196 



RECREA TION. 



the water. Covering this with pine boughs, 

 we made a comfortable resting place. The 

 night was warm and the mosquitoes were 

 out in force; so we slept with screens over 

 our heads. 



Breakfast was prepared with the stove 

 placed on a pile of moss, while the cook 

 waded knee-deep in water. 



The trail for the next mile was open, and 

 the water deep enough to pull the canoe 

 along with all the supplies. 



In this way we dragged our load, taking 

 frequent rests and alternately helping each 

 other out of a hole. Sometimes one would 

 go waist-deep into the soft moss and water, 

 which in places seemingly had no bottom. 

 Only by grabbing a tree could one extri- 

 cate himself. Many laughable scenes were 

 witnessed, and in spite of the disagreeable 

 features, we appreciated all accidents. 

 About 4 o'clock we landed at the Sturgeon. 

 I doubt if any weary band of explorers ever 

 hailed more heartily a long looked for 

 water-course than we did that small stream, 

 scarcely 15 feet across. We now had a 

 down-stream ride the rest of the way, and 

 we turned in early, well satisfied with the 

 day's work. 



Camp was aroused a little later by some 

 of our hunters attempting to get sight of a 

 moose that splashed through the water 

 close by, but the night was too dark. 



By 10 o'clock next day we had said good- 

 by to the men who helped us in making 

 the portage. Soon after we were afloat. 

 The banks of the stream showed signs of 

 moose all along, and of course we were on 

 the lookout, for we wanted a good shot for 

 our camera. Indian signs of moose-killing 

 were seen. A pole sticking up in the bank, 

 with a bone or piece of rawhide fastened 

 to it, or a meat-drying rack, were the usual 

 methods of marking the spot. Their hunt- 

 ing is done at all seasons, and large num- 

 bers of these noble animals are slain. The 

 Indians are not restricted on or off their 

 reservations, and although they are subject 

 to the same laws as the white man, these 

 laws are not enforced. 



The river broadened as we left the 

 tamarac swamp, and rapids were frequent, 

 helping us a little faster on our way and 

 making the ride pleasant and interesting. 

 On we went, through a forest of oak, birch, 

 poplar and pine, growing to the water's 

 edge, inhabited by moose, caribou, deer 

 and smaller game, but enjoyed by only 

 shiftless Indians, who have never appreci- 

 ated its possession. 



Lunch was had afloat, for we wanted to 

 get to the Big Fork river that evening. 

 Night overtook us about 3 miles above, 

 where we camped. The Big Fork was 

 reached next morning about 9 o'clock. 

 Here we stayed long enough to exchange 

 a few words with an old settler, who had 

 made his home at the forks of the rivers, 

 thinking the water-power at the rapids 



above would make his land valuable for mill 

 and townsite purposes. He now lived by 

 fishing; sturgeon being his principal catch, 

 the bladders of which he dried and sold. 



The Big Fork, down which we paddled 

 5 or 6 miles an hour, is a broad, rapid 

 stream, having its source near Lake Win- 

 nebegoshish, and winding its way through 

 a country of great possibilities. The vast 

 amount of timber to be cut and marketed; 

 the almost endless extent of land, which 

 when cleared and cultivated, will be rich 

 and productive, the many opportunities for 

 water-power; and the fact that iron and 

 coal exist there, w r ili one day make this por- 

 tion of Minnesota resound with the hum of 

 trade and industry. 



The day's trip was one to delight the 

 heart of any lover of canoeing. Taking 

 things easy, we moved along, enjoying the 

 fine scenery and fresh warmth of the June 

 day. Straggling crews of loggers were 

 passed, and an occasional batteau-driver, as 

 he poled his heavily-loaded boat along the 

 shore. 



The high, dry banks were pleasing after 

 being so many nights in the swamps. We 

 selected a good camping-spot in a pine 

 grove and stopped early. Hilligoss, being 

 an expert at making balsam-bough beds, 

 was assigned this work; while the others 

 straightened out the baggage and prepared 

 supper. 



The ride to Rainy Lake river was with- 

 out incident. We reached the North side 

 of the Rainy about dark, and camped on 

 the bank near the landing-place of the 

 steamer. The next morning we boarded 

 her, bound for Fort Francis. 



The boat went down stream a short dis- 

 tance to unload some merchandise marked 

 for Hannaford, which we found on a map 

 to be the destined metropolis of Northern 

 Minnesota, but which at that time was a 

 clearing of about 5 acres, covered with 

 stumps, and not a building in sight. 



Forty miles up the Rainy river, from the 

 mouth of the Big Fork, brought us to Fort 

 Francis; a small Canadian village, so slow 

 and easy-going that when a mail arrived, 

 the inhabitants were told of it by a flag on 

 a mast in front of the post-office. The at- 

 traction here was the falls, which we photo- 

 graphed from several directions. 



We took passage on a small steamboat 

 that ran daily to Rainy Lake City, and were 

 soon in the midst of a country of islands 

 and water, which continued until the Gold 

 City was reached. . 



This mushroom town, scarcely 4 months 

 old, looked prosperous; having 30 or 40 

 buildings, ranging from the bachelor's 

 cabin to substantial story-and-a-half frame 

 houses. Most of the inhabitants were busy 

 making boats, and preparing for prospect- 

 ing among the surrounding islands. 



We sailed over to the island on which the 

 Little American mine is located; then re- 



