The Drama of the Forests Part 15

NORTHERN MAIL SERVICE

Chief Factor Thompson was the "real thing," and therefore not at all the kind of Hudson's Bay officer that one ever meets in fiction. For instead of being a big, burly, "red-blooded brute," of the "he-man"

type of factor--the kind that springs from nowhere save the wild imaginations of the authors who have never lived in the wilderness . . . he was just a real man . . . just a fine type of Hudson's Bay factor, who was not only brother to both man and beast, but who knew every bird by its flight or song; who loved children with all his heart--flowers, too--and whose kindly spirit often rose in song. Yes, he was just a real man, like some of the men you know--but after all, perhaps he was even finer--for the wilderness does nothing to a man save make him healthier in body and in soul; while the cities are the world's cesspools. He was rather a small, slender man, with fatherly eyes set in an intelligent face that was framed with gray hair and gray beard.

After the Chief Factor and his men had been refreshed with bannock, pork, and tea, pipes were filled and lighted and for a time we talked of all sorts of subjects. Later, when we were alone for a little while, I found Mr. Thompson a man richly informed on northern travel, for he had spent his whole life in the service of the Hudson's Bay Company, and at one time or another had been in charge of the princ.i.p.al posts on Hudson Bay, Great Slave Lake, and the Peace, the Churchill, the Athabasca, and the Mackenzie rivers. Among other subjects discussed were dogs and dog-driving; and when I questioned him as to the loading of sleds, he answered:

"Usually, in extremely cold weather, the Company allots dogs not more than seventy-five pounds each, but in milder weather they can handily haul a hundred pounds, and toward spring, when sleds slide easily, they often manage more than that." Then dreamily puffing at his pipe he added: "I remember when six dog-trains of four dogs each hauled from Fort Chipewyan on Lake Athabasca to Fort Vermillion on the Peace River loads that averaged six hundred and fifty pounds per sled--not including the grub for the men and dogs and the men's dunnage. Then, again, William Irving with Chief Factor Camsell's dogs brought to Fort Simpson a load of nine hundred pounds. The greatest load hauled by four dogs that I know of was brought to Fort Good Hope by Gaudet. When it arrived it weighed a trifle over one thousand pounds. But Factor Gaudet is one of the best dog-drivers in the country." Then, re-settling himself more comfortably before the fire, he continued:

"And while I think of it we have had some pretty fine dogs in the service of the Company. The most famous of all were certainly those belonging to my good friend Chief Factor Wm. Clark. He bred them from Scotch stag hounds and "huskies"--the latter, of course, he procured from the Eskimos. His dogs, however, showed more hound than husky.

Their hair was so short that they had to be blanketed at night. Once they made a trip from Oak Point on Lake Manitoba to Winnipeg, starting at four o'clock in the morning, stopping for a second breakfast by the way, and reaching Winnipeg by one o'clock at noon, the distance being sixty miles. They were splendid dogs and great pets of his. They used to love playing tricks and romping with him. Frequently, when nearing a post, they would purposely dump him out of his carriole and leaving him behind, go on to the post, where, of course, on their arrival with the empty sled, they were promptly sent back for Mr. Clark.

Understanding the command, they would at once wheel about and, without a driver, return on the full gallop to get their master. When coming upon him they would rush around and bark at him, showing all the while the greatest glee over the trick they had played him. He never used a whip upon them. No snowsh.o.e.r could be found who was swift enough to break a trail for those dogs and no horse ever overtook them. Once, while going from Oak Point to Winnipeg, Factor Clark's train ran down six wolves, allowing him to shoot the brutes as he rode in his carriole. Another time they overhauled and threw a wolf which Mr.

Clark afterward stunned, and then bound its jaws together. When the brute came to, it found itself harnessed in the train in place of one of the dogs, and thus Chief Factor Clark drove a wild timber-wolf into the city of Winnipeg."

"They must have been wonderful dogs," remarked Father Jois, "but it's too bad they don't breed such dogs nowadays."

"That's so," returned the Chief Factor. "Twenty or thirty years ago at each of the big posts--the district depots--they used to keep from forty to fifty dogs, and at the outposts, from twenty to thirty were always on hand. At each of the district depots a man was engaged as keeper of the dogs and it was his duty to attend to their breeding, training, and feeding."

"Speaking of feeding, what do you consider the best food for dogs?" I asked.

