280 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
Pete, the Canuck, 
It is strange, I don't understand it even now. t 
have thought it over time and time again and still it 
remains a mystery. 
This is the way the "mystery" occurred. Jim and I 
were camping on little Kittawa Lake, about ten miles 
from where old "Bill" Thompson had a lumber camp — 
number five I think it was. We had a little shack 
in there made of logs and cedar splits. We had car- 
ried tar paper in on the first snows to cover it with 
and the cracks were chinked up with moss and oakum. 
A large bunk with a generous supply of fur boughs, a 
shelf, bench, and one box completed the interior. The 
camp was open on top facing an immense fire rock, 
the walls from the camp proper to the rock were sup- 
plied with upright posts about six feet in height, and 
the door opened from the south side. It was "tight" 
and seemed real homelike with our blankets, guns, 
traps, and all the rest of a trapper's "lay out." Three 
or four sable lines kept us very busy and with our 
traps were more than one man could really handle. 
Jim and I agreed to take turns at the traps of a week 
at a time — the week we were not in the woods being 
spent in work at the village. Every other week Jim 
came into the woods, and I went out, generally pas- 
sing each other on the trail, where we exchanged the 
news and accounts of the week's trapping. There was 
a light fall of snow, but the air was cold and snappy. 
Our camp was placed in a bunch of thick spruce and 
was thus sheltered from the 'lake above which it 
stood. Directly back of us lay swell after swell of 
high ridges, flanked east and west by mountains which 
had been partly lumbered three or four years previous. 
Northward the country was low and in some places 
even marshy, rising again into long stretches of the 
finest timberland. In summer deer paths crossed and 
re-crossed the swale and marsh grass which grew 
shoulder high, and mud wallows where bears had 
rolled and lain were very frequent. Each spring the 
wild turfiips were rooted up and eaten, each autumn 
the beech trees bore fresh claw marks of some animal 
with a craving for nuts; but never a sight did we 
catch of bruin. The partridges and rabbits grew very 
friendly, and aside from the deer we rarely saw any 
other beasts. "Bill" Thompson was doing his best 
with the aid of a good lumbering winter to get out 
between four and six million feet that year, and he 
was working his crew of forty men and teams for the 
best there was in them. Many of the crew were men 
from our village; the rest were Canucks, "P-eyes," 
Swedes, Yanks, Irishmen, in fact almost every nation- 
ality but Chinamen. As the camp stood about half 
way between our shack and the "town," we made a 
point of stopping there at noon to "grub up," and as 
we knew the cook we had the best the camp contained. 
We had been trapping about two months, and it 
seemed as though this season would be a good one. 
I was on my way to the lake, and after plodding 
along all morning with a ninety pound pack of sup- 
plies, reached the camp as the men filed in for dinner. 
There was always a plate and a mug at hand, so I 
just "bunched" in with the rest. Beans, coffee, and 
sour biscuits were disappearing at- a reckless rate as 
we laughed and talked. At the opposite end of the 
table sat a wicked faced Canuck, who stared at me 
constantly during the meal and took the greatest in- 
terest in everything I said and did. As I was finish- 
ing he rose and stalked out. After the men had gone 
back to work and I was getting ready to leave, the 
cook told me that the Canuck had noticed me the 
last time I came through and had asked a riumber of 
questions concerning me that went to show that he 
thought I was laying for him. I do not know what 
made me suspicious, unless it was his uneasy manner 
and evil face, for I never seen him before and felt 
sure that he had never seen me. The incident passed 
and I thought no more of it. I flung my pack into 
place, grabbed my rifle and started. The trail twisted 
round and out of the underbrush and I was lost from 
sight. I could hear the men at work, and the crack 
and snap of the limbs and boughs as the "swamping- 
gang" cleared away the brush for a new road and the 
heavier crash as some old monarch fell to the ground. 
Presently I saw ahead a figure partly concealed be- 
hind a tree. I thought immediately that the foreman 
of one of the crews was looking the ground over pre- 
paratory to the cutting of a new road and started to 
call out to him, when I saw the Canuck, for it was 
he, step out into the trail and stand waiting for me. 
I was naturally surprised, and something in his menac- 
ing attitude warned me to look for nothing but trouble. 
I shifted my rifle to the hollow of my right arm. 
Motionless he awaited my approach, while I tramped 
on as though I would knock him from the path. He 
wore the heavy moose shanks of the northern lumber- 
man into which his trousers were tucked, around his 
waist was a red scarf, 'and on his head a fur cap. His 
left hand was cased in a fur glove, but in his right, 
which he held behind him, I suspected something else. 
As I came up close to him he said — "I watch, I see 
you come," then drawing an ugly looking knife from 
behind him he continued; "Yoy no catch, look out," 
and was gone, . _ _ . , _ ^. 
