CHAPTER IV

ACROSS THE PORTAGE

Six o'clock the next morning found every one up and ready for a dip. Mr.

Anderson, having heard of the fact that Pud was bound to have his

morning dip no matter how cold the water, thought to have some sport

with him.

"Pud, have you seen our famous shower bath?" asked Mr. Anderson quietly.

"No. Where is it?" said Pud.

"It's just up this little stream. It's a little cold for me, but they

tell me that you like cold water in the morning."

"Oh, yes," said Bill, "Pud has to have his cold shower every morning,

winter or summer."

"Lead us to it," said Bob.

Mr. Anderson then led the boys up a path which finally came out right

under a fifteen-foot waterfall. It certainly looked like a natural

shower bath, for the water was broken in its fall by the jutting rocks.

Bill put his hand into the water and pulled it back with a jerk.

"Some cold," said he.

Bob did the same.

"Me for the lake. That's too cold for my blood," was Bob's remark.

It was certainly up to Pud. He tried the water and could hardly restrain

himself from pulling back.

"Fine, fine," said Pud, as he pushed under the down-rushing water and

stood there for a minute. He came out almost breathless because of the

contraction of his muscles by the cold water.

"Won't you indulge?" asked Mr. Anderson, turning to Bill and Bob.

"No, thank you," said Bill. "To tell the truth, I really prefer the

lake."

"Well, I'll beat you to it," said Bob, and off they dashed down the

path. In a moment Mr. Anderson and Pud heard them splash as they plunged

into the lake.

"That's some cold shower," said Pud.

"I thought that you would like it," said Mr. Anderson seriously.

Pud looked at him said nothing as they went down the path. As they came

out at the lake, Mr. Waterman said,

"Pierre objects to our using the stream for bathing purposes, as we use

it for our drinking and cooking."

"I didn't think of that," said Mr. Anderson.

"Neither did I until he spoke to me about it," said Mr. Waterman.

"That's too bad," said Pud. "I thought I was going to have a real cold

shower every morning."

He said it so seriously that neither Mr. Waterman nor Mr. Anderson knew

whether he really meant it or not. To Bob later, Pud stated that the

intervention of Pierre was providential for he had never been under such

a real icy shower before.

After their swim they all sat down to breakfast and enjoyed every bit of

it. After breakfast they spent some time cleaning up the camp. They got

everything ship-shape in their tents first and then they cleared up a

part of the beach. The boys enjoyed this as the experience of wielding

an axe was new to then. They also had cause for wonder at the way in

which their two leaders used the axes. They went at things very

strenuously and seemed to be able to hit just where they wished. Bob

commented on their skill, but they both stated that they were mere

beginners in comparison with the guides.

About nine o'clock Mr. Waterman called a halt, and they got ready for

their little journey. They took along just a loaf of bread and a small

tin in which butter, salt and pepper were packed. The boys took along

their rods and Mr. Waterman carried a small rifle. In explanation of the

latter he said that they might have a shot at a duck or a partridge.

They took two canoes. Bob went with Mr. Waterman, while Pud and Bill

carried Mr. Anderson as a passenger. To their surprise, Mr. Waterman led

the way just around the bend and then to the opposite shore. The boys

had not noticed a path, but on landing they could see a trail leading

off along a little stream that emptied into the lake at this place. On

landing, Mr. Waterman fixed the paddles in the right way, took up the

canoe and was off. Bob carried his gun, and he had all he could do to

keep up with his leader. Mr. Anderson also wished to make the first

portage, but Pud prevailed, and after a little trouble, they started

off. Pud was soon puffing and blowing, for the path was steep. Mr.

Anderson led the way for the other two had been lost to view even before

the second party got started.

"This isn't so easy as it looks," said Pud to Bill.

"If you're getting tired, I'll take it," answered Bill.

"Not on your life. I've got to learn the knack of this portaging, for I

mean to do a lot of it this summer, and I might just as well get used to

it now as any time," said Pud, between his puffs.

"Let the weight rest on forearms, head and shoulders and you won't mind

it," said Mr. Anderson. "As you say, there's a knack to it. Also, it

takes muscles that we don't use right along, and for that reason it's

rather tiring at first."

