MOCCASINS AS FOOD
Pud made good the next morning, for when Bill woke him he got up at
once, plunged into the lake for an eye opener, and was ready with rod
and line as soon as Bill. They were soon out on the lake and Bill made
at once for the trout hole that he had spotted the night before. They
had remarkably good luck and returned in time for breakfast with
twenty-five fine trout. These they cleaned and handed to Jack, who soon
had them sizzling on the fire and ready for breakfast. Bob and Mr.
Waterman had also gone fishing. They did not return until Jack's cheery
"Halloo!" brought they in scurrying. After breakfast they divided into
parties. Bob and Mr. Waterman elected to go hunting partridges, while
the others said that they would go fishing. Bob and Mr. Waterman were
soon off. Arriving at the far end of the lake, they left their canoes
and were soon lost in the depths of the forest. For some time they went
along, but at last Mr. Waterman noted a partridge, and with a clever
shot it was his. They wandered around, climbed a mountain and
incidentally got three more birds, two of which Bob had the good fortune
to bag.
"Well, we'd best be going," said Mr. Waterman. "Lead the way."
Bob said nothing, but started off confidently. Mr. Waterman followed on
for a few minutes. He then asked,
"Let's see your compass, Bob."
Bob felt in his pocket, but did not find it there. He then remembered
that he had left it in his sleeping bag. He was compelled to confess as
much to Mr. Waterman.
"That's bad dope, Bob," said Mr. Waterman. "You should never leave camp
without your compass nor without first noting carefully in which
direction you are going."
"I know that," said Bob. "I just forgot it."
"Which direction did we take this morning?" queried Mr. Waterman.
"We first went east to the end of the lake, and since then we have been
going mainly in a northerly direction."
"That is right," was the reply. "Now, if you can tell me which way is
south, we can at least go in the right direction."
"We're going south now, aren't we?" asked Bob.
"No," Mr. Waterman replied. "We are going north, or nearly so."
He then pulled out his compass and showed Bob that this was so.
"Now, supposing we had no compass, how would we be able to tell the
points of the compass?" asked Bob.
"By the sun," answered Mr. Waterman, in his usual, quiet way.
"How?" was the query.
"It's quite simple. In this latitude the sun is to the south of us. We
therefore turn and face the sun, as it is now near noon, and we are
facing south. Behind us is north, to our right, the west and to our left
the east."
"A woodsman certainly must be on the lookout," said Bob.
Then they turned around and after quite a tramp they came to their own
lake. They reached camp about three o'clock to find it empty. The others
were evidently still out fishing. They busied themselves about the camp,
finally opening out their sleeping bags and lying down on them. In due
time the others returned and showed such a multitude of shining beauties
that they were amazed.
"This is one of the best lakes we have ever been on," said Jack, as he
went about preparing supper. "The trout are very numerous and of fine
size. If we had time it would pay us to stay here a few days and get
ready some smoked trout to take out with you when you go back to the
city."
"I'd like to do it," said Mr. Waterman, "but I want to carry out my
original schedule, so we'll reserve your idea for later on in the
season."
Once more they had a fine supper, consisting of partridge stew with
dumplings, trout, biscuits and prunes for dessert. They spent another
very pleasant evening around the camp fire.
In the morning, after a hearty breakfast, they set out for another lake
farther north and a little to the east.
"I want to work over towards the Escoumains River, so that we can come
down that stream on Friday and get our first taste this season of fast
water," said Mr. Waterman.
"That will be fine," said Bob. "Father has often told me of the exciting
times he has had shooting the rapids in the Lake St. John region."
They were soon ready for their journey. When they came to the first
portage Pud was the first man out of the boat. He had his dunnage bag on
his back and the canoe on his shoulders, and waited for Jack to show the
way. Off they plodded, and in about an hour they came down again to
another fine lake. The guides at once began to make camp, while the
others looked to their sleeping bags and cleared up for the night. By
ten o'clock they were settled for the day, and off they went in their
canoes to try their luck on the new lake. They found it just as full of
fish as the lake they had just left. When they returned at one o'clock
they found that they really had more fish than they could use.
"We'll have to stop fishing for the rest of the day," said Mr. Waterman.
"There's no use catching trout merely to throw them back again."
"Let's climb some mountain this afternoon and have a good swim
afterwards," suggested Mr. Anderson.
