YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

IN NORTHERN LABRADOR

Naskapi

In
Northern Labrador
WILLIAM B. CABOT

With many illustrations
from photographs

RICHARD G. BADGER
BOSTON

Copyright, 1912, by Richard G. Badger

All Rights Reserved

The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A.

PREFACE
[T has been said by some one, within recent
years, that all the places now unexplored
were so miserably bad that no one would
care to have anything to do with them. The
caribou country of northeastern Labrador may
or may not be an exception to this rule. There
are worse regions to wander in. Moreover, the
people are to be considered. Not every one cares
for native races, but most wilderness travelers do.
I have myself found the Labrador people well
worth while.
-; The Indian names I have used need some ex
planation. .Assiwaban, the name of the fine
stream the George River people come to the coast
by, is pronounced As-si-waw-ban. It means
"Waiting place," from a deer pass near the coastal
height of land where the Indians camp and wait
for the migration to come from north. The river,
or brook, as the shore whites call these larger
streams, is best known to the bay people as Frank's
Brook, from the name of a one-time resident near
its mouth. These personal names given to bays
and rivers are more or less subject to change,
accordingly as the settlers change and succeed
one another. One year the river may be Smith's,
another year Jones's, and in due time, perhaps,
Robinson's. I have taken pleasure in rescuing
the names of some of these clear Indian rivers,
particularly the Assiwaban, and the N6-ta-qua-n6n,
from the ignominy of shifting white nomenclature.
Likewise I have used the Eskimo name 0-pe-tik
Bay for the Merryfield Bay of Low's map, partly

Vl

PREFACE

because the latter name is not used now, even by
the shore people, who have reverted to the ancient
designation, never in fact abandoned by them, of
Opetik. Mistastin means, as nearly as our clumsy out
door English permits, "Where the wind blows
everything off the ground," that is, moss and
trash and light soil.
The personal names are mostly explained in the
text. Kamoques is pronounced in three syllables.
In Ashimaganish the accented a is like a in father.
I am sorry to say that the name of old Nijwa is
incorrect, although Nijwa is something like it.
The meaning of her actual name is Snipe, yellow-
leg snipe. Ah-pe-wat, as well Ah-pe-w6t, means
an imbedded pebble, as in pudding-stone. "You
know the little stones that grow inside a rock?"
said old E., my chief source of information in such
matters, "They are Ah-pe-wat." As to Pi-a-shun-
a-hwao, who by the way is a worthy son of the
great chief at Ungava, old E. explained, "When you
shoot anything handy, that's Pi-a-shun-a-hwao."
The a in the first and last syllables of P.'s name is
long, as in fate; the other a might be o or uh.
One or two English names I have changed, for
reasons which are commonplace. One cannot be
wholly unrestrained when writing of living people.
The happenings related, however, if not exciting,
are at least true. I wish I had felt competent to
deal with the subject of Dr. Grenfell's remarkable
mission work, as well as that of the Moravians.
I owe much to the kindness of both establishments.
The map inserted is rather a sketch. The
coast is taken mainly from the sea chart, a poor
reliance. Inland the distances are only estimated,
and the courses taken with a small hunting com-

PREFACE

Vll

pass, but the longitude 64° 25', at the west end of
the portage between the Kanekautsh lakes, should
be a pretty good one. It fixes the position of the
George River ten or eleven miles west, a rather
important matter. I should not care, however, to
insist upon the exactness of even this observation,
as it is not easy to keep one's timepiece steady
in such rough travel as was involved. Still we
had three good watches carefully rated.
The Montagnais route by the No-ta-quanon is,
of course, not drawn to scale. Like all Indian
maps, it is made only to travel by. For this pur
pose, however, their maps are often better than
ours. One needs to be used to their method.
I have named the regular Indian height of
land crossing at the head of Hawk Lake, the
Quackenbush Pass; the fine trap headland at the
west end of Mistastin Lake, Walcott Dyke, and
the low but commanding hill at the outlet of
Mistinipi, and from which Dr. Howe and I took
observations in 1910, Howe Hill,

CONTENTS

PAGE
PREFACE CHAPTER I.— LABRADOR 1
An Old Country — Exploration — Bastian and
Richards
CHAPTER IL— NEWFOUNDLAND 13
The Way North — Hubbard's Plans — St. John's
— Mud Trout — Navigation — Battle Harbor
CHAPTER III.— THE ATLANTIC COAST 26
The Fishing — Hubbard's Journey — Geology —
The Missions — Ice — The Schooners — On the
Cambria
CHAPTER IV.— FANNY'S HARBOR 42
Cape Harrigan Island — Sam Bromfield — Ku-
talik — Davis Inlet
CHAPTER v.— INDIANS 54
Davis Inlet — At Jim Lane's — Opetik — A
Parting — Side Brook — Assiwaban River —
Voisey's Bay — Solitude — Un'sekat — The Big
Rattle — To Davis Inlet — Spracklin's — Bay
Travel — Naskapi — A Night Trip — A Lost
Steamer — Spracklin's — Back to Davis Inlet —
A Doubtful Position — The Dickers — With the
Indians — A Naskapi Parting — A Failing Ven
ture — A Piece of Pork — Un'sekat — For
Fanny's Harbor — Waiting for the Virginia —
Newfoundland
CHAPTER VI. — 1904 130
North Again — The Nain Passages — Assiwaban
— Trout — The Wind Lake — The River Val
ley — Rock Ptarmigan and Shrikes — A Wol
verene — A Long Valley Wall — An Indian
Visit — A Disturbing Picture — Down River —
Nain
CHAPTER VII. — 1905 159
Ice — Assiwaban — Ostinitsu — The Barrens —
A Bear — Exploration — With the Indians —
Caribou — Mistinipi — ' Windbound — House
Harbor ix

CONTENTS PAGE
CHAPTER VIIL— 1906 185
Spracklin's — Outfit — To Opetik — Opetik —
Old Edward — Off for the Inland — Wind —
Complications — Back to the Coast — A Long
Day's Paddle — Un'sekat — Davis Inlet — Sam
Bromfield' s — In Lane's Bay — Ethics on Trade
— Wolves — A Raised Beach — Dogs — A Start
from Nain — Richard — Across the Barrens —
Mice — Ostinitsu' s Camp — Guests of the Camp
— Spearing Deer — Indian Manners — An Ex
posed Camp — Disappointed Travelers — A Berry
Bear — Out to the Shore — Windbound at
Un'sekat — Caught by a Norther — A Hard
Night — Home Places — Farewell Days
CHAPTER IX.— 1910 263
Mistinipi Deer Crossing — On Mistinipi — Mos
quito Point — Tshinutivish — A Night in a
Naskapi Lodge — A Little Known Region — A
Naskapi Farewell — A Meat Gorge — Mistastin
— A Return to the Shore — The Last of Labrador
APPENDIX
Mice 287

ILLUSTRATIONS
Naskapi Frontispiece

TO FACE

PAGE

A Game Pass at Mistastin Headland

4

Waiting for Fish

12

Hauling a Trap

12

The Cape Race Coast

16

A Small Berg

16

Off Battle Harbor

24

Wallace, Hubbard, and Elson

28

Undercut Ice, Fanny's Harbor, July 22

28

The Cook of the Cambria

40

Overturning Ice, Near Voisey's Bay, igo^

40

At Red Point

48

Davis Inlet

48

Daniel's Summer House

54

Daniel's Dogs

54

From Daniel's House

58

Looking Across Davis Inlet

58

The Noahs Splitting Fish, Tuhpungiuk in Background

64

Un'sekat

64

Summer Ptarmigan

72

Winter Ptarmigan

72

Spracklin

80

Cod

80

Kamoques

88

Ah-pe-wat

104

Sea Trout at Un'sekat

112

Squaretail and Lake Trout, Assiwaban River, 1906

112

Jim Lane

120

A Bear, Bear Pond, 1905

120

A Finback, Hawk Harbor

128

The Beginning of the Pack, Cape Harrigan, 1905

128

The Wind Lake of the Assiwaban, Cabot Lake

136

Summer Wolverene

144

Wolverene, under side

144

An Indian Offering. Bear's Skull on Pole

148

A Weathered Boulder, Mistastin Lake

148

On the High Portage. The Steeper Part is Below

156

A Good Roof

156

Indian Camp in the Barrens

160

A Traveling Tent

160

Guests

164

XI

ILLUSTRATIONS TO FACE PAGE
Barren Ground Lake, Tshinutivish, 1906 16^
Off for the Shore _ 168
Bleached Horns, Mistinipi, 1910 16S
Ostinitsu 172
On the Assiwaban 176
White Moss Slopes with Caribou Paths, Mistinipi 180
Assiwaban River, from West of High Portage 184
A Mosquito Day. Dr. Howe in 19 10 184
Mistinipi igz
The White Moss Hills, Near Mistinipi igs
Nahpayo, Pakuunnoh, Ah-pe-wat, 1906 200
From the High Portage 200
Abram and George Lane 208
Sam Bromfield with Salmon, 1906 208
Enough for a Cache 216
Hair Skins Drying, Mistinipi, 1906 216
A Raised Beach 220
Making Pemmican and Working Skins, Mistinipi 228
A Windy Camp 232
Caribou 3j6
A Windrow of Horns 240
Long Pond, from Caribou Hill 244
Watching the Caribou. Lookout and Deer Crossing at
Mistinipi 248
Puckway 2^2
A Mistinipi Bearskin 256
Fleshing a Deerskin with Double Leg Bone of a Deer 256
Nijwa, Dressed wholly in Caribou Skins 260
A Food Scaffold 264.
Crushed Marrowbones from perhaps a Thousand Deer 264
At Davis Inlet 268
A Dead Fall, Mistinipi, 1910 268
Tshinutivish 2^2
In a Tshinutivish Lodge 2^6
Hair Skins, Mistinipi, 1906 2j6
A Tshinutivish Lodge. Broiling a Whitefish 279

XU

IN NORTHERN LABRADOR

ERRATA
P. 26 line 1, according to Gosling, the original name
of Battle Harbor was Batales, meaning boats.
P. 187, line 1, for white-headed read pike-headed.
P. 288, line 8, for broad-winged hawk read rough-
legged hawk.

IN
NORTHERN LABRADOR
Chapter I
LABRADOR
INTERIOR Labrador, if a country of severe
winter conditions, and not too easy to
travel in at any time, is not quite the desola
tion it is generally believed to be. Unavailable
for most purposes it is, even as regions of its
rather high latitudes go, and of course an utter
wilderness, but its name is worse than it deserves.
The peninsula is seldom cold in summer, and if
its rivers were less difficult it would be more widely
known as a field of travel ; and also, from its great
extent, as a nearly inexhaustible one. As it is,
however, the usual summer wanderer is not in a
way to make much impression upon its spaces.
Nor, after all, does such a country appeal to the
many. It is too elemental a land.
The long Atlantic coast of the peninsula,
rocky, berg sentineled, and barren, has failed
in the eyes of navigators from the first. To hardy
Leif Ericson it appeared a "land good for nothing";
he called it Helluland, "Flat-stone land," and
sailed away. Worse yet was old Jacques Cartier's
oft-quoted title, "The land which God gave
Cain"; a sincerity, touched by whatever of tem
perament, which brooks no counter. He spoke
as he saw. But it is to be remembered that Jacques
Cartier was born to sunny France, and saw only
the blasted outer shores of the peninsula — per
haps in one of its sunless, harder moods. It is
fortunately true that the exposed coasts of the
world are not always to be taken as an index

2 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
of what is to be found within, and the coasts of
Cartier's bitter word are faced to polar blasts
unbroken. The trouble with interior Labrador, the great
tableland, is less climatic than geological; it has
little soil. The last ice-cap, which left the country
only a little time since, as things go, ground away
the rocks, already old, to their hard, unweathering
base; and upon this foundation soil makes but
slowly. If there were enough soil almost the
whole tableland would be forested high.
Yet climate brought the ice-cap, and climate
has played its full part. The present period finds
the peninsula surrounded by cold seas, ice locked
for many months of the year, never ice free ex
cepting on the very south. The winds from all
shores are cold. What the aspect of the country
was when the broad interior sea from Hudson's
Bay south, the Central Sea, made for warmer
currents, none can now say. There has been time
and change enough for anything. This long-
enduring land, one of the oldest primal faces of
the globe, may have been the cradle of the human
race. It lies in moderate latitudes, little as this
may have counted in the past, for coal and
fern fossils are found still farther to the north.
England, with its scarce-freezing winters, lies level
to the east; the extreme of Scotland is broad off
the swirling ice fields of Ungava Bay, as high in
latitude, almost, as the farthest northern extension
of the peninsula. The northern limit of Labra
dor's main body is only the parallel of 60°, a
parallel which in many places cuts through settled
lands, through waving wheatfields often, around
the world.
In the earlier ages of the unchanging old

AN OLD COUNTRY 3
peninsula its territorial neighbors were only in
the building. Other lands, far and near, were made
and unmade, the sea came and the sea went,
while this old cornerpost of the continent held
its ancient place, not much changed in outline,
but wearing, wearing, wearing down through in
conceivable time. Wide were the transforma
tions of other areas of the hemisphere, and by
comparison rapid, a turmoil of continental forms.
So it is that the actual age of what one now
sees in the peninsula is hopelessly beyond reckon
ing. In valleys eroded far into the older rocks
have been found deposits of the more recent
Cambrian measures, laid down since the valleys
were completed. The valleys had been cut down
in previous ages by a process so slow that our
minds fail before it. Yet this "recent" Cambrian,
laid in after the valleys had reached their depth,
has been thought to date back twenty-eight
million years. Even then the tale is not told.
The under rock, the "basement complex" of
geology, is believed to have been formed from
sediments too; the real foundation is below.
Now the peninsula is mainly an uneven waste
of low hills and ridges. The glacial moraines and
the terraced drift of the valleys bear trees only
sparsely, save to the south and in low valleys near
the sea. So recently was the ice-cap over all that
the innumerable Indian-known lakes of the plateau
have not had time to drain themselves by cutting
down their outlets or to become silted up by
material from higher levels. Their life falls within
the historic old-world period. Six thousand years,
a negligible span geologically, may well cover
the time since the ice departed. Until then,
while the glaciers were still moving seaward, the

4 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
coast was flanked by bergs from its own inland,
and the stately procession which now passes from
Baffin's Bay along the coast may have been lockei
in the north, or forced to a distant offing. «
Exploitation in the modern sense has found no
foothold, save for a few lumber and pulp opera
tions in the outer valleys of the south. Minerals
may well appear on the western side, difficult of
access now, and there is iron in quantity on the
southern slope and in the central north, but the
archsean rocks of the main part of the country
are not very promising otherwise. In the north
east are recent rocks of more hopeful aspect,
occupying an area remarkably described by Regi
nald Daly, In Dr, Grenfell's "Labrador," Better
opportunities for prospecting on the western side
will follow the building of the Hudson's Bay rail
road from Manitoba.
The ultimate future of the semi-barrens, which
stretch away from the middle country to Ungava
and the polar north, may be as pasture ground for
domesticated reindeer, In the hands of some
northern nomadic race — perhaps Lapps or tht
present Eskimo-white strain of the shores, Meaif:
while the one product of the interior, not to be
wholly superseded even If minerals are found, is
fur, which will not soon fail. This Is its only yield
to the world. Most other regions of earth left
to the hunter races are being fast invaded, they
are more amenable to the modern purpose, the^
borders are approachable the year around. But
isolated Labrador, avoided to this day In the great
westward march of civilization, may yet be known
as the "Last of the Fur Countries,"
Whatever Its economic future^ the invitation
of the country to the wilderness traveler, the

A Game Pass. Bear and Caribou Path at Mistastin Headland

EXPLORATION 5
traveler with a taste for unworn places, is unusual.
Nowhere are such clear, unfished rivers, mapped
and unmapped, large rivers and small ; nowhere are
such white-moss hills as those of the semi-barrens,
velvet to the feet and fair to the eye. More than
all are the lakes. Its lakes are Labrador's glory.
Wide over the plateau they spread, along the water
sheds and In the higher valleys. Nowhere are
such lakes, — from the tiny "flashets" of the
Newfoundlanders, their mission only to reflect
the sky, to great MIchikamau and Mistassini,
with their far water horizons. Lake Mistassini,
the largest, Is a hundred miles long.
Nor Is it easy In this day to find the primitive
hunter life as unchanged over a large country as
in Labrador. Over their great territory the people
still wander at will, knowing no alien restraint, no
law but their own. The unwritten code of the
lodge and the open, the ancient beliefs, are still
theirs. Not a few districts of Labrador are still un
explored. None of them Is very large unless In
the far Northwest, but particularly in the central
area and the northern half of the peninsula gen
erally, there is fresh ground for the seasonal visitor,
the minor explorer, for a long time to come. It is
true that some of these regions are not easy of
access, for the rivers are strong and the distances
great, but there remain good regions which are
near and accessible. It may be taken that no
white man has ever crossed the country from side
to side. It would be a journey of ten or twelve
hundred miles. Yet, absurdly enough, several
of us who go Into the country are announced to
have "crossed Labrador," So with Mrs. Hub
bard, and Dillon Wallace, and Mr, and Mrs, Stephen

6 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
Tasker and myself. Corners of it some of us have
crossed, but in trips not exceeding half the width
of the main peninsula. There is a difference be
tween being two hundred miles from a base and
five. Before the time of Low, whose report came
out In 1896, it was difficult to get much informa
tion about the country, particularly the middle
and northern parts. There was not much trouble
about the southern slope to a distance east of the
Moisle, for the main rivers had been more or less
mapped. But the most Interesting parts of these
rivers, their upper headwaters and the lakes of
their watersheds, had been left untouched. In
the southwest, however, on the Saguenay branches,
and on the Outardes and Maniquagan, surveys
had reached farther.
There had been some other observations by
good observers, though lacking instruments of
precision. One of the best known of these ex
plorations was by Henry Youle Hind, In the early
sixties. He saw the fire-swept country about the
head of the Moisle, and was impressed by its
desolation. "Words," he wrote, "fail to describe
the awful desolation of the Labrador tableland."
Hind had imagination beyond most Labrador
travelers, and his gatherings about the Indians,
who naturally attracted him, show unusual illumi
nation. In those days they were being forced
from the ruined plateau to the Gulf shores, to
perish untimely from the damp climate and unac
customed diseases. Hind's book was long the
standard upon Labrador, and is still interesting.
The lower Hamilton was visited in 1887 by
Mr. R. F. Holmes, who brought away a good sketch
map of the river as far as Lake Winikapau. His

EXPLORATION 7
objective had been the Grand Falls, then assumed
to drop sheer from the plateau level of near two
thousand feet elevation to the level of the sea.
Deficiencies of equipment caused his early return.
The falls are really a little more than three hun
dred feet high.
In 1891 Cary and Cole of Bowdoin College
reached the falls, two hundred and fifty miles
above tidewater, followed closely by Henry G,
Bryant and Arthur Kenlston, who measured them.
While Cary and Cole were away from their boat
at the falls It caught fire and burned, and they
were left to make their way by a serious foot-and-
raft trip to the coast. Dr. Low happened to be
at Northwest ^iver Post when they came out,
looking the hard experience they had had. They
came swimming across the river, some two miles
wide, on a log in the remnants of their clothes.
Low afterward told Stuart Cotter, a Hudson's Bay
Company friend, that the unconcerned way in which
they took the whole matter was extraordinary.
In the Northeast occurred the journeys of John
McLean, about 1840. From Fort Chimo, on
Ungava Bay, he followed the Indian route to
MIchikamau, thence descending past the Grand
Falls to Hamilton Inlet. In 1838 he made a
notable winter walk from Chimo to Northwest
River, some six hundred miles, following North
west River itself for part of Its course, and re
turning by much the same route. The stark
lifelessness of the country at times was much the
same then as now. "We saw no game," was his
significant remark regarding the return trip. It
Is unwritten history that fifty miles from Chimo
the party gave out and were saved the fate of
Hubbard, who in recent years met his end by

8 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
starvation on the same route, only by the efforts
of an Indian, who had strength to force his way
to the post and send back relief. The parallel
with the case of Hubbard Is singularly near, and
quite Identical as regards the rescue of his com
panion, Wallace, A white man of each party
was saved by the devotion and endurance of an
Indian. The occurrences were sixty-seven years
apart. As to McLean's discovery of the Grand
Falls, there Is no reasonable doubt that they were
visited some years before his time by David
Dixon, or Dickson, a trader. This was told me by
his grandson, whose name is Hewitt, and who now
lives in Boston,
One more notable journey was made during
the later period, that of Father Lacasse, who
traveled with Indians in 1875 or 1876 from North
west River Post to Chimo over substantially the
same route, as far as MIchikamau, followed by
Dillon Wallace In 1905.
These explorers belong to quite a recent time;
their period Is the modern one of much writing,
of reports and books and magazines; therefore we
all know them. But It would not do to take
their part as being more than a small proportion
of the white man's wanderings that went on in
the peninsula previous to the time of Low, Traders
and missionaries, the latter the Jesuits and their
successors, the Oblate Fathers, and before all if
not through all the old Coureurs des Bols, traveled
and drifted with the Indians from the very be
ginnings of the early French period. Of most of
their wanderings, as of their experiences, no record
exists. They always traveled with Indians, and
the network of Indian routes extends to Ungava
and the treeless north.

EXPLORATION 9
Little less negligible for present purposes were
the voyagings of Hudson's Bay Company people
during the long period when inland posts were
maintained, for the employees of the company
were enjoined to silence about the country, and
what records they made are not available. Now
the only remaining post of the company in the
main interior Is at Nichicun, near the geographical
center and apex of the peninsula, and few, if any,
of the Hudson's Bay Company officers at the
shores are qualified to undertake inland travel.
The title of "Inland Man" Is all but extinct.
Such was the position of exploration to the
early nineties. Until then the maps of the main
part of the country showed few dependable
features. Some of the principal lakes were laid
down, usually wrong In place, shape, and size,
and often In drainage. Likewise certain of the
larger rivers, known by their estuaries at the
coasts, were almost an equal credit to the draughts
man's imagination, and a firm range or two of
mountains was apt to be thrown in. There was
some foundation of report for most of the features
shown, but to any one planning to travel in the
country the maps would as well have been left
blank. Now, chiefly in the early nineties, came the
real surveys of Low, to whose methods of accuracy
the main tableland was as a clean page. The
wide-spaced gridiron of his travel routes is shown
on his well-known map of 1896. His notable
journey from Lake St. John to Chimo by Mis
tassini, Nichicun, Kanlapishkau, and the Koksoak
remains the only diametrical crossing of the country
to this time. The pace had to be unremitting,
rainy days and Sundays alike, and the expedition

10 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
only just caught the Hudson's Bay Company
steamer in the fall, on Its way south. The voy-
ageurs of his principal expeditions were not
Indians of the regions visited, but Montagnais
from Lake St, John, Transported provisions
were depended upon to the high level, where fish
netted In the lakes considerably took their place.
It is to be noted that In the Interminable water
courses of the central area local guides were
absolutely necessary to his effective progress.
As one of his Indians told me in later years, with
the ring of appreciation, "We always had a guide!"
For the want of one. In a later year. Low had to
give up going from Lake Naokokan to Nichicun,
only a few miles' distance. He was several days
trying to find the outlet of Naokokan, the lake
being large and masked by islands, and finally
gave up and returned down Maniquagan River,
which he had just ascended. He was short of
provisions, else he would of course have made his
way through, a matter only of a little more time.
Afterward he learned that the outlet was very close
to the inlet he had entered the lake by. In the
matter of supplies a remark of his in Dr. Grenfell's
"Labrador" is worth remembering: "A good
supply of provisions means good-natured canoe
men, willing to go anywhere without a thought
of danger, whereas the suspicion of starvation
will change the same men into a discontented,
mutinous crew."
The most important work done since Low's
return is Mrs. Hubbard's exploration of Northwest
River, while scarcely less to be appreciated is
her good travel map of George River. A later
journey made by Mr. and Mrs. Stephen Tasker,
from Richmond Gulf to Chimo, a distance of

BASTIAN AND RICHARDS 11
nearly five hundred miles, required perhaps as
much hardihood as any that could be named,
being a single-canoe voyage in a nearly gameless
country, the men of the party shadowed, more
over, by responsibility for the safety of the
woman passenger. The voyageurs were George
Elson and Job Chapies, men to whom was due
much of Mrs. Hubbard's success In 1905.
After the completion of Low's work It was my
fortune to fall upon some of his old voyageurs at
Lake St. John, one of whom was John Bastian, a
Scotch Montagnais now near Murray Bay. He
was one of my two companions, in 1899, during a
midwinter walk to Mistassini Lake, on Rupert
River, the third member of the party being Robert
Richards, a Scotch Cree from Hudson's Bay, and
a remarkable man. He has died lately near the
Saguenay River. John, the principal guide, spoke
little English then, but a good deal of evening
talk went on about the interior and I came into
quite a little light on the country and people.
Including the Naskapi of the North, besides
getting together a small stock of Montagnais
words. The trip was my beginning In the Indian
North. Our falling together as a party, the two Indians
and I, was a chance happening, yet If only from
events which might be taken as in sequence, and
in some sort affecting various lives, the occurrence
might well have been ordered and meant to be.
That initial' trip was favored In all respects, and
though others followed in which one or both of
these men took part, up many rivers and over
many heights of land, we always looked back to
our first venture together as in a light of its own.
In a sort It was a first experience for us all, white

12 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
and Indian; we saw with the same eyes, and passed
Into a relation which none of us had expected.
By the time I shifted to fresh ground in the far
Northeast, and again needed their help, both men
had positions as guardians of club territories, and
I did not try to unsettle them. Some vicissitudes
would have been spared me if I had, and as the
world has gone with them their fortunes might
have been none the worse. At any rate this
narrative, largely that of a good deal of half-
solitary wandering, would have had a different
face.

Waiting for Fish

Chapter II
NEWFOUNDLAND
THE Atlantic Labrador, Labrador North,
begins at the Straits of Belle Isle, There
are two ways to get there, one by Bay
of Islands on the west side of Newfoundland, the
other by St, John's on the east side, and either
of these points of approach can be reached mainly
by rail, A long canoe, however, such as I took
In 1903, is an awkward piece of baggage on an
extended railroad journey, and not caring to watch
at day and night junctions to keep it from being
left, I held to the -sea Toute thoughout, I left
Boston on the Plant Line Olivette, the 20th of
June. There was a change at Halifax to the Red
Cross Sylvia, with a day or two of waiting, then a
run of some fifty hours to St. John's, and the rest
of the voyage to Cape Harrigan, nearly a thousand
miles as one goes, falls with the Labrador mail-
boat. I had It in mind to see the coast at least, and
form an idea of what could be done at some future
time in the way of a trip Inland. This might be
all that was practicable on a first random visit.
But what I was really hoping for was to get into
touch with the Indians of the Northeast, the primi
tive Naskapi of George River.
My old southern slope men had told of them,
with a touch of the superiority those with white
blood are apt to feel, as wild and unchanged.
Then Low, in his last report, had mentioned them;
according to him they lived about the large Indian
13

14 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
House Lake on the upper George, depended almost
wholly upon the caribou, rarely visited the shore,
and were more Independent of outside resources
than any other Indians of the peninsula. Some
of them came to a grown-up age without ever
seeing the shores. By Low's account the short,
rapid rivers of the eastern slope were unnavigable,
and the Indians came out to the Atlantic only in
winter, a few of the young men hauling furs on
long, narrow sleds and hastening back with the
few articles that they cared to trade for.
Indian House Lake itself had long seemed to me
the most promising objective for a summer trip
of any region of the whole peninsula. It was un
explored, being Indicated on the map only in
conjectural dotted lines. It was large, fifty or
sixty miles long and a good many wide, and aside
from Its distinction as a last retreat of the primitive
hunter, it lay In the heart of the northeast range
of the barren-ground caribou, and well within
the borders of the elsewhere inaccessible subarctic
barrens. Here the great zone of the Barren
Grounds, the Reindeer North, extending from the
Atlantic to Behring Straits, can be reached by the
convenient Labrador mailboat, which sails fort
nightly from St. John's, and the step from
ship to shore places one on the very verge of the
little-known plateau.
For a good many years previous to the winter
of 1903 it had appeared to me likely that a foot
trip could be made from the coast to the middle
George, but there seemed no way to be sure of
this without making a visit to the coast, and the
fact that the Indians found the country too hard
for summer travel gave my speculations a real
basis of doubt. If, early in 1903, I had not fallen

THE WAY NORTH IS
In with Dr. Grenfell In Boston, It is possible that
I should never have staked anything so precious
as a summer vacation on the doubtful chance of
getting at the Indians, still less on the finding
worth while a mere visit to the coast without
seeing them. But to my surprise and extreme
Interest Dr. Grenfell told me that he had seen
Naskapi at Davis Inlet in summer, even treating
some of them professionally ("veterinary surgery"
he called it, not being able to talk with his patients),
and he insisted, against my objections, that they
had some habit of coming out in summer, though
by what means he knew not. If I would go by
the mailboat to Fanny's Harbor at Cape Harrigan,
his friend, Tom Spracklin, would put me across
to the Hudson Bay post in Davis Inlet. This was
enough; as summer came on I got together
enough of an outfit to avoid being helpless after
leaving the steamer, and departed for St. John's
in time to get the first mailboat of the season.
The venture was only a reconnoissance; I had no
safe plans beyond getting eyes on the coast.
Halifax — quiet, seafaring, much fortified Hali
fax — : is a comfortable place to wait. The old
red-coated British garrison Is gone, much regretted,
but its works remain. The modern change in
warfare is here plain to the eye. The imposing but
grass-grown citadel on the hill, enormously costly
in its day, is out of the reckoning. At the present
time the real defense lies with certain inconspicuous
moundy places far down the harbor, with few or no
guns In sight. So also with the defenses of
Quebec and its obsolete citadel, which I have been
told cost thirty millions' sterling. Yet if, how
ever, as an officer once related, it saved Canada
to the flag, the account may have balanced. At

16 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
Halifax I bought an old relic of a greenheart salmon
rod, but all the better for the many salmon It had
fought, for three dollars.
While we were coming down on summer seas
from Boston, the Sylvia from New York had been
creeping on behind us In heavy weather. On the
bridge, when she came in at last, was Leonidas
Hubbard, Jr., with Mrs. Hubbard, George Elson,
and Dillon Wallace, also on their way north, I
had known they were coming, but they were
surprised at seeing me. If Mrs, Hubbard, pale
from the rough passage, had been told at
that time what her career was yet to be on salt
and fresh water she would doubtless have been very
unresponsive. But once on terra firma she forgot
the past, and we all wandered the town together
while cargo matters were going on.
In time we were off, our two Oldtown canoes,
twin craft, side by side on the deckhouse. They
were eighteen feet by thirty-three Inches by
twelve inches deep, Hubbard's weighed eighty
pounds, mine ninety-one. The unusual weight
of mine gave me sore thoughts, going alone as I
was; the boat had been ordered in Boston at
about sixty-five pounds, and came from the
factory too late to be changed.
In the two weeks before we reached Hamilton
Inlet we talked plans to rags, discussing at times
whether I should join the others on their Northwest
River venture. With more time I should have
done so, I feared that they would even have to
winter on the Ice-bound coast, as indeed they did.
Their chances would naturally have been better
if I had gone along, if only because a second canoe
would have given room for more supplies. As to
going with them for merely the first of their trip,

The Cape Race Coast

A Small Berg

HUBBARD'S PLANS 17
which was discussed, I should share only the heavy
up-hill stage of the journey without seeing much
that would be worth while, and perhaps have to
come back alone over long portages with my heavy
canoe. I should get most of the bad and little
of the good. The lower part of the larger Labra
dor rivers is usually uninteresting, while the first
heavy-loaded weeks of such trips with their fre
quent portages are apt to be of a back-breaking
sort and only justified by what follows In the
easier waters of the level plateau beyond. On the
other hand, Hubbard was not quite willing to go
on with me to the northern coast. This would be
risking his season's opportunity on rather poor
chances, uncertain as the practicability of getting
into the Interior from that side appeared then.
For more than a day from Halifax it was foggy,
and by the time it cleared we were well into the
great fishing waters under Newfoundland. Here
it may be said, the North begins. The air loses
its sea languor, the water looks clearer and colder;
the craft are open fishing boats, the seablrds are
plainly northern. The change of latitude, as we
fared toward Cape Race, was plain. Whether
it was the many boats with their two tanned sails
that most appealed to us — boats of fishermen
sawing endlessly with long arms, "jigging" for
cod in the early dawn — or the larger strange birds
that wheeled about or skimmed the smooth swell,
it would be hard to say. Slanting low over the bow
flew a large, uncanny bird, with no head or eyes
distinguishable, merely a sharpened spindle in
body, — black, or nearly black above, white below,
from end to end, "Two wings on a mackerel,"
sang quick Dr. C, who was standing with us, and
the simile was just. It may have been a Greater

18 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
Shearwater, Proper birds, such as ducks and
gulls, have necks and heads, or at least eyes and
a visible beak.
The cliffs along by Cape Race, the southeastern
corner of Newfoundland, are not very Imposing
from a few miles away, though high enough when
near. Deep water comes to their very foot.
Before the present lighthouse was built the place
was one of the dreaded spots of the sea, with a sad
history of wrecks upon Its uncompromising shores.
The great ocean pathways are near. Such was
the set of currents at certain junctures of wind
and tide that In time of storm and darkness a
passing ship was carried almost certainly into
the grip of that Iron-bound lee. No skill of the
mariner availed; lead and line showed no shal
lowing, the log gave no reckoning of the drift.
Without warning came the breakers and the fateful
cliffs — by many a ghast lookout seen all too late.
In the placid dawn a few fragments of ice
floated wide set over the silver. The level of the
surface seemed lifted far above the seas we had
left; the Impression of high latitude was remark
able. We were. In fact, In Arctic water, the eddy
and edge of the polar stream. The sun was still
far below the horizon In the northeast, passing
Imperceptibly around; It was hard to believe that
it would ever reach the sky line.
As we bore around the land there opened up,
three or four miles away, our first unmistakable
polar ice. It was only a bluish, Irregular boulder
of one or two thousand tons, touched by the east
light, but one who grew up under the spell of
Kane^ and Parry and Franklin sees with almost
unbelieving eyes such a messenger from the real
Arctic. We were come upon the actual polar

ST, JOHN'S 19
world. Where this worn berg first yielded to the
stream the north star was high to the zenith.
Men In skins, perhaps, had seen it slowly pass, the
wheeling burgomaster, the walrus and white bear
on the moving floes.
Further on, a fine cleft berg appeared close to
eastward, and more bergs during the few miles
to St. John's. The greater bergs stood near the
narrow entrance to the harbor, a grand barricading
fleet. This entrance Is scarcely distinguishable
from outside. When I asked Captain Farrel if
he could go In at night or had to wait outside,
he said with a turn of the thumb toward the tall
bergs seaward, "We have to go in! Better than
to bum around In that stuff!" So it might be,
but it looked a hard choice.
St. John's Is the portal of the north Atlantic,
and lives by its prey from the sea. Countless
cargoes of cod have come through its narrow gate
since Jacques Cartier, in 1534, found the Basque
ships established there. Countless have been the
seals, and the stream of salmon and sea trout and
the furs and skins of the North has never been
stayed. Now the sealing is not done by schooners,
but steam sealers. Small, strong, with sloping
bows to bear down the ice, they lie idle from spring
to spring, bunched In twos, threes, and fours
along the east side of the harbor. The city is
on the west side, stepping up on wide slopes. Its
buildings are wooden, to an extent, and not old,
being replacements after the great fires of recent
times. Now we were to learn something of the way of
northern mallboats, the way of steamers in ice-
bearing seas. The Labrador boat, it appeared,
might be back from north in a week, or she might

20 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
not, depending on the ice,— not the weather, but
the ice. At Tilt Cove, two days north, she would
be reported by telegraph, we would be notified
If we were near. We need not engage staterooms
In advance, there would be room.
There was nothing for It but to go fishing.
There seemed not very much else to do. On a
holiday just then eight hundred people were said
to have gone out by railroad for trout. By rail
we went to Whitbourne, some way out, then down
the Broad Cove branch ten miles as best we could;
there was no train that day. Mrs. Hubbard drove
with the luggage, the rest walked. We camped
at Broad Cove, near the telegraph, among many
shallow ponds. The country was burnt and deso
late. Many kinds of gulls were about, with little
obvious occupation but to exercise their remark
able breeding-time vocabulary. A cackling note
prevailed; almost all were weird or discordant.
They may be love notes, but — ! Early one
morning we were waked as one person by the
broken squawks of some large affair that flew
close over, Elson was sure It had a very bad pain.
It may have been a gannet. If they commit such
disturbances. These cries, over the desolate re
gion, were disquieting to the ear, a little as of the
underworld, and according too well with the rocky
burnt waste.
The streams were low and sea trout had not
come up. There were yellow-bellied trout in the
ponds, sometimes with black parasitic spots,
these apparently due to the low state of the ponds.
We caught fish enough for our uses, mostly from
quarter to half pounders, or less. They were
what the St. John's trouters call mud trout, which
curiously is their most complimentary term.

