THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS
_Romance and Adventure_
BY
ARTHUR HEMING
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
1921
COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION
INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN
PRINTED AT THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N, Y.. U. S. A.
First Edition
TO
MR. AND MRS. DAVID A. DUNLAP
WITH WHOM I SPENT MANY HAPPY SEASONS
IN THE GREAT NORTHERN FOREST
CONTENTS
I. ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE
II. IN QUEST OF TREASURE
III. OO-KOO-HOO'S EL DORADO
IV. OO-KOO-HOO PLAYS THE GAME
V. MEETING OF THE WILD MEN
VI. WILD ANIMALS AND MEN
VII. LIFE AND LOVE RETURN
VIII. BUSINESS AND ROMANCE
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
A strange apparition was seen crossing the lake. It appeared to have
wings . . . . . . _Frontispiece_
I surmised at once who he was, for one could see by the merest glance
Oo-koo-hoo's bill
Oo-koo-hoo's calendar
Going to the brink, we saw a "York Boat" in the act of shooting the
cataract
Minutes passed while the rising moon cast golden ripples upon the water
The lynx is an expert swimmer and is dangerous to tackle in the water
Next morning we found that everything was covered with a heavy blanket
of snow
The bear circled a little in order to descend. Presently it left the
shadow
Going to the stage, he took down his five-foot snowshoes
As the wolf dashed away, the bounding clog sent the snow flying
"There's the York Factory packet from Hudson Bay to Winnipeg"
"It was on my father's hunting grounds, and late one afternoon"
Oo-koo-hoo could even hear the strange clicking sound
After half of May had passed away, and when the spring hunt was over
The departure of the Fur Brigade was the one great event of the year
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 fur-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 decipher
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 disgrace, no calamity (leaving me my eyes)--which
Nature cannot repair. Standing on the bare ground--my head bathed by
the blithe air and uplifted into infinite space--all mean egoism
vanishes. . . . I am the lover of uncontained and immortal beauty."
So, to make my life-dream come true, to contemplate in all its
thrilling action and undying 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 unlike making one's way along a single street of
a metropolis and then trying to persuade oneself that one knew all
about the city's life. 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 reliable 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 thrilling 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 compliance with the
wishes of the leading actors--who actually lived their parts of this
story--fictitious names have been given to the principal characters and
to the principal trading posts, lakes, and rivers herein depicted.
Furthermore, 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 liberty 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 all the primitive local colour,
the unique costumes, and the fascinating romance of the fur-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 sunrise 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 little 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
tall, stoop-shouldered man with heavy eyebrows and shaggy, drooping
moustache. The way we met was amusing. It happened in a certain
frontier town. His first 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 description 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 section? 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 commercial 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 line 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:
"Well, what the dickens are you?"
"An artist," I replied.
"Oh, I see! 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 eventually 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 alive, I'm leaving
for there to-morrow morning in a big four-fathom birch bark, with four
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
Consolation 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 conversation 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:
"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 little
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 moment 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,
lived the Factor of the Hudson's Bay Company. Beyond a little 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.
Farther 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 families
spend their midsummer. Crowning a knoll in the rear stood a quaint
little 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 Company'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 lip, 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 furtraders' 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 well-scrubbed floors were perfectly
bare, and the walls were papered from top to bottom with countless
illustrations 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 afforded 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 utility 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 living 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 would think of hanging his overshoes over his drawing-room
mantel. Upon the mantel shelf, however, stood a few unframed 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 lighted 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
under 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 picturesque 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 Nimrods 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 animals
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, four
buffalo, five deer, three bear, one lynx, and one porcupine. There was
a trader wintering 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:
"No-Ka must have been a great hunter. I would like 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 lived somewhere out in the Peace River country, and I've
heard it stated that he killed, in his lifetime, more than eighty
thousand living 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-bearing animals
the Indian killed between the time he began to trade as a hunter at the
age of eleven, until his hunting days were ended. Furthermore, in
discussing the subject with Narphim they together compiled an
approximate list 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 tell 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 lies S. E. of Cat Lake and Island Lake, and S. E. of Norway House.
He was called Narphim--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 lived with a Swampy Cree chief, the
celebrated Keteche-ka-paness, who 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 Vermilion.
"The following is a list 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, martens 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. Presently
the clock struck ten and we turned in, the Free Trader sharing 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 Delaronde'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 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 transported 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 supplies.
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 brigades, 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 supplied with twelve small
sticks. The game begins by one of the leaders placing his closed hands
upon his 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, moccasin making, and berry picking.
The girls join their mothers in picking berries, which are plentiful
and of great variety--raspberries, strawberries, cranberries,
blueberries, gooseberries, swampberries, 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-quil-moots_, or hunting
bags, of plaited _babiche_, 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 little, and are then split 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.
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 applied 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 lives--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 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 families of each band. In many cases
the same hunting grounds have remained in the undisputed possession of
the same families for generations. Family hunting 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 situated 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 families; and each main family may contain from five or
six to fifty or sixty hunting men. Inter-marriage between families 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 lives 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 boundaries 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 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 Indian 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 grounds 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 surrounding 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 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 lie 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 until 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 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 little 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.
