My brother a "ready-made pioneer"--Hunting rabbits--Two roasted
rabbits per man for supper--I find my friend, Firing Stony, in a
flourishing condition--Poisoning wolves--A good morning's sport--I
secure a wolf, two foxes and a mink--Firing Stony poisons his best
dog--I enjoy a meal of bear's ribs--I meet with a severe
accident--Samson treats me to a memorable feast.
This was my brother's first trip to Pigeon Lake. He had never been
seen so far west in his life before. To him, as to myself, this big
country was a constant revelation. After staying with us a few days,
he returned alone to Victoria. Had he not been by nature and
instinct a "ready-made pioneer," I should have hesitated to let him
thus return alone, but in his case I felt no fear.
And now my man and I settled down to taking out timber and
whip-sawing lumber. Nor was this our only occupation, for we had
nets to mend and clean and fish to catch; and to chop and chisel
through the ice and set a net in the dead of a northern winter was
not an easy or comfortable task. Rabbits, fortunately, were numerous
about us at this time, and gave pleasing variety to our table fare.
Taking our dogs and sleds, we would go out a few miles to where the
nature of the country was favorable for these "jumping bits of food"
for men and wildcats. Choosing a suitable spot for our camp we would
fasten our dogs, and each go his own way and kill as many rabbits as
he could before dark. Then returning laden to camp, we would gather
a good supply of wood for our fire and settle ourselves for the
night. As the fire grew strong we would stick each of us a rabbit on
an improvised spit, and when these were roasted have supper. Then we
cleaned our guns and fed our dogs, and by and by roasted another
rabbit apiece and made our second supper. Even then we were not too
well satisfied! Two rabbits of an evening per man may seem rather
much to him who all his life has had his fresh meat, butter and bacon
and beans and bread, and many other foods at each meal. But I will
here place it on record that two rabbits straight in one evening, in
the face of violent exercise and the all out-doors dining and living
room we were in, did but barely satisfy the pangs of hunger for a
short time.
About the last of February something impelled me to make a trip out
south-eastward of the lake. Taking Francis with me, we packed our
sled with fish enough to provide for our dogs and ourselves for four
or five days, and started. We took turns in going ahead on
snowshoes, and as our dogs were fresh we made good time. Early the
second day we came to a solitary lodge of Indians, and entering it
found it was the home of Mr. Firing Stony, of whom I already have
spoken in this book. He and his family were in a starving state, and
they told us of others farther on similarly situated, whom they had
seen some ten days before. We gave them some of our fish and told
them to make all haste towards the lake, and then we pushed on. But,
after two days' search, failing to find any more lodges, we turned
back and again came to Firing Stony's camp. They had moved a short
distance nearer the lake, but being exceedingly weak, could move only
slowly. Firing Stony had tracked deer and hunted them for two days,
but had failed to kill any, and now his large family was entirely
without food. We had only two small fish left. These I gave to the
mother to prepare, and we made our meal of them that night. Early
next morning, taking Firing Stony with us, we set off for the lake,
bidding the family follow us as fast as they could. I confess that I
was never very much good at anything like vigorous exercise taken on
an empty stomach, and while these thirty miles were long and
difficult to Francis and myself, they must have been a very heavy
strain upon our half-famished companion. He was plucky, though, and
kept up well. Early in the afternoon we reached the Mission, and
very soon my wife was preparing a good meal of such food as we had.
We were hungry, but our guest was famishing and had to be carefully
fed, especially after such a run through the deep snow. Towards
evening he said he was all right, and would return to meet his
family. So we loaded him with fish and told him to rest by the way,
and we would come on the morrow and help him and his family into the
Mission. To witness this man's intense interest in those dependent
upon him, to see that he was willing to sacrifice himself, if
necessary, on their behalf, was very stimulating to our optimism for
the future of this people. In this man, notwithstanding the
centuries of vice and ignorance, the germ of divinity was quite
apparent.
The next evening we had the entire family in camp beside us, and our
women were doing what they could to relieve their necessities. In a
few days the little ones and their elders began to look like
different people. What was mere existence to us was to them a feast.
During the early part of the season the wolves had killed several of
the horses and colts of the Indians, so on one of my trips I secured
a small vial of strychnine, and used it with deadly effect. By the
middle of March I had poisoned twenty-eight wolves and several foxes,
and with these was able to buy a few articles of clothing and two
small sacks of barley meal. My plan was to put a little poison into
a small cube of wildcat fat, which is very soft and melts with little
heat. Then I would chop up some fish and scatter them around where I
had placed the baits. I handled the poison very carefully, as I did
not want to kill any dogs with it, and moreover, the natives had a
prejudice against using it. Late in the evening I would drive with
my dogs several miles to the end of the lake, and there place the
baits, and next morning, before daylight, I would be making across
the ice as fast as my dogs could carry me, gathering up the results
in wolves or foxes, or untouched baits, with which I came home. In
this way I ran but little risk of poisoning any other than the
animals I was after.
One day I had quite a run of good luck. The evening before I had
noticed the tracks of a fox near home, and as I did not want to place
poison so near the house, I set a small one-springed trap at the
place. In the morning, on my way to where the baits were placed, I
noticed that the little trap, to which I had fastened a short stick,
had been dragged out on the lake. Farther on I again crossed the
trail of the dragged trap, now striking for the shore. Continuing my
course, I came to the baits, and found a big grey wolf and a red fox
stiff and stark. Lashing these on my sled, I gathered up the unused
bait, and returning drove to the spot where my trap had been pulled
into the woods. Here I tied the dogs, put on my snowshoes, and
started on the trail. I had not gone far when I found the stick
which had been attached to the trap, and said to myself, "Now then
for a long chase, for that trap is small and the chain attached is
also small and short." But presently I came to where the heavy snow
had bent a thick bush over, making a sort of den, into which my trap
had been dragged. Picking up a stick I shoved it into the den.
