460 
FOREST_ AND,. STREAM: 
[[June 4, 1906 
Inland Packs* 
Prior to 1865, furs at inland posts were made up in 
packs of ninety pounds for transport to the frontier, but 
some of the young canoe men were not sufficiently strong 
to handle such a weight in debarking or loading them 
into the canoes, and a pack slipping from their grasp into 
the water and becoming wet inside caused delay to the 
whole brigade. A stop had to be made and the damaged 
pack unlaced, dried and repaired, before the journey could 
be resumed. 
About the year mentioned, a top pack slipped off a 
man's back while being carried over a side portage, and 
before the man could save it had bounded down the hill- 
side into the rapid, and was lost. 
This _ happened to be a very valuable package, and its 
loss being reported called forth the next year, from head- 
quarters, a general order to reduce the weight from 
ninety to eighty pounds per pack, and to make each 
package of pure skins — i. e., skins of only one kind. 
This order to discontinue the mixing of skins was not 
pleasing to post managers, inasmuch as a smaller and 
better pack can be constructed of mixed skins than of 
only one kind. 
For the information of trappers of to-day, I will give 
a summary of how many of each kind of skins made up, 
as nearly as possible, the prescribed weight of eighty 
pounds, thus : 
40 large beavers and 20 small beavers made 80 pounds. 
8 large_ bears and 4 small bears made 80 pounds. 
500 spring rats, 80 pounds. 
720 large and small rats, fall, 80 pounds. 
2 beavers, large, for top and bottom covers, and 60 lynx 
skins made 80 pounds. 
2 beavers for covers and 30 otters made 80 pounds. 
2 beavers for covers and 50 fox skins made 80 pounds. 
We had orders to gather such furs as fisher, ermine, 
wolf, wolverines, skunk, and any broken or damaged 
skins, and make up into a separate pack. 
The fine and delicate skins, as marten, mink, silver and 
cross foxes, were to be packed in boxes thirty inches 
long by twenty inches square, and into this small compass 
the martens and mink, after being tied in bundles of ten 
skins each, were packed to the number of four hundred 
skins. 
This made a very valuable package, and the greatest 
care was taken of it the whole journey. Valuing them 
at only $5 each, one of these boxes represented the sum 
of $2,000. 
We all saw that this mode of packing would not last; 
as, taking the best of care, accidents will happen, and they 
began the very year after the order came in force. Leav- 
ing a disagreeable job to the last, the men at each carrying 
place avoided these boxes, and there was a struggle to 
see who would not carry them. The sharp corners 
abraded the men's backs, and when carried on top of a 
pack they hurt the back of the head ; so, as a rule, they 
were generally left till the last load, and then taken with 
bitter comments, and a fervent wish that the promulgator 
of the order for such packages were himself present to 
portage them over the carry. 
Two of these marten boxes were left by one of our crews 
in the middle of a brule. In making the former trip 
some careless fellow must have thrown down a half-burnt 
match; in a few moments dense clouds of smoke arose in 
their rear. The country was as dry as tinder, and in the 
space of a very few minutes the flames swept to the other 
end of the portage, licking up in passing those valuable 
boxes and contents. 
We, figuratively, locked the door for the balance of 
that trip after the horse had been stolen, for the remain- 
ing boxes were stored each night in the officers' tent, and 
during the day a responsible person was on guard over 
them. 
It was a severe loss out of the returns of one post. No 
one, perhaps, could be blamed for it, but it had the de- 
sired effect of repealing the order, and we were told to 
pack as in the good "old corn-meal days," and mix our 
furs. 
To arrive at an average of each kind of skins through 
each and every pack, we counted the whole returns and 
estimated the gross weight, and then divided so many of 
each kind of furs through the several packs, something 
like this: 10 beavers, 2 bears, 40 marten, 10 mink, 100 rats, 
4 foxes, 4 otters, 4 lynx— 80 pounds, or as the average 
might count out. 
Previous to packing, the skins were neatly folded, 
placed in a pile and weighted down for a week. They 
were then built in the desired pack shape and underwent 
a severe wedge press hammering to reduce the bulk, then 
tied with three strong cross lashings, either of raw cow- 
hide or twenty-four-tliread cod line, and when all was 
secure, the wedges being released, the pack tumbled out 
complete, less the lateral tyings, which were two in num- 
ber, of eighteen-thread cod line. 
The size of one of these packs, ready for transporta- 
tion, was 24 inches long, 17 inches broad, -and 10 inches 
thick. The expansion of the compressed skins would, 
after a few days, give it a rounded shape in the middle, 
but when first out of the press it was almost perfectly 
square, and it was the pride of each post manager to 
outdo the others in the beauty and solidity of his packs. 
