small, well-built house, and with the
exception of the spaces at the two windows and the door, was
WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 251
entirely enclosed by neatly stacked firewood suitable for a
stove. Beyond, half built in the rising ground, stood a little
log stable, and near it a few cattle were eating from haystacks.
Going up to the shack, I knocked upon the door, and as a
voice bade me enter I slipped off my snowshoes, pulled the
latch string, and walked in. Entering from the dazzhng sun-
light made the room at first seem in darkness. Presently,
however, I regained my sight, and then beheld the interior of a
comfortable little home — the extreme of neatness and order;
and then I saw a human form lying beneath the blankets of a
bunk in a far corner. Later I noticed that two black eyes be-
neath a shock of black hair were smiling a welcome.
" Good morning," I greeted. " May I use your stove to cook
breakfast?"
"No, sir," repHed the figure, then it sat up in bed, and I
saw that it was a white man. " I'll do the cooking myself, for
you're to be my guest."
"Thanks," I returned, "I'm traveUing with an Indian and
I don't wish to trouble you; but if I may use your stove I'll
be much obhged."
"If I have what you haven't got," my host smiled, "will you
dine with me?"
"All right," I agreed.
"Potatoes," he exclaimed.
"Good," I laughed.
"Then sit down, please, and rest while I do the cooking."
Oo-koo-hoo now came in and at the host's bidding, filled his
pipe from a tobacco pouch upon the table.
The accent of the stranger suggested that he was an English
gentleman, and it seemed strange, indeed, to discover so re-
fined and educated a man hving apparently alone and vdthout
any special occupation in the very heart of the Great Northern
Forest. Curiosity seized me. Then I wondered — ^was this
the man? . . . could he be " Son-in-law" ?
252 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
But I refrained from questioning him. So I talked about the
woods and the weather, while Oo-koo-hoo brought in a haunch
of venison from his sled and presented it to the stranger. But
with my host's every action and word the mystery grew.
The stove, which was fireless, stood beside the bed, and
reaching for the griddle-lifter, my host removed the hds; then
picking up a stick of pine kindhng from behind the stove, he
whittled some shavings and placed them in the fire-box; and on
top of this he laid kindling and birch firewood. Then he re-
placed the hds, struck a match, and while the fire began to
roar, filled the kettle from a keg of water that stood behind
the stove, and mind you, he did it without getting out of
bed. Next, he leant over the side of the bunk, opened a Httle
trap door in the floor, reached down into his little box-like cellar,
and hauled up a bag containing potatoes, which he then put
in a pot to boil, in their skins. From the wall he took a long
stick with a crook upon the end, and reaching out, hooked the
crook round the leg and drew the table toward him. Reaching
up to one of the three shelves above his bunk, he took down the
necessary dishes and cutlery to set the breakfast table for us
three. While the potatoes were boihng he took from another
shelf — the one upon which he kept a few well-chosen books —
a photograph album and suggested that I look it over while he
broiled the venison steak and infused the tea.
When I opened the album and saw its contents, it not only
further excited my curiosity regarding the personal history of
my host, but it thrilled me with interest, for never before or
since have I seen an album that contained photographs of a
finer-looking or more distinguished lot of people. Its pages
contained photographs of Lord This, General That, Admiral
What's-his-name, and also the Bishop of I've-forgotten and
many a Sir and Lady, too, as well as the beautiful Countess of
Can't-remember.
Breakfast was served. The potatoes were a treat, the steak
WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 253
was excellent, the tea was good, and there we three sat and ate
a hearty meal, for not only did we relish the food, but the
company, the wit, and the laughter, too. But all the while my
healthy, jovial, handsome host remained in bed. I studied
the blankets that covered his legs — apparently there was
nothing wrong with that part of him. I could not fathom the
mystery. It completely nonplussed me.
I glanced round the room; there were many photographs upon
the walls, among them Cambridge "eights" and "fours"; and
sure enough, there he was, rowing in those very crews; and
in the football and tennis pictures he also appeared as one of
the best of them all. And how neat and clean was his one-
room house! Everything was in order. A water keg be-
hind the stove to keep the water from freezing. A big barrel
by the door in which to turn snow into water. A woodpUe
across the end of the room — enough to outlast any blizzard.
Then when I glanced at him again, I noticed a crested signet
ring upon his left little finger. Breakfast over, smoking be-
gan, and as he washed the dishes, I wiped them — but still I
pondered. Then, at last, I grew brave. I would risk it. I
would ask him :
"Why do you stay in bed?"
First he responded with a burst of laughter, then with the
question:
"Why, what's the use of getting up.^" and next with the
statement: "I stay in bed all winter ... or nearly so.
It's the only thing to do. I used to get up, and go for my mail
occasionally ... at least, I did a few years ago, but too
many times I walked the forty miles to the Hudson's Bay
Company's Flying Post at Elbow Creek only to find no letters
for me ... so I chucked it all. Then, too, the first
few winters I was here I used to do a little shooting, but I get all
the game I want from the Indians now, so I have chucked the
shooting, too. Now the only thing that gets me out of bed,
254 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
or takes me out of doors, is to watch which way the wind blows.
Two winters ago, when I was away from here a week, the wind
blew steadily from the north for five days or more, and my
cattle ate so far into the south sides of the hay stacks that two
of the stacks fell over on them and in that way I lost five head —
they were smothered."
Oo-koo-hoo, knocking the ashes from his pipe, began to tie
his coat; apparently, he thought it was time we were going.
I opened the album again, and glanced through it once more
as I sat upon the edge of my strange host's bunk. I stopped
my turning when I came to a photograph of a charming gentle-
woman whose hair was done in an old-fashioned way so be-
coming to her character and beauty. She must have been
twenty-three. He, then, was nearing forty. I thought his
hand lingered a Httle upon the page. And when I commented
on her beauty, I fancied his voice tremored shghtly — anyway
his pipe went out.
But Oo-koo-hoo, getting up, broke the silence.
I invited my still-unknown host to pay me a visit. We shook
hands heartily, and as I turned to close the door, I noticed that
he had lain down again, and had covered up his head. As a
pleasant parting salutation — a cheering one as I thought — I
exclaimed:
"Perfectly stunning 1 . . . the most beautiful lot of
women I have ever seen!"
And then from beneath the bed clothes came —
"Y-e-s . . . the blighters!''
VII
LIFE AND LOVE RETURN
HYMEN COMES WITH SPRING
"My son, it is ever thus, when spring is on the way,"
miled Oo-koo-hoo, as Granny entered with glee and displayed
a new deerskin work-bag, containing needles, thread, thimble,
and scissors; a present from Shing-wauk — The Little Pine —
Neykia's lover.
"Now that Spring and Love are going to hmit together,"
fm-ther remarked the Indian, "the snow will nm away, and the
ice begin to tremble when it hears the home-coming birds
singing among the trees. Ah, my son, it reminds me of the
days of my youth," sighed The Owl, "when I, too, was a lover."
"Tell me," I coaxed.
"It was many years ago, at the New Year's dance at Fort
Perseverance that I first met Ojistoh. She was thirteen then,
and as beautiful as she was young. . . . No; I shall never
forget those days . . . When she spoke her voice was as
gentle as the whispering south wind, and when she ran she
passed among the trees as silently and as swiftly as a vanishing
dream; but now," added Oo-koo-hoo, with a sly, teasing glance
at his wife, "but now look at her, my son . . . She is
nothing but a bundle of old wrinkled leather, that makes a noise
like a she-wolf that has no mate, and when she waddles about
she goes thudding around on the spht end of her body — like a
rabbit with frozen feet."
But Granny, saying never a word, seized the wooden fire-
poker, and dealt her lord and master such a vigorous blow
255
256 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
across the shoulders that she slew his chuckle of laughter the
moment it was bom. Then, as the dust settled, silence reigned.
A httle later, as Granny put more wood upon the fire, she
turned to me with twinkling eyes and said:
" My son, if you could have seen the old loon when he was
courting me, it would have filled your heart with laughter. It
is true he was always a loon, for in those days Oo-koo-hoo, the
great hunter, was even afraid of his own shadow, for he never
dared call upon me in dayhght, and even when he came sneak-
ing round at night he always took good care that it was at a
time when my father was away from home. Fm'thermore, he
always chose a stormy evening when the snow would be drifting
and thus cover his trail; and worse still, when he came to court
me he always wore women's snowshoes; because, my son, he
had not courage enough to come as a man."
This sally, however, only made Oo-koo-hoo smile the more
as he puffed away at his brier.
"Did he always bring yoiu* grandmother a present?" I
enquired.
"No, my son, not always, he was too stingy," replied the old
woman, "but he did once in a while, I must grant him that."
"What was it?"
"Oh, just a few coils of tripe."
But Granny, of course, was joking, that was why she did not
explain that deer tripe filled with blood was as great a delicacy
as a suitor could offer his prospective grandmother-in-law;
for among certain forest tribes, it is the custom that a marriage-
able daughter leaves the lodge of her parents and takes up her
abode with her grandmother — that is, if the old lady is living
within reasonable distance.
Shing-wauk — ^The Little Pine — had come that day, and had
been invited to sleep in Amik's tepee; yet he spent the greater
part of his time sitting with Neykia in her grandmother's lodge.
As there are no cozy comers in a tepee, it is the Ojibway custom
LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 257
for a lover to converse with his sweetheart under cover of a
blanket which screens the lovers from the gaze of the other
occupants of the lodge. Early in the evening the blanket
always hung in a dignified way, as though draped over a
couple of posts set a few feet apart. Later, however, the posts
frequently lost their balance and swayed about in such a way
as to come dangerously near coUiding. Then, if the old grand-
mother did not speak or make a stir, the blanket would some-
times show that one support had given away. Accordingly,
the old woman was able to judge by the general contour of the
blanket just how the comtship was progressing, and being a
foxy old dame she occasionally pretended to snore just to see
what might happen.
One night, however. Granny's snoring was no longer pre-
tense, and when she woke up from her nap, she found
that both supports of the blanket were in inamediate danger of
collapsing. Seizing the stick with which she used to poke the
fire, she leaped up and belaboured the blanket so severely that
it lost no time in recovering its proper form.
Kissa Pesim (The Old Moon) — February, and Mikesewe Pesim
(The Eagle Moon) — March, had flown and now Niske Pesim,
(The Goose Moon) — ^April, had arrived; and with it had come
the advance guard of a few of those numerous legions of migra-
tory birds and fowls that are merely winter visitors to the
United States, Mexico, and South America; while Canada is
their real home — the place where they were bom. Next
would follow Ayeke Pesim (the Frog Moon) of May, when
love would be in full play; then a Uttle later would come Wawe
Pesim (The Egg Moon) otherwise June, when the lovers would
be living together — or nesting.
Yes, truly, the long-tarrying but wonderous Goose Moon
had at last arrived, and at last, too, the spring hunt was on.
It was now a joyous season accompanied with charming music
rendered by the feathered creatures. Overhead the geese
258 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
where honking, out upon the lake the loons were calling, near
the shore the ducks were quacking, while all through the
woods the smaller birds were singing. Now, even among
the shadows, the snow was shnking away; while the river ice,
plunging along with a roar, ran down to the lake where it
rested quietly in a space of open water.
Now, too, it so happened that day, that Neykia, she of wood-
land grace and beauty, was strolling in the sunshine with her
Little Pine; while on every side the trees were shaking their
heads and it seemed gossiping about the hunting plans of that
reckless httle elfin hunter. Hymen, who was hurrying overland
and shooting his joyous arrows in every direction, till the very
air felt charged with the whisperings of countless lovers. It
made me think of the shy but radiant Athabasca, and I won-
dered— ^was her lover with her now.^^
THE SPRING HUNT
The Indians divide their annual hunt for fur into three
distinct hunting seasons: the fall hunt — from autumn until
Christmas ; the winter hunt — ^from New Year's Day until Easter ;
and the spring hunt — from Easter until the hunters depart for
their tribal summer camping ground. At the end of each
hunting season — if the fur-runners have not traded with the
hunters and if the hunter is not too far away from the post —
he usually loads upon his sled the result of his fall hunt and
hauls it to the Post during Christmas week; likewise he hauls to
the Post the catch of his winter hunt about Easter time; while
the gain from his spring hunt is loaded aboard his canoe and
taken to the Post the latter part of May. Easter time, or the
end of the winter hunt, marks the closing of the hunting season
for all land animals except bear; and the renewing of the hunt-
ing season for bear, beaver, otter, mink, and muskrat, all water
animals save the first.
LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 259
Meanwhile, the canoes had been overhauled: freshly patched,
stitched, and gummed, their thwarts strengthened, their ribs
adjusted, and their bottoms greased.
A few days later, loading some traps and kit — among which
was the hunter's bow and quiver of arrows — aboard his small
canoe, Oo-koo-hoo and I set out at sunrise and paddling around
the western end of Bear Lake, entered Bear River. It was a
cold but dehghtful morning, and the effect of the sun shining
through the rising mist was extremely beautiful. We were
going otter- and muskrat-hunting; and as we descended that
charming httle stream and wound about amid its marshy flats
and birch- and poplar-clad slopes, every once in a while ducks
startled us by suddenly whirring out of the mist. Then, when
long hght lines of rippling water showed in the misty screen
we knew that they were nothing but the wakes of swimming
muskrats; and soon we ghded into a colony of them; but for the
time being they were not at home — the still-rising spring freshet
had driven them from their flooded houses.
The muskrat's httle island lodge among the rushes is erected
upon a foundation of mud and reeds that rises about two feet
before it protrudes above the surface of the water. The build-
ing material, taken from round the base, by its removal helps
to form a deep-water moat that answers as a further protection
to the muskrat's home. Upon that foundation the house is
built by piling upon it more reeds and mud. Then the tun-
nels are cut through the pile from about the centre of the
over-water level down and out at one side of the under-water
foundation, while upon the top more reeds and mud are
placed to form the dome-shaped roof, after which the chamber
inside is cleared. The apex of the roof rises about three feet
above the water. In some locahties, however, muskrats Uve
in dens excavated in the banks of rivers or ponds. To these
dens several under-water runways lead.
Muskrats feed principaUy on the roots and stalks of many
260 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
kinds of sub-aqueous plants. In winter time, when their
pond is frozen over, and when they have to travel far under
water to find their food, they sometimes make a point of keep-
ing several water-holes open, so that after securing their food,
they may rise at a convenient hole and eat their meal without
having to make long trips to their house for the purpose. In
order to keep the water-hole from freezing, they build a little
house of reeds and mud over it. Sometimes, too, they store
food in their lodges, especially the bulbous roots of certain
plants.
Muskrats, like beavers, use their tails for signalling danger,
and when alarm causes them to dive they make a great noise,
out of all proportion to their size. Thus the greenhorn from
the city is apt to take the muskrat's nightly plunges for the
sound of deer leaping into water; and just in the same way does
the sleepless tenderfoot mistake the thudding footfalls of the
midnight rabbit for those of moose or caribou running round
his tent.
