Oct. t, 1898.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
£63 
, 
for anyway?" I replied: "First of all, to commune 
with nature." So does every true sportsman, whatever 
his method of taking game or fish. And to my mind 
herein is the standard of "true sportsmanship" more than 
in the method. 
Incidents, 
A b'uckboard driver relates the following: A gentle- 
man and wife were going in to one of the popular re- 
sorts. The man amused himself en route by target 
practice with a rifle. He shot well from the carriage. 
Speaking with the driver he said: "I have been coming 
up here four years, and have never seen a deer." The 
driver replied: ''Perhaps you will see one before you 
arrive to-night." But the' man was incredulous, just 
before sundown the driver pointed out a deer quietly 
feeding about 50yds. away. Instantly the man leaped 
from the carriage and exclaimed, "Where?" Then see- 
ing the deer began firing. At first the deer paid little 
attention, but at the third shot started off, and after the 
fourth disappeared. Then the man climbed into the 
carriage, shaking as if with ague. Did his wife laugh 
at him? The driver says, "Yes." 
Another, 
A fifteen-year-old boy was for the first time watching 
a pond alone and rifle in hand. A deer swam past him 
but a little distance away. He waited till the deer rose 
from the water at thirty rods and fired; four shots he 
tried, and the deer walked down the shore unharmed. 
Describing his experience, the boy said he found his 
hands and knees shaking, and that he. could scarcely pick 
up the cartridges. On being rallied about "buck fever," 
he said: "No, I don't think I had the fever, for I only 
felt it in my hands and knees, and my whole body was 
cool." He also says he learned a "whole lot about 
deer hunting" that clay. 
One of the men shot and killed in the Adirondacks 
this year was an old resident, who is reported to have 
told his nephew, a young fellow who had never been in 
the woods before, "Shoot the first hing you see moving 
in the brush." The first thing was the uncle, who fell 
shot through the heart. Both parties were in fault: 
one, it is scarcely needful to point the moral, for his 
instruction, the other for his action. The sad result is 
sufficient; emphasis. 
A Noble Rescue. 
A beautiful young lady, daughter of a hotel keeper at 
Lake, was out rowing, and by an accident precipi- 
tated into deep water. She went to the bottom of the 
lake, which she afterward said "seemed a mile deep," but 
coming up, grasped the boat and clung to it. Two lads 
—natives— were sitting on a dock nearly half a mile 
away. They thought there was an accident, but were not 
sure. However, to be certain, they sprang into a boat 
and rowed w T ith all possible haste to the scene. Ap- 
proaching, they discovered their- unfortunate friend just 
as her strength was about to fail, and shouting, "Hold 
on and we will save you," hurried to make good their 
words. All honor to real heroism, whether in the war or 
in the wilderness! Juvenal. 
Haps and Mishaps on the Yukon. 
Mac has an Experience. 
The canon ends abruptly where the contracting wall 
of rock on the east side falls away to a jack pine fiat 10 
or 15ft. above the level of the river. On the west side 
the abrupt hills are close to the water's edge for the 
greater part of the distance to White Horse Rapids. 
While it is possible to land on the west side after shoot- 
ing the canon rapids, the -eddy at the east is commonly 
chosen because it is on the same side with the upper 
landing. 
The bay is fairly commodious, and the water next 
shore is deep, but it is not an easy landing to make, and 
it requires good steerageway and cool judgment to 
leave the swift current of the river and break through 
the wall of foam into the backwater of the eddy. Action 
must be taken the moment the canon is cleared or the 
boat will be carried hopelessly beyond the landing. 
Side by side are two currents, running in opposite di- 
rections. The one running north has a velocity of 
fifteen miles an hour, and the other a velocity of four or 
five. The boat must leave the one and enter the other 
diagonally, or she will be hurled around in a way that 
snaps jammed oars like pipestems, or whisks the oars- 
men overboard before they know what hit them. It 
is easier to pass from the slower current into the faster. 
After making our five trips through the canon, Mac 
and I each took a boat, and in company set out to cross 
the river. Walking along the shore, we towed our 
boats against the strong back current to the lower end 
of the eddy, and then pushed off into the river. 
