An Evening Guest--Not Mother's Bread.
I have previously mentioned the presence of nine dogs at an Indian camp,
where members of our party spent a night. One of these animals is
deserving of special mention, for the reason that he was a stranger
among a strange people, and he was evidently so against his own choice.
He had at one time been a fine, large mastiff. His history was never
learned in full, but from an account of the animal, gained by
questioning the Indians who had him in captivity, it was learned that
the dog had belonged at some lumber camp. It often happens that the
midday meal for most of the men in a large logging crew must be taken
out on a sled, usually drawn by a single horse, for a distance of not
infrequently three or four miles from the cook's camp. This is the work
of the cookee; and, at the logging camp where the mastiff had belonged,
the animal had been used instead of a horse, to pull the load of the
midday meal out to the men at work. In what manner he had been left
behind when the camp broke in the spring, was not learned.
[Illustration: "The memorable fire ... which swept Hinckley". (Page
160.)]
He was about the size of two or three ordinary Indian dogs, and was
correspondingly less sprightly in his movements. He was very poor when
members of our party first saw him. Indian dogs never get enough to eat,
and this poor fellow with his large frame, had the appearance of not
receiving any more for his portion of food than an average Indian dog,
if as much. He looked as though he were hungry, and probably was, every
day. The particular action that impressed itself upon every member of
our party, was this animal's almost human desire for sympathy that he
sought from this party of white men, when he and they first met at the
Indian camp. He wagged his tail and passed from one member of our party
to another, with an expression of unusual joy. He rubbed against us and
almost begged to be caressed. Every man of our party pitied him and
would gladly have sent him out to the white man's country, had it been
at all practicable to have done so.
Later in the fall, I was camped for a single night, some three hundred
yards distant from the Indian encampment, on the shore of a lake that I
must cross the following morning. While I was preparing my evening
meal, this mastiff made his appearance, wagging his tail, and wishing by
his actions to say, "I am glad to see you, and have come to call on
you." It is the custom of the land hunter, as well as other
frontiersmen, when paddling his canoe across a lake, to throw out a
trolling line; and not infrequently, in those northern lakes, a catch of
several fish may thus be made. On that day, such had been my experience,
and I had in my possession, several fine wall-eyed pike that I intended
to take through to the main camp, which I should reach on the following
day. I also had a small bag of corn meal, which I sometimes used as a
substitute for oatmeal, in cooking a porridge for my own use. While
preparing my supper, I took the largest kettle, filled it with water,
and placed it over the fire. I then cut into small pieces, a number of
the fish, and put them in the kettle to boil. Later I added some corn
meal and cooked all together. When it was sufficiently done, I removed
one-half of the pail's contents and spread it out on a large piece of
birch bark to cool. When it had cooled sufficiently, I invited my
welcome guest, the mastiff, to partake of the food. Every mouthful eaten
was accompanied by a friendly wag of the animal's tail. The portion
remaining in the pail I hung on a limb, high enough up in the tree to be
out of reach. The dog remained about the camp, and when I lay down in my
blankets for the night, he curled down at my feet and there remained
until morning.
While I was preparing my own breakfast, I took the pail from the tree
and placed it over a small fire, that I might give my guest a warm
breakfast. I spread out on the same birch bark, all that remained in the
pail, and it was eaten to the last morsel by the grateful animal.
Having placed all my belongings in my birch canoe, I pushed out into the
lake without the dog, who tried hard to follow, and, as the canoe went
farther from the shore, the homesick animal commenced to whine at his
loss of companionship. By every means possible to a dumb beast, this dog
had expressed his dislike for his enforced environment and his longing
to be back with the white man. I could not help but believe that the
feelings expressed by this dog were akin to those of many a captive man
or woman who had fallen into the hands of the aborigines.
Our frail birch canoes had been abandoned as cold weather approached,
and we had settled down to the work of surveying. Sometimes, however,
we came to lakes that must be crossed. This was accomplished by cutting
some logs, and making rafts by tying them together with withes.
Sometimes these rafts were found insufficiently buoyant to float above
water all who got onto them, so that when they were pushed along there
were no visible signs of anything that the men were standing on. When on
a raft, Hyde was always afraid of falling off, and would invariably sit
down upon it. This subjected him to greater discomfort than other
members, but as it was of his own choosing, no one raised any objection.
One day, several of the party had gone to the supply camp to bring back
some provisions which the cook had asked for. Returning, not by any
trail, but directly through the unbroken forest, we found ourselves in a
wet tamarack and spruce swamp; and, although we believed we were not far
from the camp where we had left the cook in the morning, we were not
certain of its exact location. Mr. F. G. Winston said he thought he
could reach it in a very short time, and suggested that we remain where
we were. He started in what he believed to be the direction of the camp,
saying that he would return in a little while. We waited until the
shades of night began to fall; and yet he did not come. Preparations
were then made to stay in the swamp all night. The ground was wet all
around us, nor could we see far enough to discern any dry land. We
commenced cutting down the smaller trees that were like poles, and with
these poles, constructed a platform of sufficient dimensions to afford
room for four men to lie down. Then another foundation of wet logs was
made, on which a fire was kindled, and by the fire, we baked our bread
and fried some bacon, which constituted our evening meal. A sack of
flour was opened, a small place within it hollowed out, a little water
poured in, and the flour mixed with the water until a dough was formed.
Each man was told to provide himself with a chip large enough on which
to lay the piece of dough, which was rolled out by hand, made flat, and
then, having been placed in a nearly upright position against the chip
in front of the fire, was baked on one side; then turned over and baked
on the other. In the meantime, each man was told to provide himself with
a forked stick, which he should cut with his jackknife, and on it to
place his piece of bacon and cook it in front of the fire; thus each man
became his own cook and prepared his own meal. There was no baking
powder or other ingredient to leaven the loaf--not even a pinch of salt
to flavor it. But the owner of each piece of dough was hungry, and, by
eating it immediately after it was baked and before it got cold, it was
much better than going without any supper. The following morning, the
party resumed its journey, and met Mr. Winston coming out to find it. He
had found the cook's camp, but at so late an hour that it was not
possible for him to return that night.