2 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Jan. 4, 1896. 
UNCLE LISHA'S OUTING— VIII. 
The Canada Boat. 
When tbe dinner of one course was finished the simple 
service of iron and tinware was left unwashed without 
fear of disparaging feminine comment, and the voyagers 
embarked, Sam and Antoine at the oars, Uncle Lisha 
steering with a paddle, and Joseph as passenger and gen- 
eral observer. In these capacities he took his ease so far 
as he could with a hand on either gunwale and hitching 
from side to side at every slight lurch of the stanch craft. 
This he continued to do after the black depths of the 
creek were passed and they voyaged across the shallow 
head of the bay, where the oars grated on the sandy bot- 
tom and the golden mesh of reflected sunshine twisted 
and tangled its elusive threads among the caddis worms 
and mussels, a half-arm's length beneath the rippled sur- 
face. One of the rowers leaned over the side to watch 
a shoal of minnows and slightly careened the boat, when 
Joseph frantically pulled on that gunwale and hitched 
toward the other side. 
"Good airth an' seas! I du b'lieve if you was sot in the 
middle of a' islan' you'd be afeared o' tippin' over, Jozeff . 
Du, for massy sake, set still, erless lay daown in the bot- 
tom." 
"I tell ye what; Uncle Lisher," and Joseph let out a 
long-held breath, "sech a mesB o' water makes me kinder 
skeery. I do' know as it's skeery ezactly, but kinder 
narvous. I don't seem tu hev no use for no more water 
'n what I wanter drink an' wash me in, an' that hain't 
sech a turrible sight. But it does look dreffl'e neat," and 
his eye dwelt with satisfaction on reflections of the 
painted shores flickering downward on the rippled lake 
like many colored inverted flames blazing into a nether 
sky. 
Over among the red maples of Lewis Creek could be 
seen the naked mast of the Canadian craft, its gay pen- 
non lost in the bi'illiant foliage that it flaunted against. 
But the incessant gabble of the crew and their snatches 
of French songs would have guided our voyagers to the 
vessel without any visible indication of its whereabouts, 
and following it up the stream a little way beyond its 
last bend , they came to the boat at its moorings. 
The jolly little captain was very polite, and welcomed 
them as possible apple sellers, in English quite as good 
as Antoine's if somewhat different from it, having evi- 
dently been drawn from a well not entirely undefiled 
with h's. 
"Mek youse'f welcome, mah frien'," he cried, with his 
shoulders lifted to his ears and his palms hospitably 
spread, "Go hall hover mah boats. He was you boats, 
han' 'e was good boats, hif Hah say hit mahse'f. Oh, 'e 
good sloops. Han' if you gat happle for sol' Hah ready 
for bought she han' paid you ten cen' pour baskeet 'f she 
tvas mos' hall red happle, han' medjy him mah baskeet, 
hant 'of more as free peck," and he gave a contemptuous 
kick to a basket which could hold at least a bushel and a 
half. 
The visitors gave the odd-looking and not very cleanly 
craft as complete inspection and as unstinted praise as 
could satisfy their curiosity and her captain's pride, 
smothering themselves in the garlic-reeking cabin as 
long as they could hold their breath and then stumbling 
forth into the fresh outer air. 
"I hain't got no apples tu sell myself," said Samto the 
little captain, "but I do* know but what I c'ld send you a 
man 'at has. Come aout this way a minute, won't ye? 
Say, captain," he continued when they had got beyond 
the hearing of the others, "haow long afore you're a goin' 
back to Canady ?" Sam picked up a stick and began 
whittling it, wherefrom the shrewd Canadian, having had 
some experience of Yankees, augured that a trade was 
impending. 
"Wal, Hah don't mos' know, me. Mos' likel' Hah go 
day hafter nex' day hif de peop' brought dey happle. 
But," he continued, curiously watching the shavings 
curl slowly away from the keen knife, "hif you can sen' 
it me some very good red happle, Hah could waits hanod- 
der one day." 
"No, guess I don't want tu keep you waitin\" said Sam, 
"Be you goin' stret hum? Goin' tu atop anywhere on the 
way?" 
"Ah, no, no, no, bien no. Hah han' goin' let mah 
happle rot 'fore Hah oood sol' she. Hah go fas', Hah 
cood." 
"S'pose you c'ld take 'long a passenger tol'lable 
cheap? ? ' 
"Wal, seh, mah fren',"said the captain after some con- 
sideration of the proposal, "hif de mans was clever for 
behave hese'f , han' paid me one dollah 'fore 'e go, Hah will 
took it, me, han' dat was more sheaps 'e can go hin stim- 
boat, yas, bah t'undert yas, more sheaps 'e can go 'foots.-" 
"Yes, if you feed him, that's reasonable 'nough," Sam 
assented. 