By this time they had topped the little divide between the two lakes and

they began to descend. Pud began to have his troubles, for like all

novices, he carried the canoe poorly. He came near to falling several

times, and it was with a sigh of relief that he came out on the shore of

a small lake. Bob and Mr. Waterman were in their canoe off the shore,

evidently waiting for them.

"How's the portaging?" yelled Bob, as soon as Pud came in sight.

"Fine," said Pud. "But I have a crease here in the back of my neck that

will be sore for a week."

They were soon off again, with Bob leading. The lake opened out and they

found themselves in a stretch that gleamed a good mile ahead of them.

All at once Bob slowed down and Mr. Anderson called on the boys to stop

paddling.

"He sees something," said Mr. Anderson.

All eyes were on Mr. Waterman as he got his gun ready. Over to the left

the boys saw three ducks swimming, and they knew that this was the

reason for their stop. "Bang!" went the gun, and one of the ducks

toppled over, but the other two disappeared as if by magic.

"Pick up the bird," yelled Mr. Waterman to Mr. Anderson.

"All right," replied the latter.

Mr. Waterman looked around carefully, and a minute later the two ducks

arose to the surface some distance farther on. Bob and he took up their

paddles and tried to get within a reasonable distance again. They had

scared the birds so that they kept swimming away, keeping out of

distance. At last Mr. Waterman laid down his paddle and got his rifle

again. This time he missed, for it must be remembered that he was

shooting with a rifle and not with a shotgun. It was only after three

more trials that he bagged his second duck and it took a good hour

longer to get the other one. For some reason the birds did not want to

leave the lake and they were all three finally in Mr. Anderson's canoe.

"That will make another fine pot-pie," said Bill.

"We haven't any pot to make it in," said Pud.

"We'll have it back at camp," said Mr. Anderson. "These ducks, with some

dumplings and flour gravy, will be some dish."

They made for the far end of the lake and then got out. By this time it

was nearly twelve o'clock, and they debated whether to climb the

mountain then or wait until they had had something to eat.

"I tell you what to do," said Anderson. "You fellows go and climb this

mountain. I'll stay here, catch a few fish, then build a fire and have

everything ready for you when you return."

This was considered a good plan, so the three boys and Mr. Waterman set

out. There was no trail this time, but Mr. Waterman strode ahead with

confidence.

"Have you been over here before?" asked Bob.

"Oh, yes," replied Mr. Waterman. "I want to come here again several

times before the summer is over, for when we get to the top of this

mountain you will see something that very few city dwellers have ever

seen, namely, a real primeval forest."

"I thought that this was all primeval, way up here," said Bob.

"No," was the reply. "The big lumber companies see to it that there is

but little first growth any place where they can get the lumber to tide

water."

"Well, how is it that we'll see first growth up here, then?" asked Bill.

"You'll see when we get there," replied Mr. Waterman.

He walked on and they followed. Pud was saying nothing, but he was

having his troubles keeping up. He looked ahead at Mr. Waterman, who was

apparently sauntering along, and he wondered how he did it. Fortunately

for him, Mr. Waterman was very observant, for he noted Pud's distress

and slackened his pace or stopped to point out some great pine tree or

other object worth noting.

"Do you smell him?" suddenly said Mr. Waterman, as he stopped and looked

around carefully.

"Smell whom?" asked Pud, stopping in his tracks.

"The bear," said Mr. Waterman. "Can't you smell something in the air? I

can. A bear has been here not very long ago. Ah, there are his tracks."

He pointed to an old pine stump, which had been clawed recently. The

boys looked at the stump, but they saw no tracks.

"Come here," said Mr. Waterman, as he strode over the stump. "Bears like

grubs, ants, and things of that kind, so you will often know that bears

are around by noting stumps, hollow trees, etc., when they have clawed

at them."

The boys came over. Bob looked at the stump and then down at the ground.

"There's a track," said Bob, as he pointed at a rather big print in the

soft earth on the lower side of the stump. Sure enough, they could

plainly see the footprint of the bear.