After lunch the three boys, with their two mentors, left the camp and
made for the opposite shore of the lake, as the mountain rose up sharply
there. They scrambled up the sides of the mountain and had gotten nearly
to the top when they were startled to see a party of men above them.
When they came out on the top they found the strangers there apparently
waiting for them. Mr. Waterman greeted them pleasantly, but they gave
only gruff answers. They inquired at first very politely what they were
doing there. Mr. Anderson gave them civil answers, but they evidently
did not think that his answers were full enough, so they threw off all
disguise, and the leader said,
"We are Government officials, sent up here to see if there are any more
stations such as Field had down near your camp. It looks rather
suspicious that you should discover this man Field so opportunely. We
already know that food you bought in Escoumains has been found in his
cabin."
"Very true," said Mr. Waterman. "As I explained to Mr. MacPherson, that
was the reason why we went out looking for the thief. It was on that
quest that we found Field and discovered his business. We notified the
Government immediately, which proves that we were honest in the matter."
"Perhaps it does and perhaps it doesn't," was the reply.
"What you do not know is that we had ferreted out Field's accomplices,
and I have no doubt that we would have gotten him in a short time. It is
possible that he knew this and made an arrangement with you to keep him
supplied with grub."
"Nothing of the kind," said Mr. Waterman. "You evidently have not read
the evidence I left with Mr. MacPherson. There I told him all about the
scene at the hut, and if you have read that you must know that we knew
nothing of Field or his work. All we know is that he stole some of our
grub and showed remarkable skill in doing so. All through, he was about
as clever as one could imagine."
"I'll grant that he was clever, and you seem clever yourself," was the
reply.
"Don't forget that we'll keep our eye on you the rest of the summer, and
that at the first suspicious move, we'll arrest you," said another
official.
"You will find that totally unnecessary. We have been coming up into
this country for several years, and the delights of nature, the fishing,
hunting and adventure are the only things we are after here," said Mr.
Waterman.
"I hardly know what to believe," said the spokesman of the party. "That
man Field was here on just the same plea that you have stated, and until
a few days ago he was just as little suspected as you now actually are.
Pardon my questioning, but it seemed necessary. We are camping over on
Lac Corbeau for some time, so if you see more of us do not be surprised.
For the present we'll assume that things are just as you state they are.
I sincerely hope so, for otherwise it will be a very serious matter for
you."
The two parties then separated, and Mr. Waterman led the way back down
the mountain. They were just in time for a real good swim before supper.
Jack had been out and he had gotten four ducks, so that they had a very
fine meal. Duck, trout, biscuits hot from the pan, ginger-bread and
apricots made up a meal that would have done credit to Delmonico's, let
alone a camp far away in the Canadian wilds. They certainly enjoyed it.
The next morning they were up early. They were going to get over to the
Escoumains River and this meant that they would have to portage through
three lakes.
"We'll have some hard work this morning, boys, so let's get away as
early as we can," said Mr. Waterman.
"How many portages have we?" asked Pud.
"Three," was the reply.
"It's all the same to me," said Pud. "I'm getting to like the feel of
that old canoe on my neck. It certainly does not seem half as heavy as
it was ten days ago."
"That's because you know how to distribute its weight so that you carry
it with head, neck, and arms," said Mr. Anderson. "These canoes are
especially made and they weigh only sixty pounds. You ought to carry the
canoes we used the first year of the Saguenay Club. They were just the
ordinary canoe and they weighed nearly one hundred pounds and were badly
balanced. These canoes not only weigh less than any other canoes you
will see in this country, but they are especially balanced so that they
are thereby easier to carry."
"I never used any other canoes," said Bob. "Now that I am used to these
canoes, I do not mind them very much."
"You must also remember that you boys are getting into the finest kind
of physical shape," said Mr. Waterman.
"We ought to up here," said Pud. "I've done more real work here the past
two weeks than I would do at home in six months. It certainly puts the
muscle on a fellow."
Shortly after breakfast they had all their duffle packed and they were
off. They went along from one lake to another without incident and in
due time they arrived at the Escoumains River. By this time it was
nearly two o'clock, so they had a hurried lunch and then started up the
river. Then the boys had a taste of river canoe work that they had never
seen before. It was well that for each of the four canoes there was an
experienced man, for otherwise there would have been plenty of trouble.
Before they started the boys were surprised to see the guides come out
of the woods with several long poles nicely trimmed up. These they laid
in the canoes.
