Bob Hunt in Canada

by George W. Orton

"I don't know about that," said Pud. "That young Jean is some boy for his age. He can follow a trail just like the Indians we read of, and he knows all about the woods, animals, birds and all that. He's certainly like the Indians we read of in history."

"Yes," said Bob. "Jean is a fine specimen. He has all the good points of our ancestors, the real aborigines, without their failings."

"But what about Pierre? You were talking a long time with him, Bob," said Bill. "What was so interesting?"

"He was telling me of his winter hunting trips and he has had some thrilling experiences. He says that every year he gets ready just as soon as the snow flies in the fall. This generally means about the middle of November in this country. As soon as the earth is blanketed with snow, he gets his dogs and sleds ready and starts out with provisions to last for three months. Since his boy has grown up he takes him with him. Sometimes they make up a small party of three or four. It is always better to have two or three companions because Pierre says that it is not well to go alone into this wild, lonely region, for then a simple accident might mean death. He told me of several incidents where his life was in danger and only his quickness and presence of mind saved his life.

"Once, early in the spring, he had stayed too long in the woods. The trapping had been good and he had hated to leave while the skins were heaping up. At last a real thaw came and he had to start for Escoumains. He was about sixty miles north of here, he said, and he rushed along with his dogs wallowing in the snow at every step. When he came to the Port Neuf River, he found the ice just ready to go out. As he got in the middle of the river, it started to break up. He feverishly drove ahead and though he lost part of his load, he got to the other side. His son was not so fortunate, for on looking back, he saw him on a big ice float that had become separated from the shore. He yelled to Jean, who was then only fifteen years of age, and directed him what to do. The ice suddenly began to break up, and he followed his son down the river nearly a mile before he could get to land, and then he was on the wrong side of the river.

"Signing to him to stay where he was, Pierre had to retrace his steps to get his dogs and sleigh. He found them nearly frozen to death, for with the going down of the sun, it began to get very cold. He at last roused them and started down the river. He could see the water steadily rising and knew that it would be only a short time until he would have to get back to higher ground. By hurrying, he reached a point opposite to where Jean was. He yelled across and his cry was answered. He then started down the river, hoping that in some place the ice would still be holding. After going about two miles, the river narrowed and the ice had piled up into a jam. It was threshing around, munching and crunching like some giant monster. He stopped there and waited for the moon to rise.

"The night had become cold and the fore part of the jam seemed frozen into a solid mass. He determined to risk a crossing. Strapping everything tightly on the sleigh, he called to the dogs. They were frightened and he had to lick them to get them started. Four or five times on the way across he thought they were lost, but they finally got to the other side. Everything was drenched and he found himself in great danger of freezing to death, and he found Jean in almost as bad shape. Their first care was to find some rising ground. After slipping into several pools of icy water, they at last got to a small hill. With frost-bitten fingers and frozen feet, they both were almost helpless. By exercising the greatest determination, they at last succeeded in making a fire and they gradually warmed themselves.

"So far, their experience had been very disheartening. They had lost one load of furs, together with the sled and the dogs. In addition, two of Pierre's five dogs died before morning from their exposure to the icy waters. The next morning, they found themselves marooned on their little hill. The jam could be seen still holding and the waters had been backed up far over the banks. There was nothing to do except to wait for the jam to break. This it did that afternoon and the waters went out with a mighty roar, no doubt carrying devastation down through the valley. This made it possible for them to leave their refuge, but they did not dare do so at once for the thaw had continued all that day and it would have been impossible for the dogs to make any headway.

"After careful deliberation, the father and son determined to make their way if possible down the river about twelve miles to an old lumber camp. They started about midnight to take advantage of the frost that had put a hard surface on the snow. The dogs went along finely for they were not too heavy for the crust on the snow. Time after time, the two men broke through, frequently going up to their hips in water. They kept going and by dawn they had covered about half the distance. They again sought a hillock and once more thawed out their frosted hands and feet. Both suffered intensely because of the hardships they had undergone. They again started a fire going and got a little sleep for the first time in two days.

"They repeated their previous night's experience again and at last arrived at the lumber camp. Their troubles were then nearly over for they found a canoe there. This they determined to confiscate as they had but few provisions since most of their supplies had been lost on the sled that had gone under the ice. They rested up a whole day and then as the ice had practically all gone down the river, they set out. The river was very high and they came near swamping on several occasions but at last they came to the mouth of the river and reached their friends safely. Pierre stated that he lost two toes through the frost on that adventure. He said that it taught him a lesson for if he had not been so greedy for pelts and had come out when he knew he ought to, he would have had no trouble."