I was longing for a good wash, for I felt like a chimney-sweep. We had
been travelling for hours through a region of country where, in the
previous summer, great forest fires had raged, leaving many of the
trunks of the trees charred and black. Against some of them we had
often rubbed, and to some of them, or their branches, we had had to
cling as we went dashing down some of the ravines. The result of these
weary hours of toil amidst charred trunks was very visible, and I
rejoiced that an opportunity had arrived when I could wash off the sooty
stuff. Great indeed was my surprise to hear this strong protest on the
part of my guide against my doing anything of the kind.
"Why should I not wash?" I said, holding up my blackened hands.
"You must not let water touch you out in the open air, when it is so
very cold as it is to-day," was his answer.
I was very inexperienced then, and not willing to lose my wash, which I
so much needed, I did not heed the warning. Having a blazing fire
before me and a good dry towel, I ventured to take the wash, and for a
minute or two after felt much better. Soon, however, there were strange
prickling sensations on the tops of my hands, and then they began to
chap and bleed, and they became very sore, and did not get well for
weeks. The one experiment of washing in the open air with the
temperature in the fifties below zero was quite enough. In the
following years I left the soap at home and only carried the towel.
When very much in need of a wash, I had to be content with a dry rub
with the towel. Mrs Young used to say, when I returned from some of
these trips, that I looked like old mahogany. The bath was then
considered a much-needed luxury.
For our food, when travelling in such cold weather, we preferred the
fattest meat we could obtain. From personal experience I can endorse
the statements of Arctic explorers about the value of fat or oil and
blubber as articles of food, and the natural craving of the system for
them. Nothing else seemed to supply the same amount of internal heat.
As the result of experience, we carried the fattest kind of meat.
As soon as the snow was melted down in the larger of our kettles, meat
sufficient for our party was soon put on and boiled. While it was
cooking, we thawed out the frozen fish for our dogs. Such is the effect
of the frost that they were as hard as stone, and it would have been
cruel to have given them in that state to the noble animals that served
us so well. Our plan was to put down a small log in front of the fire,
so close to it that when the fish were placed against it, the intensity
of the heat would soon thaw them out. The hungry dogs were ever sharp
enough to know when their supper was being prepared; and as it was the
only meal of the day for them, they crowded around us and were impatient
at times, and had to be restrained.
Sometimes, in their eagerness and anxiety for their food--for it often
required a long time for the fire to thaw the fishes sufficiently for us
to bend them--the dogs in crowding one before the other would get into a
fight, and then there would be trouble. Two dogs of the same train very
seldom fought with each other. Yoke-fellows in toil, they were too wise
to try to injure each other in needless conflict. So, when a battle
began, the dogs quickly ranged themselves on the sides of their own
comrades, and soon it was a conflict of train against train. At first I
thought it cruel not to feed them more frequently, but I found, as all
experienced dog-drivers had told me, that one good meal a day was the
best for them. So great were my sympathies for them that sometimes I
would give them a good breakfast in the morning; but it did not turn out
to be of any real benefit. The additional meal made them sluggish and
short-winded, and they did not seem to thrive so well. Good white fish
was the best food we could give them, and on this diet they could thrive
and work as on no other.
A goodly number of _dog-shoes_ were very necessary on these wild, rough
trips. Dogs' feet are tender, and are liable to injury from various
causes. On the smooth glare ice the pads of the feet would sometimes
wear so thin that they bled a good deal. Then on the rough roads there
was always the danger of their breaking off a claw or running a sliver
through the webbing between the toes. Many of the wise old dogs that
had become accustomed to these shoes, and thus knew their value, would
suddenly stop the whole train, and by holding up an injured foot very
eloquently, if mutely, tell the reason why they had done so.
The dog-shoes are like heavy woollen mits without the thumbs, made in
different sizes. When a foot is injured, the mit is drawn on and
securely tied with a piece of soft deer-skin. Then the grateful dog,
which perhaps had refused to move before, springs to his work, often
giving out his joyous barks of gratitude. So fond do some of the dogs
become of these warm woollen shoes that instances are known where they
have come into the camp from their cold resting-places in the snow, and
would not be content until the men got up and put shoes on all of their
feet. Then, with every demonstration of gratitude, they have gone back
to their holes in the snow.
Our dogs having been fed, we next make our simple arrangements for our
own supper.