"What's the idea?" asked Pud.
"Of what?" asked Joe.
"The poles."
"We use the pole getting up the rapids. One can go better that way,"
said Joe.
"I didn't know that one ever used anything but paddles in canoes," said
Bill.
"You'll very soon find how much more power you can get out of the pole
than out of a paddle when going up a stream," said Mr. Anderson.
The canoes were pretty well loaded down but the party set out bravely.
For some time the river was deep and by hard paddling they made progress
against the current. Then they came to a rapid. Mr. Waterman got out and
went up the stream. In a little while he returned and stated that he
thought they could get up all right if they poled. Then the boys saw how
this was done. Generally they kept near the shore. The man with the pole
stood in the rear and shoved the boat along. It was necessary to be real
clever with the pole, as any one can make sure of by trying this
manoeuver some time in fast water. Finally they got up the first rapid,
though frequently the boys thought that they were due for a wetting.
When they came to the next rapids Joe told Mr. Waterman that he knew
these rapids well and that it would be necessary to portage. Joe said
that it was a full hour's portage, meaning that it was nearly two miles.
They landed and were soon headed up the stream, laden with their canoes
and duffle bags. It was hard work, though they found a well-beaten trail
leading up the river. They got glimpses of the cool waters of the
Escoumains as it dashed foaming from rock to rock. They could hardly
admire the scenery, for they were all well weighed down with their packs
or canoes. At last they came out at the head of the rapids and found a
fine sheet of water ahead of them. In fact, as often happens, they found
the river broad and slow-flowing for several miles, and they made steady
progress.
"Keep your eye out for a good camping place," said Mr. Waterman. Hardly
had he said this than they came around a curve of the river and saw
before them a little opening in the woods that had been cleared. A
little stream ran down into the larger river, forming a sand bar near
its mouth.
"Here's the place," said Mr. Anderson.
As if by one consent they all steered for the shore and quickened their
strokes. In a little while they were practically ready for the night. It
was well that they had stopped, for it was now close to six o'clock and
they were all getting very hungry.
"Hurry up the grub, Jack," said Mr. Waterman. "I could eat a moccasin."
"I eat moccasin before now," said Joe. "It ees hard to chew."
"When was that?" asked Bill, who scented a story.
"It was many year ago, when I very hungry in dees wood," said Joe.
"Let's have the story after supper," said Mr. Anderson.
"Oh, no, it is too difficile for me to speak Engleesh," replied Joe.
"Well, tell it to me," said Bob, "and I can then tell it to the others."
"All right, all right," said Joe, "but you must not expect big story. It
ees only what happened to me one long wintaire."
The boys went in for a swim and they found the water a little colder
than the lake on which they had camped the previous weeks. Joe, Jean and
Jack kept very busy, and it was not long before the noise of a stick
beaten against a tin can made known to all that supper was ready.
"Trout will do us to-night, but to-morrow morning we must have salmon
for breakfast," said Mr. Waterman. "An extra dish of prunes for the one
who catches the first salmon."
This offer does not mean anything to the ordinary person in the city,
but on a trip out into the woods where the grub has to be rationed out,
fruit of any kind is at a premium. It was almost dark when they got
through their supper and were ready for the night. It was quite a cool
night in spite of the hot day they had had. The guides piled on the wood
and it was very comfortable after their hard day's paddling and
portaging, to sit around the fire and talk over the events of the day or
whatever happened to come up. Bob soon sneaked away from the fire and
went over to the smaller fire which the guides had made close to the
little wood hut they had hastily thrown up. It did not take Joe long to
plunge into his story, and for quite a while Bob stayed with the guides
listening to Joe. When Bob returned to the main party he found them
getting ready to seek their blankets. His return was greeted gladly by
Bill and Pud, who remembered the story that Bob had promised to get from
Joe and then relate to them.
"Well, how did you make out?" asked Bill.
"Did Joe tell you the story?" exclaimed Pud eagerly.
"Yes, he told me the story in his matter-of-fact way. To him his
experience was only an ordinary occurrence that may almost be expected
by any hunter in a hard winter. I think that I had better keep the story
until to-morrow night, as it is getting late," said Bob, looking
questioningly at Mr. Waterman.
"Go ahead, Bob," said Mr. Waterman. "We are going to stay here and fish
to-morrow, so it won't make much difference if we stay up a little later
than usual. I don't think that Joe has ever told us of this experience,
has he?" added Mr. Waterman, turning to Mr. Anderson.