Well, I spent the week at the traps with varying suc- 
cess, aftd turning the Canuck's action over in my 
mihd, I reached this conclusion, that he had acted 
the part of a first-class criminal, and taking me for 
a sheriff had warned me that if I attempted to take 
him that it might be a warm job. It may have been 
that he had shot moose or caribou out of season, a 
serious offense in that part of the country, or that 
he had come out best in a drunken spree — at all events, 
he would bear watching. 
When I reached the lumber camp on my way out, 
the cook told me a strange tale. Pete, as they called 
him, had acted very queerly ever since I had been 
through the week before. He never took his boots 
off, and slept with his belt and hat on, his srtowshoes 
and knife were constantly near him and he seemed more 
nervous than ever. He was the butt of the entire cartlp 
and the men abused and tormented him cotltirlually, 
and he lived as though in constant fear of sortie danger. 
The foreman had cursed and threatened to discharge 
him in vain, and as he was an experienced teamster 
and they were short handed, he Was allowed to t-fe- 
main. 
That very morning he was up and off before the 
rest of the crew, and had rtot yet returned for diiirter. 
I racked my brain for a plan by Which to gfet a little 
light on the case if only to satisfy rriy OWh curiosity. 
Next day bv good fortune I thet the . district ganie 
warden, who held a higher position iii the opinions of 
the trappers and ''lurriber-jacks" than even the sheriff, 
and gave hirti a description of the teamster with an 
account bf all his actions. The following week I 
started into the woods one day earlier to spend the 
night at our camp with him. I reached our stopping 
place at noon, and throwing my pack into the corner, 
sat down to eat with the boys. Without a word of 
warning and with a jump that nearly upset the table, 
the Canuck vanished out of the rear door, followed 
by a shower- of oaths and curses from the crew. We 
finished dinner and the conversation was on "that 
blasted Canuck." "Curse the son of a gun," growled 
"Spike" Loughlin, foreman of the crew, whose beans 
had suddenly appeared in his lap and bis coffee on 
the floor, "I'll break his d head." 
I beckoned to the cook and we walked out back of 
the hovel and had a long talk concerning Pete. He 
told me all he knew, which was not much, and all the 
rumors that were then afloat. His name, friends, 
home, or former history could not be learned, as he 
grew more and more sullen each day. They had ac- 
quired a general dislike for him and made living worse 
than eve';. 
It was Friday instead of Saturday that I reached 
our camp, and Kittawa and the country Was dressed 
in a garb of deep snow. Monday I had a visit from 
Jackson, the game warden, who had decided to ar- 
rest Pete on suspicion. We agreed upon a plan by 
which we could arrest him without a fight, for we 
realized we were booked for trouble. I arranged to 
meet Jim at the village Wednesday and Jackson left. 
I left the woods the next day, but did not catch a 
glimpse of Pete at the camp. While eating dinner I 
told our plans to the cook, to get his co-operation, 
and it afterward turned out that the cookee, who was a 
Canadian, overheard us and told the entire conversa- 
tion to the Canuck. 
Wednesday found Jackson, Jim, and the third mem- 
ber of the party armed with a warrant, and anticipat- 
ing no trouble in serving it. We came within sight of 
the camp at noon, when we knew the men would 
be at dinner, and approached from three sides. We 
entered, but found Pete was gone. Early that morn- 
ing he had slipped out, and taking nothing but his 
snowshoes, had disappeared. We took up the trail 
and found it headed directly for the Canadian border 
and in line for our camp. 
We set out in single file; the snow flew over our 
snowshoes in a fine white spray, the air was cold and 
held our breath like a puff of smoke till it slowly 
faded out of its clutches. We kept to the trail, which 
was good and strong, and hurried along on a mission 
that seemed more like a deer hunt than a man hunt. 
The fact that he was always traveling north and di- 
rectly in line for our camp made us suspicious and 
kept us moving fast. Never before had the distance 
seemed so long, and I knew by the length of Jim's 
sturdy stride that he was as impatient as I. Finally 
we reached a place v.^here we saw what was once a 
trapper's shack. The tar-paper was ripped and torn 
from top to bottom, the cedar splits were hastily 
hacked with our own ax, which was missing, and the 
cooking utensils were scattered everywhere. In the 
middle of the charred floor was a smouldering fire 
with which an attempt had been made to burn the 
camp. In the fire and all about the floor were scat- 
tered flour, tea, sugar, and all our "grub," in fact, 
except that which had been carried away. A half 
side of bacon lay in the ashes, and our traps were 
scattered over the snow, some bent, others broken 
and sprung. We looked at each other, not a word 
was spoken. We took the trail. Straight for the north 
it headed, and we knew we must catch him before he 
reached the border, I was glad I was not the Canuck, 
if we caught up with him. He had but a few hours' 
start, as his trail showed, and was traveling fast, but 
we were traveling faster. 