A well made pack would withstand the ill usage and the 
hundreds of handlings in making a journey of four or 
five hundred miles from an interior post, and would reach 
the first steamer or train of cars without a tying giving 
way. In my young days I have seen a pile of 296 of" these 
packs on the beach at one portage. 
An anecdote relating to the care of such a valuable 
cargo may be here appended.. An old factor who had not 
left the interior for twenty-seven years, applied for and 
received leave to visit civilization with the understanding 
that he would take care of the furs in transit. This he 
did during a journey of days and weeks coming down 
the great river, standing at each portage till every pack 
Avas over, and checking them off by numbers and the 
aggregate. 
At last he reached steamboat navigation, shipped his 
packs, and had the bill of lading in his pocket. Having 
shipped the furs he took passage on the same boat. Dur- 
ing the midnight hours the captain, in making his rounds, 
was surprised to find a man sitting among the cargo. 
Who was this but Mr. S., still keeping his faithful watch. 
Ihe captain asked why he was not abed in his stateroom. 
"Well," he replied, "I saw rough deck hands going 
about the packs, and thought it better to keep an eye on 
them." ^ 
The captain laughed. "Why, man," he said, "we have 
signed bills of lading for those goods, and we are 
responsible for their safe delivery. Go to bed, Mr. S.," 
he continued, "and rest in peace, for even you have no 
right to touch one of those packs, now they are aboard 
this vessel." 
That v/as in 1873, and I believe that old gentleman is 
alive yet. He retired many years ago and settled in 
Ontario. Martin Hunter. 
A Michigan Quail Hunt. 
November 27, 1903, was the day selected for the start 
of what was to be my last quail hunt of the season. 
I drove from Vermontville six miles south to a small 
village. It was about noon when we arrived, and after 
. donning my shooting togs I started out. Crossing a 
field I entered some woods, where birds are usually 
seen, and soon the dog found some. On the rise I man- 
aged to hit one, but as they flushed at long range, he was 
not hit hard enough to bring him down. One of the quail 
separated from the rest ■ and pitched down alongside a 
rail fence. The remainder I could not mark down on 
account of the brush. I went after the one that pitched 
along the fence, and in a few minutes saw the dog stop 
and_ make a beautiful point. What a picture he made ! 
Rigid, fore foot uplifted, eyes bulging — in fact, the very 
picture, of excitement. Looking about, something caught 
my eye which made my heart beat faster. It was the tell- 
tale tracks. Following them up with my eye, I saw 
where they ended, under a little bunch of grass covered 
with snow. _ Upon approaching, out went a fine quail. 
In the fraction of a second it was over the fence, speed- 
ing for the woods from whence it came, but the shot 
overtook him, and he wilted. At the word, the dog 
leaped the fence and brought me a full grown cock. I 
admired him for a minute, and then, smoothing his 
feathers, placed him in my pocket and turned my atten- 
tion to the remainder of the flock, and had not gone 
far when Bob became a statue beside a log. Approach- 
ing carefull}^, my eye caught sight of a quail under the 
end of the log, and as I saw it, it ran out and took wing. 
It did not go very far. I then turned around and started 
back to where I had just come from. Two quail flew 
out of a fallen treetop, -but they were too far off. Near 
a small brush pile the dog pointed, and while I was get- 
ting ready, a quail rose behind me, but swinging 
round I was in time to give him one barrel. Enough 
feathers fell out to make a feather bed, but the bird 
kept on. . Just as he was almost out of sight, I saw him 
sail off to one side into a cornfield. When I fired, the 
bird in the brush pile went out and I never saw him. 
The next thing to do was to find the wounded bird in 
the field. _ When the dog had gone about twenty-five 
yards out into the field, he stopped, and on mounting the 
fence the bird was seen lying in the snow right under 
the dog's nose. Pushing the safety forward I approached 
rind picked up the quail, too weak to fly. It must have 
flown at least three hundred yards after being shot. 
Soon two more birds joined their companions in my 
pocket, and as it was nearly sundown, I went home with 
five quail to show for my afternoon's hunt. 
The Second Day. 
The next morning in half an hour I got five birds 
without missing a shot. • The rest of the bevy could not' 
be found. 
Leaving these' woods and traveling quite a distance, I 
saw as I came to the top of a small hill a single quail 
track made the day before. I followed it. The trail 
led me over the hill, down the side into some low land 
between two hills. Here the track ended. I knew he 
had flown to join the bevy. Looking about I discovers 
a small field of corn that had not been cut, and said t 
myself, "They are there." 