"No. Joe has told us a lot of very interesting experiences that he has
had, but he never told us of the time he got so hungry that he tried to
eat his moccasins," said Mr. Anderson.
"Well," said Bob, "though Joe told me the story in his own very laconic
fashion, I am sure that it was much more interesting than I can make it.
I'll do the best I can, however."
"All right, then," said Bill, "go ahead."
"When Joe was a young man he once came hunting far north of this country
in the company of an old Montagnais chief named Howling Wolf. They
started out late in November, expecting to get back about Christmas
time. They went up the Portneuf River, which was frozen over then, and
made good progress. They had very good success from the start. Contrary
to what they had generally experienced, the further north they went the
better was the hunting. They were led on by this unexpected factor to go
much farther north than they had ever been before. They had three dog
teams along and were provisioned for a three months' trip. Their good
fortune lured them on and it was almost Christmas before they awoke to
the fact that they must soon get started home or they might get into
serious trouble because of lack of provisions.
"Let's see if we can get some deer meat so that we can stay longer,"
said Howling Wolf one day. Joe consented and they went out with this
idea in view. They were very successful. They both brought in a deer and
at the end of a week, they had quite a lot of meat on hand. Things thus
went along until shortly after Christmas, as sometimes happens, the game
suddenly became scarce. They could not get a deer or even a rabbit. In
addition, the winter came on in earnest. One heavy fall of snow was
followed by another and they were kept close to their quarters. The
heavy weather continued and they determined to make for the south just
as soon as it became possible to do so.
"About the tenth of January, they left for the south. They made good
progress, though their provisions became lower and lower. At last they
were on very short rations and it was under these conditions that
Howling Wolf had the misfortune to break his leg. Joe bound up the leg
as best he could, but the injured man made progress all the slower. As
Joe found that the extra burden slowed down the dogs so much in the
heavy snow, he determined to cache one load of pelts, make use of the
extra dogs and hurry on. Food was very low and if they should hit a
week's storm he could easily see that he would have the greatest
difficulty getting out to Escoumains.
"As bad luck would have it, a regular blizzard came on and for four
days, Joe and Howling Wolf had to lie low in a rude shelter that Joe had
hastily thrown up when overtaken by the blizzard. It was impossible to
keep a fire burning as the snow came down in icy particles that made
wandering from camp a foolhardy undertaking. Howling Wolf on several
occasions begged Joe to leave him there and go on his way. Like the
Indian that he was, he felt that the storm gods were against them and he
had given up.
"Before they left their improvised shelter, Joe had to sacrifice three
of the dogs to furnish food for the other dogs. Joe also stated that he
made his first hearty meal for several days on some dog steaks that he
had kept for himself and Howling Wolf. At last they got away, but on the
very next night they were attacked by a large band of wolves, and though
they succeeded in driving them off it was only at the expense of almost
their last cartridges and the loss of three more dogs. Joe spoke again
of the heroism of Howling Wolf, who sat up in his sledge and shot at the
wolves, though they threatened to overwhelm him and Joe on more than one
rush that they made. Joe said nothing of himself but one's imagination
can easily picture these two hardy hunters, sheltered only by their
sledges, making a fight for life against a large pack of hungry wolves.
"When the storm was over and the wolves had been driven off, there were
over a dozen dead wolves lying around. Joe stated that knowing that he
could not get the pelts out, he had been compelled to leave the wolves
unskinned. In fact, the most vivid impression made on Joe by this fight
for his very life seemed to lie in the fact that twelve fine wolf skins
had to be left there. The further loss of the dogs made it necessary for
Joe to cache all the rest of his pelts. He did this very reluctantly,
for he felt that unless he could get back before the winter was over, he
would lose all the fine skins they had gotten by their hard work. Then,
with hardly any grub and only a few cartridges, one dog team and a big
heavy Indian with a broken leg as a load, Joe started off for
Escoumains, at least one hundred and twenty miles away.
"When Joe told me this, he did so in just as matter-of-fact a way as if
it were the most ordinary occurrence for a man to find himself far to
the north in the depth of winter, practically without grub and without
ammunition. The latter was really practically useless anyway, for the
heavy snow seemed to have sent everything alive into their winter
burrows. Joe could not take time to go hunting anyway, but he felt it
would be useless, for though he kept his eyes alert, he did not cross a
single track. Bad luck seemed to follow their journey out just as good
luck had urged them further and further north.