The best water is first found in midchannel, and later 
on the west bank of the -river. Midway between the 
canon and White Horse is the roughest part of the 
rapid. 
It was our intention to land before reaching this place, 
and for this purpose we had selected an eddy behind a 
small rocky projection. When the time came to swing 
inshore we kept as close to the point as we dared for 
fear of missing the eddy and being carried beyond by 
the swift current. 
Night was fast approaching, and under the shadow 
of the wooded bank it was hard to discern objects 
plainly. 
Just below the point a little group of black rocks sud- 
denly appeared directly in our course. I managed to 
clear them, and called to Mac to pull on his right oar, 
a course which would have brought him into open water 
again. Either the noise of the rapid drowned my voice 
or he mistook the words. Instead of pulling on the 
right oar he ^ulled on the left, and a second later , his 
boat struck broadside on with a crash that I could dis- 
tinctly hear'above the din of the river. My heart stood 
still, for I expected to see the boat turned over, and man 
and cargo thrown into the water. Fortunately, however, the 
rocks projected so far above the water that they held the 
boat, and she rested on an even keel. 
Meanwhile I had been carried on down by the current, 
and found it impossible to get near enough to Mac to 
render any assistance. 
As previously explained, Mac was not a born boat- 
man, and in his present difficulty the first thought that 
presented itself was to get his feet on bottom somewhere. 
Ground was preferable to water, even if it was the bed of 
the river. He did not stop to reason, but acting on the 
impulse of instinct, put one foot overboard on the up- 
stream side of the boat and probed for bottom. The boat 
tipped a little and over he went, half-way up to his neck. 
He was holding on to the gunwale of the boat and had 
one foot inside. He tried to get his foot out, but 
couldn't. The boat scraped off the. rock and drifted 
into deep water below. She was in danger of capsizing 
any minute, and might be drawn into the dangerous 
rapid-, but for the life of him Mac couldn't get either in 
or out. The only dry part of him was the one foot in 
the boat, and Mac would rather have had that wet than 
where it was. 
A favorable set of the current carried Mac into slack 
water, and by the time I reached him things were sat- 
isfactorily adjusted. The terrific bump on the rocks had 
not injured the boat, and though the spot where she hit 
was scratched and dented the canvas did not leak. 
Above White Horse Rapids. 
The following day we lined two boats up against the 
current from our camp above White Horse Rapids to a 
cache of goods just below the canon. Dawson advises 
a portage at the midway rapid, and the fact that we 
lined our boats past this tandem fashion shows their 
good qualities for river work. 
"Lining" is towing by a shore line. One man walks 
along the water's edge and pulls the boat by a long rope, 
while the other either follows and keeps her off with 
a pole, or else sits in the boat and steers her with a pad- 
dle. Sometimes an arrangement of ropes called a 
"bridle" is used. In addition to the regular tow-line, a 
rope is made fast to the gunwale several feet back from 
the bow on the side next shore, and then to the main 
line a few feet ahead of the boat. Practically the tow- 
line is split and one piece tied to the bow and the 
other to the side further back. By this arrangement the 
boat will follow a course parallel with the river bank. 
When she tends to come inshore the bow line is slack- 
ened and the stress diverted to the side, and this of 
course throws the bow out again. For ascending the 
Yukon lining and poling are the only practical methods, 
as the current in most places is too swift for rowing 
or paddling. 
Mac crossed the river safely first from the west side 
to the east, and later back again. Then I took the two 
boats in charge and shot the remaining part of the 
rapid, tandem. I tried the expedient of going through 
backward, and found that it worked like a charm. Steer- 
age way was maintained by rowing against the current 
instead of with it. The boats could be handled per- 
fectly, and they rose easily to the waves, and were com- 
paratively dry. 
I had discovered a little cove lower down than the 
usual landing for the portage around White Horse 
Rapids, and as it saved nearly quarter of a mile of the 
carry I brought our boats to this spot. 
