65 
FOREST AND STREAM 
EN to one you 
don’t get through 
with those big to¬ 
boggans and heavy loads,” 
said Scott, as we straight¬ 
ened out our dogs in front 
of Revillon’s store in 
Cochrane. 
“The Hud¬ 
son Bay 
packet In¬ 
dians just 
got in from 
Moose yes¬ 
terday, and 
they report 
terribly deep 
snow all along the river. They tell me 
they traveled through four storms on the 
way—were twelve days on the road. It is 
certainly an unprecedented year for snow 
in this part of the country.” 
Across the street, Mr. Conn, the repre¬ 
sentative of the Hudson Bay Company, had 
wagged his head and uttered similar pre¬ 
dictions of misfortune. 
“You should have started a month ear¬ 
lier,” he said, “before the stormy March 
weather set in. This is no time of the year 
for dog traveling on the Abittibi. Mr. 
MacMillan, of the T. and N. O., left here 
nearly two weeks ago, and he is only fifty 
miles down the river now. And he had 
Indians with him, too. Of course he ran 
into hard luck right along, losing dogs, and 
being overtaken by the heavy storms.” 
“We’ll make a try for it anyway,” we an¬ 
swered. “After all this snow, we can sure¬ 
ly expect a spell of fair weather. Besides, 
now we have the advantage of the packet 
trail ahead of us.” 
T HIS was Good Friday, March the 
twenty-first, and at ten-thirty in the 
forenoon we started. We had two 
large toboggans, .twelve feet in length, and 
fourteen inches wide, stout and heavy. 
They had been specially built to order in 
Montreal. To each was harnessed six dogs, 
the pick of the fifteen which. had been 
boarded for us all winter in Cochrane, hav¬ 
ing come down from Rupert River in Jan¬ 
uary. They were mostly of huskie breed 
and had been brought from Northern Lab¬ 
rador the previous summer, especially for 
this trip to the Bay. Although the best of 
care had not been taken of them during 
their holiday, they were in fairly fit condi¬ 
tion, and since my arrival in town, a week 
earlier, had been fed upon all the fresh 
meat they could eat. 
The loads were divided equally, four hun¬ 
dred and fifty pounds to each team—an 
average load for six dogs on a good trail, 
but a heavy one in deep, soft snow. Word 
had come down from New Post, ninety 
miles north of Cochrane, on the route to 
Moose, that that post was practically desti¬ 
tute of provisions, and no traveler could 
expect to replenish his stock there. On hear¬ 
ing this, I determined to take no chances 
of being caught, and loaded up with a lib¬ 
eral supply, full rations for twelve days. 
The distance to Moose Factory, the first 
leg of our journey, was but two hundred 
and ten miles, and we figured on reaching 
that post the tenth day out from Cochrane. 
For the dogs we carried two hundred and 
fifty pounds of fresh meat, which, allow¬ 
ing them the customary two pounds a day, 
was easily sufficient to carry them through. 
To reduce weight and bulk I eliminated 
a tent and camp stove from our load. We 
were not long to learn what a sorrowful 
mistake we made, when we preferred an 
open camp in March to a canvas shelter. 
For this was really the spring of the year. 
Our party consisted of but four—sailors 
at that, for the time being turned trippers 
and dog drivers. One was Captain Tom 
Gushue, mate on the “Roosevelt” when 
Peary made his last journey to the Pole. 
The Captain and Jim took charge of one 
team whilst Kennedy drove the other. I 
undertook to go ahead and encourage the 
dogs, and when it became necessary, break 
a trail to give them a better footing. 
It was bright and fair when we started, 
“a high glass and clear horizon,” and, hope¬ 
ful of making a good trip, we trailed out 
of town, and took the concession road north 
for the Frederickhouse River, a tributary 
of the Abittibi. At noon we stopped at 
a settler’s cabin and boiled the kettle. 
Then we pushed on. Presently a breeze 
sprung up from the north’ard; snowflakes 
made their unwelcome appearance; and^in 
an hour’s time from lunch, a howling bliz¬ 
zard from the north, the disastrous storm 
of Good Friday, that wrought such havoc 
to life and property throughout Ontario, 
was boring directly into our faces. 
This was the beginning. 
O UR dogs were fresh and we drove 
them on till four o’clock, when, near 
the head of Lake Lillabelle, the road 
led past the home of another settler, the 
last but one north of “the line.” A welcome 
shelter for the night it was, and Tremblay, 
our host, proved a most hospitable one. 
All night the storm continued, nor let 
up until daylight. 
“That’s the finish of our trail,” said Cap¬ 
tain Tom. “Last night’s storm has filled it 
right up, and from now on it’s heavy trail- 
smashing for the dogs—perhaps clean 
through to Moose.” 
“Let’s hope not,” I answered. “This 
storm may be only local, and perhaps in 
a day or so we’ll come onto the packet trail 
again. Anyway, Revillon’s men, the French 
packet, are due any time now, and as soon 
as we meet them, we’ll have their trail 
fresh-broken for us. It just means smash¬ 
ing one until we meet the Indians.” 
Thus consoled we started forth from 
Tremblay’s. 
A MILE to the west’ard we made when 
all signs of the trail vanished. We 
could not go astray for we were fol¬ 
lowing township roads, but none but un¬ 
trodden snow lay ahead. I again took the 
lead, with the old captain on my heels, and 
we plunged ahead through the drifts. Our 
snowshoes were short and narrow, suitable 
for a good toboggan trail but not for deep 
snow tramping. In what had fallen and 
drifted during the night we sank to a depth 
of ten inches. The dogs wallowed painfully 
along, up to their bellies in it, struggling to 
reach firm footing. Whenever we encoun¬ 
tered an up grade, however slight, the Cap¬ 
tain and I had to tramp back and forth to 
“build a trail” for the animals and tobog¬ 
gans. It is the deep snow and not so much 
the distance or the load that plays out a 
sleigh dog. 
Nearly two hours it took us to cover 
the first two miles. Then Kennedy’s team 
got stalled. With a line about his shoulders 
he threw in his weight with the dogs, but 
the bulky load refused to move. 
“Jim,” I said, “You’ll have to leave your 
load here and take your dogs back to help 
Kennedy. That is the only way we’ll make 
any headway.” 
The scheme was successful, but our 
progress now was ony half what it had 
been, and that was dishearteningly slow. 
One load would be hauled forward on the 
trail for a distance of a mile or so; then 
Kennedy and Jim would unhitch and return 
for the other. In the early afternoon we 
climbed a hill, that, not for its length, but 
its steepness alone, ate up an hour of the 
day before the second load was at the top. 
Seven or eight times we climbed up and 
