Oct, i8> 1902.] 
^09 
calliag," said Charlie to me, as we held our little sym- 
posium. "Sometimes !5he goes around whining and com- 
plaining, with a voice about like a pilppy. Sometimes she 
will call lender, and sometimes you cannot hear her very 
far at all. It is not always just the same sound. Now a 
calf is a gocd deal the same way. I have heard a calf 
V. hining or squealing or crying all the way across Nictau 
Lake. 
Adam said that the call of the caribou is a sort of grunt 
or croak and that the calls of the bull atld cow are very 
much alike. As to the call of the bull nioose, thefe is a 
great deal of variety iri that also^ Sometimes a bull can 
be called into the Watfcr by iltlitatirlg the call of the bull 
rather than that of the cow. Sothfetlmfes the bull will come 
right on down in a hurry, and again he will harlg baek 
in the cover at the edge of the lake and run up and down 
and thrash the trees and grunt and snort and yet will not 
come out into the open. 
As to the time when 5'oung moose take to the water, 
Adam and Charl fe oil the 29th of May, 1900, caught a 
moose calf which they did riot thiilk cotild have been more 
than a day old, possibly but a few hours. This was oil 
one of the Bathurst lakes, and Adam showed me the place 
where it happened, a point where the lake was perhaps 
three-quarters of a mile wide or more. They saw the cow 
swimming, looking back all the time, and at last they dis- 
covered something following her in the water, which they 
saw was a young calf. When the calf tried to get up the 
bank to follow its mother, it fell back and would probably 
have drowned had it not beetl reached by the men. Mr. 
Buckhout, a New York gentleman who was stopping with 
them at the time, tried to photograph the calf, but was 
unable to get a good picture. Adam at one time found a 
dead calf ill a tree top along the NipisigUit River, the little 
fellow probably haviflg droWried in the attempt to fofd 
the river. 
All the time one learns odd facts Hke these in natural 
history when he is with close observers such as niy com- 
panions were. For instance, Adam told me of a partridge 
which had been an object of great interest at the Nictau 
camp during the year 1900. This partridge was seen 
walking about where the men were building a log house, 
and at length was tracked to her nest. To their surprise 
she seemed to be entirely tame. She would allow herself 
to be picked up and handled, and sometimes would peck 
at the hand iti a petulant sort of matirter. She would peck 
at Charlie's feet sQtnetiffles fts he stood near the ilest. 
This grouse would fte^iieritly, whefi dff her iiest. Walk 
directly up to the men who were etigaged afeoiit thfe \6^ 
house. The nest was watched carefully, ahd of the eieVeii 
eggs, all of them hatched. "You never saw anything de- 
velop as fast as a young partridge," said Adam. "I kept 
track of the hatihiflg very Closely. At 12 o'clock that day 
two or three of the little follows Wei-e out and all the 
remaining eggs were pipped. That evemng all the fH- 
maining eggs were hatclied. At ^ (fHkick oil the tte^Et 
morn ng all the young had left the nest. I don't kiioW 
where they went, but know that we never saw the hen 
again. While the little fellows were hatching I sort of 
supervised things arouild the nest, and took out the empty 
shells as fast as they were deserted. The hen did not 
seem to mind this very much. Mr. Buckhout — his name 
was Wm. H. Buckhout — of New York, took a photograph 
of this partridge while I held her in my hand. We were 
sorry, but the light was not such as to enable him to get a 
good photograoh. We watched the nest about two weeks 
iii all." 
I asked Adam how, iri his dpiriion; the woodcock carried 
its yoliiig, and M fefilied that hiS birothet Will had seeh 
a woodcock carrying its yoiuig, aiid ill saiti€ wSy sne 
carried them betweeri her legs or feet. I have heard it 
5at3 tliatlfie young lirds were supported by the thighs of 
th^ mother ai .shs flew. 
Amohg other curl'otis ihiHgs, Adam told me /of 
some little ducks, whistlers or golden eyes, wiiiifh 
saw on the banks of the river one time as he was going 
along in his canoe. "There were seven of them," said 
he, "all fuzzy little fellows, about the cutest little things 
you ever saw. They were arranged in a row directly un- 
derneath a stick, aiid yoU had to loolt hliMhty glose^ I m] 
tbll you, befoi-e yoii Saw them. I would have giyeh.a good 
fleal fbf a photoiraph of thitt i-dW of. Httlfe ducks." 