Muskrats are fairly sociable and help one another in their
work. They mate in April and their young are born about a
month later. The Indians claim that they pair like the beaver,
and that the father helps to take care of the children. The
young number from three to eight. When they are full grown
their coats are dark brown. In length muskrats measure
about eighteen inches, while in weight they run from a pound
and a half to two pounds.
Except in autumn, their range is exceedingly small, though
at that season they wander much farther away from their
homes. If danger threatens they are always ready to fight, and
they prove to be desperate fighters, too. While slow on land,
they are swift in water; and such excellent divers are they
that in that way they sometimes escape their greatest enemy —
the mink; though wolves, fishers, foxes, otters, as well as birds of
prey and Indians are always glad to have a muskrat for dinner.
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LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 261
But to return to our moskrat hunt: Oo-koo-hoo, stringing
his bow and adjusting an arrow, let drive at one of the little
animals as it sat upon some drift-wood. The blunt-headed
shaft just skimmed its back and sank into the mud beyond;
the next arrow, however, bowled the muskrat over; and in an
hour's time The Owl had eleven in his canoe. When I ques-
tioned him as to why he used such an ancient weapon, he ex-
plained that a bow was much better than a gun, as it did not
frighten the other muskrats away, also it did not injure the pelt
in the way shot would do, and, moreover, ft was much more
economical.
Occasionally Oo-koo-hoo would imitate the call of the
muskrats; sometimes to arrest their attention, but more often
to entice them within easy range of his arrows. If he killed
them outright while they were swimming, they sank like stones;
but when only wounded, they usually swam round on the sin*-
face for a while. Once, however, a wounded one dived, and,
seizing hold of a reed, held on with its teeth in order to escape
its pursuer; Oo-koo-hoo, nevertheless, eventually landed it in
his canoe.
In setting steel traps for them the himter placed the traps
either in the water or on the bank at a spot where they were
in the habit of going ashore, and to decoy them to that landing
Oo-koo-hoo rubbed castoreum on the branches of the surround-
ing bushes — just in the same way as he did for mink or otter.
Another way he had of setting traps was to cut a hole in the
side of a muskrat's house, so that he could thrust in his arm and
feel for the entrance to the tunnel, then he would set a trap
there and close up the hole.
One day when he was passing a muskrat house that he had
previously opened for that purpose and closed again, he dis-
covered that the hole was again open. Thinking that the newly
added mud had merely fallen out, he thrust his arm into the
hole to reach for the trap, when without the sUghtest warning
262 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
some animal seized him by the finger. It was a mink that had
been raiding the house; and in the excitement that followed, the
brute escaped. The hunter, however, made Httle of his in-
jury; chewing up a quid of tobacco, he placed it over the wound
and bound it securely with a rag torn from the tail of his shirt.
Oo-koo-hoo explained that in winter time, when there was
little snow, he often speared muskrats through the ice. The
spear point is usually made of quarter-inch iron wire and at-
tached to a seven-foot shaft. Much of the spearing he did at
the rats' feeding and airing places — those httle dome-shaped
affairs made of reeds and mud that cover their water-holes.
The hunter, enabled by the clearness of the ice, followed
their runways and traced them to where the httle fellows often
sat inside their shelters. Knowing that the south side of the
shelter is the thinnest side. The Owl would drive in his spear
and impale the little dweller.
HUNTING THE OTTER
That afternoon Oo-koo-hoo set a number of traps for otter.
When placed on land otter traps are set as for fox, though of
course of a larger size, and the same statement applies to dead-
falls; while the bait used for both kinds of otter traps is the
same as that used for mink. The otter is an unusually playful,
graceful, active, and powerful animal; but when caught in a trap
becomes exceedingly vicious, and the hunter must take care
lest he be severely bitten. Oo-koo-hoo told me that on one
occasion, when he was himting otters, he lost his favourite dog.
The dog was holding an otter prisoner in a rocky pocket where
the water was shallow, and the otter, waiting to attack the dog
when off guard, at last got its chance, seized its adversary by
the throat, and that was the end of the dog.
The otter is not only easily tamed, but makes a charming
pet, as many a trader has proved; and it is one of the few
LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 263
animals that actually indulge in a sport or game for the sheer
sake of the thrill it affords. Thus the otter is much given to
the Canadian sports of tobogganing and "shooting the chute,"
but it does it without sled or canoe; and at all seasons of the
year it may be seen sharing its favourite sHde — sometimes
jfifty or a hundred feet in length — with its companions. If in
summer, the descent is made on a grassy or clayey slope down
which the animals swiftly ghde, and plunge headlong into deep
water. If the sport takes place on a clay bank, the wet coats
of the otters soon make the sHde so slippery that the descent
is made at thrilling speed. But in winter time the sport be-
comes general, as then the snow forms a more convenient and
easier surface down which to sUde. The otter, though not a
fast traveller upon land, is a master swimmer, and not only
does it pursue and overtake the speckled trout, but also the
swift and agile salmon.
Otters den in the river or lake bank and provide an under-
water entrance to their home. They mate in February and
the young — ^never more than five, but more often two — are
bom in April; and though their food includes flesh and fowl —
muskrats, frogs, and young ducks — it is principally composed
of fish.
Though slow on land an otter often travels considerable
distances, especially in winter time, when it goes roaming in
search of open water. If pursued it has a protective way of
diving into and crawHng swiftly beneath the surface of the
snow, in such a way that though its pursuer may run fast, he
more often loses his quarry; I know, because I have experienced
it.
The otter not only has its thick, oily, dark-brown fur to keep
it warm, but also a thick layer of fat between its skin and body;
and thus, seal-like, it seems to enjoy in comfort the coldest of
winter water. Otters measure three or four feet in length and
in weight run from fifteen to thirty pounds.
264 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
The Indians of the Strong Woods are very susperstitious
in relation to the otter. They not only refuse to eat the flesh,
but they don't like to take the carcass home, always preferring
to skin it where it is caught. Even then they dislike to place
the skin in their himting bag, but will drag it behind them on
the snow. Also, Indian women refuse to skin an otter, as they
have a superstition that it would prevent them from becom-
ing mothers.
One afternoon, when Oo-koo-hoo and I were sitting on a
high rock overlooking the rapids on Bear River, he espied an
otter ascending the tiu*bulent waters by walking on the river
bottom. We watched the animal for some time. It was an
interesting sight, as it was evidently hunting for fish that might
be resting in the backwaters behind the boulders. Every
time it would ascend the rapids it would rise to the surface
and then quietly float down stream in the sluggish, eddying
shore currents where the bushes overhung the bank. Then
it would again dive and again make the ascent by crawhng up
the river bottom.
" My son, watch him closely, for if he catches a fish you will
see that he always seizes it either by the head or tail, rarely by
the middle, as the fish would then squirm and shake so vio-
lently that the otter would not like it. Sometimes, too, an
otter will lie in wait on a rock at the head of a rapid, and when
a fish tries to ascend to the upper reach of the river by leaping
out of the water and thus avoiding the swift current, the otter
will leap, too, and seize the fish in mid-air. It is a thrilling
sight to see him do it."
The snow was going so rapidly and the water running so
freely that Oo-koo-hoo felt sure the bears had now all left their
dens, otherwise water might be trickhng into their winter beds.
So, for the next few days, the hunter was busily engaged in
setting traps for bears, beavers, otters, minks, and muskrats;
and thus the spring hunt went steadily on while the Goose
LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 265
Moon waned and then disappeared, and in its place the Frog
Moon shone.
LITTLE pine's LOVE SONG
One sunny morning, while I was strolling along the beach,
I heard the sound of distant drumming, and presently a youth-
ful voice broke into song. It was The Little Pine singing to
his sweetheart.
Now it was Maytune in the Northland. Tender grasses
were thrusting their tiny blades from imder last year's leaves
and here and there the woodland's pale-green carpet was en-
riched with masses of varying colours where wild flowers were
bursting into bloom. Yet the increasing power of the sun had
failed to destroy every trace of winter— for occasional patches
of snow were to be seen clinging to the shady sides of the
steepest hills and small ice floes were still floating in the lake
below. But as summer comes swiftly in the Great Northern
Forest, spring loses no time in lingering by the way. Already
the restless south wind was singing softly to the "Loneland"
of the glorious days to come.
The forest and all her creatures, hearing the song of spring
time, were astir with joyous life. Among the whispering trees
the bees were humming, the squirrels chattering, and many
kinds of birds were making love to one another.
No wonder Shing-wauk — The Little Pine — sang his love
song, too, for was not his heart aflame with the spring time
of life? Perched high among the branches of a pine the youth
was relieving the monotony of his drumming by occasionally
chanting. At the foot of the thickly wooded hillside upon
which the pine stood the indolent waters of Muskrat Creek
meandered toward Bear Lake. On the bank near the river's
mouth stood the lodges, but neither Oo-koo-hoo nor Amik
seemed to be at home; and the rest of the family may have
been absent, too, for the dogs were mounting guard.
266 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
Again the boy beat his drum; louder and louder he sang his
love song imtil his soft rich voice broke into a wail. Presently
the door-skin of Granny's lodge was gently pushed aside, and
Neykia stepped indolently forth.
Shading her eyes with her hand, the girl gazed at the hillside,
but failed to discern her lover in the tree top. She Ustened
awhile and then, upon hearing once more the love song above
the beating of the drum, yielded to the dictates of her heart
and began to climb the hill. Little Pine saw her coming,
ceased his drumming, and sHd down to hide behind the tree
trunk.
A faintly marked woodland path led close by, and along it
the maiden was advancing. As she came abreast of the tree
the youth, in fun, gave a shout, and the maid — evidently
pretending bashful alarm — took to flight.
Though fleet of foot, she suffered him to overtake her soon
and catch her by the arm, and hold her while she feigned to
struggle desperately for freedom. That won, she turned away
with a laugh, sat down upon a bank of wild flowers, and with
shyly averted face, began plucking them. Little Pine sat down
beside her. A moment later she sprang up and with merry
laughter ran into the denser forest, and there, with her lover
swiftly following her, disappeared from view.
At sunset that evening Oo-koo-hoo and his wife sat smoking
beside their fire; and when the hermit thrush was singing,
the whippoorwill whippoorwilling, the owl oo-koo-hooing,
the fox barking, the bull frog whoo-wonking, the gander honk-
ing, the otter whistfing, the drake quacking, the squirrel chat-
tering, the cock grouse drumming, and the wolf howHng —
each to his own chosen mate, the hunter tmrned to me and
smiled:
"Do you hear Shing-wauk singing?"
I listened more attentively to the many mingling love songs
of the forest dwellers, and sure enough, away off along the
LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 267
shore, I could hear Little Pine singing to his sweetheart. It
was charming.
THE LOVE DANCE
"My son," sighed Oo-koo-hoo, "it reminds me of the days
when I, too, was a boy and when Ojistoh was a girl, away back
among the many springs of long ago."
"Yes, Nar-pim," smiled Granny — ^for an Indian woman
never calls her husband by his name, but always addresses him
as Nar-pim, which means "my man."
"Yes, Nar-pim, don't you remember when I heard that
drimMning away off among the trees, and when I, girl-Uke,
pretended I did not know what it meant, but you, saying never
a word and taking me by the hand, led me to the very spot
where that handsome Kttle lover was beating his drimi and
making love to so many sweethearts.^"
"Yes, I remember it well, when I took httle Ojistoh, my
sweetheart, by the hand and we hurried to find the httle drum-
mer." Then, turning to me, the hunter continued: "My son,
one never forgets the days of his youth, and well can I recall
picking our way in and out among the trees and undergrowth,
tiptoeing here and there lest our moccasined feet should break
a fallen twig and alarm the drmnmer or the dancers. For it
was the love dance we were going to see. As the drumming
sound increased in volume, our caution increased, too. Soon
we deemed it prudent to go down upon our hands and knees
and thus be more surely screened by the underbrush as we
stealthily approached. Creeping on toward the sound, slowly
and with infinite precaution, we discovered that we were not
the only ones going to the dance: the whirring of wings fre-
quently rustled overhead as ruffed grouse skimmed past us in
rapid flight.
"Once, my son, we felt the wind from a hawk's wing swoop-
268 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
ing low from bush to bush, as though endeavouring to arrive
unheralded. Twice we caught sight of a fox silently and craft-
ily steaHng along. Once we saw a lynx — a soft gray shadow —
slinking through the undergrowth ahead. It seemed as if all
the Strong Woods dwellers were going to the love dance, too,
and, I remember, Ojistoh began to feel afraid. But," smiled
Oo-koo-hoo, "she was devoured with curiosity; and, besides,
was not her young lover with herP Why need she fear?
"When we came to the foot of a ridge the drumming sounded
very near. With utmost wariness we crawled from bush to
bush, pausing every now and then, and crouching low. Then,
judging the way still clear, we crawled forward, and finally
gained the top of the ridge. With thumping hearts we rested
a moment in a crouching posture, for we had at last arrived
upon the scene. Slowly and breathlessly raising our heads,
we peered through the leafy screen and beheld the love dance
in full swing.
"And there, my son, on a clear sandy opening in the wood,
twenty or thirty partridge hens were dancing in a semicircle,
in the centre of which, perched upon a rotten log, a beautiful
cock partridge drummed. He was standing with his small
head thrust forward upon a finely arched neck which was
circled by a handsome outstanding black ruff, fully as wide as
his body. His extended wings grazed his perch, while his
superb tail spread out horizontally.
" *Chun — chun — chun — chim — chun-nnnnnnnnnnnnnnn,' he
hissed slowly at first, but with steadily increasing rapidity.
His bill was open; his bright eyes were gleaming; his wings were
beating at such a rate that the forest resounded with the
prolonged roll of his drumming. Again and again he shrilled
his love call, and again and again he beat his wondrous ac-
companiment. Every Httle while the whirring of swiftly mov-
ing wings was heard overhead as other hens flew down to join
in the love dance. To and fro strutted the cock bird in all his
LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 269
pride of beauty — his wings trailing upon the log, his neck
arched more haughtily than ever, his ruflF rising above his
head, and his handsome fan-like tail extended higher still.
" Meanwhile, my son, the hens, too, were strutting up and
down, and in and out among their rivals; some, with wings
brushing upon the ground; others, with a single wing spread
out, against which they frequently kicked the nearest foot as
they circled round each other. A continuous hissing was
kept up, along with a shaking of heads from side to side, a
ceremonious bowing, and a striking of biUs upon the ground.
But — though the cock was doing his best to dazzle them with
the display of his charms — the hens appeared unconscious of
his presence and indifferent to his advances.
"There Ojistoh and I were gazing in silent admiration at the
scene before us, when — without the slightest warning, and as
though dropped from the sky — another cock landed in the
midst of the dancers. Immediately the cock of the dance
rushed at the intruder and fiercely attacked him.
