370 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[April 21, 1898, 



AN EXPERIENCE AT VERMILLION.-Il. 



MEMORANDA OF THE EXPEDITION OF H. W. AND T. 

 TO VERMILLION LAKE, MINNESOTA. 



(Concluded from Page S/,6.) 



SEPTEMBER 8, Wednesday.— The question of moving 

 from our present camp and pitching our tents at the 

 further end of the lake, has been more or less actively 

 discussed for the last three days. We are all agreed that 

 we want to emigrate from the Throe Pines, but as our two 

 boats will not carry all our ' chuck" it is apparent that a 

 third canoe and man must be hired. Jessmore affirms 

 that by going: to Sucker Point, where the Indian village 

 is situated, we can certainly hire a canoe and an Indian. 

 Evidently that is the best thing, but no one of us is in- 

 clined to make the eff >rt. 



After breakfast we made a fire at some distance in the 

 forest, so as to be sheltered from the wind which was 

 sweeping through the camp, and seated about the logs 

 we discussed the situation. Sim, who is always the 

 emergency man of the party, finally put Harvey and me 

 to shame by volunteering to row Jessmore to Sucker 

 Point, and to come iv-ick with the necessary help. Accord- 

 ingly he started off in the cedar, with Jessmore, and 

 Harvey and I watched them till they turned in the Nar- 

 rows. It was about ten o'clock when Sam pushed off, 

 and he undertook to be back by one o'clock. I took my 

 little rifle and set off to explore the bay lying between us 

 and the Trout Lake portage. I succeeded in half circling 

 the bend, but with great tribulation and labor, the forest 

 being altogether too dense to permit a free step forward. 

 Every foot of the path had to be hewed out with the hunt- 

 ing: knife. Soon returning to camp, I lay in the tent 

 smoking, and casting an occasional eye over the lake to 

 see if peradventure Sam's returning canoe had passed the 

 Narrows. One o'clock came and passed into the erulf of 

 time, and no Sam. Harvey and I got up a small dinner 

 and took a smoke. The wind still blew fiercely from the 

 west, confining us to the land, and so cutting off our fish- 

 ing. I again took my rifle and wandered out into the 

 woods, plying hatchet "and knife until wearied. A small 

 log hut stands on the shore about a hundred yards from 

 our camp, and back of it a bold ledge of rocks makes a 

 partial clearing in the forest. I mounted the rock. I sat 

 there for an hour, wishing for a partridge, or bear, or 

 anything, and occasionally invoking the Lord to have an 

 eye to the safety of my canoe, and so far as might consist 

 with that object, to the safety of its crew also. 



About 5 o'clock a couple of Indians landed at our camp, 

 and looked at us in mute interrogation for fifteen min- 

 utes. They could not talk English and my store of Chip- 



Sewa was very limited. I gave one of them a bad half 

 ollar and they went away in high deblght. No Sam. 

 "No sign from day to day." The wind went down and 

 the waves sunk into noiseless ripples. Six o'clock came, 

 and then Harvey and I concluded that Sam had gone to 

 Tower and would probably stay there over night. Und n 

 that impression we got supper, such as it was, lit the 

 camp-fire before the tents, and sat down to wear out the 

 evening. It was a perfectly still night, but the woods 

 were vocal with the crying of the owls and the smooth 

 water plashed with the constant leaping of the fish, who 

 had probably heard of our proposed departure and took 

 that mode of manifesting the joyful emotions which the 

 thought of it excited within them. No Sam. It was 

 dark now. We could dimly trace the adjacent shore 

 line, but no more. Harvey thought he heard a lynx cry- 

 ing in the wood (I don't believe he knew a lynx from a 

 tree toad), and the thought reminded him to discourse on 

 wildcats and things of that ilk. I am not naturally a 

 very nervous man, but I unlaced, unstrapped, untied, 

 unwrapped and finally exhumed my big Marlin rifle from 

 its case, and slipping four express cartridges into the 

 magazine laid it alongside of my blanket. Nine o'clock. 