"Will he come after us?" inquired Pud, looking around rather anxiously,

with his eyes resting finally on Mr. Waterman's rifle.

"I'll answer your unasked question first," replied Mr. Waterman. "No,

this gun would be worse than nothing for a bear. It would only wound

him, and that would only make sure of an attack. As for your real

question, there is not one chance in a hundred that the bear will come

for us. The bears in this part of the country are well-known black bears

and they have hardly ever been known to attack men unless wounded or

backed into a corner. Judging by the fact that I smelt this bear even

before I noticed this stump, I would guess that we disturbed him and

that as soon as he smelt us, away he went, and he's probably a mile away

by this time."

They then went on, and after a good climb they came out on the top of

the mountain. Mr. Waterman first led them to the southern side. The

slope fell quite abruptly to a little lake far below.

"Do you see the St. Lawrence?" asked Mr. Waterman.

"No. Where?" asked Bob.

Mr. Waterman then pointed to the south, and about fifteen miles away

they could see the broad St. Lawrence stretching as far as the eye could

reach.

"I thought that was a cloud," said Bill. "I see now that it is water,

and away off there to the right I can see a big steamer making for

Quebec."

Mr. Waterman then pointed out several lakes, giving them names and

telling them that they would visit practically all of them before the

summer was over. He told them that Lac Parent, on which they were

camping, was hidden from view by the mountains next to the one on which

they stood. It was a fine day and Bill thought that he could distinguish

the Andirondack Mountains far off to the south in the United States. Mr.

Waterman stated that this might be true, as they had been seen from this

vicinity on very clear days. After thoroughly enjoying the view to the

south, Mr. Waterman turned away and they went in a northeasterly

direction. In a little while they came to another side of the mountain.

In a short time Mr. Waterman led them out onto a bold rocky precipice

that stood out from the mountain. They looked down into a gulch hundreds

of feet below. They gazed at an immense coliseum, the sides of which

were lined with giant trees. It was the wildest bit of scenery that the

boys had ever looked on.

"That looks just like some of the mining camps in the Rockies," said

Bob. "I've seen pictures of several that look just like this."

"That's just what struck me when I first looked down from this rock,"

said Mr. Waterman. "It certainly does look as if there might be some

kind of mineral down there. As yet, I have not been able to find time to

go down to the bottom. Those trees interest me. They are the finest I

have ever seen. I can't see any lake down there, but there must be some

outlet for the water."

"Why not come over here some time and go down there and investigate?"

said Bill.

"We'll do that, and I'll bring you along. Let's go down the gulch a bit

so you can get a look at some of these great tamaracks and cedars. You

won't see them any place else."

They followed their leader, who gave them another hour of hard climbing,

though he finally brought them out, half way down the mountain.

"Ye gods!" cried Mr. Waterman, as he looked at his watch. "It's after

two o'clock. Let's hurry, for Mr. Anderson will think that we are lost."

Suiting action to the word, he plowed along, and though the boys were

not sure in what direction they were going, they soon came out on a

lake. Mr. Waterman gave a cry, which was answered immediately, not far

off.

In another moment they saw Mr. Anderson putting off in a canoe. They all

got in, though it brought the gunwale of the canoe down pretty close to

the water. Paddling carefully, they soon landed, to find a fire burning,

several fish all ready cleaned and ready for the fire, and bread all

ready buttered.

"We forgot the frying pan," said Pud. "How are we going to cook the

fish?"

"That's easy," said Bob. "Haven't you ever cooked fish on a stick over

the fire?"

"Never," replied Pud.

"Well, you have something to learn, then," said Mr. Anderson. "You'll

find pointed sticks all ready, so get busy, as it's getting late and we

must be on our way."

The boys found the sticks all ready prepared, and it was not long before

they were all sitting around the fire, eating fish with one hand and

holding another trout over the fire with the other. The two men had

often cooked fish this way and they did theirs to a turn, but the boys

more often than not had theirs burned outside and half raw within. But

their exercise had given them such appetites that the fish disappeared

as if by magic. They stopped when there was no more bread nor fish.

"You boys are some feeders," said Mr. Anderson. "I thought I had more

fish than we could eat."