"But the newcomer was ready. My son, you should have
seen them. Bills and wings clashed together. In a moment
feathers were flying and blood was running. But the hens
never paused in their love dance. Again and again the
feathered fighters dashed at each other, only to drop apart.
Then, facing each other with drooping wings, ruffled plinnes,
extended necks, lowered heads, and gaping bills, they would
gasp for breath. A moment later they would spring into the
air and strike viciously at each other with bill and wing, then
separate again. The sand was soon strewn with feathers and
sprinkled with blood, yet the belligerents kept renewing the
deadly conflict. Unconcernedly, all the while, the stupid hens
tripped to and fro in the evolutions of their love dance.
"Already the intruder's scalp was torn; the left wing of the
cock of the dance was broken ; and both were bleeding copiously.
It was a great fight, my son, and the end was near. At the
270 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
next rush the intruder knocked the cock of the dance down,
and leaping upon him, drove his bill into his skull, killing him.
"After a brief rest to recover breath, the victor jumped
over his late rival's body, took a short leap into the air, gave a
back kick of contempt, flew up on the log, and looked round
as though seeking for female applause. But the hens, with
apparently never a thought of him, still kept up their dancing.
Presently he, too, sounded his love caU and drummed his ac-
companiment. Then, strutting up and down, he inspected
the dancers. When he had made up his mind as to which was
the belle of the dance, he made a rush for her.
"But, my son, at that very moment a lynx sprang through
the air, seized him by the neck, and bounded off with him
among the bushes. In the confusion that followed, the hens
flew away and I, seizing Ojistoh, kissed her. Startled, she
leaped up, and with laughter ran away, but in hot pursuit I
followed her.'*
THE WAYS OF THE FEMALE
"Ah, my son," commented Granny with a smile and a shake
of her head as she drew her pipe from her mouth, "Nar-pim
has always been like that . . . but he was worse in the
days of his youth . . . fancy him taking a httle girl to see
the love dance . . . the old rabbit!"
"The old rabbit . . . indeed?" Oo-koo-hoo questioned.
"Why, it was just the other way roimd. It was you who
wanted me to take you there; it was your hypocritical pretence
of innocence that made me do it; and though, as you said, I
took your hand, it was you who was always leading the way."
Then was renewed the ancient and never-settled question
as to who was at fault, the old Adam or the old Eve; but as
Granny usually got the better of it by adding the last word,
Oo-koo-hoo turned to me in disgust and grunted:
LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 271
"Listen to her . . . why, my son, it has always been
the female that did the courting ... all down through
the Great, Great Long Ago, it has ever been thus . . . and
so it is to-day. Look at the cow of the moose, the doe of the
deer, the she of the lynx, the female of the wolf, the she of the
bear, the goose, the duck, the hen, and the female of the
rabbit. What do they do when they want a mate? . . .
They bellow and run, they meow and bow, they howl and
prance, they twitter and dance . . . just as women have
always done. And when the male comes, what does the female
do? She pretends indifference, she feigns innocence, she runs
away, and stops to Usten, afraid lest she has run too far; and then,
if he does not follow, she comes deceitfully back again and pre-
tends not even to see him. Remember, my son, that though
the female always runs away, she never rims so fast that she
couldn't run faster; and it makes no difference whether the
female has wings or fins, flippers or feet, it is all the same . . .
the female always does the courting."
No doubt, had they ever met, Oo-koo-hoo and George Ber-
nard Shaw would have become fast friends; for George, too,
insists on the very same thing. But does not the average man,
from his great store of conceit, draw the flattering inference
that it is he and he alone who does the courting, and that his
success is entirely due to his wonderful display of physical and
mental charm ; while the average woman looks in her mirror and
laughs in her sleeve — less gown.
Though for some time silence filled the tepee and the dogs
were asleep beside the door, the pipes still glowed; and Oo-koo-
hoo, stirring the fire, mused aloud:
"But, perhaps, my son, you wonder why the hen partridges
dance that way and why the cock drums his accompaniment?"
"It does seem strange," I rephed.
"But not, my son, if you know their history. It is an old,
old story, and it began away back m the Great, Great, Long
272 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
Ago, even before it was the custom of our people to marry. It
happened this way: Once there was an old chief who used
oftentimes to go away alone into the woods and mount upon a
high rock and sing his hunting songs and beat his drum. Since
he was much in f avom*, many women would come and hsten to
his songs; also, they would dance before him — to attract his
attention.
"Now it came to pass on a certain day that a young chief
of another tribe happened by chance upon that way. Hearing
the drumming, he resolved to find out what it was about. Deep
into the heart of the wood he followed the sound and came
upon an open glade wherein were many women dancing before
a huge boulder. Wondering, with great admiration, the young
chief gazed upon their graceful movements and comely figures,
and determined to rush in and capture the most beautiful of
them. Turning thought into act, he bounded in among the
dancers, and, to his amazement, discovered the old chief, who,
at sight of him, dropped his drum, grasped his war club, and
leaping down from his rocky eminence, rushed upon the young
interloper in a frenzy of jealous fury. The women made no
outcry; for, like the female moose or caribou, they love the
victor. So to the accompaniment of the men's hard breathing
and the clashing of their war clubs, they went unconcernedly
on with their love dance. In the end the young chief slew the
older one, and departed in triumph with the women. But,
my son, when the Master of Life learned what had happened,
he was exceeding wroth; insomuch that he tiuned the young
chief and the women into partridges. That is why the part-
ridges dance the love dance even to this day."
HUNTING WILD FOWL
Next morning, while Oo-koo-hoo was examining a muskrat
lodge from his canoe, he heard a sudden "honk, honk," and
LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 273
looking up he espied two Canada geese flying low and straight
toward us; seizing his gun, he up with it and let drive at one
of the geese as it was passing beyond him, and brought it down.
He concluded that they had just arrived from the south and
were seeking a place to feed. Later, we encountered at close
range several more and the hunter secured another.
As they were the first geese he had killed that season, he
did not allow the women to touch them, but according to the
Indian custom, dressed and cooked them himself; also, at
supper time, he gave all the flesh to the rest of us, and saved for
himself nothing but the part from which the eggs came. Further,
he cautioned us not to laugh or talk while eating the geese,
otherwise their spirits would be offended and he would have
ill-luck for the rest of the season. And when the meal was
finished he collected all the bones and tossed them into the
centre of the fire, so that they would be property consumed
instead of allowing the dogs to eat them; and thus he warded
off misfortime.
As we sat by the fire that night Oo-koo-hoo busied himself
making decoys for geese, by chopping blocks of dry pine into
rough images of their bodies, and fashioning their necks and
heads from bent wiUow sticks; as well as roughly staining the
completed models to represent the plumage. And while he
worked he talked of the coming of the birds in spring.
"My son, the first birds to arrive are the eagles; next, the
snow-birds and the barking crows (ravens) ; then the big gray
(Canada) geese, and the larger ducks; then the smaller kinds
of geese and the smaUer kinds of ducks; and then the robins,
blackbirds, and gulls. Then, as likely as not, a few days
later, what is caUed a *goose winter' — a heavy, wet snowstorm
foUowed by colder weather — ^may come along and try to drive
the birds all back again; but before the bad weather completes
its useless work a timely south wind may arrive, and with the
aid of a milder spell, will utterly destroy the *goose winter' .
274 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
Then, after that, the sky soon becomes mottled with flying
birds of many kinds: gray geese, laughing geese, waveys, and
white geese, as well as great flocks of ducks of many kinds;
also mud-hens, sawbiUs, waders, plovers, curlew, pehcans,
swans, and cranes, both white and gray. Then another great
flight of Uttle birds as well as loons. And last of all may come
the httle husky geese that travel farther north to breed their
young than do those of any other kind."
The next day the hunters built a "goose stand" on the sandy
beach of Willow Point by making a screen about six feet long
by three feet high of willow branches; and, as the ground was
wet and cold, a brush mattress was laid behind the screen upon
which the hunters could sit while watching for geese. The
site was a good one, as Willow Point jutted into the lake near a
big marsh on its south side. Beyond the screen they set their
decoys, some in the water and others on the sand, but all
heading up wind. When they shot their first geese, the
himters cut off the wings and necks together with the heads
and fastened them in a natural way upon the decoys.
Oo-koo-hoo told me that when one wished to secure geese,
he should be in readiness to take his position behind the stand
before the first sign of morning sun. Furthermore, he told
me that geese were usually looking for open water and sandy
beaches from eight to nine o'clock; from ten to twelve they
preferred the marshes in order to feed upon goose grass and
goose weed, as well as upon the roots and seeds of other
aquatic plants. Then from noon to four o'clock they sought the
lakes to preen themselves; while from four to six they returned
to the sandy beaches and then resorted to the marshes in which
to spend the night. That was the usual procedure for from
ten to fifteen days, then away they went to their more northern
breeding groimds where they spent midsummer.
Seeing a hawk soaring overhead, Oo-koo-hoo said it reminded
him of a hawk that once bothered him by repeatedly swooping
LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 275
down among his dead-duck decoys, and each time he had to
rush from his Hind to drive the hawk away or it would have
carried away one of his dead ducks; and being short of am-
munition, he did not care to waste a shot. But he ended the
trouble by taking up all his dead ducks save one. Then he
removed the pointed iron from his muskrat spear, and ramming
the butt of the iron into the sand, left it standing up beside the
duck as though it had been a reed. The next time the hawk
swooped down, he let it drive with full force at the dead duck,
and thus impale itself on the muskrat spear.
But one day, after the geese had passed on their northward
journey, Oo-koo-hoo began making other decoys of a different
nature, and when I questioned him, he rephed that he was going
to kill a few loons with his bow and arrow, as Granny wished
to use the skins of their necks to make a work-bag for the
Factor's wife at Fort Consolation. After shaping the decoys,
he mixed together gunpowder, charcoal, and grease with which
to paint the decoys black — save where he left spots of the hght-
coloured wood to represent the white markings of those beautiful
birds. When the decoys were eventually anchored in the bay
they bobbed about on the ripphng water quite true to life and
they even took an occasional dive, when the anchor thong ran
taut.
OO-KOO-HOO'S COURTING
After supper, when we were talking about old customs, I
questioned Oo-koo-hoo as to how the Indians married before it
was the custom to go to the Post to get the clergyman to perform
that rite; and in reply he said:
"My son, Ojistoh and I were married both ways, so I don't
think I can do better than to tell you how our own marriage
took place. It was this way, my son: one night, when old
Noo-koom, Ojistoh's grandmother, became convinced that we
lovers had sat under the bleuiket long enough, she decided that
276 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
it was time we sat upon the brush together, or were married.
Accordingly, she talked the matter over with Ojistoh's parents.
They agreed with her, and Ojistoh's father said: Tt is well that
Oo-koo-hoo and Ojistoh should be married according to the
custom of our people, but it is also well that we should retain
the friendship of the priest and the nuns. On our return to
Fort Perseverance, therefore, the children must be married
in the face of the Chm-ch; but I charge you all not to let any
one at the Post know that Oo-koo-hoo and Ojistoh have already
been married after the custom of our people. It is well that we
should Uve according to the ways of our forefathers, and it is
also well that we should seem to adopt the ways of the white
man. Now call Ojistoh, and let me hear what she has to say.'
"When Ojistoh came in, her father told her that I was a good
boy; that I would certainly make a successful hunter; and that,
if she would sit upon the brush with me, they would give her
plenty of marrow grease for her hair and some porcupine quills
for her moccasins. They might even buy her some ribbon,
beads, and silk thread for fancy work. Furthermore, they said
I would be given enough moose skins to make a lodge covering.
" Ojistoh chewed meditatively upon the large piece of spruce
gum in her mouth, while she Hstened with averted eyes and
drooping head. But old Noo-koom, evidently supposing
Ojistoh to be in doubt, interposed: *You must sit upon the
brush with him, because I have promised that you would.
Did we not eat the fat and the blood, and use the firewood
he left at our door.^'
"The remembrance, no doubt, of all that dainty eating
decided Ojistoh, and she gave her word that she would sit
upon the brush with me if they would promise to buy her a
bottle of perfume when they returned to Fort Perseverance.
When Ojistoh left the lodge, her father said to me:
"'Listen, my boy, Noo-koom tells me that you have been
sitting under the blanket with my daughter Ojistoh. She is a
LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 277
good girl and will make you happy; for she can make good
moccasins.'
" *Yes,' I replied, 'I know the girl and I want her.'
" To-morrow, then,' said her father, *you must sit upon the
brush with her. I will tell the women to prepare the feast.'
"Next morning Ojistoh sat waiting in her lodge for me to
come. Already she wore the badge of womanhood, for not
having a new dress she had simply reversed her old one and
buttoned it up in front instead of the back. For it is the cus-
tom of Ojibway girls to button their dresses behind and for
married women to button theirs in front.
"My son, you should have seen me that morning, for I was
bedecked in all my finery, and upon entering Noo-koom's
lodge, I seized Ojistoh by the hair of her head, and dragged her
out. Her struggles to escape from me were quite edifying in
their propriety. Her shrieks were heartrending — or rather,
they would have been had they not alternated with dehghted
giggles. By that time the wedding march had begun; for as
we struggling lovers led the way, the children, bubbling with
laughter, followed; and the old people brought up the rear of
the joyous procession. We, the happy couple, tussled with
each other imtil we reached a spot in the bush where I had
cleared a space and laid a carpet of balsam brush beside a fire.
There I deposited her. With a final shriek she accepted the
new conditions, and at once set about her matrimonial duties,
while the others returned to their lodges to put the finishing
touches to the wedding breakfast.
"Oh, yes, my son, those wer.e happy days," continued the
himter. "There, beside a great fire in the open, was laid a carpet
of brush, in the centre of which a blanket was spread, and upon
it the feast. There were rabbits, partridges, and fish roasted
upon sticks. In a pot, boiled fresh moose and caribou meat;
in another, simmered lynx entrails, bear fat, and moose steak.
In a third, stewed ducks and geese. In a fourth, bubbled
278 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
choice pieces of beaver, muskrat, lynx, and skunk. Besides,
there were caribou tongues, beaver tails, bear meat, and foxes'
entrails roasted upon the coals. Strong tea in plenty, fresh
birch syrup, forest-made cranberry wine, a large chunk of dried
Saskatoon berries served with bear's grease, frozen cranberries,
and a little bannock made of flour, water, and grease, completed
the fare.
"Then, too, Ojistoh sat beside me and ate out of my dish.
