78 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Jan. 20, 1912. 
for them many times over by being obliged to 
chase that flying sleigh for more than an hour. 
After this incident, I never remained behind to 
shoot birds or rabbits, but either fired from the 
sleigh or ran on ahead to hunt. 
Fisher River Indian Reserve was reached a 
little after noon, and we called at a trader's 
store to purchase snow-glasses and a few neces¬ 
sary provisions. An interesting story is told 
of this trader. It was reported that he had 
moose meat in his possession illegally; for be 
it known that Manitoba has strict game laws 
that apply—though not often enforced—as well 
upon her wilderness frontiers as within the 
region of men and towns. Shortly after, a game 
constable paid this man a visit. Not knowing 
the stranger to be an official, our friend ex¬ 
tended to him the hospitality of his house and 
set before him a dish of savory moose meat 
and delicious gravy. Observing that the 
stranger did not eat heartily, he urged him, say¬ 
ing, “Take a little more of this tender moose 
meat, and some more of the gravy.” After 
collecting a heavy fine, the constable departed, 
leaving the astonished trader wondering which 
is the more foolish, to repose over-much con¬ 
fidence in a stranger, or to break the civil law. 
Tradition has it that this trader would not enter 
the church for fourteen years because of a 
grudge against the missionary for reporting 
a breach of the law. 
After following the Fisher River for about 
five miles, we came out on the Fisher Bay of 
Lake Winnipeg and stopped there for the night 
in a house belonging to a white man. Dur¬ 
ing the night a heavy snow began to fall, and 
in the midst of the storm several teams with 
loads of fish passed through en route to Winni¬ 
peg Beach. From them it was learned that a 
very crooked trail might be followed down Lake 
Winnipeg for a few miles, and then, with no 
road, our team must cut straight across the 
frozen lake. 
In the morning a terrific blizzard was raging. 
With a new supply of bacon and of Indian 
bread, or bannock, and having secured the 
services of a guide who was to return with 
Mr. Justy and the team, we boldly launched 
out on the frozen expanse of Lake Winnipeg 
and faced the storm. The trail made during 
the darkness of night was the most crooked 
one over which I have ever traveled. We suc¬ 
cessively faced every point of the compass. 
Looking ahead the trail appeared to be a huge 
serpent outstretched in sinuous curves. It was 
better, however, to follow this trail than to 
make a new one through the stiff crust. The 
sleet cut our faces and benumbed our bodies, 
and the poor horses could hardly stand before 
the gale; we had difficulty in keeping their heads 
to the north. 
At one point a sleigh loaded with bo.xes of 
frozen fish was fast in an ice crack. The driver, 
unable to extricate his load, had been obliged 
to leave it. Our team was run at full speed 
and jumped the crack safely. A number of 
these dangerous places were passed in this 
way. During a spell of very cold weather the 
ice often opens clear'across the lake, the awful 
pressure throwing up a ridge of gigantic blocks 
of ice. When new ice cracks in this way, the 
water overflows to a considerable distance on 
either side, and to one coming along immedi¬ 
ately after, he not only finds wet traveling, but 
he is liable ter fall into the crack. A very few 
minutes suffice to freeze the water and thus 
render the crossing safe and easy. Later in 
the winter when these fissures are marked by 
high ridges of ragged ice filled with holes, it 
is difficult to effect a crossing. Often a traveler 
must follow a ridge of this kind for miles be¬ 
fore locating a safe passageway. 
After severe battling with storms and an¬ 
other night’s camp, we finally reached Beren’s 
River; the end of our 160-mile ride behind 
horses. The memory of that last camp-fire will 
live forever. As we were belated and the dark¬ 
some night overtaking us, we made desperate 
efforts to find a deserted house that was said 
to be on an island in the lake. Late at night 
this house was located high up in the timber 
amid deep snows. The horses and sleigh were 
left upon the lake shore, our Indian guide was 
dispatched for dry wood and we hastily betook 
ourselves to this habitation of the bats. A 
small fire was kindled and we were enabled to 
eat a few mouthfuls of food mixed with cinders 
and drank some tea which contained charcoal 
and dirt of various kinds. By the aid of 
lighted matches several filthy-looking bunks 
could be discerned, but being too tired to care, 
we tumbled in and snatched what sleep we 
could. Long ’ere dawn we were on our way 
once more. 
While passing the Commissioner Islands I 
fired several unavailing shots at two ptarmigan 
that were still wearing their winter coats of 
white. This was the farthest south that I have 
observed these birds. 
