Jan. 20, 1912.] 
77 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
Down Lake Winnipeg in Winter 
By the REV. ARTHUR SANTMIER 
O N the night of March 28, a little party of 
travelers left the lighted streets of Sel¬ 
kirk and began to battle with the drifts. 
The great blizzard had covered the country with 
a thick mantle of white; the wind had piled the 
drifts mountain high, it seemed; and on the 
frozen surface of river and lake the snow lay 
to the depth of several feet. 
Our little party numbered four, exclusive of 
the driver, who was temporarily employed, and 
was an interesting group. Mr. Ewing, the real 
leader of the party, was at the head of a fish 
and mercantile firm, and was en route to the 
faraway Nelson River fisheries—newly estab¬ 
lished; Ed. Scott was an experienced net fisher¬ 
man; Mr. Justy was an employee of the firm— 
a trader, fish buyer and accountant; and I was 
a missionary teacher among the Cree Indians 
on the Nelson River. 
Although the railroad extended northward 
to Winnipeg Beach, a distance of thirty miles, 
the blizzard had caused a complete stoppage of 
traffic, and so our start was made from Selkirk 
with a team of horses and a driver, recruited 
from a local livery stable. The necessary prep¬ 
arations for so long and hazardous a journey 
occupied the hours of daylight of Monday, the 
28th, and the start was made as the gloom of 
night settled over the snow-covered prairie. 
For miles the road lay over the dreary prairie 
and through well-nigh impassable snowdrifts, 
and later, for miles upon the frozen surface of 
the Red River of the North. Late in the night 
we camped in the cabin of a half-breed named 
Black. This is a regular stopping place and is 
popularly known as Black’s place. In the small 
room seventeen men found sleeping space, while 
goodness knows how many were huddled in the 
family apartment overhead. Mr. Ewing and 
myself spread our rabbit robes—or rather his 
robes, for Mr. Ewing had kindly offered to 
share his comfortable robes with me—upon the 
floor. Amid odors many, and not without fears 
lest other bodies than our own might inhabit 
our robes ’ere morning, we laid ourselves to 
rest. 
Before daylight the company was astir. The 
hasty breakfast was soon over and Mr, Ewing 
suggested that we travel in advance of the team 
for a little distance. This early morning jaunt 
in the crisp atmosphere dispelled the mental 
mists and stirred the faculties into life. 
Winnipeg Beach was reached at an early 
hour. The first man we met was intoxicated, 
and while swinging a bottle over his head, was 
filling the air with curses. At this place we 
engaged a team of wiry Western horses and a 
large and roomy sleigh. The outfit was made 
ready by a drunken hostler, and we ate a hasty 
meal at the hotel, where, to judge from the 
sound, they were having a jolly good time in 
the bar-room. Sufficient horse feed to take us 
to Beren’s River was secured and a few pro¬ 
visions for ourselves were purchased. At 
eleven o’clock the journey was renewed. 
We traveled rapidly over well-beaten roads 
through a continuous belt of poplar forest. The 
scene was quite attractive to the eye in spite 
of the dreary uniformity. Some time after 
passing the town of Gimli we drew up at the 
little Icelandic settlement of Hnausa, having 
covered just forty-three miles between eleven 
o’clock and five. 
Lodgings were engaged and in the evening 
I was invited to finger the keys of a neglected- 
looking organ that stood in the corner. Mr. 
Ewing sang with me several familiar songs, 
such as “Suwanee River,” “Rock of Ages,” and 
the “Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond.” Our 
audience was a large one and highly interested; 
but whether lauding our supposed skill, or 
highly amused at our lack of it, I was unable 
to determine. In the midst of the singing the 
Provincial Member of Parliament and the Pro¬ 
vincial engineer walked into the room. They 
were touring this out-of-the-way place presum¬ 
ably in the interests of their constituents. Poli¬ 
ticians know no geographical limitations at 
election time. 
The quiet hamlet of Hnausa was left behind 
us early the following morning, and leaving the 
well-beaten route of the mail-sledges, we en¬ 
countered a stretch of very bad road. Our way 
lay over the Washow peninsula, which was, 
save for one or two deserted cabins, an unin¬ 
habited wilderness. There were undoubtedly 
numbers of moose on this portage, for many 
tracks were seen and several frightened animals 
ran at our approach. Owing to the heavy 
roads our progress was slow. At night camp 
was made in a deserted stopping-place known 
as the Half-way House. 
All along the route grouse and rabbits were 
plentiful. At a point on the peninsula, where 
evergreen trees were plentiful, I observed a flock 
of grouse beneath a large spruce tree. Hastily 
jumping from the sleigh, I dashed to the assault 
armed with a revolver. Mr. Ewing laughed out 
a warning and the sleigh passed on down the 
trail. I then opened the engagement. Bullet 
after bullet was fired at the dodging birds until 
finally I secured two or three and then paid 
NORWAY HOUSE BOARDING SCHOOL FROM THE LAKE IN 45° BELOW ZERO WEATHER. 