She even used my pipe for an after-dinner smoke. Then, after
an interval of rest, dancing began, by the dancers circling the
fire to the measured beat of a drum. Round and round we
moved in silence. Then, breaking into a chant, we men faced
the women, and from time to time solemnly revolved. But the
women never turned their backs upon the fire. It was rather
slow, monotonous measure, only relieved by the women and
children throwing feathers at one another. Between each
dance the company partook of refreshments, and so the festivity
proceeded until dayhght. Next morning Ojistoh's father
gave us some wholesome advice and then we set up housekeep-
ing on our own account, and, as you see, have continued it
even to this day; haven't we, my little Ojistoh?" smiled the
old hunter at his wife.
nature's sanctuaries
One Sunday morning, when spring was all a-dance to the
wondrous wild music of the woods, I sat in the warmth of the
sun and thought of my Creator. Later, I learned that Oo-koo-
hoo and Amik were also thinking of Him; for in the wilderness
one often thinks of The Master of Life. That morning I
thought, too, of the tolling of village church bells and of cathe-
dral chimes, and I contrasted those metallic sounds with the
beautiful singing of the birds of the forest; also I contrasted the
difference of a Sunday in the city with a Sunday in the wilder-
LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 279
ness; and my soul rested in supreme contentment. Yet the
ignorant city dwellers think of the wilderness as "God-for-
saken." Hunt the world over, and could one find any more
holy places than some of Nature's sanctuaries? I have found
many, but I shall recall but one, a certain grove on the Alaskan
border.
It was in one of the wildest of all wild regions of the northern
world. "God-forsaken" . . . indeed? In truth, it seemed
to be the very home of God. There, between the bases of two
towering perpendicular ranges of mountains, mantled by end-
less snows and capped by eternal ice, lay the wildest of all
box-canons: one end of which was blocked by a barrier of snow
hundreds of feet high and thousands of feet thick — the work
of countless avalanches; while the other end was blocked by a
barrier of eternal ice thousands of feet in width and millions
of tons in weight — a hving and growing glacier. And there,
away down at the very bottom of that wild gorge, beside a
roaring, leaping httle river of seething foam, grew a beautiful
grove of trees; and never a time did I enter there but what I
thought of it as holy ground — ^far more holy than any cathedral
I have ever known ... for there, in that grove, one seemed
to stand in the presence of God.
There, in that grove, the great reddish-brown boles of Sitka
spruces — foiu* and five feet in diameter — towered up hke many
huge architectural columns as they supported the ruggedly
beamed and evergreen ceiling that domed far overhead. High
above an altar-like mass of rock, completely mantled with gor-
geously coloured mosses, an opening shone in the gray-green
wall, and through it filtered long slemting beams of sunfight,
as though coming through a leaded, sky-blue, stained-glass
window of some wonderful cathedral. While upon the grove's
mossy floor stood, row upon row, a mass of luxuriant ferns
that almost covered the velvet carpet, and seemed to form
endless seats in readiness for the coming of some congrega-
280 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
tion. But on only one occasion did I ever see a worshipper
there.
Weary from the weight of a heavy pack — seventy-five
pounds of dynamite — I had paused to rest a moment in that
wonderful place which so few human beings had ever discovered ;
where, too, on passing through, it was always my custom to
remove my hat — just as any one would do on entering a
church. There that day, as I stood gazing at the glorious
sunbeams as they filtered through the great chancel window,
I Hstened to the enchanting music of the feathered choir high
overhead, that seemed to be singing to the accompaniment of
one of Nature's most powerful organs — the roaring river — that
thundered aloud, as, with all its force, it wildly rolled huge
boulders down its rocky bed. Then, lowering my eyes, I dis-
covered the one and only worshipper I ever saw there. He was
standing near a side aisle in the shadow of an alcove, and he,
too, was gazing up at those radiant sunbeams and Hstening to
the choir; moreover, notwithstanding that he was a big brown
bear, he appeared too devout even to notice me — ^perhaps be-
cause he, too, felt the holy presence of "The Great Mystery"
. . . our God.
Yes, my friend, it is my behef that if there is any place on
earth that is "God-forsaken," it is not to be foimd in even
the wildest part of the wildest wilderness, but in that cesspool
called a city.
GOING TO THE POST
After half of May had passed away, and when the spring
hunt was over, Oo-koo-hoo and Amik, poling up the turbulent
little streams, and following as closely as possible the routes
of their fiu- trails, went the round of their trapping paths, re-
moved their snares, sprung their deadfalls, and gathering their
steel traps loaded them aboard their canoes. That work com-
LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 281
pleted, packing began in readiness for the postward journey;
there, as usual, they would spend their well-earned holidays
with pleasure upon their tribal summer camping grounds.
So, when all was in readiness, the deerskin lodge coverings
were taken down, rolled up, and stored out of harm's way upon
a stage. Then, with hearts hght with happiness and canoes
heavy with the wealth of the forest, we paddled away with
pleasant memories of our forest home, and looked forward to
our arrival at Fort Consolation.
Soon after entering Bear River the canoes were turned
toward the western bank and halted at a point near one of their
old camping grounds. Then Naudin — Anuk's wife — ^left the
others, and took her way among the trees to an opening in the
wood. There stood two httle wooden crosses that marked the
graves of two of her children — one a still-bom girl and the
other a boy who had died at the age of three. Upon the boy's
grave she placed some food and a little bow and some arrows,
and bowed low over it and wept aloud. But at the grave of her
still-bom child she forgot her grief and smiled with joy as she
placed upon the mound a handful of fresh flowers, a few pretty
feathers, and some handsome furs. Sitting there in the warm
sunshine, she closed her eyes — as she told me afterward —
and fancied she heard the httle maid dancing among the
rustling leaves and singing to her.
Like all Indian women of the Strong Woods, she beheved
that her still-bom child would never grow larger or older; that
it would never leave her; that it would always love her, though
she hved to be a great-grandmother; that when sorrow and pain
bowed her low this httle maid would laugh and dance and talk
and sing to her, and thus change her grief into joy. That is
why an Indian mother puts pretty things upon the grave of her
still-bom child, and that is why she never mourns over it.
As our journey progressed those enemies of comfort and
pleasure, the black flies, appeared, and at sunrise and sunset
282 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
caused much annoyance, especially among the children. Then,
too, at night if the breeze subsided, mosquitoes swarmed from
the leeward side of bushes and drove slumber away.
One afternoon, while resting, we observed signs of beaver and
Oo-koo-hoo, being reminded of an incident he once witnessed,
related it to me:
"Once, my son, while paddhng alone, I rounded the bend
of a river, and hearing a splash just beyond the turn, silently
propelled my canoe beneath a screen of overhanging branches.
After waiting and watching awhile, I saw an otter fishing in the
stream. A moment later I beheld a beaver — evidently a
female — swimming just beyond the otter, and pursued by two
other beavers — evidently males. The males, perceiving the
otter swimming in the direction of the female, probably came
to the conclusion that he was about to pay his court to her,
for they suddenly swerved from their course and attacked the
innocent otter. He dived to escape his assailants, and they
dived after him. When he rose for breath, they came up, too,
and made after him; so he dived again. Evidently, they were
trying to wind their quarry, for whenever he came up for
breath they endeavoured to reach him before he got it. In a
short time they had so exhausted him that he refused to dive
again before he gained his breath. He made for the shore.
The beavers rushed after him, overtook him, and just as he
gained the bank, ripped his throat open. Then I shot one of the
beavers and tossed it into my canoe along with the otter."
The journey to the Post was a delight all the way — save
when the flies were busy. One night those almost invisible
little torments, the sand flies, caused us — or rather me — ^much
misery until Granny built such a large fire that it attracted the
attention of the httle brutes, and into it they all dived, or ap-
parently did — ^just as she said they would — for in less than half
an hour not a single sand fly remained.
On our way to God's Lake we had considerable sport in the
LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 283
way of shooting white-water. One morning we landed at the
head of a portage, and, as the rapid was not a dangerous one,
Oo-koo-hoo and Amik determined to rim it, but first went
ashore to examine the channel. On their return Oo-koo-hoo
instructed the others to follow his lead about four canoe-lengths
apgu^t, so that in case of mishap they could help each other.
Down the canoes plunged one after the other. The children
wielded their little paddles, screaming with dehght as they
swiftly glided through the foaming spray past shores still lined
here and there with walls of ice.
As the canoes roimded a sharp bend in the rapid Oo-koo-hoo
descried a black bear walking on the ice that overhung the
eastern bank. The animal seemed as much surprised as any
of us, and, instead of making off, rose upon its haunches and
gazed in amazement at the passing canoes. But as we swept
by there was no thought of firing gims. The sight of the bear
reminded Oo-koo-hoo of an experience some friends of his once
had with a black bear; and when we reached slack water he told
it to me.
The friends in question were a mother and her daughter,
and late one afternoon they were returning from berry pick-
ing. As they rounded a bend in the river the daughter in the
bow suddenly stopped paddling, and — ^without turning her
face toward her mother in the stern — excitedly whispered:
''Muskwa! MuskwaV
Then as the older woman caught sight of a dark object fifty
paces away, she uttered a few hurried conunands. Both fell
to paddling with all their might. With straining backs, stiff-
ened arms, and bending blades, they fairly lifted the canoe at
every stroke; and the waters gave a tearing sound as the slash-
ing blades sent httle whirlpools far behind. Their hearts
were fired with the spirit of the chase, and — though their only
weapons were their skinning knives — they felt no fear. On
they raced to head the bear, who was swimming desperately
284 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
to gain the shore. They overhauled him. He turned at
bay. The daughter soused a blanket in the water and threw
it over his head. The mother in the stern reached over as the
canoe glided by, seized him by an ear as he struggled blindly
beneath the smothering mantle, and drove her knife into his
throat. A broad circle of crimson coloured the water round the
blanket. The canoe was quickly brought about; the mother
slipped a noose over his head, and in triumph they towed the
carcass to their camp.
On the last morning of our trip there was a flutter of pleasant
excitement among our httle party; and by the time the sun
appeared and breakfast was over, everybody was laughing and
talking, for we had made such progress that we expected to
reach Fort Consolation by ten o'clock that forenoon. Quickly
we loaded the canoes again, and away we paddled. In a few
hours the beautiful expanse of God's Lake appeared before us.
When we sighted the old fort, a joyous shout rang out; paddles
were waved overhead, and tears of joy rose to the eyes of the
women — and of some of the men.
Going ashore, we quickly made our toilets, donning our very
finest in order to make a good appearance on our arrival at
the Fort — as is the custom of the Northland. Bear's grease
was employed with lavish profusion, even Oo-koo-hoo and Amik
and the boys using it on their hair; while the women and girls
greased and wove their tresses into a single elongated braid
which hung down behind. The men put on their fancy silk-
worked moccasins; tied silk handkerchiefs about their necks —
the reverse of cow-boy fashion — and beaded garters around
their legs; while the women placed many brass rings upon their
fingers, bright plaid shawls about their shoulders, gay silk
handkerchiefs over their heads, and beaded leggings upon their
legs. How I regretted I had not brought along my top-hat —
that idiotic symbol of civilization — ^for if I could have worn it
on that occasion, the Indians at Fort Consolation would have
LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 285
been so filled with merriment that they would have in all
probability remembered me for many a year as the one white
man with a sense of humom*.
For in truth, it is just as Ohiyesa (Charles A. Eastman)
the full-blooded Sioux, says in his book on Indian Boyhood:
"There is scarcely anything so exasperating to me as the idea
that the natives of this country have no sense of humour and
no faculty for mirth. This phase of their character is well
understood by those whose fortune or misfortune it has been
to live among them day in and day out at their homes. I don't
beUeve I ever heard a real hearty laugh away from the Indians'
fireside. I have often spent an entire evening in laughing with
them until I could laugh no more."
CONTEST OF WITS
When we arrived at Fort Consolation, Oo-koo-hoo and his
party were greeted by a swarm of their copper-coloured friends,
among whom were The Little Pine and his father, mother, and
sister. Making his way through the press, The Owl strode
toward the trading room to shake hands with Factor Macken-
zie; but the trader, hearing of Oo-koo-hoo's arrival, hastened
from his house to welcome the famous hunter; and The Owl
greeted him with:
''Quay, quay, Hu-ge-mow" (good day. Master).
On their way to the Indian shop they passed the canoe shed,
where skilled hands were finishing two handsome six-fathom
canoes for the use of the Fur Brigade; and they stopped to
examine them.
The building of a six-fathom or "North" canoe generally
takes place under a shed erected for the purpose, where there is
a clear, level space and plenty of working room. Two principal
stakes are driven at a distance apart of thirty-six feet, the length
of the craft to be. These are connected by two rows of
286 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
smaller stakes diverging and converging so as to form the
shape of the canoe. The smaller stakes are five feet apart at
the centre. Pieces of birch bark are soaked in water for a day
and no more, sewn together with wat-tap — the roots of cedar or
spruce gathered in spring — ^placed between the stakes with the
outer side down, and then made fast. The well-soaked ribs
are then put in place and as soon as they are loaded with
stones the bark assumes its proper form. The gunwales,
into which the ends of the ribs are mortised, are bound into
position with wat-tap. The thwarts are next adjusted. The
stones and stakes are then removed; the seams are covered
with a mixture of one part grease to nine parts spruce gum;
the craft is tested, and is then held in readiness for its maiden
voyage.
On entering the Indian shop or trading room, Oo-koo-hoo
was ready to talk about anything under the sun save business,
as he wanted to force the Trader to solicit his patronage; but
as the Factor was trying to make the hunter do the same thing,
they parted company a little later without having mentioned
the word "trade."
No wonder the Indians are glad to return to their tribal
srnnmer camping grounds; for it is there that they rest and play
and spend their summer holidays. It is there, too, that the
young people enjoy the most favourable opportunity for doing
their courting; as every event — such as the departure or the
return of the Fur Brigade — calls for a festival of dancing which
not infrequently lasts for several days. Also, in many other
ways, the boys and girls have chances of becoming acquainted.
Since young hunters often claim their sweethearts during the
winter, many "marriages" take place after the Indian fashion.
On their return to the Post, however, the young couples are
generally married over again, and this time after the white
man's custom — "in the face of the Church." The way the
young people "keep company" at the summer camping
LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 287
grounds presents no feature of special interest. It is during
the winter season in the forest many miles beyond the Post
that the old customs have full sway. The re-manying the
young couples "in the face of the Church" frequently de-
mands extreme vigilance, for in the confusion of the matri-
monial busy season when the Indians first come in the Uttle
papoose is apt to be christened — unless the clergyman is very
careful — before the parents have had time to arrange for their
church wedding.
Meanwhile, the women having erected the canvas lodge
and put in order one of their last-year's birch-bark wigwams,
called upon the Factor's wife and presented her with a hand-
some work-bag made of beautifully marked skins from the
necks of the loons Oo-koo-hoo had shot with his bow and arrow
for that purpose.
