The men of all nations occupied the station of Gull, a summer camp upon
an island bearing the same name, but the majority were Norwegians and
half-breeds, with a sprinkling of natives, the latter a degraded and
treacherous set, resembling my own Indians about as nearly as a red
lily resembles a choke-weed.
Some hotels stood upon the island, making their profits by the saloon,
where some four hundred men weekly liquidated their pay. The “shelters”
were all upon the island, which a shingle beach half a mile wide
connected with the mainland, and along this beach curved a railway,
which conveyed the prepared lumber down to the wharf of Gull Harbour,
where it was shipped into scows. The saw-mills were stationed along
the main beach, and here the chimneys sent out their smoke, and the
buzz-saws whirled seven days to the week, because the season was short.
The _Lac Seul_ of the Hudson Bay Company had carried MacCaskill and
myself as far as Waterhen, and we had made the portage of fifty-seven
miles from that point to the shores of Lake Peace on foot. I was
frightened at the sight of so many faces, and bewildered by the noise
and devilry of the camp; but my companion fortunately knew where to go,
and I followed him closely, as though I had been his dog.
We put up at the Tecumseh House, and the factor took me about to
accustom me to the novelty of my environment. In winter this settlement
would be heaped up with snow and icebergs, and the only inhabitants
would be a few Norwegians, left to look after the machinery, with
sufficient supplies to last them until the following May. There were no
women in the lumber camp, only men, and a bad crowd of them, according
to the factor.
I could not sleep in the Tecumseh House because of the all-night
noise of the card-players, and the shouts and threats of drunkards,
and at last I gave up the attempt. It was quite dark, although near
morning, when I rose and dressed, and was about to leave the room when
MacCaskill came to comprehend what I was doing. I explained that I
could not sleep, and had made up my mind to go out and walk into the
forest, that I might feel myself at home again.
“Watch yourself,” he grunted sleepily. “It’s a bad crowd hereabouts.
If any feller speaks to ye awkward, ask him what he wants after you’ve
knocked him down.”
The hotel door stood wide open night or day, the entrance only guarded
by a wire mosquito frame. All about the hall were men, either lying in
chairs or sprawling upon the floor, in various stages of sleep, and all
fully dressed.
It was an unusually cold morning considering the season. A heavy vapour
hung upon the east to proclaim the nearness of the dawn. The air was
wringing with moisture; but when I reached the track my ears became
gladdened by the pleasant booming of the water along the shore. Before
me a few shadowy trees dripped and shivered. I shivered myself at the
miserable prospect, and, for very loneliness, stopped to light my pipe,
longing all the time for my little home above Yellow Sands.
It was only natural that I should desire to reach the solitude which
life and custom had made me love, and I felt relieved when the last
shelter had been left behind, and I felt myself alone on the neck of
shingle between wind and water. Suddenly my foot went from under me,
and I discovered that I had slipped upon an iron rail. I had forgotten
the railway track which carried the lumber from the main beach, until I
saw a red eye peering through the mist, and in the interval the metals
gleaming in the cold half-light, with beyond some low black cars, all
dripping with moisture, like silent monsters that had crawled there
from the lake to sleep.
I walked on, and had reached the side of these open cars, when I
became startled by a shadow which rose overhead, and I made out a
brown-bearded face, crowned by a ragged, wet straw bonnet, the chin
resting upon two filthy hands clutching the top of the car.
“Mornin’, stranger!” called this apparition.
The man was well out of my reach. So far as I could judge, from the
lack of light and the little I saw of him, he was dressed in the
discoloured canvas which I had already learnt was the costume of the
sailors upon the inland sea of Lake Peace. I replied very shortly to
his salutation, and was for passing on, when the tenant of the car
shifted, and said:
“Gimme a match!”
An unmistakable rustling reached my ears, and I said as boldly as I
could:
“That’s straw you’re lying on.”
“Jest a bunch, an’ leetle enough for sich a night,” grumbled the man,
beating his cold hands together. “I’m ’most fruze. If I was to make a
move, sudden-like, I’d have some of me bones snap. You’re around early,
stranger, or late, maybe. Ben playin’ poker?”