 I took a final squint down the lake, listened for the rattle 

 of oarlocks, saw nothing, heard nothing, and turned in. 

 I was sleeping the sleep such as only just men know, 

 when I was awakened therefrom by a grinding and 

 scraping at the landing place, and then Harvey began to 

 talk to somebody and Sam answered, "We've got 'em," 

 and then Sam, Jessmore and two Indians filed past the 

 open tent. I sunk back on my browse pillow and went to 

 sleep. 



SAM'S ACCOUNT OF HIS EXPEDITION TO SUCKER POINT. 



It had been our purpose to spend not more than a week 

 in camp at the east end of the lake, and at the expiration 

 of that time to embark for the mouth of the Vermillion, 

 or the extreme west end of the lake. But before this 

 change of base could be effected it was necessary to 

 secure the assistance of some voyageur. We had fondly 

 hoped to hail some passing Indian, but the heart becoming 

 sick with this vain hope, it came about that the guide 

 and the Unshaven undertook the expedition hereinafter 

 related. We started from our little point at about 9:30 

 o'clock, Wednesday the 7th, the Unshaven at the oars 

 and the guide in the stern where his strength and skill 

 would be most effective in keeping our little craft head 

 on to the seas which were rolling with some force even in 

 our little bay, a disposition the wisdom of which was 

 proven by our after experience. We first felt the force 

 of the gale rounding Pine Island to the south. Here our 

 boat danced like a cockle, and buffeted and tossed 

 threaded its way among the many islands in this portion 

 of the lake, propelled by the laboring oars of the Un- 

 shaven and kept from the rocks and surf by the match- 

 less steering of the guide. To the inexperience of the 

 Unshaven every wave seemed an impending fate and the 

 countenance of the guid^, anxious and serious, and his 

 energetic commands to him who sat at the oars did not 

 serve to brighten the situation. The writer is thus 

 minute as to the perils of the journey, not from any de- 

 sire to figure as a hero, for as a truth he looked and felt 

 anything but that, but with the wish to emphasize a 

 piece of advice to those who may voyage upon this lake 

 with a high wind. The advice is this: Place the man of 

 nerve, strength and experience at the tiller, and he will 

 fetch you through; otherwise, to say the least, you will 

 get a very uncomfortable wetting. 



We made our first point, Birch Point, without mishap, 

 and stepped upon the shore with a feeling of devout 

 thankfulness, on the part of the Unshaven at any rate, 

 and even the guide allowed some expressions of satisfac- 



tion to escape him, and indulged in some strong ex- 

 pressions of admiration for "the cedar," culminating 

 in the solemn assertion that she was "a dandy." 