After leaving the Indian shop, the hunter returned to his
camp to talk matters over with Amik and the women. He
told them that he intended selling most of his furs to the
Company, but that he thought it wise to stay away from the
Factor until next day. But as Granny, being a Roman
Catholic, wanted to have Father Jois marry Neykia and The
Little Pine, she suggested that Oo-koo-hoo go and call upon the
priest at once. Notwithstanding that her mother was a
Presbyterian, Neykia had joined the Roman Cathohc Church
and when asked why she had done so, she said it was because
she thought the candles looked so pretty burning on the
altar.
Though The Owl was not in the least interested in any one
of the white man's many rehgions, nor in the priest, the clergy-
man, or the minister of the three different denominations rep-
resented at the Post, he now called upon the priest as his
wife wished him to. During the course of their conversation
the priest said :
" My son, that was a beautiful silver fox you sold the Com-
288 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
pany three years ago. I, myself, would have paid you well
for it."
"Would you look as well upon a black fox?" asked Oo-koo-
hoo in surprise, as it is an unwritten law of the country that
missionaries are not to cairry on trade with the Indians.
* * Yes. Have you one ? ' ' questioned the priest.
"I have never seen a finer," replied the hunter.
"But do either of the traders know you have it.^" asked the
priest.
"No," answered Oo-koo-hoo, with a shake of his head.
Later, when the priest saw the skin, he was delighted with it,
and a bargain was soon made. Oo-koo-hoo was to get one
hundred "skins" for the black fox, and he was told to call next
day. But after returning to camp, he grew impatient and
went back to the priest to demand his pay. The priest said he
would give him a tent and a rifle worth more than fifty skins
and that he would say ten masses for him and his family, which
would be a very generous equivalent for the other fifty skins.
But Oo-koo-hoo, suddenly flaring up, began to storm at the
priest, and demanded the black fox back. But the priest
sternly motioned for silence with upraised hand, and whispered :
" This is God's House. There must be no noise or anger here."
And without another word he withdrew to get the rifle and
the tent. When he returned with an old tent and a second-
hand rifle, Oo-koo-hoo would not deign to touch them. With-
out more ado, he tmned on his heel and walked away.
On reaching camp, the old hunter learned from the children
that the women had gone to pay a visit to the nuns; so he
foUowed them, and, without even speaking to the Sisters,
ordered the women to come home. On the way he eased his
wrath by teUing them that never again would he buy prayers
or masses from the priest with black fox skins, and that if they
ever wanted masses, he would pay for them with nothing but
the skins of skunks. He did not see why he had to pay for
LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 289
masses, anyway, when Free Trader Spear had made them a
standing offer of all the prayers they wanted free of charge,
provided that he, Oo-koo-hoo, would trade with him. He
added that he had haK a mind to accept Spear's offer, just to
spite the priest.
So after meditating for a while upon his steadfast belief
that any fool of an Indian is better than a white man, and that
the only good white men are the dead ones, he got into his
canoe and paddled across the lake to interview the opposition
trader.
When he told Spear what a splendid black fox he had, and
how the priest had already offered him a hundred skins for
it, the Free Trader said:
"I'll give you a hundred and ten for it," and the old repro-
bate added, "and I'll throw into the bargain half-a-dozen
prayers for the women."
The offer was at once accepted. On handing over the goods
to Oo-koo-hoo, the trader asked where the black fox was, and
was told that it was in keeping of the priest. So without delay
Mr. Spear paddled back with The Owl to get the skin. When
the priest learned how the hunter had stolen a march on him,
he was righteously indignant; but he dared not complain, since
he was not supposed to deal in furs. There was nothing to do
but hand over the magnificent skin to the Free Trader although
he knew right well that in London or Paris it would bring
twenty times the price paid for it.
Next day old Granny came crying to Oo-koo-hoo and com-
plaining that the priest had refused to officiate at the wedding,
on the day agreed upon. The nuns had told her that his re-
fusal was due to his determination to discipUne The Owl for
his rudeness and irreverence. That seemed to worry the
hunter considerably, for, though he cared nothing for the
priest's benediction, he did want the wedding to come off upon
the day appointed. It touched his pride to be balked in his
290 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
plans. He had already invited all the Indians at the Post to
the ceremony. Great preparations were being made. If
the wedding were put off even a single day, everybody would be
curious to know why; and sooner or later it would be known
that he had had to bow to the will of the priest. The thought
rankled. So he went to the Factor and told him the whole
affair.
"Ma brither," said the Factor, "we are auld freens; it is
weel that we shud staun' thegither. If ye will trade a' yir furs
wi' me this day, I'll get the meenister o' the Presybyterian
Kirk tae mairry yir gran'dochter. He'll be gled eneuch tae
gi'e Father Jois a clour by mairryin' twa o' his fowk. Sell me
yir furs, an' I'll warrant ye ye'U hae the laff on Father Jois."
MISSIONARIES AND INDIANS
That settled it. Factor Mackenzie got all the furs Oo-koo-
hoo and his family possessed. The Factor and the hunter
were now the best of friends, and they even went so far as to
exchange presents — and that's going some . . . for a
Scotsman.
Should the foregoing amuse the Protestant reader, the follow-
ing may be of interest to the Roman Catholic. One winter,
while halting at a certain Hudson's Bay post, I met a Protestant
clergyman, who having spent a number of years as a missionary
among the natives on the coast of Hudson Bay excited my
interest as to his work among the Indians. That night, after
supper, I questioned him as to his spiritual work among the
"barbarians" of the forest, and in the presence of the Hud-
son's Bay trader, he turned to me and, with the air of being
intensely bored by the subject, he replied: "Mr. Heming . . .
the only interest I ever take in the Indian ... is when I
bury him."
But while I have cited two types of clergymen I have known
LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 291
— the name of the priest being, of course, fictitious — ^merely to
point out the kind of. missionaries that should never be sent
among the Indians, I not only wish to state that they are very
much the exception to the rule, but I also want to make known
my unbounded respect and admiration for that host of splendid
men — and women — of all denominations, who have devoted
their lives to the spiritual welfare of the people of the wilder-
ness, and some of whom have already left behind them hallowed
names of imperishable memory.
But the lot of the missionary among the Indians is not
altogether a joyous one. In his distant and isolated outpost
there are privations to endure and hardships to sniffer. Fre-
quently, too, it happens that he is placed in a position exceed-
ingly embarrassing to a man of gentle breeding and kindly
spirit.
A well-known Canadian priest was being entertained by
an Indian family. The hospitable old grandmother undertook
to prepare a meal for him. Determined to set before the
"black-robe" a really dainty dish — something after the
fashion of a Hamburg steak — and possessing no machine for
mincing the meat, she simply chewed it up nice and fine in her
own mouth. After cooking it to a turn, she set it before her
honoured guest, and was at a loss to understand why the good
man had so suddenly lost his appetite.
But there is often a brighter and also a graver side to the
missionary's fife among the red men. Incidents occur which
appeal irresistibly to his sense of humour.
One Sunday afternoon a certain noted bishop of the English
Church in Canada, who had spent most of his life as a mis-
sionary in the far Northwest, was discoursing at considerable
length to a band of Dog-rib Indians camped at the mouth of
Hay River on Great Slave Lake. His Lordship dwelt earnestly
upon the virtue of brotherly love, and enlarged upon the beauty
of the Divine saying — "It is more blessed to give than to re-
292 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
ceive." After the service an old Indian walked up to the
preacher, piously repeated the sacred text, and intimated that
he was prepared to become the humble instrument for bringing
upon his reverence the promised blessing. To that end he was
wiUing to receive his lordship's hat.
The good bishop was taken aback. Realizing, however,
that there was nothing else for him to do, he took off his hat and
bestowed it with commendable cheerfulness upon his new
disciple.
Another red man, jealous of his brother who was now parad-
ing in all the splendour of the bishop's hat, claimed upon the
same ground the prelate's gaiters, and received them.
The two Indians, envious each of the other's acquisition,
began to discuss with growing anger the comparative value
of the articles. Unable to arrive at an agreement, they resolved
to put up the hat and gaiters as a stake and gamble for them.
The impressive head-gear and antique gaiters of an Anglican
bishop never appeared to greater advantage than they did
upon the old Indian, the winner of the game, when he proudly
strutted before his dusky, admiring brethren, displaying on
head and bare legs the Episcopal insignia, and having for his
only other garment an old shirt whose dingy tail fluttered
coyly in the summer breeze.
neykia's wedding
At ten o'clock, on the morning of Neykia's wedding, a motley
mass of natives clothed in many colours crowded about the
little church, which, for lack of space, they could not enter.
Presently the crowd surged back from the door and formed on
either side of the path, leaving an opening down the centre.
A tall half-breed with a shock of wavy black hair stepped
from the doorway, raised his violin, and adjusting it into posi-
tion, struck up a lively tune to the accompaniment of the
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LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 293
wailing of a broken concertina played by another half-breed
who preceded the newly married couple. Neykia wore a silk
handkerchief over her head, a light-coloured cotton waist open
at the throat, a silk sash over one shoulder, and a short skirt
revealing beaded leggings and moccasins. Behind the bride
and groom walked Oo-koo-hoo and the fathers of the bridal
couple, then the mothers and the rest of the relations, while
the clergy and the other guests brought up the rear. As the
little procession moved along, the men, lined up on either side
of the path, crossed their guns over the heads of the wedding
party, and discharged a/eu de joie.
On reaching a certain log-house the procession broke up.
The older people went in to partake of the wedding breakfast,
while the bride and groom went over to one of the warehouses
and amused themselves dancing with their young friends until
they were summoned to the second table of the marriage feast.
Everybody at the Post had contributed something toward
either the feast or the dance. Out of respect for Oo-koo-hoo
the Factor had furnished a liberal stock of groceries and had, in
addition, granted the free use of the buildings. The clerk had
sent in a quantity of candies and tobacco. The priest had
given potatoes; the clergyman had suppKed a copy of the
Bible in syllabic characters; and the minister had given the
silver-plated wedding ring. The nims had presented a supply
of skim-milk and butter. Mr. Spear provided jam, pickles, and
coal-oil for the lamps. The Mounted Police contributed two
dollars to pay for the "band" — the fiddle and the concertina —
and ammunition enough for the feu de joie. The friends and
relations had given a plentiful store of fresh, dried, and pounded
fish; and had also furnished a lavish supply of moose, caribou,
and bear meat; as well as dainty bits of beaver, lynx, muskrat,
and skunk.
The bridal party having dined, they and their elders opened
the ball officially. The first dance was — as it always is — the
294 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
Double Jig, then followed in regular order the same dances as
those of the New Year's feast. After a frohc of several hours'
duration some of the dancers grew weary and returned to
the banquet room for refreshments. And thus for three days
and three nights the festivities continued.
THE WEDDING SPEECHES
During a lull in the dancing on the afternoon of the wedding
day Little Pine's sister went up to him and said: "Brother,
may I kiss you.^ Are you ashamed.^" He answered: "No."
She kissed him, took his wife's hand, placed it in his with her
own over both, and addressed the young wife :
"As you have taken my place, do to him as I have done;
listen to him, work for him, and, if need be, die for him."
Then she lowered her head and began to cry.
Ne-Geek, The Otter, Neykia's oldest brother, then went up
to Little Pine and asked :
"Are you man enough to work for her, to feed her, and to
protect her .^ "
"Yes," replied the new-made husband.
The Otter put the husband's hand on his sister's hand,
and — looking him straight in the eyes . . . shook his
clenched fist at him and said in a threatening tone . . . "Be-
ware!"
In the midst of one of the dances Oo-koo-hoo walked up
to the "band" and knocked up the fiddle to command silence.
Pulling his capote tightly about him, he assumed a dignified
attitude, slowly looked round the room to see that he had
the attention of all present, and began to address the
assemblage:
"The step which Shing-wauk has taken is a very serious
one. Now he will have to think for two. Now he must sup-
ply the wants of two. Now he will realize what trouble is.
LIFE AND LOVE RETURN 295
But the One who made us . . . The Great Mystery . . .
The Master of Life . . . made us right. The man has his
work to do, and the woman has hers. The man must hunt and
kill animals, and the woman must skin and dress them. The
man must always stand by her and she by him. The two to-
gether are strong . . . and there is no need of outside
assistance. Remember . . . my grandchildren . . .
you are starting out together that way . . ."
To illustrate his meaning, he held up two fingers parallel,
and added:
"If your tracks fork . . . they will soon be as far
apart as sunrise is from sunset . . . and you will find
many ready to come in between. Carry on in the way you
have begim ... for that is the way you should end. And
remember ... if your tracks once fork . . . they
will never come together again . . . my grandchildren
. . . I have spoken."
After Little Pine's father, as well as several of the guests, had
made their remarks, Naudin, Neykia's mother, rose to address
her daughter. Overcome with nervousness, she pulled her
shawl so far over her face as to leave only a tiny peep-hole
through which to look. Hesitatingly she began:
"My daughter, you never knew what trouble is, now you
will know. You never knew what hard work is, now you will
soon leam. Never let your husband want for anything.
Never allow another woman to do anything for him; if you
do . . . you are lost. When you have children, my
daughter, and they grow up, your sons will always be sons to
you, even though they be gray-headed. But with your daugh-
ters it will not be so; when they marry, they will be lost to
you. Once married, they are gone for ever."
She stepped up to her daughter, kissed her, and sank to the
floor, weeping copiously.
Then Amik rose to speak. He beckoned to his daughter.
296 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
She advanced and knelt down, holding the fringe of his legging
while he addressed her :
"Neykia, my daughter, you have taken this man. Be good
to him, work for him, Hve for him, and if need he, die for him.
Eass me, Neykia, my daughter; kiss me for the last time.'*
She kissed him, and he added:
"You have kissed me for the last time: henceforth never
kiss any man but your husband."
Raising his hand with imtutored dignity, he pronounced the
words:
"Remember . . . I have spoken."
VIII
BUSINESS AND ROMANCE
FAREWELL ATHABASCA
Though Wawe Pesim (The Egg Moon), or June, had al-
ready brought summer to the Great Northern Forest, the
beautiful Athabasca still waited in vain. Son-in-law had not
yet appeared. After all — ^was he but a fond parents' dream?
I wondered.
Soon the picturesque and romantic Fur Brigade would be
sweeping southward on its voyage from the last entrenchments
of the Red Gods to the newest outposts of civilization — a civili-
zation that has debauched, infected, plundered, and murdered
the red man ever since its first onset upon the eastern shores
of North America. K you don't believe this, read history,
especially the history of the American fur trade.
Meanwhile, canoes laden with furs and in charge of Hudson's
Bay traders or clerks from outlying "Flying Posts" had
arrived; and among the voyageurs was that amusing character.
Old Billy Brass. A httle later, too, Chief Factor Thompson
arrived from the North. Now in the fur loft many hands were
busily engaged in sorting, folding, and packing in collapsible
moulds — that determined the size and shape of the fur packs —
a great variety of skins. Also they were energetically weighing,
cording, and covering the fur packs with burlap — Cleaving two
ears of that material at each end to facihtate handling them,
as each pack weighed eighty pounds.