Besides being partially snowblind, my face 
was badly scarred and covered with deep cracks, 
filled with coagulated blood; forehead and 
cheeks were badly blistered; and in many ways 
the hardships of the trip were visible. To travel 
in the North is to court suffering. 
At Beren’s River I met Mrs. McLachlan, 
whose husband had met a tragic death a short 
time before. The Rev. J. A. McLachlan was 
for many years a missionary among the Indians. 
While conveying a party of children to the 
Brandon Industrial School, his sailboat was 
capsized and the entire party drowned. Mr. 
McLachlan was considered an expert sailor, but 
the terrific storm that raged upon Lake Winni¬ 
peg was too much for any craft and any sailor 
and overwhelmed the devoted missionary and 
his party within a few miles of a landing. A 
daughter of the missionary. Miss Madelaine 
McLachlan, was born in the North, and in 
addition to considerable skill in handling birch- 
bark canoes and in driving dogs she played the 
piano well, and soon afterward left Beren’s 
River to attend the Conservatory of Music. 
After a short rest at this point, Mr. Ewing 
started on expecting me to follow in an hour 
or so; but, unfortunately, I was unable to find 
dogs and was delayed for several days. After 
considerable parley, a young Indian by the 
name of Francis and a team of five fairly good 
dogs were secured. With a load of not more 
than two hundred pounds, I fully expected to 
ride. But the way proved long, the dogs slow 
and the weather cold; so that I ran nearly all 
the way, a distance of about a hundred and 
twenty miles, finishing in two and a half days. 
The first night of this journey I met with an 
experience that nearly terminated my labors ere 
they began. We chose for our camp a mossy 
place at the base of an uprooted tree, and after 
our customary meal of roast rabbit, bannock 
and strong tea, I conducted the evening de¬ 
votions and we prepared to turn in. For the 
Indian this was an easy matter, but to me it 
presented a danger for which I was entirely 
unprepared. Mr. Ewing was several days in 
advance with my bedding and I had but one 
thin blanket and the night was clear and cold. 
Few realize the intense cold of a night in the 
far North. It comes down silently, without 
warning, and embraces in its icy folds all that 
has life, and gradually, almost imperceptibly, 
destroys that life; rendering the Northland a 
land of danger and often of suffering and death. 
Wrapping myself in my blanket, I lay down 
—but not to sleep, for as the fire gradually 
went down the mercury dropped, and I soon 
found myself freezing. After two or three hours 
without changing my position, I became 
alarmed and tried to rise, when, to my horror, 
I found that I could not move a muscle. In 
terror I endeavored to call the guide, but my 
tongue would not obey. For the space of two 
or three minutes I endured untold agony. At 
last by a violent effort I succeeded in breaking 
the spell and was able to move one limb; then 
the blood started to circulate, and with every 
nerve tingling and teeth chattering as the cold 
rushed in, I made my way to the still glowing 
embers of the camp-fire and endeavored to blow 
them into a flame. The agony of body was too 
great, however, and so, with no Very gentle 
kick I awoke the sleeping Indian and soon we 
had a roaring fire. 
At half-past one in the morning we harnessed 
the dogs and started on our journey. The 
Aurora Borealis illuminated the heavens, light¬ 
ing the starry host as they coldly gazed down 
upon us. All nature lay wrapped in a cold 
shroud of mystery as we followed the faint 
trail down Lake Winnipeg. 
At the Spider Islands my driver left me and 
a trader by the name of Donald Flett volun¬ 
teered to take me the remainder of the distance 
to Norway House. With his very fast train of 
four beautiful black dogs and a snowy-white 
leader we reached his home at the foot of the 
lake, a distance of twenty miles, in a little over 
two hours and there I stopped to rest. 
For a day or two I was royally entertained 
at the home of this trader. His wife, a Cree 
Indian woman, prepared the most toothsome 
delicacies to tempt the appetite. Never shall I 
forget the kindness of Mr. and Mrs. Flett. On 
Sunday morning Mr. Flett harnessed his dogs 
to a cariole, and, covered with fur robes, I 
made my first luxurious cariole trip. The trail 
led through beautiful evergreen groves, dotted 
with silver birches. I greatly enjoyed that ride 
of two hours, the trader running alongside or 
behind the entire distance. When within six 
miles of Norway House, I bade farewell to my 
kind host, and leaving my baggage with an 
Indian to have forwarded later on, I finished 
the distance on foot. 
Upon arrival at Norway House Mission, in 
spite of my wayworn and battered appearance, 
I received a very cordial welcome from the 
Rev. J. A. Sousley, principal of the boarding 
school, and his wife. 
The hardships of the trip were followed by 
a period of severe illness, and I was confined 
to the bed for several days, receiving kind care 
