WHEN THE INDIAN PASSES 



By ANNA C. RUDDY 



WO New York women 

 hired an Indian guide in 

 the wilds of Timagami, 

 the north woods of Can- 

 ada. "How rash!" ex- 

 claimed our friends. 



"Bears are running 

 wild all over the district." 

 cautioned a chance ac- 

 quaintance at Timagami 

 Station. 



But the enthusiast de- 

 clared that her dearest wish was to be 

 bitten by a bear and that she would be 

 disappointed if she came home without 

 at least losing a finger in the fray. 



A local outfitter of Timagami 

 planned a "lady-like" trip for us and 

 especially warned us against the Mon- 

 treal River and the long portage into 

 Lake Anima Nippissing as being "sav- 

 age." 



We departed with his blessing and a 

 secret resolve to see the Montreal River 

 and the long portage. 



Fifteen miles from the station, 

 through the northeast arm of Lake 

 Timagami, we found Timagami Inn, a 

 unique hostelry built of pine logs. 



From there we started in an eighteen- 

 foot canoe with camping outfit, and 

 John, our guide, philosopher and friend, 

 who, to use his own description, was a 

 half full Algonquin from Mattawa. 



Our wardrobe was noted chiefly for 

 the Chaperon's warm winter clothing, 

 which she never needed, and the enthu- 

 siast's long boots, her joy and pride. 

 Time never hung weary on her hands 

 throughout the trip ; there were always 

 her boots to lace and tie. 



Our first call was at Bear Island, 

 where we found a thriving Indian vil- 

 lage, a splendid object lesson of what 

 the Indian may become when thorough- 

 ly civilized. The Hudson Bay Com- 

 pany's post is also here and the chief 

 fire ranger of the district has his head- 

 quarters on the island. 



From Bear Island we paddled on up 

 through the north arm of Lake Tima- 

 gami into the great wilderness through 

 an enchanted region. The high, irreg- 

 ular shores of the lake, wooded to the 

 water's edge ; the many islands with 

 their varying shades of green ; the 

 transparent water reflecting the blue 

 cloud flecked sky, made a scene never 

 to be forgotten. 



The wonderful fascination of the 

 northland came upon us ; that spell 

 known only to the few. And as we got 

 farther and farther from civilization it 

 was easy to forget that we had not 

 always lived in this hitherto almost un- 

 disturbed home of the Algonquin pad- 

 dling from lake to lake in the pine 

 scented air. 



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