A fur pack of one hundred pounds — for the weight varies
according to the difficulty of transportation in certain regions —
297
298 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
contains on an average fourteen bear, sixty otter, seventy
beaver, one hundred and ten fox skins, or six hundred muskrat
skins. A pack of assorted furs contains about eighty skins and
the most valuable ones are placed in the centre.
During the next few days the great "North'* or six-fathom
canoes — ^made of birch bark and capable of carrying from three
to four tons of freight in addition to their crews of from eight to
twelve men — were brought out of the canoe house, and to-
gether with the two new ones, had their bows and sterns
painted white in readiness for their finishing touch of decora-
tion in the way of some symbol of the fur trade.
As the principal Indian canoemen, who were to join the Fur
Brigade, were already famihar with my abiUty as an artist,
they waited upon the Factor and requested him to soHcit
my help in the final decorating of those beautiful canoes. So
it came to pass that on the bow of one a leaping otter appeared
and on the bows of others, a rearing bear, a flying goose, a
rampant caribou, a galloping fox, a leaping lynx, a rampant
moose, and on still another the coat-of-arms of the Hudson's
Bay Company. Each in turn had its admirers, but Oo-koo-
hoo, who was to have charge of all the voyageurs, sidled up to
Factor Mackenzie and whispered that if Hu-ge-mow — Master
— would let him take his choice of the canoes, he would not
only give the Factor a dollar in return for the privilege, but he
would promise to keep that particular canoe at the very head
of the whole brigade, and never once allow another canoe to
pass it during the voyage.
The Factor was not only interested in the Indian's apprecia-
tion of art, as well as amused over the idea that he would
accept a bribe of a dollar, but he was curious to know which
canoe the Indian most favoured. It was the one that displayed
the Great Company's coat-of-arms; so Oo-koo-hoo, the famous
white-water-man, not only won his choice and retained his
dollar, but furthermore, he and his crew actually did keep
BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 299
the bow of that canoe ahead of all others — ^no matter where
or when the other crews contested for the honour of leading the
Fur Brigade.
The next morning, at sunrise, the Fur Brigade was to
take its departure. Now it was time I visited Spearhead, to
thank my friends, the Free Trader and his family, for all
their kindness to me, and to bid them farewell; so I borrowed
a small canoe and paddled across the lake. When I arrived
they invited me to dine with them. At the table that day
there was less talking — everyone seemed to be in a thoughtful
mood.
The windows and doors were open and the baggy mosquito
netting sagged away from the hot sun as the cool breeze whis-
pered through its close-knit mesh. Outside, I could see the
heifer and her mother lying in the shade of a tree on the far
side of the stump-lot, and near the doorway the ducks and geese
were sauntering about the grass and every now and then making
sudden little rushes — as though they were trying to catch some-
thing. There, too, in the pathway, the chickens were scratch-
ing about and ruffling their feathers in httle dust holes — as
though they were trying to get rid of something. An im-
expected grunt at the doorway attracted my attention and I
saw a pig leering at me from the comers of its half-closed eyes —
the very same pig the Free Trader and his wife had chosen to
add to their daughter's wedding dowry — then it gave a famiUar
little nod, as though it recognized me; and I fancied, too, that its
ugly chops broke into an insolent smile. What was it thinking
about? . . . Was it Son-in-law? I wondered.
I glanced at Athabasca. How beautiful she looked! The
reflected sunhght in the room cast a delightful sheen over her
lustrous brown hair, and seemed to enhance the beauty of her
charmingly sun-browned skin, that added so much to the
whiteness of her even teeth, and to the brilliancy of her soft
brown eyes. In a dreamy way she was looking far out through
300 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
the window and away off toward the distant hills. She, too,
set me wondering; was she thinking of Son-in-law P
At that moment, however, the pig gave another impatient
grunt which startled Athabasca and caused her to look directly
at me ... I blushed scarlet, then; so did she — but, of
course, only out of sympathy.
"Yes, we'll send her to that finishing school in Toronto,"
her mother mused, while Free Trader Spear scratched his head
once more, and three house flies lazily sat on the sugar bowl
and hummed a vulgar tune.
After dinner Mr. Spear invited me into the trading room to
see some of the furs he had secured. Among them were four
silver fox skins as well as the black one he had bought from
Oo-koo-hoo. They were indeed fine skins.
It was now time for me to take my departure, so I returned
to the living room, but found no one there. Presently, how-
ever, Mrs. Spear entered, and though she sat down opposite me,
she never once looked my way. She seemed agitated about
something. Clasping her fingers together, she twirled her
thumbs about one another, then she twirled them back the
other way; later she took to tapping her moccasined toe upon
the bare floor. I wondered what was coming. I couldn't
make it out. For all the while she was looking at a certain
crack in the floor. Once more she renewed the twirhng action
of her thumbs, and even increased the action of her toe upon
the floor.
What did it all mean? Had I done anything to displease
her.^ No; I could think of nothing of the sort, so I felt a Httle
easier. Suddenly, however, she glanced up and, looking
straight at me, began:
"Mr. Heming ... we have only one child . . .
and we love her dearly . . ."
But the pause that followed was so long drawn out that I
began to lose interest, especially as the flies were once more
BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 301
humming the same old tune. A little later, however, I was
almost startled when Mrs. Spear exclaimed:
"But m lend you a photograph of Athabasca for six
weeks!"
Thereupon Mrs. Spear left her chair and going upstairs
presently returned with a photograph wrapped in a silk
handkerchief; and as at that very moment the Free Trader and
his daughter entered the room, I, without comment, shpped
the photograph into my inside pocket, and wished them all
good-bye; though they insisted upon walking down to the
landing to wave me farewell on my way to Fort Consolation.
MUSTERING THE FUR BRIGADE
Next morning, soon after dawn, the church bells were ringing
and everyone was up and astir; and presently all were on their
way to one or another of the Uttle log chapels on the hill; where,
a little later, they saw the stalwart men of the Fur Brigade
kneeling before the altar as they partook of the holy sacra-
ment before starting upon their voyage to the frontier of
civihzation.
Strange, isn't it, that the writers of northern novels never
depict a scene Hke that? Probably because they have never
been inside a northern church.
Next, breakfasts were hurriedly eaten, then the voyageurs
assembled upon the beach placed those big, beautifully formed,
six-fathom canoes upon the water, and paddled them to the
landing. Then Chief Factor Thompson and Factor Mackenzie
joined the throng; and that veteran voyageur, Oo-koo-hoo, who
was to command the Fur Brigade, touched his hat and con-
versed with the officers. A few moments later the old guide
waved his swarthy men into line. From them he chose the
bowmen, calling each by name, and motioning them to rank
beside him; then, in turn, each bowman selected a man for his
302 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
crew; until, for each of the eight canoes, eight men were chosen.
Then work began.
Some went off with tump-hne in hand to the warehouse,
ascended the massive stairs, and entered the fur loft. Tiers of
empty shelves circled the room, where the furs were stored
during the winter; but upon the floor were stacked packs of
valuable pel ts — the harvest of the fur trade. The old-fashioned
scales, the collapsible mould, and the giant fur press told of the
work that had been done. Every pack weighed eighty pounds.
Loading up, they rapidly carried the fur to the landing. In the
storeroom the voyageurs gathered up the "tripping" kit of
paddles, tents, axes, tarpaulins, sponges; and a box for each
crew contedning frying-pans, tea pails, tin plates, and tea-dishes.
In the trading room the crews were supplied with provisions of
flour, pork, and tea, at the rate of three pounds a day for each
man. They were also given tobacco. Most of the voyageurs
received "advances" from the clerk in the way of clothing,
knives, pipes, and things deemed essential for the voyage.
Birch bark, spruce roots, and gum were supplied for repairing
the canoes.
All was now in readiness. The loading of freight began, and
when each canoe had received its allotted cargo the voyageurs
indulged in much handshaking with their friends, a httle quiet
talking and affectionate kissing with their famihes and sweet-
hearts. Then, paddle in hand, they boarded their canoes and
took their places.
In manning a six-fathom canoe the bowman is always the
most important; the steersman comes next in rank, while the
others are called "midmen."
DEPARTURE OF THE FUR BRIGADE
Factor Mackenzie and his senior officer, sitting in the
guide's or chief voyageur's canoe, which, of course, was Oo-koo-
BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 303
hoo's, gave the word; and all together the paddle blades dipped,
the water swirled, and on the gunwales the paddle handles
thudded as the canoes heaved away.
The going and coming of the Fur Brigade was the one
great event of the year to those nomadic people who stood
watching and waving to the fast-vanishing flotilla. Were
they not bidding farewell to fathers, husbands, brothers, sons,
or lovers, chosen as the best men from their village? Had they
not lent a hand in the winning of the treasure that was floating
away? If only the pelts in those packs could speak, what
tales they would unfold!
As I looked back the animated picture of the httle settlement
wherein we figured but a moment before gradually faded into
distance. The wild-looking assembly was blotted from the
shore. But stiU above the rapidly dwindling buildings waved
the flag of the oldest chartered trading association in the world
— ^the Hudson's Bay Company.
Between eleven and twelve o'clock the brigade went ashore
for a "snack." The canoes were snubbed to overhanging trees,
and upon a rocky flat the fires burned. Hurriedly drinking
the hot tea, the men seized pieces of frying pork and, placing
them upon their broken bannock, ravenously devoured both
as they returned to the canoes. No time was lost. Away we
went again. Then the brigade would paddle incessantly for
about two hours; then they would "speU", and paddles were
laid aside "one smoke." As the way slackened the steersmen
bunched the canoes. The soft, rich voices of the crews blended
as they quietly chatted and joked and laughed together.
Later, a stem wind came along. Nearing an island, some
of the men went ashore and cut a mast and sprit-sail boom for
each canoe. They lashed the masts to the thwarts with tump-
lines, and rigged the tarpaulins, used to cover the packs, into
sails. Again the paddles were shipped, save those of the steers-
men; and the crews lounged about, either smoking or drowsing.
304 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
The men were weary. Last night they had danced both hard
and long, with dusky maids — as all true voyageurs do on the
eve of their departure. To voyageurs stern winds are blessings.
Mile after mile the wild flotilla swept along. Sunshine danced
upon the rippling waves that gurgled and lapped as the bows
overreached them. Rugged islands of moss-covered rock
and evergreen trees rose on every side. The wind favoured us
for about five miles, then shifted. Reluctantly the sails were
let down, and masts and booms tossed overboard. At four
o'clock the brigade landed on a pretty island, and a hurried
afternoon tea was taken; after which we again paddled on, and
at sundown halted to pitch camp for the night.
CAMP OF THE FUR BRIGADE
The canoes — ^held off shore so as not to damage them by
touching the beach — ^were unloaded by men wading in the
water. The fur packs were neatly piled and covered with
tarpaulins. Then the canoes were hfted off the water, and
carried ashore, and turned upside-down for the night. Tents
were erected and campfires Ut. Upon a thick carpet of ever-
green brush the blankets were spread in the tents. The tired
men sat in the smoke at the fires and ate their suppers round
which black flies and mosquitoes hovered.
Canadian voyageurs, being well used to both fasting and
feasting, display great appetites when savoury food is plentiful,
and though I have seen much feasting and heard astonishing
tales of great eating, I feel I cannot do better than quote the
foUowing, as told by Charles Mair, one of the co-authors of
that reHable book "Through the Mackenzie Basin":
"I have already hinted at those masterpieces of voracity for
which the region is renowned; yet the undoubted facts related
around our campfires, and otherwise, a few of which follow,
almost beggar belief. Mr. Young, of our party, an old Hud-
BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 305
son's Bay officer, knew of sixteen trackers who, in a few days,
consumed eight hears, two moose, two hags of pemmican, two
sacks of flour, and three sacks of potatoes. Bishop Grouard
vouched for four men eating a reindeer at a sitting. Our friend,
Mr. d'Eschamhault, once gave Oskinnegu, — *The Young
Man' — six poimds of pemmican. He ate it all at a meal,
washing it down with a gallon of tea, and then complained
that he had not had enough. Sir George Simpson states that
at Athabasca Lake, in 1820, he was one of a party of twelve
who ate twenty-two geese and three ducks at a single meal.
But, as he says, they had been three whole days without food.
The Saskatchewan folk, however, known of old as the Gens de
Blaireaux — *The People of the Badger Holes' — ^were not
behind their congeners. That man of weight and might, our
old friend Chief Factor Belanger, once served out to thirteen
men a sack of pemmican weighing ninety pounds. It was
enough for three days; but there and then they sat down and
consumed it all at a single meal, not, it must be added, without
some subsequent and just pangs of indigestion. Mr. B., having
occasion to pass the place of eating, and finding the sack of
pemmican, as he supposed, in his path, gave it a kick; but, to
his amazement, it bounded aloft several feet, and then lit.
It was empty! When it is remembered that in the old bu£falo
days the daily ration per head at the Company's prairie posts
was eight pounds of fresh meat, which was all eaten, its equiva-
lent being two pounds of pemmican, the enormity of this
Gargantuan feast may be imagined. But we ourselves were
not bad hands at the trencher. In fact, we were always hungry.
So I do not reproduce the foregoing facts as a reproach, but
rather as a meagre tribute to the prowess of the great of old —
the men of unbounded stomach I"
And yet, strange as it may seem, fat men are seldom seen in
the northern wilderness. That is something movie directors
should remember.
306 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
Peimnican, though little used nowadays, was formerly the
mainstay of the voyageurs. It was made of the flesh of buffalo,
musk-ox, moose, caribou, wapiti, beaver, rabbit, or ptEmnigan;
and for ordinary use was composed of 66 per cent, of dried meat
pounded fine to 34 per cent, of hard fat boiled and strained.
A finer quality of pemmican for officers or travellers was com-
posed of 60 per cent, of dried meat pounded extra fine and
sifted; 33 per cent, of grease taken from marrow bones boiled
and strained; 5 per cent, of dried Saskatoon berries; 2 per cent,
of dried choke cherries, and sugar according to taste. The
pounded meat was placed in a large wooden trough and, being
spread out, hot grease was poured over it and then stirred until
thoroughly mixed with the meat. Then, after first letting it
cool somewhat, the whole was packed into leather bags, and,
with the aid of wooden mallets, driven down into a soHd mass,
when the bags were sewn up and flattened out and left to cool;
during the cooKng precaution was taken to turn the bags every
five minutes to prevent the grease setthng too much to one side.
Pemmican was packed 50, 80, or 100 lb. in a bag — according
to the difficulty of transporting it through the country in
which it was to be used. The best pemmican was made from
buffalo meat, and 2 lb. of buffalo penmiican was considered
equal to 2| lb. of moose or 3 lb. of caribou pemmican.