As to the habits oi the cai'lboii, Adam says that in His 
caHboli lick the cariboii eat the mud, it seemitig to iids- 
S€ss sOmfe salihe quality Which they covet. All the guides 
said that cariboii Wete becomitig mbre huinerous ill New 
fertansWiek. No one pretends to khoW hdiV triaily thei-fc 
are in the Province. They come down to these licks in 
large bands at times. Adam knows yet another caribou 
lick somewhere near Red Brook. It is possible to photo- 
gtaph caribou at these licks; aiid Mr. Osborne, of 
Rochester, made a very good photograph which is shoWn 
at the Crown Lands Office of a cow moose which came 
to the lickg gnd was photographed at a distance of only 
ninety feet. 
Deer as well as caribou are now increasing in the 
Tobique country. Eight years ago there were no deer at 
all, but the deer appear to be working toward the east- 
ward, having been more abundant for a time west of the 
St. John River. 
In all this game country there is tto overlapping or 
crowding of one guide by another, and I was curious to 
discover on what sort of tenure the guides held their 
"country." Such a territory is gained usually through a 
good acquaintance with the railroad or private owners of 
the pime lands. The guide leases the country four rods 
back of the river, that distance being ceded to the owners 
of the fishing leases. Lumber is king in New Brunswick, 
and a good understanding with the big lumber outfits is 
the best chance a guide has to get his privileges and hold 
them. Thus I imagine it would be very difficult for any 
one to supplant Adam Moore in his country, since his 
privileges woidd not be duplicated by the owners of the 
pine lands in favor of any other guide. Adam has ten 
camps, the chief of which are Nictau and Bathurst camps. 
Out of the latter camp are the side camps, Klondike and 
Moose Brook, both of which have been mentioned. Then 
there is Upsalquitch camp and Upper Bathurst camp, and 
on the Nictau Chain the Foster's Hole, Cox's Hole, Half- 
way Brook and Ridge camps. Thus it may be seen what 
a wide strip of country is thus drawn by a guide so fortu- 
nate as Adam Moore and his partner, Charlie Cremin. 
So much by the Avay, and while we are, as it were, wait- 
ing for Jqe Ellis and his partner, Johr) Moultop,, to come 
back and tell us something moi-e of the late Louis Bear 
trapping trail. This was to take still a couple of days. 
Adam and I trotted down to his blackcat trap on Thurs- 
day, fixed up the steel traps and were back in time for 
luilch, a distance of about nine miles. That afternoon 
he and I marehed five or six miles up to the "Carry" after 
caribou. We saw some sign, but we thought that the soft 
weather had sent the caribou away from the lake for the 
time being. We saw considerable otter and mink sign on 
the tower side of the Bathurst Chain, this making the fifth 
instance of otter sign we had noted. 
The Trail Over the MouDtains, 
At length our two Indian trappers showed up at 
Bathurst camp, and we held a long pow wow together. 
We now began to hear of a certain lumber camp, far up 
toward the head of the Little South Branch, and known 
as the Branch camp. There used to be another camp 
further down the stream, and this old camp Joe Ellis 
said he knew, and could no doubt find, as he ran his 
trapping trail up into the mountains. To reach this lum- 
ber camp one needed to travel six miles or so to the 
rilotlth of the Silver Brook, thence eight or ten miles 
mote to the southward up the Little South Branch of the 
Nipisiguit. 
This was a distance of about five miles more than it 
would be in a straight line over the hills to the lumber 
camp. For a time it was our intention to take our 
toboggans up over the trapping trail which Ellis and 
Moulton said they were now going to run (the same being 
the old Louis Bear trail). Yet when we began to talk 
of that awful trip over the big mountains, even those 
hardy citizens, Adam and Jack and Charlie, looked grave. 
We all of us knew by experience what it meant to climb 
those hills with nothing but rifle and a light pack. To 
cut across with toboggans meant that it would consume 
four times as much time as to go light; and the tobog- 
gans were a necessity. Hence we formed a plan of cam- 
paign which, if a little risky, proved in the end a wise 
one. We decided to get off of the rough country over 
which the old trail ran at its northwestern end, and to 
trust to fortune to make some kind of a meeting with 
Ellis later on at the Branch camp. From this point we 
intended to head south and to take Ellis along with us, 
so that he might give us the advantage of all he knew 
about the old Louis Bear trapping trail. Of course all 
hunters, especially the hunters of New Brunswick, will 
know that this so-called "trail" was not a trail at all, but 
simply a line of blazed trees. An Indian never does 
any uHriecessary work. We did not wish the task of drag- 
ging the toboggans over the Indian trail any more than 
was absolutely necessary, but any sort of trail is better 
than none, especially Avhen you don't know where you 
are going. 