MUD TROUT 21
"They were real mud trout!" a fisherman would
say in climax, when describing his catch. In
truth they were the best, as far from a "muddy"
tasting trout as possible, I suspect them of being
a distinct variety, these yellow-bellied trout of
the shallow, black-bottomed ponds, perhaps the
Marston trout.
We had a good time of It, The Hubbards
had a tent on one side of the railroad bank and
the rest of us on the other. We scattered about
the different ponds. Aside from the gulls there
was nothing unusual in the way of wild life. Some
geese bred in the region, Wallace saw an otter,
and there were loons, also beaver — somewhere.
In a few days a message came from the Reld Com
pany, and the party divided, some for Harbor
Grace, which was very near, the others to see the
baggage aboard at St, John's,
We were off toward night July 2 or 3, with fog,
but made Harbor Grace In two or three hours,
where many passengers came on. In the cabin,
with five staterooms and a small ladies' saloon,
there were twenty-four persons, and we now had
light on the steamer's information bureau. What
we had heard was obviously true; there was no
need of engaging staterooms, for no more than a
berth apiece could possibly be beld In the pressure
of such numbers, and we did get the berth. It
would have been a hardy individual who would
have attempted to play dog In the manger with
a wholfe stateroom. There was, of course, a good
deal of camping about in chance places, and small
ventilation. For days it was foggy and little above freezing,
with a sea and growing wind from northeast.
There was no place to be warm. On deck the

22 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
vicious air went to my bones, and below it was
chilly too, with bad air. The Newfoundlanders
took it well, standing unconcerned about the open
deck by the hour while I was seeking the sheltered
places and was never comfortable. It was a bit
mortifying to find myself so distinctly Inferior,
though these people were younger and seemed an
unusually burly lot. But after a day or two,
happening to observe how one of my stateroom
mates was dressed, I saw a light. Getting into
my kit I put on all the clothes I had along, begin
ning with two good suits of winter underclothes and
ending with the usual overcoat. Coming on deck,
burly with the rest, I shivered no more.
Not many gulls appeared, but beds of shear
waters, locally "hagdowns," and other kinds,
stretched along on both sides at times, and single
birds skimmed the waves rapidly with their
pointed wings. They are never seen on land here,
though their season on the coast is the natural
breeding time of all the other seablrds. It used
to be thought here that they managed to lay their
eggs on the water, as swallows have been thought
to winter in the mud at home. Their breeding
place is now known to be in the far Antarctic.
They are sea travelers indeed.
Ice was visible at all times, save In close fog.
The navigation in such weather Involved much
more than familiarity with the coast, and the
working from port to port up the coast. In and out
and away in the fog and moving ice and at times
among islands and shoals, was an inspiring feat
to see. The voyage requires a native seamanship
beyond all taught navigation. Eighteen feet the
steamer drew. There are not many men who
could take a deep craft the thousand miles north

NAVIGATION 23
and back, with fifty stops each way, often In tight
little harbors, and not take bottom somewhere
along the way. Beyond the straits of Belle Isle the
charts are of little use; beyond Hamilton Inlet
there Is practically no chart. Even if there were,
the innumerable passages would be confusing in
fog, and the moving Ice islands of the open deeps
are beyond all charting. The weather may be
foggy a third of the time, as average runs go. Some
times the tide currents foil the log; slowly the vessel
creeps and the lead is plied. Perhaps the anchor
goes down. Or a blast of the whistle may bring
an echo from some known cliff, far or near, and
the place of the ship located. Sometimes the short
blast comes back instantly, R-r-rhatt! like an
angry blow, from the face of a berg just beyond
sight In the fog, and the screw reverses. In a
dense, brilliant fog, lying low, the blue sky may
appear overhead for hours. Nothing of that
year's trip was better worth while to me than
seeing Captain Parsons take his ship north and
back again, good weather and bad. Trip after
trip he does it, year after year.
The old Virginia Lake was a sealer, not com
fortable and not very clean. She was lost in the
spring sealing of 1908, crushed by the ice. Now
the larger Invermore, with her luxury of cleanness
and space, has taken her place, and one travels
more comfortably now than from Boston to Halifax.
The old boat was apt to be inhumanly crowded at
times, with no reckoning of the impossible second
cabin. Four persons in a very small stateroom
was the rule, generally with the port closed.
Tilt Cove was the last of our five or six stops
on the Island, then with thick weather and a strong
sea the captain headed wide to the northeast for

24 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
many hours, past the straits, finally turning west
to feel for the mainland. Toward night a long
liner or cattleboat slipped across our bows, ghostly
in the mist, and It was remarked that we were off
the straits, for the stranger must be making for
them. The passengers were largely skippers,
going to their fishing stations. Although they were
all familiar with the coast and could take a schooner
almost anywhere upon It, none of them paid any
attention to the log over the stern or noted the
courses. It was not expected of them. I had
been doing this very thing, thoughtlessly, going
often to the log with my pocket compass, but I
became conscious, from the reserve of the skippers,
that it was a breach of etiquette; Parsons winced
a little at first, but In such matters he was as easy
a man as ever walked a bridge. In the end he
offered me his charts, and I got a living idea of the
way his game — surely a man's game — was
played. We overreached to the north a little, as was
meant to be, and the guesses of the skippers when
we came upon the high Labrador shore were mostly
for Spear Harbor, a little north of Battle Harbor,
and as I remember they were right, even in the
fog. Battle was not far back.
Here Mrs. Hubbard left, to return south alone.
The voyage In the small uneasy steamer had left
her weak, and the desolation of the place, doubly
forbidding in the gloomy northeaster, confirmed
her depression at the parting with her husband.
If this were the nearer Labrador, what would it
be nearly a thousand miles farther north? Whether
this was her thought it was almost an inevitable
one; it Is certain that at the parting she expected
never to see her husband's face again. They had

Off Battle Harbor

BATTLE HARBOR 25
been married only a year or two. In the months
following she was hopeful, if not confident, but
in the end the premonition of that evening at
Battle was fulfilled.

Chapter III
THE ATLANTIC COAST
BATTLE was named for a fight between
Indians and Eskimo there in early days.
From there to Hamilton Inlet, some
hundred and fifty miles, are dozens of fishing
stations. Among them the mailboat follows the
winding passages with little outlook to the open
sea. Wonderful are the deep, shut-in harbors,
such as Punchbowl and Square Harbor; not
merely sheltered, but shut in by steep, rugged
hills. There are no wharves anywhere; the ship's
boat goes ashore, and shore boats come alongside,
these chiefly to see the doctor. Few come when
fish are plenty; there Is no time for ailing then, but
when there are no fish the doctoring takes long;
it seems as if the steamer would never get away.
Dr. Boyle turned none away, nor hurried; day
and night he was rowed to shore cases whenever
called, sometimes a distance of miles. Bad teeth
were common; many with tied-up, swollen faces
came aboard, sometimes to roar most lustily under
the forceps.
Some of the crews of young men pulling about
the harbors or coming in low with fish from the
cod traps, were not only handsomely built and
of great rowing power, but had a spring and reach
which I had come never to expect in sea rowing.
I believe that a crew could be found here which
with proper shaping up would win all races. They
might go through a good deal of rowing gear at
first. 26

THE FISHING 27
At that time the best of the employed people
about the fishing, perhaps even the sharemen,
found no fault If their season's work returned
them ^100 all told. This was all, there was no
winter work excepting odd jobs about, getting
wood and the like, with a little netmaking or
boatbuilding which ordinarily brought no cash.
Some men went to the mainland mines, however,
by the railroad. Latterly such resources, other
than fishing, have increased, and with winter
work a successful man may have an income of $200.
With comparative prosperity the old unfortunate
credit system began to decline, and the efforts of
Dr. Grenfell on the coasts about the straits have
hastened the same economic end. During the
period from 1903 to 1909 many small schooners
were built by fishermen formerly on wages, the
price of fish being high, and many did extremely
well, as things go in the island. What the bad
year of 1909 and the worse one of 1910 will lead
to, In abandonment of fishing for work In the
States and in Canada, is yet to be seen. There are
very many of the former fishermen — virtually
all Newfoundland men have been fishermen— in
Boston, generally doing well.
From Battle Harbor to Port Manvers, more
than five hundred miles, almost all the coast Is
masked by islands which extend out from five
to twenty miles In something like an archipelago.
The "runs" and passages are "drowned valleys,"
formerly with running streams in them, for the
coast was once higher than now. Generally the
passages are deep, the water line being well up on the
slopes of the former hillsides. These slopes of
the present shores can generally be trusted to
continue on down some way without change, and

28 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
schooners bear on sail in unknown waters with a
freedom astonishing to a stranger. Seventy or
eighty feet of water Is common in the harbors.
Outside the Islands the water may be shallower;
the debris carried out by the former glaciers from
the Inland ice-cap has levelled up the outer valleys.
Coming from south the Islands north of Battle
look barren enough, but have, after all, a certain
greenness, and even small trees and bushes in
sheltered places. They are gardenlikej in com
parison with the gray rock hills farther north.
Inland there Is a good deal of forest. As we passed
across some open bay a vista would open showing
most Invitingly the mountains and valleys of the
Inland country. Hubbard and I, much together,
looked with lingering eyes upon the far sparsely
forested hills. They were Inviting hills to the
feet, and save the fur hunters of the bays in winter
no white man had traveled there. To our eyes it
was the very unexplored land of our dreams.
Again and again we said: "If we were only there!
If we were only there, on those hills!"
At Indian Harbor we parted for the last time.
The tragedy of the expedition Is history now and
needs no telling. A good deal of undue criticism
has descended upon the means and doings of the
party. They meant to ascend the large North
west River, which discharges Into Grand Lake at
a distance of about two hundred miles from
Indian Harbor, but missed It and took a smaller
stream. They were traveling on the other side
of the lake from Northwest River, the mouth of
which is masked by an island, and as they had been
told by local people that It was " up at the end of the
lake," they kept on accordingly and went up the
lesser river which flows in at the end.

Wallace, Hubbard, and Elson

Undercut Ice, Fanny's Harbor, July 22

HUBBARD'S JOURNEY 29
The mistake of itself by no means involved
disaster to life; In truth the water dangers, at
least of the large violent river they meant to ascend,
would have been much the greater. They had
a gill net, the most serviceable means of support
in such a region, but it was somewhat worn and
soon went to pieces. As to the outfit generally,
I would willingly enter upon the same venture
with what they had, but it would be necessary
to have a good game year to get through to
Ungava. The alternative would be retreat. The
party happened upon a bad game year, and were
overtaken by early cold weather in a district
where native Indians have starved under similar
circumstances. It Is to be noted that winter is the
only starvation time in Labrador. They might
well have turned back a little earlier than they
did, but the main cause of disaster was their being
wind bound for nearly two weeks while the run
ning water behind them was becoming too cold
for trout, which had left the riffles by the time
they were on the home road, and starvation
followed. Their "Windbound Lake " was not large,
and fate alone could have brought about so
unfortunate a happening as their being held there
such a length of time. Not in a hundred seasons,
It may be thought, would the same thing happen
again. In lesser sort a certain ill fortune fol
lowed the party almost throughout, whatever
their skill and judgment, as when one has bad
cards through an evening, though the mathemati
cal chances may be a thousand to one against it.
Small expeditions into uninhabited regions of this
sort can only be entered upon on certain assump
tions, chief of which are that no one Is to be ill, no
one Is to have a serious accident, and on the whole

30 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
good luck is to attend — better luck than average.
Bad luck, especially if recurring, is inadmissible.
Suppose George Elson had turned his ankle fifty
miles out from Grand Lake on the return, or his
lumbago had laid him out for a week — the whole
party would have perished, almost surely. Sup
pose Carey and Cole, whose boat was burned
two hundred and fifty miles up the Hamilton, had
disabled an ankle. Suppose they had had any
approach to a run of bad luck after the boat was
lost. On the other hand, suppose that the Hub
bard party had happened to turn back a few hours
before they did, before the wind came up — which
might just as well have been — they would all
have come out at Grand Lake laughing, though
with an appetite for something besides trout.
In the matter of criticism let him who has lived
as long as Hubbard did on a desolate country,
who has kept as high a spirit, cast the first stone!
Most of us minor wanderers who have been
many times out have to thank fortune rather than
our wits that some unforgotten day or night was
not our last.
At Indian Harbor is Dr. Grenfell's northern
most hospital, kept open only In summer. His
work is appreciated by the fishermen, however
his co-operative stores are viewed by the traders.
He represents the modern humanities on a coast
where before they were peculiarly lacking. The
medical side on the coast now, what with the strong
staff of Dr. Grenfell, the regular doctor of the mail-
boat, and the year-round Moravians in the north.
Is fairly In hand.
At Indian Harbor and about the outer Hamil
ton Inlet generally Is a striking display of black,
eruptive rock which has forced Its way up through

GEOLOGY 31
fissures in the whitish granite. The mainland has
risen and settled in its long history, apparently with
the going and coming of its Ice-cap overload, not
to reckon in its immense losses of rock material,
these largely gained by the adjacent sea floor.
In places the raised sea beaches are as much
as five hundred feet above tide, yet the bottoms
of the present drowned valleys are well below
water. The fissures which have opened along the
coastal line of weakness are visible from Belle
Isle to at least five hundred miles north. The older
ones are filled level with black trap, planed even
with the granite by glacial wear. For miles, in
places, the black bands may be seen stretching
across the naked rock hills. The larger ones are
apt to be weathered a little below the bare country
rock, and the universal fertility of weathered
lavas is shown by the firm green moss which car
pets the sunken strip, as does grass an old road.
Where the fissure crosses a hill crest a square
notch may appear on the sky line, cut down ten
or twenty feet and twenty or forty feet wide.
The old trap seams were filled with the molten
upflow at a time when the present level was
blanketed by a great thickness of rock measures
now ground away. The later movements, for
everything Is still In motion, are accompanied
by the opening of "dry" seams, without the erup
tive trap. So fresh and clean are the Irregular
walls of some of these newer fissures that one
wonders if they have not moved a little over night.
Occasionally the movement reopens an old trap
seam, the black trap either sticking to one side or
being wholly loose in blocks. Inland there Is
no sign of these fissures; there the country rock is
solid.

32 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
The mailboat visits RIgolet, some hours up
the Inlet, either going north or coming south.
From the Hudson's Bay Company post there, the
Mealy Mountains rise Imposing In the southwest,
looking fully two thousand feet high. The inland
climate is warm In summer and there is a fair
show of light spruce on the hills west. Among the
trees, especially on high slopes, the caribou moss
gives a distinct whitish appearance to the ground.
The unattractive adjective "mealy" doubtless
came from this appearance, but the fine ranges
deserve a more sounding name. Their Indian
name also means whitish. Kenamou, the name of
the large river which drains the mountains from
south, means "Long Lake."
From Hamilton Inlet north the shores are
distinctly more desolate, but the water spaces
among the islands are wider, and fine bays stretch
away to the rivers of the mainland, where snow-
streaked mountains appear somewhat back from
the coast. Sometimes those mountains show
fresh snow in midsummer, as In 1908, when the
ranges north of Hamilton were dazzling white.
Beyond Hamilton the fishing stations are
fewer; and with the rising hills of Mokkovik and
Aillik comes the Moravian Mission field and its
sparse Eskimo population. All along from the
Straits the bay people who came aboard showed
traces of Eskimo descent. Everywhere was a
little of the blood, showing plainer to the north,
as the days passed, until at the missions there
appeared a good proportion of the unmixed race.
Hopedale, a little north of Mokkovik, is one of
the older stations, begun more than one hundred
and forty years ago.
Almost immemorial now to this strong breed

THE MISSIONS 33
of the shore is the devoted paternal hand which
has saved them so long from extinction as a race.
The work is less known and appreciated than it
deserves. If missionaries anywhere are entitled
to the crown of achievement In an obscure and
desolate region it is these. Their families, as an
example of peaceful living, dwell under the same
roof at each of the stations, a test of the human
relation which if only in the absence of outside
diversions involves rare qualities. The household
work is relieved by Eskimo servants, but the cook
ing not so. The way of Eskimo women is not the
way of fastidious housewives, and save for some
recourse to the white daughters of the bays the
more intimate work of the household is done by the
wives of the missionaries themselves.
Such peoples as the Eskimo are ever children
in the presence of advanced races. They are to
be led when they can be led, restrained by a firm
hand when for their good ; It is for the worse that
the means to this end are rarely ample. The influ
ences of summer traders and of fishermen, who are
generally traders too, must bring vexation to the
Moravian path. Their chief support comes from
England, where is the head of the order. A store
is kept at each mission, but the mission proper
receives nothing from it. The uncommercial na
ture of even the trading part of the establishment
Is shown by the fact that the balance for the year
Is usually a loss, to be made up by contributions
from abroad. A set price Is paid for fish; If the
market falls below it the mission loses, and vice-
versa, but the people are saved uncertainty.
The season was rather an early one, but snow
in streaks and broad patches showed frequently
along the slopes through July, Pieces of shore ice

34 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
drifted aground with wind and tide, and about
sea and shore were fragments of fresh-water ice
from bergs. To our unwonted eyes the luminous
turquoise and azure of the thinner forms and
underwashed caves were of almost startling beauty.
One must see to realize. Occasional massive
bergs were grounded along the coast wherever
the water was deep enough to let them in. Seven
eighths of their mass is under water. They are
apt to have long projections, underwater capes or
tables that cannot be seen In windy weather, and
the steamer keeps well clear. It is told that once
a large steamer was caught amidships by a rising
tongue of ice, as a berg turned partly over, and
raised bodily out of water. By one of those
touches of luck that Ice navigators have to have
she tilted forward, slid off, and was able to go
along. Summer bergs are rather well avoided.
A captain would lose his rating if he went near a
summer berg unnecessarily and anything hap
pened. Parsons is careful about them; it is fairly
safe to say that he will never lose his rating, at
least in that way.
The bergs are dazzling in the sunshine. In
a photograph, when taken near, water and sky
are apt to come out almost black by contrast.
One can scarcely give them little enough time.
As the summer goes on they become opaque, dead
white, in dull days, but a stab of the oar brings
up on hard blue Ice at the very surface. As they
waste or lose fragments they change level, perhaps
turn over, and the smooth, wave-washed band
and groove of their old water line appears slanting
at one angle or another with the water. One side
of the berg, revolved up from long submergence in
the warming sea, may be rounded and smooth,

ICE 35
with many clear, blue veins; these are regelated
fissures opened In Its progress down the uneven
Greenland valleys. Another face, lately rifted,
may be of sharp crystalline fracture, texture such
as only living crystals have. Indeed the bergs
are gigantic crystalline masses, pure elemental
separations, the like of which neither land nor
sea has to show In any other form.
Although, when close by, the tall walls and
pinnacles of ice running up one or two hundred
feet are wonderfully Imposing, the Ice is most
beautiful — and at times the tall ice comes near
to being very beauty itself — when distance
heightens the shadows and gives effect to its shape.
Some bergs appear fragments of elemental struc
tures, at least their squared blocks; in some
lingers the greater design, foundation, plinth, and
shaft, and, if indeed a little aslant, the icicled
cornice. Man's architecture in all its forms is
hinted at, and often the forms of living creatures,
natural or grotesque, but the spirit of the ice is
mainly architectural: the gods of the North had
their temples, and these are their fragments. The
bergs are Nature's Greek phase.
Yet, ice and all, the question whether Labrador
is not the safest rock coast in the world to navigate
is worth mentioning. This Is not merely from
its innumerable shelter places and deep channels,
ground out smooth by glaciers, but also In summer,
from its usually moderate winds and smooth sea.
A really heavy sea I have never observed north
of Belle Isle, not such as one sees on home coasts.
In this is compensation for having ice about,
for bergs do a good deal toward breaking up the
ocean swell. Although there may not be more
than four or five bergs In sight at one time, from

36 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
the steamer run, the polar stream is from one to
two hundred miles wide, and somewhere, beyond
sight, there are more and larger ones. The tops
of some of them look to be a half mile long,—
majestic, slow-moving islands, showing just above
the horizon. It Is small ice that can come near
the shore.
What the places, what the granite ways,
where such great masses may be launched without
breaking, may well be wondered. No matter how
even are the slopes, the outer edge of the ice would
naturally tend to float up, with tremendous
force, as it became submerged. Upon all the
glacial frontage of the long Greenland coast
there must be few places where the greater ice
islands can take the sea whole. Some one re
markable conjunction of slopes may yet appear
where the thing can happen, the more reasonably
that such bergs are not common. Yet, after all,
the structural resistance of such bergs is not to be
underrated. If floating two or three hundred
feet above water its total height would be near
two thousand feet, and its cross section nearly
square. The great tables of the Antarctic, larger
than any of the north, launch themselves success
fully In great numbers. Such marvelous debouche-
ments into deep water as prevail In Greenland
occur nowhere else In the northern hemisphere.
The great Alaskan glaciers discharge into shallow
water on the submerged continental shelf. There
Is no tall Ice on that coast.
With all the thousands of schooners that visit
the coast, and many larger craft, life Is seldom lost
by drowning. For one thing, so favorable are the
slopes that a craft is likely to drive actually
ashore and permit one to get out. Some schooners

THE SCHOONERS 37
are wrecked, they are mostly soft wood affairs,
but I am not sure that a summer wreck has brought
a drowning since I have been on the coast.
Long periods of calm prevail, more especially
in the north. The fishermen tell of glassy days
at Mugford, and north, which run on until they
lose time, becalmed, which they can ill afford.
Of course the open sea is never quite fiat, for unless
in strong land winds there Is always some heave.
When blows come on, as they do, it is not
an uncommon thing for a crew to put out all the
ground tackle available and get ashore, especially
when the alternative is lying In a harbor with
other schooners to windward. These, of course,
may drag and smash their way through the fleet.
This practice of abandonment has a doubtful
look at first; certainly It is not sticking to one's
ship. It must be a curious sight to see twenty
or thirty schooners tossing to the wind, deserted,
and the crews scatterCid among the shacks on shore
hugging the fire. But they are right. When there
Is anything better to be done they do It, and they
know. They know the sea, and whatever can be done
upon it they can do as few can. I have not sailed
much with them, but something of the ordinary
day's doings of the fishing schooners came to me
during a little run. In 1907. I wanted to get from
Hopedale to Davis Inlet, some fifty miles, and
after a good deal of visiting about such craft as
were in the harbor I got Captain Eliot, of Twil-
lingate, to take me as far on my way as he might
happen to go. His schooner was the Cambria.
He would not bind himself further, for he was
looking for fish, and his whole voyage, his year's
fortunes, might turn on his seizing upon some

38 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
chance opportunity to locate in a good "berth."
He could neither be bound to my course nor have
my concerns on his mind. But he agreed not to
put me off In a dangerous sea. Several other
northbound captains had refused to take me at all;
though well enough disposed, they could not be
bothered; mind and craft must be wholly unbound.
Captain Eliot towed out of the harbor with a
rowboat to a streak of light air outside and got
me on some twenty miles that day, to Windy
Tickle, through the region of islands and bays
known as Malta. Once during the forenoon,
while most of the men were below, "mugging up"
on hard bread and tea, there came a hard thump.
The men questioned Its being a rock, and mentioned
ice. No one went up, but It was remarked that
she struck hard. Presently they did go up — for
whatever purpose. Soon the skipper and another
came down, without comment, and we beat along
In the fresh breeze, the water land-sheltered and
flat. When I suggested to Eliot that he must have
sailed these waters many times, he replied, "No,
not as far as this," Still he knew pretty well
where to go, "When we have been a time or
two over a route we know It well enough to sail it."
He was watching everywhere for fish. Here
and there along the islands or in far bays were
lying other schooners. Off he would go in the
rising breeze, for a speck of a hull or a masthead
showing over some low island, down overboard
Into the boat towing behind, and away for a talk
and a visit. His purpose was to find out that the
other skipper was getting fish, if he was; the latter's,
as a rule, to conceal the fact If he could. No crew
on fish wants neighbors. Boats coming In from
the traps were scanned, boats jigging vainly to

ON THE CAMBRIA 39
find a "sign" of fish were noted. Nothing es
caped observation. A boat low down with fish
would be a certain find. But it was early in the
season, fish were scarce, and all the schooners
floated high. Eliot had not a fish aboard and was
keen accordingly. "What's the use of talking
with the skippers?" I asked, "they won't tell you
the truth." "I can tell pretty well by the way
they talk," he answered. Almost always, I think,
he could tell; there were a good many indications
to go by. So we went, often several miles about
to one ahead, finding nothing worth stopping for.
That night we lay in deep, precipitous Windy Tickle.
Setting off as the tide began to fall In the morn
ing we went fast upon rock bottom. The schooner
being light the matter was probably no worse in
any case than the loss of a tide, twelve hours, but
Eliot, acting with great energy and steadiness,
putting off a boat anchor and keeping his sails
drawing full, got off in twenty minutes. I had
thrown up my hands in his behalf, given up, and
told him so; the tide was falling and it seemed
useless to try long.
We went off the rock with wind and tide carry
ing us rapidly, the long rope to the boat anchor
paying out fast overside, spinning up from the
deck in jumping loops and coils that were dangerous
to go near. In order to save the line and kedge
a man sprang to the job of fastening a float to the
end of the line before it ran out overboard. Re
markable to see was his clever fence with the
snatching coils, risky to approach, and the time
was short; but before it was too late he actually
cuffed a hitch around the float without ever really
laying hold of the line, and the trick was done.
There had not been an excited word throughout,

40 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
unless from me, much less swearing. When I
talked, afterward, "We expect to be on bottom
some," was all the skipper said, though he owned
the boat.
After the kedge and line had been picked up
we moved for the open reaches beyond the tickle,
under full sail. But we were not done with old
Windy yet, I had gone below and was talking
with the cook In the large space forward when a
low boom came from beneath, followed by an
other a little louder, with some jar, though the
schooner kept on — we were rolling along on loose
boulders that lay on the level rock bottom at
the head of the tickle, I looked at the square of
light above at the top of the ladder with an impulse
to climb, then at the cook, who seemed steady
enough; and the cook so taking It, I did not care
to be the one to bolt. Several times we struck,
the "boom sounding rather Impressive In the
empty hold. After staying a decent time below I
went up, presently remarking to Eliot as to our too
easterly position, "There Isn't hardly water
enough for her at this tide," he observed, but
slacked no sail. Then we ran Into the open bay
beyond, Eliot had never been there before. When he
asked once where to go I could say little, having
been over that water only In small boats. "We
have mostly to go by the slope of the shores, in
places where we haven't been," he remarked,
and in answer to a question, "Yes, we often have
to go where we don't know the ground, when we
are beating." But there was no indifference;
going up the run there were always three pairs
of eyes, side by side, scanning the water ahead.
The intentness of the three lookouts never fal-

The Cook of the Cambria

r

^^

Overturning Ice, Near Voisey's Bay, 1905

ON THE CAMBRIA 41
tered, yet it seemed to me useless to look for any
but very high shoals.
In a few miles we drew up on a schooner ahead.
"There's a pilot for us," said Eliot. "Are you
sure that she knows where she is going?" I asked.
"He's a neighbor of mine and knows this ground,"
he answered. With shortened sail we followed
on in the track of the other schooner. I should
not have known that Eliot had been anxious, but
I now saw his relief. Five miles from Davis
Inlet the pilot schooner turned sharply, more than
half round, and went off down a long passage toward
the open sea. I happened to be just taking some
tea and hard bread below, but before I got started
on it Eliot put his head into the gangway and asked
if I was willing to get off there. I certainly did
not care to — the wind was strong and there was
an annoying slop on; moreover, I wanted my tea
and bite, my "mug-up," before going to work.
But Eliot had already done a great deal for me,
there was a question of sporting blood, and in a few
minutes I was overside and bobbing about in my
canoe, empty and rueful, but with honor saved,
the schooner off down the passage like a bird to
overhaul her pilot. My mug-up came two or
three hours later, with some Eskimo I knew, who
were camping on the "Red Point" below Davis
Inlet Post. It had been a vicious wind and hard
rowing, though happily the run was landlocked.

Chapter IV
FANNY'S HARBOR
EARLY the 8th of July, 1903, we ran fromHope-
dale to Fanny's Harbor, and I scrambled
up on Tom Spracklin's stage, to stay longer
than I then imagined. Tom stared a little, but agreed
to take me in — it was a matter of course. Afterward
the people of the place said I looked a poor risk,
for a person knocking about, and what with leav
ings from old malaria and the marks of a coldish
voyage with evil ventilation, perhaps it was so.
Cod had not come in, but Spracklin had a gill net
out for sea trout, and we did well for food.
Fanny's is on the east side of Cape Harrigan
Island, with a short, narrow entrance, which has,
of course, a rock In the middle. "There is always
a harbor rock," the fishermen say. The harbor
Is small and rocky, but the shore Is low to the west,
where are flat moss tundra and the shallow dead
ponds common to all bog places in the North.
Tom's literary Imagination, which I was to appre
ciate later, led him to remark on there being "a
million geese over there in the fall." There are
a good many, dropping in from north on September
days. The island is three or four miles across. Out
to sea are shoals and rocks, and here the pack
Ice makes Its July stand against all craft. This
was an early season and the pack just let us in,
stringing off to sea for good by nightfall. In 1905
it was strong the 22d of July, and the Virginia
had to turn back south, after some hours of heavy
42

CAPE HARRIGAN ISLAND 43
ramming; she had to go Into dry dock afterward
at St. John's, to touch up her screw. The western
hills of the island, gray and desolate, are six or
seven hundred feet high, and offer a good lookout.
Soon settled, I took my rifle and paddled over
to the level moss ground around which the hills
circle. The head wind was almost too much for
the single paddle, and my progress was made a
subject of depressing comment after I got back.
The island is Arctic enough, and was to me a
new utterly northern world, none the less so for the
bergs always In the offing. Just out of steamer
confinement, I walked with quick feet. What
looked like grass, in the lower lands, was moss.
Much of the footing was velvety and firm, even
on the bogs, though in places they were like bogs
everywhere. The early flowers were many, some
with stems an inch long, some less; the best quite
like our bluet in shape, but a marvelous pink In
color, and growing in dense patches the size of
one's hand. It is all but stemless. An Eskimo
woman has called it, from description, the Irok,
but there may have been a mistake of identity.
In damp places the white blossoms of the bake
apple or cloudberry showed above the moss, and
where It was drier those of the familiar service-
berry and of the northern blueberry, clinging flat
to the ground. On the hills were scattered bould
ers, lichened on sheltered faces, and little plats
and streaks of moss, though at a distance the hills
appeared to be of absolutely lifeless gray rock.
That there should be animal life in such sheer
desolation seemed out of the question, still less
that it should turn out a rabbit pasture, but near
the top of the highest hill I came upon my first
Arctic hare. They are Invisible enough when not

44 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
moving, even on the bare rock. It was as if one of
the smaller boulders had risen near my feet and
hopped away, and Its size was astonishing. It
would not do to say that it looked as big as a sheep,
whatever the fact, but It certainly was con
spicuous. Captain Bartlett, of the Roosevelt, tells
me of weighing them In the far North at sixteen
or seventeen pounds. A good New England fox
weighs only twelve pounds. The summer hare
Is mainly blue gray. In winter the tips of the
ears remain black, but the rest Is white, a wonder
ful long dense fur, white to the very skin. Our
common white hare of the forests is brown below
the tips of the hair, and the animal looks small
and ill clad by comparison. The Arctic hare lives
chiefly on the coast islands, where there is least
danger of wolves and foxes. Its superiorities
extend eminently to the table, but the beautiful
skin, handsomer to my mind that that of the
Arctic fox, is not durable, and brings only five or
ten cents at the store.
At about ninety yards the hare stopped and
I fired. He went off holding up his fore leg, and
for a long time I followed on, finally to a rock
pile, a natural refuge, I was sorry to leave him
maimed and took a great deal of trouble trying to
recover him. What puzzled me was that there
was no trace anywhere of blood or hair. I gave
up quite depressed, and It was months before I
learned that this hare frequently runs on two
legs, holding up Its front paws. The shot was
doubtless a miss, more probably as I had never
fired that rifle before.
A large gray loon I shot floated out with the
tide. There were horned larks blowing about
the rocks, and a small, slaty bird with a striped

CAPE HARRIGAN ISLAND 45
head. Between two small ponds a muskrat was
carrying grass or roots up a little brook. There
were some flocks of ducks out of reach, and many
gulls. Next to the hare the most notable creature
of the day was a great brown eider duck which fairly
lifted me by thundering up from between my feet.
It skimmed far over the tundra like a shearwater.
There were six eggs, laid on a filmy mat of down;
the nest was in a dry place several rods from water.
Although not getting the hare was a disap
pointment to me, one is not always sorry for
shooting badly, and so It turned out on a ramble
of the second morning. In a little cliff not far
from the harbor lived some ravens. It was a
convenient and prosperous location for them, for
their home ledge was near the harbor and stage,
and the leavings from the fishing kept them in
plenty. The fishing being scarcely on as yet there
appeared nothing of doubtful quality for them to
eat, and as some one had told me that raven's
meat was white and good, unlike crow, I thought
it a good chance to try one. They were not shy,
but the wind was coming In quick, pushing gusts,
and my first shot was a miss. The bird took no
notice, being occupied in balancing Itself In the
wind, with many flirts, but presently flew a few
yards to a sheltered shelf. As I prepared to try
again a second raven lit beside him, and I paused
to observe their meeting. Ravens have a dignity
absent In the crow, and the trait was manifest.
For some time I watched them. Their fine
unconsciousness of being observed, though I was
near and in plain sight, was as that of high per
sonages. I might not have existed, was not
even accorded notice as an intruder. I began to feel
uncomfortable. Their personable presence, their

46 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
affectionate courtesy toward each other, became
too much for my purpose, and before long,
thankful that my shot had missed, I took myself
away. That afternoon I went southwest a couple of
miles, across the low ground, and over a pass
which leads to the schooner anchorage in Windy
Tickle. There was a little scrub spruce in the
pass, and dwarf birch, the "deerbush" which
caribou like so well in summer. It is an agreeable
bush to the eye, with shiny, roundish leaves,
neatly scalloped, and the size of a dime. The bush
has the general habit of our home laurel and alder.
There had been quite a wind, and consequently
no trouble from mosquitoes. Turning back the
breeze lessened, moving with me at about my
own speed. I had no gloves or other defense, and
shortly mosquitoes began to be annoying. Before
long they had grown to a thick swarm, raging like
wasps. I had supposed I knew all about mosqui
toes, from many years of trout fishing. On a still
evening on the Berslmis we had, Indians and all,
been wretched In spite of ten punk fires going.
But now I became almost frightened. I had
been tired, walking all day after the inaction of the
voyage, and sorry to have to walk back across the
yielding bog land, but that matter of regret soon
vanished from my mind, and forthwith I took to
a hard run, thrashing with a branch and only
wishing that my other hand was not occupied
with my gun. Winded, I would turn and walk
slowly back into the breeze until good for another
run. Eight hundred of the enemy, as I reckoned,
followed into the canoe and kept the affair going
while I crossed the half mile of harbor. One has
to have both hands In paddling, unfortunately.

CAPE HARRIGAN ISLAND 47
I had had my lesson, — was "blooded." Never
from that day — and for some years following I
passed much of the summer in that country —
have I gone away from shelter without special
means of protection.
So with each new companion from south,
there is the same assurance based on past experi
ence, the same onset when mosquito conditions
arrive, the same half panic, and the acquisition
of a permanent memory. None ever forgets.
As to getting over the twenty miles to Davis
Inlet, Spracklin would have been glad enough
to take me, but was short handed. He thought
some of the "Labradorians" ought to come along;
however, if not, he would rig his jack, which only
needed a bit of calking, and get me over. Mean
while I talked to Bella Lane, over at Jim Spracklin's
place, across the harbor entrance; she lived in the
next bay and knew the way of things. Some
Naskapi were down in June, and would be in
again soon. Opetik Bay was the place, fifty
miles north. There seemed to be reason for
thinking they had some large lake not far inland
where they summered. The near lake, in the end,
proved a myth, but Bella, who by the way had
looks, was rather nearer right than most other
coast people I have asked about Indians. The
inland Is none of theirs.
I was rather restless, but in a day or two
Labradorians came. In the persons of Sam Brom
field and Sandy Geer, and would take me to the
Inlet. Their price was high, but they were stiff.
Long afterward Sam's conscience stirred, and he
told me that, in what was certainly a neighborly
spirit, Spracklin had coached him up, — the
American, was "bound to get across."

