116 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Dogs Hitched in This Fashion (the Eskimo Way), Pull Much Better Than When 
Harnessed Tandem Style. 
light, not averaging four hundred pounds to 
a sled. There were seven dogs in each team. 
Friday, the nth, was cold, the thermome¬ 
ter registering ten degrees of frost, and 
promised a hard surface for traveling on 
the morrow. So we planned to leave Moose 
on Saturday, at an early hour in the morn¬ 
ing. And early it was when we got away 
from the post, down the river bank, and 
headed for the river mouth. Three o’clock 
was the hour of departure, with a full moon 
and a myriad of scintillating stars over¬ 
head, to light us on our way. 
There was a sharp, frosty tang in the 
air and a coldness that proclaimed our ap¬ 
proach to the great, frozen inland sea. 
Soon the sailors would have their native 
element beneath their feet again. Snow- 
shoes were not needed and Jim led away 
at a five mile clip, that promised of a long 
day’s run. 
The two komatiks, with three of us rid¬ 
ing, taxed the teams but little. Before 
sunrise we were out of the Moose River 
and had turned south’ard down the coast. 
When daylight came we found the tracks of 
the Rupert packet and it was no longer 
necessary for Jimmie to run ahead. He 
boarded the Captain’s sled. At nine o’clock 
we breakfasted at Big Stone Point, nearly 
thirty miles from Moose—a satisfactory 
stretch, for the day was only begun. 
“Stow a good cargo away here, lads,” 
advised the skipper. “We strike acrossi 
Hannah Bay now, and you’ll see ne’er a 
stick to boil the kettle with till we reach 
East Point this evening.” 
A goodly “cargo” of moose meat and 
bannock was stowed away, and, turning out 
on the bay again, we picked up the Rupert 
trail. When out of sight of land we got 
into the rough ice and our progress was 
considerably slower. Still, we made good 
time, and East Point, our objective on the 
other side of Hannah Bay, loomed up on 
the white horizon shortly after noon and 
we reached the willow fringe that marked 
the shore line by four o’clock. Driftwood 
furnished fuel for a fire and we ate a hasty 
but very welcome meal. 
“We’ve logged over fifty miles from 
Moose, Captain,” I said, after examining 
the map, “and the day is not over yet.” 
Ten more were added to the tally before 
we camped within the edge of the woods 
in Gull Bay. The camp we made was a 
scanty one, and all hands turned in supper¬ 
less, more tired than hungry. During the 
night the wind turned southerly and we 
were awakened by a light shower of rain. 
“Let her rain!” I said to myself and from 
the lack of action on the part of the others 
I knew they endorsed my sentiments. Not 
a one of us had ambition enough to get 
out and rig up a shelter to keep us dry. 
“We’ll sleep in a bunk to-morrow night, 
so what does it matter if our bags get wet?” 
In the morning we found one of the 
Captain’s team lying dead and frozen in 
the snow, where he had stretched his tired 
body in the evening. He was a splendid 
big huskie, who went by the name of 
“White Bear,” on account of his close re¬ 
semblance to that animal. 
Earlier in the trip his loss would have 
meant much to us, but now there was but 
sixty miles between us and the end. What 
regrets we felt arose from sentimental 
depths, for he had been a good-natured, 
hard-working, faithful brute. 
We followed Gull Bay to its bottom and 
plunged into the Cabbage Willows Portage 
that cuts off Ministikawatin (which is the 
Cree for “almost an island”) Point, and 
shortens the route by twenty miles. The 
portage is ten miles in length but the trail 
led over frozen swamps and creeks, and 
the dogs covered the distance on the run. 
It was only nine-thirty when we emerged 
into Cabbage Willows Bay, a shallow, reed- 
grown bight in the western coastline of 
Rupert Bay. 
This latter body of water, or ice, we 
could have crossed directly to the mouth 
of the Rupert River and the end of our 
journey, reaching Rupert House early in 
the afternoon. But our plans called for a 
stop at Stag Island, in the middle of the 
bay, en route to the post. There we had a 
comfortable log cqrnp, stoves, bedding and 
provisions, and a day later in reaching 
Rupert House was of no particular con¬ 
sequence. 
Before we were well out of Cabbage Wil¬ 
lows Bay a storm broke from the north’ard. 
Drifting, blinding snow enshrouded dogs 
and men, and we had to rely on a com¬ 
pass course. For three hours we continued 
thus, crossing fields of smooth, and ridges 
of rough, broken ice; on the smooth leads 
we made good time in spite of the weather. 
At the end of that time the dark outline 
of the island loomed up before us; our 
course had been a good one. At two o’clock 
we were in the camp. 
That night we ate and slept and dried 
our dunnage in perfect comfort; the dogs 
gorged themselves on seal meat and were 
allowed to roam at large. 
At seven o’clock, on the morning of the 
14th of April, we left Stag Island astern 
and in three hours’ time we covered the 
remaining sixteen miles to Rupert House, 
the pioneer post, the very first established 
by the Hudson Bay Company, and really 
located two years before the “Gentlemen 
Adventurers” obtained their royal charter. 
“That may be so,” said old Captain Tom, 
“but I’m not greatly interested. I know it 
is a good holding-ground, and we’ll drop 
both hooks here and hang on awhile.” 
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