A number of balsam boughs are spread over the spot near the fires, from
which the snow has been scraped away by our snowshoes. On these is laid
our table-cloth, which was generally an empty flour bag, cut down the
side. Our dishes, all of tin, are placed in order, and around we gather
with vigorous appetites. It is fortunate that they are so good, as
otherwise our homely fare would not be much prized. The large piece of
fat meat is served up in a tin pan, and our pint cups are filled up with
hot tea. If we are fortunate enough to have some bread, which was far
from being always the case, we thaw it out and eat it with our meat.
Vegetables were unknown on these trips. Our great staple was fat meat,
and the fatter the better; morning, noon, and night, and often between
times did we stop and eat fat meat. If we did vary the _menu_, it would
be by making a raid on the dogs' supply, and in the evening camp cooking
ourselves a good kettle of fish.
As we dared not wash our hands or faces, of course such a thing as
washing dishes was unknown. When supper was in progress, Jack Frost
made us busy in keeping ourselves and provisions warm. I have seen the
large piece of meat put back into the pot three times during the one
meal, to warm it up. I have seen the ice gather on the top of the cup
of tea that a few minutes before was boiling vigorously in the kettle.
After supper wood was cut, to be in readiness for the morning's fire;
and every break in clothes or harness was repaired, that there might be
no delay in making a good start. Then the guide, who always had charge
of all these things, when satisfied that all was arranged, would say,
"Missionary, we are ready for prayers." The Bible and Hymn-book were
brought out, and the Indians gathered round me, and there together we
offered up our evening devotions. Would that our readers could have
seen us! The background is of dense balsam trees, whose great drooping
branches, partially covered with snow, sweep the ground. Above us are
the bright stars, and, it may be, the flashing auroras. In front of us
is the blazing fire, and scattered around us, in picturesque confusion,
are our dog-sleds, snow-shoes, harness, and the other essentials of our
outfit. A few of the dogs generally insisted on remaining up until
their masters had retired, and they were now to be seen in various
postures around us. With uncovered heads, no matter how intense the
cold, my Christian Indians listened reverently, while in their own
language I read from the precious volume which they have learned to love
so well. Then together we sang a hymn. Frequently it would be the
Evening Hymn, the first verse of which in their beautiful Cree language
is as follows:--
"Ne mahmechemon ne muntome
Kahke wastanahmahweyan,
Kah nah way yemin Kechabyah
Ah kwah-nahtahtah-kwahnaoon."
After singing we bow in prayer. There is there, as there should be
everywhere, a consciousness of our dependence upon the great Helper for
protection and support, and so the prayer we sang:--
"Keep me, O keep me, King of Kings,
Beneath Thine own Almighty wings."
is indeed our heart's desire.
Sometimes we are a hundred and fifty miles from the nearest human
habitation. We are camping out in the woods in a hole dug in the snow.
We have no walls around us but the snow thrown out of the place in which
we are huddled, with perhaps the addition of some balsam boughs. We
have no roof above us but the stars. There in that place we are going
to lie down and try to sleep during that bitter cold night. The light
fire will soon go out. A foot of snow may fall upon us, and its coming
will be welcomed, as its warmth will lessen our shivering. Prowling
grey wolves may come near us, but the terrible Frost King is more to be
feared than they.
Does anybody, who knows the efficacy of prayer, wonder that, as we draw
near to God, "by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving," we crave
the assurance of His favour and smile, and that He, Who never slumbers
or sleeps, will be our Guardian and our Friend?
After prayers we soon _retire to rest_. The guide's familiar words soon
after prayers used to be, "Now, Missionary, I will make your bed." This
was his work, and he was an adept at it. He first spread out a layer of
evergreen boughs, and then on these he laid a large buffalo robe, and
upon this a heavy blanket. Then, placing my pillow so that my head
would be farthest away from the fire, he would say to me, "Now, if you
will get into bed, I will cover you up and tuck you in."
Such a thing as disrobing out there in a wintry camp is unknown, unless,
as the result of the violent exercise of running all day, a person's
underclothing has become very damp by perspiration, and it is not safe
to sleep in it in that condition.
Some travellers sleep in a fur bag, in which they manage to insert
themselves, and then have it tightened around their necks. Then a large
fur hood over the usual head-gear completes their sleeping apparel. I
used to wrap myself up in a heavy overcoat over my usual apparel, and
then putting on long buffalo-skin boots, fur mits, cap, cape, and big
mufflers, considered myself rigged up for retiring. When thus wrapped,
I used to have some difficulty in getting down into the bed, although it
was only on the ground. When in position, the guide would throw over me
another heavy blanket and fur robe. Then very skilfully, and in a way
most motherly, he would begin at my feet and carefully tuck me in.
Rapidly and deftly did he proceed with his work, and almost before I was
aware of what he was doing, he had reached my head, which he began to
cover completely up with the heavy robe which he seemed to be crowding
down under my back and shoulders.
