IN A FISHING COUNTRY 



trail takes it out of a man; let the other 

 fellow's pack alone, sit on your private ef- 

 fects if you want to, but not on his; dis- 

 embarrass the ends of the portages of your- 

 self and burden to allow free passage for 

 what deserves first consideration, the 

 arriving and departing canoes. The pru- 

 dent traveller's first maxim has less applica- 

 tion in the woods than elsewhere, but even 

 there it may be said that a fool and his 

 baggage are soon parted. 



As the day wears on, chances may come 

 to those less encumbered of lending a hand 

 in the adjustment of canoe or pack. What 

 is tossed on the head so lightly in the early 

 hours, goes up later with strain and 

 clenched teeth. You will recall the stone 

 by his door at Abbotsford which Sir Wal- 

 ter Scott lifted in the morning with ease, 

 but could not stir in the afternoon. One 

 thinks, too, of the pathetic entry in Hub- 

 bard's diary of the Labrador trip, where 

 he puts himself down as good for a load of 

 one hundred and fifty pounds — after a few 

 paces on the level strand! How the pack 

 dwindled on that long last trail! The 

 French Canadian, who stands up to his 

 work and carries with any man, knows this 

 waning of the strength; and whilst, making 

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