48 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
Yet at nearly the same time I must have qualified
as a neighbor too, In some imperceptible way,
for from that day on Spracklin's kindness to me
was unfailing. I fell often upon his hospitalities
and for years was as glad to see his face as any
on the coast.
It was late in the day when we got off, towing
the canoe In an uneasy slop. For a couple of
miles we were outside the cape, heading for an
Island called the Devil's Thumb, The name is
not so farfetched; the outline of a bent back
thumb can be Imagined, and for the rest the name
of his Highness and one part or another of his
anatomy Is always in order where rocks and out
door people are. The Thumb Is unspeakably
barren. It is the seaward member of the cape
group. Traces of lichen scurf show on the land
ward side, but facing the north the high, steep
hill Is utterly naked, a monument to the incon
ceivable winter gales. In a more tolerable latitude
the entire rock might yet be ground up for fer
tilizer, for it appears to the eye to be wholly of
whitish or pink feldspar.
For a while we were under the sheer cliffs of
the main Island, and Sam watched the puffs
nervously. Well that he was undersparred, as
all open-boat people go when their shores are high,
— and few shores are otherwise on the Labrador.
His two stout masts, unstayed, were ready to be
jerked from their sockets and laid down if the
"lop" became too sharp. The relief to a boat
In a seaway when this is done is remarkable.
The local rig is simple. The after sail generally
has a sprit and boom, the foresail a jsprit only,
and there is often a bit of a jib. Among the cod
fishermen tanned sails prevail. I have wondered

At Red Point

minmm

Davis Inlet

SAM BROMFIELD 49
If there was an esthetic side to this, beyond the
mere matter of wear. Certainly the eye does not
demand the white of sails in the North — more
white on a sea where shining ice and ghostly fog
are one's lifelong enemies — not near to, sit any
rate. White sails may be harmonious, but when
one is satiated with Ice upon ice, and thick weather,
and pickled air from the bergs and salt ice-pans
of Baffin's Bay, one doesn't mind resting the eye
upon a bit of warm brown here and there.
Sam's mind eased as we made the wider waters
and lower shores beyond the Thumb. The long
sculling oar took up the work as the wind failed
and talk began. Sam loquens is Sam In his glory,
altogether to my profit on that trip; It took some
chilly hours to get to the Davis Inlet Post, and by
the time we were there I knew a good deal about
the region. The conversation was pleasantly
personal in places, Sam waving gently at his long
stern oar and I bunched In wraps beside him. His
all-round gray whiskers gave him age enough to
make me naturally deferential. As we progressed
he looked down at me sympathetically. "I sup
pose you are about my age, about sixty?" A
little aback I finally came in, "Well — er, — not
quite that, yet." He acquiesced, perhaps doubt
fully. It was rather hard, for I still had fifteen
years to go. There was more tact in his question
than appeared, so I learned later. Only fifty-
five himself, he had placed his age higher to save
my venerable feelings.
We passed Kutalik or Massacre Island close
and were off the Mountaineers' Rock, a small
affair awash at low tide. Sam told Its tale. In
old days when warfare between the Eskimo and
Mountaineers of the Inland was unrelenting the

so IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
Eskimo of the neighborhood were camped on the
smooth moss ground of the western side of Kuta
lik, where their old rings of tent stones are still
visible. While the men were off hunting Indians
descended upon the women and children, killed
them all, threw them into the sea, and departed.
As the Eskimo men were returning one of them saw
something floating and threw his spear, finding
then that he had transfixed the boot and foot of
his own wife, killed with the rest. It was late
in the day, and the Mountaineers' Rock lay toward
the sunset, some three miles away. The Eskimo
noticed that the rock seemed higher than usual.
As the tide came to Its height they saw the Moun
taineers leave the flooded rock and paddle up the
bay beyond to the mainland. They had been
concealed under their canoes, placed close to
gether, and it was these which gave the rock its
unusual elevation. The Eskimo followed them
after dark, surrounded their camp, and speared
them to a man.
Some say that Eskimo men as well as women
were floating in the water that day. At all
events the story shows how things went between
the two races, from Maine, perhaps, around the
northern shores to Alaska. They have little taste
for each other to this day, although white influence
at the shores has ended the fighting. There is no
doubt that, man for man, with the primitive weap
ons, the Eskimo was at no disadvantage; but the
Indians acquired guns first and gradually forced
the shore dwellers out of the Gulf of St. Lawrence
and to the north.
The Indians' families, back on the country,
were probably not much exposed in the fighting,
while those of the Eskimo were, as they could be

KUTALIK 51
easily found along the shores. Yet it is not likely
that the initiative has always been with the
Indians. The two main causes of trouble among
simple people In the world at least have been
infringement of territory and woman stealing;
and the Eskimo, while at a disadvantage from
their shore habitat, have doubtless had some
share in aggression and its proceeds. There are
some Indian-looking individuals among the Es
kimo. The case of Indian-Eskimo adoption, on
the other side, is strong. Maine Indians show
Eskimo peculiarities of skull. A Cree I traveled
with in 1909 remembered that the old people on
Hudson's Bay used to tell of adopting Eskimo
women and children; and the practice, broadly,
of adoption from among their captives, even of
men, has been widespread among tribes of the
temperate area. The well-known fact that at the
height of their power the Iroquois tribes had as
much foreign blood, chiefly Algonquian, as of
their own, is in accord with the continental ten
dency. To-day, nevertheless, it is rather hard to
imagine a pure Indian of northeast Labrador
marrying an Eskimo. Their antipathy seems
racial. The Eskimo seems to regard the Indian
as a hateful predatory creature of the wolf or
panther kind. The Indian view Is not so easy to
assume; the Eskimo revolts him a little; his dirt,
his lack of dignity, his diet, his smell. The Indian
has given to him what to his own mind is almost
as bad a name as he could, for the word Eskimo
is Algonquian for Eater of the Raw. The Indian
is particular in having his food cooked.
Late In the winter the Eskimo of the coast go
inland for caribou nearly to the height of land,

52 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
but only in strong parties, so far as I can learn.
Many of the white or partly white shore people
tell of going into the Interior one or two hundred
miles, always in winter, but really they do not
go far, and "signs of Indians" are mentioned with
bated breadth. Some of the shore people are pretty
well acquainted with the individual Indians now,
for the latter are peaceable enough at the shore,
but a shore person hunting alone at a distance
Inland would, I think, be made uncomfortable if
discovered. Sam was wholly Interesting about the bay life,
the hunting for deer and seals, the trapping for
fur. The walrus is rare now; sometimes a strag
gler comes along from Chldley way, and sometimes
still a white bear. Black bears are common
game, though not too plenty; silver foxes, the
dream of all Labrador hunters, are caught in some
numbers, and Sam had had his share of them.
There were otters and some few martens in the
valleys near the coast.
Summer was given up to fishing. The mid
summer fishing was for sea trout and salmon,
which lasted until the cod came in. All the
people of the coast were hunters and fishermen,
there was no attempt at planting this ground;
they lived by rifle, net, and trap, only the cod
coming by the hook.
Open boating is apt to be a cold, long-drawn
matter in northern waters, and such was this voy
age with Sam. The last of the trip to the Irilet
rests much with the tide : if it Is falling, strong wind
is needed to get up; if rising, all goes well in any
case. The post, with its flagpole and row of white
buildings, shipshape as Hudson's Bay Company
stations always are, is backed by quite a hillside

DAVIS INLET 53
of small, dense spruce. The larger growth has
been culled out in the course of years.
At the landing we were met pleasantly by
Stuart Cotter, the master of the post. The arrival
of the winter's mail, which we had brought along,
was an event hardly second to any in the Hudson's
Bay Company calendar. Cotter made little ex
pression as we handed it to him, but in truth was
a little dazed at finding his hands actually upon
It. He was a young man, a bachelor withal, and
had many friends In the outside world. As we
stood on the wharf, the back of his neck became
pretty well covered with large mosquitoes, — the
post is a fierce place for them, what with fresh
water, grass, and dogs. I told him about them
as we passed up from the wharf, but the tension
of the occasion, the coming of the mail and a
strange visitor together, was too much; uncon
scious, he carried them all into the house.

Chapter V
INDIANS
WE talked until one In the morning, though
I reminded Cotter more than once that
he had not opened his mail. During
the rest of the night I waked enough once or twice
to notice a crack of light under my door coming
from his room. Referring to it at breakfast it
turned out he had been reading his mail all night
and had not gone to bed at all! His predecessor
at the post was not otherwise, he could not sleep
the night after getting his annual mail. This
for Cotter, a strong young fellow of thirty, who
ought to sleep well under any circumstances, was
rather notable; but, after all, winter is long any
where north, and more than long in such a place
of limited society.
We had sea trout of two or three pounds,
tasting between winninish and brook trout, for
breakfast, and barren ground caribou for
dinner, killed in winter and kept In a snowdrift
still visible across the run; the venison was par
ticularly good. Alongside the cold-storage drift
was a conspicuous vertical fissure up and down a
cliff, accepted as a convenient noon mark, being
exactly south from the post. The "run" lies
east and west here, and Is just a sea mile wide.
Now came real travel. I should have had a
sad time that year without a canoe; there was not
another on all the coast from Belle Isle to Chldley.
It was hard to get Into the Interior as it was, for
want of help. This seemed strange to me, for
54

-^^^^^'f'f'

,^ ^iM

Daniel's Summer House

Daniel's Dogs

DAVIS INLET 55
there were enough people along, all hunters; but
even now, after seven years' visits to the coast,
there is only one person, and he a boy, whom I
should think of taking Inland. The worth-while
men are busy fishing In summer, and at best have
no taste for the heat and flies of the back country;
still less, and this is a serious matter, for the evil
presences of Eskimo theology. Under all, more
over, is the feeling that the Indians regard their
presence in the country with disfavor.
There was a good deal of discussion as to what
could be done, and in the end Cotter turned me
over to John Oliver for safe conduct to Opetik
Bay, where the Indians were likely to come out
soon. They thought a man up there named
George might go with me. In this they spoke
rather faintly, but I felt hopeful enough; any
human with legs could at least go along and be
company; I should see a little of the country
anyway, and need not risk missing the Indians by
going farther than we could trace out their usual
route. Oliver, my present boatman, was a half
Eskimo, of a good sort, way-wise from having seen
the world, possibly too much of it, with a party
of natives who had been exhibited at the Buffalo
World's Fair and in European capitals. Tips of
real gold had not spoiled him as a seal hunter,
and he was a good companion.
Travel goes much by tides in the calm summer
days. We dropped west with a current along the
run for a few miles before dark to the summer
hut of an Eskimo named Daniel, for the Moravians
have given their people Bible names along here.
More lately, and better counseled, they are bringing
in the native names again. We went ashore.
Sleeping in an open boat Is not so bad, but things

56 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
ashore promised better, and my confidence in the
housekeeping of Mrs. Daniel — Mrs. Daniel Noah
It was In full — was not misplaced. The little
round-faced daughter was winning and pretty.
A sealy flavor prevailed, not disagreeable in moder
ation. One's first-time approach to a really
unmodified Eskimo In a warm day is apt to be a
staggering experience. Small sea trout, split
and gashed, were drying on a line; the larger ones
were salted and sold to the post. Fish spawn,
like slim strings of dried apples, was hanging about,
and a bunch of small caribou horns decorated
the gable.
The floor was the smooth rock, a good bed for
us visitors.. Cracks in the walls let In plenty of air,
and for the first time since leaving St. John's I
had air enough. Intentional ventilation is rare
In the northern world, for mosquitoes would come
in with air in summer, and cold In winter; the word
ventilation is unknown.
Trout, of course, of shining memory, were the
breakfast, with bread and tea. A number of
beautiful young dogs met us outside, fairly leaping
over each other at the sound of Daniel's voice.
They quieted down, scattering about sleepily in
the sun, and mosquitoes began to settle upon them.
Relief came, however, in a pretty way. A hand
some sparrow, the White-crowned, flew down, and
hopping up to a dog whose head was conveniently
low, cleared every mosquito, one by one, from his
face. The dog did not move, though he might
easily have snapped up the bird. The animal's
face done with, the bird jumped upon its out
stretched body and rambled over it, leaving no
mosquito behind. The Eskimo call the bird
Kutshituk, "fly eater,"

AT JIM LANE'S 57
Daniel went along with us in his own boat to
his winter house, some seven or eight miles,
cracking away now and then at the loons with a
worn-out .44 rifle, and shooting very badly. His
house is a log house, on a passage spoken of as
Daniel's Rattle, where rock cod are abundant
in winter, and where, no less important to an
Eskimo, all the winter travel of the coast passes
the door. A rattle, by the way, is a passage where
the current Is so swift as to be noisy. We nooned
at Jim Lane's place, Opetik Bay. He, like
other people along, objected to taking pay for his
hospitality, being only too glad to have company,
but I prevailed in this; it would not do for me,
who might not come along again, to leave them
the worse in pocket for my passing. Among
themselves the meals with each other may balance
up in the long run.
While we were eating, Jim came in and asked
If I wanted to see a white partridge. Turning out
with the camera I found a willow ptarmigan
walking about, unconcerned save with the manage
ment of a new-hatched family. She paid no
attention to people or dogs. At a distance of
thirty or forty feet I stopped with the camera.
"You can go nearer," said Jim, "she won't mind
you." Indeed she remained perfectly unconcerned,
and my last snap was taken at six feet. Jim said
she had been about the place for some time.
Considering the natural nervousness of hen birds
with chicks I thought the showing of fearlessness
remarkable, and a light not only upon Jim's ways
but those of his dogs. Jim looked his part, but
he must have had a wonderful relation with those
high-tailed Eskimo dogs. Such dogs snap up a
cat or other small creature in short order ordi-

58 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
narlly, and by reputation are a savage lot; but
after this episode and that of the Kutshituk I
began to have views of my own.
Wind carried us against tide five or six miles to
George's, where the family were salting away trout
at the rate of a barrel a day, fetching four dollars.
The very small house was -placed upon an island
rock, to be away from mosquitoes, if somewhat
vainly. Skins of loons indicated the prevailing
kind of waterfowl; Opetik Is one of their favorite
places. On this coast everything birdlike is eaten,
loons, gulls, owls, and guillemots. We had had
eiders' eggs at Lane's; at this place there were sea
pigeons' eggs, better yet. The pigeon, merely
a little black diver, produces not only a large su
perior egg, but so much meat and such good meat
that Its being about everywhere is surprising.
Its neat webbed feet, done In red, and used as a
tail in flying, together with the white patches on
its wing coverts, lend it quite a distinction when
in the air. It nests in holes among the rocks, high
above water, and turns white In winter.
George doubted taking on much of a job,
but would go along to William's, up the bay, and
we would talk it over. We were there, at the head
of the bay, before night, at the foot of picturesque
bare hills and mountains rising toward the in
terior. William (Edmunds), a virile part Eskimo
whom I have always liked and respected, could
speak pretty good English, and that evening we
talked over all things. He was getting trout and
some salmon, but said his place was not as good
for fish as that of his brother David in Shung-ho
Bay, which we had traversed without crossing
over to the house. David caught in good years
eighty or a hundred barrels of trout, and In marks-

From Daniel's House

Looking across Davis Inlet

OPETIK 59
manship, hunting skill, and personal strength
was fairly king of the region. He and Lane were
peers In a way, and old hunting companions.
David had been known to put his sled after a
running herd of caribou and kill seven with seven
cartridges while dogs and deer were doing their
best. Wonderful shots are some of these part-
Eskimo bay men, who use the rifle on seals' heads
and waterfowl from their uneasy boats.
We canvassed the matter of going inland.
William ought to have known the Indian route
well, but whether he gave George the benefit of his
knowledge is doubtful. The Indians generally
came out at William's place and left their canoes,
taking his sailboat the rest of the way to the post.
He or his son would do the navigating, and by
virtue of sails, oars, and their familiar knowledge
of tide currents, the Indians paddling in numbers
when necessary, night or day, they commonly
made fast time. Sometimes they made a stop at
Lane's. His sister, Mrs. Tom Geer, who lives
there now, tells how well the Indian women cook,
on the rare occasions when they come to the coast.
George finally agreed to go as far as I cared to;
and off we went in the morning. "I'm in a canoe!
I'm in a canoe!" he sang, between funk and ex
hilaration, as we moved away from the group at
the landing; it was In truth his first canoe ride.
The tide took us two or three miles up to a little
stream called by the Indians Mushauau Shebo,
Barren Ground River, and we had a good start
by luncheon time, when our leisurely meal was
graced by an excellent piece of bear meat William
had given us to start on. George was one of the
few white men of the region, trimly built, of a
sailor's handiness, and withal talked well about

60 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
the concerns of the coast and the various families
of the bays. He had traces of descent, as if there
had been better stock somewhere back. The
stock and speech of the region are mostly Devon
shire. Some of the firstcomers, who married
Eskimo women and took up the best bays, may
have been men who were turning their backs on a
past. "Most of our people had to leave Eng
land," remarked George easily.
Here the lower ground had trees, chiefly spruce,
and the portages between some small lakes were
tangled and without a visible trail. The going
seemed bad to me after the regular Indian paths
of the southern-slope rivers I was used to. Caribou
paths were everywhere. The last of the migra
tion had passed north about a week before in their
usual way, first the does and young over the hills,
afterward the old stags through the valleys. In
all my time In the country since then I have never
observed such beaten paths. Sometimes they led
our way and we followed them, always to have them
split up before long and disappear. We camped
at the head of the last lake, on a good beach, where
Indians had had fire before us.
From there there was no boatable water for
some miles, all was rough land work; the valley
was hot and mosquitoes active. The canoe
weighed ninety-one or two, and with the paddles
and a few odds and ends stuffed in carried at not
less than a hundred. The other luggage was
not light; we had to double portage the way, and
took even three loads each over the rougher places.
Until the third day, for fear of effects on George's
enthusiasm, I did not dare to let him carry the
canoe; after that, as he had done pretty well,
and as I thought he would see by that night

A PARTING 61
that it would be easier to reach water ahead than
behind, I gave him his chance at it. When night
came the place where we happened to camp was
the farthest point he had ever been to in that
direction. It was evident that not more than
three or four miles ahead there must be a stream,
but as to the Indian route we had become uncertain.
Talking at William's, George had professed to
know just where the Indians went, but now he
owned that he didn't know, and I was decidedly
sharp with him. There were a few signs of
Indians along, but nothing to show regular travel.
The night went well, at least for me. Before
breakfast I had explored ahead for a mile, found good
travel, and returned very cheerful. George was
wholly unresponsive and pretty soon began to
talk; his voice quavered. He had "laid awake
until the birds were singing," thinking about things
ahead. His boots were thin; his shoulders and
neck were cut by the canoe; his family might be
In trouble; the fishing needed him; it was hot, and
the flies were bad. Finally, and there were tears
in his voice, "You will go over to the river! and
then up to the big lake! and then there is no telling
where you will go!" Here his voice reached too
high a pitch and broke. It was certainly a bad
funk. After I told him he could go back if he
wanted to his voice gradually recovered, and he
said something about taking my rifle for his pay!
The final touch appeared when he remarked that
he had only agreed to go for a day or two. This
was just too much, and walking up to him with
two fists I induced him to take it back. He was
a poor thing, and probably did more work for me
those three days than In any three days, or six,
before or since. His neighbors told me afterward

62 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
that his Idea In starting out with me was to come
into ownership of the rifle after the trip had failed,
a good rifle being something like a fortune there. '
_ He departed, and I felt truly better, though
being left alone in such a place is an awkward
thing. There seemed nothing for It but to keep
along to boatable water. At least I had every
thing I wanted, and plenty of time.
Making up a pack about equal to the weight
of the canoe, and abandoning the rest of the outfit,
I took the load ahead a few hundred yards; then
going back to the canoe I carried It on past the
pack for a distance and so on In alternation. Thus
the pack and canoe were never very far apart and
not difficult to find. When carrying, one's eyes
are so shut In under the canoe or so held to the
front by a head strap that one does not see much
by the way, and if the rear pack is very far back
its location may easily be lost in bad ground.
It was something of a hard day, with the heat
and mosquitoes and a few loose sand banks to
climb; but like Crusoe In his lone scrape I had
also my blessings — peace and a good appetite,
and now and then a rest, with a bit to eat and a
pipe. Occasionally through the day I stopped and
gave a long whoop, for the benefit of the Indians,
If any were passing in the valley.
About four, I came out unexpectedly on a
high escarpment over a little winding river, two
hundred feet below; a goodlier sight never cheered
a tired portager. The way the canoe slid down
that high sand bank on Its own bottom was not
slow. The stream Is known to the shore people
as Side Brook, but at that time I supposed it to
be what is known as Frank's Brook, the river of
the Indians. That night I slept under the canoe

SIDE BROOK 63
near an Indian marked tree. It rained gently
and the mosquitoes for a good way around came
under too, although they did not get inside my
good net. The canoe made a sounding-board
and their screeching roar in the pent-up place
was almost unendurable. At such times it is
hard to shake off the fear of their finally getting
at one. Their vindictive yells are beyond all
wolves. ^^We are going to get you!" Is their
burden. I woke many times with nightmarish
starts, and made a poor night of it.
Cutting a pole in the morning I made seven or
eight miles upstream, caught some trout at a falls
and lunched. So far the river had a firm velvet
bottom, with some three feet of water— wonderful
poling. The valley was now close, with thick
alders, and I was able to find out whether the In
dians traveled there. Examination of the tangled
banks showed that they had not, and I was in a
quandary, but finally looked about for a high ob
servation point. A mountain at hand looked des
perately bushy, and was steep, but on getting to It
I struck a perfectly easy deer path leading all the
way up. The outlook, my first wide view of the
inland, was memorable. Coming from west was
a broad, fine river that evidently the Indians must
follow, with bold hills to the south and the escarp
ment of a high plateau dropping into it from
the north. Not far southwest, upon the stream
I had come up, was a beautiful round lake two
or three miles across, set deep in the hills; not
far below this lake the river turned about north
and slid smoothly but white down a slightly slop
ing rock face some fifty feet high. The extreme
western horizon was notched by a rock-walled lake
of the larger river, where the cliffs had impressive-

64 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
ness even at the thirty miles distance, and there
were high ridges far beyond. This was all the in
terior country I saw that year, still It extended more
than half way from the coast to the height of land.
The lake at the head of the small river was so
tempting that I thought of nothing but getting
up to it and setting out my little gill net to see
what was in It, and going back down the mountain
I portaged the half mile of alder banks to the head
of the rapids. In the course of the nasty double
trip I lost my axe, and not caring to spend much
time looking it up, I left the place without it. At
any rate I was well over the worst ground on the
way to the lake, and sat awhile resting and watch
ing some good trout slapping about in the smooth
water at the head of the rapid. It is a little
curious, by the way, that In these streams of size
the trout seem to prefer the smooth water above
the falls to the pools below. That evening they
were good to see, clearing the water here and there
with assuring frequency. But as I meditated upon
my situation it came to me that I was in a fair
way to miss the Indians altogether If I went on.
The lay of the country was such that while they
could approach the coast from almost any direction,
and would be hard to find at best, this particular
stream led from a pocket In the hills which was
quite out of their course. There was some chance
of my meeting them somewhere nearer Opetik,
but the sure way was to go back to Davis Inlet
and wait. This conclusion was not to be avoided.
Rather Ill-naturedly I retraced the hard little
portage, dropped down river until ten o'clock,
when the sun was well down, and made a sky
camp, i.e., boiled a kettle, and lay down on the
mossy ground alongside the fire. The night was

The Noahs Splitting Fish, Tuhpungiuk in Background

Un'sekat

SIDE BROOK 65
clear, there was a white frost, and the mosquitoes
slept through as well as I. It was a night for a
king! There was no real darkness on clear nights;
one could always see the place of the sun at mid
night. Always, when it was clear, the northern
lights were visible, moving and pausing, and in
many weird forms. This Is their latitude; in the
far North they are rare. To one alone in the
wilderness they are strangely affecting.
To the Indians of the inland they are spirits
of the departed ; their people who have gone before
are dancing in the sky. Some have heard the
rustling of their wild figures, perhaps in truth.
Once again they rush and gather,
Hands around they swing together.
Robes are traiUng in the skyland.
The people's belief Is not strange. If any mani
festation of the inanimate has the aspect of the
spiritual, it is this presence of the northern nights.
Fine weather persisted, to my great advantage
when I reached the larger waters. There was not
much^land life; the trip had been nearly birdless,
but now along the stream there were some few
species. A white-winged crossbill and Canada
jays of the darker sort were plain to identify.
A lesser sheldrake appeared sitting on a rock,
and there were birds of the finch or siskin kind
about the spruce tops. All the portages seemed
bad; a half-mile one just below where I first came
to the stream I remember as annoyingly rough
and tangled. I suspect that now, used to the
country, they would seem pretty good; still I was
doing with hundred-pound loads, which are some
thing to a person lately from town, and more
than have often fallen to me since.

66 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
The matter of bad footing becomes important
when one Is alone, for an Injury from a fall is
perhaps the accident most to be dreaded. Water
dangers are hardly as Inevitable, at least good
judgment, which, moreover, Is not called for con
tinuously, meets most water situations well. But
any footstep in bad deceptive ground may cause
a disabling fall to a heavily loaded person. In
the case of two men together the water danger is
the greater of the two. Accident and illness are
not pleasant subjects for the lone traveler to
think of. Enough things have happened. There
was old Jock Knight, a trapper on the Magalloway,
in Maine, who "laid out" In a hut on what is now
"Jock's Pond," forty days with erysipelas. "I
didn't mind dying so much, but I didn't want
to be eaten afterwards by the wild animals! I
had fit 'em, fit 'em all my life and didn't want
them to eat me." He was drowned, finally, when
alone. There are tales enough of the sort. The
pack is perhaps the most prevailing enemy of the
lone traveler, who In winter almost always walks on
the Ice, and a man through the ice with a pack on is
badly off. Once, though this Is another story,
while dragging a deer alone on the ice of a Maine
stream, and looking long at the high top of Katah-
din, I walked into a perfectly plain open hole.
Luckily the water was only four feet deep.
Yet, on the other hand, few realize how different
is the method of the man who is out alone from
that of the same man when he is in company.
Alone, he Is deliberate, careful, circumspect; in
company comparatively hasty and heedless, his
senses apt to be clouded by conversation. The
number of persons, chiefly professional hunters,
who are habitually much alone In the wilderness,

ASSIWABAN RIVER 67
Is very large, yet I believe their serious accidents
are very few in proportion, perhaps not one in
ten; surely far fewer than among men who do the
same things with companions. Still the old rule
of the Narragansetts, mentioned by Roger Williams,
"Do not travel far alone or without a weapon,"
is a good one, as all Indian rules are.
Indian lodge poles and winter scaffolds at the
head of the rapid mentioned indicated snow six
or seven feet deep. The scaffolds were placed on
the tops of small trees cut off and projected
enough so that a wolverene could not climb over
the edge. Below the rapid the stream was very
twisty for seven or eight miles and the gravel bars
yielded to sand. It was early in the season; a
little later I could not have passed without having
to wade down the shallows.
Unexpectedly I emerged from between high-
cut sand banks and floated out upon the wide main
river, deep and clear and the bluest water I ever
looked into. After actually scraping on a sand
bottom so long it seemed like going off into the air.
This flne river was very wide, in truth this part
was its tidal estuary, although the current moved
well and the water was perfectly fresh. After
being so long shut In I felt a sort of shyness at
being run out Into the open, at finding myself
all at once well out on the wide, full-volumed river.
Lower, near a rocky point, I shot a large loon with
the rifle and at last had meat.
From Side Brook It was only three or four
miles to the mouth of the river. A bar extended a
mile or two Into a great bay, with endless boulders
and endless gulls upon them — blackbacks and
herring gulls. They made great uproar as I
turned seaward on the half tide. The open sea

68 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
was all of twenty miles away. Far away, just
inside the coast line, the water horizon at the en
trance of the bay was broken by a pointed conical
Island, at that distance nearly hull down. It was
a marvelously calm, dreamy day, yet cool, such
as only that coast knows. There were ducks in
every bight, white-wing coots and sheldrakes;
sea pigeons skurried about, and the only sound over
the broad inlet, after the gulls had ceased their
cries, was the recurring hum and splatter of wings.
Near ten miles down was the Kudlituk, a land
mark perhaps one thousand feet high; its north
east corner is square and rises perpendicularly
from the talus to a great height. It is one of the
least mistakable landmarks of the region. A
hundred white-backed elders were sitting along
Its base on large boulders. As I cahie on they
would jump off like bullfrogs, bound up again from
the water and off on the wing. It was a funny,
unbirdlike performance. Not one, I think, flew
directly from his rock.
As Opetik is chosen of the loons, so Is this greater
and even finer bay the place of that prince of
his line, the eider. Around the rock points
comes their grand rush, twenty or forty abreast,
heads slightly tilted down and their white backs
gleaming In the sun. They keep to the rock
shores, leaving the beaches of the upper bay to
the commoner ducks and the geese of early fall.
Later the eider seeks the far outer islands. Mainly
his life is seaward; his northern title, "Seaduck,"
bears he well.
Before reaching the Kudlituk I had unknow
ingly passed John Voisey's house, a small affair.
It was weathered well to Invisibility, and more
over to have seen It I had to look backward and

VOISEY'S BAY 69
into the sun. He saw the canoe, but thought I
must be an Indian and kept snug. He found
out later that he had missed a white visitor, and
the next year when I came along, not to take any
chances of losing a caller, his little seaward gable
had been painted red. No one on that coast
means to lose any of the passing.
Somewhere past Kudlituk the sun went down,
the sky became dull, and a darkish night came
on. By ten, with sea breeze and tide opposing.
It was tired, weary work getting on with a single
paddle. The tides about Kudlituk are apt to
worry a stranger; as nearly as I can understand
them they chase themselves around and around
the island, regardless of rules. It was eight when
I left the rock, eleven when I landed on some
smooth mdss ground four miles away. For an
hour or two I strained my eyes to the Intersection
of a far point to port with a rock sky line farther
away, to make out whether I was gaining at all.
It took a long time, in the tidal bobble and breeze,
to see any change at all. One is apt to work too
long with only three or four hours of night. But
supper and pipe and bed were good that night.
The mosquitoes were not; the salt water ones
seem more desperately vicious than those of the
high ground, though a trifle smaller. Protected
by the smoke, I lay by the fire in great content
for some time before turning in, and boiled the
loon. With the morning of the 21st another calm,
wonderful day came on. In a couple of easy miles
I cleared the bay and could turn southward.
The way had been simple until now, but although
I knew that some twenty miles south were waters
I had seen before, the way was by no means plain.

70 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
To the east, beyond a few Islands, a water horizon
with bergs showed there was only sea beyond.
Southeastward Indefinite passages led also to
sea; obviously they were a last resort. South
ward, where I wanted to go, a high, firm rock
sky line, ten or twelve miles away, was continuous,
with no hint of a passage. While the weather
lasted I could of course try the bays one by one
for a way through, but my rate of speed was slow
at best, and there might be all sorts of tide currents,
which indeed there were. It was most on my mind
that the weather could not safely be counted on,
it was too fine to last. To be trapped in some
deep bay for a week or two, unable to get out against
the wind, would be rather stiff; worse still to be
driven up on some small Island; they looked
waterless as the moon. A very moderate head
wind would stop me, for a single paddle to a heavy
canoe Is futility Itself against wind and sea. The
water question need not have concerned me,
for, as I came to know, there Is sure to be a little
anywhere. A good deal of physical wear goes with the
first onset Into such a trip. It usually happens that
three stiffish days of lake-and-portage work are
about as much as the person of ordinary town
habits can do and not feel stale; the fourth day
there is a falling off. Now the morning I passed
out of Voisey's Bay I had taken more wear out
of myself for some days than the short mosquito-
devilled nights could possibly make good. In
fact he would be a good traveler who could keep
up that sort of thing from fourteen to eighteen
hours a day on any terms, even without hurrying.
But for me the temptation of those endless perfect
days had been hard to resist, and I had done too

SOLITUDE 71
much. It was the fourth day since I had seen a
face; people began to seem a myth. How would
Eskimo behave if I came to any? All was singu
larly beautiful, inspiring, but strange as another
planet. The first Island east was pretty high, so I held
over to it and walked to the top for a look at the
channels. Curiously, while I was walking I turned
to speak to some one who was close over my left
shoulder. Of course no one was there. The
Incident was repeated two or three times, without
the least variation of the Impression. Once on
the water again my friend left me.
Starving people who are walking continuously
are apt to talk to imaginary persons, and some
who get lost in the woods, even for a short time,
find it hard to separate the real things from others.
Before leaving home I had been seeing many
people constantly, and the habit told. Now, the
fourth day alone, I began to wish almost any
sort of person would turn up. My peculiar ex
perience on the Island never recurred, and during
a good deal of solitary travel in succeeding years
I was steadier, if anything, than when in company.
Turning down the broad water which closes
in near the site of the former mission station of
Zoar, I was not long without more substantial
society. Four or five grampuses were circling
about two or three miles down; in the stillness I
could soon hear the loud sigh they make on coming
to the surface. Their backs are tremendously
arched, almost like the rim of a large wheel. Not
much of their length shows at a time, but more
keeps coming as the first part disappears, until the
effect of a revolving wheel is complete.
I watched constantly for some tide movement.

72 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
a difficult thing to detect In such wide waters.
As the tide was falling a set toward a bay would
point to a passage through beyond; an outward
flow might be Indecisive. There seemed a faint
showing in favor of keeping south, and I held that
way. Before long one of the grampuses showed his
back a hundred yards ahead, with a course which
promised to take him quite near, and hoping for
a shot I knelt with the rifle and waited. I wanted
to see what kind of a beast a grampus was. Pres
ently a hollow as of the palm of one's hand, but
five or six feet across, appeared moving swiftly
along, with the tip of a fin cutting along in the
middle. The beast was in a good way to come up
for a broadside shot at fifteen feet as It passed, and
I made ready. But things did not go as they
promised. At thirty feet ahead the fin swerved
and came straight for the canoe. Desperately I
dropped the rifle, rather uselessly seized the paddle
and made a side drive. Grampuses are given to
breaching, and although they are perfectly amiable,
I was afraid that once under the canoe the beast
would get excited and send everything into the
air. It was a mile to shore and the water was ice
water. Nothing happened; he must have gone
silently down, but I was glad to be alone again.
For the moment I had rather a sensation. They
are big enough to do anything, often thirty feet
long and stoutly built; It is not a bad thing to
knock on the canoe when they are nearer than one
likes. The bay people do not care for actual con
tact with them, though their boats are fairly large.
Still another turn In affairs was coming. Soon,
while moving absently along, I seemed to catch
the sound of a far voice, away In]the west. Turning

Summer Ptarmigan

Winter Ptarmigan

UN'SEKAT 73
that way for a time it came again; I must say it
had an attractive sound, and keeping on a little
I saw a black speck moving on a beach. This grew
to be a black dog; then some trout puncheons came
into view, a human token, and as I landed an old
Eskimo appeared and descended to the little
beach. I got out and met him. He had little
English and we had a hard time beginning. His
name was Abel.
"Come schooner?"
"No, inland," I said, and pointed west. No
one ever came from there, he knew, and looked
worried; I was not telling the truth. Not much
more was said. As we talked the tinkle of a tin
kettle came from the canoe, and looking back I
saw a large dog walking away with my boiled loon
across his mouth, showing his side teeth at the
other dogs, who were close along but did not dare
to take hold. I was out of meat.
Old Abel looked awhile into the new canoe,
with its handsome varnished cedar lining, finally
saying, "Fine kayak!" Presently came three or
four women with a good catch of sea trout in a
"flat," a little dory-like skiff. It was their
voices I had heard, behind the island, shouting and
laughing about the net as the big trout splashed
them. Three of them were Eskimo beyond dis
guise; the other was not very dark and spoke
English, though with effort and as if long disused.
Her husband, old Abel's son, Antone, was away
at the post. Yes, there was a passage, a rattle,
at the end of this water. They were uneasy, and
soon went to splitting the fish. I relinquished an
unannounced plan of dining with them, but re
marked that they ought to give me a fish, as their
dog had taken my meat. "You can have two,"

74 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
with an Inflection which meant "if you will only
go away"; but one six-pound trout was cer
tainly enough. In an experienced way Mrs.
Antone pricked Its back with the point of a knife
to test Its fatness and quality. They need not have
been afraid, their eleven dogs would have finished
me in a moment. Rather soon I put off. Some
way off they called out something about taking
the little rattle, but I did not go back to talk it over.
The stillness was suddenly broken, a little later,
by a huge thunder sound from seaward, behind the
Islands. A silence of some seconds followed, then
a rending, broken roar. A loud shout came from
the Eskimo behind. For ten minutes the affair
went on, an invisible phenomenon of great im-
pressiveness in the peace and stillness of the day.
It was only a berg foundering outside, but the air
was so transparent to sound at the time that its
being at least two or three miles away seemed in
credible. I would have given much to see it
happen. A Newfoundlander has told me that
once a wave from a foundering berg in one of their
great bays washed a man off a rock seven miles
away! I had gathered a dry pole from a beach some
where back, leaving the roots on In default of an
axe. Now, with a slight breeze, I used it for a
mast, the luggage piled effectively upon the
spreading roots ; but the breeze died. At the end of
the bay were high rocks and a passage a few hun
dred yards wide. Passing along peacefully in
glassy water I suddenly noticed that the shores
were flying back at the rate of some fourteen miles
an hour, and almost at once the place became
torn by most astonishing cross-currents and whirl
pools. Just ahead two whirlpools lay like a pair

THE BIG RATTLE 75
of spectacles. I skimmed the edges of both.
Nothing but the elusive model of the boat, with
a bit of help at the right time, saved the day.
She was a living waterfowl in such water, that boat.
Everything thrashed about for a few hundred
yards, when the canoe shot out suddenly into still
water, almost at right angles to my course of
beginning. The day seemed to be holding out well as to
Incidentals. This was the Big Rattle, where a
large salt water lake, several miles across, has to
fill by a narrow, bent channel in a very short time.
In extreme tides the manifestations of the place
are amazing. The Little Rattle is an inoffensive
passage near by on the east, fairly swift at times,
but never acrobatic.
There is one other channel leading into the
lake, small and dry at low tide. There the inflow
was coming in so strong that I went ashore and
boiled the big trout while waiting for the current
to ease. It was my first ample, deliberate meal
for some days. But one cannot travel hard and
eat correspondingly. Once in a while when steady
on the road a great meal may do, but one must not
let out that way too often.
The rest of the day was true to type for the
region; breezes wandered this way and that way,
ahead, behind, and across, with calms between.
Miles from shore, sometimes, a calm spot would
be well taken up by mosquitoes. My gloves were
an inch short, and my wrists arrived at a curious
sandpaper complexion; they must have had a
thousand bites In the course of that week.
By eleven that night I fetched up on the south
side of Opetik, not far from the house of George.
It was hard to find a place to sleep, on the steep

76 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
rocks, but there was wood, and supper over I
tried a slope of small stones, like crusher stone,
but found myself slipping down again and again
most uncomfortably. It was a miserable place.
Mosquitoes, one at a time, managed to get under
my net. About one o'clock I looked out and dawn
was gaining in the east; out of patience I threw off
the blanket and net. There was no use trying to
sleep and I started a fire, sitting over it. When
the smoke rose and parted the mosquitoes I fell
forward, instantly asleep, but wrenched myself
awake before my face struck the firewood. For
twenty minutes this wretchedness went on in
really painful recurrence; later, after a bite and
some strong tea, I paddled slowly over to George's,
a couple of miles, feeling in truth pretty slack.
George heard the dogs, — It was three o'clock,—
and put his head out. I had felt a touch of
responsibility about him, he might have had an
accident and not reached home.
He had not had a happy time of it. Reaching
Opetik River that day he had made a smoke, the
neighborhood signal for a boat. The Edmundses
thought we had come back and were camping
there, so paid no attention, as we had the canoe.
That night It rained, the night I was under the
canoe on Side Brook, and George had to tough it out.
It was afternoon the next day, I think, before he
was taken over. When the neighbors heard his
story they were near the lynching point at what
he had done, being themselves of a different sort,
and foreseeing, moreover, a bad job hunting me up.
Mrs. G., another sort too, was relieved to see me.
With George himself I had little talk; he said some
thing about having gone along if his boots had not
been thin.