"Another heavy storm came on and for three days Joe was compelled to lie
quiet waiting for the weather to break. By this time the grub had
entirely disappeared and only two dogs were left. Though the storm
stopped in the middle of the night, Joe got his two Eskimo huskies out
of their snow beds, hitched himself to the sledge also and started on.
By the end of that day they had covered nearly thirty miles, according
to Joe's reckoning, and both he and the dogs were practically exhausted.
There was no food for man nor beast, so Joe once more had recourse to
the dogs. He had to kill one of his favorite dogs. This was the only
part of the story in which Joe showed any trace of excitement or
sentiment. The killing of that favorite dog was evidently a very hard
task for Joe.
"After only four hours' rest, Joe and the only dog left took up their
burden. By this time Howling Wolf was in a regular delirium, caused by
his injured leg and his privations. Joe struggled on all that day and
far into the night. According to his calculations, he traveled nearly
sixteen hours. In his naive way, Joe excused himself for not keeping on
farther by stating that his dog finally gave out completely and he had
to stop. With no food again, Joe took to eating the leather straps that
had bound the grub on the sled. Then the dog suddenly went mad shortly
after midnight and Joe was compelled to shoot him in self-defense. By
hard work, he got a fire and made a good stew of dog's meat. A good meal
of this also had a very stimulating effect on Howling Wolf, who quieted
down and went to sleep. Without waiting for the morning, Joe hurried on,
but the snow was deep and he made but very slow progress.
"In the intervals between his delirium, the stoic Indian urged Joe to
leave him and hurry on. Joe makes no hero of himself, but he refused to
do this, stating that they would either both reach Escoumains or neither
of them would get there. In this way, Joe struggled on for two days
more, living on the remains of the dog. This at last gave out. Joe now
found himself only twenty miles away from Escoumains and he felt that if
he could only hold out another day, he might get to some place of
safety. Thus, starving, but determinedly dragging his injured friend,
Joe staggered on. That night he eased the pangs of hunger by chewing on
an old pair of moccasins that he found at the bottom of the sled.
Howling Wolf also chewed away and cheered on his friend for, though he
did not feel that Joe should still keep on dragging him along, he felt
that if he would do it that it was his duty to keep up Joe's spirits.
They both slept a few hours that night and long before dawn Joe was
toiling away.
"At last, tired and exhausted, nature would have her due. Joe became
merely a driveling maniac, urged along by an insane desire to make
progress. At times he would wander round and round, but eventually he
would head on straight again. It was late that night that Joe saw far
ahead a welcome light. This spurred him on and for about half a mile he
almost ran. This spurt soon died down and left him so weak that he could
hardly move along. Once or twice he fell but he kept on and was soon
within hailing distance of the light. He tried to cry out but no sounds
came from his exhausted lips. At last, when at the very end of his
physical resources, he came to the door and knocked He heard a rustle
within, but even before the door was open, he had fallen down in a
faint. When he opened his eyes, he was in the cabin of his good friend
Antoine Gagnon, who was bathing his head and feet with hot water and
gently urging some hot liquid down his throat. Already Howling Wolf was
seated by the fire and telling the good wife, Gagnon, what a brave man
Joe had been and how he had saved his life. When he lifted his head, the
whole family crowded around and praised him for his wonderful endurance.
Joe stated that he had to spend a week in that house before he was
strong enough to walk. Howling Wolf's leg got all right and Joe was soon
as strong as ever.
"Three weeks after his almost fatal trip, he was off to the north again
with another Indian and a week or more later returned with the pelts
that had been bought almost with his life's blood. 'But,' concluded Joe,
'I would give all the pelts I get in one-two-yessair, three wintaire, if
I not kill my dear dog, Marie, I love so well.'"
"Joe must have been some hardy youth twenty years ago," said Mr.
Waterman. "I can assure you that everything he told you was true and
probably even worse than he depicted it."
Pud and Bill were greatly impressed with Joe's story and sat a long time
staring into the fire. Pud, however, soon realized his own troubles, for
he exclaimed,
"Gee, boys, I'm sleepy. I'm going to turn in."
"I guess you had better, boys. You know, late hours are not on the
camper's schedule," said Mr. Anderson.
Ten minutes later, not a sound could have been heard except the distant
calling of a loon or the low roaring of the river as it rushed along its
rocky bed.