"O, no,, no,, no," cried the captain, "for dat 'e mus' 
heat 'ese'f. Hif Hah heat 'im, Hah mus' hask more as; 
dat." 
"WaU then, we'll hev him eat himself," Sam agreed' 
with a chuckle. "I sh'd wanter be tol'lable well paid my- 
self if I'd got tu eat him. All right, captain, I guess he'll 
be here 'baout the time you start," and having concluded 
the negotiation he threw away the neatly whittled stick 
and pocketed his knife. 
"Mos' likul your frien* was be goin' on Canada for 'eeB. 
'ealthy," said the captain, shrugging his shoulders and 
winking at Sam- 
"He's a-goin' there tu extend tbe ary of freedom," Sam 
answered with an imperturbable countenance. 
"Oh, yas, yas," and the little captain tried to cover his; 
pockmarked visage with a mask of profound wisdom as 
he inwardly phrased the words, "send de hearing free- 
dom," and mentally inquired of himself, "What says the 
holy tall Bostonais?" 
Sam and the captain returned to the boat, where' 
Antoine and his compatriots — who, though not old ac- 
quaintances, had mutual knowledge of some — were swim- 
ming with violent gesticulations in a babbling torrent, 
of gossip, on whose brink Uncle Lisha and Joseph sat in 
gaping, wondering silence, now turning their puzzled 
faces upon the Canadians, now slowly upon each other. 
Their amazement increased when the captain also plunged' 
in and contributed his full share to the confusion of 
tongues. 
"Good airth an' seas!" Uncle Lisha gasped in a loud 
whisper to Sam, "it hain't no more like talk 'an a passel 
o' hens bevin' a cacklin' bee in the mornin', an' I can't 
pick nothin' aout on't on'y now an' then a 'wee' an' a 
'sackeree.' I b'lieve the dumbed critters is jest pertendin' 
they're a-talkin' an' don't understan' one 'nother no 
more'n they would if they was a-whirlin' hoss fiddles 
at one 'nother." 
"Wal, they 'pear tu git ahead wi' the' vis'tin' some 
way," said Sam, regarding the animated group with an 
amused smile. 
"I do' know fer sartain," Joseph remarked, after delib- 
erate consideration, "but I kinder cal'late the heft o' the 
conversin' is done by signs, an' the gab is jest hove in for 
sort o' fillin'. Seems 's 'ough that was the way on't, but 
mebby 't hain't." 
"Wal, they beat ten women tu a quiltin'," said Lncle 
Lisha, "an' I give it up, Say, Samwil, you be'n a-buyin' 
the boat?" 
"Wal, no; on'y a sheer on't. Cal'lated it 'ould be handy 
for Joseph to go nun tin' an' fishin' in." 
Their attention was attracted to a heavily laden wagon 
that came jolting over the rough pasture, announcing its 
approach with a rumble and creak that began now to be 
heard above the voices of the Canadians, till at last their 
interested attention was called to the fact that a customer 
was arriving. 
"Wal, if there hain't a load of apples comin' a'ready," 
said Sam. "I guess this feller sent on word ahead 'at he 
was a-comin'. We'll wait an' git a pocketful an' then be 
off." 
While the captain and his customer were pitting Canuck 
and Yankee shrewdness against each other in sharp bar- 
gaining, Sam and his comrades tasted and selected their 
pockets full of the mellowest and leastsour of the common 
fruit, that but for the advent of the Canada boat would 
have gone to the cider mill, and they then departed. An- 
toine went most reluctantly, for he was still oppressed by 
ttnspoken words. 
As they fared forth on their return voyage, Joseph, 
slowly withdrawing his lingering gaze from the alien 
craft, remarked: 
"So that 'ere 's a he boat, is 't? Wal, I swan I can't make 
aout haow on airth a feller's agoin' tu tell which f 'm t'other. 
I ruther guess 'at boats is julluk fish; the he ones an' the 
she ones looks jest alike tu the onedicated, or'nary eyes; 
seems 's 'ough that must be the way on't." 
When thpy were at home again — for so they at once 
began to call their temporary abiding place — they fell to 
picking their ducks — a task whereof many hands made 
light work — beguiled by Sam's and Antoine's relation of 
the circumstances of the day's incidents. 