Sure enough, when Bob came to this field he pointe* 
and up went a small bevy of five birds. Bang ! bang 
1'wo birds fell, and the dog brought me one. The nei 
bird was not so easy to find. He had fallen right whei 
the bevy had been feeding, and the scent was scattere 
all around. The dog was down flat on his belly, exploj 
iiig through some bunches of grass (he knew the bir 
was near-by), when he found him. Bob stiffened ot 
just as he was, flat on his belly, his tail as straight as a 
arrow. I touched him, but not a muscle would he mOv 
The quail I caught in my hand under a small bunch c 
grass. The remaining three had flown on, and pitched i 
a deep washout on the side _ hill. Down into the dug ' 
out went the dog, and up flew the birds. One fell to th 
first barrel, but the second didn't. My gun went 0: 
prematurely, so he kept on going. Then we started homf 
When we reached the town, I met my host's brother-in 
law, who told me he had just seen a covey in the corn 
field adjoining the school yard. Just then Doctor Jone 
came along and drove me up there. When we reache 
there, he pulled up his horse, after looking a moment, an^ 
said : "There they are, right there," pointiu) 
along a furrow in the field. I jumped out, and as the; 
rose shot twice, getting two nice quail. Entering a thic! 
swamp, one arose, and when I shot his feet hung dowrj 
An old bird hunter once told me that this is a sure sigj 
the bird is mortally wounded. A man out in the woodi 
was watching me, and the bird flew toward him am 
pitched not fifteen yards from him. He marked hiri 
down as nearly as he could, and the dog found hin^ 
stone dead. Another rose, and as the bird reached tht 
top of the trees he swung around and came right towan 
me. I shot him, and he fell at my feet. Bob could no 
find another bird. This made a total of seventeen quaili 
This — the last shoot I enjoyed — was the best of th< 
season. Espy Hanson. 
Our Camping Trip. 
We had decided, George and I, to take a canoe tri^ 
of three weeks, if time, weather and good health per^ 
mitted. We purchased our supplies at Sanico, a small 
lumbering town thirty-five miles distant from th« 
first sheet of water. Our grub we intended to "tote 
on our backs, together with rifles, blankets, ax and 
camera. 
On the morning of the 15th we started. The "trail 
in" was very bad owing to heavy rains, and all thi 
morning we "sloshed" along as best we could. At| 
noon we stopped for a bite, and then tramped stead-i 
ily till dark, stopping long enough to catch a mess of| 
trout for supper. We camped that night in a tent 
and slept as only two men can who have trampedy, 
and carried a 6s-pound load all day over rotten cor-| 
duroy roads, blow-downs and swamp trails. 
Morning found us up and ready for an early start! 
after a hot breakfast. Game we saw in plenty in thel 
form of partridges, rabbits and two deer which wel 
jumped, a buck and a doe. The pleasure which wej 
enjoyed from walking through a country which has! 
never been logged and rarely frequented can only be; 
realized by those who have enjoyed the same privi- 
lege. Great masses of green mold and gray lichen 
hung from old, massive trees, and the trail was car- 
peted with green moss and gold and brown leaves.! 
A little after noon we reached Little Rock Pond, 
where our canoe was hidden, and where we intended 
to make our permanent camp. 
The afternoon was spent in getting out the canoe, 
white-leading and soaking it. After a hot supper and^ 
a pipe we turned in. 
At sunrise we were up, and found the day raw and; 
cold, with a high wind and heavy sea. In a couple of' 
hours the wind went down and we started. I sat in 
the bow, our knapsacks, rifles and grub were amid- 
ships, and George held down the stern. It was glori- ' 
ous! The sun rose and burned off the fog, which had . 
chilled us through and through, and as it mounted; 
steadily higher, the day came out as fine and clear as 
a bell. Two fish-hawks Aey^ over us in wide circles, jB 
and on the further shore a heron walked with stately 
tread — like a Boston Alderman. The bow cut through 
the little waves like a knife, and we hurried along at 
a good pace. 
After a few hours' work with the paddle, during, 
which we drank in the' crisp air and beautiful scenery, 
we saw ahead what I took to be a small stick of 
wood 'floating on the water. On coming up with it, 
however, we discovered that the stick was a red 
squirrel, vainly attempting to swim the lake and still 
a quarter of a mile from shore. I pushed my pad- 
dle slowly toward him, and he came quickly up into 
the canoe and shook himself. We paddled along, and 
he sat on my rod and watched us, without apparent ; 
fear. After staying with us about five minutes, he 
jumped into the water with a little splashy and struck 