Later, a cool sunset breeze from over the water blew the little
tormentors away, and then it was that those swarthy men en-
joyed their rest. After supper some made bannock batter in
the mouths of floiu'-sacks, adding water, salt, and baking
powder. This they worked into balls and spread out in sizzling
pans arranged obhquely before the fire with a bed of coals at the
back of each. It was an enlivening scene. Great roaring fires
sent glowing sparks high into the still night air, lighting up the
trees with their intense glare, and casting weird shadows upon
the surrounding tents and bushes. Picturesque, wild-looking
men laughed, talked, and gesticulated at one another. A few
BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 307
with capotes off were sitting close to the fires, and flipping into
the air the browning flap-jacks that were to be eaten the follow-
ing day. Others, with hoods over their heads, lolled back from
the fire smoking their pipes — and by the way, novelists and
movie directors and actors should know that the natives of the
northern wilderness, both white and red, do not smoke cigarettes ;
they smoke pipes and nothing else. Some held their moccasins
before the fire to dry, or arranged their blankets for tm-ning in.
Others slipped away under cover of darkness to rub pork rinds
on the bottom of their canoes, for there was much rivalry as to
the speed of the crews. Still more beautiful grows the scene,
when the June moon rises above the trees and tips with flicker-
ing hght the running waves.
Sauntering from one crew's fire to another, I listened for a
while to the talking and laughing of the voyageurs, but hearing
no thrilling tales or even a humorous story by that noted
romancer Old BiUy Brass, I went over and sat down at the
ofl&cers' fire, where Chief Factor Thompson was discussing old
days and ways with his brother trader.
THE LONGEST BRIGADE ROUTES
After a Httle while I asked:
"What was the longest route of the old-time canoe and boat
brigades?"
"There were several very long ones," repHed Mr. Thompson,
"for instance, the one from Montreal to Vancouver, a distance
of about three thousemd miles; also the one from York Factory
on Hudson Bay to the Queen Charlotte Islands, and another
from York Factory to the Mackenzie River posts. Some of the
portages on the main highway of canoe travel were rather long,
for instance, the one at Portage La Loche was twelve miles
in length and over it everything had to be carried on man back.
" In winter time, travel was by way of snowshoes, dog-sled.
308 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
or jumper. A jumper is a low, short, strong sleigh set upon
heavy wooden runners and hauled by ox, horse, men, or dogs.
The freight load per dog — as you know — is a hundred pounds;
per man, one to two hundred pounds; per horse, four to six hun-
dred pounds; and per ox, five to seven hundred pounds. In
summer there were the canoe, York boat, sturgeon-head scow,
and Red River cart brigades. A six-fathom canoe carries from
twenty to thirty packages; a York boat, seventy-five packages;
a Sturgeon-head scow, one hundred packages; and a Red River
cart, six hundred pounds. The carts were made entirely of
wood and leather and were hauled by horse or ox. With every
brigade went the wife of one of the voyageurs to attend to the
mending of the voyageurs' clothing and to look after the com-
fort of the officer in charge. But the voyageurs always had to
do their own cooking and washing.
"In the old days, too, much of their food had to be procured
from the country through which they travelled and therefore
they rehed upon buffalo, moose, wapiti, deer, bear, beaver,
rabbit, fish, and water-fowl to keep them in plenty."
Then for a while the Factors sat smoking in silence. The
moon had mounted higher and was now out of sight behind the
tops of the neighbouring trees, but its reflection was brilliantly
rippled upon the water. At one of the fires a French half-
breed was singing in a rich barytone one of the old chansons that
were so much in vogue among the voyageurs of by-gone days —
A la Claire Fontaine, After an encore, silence again held
sway, until around another fire hearty laughter began to play.
"The boys over there must be yarning again," remarked, the
Chief Factor, as he pointed with his pipe, "let's go over, and Hsten
awhile."
BILLY BRASS TELLS ANOTHER STORY
It was Oo-koo-hoo's fire and among his men was seated that
ever-welcome member of another crew — Old Billy Brass.
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BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 309
Evidently he had just finished telling one of his mirth-provok-
ing stories, as the men were good-naturedly questioning him
about it; for, as we sat down, he continued:
"Yes, sir, it's true; fire attraks 'em. Why, I've knowed 'em
come from miles round when they catched a glimpse of it, an'
as long as there's danger o' white bears bein' round you'll never
again find Old Billy Brass tryin' to sleep beside a big fire. No,
sir, not even if His Royal Highness the Commissioner or
His Lordship the Bishop gives the word."
Then he sat there slowly drawing upon his pipe with ap-
parently no intention of adding a single word to what he
had already said. Lest something interesting should be lost,
I ventured:
"Was it the Bishop or the Commissioner that made the
trouble.^"
"No, sir, neither; 'twas the Archdeacon," rephed the old
man as he withdrew his pipe and rubbed his smarting eyes clear
of the smoke from the blazing logs. Taking a few short draws
at the tobacco, he continued:
"There was three of us, me an' Archdeacon Lofty an'
Captain Hawser, who was commandin' one of the Company's
boats that was a-goin' to winter in Hudson Bay. It happened
in September. The three of us was hoofin' it along the great
barren shore o' the bay. In some places the shore was that flat
that every time the tide came in she flooded 'bout all the
country we could see, an' we had a devil of a time tryin' to keep
clear o' the mud. We had a few dogs along to help pack our
beddin', but, nevertheless, it was hard work; for we was
carryin' most of our outfit on our backs.
"One evenin' just before sundown we stimibled upon a lot
o' driftwood scattered all about the flats. As so much wood
was lyin' around handy, we decided to spend the night on a
little knoll that rose above high-water mark. For the last
few days we had seen so Httle wood that any of our fires could
310 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
'a' been built in a hat. Rut that night the sight o' so much wood
fairly set the Archdeacon crazy with delight, an' nothin' would
do but we must have a great roarin' fire to sleep by. I would
have enjoyed a good warmin' as well as any one, but I was
mighty leary about bavin' a big fire. So I cautioned the
Archdeacon not to use much wood as there was Hkely to be
bears about, an' that no matter how far off they was, if they
saw that fire they would make for it — even if they was five or six
miles out on the ice floes. He wouldn't listen to me. The
Captain backed him up, an' they both set to an' built a fire
as big as a tepee.
"We was pretty well tuckered out from the day's walkin'.
So after supper we dried our moccasins an' was about to
turn in early when — ^lo an' behold! — ^the Archdeacon got up
an' piled more wood upon the fire. That made me mad; for
unless he was huntin' for trouble he couldn't 'a' done a thing
more foolish, an' I says somethin' to that effect. He comes
back at me as though I was afraid o' me own shadder, an' says:
*Rilly Rrass, I'm s'prised that a man like you doesn't put
more faith in prayin' an' trustin' hisself in the hands o' the
Almighty.'
" I was so hot over the foolishness of bavin' such a big fire that
I ups an' says:
" 'That may be all right for you, sir, but I prefer to use my
wits first, an' trust in Providence afterwards.'
"Nothin' more was said, an' we all turns in. I didn't like
the idea of every one goin' to sleep with a fire so big that it was
showin' itself for miles aroun', so I kep' myself awake. I
wasn't exactly thinkin' that somethin' really serious was goin'
to happen, but I was just wishin' it would, just to teach the
Archdeacon a lesson. As time went on I must 'a' done a
Httle dozin'; for when I looks up at the Dipper again, I leams
from its angle with the North Star that it was already after
midnight. An' — ^would you beheve it? — ^that fire was still
BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 311
blazin' away nearly as big as ever. The heat seemed to make
me drowsy, for I began to doze once more. All at once I heard
the dogs blowin' so hard "
"Blowing?"
"Yes, that's right; they were blowin'; for geddies don't
bark like other dogs when they're frightened. Well, as I was
sayin', they were blowin' so hard that my hair nearly stood on
end. Like a shot I throws off me blanket an' jmnps to me
feet, for I knowed what was comin'. The Captain an' the
Archdeacon heard them, too, an' we all grabbed at once for the
only gun, a single-barrelled muzzle-loader.
"As iU luck would have it, the Archdeacon was nearest to
that gun an' grabbed it, an' by the time we was straightened
up we sees a great big white bear rushin' at us. Quick as
thought the Archdeacon points the gim at the bear an' pulls
the trigger, but the hammer only snaps upon the bare nipple;
for the cap had tumbled off in the scramble. There was no
time for re-cappin'; so, bein' the nearest to the chargin' bear,
the Archdeacon just drops the old gun an' runs for dear life
around that fire with me an' the Captin followin' close behind
him.
"When I seen the way the Archdeacon an' the Captin went
a sailin' round that fire, it fairly took me breath away; for
somehow I never had any idea that them two old cripples had
so much speed left in 'em. An' you can bet it kep' me un-
usually busy bringin' up the rear; an', anyway, the feelin'
that the bear was for ever snappin' at me coat-tails kep' me
from takin' things too easy.
"Well, we tore round an' round an' round that fire so dang
many times that we was not only rapidly losin' our wind but we
was beginnin' to get dizzy into the bargain. All the time we
could hear the great beast thunderin' after us, yet we daren't
slacken our pace; no, sir, not even enough to take a single
glance behind just to see which was gainin'. It was a sure
312 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
case of life or death, but principally death; an' you can depend
on it we wasn't takin' any chances.
"Me an' the Captin was crowdin' so close upon the Arch-
deacon's heels that in his terror lest we should pass him by he
ups an' sets the pace at such a tremendous speed that the
whole three of us actually catches up to the bear . . . without
the brute's knowin' it. If it hadn't been for the Archdeacon
steppin' on the sole of the bear's upturned left hind foot as the
hungry beast was gallopin' round the fire . . . we'd have
been runnin' a good deal longer.
"Well, sir, if you had just seen how fooHsh that bear looked
when he discovered that we was chasin' him instead of him
chasin' us, you'd have died laughin'. Why, he was the most
bewildered an' crest-fallen animal I ever did see. But he soon
regained his wits an' — evidently calculatin' that his only
salvation layed in his overhaulin' us — ^ht out at a saprisin'
gait in a grand effort to leave us far enough behind for him to
catch up to us. But it didn't work; for by that time we had all
got our second wind an' he soon realized that we was de-
termined not to be overhauled from the rear. So he set to
ponderin' what was really the best thing for him to do; an' then
he did it.
"You must understand that we was so close upon his heels
that there wasn't room for him to stop an' turn around without
us all faUin' on top of him. So what do you think the cuimin'
brute did? Why, he just hauled off an' kicked out behind with
his right hind foot, an' hit the Archdeacon a smashin' blow
square on his stomach, an' knocked him bang against the
Captin an' the Captin against me, an' me against the dogs; an'
we all went down in a heap beside the fire.
"Well, sir, that old brute had put so much glad an' earnest
energy into its kick that it knocked the wind plum out of every
one of us, an' for the next few seconds there was a mess of arms
an' legs an' tails frantically tryin' to disentangle themselves.
BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 313
But, as good luck would have it, I went down upon the gun.
As I rose to my feet, I slipped a cap on the nipple just as the
bear comes chargin' around the fire facing us. I ups an' lets
him have it full in the mouth. The shot nearly stunned him.
While he was clawin' the pain in his face I had time to re-load,
an' lets him have it behind the ear, an' he drops dead without
a whimper.
"Then — would you beUeve it? — the Archdeacon goes up to
the shaggy carcass, puts his foot on the bear's head, an' stands
there lookin' for all the world like British Columbia discoverin'
America, an' says:
" 'There, now, Billy Brass, I hope you have learned a lesson.
Next time you will know where to place your trust.'
"Well, sir, the way he was lettin' on that he had saved the
whole outfit made me mad. So I ups an' says:
" *Yes, sir, an' if I hadn't put me trust in me gun, there would
have been another Archdeacon in heaven. ' "
THE TRUTH ABOUT WOODSMEN
It was now growing late. For a while the smiling Indians,
half-breeds, and white men smoked in silence; then one after
another, each knocked the ashes from his pipe, arose, stretched
himself, and sauntered off to his bed, whether in a tent, under a
canoe, or in the open. Walking down to the water's edge I
watched the moonhght for a while, then passsd quietly from one
smouldering fire to another. Some of the men were still talking
together in low tones so as not to disturb those who were
already seeking slumber, while others were arranging their
bedding; and still others were devoutly kneeling in prayer to
The Master of Life.
Thus during the four seasons of the year I had hved with and
observed the men of the northern wilderness; and not only had
I learned to like and respect them, but to admire their gene-
314 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
rosity and honesty, their simplicity and skill, their gentleness
and prowess; and, above all, to honour their spiritual attitude
toward this world and the next. How different they were
from the city dwellers' conception of them! Rut still you may
want further proof. You may want first-hand knowledge of
those northern men. You may want to study their minds and
to look into their hearts. Then may I ask you to read the
following letter, written a few years ago by an old Canadian
woodsman — Mr. A. R. Carleton — ^who was born and bred in
the northern wilderness. Then you may become better ac-
quainted with at least one of the men I have been trying to
picture to you.
" I was born in the heart of the northern forest, and in my
wanderings my steps have ever gone most wilhngly back
toward the pine-covered hills and the grassy glades that slope
down to cool, deep waters. The wanderlust has carried me
far, but the lakes and waterfalls, the bluffs and the bays of the
great northern No-Man's Land are my home, and with Mukwa
the bear, Mah-en-gin the wolf, Wash-gish the red deer, and
Ah-Meek the beaver, I have much consorted and have found
their company quite to my Hking.
"Rut the fates have so dealt with me that for two years I
have not been able to see the smile of Springtime breaking
forth upon the rugged face of my northern No-Man's Land. I
have had glimpses of it, merely, among crowded houses, out
of hospital windows. Still, my mind is native to the forest,
and my thoughts and fancies, breaking captivity, go back, like
the free wild things they are, on bright days of springtime to the
wild land where the change of season means what it never can
mean in the town.
"What does Spring mean to you town folk, anyway? I will
tell you. It means lighter clothing, dust instead of sleet, the
transfer of your patronage from fuel man to ice man, a few days
of slushy streets and baseball instead of hockey.
BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 315
"What does it mean to the man of the woods? That I will
try to tell you. It means that the deep snow which has mantled
hill and valley for five months has melted into brooks and rivu-
lets which are plunging and splashing away to find the ocean
from whence they came. It means that the thick ice which
throughout the long winter has imprisoned the waters of
the lakes, is now broken, and the waves, incited by the south
wind, are wreaking vengeance by beating it upon the rocks of
the northern shore, until, subdued and melted, it returns to be
a mere part of the waves again. Instead of the hungry winter
howl of the wolf or the whining snarl of the sneaking lynx the
air is now filled with happier sounds: ducks are quacking; geese
are honking; waveys are cackhng as they fly northward;
squirrels among the spruce trees chatter noisily; on sandy
ridges woodchucks whistle excitedly; back deep in the birch
thicket partridges are drumming, and all the woodland is
musical with the song of birds.
