834 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Dec. 9, 1911. 
into the narrows that joined Oxford Lake with 
Sack Lake, our boat ran on a mud bank and the 
men had to work hard to get off. Very soon 
I perceived that the boats were racing for a 
landing. As the men ceased rowing, each jumped 
for his pack strap, tied it to a bale that would 
rest easily upon the shoulders, and as the boat 
touched the shore, slung it upon his back with 
the wide pack strap over the forehead. The 
guide then added another “piece” to the one each 
man carried, and away they raced across the por¬ 
tage. Depositing their loads upon the bank in 
a convenient place for reloading, they returned 
upon the run for another load. Two "pieces” 
of about one hundred pounds each was the ordi¬ 
nary load, but many of the boatmen were able 
to carry three pieces. Often when there was 
strife between boat crews every man of them 
would carry his three hundred pounds and do 
it on a trot. This much I have seen performed 
quite frequently and I have heard the traders 
tell of more wonderful feats than these, but I 
forbear. 
Portages were much alike and the labor was 
incessant. It was either portage and row, or 
row and portage. When the goods had been 
carried over, there yet remained the boat. When¬ 
ever it was thought practicable the empty boat 
was run or lowered through the boiling rapid. 
If the fall was vertical or for any other reason 
not to be navigated in this way, the heavy boat 
was hauled upon the bank, lines attached and 
the united crews of several boats hauled away 
until the cumbersome thing was skidded across. 
Oftimes in cold and rushing waters the boat 
sticks fast upon a submerged rock. Without a 
moment’s hesitation, overboard go the men, and 
bracing their feet firmly upon the rock with 
shoulder against the boat’s side, it is pushed off 
into the current. With dripping garments they 
clamber on board and continue the work, totally 
indifferent to the wetting and chill. 
On Sept. 8, thirteen rabbits fell victims to my 
double gun while numerous pickerel and jack- 
fish, attracted by the gaudy colors attached to 
a spoon hook I was using, yielded their lives for 
the general good and were given the men for 
food. On the ninth my spoon hook was lost, and 
so my fishing operations ceased. This happened 
at a beautiful waterfall known as Trout Falls. 
At a large fall en route a great rock in mid 
stream served as a landing place. Goods were 
carried or thrown across this rock. The boats 
then ran down over the fall and were pulled up 
in the eddy at the foot of the rock. As the crews 
were in active competition, whenever an occasion 
presented itself they slyly took pieces from their 
own cargo and added them to that of their rival. 
This sloping rock afforded just such an oppor¬ 
tunity. While I sat there, an unseen but an 
amused spectator, I saw a boatman slyly roll 
two bags of flour down the rock to his rival’s 
pile. A little later another sack rolled down. 
Then one of the rival crew bethought himself 
of the chance and threw his pack upon the other 
pile. Thus, “Tit for tat” went on the amusing 
rivalry. In spite of the slavish work, the indi¬ 
gestible food and the constant exposure, the boat¬ 
men continued cheerful and a'most boyish in 
their playfulness. 
The daily rations per man granted by the Hud¬ 
son Bay Company to boatmen was two pounds 
of flour, one pound of bacon, one ounce of tea 
and occasionally two ounces of sugar. Every¬ 
thing outside of these staples was considered as 
extra, and was to be purchased, and the price 
deducted from their wages. 
This diet became extremely monotonous after 
a time, and fresh meat of any kind was relished. 
So keen did the appetite for meat become that 
gulls, hawks, owds, muskrats and groundhogs 
were killed whenever opportunity afforded and 
eagerly devoured. Many times have I seen them 
set snares for snowbirds, sparrows and other 
small birds, hook the captured birds on the edge 
of the camp kettle by means of their rigid claws, 
the plumaged bodies hanging inside the kettle. 
After becoming partially cooked from the steam 
arising from the cooking operations going on 
beneath, the birds were eaten without further 
preparation. 
In the making of bannock or frying-pan bread 
the true spirit of fun was clearly shown. Water 
was carried in old hats, tin cans and cups, the 
dough was mixed on the dirty rocks, and owing 
to the shortage of frying-pans, sticks were em¬ 
ployed upon which the dough was stuck and 
roasted over the fire. If a funny fellow took the 
notion of “firing” his loaf at someone’s head, a 
regular shower of bread in loaves and wads of 
various shapes and sizes would be the result. 
If a man’s bread unfortunately fell into the fire 
and was entirely consumed, a general laugh was 
raised, but no more flour was forthcoming, how¬ 
ever. Unless a comrade shared with him, the 
luckless chap went hungry. Surely, “stomachs 
of iron” and colossal appetites were necessary 
to devour the unpalatable articles consumed as 
food on these trips. 