The first time he packed me in in this manner I was only able to stand
it for a minute or two, as I thought I should be smothered. So I very
suddenly threw up my arms and sent the whole upper covering off in a
hurry.
"Do you wish to smother me, man?" I said. "I cannot live with my head
covered up like that!"
Without any annoyance at my having so quickly undone his work, he
replied very kindly, "I know it must be hard work for you white people
to sleep with your heads completely covered up, but you will have to do
it here, or you will freeze to death. You must be very careful, for
this seems to be a very cold night indeed." Then he called my attention
to the distant thunder-like sounds which we had been hearing
occasionally during the evening. That, he told me, was the ice, from
four to six feet thick, on the great lake, cracking in the bitter cold.
"Look at the smoke," he added. "See how it keeps very near the ground.
It does that in the bitter cold nights."
From the trees around us we heard occasionally a sharp pistol-like
report, loud enough at times to make a nervous person fancy that lurking
enemies were firing at us.
The observant Indians say these loud reports are burstings in the trees
caused by the freezing of the sap.
Admiring his cleverness and kindness, I told him that I had been taught
that every person requires so many cubic feet of fresh air; and, cold or
no cold, how did he think I could get my share with my head covered up
as he desired? "You must do with less out here," he said, as he
proceeded to cover me up again, while I tried to arrange myself so that
I could at least have a small portion of air. Kindly and patiently he
humoured me, and then, when he had finished tucking me in, he said,
"Now, Missionary, good-night; but don't stir. If you do, you may
disarrange your coverings while you sleep, and you may freeze to death
without waking up."
"Don't stir!" What a command, I thought, to give a tired traveller
whose bones ache from his long snow-shoe tramping in the woods, whose
nerves and muscles are unstrung, and who, like others when thus
fatigued, has even found it helpful to his rest and comfort to turn
occasionally and stretch his limbs!
In this frame of mind, and under this order, which, after all, I felt
must be obeyed for fear of the dire results that might follow, I at
length managed to fall asleep, for I was very weary. After a while I
woke up to a state of semi-consciousness, and found myself tugging and
pulling at what I thought in my dreamy condition was the end of an axe
handle. The vague impression on my mind was, that some careless Indian
had left his axe just behind my head, and in the night the handle had
fallen across my face, and I had now got hold of the end of it.
Fortunately for me, I very quickly after this woke fully up, and then
found out that what I had imagined to be the end of an axe handle was my
own nose; and a badly frozen one it was, and both of my ears were about
in the same condition.
With the guide's last orders in my ears, I think I must have gone to
sleep all right, but I suppose, from the unusual smothering sensation,
unconsciously I must have pushed down the robes from my face, and
uncovered my head and my hand, and then gradually returned to
consciousness with the above results. However, after a few nights of
this severe kind of discipline, I at length became as able to sleep with
my head covered up as an Indian.
When a foot or eighteen inches of snow fell upon us, we rejoiced, for it
added to our comfort, and caused us to sleep the better. Under this
additional covering we generally rested a couple of hours longer than
usual, often to make up for the loss of sleep of the previous nights,
when we had found it impossible, or had considered it dangerous, to go
to sleep.
The hardest work and the most disagreeable is the getting up from such a
bed in such a place. Often, in spite of the intense cold, we are in a
kind of a clammy perspiration, on account of the many wraps and
coverings about us. As we throw off these outer garments, and spring up
in our camp, Jack Frost instantly assails us in a way that makes us
shiver, and often some are almost compelled to cry out in bitter
anguish.
Fortunately the wood is always prepared the night before, and so, as
quickly as possible, a great roaring fire is built up, and our breakfast
of strong tea and fat meat is prepared and eaten with all speed.
There were times when the morning outlook was gloomy indeed, and our
position was not an enviable one. On one of my trips, of only a hundred
and eighty miles, in order to save expense, I only took with me one
companion, and he was a young Indian lad of about sixteen years of age.
We each had our own train of dogs, and as Old Voyager was leader we
guided him by voice alone, and he did not disappoint us. One morning,
when we sprang up from our wintry camp-bed, we found that several inches
of snow had fallen upon us during the night. As soon as possible we
arranged our wood in order and endeavoured to kindle our fire. We had
been late the previous evening in reaching this camping place, and so
had to grope around in the rapidly increasing darkness for our wood. It
was of very inferior quality, but as we had succeeded in cooking our
suppers with part of it, we had not anticipated any trouble with the
rest. The snow which had fallen upon it had not improved it, and so, as
we lighted match after match, we were at first disgusted, and then
alarmed, at finding that the poor stuff persistently refused to ignite.