To reach it one has to drop over a reef of rocks span- 
ning the river at a point near midchannel. and then row 
to the west bank over a shallow rocky stretch of water 
that is impractical for heavy boats. 
This is just below the sharp angle the river makes 
preparatory to entering the straight sweep between low 
basalt walls that constitute the rapid proper. White 
Horse and the canon incidentally are both "flumes" in 
the sense in which the term is used in the Adirondacks. 
Above the bend the current is smooth, though very swift 
for some little distance. 
Disappointed Indians. 
When I brought the last boats down I allowed them 
to drift sideways past the regular landing. There was 
a particular gap in the reef that I wanted to pass 
through, and I thought I could reach it more easily by 
keeping inshore of it, with my boats pointed out till 
I had rounded the point and seen its exact location. 
Some Chilcoot Indians, who had come down to White 
Horse after their season at the pass was oVer, and were 
packing for the miners, saw and misinterpreted my ac- 
tions. They supposed that I had made a mistake in the 
place of landing, and the moment I passed the whole 
tribe began yelling and running down toward the rapids. 
Apparently they anticipated some fun, and their cries 
sounded more like a lot of boys promised a free'treat at 
the circus than ejaculations of warning or dismay. 
When I rowed quietly inshore and pulled up my boats 
on the tiny sand beach the Indians were a disgruntled lot. 
I felt that I had been ungenerous in not providing a 
spectacle for them. A few white men saw the occurrence, 
and one of them reminded me of it on the Hoota- 
hnqua River in midwinter. The majority of the white 
men, however, were too full of their own affairs and too 
anxious to get by the rapids expeditiously to pay any 
attention whatever. If the boats had swamped in the 
rapids it would have attracted little comment. 
Priests and Lev.'tes. 
An incident happened that same day which illustrates 
the absorbed single-mindedness of purpose with which 
the miners worked. Three men tried to line an empty 
boat down the opposite side of the rapids around the 
base of a precipitous bluff, 200ft. high. One became 
entangled in the rope and_ fell over a 20ft. precipice. 
He saved his life by a mere scratch, for he struck on 
a narrow shelf at the level of the water and was almost 
carried off by the rapid. As it. was, he sprained his 
leg so badly that he thought it was broken, and so re- 
ported to his partners. | 
These men cut the boat loose and went for assistance. 
They were in such a tight place that one had to throw 
away his rubber boots, worth $20, before he could scale 
the rocks and gain secure footing, 
I saw a part of the occurrence, and could easily have 
crossed above the worst water and lined down a boat and 
rescued the injured man, who was crouching on a rock 
at the water's edge, but could not bring myself to realize 
that he was in need of help. Men were passing con- 
stantly to and fro, and no one seemed to think anything 
out of the common had happened. 1 called across the 
river, but could not distinguish the man's reply. 
Presently a miner came along who said the man's leg 
was broken. He spoke in, a matter-of-fact way and with- 
out expressing any interest or concern, and would not 
wait to discuss the situation. 
His information, however, gave me the needed impetus. 
I got a boat and lined her up along the shore with a view 
of crossing, but before I could take any further action 
half a dozen men from the mounted police encampment 
appeared on the. scene with ropes and a roughly extem- 
porized litter and rescued the man. They dragged him 
to the top of the 200ft. bluff, and afterward cared for him 
until he was able to proceed on his journey. 
In scores of such instances the Canadian mounted 
police played the good Samaritan. 
Through the Rapids. 
Every once in a while last summer boats, empty, dis- 
mantled and battered were found on sandbars below 
White Horse Rapids. Of their occupants not a clue re- 
mained. Undoubtedly some of these boats had been 
carried into the rapids after dark, when no one wit- 
nessed their fate. Others were wrecked in broad day- 
light, in sight of their friends. It is said that thirty-five 
men are thus known to have been lost at White Horse 
in the season of 1897. 
Early in June at the very beginning of the present 
season McKercher writes that ten men and two hundred 
boats have gone under at "yon place." 