TO DAVIS INLET 77
Mrs. G. did me as well as she could; after a
second breakfast I got something of a nap, but
had been too long without sleep and soon turned
out again.
It had been reported from the post that Cotter
was going to Spracklin's with his little schooner
the next morning; accordingly Johnny Edmunds
and George were going down at once with trout.
In time we started; it was hot and calm, and
though we rowed and sculled as we could it was
slow going. I missed a good black bear on the
way. It Is possible that the jacketed bullet rode
the very oily lands in the barrel and went high,
for I never held better. The disgrace of the
episode was unpleasant. At midnight our pro
spects were bad, with fifteen miles to go. Then I
slumped, done up, stretched myself on a pile of
pickled trout, and slept real sleep again at last.
It was certainly time. Once I woke enough to
feel the boat careened and driving at a great pace.
A north wind had come on, by five we were at the
Inlet. Cotter had not started and there was time
to eat and get ready before putting off with him.
We had a blue and white run, above and below,
to the Cape Harbor — a late start and an early
landing. There is such a thing as having had
enough of the fray, and through the trip I sat
below deck with Cotter in full content, without
looking out that I remember.
Things had happened well; after all, there is
something in making the most of favoring weather.
In a white northwester a canoe is not the thing
among these high shores, for one can never tell
where gusts will come from. The tide crotches
bobble and kick up into three-cornered seas;
In funnel passages the waves drive up yeasty, and

78 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
ugly drives of wind shoot out from the steeper
rocks. It is best for little craft to keep very near
such shores, or very far away.
The Cape harbor where we landed is west from
Fanny's, divided from It by a thousand yards
of easy low ground. The distance around out
side is several miles, for Fanny's looks east and
the Cape harbor west and north. Cotter had
come down for salt which Spracklin had stored for
him at the Cape.
The Sprackllns had fish; namely, cod. Noth
ing Is fish to a Newfoundlander but cod, — cod
alone. Salmon are salmon, trout are trout, the
same with herring, caplin, and the rest; but to
him cod only is Fish. He may go fishing for any
of these, for almost anything that swims, for to
him life is fishing, but he would hardly use the
word unqualified of anything but cod. Never
Intimate to him that his Fish is not the most game
of all Its kind, — indeed its tail kicks the surface
in acres sometimes, and It will take a fly, — nor
that the rock-cod is much above the sculpin.
The great beds of fish which once lay on the
surface in sheltered waters are only a tradition
now; either there are fewer fish, or the traps cut
them off outside; the wholesale work of the cod
trap has had Its effect In one way or another.
In old days a buoy or box thrown over would be
attacked with vigor by the fish. Caplin were
scarce; now, the balance of nature disturbed, their
enemy absent, they swarm the waters at times,
their eggs pile in windrows on the beaches. Salt,
enough salt for the fish, was the only concern of
the bay people then, the fish were sure and came
well up into the bays. They are intercepted now
with the salmon that used to come to the rivers.

SPRACKLIN'S 79
The people still have the rock-cod, largely a winter
fish. The locked bays of winter are safe from the
schooners. So with the sea birds of the old days, the my
riads that filled the air in the time of Aububon.
The number of schooners that go north has crept
from a few hundred up to three thousand, each
with several guns; their crews, men and boys,
are intimate with the habits of the creature life
of the coast; little is willingly spared. They
know where to find the eggs; they can handle well
the heavy seal guns. But at least nothing is
wasted; they use all, and betimes the "inex
haustible North " replenishes somewhat the supply.
The Sprackllns had a few hundred quintals
(said "kintle") of fish, taken in the last few days.
Cotter hurried back with his load of salt, for his
schooner was leaking, and drowned salt runs away.
The weather turned totally bad {vide moral for
travelers: make the most of good weather), and
Skipper Tom being short handed I did what I
could on the fish stage. My vacation time was
fairly up, three to five weeks was what I had
counted on; It would be nearer seven before I
could get home. The mailboat was about due.
My function at the stage was "tending table,"
pitchforking fish from the pen to the table, and
wheeling away the barrows of split fish to be piled,
and though mine was the humblest role of all,
even at that I won more In the way of appetite
and ability to sleep nights on my folded lance-net
bed than of distinction. "There Is tending and
tending," said one of the crew apropos of my
efforts. They not only wanted me to keep the
fish coming, but to place them so as to be con
veniently seized — reasonably enough. Their

80 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
whole season's catch may come In a few days.
Then the crew works pretty well around the clock.
Ellen, the young woman who cooked, and well
indeed, for ten persons, who kept the house clean
and In order, and did washing, and kept neat, and
came with a run and a jump when called, also
worked long at the fish table evenings and at odd
times. Stout little Jane, beaming with wily
Spracklin's praise, stood for Incredible hours
enveloped In her big apron, cutting and tearing,
cutting and tearing, stopping scarcely for meals.
Four hours' sleep the crew were getting then.
Poor Spracklin, his arms and wrists set with fish
boils, "pups" In the vernacular, slept with his
bandaged arms raised clear of all touch, in his
face the look of the overworn. Yet all were
cheerful; the fish were on. Many a fisherman
on shore or schooner sees no fish. Then they live
scantily, biscuit and tea, biscuit and tea, and not
the best; their little pork is precious. We see
them In passing on the mailboat. They are
strong men, but their eyes grow absent as the sea
son wanes, and their women's. No wonder they
hunt the islands.
The foul weather lasted three or four days; ice
came in, the nets were damaged, and It became too
rough for the fishing. I turned to outrigging
the canoe for rowing, using for a rowlock a single
wood pin with a rope withe, the Newfoundlander's
shooting rig. The arrangement is silent, the oars
can be dropped alongside without going adrift,
and they row well. The pins were forty-two
inches apart, a fair spread for seven and a half
foot oars; these last I got out of long oars of
Spracklin's that were past use; blades are best
narrow for sea work, say four inches.

Spracklin

Cod

SPRACKLIN'S 81
That canoe, eighteen feet by thirty-three
inches, could be pushed up to a speed of near or
quite six miles an hour, so rigged, carrying a hundred
pounds of baggage; and with the rower sitting five
or six Inches from the bottom, close against the
middle bar, would take irregular and trying seas in a
perfectly unbelievable way. The fishermen were
naturally skeptical about canoes for coast travel,
and had me on their minds; no one in such places
likes to see foolish risks taken; Skipper Jim, in
particular, made predictions. But later on I
happened to be outide one day when the crew
were hauling a trap. It was true "codfish weather, ' '
— fog, the wind on the shore, the air rawness
itself. A sea was coming in, making with the
backwash from the rocks a very broken "lop."
Wanting to take a kodak snap at the operation
going on I threw a short line over a pin in the other
boat and let my craft pivot about as she liked.
Spracklin looked my way now and then, but said
nothing. Going back I led them in, of course,
for they were loaded. At dinner something was
said about the canoe, and I remarked to Spracklin,
"You see she will do almost what a dory will."
"She'll do what a dory wonH!" he returned, and
no one bothered about me after that.
As the days went we wondered about the
mailboat; she might be on the bottom. When
at last the weather turned fine the invitation of
it became too much, and of an afternoon I rowed
for Davis Inlet. Beyond the Cape Islands is a
stretch of flat shoals, and before I quite got my
bearings a long sweeper gathered, broke, and ran
by with a wicked scream. Anything but flat
shoals and a swell on a falling tide! These occa
sional reminders are chastening. But it was a

82 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
different matter now from working slowly along
with one paddle, the butt of everything that
came. Now the sure ability to pull away from any
lee shore, to drive. If slowly. Into a white-topped
sea, put a new face on things. One needs to feel
the master In such matters. There was no more
wondering whether I was gaining or going back,
no more desperate holding to the gusts that strove
to broach. Now only the easy swing to the oars;
there was no swerving, the canoe ran true. It
was singular how slight a shifting of a pack fore
or aft with the feet counteracted the wind push
to right or left. The canoe did the rest, meeting,
balancing, lifting over, a creature water bred.
She passed into other hands when I left that
year, and was finally wrecked. Never was her
like. There was a drawback, a real disadvantage:
one could not see ahead. Ducks and sea pigeons
squttered from under the bow, seals sank silently
and unpercelved; gulls moved on and kept away;
I missed their companionship, and sometimes
the meal they might have furnished. One has
to turn and look ahead now and then for shoals
and landmarks, but the neck rebels as the hours
go on, the rhythm of the oars in calm days makes
the thoughts drowse and drift far away; the low,
slow swell makes all for dreams. Well if the ear
catch chuck of wave on rock or ice in time;
sooner or later a reminding scrape or thump is
sure to come.
One needs to see ahead; going backward is a
crude way. For years I had it in mind that bow-
facing oars should be the thing, and too late, in
1910, tried them out In home waters. They were
the thing Indeed; they were as fast as any oars,

BAY TRAVEL 83
as easy to use, and I rued the years I had needlessly
gone without them.
It was calm throughout the day. Four or
five grampuses circled about, but not near enough
for intimacy; they are semi-solitary, for though com
mon enough I have never seen more than five
in a bay at once, and these scattered about. Most
others of the whale kind seem inclined to go in
families. A dense flock of "ticklers," the charm
ing kittiwakes, came close about my shoulders.
If the fishermen knock one down the others stay
close about and are easy victims. They hover
about the fish schools, indeed the occasional flick
of a cod's tail explained their presence now.
According to the flshermen It is small, oily bubbles
rising from the fish that the ticklers are after.
How these are produced, though they may be
from the caplin and other prey seized and man
gled by the cod, does not certainly appear.
It is the sounds, perhaps, more than the sights,
that rouse one dreaming along through the spaces
of these endless mirrored days. They simulate
more familiar ones. The raven's first croak may
come through the rippling of the dividing bow as
the distant bark of a dog that is not; the "wailing
waby's lonely cries," from desolate bays, as the
voice of some forsaken animal afar. From some
where ahead comes a perfect human hail, "Ah!
There!" — and one turns Involuntarily to see who
has called, but it Is only a pair of the great black-
backs that have launched from some high nesting
place and come in apprehension to meet and pro
test their misgivings. Strange It is to have re
vealed the undreamed pairing-time vocabulary
of this beautiful but silent winter visitor of our
shores. From my diary, "The great saddle-back

84 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
gulls hailed from a distance, anxious for their
young on the islands, and wheeling over with a
surprising vocabulary of protesting and ejaculatory
sounds : ' Aaa-ha ! — Aaali ! — Guk ! — Kuk ! —
Huh! — Ooh!' all in a distressed voice, harsh
yet plaintive. They might be saying, 'We can't
do anything if you come! We can't do anything,
we can't help It, but we can't help protesting!
Ooh!' and their careworn cries go on.
"They are beautiful large gulls, white below
and soft black gray above; one would never expect
their forlorn Intonations."
There Is something wrong, or at least depress
ing, in the cries of almost all the gulls. One has
to get used to them. Serenity Itself to the eye
their voices are as of spirits broken for their sins.
"Dense schools of caplin (cape-lin) sometimes
wrinkled the surface. They are much like smelts,
and may be dipped up readily with a hand net.
Cod disgorge them on the stage and in the boats,
as do sea trout. They are more slender and
delicate than smelt, as wanting substance by com
parison. The fishermen speak of their spawning
In the kelp along the shore and of seeing the spawn
at a distance.
"Once or twice I took to the paddle for a change,
but rowing was much more effective and less
tiring. The canoe Is too large for one paddle. . . .
Toward the Inlet the tide helped; it was 7. 45
when I pulled up to the dock and surprised Cotter.
A great supper of sea trout and bake apple (cloud
berry) jam, matched only by my appetite, after
merely a couple of biscuit on the way up. Both
Cotter and Spracklin have very good spruce beer.
C.'s ship, the Pelican, is not In, and he is in great
fret about it. No Indians yet."

NASKAPI 85
"In the morning some one announced Indians
before we were up. There were eight of them, from
George River. Three or four are tall, good men,
of strong Cree type. Most wear deerskin coats,
but some have cloth shirts over them, covering also
the skin breechcloth. The visible skin coats
of the others show a painted pattern around the
borders. Their inner shirts are of young or un
born caribou, with the short, fine hair turned in.
They are inclined to be chilly in our raw coast air,
the Interior is warmer. The Post finds shelter
and provisions for them while here, the latter no
trifling matter, for they are apt to eat little the
last days coming in. Cotter says they ate twenty-
two pounds of hard bread to-day, besides pork.
"My dealing with them is rather difficult on
the whole. Their Intonation Is high and nasal,
and their dialect peculiar. They understand my
Montagnais talk rather fairly, few words at a time,
but I do not attempt anything ambitious. The
camera they are shy about; one of them I got only
by snapping from the side, unknown to him.
The others were better, small plugs of tobacco
modified their objections, and in the end I had them
all, in some sort. Most of our talk was about
the country. Pleasant old Katshluas, whose name
nevertheless means "Always cross," gave me
a good map of their route to the coast, but In some
mysterious way it disappeared later and I never
saw It again. Kamoques, "Porcupine eater,"
also made one, but it was vague. They are wary
about strangers.
Then It was that I learned from Katshluas that
the Indian House Lake of Low's map was only a
narrow affair, no wider than the run In front of
the post, and my long-cherished vision of a broad,

86 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
Imposing water, possibly larger even than as
shown conjecturally on the map, and the best
objective for a season's trip in all Labrador,
vanished once for all. As a feature of more than
ordinary interest the lake departed from my mind.
K. told me quite a little about the country.
There was wood enough along the route. Once
out of the Assiwaban and up the " Tshishkatinau
kapitagan," the high portage — here his arm
stretched almost vertically — "It Is high! high!"
— there was no stream work, all was lake and
portage, — " pemlshkau, kapitagan," paddle and
portage, all the way. Mistinipi, "Great Lake,"
was the largest water. There were plenty of
caribou on the George that year. "They are
everywhere!" Katshluas told me truly, in all
things. The first Impression that the Naskapi
make on one is apt to be vivid and a little mixed.
Their irresponsible thin legs and bare thighs,
and their horsetail hair, are decidedly not of our
worldj though the latter Is generally docked at
the shoulders. They have a nasal twang, which
in the excitement of arrival, and at such times
they are not impassive, becomes almost a whine.
Their travel clothing is nondescript and dingy;
though as to this, again, they know how to do
better, and in new white skin clothing are wholly
picturesque. But as untamed aborigines. Stone
Age people, they lay hold of one. The look in their
eyes Is the look of the primitive man of the open.
Yet it is not too easy to picture from them a
primitive man of our own strain. Their unmodi
fied raciality, which Impresses one strongly at first
meeting, is probably as far from our own as that
of any high race in the world. To a white person

NASKAPI 87
not used to them, their presence becomes easily
trying. It puts one into a curious tension which
becomes uncomfortable, one wants to go away,
shortly, for readjustment. This Is mainly, I
think, a matter of genius; from us they are apart
beyond most other children of earth. Soon after
they came I touched one of them with my finger
and he shrank as If stung. Among themselves
even they keep more apart than white men do.
Restlessly they stepped about, keen eyed. They
were not used to the level boards.
I had meant to go back at midday to take up
the unwilling task of catching the steamer, but the
temptation to have more of the Indians was too
much and I waited through the afternoon. Quiet
had settled upon the place; there could be little
trading until the Pelican should come with her
cargo. The strangeness of the Indians wore
away somewhat, and their voices fell agreeably.
Their ordinary tones fall in almost Indistinguish-
ably with the rhythmic sounds of the open, the
wind and running water and lip of the waves.
After all, we had subjects in common, and talked
as best we could of these things.
We of the post had kept something of a lookout
for the steamer during the day without result, but
after seven a plain smoke appeared beyond the
horizon in the usual route of the mailboat. She
would naturally go to Nain and be back possibly
by noon next day. Thus I had time enough to
get to Fanny's, and without much risk might have
waited until morning, but there was the old question
of weather, and it was calm now. As it turned out
I should have fared worse to have waited.
Cotter and others about urged me to stay; the
tide was wrong, night was no time to travel alone,

88 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
I could start early. But I was stiff about it,
arguing that It was now calm, and would be until
daylight, but that fog comes in the morning, and
the fog brings the wind. There was no hurry; we had
a farewell siupper and It was nine when I left.
The Indians gathered at the landing, looking rather
serious. They do not like night travel overwell.
All the unseen powers are active then. Travel by
night alone Is the worst of all.
For a while I used the paddle, keeping close
Inshore out of the current, then took to the oars.
I had thinned the oar blades to perfect balance
In C.'s shop, and tightened the withes into silence;
things went well. For six miles the current was
wrong, dying out finally; there was then no swell
to speak of. By eleven the afterglow in the north
was faint, but was replaced by northern lights,
shifting and wavering In a long, flat arch, and at
times as bright as moonlight, I watched the sky
for signs of wind, for the landing places along were
not too good, and the only good shelter would
be far down one of the two large bays. Half
way across the first bay the swell began to increase
and sound heavy on the islands eastward. Edging
farther away from them, toward the mainland,
a strong uproar of surf came from the south point
of the bay. By this time It was midnight, and
dark save for the stars and the brighter periods
of the north sky. Saddle-back gulls wailed once
or twice from their Islands, sounding familiar and
friendly — in truth, they sounded a good deal more
friendly than the roaring shores. The noise, the
darkness, and the unusual heave of the sea were
getting to be impressive. Night doings take a
little extra hardihood. Before long I lost the
identity of the shore lines and became uncertain

Kamoques

A NIGHT ^TRIP 89
of my course. The tide was passing out from
the deep bays, and once without landmarks It
became doubtful where I was getting to. I had
edged for the mainland, yet might have been going
seaward by set of tide, which In any event pre
vented my taking a straight course and holding
to it. It was confusing, and after listening to the
surf awhile and remembering the shallow points
that might break at any time and bring on an ice-
water interruption, I concluded that open sea was
the place, and pulled for it. The oars would
bring me back; it would have been doubtful busi
ness with only a paddle. By one o'clock I felt sure
I was off Lane's Bay and was easier as the roar
of the west point of the bay receded. Cotter had
given me a half loaf of bread, and now and then
I gnawed at it, shifting off my seat Into the bottom
of the canoe for change of position. Rowing in so
small a craft as a canoe one has to keep In exactly
the same position, and gets stiff In time. When
the sound of breakers came equally from east and
west I supposed I was off the middle of the bay,
and lay to, now munching bread and now rowing
a little for circulation, waiting for light. There
was still no wind. A grampus snorted about,
and now and then I knocked well on the gunwale,
in the interest of fair play.
Dawn came late. A heavy bank of fog not
far seaward shut back the early light. At that
season the sun creeps along almost level under the
horizon during the early hours, and heavy cloud
or fog is very effective in keeping back the day.
Fog had been working in from seaward for several
hours, a dense black wall, rising higher and higher.
By the time I could see the landmark hill at the
Cape harbor, some six miles away, the fog began

90 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
to touch the top of it. Then I rowed fast, to get
over the wide shoals before the fog reached them.
These shoals were what I had held back for in the
night. With such an unusual swell and a falling
tide It would not do to wander along over them
at random. They were the serious feature of the
trip. It was near five when I made out the Cape hill
and started past the shoals. There was wind
now, from east. Things were going well enough,
when suddenly a coming swell rose high and
stood for an Instant as If. looking down at me.
There was not much to be done, but I threw the
bow up to make the best of it, twisting the boat head
on. As luck would have It the wave passed, and
the usual two more nearly as large, without
breaking, as follows from my writing this, and
I swung back into the trough again. If ever any
one pulled to get away from a place it was then,
and she was a wonder in the trough, that unnamed
canoe of 1903 ; like a snake she would run down the
hollows. But the look of that standing wave,
hanging over in the dark morning, is one of my
Labrador memories. Anything but flat shoals
and a swell, on a falling tide !
The fog swirled in thick as I reached shehered
water. It was no matter. I slapped down my
pocket compass Into the bottom of the canoe
before it could change Its course, and went on
well, though it was blind work at the end of the
harbor. All creatures come close In such fog. Twenty
or thirty eiders flew almost aboard. Ticklers had
been all about as the fog came on, and another
bunch of eiders came very close.
Laying out the canoe, rather as a friend never

A LOST STEAMER 91
to be seen again, I did the two miles and more
across the island to Spracklin's with a pack which
felt heavy. I had no doubt of getting the steamer.
During the latter part of the night I heard her
whistle, at Fanny's, and took It that she was off
north for Nain. To my amazement Spracklin met me
in the doorway, with, rather brusquely, "You've
lost your passage!" I was so dazed, having had no
misgivings at all in the matter, and being sleepy and
dense after the doings of the last twenty-four
hours, that I could not really sense the situation
until after breakfast. The mailboat had passed
north early the day before, unseen by us at the
inlet, and had left, going south, at the time I heard
the whistle. What steamer it was that made the
smoke we saw from the post we have never known.
For the next fifteen hours, however, disappoint
ment did not keep me awake much.
By the time I had slept up a spell of bad weather
was on. The storm out at sea which had pushed
the night swell up on the coast had followed In.
The surf about the exposed Cape had been heavy
through the night, unusually so. Spracklin, of
course, heard it; and although there was no wind
whatever until early morning, he always imagined
from the noise he had heard that a gale had been
blowing aU night. He really believed it; I could
never quite shake it out of him, and for years he
told in good faith the story of my night trip by
canoe, "in a wild storm alone." He made a good
yarn of it, if a hard one for me to live up
to. Many a pretty fame. It may be, has no
better basis. But to travel conveniently by
night in such places one needs to know the
shores better than I did, not to speak of shoals
and currents. Mere wind can only bother and

92 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
force one to land, but shoals and sweepers can be
the de'il's own.
Spracklin always did have imagination, and
more. So far as he himself was concerned, wind
and sea only stirred his blood. One of the pictures
of him that I like, though I did not see the happen
ing. Is as coming In through the harbor entrance
low down with fish, a following wave filling the
boat, the two Labradorians climbing the mast,
but Spracklin remaining unmoved at the tiller.
He finally brought his load of fish alongside the
stage, the water up to his mouth. He could not
swim. One year I came along just after he had had
an experience crossing to Lane's Bay alone in his
jack, a deep, stout boat of some tons burden, over
waters already described. Near, to the south,
was that stronghold of .^Eolus, Windy Tickle.
From there, perhaps, came the whirlwind which
tore up the sea and flailed off his masts in an in
stant, he as helpless as If in an explosion. For
once in his life he made that quick mental conge
of things earthly which wayfarers of less firm clay
have made with smaller cause. The boat lived,
how he knew not, and he limped home under such
rig of remnants as he could improvise. The sea
had betrayed him at last, and his face and voice
showed it.
Things were not too well at Fanny's. The
fishing fell off with the storm, and did not much
recover; the total catch had been less than five
hundred quintals. I was sorry for the^ people;
they deserved more than they could possibly get.
Then Spracklin's trap had to come out, for some
reason, and Jim's likewise, for a two-pointed berg
blew in and cut it up badly. Pieces of the berg

SPRACKLIN'S 93
came into the harbor at night, one so large that it
seemed perfectly impossible for it to have come
through the narrow entrance. Now there was
"no twine in the water"; the fisherman's dark
day had come. By this time the wear of round-
the-clock work had begun to show on the crew.
Ellen was the worse for the pace, but kept us going
somehow. Little Jane was still working like a
tiger on the stage, for there were some fish ahead
in the pens and bagnets when the traps gave out.
I was about the stage too, for more than exercise,
coming to see that forking and loading are really
work when long continued. My reward, the
particular bright spot, as I look back, was Ellen's
piled plates of "heads and sounds," better even
than the fish proper; and this is much to say, for
all Newfoundlanders know how to deal with Fish,
and at their hands and in their several ways of
getting it up it Is always good. Sunday breakfast,
where fishing goes on, is ever Brewis, "Fish and
Bruise." The fish part is well enough; I was wont
to pick it out very contentedly; but my share of
the soppy hardbread which constitutes bruise
generally went to Spracklin's hens.
Storms from sea, after the fish are In, blow
them inshore up the bays, where they fatten and
come back by September. The thick-tailed ones
are picked out for the table, as being best con
ditioned. We had two small salmon before the
nets were damaged, a change and a treat, but they
pall on one after two or three meals, unlike Fish.
Save for Ellen's cooking everything was a little
out of joint; the wind was truly east. Water
being scarce, a common occurrence In the Islands,
it had to be brought from the hill in a hand-barrow
tank. Lest the blue time should extend Itself

94 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
to my personal Interests, I took a turn across the
island one day and weighted the canoe with more
stones, though It was doing well. A run of bad
luck in such a place Is a thing to make one wary.
The fishermen are apt to regard special misfortunes
as punishments for lapses of conduct, particularly
Sabbath-breaking. Spracklin insisted that Skip
per Jim's trouble with the ice came from having
straightened out his trap the Sunday before.
This was the rawest black weather of the
summer. The wind came straight from the Green
land Ice-cap and Melville Bay, across some hun
dreds of miles of berg-bearing sea. The end came
after some days. Marvelous is the change from
one of these dark, cold periods to mild calm sun
shine, cheering the light on rock and dying surf.
Unchained from the mailboat incubus I was soon
off on the old shimmering road to the Inlet, taking
In the Labrador air as naturally as the creatures
of the place. These were all about; grampuses
that roved across the wake and blew; black-
backs that launched out and hailed "Ah-there";
kittiwakes in fluttering flocks; caplin, and the
flicking cod. Inspiring were the daylight and the
shining folk of air and sea after the doubting night
voyage that had been. Ah, the lighted day!
Chaos and night are much one to sightless man;
almost all the other creatures, they of the finer
senses. If not the higher, see better than man when
night is down.
A far crying, as of some creature of fox-like
size, came from distant islands seaward. I could
imagine it running up and down In the desolation.
Later I knew it for the waby, the red-throated
loon. Half way along was Sam Bromfield coming from

BACK TO DAVIS INLET 95
the post, with such news as there was. The Pelican
was in, and more Indians. The post people had
been speculating about me, seeing the sea and fog
come on, but concluded that I would probably
get out of the trouble in some way. Sam had my
rifle on his mind, but I could not promise it to him
then. He gave me a couple of sticks for spars,
but my breeze never came; and worse, the tide
was wrong in the run.
The day was well along before I landed on the
post beach, where a dozen tall Indians stood
waiting upon the wharf. Ashimaganish was one,
the chief. "Quay! Quay!" we saluted, in the
way of the Cree tribes. As I climbed up on the
wharf he gave a shout and the others surrounded
the loaded canoe, picked It up lightly and put
it up on the wharf — a friendly act.
Eighteen more Indians had come, there were
twenty-six in all. Some would have counted as
good men anywhere, and there were several
handsome boys.- We were acquainted now, and
they humanized a good deal; matters of race ap
peared less insuperable than before. I found it
easier to talk with the older men; perhaps they had
seen more of such occasions; but age seeks its level.
The Pelican was anchored out In the run when
I arrived. Cotter was aboard, and I had supper
on shore alone. About dark he came hunting me
up at the men's quarters, where I was sitting In
with the Indians, and took me off, seeming a little
upset until we were settled in the house. He was
excited at leave of absence in the fall, it meant
a winter in London and Edinboro'. He had never
been over, and naturally the prospect was gilded;
his mind was already there, and my talk of things
near had little response.

96 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
So it always Is with the younger Hudson's
Bay Company men after leave is granted. A young
Canadian of the service, with relations in England,
showed the same excitement as Cotter in his
preparations. The people of the posts ask very
simply about things of the world, and so this young
man, though he had once been to school in a large
Canadian city. The talk had all to be upon
London and the way of things there, and above all
upon clothes. Cost entered little, for these people
beyond the money line all feel passing rich. Their
salaries are small, but, willy nilly, in their wantless
life they can scarcely help saving. The total sum
in a lifetime can only be small as the world goes,
but the financial tide is always rising. One day
they emerge Into the world and the scales fall
from their eyes.
In the case referred to the young man had not
lived In the world for nothing, and flinched a little
by the time I was done with the matter of coats
and trousers and costs. He saw me as flying a
little high; one wouldn't really need all those things.
In due time I happened to meet him just returning.
He was still sturdy, a little redder; he had had a
good time. But he thought, on the whole. It was
as well for one to live In the country one belonged
to. One ought to have letters of introduction in
going to a Hudson's Bay Company post. Now I
suffered a disadvantage In not having them. The
rules are rather strict about putting strangers
into relation with the Indians and the hunting
country. The good people of the post had placed
themselves in a doubtful position by doing what
they had, and they had now become doubtful
lest I meant to set up in trade with their Indians.

A DOUBTFUL POSITION 97
Their doubts were not very farfetched; they saw
that I was an old hand, my outfit was untourist-
like, and I had more use of the Indian language
than any one along the shore. Among the shore
people there had been abundant speculation as
to my purposes from the first. They were shrewdly
sure that I must be either looking for minerals
or intending to trade. The Newfoundlanders
believed I was after gold; Spracklin Indeed begged
me to let him in on what I might find. It was
announced in the St. John's papers one year that
we had found gold In paying quantities and were
going to develop It in a large way. The shore
folk, however, held the fur theory.
Until nowtheHudson's Bay Company people had
kept a steady head. There had even been an under
standing that when the Pelican had come and gone,
and the Indians were off, some one of them would
make a trip inland with me, if I was still there to go.
One of these people had once been a hundred
miles inland, as he reckoned it, by dog train, with
William Edmunds and two Southern Indians.
They had gone up river from Opetik Bay, due
west; this I suspect was compass west, really almost
southwest, and the distance, two and a half days
of good sledging, was probably less than was
thought. The coast distances hold out well —
are based on the sea mile, perhaps, the "long sea
mile" of John Silver and Treasure Island. Inland
miles are another matter, they grow shorter and
shorter as the shoreman's home places and in
separable salt water fall behind. What turned
the Hudson's Bay Company party back was
Indians, not snowshoe tracks or Imaginary In
dians, but the very men they were with. For
some reason best known to themselves they an-

98 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
nounced to the outsiders that they did not want
them to go any farther into the country and
actually threatened violence. Our white man was
disposed to be militant, but WilHam's enthusiasm
fell away and they turned back. This may have
been well; it was then not so very long since some
of the northern Indians had set out to rush Davis
Inlet post, being denied what they asked.
The projected trip Inland was now off, of
course, I being a doubtful person. The feasibility
of making an arrangement with the Indians was also
lessened, for their keen observation had not
missed the change of atmosphere, and they are not
apt to take much trouble for a person of doubtful
standing among his own people. Whether it was
the prevailing talk of the shore people, or, more
likely, the counsels of cautious old Captain Gray,
of the Pelican, that upset things, I never knew.
At the time I only thought them all, though mis
taken to the joking point, a shining example of
carefulness In the interest of the Hudson's Bay
Company. Admirable servants! I praised them
for It to my friend, Peter McKenzie, the manager
In Montreal, the next winter.
Here does come a joke, rather on the other side.
Some time afterward, one of the post people
called on me in Boston, and seeing the easy ab
surdity of his former notion, told me something
I had not thought of. He had been at the end
of his contract with the Hudson's Bay Company
that year and was thinking of setting up for
himself in trade with the Indians. The jouriiey
Inland with William was to find a site for a trading
store. His worry about me, it appeared, was
mainly for himself; he was guarding his own pre
serves.

THE DICKERS 99
There are coils and coils. This idea of an
inland trading post was known to William, whose
best perquisite was the boating of Indians to
Davis Inlet at a dollar a head. William's interest
was clear; if the trading went Inland he would be
the loser. It was believed by those interested
that he had intrigued with the Indians to defeat
the enterprise.
With whatever of cross-currents the days that
followed this fourth arrival at the post were
sufficiently unvexed and full of interest. Indians
were everywhere, the old Hudson's Bay people
and the shore folk always had something to
say, and my note book grew, if less than it ought.
The oldest of the Hudson's Bay Company people,
Mr. Dickers, in his active days a carpenter in the
service, had been long at Fort Chimo on Ungava
Bay. The second generation, John and James,
were the active men here at Davis Inlet now, the
latter a cooper, who made the rows of handsome
barrels that the sea trout were shipped in, while
John was general right-hand man of the post.
They were Scotch, almost of course, being of the
Hudson's Bay Company. I ought to have saved
more from these people's talk than I did. The el
der Dickers had lived in the romantic period of
the North, in the days when fur was all and In
dians came and went over the wide North as they
never will again; yet I, young when Ballantine's
tales were young, and Dick Prince and Dog
Crusoe and Chimo and Ungava were stirring
names, have little to tell. What questions I
should have asked! They spoke mainly of the
Eskimo. There were inland Eskimo, little people,
who came to Chimo from the northwest. They
hunted quite away from the shores. There were

100 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
ordinary Eskimo who made sometimes six weeks'
journeys to Ungava, bringing kometiks piled four
feet high with furs, and they would return with
tobacco by the hundredweight, and maybe
rifles, five or six of them; but they bought no pro
visions of the post.
As ever, there were tales of trouble from in
fringement of hunting territory, as when some
where about Ungava a ship's crew, beset, took to
hunting deer themselves. The Eskimo, in re
sentment, scuttled the ship while the men were
away hunting. No less the primeval tale of
women stealing, and the Eskimo has a heavy
hand. It was forty or fifty years ago. The com
pany's ship was wrecked, and the crew separated
In two boats. The mate, Armstrong, brought his
crew out at Ungava. The captain's sailors made
trouble with the Eskimo women, whereupon the
men turned in and killed the whole white party.
In more recent years an Ungava Eskimo killed
a very large white bear with his knife alone.
The Indians were busy between ship and shore
for a day or two, putting through the heavy job
of transferring freight. Along with lighter goods
was much that was not easy to handle, such as
flour and pork, besides the weighty hogsheads of
molasses. In the intervals the workers spread about
the place In a vacation spirit, as if making the most
of their excursion. One evening the younger
ones got out Cotter's football. They were active,
and there was a good deal of fun, though moccasin-
foot kicking is not very effective. Once the goods
were ashore Cotter and his people shut themselves
Into the store to open the cases and get ready for
trading, leaving the Indians outside. We had a
good deal of talk. There were eighty people, they

WITH THE INDIANS 101
said, left at their place on the George. It took them
seven days to come over.
The furs come down In snug, spindle-shaped
bundles laced up as with a shoe lacing, the cover
being sealskin, hair outside, to keep the water out.
Such bundles usually have two carrying lines, one
for the head and the other to cross the shoulders.
Furs are their money; and some of them, such as the
martens, are not much heavier than banknotes;
indeed furs are about as current as money almost
anywhere In northern Canada.
As to the K6komesh, the namdycush trout, they
said it was common in the lakes, up to two and
a half feet long and very deep; the depth they
emphasized, for depth means both quantity and
quality, and the kokomesh Is their principal fish.
They would not say that there were any very heavy
ones, this to my surprise, for some of their lakes
are large, and it is certain that in some of the lakes
of the Northwest at least, the namdycush grows to
nearly a hundred pounds' weight. The fontinalis
was well known, and the whitefish, with various
suckers. We agreed easily on the names of the
usual animals of the North, and the common birds
and trees. They did not understand my name for
the north star.
Two or three of them became interested in my
prints taken on southern-slope rivers, telling
others about them, who came in turn to see.
Many of my things were new or unusual to them,
beginning with the canoe. They were interested
in everything, finally showing, like everybody
else, curiosity as to what I was there for. The
chief took me off alone one day, and began to
quiz: "Tante tshina kokominah?" he asked.
The words were plain, but I could not believe I had

102 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
heard clearly. "Tante tshina kokominah?" he
insisted, with emphasis. There was no doubt, he
was asking, "Where Is your old woman?" What
ever business was it of his? At last it came to me
that it was his way of asking where my home
was, and I pointed south: "Twelve days in the
fireboat — twelve days — night and day, night
and day; it Is very far"; this In Montagnais, of
course. "What are you here for?" I told him
I was not a trader, not a hunter, and stayed in my
own country most of the time; but once in a whilej
liked to travel, to go to a new country, to see the
animals and birds and fish and trees and the people;
then I went back to my country again. He seemed
to understand and we drifted Into other talk.
Before we parted he asked, "Why don't you go
inland with us and have a tent and a wife at
Tshinutivish?" I told him I should like to g:o
over there tremendously (true enough), but it
was getting late in the season, and I really must
go back home. I might come up next year.
Afterwards I speculated as to whether he expected
me to bring along a kokominah, or whether he
would have found one for me up there, but the
matter would have strained my powers in the lan
guage. Still I ought to have asked him.
The Oldtown canoe was a great attraction,
They were beginning to use canvas themselves,
and knew how limp it was, how hard to make a
handsome job with. Indeed, how they can build
as shapely a canvas canoe as they do without using
a form is hard to see. The symmetry and perfect
surface of mine was a despair to them. Long they
would stand over it, studying and Ufting it; their
heads surely swam with being kept upside down
In studying out the neat work in the ends, I

WITH THE INDIANS 103
should have been glad to explain that they were
really better builders than we, that it was no
trouble to do such work if one used a form to
model on, but I had not the language. I could have
sold the canoe easily. They did not like the
broad paddles, and In this were right. Katshluas
looked doubtfully at the light gunwale; "Nauashu,"
he said, "It is frail," and I tried to explain that
the stiffness we get by nailing the sheathing and
ribs together made a heavy gunwale unnecessary.
In their canoes the gunwale is the very backbone.
Katshluas put his hand upon the cane seat, of
which unnautical device I was duly ashamed.
"Do you sit down here?" he asked, incredulously,
as if pained. They kneel, themselves, low down,
sitting upon their heels. I explained, sheepishly,
as I had about the paddles, that I did not make
these things and knew they were all wrong. Be
fore the trading was over I saw one of the canoe
builders buying brass clinching nails; he was
evidently going to try them.
I had been giving a piece of tobacco for a
camera snap now and then, until the boys used to
call out "Tsh'tamau!"* (tobacco) almost any
time I appeared in sight, and it came to be ex
pected. One day before trading began the chief
asked me If I wanted to take a picture, and
grouped up a lot of his people on the platform,
while I took three snaps. As I turned away, there
was a bedlam of cries for Tsh'tamau; "Aishkats,"
"By and by," I said, and pointed to the store;
they laughed and scattered. Later in the day
I bought twenty-six of the little black plugs they
prefer, one for each man, and with pockets and
hands full went out, nodding to two or three In
dians who were In sight. They saw, disappeared,
*T?h-tay-mow.

