Having sent the canoes on two days before, we supplied ourselves with packs, blankets, and provisions for a couple of days, and engaged an Indian guide, and landing at the mouth of Current River, on the northern shore of Thunder Bay, we worked our way along the line of the proposed road to Dog Lake. We just saved our daylight to the shore of the lake, where we prepared to camp. Our guide first cut off a quantity of the young shoots of the spruce-fir, which he strewed on a dry spot to form our beds, while, at his suggestion, we collected a large supply of dry wood for a fire. Our kettle for tea was soon boiling, and by the aid of our frying-pan, the most useful of all cooking utensils, the dried provisions we had brought with us were converted into a savoury stew, seasoned with garlic, salt, and pepper, and thoroughly enjoyed by us. Trevor pronounced it jolly fun, and declared that he should never grow tired of living as we then were doing. Never go across wild countries without a portable frying-pan, you can boil water in it, cool, boil, stew, fry, and even bake, without any other appliance than a frying-pan and a little fire and water. Our Indian guide, whose name was Swiftfoot, was so pleased with the way we treated him that he begged he might accompany us, and as he bore a good character for honesty and good temper and for being an expert and daring hunter and canoe paddler, we accepted his services. As he understood English fairly, and had already been a considerable distance up the Saskatchewan, we considered him a valuable acquisition to our party.
The next morning the canoes appeared. Having camped at no great distance from where we were, and having taken a hurried breakfast, we embarked.
“Take care,” cried Swiftfoot, as we stepped on board; and not without reason, for though accustomed to University eight-oars, we as nearly as possible pitched head foremost out on the other side of our frail barks, to the great risk of capsizing them and spoiling our goods.
Trevor and Swiftfoot went in one canoe, I with Peter and Ready in the other; and the crews, with stores and provisions, were evenly divided between us. Away we paddled across the lake, our Indians striking up a song of the character of “Row, brothers! row!” but not so melodious. All day we paddled, and camped at night. When we came to a portage we jumped out. Two men carried each canoe; the rest loaded themselves with her cargo and bore it on their shoulders half a mile, or perhaps two or three, or more, till smooth water was again reached.
On those occasions we sighed for tramways over which we could run swiftly with cargo and canoes. Every portage has its name, and so, indeed, has every point, stream, and isle, for ages the fur traders’ canoes have been traversing this country, and to these people every mile is known. We indulged in small tents for sleeping; but our beds were the hard rocks sprinkled with spruce-fir-tops and covered with rugs.
I have not described our canoes. They were formed of the bark of the white birch-tree, peeled off in large sheets and bent over a slender frame of cedar ribs confined by gunwales, which are kept apart by slender bars of the same wood. A thread called called wattap, made out of the flexible roots of the young larch-tree, is used to sew the sheets of bark together and to secure them to the gunwales, which have thus the appearance of an Indian basket. The joinings are made water-tight by a coating of tamarack gum put on hot, or by the pitch of the yellow pine. The seats are suspended from the gunwales so as not to press against the sides. The stem and stern are alike, the sheets of bark being cut into a graceful curve, and are frequently ornamented with beads or coloured moose hair. Ours carried six men each, and our baggage and provisions, and were so light that a couple of men lifted them out of the water and ran along with them over the roughest ground with the greatest ease. They are urged on by light paddles with broad blades, and are steered by another of the same shape. For several days we paddled on—making no great speed, however, for across lakes in calm weather we seldom did more than four miles an hour—when Trevor used to sing out, “Oh, for an eight-oar; oh, for an eight-oar! how we would make her spin along.” However, I persuaded him that we were better as we were—because, in case of being snagged, not having a boat-builder at hand, we should have been puzzled to repair her.
For several days we paddled on without meeting with any actual adventure, although objects of interest were not wanting during every hour of the day. We passed through the Lake of the Thousand Lakes and camped on its shores before beginning our descent of the river Seine. The night passed calmly. I awoke early: the stars were slightly paling, a cold yellow light had begun to show itself in the east, on the lake rested a screen of dense fog, through which a host of Indians bent on our destruction might have been approaching without my being able to discover them; landward was a forest equally impenetrable. Walking a step or two from the camp I heard a sudden rush. I started, and cocked my smooth-bore, but nothing appeared, and I guessed that it was a fox, minx, or marten, prowling close by, attracted by the remains of last night’s supper. From the expiring camp-fires a thin volume of smoke rose up above the trees and then spread lakewards, to join the damp misty veil which hid the quiet waters from view. Round the fires were the silent forms of the Indians lying motionless on their backs, wrapped in their blankets, like shrouded corpses stretched at full length. Two or three were under the canoes, and Swiftfoot had taken post in front of Trevor’s tent. As dawn advanced an Indian awoke, uncovered his face, and sitting upon his haunches, looked round from beneath the folds of his blanket, which he had drawn over his head. After a few minutes a low “waugh” from his throat made some of the others unroll themselves and begin blowing at the fire and adding fresh fuel. A few minutes were spent by the French voyageurs in prayer, and then the rest of the party being roused, the tents were struck, and our early meal, consisting of fried dampers and fish, biscuits, with hot coffee and tea, sweetened, but without milk, enjoyed. The canoes were then launched.
“No frying-pans, hatchets, or other valuables left behind?” sang out Trevor, who acted as commander-in-chief.
Each man examined the property committed to his charge, and all being found right, we paddled down the stream as usual.