Sept. 16, 1911.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
447 
is a very common experience to loose articles 
of value; and, indeed, the upset of the canoe or 
skiff altogether is by no means a rare thing. 
Could all the valuable goods be gathered to¬ 
gether that are now lying at the bottom of 
Northern rivers and lakes, the collection would 
be astonishingly large and varied and of great 
value. 
As the heavy skiff approached Sea Falls on 
the Nelson River, very careful steering was 
necessary to pull up in the center of the wildly 
rushing torrent that came down from either 
side of a large rock in the middle of the rapid. 
In spite of the fears of my men that I would 
miss the path of safety that lay in the exact 
center of the flood, we nevertheless plowed our 
way through spray and foam and came to rest 
at the foot of the rock portage. This was 
speedily crossed and camp was made in a dense 
thicket upon the very brink of the falls. 
This thicket was so dense that the sunlight 
could scarcely penetrate it. The continual fall 
of spray from the rapid watered the soil and 
brought forth a thick tangle of berry vines and 
covered many of the evergreen trees with moss. 
In this secluded place with the roar of the 
mighty waterfall for a slumber song we passed 
the night. 
At this camp arrangements were made to take 
Albert’s canoe with William as steersman and 
push on rapidly to Norway House, leaving the 
remainder of the party to travel at a more 
leisurely pace. I was becoming weakened by 
starvation and was determined to reach a land 
of comparative plenty as soon as possible. 
Our efforts to secure food had been thus far 
quite successful. True, the food was not alto¬ 
gether palatable, but none the less welcome on 
that account. Hours were spent in outwitting 
a loon, and his death was followed by a feast. 
A “weenisk” was shot and much time was spent 
in dislodging it from a pile of rocks behind 
which it was hiding. Every gull that came 
within range was sacrificed to the common 
cause, and such owls and hawks as came our 
way never returned. 
One evening we were without a morsel and 
eight mouths to feed. I silently prayed that 
some stray bird or beast might chance along, 
when suddenly a muskrat came from a hole in 
the bank and began to swim rapidly along the 
shore parallel to our course. The distance was 
great and one hand must be used to handle the 
steering oar, for we were in the current and the 
boat must be kept up-stream. With one hand 
I firmly grasped the oar and with the other I 
raised the gun to the shoulder and pulled the 
trigger. At the report the rat rolled over and 
began to drift down-stream, stone dead. When 
it was picked up I was surprised to find just 
one shot-hole; and yet death had been instan¬ 
taneous. The distance lacked little of being 
one hundred yards. Friends say that it was 
luck; the Indians called it magic; but to me it 
was another link in the chain of “Providences” 
that was providing for our welfare. 
Returning to the little party at Sea Falls, tak¬ 
ing William in the small canoe, we made a very 
poor start in the teeth of a strong head wind 
that lacked little of being a gale, and that soon 
obliged us to leave a portion of our load along 
the river for our friends to bring up. Over the 
goods we left a small flag to attract the atten¬ 
tion of the passersby. 
A BRITISH COLUMBIA TRAIL. 
Photographed by Rutherford Page. 
By chance meeting with an Indian family 
from Norway House, we were presented with 
a small quantity of fresh milk. Oh, the pleas¬ 
ure of that hour! In the varied experiences of 
many years in the northland that brief period 
stands out pre-eminently. To appreciate our 
feelings, it would be necessary to pass three 
days of hard manual labor without food, as we 
had done. 
When Playgreen Lake, upon which Norway 
House and Rossville Mission are situated, was 
entered, a very heavy sea was running and we 
shipped a good deal of water, but were getting 
along nicely, when suddenly a wall of mist and 
spray appeared in the northwest and bore down 
directly upon us. The shelter of the last island 
on our course had been left behind us, and we 
were now out on the open lake. 
William shouted, “Oh, boy, we are done for 
now! If we had only not left those islands!” 
The roar of the approaching gale could be 
distinctly heard. When it struck the canoe we 
were able by desperate exertions to keep the 
head to the wind, but were unable to gain an 
inch of headway toward the shore. Breathing 
a prayer to one who is master of wind and 
wave, I bade my companion do likewise, and to¬ 
gether we wrestled with the gale for nearly an 
hour, barely able to keep from being swamped. 
Then without warning the wind changed to 
another quarter. Before the waves from the 
new direction could make the sea choppy we 
hoped to be ashore. Too late! When near the 
shore the waves caught us, and unable to resist 
the onrushing waters, the canoe filled and sank. 
To our relief we found that the canoe touched 
bottom and so we speedily hauled our sunken 
craft ashore and unloaded it. A fire was made, 
and amid a downpour of rain, in dripping gar¬ 
ments, we rested from the strenuous labor. 
An hour or so later the mission was reached 
at Norway House. The missionary in charge 
did not know me at first, but as he grasped the 
hand he recalled the features despite a heavy 
coat of tan and a two-weeks’ growth of beard. 
He informed me that several boats on Play- 
green Lake had been sunk by the storm. We 
were thankful to escape from death on sea and 
land. 
Two days later my men came crawling in 
looking like drowned rats. The goods were in 
a very wet condition, as there had been no way 
of protecting them from the heavy wind and 
rain. 
As I waved the men a last adieu and watched 
the clumsy skiff pass out of sight around a dis¬ 
tant point, I had naught but loving thoughts for 
the unwieldy old craft. In spite of all its faults, 
the fact remained that over a hundred and fifty 
miles of wilderness travel had been accom¬ 
plished safely and the old craft was now on its 
way over the same route again. 
Perhaps had we more elegant and less heavy 
boats in the Northland there would be more 
fatalities and less actual service, for the skiff 
outlasts all other craft, and is sometimes handed 
down from one generation to another. And 
when its aged ribs are lying upon the shore half 
buried in the sand, it would be well to place a 
tablet near at hand bearing the simple inscrip¬ 
tion, “Here lies a Northland skiff. It was heavy 
as lead; it looked like a tub, and rowed like a 
whaleboat; but it did its best to serve a purpose 
and was faithful to the end.” 