104 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
and presently came back with the rest, surrounding
me in wild riot. As fast as one got a plug he mixed
in again with the others. There would not have
been the least trouble in their coming two or three
times apiece, for I could not keep track of them,
and I felt sure they would do so. But when they
stopped coming there was still one plug left over —
the man who had refused to give me a pose had
stayed away. I was surprised at this fair play,
but experience with more than a hundred indi
viduals since that time has developed nothing but
the same sort of thing.
Now came the trading. Most of the furs had
been passed in before the ship came, and paid for
with colored counters like small poker chips.
Yellow ones are ^5, white $2, red 50 cents, blue
20 cents. This money is used like any other for
buying the goods. The older men coach the
younger ones in their trading. There is, or was
on this occasion, no ill temper, and much laughing
as the goods were chosen. The list of items was
long,* Katshluas bought a folding stove. Red
handkerchiefs with a pattern were mostly pre
ferred to the blue ones; they bought any number
of them. Prices were stiff, a light single shotgun,
muzzle loader, was $\6. The chief finally asked
for a "debt," that is, something on credit.
.] "August 4. Two wolverene skins among the
rest this morning, also one or two heavy-furred
whitish wolf skins, very large; quite a few otter;
a good number of white foxes, many reds, and some
cross foxes. A black fox fetched $100.
*They buy cartridges, powder, shot, tobacco, tea, cloth,
shirts, leggins, needles, thread, ribbon, beads, axes, knives,
spy-glasses, kettles, Eskimo boots, blankets (white), hooks,
lines, mouth-harmonicas, handkerchiefs.

Ah-pe-wat

A NASKAPI PARTING 105
"It Is a tough piece of work for C. to stand
all day and deal with them, but he does it admira
bly. He works pretty fast and there is no great
amount of shopping bother such as one might
expect. John Dicker and Johnny E. run upstairs,
climb shelves, weigh, and measure. It has gone
on from six this morning and will hardly be over
to-night. "In a general way a man buys, besides his
various personal stuff, a large lot of something
like powder, tea, or some one kind of cloth. As
there is no sign of discussion among them I take
it that this is done by prearrangement, and that a
redistribution is made afterwards."
About midday the fifth trading was over.
Then a curious change came over the Indians;
they had been easy, good natured, leisurely; now
they were hurried, unresponsive, silent; they
crouched over their bundles intently; their backs
seemed always toward one. Two boats were ready,
William's and the Hudson's Bay Company's "punt."
Without taking leave or looking back they scat
tered down the wharf and into the boats. The
older men got into the punt, eight of them.
They were unmodified wild men again, and
disagreeable to boot. I was taken aback, not to
say disconcerted, but at any rate I had seen the
Naskapi way of leaving a white man's place.
Still I could have kicked them, one and all. There
are mitigating circumstances, though, when one
comes to know why they choose this way.
I decided to go along as far as Opetik anyway,
though with no definite plan beyond. Johnny
Edmunds had told me that his father would go
inland with me, he knew. I might never be on the
coast again, and anything observed while I was on

106 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
the spot would be so much gain. There was a good
chance that I would be able to get some pictures
of them in deerskin clothes at Opetik, when they
were less covered by the wretched cloth things
which most were wearing outside, and I might even
make some arrangement to go along with them for a
day or two. So I got in with the eighteen younger
men, the older ones looking too sour, holding fast
to the tow line of the canoe. We were packed
like sardines.
The punt, sailed by a bay man named John,
started well ahead, and was, withal, a faster boat
than ours. We were a fairly companionable mob
when once off, and when it went calm off Shung-ho,
two of the young fellows asked if they might take
the canoe, as of course they might — a good
thing, crowded as we were. The outriggers both
ered them, and before long they came very civilly
to see if they might take them off; once clear of
these they paddled a good many miles. When we
landed at Jim Lane's I took the canoe and paddled
It ashore myself. There was a little slop, and
because I did not hold the canoe quite straight,
though I thought I was doing very well as the wind
was, the young scamps hooted and laughed.
Derision Is an easy gift of the young Indians, they
are quick to see an opening and have all the wit
they need. I had suffered a little in dignity from
having dropped in with the younger men.
We had rather a good time, naming everything
we could see or think of, birds, animals, fish, and
trees. At last they found a tree I did not know
their name for, and were triumphant, but I had
done pretty well. They pointed southwest up
the valley from Opetik and said, "Nashkau
shebo,"— one could go to Northwest (Nascaupee)

A FAILING VENTURE 107
River that way. Nashkau, Nishku In Montag
nais, is the Canada goose. There is probably a
confusion in calling the river Nascaupee, which is
a common if an uncomplimentary name for a
northern Indian. I had some raisins and choco
late which I passed about, and in turn one of
them gave me a piece of indifferent-tasting caribou
tallow, which they melt and run into cakes. It
was slightly turned.
Johnny E. talked, his eye on my rifle; he
was unnecessarily afraid that George would get
it, and told how, when I finally gave out the night
I boated with him and George to the Inlet, and
went to sleep on the fish, G. had helped himself
largely to my stock of chocolate and bacon;
things which, by the way, I could not replace.
I had noticed that these supplies went down
remarkably about that time. As it was rather
late for Johnny to explain his position as accessory
I did not warm toward him. Later he warned me
of lice, saying that he often had one or two after
boating Indians. Although I was certainly well
mixed in with them that day I came off clear.
The Opetik venture came to little. It was
late when we arrived, and too dark for pictures,
save one of two boys who came and asked to be
taken together; one was Nah-pay-o, of whom I
was to see something in coming years. Nor was
the riiatter of darkness the worst, for John had
been the bearer of a hint to William from the post,
and he refused point blank to go inland.
The up-river tide would not serve until two
in the morning, but the Indians carried their
things some way across a neck to their embarking
place, built fires, cooked and waited. I was left
alone near the house for a time, the family having

108 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
gone over with the Indians. A dozen large dogs
were going about together. They had been restive
and excited about the Indians, having indeed laid
hold of a boy. Fortunately the family were there
and clubbed them off. Now I was walking about,
thinking what to do and oblivious of all dogs. I
had had no trouble that year with the many I had
been among; but I smelt as Indian, doubtless,
after late associations, as the real thing, and ought
to have realized the danger of It.
All at once I was conscious of being surrounded
by the whole group of dogs, tails up and moving
along with me, their noses and closed teeth rubbing
against my elbows with suppressed growls; only
a snap from one and the whole pack would have
me down and in pieces. It was a bad situation.
For an Instant rose the mist of panic. In a matter
of seconds my eyes rolled to a stick not far away
which I could reach without stooping. It would
not do to move suddenly, and I strolled as before.
Once I clutched the stick, and swung It high, the
dogs scattered. Sticks are swung to kill on that
coast. I went over to the Indians, singled out Katshl
uas, and told him I wanted to see a little of the
country and would give him my canoe if he would
help me to keep along with them one, two, or
three days, and would give me in return some old
canoe — "ipishash ush, tshlash ush"— "a small
canoe, worn canoe," and I would come back by
myself, "nil peiku,"*—" myself alone." He was
Interested, got out quite a good canvas canoe, and
offered it to me. "Mlam!"— "Good!" I said,
but he would have to help bring my stuff over the
neck, and I was old and not very strong, and would
have to have help on the march; some one would
*Pay-eeku.

A PIECE OF PORK 109
have to go in my canoe. He called some of the
young men from their blankets — it was then mid
night — and they talked together; then the young
fellows flatly refused to take me on. It was not
strange, they were heavily loaded and I would have
been only a bother on my own showing. They were
three to a canoe, and as to trying to keep up with
them unaided, besides portaging an outflt and a
ninety-pound canoe, and over the hard route
George and I had taken — as well pursue the birds.
I sought William's floor the rest of the night,
not without mosquitoes. At three or so came a
loud knocking at the door,- and in strode Ash
imaganish, the chief, demanding from dazed
William a piece of pork which he assumed had
been looted from one of his men. He was very
rough. It really seemed as if we would have to
produce It quick, or be tomahawked, but it could
not be found. William's protestations of inno
cence were received with the very worst grace by
A., but he went off leaving us alive.
When I went to the beach in the morning
there was the pork in my canoe ! In the unloading
one of the house people had naturally taken It for
mine and put It where It belonged. As I re
member, I made some arrangement with W.
to explain next time the Indians came down, but
I could not be very sorry that A. had not found
it where it was.
Next day William and I talked a long time.
He was hazy and unresponsive when I tried to
discuss the Side Brook country and the ground
I had overlooked beyond. I could not make
him out. In the end I lost patience and put on
the screws: "You know well enough how the
brook winds above the rapids, you must know that

no IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
fine lake on the head, and the fall with the sharp
turn to the north where the river slides down the
high rock!" Now at last his face lighted, "You
have been there, after all, you have been there"
The trouble had been that the Opetik people
thought I merely followed George back, and did not
go over to Side Brook at all.
Although it was useless to try to keep up with
the^ Indians alone, they would be two days, with
their heavy loads. In getting to the Assiwaban;
and by going by sea I might cut in ahead of them,
for they reach the Assiwaban close to tide water.
With everything my way It could be done in a
day, a long one, and Impelled by a dream of getting
pictures of the Indians while they were traveling,
I started. But four hours of savage pulling against a
strong head gale left me short of the Big Rattle, and
though things improved then, I went tired and left
off at five o'clock, camping behind highTuh-pungiuk
Rock just Inside the fine bay of that name.
The wide, easy slopes and dignified escarp
ments west of the bay are grateful to the eye
after the rugged rock heights of the outer waters.
Eastward, and near, are the little Un'sekat islands
where I met old Abel and his women in July.
From Tuh-pungiuk, which is seven hundred feet
high, appeared some people, evidently Eskiino,
tending a net in the sweeping sand crescent which
runs out to the three islands. Not caring to dis
turb the peace of the Un'sekat mind again by
showing myself just at night, I kept out of sight.
My climb up the hill had been mainly with an eye
to an Arctic hare for supper, but there were only
signs, and I had to come down, in more than one
sense of the word, to bacon. It was my last night
on the moss that year, and my last camp alone.

UN'SEKAT 111
The morning of the 7th there were tails of sea
fog to the hilltops and a moderate northeaster
began to drive In, cold and gloomy, with misty
rain. I started on, but it took an hour's hard
work and tossing to reach the first little island,
hardly a mile away. It was clear that I could not
get around and up the Assiwaban that day, that
my Indianizing for the year was done. William
had said that the "overfall" just below where the
Indians would take the river was ten miles above
Side Brook. It was really only a mile or so, but
even at that the distance was at least thirty miles
from my camp, Tuh-pungiuk, and the day was
one to be under cover.
At low tide the three little Un'sekat Islands are
united, and I was able to walk the mile to the Noahs' .
They were not afraid now, they had heard about me
from the post, and asked me this time to dinner,
with a welcome. Aboriginal hands are small and
shapely. The little house was, I judged, eleven
by thirteen, pretty snug for the eight of us. But
it was clean; An tone's wife, who It appeared was a
sister of William and David Edmunds, had lived
at the post at some time long ago and had not
forgotten Its ways. There was soap and a wash-
tub and board — these outdoors, as was the cook
ing fire; the smell of the cooking was kept out of
the little house. The fire Inside was only for
warmth, save in downright rain. Mrs. Antone
had taken hold In the family and kept them up.
And they were all kind, even as being Eskimo.
Dripping as I was, in oilcoat shining from the drive
of the icy sea, outdone by the elements, the warmth
and welcome went to my heart. Mine was the
best seat by the fire, the valeting by kindly hands,
the dry, hot woolens brought out, the best of the

112 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
trout from the pan. The sound of the axe, the
going on of the kettle, the intent picking out
of the best trout — these are memories that return.
Toward night I gathered myself to go back
to my outfit, meaning to sleep under the canoe.
The house was small, nor did I know whether
It would do to take up with the family in such
limited quarters, if Indeed they cared to have me.
They protested; it did not look right, Mrs. Antone
said, for a person to go off alone that way in a cold
storm, to sleep without fire — why not stay with
them and be comfortable. It came to the point
of Injury to their feelings. I hesitated, and
yielded; there was only to go over to the canoe
for a blanket. Now appeared some sort of doubt,
perhaps in part curiosity. They were still in un
certainties of some sort. Then, as ever during
the days I was there, I was not permitted to go out
of sight alone; this time It was the stout six-year
boy who went along; towed most helpfully over
the hard places by a cord tied to the neck of a
stout young dog. I was glad to have them along.
There were some flocks of wonderfully tame ducks
In sheltered nooks by the way, ruddies I thought,
and some elders and gulls, the latter nearly silent
now that the nesting-time was over.
Once back at the house, with a few supplies, I
became fairly one of the family. During the
evening old Mrs, Noah turned and dried my skin
boots, working them Into pliability with the little
gouge-like tool they all have, and stretching and
pulling them into shape. She chewed well the
hard places with short experienced teeth, sparing
no pains, until the boots were as they had never
been before. In the morning they were along
side my bed as fit as Sunday gloves, I was

Sea Trout at Un'sekat (Page 73)

Squaretail and Lake Trout, Assiwaban River 1906, (Page 228)

UN'SEKAT 113
mended and tended. Never too many are these
women's hands by the way — one never for
gets. After I had been undressed and put to bed,
they fetched a long piece of cloth, like bunting,
and curtained It around me, sleeping-car fashion.
There was some rustling afterward, but I never
knew how they stowed themselves, and when I
turned out In the morning they were about the
house as usual. I had a rare sleep. It was too
cold for mosquitoes.
It is the usual thing hereabouts to have the
summer house on some such rock as Un'sekat,
where all breezes help against mosquitoes. The
half-white people of the bays are more apt to cling
to their winter houses, enduring and complaining,
their poor dogs making warm nights hideous In
their sleepless torture. A dog begins to wail his
misery, another takes it up, and presently all are
in full cry together. It Is well to camp away
from dogs, which draw flies. If possible on some
little rock island. Then, If one have netting and
be a good sleeper, something can be done.
The Noahs' interest In me, partly as a new
specimen in natural history, and more as to what
I was going about In this way for, never quite
subsided. Their original uneasiness came a good
deal from experiences of the coast in the past with
two or three other strangers who had passed along.
One, if I remember, was insane; another, with a
past, had committed suicide on being identified
at some far north station. As to this sort of thing
they became tolerably reassured, but of course
no one would come away from the world and go
about this way who hadn't something on his mind.
Mrs. A., on a hazard, was explicitly sympathetic

11* IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
as to my past,_ There may have been a special
reason for wishing to know the worst; I might be
looking for a place to settle; such things had
happened, and the young lady of the family was
eligible. But they ought to know something
about me. One cannot be too careful in these
things. It had not helped matters that I passed
up intentionally through the Big Rattle, though it
was as smooth as oil at the time, "You-are-a-doire-
defl!" said Mrs, A., in the queer speech she had
before her English became limbered up. Still,
not to abandon her sex, she did not wholly dis
approve my supposed recklessness, and remained
always sympathetic.
The second day the women went to the net
behind the island and I was left alone in the house.
After a time I looked out, and to my surprise
saw four men, Eskimo, with old Abel superin
tending, laying out a net on the beach-grass a
few yards away. How they got there so quietly I
could not imagine. Could a boatload of people
land without my knowing it, without hearing
all the sharp-cut Eskimo talk of such occasions?
It seemed strange, If not uncanny. I looked
harder, and saw that It was simply the women of
the family, who had dropped off their skirts and
were doing their work in the usual men's trousers
they wore underneath. Their new cut was much
more appropriate and fit. The young lady of the
house, slim and straight, with high-bred shoulders,
looked particularly well in her handsome seal
skins. Certainly skirts are the last thing for an
active fisherwoman.
Complete enough seemed the life for the time.
There was no comfort to be added that was of
consequence; the warm hearth, the good fare

UN'SEKAT 115
of the sea, the kindly thought of the people, were
enough for the day.
Time comes when almost any refuge, and this
was more than a refuge, goes far with one; and the
chancing upon people of a new race In their home
happens not too often. The alternative with
me was weathering out a long wet northeaster, at
near freezing, off alone.
W^e lived well. A nine-pound salmon came In,
and there were always fine large trout. Some one
would run down the rocks, bring back a kettle of
clear sea water, and in this the trout would be
boiled; there was no salt but that of the sea water.
At first fish done this way tasted flat to me, with
a trace of bitter, but after a little I preferred them
that way. We were certainly doing well. "Eat!
Eat plentee ! There is plentee ! " old Abel would
say, as I paused over the fish. One day he took
a hammer and asked me to go along with him,
across the little island. He led the way to a boul
der of lightish trap, much like others about In
appearance, but unlike them it rang when he
struck It. He thought there must be something
unusual in it, perhaps gold, to be so different from
the dull-sounding stones about. I had the un
grateful task of explaining that there was no
gold In It, that it was no more valuable than the
other stones. One would not expect him to notice
that the boulder rang. Eskimo have remarkable
powers of observation In physical matters, not to
say of analysis. The well-known block-and-tackle
purchase with which they haul out walrus and other
heavy water game shows this; and even though
they may have taken the idea from whalers, their
clever adaptation of it, at least, places them very
high in mechanical conception. They have un-

116 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
usual skull capacity, I think It is Deniker, among
the ethnologists, who states that a certain string of
fifteen Eskimo skulls had greater average capacity
than any similar string of any other race.
For a day or two the little air of uncertainty
about me did not change; the family were still at
a loss to place me. Then, apparently, they came
Into new light, and the way of it was hardly to be
expected. It was a matter, we will say, of botany.
The flowers of the bleak, exposed place were almost
as Interesting as at Fanny's earlier, though they
were now of the less engaging types of early fall.
I happened to gather a few and took them into the
house to be named. Mrs. Antone fefl to and we
had a session over them. Some of the family
scattered out and brought others; at last, as a sure
climax, a dandelion! I really ought to have
withheld my having seen one before. With this
flower episode their minds considerably cleared.
They could understand this; a person who was
Interested in flowers could not be very bad.
About the islands the cotton-flower grows to a
fine size, with its great white boll. It is "Mitten
flower" here, Waw-lu-yuk. I asked if their people
used to wear mittens of white bear cubs' fur,—
"Yes, how did you know?" The alder is "Green-
flower," Ohiwi-uk. They do not eat the dande
lion; its name is Wis-uk-tuk, meaning, as I re
member, "Yellow flower." The mushroom or
toadstool is "Devilflower."
Antone had a fast, deep sailboat, and was
generally prosperous that year. He had sold a
silver fox for ^100, twelve white foxes and six
reds, and besides had shot more than one hundred
deer, mostly near by. "He was cracking at them
every day," said old Abel. They needed that

UN'SEKAT 117
many deer, between family and dogs. When deer
did not come to the shore A. had to go out to the
open water for seals, and evidently did not much
fancy this ice-edge alternative. The ice shifts
out and in, and there is always a chance of being
carried out to sea. The only birds at the ice
edge are sea pigeons, white in winter. Antone
looked me over when I spoke of liking to have a
winter on the coast, and said, "You couldn't
stand it."
From my diary: "Caplin's eggs line the long
beaches, sometimes three Inches deep. Sand color
or paler. The people dry caplin on the rocks
whole for winter dog food. The ghost of a smelt
in appearance, it is the rabbit of the water, on which
everything else feeds.
"There are eleven dogs altogether, five or six
being puppies. So far from being without feeling
for their masters, they are sociable and good com
panions. Like most dogs kept In numbers they
are not quite so responsive as ours, but knock
about the place in a stout, self-reliant way, hairing
up readily at each other, but behaving pretty well
at that. They are easily started off Into a pan
demonium of howling. I have not heard them
bark yet, though they do, I am told, under some
circumstances. Immemorial use at the sleds has
given them a peculiar bracing set behind, as if
all ready to pull. All here are fat, living princi
pally on coarse fish caught in the trout nets, scul
pin, rock cod, and flounders, besides the waste
from the trout, and by beach-combing about the
shores on their own account." Curiously, they
like the sculpins best of all, and not only they,
but some people think very well of them.
The dogs look singularly well, happy, and at

118 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
home when living with Eskimo in this way, as in
their glory; those I have seen In the bays have not
looked as well off, and those of the mission villages
and posts almost always seem Inferior.
Antone agreed to sail me to Fanny's when the
weather improved, as It did in three or four days.
The distance, some sixty miles, was too much
for me to take on by canoe without large allowance
for delays. I have never undertaken long dis
tances on the coast by canoe very willingly, either
by day or night, the conditions are too uncertain.
One year two young men of the shore, rather ven
turesome ones at that, were three weeks with a
good sailboat going from Hopedale to Nain and
back, although in winter the distance one way has
been made in a single day with dogs.
The day came at last. I was not glad to leave.
People of wilderness places always stand at the
shore as you go; and the women wave as you
make the offing.
It was only the Little Rattle this time. The
current was strong and the place narrow. There
was wind, but fast as the boat was she could not
beat through. When we came about, the current
took us back too far. Again and again Antone
tried, then lay in the eddy until the tide slacked
and we could pass the bar. Now Antone showed
his quality and his craft hers. He would let me
touch nothing, tiller nor sheet nor spar; I might
have been a child. When I became cold he in
vited me to get into his fine seal sleeping bag, with
its white blanket lining. I looked ruefully at my
skin boots, wet and not too clean. "It can be
washed," he said, shortly, and I slid In. The
sheets, beautifully cut lines of some large seal,
greased, small but unbreakable, all ran to cleats

FOR FANNY'S HARBOR 119
within Antone's reach as he sat at the tiller. With
flying hands, the tiller let go, he would cast off and
cleat the lines when we came about, as a master
plays his keys; like a demon he would bound
forward to hold some fluttering sail for an Instant to
the swing of the wind, and we never missed the
turn. The waters he knew. At full speed, the
boat lying over, he would dash for the rock shore
until I quivered, then short about and off for some
far point, where, as we swung by, terrorized eiders
tore from under the lee and sea pigeons shot from
below water Into the air as if fired from guns.
Recovered, the pigeons would swing afar and
come close over again, peering down at us curiously,
all black below, and their bright red feet steering
behind. Later the wind eased. We passed Jim Lane's,
two miles away, across the wide passage; he spoke
regretfully of It when I saw him next, two years
later, but we had feared losing the wind, and It
was a long way to Fanny's. Jim is the best of the
best! It calmed off finally. Somewhere about
Shung-ho we met the Eskimo John and his wife,
who were "going up to help Antone"; to help
Antone do what is not important; I think it was to
get out some "wood," timber we should call It, for
a house. It would have been as well, as things
went next day, if we had not met them. Not to
invest useful John, good shot and good hunter,
still less his ample wife, with the dignity of an
evil genius, it would have been as well, just as It
would have been If he had not reached Opetik
sooner than I did the week before and kept William
from going inland with me. We all landed on a large
boulder with deep water around to boil a kettle
and have tea. In landing J. sailed his boat

120 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
square Into my canoe — it was tailing behind
our boat and made no apology. I was cold and
cross, and snapped at him for doing It. He was
impudent, I responded, and he In turn, and In
the end threatened me. I couldn't "come into
their country and growl this way." We were
all on the boulder together. Antone was evidently
a well-knit friend of Mrs. J., and began to look
black as things came to a climax. No one likes
to be held to the mark In the presence of his
women folk, and Antone's position was not much
easier than J.'s. It wouldn't do to recede, so I
pulled off my gloves, slapped them down on the
rock one by one, stood clear and waited. They
were not boxers, the first one would go overboard.
But Eskimo do not know when to stop, and,
woman and all, the situation might become mixed.
But nothing ever quite happens, not under the
Union Jack, nor did then.
We ate silently and parted. Some way alorig
Antone tied up, and we slept uncomfortably in
the boat, with flies. We were ,at Daniel's in the
morning, where a kutshituk was again hopping
about over the dogs. The wind rose strongly
from south of east, and we made the post early.
Antone had talked of getting some one to go to
the cape with us, as he did not know the waters
well. He needed some one, fairly, but there was
no one to go, and in the end he gave out. The
foot of the run was white, and he did not like to go
into strange waters in such weather; moreover Mr.
and Mrs. John were at Un'sekat waiting for him.
The flne diplomatic hand of John, after our tiff,
may have been concerned in the matter.
I explained how 111 it left me for the mailboat,
and that I should have gone to Nain If he had

Jim Lane

A Bear, Bear Pond, 1905

FOR FANNY'S HARBOR 121
not said he would take me to Spracklin's, but he
did not waver. Before long he walked off for
his boat, the wind being fair, without asking for
his pay. "Where are you going?" I put in,
"Home." "Come back, I haven't paid you."
He came, surprised, and I handed him five dollars,
the first he had ever had, no doubt. He did not
fall into the sea In his astonishment, but looked
near it. For some time he hung about, trying to
do things for me, and finally left with a good deal
of light In his face, which has never failed In the
years since whenever we have met. I doubt If
the Un'sekat people had any thought of my pay
ing them, certainly not for taking care of me.
As to boating me away from their place. It ob
viously had to be done, unless I was going to stay,
and that was all there was about it. That I had
worldly possessions to speak of, there or anywhere,
did not enter their minds, I think.
So It is In their world; the wanderer must have
what he requires, shelter and food and help on his
way If he needs it — these at least and of course.
I asked the post people to put me across the
big bay with their large boat, pointing out that it
was no weather for canoeing, and offering to pay
almost anything. But they refused; they were
too busy. Cotter, however, was going down him
self on the second day after and would take me
along; he would get there first anyway. (This
I did not forget later.) But I was not willing
to take chances on the steamer this time, and
though I stayed over night at the post, which
could not well be helped, I waited no longer.
Here my diary becomes rather unjust and cer
tainly spiteful toward some pretty good people
along the shore. I was a good deal exercised.

122 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
The entry concludes, helplessly, "Well, here I
am, wind bound, the look of rain in the clouds
and a steamer to catch!"
When I got off in the morning it looked im
possible to go beyond the foot of the run. The
tide was going out strong, a swell coming in from
the open, and a sharp white sea from the cape
east. It made a jumping lop, striking at every
thing. All I had In mind was to drop down that
far, camp, and be on the spot whenever it would
do to go on; at least I was now fresh to row.
Sometimes, however, things are better than they
look. Inching gradually into the bad-looking
mess at the foot of the run I found that the canoe
was not taking the least water, and held on for
some time. But the irregular motion, the pitch
ing and sudden jumps of the light canoe In the tide
rips were so wearing that I gave up. There was no
danger, and not much to do but balance and be
thrown about, but the motion was too exhausting.
Along the mainland was a line of "barricados,"
as often happens, boulders shoved up by the ice.
They call them belly-carders here, in good faith.
Behind them was a sand flat just awash, so that
after passing between the boulders it was possible
to walk along dry shod In skin boots and drag the
canoe. It was easy going after the bobble of the
run. Flowers ' Bay, next, was out of the current,
though lively, and by one o'clock I was across
and boiling a kettle on the southern point. The
swell was mostly cut off here by Massacre Island
outside. Six hours more and I was apross Lane's
Bay. From the north side of the bay I had seen what
looked to be some trap boats with masts a mile
above the south point, but after two hours' rowing

FOR FANNY'S HARBOR 123
they turned out to be large schooners. I tried to
talk with a skipper, and would not have minded a
passing chat by the stove and a cup of tea, but
he had all the shadowed reticence, and in that case,
disagreeableness, of the skipper "on fish," afraid
the word will be passed along and bring In other
schooners; and I pulled away hoping never to see
him or his again. Heavens! His countenance,
save perhaps for the beard, few would care to have!
An Ill-natured extra mile against the tide and
at right angles to my proper course, to Black
Point, and the last stretch to the cape harbor
opened up. It was slow work, all day. The
canoe, wonderful as she was at keeping on top,
at taking care of one whatever came, was apt to
pound when against a short sea, and spattered up
spray which rained down inboard. She had to be
eased over the top of every wave. In the hour
after lunch I may have made a half mile; the wind
was strongest then, and the sea, though coming
off the cape island and not high, was well whitened.
It was not the pulling, but the incessant pitch and
throw of the corky craft that told with the hours.
Sitting in the middle leaves the boat wonderfully
free to rise, balance, and elude what comes, but
one's waist, which has to be the universal joint
of all gyrations, gets hard wear. In flat water
one could row forever.
I have never seen a white man's canoe that
would drive fast into a steep sea and keep dry.
The lines of the sea creatures are not in them.
The Indian's sea canoes are another matter. They
can be driven.
Once under the White Point, where the fog
shut in on my night trip down, the water became
level. At ten I was on the sand beach at the end

124 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
of the cape harbor, after thlrteen'hours of actual
rowing. It was unusually dark, " My back was
numb, and as I stepped about looking for white
and visible bits of firewood, .without much direct
ing power, it was as If on stilts, and it was no joke
getting down to pick up a piece of wood when I
found it. After awhile I got together enough to
do with and what followed was worth while.
It was a time to let out, and I cooked and cooked and
smoked to the limit, content. It was good travel,
it was good to make port. At such times one asks
no odds of the world.
After midnight I took a pack over the portage,
meaning to continue around the harbor a mile
and a half more, but the sloping rocks with water
below would not do, dark as it was. I could not
see my feet or footing much, and was unsteady in
getting about, for the stilts continued. I was not
too sure even of getting the canoe over the portage.
By the time I was back for her, however, circula
tion was on again, and the stilts became legs.
The tide was out, and gave me a nasty slow time
getting out over the mud and again to the land
on the other side. One wants an easy bit after
eighteen hours on the road, and slipping around
as If on banana skins at two In the morning with
a canoe on is not sport. It seemed as if half the
width of the harbor was only awash. After all,
the canoe picked up lightly enough for the last
lift above tide mark.
Spracklin did not wake when I lighted a match
over him and spoke, and knowing his desperate
pace and shorj: hours of sleep I turned away from
his raised arms, bandaged for his many "pups,
and pulling off my wet boots fell upon the narrow,
one-sided old lounge and banked myself up against

WAITING FOR THE VIRGINIA 125
the back. Almost hke the shutting of a steel trap
I went dead to the world. The house had felt
warm, coming from outside, but I ought to have
covered myself. Damp from salt water and per
spiration, in an hour I woke up chattering, pulled
out my sleeping bag and got in, and there Spracklin
found my mortal semblance In the morning.
The rest was not much more than getting home.
For a day I sat about, ate a deal of fish, and slept.
The second morning I was putting the canoe in
to go jigging cod, when the stones rattled, and
along the beach came Cotter, with young Jerry
Oliver, bearing a box. They had been becalmed,
nighted chilly on a barren rock without blanket
or fire, and looked as if they had had enough of it.
Then came my revenge; easily Cotter had said
that he would giet there first. We had some good
talks the next days, and many in years following.
It was Tuesday, the 11th, that I rowed down
from the inlet; it was to be Monday, the 17th,
before the mailboat came. Fish were still scarce;
I have a note of six hundred quintals for each side.
The nets had been out of water In some of the
best fishing. Tom Poole, the foreman, and an
other of the crew rowed to an island far outside
and jigged a boatload of large fish, jigging right
and left, four lines to two men. They slat them
off the hook over a crosspiece in front of the fisher;
there is no time for fussing.
From my diary: "August 15. A clear, warm
day, all rocks and air and sunshine, a sea blue and
sparkling, and a fine line of bergs passing south.
Tall ice is never wanting on the eastern sky line;
it gives the keynote to this barren rock region. Its
real latitude,
"Some snow is left, always in the most sunny

126 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
hollows under the ridges, where the northwest
winds pile the deepest drifts. There is no level
snow in winter, all Is gathered behind something.
The stream across from the stage is dried up, as
I found on going over to fish. New flowers have
come, not many. Redberries are eatable now,
though in blossom a month ago; the forcing effect
of the long sunshine is remarkable. Young birds
are about, sandpipers and the like, and land spar
rows. Snow buntings will be here soon, every
where. The gulls are nearly silent, the ravens
still more so, but hold on in the ledges across the
harbor. In the clear water off the landing stage
rock-cod and sculpins work about the fishheads
thrown over. Spracklin says there are clams
here, which the "Eskimaws" eat.
"I jigged cod at times, by an island near, in two
or three fathoms' depth. A dozen fish would
hang just over the jig In a close circle, heads in,
making passes for It, and generally getting the
hook under the broad jaw. The jig is sawed up
and down fifteen or eighteen Inches just over the
kelp. In three or four easy jerks I would have
a fish, and was sometimes well loaded down in a
couple of hours. In the boat they yield a little
like water with the motion of rov/ing, especially
in a swell, and are a peculiarly dead load for a
canoe. In a steep sea they might easily slide to one
end and make trouble; compartments are the thing,
to keep them distributed.
"The jig is a cruel thing; many fish get away
badly torn. The waste is great. Moreover, if
we must kill, let us kill mercifully, at least as merci
fully as do most savages. The jigger, the steel
trap, and the shotgun as commonly used, are
maimers and torturers.

WAITING FOR THE VIRGINIA 127
When a fish is hurt he hurries away for the
"doctor," a beetlish bug which fastens to the
wound until It heals. This doctor and his mission
are told of seriously on all the fishing coast.
There Is no questioning the doctor's existence and
activity, though the motives for his attentions
may well be suspected.
"We have been eating cods' livers, tasting like
concentrated pate de fois gras. They are rather
too rich; If one eats many at a time the world is
all cod liver that day. Subdued by parboiling
they come In well. Technically they are "blub
ber," as all grease-bearing things are. The uni
versal blubber cask of the coast Is strongly In
evidence to all senses. Including, when fermenta
tion is going on, that of hearing.
"Sunday, 16th. No mailboat yet, though
all felt that she would come. . . . Bruise for
breakfast — good. S. and Tom Poole treating their
'pups,' which come of the slime and wrist- work.
They are bad to see.
"It is half a jail matter, this waiting without
being safe in going out of sight at all. In clear
weather it is not so bad — one can go up on the hill
and look for the steamer. In foggy weather it is
wretched. No reading matter left.
"Spracklin looks rested since the fishing slacked.
He tells of the exact ways of the Hudson's Bay
Company people. Their carefulness goes into
post details; a former agent at the Inlet cut some
timber himself, sawed the boards, and enlarged
the dining-room. When the chief came along he
had him pull it all down because it had not been
reported, "Skipper Jim Is not so afraid that I will fall
to pieces now, remarking when Cotter was here

128 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
and we were sitting about with one or two visiting
skippers, 'Do you know what I said to myself
about you the morning you came up on the stage?
I said to myself, 'Has that man come up here
to die?' Then C, put in, In a tone of cheerful
support, 'Well, I didn't see him then, but I saw
him when he got to my landing!
"It is a good vitalizing climate. The New
foundlanders say, when worse for the winter,
'Oh, well, I'll be all right when I get to the Labra-
d6r,' There is less fog than in Newfoundland, less
housing with others who are sick, the light summer
buildings are more sanitary. And fish-smells,
however fierce, seem harmless."
They can be trying nevertheless. The night
before the mailboat came It was nearly Calm, Vv'ith
an air from the great refuse pile under the stage
straight to my window. It kept me awake.
But for fear of another night of It I should have
waited for the boat to come back from Nain, where
it turned out she was going. However, the chance
to see the place was worth taking. As we passed
north outside the Islands, familiar landmarks ap
peared far away along the mainland. Tuh
pungiuk was the plainest of them, a dozen miles
away. There still, doubtless, were the Noahs,
tending their nets.
Further south there was much talk of Hub
bard, and some anxiety. He had gone light, and
his prospects of success were doubtful, especially
as It was thought he had no gill net, but I did not
expect the tragedy that occurred.
Towards the straits Norman Duncan came
on with Briggs, his publisher's manager. Other
Americans came on along, Hewitt, of Boston,
climbing up the side with peculiar good will

A Finback, Hawk Harbor

The Beginning of the Pack, Cape Harrigan, 1905

NEWFOUNDLAND 129
after having had two or three weeks' waiting on
short provisions. At Twilllngate, one of the best
of the fishing towns, Duncan and Briggs and I
spent a day or two of beautiful sunny weather,
the very first of the summer there. Fog had
prevailed every day until then. Fancy the women
ghosting about all summer in the fog, the men gone
"down to the Labrad6r!" Duncan stayed off at
Exploits with his friends, the Manuels. Briggs
and I took the Clyde to Lewisport, and went on
by rail, parting at Boston. My summer recon
noissance, planned by the printed timetables
for three weeks if I did not stop off at Fanny's,
five if I did, had lasted just seventy days.