Immediately I heard the jingle of the chain of the trap, and before I
could withdraw the stick a large fox jumped past me and made for the
forest as fast as he could go.
I saw that he was a fine fellow, beautifully marked. I saw also that
he had the trap on one of his front feet, and, determined not to lose
my quarry, I pushed after him as fast as I could. For the first hour
or two, aided by the thick brush and the rabbit-paths, he kept ahead
of me, but towards noon I chased him out into a more open country,
where the snow was deep and loose, and here I saw plainly I was
gaining ground. Presently I saw the snow flying ahead of me, and
rushing in caught the fellow digging out an old burrow which was
covered with snow, and had not been used that winter at least, but
which must have been an old lair of his, as he had made straight for
it. My first grip was at his tail, and the white tip of this came
off in my hand. The next catch I had him by one of his hind legs,
and then I paused and thought what I should do. If I pulled him out,
he would doubtless bite me. I felt about in the snow and was
fortunate in securing a small stick. And now I pulled Mr. Fox out,
and tapped his nose for him so effectually that he was stunned, and
then I killed him.
[Illustration: "And now I ... tapped his nose for him so effectually
that he was stunned."]
Throwing the fox over my shoulder, I struck out straight for home.
The sharp chase in the keen air had given me a rousing appetite, but
before getting my dinner I thought I would bring in some fish to
thaw, in order to have them ready to feed my dogs when I brought them
home. As I entered the fish-house I heard something stir, and giving
the pile of frozen fish a shake, saw a mink rush out of the pile and
make for a small hole in the roof. Hurriedly grasping a fish-stick,
I ran to meet him, and as he jumped from the roof I caught him and
killed him. Thus I had as the result of one morning's sport a big
wolf, a red fox, a cross fox, and a mink, which as things went in
those days was a straight run of good luck.
One evening Mr. Firing Stony came to me and said, "I wish you would
give me a bait or two and let me try my luck with them. My snares
and traps are of no use." I answered, "You are too careless; you
would poison somebody." But he pressed for them, so I gave him three
baits and he went away happy. But as soon as he saw the sparks
flying out of my chimney the next morning, which was long before
daylight, he came in laughing and said, "You knew better than I, for,
just as you told me, I have poisoned my best dog. There she was,
lying stiff dead when I made the fire just now." "Well," I said, "I
did not want to give you those baits." "I know," he answered, "and I
was careful, but that dog was a notorious thief."
Not long after this Firing Stony invited me to his tent, and as I
approached the spot I became aware through my olfactory nerves that
he had made a successful hunt at last, for certainly something that
smelled good was boiling in that kettle. Before I really knew what
it was, a thrill of joy went through my whole being. Right here I
want the reader to know that I am not more epicurean than most
humanity; but when you are always hungry for change of fare, or for
food itself, you become very susceptible to the smell of good food
cooking. "You are welcome," said mine host, and I answered, "What
strange thing have you been about?" His wife answered, "He has gone
and found a bear." Sure enough, presently there were dished up to me
some delicious bear ribs. I ate what I could and took the rest home
with me, as this was an Indian custom and exceedingly convenient at
times. I will never in this life while memory lasts forget how
delicious that fat bear-meat was.
It came out that my friend was tracking a moose, and in doing so came
upon a bear's den and succeeded in killing the old one and two cubs.
Next morning, taking my dogs, we went and brought in the rest of the
meat, I getting half of it as my share, and the following day started
early to intercept and follow up if possible the trail of the moose.
But after hours of heavy snowshoeing and wading and crawling, we
found that some wolves had run the moose away from us. Tired and
disappointed, we reached home late that night.
About the end of March Indians began to straggle in, bringing little
or no provisions, but glad to fall back with us on the food supply of
the lake. It was about this time, when Francis and I were rushing
the whip-sawing, that one day the boxing came off in my hands and the
back of the saw split my nose and lips, cut my chin, and pretty
nearly knocked my front teeth down my throat. Fortunately we had a
supply of sticking plaster, and while I held the parts together in
turn my wife deftly fastened them with the plaster. I was unable
either to speak or to masticate my food for several days, and was
forced to subsist on sucker broth. But I could continue my work at
the sawing, and my wounds closed and healed in an extraordinarily
short time, demonstrating the fact that after all what we called hard
fare was really health producing.
I was but nicely over my painful wounds when Samson came in. His
tent was hardly in place when I was invited over to have a meal with
him. I had felt hungry all that winter, but the last few days of
fish broth had intensified that feeling. Now here was what seemed to
me a feast for a king--the tongue and boss of a fat buffalo, some
pounded meat and marrow-fat, and the ham of a porcupine. Many a
sumptuous repast have I since enjoyed in palatial homes, many a
dining-car meal have I partaken of since that meal in my friend
Samson's lodge, but of none of these have I such pleasant
recollections as of this in the skin lodge, spread on newly cut
spruce brush and served in homely style. Nevertheless, as Samson
related his winter's experiences, and I listened and ate, this latter
was done sparingly, for there were others to be thought of, and to
these also such a spread would come as a heaven-send.