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 gun 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 lidless 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 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 Owl.
[Illustration: I 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 . . . See Chapter I]
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 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 live a primitive and frontier life, though in the midst of
an outward civilization, if only to learn what are the gross
necessaries of life and what methods have been taken to obtain them; or
even to look over the old day-books of the merchants, 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 necessaries at all for
him; for, to go to the extreme, a good woodsman can hunt without even
gun, axe, knife, or matches, and can live 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, Hugemow_!" (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."
"Pegs, Oo-koo-hoo, ma freen', yon's an auld, auld farrant. But ye're
well kenn'd for a leal, honest man; an' sae, I'se no be unco haird upon
ye."
So saying, the Factor made him a present of a couple of pounds of
flour, half a pound of pork, half a pound of sugar, a quarter of a
pound of tea, a plug of tobacco, and some matches. The Factor's
generosity was prompted largely by his desire to keep the Indian in
good humour. After a little 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 equivalent 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 English, 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 English,
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 quality
of the Indian's speech. In olden days some of the chiefs who could not
speak English 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
representing 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 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 underwear, 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 haggling, 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
disappointment 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 disappointment 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-hoo was catching it again. He had forgotten
his daughter; so after more haggling 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 listened with gloomy civility, and then purchased an
assortment of useless trifles such as ribbons, tobacco, buttons, 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 corner, and that if he now refused
further supplies he would offend the old 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. Angering 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' mair 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 fall ill also. My son-in-law is not very strong: he
may fall ill too. My daughter is not. . . ."
"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 I'm a leevin' sinner, it's noo or it's nivver," insisted the
Factor, who had no desire to let the Indian have another day at it.
"Come back this verra 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, peppermint,
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 anything, 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:
Fort Consolation 18 September 189-
Dr.
Advances to
Oo-koo-hoo and family
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX1111--164 M.B.
Hudson's Bay Company
per Donald Mackenzie, Factor
[Illustration: Oo-koo-hoo's bill.]
The Indian now told the trader that he wanted him to send the "Fur
Runners" to him with supplies 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:
Fort Consolation 18 September 189-
LNE 1111X111111X1
NRU 11111X111111X111111X111111X1111
NVER 11X111111X111111X111111X111111
Hudson's Bay Company
per Donald Mackenzie, Factor
[Illustration: Oo-koo-hoo's calendar.]
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 1'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 accompany 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 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'erstaun' 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
supplies before he started upon his journey to the hunting grounds.
Oo-koo-hoo solemnly expressed his gratitude:
"Master, my heart is pleased. You are my father. I shall now hunt
well, and you shall have all my fur."
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 obtaining 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 sufficiently 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,
perhaps, 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.
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 supplies 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 thousands 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 lines 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 like it; for if it were not for the
records of the Hudson's Bay Company, 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
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. Publish 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'Appelle 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. Wolverines frequent most the
timber country just south of the Barren Grounds, where they are often
found travelling in bands. The home of the porcupine lies 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 Churchill River, then by way
of Cross Lake, Fort Hope, to Abitibi, thence north-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 British 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 little 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
underground, 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 course, in the rear. After
being entertained for ten or fifteen minutes by my host and hostess, I
heard light 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, 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 half-breed maid, and we four took
our places at the table, Athabasca opposite me. At first the talk was
lively, 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 discourse. 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 replied:
"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 until 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 lived in
the nearest frontier town, it would take him, either by canoe or on
snowshoes, at least two 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 corner 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 like him, and I think he'll make an
excellent trader."
Our getting away from the table rather relieved 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 establishment: 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 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 Bay Post, I shook
hands with them all--Athabasca had nice hands and a good grip, too.
Her parents gave me a pressing invitation 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:
"By George, Son-in-law is certainly a lucky dog, for Athabasca'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 rolling 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 summer, and it wasn't long before 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 off they paddled to the Post, to say
good-bye, while Amik secured his advances.
Just think of it, all you housekeepers--no gold plate or silverware 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, 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 neighbour could find you. What
would you give to live such a peaceful life?
"As I understand it," says Thoreau, "that was a valid objection 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
neighbourhood to be avoided is our own scurvy selves."
On their arrival, Amik at once set about getting his advances. 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
until his return next year. During the course of the conversation, the
old hunter 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 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 will 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 indebtedness, and
to lay up in store twice as much again with which to engage next spring
in the delightful battle of wits between 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 civilization.
Was it any wonder I was happy? For me it was but the beginning of a
never-to-be-forgotten journey in a land where 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 having seen
money. He was as generous, as refined, and as noble a man as one would
desire to know; yet when he visited civilization 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 civilization! It was the
regret of his declining years that circumstances prevented him from
leaving the enlightened Christians of the cities, and going back to
live in peace among the honest, kindly hearted barbarians of the forest.
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-half 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 supplies
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.
[Illustration: 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 supplies 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 . . . See