"I'm just getting into action," said Pud, as he licked off his fingers

and looked around for more. But more there was not, so they got into

their canoes and were off down the lake. When they came to the portage

Bob took the canoe and marched off into the bushes followed by Mr.

Waterman carrying rod and gun. Bill insisted on carrying the canoe back,

and he did very well considering that it was his first experience. He

also found the going down hill rather difficult, but he soon balanced

the canoe properly and had no more trouble. When they got to the end of

the trail they saw Bob and Mr. Waterman just rounding the point for

camp. They set out after them, but by the time they arrived, they found

them already stripped and in the water.

"Come on in, the water's fine," yelled Bob.

"We'll be with you in a minute," said Bill.

On getting out of the canoe they found that the guides had already been

busy with the landing. Four logs had been split in two and were ready at

the chosen place. Mr. Anderson carried the ducks to the cook tent and he

came back to assure the boys that they were in for a rare treat for

supper.

"Jack's back, and he said that he would see to this pot-pie himself."

The boys turned at once to note the new guide. They found a rather old

man, sharp of feature and eye but not very strong-looking.

"I thought he was a big fellow," said Bob.

"Oh, no," replied Mr. Waterman. "Jack's not very big, but he can tote

quite a load over the hardest kind of portage. He's a wonder with the

axe, and he can cook like a French chef. You'll find that out

to-night."

After a fine swim and bath the boys were quite content to lie around

their tents until they heard the welcome call to supper.

"I feel as empty as a barrel," said Pud, as he walked over to the table.

"Gee, I'm stiff. I won't be able to get out of my blankets to-morrow."

"That just shows how soft you are," said Bob. "I'm a little stiff

myself, but not very much. The back of my neck is sore."

"So is mine," said Bill.

"That's where you rest the canoe when portaging," said Mr. Anderson, who

had heard the remark. "You'll get a real callous there before the summer

is over. Just for curiosity, feel Pierre's neck some time. He has been

at this all his life, and he has a regular muscle there."

What those hungry fellows did to that pot-pie would be a shame to tell.

It disappeared very quickly, while the biscuits that Jack made tasted

even better than those that mother used to bake. Even the big dish of

prunes that topped off the meal was relished.

"Take me to my little bed," said Pud as, with a sigh, he saw the last

prune disappear from his plate.

"Impossible, impossible," said Bob. "I think after that meal that you'll

have to go around and not dare to cross the bridge over the trout pond.

You'll break through."

"Not an extra step," said Pud. "In fact, I've been wondering for the

last five minutes if I can get to my tent. I'm so stiff I can hardly

move." It was indeed only with difficulty that Pud could navigate, for

he had put in a hard day for a fat boy.

"If I survive the summer," said Pud, with a twinkle in his eye, "just

watch me tear that old line to pieces this fall. This life should put

the stuff into anybody."

"Yes," said Mr. Waterman, as he winked at Bob, "this was a rather easy

day. Later we'll do some real work and cover some ground. I wanted to

break you in easily at first."

"Now, what do you think of that?" queried Pud of Bill, as they crossed

the trout pond to their tent. "He says this is an easy day. I wonder

what he thinks of doing when he gets real strenuous?"

"I guess he was joking," replied Bob. "Personally, I think that we had

just about all the exercise to-day that we need."

"Jack's some cook, isn't he?" queried Bill, as they sat before the fire

a short time later.

"We're all agreed on that," said Bob. "I never tasted a better supper

than we had."

"If we can get some duck and partridge now and then, we'll certainly

live high," said Pud. "I could get along with the trout alone, for I

have never tasted anything better than that."

"I was going over and make the guides tell me some of their experiences

to-night," said Bob. "To tell the truth, I'm tired, and I think I'll get

to bed early. Anyway, I think I'd better wait a while until I get back

my French again. They talk pretty good French. It's a sort of dialect,

but I can understand them pretty well. I am told that it is easier to

understand their patois or dialect than many of the dialects in France

itself."

Shortly after night had fallen the boys turned in, and they were soon

fast asleep, all weary after their strenuous day.

Bob Hunt in Canada · 第 3 / 12 章