"By all means pemmican," replied the Chief Factor, "and give each dog a pound a day. The next best rations for dogs come in the following order: two pounds of dried fish, four pounds of fresh deer meat, two rabbits or two ptarmigan, one pound of flour or meal mixed with two ounces of tallow. That reminds me of the way the old half-breed dog-drivers used to do. In such districts as Pelly and Swan River, where fish and other food for dogs was scarce, we had frequently to feed both men and dogs on rations of flour. Some of the half-breeds would leave their ration of flour with their family, and count on eating the dog's ration while on the trip and letting the poor brutes go hungry, just because the dogs belonged to the Company. So we put a stop to that by mixing coal oil with the dog's rations and having them bated into cakes before the trip was begun. Such a mixture made the men sick when they tried to eat it, but the dogs didn't seem to mind it at all."

"Then kerosene is not included in the regular rations the Company supplies for its trippers and voyageurs?" I ventured, laughingly.

"Hardly, for in the Northland that would be rather an expensive condiment." The old gentleman smiled as he continued: "In outfitting our people for a voyage, we supply what is known as a full ration for a man, a half ration for a woman or a dog, and a quarter ration for a child. For instance, we give a man eight pounds of fresh deer meat per day while we give a woman or a dog only four pounds and a child two pounds. A man's ration of fish is four pounds per day, of pemmican two pounds, of flour or meal two pounds, of rabbits or ptarmigan four of each," said he, as he knocked the ashes from his pipe. I was afraid he was going to turn in, so I quickly asked:

"Which is the longest of the Company's packet routes at the present day?"

"That of the Mackenzie River packet from Edmonton to Fort Macpherson.

In winter it is hauled two thousand and twelve miles by dog-train; and in summer it is carried by the Company's steamers on the Athabasca, the Slave, and the Mackenzie rivers. Next comes the Peace River packet from Edmonton to Hudson's Hope, a distance of over a thousand miles.

In summer it goes by steamer, and in winter by dog-train. There's the York Factory packet from Winnipeg to Hudson Bay by way of Norway House, a distance of seven hundred miles. In winter it is hauled by dogs from Selkirk as far as Oxford House, and from there to York Factory by men with toboggans. In summer it is carried by canoe on Hay River and by steamboat on Lake Winnipeg. Then there's the Liard River packet and the Reindeer Lake packet. Each travels about five hundred miles by dogs in winter and by canoe in summer. The Moose Factory packet from Temiscamingue to James Bay goes by canoe in summer, but by men in winter. All mails in and out from Hudson Bay or James Bay to or from the next post in the interior, are hauled by men. Dogs are seldom used on those routes, on account of the depth of the snow and the scarcity of dog feed."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "There's the York Factory packet from Hudson Bay to Winnipeg, a distance of seven hundred miles. In winter it is hauled by dogs between Selkirk and Or ford House, but between the latter post and York Factory it is hauled by men with toboggans. All mails in and out from Hudson Bay to or from the next post in the interior are hauled by men. Dogs are seldom used on those routes, on account of . . ." See Chapter V.]

Though I well knew that packeteers did not carry firearms, I asked Chief Factor Thompson--just for the sake of getting the truth from him and giving it to the public:

"How does the Hudson's Bay Company arm their packeteers?"

"Arm them?" the Chief Factor laughed outright, "why, we always provide them with an axe."

"Firearms, I mean."

"Firearms! Why, they aren't allowed to carry firearms at all. It's against the rules and regulations of the Company. In the first place, packeteers are supplied with plenty of grub for the trip; in the next place, if they had a gun they might go hunting and fooling around with it instead of attending to their business; and, moreover, it doesn't matter whether the mail travels two hundred or two thousand miles, there is no occasion for packeteers to carry firearms, for there are no highwaymen and no animals in this country that would make an offensive attack upon them."

And in truth, in all that wild brigade there were no fire-arms save Oo-koo-hoo's old muzzle-loader; but then The Owl was a hunter by profession, and he carried a gun only as a matter of business. Now for the last twenty-five years that is exactly what I have wanted to tell the public. When one reads a story, or sees a play or a moving picture, in which characters bristling with firearms are set forth as veritable representatives of life in the Canadian wilderness, he may rest a.s.sured that the work is nothing but a travesty on life in Canada.

Any author, any ill.u.s.trator, any playwright, any scenario writer, any actor or any director who depicts Canadian wilderness life in that way is either an ignoramus or a shameless humbug. And to add strength to my statement I shall quote the experience of a gentleman who was the first City Clerk, Treasurer, a.s.sessor, and Tax Collector of Dawson City--Mr. E. Ward Smith:

POLICE AND GUNMEN

"The Mounted Police generally received word in advance when any particularly bad character was headed for the Yukon, and in all such cases he was met when he slipped off the boat. I remember particularly one case of the kind, as I happened to be on hand when the American gunman landed. He was a quiet enough looking individual and had no weapons of any kind in sight, but a close scrutiny revealed the fact that he had a particularly evil eye in his sandy-freckled face. One of the Mounties picked him out unerringly and tapped him on the shoulder.