We plodded along till the sun slowly vanished and 
the air grew steadily colder. The first excitement 
of the chase had died away and we felt the sift, sift, 
sift, of our snowshoes as we plugged along. As it 
grew dark we halted, built a fire and ate supper, such 
as it was, and smoked while we waited for the ttioon 
to rise. We were too tired to talk and each sat quietly 
meditating on the issue. Early in the evening, some- 
where in the neighborhood of ten, the mOori was up 
and it Was as light as day, so that we could see thfe 
trail without liiuch trouble. Shouldering dur light 
packs and doririirig Our snowshoes we pushed Oil. It 
was a stSrrl chase arid thgrefdre a long orie. The nlodil 
rose higher and the reflections frohi the trees silently 
lengthened. Shadows flitted and crossed dur p^th, 
noises and mysterious sdunds , came froih the under- 
brush. _ Have you ever trayeled in the woods at hi^ht 
in. the deep dead silencte? If ybu have ydu know sonie- 
thing of how we. felt. . We listened to the niglit sounds, 
and the littlfe noises that alniost seemed muffled in |;he 
white .snow; many and varied were the, thoughts that 
they threw into, our already overworked imaginations. 
We were traveling, over low ridges and swells, the 
trail held true to the North Star, and Canada came 
nearer every weary step. The stars dropped out of 
sight one by one, the shadows grew blacker, and that 
light wind which foretells the approach of dawn 
sprang up. We halted, built a fire, and scraping a 
hole in the snow were soon lost in slumber. 
I had slept about three hours when Jackson pulled 
at mj' blankets and threw a handful of snow in my 
face. I rolled out stiffly; sleeping in my sweaty clothes 
had stiffened every joint and muscle. Each movement 
seemed like a knife stab. We had a good pull of hot tea, 
and pushed on. It took 'dogged grit for the first mile, but 
gradually we got limbered up and the pain became so 
natural that we grew accustomed to it. We "hit the 
trail" at a fast clip and maintained a steady increase 
in every mile. We knew that our steady speed would 
tell more than erratic bursts that we could see from 
his trail he was putting forth, so we felt sure that any 
open space of fairly good distance would give us 
a sight of the fugitive. We knew the lay of the land 
from three winters' trapping, and gained quite a con- 
siderable distance, we thought, by taking short routes 
and avoiding difficult paths. 
Finally, at the top of a high rise. We inade out iri- 
distittctly in the rrioonlight the figure of a rrian tramp- 
ing slowly along. Perhaps it was the rrioonlight that 
was fast disappearirig, or our eyesight that from the 
lack of sleep was growing uncertain, or possibly it 
was the shadow ori the sriow, but We thought he either 
limped or walked as though his snowshoes chafed his 
ankles. We tumbled rather than walked down the 
mountain side, determined to catch him there. We 
knew and he did not, that the Litteneau River ran 
swift and deep not more than five miles ahead. Jim 
mumbled something about "my first shot," but Jackson 
without making reply plowed grimly on ahead. No 
one had ever seen the Litteneau River frozen over 
in this portion of its course, and it seemed like a 
natural barrier indeed. We thought we had Pete 
cornered. I began to wonder if he would fight. 
How my ankles ached and my shin-bones from lift- 
ing the toe of my snowshoe; my breath came in 
gasps as though each were weighted with a pound of 
lead. 'The perspiration ran down our foreheads and 
froze in icicles ori our beards and chin, we melted 
withiri and froze without. I longed to lie down in the 
snow and stretch out each Weary limb in the cold. 
Jim's step was growing uncertain and he wabbled con- 
tinually, r tripped often and once I fell. Each step 
had to be thought about, nothing voluntary was done; 
each step seemed counted as with bent heads and 
throbbing muscles we dragged ourselves along. Now 
we could hear the river roar, and felt that a few more 
rods would bring us to the finish. 
We separated, Jackson kept to the trail and Jim and 
I followed parallel to him about fifty yards apart on 
either side. I heard the crank of Jackson's rifle click, 
and Jim and I followed his example by pumping a 
cartridge into the barrel of our rifles. Cautiously we 
crept along, our eyes glued on the opening ahead for 
a glimpse of the fugitive. The river's roar grew 
steadily louder and the sun came out and made our 
eyes smart in no small measure. Quickly Jackson 
emerged from the bushes and walked to a point where 
the thin ice always trying to form at the river's edge, 
was trampled and broken. 
The river was narrow and exceedingly swift; no liv- 
ing man could have swum it in the dead of winter. 
We stood panting on the bank. Not a path of any 
kind on the other side that we could see, not a piece 
of broken ice on the bank, not even the snow brushed 
from the bushes— not a trail of any kind. The river 
rushed past us with a mighty swirl, the trees stood 
motionless, heavily_ clothed in sparkling ice and snow, 
the bushes were silent and brightly sparkling in the 
sun that shone from a clear sky. They all held fast 
the great secret — the f^te of the Canuck. 
Charlis B. Floyd, 
Brookline, Mas^, 
