Something in the proceedings of the evening must have displeased King, as he suddenly astonished us all by saying that he would not go with us. What the grievance was I never found out, but he was obstinate on the point. I had been relying on him for interpreter, and was rather annoyed at his refusal to go, especially as François, the best French speaker in the outfit, declared his intention of returning straight to Fond du Lac. Michel too was wavering, but finally decided to go, as Paul, who behaved very well on this occasion, steadily declared that he was quite willing to accompany me, and would carry out the promise that he had made at Fort Resolution to go the whole trip. These two then and myself, together with the five Indians, Noel, William, Peter, Saltatha, and Marlo (brother of Zinto), and twenty-four dogs hauling six sleighs made up the party that eventually started for the Barren Ground about midday on Sunday, November 11th.
King maintained his ill-temper till the hour of departure, saying that he did not want so many men and dogs in his lodge eating up the provisions that he had worked so hard to earn, and that the sooner we started the better he would be pleased. He used some particularly offensive language to me, but relented at the last moment and gave me his own hair-coat and a new pair of snow-shoes, of which I was badly in want. He also promised to do his best in the way of leaving meat caches along the course that we should follow on our return from the musk-ox country. I was rather sorry to leave the old fellow after all, as on the whole we had been pretty good friends while we lived together, and he certainly had great influence over the Indians which might have been useful during our difficult journey.
CHAPTER VII
That night we made an open camp in a bunch of pines on the south side of Lake Mackay, at which point we intended to load wood for use in the Barren Ground. We were much better found in all respects than on the last occasion, and having dogs with us should not be obliged to carry anything ourselves. We used the ordinary travelling sleighs of the North; two smooth pieces of birch, some seven feet in length, with the front ends curled completely over and joined together with cross slats secured with babiche into a total width of sixteen inches. A ground-lashing is passed along through holes in the outside edge of the sleigh, and to this is fastened a rough deerskin wrapper in which the load is stowed as neatly as possible and the wrapper laced on the top, so that in case of a capsize, which frequently happens, nothing can fall out. The traces are hitched on to loops in the front end of the sleigh, and four dogs put in the caribou-skin harness one in front of the other. The company officers have imported leather dog-harness with buckles for their own use between the forts; but I think for handling in really cold weather the caribou-skin, or better still moose-skin, with thongs instead of buckles, is preferable.
Our twenty-four dogs rejoiced in endless varieties of names, English, French, and Indian, some popular names introduced by the Whites being freely given without reference to sex or colour. For instance, in my own sleigh the fore-goer, a big yellow bitch, answered to the name of Napoleon, whilst just behind her came a black bushy-tailed dog La Reine; we had three Drap Fins, from their resemblance to the fine black cloth so dearly beloved by the half-breeds and Indians, two Chocolates of different colours, besides Cavour, Chandelle, Diable, Lion, Blucher, Royal, Bismarck, and a host of unpronounceable Indian names.
We were all dressed alike in coats of caribou-skin with the hair outside and hoods fastened up closely under the chin, and these we hardly took off day or night for the five weeks that we were out. Our hands were thrust into moose-skin mittens lined with duffel and hung round the neck by highly ornamented plaited woollen strings, or in the case of a man of little wealth with a more humble piece of babiche, but most of my companions managed to show a little colour in this respect. We rolled our feet in duffel and cased them in huge moccasins, of which we all had two or three pair; and as we were very careful in drying them every night before sleeping to get rid of all dampness caused by perspiration there was not a single case of frozen feet during the whole journey, although the big cold of an Arctic winter had now fairly set in. We used small snow-shoes about three feet in length, as most of the travelling would be on the frozen lakes where the snow is always drifting, and, consequently, pretty hard. One man, or in case of softer snow two, went ahead to break the road and the dogs followed in their tracks, or, if they showed any disinclination to start, were most unmercifully clubbed and cursed by name till they did so.
A big deer-skin lodge and a sufficient number of carefully trimmed poles had been brought up from Fond du Lac, as it would have been impossible to endure the cold and almost perpetual wind without shelter of any kind, but they had the disadvantage of greatly increasing the weight of our load. King had given us a little dried meat, but only enough for a couple of days for such a large outfit; the dogs alone required at least fifty pounds a day to keep them in good condition. We had the meat caches ahead, and hoped to fall in with the musk-ox before we ran out of provisions entirely. The danger of course lay in not finding these animals when we got far out, as the caribou had almost all passed into the woods and we could not hope to see any after the first few days. Our ammunition was rather limited, but with care we had enough to keep the muzzle-loading weapons supplied, and Paul and myself had a fair amount of cartridges for our Winchester rifles. We were obliged to wrap deer-skins round the levers and the parts of the barrel that our hands touched to avoid contact with the iron, which sticks to the bare skin in cold weather and causes a painful burn.
The next day was spent in cutting wood into short lengths and loading it on to the sleighs. In the morning Marlo was very ill from the surfeit of flour he had had in King's camp, but was well enough to travel a short distance in the afternoon, and we pitched our lodge in the snow, clear of all timber. Here I had my first experience of a winter camp in the Barren Ground.