"The trees> through whose bare branches the wind all winter
has whistled and shrieked, are now sending forth leaves of
tender green and the voice of the wind caressing them is
softened to a tone as musical as the song of birds. Flowers are
springing up, not in the rigid rows or precise squares of a
mechanically inclined horticulturist, but surprising one by
elbowing themselves out of the narrowest crevices, or peeping
bashfully out from behind fallen trees, or clinging almost up-
side down to the side of an overhanging cliflf.
"My camp on Rainy Lake faces the south and in front is
a httle stunted black ash tree, so dwarfed, gnarled, twisted,
and homely that it is almost pretty. I refrained from cutting it
down because of its attractive deformity. In the springtime,
a few years ago, a pair of robins chose it as their nesting place.
One bright Sunday morning, as the nest was in course of
construction, I was sitting in my doorway watching the pair.
The brisk httle husband was hurrying toward the nest with a
316 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
bit of moss; but the mild sun, the crisp air, the sweet breathing
earth, the gently whispering trees seemed to make him so very
happy he could not but tell of it. Alighting on a twig he
dropped the moss, opened his beak, and poured forth in
song the joy his little body could no longer contain. That
is the joy of a northern No-Man's Land in the month of
May.
"We are so happy in our woodland home that we wish every-
one might share it with us. But perhaps some would not
enjoy what we enjoy, or see what we see, and some are pre-
vented from coming by the duties of other callings, and each
must follow the pathway his feet are most fitted to tread. For
myself, I only want my Httle log cabin with the wild vines ch'mb-
ing over its walls and clinging to the mud-chinked crevices,
where I can hear the song of wild birds mingled with the
sleepy hum of bees moving from blossom to blossom about the
doorway; where I can see the timid red deer, as, peeping out of
the brush, it hesitates between the fear of man and the tempta-
tion of the white clover growing in front of my home, and where
I can watch the endless procession of waves following each other
up the bay. Give me the necessity of working for my daily
bread so that I will not feel as though I were a useless cum-
brance upon the earth; allow me an opportunity now and then
of doing a kindly act, even if it be no more than restoring to the
shelter of its mother's breast a fledgling that has fallen from
its nest in a tree top. If I may have these I will be happy, and
happier still if I could know that when the time comes for me
to travel the trail, the sands of which show no imprint of re-
turning footsteps, that I might be put to rest on the southern
slope of the ridge beside my camp, where the sunshine chases
the shadows around the birch tree, where the murmur of the
waves comes in rhythm to the robin's song, and where the red
deer play on moonhght nights. Neither will I fear the snows
of winter that come drifting over the bay, driven by the
BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 317
wind that whines through the naked tree tops, nor the howl of
the hungry wolf, for what had no terror for me in life need not
have afterward. And if the lessons that I learned at my
mother's knee be true; if there be that within me that Uves on,
I am sure that it will be happier in its eternal home if it may look
back and know that the body which it had tried to guide
through its earthly career was having its long rest in the spot it
loved best."
Did you ever meet a character like that in northern fiction?
No, of course not; how could you.^ . . . When the books
were written by city-dweUing men. Then, too, is not any pro-
duction of the creative arts — a poem, a story, a play, a painting,
or a statue — but a reflection of the composer's soul? So . . .
when you read a book filled with inhumsui characters, you have
taken the measure of the man who wrote it, you have seen a
reflection of the author's soul. Furthermore, when people
exclaim : * * What's the matter with the movies ? " The answer
is: Nothing . . . save that the screens too often reflect
the degenerate souls of the movie directors.
But the Indian — ^how he has been slandered for centuries!
When in reahty it is just as Warren, the Historian of the
Ojibways, proclaimed: "There was consequently less theft
and lying, more devotion to the Great Spirit, more obedience
to their parents, and more chastity in man and woman, than
exists at the present day, since their baneful intercourse with
the white race." And Heame, the northern traveUer, ended a
similar contention — ^more than a hundred years ago — by say-
ing: "It being well known that those who have the least inter-
course with white men are by far the happiest."
That night, as I turned in, I had occasion to look through my
kit bag, and there I found, wrapped in a silk handkerchief,
the photograph — lent to me for six weeks — of the charming
Athabasca. Being alone in my tent, I carefully unfolded
its wrapper, and drawing the candle a httle nearer, I gazed
318 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
at her beautiful face. Again I wondered about Son-in-
law. . . •
A RACE FOR THE PORTAGE
At three o'clock next morning the camp was astir. In the
half light of early day, and while breakfast was being pre-
pared, the men *' gummed" afresh the big canoes. Whittling
handles to dry pinesticks, they spUt the butts half way
down, and placed that end in the fire. After a Uttle burning,
the stick opened like a fork; and, placing it over the broken
seam, the voyageur blew upon the crotch, thus melting the
hardened "gum"; then, spitting upon his palm, he rounded it
off and smoothed it down. By the time breakfast was ready
the tents were again stowed away in the canoes along with the
valuable cargoes of furs.
PaddHng up the mist-enshrouded river the canoes rounded
a bend. There the eddying of muddy water told that a moose
had just left a water-lily bed. The leaves of the forest hid his
fleeing form; but on the soft bank the water slowly trickled
into his deep hoof-prints, so late was his departure. The
tracks of bear and deer continuously marked the shores, for the
woods were full of game. From the rushes startled ducks rose
up and whirred away. How varied was the scenery. Island-
dotted lakes, timber-covered mountains, winding streams and
marshy places; bold rocky gorges and mighty cataracts; dense
forests of spruce, tamarack, poplar, birch, and pine — a region
weU worthy to be the home of either Nimrod or Diana.
Later in the day, when all the canoes were ranged side by
side, their gracefully curved bows came in line; dip, swirl,
thud; dip, swirl, thud, sounded all the paddles together. The
time was faultless. Then it was that the picturesque brigade
appeared in wild perfection. Nearing a portage, spontaneously
a race began for the best landing place. Like contending
BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 319
chargers, forward they bounded at every stroke. Vigorously
the voyageurs plied their paddles. Stiffening their arms and
curving their backs, they bent the blades. Every muscle was
strained. The sharp bows cleaved the lumpy water, sending it
gurghng to the paddles that slashed it, and whirled it aside.
On they went. Now Oo-koo-hoo's canoe was gaining. As that
brightly painted craft gradually forged ahead, its swiftly run-
ning wake crept steadily along the sides of the other canoes.
Presently the wavelets were sounding "whiff, whiff, whiff," as
the white bows crushed them down. Then at last his canoe
broke free and lunged away, leaving all the brigade to foUow
in its broadening trail. The pace was too exhausting; the
canoes strung out; but still the narrow blades slashed away, for
the portage was at hand. With dangerous speed the first
canoe rushed abreast of the landing, and just as one expected
disaster the bowman gave the word. Instantly the crew, with
their utmost strength, backed water. As the canoe came to a
standstill the voyageius rolled their paddle-handles along the
gunwales, twirhng the dripping blades and enveloping the
canoe in a veil of whirhng spray. Then, jumping into the
shallow water, they lined up and quickly passed the packs
ashore. The moment the cargo was transferred to the bank,
the crew lifted the great canoe off the water and turned it
bottom up, while four of them placed their heads beneath and
rested the gunwales upon their capofe-bepadded shoulders.
As they carried it off, one was reminded of some immense
antediluvian reptile crawling slowly over the portage trail.
There was now much excitement. Other crews had arrived,
and were rapidly unloading. As the landing was over-crowded
the portaging began. Each man tied the thin, tapering ends of
his tump-line — a fifteen-foot leather strap with a broad centre
— about a pack, swimg it upon his back, and, bending forward,
rested its broad loop over his head. Upon the first his com-
panion placed two more packs; then, stooping beneath the
320 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
weight of 240 pounds, the packers at a jog-trot set off uphill
and down, over rugged rocks and fallen timber, through fern-
covered marsh and dense underbrush. Coming to an
opening in the wood at the far end of the portage, they quickly
tossed their burdens aside, and back again they ran. Nowhere
could one see more wiUing workers. You heard no swearing
or grumbling about the exceedingly hard task before them.
On the contrary, every man vied with the rest as to which
could carry the greatest load and most swiftly cross the portage.
Rivalry sped the work along. Shirts and trousers reeked with
perspiration. The voyageurs puffed and panted as they went
by, and no wonder — the portage was three quarters of a mile
in length.
Then away we went again, and up, up, up, we mounted day
by day, toward the height-of-land, where a long portage over
low-lying marshy ground brought us to the place where our
descent began; then for days we ran with the current until it
entered a larger river, and soon we found that endless rapids
interrupted our work, and down many of them the canoes were
run. The Hudson's Bay Company, however, never allows its
men to shoot rapids with fur-laden canoes; so it was on that
wild stretch of our trip that the skill of the voyageur was tested
most.
FIGHTING WITH DEATH
At the head of one of the great rapids Oo-koo-hoo, seeing
that I mated well with one of his crew, invited me to take a
paddle and help them through. Tossing in an extra paddle
for each canoeman we stepped aboard, and with a gentle shove
the current caught the Hght canoe and carried us out to mid-
stream. Long before we sighted white water the roar of the
cataract was humming in our ears. We midmen sat upon
dunnage sacks and braced our moccasined feet against
the ribbing. Presently the bowman stood up and scanned
BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 321
the river. Dark, ominous water raced ahead for a hundred
yards then disappeared, leaving nothing but a great surging
mass of white that leaped high and dropped out of sight in the
apparently forsaken river-bed. Then the steersman stood
up, too, and Indian words passed between them. Every
moment we were gaining impetus, and always heading for the
highest crest of foam. Waiting for the word to paddle was
even worse than waiting for the starter's gun in a scuUing race.
At last.it came, just as we were twenty-five yards from the end
of dark water. With a wild shout from the bowman we drove
our paddles home. The great canoe trembled a little at first,
as our work was somewhat ragged, but a moment later we
settled into an even stroke and swept buoyantly among the
tossing billows. Now before us ran a strange wild river of
seething white, lashing among great, gray-capped, dark green-
ish boulders that blocked the way. High rocky banks standing
close together squeezed the mighty river into a tumult of fury.
Swiftly we gHde down the racing torrent and plunge through
the boiling waters. Sharp rocks rear above the flying spray
while others are barely covered by the foaming flood.
It is dangerous work. We midmen paddle hard to force the
canoe ahead of the current. The steersman in bow and stern
ply and bend their great seven-foot paddles. The bowman
with eyes alert keenly watches the whirling waters and signs
of hidden rocks below. The roar of seething waters drowns
the bowman's orders. The steersman closely watches and
foUows every move his companion makes. Down we go,
riding upon the very back of the river; for here the water
forms a great ridge, rising four or five feet above the water-
line on either shore. To swerve to either side means sure
destruction. With terrific speed we reach the brink of a
violent descent. For a moment the canoe pauses, steadies
herself, then dips her head as the stem upheaves, and down we
plunge among more rocks than ever. Right in our path the
322 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
angry stream is waging battle with a hoary bowlder that dis-
putes the way. With all its might and fmy the frantic river
hisses and roars and lashes it. Yet it never moves — it only
frowns destruction upon all that dares approach it.
How the bowman is working! See his paddle bend I With
hghtning movements he jabs his great paddle deep into the
water and close under the left side of the bow; then with a
mighty heave he lifts her head around. The great canoe
swings as though upon a pivot; for is not the steersman doing
exactly the very opposite at this precise moment? We sheer
off. But the next instant the paddles are working on the
opposite sides, for the bowman sees signs of a water-covered
rock not three yards from the very bow. With a wild lunge
he strives to lift the bow around; but the paddle snaps like a
rotten twig. Instantly he grabs for another, and a grating
sound runs the length of the heaving bottom. The next mo-
ment he is working the new paddle. A httle water is coming
in but she is running true. The rocks now grow fewer, but
stiJJ there is another pitch ahead. Again the bow dips as we
rush down the incline. Spray rises in clouds that drench
us to the skin as we plunge through the "great swell" and
then shoot out among a multitude of tumbling billows that
threaten to engulf us. The canoe rides upon the backs of
the "white horses" and we rise and fall, rise and fall, as they
fight beneath us. At last we leave their wild arena, and, enter-
ing calmer water, paddle away to the end of the portage
trail.
One morning, soon after sunrise, the brigade came to the end
of its journey as it rounded a point and headed for a smoking
steamboat that rested upon a shimmering lake; and so entirely
did the rising mist envelop the craft that it suggested the
silhouette of a distant mountain in volcanic eruption. Then
the canoes, each in turn, lay alongside the steamer; the fm*
packs were loaded aboard, and thence by steamboat and rail-
BUSINESS AND ROMANCE 323
road they continued their journey to Montreal; where together
with the "returns" from many another of the Hudson's Bay
Company's thirty-four districts, they were reshipped in ocean-
going craft for England where eventually they were sold by
auction in London.
A hundred years ago as many as ten brigades, each number-
ing twenty six-fathom canoes, sometimes swept along those
northern highways and awoke those wild soUtudes with the
rollicking songs and laughter of fifteen or sixteen hundred
voyageurs; but alas for those wonderfully picturesque days of
bygone times! The steamboats and the railroads have driven
them away.
In my youth, however, I was fortunate enough to have
travelled with the last of those once-famous fur brigades; and
also to have learned from personal experience the daily life
of the northern woods — the drama of the forests — of which in
my still earlier youth I had had so many day-dreams; and now
if in describing and depicting it to you I have succeeded in im-
parting at least a fraction of the pleasure it gave me to witness
it, I am well repaid. But perhaps you are wondering about the
beautiful Athabasca?
ATHABASCA AND SON-IN-LAW
Some years later, while on my second visit to Fort Con-
solation, I not only found a flourishing town of some four or
five thousand inhabitants built on Free Trader Spear's original
fireehold, but in the handsome brick City Hall — standing in
the original stump-lot — I met the old Free Trader himself, now
holding office as the Mayor of Spearhead City. Not only had
he become wealthy — ^rumour said he was already a miUionaire —
but he had taken another man into partnership, for now over
his big brick storehouse read a huge sign in golden letters
"Spear and ..." For like all day-dreams — ^if only
324 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
dreamed often enough — the ever-present dream of the Free
Trader and his wife had really come true.
It was then that I learned that soon after my departure
Prince Charming had come up out of the East, fallen in love
with the beautiful Athabasca, become the actual Son-in-law,
had been taken into partnership by her father, and together
the lucky groom and his blushing bride had moved into their
newly built log cabin, furnished with the long-promised bed,
table, and chairs, the cooking stove, blankets, crockery, cutlery,
and cooking utensils. Round about their simple little home a
heifer, a pig, and some ducks and geese stood guard while their
beautiful mistress lived happy ever after — at least she did until
prosperity inveigled her into a grand new brick mansion;
and then, of course, her troubles began, because happiness
always prefers a cabin to a castle.
THE END
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