 Birch Point, the whilom abode of some pioneer, 

 whose shadowy existence had been confidently as- 

 serted by the 'guide, was utterly deserted, a little hut, 

 a stable of hewn logs, and a forlorn clearing cov- 

 ered with turnips, afforded us little consolation. It 

 being near no^n we two made a sumptuous meal upon a 

 large and juicy turnip, and smoked a meditating pipe as 

 we looked out over the tossing lake, at the sun-kissed 

 roofs and wigwams upon Sucker Point, two and half 

 miles distant. It was with rather a forlorn smile that 

 the Unshaven mentally perpetrated the obvious pun 

 upon Sucker Point. However, there was no succor to 

 be had where we were, so at 13:30 we pushed off and 

 were soon struggling with the waves, that ran higher 

 here than at any time in the entire trip. We reached 

 Sucker Point at 1:30, having shipped no water to speak 

 of, and with some feeling of exhilaration, now that the 

 dandy qualities of the boat were approved, and the capa- 

 bilities of her crew to man her were beyond a doubt. It 

 should have been stated that we expected what assistance 

 we needed at Birch Point, and failing that, to push on to 

 Sucker Point to the reservation and nire a couple of In- 

 dians. But having Teacbed Sucker Point, our first and 

 only thought was dinner, the sustaining powers of turnip 

 having been exhausted by the last stretch. So dinner 

 we had, and herein save the mark, a "boiled dinner," of 

 which the Unshaven p irtook with a gusto such as never 

 seasons a dinner at the club. And the surroundings — 

 well, they were in their way unusual. A fairly clean 

 log farmhouse of one room set in a small clearing in the 

 edge of the forest. For table companions, a squaw, three 

 half-breed boys, a comely half-breed girl, herself a 

 mother with babe in her arms. So we sat and ate and 

 exchanged the compliments of the season and the fron- 

 tier, and coin of ihe realm for the best this queer hostess 

 could provide. After dinner we undertook the business 

 in hand by going over to the Eeservation. After an in- 

 spection of the same, its huts, its wigwams, its dogs, its 

 inhabitants, its and their dirt and vermin, we engaged 

 the services of two likely bucks, stipulating that they 

 should run back with us in the evening if the wind went 

 down, and so be ready for an early start next morning. 



We then made another circuit of the points of interest 

 on the Reservation. These children of the forest can 

 have civilization it they will but reach out and take it, 

 for the Government provides it at the rate of $1,800 per 

 annum; a blacksmith with a salary of $600, and whose 

 forge never smokes, is theoretically always at hand to 

 teach them the anvil chorus it is presumed, for in what 

 other capacity he could employ his art for the edification 

 of these savages the Unshaven could not see. It seems 

 to strike the said blacksmith in the same light, for he 

 spends his time cruising about the woods and engaging 

 in other unprofessional ways the abundant leisure he 

 commands. The farmer who is detailed to teach agri- 

 culture may employ his time, and even his $600 a year 

 in writing bucolics, for the red man does not take more 

 kindly to farming than to blacksmithing. The school 

 teacher to our mind is the only one who earns the salary 

 paid by the Government, for he must daily confront his 

 little row of benches, whether they be full or empty, 

 whether there be many or few to catch words of wisdom 

 that are ever ready to drop from his lips. When we 

 visited him it was half after 2 o'clock. Two stoical 

 urchins with shock hair, beady eyes, and the brows of 

 murderers sat upon the hard forms, ready to spell scalp, 

 tomahawk, assassination and words of that ilk. The 

 school teacher said he had rung the bell at 1 o'clock, and 

 at 2:30 these two were all that had answered his sum- 

 mons, doubtless twenty or thirty had received a material 

 propulsion in the direction of the school house, but Dame 

 Nature had been too strong and they had wandered off 

 into the woods there to learn the secrets she alone could 

 teach them. 



The rest of the day's expedition is quickly told. The 

 wind held on until after 6 o'clock, compelling us to again 

 avail ourselves of Mrs. Donaldson's hospitality for our 

 supper, Mrs. Donaldson being our squaw hostess of that 

 day noon. 



At 8, the wind having spent its force, and the lake 

 stilled as if by magic, we and our two Indians accom- 

 panying us in three birchs held our course under the 

 stars on our return trip, reaching camp at 10:30 P. M. 



NARRATIVE RESUMED BY H. C. T. 



Thursday, Sept, 8. — All hands fell to before breakfast 

 to pack up preparatory to striking camp. All our truck 

 to the last piece of string was loaded in the boats, and by 

 8 o'clock we were under way. The two Indians (Louis 

 Roy and a common "Nitche") carried in their canoe the 

 provision boxes, camp kettles and tents. Jessmore in his 

 canoe carried my camp chest, our individual packs and 

 the tent poles. Sam, Harvey and myself occupied my 

 cedar canoe, and carried the guns. As the boats pushed 

 off, Harvey took a hasty shot at them through the camera, 

 The wind was adverse, very strongly adverse, but by 

 shooting from island to island and keeping close under 

 their lee we made good progress. At the broad traverse 

 of Frazer's Bay we did strike some extremely high seas, 

 but managed to weather them, and after a strong and 

 laborious pull, ran under the lee of an island where I 

 yielded the oars to Harvey, taking my seat amidship. 