Starting Into Unknown Cottntry* 
Charlie had beeii baking biscuits industriously for about 
three days, ahd thesfe We packed ill boxes on our tobog- 
gans. We had plenty of tea aiid sUgar, plenty of blankets, 
but unfortunately were at this time shott of meat, as we 
had eaten up all that we had been able td carry down 
from Adam's moose, and had killed nothing since. We 
thought that oUr total weight on the three sleds was be- 
tween 300 and 350 poillids. We took with us our precious 
bundle of furs, also took alorig some rifles which we in- 
tended to take out to the settlements, having four rifles in 
all, the camera, the horribly heavy glass plates for the 
caitiefa, a little ammunition, and some odds and ends 
which we did riot care to send down by the slow tote 
tearn, sjxty-five fniles doWft the Tobique River. All in all, 
\vt had pfett:jf stiff loads. 
As luck Wotiid havd it, good or bad, we made our start 
south on Friday, this being the 2Crth Of December, at which 
time I ought to have been going home, ifistead of starting 
put into the wilderness, where there was a very fair work- 
ing ehance that nobody would hear of us for a month, if 
at all. 
The sledding wzs bfea'utiftil, however and we did our 
six miles down to the Bear tiotisfe, Silver Brook, in jig 
time. (The depot camps are called "bear houses" be- 
&MsU It is riecpssary to build fhenl tight afld strong enough 
to, keep ditt tlife marauding bears, which otherwise would 
fob the stores.) Adam left iis at a point on the trail for 
a ruii sicr'oss lots to have oiie ttiore look at his blackcat 
trap. Although we had found these cfeStures had pretty 
n}uch torn up ^ll ihn Goufttry the day before, they had not 
returned during the riig'ht: Hence we went away and 
left the steel traps to hold their silent w^atch on the banks 
of the Mipisifeiiit, tfustifig to Providence that one of us 
might get back arid visit them later in the winter. While 
Adam was gone I got into the toboggan shafts, and had 
the pleasure of -three miles at this soft of travel. I should 
iiot fancy it as a steady diet, it remaining a wonder to me 
how these riieti puU these sleds with such loads and across 
such country. 
We all rounded up for lUttch at the mouth of the Silver 
Brook, and then started for a long ten-mile tramp up the 
Little South Branch, which we picked up but a short dis- 
tance from the mouth of Silver Brook. It was cold that 
day, and our faces were well hung with ice when, just 
before dark, we pulled up at the little lumbering settle- 
ment known as Branch's camp. Forty men here lived in 
one house, and were packed like sardines. Branch him- 
self, the foreman, we found to be a quiet sort of fellow, 
and the cook was willing to do his best at least. It was 
beans and black tea as usual, and for the first time in my 
life, I think, I sat at a table where there was absolutely 
nothing provided except a knife wherewith one might eat. 
Not that a knife is a hardship, but on the contrary a very 
simple and practical thing. I did not notice any of the 
lumber crew eating any more than any one of ourselves. 
Accident in Camp. 
That evening as we were all sitting arotmd the stove 
taking off our stockings and jumpers to hang about the 
big stove, one of the men came in from his work limping 
badly and looking pretty pale. He had met with one of 
the accidents which are by no means infrequent in the 
woods, and had cut himself badly with an ax. The poor 
fellow sat on the bench afraid to take off his stockings to 
see how badly he was hurt. No one seemed to help him, 
and even the foreman was indifferent. I got the stockings 
off at last, and de disclosed about as badly damaged a foot 
9s I imagine any human being had eyer seen. An earlier 
accident had cut ofif thi'ee toes on the outer side of the 
same foot. These had healed and retained their place on 
the foot, although entirely stiflE and unmanageable. Now 
he had cut himself straight back from the front, the 
deepest part of the cut being under the foot, the two out-' 
side toes being severed clear back almost to the original 
cross line, which had nearly separated them from the 
foot. It certainly was an ugly looking wound, and cer- 
tainly the conditions for treating it were bad enough. 
The poor fellow searched around his bunk for a rag, and 
produced the dirtiest looking handkerchief I have ever 
seen anywhere. This I discarded and taking a couple 
of my own rendered them as antiseptic as possible with 
boiling water, washed the foot, and fastened the bandages 
as well as possible. They had what they called "h'asat/* 
a solution of carbolic acid, which at times it appears is 
provided in the lumber camps against such accidents. I 
wet the bandage with this "h'asat," and although the 
sufferer did not sleep very well that night with the pain 
of the wound, he could eat his breakfast the next morn- 
ing, and thought that in two or three weeks he would 
be around. 