Chapter VI
1904
IN 1904 Robert Walcott and I left Boston by
rail, July 1«, without much intention beyond
that of trying the Assiwaban River, perhaps
staying Inland over two steamer trips, nominally
a month. The planning was merely a telephone
matter — we were talking, found that both fdt
like going somewhere, and were off In a day or two
without many words. I happened to know about
sailing dates, also that there was a canoe to be had
in St. John's, We bought the canoe by telegraph,
and it was waiting us on board the Virginia Lake
when we boarded her at Battle Harbor. It looked
large, on the deckhouse, and when we walked
over and lifted it our misgivings became fixed.
She weighed one hundred and forty-one pounds,
dry and light; although a canoe in shape and canvas
skin, she only wanted rowing gear to be a good,
stout rowboat. She was a good piece of work,
her maker being that rare mechanic Gerrish of
Maine, from whose camp on B Pond, years before,
I had climbed an eastern hill and seen for the first
time the grand southwestern rampart of Katahdin.
Our doing much portaging with such a craft
was out of the question. Still I remembered the
blue Assiwaban stretching thirty miles inland
without heavy rapids; we could go that far, surely
Our trip from Boston to Nain was a record one,
nine days to an hour, allowing for change of longi
tude. We might have saved something like a
day on that, if the captain of the Home, from Bay
130

NORTH AGAIN 131
of Islands through the Gulf to Battle Harbor, had
not held back unnecessarily, for the Virginia Lake
had waited for us nearly or quite twenty-four hours
as it was — for us two only, and on a perfect day
such as really counts for two days on that foggy,
uncertain coast. The feelings of Captain Parsons,
as the hours went by, may be Imagined, not to
mention those of the discouraged passengers.
Knowing the way of things there I felt as If we had
murdered a steamer voyage, and hastily went
below until we were off and in another air.
Peter McKenzie, the Hudson's Bay Company
manager, was on, and of all others to meet there,
Stuart Cotter. He had made a new contract
with the company, and was taking charge at
Northwest River, but although all the Davis
Inlet coast had believed that he would make the
very most of his trip across the water he was
still a bachelor.
We were some time at RIgolet, and there the
Hudson's Bay Company people got off. Captain
Gray and the Pelican were waiting for them, and
at a kind hint from Peter we were asked to go
north by their ship. Chances looked better with
the mailboat, and we did not change. It turned
out better so, decidedly, for the Pelican took
bottom in getting out of Cartwrlght, and it was
many a day before she saw Davis Inlet again.
McKenzie had nine wooden canoes, Peterboros,
sixteen feet by thirty-eight inches by sixteen
inches, strong and serviceable boats. He asked
me what I thought of them, but did not say what
I came to know afterward, that some or all of them
were presents for his old Naskapi friends at
Chimo. In all the North he was then known to
the Indians as "Our Father McKenzie," and he

132 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
deserved the title. During his twelve or fourteen
years at Chimo he had saved them from starva
tion more than once by organizing their deer
hunts. It is probable that no one else has ever
had their confidence and affection as he did. He
was part Indian himself, and the blood told, with
whatever allowance for his remarkable personality.
The Sprackllns were not doing much as to fish.
We had but a short visit, merely while the mail was
being made up. Ellen was still the mainstay.
The old place and people looked home to me,
indeed. The little sunny sitting-room with the
stove and the corner cupboard, the chairs and old
lounge on which in conjunction we used to cobble
up the lance net for my bed, were there unchanged.
The room was always good to be In. Things had
to be fairly near each other from necessity, but
Spracklin was one of the few men who have a
touch In living-rooms. One would as soon think
of rearranging the fins on one of his cod as any
thing he had set about. I was there many a day
before I saw how right the little place was. Men
of the sea more than others, perhaps, can be
shipshape without falling Into the geometrically
unpleasant. The place about, too, was always shipshape, in
order. Spracklin was always painting things,
boats and gear and buildings, down to the full
round bull's-eyes accurately done In white on
every door about the station. These helped one
tell the door In the night, maybe, but Spracklin did
it to label his entrances, his flat doors; it pleased
his eye.
We were at Nain at ten in the morning, and
away southward by one. The feature of the
voyage to Voisey's, some twenty-five miles, was

THE NAIN PASSAGES 133
the Eskimo boy, a waif about the mission, who
went along to try to find the way. He had been
over it only once, some time before. The navi
gation itself was on calm water and uninteresting;
our craft was slow on water and a crusher on land.
The boy paddled softly, he had never done It before
and his arms ached. He took our nagging as im-
perturbably as an old farm horse. We had to have
what help he could give, for the passages were
wide, the shores high, and old saws about getting
over your large waters while It is calm were all
to the point. How the wind can blow In those
long passages that stretch off below Nain! They
are noble passages to see.
I had said much to W. about grampuses, es
pecially about the grampus of Un'sekat, and
when a very large one crossed our wake rather
near, and snorted prodigiously, he certainly looked
around, I think I had given him the Impression
that almost all grampuses came up under one's
canoe. Where we lunched, some six miles down, below
"the rattle," the boy wandered, unnoticed, and
found some ptarmigan, but our flying shot went
wide. The sharpness of these young Eskimo In
finding and seeing game of all sorts is remarkable.
I have often thought they were quicker sighted
than even the Indians. They are more highly
energized, and they seem as absolutely fitted to
the coast life as the seals themselves. The Indian
Is a little too far north here, being at his northern
limit and probably beyond his natural latitudes.
The extraordinary diversity of Indian and Eskimo
both In genius and physical habit indicates a
good deal of separation during their elder race
history.

134 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
The young eiders and sea pigeons were flying
well by this date, and we shot quite a few as they
flew by. It seemed as if no ducks were ever
better than these elders when they came out of the
kettle next morning.
The boy did visible thinking toward night, as
we approached the Voisey's Bay waters. A deep-
ish bay to the right bothered him in the twilight,
and we spent a little time looking it over, finally
camping just Inside It on good moss. We were on
KIkertavak, "Big Island," and some twenty miles
from Nain. On the sea chart is shown a through
passage west of this Island, but according to the
bay people It has no existence. Six miles south of
Nain the Inside passage, the one we were in, takes
a turn west for a mile or more, then turns sharply
to the southeast around a noticeable crested
mountain, visible from far about.
The morning of the 28th, as we were at the
eiders, the boy came in from one of his little
disappearances, whispering excitedly, "Deers!"
Following him some way we came to a caribou,
which Wolcott shot handily. It was our first
large meat, and a good omen for the future. In no
time to speak of the boy skinned the animal and
cut it up.
We were at John Voisey's at midday. His
wife, one of the Lanes, had formerly worked at
Spracklin's. John told of seeing me go by last
year, and of painting his gable red. He wanted
no more such slips. He had been up Assiwaban in
winter, but turned out to be a good deal wrong as
regards Indian camping places and their move
ments — the old story with the shore people. He
went along with us in a flat to the fall, over six
miles on the bay and four or five by river, to help

ASSIWABAN 135
portage. The rocks along the river were slaty
and on edge, cutting our moccaslned feet; we had
a time getting the heavy canoe along to a place
where we could turn up the bank. It was a
heavy matter to do with the boat on any terms in
bad ground, and not much easier for three of us
at once than for one alone to carry It, John was
nearly all in by the time we had made the portage,
some three quarters of a mile, though It was on level
ground once we were up the hundred-foot bank.
It was very hot on the sunny river bank at the
far end, perhaps ninety degrees. The shore people
simply wilt at such times, strong as many of them
are; they are not hot-weather people. John was
easily glad to start back for his cool sea place,
where he could get away from the flies as well
as the heat. We were ready to camp ourselves,
and did so a mile up the river, at a bend where
the Indian trail to Opetik was plainly marked on
the trees. Here the stream, five or six hundred
feet wide, is easy, winding in three or four long
swings through a timbered sand plain with hills
a mile away on each side. Some of the river banks
are high and of sliding sand, the lower ones clothed
with moss and alders, besides some black spruces,
but what there are of these last, and they are
rather scattering, grow mostly over the river plain.
One can pass about freely almost anywhere, save
for the damp alder places; and white cladonia,
the caribou moss, carpets most of the level ground.
There are some few trout In all eddies below
gravel points, but they are not always abundant,
however, for some miles. Trout are the common
fish of the river, often visible sculling along In the
gravel shallows singly or In pairs, only a foot or
two from shore, turning In now and then and

136 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
rubbing noses against the dry land, hunting the
water line like deliberate spaniels. We saw rather
few In the first fourteen miles. At five or six
miles from the falls the sand plain ends and a strong
water-worn ledge on the north side marks the
entrance to the real river valley. This, for seventy
miles, would be called a canon In the West. The
steep sides drop six hundred to eight hundred feet
almost into the river for twenty-five miles above the
falls, and from there the headlands are more
or less sheer to a height of ten or twelve hundred
feet. All the side, streams save at the main forks
discharge in ribbon falls, most of them emerging
from very perfect examples of hanging valleys,
and their white ribbons sometimes begin to show
nearly a thousand feet above the river. These
brooks do not amount to much in dry times, but
In the great melting period of spring the valley walls
of the upper river must be a lively sight, and the
rush and roar tremendous. Even In summer,
after long rainy periods. It Is not too pleasant to be
camped near some of the high brooks. Gusts of
wind brings the sound from some high-up overfall
in a startling way, carrying it off again In a few
seconds almost to stillness. The sound Is rasping
in the pent-in river valley.
At the narrow falls near tide-water tfie river
chokes back in very high water, and must be placid
and lakelike there for a good many miles up.
That year we left a caribou carcass on the upper
beach at our first camp above the falls, and a
year or two later I found the weathered skeleton
unmoved, though it was on a point and especially
exposed to whatever current was running.
On the afternoon of our first day's travel above
the falls the swift gravel bars were almost too much

The Wind Lake of the Assiwaban, Cabot Lake

TROUT 137
for us to get over, save by wading with a tracking
line. By camping time our lumbering boat had
been spitefully christened "The Raft," and still
bears the name In reminiscence. She has never
been taken above the falls since that trip.
We camped at a slight point where spring ice
had shoved up the river gravel. The river was
swift here, and we looked for trout in the eddy
below the point along the bank, where the water
was still and had a little depth. While I was
getting things going at the camp two or three rods
back from the edge of the bank on a luxurious
white moss level, Walcott took his grilse rod to the
point for fish. After a while I looked out, but not
much seemed to be doing, though W. looked all
intent. It developed that there were "some
heavy things in there"; he had lost some tackle
on them. His gut was no doubt old and brittle,
for grilse tackle will land almost anything if sound.
The sun had been hot and the fish taking lightly.
Shortly they showed a better spirit and the few
necessary fish came in, the best toward three
pounds' weight.
As darkness came on we were sitting by the
fire when a heavy splash came from under the bank,
and others followed. We listened, a little startled,
then knew that it must be trout. All along the
eddy they sounded, for a hundred yards. As my
diary has it, "It sounded at times like a dozen
muskrats on a rampage, and was really startling
in the still evening." Such an appeal to one's
fishing instincts I had never met with before.
"We went down and fished awhile, and though
it was rarely possible to see the flies on the water
for the darkness, the large fish found them well
enough and came In fast. Three or four would

138 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
jump at the fly at once, and must have knocked
each other about considerably. They were fran
tic. We could not use many, and as the mosqui
toes were raging we retreated soon to our smoke
at the tent. The splashing continued long and
began again before daylight."
The "heavy things" that had done damage
to W. were, I now think, namaycush, the great
lake trout of the North, which may be of almost
any size and In quick water Is a hard puller. In
deep water they bore around and around in circles
and down. Their habitat reaches at least as far
south as a New Hampshire pond a few miles from
the Massachusetts line. In Maine they are
"togue," In northern New Hampshire "lunge," in
Quebec, "tuladi," or gray trout; Indians know
them as "k6komesh" or "namaycush."
Caribou had walked many of the beaches, and
wolves, though the number of Individual animals
concerned was small. An occasional fox also had
run the shores, and a smallish bear or two.
A mile or so above our trout camp Is the
Natua-ashish, "Little River-lake" of the Indians.
It is less than a mile wide at the widest, and per
haps four long, with steep hills to the south. As no
noticeable drainage comes In on that side, what
water there is may go to Side Brook. Invariably,
about the outlet, from one to four lesser shel
drakes start up, always rather wild.
We had learned to pole together; by the second
day, and could get ahead well in the swift places.
Above the little lake, however, an east wind came
up river behind and a cloth of forty-five square
feet took us along well. After six or eight miles
again came a widening, with portentous dark cliffs
which continued for some miles. The lake did

THE WIND LAKE 139
not look as long as it really was, and though a sea
was rising we kept on. Water began to come In,
and there was no good place to land on the south
side where we were. Still a good deal of the shore
was only rock debris from the cliffs above and
could be climbed, and we kept pretty close in. The
pace soon became very fast, we thought twelve
or fourteen miles an hour. It was a wonder that
everything held, but the speed relieved the strain
a little, A smooth canoe eighteen or twenty
feet long can make a wonderful pace before the
wind, and if fairly flat and balanced a little high
in the bow will tend to slide itself up over the waves.
For my part I was very dubious along by the cliff
headlands; they did not look very high while
ahead, nor far, but they were, and it seemed as If
we could never reach and get by them. W.
seemed steady; he was used to racing boats, and I
relied on his showing some sign if things looked
half as doubtful to him as they did to me. A
year or two afterward he talked about it. He had
been about as uncomfortable as I, but knew
that I had seen a good deal of open canoes, and I
looked easy. We finally cleared the narrows and
the wind had a chance to spread. It was still
a lively lake sea, but we reached a sand beach
without swamping.
Knowing the place better, as the worst wind
lake anywhere, I would not think of going Into
it again under such circumstances, though a west
or northwest wind Is probably more to be regarded
there than one from east such as we had. The
hills are shaped so as to collect wind from either
way. Long, plough-shaped slopes swing around
to the southwest side and concentrate everything
from west to north against the high rock faces of

140 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
the narrows, and from them remarkable bolts of
wind sometimes shoot downwards, striking ir
resistibly. When we came back through the lake
we saw where a great ball of wind had come down
on a timbered shelf on the north side of the nar
rows, knocking everything flat, then bounding
over some standing trees to a lower shelf and ap
parently rolling down into the lake. It left the
stripped white tree stems combed flat like grass
to the water side. This may well have happened
while we were passing, as we were too preoccupied
on the other side of the narrows to observe It, and
we remembered no recent wind as strong as the
one that day. Two or three canoes of Indians
were struck by a gust some years ago and all were
drowned. Their people who travel there now
naturally show a good deal of consciousness about
the place. They know it as Natua-ashu, a name
which Is generic for a river — lake or expansion.
We sounded the lake just above the narrows
when going down river, finding It two hundred and
seventy-five feet deep at about two hundred and
fifty yards from shore. What depths would be
found farther out Is hard to say. I have always
meant to take time there and find out, but the
impulse to get through the place and be done
with it has been too strong.
The ice must become very thick here, swept of
snow as it Is by the gales, and it doubtless stands
immovable against the first spring breakup. Then,
apparently, the lake backs up for two or three
miles. Upon the first wide levels sand and drift
wood are deposited, higher up the gravel, this
getting coarser and coarser as the channel narrows.
For two or three miles the stream flows very swift,
silent, and shallow over pea gravel, which is al-

THE RIVER VALLEY 141
most as unstable as quicksand, and curiously
bothersome to get over, whether one paddle, pole,
or wade. To the north, once past the lake, the country
breaks back a little, with a slight valley, which
for once is not quite a hanging valley. Here, In
winter, the shore people of one shade or another,
mostly dark enough, leave the river for the high
level to hunt deer. Some say they know the river
a little farther up, but If they do they have shocking
memories for natural features. Even concerning
the "Big Lake," the Natua-ashu, their descrip
tions are often weak. There were "Indian poles
all around it" — but we saw not one. It Is the
very last place to camp, save when windbound, or
perhaps at the extreme lower end. The shore
people's stories of It are hard to account for.
Sam Bromfield's son Abram, one of the most pre
sentable youths of the shore, asked me if what he
had heard was true, that you could sail a trap
boat all the way up Into the Big Lake, and when
you were there the shed hair of the seals was knee
deep around the shores! Being a seal hunter he
was much lighted up by the tale. Yet the seventy-
five foot fall is at the very head of tide, and the
bay people go there often. Under this fantastic
imagination as to things Inland Is the demonology
of the Eskimo, which places all sorts of evil spirits
there. From the narrows to the main forks Is four or
five miles. The Mistastin comes In from south at
right angles, but In two or three miles recovers
its course from nearly west. The main river
valley, more and more walled In, carries on straight
west for some thirty miles more. The forks
camping place, a few hundred yards up the Mis-

142 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
tastln, is my favorite of all the region. There
were many Indian poles, mostly winter ones. An
ample white moss level, with sparse spruce and
larch, extends south until cut off by the westward
swing of the Mistastin, and over this plain caribou
paths led like spokes of a wheel to our camping
place at the forks. The few actual tracks were
old. Successive fine terraces extend nearly from
river to river a little west of the forks; on the
southwest the level line of their last high escarp
ment against the sky, turning with a square corner
up the Mistastin, is singularly fortification-like
and Imposing from points on the lower terraces.
The dignity of the level line In landscape is rarely
more evident than here. Back of the terraces is a
sharp ascent to the rolling high level, here nearly
a thousand feet above the river.
That first afternoon we went Mistastin way,
for It had been fabled by John Voisey that the
Indians used that stream. It turned out shallow,
rapid, and unbeatable, running over rough boulder
gravel for many miles. From a valley with ponds
to the south a large rushing branch comes in
and above it the Mistastin Is visibly smaller,
though even at the forks it Is less than the main
Assiwaban. But its valley is one of the main
features of the country; at some time a great
drainage has come that way. From that side was
laid down the broad river-plain and by these
waters were cut the terraces.
On one of the higher terraces an Indian hunter,
a year or two before, had placed boughs on the snow
to sit upon while he watched the wide river level
for deer. We saw a few wolf signs about these
terraces, and some of bear, with two broods of
willow ptarmigan, these quite tame.

ROCK PTARMIGAN AND SHRIKES 143
The next day we explored the high level
country between the rivers, a region of rolling
barrens with small lakes. It was really unex
plored ground. The outward route of the In
dians traverses some of the lakes, but we saw no
signs of It then. In wiry grass by a brook
were_ some beautiful rock ptarmigan, running
fast with heads low, and rising suddenly with a
cackle for their short flights. They were utterly
indistinguishable when motionless, simulating the
stones, which were light colored with black and
gray lichens. In the hand the birds seemed most
conspicuous, with their large white underpatches.
In a place among the hills that was slightly
sheltered and had a few scattering trees we saw
a half dozen shrikes; I am not sure that I had ever
seen more than one at a time before, anywhere.
They eat small mice, and of course birds, but
the horned larks which were about would seem too
large for shrikes to manage; In numbers they could
do so. But the mice everywhere about that year
were more than abundant enough for all shrikes. In
dians give the unpleasant name of Torturer to the
shrike, for it plays with its victims like a cat,
picking them gradually away. To the eye the
bird offers no suggestion of being predatory, much
less of being revoltingly cruel. Most predatory
creatures, however beautiful, suggest the destroyer
in some way, by their claws or beaks or teeth at
least, but the slight down-nib of the shrike Is
scarcely noticeable, while his gray and dark effect
suggests the peaceful and Quakerish. In com
pany with a mocking bird and a cuckoo, he would
look to be a creature of about the same ways. It
hurts to find so amiable looking a creature of this
aspect with such bad instincts toward Its own

144 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
nearest kind. Whether or not murderers are
usually labelled as such by Nature, we always
expect them to be.
In the afternoon a wolverene came loping,
woodchuck like, across the way, at eighty yards.
W. sat down on the sloping ground for a steady
shot and I whistled sharply. The animal faced
and stopped. A handsome shot W. made, just
under the chin and from end to end. It was a
strong-looking brute. An autopsy proved it
full of mice. We skinned It and took the broad
skull. I, chiefly, had officiated, and an astonishing
musty smell remained on my hands. To live it
down might take weeks, I thought, but in a day
or two It faded away.
We were pleased over our wolverene episode,
for one might be a long time in the country without
seeing one, especially in summer, and it is an inter
esting species. This one may have weighed forty
or fifty pounds. No creature is so hated in the
North, for none Is so cunning and destructive, none
so hard to destroy. Its practice of carrying off
and hiding what It cannot eat gives the im
pression of actual malice, especially as it burglar
izes not only eatables, but all sorts of equipment,
even to the camp kettle. Once snow has leveled
over Its tracks Its hidings are safe. Caches have
to be placed high for any security, with an over
hanging platform. Many an Indian, and even
many a family, has perished by the agency of this
evil genius of the North. "We know he is pos
sessed of an evil spirit," Indians say, "because he
has been the death of so many persons." Steel
traps he understands, and Is rarely caught, but
pulls out the back of the pen and gets the bait
without penalty. He may follow a line of traps

Summer Wolverene

Wolverene, under side

A WOLVERENE 145
for forty miles, taking every bait and whatever
game has been caught. Sometimes he is outdone
by the "double set" — one trap set as usual, for
him to avoid, another concealed with all art in an
unusual position. Stories of the occasional cir
cumvention of the pest are cherished among the
hunters. When the Indians do catch one they sometimes
torture him in mere exasperation, as well as to
deter the other wolverenes from pursuing their
evil ways, for by agencies we do not recognize
they will know the victim's fate.
The beast inspires vindlctiveness in most
amiable persons. While McKenzie was at Chimo
he had some traps out and was troubled by a
wolverene family. Although he managed to catch
the young ones, the old mother was too clever
for him, and he finally resorted to a spring gun
with a bait, and four steel traps set about. When
the beast pulled on the bait the gun only snapped
without going off, but, startled, the animal jumped
and landed in one of the traps, and by the time
Peter came along she had picked up two or three
more. Peter related that he sat down and looked at
her awhile, then took a stick and beat her well,
and so on for some time before he killed her.
As Peter had a singularly amiable temperament
the incident may be taken as showing that few
dispositions can bear the wolverene test.
The carrying off of things that are of no use
to the creature concerned seems to go with an
unusual degree of intelligence, as In the crow kind,
the jays, and the well-known mountain rat of
the West. This last creature, not really a rat at
all, by the way, stops at nothing. A tent with a

146 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
floor is his natural abiding place. Shoes, hair
brushes, all toilet things that are within his
strength disappear under the floor of nights. In
Idaho, long ago, one of them stripped us without
compunction, until at last we pulled up a floor
board and watched as we could. As we were
sitting silently one day, the rat's furry tail was seen
to move in the end of a joint of stovepipe. We
clapped pieces of board over the ends of the pipe
and carried It some distance away before letting
the rat out. Intelligent, he took the hint and
never came back.
From the higher hills that day we observed
widely. The Mistastin valley appeared to ascend
rather rapidly southwest. North, across the Assi
waban, where the view was far, the country had
almost no trees, was smoother and more barren,
the surface less covered In. Our last view north
and west was from a great headland of the Assi
waban, some ten miles above the forks. This
promontory Is mostly sheer, and thirteen or
fourteen hundred feet high. A golden eagle
hung over the river, a little below our level, the
sun touching well his bronze back. He was in
keeping with the cliffs and depths below, and
the wide, barren, but inspiring wilderness that
stretched away at our level. I have seen few
eagles in the country; all were the golden species.
Save for the Mistastin not one side stream,
in all probability, comes Into the river at the valley
level, from tide water to the plunging falls by which
the stream descends from the plateau. On the
north side there are no branches at all save for
Inconsiderable tumbling brooks, and the length
of river I have observed must be as much as sixty
miles in a straight line. The north side of the

A LONG VALLEY WALL 147
river valley is almost a wall, sloping or sheer, from
end to end. There is nothing like a notch for fifty
miles, and then only a V-shaped ravine, with a
trifling brook, and rising sharply to the plateau
level. It is much the same with Labrador valleys
all the way southward around to the Saguenay,
which is the great type of the Gulf and East
Coast rivers. Not one, save the Assiwaban,
that I know of, but has more than one deep-cut
side valley in Its entire length.
Scattered over the country as they were let
down by the Ice are unnumbered erratic boulders.
They are conspicuous on many of the ridges at a
great distance. A curious kind of boulder occurs
here and there which weathers down into light-
brown rhomboid fragments the size of stove coal;
they must have come from somewhere west and
north. Until we turned back for camp there had been
some breeze in our faces, and no trouble from mos
quitoes. Now they accumulated rapidly and were
as bad as I have ever seen them even on these
white moss barrens. They covered W.'s long
back In a solid brown mass. He would ask me to
scrape them off, but I could not make up my mind
to do it with my hand, and always got a branch
to clear the repulsive swarm off with. I did not
have as many as W., my coat being smooth; they
like fuzzy cloth and light-colored surfaces. The
last four or five miles Into camp we were hard
pushed, came in running, and were punished well
while trying to start a fire.
There were a good many showers that trip, in
fact sun-showers are the summer feature away from
the coast, and often it took a little time to start

148 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
a fire; at least, one of us had to hold the match
until it was almost wholly burned. While the
match was burning we could not brush mosquitoes
without agitating the air and putting it out, and
the enemy would settle down fast on our hands.
Meanwhile the operator was defenseless. We
agreed afterward that the most trying experience
of the summer was having to hold the match
until it burned out.
The high barrens are fully as bad as any other
place, little as they look it, and there mosquitoes
are largest. In bushy places and sometimes close
to water black flies are troublesome, but they go to
sleep at night and one can get along, while the
mosquitoes keep on. They try one's nerves.
Low tells of one of his young men who was taking
a round of angles somewhere in this country; he
persevered for a time, though hard pressed, but
finally dropped his hands and burst into tears —
it was too much.
If Walcott had known how he looked the first
three days on the river he would have needed good
courage to keep on. He was swelled up nearly
to blindness; his nearest friend would hardly
have known him. By the third day the swelling
goes down and does not again appear, for that
season at least. This 1904 trip was the worst for
heat and flies of any I have had In the Northeast.
It is a blessed thing that mosquito torture
vanishes easily from the mind when the actual
infliction is over. So it was that evening at the
forks ; once in the smoke, and equilibrium restored,
we thought only of the interesting day. Neither
of us had ever been In really unexplored ground
before, and that day we had probably overlooked
one thousand square miles of which it was im-

-f^-**^

An Indian Offering. Bear's Skull on Pole

A Weathered Boulder, Mistastin Lake

AN INDIAN VISIT 149
possible to get any description at the shore. It
was not only fresh ground, but Inspiring to look
upon and walk over. A country more inviting to
the feet would be hard to find; one never knows
when to stop.
Here the variation of the compass was about
forty-one degrees. The place was about forty-six
miles from the mouth of Assiwaban as we had come.
The trout here evidently belonged to Mistastin
waters, brilliant, beautiful fish, not rangy like those
of the main stream, and their quality was more
than skin deep.
At 4.30 in the morning we were awakened by
the sound of a paddle working against a gunwale
down toward the main stream. Looking out of
the tent, a canoe with two Indians was turning
up from the main stream to our place. When
they saw us the sound of the paddles quieted; It
had been their door bell, for wilderness people
do not approach one's house unannounced. A
white man might have shouted, but these people
avoid calling out, and all other sounds that startle.
They were a man and boy. In an empty canoe,
without arms. I knew them both from the year
before, and was able to give them photos of them
selves. There were seven more of them, they said,
just below. They accepted tea and bread, but
declined the bacon. The man took up a little
cache nearby, and a tin can which we had noticed
just back of the tent hanging to a tree. We
talked awhile, and he drew a map on the sand
showing the high portage and some of the country
beyond. After half an hour he asked for a gun
and cartridge, with which he promptly fired a
signal shot, which was answered from below
around the bend. Presently more firing came,

150 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
with a peremptory sound, and our guests started
away, we putting In and following, to see the rest
of the party.
A noticeable thing had happened when I
showed them a group picture taken at the post
the year before. They were Interested and pleased,
picking out the faces easily, until they came to
one of a man who had died during the year. The
effect was remarkable, the man looked almost
frightened and his voice sank. "Tshipl," he said,
"A spirit." His disquietude was evident.
The people below turned out to be young men,
in charge of a younger man I had met before, who
withal was somewhat inflated by his temporary
dignity. There seems to be always a chief, some
one In authority, wherever Indians are found.
When they saw us coming on. In the big canoe,
they laughed at something one of them said about
us. I doubt if It was really our bad paddling or
absurd way, Indeed, of sitting, though it may
have been these. It Is likely, rather, that they
saw what guys we would be on the high portage
with such a craft, and on the long portages beyond.
There is no telling, however, what may seem the
funniest thing to them when a white man is trying
to do Indian things.
I showed the group picture again, among others,
and while they were interested and picking out
the faces watched to see if they also took notice
of the one who had died. I should have known It
with my back turned, for the same "Tshipl" was
whispered, the same silence and uneasiness came
over all, and very shortly they renewed their
preparations to emljark.
Their being shaken was not very strange. To
be presented unexpectedly with the speaking like-

A DISTURBING PICTURE 151
ness of one near and intimate who has just died is
naturally affecting to any one; It would be to one
of ourselves. Nevertheless the extreme awe that
was shown, resulting In such curiously identical
manifestations of manner and words, seemed more
than one would expect. In truth, as I came to
know in time, seeing the picture was to their minds
perilously near to seeing the departed. Anything
belonging to a person who has died Is in their
view of most doubtful omen to the living; even
the name Is not to be spoken, and if another has
the same name It is changed. A lapse in these
things results in distress to the departed spirit,
and it may be In visitations by the tshipi upon
those behind. And ghosts, the world over, are
not welcome visitors.
We soon parted; they expected to be back In
four days. This looked unlikely, for they could
not possibly tell how long the salt water voyage
would take, even though they reached Opetik that
night. We agreed to look for them, however.
It was W.'s first view of Naskapi; their ir
responsible look took him between wind and water,
particularly certain flannel shirts, worn outside,
for a deerskin breechcloth does not lend itself to
ordinary dispositions. These, with their uncon
ventional legs, were a bit unusual. I explained
that they merely called the shirt a sweater, and
wore it outside.
We went back to camp and took a day off, mend
ing and knocking about near by for a few birds
and fish. I boiled W.'s wolverene skull and cleaned
it partly, though not enough; It raised a fearful
smell in the boat later. The meat looked so good
boiled that I cut off a bit and found it perfectly
eatable. The Indians eat it only when starving.

152 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
and "Carcajou-eater" Is a fighting word In some
regions; nor will they ordinarily put the skin
with others, but tie it to the sled somewhere outside.
Some will not sell so hated and despised a thing,
though they let the women trade them if they want
to. The river above, to the high portage, became
swifter and swifter, often too much so for us to
pole. W. had a pair of lace boots, admirable for
wading, and with his long legs would wade up the
swift stretches as fast as I could get along the shore
with a pole to fend off, which I did mainly to save
appearances. There is little fishing above the
forks, and what trout we got about the eddies near
the portage were not much over a pound weight,
that I remember. The portage matched the
Indians' description well, and I felt sure it was the
place, but W., who had not understood the talk,
was very doubtful, as he had every right to be.
The place looked impassably steep and high. Part
of it is a steady, virtually pathless climb of eight
hundred feet, the whole height from the river up
being eleven hundred feet. One really needs hands
as well as feet a good deal of the way. The
finding of Indians' tracks leaving the river settled
all questions of being in the right place, but we soon
lost what trail there was and went up where the
climb was over twelve hundred feet. The Indians
use the portage only when going down river. We
spent some hours off west and southwest, seeing
many ponds and the smooth, bold ridges of the
height of land some miles beyond, but we did not
see the actual divide that year. Deer tracks were
few. There were some few ptarmigan about,
fairly grown; we lunched off some of them beside
one of the ponds.

DOWN RIVER 153
We discussed a walking trip. While It seemed
feasible to get the canoe up the hill in the course of
a day or two, it was beyond us to get it on over the
long portages westward. If the next day, August
6th, had been decently cool and the flies had not
been unusually fierce, I think we should have made
a few days' walk, though we were rather limited
as to possibilities. Without a canoe we could not
do much with the lakes, and we had in mind no
special objective; on the other hand, we could easily
catch the next steamer back, and this was some
object to us both that year. Finally we turned
back down river again, after a swim and a time of
drying damp outfit. There had been many show
ers, and our things had become uncompanionable.
It was remarkable how long the distance seemed
down the swift water to the forks, and the rough
places looked worse than coming up. Judging by
both time and distance we thought it must be
twenty miles. But going down a current one
follows around the very widest swings of such a
river as It goes from side to side of the valley. We
may actually have gone twenty miles, but a fair
estimate down the middle of the reaches might
be nearer fifteen.
We had a little dread as the wind lake came on,
lest it turn another gale upon us, but it stayed
perfectly calm. W^e held on until eleven to get
through, dropping down to sleep on a flat sand bar
without a tent, flies or no flies. On the 7th,
next day, the two great pools in the trout reach
were full of twenty-inch fish, nibbling quietly
at the myriad black flies which lay in wavy lines
and patches on the water. The ripples of these
fish looked like those of five or six inch chubs,
taking flies carefully without showing themselves.

154 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
But every one of those little ripples stood for near
three pounds of fish, certainly two and a half.
A very large one struck my fly and bored heavily
down, presently getting away with the hook and
snell through a careless knot. In a moment there
was a heavy splash and the fish ran on his side
for the shore, shaking his head to get rid of the
fly. He was neariy all out of water for two
or three hundred feet and looked at least six
pounds. Reaching the shore he nearly grounded
for good, but got off. He was doubtless a namay
cush, though there Is no reason why the fontinalis
should not grow to almost any size there. This
pool Is nearly half a mile long and a thousand feet
wide, a great feeding-ground in summer. The
deep wind lake above must make an unusually
good wintering place for all fish, especially during
the hibernation periods some of them Indulge in.
There are whitefish In the river, and this year,
1910, I was Interested at finding on the shore
a ling, or fresh-water cod, of sixteen inches. As
to the size of trout, I have weighed sea trout up
to eleven pounds at the shore, and have seen one
or two after they were split that were surely up to
fourteen. The bay people speak of very large
fontinalis, fresh-water trout, in certain streams
near the Assiwaban, and doubtless reliably, for
these salt-water fishermen are not excitable about
fish weights.
A few miles above the falls W, saw a caribou
stag on the shore and handsomely gave me the
shot. It took three well-placed 30.30s to get him
off his feet; they are often that way, but the 30.30
is not a smasher.
On the morning of the 8th we passed the
Indian portage, leaving some forty pounds of

DOWN RIVER 155
flour for the returning party, who were not nearly
on time; it was more than five days since they had
left us, instead of the four they had laid out. On
the large boulders below the falls were some
twenty seals, left high by the tide, and looking
odd enough there, one capping each rock, with
head and tail far overhanging. One by one they
slid off. We had the deer-meat and let them swim
close without firing.
A little thing happened at the mouth of the
river which may have a moral. Edmund Winters
and his large family were there fishing trout and
seaHng. As the tide was In we did not land, but
Edmund followed us along the shore with ob
vious intention, so we turned in and waited. He
had a pair of seal trousers he wanted to sell, with
a little wall pocket or two made of loon skins,
worth perhaps $2 or $3 altogether. We did not
want them, and had nothing less than a ^5 bill.
After some talk I ungraciously took them and
handed over the bill, telling him not to think
every Yankee traveler was going to pay double
price. I appreciated the size of his tremendous
family a little. Two years later I came to his
place in something of a pickle, and he and his
wife volunteered a very good and unexpected turn
to help me. A case of bread upon the waters.
Voisey took us to Nain in his long, keelless trap
boat. She could run and reach, but this was
beating, and in a cold northeaster three or four
degrees above freezing. We had two shivering
days of it. Once we towed the canoe under, had
to let go, and afterward round up a sea of scattered
oars, paddles, and what not, in a lively slop.
Again I was not sorry for having held on very
long sometimes In the other kind of weather on this

156 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
Jekyl-and-Hyde coast. You get chilled and cir-
culationless and miserable, the back wind from the
sails penetrates like a forced draught, which it is.
Winter travel inland. In less clothes, at forty and
fifty degrees below zero is nothing to it. Yet these
seals of people who live in the bays can sit in a
boat a week, I believe, and beat Into the wind
happily. We slept In the boat the first night. Some
where on Paul's Island, where we tented com
fortably the second night, a pair of the light-
colored gyr-falcons of the coast shrilled fiercely in
their wonderful flights about the cliff above us.
Their nest was there. They are not disguised,
wolves in sheep's clothing, as are the shrikes.
The expression of every feather and outline, every
note of their cry. Is unmistakable. Fierce, they
are beautiful, admirable. They were numerous
that year, nesting on many cliffs of the islands, and
far Inland.
We were traveling by the large passage next
east from the one we had gone south from Nain by,
and by the middle of the forenoon, the 10th, were
In sight of Nain bay and could see our uncertain
steamer If she came In. If we had lost her we
should have been black enough about it. By
noon we were in Nain, and as things were, with
four days to wait. The Virginia had waited three
extra days for the races at St. John's, and laid by a
day for the northeaster. We might have seen the
height of land, and at least one of its great lakes,
and not missed her. And the Indians, So we
know now.
Of the kindness of the mission, of the atmos
phere of the old consecrated life there, long es
tablished, the old garden of weathered spruce and

On the High Portage. The steeper part is below

A Good Roof

NAIN 157
larch stretching back under the protecting hill, its
paths once paced by feet now passed to better
walks, — these things have been told by other
pens. It was for us a peaceful time.
W. turned from his vision of cat-like, furtive
land savages to the sturdy, cheerful, available
Eskimo, tamed and instructed — with decision,
and wandered hills with Aaron, a good man who
spoke English.
What I did has faded. I doubtless had talks
on the wharf and lingered meanwhile on memories
of what had been. In time W. returned, and we sat
by the real shrine of the days, a large jar of tobacco.
Even Aaron, with his Eskimo smile, Aaron the pre
sentable, had not endured. Perhaps it was only
that the shooting he took W. for came out small,
that his fish did not bite well. He was really a
good man; still his English was too good, he had
once been out in the world.
Then I took him up, with dreams of my own.
Aaron knew the inland. He had been far in in
winter, even to "Ungava Pond." It was a long
way in, and very large; you could not see the shores
across. It was one hundred miles wide. The
Great Grampus lived there, who raised tremendous
seas and hauled boats under.
Here was opportunity. I began a map, carried
It as far as I could myself, then brought A. Into
it and we proceeded; he was definite enough and
things prospered. I was elated. We were at
it some time, working on rather remote territory.
Then a creeping doubt came. Suspicious, I led
very gently to ground I knew, and about which
also he was perfectly clear. In five minutes It was
plain that he had never been there and knew as
good as nothing about it. I sought the wharf.