 We now entered Muskrat Channel, a narrow arm of the 

 lake, and henceforward had a smooth sea and no wind. 

 We passed the outlet of the Vermillion River, and shortly 

 after encountered a fleet of fourteen birch canoes full of 

 Indians, t quaws and pappooses on their way to Tower. I 

 hastily got on shore, set up the camera and arranged to 

 shoot them as they passed by, but Jessmore recognized 

 the chief, "Ouagumaup" or "Wakemup," and prevailed 

 on him to stop the fleet for an instant. I took the shot, 

 but have my doubts as to the success of the plate. Leav- 

 ing the Indians, we ran across the bay and, landing on 

 the opposite point, got up a hasty dinner and took a 

 smoke. At 1:30 we were afloat once more, and paddled 

 without incident until about 5 o'clock, when we sighted 

 the huts of Ouagumaup, the invincible Sagamore whom 

 we had met on our way. A storm was rolling up from 

 the west and we ran the boats ashore, unloaded and pited 

 the baggage on the beach, covered it with a tent fly, and 

 got into the lodge of Ouagumaup just as the rain fell. 

 There were three or four wigwams round about and 

 various outbuildings of an unknown order of architecture, 

 each of which contained a full complement of squaws, 



pappooses and dogs. The bucks were invisible; probably 

 the fleet we had passed contained the warriors of the 

 village. Ouagumaup's lodge was a pretentious log hut 

 of one story, containing two bunks, a rusty stove, several 

 squaws, two pappooses, two dogs, and a most vile smell, 

 both "ancient and fish-like." We marched in and took 

 possession without ceremony. One of our Indians, Louis 

 Roy, did the honors of the lodge, by inverting a pail and 

 handing it to me for a seat. I took it and imtrn diately 

 lit my pipe to counteract the evil spirits of the air. The 

 father of the chief Ouagumaup was in the lodge with us, 

 holding conversation with Jessmore on the subject of 

 tobacco and how much it took to make a pipeful. He 

 was a strongly marked old villain, about 100 years old, so 

 Jessmore said. His hair, slightly tinged with gny, was 

 parted in the middle and fell on his shoulders. The rain 

 delayed us ahout half an hour, when we again plud the 

 oar and paddle. Our contemplated camping ground was 

 only a mile distant, and by 6 o'ch ck wo had landed and 

 were busy with the tents. It did not take long to get our 

 quarters arranged for the night, and about 8:30 I turned 

 in and s-lept. 



Friday, Sept, 9.— We have christened this camp "Camp 

 Ouagutmiup"' in deference to the old chief on the opposite 

 poiut. It is situated at the extreme western end of the 

 lake on a point running cut from the main shore in a 

 southeasterly direction, making two hays, the smaller or 

 southern of which our tents overlook. The land is bigh,dry 

 and with little underbush. Evidently it has been a favor- 

 ite camping ground of the Indians, for we have already 

 found innumerable rags and tattprs, skin frames and the 

 like debris. Three lodge frames are standing within a 

 stone's throw of our tents, and there is a heap of old snow- 

 shoes and toboggans in the same radius. 