This was the second accident of the kind that had 
occurred within a week, a man at the Bathurst camp 
having cut his leg to the bone just above the knee. He 
was just getting around at the time we left. The un- 
fortunate soul who meets an accident of this kind at a 
lumbering camp is in bad luck indeed. His "time" does 
not go on, and in some camps they even make him pay his 
hoard while he is laid up crippled. If he is cut so badly 
that he has to go out of the woods, it is customary for 
the other boys to chip in and raise the price for sending 
him out to the settlements. I never heard what became 
of my patient, but hope he got around all right. 
Life in a Lumber Camp. 
A cheerful, happy-go-lucky, hard-looking, hard-talking, 
but after all, soft-hearted crowd, are these workmen about 
a lumbering camp. I can't imagine any life much harder 
than theirs. They get up at 4 o'clock in the morning, and 
start out in the dark to walk perhaps a couple of miles in 
the cold and snow. Then they hammer spruce butts all 
day, where every blow of the ax sends a shower of snow 
down on their backs. They come back to camp an hour 
after dark, and yet you will see them walking into the 
cook house with an easy step and an elasticity of move- 
ment which does not seem to denote any physical lassitude. 
Proof enough, this, of the excellent tonic of hard fare and 
winter weather. We all of us walked that way when we 
came out of the woods. We were dressed also after the 
crude fashion of the woods, in wool and then more wool, 
and socks, socks, socks. Some of our lumbermen wore 
shoepacks. None of them wore rubbers, and some of 
them wore a low, wide and roomy moccasin over their 
numerous layers of heavy wool socks. 
One of the drivers, an Irishman by the namie of Lani- 
gan— you will always find an Irishman in a position of 
authority in any gang of laborers — called a meeting to- 
gether after supper and took up a contribution for some 
church or other at some settlement whose name I did 
not catch. One after another these unkempt fellows, 
whose wages were not more than $22 a month, called out 
"Put me down for $1," or "Put me down for $2," to Lani- 
gan, who kept the subscription list. He raised something 
like $60 or $70 in a few minutes, all of which will be 
subtracted from the men's pay when they come to settle 
up at the end of the month. If the lumber jack is able 
to pay for his clothes and come out even at the end of the 
winter, he considers himself rather lucky. His money 
goes, one way or another. 
Fur Trade in Camp. 
All these Frenchmen at the logging camp seemed to be 
doing a little trapping on Sundays or other off times, and 
this camp was pretty near full of fine bunches of sable, 
fox, etc. This made Adam's eyes shine, for if there is 
anything in the w^orld which he loves, it is a bit of good 
fur. We started in to buy fur soon after supper that 
night, and we kept on buying until all our party was 
broke and we had to run our face for one or two bunches. 
We were all of us broke, but we had not yet bought all of 
the fur when that time arrived. There was one bunch of 
seven sable skins, fine big fellows, every one of them, 
and it pretty near broke Adam's heart to leave them 
hanging on the wall. We were paying $2.25 to $3.00 for 
sable skins which would bring on an average at least $4 
at Fredericton, yet we paid the men about as much as 
they would have received had they sold them at Bathurst 
or anywhere along the railroad on Tobique side. By the 
time we were through our impromptu merchandizing, 
the precious bundle of furs which was strapped tn Adam's 
toboggan had taken on goodly proportions.' I may state 
here that we sold out for just $I75 when we struck 
Fredericton. Whereupon Charlie Cremin promptly bought 
a fur overcoat, a new horse and a set_ of harness, and 
the woods saw him no more for this winter, I am sure. 
Jost ProjectiDg Around. 
It came off very cold indeed that night in the lumber 
camp and in the morning the thermometer was between 
12 and 15 degrees below zero. The men at the lumber 
camp asked us where we were going, and we told them 
we hadn't the slightest idea, but were just projectmg 
around. Mr. Branch tried to persuade us to go back, and 
not to try to go across this unknown country in such 
weather, but having started, we did not intend to take the 
back trail. We were hoping that Joe Ellis, who had 
started across on his trapping trail, would meet us at the 
Branch camp, but no Joe Ellis appeared. Hence we de- 
cided to start out on our own hook. Branch showed us 
a map or plan of the country adjacent to his camp, which 
was partly made up from the maps of the Crown Lands 
Department and partly, as we imagined, from guess. We 
could see that in very many particulars it was manifestly 
wrong, as it had mountains three or four miles from 
where they belonged, and described directions and streams 
in fashion which we personally knew were impossible. 
No one could tell us anything about the country to the 
south of this camp. The teams were working two or 
three miles up the Little South Branch, but beyond that 
no deponent could say. There was a rumor of an old 
lumber trail over toward the Serpentine waters, but this 
trail was precisely what we did not want, for the last in- 
junction of ^wry Braithwait^ ha4 been to "liewJire of the 