"'Gat Gardiner?' he asked.

"'No,' said the newcomer. 'My name is Davidson.'

"'I happen to know you as Gat Gardiner,' insisted the policeman. 'Got any weapons on you?'

"'Leave go of me,' flared the so-called Davidson, all the veneer of civility gone. 'You got nothing on me. Let go, I say!'

"'I've got something on you,' declared the policeman, hauling a revolver from the hip pocket of the man. 'Carrying concealed weapons is against the law on this side the line. Back on the boat, you, and don't you dare put foot ash.o.r.e or I'll have you in jail. You go back the way you came.'

"And Gardiner went. I saw him leaning over the rail when the boat started on the return trip and he shook his fist at the policeman on the wharf and emitted a string of vile oaths. But he never came back.

"When the notorious 'Soapy' Smith was killed at Skagway, Alaska, his gang of desperadoes was promptly broken up and word came to Dawson that some of them were headed for the Canadian side. They were gathered in as soon as they crossed the line, denuded of weapons, and sent back.

Not one of the gang eluded the vigilance of the police.

"The law against carrying concealed weapons was a big factor in keeping the peace. Comparatively few men took advantage of their legal right to carry a revolver in sight. I remember seeing an open box in a p.a.w.nshop containing the most amazing collection of weapons I had ever set eyes on--revolvers with silver handles, pistols of carved ivory, antiquated breech-loaders, weapons of fantastic design, and, probably, of equally fantastic history, strange implements of death that had come from all climes and bespoke adventures on all the seven seas.

"'Where did you get the lot?' I asked the proprietor.

"'They all sell their shooting irons. No use for them here. I get 'em for practically nothing. Help yourself if you have any fancy that way.

I'll make you a present of anything you want.'

"So much for the wild Yukon of the novelists! Instead of lurching into the dance hall and blazing away at the ceiling, picture the 'old-timer', the hardened miner of a hundred camps, planking down his pistols on the counter of the p.a.w.nshop and asking 'How much?' That's the truer picture."

As part of my boyhood education was derived from the study of American ill.u.s.trated magazines, I was led by those periodicals to believe that the North American wilderness was inhabited by wild and woolly men bedecked with firearms, and ever since I have been on the lookout for just such characters. Now while I cannot speak for the Western States, I can at least speak for Canada; and I must now admit that, during my thirty-three years of contact with wilderness life, on one occasion--but on one only--I found that there was justification for describing the men of the northern wilderness as carrying firearms for protection. But does not the one exception prove the rule?

It happened near Stewart, on the borderline of Alaska, several years ago. I encountered a prospector who wanted to cross Portland Ca.n.a.l from Alaska to Canada, and as I was rowing over, I offered to take him across. When, however, he turned to pick up his pack I caught sight of something that fairly made me burst out laughing; for it was as funny a sight as though I had witnessed it on Piccadilly or Broadway. At first I thought he was a movie actor who, in some unaccountable way, had strayed from Los Angeles and become lost in the northern wilderness before he had had time to remove his ridiculous "make-up"; but a moment later he proved beyond doubt that he was not an actor, for he blushed scarlet when he observed that I was focussing a regular Mutt-and-Jeff dotted-line stare at a revolver that hung from his belt, and he faltered:

"But . . . Why the mirth?"

"Well, old man," I laughed again, "for over twenty-five years I have been roaming the Canadian wilderness from the borderline of Maine right up here to Alaska, and in all that time--with the exception of the Constables of the North-West Mounted Police--you are the first man, woman, or child, I have seen carrying a revolver. And I swear, old dear, that that's the truth. So now, do you wonder that I laugh?"

RECORD TRAVELLING

But to return to the Hudson's Bay Company's packet system, I asked Chief Factor Thompson:

"Which is the more important, the summer or the winter mail?"

"Oh, the winter; for, when inward bound, it bears the Commissioner's instructions to the district chief factors; and, when outward bound, it contains information regarding the results and the progress of the fur-trade, and orders for additional supplies."

"How many miles a day do the packeteers average on their winter trips?"

"Well," replied the Chief Factor, "I think the rate of speed maintained by our packeteers is remarkable; especially when one considers the roughness of the country, the hards.h.i.+ps of winter travel, the fact that the men must make their bread, cook their meals, care for their dogs, and, when on the trail, cannot even quench their thirst without halting to build a fire and melt snow. Yet the packeteers of the Mackenzie River mail cover their two thousand miles on snowshoes at an average rate of twenty-seven and a half miles a day, including all stoppages."

"That is certainly splendid travelling. Some of the packeteers, I should judge, have made great records; haven't they?"