"Naow," said Sam, laying apart a couple of the finest 
ducks, "if the' hain't no objection, I b'lieve I'll take them 
'ere up tu Mr. Bartlett. There's more'n we c'n use any- 
way. Mebby it '11 be kinder late afore I git back, but you 
needn't tew, if it's dark fust, on'y jest set aout the lantern 
tu one o' the landin's." There being no demur he em- 
barked at once on this mission. Rowland E. Robinson. 
HOW FUR IS CAUGHT.— VI. 
Hard Sledding. 
We were to have a taste of trappers' transportation in 
our journey from Laura Lake over to Buckatabon. The 
trail was new to all of us, and none too good at its best. 
Joe and Mr. Saynor found it hard sledding with the 
heavily loaded toboggan, and I know my pack got heavy 
before we found a place to set it down under anything 
but a tree. We thought it was about eigbt miles, not 
more, to Buckatabon Lake, but we lost our way and went 
wandering away above the head of the lake over a log- 
ging road. We must have traveled ten or twelve miles 
at least before we found out where we were. This we 
ascertained at a logging camp to which our road led us. 
At the camp we got a hearty meal and soon made the mile 
and a half over to the head of the lake. Here we had 
good hauling on the ice and so Mr. Saynor left us, seeing 
that Joe and I could make the rest of the distance in time 
to get into camp that evening. 
A Second-hand Camp. 
Joe Blair and I pushed on as fast as we could across 
Buckatabon Lake, going through the narrows which 
divides that lake into two bodies of water. Straight ahead 
of us on the distant shore, some three miles perhaps from 
the point where we took the ice, we saw the log building 
of an old lumbering camp, and this we determined to 
look into ; for though the country we wished to trap in 
was still six milt s beyond, and though we had tent, 
stove and every means of making camp, we knew the 
comforts of a log camp were not to be despised in weather 
such as we were apt to have. 
We found our deserted house a rude log building of 
two rooms and plenty of ventilation. One room looked 
like a stable, and this we knew to have been that occu- 
pied as dormitory by the lumber hands. This we 
avoided, and set up our home in the room that had been 
the dining hall. Here the cook had left behind him the 
frame of a bunk which he had occupied. There was also 
an empty pork barrel, and a few boards, nailed together, 
but hingeless, had obviously posed as a door. It was 
easy to see that we had right at hand all the ingredients 
of a comfortable winter camp, much better than we 
could make out of a tent in the snow. We promptly 
turned up the pork barrel and put our sheet-iron stove on 
top of it, so that the pipe would reach up beyond the 
roof. We found a prop for the door, unearthed a bench 
for a table, and made a very fine easy chair out of some 
hay wire and a half barrel which had been left lying 
•about. Then Joe went down to the lake to chop a hole 
through 3ft. of ice, so we could have a well, and I went 
out after pine boughs for the bed. Before dark we had 
everything easy and comfortable. To be sure, owing to 
the exalted position of the stove on top of the barrel one 
had to stand on his head to warm his feet, but this could 
be managed. And Joe baked some adorable flapjacks. 
And. we had beans and meat and coffee — J oe was one of 
the few woodsmen I ever knew who did not care for tea. 
We had plenty of blankets and passed a comfortable 
night, dividing our quarters with a family of skunks 
which had located under the floor before we came. That 
afternoon there was a "double sun." At night the North- 
ern lights danced and played long and brilliantly. From 
far across the lake came the vague but thunderous rum- 
bling of the ice, that singular and sinister sound known 
only to the winter wilderness-goer. Surely we were in 
a very wild and wintry scene. The thermometer must 
have been far below zero that night. In the morning our 
blankets were white with long spires of frost. 
Exploring the Country. 
On our way between Laura and Buckatabon lakes we 
had seen a great deal of fur sign, and we thought one 
bear trail , to say nothing of dozens of deer trails, which 
we didn't want. We did not stop, however, to put out 
any traps there. Joe had heard, in that strange way in 
which news travels in the wilderness, that there were some 
otter working along a spring creek that ran into the Wis- 
consin River a few miles from Buckatabon Lake. The 
country was described to him as a good one for other fur 
also. This was the country we were bound for and to 
reach which we had made a journey of between thirty or 
forty miles in all. I describe this journey at length in 
order to supplement the trapping story. In the Turtle 
waters trip, with Buck and Brandis, we saw the work of 
running the lines of traps after they were laid out. Here 
with Joe Blair I saw perfectly the method necessary for 
the trapper in going into new country, exploring it and 
laying out his traps. In some ways this was even more 
interesting than the first half of the trip — which chrono- 
logically ought to have .been the second half. In Joe 
Blair I found probably as good a trapper as there is in 
that country, a man devoted to the woods life and skill- 
ful in the ways pertaining to it. The Forest and Stream 
luck held all through this trip, as it always does, so that 
only the best sort of men were met, good at their business, 
and pleasant in telling of it and showing it to the stranger 
and visitor. 