Soon after passing Trout Falls, the mouth of 
the Trout River was reached, and the boats 
emerged upon Knee Lake. Here, owing to a 
violent head wind that rendered rowing well 
nigh impossible, we camped upon a sandy beach. 
This was the third day since leaving Oxford 
House, and yet that post was but seven miles 
distant in a direct line. 
Toward evening Mr. Campbell, the trader at 
Oxford House, caught up with us. In his light 
canoe manned by two canoemen he had easily in 
a few hours’ time covered our three days’ course. 
After supper, observing the wind to change, 
all hands hastened on board the boats.—Mr. 
Campbell, canoe and all—hoisted our sails and 
sped away into the night. The sails were sim¬ 
ply tarpaulin covers, and the masts were poles 
cut from the forest near at hand. As the night 
was dark, all hands were kept on watch for 
rocks. It brings an uneasy feeling to be speed¬ 
ing across a great lake in the darkness knowing 
that scattered about lie rocks, shoals and islands, 
and that at any moment we might strike. The 
wind was fair and strong and in two hours the 
twenty-mile course on Knee Lake was finished 
and the boats came to rest upon the rocky banks 
of the Wolf River. Everyone was too tired to 
make a camp or to pitch a tent. In spite of a 
drizzling rain we hastily rolled up in our blankets, 
and upon the wet rocks soon fell asleep. Through¬ 
out the night the rain continued to fall and Sept. 
10 dawned wet and dreary. 
At this point Mr. Campbell invited me to take 
the place of the bow man in his canoe and travel 
a little in advance of the York boats. We pad- 
died through the Wolf River and explored sev¬ 
eral small creeks leading into Muskeg Lakes. 
They were very shallow and had muddy, oozy 
bottoms and muskeg shores. To land was a dif¬ 
ficult thing. Sixteen ducks were secured and a 
bear was sighted, but bruin also sighted us and 
made off for distant lands. At night a shelter 
was improvised from an oiled canvas canoe cover 
and in spite of the rain we enjoyed the com¬ 
forts of a cozy camp. 
In the morning rising early and hastily drying 
our bedding we launched our canoe for the five- 
mile paddle to the Wolverine rapids. There we 
stayed all day and camped for the night to await 
the York boats’ arrival. This is a strong rapid 
and involves a hard portage for both goods and 
boats. Upon arrival the men with one accord 
ran shouting to the rapid and with sticks, stones 
and other weapons began to wage a warfare 
against the struggling whitefish that were at¬ 
tempting to ascend the rapid. A few minutes 
sufficed to provide the several crews with suf¬ 
ficient fresh fish for two or three meals. 
Starting early the following morning we con¬ 
tinued the hunt for ducks. For several miles 
the sinuous windings of the crooked Wolverine 
River were followed, and not seeing any ducks, 
I boarded the York boat again. The great oars 
produced a sound much resembling distant thun¬ 
der and could be heard for miles. During my 
absence I found that my baggage had been prop¬ 
erly handled, but that my Astrachan overcoat 
left in charge of the guide was a mass of spittle, 
flour, water and earth, it having been constantly 
under their feet. I preached a short sermon to 
the guide upon the subject of filth in general 
and spitting in particular, but I fear that my 
exhortation in English was not fully appreciated 
by my Indian friend. 
At 3 o'clock we reached the dreaded Mossy 
portage. Here a crew from God’s Lake post was 
expected to assist in portaging the goods as well 
as one of the York boats that was needed on 
the God’s Lake side. This portage is two miles 
in length and of such a boggy nature that for a 
considerable part of the way the men sank to 
their knees at almost every step, and frequently 
to the hips. It has caused the breakdown of 
many a robust boatman and at this time I passed 
three men lying on this portage with ruptured 
lungs, bleeding from mouth and nostrils. The 
loads are so heavy and footing so precarious 
that in many instances a fall is inevitable, and 
in falling with a 200-pound load on his back the 
man is seriously injured. Many strong men have 
been ruined for life on the notorious Mossy 
portage. I cannot look upon its gloomy expanse 
without thinking of the broken lives of these 
boatmen. 
LTpon our arrival at the portage I sought out 
a dry spot and went into camp. There is but 
one dry spot about a third of the distance across. 
The following day I crossed over, and as the 
walking at that time was particularly bad, one 
of the canoemen offered—for a remuneration of 
course—to carry me over on his back. I thanked 
him kindly, but expressed my ability to portage 
myself. However, I found soon enough that I 
tackled a big proposition. Many times I found 
myself floundering in the mud to the top of my 
wading boots. These boots Mr. Campbell had 
kindly loaned me for the occasion, and without 
them I would truly have presented the appear¬ 
ance of Christian emerging from the Slough of 
Despond. But what of the poor boatmen, our 
“beasts of burden”? 
There are two plans for the transfer of goods 
on this portage. One is for each man to shoul- 
