466 
FOREST AND STREAM 
OCTOBER, 1917 
NOVA SCOTIA GUIDES PRIZE STORY 
THE FIRST THING I CAN REMEMBER WAS MY UNCLE SEATING ME ON A BEAR SKIN ON THE 
CAMP FLOOR WHERE I PLAYED WITH THE FEET AND CLAWS THAT WERE ON THE HIDE 
M Y Father and Mother died when I 
was very young and I was brought 
up by my Uncle, who was always 
kind and good to me. My Uncle was a 
full-blooded Mic Mac Indian. He lived to 
be very old, and was known by the Indians 
as the greatest bear hunter and tea drinker 
of the tribe. He had a record of 370 bears. 
The first thing I can remember was my 
Uncle seating me on a bear skin on the 
camp floor, where I played with the feet 
and claws that were on the hide. When¬ 
ever my Uncle would come back from the 
woods after a bear hunt the Indians who 
camped near us would come to talk with 
him and to see his bear skins. Hearing so 
much talk about bears all the time made 
me anxious to become a bear hunter, and 
I would tease my Uncle to take me to the 
woods on a bear hunt with him. He finally 
promised me that when I was fifteen years 
old he would take me with him and make 
a bear hunter of me. 
The spring I was fifteen I caught trout 
out of the brooks near by and sold enough 
in the village of Bear River to buy me a 
gun. I paid four dollars for it, and it was 
then and always will be the finest gun in 
the world to me. To-day I won the fine 
32 high power Remington rifle for first 
prize at the “Running Deer” target, but I 
don’t think as much of it as I do of my 
first little muzzle loader. You see how I 
love the little fusee! 
It was just before Christmas, the year I 
was fifteen, that my Uncle got ready for 
our hunt. My first bear hunt like my first 
gun will always be the best to me. Our 
hunting camps were situated five miles 
apart, one at Smith’s Lake and the other 
at Dish Lake. We did not have very 
much grub with us (quite different from 
the list the hunting parties take now). A 
small bag of flour, two pounds of pork, 
a pound of tea, and a little salt was our 
grub list. My Uncle also carried his muzzle 
loader and an axe and I, of course, had 
my little fusee. On our way in to camp 
Uncle explained to me how we were to 
hunt. We were to stay in the camp at 
Smith’s Lake and separate every day, each 
hunting alone. If I found a bear den and 
killed a bear I was to carry it to the near¬ 
est camp from where I was. 
Well, the next morning I loaded my 
little fusee with a ball and wrapped a rag 
around the breech and nipple to keep out 
the wet and keep the powder dry, as all 
the old Indian hunters used to do, and 
started on my first bear hunt. Now there 
is a tradition among the Mic Mac Indians 
that an animal lives in the woods which 
is a cross between a grizzly bear and a 
man. This supposed blood-thirsty creature 
is called Googwes, and he is held in such 
dread by the Indians that the mention of 
his name will stop the little papoose crying 
or freeze the laugh on the faces of old 
and young. The drumming of a partridge 
By JOHN McEWAN 
At a Guides’ Tournament recently held 
at Yarmouth, N. S., by the Nova Scotia 
Guides’ Association, of which Sheriff H. 
A. P. Smith is president, FOREST AND 
STREAM offered a prize of ten dollars 
for the best story told by a guide. This 
ivas won by John McEwan, whose story is 
given here. 
is sometimes taken as a sign from Googwes 
and is supposed to be the fearful beast 
pounding on his drum of birch bark. Any 
unusual noise in the night will make the 
Indians think of Googwes. My Uncle told 
John McEwan 
me many tales of Googwes and always 
warned me about him. 
About noon I came across the tracks of 
three bears which had been made the night 
before. Two small ones and a big one, 
which I took for a she bear and two cubs. 
Here was a chance to show my Uncle what 
a mighty hunter I could be, and I at once 
began to follow the three tracks. Under 
windfalls, through swamps, over ridges, 
and across the ice I trailed the bears. Late 
in the afternoon I came to a heap of big 
granite rocks. The trail led under one of 
these and disappeared. I made a circle all 
around the pile of granite and could find 
no tracks coming out, so I knew the bears 
were under there somewhere. Soon I 
heard a rumbling noise under ground, and 
then the head of a big bear poked out be¬ 
tween the rocks. She pushed out by me 
while I was trying to get the rag unwound 
from about my fusee, and ran off, disap¬ 
pearing in a swamp near by. Before I 
knew what I was doing I chased after her, 
but could not catch sight of her anywhere. 
I returned to the den just in time to see a 
small bear disappear around the boulders. 
Peeking in the den I saw another bear 
looking up at me, so I tore the rags off of 
my gun and when he poked his head out 
shot him between the eyes. I soon pulled 
him out and found my first bear was a cub 
weighing about 50 pounds. My, but I was 
happy! I did not worry at all over the 
two that got away and only thought of 
the one I had killed. 
My Uncle had told me if I shot a bear 
to tie the hind paws to the front ones, and 
slip my arms through between the legs so 
that I could carry the carcass like a pack 
load. This I did and at once started for 
our home camp. The nearest way to camp 
was across a lake about a mile wide, and 
with my little bear on my back and my 
fusee in my hand I started across the ice. 
It was now nearly dark, and by the time 
I had crossed half way to the western shore 
it was quite dark. But I knew the trail 
and could travel it the darkest night. 
All at once I saw on the edge of the lake 
in front of me what looked to me like the 
reflection of a fire. It must be Uncle, I 
said to myself, waiting for me. He has 
built a small fire there in the woods and 
is waiting for me and boiling tea, so I 
hurried on all the faster. When I reached 
the spot where I had seen the fire there 
was no smoke, and nothing to show me 
anyone had been there. Nothing but the 
thick woods and new fallen snow. Still 
I thought, Uncle is fooling me, so I called 
out: “Uncle—Uncle—where are you? 
Speak, I know you are here! Don’t try to 
frighten me. I saw your fire.” There was 
no answer. Then I thought of Googwes, 
and was very frightened. The only place 
to run for safety that I could think of was 
our camp at Smith’s Lake. Dashing out 
upon the lake again I ran as fast as I could 
in the direction of the home camp. Every 
time a crack in the ice would rumble be¬ 
hind me I thought of Googwes, the ter¬ 
rible Indian Devil. I must have made a 
record for ice running by the time I 
reached the South shore. Through the 
woods I tore, and how I ever got to Smith’s 
Lake I do not know, but at last I found 
myself there. It was raining a little and 
the ice was very slippery, but I ran on 
faster than I ever ran before. I struck 
the lower trail to camp when I reached the 
end* of the lake and with head down to 
keep the bushes from switching out my 
eyes I fairly flew along it. 
When I reached the camp I stood out¬ 
side to get my wind so that my Uncle 
would not know I was afraid. Stepping in¬ 
side I noticed the fire was out, so reach¬ 
ing in the corner where we always kept 
dry wood and the place we call the “Dingle” 
(anyone who has hunted from the old In¬ 
dian camps knows what I mean) I soon 
found dry birch bark and kindling and 
started a fire. As the blaze lighted the 
camp I saw a form in the place where my 
(continued on page 498) 
