343 



RECREATION 



ered by thick ice next morning, necessitating 

 the chopping it out afresh. 



Glasgow kept a rough split wood shovel 

 near the hole. When the last person got 

 water before bedtime, the hole was shovelled 

 full to the level of the ice with soft snow. 

 This prevented ice forming, at least to any 

 thickness worth mentioning. In the morn- 

 ing all we had to do was to shovel it clear, 

 which as can be imagined was easier and 

 quicker than chopping out six or eight inches 

 of solid ice. 



We shot a large caribou on a lake some 

 distance from our camp, and as we were 

 about starting for the coast for supplies it 

 was desirous we should cache it secure till 

 our return, probably a month hence. 



Wolves were pretty numerous, and an old 

 carcajou prowled about at unlooked for 

 times, and any ordinary mode of hiding the 

 meat was not to be depended on. Old 

 Peter, however, was equal to the require- 

 ments and speedily showed me how to do it. 



We chopped out a trench in the solid ice 

 (which was probably two and a half or three 

 feet thick) four feet long by three broad, 

 and two feet deep. The meat of the animal, 

 which had been properly jointed, was 

 packed in the bottom of this ice-chest and 

 the skin folded and placed on top. When 

 finished the pile came within four or five 

 inches of the ice level. Chopped up ice was 

 then packed down hard over all, bringing 

 it up above the ice. This was tramped and 

 battered until perfectly hard. 



To make it proof against all peradven- 

 ture of a doubt, a hole was made at some 

 little distance and water taken from this and 

 thrown over our cache. 



A cold, cutting wind was blowing at the 

 time, freezing the water as it ran over the 

 mass. When the whole was finished to the 

 perfect satisfaction of Glasgow an animal 

 would have as much chance of getting into 

 our store as if he tackled an ironclad. 



The last thing the old man did after night 

 camp was made, wood chopped and bark 

 and kindling gathered, was to cut a wooden 

 poker. This would be of alder or young 

 birch and a prong or hook was left at the 

 thick end. This he used while smoking his 

 pipe to adjust any burned off ends of the 

 firewood, to rake out a brand for his light, 

 and sometimes I would wake up in the night 



to see him smoking, and, apparently, aim- 

 lessly prodding the ashes or drawing dia- 

 grams thereon. No doubt, as to many of us, 

 while gazing in a brown study into the fire 

 much of his former life passed in retrospect 

 through his mind. I never broke the silence 

 when I caught him thus. A man living close 

 to nature does not like his reverie broken 

 rudely into by some fool greenhorn. 



When it was my turn to chop the night's 

 firewood and he to make camp, and the 

 weather appearance would indicate a pos- 

 sible wild night, I would get kind of slack on 

 the work and venture the opinion after a 

 while that we had enough. Old Peter would 

 say with quiet deliberation: " Young man, 

 it is better to have ten lengths of wood over 

 in the morning than have to turn out and 

 chop by flambeau before daylight." 



This on his part was equivalent to a com- 

 mand, and I would pitch in and cut some 

 more. If the night did happen to pan out 

 mild and there was a surplus in the morning 

 it was human nature to want to say: "I told 

 you so!" But I did not. 



Another thing I learned from my old com- 

 panion and instructor was, when flushing a 

 covey of partridge and several branched 

 on the same tree, to locate them one by one 

 before starting in shooting, and then to pick 

 off the lowest branched one first, and so on 

 up the tree, thus avoiding frightening the 

 others by a bird crashing down through and 

 amongst them. 



In this way by using a small charge every 

 bird of the covey could be got, providing it 

 was neither cold nor blowing. 



I'll let this go and if the Editor of Recrea- 

 tion passes favorably upon it and wants 

 some more I can give it, for Old Peter was 

 chuck-full of what was good and useful 

 knowledge. 



I imbibed several and was glad I did in 

 after life in " The Wild." 



Peter was slow and very methodical in all 

 his movements, but by keeping everlastingly 

 at it he got there, be it making deadfalls or 

 spinning out a trail. As I took a much 

 longer stride than Peter it was pretty hard 

 following and the apparent slowness with 

 which he lifted one snowshoe after another 

 was exasperation to a young, active man. 



He used to say: "You go ahead as fast 

 as you like, yet old Glasgow, with his short 



