October, 1922 
439 
The great animal walked out in plain sight 
Those of my readers who have never 
I had the opportunity of visiting or living 
in a potato country, just picture in your 
i mind a moment a field of potatoes bear- 
! ing on an average of more than 100 bar- 
I rels to the acre and of two and three- 
! quarter bushels to the barrel. This is 
the average yield of a New Brunswick 
field that has been properly cared for. 
As I watched row after row fall be- 
hind the digger, it was no longer a ques- 
' tion in my mind as to whether we would 
! dig two acres a day but of how would 
I gygr o-gt them picked up ; the ground 
was almost white with them. 
“Nothin’ smaller than a hen’s egg, 
mind; leave the small ones stay on the 
I ground and we’ll pick ’em up later for 
the ‘hawgs,’ ” Paw Reed instructed the 
pickers, who were paid five cents a barrel 
I for picking. 
About three o’clock in the afternoon 
of the third day, while Frank and I were 
loading some barrels to take to the cel- 
lar, one of the pickers came up and 
[touching me on the shoulder pointed 
Towards an adjoining field. Upon look- 
jing in the direction indicated, the sight 
that greeted my eyes will remain in my 
i memory as long as I live, for there stood 
ja cow moose with her half-grown calf 
inot over 300 yards from where we were 
'at work. They were about fifty paces 
ifrom the edge of the woods and stood 
looking at us curiously for at least a full 
i minute, then they suddenly turned and 
walked back into the timber. 
I In this length of time my eyes had 
[watered in my excitement so that I had 
to wipe them two or three times, but on 
looking around me I found that hardly 
half of the pickers had stopped their 
; work to look up ; such sights as a cow 
i moose near the settlement was no cause 
for excitement. 
At four o’clock the fourth afternoon 
[the last barrel of potatoes was in the cel- 
:lar, 840 barrels by actual count, and 
! enough remained the size of a hen’s egg 
or smaller to feed the “hawgs” all winter. 
Paw Reed’s face beamed as he produced 
a bottle of Scotch and poured the older 
hands a generous “slug” all around, sug- 
gesting at that time that Frank and I 
had better hitch up and go to town and 
fetch out anything we needed for the 
trip, as we would be on our way early 
the next morning. Frank and I fol- 
lowed Paw’s suggestion, returning some 
time in the wee sma’ hours with every- 
thing necessary to make a hunting trip a 
success, and we had nothing to do in 
the morning except to transfer our load 
from the spring .wagon to the farm 
wagon and be on our way. 
O N September 26th, at 8 A. M., our 
wagon was loaded and the team 
hitched to it. Roy, Frank and I sat im- 
patiently on the load, and Paw crawled 
up over the front wheel. Fie placed 
both hands on the back of the wagon 
seat and gave the load the “once over” 
critically. “If it don’t break and all run 
out, it ought to ride good,” he snorted 
as he twisted one side of his face in an 
impressive wink at me. and grabbing up 
the reins as he turned yelled, “Giddap.” 
We were off at last on the first lap of 
our moose hunt. 
Letting the team walk leisurely over 
the rough roads we reached Fonteau’s 
place earily in the afternoon, and here 
I got my first impression of the genuine 
Canadian-French frontiersman. A little 
two-room log house, rather neatly built, 
standing on a corner of about six acres 
of clearing in th^ midst of a dense forest, 
a small barn, a team of horses and a 
cow were this man’s earthly possessions. 
Why he had chosen this particular spot, 
and how he had mustered up the courage 
and taken the time to clear it up, and 
why he had practicably isolated himself, 
wife and child from civilization, his near- 
est neighbors being miles away, were 
questions that flashed through my mind. 
The only answer seemed to be that ad- 
venturers must lead if civilization was to 
follow. 
After we had eaten a hasty lunch, pre- 
pared by our hostess, and the team had 
been fed, we transferred our load to an- 
other wagon and Paw Reed departed 
homeward. We heard the old codger 
singing above the rattle of the wagon 
for several minutes after he had left us. 
We sat around talking until supper 
time and then smacked our lips over one 
of the best meals of venison steak that 
I have ever tasted, as Vealla had shot 
a two-point buck only the day before, a 
part of which still hung from a tree near 
the house. 
After supper Roy, feeling more am- 
bitious than the rest of us, .shouldered 
his rifle and slowly sauntered down to 
the edge of the clearing. He was not 
gone more than fifteen minutes before 
we heard a shot, and running up we 
found him bending oyer a four-point 
buck. My excitement at this sight was 
almost irrepressible, for here was the 
first large wild animal that I had ever 
had the opportunity to touch my hands 
to before its life’s warmth had left the 
body. 
We soon had the buck dressed and 
carried to the house where it was hung 
up to drain Being now assured that we 
had sufficient meat to last a few days 
at least we felt greatly relieved and set- 
tled down for a smoke and a little talk 
before rolling in. Frank and Vealla did 
most of the talking, having worked in 
the same logging camp years before, and 
they found many topics to discuss, while 
Roy and I made interested listeners. 
The conversation switched to farming 
finally, and Vealla sprung a good one. 
He had received a letter from a friend 
in Manitoba explaining the wonders of 
that great wheat country and inviting 
him to visit him the coming summer. 
He said: “My frien’ has one veri beeg 
farm, yes, so beeg she send the hired 
man away with the plow to-morrow 
morning and she don't come home till 
las’ night.” 
“What docs he mean ?’’ I said to my- 
self, staring at Vealla and repeating his 
words, trying to get their meaning if 
there was any. Frank noticed the per- 
plexed look on my face and burst out 
laughing. What Vealla meant, he ex- 
plained, was that his friend had a farm 
so large that it would take the hired man 
two days to turn one furrow around it. 
With many a good story and hearty 
laugh the evening passed so quickly that 
it was ten o’clock before we realized it; 
then with a little toddy for a “night cap” 
we climbed the ladder to the garret and 
were soon in the blankets, fast asleep. 
{Continued on page 462) 