158 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
Ungava means the farther or farthest place.
For two or three years I was at a loss to locate
Ungava Pond. Several of the coast rivers along
were said to lead there. "You can go to Ungava
Pond by that river," was said of each one. In the
end I became satisfied that coast people had some
report of Lake MIchikamau, the source of North
west River, and used it as a basis for their relations.
That any Eskimo has ever been there is most
difficult to believe.
On this coast "pond" and "brook" are names
for largest Inland waters; "lake" and "river" are
terms for the smaller ones. Rapids are "rattles";
the reaches between are "steadies"; falls are
"overfalls," On the way home we were off a day at Tilt
Cove, with its great copper mine, where Mr.
Williams, the manager, overwhelmed us with
good things. Cigars such as we had almost for
gotten were opened, and other things, with un
wonted sounds as of popping. On the Clyde, to
Lewisport, were Mr. Berteau and Mr. White, of
St. John's. One Is never very far from home
connections, for the former proved to be a far
cousin; his grandmother was a Cabot In our island
of Jersey. Altogether, save for the flies and the
immovable canoe, yclept Raft, the world did us
well that year.

Chapter VII
1905
AUGUST of 1905 found two hard-working
travelers again inching their way up the
high portage of the Assiwaban. The place
Is without doubt one of the harder places of Canada
to deal with when one is under a pack. For myself
the last pull to the top came near being too much.
I half gave up, crawled around the slope until I
found water, then, revived, flnished out. It was a
warm, breathless day. My companion, Lewis
Quackenbush, of New York, a young, strong man
of a good deal of southern-slope experience, did
better than I. We took up only one load a
day. The canoe, a good birch of fairly portable
weight, we got off rather easily with, passing It
from one to the other and each going light between
turns. In going down the place on the return
journey, one of us fell while crossing a rock-slide
and dropped the canoe, but it was not hurt to
speak of.
The outfit was all up the 5th of August, and
we camped a mile on at the second pond. Trout
of six or eight inches took the fly weli; deep little
fish of electric quickness, very dark on the back
and very yellow beneath, like those of the New
foundland ponds. They may belong to a sub
species, which may Include also the bright Mistastin
trout. I regret not saving specimens.
One expects the fish of such far waters that
have never known the hook to be wholly without
caution, but even these small fish, eager enough
159

160 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
at first, became noticeably wary of the fly by the
time a meal or two of them had been caught.
So it Is almost everywhere by daylight, though at
dusk or even In darkness trout seem to lose all
reason. They will take ordinary worm bait on
exceptionally dark nights, from Maine to Labrador.
Rambling about near a pond a little south of
our route, we came upon a low set of lodge poles,
such as the Indians use for their small skin traveling
tents. A spray of evergreen had been placed where
the poles joined at the top. This was their date
record. Any one following could tell by the fading
of the twigs very nearly when the party had camped
there. These skin traveling tents are shaped like a
broad collar when laid out flat. They will not
catch fire, being indeed about the only kind of
small tent in which one can have an open fire
without calamity. Moreover, they have the ad
vantage of stretching into almost any shape, and
even size.
We went on heavy loaded and very slowly,
making triple portages between the ponds. The
canoe was rather overweight, even in this my
third year of preparation for the country. When
dry it may not have weighed over seventy-five
pounds, but a birch takes up water with continuous
use, and with the paddles this one carried heavier
than it ought to. As to provisions, it is well to
have plenty, for they can be discarded at any time
If game proves reliable, but the full amount we had
did give us hard work on those first wet portages.
In the spring I had ordered a canvas canoe, to
be especially light, though deep, from a maker
whom I will not expose. The outcome was the
worst-looking boxy affair I ever saw, weighing

Indian Camp in the Barrens

A Traveling Tent

ICE 161
sixty-eight pounds. Probably half the weight was
in paint and "filler," the latter virtually paint
too. Sixty-eight pounds is not so bad, but the
timbering was very light, and Q. thought the
whole fabric might dissolve under us. His birch,
from Lake St. John, on the Saguenay, was as
good as a birch could be, so we cached my craft
above Assiwaban Falls and kept along in his.
It Is fair to say that Q. did most of the canoe
carrying. He was tall, strong, and weighty, and
could carry in a wind when I could not. My canoe
would have taken up little or no water, and kept
its lightness, especially as it would have kept dry
inside; a birch will never keep wholly dry on a
shallow, stony route.
There had been a good deal of ice coming north.
The usual pack at Hai^igan was solid on the
land the 22d of July, hard, green salt-water ice,
more or less rafted. Some tourist passengers
wanted to go on to see Nain, and for two or three
hours the Virginia rammed the pack with a will.
She would back up a few lengths, head for the
weakest place, and fetch up with a heavy boom.
A wonderful sealer's hull she had, unsparing of
material, greenheart sheathed and doubly ironed
about the sloping bow. Like a crowbar she ram
med her way, scarcely quivering as she fetched up
short. No one minded the bow, it could take care
of itself. Directed at a weak place not too high
above water it would merely lift a little and stop.
Sometimes the edge of the pan would sink or split
and pass to the sides, but the bow stood all and
everything. The stern, the vulnerable heel, was
another matter. There, and not at the bow, were
stationed the sharper eyes of the boat. On each
side a man watched keenly the clear depths, lest

162 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
the Ice that kept swinging into the open space
astern should foul the screw before It could be
stopped. Some of the flinty green walls ran down
twenty-odd feet, perhaps thirty. A moderate
touch of the screw to one of the harder under
tongues and we were helpless. It was all in vain,
we could see Fanny's, but never reached It. The
experience was a touch of the real Arctic. The
dank chill of the pack was penetrating. Nearby
on the ice at one place was a large shark, hauled
out who knows where In the North by Eskimo.
Seventy or eighty bergs stood in a long crescent
beginning near us to the north and sweeping far
around toward the west, and the black desolation of
of the high, snow-streaked land against the evening
sky completed the Arctic aspect. It was the 22d
of July. The enthusiasm of the passengers to reach
Nain, as a sort of Farthest North possible, was not
so keen by the time we turned back. They had had
their taste of the real thing, on a safe scale, and were
pretty well satisfied. As the novelty wore away,
the boom and Impact and throw of the vessel be
came tiresome. If not suggestive of untoward
happenings. The pack we had approached with
eagerness had become a forbidding world of ice.
A friend at home, who once steamed to the edge
of the polar Ice field from Norway, has related
that some of the party were so overwhelnaed at
the cruel sight as to burst into tears. Shrinking
to the cabin they remained there until the vessel
steamed away and the ice was well behind.
By the time the long twilight came on we had
had more than enough of the Ice, and were ready
to take to the cabin ourselves. But all was not
over. The North had yet to make its parting.

ICE 163
In a way we little thought. As we were about
to go below, leaving those who could deal with the
situation to do so, there fell across the sea from
some distant horizon around the cape an after
light of the sunset, touching with warm color a
few heaved-up points of the Ice field and calling
into fine rose the whole far-stretching crescent
of bergs. In the gray waste they had been all
but indistinguishable before. Now, In subdued
exquisite flame they came forth over the plain.
From a chill desolation the scene was transformed
as few places of earth ever are. The ice world
was become a vision untold.
At three next morning we were dropped over
side behind the Cape Island, in Windy Tickle,
and the steamer returned south. As it happened
to be Sunday we did not care to make a start, and
piling our things on the shore, we walked across
the island to Spracklin's, where all were "ready
for the rush" — of cod. There were no fish
coming in, of course, though the water was said
to be "full of them." The Ice was piled up In
the harbor entrance.
Next morning the ice had loosened, though as
we pulled out of the Tickle to the north it looked
as dense as ever outside. Soon two schooners
came up behind on the south breeze and entered the
pack near us to seaward. They might as well
have tried to plough the land, as It looked to me,
but they never quite came to a stop, as I remember,
and surprisingly soon had a good offing. By
night the pack had really begun to string off.
During the next four days we worked our way
some seventy-five miles to the Assiwaban. At
times the floating bits of ice made the rowing
backward annoying. The larger ice lodged out-

164 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
side the islands, shutting out all swell, all feel of
the sea; we were traveling In level salt water lakes.
The more open bays were well lined with pack Ice
and bits of berg, streaming with water In the sun
and wearing away rapidly, between tides, for in
the long days the water warmed in the inner shal
lows and coming out with the tide undercut the
grounded masses. At low tide some overhanging
shelf of several tons' weight would break off and
fall six or seven feet flat to the water with a report
like a field gun. All night long this artillery
would keep up, here and there about the open bays.
In daylight, as we rowed by, the effect was startling.
and the splash something to be regarded. Any
of the higher Ice was likely to turn over at any
time. Once an under-water table began to lift
as I was passing over it, and I had to pull fast to
get away. It would be no joke to get hove up
that way and dropped Into a lot of churning frag
ments. Wonderful, often fantastic, are the shapes of
the Ice. Through one narrow berg fragments had
been perforated a row of handsome arches, curi
ously alike. A mushroom form was common, the
stem being shaped by the wash of the warm
waves as the tides came and went. All the nights
had their strong aurora. We lay upon the smooth
moss of the beaches and slept under Its splendor.
On those calm nights the cold air over the icy sea of
the archipelago met the warm air of the inland as
in a wall. Then would appear a marvelous
waving band following high over the shore line,
a great scroll rolling and unrolling from horizon to
horizon. Folding and unfolding it stretched from
northwest to southeast. We never felt like turn
ing in to sleep in its presence; again and again we

Guests

Barren Ground Lake, Tshinutivish, 1906 (Page 271)

ASSIWABAN 165
would uncover our faces for a last look. How far
it extended in such times of widespread calm
would be hard to say. Around the entire conti
nental north, perhaps, its white wraith shone,
a map supernal of the sub arctic shores.
At Un'sekat we stopped. I had not been
there since Antone and I sailed away that dark
day two years before. Only Mrs. A. and the
daughter were there at the time. There was not
very much to say, we were two white travelers
and Imposed our atmosphere; the trout were
good. It was still early, and we pushed along a
bay before camping, while the weather served.
Up Voisey's bay next morning we had a
following wind. It was interesting to see how the
two canoes compared with each other. Mine was
as smooth as a piano, and when rowed in calm
water went well. Under sail, too, and our sails
were exactly alike, she would draw away from the
birch. But let a little sea come on and her broad
bilges begin to pat, and the half-mysterious lines
of the Indian birch told. She was designed. If
the birch had had the smoothness of my boat she
would easily have passed ahead at all times.
There were fish enough up through the river,
none of more than four pounds. Q. did most of
the poling, he was better at it than I, and the birch
did not pole very well; she had a paddling model.
I would walk the bank along the rapids, mostly
to lighten the boat. The sand beaches carried
some tracks. Wolves seemed numerous, though
we saw none, nor heard them nights. We may
have seen the tracks of a hundred or two during
the trip.
We were both doubtful sleepers, none the less
so in mosquito country, and during the first of

166 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
the trip found it well to stop early and put up
good defenses for the night. So it was that when
we found calm water In the wind lake we camped
with the worst place ahead of us, although it was
long before sunset, Q, could hardly believe that
so small-appearing and calm a water need be
much regarded. But it is not for nothing that
this Is held to be one of the places where the Great
Grampus is in charge, for with a norther which
came on over night we were half a day, wet and
devilled about by the backwash from the long
swing of the rocky north portal, before being safe
out of the lake. Five times now I have gone
through the place on perfectly flat water; five times,
on the other hand, the Grampus has lashed his
tail; five times the Indians' Underwater People
have been awake. People of the open know that
only when these powers of the water places are
occupied or asleep should one try to travel. A
good offering to them, at least, is indispensable.
Two or three miles above the lake a canoe with
three Indians shot around the far bend. They
turned In and we met at the bank. I knew them
all, Ostinitsu, Pah-kuun-noh, and, now a young
man, Nah-payo, or Nah-harpao, the "One-who-
sees-far." Old O.'s name means. Inappropriately
now, "The Young Man," and P,'s the "Man-of-
the-Sea," or Sailor-man, Before making a fire they
cautiously placed a circle of wet sand on the moss,
for the weather was dry, and only white men
burn their own country. We had a good luncheon;
they were glad to have our tobacco, tea, and
sugar, with the other things of our list. Deer,
they said, were scarce at Tshlnutlvis, but they had
enough fish. The winter had been hard. They
were thin and looked overworked. It was a

OSTINITSU 167
friendly meal, and they stood the camera well
enough afterward; as usual the old man winced
a little. Off they went, with no gun, having only a deer
spear in the boat and not much fur, making fast
time with their three paddles. The boat was a
birch of some power, built by O, himself, "Ehe,"
he had said, "Astulan." "Yes, I build canoes,"
They sat low, hard down on their heels, and flew
down the current for the great portal.
There were no recent deer tracks at the forks.
Above there, sometimes, a fresh track slanted
down one of the high cut banks, visible in the
sliding sand from a half mile away. Sometimes
there were two tracks, a little apart and parallel,
as caribou best like to go.
Mosquitoes were much as ofold, the trip through.
Q., in the assurance of long experience on the
southern slope of far trips up Peribonka and other
rivers of the Saguenay basin, had regarded with
some Indifference my display of fly protectives, —
gloves and veil and kerchiefs and tar grease, and
my net-fronted helmet for nights. I folded them
all away and bided the future. Somewhere along
the river the evil day came. Q. was tall and
strong and energetic, a figure in the open. When
the time came his shock of hair stood all ways,
and he swung his long arms like flails. "You
told me! You told me how it would be! But
I never dreamed anything about it!"
As we entered the unknown country west we
were a little the worse for wear. Coming from
the steamer soft and out of training we had fallen
upon the long pull up the coast, with some head
wind, and this getting from the steamer to the
Assiwaban, which could have been done in one

168 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
easy day from Nain, If our plans to leave the
steamer there had worked out, had taken the
first freshness out of us. It was the old story
men from town fall away at first under heavy work'
One depends on the first days of physical fizz and
enthusiasm to get an offing, but these were now
used up, and though an easy four or five days along
the river would have restored the balance, we did not
feel like taking the time, late as we were. Once on
the portages of the high inland, the canoe felt heavy,
and the outfit too. The assurance that went
with having these things meant a great deal to
Q.; he preferred to travel with all chances elimi
nated, so far as possible, and was wiUing to carry
the weight. The shadow of Hubbard's history
was a little In the air then.
Wet weather came on at our second camp on
the highlands. A shower was coming when we
landed at the head of a pond, and as usual we
simply lay down with the tent laid over us and
waited. For more than an hour the water came
down as it rarely does there. Gradually the
little brooks from the folds of the tent worked
inside and found us, and in time, wet enough, we
put up the tent. It had seemed as If the pour
would never stop. Once the tent was standing, of
course the rain let up, and a cold north wind came
on with finer rain. There was not much wood,
it was hard to get dried out. In the morning we
took over a load to the next lake, perhaps a mile
and a half, largely through bogs now afloat.
The brown waterproof bags, a provision of
Q.'s, were saving things then. They are invin
cible. Poured full of flour one of them lay out
two nights and a day in the rain and was none
the worse. They carried beautifully well, too.

Off for the Shore

Bleached Horns, A'Iistinipi, 1910

THE BARRENS 169
Through the day we got an occasional spreading
stump from the neighborhood, and kept a fire
until three or four in the afternoon. It is a
curious thing that we stood propped on our legs
by that fire practically all that day, torpid, and
never thought to get something to sit on. We
merely turned one damp side to the fire and then
the other, standing. At last we got a meal, and
slept a long, fiyless night.
Mornings and evenings there came a curious,
lamb-like bleating from the scrub down at the
end of the pond; for a time we could not make
it out. It came from willow ptarmigan. The
bushes were nearly like a henyard with feathers,
and we saw a good many birds, large and able to
fly well now. They were everywhere where there
was any cover that year; one ought to have picked
up forty or fifty in two or three hours of kicking
about the scrub places. Slight cover of some sort
occurs in a good many places, although most of
the country along this reach Is barren and monoto
nous, and peculiarly desolate and unattractive In
dark weather.
The difference between the walking in really
wet weather and dry is very great. No country
need be better than this is In continued dry
weather, when even the lower grounds between
ponds are perfectly passable, though sometimes
uneven with tussocks and large stones, or somewhat
quaking when one goes over with a heavy load on;
the general country is open and but for field-stone
boulders might do in places for a motor car.
A few days' rain and the slipperiness and
puddling tendency of the light felspathic soil
changes the footing abominably. The swamps
go afloat, one gyrates from boulder to boulder with

170 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
heavy wrenching strains from the pack, or has to
hoist oneself and load from some swashy black
puddle to a stone a foot and a half above, and
step down Into the mud again, turning and stretch
ing and sidestepping In a most exhausting way.
Better a mile of firm, even ground than a hundred
feet of this. Nor, again, are some of the quaking
bogs anything of the easiest to take a load over in a
wet time.
This camp of the northeast weather and the
portage beyond were of the soaky kind. There
is a Camp Misery somewhere in every one's trip,
and though there was nothing particularly salient
on this occasion, or novel to either of us, we were
just thoroughly uncomfortable for a day or two,
and the swampy portage was wearing. Somewhere
In it I found where one of the three Indians had
sat on a boulder to rest, leaving a pair of deep foot
prints when he rose to his feet to go on with his load.
Their canoe looked to weigh one hundred and
twenty-five pounds, and they were light men.
There was no trail, for in swampy places each man
of a party seeks an untrodden way as being firmer
than If puddled up by another traveler. The mat
of the bog becomes weakened by repeated passing
and may go through. In fact, as to anything
like a beaten path, there cannot be more than
four or five miles of it that really helps one on the
whole Indian route from the coast to the George.
We lunched at the end of a long, narrow pond
running near west, and emptying Into a Mistastin
branch. Up to this time the drainage had been
eastward toward the high portage. While we
were eating Q. noticed a black bear seven or
eight hundred yards away on an easy slope. He
was so black as to be almost luminous against

A BEAR 171
the white moss country. By his sudden moves
and snatches he appeared to be mousing. They
turn up stones and bits of ground for the mice, and
are better at the cat's game than one would think
from their figure and size; they are sometimes very
funny at it. After awhile the bear came into
broken ground and In range of a large boulder,
so that we were able to make an approach, when
Q. fired two or three shots from his Savage rifle,
and we found our victim down presently in a
little hollow. We had been fairly concealed, and
what with the smokeless powder and slight reports,
he never knew where we were.
He was not a large bear, but perhaps as much as
three hundred pounds In weight, being almost as
broad as a woodchuck. His weight was mainly a
matter of fat; It was two inches deep over the back
and plenty everywhere It could be, inside and out.
Like almost everything else in the country that
could eat mice, the bear was full of them. The
next year, a hard year for the bears, for there
were no mice, I shot one half as large again in
frame, but it was not much heavier; there was no
fat whatever on him.
The coming in of a stock of good bear meat
cheered our way. In the warm weather the fat
fell from perfect sweetness In about a day, but the
meat itself was extremely good as long as it lasted.
The pond of our little hunt, narrow and about
two miles long, we called Bear Pond. A north
wester began to blow as we put off, growing to a
very strong gale, and though It would hardly seem
possible to become windbound on a narrow pond
of this size, getting ahead was so slow and hard,
that we actually stopped and camped In a nearly
woodless place half way to the end. There was no

172 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
putting up a tent, If only for want of poles. In the
two days we were there we used up the firewood
for a long distance around, though the cooking
took little, and the camp was nearly shelterless.
Close up under a little fringe of scrub evergreen, a
foot and a half high, we had the fire and the cooking
things ; and behind the only other growth of the kind
about we slept. So protected, the night showers
blew over us very well. We were comfortable
enough, but it Is a bleak, windy, exposed country
along there, and one may have a real norther with
snow any night.
The first afternoon we wandered off west a mile
or two to some trees, looking at the country and
for game. There was little sign of deer about.
Upon a good rise to see from was a great boulder,
some ten feet high, riven by frost or some internal
stress into fragments with fissures of some size
between. I climbed up, but while meditating
on the wide stretch of country and the many lakes,
a strong, growling sigh came from exactly under
me Inside the rock, and I got down In a hurry.
It Is absurd how those sudd,en four-footed sounds
awake old Instincts to dodge. It was only an Arctic
fox. We could see his dingy summer tail through a
large fissure, but it moved In farther and out of
sight when touched with a stick.
The wind blew again next day and we put in
the time afoot, mainly exploring for the route.
Some five miles northwest was a commanding hill
of smooth slopes to which we beat up against the
gale. There were two visible water routes in that
direction, but we could find no signs of travel.
We were very close to some, if we had known it;
but the route here, in a general way westerly, turns
sharply south for a mile and a half and is easy to

idi ^

Ostinitsu

EXPLORATION 173
miss. Beyond the high hill, known after 1906
as Caribou Hill, was* a fine broad lake. Southeast,
and about the rolling plain generally, were forty
or fifty lakes and ponds up to four or five miles
long. Still a third route used by Indians led
south, then west, if we had known, but it was
masked from us by a high ridge. The locality
was confusing, with its hills and many ponds.
The views we took from the hill show little, for
in north winds the water looks nearly black from
above and photographs badly; at such times the
longer slopes of the waves are in shadow, while
with wind from the direction of the sun they are
lighted. As to finding our route we were little
better off at night than in the morning. By
evening the wind went down. We fished a little,
mainly to find out what there was in the pond,
but, surprisingly for that country, had not a bite.
After supper an Interesting fish near two feet long
appeared at the edge of the water, but It had
moved out too far by the time Q. could get his
rifle and shoot at it. It looked like a whitefish
or white sucker. Some sizable pieces of bear fat
we had pitched out on the water soon began to
wabble and finally disappeared, but we' did not
see just how. They may have sunk.
As I was knocking about the place in the morn
ing, Q. still asleep, the three Indians we had met
m the river valley came almost alongside before
I saw them. We turned over our provisions to
them and they made a meal, eating much bear
but avoiding the fat. They were quite In distress.
The Pelican had not come, the store was almost
bare, and they had been unable to get much; no
ammunition, tobacco, nor much of anything;
could we let them have some powder and shot and

174 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
tobacco? Of course we stripped ourselves of what
we could possibly spare. Then we talked about
the route and finally arranged with them to help
us as far as Mistinipi Lake, If we would not take
too much luggage. I took a large waterproof
bag and began to put things into it, the heavier
things. As it filled up they looked uneasy, and
as I remember demurred audibly. Their relief
when I finally jammed the heavy bag under the
scrub to be left behind was easy to see. Off we
went, they having little of their own to carry, and
taking some of our things, we doing what we could.
It was a warm day of gathering dulness, with flies.
The Indians were naturally faster than we were,
with their long canoe and three paddles. "Mauats
tshillpl!" I exhorted old O. "Do not hurry!"
"Mauats!" he answered, and kept his word. On
Long Lake we gradually accumulated a cloud of
mosquitoes. About the other canoe, fifty feet
ahead, they appeared as a bluish nimbus, five or
six feet across. I had never seen mosquitoes
visible at a distance in that way. Yet I thought
the Indians got only about half the actual bites
we did, ordinarily. Where a mosquito would
pitch upon one of our hands without hesitation,
wasplike and end on, it would pause and hover a
little over the skin of an Indian and light quietly.
The canoes went abreast for a time, and looking
across I noticed that old 0. had done up his head
in a piece of black netting I had given him; he
seemed glad to have It. Likewise Indians are ready
to accept tar grease after seeing white men use
it. They are keen. Indeed, to see the advantage
of almost any new thing and to make the naost of it.
Two or three times while we were with them
one of them would go ashore, pull out some dried

WITH THE INDIANS 175
meat from under a rock, and carry It back to the
canoe. They had provided for their return trip
in this way. There was a rifle in their boat now,
which had probably been cached somewhere near
where we met them first, or perhaps it had been
at the post for repairs. They do not seem to have
faculty about metal work; William Edmunds, with
the Eskimo superiority in such matters, used to fix
up their guns for them.
Of course the main work came on the land
portages. Q. carried the canoe, I a stout pack on
a headstrap. The Indians carried on a line over
the head and another over the front of the shoul
ders, over which was thrown a blanket to take the
cut of this line. On the head they placed a bunch
of evergreen twigs to take away the cut there of the
string. They told me, rightly, that a headstrap
alone, as I had It, was not the thing, but I did not
venture a change that trip. Their carrying lines
were mostly of caribou leather, braided round, a
little larger than heavy cod line, say three six
teenths of an inch or more In diameter. In
resting we sat down in file on the ground, each man
ahead of a boulder, which took the weight of his
pack. All one could see looking ahead was a line
of large bundles on boulders, with no person in
sight. Then all the packs would rise up and move
on in procession, each with a thin pair of legs
stepping along under it.
Old 0. and I took things much alike. If there
was an extra turn to make over the portage one of
the younger men did it. Q., strong as he was,
would nevertheless have enough of the job by the
time our canoe was over and was content to drop
on the moss and rest. Young Na'pao, fifty pounds
fighter, would trot over with their large canoe,

176 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
perhaps for his second trip over the portage and
untouched, would stand at the edge of the wateJ
and throw stones. The Indians could have circled
around us as we went.
Late in the day I felt pretty well steadied
down, and noticed that 0. seemed to have about
the same gait. "Aieskushin-ah.?" I asked
"Areyou tired?" "Ehe,""Yes," he said, simply!
I was a little surprised, for It Is not easy to get In
dians, as I know them, to own up to being tired.
They are "hungry," generally, that is all. The differ
ence is not so much, for as an old Matterhorn man
once said, "If you see a man giving out, feed him!"
We passed through seven or eight ponds that
day, camping late on a small lake where were a
few trees. The route from Long Lake had been
shut in among close hills and the ponds and streams
between were small. Ledges were rare, the hills
being ground smooth by ice-cap action and then
more or less carpeted by the thin moss. Where
rock showed It was often marked by glacial
scratches, and was harder than the felspathic or
eruptive base of the more open country toward
the coast.
At the little lake where we finally stopped 0.
walked up with his axe to the largest of a few
scattered trees about. It had live branches sloping
downward to the ground. On the side away from
a possible north storm he trimmed off enough low
branches to be able to get in alongside to the
trunk, and then thatched in overhead the palm
like boughs he had cut off, placing them at a steep
angle. Here, close to the trunk, the three In
dians slept, using their little leather tent, a flat
affair shaped like an Eton collar six or seven feet
wide, for an additional blanket. Though it show-

CARIBOU 177
ered in the night they were perfectly well sheltered.
We, likewise, used our tent as a blanket, and came
off fairly well.
We were stirring In the gray of the morning.
Pakuunnoh washed his hands in the lake without
soap and got breakfast. Their hands seem never
grimy or to need care. They kept the dishes
clean, the few that there were. At luncheon the
day before I had handed our tin pail to Pakuunnoh
to make tea. He took off the cover and turned
away to get water, but I noticed, though he was
looking off absently, that he furtively touched his
finger tips to the Inside of the pail. They stuck
a trifle, we had boiled fat bear in It and not done
our washing too well. Pakuunnoh grunted sig
nificantly, went silently to the water and scrubbed
the pail out well.
As we were putting out from shore, about
five, Q.'s hunter eyes caught a caribou stag walking
up a distant sky line. He and Napao went after
it and surprisingly soon brought back the meat.
The stag appeared to have sought the top of a
ridge to get Its ruminating doze away from flies.
The horns were of course in velvet at that time.
Napao had tried Q.'s soul while cutting up the
deer by slashing Into the flinty bones with his
fine, hard-tempered knife and taking out liberal
nicks. The Indian knives and axes are soft
enough to sharpen with a file and do not chip.
At the end of the lake we had to leave some
of the meat for our return. I did not know just
what to do with it and asked the Indians to cache
it for us. P. walked up to a little thick-topped
evergreen and shoved it In among the branches;
away from the ground on account of the smaller
animals, out of sight, on the other hand, from

178 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
the ravens and jays. "Shetshimao!" I objected
"The flies!" "Mauats shetshimao," "No flies"
P, returned. When we came back four or fin
days later, there were some small flyblows on it,
but no harm done. But we had had a very cold
storm meanwhile, and if It had been warmer there
would have been trouble, I should say. Still,
without the storm we should have been back
much sooner, and' this the Indians may have
reckoned on.
The height of land came at the head of a fine
lake four or five miles long, which we called Hawk
Lake, from the falcons' nests on some moderate
cliffs near the narrows. The falcons bred on
almost all cliffs that year, from the coast in. The
actual height of land was a broad, low saddle with
a trifling valley or draw through it, and a tiny
pond or two. The portage, over smooth, velvety
ground, was only thirty or forty feet above the
lakes on either side and was little more than a
half mile long. Now we were on George River
water, a handsome, deep-looking lake with some
high cliff shores on the south, and some two miles
In length. A rugged portage of two miles, partly
on a bad path, brought us to the long eastern tail
of Mistinipi. Here, under the sheltering height of
land hills to the northeast, quite a beh of trees
stretched along the right shore. The savage
Baffin's Bay influences were visibly less on this
side the watershed. The trees were often straight,
in contrast to the desperate gnarled shapes of the
Atlantic side. But It was only special sheltered
places that showed normal trees; almost everywhere
the winter winds from northwest had had a blasting
touch, for the trend of the lake basin is that way.
On the south for some miles were wonderful

MISTINIPI 179
smooth gravel levels, with moss-terraced moraines,
and pairs of caribou paths following along the
slopes and In places slanting to the water.
It was very warm that afternoon, close and
overcast. Heavy, straight-down showers came
now and then, during which we got under rocks
or spruces or the boats, as best we might. A mile
down Mistinipi is a close narrows, then a fairly
wide water, and beyond the lake is two miles
wide or more. Then comes the main narrows,
where, as another heavy pour came on, we all ran
for a cove on the south side. When the rain let
up we had a fire and a meal. This last part of the
day continued warm and overshadowed, the air
hanging with moisture. Something was brewing.
The Indians were uneasy to be off. To the last
Q. and I argued about going with them. Os
tinitsu urged us to come along to their camp,
saying that it was "mauats katak,*" not very far.
We had enough food to get there, but not to come
back on. I had no doubt whatever that the
Indians would see us provided, but when I tried
to explain that we wanted to be sure of supplies
to come back with they seemed confused. I take
it they could not imagine our asking such a ques
tion. It is certain that as Invited guests they
would have seen us provided, even If they ran
short themselves in doing It. If we got delayed
coming back it would not hurt us to miss a meal
anyway. But after all we gave up going. In the
end I told Ostinitsu that we had to catch a steamer,
and so he told Mrs. Hubbard's party two or three
days later on George River.
They had accepted the leg bones of the cari
bou, but left the meat for us. I doubt their
*M6wats kah-tark

180 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
caring much for the fresh meat as compared with
the dry, but In any event they never neglect the
marrowbones. In the mix of separating our
things they left the bones after all, so we ran
across a little neck and called to them. They
took the bones with faces averted, Naskapi
fashion, and drove away for the wide lake with
out a word. It was a poor parting from people
who had been companionable and kind, no less
helpful and interesting. Q. and I went back
to our fire In silence, wet and tired, and not
happy. Ostinitsu had said that It would not rain much
more, when I was discussing the difficulties of our
going on, but he was never more mistaken, though
to tell the truth I think he shaped his words to his
wishes for once. However this may have been,
a three days' norther set In, blowing up the narrows
and across our slightly timbered point until our
tent nearly flapped away. Occasionally the hills
would whiten with snow, not to stay long, and
again the fine rain would drive with the gusts.
The backward eddying of the wind carried sparks
against the hot front of the tent whenever our
fire was near enough to be in any way worth
having, and the burnt holes gradually increased
our ventilation. The tent was Egyptian cotton,
"balloon silk," which Is strong, light, tight, and
unabsorbent, but when hot catches fire like tinder.
From a mere spark the burning spreads fast, with
white smoke. It was a mean time, adding for me
a memorable one to the cold, wretched northers
and northeasters of a camping lifetime. One
cooks little, eats cold, everything gets slinky, and
the wet chill of the air gets into one's bones and
disposition. If they lasted long enough one would

Sr.i!S9«3»'

White Moss ^ Slopes with Caribou Paths, Mistinipi

WINDBOUND 181
give up. No wonder that among all the Indians
Death comes from the northeast.
For a time on the second forenoon the rain was
only mist, though the wind held strong and cold.
We went to a hill some way southwest and looked
down into a pretty pond, with caribou roads on a
fine moss slope beyond. This is the heart of the
northeastern range of the deer, in all its subarctic
perfection. Even in the thick, dark weather
the hills and lakes held our eyes. We were
the first there of our race. The region is perhaps
the fair spot of all the Labrador peninsula. If it
had been clear we should have gone farther and
seen the actual escarpments of George River, at
perhaps twenty-five miles distance as the raven
flies. From the narrows the lake opens broad to the
west, and from the hills we were on one can see well
toward the head of the main lake, say a dozen
miles. There were ptarmigan In some broken
ground near camp, gathered among some shel
tering spruces. A strong rufous tint prevails
in the young birds at this time, especially toward
the head.
The third day the wind eased, and we danced
across the lively narrows uneasily, stopping,
heading up into the gusts, making a side move
when we could; all with enough misgivings, for
at any time a final blast from the wide lake might
concentrate In the narrows to our grief. Once
under the northern lee our way eastward was
sheltered; then the sky brightened and by after
noon we were on smaller waters. At Hawk Lake
the wind and a slight rain blew straight on shore
from north; we had no choice but to stop. For an
hour we wandered about the smooth glaciated

182 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
valleys to find some sheltered spot, enough of a lee
for two men to get behind. Not a bush, not a rock
was available. All uprising surfaces, great and
small, were ground smooth and rounded, and the
wind swept every one, no matter what way it
faced. Giving up, we returned to the lake. A
little crest of sand two feet high had been pushed
up by Ice, a slight barricade, vertical on the land
side. Behind this we made a fire and cooked.
When we sat up straight the wind and rain cut our
ears, but half lying we were well sheltered. After
supper we raked away the fire and made our bed
where It had been, the only spot not reached by
the wind. But the little rampart served, we kept
close under its straight side, held from caving
by a lacing of moss, and the rain blew on over us.
The night over, the weather turned warmer.
We had forgotten the existence of flies, but all
in an hour of sun they rose from the moss, active,
numerous, and apparently keener of appetite from
the cold spell. It Is said that they are properly
vegetarians, but none of these seemed to waste
Its time looking for anything but ourselves. As
compared with the people of the country, however,
they may well have regarded us as green things.
The lengthening portages toward the Assi
waban, wet as they were, taxed us a good deal;
never have I drawn the reserve lower. The wind
lake was calm, and without discussion we held on
half the night to get it behind us; in a day, then,
we were on the sea. Now came rowing. How
Q. hated it! and longed for water where his great
paddle would serve. Voisey was away, codfishing
at House Harbor, and we pulled along. Un'sekat
Island showed no signs of life and we held on by;
seemingly all was adverse. But on turning south

HOUSE HARBOR 183
from the Little Rattle who should meet us but
Johnny Edmunds, in Voisey's long boat. We took
possession, like buccaneers, turned him about, put
the canoes aboard, and kept on for Fanny's. It
was a forlorn hope, as steamer dates were, but
there is always a chance as voyages go with the
mailboat. But our keelless boat refused to beat,
the broadside canoes took the wind and kept her
falling off too much. So we turned in for House
Harbor, ten miles east, a lucky stroke as it came
out. It was dark when we got there, where we
found John V. and his family in the little house
which gives the place its name. Before we
were up next morning there was a shout and we got
out in time to see, with sinking feelings, the steamer
going on up the run for Nain. Things looked
doubtful; It was a dark, northeast day, thick, and
the boat might come back far outside or run by us
in the varying fog. We borrowed a flag from a
schooner, put it up, and as afternoon came on
watched the north for smoke. As luck would
have it, she came back only two miles out and we
saw her black cloud carried ahead by the wind
some way before she was opposite. Our luggage
was already aboard the trap boat. Leaving the
canoes to Voisey, we put out, and the long trap's
wonderful heels in a reach took us over in time.
It was a narrow squeak then, for Captain Parsons,
whom I could see clearly on the bridge, thought we
were only fishermen to ask how were the fish
"down along." The mate had seen our flag, but
had not reported it. We saw that the steamer was
going by without stopping. In great tension I
jumped upon a thwart, bright In yellow oilskins,
and motioned savagely to the bridge of the steamer
to shut down steam. It was no flsherman's

184 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
gesture, and something came to Parsons; I saw
him reach out and pull the lever. We were pretty
near and broad off. They swung around into the
wind In a long circle and we pulled over to them.
Getting aboard in the uneasy water took quick
work. About the first person I ran into was the
Hon. Elihu Root, Secretary of State. Some one
had asked him below if he was going up to see Mr.
Cabot get on, to which he returned with casual
interest, "Which is it, John or Sebastian?" He
and his two sons, with Colonel Sanger, were making
the trip of the coast.
We were pretty well reduced by our trip, not
having taken time enough anywhere to freshen
up, and the extra heavy loads and wet country,
with indifferent nights, had taken our spring well
away; aboard the steamer It was agreed we looked
like picked chickens.
We had a good time to St. John's, gaining our
pound a day on the boat, In accordance with
custom, and were In good trim by the time we
were there.