Of course we had to take our hands out of our big fur mits when trying
to light the matches. Before we had succeeded in our attempts to start
the fire our hands began to chill, and soon they were so powerless that
we were not able to hold a match in our fingers. Very naturally we
became alarmed, but we persevered as long as possible. I remember that,
taking one of the matches between my teeth and holding up an axe before
me, I tried to jerk my head quick enough to light it in that way, but
the experiment was not a success.
Suddenly there came the consciousness that we were not far from
perishing if we could not make a fire. I quickly turned to my young
comrade, and saw by the look in his face that he also grasped the
situation, and was terrified at the outlook.
"Alec," I said, "this is a serious thing for us."
"Yes, Missionary," said he. "I am afraid we die here. If we can make
no fire and have no breakfast, I am afraid we will freeze to death."
"Not so bad as that yet, Alec," I said. "God is our refuge and help.
He has given us other ways by which we can get warm. As quickly as
possible get on your snow-shoes, and up with your hood and on with your
mits, and I will do likewise, and now see if you can catch me."
In much less time than I have taken to describe it, we were rigged up
for rapid snow-shoe running, and were off. Away I rushed through the
woods as rapidly as I could on my snow-shoes. The lad followed me, and
thus we ran chasing and catching each other alternately as though we
were a couple of boisterous schoolboys instead of a Missionary and his
Indian companion striving to save themselves from freezing to death.
After about half an hour of this most vigorous exercise, we felt the
warmth coming back to our bodies, and then the hot blood began working
its way out to our benumbed hands, and by-and-by we could bend our
fingers again. When we felt the comfortable glow of warmth over our
whole bodies, we rushed back again to the camp, and, gathering a
quantity of birch bark which we found loosely hanging from the trees,
and which is very inflammable, we soon had a good fire and then our hot
breakfast. At our morning devotions which followed there was a good
deal of thanksgiving, and the grateful spirit continued in our hearts as
we packed up our loads, harnessed up our dogs, and sped on our way. It
was a very narrow escape. The King of Terrors looked us both in the
face that cold morning, and very nearly chilled us into death by the icy
fingers of the Frost King.
As the hours of daylight in the winter months in these high latitudes
are so few, we generally roused ourselves up several hours before
daylight. Often my kind-hearted men endeavoured to get up first, and
have a rousing fire made and breakfast cooked, before I would awake.
This, however, did not occur very often, as such a bed was not conducive
to sleep; so, generally, after about four or five hours in such a state
of suffocation, I was thankful to get up the instant I heard any one
stirring. I would rather freeze to death than be suffocated.
There were times not a few when I was the first to get up, and kindle
the fire and cook the breakfast before I called my faithful wearied
companions, who, long accustomed to such hardships, could sleep on
soundly, where for me it was an absolute impossibility. Sometimes my
men, when thus aroused, would look up at the stars and say "Assam
weputch," _i.e._, "Very early." All I had to do was to look gravely at
my watch, and this satisfied them that it was all right. The breakfast
was quickly eaten, our prayers were said, our sleds loaded, dogs
captured and harnessed--with the Esquimaux ones this was not always an
easy task--and we were ready to start.
Before starting we generally threw the evergreen brush on which we had
slept on the fire, and by its ruddy, cheerful light began our day's
journey. When some mornings we made from twenty-five to forty miles
before sunrise, the Indians began to think the stars were about right
after all, and the Missionary's watch very fast. However, they were
just as willing to get on rapidly as I was, and so did not find fault
with the way in which I endeavoured to hurry our party along. I paid
them extra whenever the record of a trip was broken, and we could lessen
the number of nights in those open-air camps in the snow.
We were six days in making our first winter trip to Nelson River. In
after years we reduced it to four days. The trail is through one of the
finest fur-producing regions of the North-West. Here the wandering
Indian hunters make their living by trapping such animals as the black
and silver foxes, as well as the more common varieties of that animal.
Here are to be found otters, minks, martens, beavers, ermines, bears,
wolves, and many other kinds of the fur-bearing animals. Here the black
bears are very numerous. On one canoe trip one summer we saw no less
than seven of them, one of which we shot and lived on for several days.
Here come the adventurous fur traders to purchase these valuable skins,
and great fortunes have been made in the business. If, merely to make
money and get rich, men are willing to come and put up with the
hardships and privations of the country, what a disgrace to us if, for
their souls' sake, we are afraid to follow in these hunters' trail, or,
if need be, show them the way, that we may go with the glad story of a
Saviour's love!