110 
Forest and Stream 
TRAPPING THE THREE RIVER ZONE 
ACTUAL EXPERIENCES OF A TRAPPER DURING A PERIOD OF 
SEVERAL YEARS IN THE WILDS OF NORTHERN ALBERTA—Part Four 
By RAYMOND THOMPSON 
T OWARD the lattef part of Feb¬ 
ruary Major Thompson, the Civil 
War veteran, was failing badly. 
He was then past eighty and the 
rigors of the winter, coupled with the 
fact that he did not have food of the 
right sort, marked him an early victim 
for the grim reaper. Knowles and I 
used to take especial pains in hunting 
for the few partridges that were about 
that winter and we always saved them 
and took them up to the Rapeljes. Mrs. 
Rapelje made a broth for the old gentle¬ 
man, which seemed about the only thing 
that he could keep on his stomach. It 
was disheartening when the game was so 
scarce. We saw but one or two rabbits 
all winter and partridges were rare 
enough ! 
In an attempt to help us solicit aid of 
some sort, Murphy went with us to 
Edson. We tried all over town to get 
additional dogs so as to make up another 
team. It seemed as though, because we 
were trappers, no one would trust us 
with dogs, although one man generously 
offered to sell us a worthless hound for 
twenty-five dollars. Failing in this, 
Mr. W. R. Hare 
agreed to take our 
load as far as Mile 
27 on the trail, as 
the road was pass¬ 
able to that point. 
This was a great 
help to us as we 
were then enabled 
to make a trip 
from the Atha¬ 
basca in but half 
the time otherwise 
required. Mr. 
Hare had lived for 
a number of years 
at Ninety -Mile 
House on the trail 
and he knew what 
we were up against. 
Thus, in a town of 
a thousand souls, 
did we find a real 
friend, one who 
was not only will¬ 
ing to offer sym¬ 
pathies but to ACT 
on them ! Such 
men are the REAL 
MEN of which the 
North Country is 
justly proud. 
We were too late! Mr. and Mrs. 
Rapelje had dug into the frozen ground 
and buried Major Thompson the day 
before we arrived back. Today, the 
spot where the old gentleman lies is de¬ 
serted; Mr. Rapelje moved his family 
back to the Athabasca the following 
summer, and only an occasional trapper 
passes the old ranch at the Baptiste. 
What more peaceful resting place could 
one desire, and after all, a rude cross 
hewn from the forest will get one just 
as near to heaven as any marble 
mausoleum. 
A straightforward story of trapping 
life in Northern Canada which will 
enthrall all who have red blood in 
their veins and whose hearts are in 
the Creat Lone Land. The author 
gladly left the comforts of civiliza¬ 
tion and undertook the hardships of 
the trail to follow the age-old lure 
of adventure. 
Knowles and I made another trip on 
the trail to Mile 27, where we loaded 
the remainder of our stuff and hit back 
for the Athabasca. The return trip was 
one we didn’t forget in a short time; the 
snow got soft and it was well nigh im¬ 
possible to keep the sleigh on the trail. 
Taking a beaver from a trap in Northern Alberta 
Times -without number the load would 
shift to one side and bear the toboggan 
off into the loose snow, where it was im¬ 
possible for the plucky dogs to haul it. 
The best we could do was to make a 
mile an hour. Going up the hills we got 
into the harness and helped the dogs as 
much as possible. Our toboggan was 
made so that two bags of flour, each 
weighing a hundred pounds, would lie 
end to end on the bottom. On top of 
these bags another two hundred pounds 
of stuff was piled, so that we had quite 
a load for such mountainous trails. On 
this old trail there were many hills, 
some of which, besides being very steep, 
were four miles in length ! 
Murphy was waiting for us at the old 
Mile 47, where he had stopped a couple 
of nights trying to get a moose. It 
seemed as if every kind of game had dis¬ 
appeared when we needed it most. Each 
year since then I have been able to kill 
all the meat needed, although I have 
never since been up against it for grub! 
From Mile 47 to where the Murphys 
were stopping on the Athabasca was only 
a distance of six miles, but it took us 
most of the next day to reach there. 
This last trip terminated any more 
traveling with dog sled. We used the 
food as sparingly as possible in hopes 
that it would last till the snow left, and 
1 have since marveled to think how we 
survived on so little. It was truly won¬ 
derful to see how those poor women 
made out with such a pitifully meager 
larder. Toward the last Knowles and I 
stayed a great deal 
with the Murphys, 
as in this way we 
could conserve on 
the food proposi¬ 
tion. I don’t be¬ 
lieve I mentioned 
that the Murphys 
had two little boys; 
at any event it was 
often a problem to 
know what to give 
them. An older 
person can under¬ 
stand why such 
things happen, but 
a child is not capa¬ 
ble of fathoming 
troubles o f this 
kind and only 
knows that it is 
hungry! 
The snow had 
been about four 
feet deep on the 
level at the Atha¬ 
basca. Near the 
cabin was a clear¬ 
ing and. we watched 
eagerly for signs 
of stumps, and 
when they eventually did stick their heads 
above the slowly vanishing snow, we 
picked out one and marked it each day. 
For a long time the snow melted at the 
rate of an inch a day and finally bare 
spots showed under the heavy spruce 
trees, where the snowfall had been 
lightest. Gradually these bare spots en¬ 
larged in diameter until they finally con¬ 
nected with one another; it was a day 
