The Pioneer Woodsman as He Is Related to Lumbering in the Northwest

by George Henry Warren

I was left alone in my canoe and must return to camp, crossing the open water of Bow String Lake. On my arrival at the main lake, the wind had increased its velocity, and the whitecaps were breaking. I hired an Indian, known as "the hunter," to help me paddle across the lake and up a rapid on a river flowing into Bow String, up and over which it was not possible for one man to push his canoe alone.

The annual payment to the Indians by the United States government was to occur a few days subsequently, at Leach Lake, and the Indians were busy getting ready to leave, to attend the payment. The hunter's people were to start that day, and he seemed to realize when half way across the lake, that, owing to our slow progress, because of the heavy sea, he would be late in returning to his people at camp. He said so, and wished to turn back, but I told him that he must take me above the rapid, which was my principal object in hiring him. After sitting stoically in the bow of the canoe for a few moments, he suddenly turned about, and, drawing his long knife, said in Chippewa, that he must go back. I drew my revolver and told him to get down in the canoe and paddle, and that if he did not, he would get shot. There was no further threat by the Indian, and we made as rapid progress as possible over the rapid, landing my canoe—his own having been trailed to the foot of the rapid. Both stepped ashore. Then he said in Chippewa, "Me bad Chippewa; white man all right"; and bidding me good-by, hurried off to his canoe at the foot of the rapid.

"The fire ... destroyed millions of dollars worth of standing pine timber". (Page [160].)

Once more, during the fall of 1874, I had to reckon with this wily Indian, the hunter, as will soon appear in this narrative.

Perhaps the most convenient pack strap used by the woodsman when on an all day's tramp, is one that is commonly known as the Indian pack strap. It consists of a strap of leather about three inches wide and about three feet long, from each end of which, a tapering piece of leather, either sewed or buckled to it, extends finally to a narrow point no wider than a whip-lash. Each of these added narrow strips is from five to six feet in length, so that the whole strap is about fourteen feet long when straightened out. A blanket or a tent is folded into shape, about four feet by six feet. This is laid on the ground, and the strap is folded double with a spread at the wide part, of about three feet, which is the length of the wide strap. The narrow ends are then drawn straight back over the blanket, across its narrow dimension, leaving the wide strap, which in use becomes the head strap, at the outer edge of the blanket. Then the blanket is folded from each end over the narrow straps, the two ends of which project out and beyond the blanket at the opposite side from the head strap. The articles to be placed within the blanket, which generally consist of small sacks of beans, flour, pork, sugar, coffee, and wearing apparel, and blankets, are then carefully stacked upon the blanket, within the spread of the two narrow lines of the pack strap. When this is done, the blanket is folded over, and the two outer edges are brought as near to the center of the pile of things to be carried within it, as is possible. Then the two tapering ends of the pack strap are brought up and over, to meet the opposite ends of the narrow straps, which, as has been explained, are either sewed to, or buckled onto the wide head strap. Drawing these ends firmly together puckers the outer edge of the blanket on either side, and draws the blanket completely over the contents piled in the center, and makes, ordinarily, nearly a round bundle. This load, or pack, the man then throws over his shoulder, onto his back, and brings the wide strap across his forehead, or across his breast, or across the top of his head, when he is ready to begin his journey. Before he has traveled long with this load, which weighs ordinarily from fifty to one hundred pounds, according to the ability of the man to bear the burden, he will be found shifting that wide strap to any one of the three positions named, and will have used all of those positions many times before the party as a whole, stops for a moment's rest.

I had taken with me, on going north on this long campaign, an extra fine red leather pack strap that I had had made to order at a Minneapolis harness shop. I had kept it coiled up, and carefully stored in my belongings, waiting for an emergency when the more common straps would no longer be of service. A number of times the Indians had seen this strap and had admired it, and, as it later proved, not always without envy.

One day the strap was missing, and I could find it, neither by searching, nor by open inquiry of my fellow white men, nor of the Indians, whom I occasionally met. On one occasion, while portaging my canoe to another lake, I found several families of Indians camping at the end of the portage. Among them was the hunter who has been previously mentioned. While stopping a moment for a friendly talk with the Indians, I saw protruding from under the coat of the hunter, nearly two feet of one end of my missing pack strap. I knew it so well that I was sure that it was no other pack strap. Nevertheless, I deliberated slowly what action I should take to recover the strap, not wishing by any possibility to make a mistake. Having surely concluded that the strap was mine, and that the hunter had not come into possession of it honestly—he having previously denied, when questioned, that he knew anything of the whereabouts of the strap—I decided upon a course of action. Going up quietly behind the hunter, and twisting the end of the protruding strap twice around my wrist, and grasping it firmly in my hand, I started with all my might to run with the strap. The effect was to make a temporary top of my friend, the hunter, who whirled about until the other end of the pack strap was released from his body. It was too good a joke, even for the Indians to remain unmoved, and the majority of them broke into merriment. The hunter at first was disposed to take it seriously but soon looked sheepish and ashamed, and tried to smile with the rest of his tribe, as well as with myself.

"One of the horses balked frequently". (Page [167].)