It, did not ta,ke long to put our camp in complete order 

 and dismiss our Indians. Jessmore and Sam took a turn 

 through the woods, and returning about noon brought 

 one small partridge. They report that at the foot of the 

 bay on the other side of the point is a log house full of 

 lumbering supplies, and suggested that an expedition be 

 made there for hay and lumber. In the afternoon Sam 

 and I rowed around there and made entrance into the 

 house. We found a lot of tin-ware, knives and forks, 

 some boards, a bench and an axe, all which we loaded 

 into the boat together with two or three armsful of hay 

 for our beds, and carried them back to camp. On our 

 way back we threw out a trolling line and look a couple 

 of turns about the bay and succeeded in hooking two 

 pickerel and one wall-eyed pike. The latter was a mag- 

 nificent fish and turned the scale at 3ilbs. We had him 

 and the partridge for supper. Tbe pull at the oars yester- 

 day seems to have strained my wrist, for the muscles and 

 tendons even to the finger points are stiff and sore. The 

 other boys appear none the worse for the twenty-five mile 

 voyage. The weather is growing colder, and our camp- 

 fire grows larger every night, 



Saturday, Sept. 10, — The wind follows us wherever we 

 camp. At the camp of the Three Pines it swept across 

 our point with such a keen fang that we had to take 

 refuge in the depth of the forest to get peace and quiet- 

 ness. Here it still sweeps us, and takes away half the 

 pleasure of our camp-fire. Harvey and I pulled around 

 the point to the storehouse, which we visited yesterday, 

 and Sam walked across to meet us there. Harvey took 

 his gun and went up the creek, Sam esconced himself on 

 a convenient rock and made a sketch of the storehouse, 

 and after loading up the boat with hay and a table from 

 the storehouse, I went hunting for autumn leaves which 

 are fast becoming brilliant and giving color to the woods. 

 Sam succeeded in bagging a plump partridge on the way 

 over, and that was the extent of our game. Our trolling 

 line yielded nothing. The wind still confines us to the 

 point. We have been waiting for a chance to get over to 

 the Indian village, but the pull is too bard; so we loaf 

 about the tents and amuse ourselves as best we may. 

 Harvey again tried the woods, but with no success. Jess- 

 more borrowed my little rifle and took a tramp off some- 

 where, but returned empty-handed. Sam paddled across 

 the bay and took a sketch of the camp. I did nothing 

 until evening came, when I refilled the plate- holders and 

 packed away the exposed plates. 



Sunday. Sept. 11.— Wove wind. From our point, look- 

 ing out on the lake, we could see the whitecaps tossing, 

 and though the sky was clear the wind howled a vigorous 

 and prolonged howl that meant no expedition to Ouagu- 

 maup to day. I took my little rifle and wandered off 

 into the woods, roused a duck in a sheltered cove, sent a 

 shot after it, found a warm rock, sat clown and smoked 

 until noon. I suppose I am no better than a camp loafer, 

 for a little operation like that suits me far better than 

 tramping through brush after partridges, although in 

 theory the latter is much pleasanter. I have come out here 

 equipped with all the costly paraphernalia of a sports- 

 man, ready for any kind of hunting or fishing, but little 

 good does my outfit do me : and in fact I had a sneaking 

 suspicion before I started that it was "great cry and little 

 wool," aa the farmer said to the billy goa/ who objected 

 to being sheared. Toward noon, as the sun got around 

 so as to light up our camp ground, I took a photograph of 

 the lodge frames of the old wigwams, and later in the 

 afternoon Harvey and I took two views of the camp. I 

 put in most of the afternoon on reading' a novel which 1 

 borrowed from Sam — "Mr. Barnes of New York." Sam 

 and Harvey rowed the cedar around tbe point and into 

 the other bay, where they caught two pickerel. Harvey 

 also shot an owl in the meadow near the creek and 

 brought it into camp. 



Monday, Sept. if.— Another day of wind, this time 

 accompanied by a cold rain. There was but little to do 

 but to lie around the camp. Harvey and Sam took a 

 range into the woods with no results, and later in the 

 morning I did the same with equal success. In the 

 afternoon, in spite of the tempest, Harvey and I pulled 

 the cedar around the bay, industriously dragging a troll- 

 ing line, but caught nothing but a few blypads. The 

 rain fell on us about 5 o'clock. Jessmore cooked a hasty 

 supper and hurried it into his tent, where he ate it with 

 such appetite as our increasing discomfort would allow, 

 As it was impossible to sit about the camp-fire, we soon 

 sought our blankets. I availed myself of the close com- 

 pany which tbe unpleasantness of the day compelled to 

 extract from Jessmore some description of the life led 

 by the "cruiser's," to which class he belonged I knew 

 in general what a cruiser was and what he did, but I 

 never b fore had it set out in detail by one of them. 



A cruiser is the modern representative of the coureur 

 du bote, or rangers of the wood, who roamed these 



