July 13, 1912 
FOREST AND STREAM 
43 
THE FAMOUS YORK PACKET. 
at three in the morning, and for the first ten 
miles went at a rapid pace. We then ate break¬ 
fast, and with my train well in the lead, we 
traveled so rapidly that at times it required my 
entire stock of energy to keep pace with the 
dogs. When near the mission while crossing the 
last portage my sled slipped sideways over an 
embankment and upset. With a wave of the 
hand comfortably seated in his cariole, Mr. 
Campbell passed me, and thus was first into Nor¬ 
way House after the many miles I had taken the 
lead. 
As I passed an Indian house my dogs 
swerved toward the doorway and the sled was 
hurled against the threshold. I aimed a terrific 
blow at my leader with the heavy dog whip, but 
a man appearing in the doorway at this critical 
moment received the greater force of it across 
his shins. I was traveling too fast to stop and 
apologize, but later found that my victim was 
none other than William Crait, the mission in¬ 
terpreter, and he often laughed at my spectacular 
entrance into the mission village of Rossville. 
The other trains went on over to the Hud¬ 
son Bay Company’s post, a little more than two 
miles further on, while I put my dogs in an 
empty stable and made myself at home at the 
mission where, as always, I was warmly wel¬ 
comed. 
And now approached the happiest time of 
the year to the northern Indian, the day of the 
great feast—New Year’s day! At this import¬ 
ant time are gathered together at Norway House 
nearly all the Hudson’s Bay Company’s traders 
in the district. From far-off Split Lake and 
Nelson House to the north and west; from Ox¬ 
ford House, God’s Lake and Island Lake on the 
east, came the sleds of the fur traders. It so 
happens that many of the missionaries find this 
a convenient time to trip to Norway House for 
provisions. As all the Indians that are able to 
walk or to be carried are brought together at 
this time, there is an interesting gathering on 
New Year’s day. 
I arrived just in time to take part in the 
festivities of the occasion. The Indian agent, 
the Rev. Mr. Gilmore, had recently been ap¬ 
pointed, with headquarters at Norway House, 
and was now on duty. This gentlemen wished 
to attend the feast given at the chief’s house 
on the Jack River, and I offered to convey him 
by dog train to the feast. Accordingly soon 
after dinner we started. 
For a sled I used the old heavy covered 
cariole, formerly used by Mr. McTavish, the 
chief factor of the company on his long journey. 
It proved too heavy for this work, and Mr. Gil¬ 
more purchased it for the Indian department. 
It was nearly covered over with a red parch¬ 
ment cover, and after carefully packing the pas¬ 
senger inside the remainder of the sled could be 
protected by means 'of a sliding cover that 
worked on wires. Thus he could be protected 
from the wildest storms. 
The roads were hard and smooth, and we 
traveled briskly. Occasionally Mr. Filmore 
would call out to know if I was running and 
how I managed to maintain such a pace. I re¬ 
plied that running was an easy matter. All it 
requires is health and perseverance. We made 
the six or seven miles in forty-five minutes, and 
on the return trip gained five minutes on this 
record. 
I had informed Mr. Gilmore of the custom 
of the Indian women at this feast to each one 
separately kiss every white man appearing on 
the scene. At this news he straightened up in 
defiance and declared that no Indian woman 
would kiss him. He would walk rapidly through 
the crowd and allow them no opportunity. As 
I fancied but little this promiscuous kissing, I 
determined to do likewise and to keep close to 
Mr. Gilmore for protection. 
As soon as my dogs were cared for, we 
faced the music. The women were already as¬ 
sembled in pleased anticipation, while the young 
girls were audibly giggling. They would now 
add to their conquests, for had not they already 
vanquished the officers of the honorable com¬ 
pany, including the Chief Factor? But, behold! 
With the mien of a soldier about to die for his 
country, with form erect and eyes flashing, with 
moustache waxed and pointed, and with his 
Yankee attendant treading at his heels, he 
marched through the assembly, and on up the 
“ 'I^T OW, that reminds me’ of bait-fishing for 
rainbow trout after nightfall, and if it 
be, as has been intimated, ‘unsportsman¬ 
like,’ then I must plead guilty to being a trans¬ 
gressor of the ‘high ethics’ of angling. Yes, I 
do angle for rainbow at night and am not 
ashamed of the practice. Furthermore, to make 
my sin more pernicious, I am going to tell my 
brethren of the angle how to do likewise. Per¬ 
haps I cannot better describe the modus operandi 
of night bait-fishing for rainbow than by simply 
telling you how I fell from piscatorial grace. 
“You see, a party of us city anglers were 
camping on the Peshtigo River, out in Wiscon¬ 
sin, a stream which has more than local fame 
as a Salmo irideus water. We elected to camp 
stairs with the air of a conquerer. Thus the 
first onset was avoided. 
The feast comprised many varieties of meat, 
vegetables, various tinned or dried fruits, tea 
and coffee, and the usual cakes and puddings. It 
was truly a feast that was greatly enjoyed. 
And then we were obliged to once more run 
the gauntlet, for the women have the right of 
way at New Year’s time. With elbows akimbo 
and with as much speed as compo/ted with 
dignity, we made our exit. As quickly as pos¬ 
sible I arranged dogs, sled robes and passenger, 
and with all speed we returned to Rossville 
where another great feast was in progress. Here 
I relinquished my charge and my dog driving 
for the day was done. 
Sad to relate the journey to Norway House 
was the last I was able to take in company with my 
noble dogs. Three of them were seized with a dan¬ 
gerous form of distemper, and when I returned to 
Oxford House I was obliged to leave them behind. 
at Caldron Falls, some twenty-five miles or so 
from Ellis Junction, a station on the C., M. & 
St. P. Had we wanted speckled trout, we would 
have camped at the mouth of the Little Eagle, 
some eight miles below Caldron Falls, for there 
was wonderful fishing in that stream. I know, 
for while camped at Caldron Falls I made three 
trips to the Little Eagle, and some large rain¬ 
bow have been taken from the Peshtigo just be¬ 
low the mouth of the Eagle. Then there is the 
Big Eagle, but when one begins to talk of speck¬ 
led trout fishing, there is no end of opportunities 
in that section of the Badger State. I am under 
the impression that Caldron Falls is sixty-eight 
feet high, though owing to the tortuous gorge 
through which the angry water plunges, one sel- 
“Now, that Reminds Me”—III. 
By O. W. SMITH 
Photograph by the Author. 