At the very end of the rapids is the most dangerous 
place. Here the entire volume of the river is drawn into 
a narrow, shallow channel a hundred feet across, and 
the river bed falls away suddenly. Down this chute the 
water dashes as if projected from the nozzle of some 
great fire hose in a series of perpendicular waves that 
a boat must smash through, because there is no time to 
rise -over them. It is a veritable cataract, and only boats 
measuring 25ft.. or more in length can hope to pass 
through safely. 
It is possible, however, for the very smallest boats to 
avoid the final pitch. I came to this conclusion after an 
examination of the rapids from the shore, and shortly 
after proved it by practical demonstration. With a 
somewhat lighter cargo than that carried through the 
canon, I pushed off into the current, keeping near the 
center of the river for two-thirds the length of the 
rapids. Then I began edging in toward the west side, 
and just before the worst part was reached I pushed 
the boat through a green wall of water curving out 
from a great boulder like the furrow from a plow, and 
shot into the partial eddy behind. Like a flash the boat 
was whisked about by the current end for end, and I 
found myself rowing vigorously instead of pushing. I 
landed on some rocks, and later at leisure dropped the 
boat down in shallow water close inshore to the regular 
landing below. 
I took four boats through White Horse in this way, 
but as I only carried 30olbs. of cargo at a trip we had 
quite a little additional packing to do. Our last load 
was taken across on a sled found by the side of the 
trail, but there was so little snow that it was hard 
work for two of us to draw 2Solbs., and we could have 
done almost as well packing on our backs. 
Hepburn's Call. 
We saw a good deal of Hepburn while at White 
Horse. This man, whose first name is John, if I am 
not mistaken, made a fortune in the snowy Cassiar 
mining district of British Columbia years ago. He 
went there with two bits in his pocket, and left with 
$30,000, having cleared his money from cattle and sheep 
driven hundreds of miles overland. 
Hepburn made about $100 a day piloting boats through 
the canon and White Horse Rapids. His charge was 
$20 for both rapids or $12 for one. He required two 
oajsmen from the crew of the boat to help handle her, 
and kept them rowing for dear life whenever they could 
find water with their oars. 
, He had several narrow escapes from drowning. In 
the eye of the canon the day after my experience he got 
a boat sideways to the current and almost swamped her. 
He is a powerful man, slightly grizzled, and it was an 
impressive sight to see him swing around his long steer- 
ing oar and pull like a demon again and again to throw 
the boat head on to the white water so close at hand. 
Hepburn tried White Horse once too often, and though 
he escaped with his own life one of the men who ac- 
companied him was drowned. He was taking a 20ft. 
boat through, and at the very end she filled and went 
under, through no fault of his. 
Hepburn came up between two clothing sacks, which 
floated light, and got an arm over each. One of the 
oarsmen, who could not swim, caught the boat. The 
third man, whose name was Anderson, was a good swim- 
mer, and tried .to reach the shore. He made progress 
through comparatively smooth water, and the mounted 
police, who had put out in a boat, to the rescue, passed 
him, thinking his companions most in need of help. 
They picked up Hepburn and the other man and landed 
a mile down the river. Anderson swam till within 20ft. 
of shore, when a great swirl of rushing water bubbled up 
beside him, the center 3 or 4m. higher than the sides. 
It caught and sucked him tinder, and that was the last 
seen of the man. Hepburn said it was a warning, and 
gave up piloting. 
Boats that came along after that were unloaded and 
cast adrift above the rapid, and two well-known and 
respected physicians made a living picking them up be- 
low at a charge of $5 a boat. 
By a singular coincidence Anderson's next door neigh- 
bor in Seattle, a man named Freedman, was drowned in 
an ice jam below the Big Salmon a few weeks later. 
Dawson Refugees, 
At White Horse we met two men coming out from 
Dawson. They were young, athletic fellows, burned 
black as Indians and full of nerve and energy. They 
had had no bread to eat for seyeral weeks, and we 
traded them a loaf of graham for a couple of whitefish 
they had traded from the Indians at Lebarge. They had 
a 16ft. Peterborough canoe, and poling and lining had 
reached this point in a month's time. These men were 
the vanguard of a host of others to come later, all 
leaving Dawson on account of the shortness of foo<L 
