Having placed all my belongings in my birch canoe, I pushed out into the lake without the dog, who tried hard to follow, and, as the canoe went farther from the shore, the homesick animal commenced to whine at his loss of companionship. By every means possible to a dumb beast, this dog had expressed his dislike for his enforced environment and his longing to be back with the white man. I could not help but believe that the feelings expressed by this dog were akin to those of many a captive man or woman who had fallen into the hands of the aborigines.
Our frail birch canoes had been abandoned as cold weather approached, and we had settled down to the work of surveying. Sometimes, however, we came to lakes that must be crossed. This was accomplished by cutting some logs, and making rafts by tying them together with withes. Sometimes these rafts were found insufficiently buoyant to float above water all who got onto them, so that when they were pushed along there were no visible signs of anything that the men were standing on. When on a raft, Hyde was always afraid of falling off, and would invariably sit down upon it. This subjected him to greater discomfort than other members, but as it was of his own choosing, no one raised any objection.
One day, several of the party had gone to the supply camp to bring back some provisions which the cook had asked for. Returning, not by any trail, but directly through the unbroken forest, we found ourselves in a wet tamarack and spruce swamp; and, although we believed we were not far from the camp where we had left the cook in the morning, we were not certain of its exact location. Mr. F. G. Winston said he thought he could reach it in a very short time, and suggested that we remain where we were. He started in what he believed to be the direction of the camp, saying that he would return in a little while. We waited until the shades of night began to fall; and yet he did not come. Preparations were then made to stay in the swamp all night. The ground was wet all around us, nor could we see far enough to discern any dry land. We commenced cutting down the smaller trees that were like poles, and with these poles, constructed a platform of sufficient dimensions to afford room for four men to lie down. Then another foundation of wet logs was made, on which a fire was kindled, and by the fire, we baked our bread and fried some bacon, which constituted our evening meal. A sack of flour was opened, a small place within it hollowed out, a little water poured in, and the flour mixed with the water until a dough was formed. Each man was told to provide himself with a chip large enough on which to lay the piece of dough, which was rolled out by hand, made flat, and then, having been placed in a nearly upright position against the chip in front of the fire, was baked on one side; then turned over and baked on the other. In the meantime, each man was told to provide himself with a forked stick, which he should cut with his jackknife, and on it to place his piece of bacon and cook it in front of the fire; thus each man became his own cook and prepared his own meal. There was no baking powder or other ingredient to leaven the loaf—not even a pinch of salt to flavor it. But the owner of each piece of dough was hungry, and, by eating it immediately after it was baked and before it got cold, it was much better than going without any supper. The following morning, the party resumed its journey, and met Mr. Winston coming out to find it. He had found the cook's camp, but at so late an hour that it was not possible for him to return that night.
CHAPTER XV.
A Hurried Round Trip to Minneapolis—Many Instances.
After leaving Grand Rapids about the middle of August, we saw very few white men for many months following. In October, on our survey, local attraction was so strong on part of our work, that it was necessary to use a solar compass. This emergency had not been anticipated; it, therefore, became necessary to go to Minneapolis to secure that special instrument. Philip B. Winston, afterwards mayor of Minneapolis, and I started in a birch canoe, and in it, made the whole distance from our camp on Bow String Lake to Aitkin, Minnesota, on the Mississippi, the nearest railroad station. We were in Minneapolis but two days, when we returned, catching the steamer at Aitkin, and going up the Mississippi to Grand Rapids, the head of navigation for steamboats.
Captain John Martin of Minneapolis, the well-known lumberman and banker, wished to return with us for his final fishing trip in open water, for that season. He fished successfully for a number of days, and, at the end of each day, personally prepared and cooked as fine a fish chowder as anyone would ever wish to eat. On the day of his departure, I took the Captain in my canoe, and landed him on the four-mile portage with an Indian escort who was to take him to Grand Rapids, whence he would return by steamer to Aitkin, a station on the line of the Northern Pacific Railroad.