Aug. 22, 1908.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
3 1 7 
awhile at certain points and observe the beau¬ 
ties of nature. Bill was trout crazy. At the 
foot of short rapids in Tucker Gut I pulled in 
bass as fast as I could work. The poor fish 
nearly jumped into the boat of their own ac¬ 
cord. Naturally I wanted to stop for some 
sport, but Bill was obdurate and paddled me 
away. We struggled and scrambled around the 
falls of Lady Evelyn River with heavy packs, 
grabbing bushes and trees for assistance and 
jumping from slippery round boulders to jagged 
rocks. The mere act of balancing made my 
ankle muscles ache. We portaged nine times 
in six miles and made half the distance afoot. 
At one spot, where it was impossible to portage 
around, everything and everybody were care¬ 
fully put in the canoe to cross a fifty foot pool. 
Peeshabo did the work with admirable skill. 
Bill was silent; trout on the brain and an auto¬ 
mobile look on his face. 
Camp was reached at 6 o'clock. The even¬ 
ing was delightful and calm. Peeshabo, now 
that he had us within a stone’s throw of the 
trout pool, unloosened and grew positively loqua¬ 
cious. He told how, once a week in the winter 
with gun, a piece of canvas, rabbit skin sleep¬ 
ing bag and a little grub, he covered his traps 
on the route assigned to him around Anima- 
Nipissing by the factor, piling the pelts on his 
shoulder and joining his brother and sister in 
their little shack on Saturday night for a quiet 
Sunday. In the spring he traded his fur for 
pork and other supplies at the post on Bear 
Island and then followed the good Indian cus¬ 
tom of loafing the summer long and enjoying 
himself after the long cold winter. The Ojib- 
ways are quiet and religious and well cared for 
by both church and state, although they still 
have their own chief, White Bear, and hold 
pow-wows on matters of common interest. 
“Are your traps ever disturbed?” I asked. 
“No; I shoot ’em,” Peeshabo smiled back at 
me. 
“What fur do you get?” 
“Bear, fisher, wildcat.” 
“How about beaver?” 
“Can’t kill ’em. Government say no.” 
“What about bear?” 
“Plenty of ’em in dis country.” He paused 
until a gleam came into his eye and then pro¬ 
ceeded: “One day I saw one, two, t'ree bear 
come out of the bush by a lake. I go into 
water. I shoot those t’ree bear. And then more 
• came out of bush—one, two, t’ree, four more. 
I shoot all of ’em. Seven bear. I get fifteen 
dollar for one skin. Pretty good.’ 
It certainly was pretty good as bear stones 
go. Questioned about silver fox the Indian 
said: “Czar of Russia, he take all silver fox 
from company. About two killed a year. 1 
never saw one. I always look at some post 
north above here. The factor he bought silver fox 
from Indian woman for forty dollars. He sell 
it to Czar for thirteen hundred. Dirty trick.” 
Peeshabo leaned toward the fire, pulled out 
a burning stick, relighted his pipe and con¬ 
tinued: 
“You get fifteen dollars for wol s ears. Skin 
only worth dollar and half. Wolf drives away 
deer. He never touch moose. Afraid of man, 
too, except when six, seven, together hungry. 
“Moose! Woods full of him. One day big 
bull got after me. Me brudder was in camp. 
I led moose back to camp. When he come to 
opening me brudder he shoot him in neck. An¬ 
other time I shoot two moose fighting. Did not 
hear me.” 
Wednesday was Bill’s day. In the morning 
he took eight trout from the pool and in the 
afternoon nearly thirty. It was August and all 
the fish for miles had apparently crowded up to 
this deep hole about the size of a big table into 
which fell a small cool stream from a spring 
on the bank. 
Only the night before the handle of my rod 
had been lost, but I made the best of it watch¬ 
ing Bill, picking huckleberries, fixing the camp 
and mending clothes, and I am not so sure that 
I fared worse than he did. On lhursday.il 
rained until about noon, when I went out with 
Bill again and saw him land twenty-four trout. 
Twice he hooked and brought in three at one 
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