We had only "grub" enough for about a week, and it 
was resolved to put in most of the time in exploring the 
new country, setting out a few traps, but not expecting 
to take much fur. As Joe would be obliged to return 
home for more "grub" in so short a time, and as my own 
trip would then be at an end, we wanted most especially 
to set traps, not to run them. 
Plenty of Sign. 
It was a nipping air on the morning of our first day at 
Buckatabon camp, but we set out clad as lightly as pos- 
sibly, knowing what heavy clothing means on a long 
steady tramp. We did not know where our spring 
creek was except by the compass, but we figured that if 
we should go straight north for six miles we must surely 
strike it. Then if we went due east we must strike the 
Wisconsin River,and if we went down that stream we must 
find the mouth of the creek which flowed out of Buckata- 
bon River, up which to our camp could not be over four or 
five miles; so that our day's voyaging would not take us 
over more than 15 or 20 miles at most. Our courage was of 
sturdy pork and beans sort as we started out and went 
clumping off through the woods on the showahoes. It 
was a lovely day, bright and clear. We saw some crows 
and some eagles. We also saw a dead horse, which 
pleased Joe very much, for he thought a bear would prob- 
ably come to it in the spring. "A bear moves around 
everywhere when he first comes out of his hole," said Joe, 
"and if there is a bear anywhere near a dead horse, he is 
bound to come to the horse. I am glad the lumbermen 
left this one here." 
About four miles from our camp we got into a dense 
spruce thicket, and here we began to see a greatdeal of sign 
— fox, fisher and lynx. We also started deer, and saw 
plainly where four wolvf s had been following a deer trail. 
There was more sign on this little bit of country than I 
saw on three times its size elsewhere. I impatiently 
wondered why Joe did not go to scattering out traps, but 
he did not. He took it slow and easy, carefully studying 
all he saw, but not saying much. He wanted first to go 
over the country well and see what fur it showed, and 
also— a very wise and important precaution — to learn 
whether anyone else was trapping there. 
Felis Catus. 
Later on we did find some traps, set by a sort of ama- 
teur at a logging camp which we discovered -later. Joe 
expressed much contempt for this trapper's skill, but we 
kept off of the stream where he was trapping. In one of 
his traps, set for an otter under an old logging dam, we 
found an enormous black house cat, fast by the front foot 
and suffering very much. This cat fought worse than a 
lynx, but we set it free, whereupon it hid beneath thei 
timbers of the dam. These domestic cats are often left 
behind when logging camps break up and move away, 
and they then become practically wild animals. I rather 
coveted this fellow's black hide, but could not bear to kill 
it, and moreover Joe said that would not do, as it was 
caught in another trapper's trap. He thought we ought 
to leave the cat in the trap where it was, but to this I 
could not consent, so we left a note in the trap instead 
— which I suppose some French-Canadian pondered over 
vainly later on. Then we departed, anathematizing people^ 
who tookup a good otter stream, and caught cats instead 
of otter. 
Good Otter Country. 
Beyond any doubt we had found our otter country. 
We were walking slowly along through the heavy thicket 
mentioned above when all at once Joe stopped and gave 
vent to a low exclamation. I saw him looking at a trail 
in the snow, which looked as though an animal had 
dragged something along with it as it traveled. At first 
I thought a fox had been pulling a bird or piece of meat 
along, but I could see the trail lay in two lines, that the: 
feet were roundish, and that the drag lay between the 
foot tracks. . 
"Here's your otter,'' said Joe, "and he's a good one. 
Yes, an otter always makes this sort of a trail, at least 
part of the time. He's a funny critter. He don't walk on 
the snow or ice, he just sort of skates about half the time. 
He will walk a while, and then he will double his fore-, 
legs back under him, and skate himself along on his belly,' 
pushing with his hindlegs. See, he will go a long way in 
that fashion, never once standing up straight on his legs. 
Yet he will travel for miles, and go fast too. You don't 
see any shyer or wilder animal than an otter, and if he 
takes a notion things are not just right, he'll travel plumb 
off out of .the country. This sign is fresh — see his toe 
nails — and I shouldn't wonder if we found him in here 
yet somewhere. 
Along the Trail. 
Now began one of the most exciting little hunts I ever, 
had. We followed our otter into the densest part of the 
almost impenetrable swamp. He took us to the little 