Assiwaban River, from west of High Portage

A Mosquito Day. Dr. Howe in 1910

Chapter VIII
1906
THE season of 1906 was one of a good deal
of knocking about for me both on the
coast and inland. I went north alone,
for a reason. It was partly that only an Indian
would have served the purposes I had in mind, and,
as usual, I was not sufficiently sure beforehand of
being able to go at all to warrant engaging one ahead
from one of the Gulf reserves. For the rest, a
white companion, however pleasant and helpful
it might be to have one, would be In some respects
a disadvantage. I wanted to see something of the
Intimate life of the Indians, and it is hard to find
white men who care for that sort of thing. Mainly,
however, I had come to know that one- can never
really "sit In" with primitive people when white
companions are along. Alone, one is easily taken
into the group, there Is always room for one new
person, and the current of the life moves on. A
white party, on the other hand, imposes its own
atmosphere, and the visit comes to little more than
a formal meeting between people of alien races.
Therefore, taking chances though It was, for
a person alone Is easily balked, I went north alone.
There was not much to lose on the geographical
side; during the three years preceding, the country
along the height of land and the George had been
pretty well developed, and offered little that would
be new, and the adjacent districts would be not
much different, certainly no better. The people now
offered more than the country. 185

186 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
Some help would be necessary In any case, but
I thought things would work out. My main
reliance was the Indians themselves ; one year and
another they had urged me to come and go in
with them. There was only the chance of their
coming out too late in the season, and I thought
I could count on my friends of the shore for at
least enough help for a good start inland, when I
could work along the familiar route alone. Sooner
or later Indians would come along.
Naturally enough the working out of my plans
proved rather a head-wind matter, just as when I was
north alone In 1903, though the present venture
came out well enough In the end. I had out of
it no new exploration, a good deal of knocking
about among old landmarks, some disappoint
ments, some not very commonplace experiences; all
in all it ended pretty well.
The voyage north was the usual thing that
year. The usual shining bergs were grounded
along the coast, the usual greater ones working
along outside and in ad libitum. Fog, as usual,
came and went. Schooners had Increased in
numbers; they were along everywhere in bunches
and single. The ice-pack at Cape Harrigan was
only a remnant, and we made through it to Fanny's
Harbor at about the usual first-steamer date
without having to stop. It was the 21st of July.
On board from Battle Harbor north were Dr.
Townsend and Glover Allen, of Boston, studying
the birds of the coast. During their run of the
coast was gathered the material for Dr. Townsend's
"Along the Labrador Coast." They named many of
the sea birds I had known but not identified, the
imposing glaucous gull, or burgomaster, among
others. A grampus which leaped repeatedly off

SPRACKLIN'S 187
Fanny's they named the white-headed whale.
It cleared the water finely, as lightly as a minnow.
I wanted to get to Davis Inlet to get news of the
Indians and to shape my course, and Captain
Parsons, as of old, had offered to put me ashore at
Newfoundland Harbor, some six miles across land
from the Hudson's Bay Company post; but on
going ashore at Fanny's to see the old place and
people, I found that Guy, the Hudson's Bay Com
pany agent, was there for mail with his sailboat,
and fell quickly upon the opportunity to go over
with him.
There must be something about the gray old
Cape island, out to the sea, or perhaps the sugges
tive proximity of the Devil's Thumb out still
farther, which upsets people's balance at Fanny's
Harbor, and stimulates their Imagination to the
fathering of sea tales. Here was born Spracklin's
story of my canoe voyage from Davis Inlet in the
wild night storm, and now came another, based
on my leaving the ship with a canoe. Not even that
I was in the canoe, for I only pulled It along be
hind the ship's boat by a string and laid It up on
the rocks. But Imagination found something to
lay hold of, for when I reached my own club
in the fall I found that I had been seen leaving the
steamer alone in a canoe forty miles from land !
Fish were again scarce with the Sprackllns.
Some of the old crew were there, Tom Poole among
the rest, and the place was still Fanny's Harbor,
but Ellen had fallen in matrimony, and the light
of the place was dimmed accordingly.
Guy and I had a meal, gossiped at some length
with the Sprackllns, and were off for the post in a
failing wind. Before It died, however, we were
well past the heights of the cape, inside the Thumb,

188 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
and on behind the sheltering Islands. At ten or
eleven we were calmed at the foot of Davis Inlet
run, with a tide coming out. There was a current
notion of tying up and sleeping in the boat, among
the mosquitoes, but I urged another form of punish
ment, which culminated in a back-breaking pull
over the bar and to the post by midnight.
In this year, 1906, I at least had a good outfit.
Whatever I tried to do that failed to turn out was
not from shortcomings of this or that in my equip
ment. The canoe was laid out particularly for the
ponds and windy portages of the barrens. It was
fifteen feet long by about thirty-three Inches wide
and fifteen deep, and moderately flat. The ends,
not to catch too much wind, were rather low. If
these had been a little more run out she would have
been faster and better about getting ahead in a
short sea, but for this she took less side wind when
being carried, a matter worth considering. A light
person carrying a canoe has about as hard a time
with wind as he would on the water, no matter
how strong he is. This canoe was built by Robert
son, at Riverside, and was the one which, in 1910,
weighing only fifty-six pounds herself, carried about
nine hundred pounds through the twenty lakes
from George River to the Assiwaban, and this in
her third season of service.
The gun was a double one, six pounds, twenty
bore left and 38.55 right, giving sixteen hundred
feet velocity. It was most convenient for picking
up a living, besides taking apart easily and going
readily into a pack bag out of the way and out
of the rain. Moreover, It Is worth somethingto
be able to see through a gun from the breech, which
one cannot do with many repeaters. What is
more, a double gun Is almost sure to be in order, one

OUTFIT 189
side of it or the other, being in this as good as two
guns, while repeaters generally balk sooner or later.
For the first time I had a round tent, of "bal
loon silk," weighing four pounds or so; a good
shape to stand wind, and requiring only one pole.
A four by five inch folding camera, with a beau
tiful split Zeiss lens, was partly spoilt by an over-
strong shutter, expensive at that, which took to
going off hard and putting the light camera into con
vulsions when It did, though in ordinary snaps the
lens was able to show something of its quality. I
had a luxurious white Hudson's Bay Company
blanket, a bit heavy, but taking little care. The
best thing of all was an F. S. H. matchbox, of which
more anon. Fire, when really needed, is all the
world to one. Altogether the outfit was about
as good as ever was, and not much to be bettered
unless by bow-facing oars for salt-water work.

As already told, my objective was Indians.
I had come back from the North the year before
a good deal lighted with the pleasant association
Quackenbush and I had had with the little party
of them who had taken us over the height of land
to Mistinipi and asked us to visit them. They were
a people In the primitive hunter stage. Nowhere
else, perhaps, was the like of these Indians to be
found, a little group of a race high in personality,
yet living substantially in the pre-Columbian age
of the continent. If they had guns and kettles
and knives, if they sold fur and bought new
conveniences, these changed little the essential
life. They knew no language but their own; they
had plural wives; they lived wholly on meat and
fish; they used no salt. The clothing and lodges

190 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
were mainly of skins. They lived under their own
law, in their old faith unchanged.
They would be late coming out, it appeared
and after some casting about I turned to a part
Indian known as Old Edward and his family of
grown sons to get me Inland. Whether, coming
on the coast alone after what experience I had
had, I deserved to find help at all may be doubted.
Something hangs over the shore people in the
matter of going inland, and this I had known. Old
E.'s people were another sort, were bred to the In
dian life and promised well, but there is still a tale
to be told, as will appear later. Old E.'s father,
a Scotch Cree, had drifted " across land," to this
coast from Hudson's Bay, and married an Eskimo
woman. But although E. was thus half Eskimo
and quarter white he was brought up an Indian and
had lived for many years about the MIchikamau
height of land where he was born. His sons were
something more than half Indian. E. himself had
his share of the Indirectness common in light and
dark race mixtures, though Intelligent and of some
personality. He was sixty-four years old and
pretty well done with the trail himself. The whole
family, nearly, were at Opetik above William
Edmunds's. Two or three of the sons were mar
ried; the whole group must have counted twenty
persons. Race mixture, of course, gives various results,
and in the Northeast there are few examples of the
Indian-Eskimo strain. The only other one I have
heard of was at Chimo, and the result of the com
bination was not for the best. The man in that
case, however, was weak in constitution. But
if the E. family are to be taken as a type it is to
be hoped that either the two races will continue

TO OPETIK 191
on two sides of the fence, as at present, or go away
somewhere until the new combination has had
a few generations in which to get its bearings. As
E. remarked, dubiously, when the matter of a trip
came up, "They are pretty high strung for you."
They were, as was shown by a handsome black eye
E. had when I came along later. It appeared that
one of the boys had been holding forth upon a plan
of his for looting Davis Inlet post; the father
remonstrated and said he ought not to talk that
way, whereupon the young dutiful pitched in
and left his mark. From the St. Lawrence to
Chimo there is trouble wherever the older boys
turn up, but this I did not know until too late.
It seemed that William Edmunds's was the
place to go to, and George Lane and I worked our
way up there In his boat, sailing, rowing, and
sculling as shore trips generally go, and worrying
for some time with wind tails from all ways in
the usual place near Jim Lane's. We found
Jim dismantling his house to move to Lane's Bay
and take up his father's place there, where I
found him later in the summer. The place had
fallen to him as the oldest son. His father and
mother, with a boy, had perished in a storm in the
early spring. The snow leveled them over at the
time, and It was only just as I came upon the
coast that they were found; indeed it was George
and I who carried this serious news to Jim.
At William's I was tied up two or three days
by various kinds of weather, and my diary shows
the drift of things :
"Lane went off this morning. Raining In
showers, and delayed going up to Edward's, he Is
five miles above. A poor night, on the floor —
mosquitoes, cats, dogs, the baby, and drip from

192 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
rain over the floor, in conspiracy. Fishing not
good, and W. thinks he might like to go inland
with me; should prefer one of the E.'s if possible
to get one. William reports that the older Nas
kapi are going to Chimo, on Ungava Bay, that
they go there to trade because they do not like
the way of the post here. The E.'s get along well
here, but do not like my old friend Cotter, now
at Chimo; he knocked old E. down once for some
cause, and Indians do not forget such things. It
seems the Naskapi have thought I might be going
to set up a trading post inland, and It rather ap
pears I should have their trade; Some of the
younger men are coming out here, but probably
not before August 12th or so, so as to give the
Pelican time to get In. This Is too much time to
lose, it is only July 24th now; I cannot see how to
lay out my time.
"Clear to-night with northwest wind. The
sea trout are holding out, also the fresh water
trout that now and then come with them; these
are known as 'hard head' trout here. Whitefish
are coming in too, of about two pounds; are found
In all the neighboring lakes. They are not quite
up to the southern-slope ones, but sometimes they
get large ones, the 'master fish,' which are better.
"W. says there Is usually five or six feet of
snow, in the woods here in winter. He regards fall
caribou skins as the best for snowshoes. A pair
he had tightened when wet until they destroyed
the bows,
"July 25, Northwest gale. Not worth while
to fight my way around the point to E,'s. No
salmon. By nine W, came In with fifteen or twenty
trout of three pounds. While the fish are being
cleaned the dogs sit in a row at a little distance,

Mistinipi

The White Moss Hills, Near Mistinipi

OPETIK 193
lined up like sprinters ready for the word, until all
the fish are done and W. speaks, when they rush
in and gulp the heads and other leavings,
"To-day I was alarmed for the two year old
boy, who was actively kicking an old dog as he lay
in the sun. The dog stood it awhile, then carefully
put out a big paw and pushed the boy gently
away without upsetting him. The dogs do not
touch the low-hung whitefish drying outside the
house, Mrs. E. said; the young ones may, but not
the others, even If the family are away all day.
"W. says there are a good many wolves about
In winter; what they get are mostly shot, some
trapped. They are never dangerous, are 'slink-
ers.' Near Nain a few years ago they were passing
for three days In swarms, 'like the deer.' They
are larger in every way than his dogs, say one
hundred pounds or more. He has seen one es
pecially large track; his own foot just filled it.
There are no fisher about, that he knows of.
"A great bear track (barren ground bear?)
had been seen within a year between here and
Nain, and more than once. Was ugly, knocked
a tent down. I asked W. to save the skin com
plete if such a bear was killed. This bear story is
to be taken with caution; any large bear track
would be stimulating to the Eskimo imagination.
W. shot at a seal just now — a very high miss.
"26th. W. and I started for E.'s on the tide,
at 8.30. Stiff northwest wind. W., who started
off a novice and sitting obstinately high, though
the water was rough, was glad to get down on his
knees after a little, as low as he could,"
Old E. had his camp on the north side of the
river (the Notaquanon), with three sons and their
families not far away. He had heard of me, we

194 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
settled down comfortably, and he held forth-
He thought one or two of the boys would like
to go with me,— but they ought to have good pay.
I was a wealthy man, and it would not matter to
me how much I paid. I ought to pay whatever
they asked. Was I really going into fur trading?
The Naskapi had almost convinced themselves
that I was looking up a place for a trading post.
It would be better for me to set up on his river, the
Notaquan6n ("Place where you hunt porcupines"),
rather than on theirs. Was I quite sure that I was
not connected with the French company? I must
be. How could a wealthy person like me, who
could stay at home and live as he liked, come up
into the flies and hard country unless he had some
thing to make by It? No matter what I said as to
this, the old man's Incredulous smile never quite
disappeared. In truth, with the passing of his
best years he felt the burden of his irresponsible
family very seriously; It was no wonder that he
could not take my vacation point of view. The
Naskapi, he could tell me, were hardly the best
sort of people. They were friends to your face,
but not behind your back. They wanted the
southern Indians to come and hunt with them,
but they (E. considering himself one of them)
did not care to. He needed a good canoe very
much (after looking at mine). The company had
not treated him well. They ought to bring a
priest to the coast; it was a very bad thing that
they would not.
Talk of the coast and people followed, and it
appeared that few of the people were just as they
should be. As to the southern Indians, who
hunted beyond the river toward the George, they
were an ungrateful lot. He, E., had killed a great

OLD EDWARD 195
deal of meat and given it to them without asking
anything, but they had no appreciation.
Yet the old fellow was pleasant to talk with.
How he had kept his English so perfectly good is
hard to see, for none of his family use it in a way
worth mentioning. He had waded across the
river and shot a fine black bear that day; we had
a good meal of it. They had killed five among
them lately, boys and all. Only the day before
two of the smaller boys had come upon a polar
bear swimming in the river, but did not dare
to shoot it at. Indians In general are afraid of
these bears. On the other hand, Eskimo, who are
fearless with the white bear on almost any terms,
are quite timid about the inoffensive black bear;
in Eskimo eyes the shadow of the inland is upon all
its creatures. Trout and salmon nets were set in an eddy below
the camp. A fine fifteen-pound fish came in
while we were there and some large trout, up to
seven pounds. They were living well. Indeed,
though without caribou. E. thought these were
as numerous as ever inland, although they had
not appeared for two years on his hunting grounds.
¦e (Talk went on starvation. E. had eaten
wolverene and wolf, but would starve rather than
eat mice. Hunger was hard to bear at first, then
you got used to It. Eight days was the longest time
he had starved; he had one partridge during the
time. One could not stand It as well the second
time. He and his daughter Agnes had come very
low at some time lately; had fallen many times in
getting to their cache.
He had been in the Hudson's Bay Company
service before the posts were abandoned on the
height of land, for eleven years voyaging the Ham-

196 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
Ilton River. The trip to MIchikamau took thirty-
five days. He saw Cary and Cole after their
walk from the Grand Falls after their canoe was
burned, and had great respect for their feat of
getting out whole.
His route Inland follows the Notaquanon River
about eighty miles, I should say, though he
mentions it as one hundred and fifty; then a string
of lakes takes them beyond the height of land.
William and I went back to his place toward
evening, taking a boy, Matthew E., along to help
me back next day. "Young Edward," a son of
old E., also turned up at W.'s, and I talked with
him about the routes. He preferred the Assiwaban
route, as being easier, and said the boy would go too.
This put me in a good way, and I finally arranged
the pay matter on a fair basis.
"27th. At E.'s camp. All Is arranged and I
think we will get off In the morning. It is good
primitive life here. It is good to be away from the
dog-ridden shore. At the house last night it was
close and hot, yet I had to cover up from the mos
quitoes. Dogs howled, something smelt, and the
cat took Its night run-around. From a long jump
It landed all fours on my stomach.
"To-day the women here at Edward's sewed a
cunningly arranged Indian flap to the door of my
round tent, set it up nicely, put In a bed of fresh
boughs, and started a little fire of fragrant curlew-
berry vines outside that sent a curl of smoke over
to the flap, Into the door, and around Inside until
the flies were all out. Their woman's touch is
magic In these things, no less as to the things
they cook."
By morning the family courage had fallen off.
They feared to let the boys go; there was much

OFF FOR THE INLAND 197
talk and many excuses. Matthew had no moc
casins, the pay was not enough. The trip came
near being called off. We started at last. Mat
thew's mother looked very doubtful, and young E.'s
wife held back from shaking hands with me at
parting, but after this expression of feeling re
lented finally. "Don't starve them," said old E.
It was the 29th. Some of the younger boys
helped us over a neck to the familiar old portage
route where George and I went back and forth with
so many loads In 1903. This time we knocked
along easily. The boys preferred not to have me
work, but I held to a fair pack. Rather soon
young E. asked me if I had any whiskey. In the
last pond, Muku-wakau-mestuk ("Only crooked
trees"), there were a few sheldrakes. We camped
at a little brook, the second camping place of George
and myself. The path was not hard to trace now,
for since 1903 few caribou had come through the
valley to confuse the trail. There were scattering
tracks, and one small bear track, but little visible
life. Three Canada jays chortled about a pond
and some ptarmigan were laughing along the brook
at dark. The main stream we came up is called
by the Indians Barren Ground River, as is the great
George River beyond the height of land. At night
came more mosquitoes, going far toward eating
up the boys, who had only one piece of netting
between them and could not keep it snug. They
were sleepless and uneasy. I was better off, having
a whole piece of netting to myself, but the closed
tent was airless. I had put on some tar grease
in the afternoon, but thought that even without
it the enemy really liked the others best, though
I was marked well under my shirt by black flies
during the day. After midnight, alarmed lest

i98 m NORTHERN LABRADOR
their tribulations drive my crew into the idea of
giving up the trip, I spent two hours sewing a
netting front into the door of the tent, and with
more air and no flies the night finished out well
The 30th was hot and thundery, with showers.
I had a lesson about putting out fires, being the
last to leave the luncheon place. Looking back
from some way on, the haze down the valley seemed
smoky, and the boys asked me if I had surely put
out the fire, "put water on it." I had not, and
as It was on naked ground and virtually out would
have taken what chances there were, myself.
Not so the Indians. Young E. ran back, quite a
way, to make sure. Luckily he found the fire out.
They were right in taking no risk.
Before long we departed from my old route
and turned west two or three miles across a lake
I had visited In 1903, but not traversed. A long
portage to Side Brook, a short run upstream, and
a portage across a lightly timbered plain brought
us out on the Assiwaban some three or four miles
above the falls. Luxurious travel this, and fast,
for I went only once over the portages myself, and
the boys were quick in bringing up the second load.
I had left my rod at William's, so made up a
good-sized salmon fly to a short line and a dry
stick, and In the twilight slapped — literally — the
water for fish. In a short time I had ten, of about
one and a half pounds. The big hook let nothing
go. This night we slept. As on the night before,
the aurora was fine, particularly In its showy
latitudinal bands.
We made great time up river, shoving over the
swift shallows with three paddles and using a
towing line at only one place. It Is notable that
the Indians do not use the regular setting pole on

WIND 199
this river; possibly there is little poling done in this
region anywhere,
A bear which swam the river in the afternoon,
after the muskrat fashion of his kind, cost us a
little wasted time looking for him in the bushes
and we stopped on the wind lake near the outlet.
We really ought to have kept on through the
lake instead of camping, it was glassy calm; but
the dark water and sky ahead looked so strangely
shadowed and portentous, as if any sort of a down
pour and wind convulsion might break, that I
respected the misgivings of the others, not to
mention my own. But ominous as the outlook
was nothing unusual occurred after all. Whether
or not we had broken the weather rule — If so our
sin was slight as things looked — a northwester
kept us hopelessly windbound the next day. We
climbed a high rock hill alongside the camp, a
landmark from far down the river. My two young
impudents made the occasion a race, beating me
handily, both of them. Coming down they tried
the same game, but this was not so bad. Young
E. and I reached camp together, with Matthew
well behind. Later we fell to making maps
on the sand, a hundred feet long, and discussed the
country beyond. ' ; ..
'¦51 By morning the wind eased and things were
better. I stirred the camp out at three, and we
reached the upper part of the lake on calm water.
Turning across from the high southern cliffs to
the north side the wind came down again from the
great gap, the sea rose fast. We were all anxious
before we got over. The distance across the lake
looks short, but is deceptive. We paddled like
devils, but the high north wall moved away as we
went. Toward the last some water came In, not

200 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
much, but In that worst of wind-funnels anything
might happen; we were thankful to get over.
Then came a hard, wet dance getting up the shore
just such as Q. and I had had the year before;
as then, we hung close to the rocks, slopping about
in their backwash for miles. Young E. was
unhappy; he had been moody ever since we reached
the lake. The place is bad enough anyway, and
to a person brought up in fear of rock demons and
the underwater people, it is easily no place to be
in when wind is abroad. At the time I did not
know much about these ruling powers of the place,
and considered E. merely water timid, which with
all allowance he doubtless was. It is fair to say
that he somewhat distrusted the very light and
well-burdened canoe.
Once out of the lake we made the five miles
to the forks and camped In the old spot, where the
kettle stick of Q, and myself was still in place over
the ashes we had left. On the way we watched
a bear, high up on the side of the valley; we could
have gone up and shot him, almost surely, but
the bushes were too wet to be pleasant, and as he
soon disappeared over the high level, a long climb,
we did not follow.
Showers followed until night; the men left
my sleeping things out, and with wet trousers and
a wet blanket I slept cold, as did E. too. The
hardbread gave out, an inconvenient matter here,
and we had to take up flour; it developed that
E. did not know how to cook it.
An episode of the next day, August 2, changed
the face of my affairs suddenly, to the extent of
putting back my visit to the high barrens for a
month. As we put out from the eddy into *e
stream a vicious gust rocked the canoe, and t..

Nahpayo, Pakuunnoh, Ah-pe-wat, 1906

From the High Portage

COMPLICATIONS 201
urged that it was too windy to go. Such a thing
as being windbound on a small running river was
a new idea to me, and I held him to it awhile ac
cordingly. He had been timid about wind through
out; I had reflected often upon the comparative
dash of the Naskapi. We worked along slowly
a half mile, keeping close to the bank out of the
current, when E. complained that it was too hard,
and we landed for a time, watching the wind and
making sand maps. After an hour of this E. pro
posed that we abandon the river and take the
Indian land trail from the forks; he said he could
neither paddle nor pole, he was used up. I con
sented, and we dropped back. From the forks the
two started ahead with packs while I waited to
come in on the second turn, and while they were
gone I thought things over. The new plan seemed
doubtful. We could be windbound on the bar
rens as well as on the water. With the double
portaging necessary it would take forty or fifty
miles of walking to get even as far as the high
portage, and much more time than by water. When
the two came back I spoke of the matter, and E.,
who now protested that he was "akushu," sick,
said that he did not intend to go to George River
anyway. We were now taking the chance of
missing the Naskapi on the river, for they come
out that way, besides, if not so important, of seeing
no nevv country. I said that If he was not going
to Tshinutivish I preferred to keep the river, and
we would better bring the packs back. I offered
to pole up the river slowly, and let him walk the
bank; and he being not well I would go up the
hill and bring back his pack myself. Not much was
said, and I started off for the packs with the boy,
leaving young E. to get luncheon. I returned

202 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
slowly, to give time for the cooking, letting the
boy reach camp some time ahead. When I got
back nothing had been done toward luncheon^
and E. was evidently in a rage. He announced that
he was going home at once. Talk followed; but
the amount of it was, on his part, that he demanded
to be taken home In the canoe. He would have
gone to Tshinutivish by the hill, he said, if I had
kept to that route; he was not sick except for
paddling and poling. Now he was going home
afoot anyway. I offered to go over the hill if
he must, but he wouldn't now. I urged him to
stay until morning, then we would talk it over and
do the best thing. I insisted that they take pro
visions, pointing out that I couldn't possibly use
what I had. I offered to take them across the
river in the canoe — we were between the forks—
if they must go. Everything I urged only made
him worse. If I had asked him not to knock his
head against a rock it seemed as if he would have
gone and done It at once. At the shore I learned,
later, that he was known by these blind rages,
which would last some hours. After they were
over he would be ashamed and apologetic.
We were at it with signs, questions, bad Indian
speech and English on my part, — signs, strong
talk, and hopping about and good Indian on his.
Any white man as mad as he would have done
something; any traveler in the presence of such a
manifestation as E.'s would have kept his feet
under him and stayed between the Indian and the
gun as I did. E. would have been nothing to
deal with at arm's length, but strong, quick little
Matthew would have made himself felt somehow.
At last, while I was looking into my dictionary
for words to go on with they started away, and

BACK TO THE COAST 203
when I looked up again to speak they were some
way off disappearing among the trees. They had
five or six rations of eatables which I had pressed
upon them, that amount being at hand in a bag
we had intended to leave at the forks as a cache.
Things had gone pretty fast, and I sat for an
hour on the river bank, elbows on knees and chin
in hands. It was not too obvious what to do.
The Indians should come along In five or six days,
perhaps sooner; they passed the forks at just this
time the year before. There was not much point
in going on alone; it would be hard and slow, and
even if I met the Indians would Involve ten or
twelve days of solitude, while their companion-
ability after seeing the E.'s at the shore would be
unsafe to depend on. Old E. had shown disap
proval when I spoke of wanting to see the Naskapi,
losing no chance to depreciate them, and lately I
had had an impression that the young men too did
not want me to meet them. They were safe to make
all the trouble they could. Finally I decided to
go back to the post, get my mail, and if circum
stances allowed, to come back inland with the
Indians. In an hour or two I had a rowing frame
and oars roughed out against need in getting
through the lakes if they were windy, got the tent
up handily, the stakes being already in, and
turned in later as the moon rose. The canoe I put
close outside the tent, though there was little
chance of the deserters trying to take it. Once In
a while through the night I looked out, but the
boat was always there in the moonlight.
My idea of the situation was that E. was home
sick, timid, and out of tune with the enterprise
when we arrived at the forks. Yet he might not
have let himself get out of hand as he did if a new

204 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
circumstance had not been added. This was the
discovery that caribou were moving in the country
beyond. They had noted, what missed me, that
there were deer hairs washed up along the banks
of the river, shed while the animals were crossing
the stream above. At midsummer the winter
hair Is falling off, and sometimes washes up in
quantity along the shores, as Mrs. Hubbard found
it the year before on the upper George while the
great migration was passing. Besides, there were
deer tracks on the hill where Matthew and I had
gone for the packs. The boy went cautiously on
from the packs to the crest of the ridge and looked
long over the barrens, saying "Ah'tif,"* "Scat
tering deer about." Now the southern Indians
had had no deer for two years, and were shortened
for meat as well as skins for clothes, lodges, and
snowshoes. The men must get back, make ca
noes and get their outfits, and go with their
families to their hunting grounds.
The boy had reached camp first and reported,
while I rested along by the way, not caring to get
In before luncheon was ready, and by the time
I came in E. was worked up to his uncontrollable
stage. If we had been able to talk freely together
things would have come out better. As It was,
but for E.'s peculiarity of temper the breakup
would hardly have occurred. Still, I doubt his
going far in any case. My notion of keeping to the
river on account of meeting the northern Indians
was justified, for they came down the very next
day, close behind me.
At three In the morning I turned out, and in
an hour was off. Then followed one of those days
when the homing Instinct is free and opportunity
serves, I am not sure that I made a wise expendi-
*Ah-teef.

A LONG DAY'S PADDLE 205
ture of strength that day, for there was no real
need of pushing, but save for a few moments the
canoe moved steadily until six o'clock — fourteen
hours. In front of me on a pack was a cup, some
dry pea-meal ration, a pipe, tobacco, and matches.
The morning was calm and fine. On a point In
the wind lake I landed long enough to take aboard
a stick or two for rigging a sail, but kept on by
paddle, swinging away as the hours went and losing
few strokes through the day. At the foot of the
Natua-ashish I pitched the unused oars and frame
sticks into the bushes, where we found them in 1910.
Save at that place I did not stop. It cost only the
time of a stroke to light a match, or take a swallow
of water or a mouthful to eat, and so the day went.
Wind came strong ahead the last miles to the falls,
and I had to use strength, but kept moving. At
six, by the sun, I was at the portage. I had not
hurried, but fourteen hours of continuous paddling
is a long shift. It had been good weather for
traveling, and I had in mind the feebleness of a
single paddle when weather goes wrong. But
by keeping the rule of using good weather as It
passes I had missed the Indians, and perhaps a
moral lies here.
I boiled the kettle above the falls and meant
to camp, but after supper the call of the trail was
not spent and I took a pack over the portage,
then another, then the canoe. When I picked up
the fourth load It was getting dark and beginning
to rain. By the time I had dropped down river
two or three miles almost utter darkness set In and
a breeze came from ahead with real rain. Then,
remarking to the place generally, for we all talk
a httle when alone on the trail, "This is not
traveling weather,"— I turned over the canoe on a

206 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
tolerable mossy shelf, boiled a final kettle, and
slept as I could. It was toward midnight. I had
tucked away some fifty miles, including the por
taging. At five I was off again, keen to be over the
wider waters before wind should rise, and I was
none too soon. Following the rain a strong north
wester was pushing down, and I drove straight
north across the bay to meet it, so as to have the
weather gage on a long point east. By the time
the water whitened up I had offing enough, came
about, and danced down for Voisey's with hands
full to keep from broaching to as the balky canoe
yawed to right and left. There Is a curious flat
rock or shoal somewhere toward Voisey's, under
water. The tide was coming up and the wind
going down, in such balance that once over the
shoal I could not go forward or back, and felt
curiously helpless. I was afraid of being pitched
out, but managed to work off sideways and get to
going again. The place amounts to a trap.
Sitting, near the end of a light canoe there is
always some chance of being jumped overboard
In broken water, and besides, even when one is
rowing, there is the possibility of being caught
broadside by a gust as the canoe shoots out upon
the wave and blown actually out of water. About
high shores, when squalls are strong, this might
well happen. A compliment to a good steersman
in the North is, "He can't be thrown out," but this
relates chiefly to running rapids.
The last run, through the backwash of the
steep point outside Voisey's house, was as much
of a jumping matter as I remember, but the carioe
blew on through to shallow water behind the point
and I hopped overboard without harm from the

UN'SEKAT 207
boulders. It was no joke to get the canoe from
the water to the lee of a large boulder near, in the
strong wind. I tried many times before succeed
ing. Voisey was just ready to start off somewhere
with his family, but was willing to help me. This
was a narrow escape from having to work my own
way down the coast without oars. If I had been
twenty minutes later In getting out of camp in the
morning I should have been windbound, and he
would have been gone. He was only waiting for
the wind to let down. The moral as to using one's
weather was peculiarly easy to draw that year, for
we rarely had more than one day of calm at a time,
and bad weather held on longer than good.
The wind blew down rather quickly, and Voisey
handed me over to the Un'sekat people that night.
There were several strange Eskimo there with
the Noahs. The little house had been enlarged
on one side, but there were eleven of us, with a
going cook stove. It was very warm weather, and
the place was well battened against flies. I was
politely given a place next the wall and room to
stretch out in, the others lying more or less across
one another. Of close places I have known It was
one of the least to be recommended. We had
about ninety cubic feet of air apiece. Some one
remarked in the morning that It had been "warm"
in there. Antone and a young friend named Poy took
me down to the post. Poy, otherwise Boaz, was
the best hunter In Nain, and withal rather shy
and hard to photograph. I was to meet him once
again that year after a more serious experience.
Wind failed and we opened Daniel's winter
house for the night, where mosquitoes were as

208 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
thick inside as out. At seven on the 6th we were
at the post, and I told my tale, Guy said the E.
boys were a lot of crooks anyway.
Rather early on the 7th In came old and young E.
and their families and six Naskapi. Three of the
latter were old acquaintances, Ostinitsu, Nahpayo,
and Pakuunnoh, and the other three I knew also
from 1903. The younger men were extremely
friendly, asking, ''Now will you go with us?" I
could not be sure until I had seen my mail.
Old Ostinitsu looked more thoughtful. E.
would naturally have told him our tale. The latter
tried to put on severity and Insisted that I had
compelled the boys to leave me. Their story
was that I had threatened them and driven them
from camp without food, Matthew being nearly
barefoot; If they had not been able to go to one of
their winter places they might have starved; I
did not know how to travel, and insisted on going
the wrong way. Of course young E. Insisted this
was the truth, but in time things eased off. There
was not much for me to do unless with my knuck
les. The flrst time I had to pass some of the really
nice E. women, who had done me so well at their
camp. I hated to do It, expecting them to look
scissors at least. To my surprise, and I must say
relief, they had a demure look of something near ap
proval. The truth was that they had all been well
scared for fear of consequences, and the wives doubt
less needed no light on their husbands' characters.
It might have been better In the long run if I had
taken steps against them, or at least threatened
them Into a proper state of mind. But I could
not look for any support from the Hudson's Bay
Company, rather the contrary, and a magistrate
would be far to seek, I kept a fairly stiff face.

Abram and George Lane

Sam Bromfield with Salmon, 1906

DAVIS INLET 209
I had rather a good time for a few days with
the other Indians, who seemed to think that the
E.'s had come out rather small. Nahpayo asked
me if I came through the Natua-ashu alone,
making signs of paddling, and all looked impressed.
They themselves would not care to; It is when
alone that one has decidedly to fear the demons
of such places. Napao told me of his father, Kat
shluas, whom I knew in 1903, and said he was well.
In the spring he had told Guy that he thought his
father must have starved, as he had not heard
from him for some time.
On the wharf scales, which I think weigh light,
Na'pao stood at one hundred and forty pounds . He
had grown to be a handsome fellow the last year. All
his party looked well, a matter of deer supply.
Pakuunnoh weighed one hundred and fifty-two,
and a younger man one hundred and fifty-four.
We all showed off with the fish weights, at which
some of the younger shore people outdid the
Indians and appeared rather well, and even I came
off not so ill, for of course they were all unused to
these puttlng-up trials. The Naskapi are not
heavily muscled, though everlasting on the trail.
After the show was over I reached up to the top
of the weighing frame, pulled myself up with one
arm and walked off. Looking back I saw Nahpayo
go up slyly and try it himself. I caught his eye,
shook my head slightly, and he looked a bit
sheepish as he failed.
The steamer came in on the 9th, and the In-
diatis were off within a day. Toward the last the
Indians' disposition to help me along fell off.
Earlier, Nahpayo had told Guy that I was going up
with them. They were disappointed that I was
not going to set up a trading post, for I had told

210 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
E., with a certain Impolicy, that I was only out to
see things, and the old man could not pass by an
opportunity for making himself felt. He was
interpreter for the Naskapi, there were some re
lationships among the wives, and though they
cared little for him personally, in matters of white
man against Indian they would take his side.
Moreover, my power of communication with them
was too limited to be effective at such a time. Old
E. was not so bad; we had a talk in which he said
the boys were sorry for what they had done and
would like to make it up. Ostinitsu, too, civilly
told me where their camp was, at the narrows
of Mistinipi. But they all fell away at the last,
and an Indian says no disagreeably. Nor was
old E. then sympathetic over the results of his
genius for making trouble. His part had been
plain to predict. As a friend of mine among the
shore people said afterward, ^^" About all the rows
along here come from old E."
It never rains but it pours. Added to other
things I had had no mail by the steamer. Bad
news travels fast" was my only consolation i^or
a time I was at the post, then Guy and I went
over to Lane's Bay to visit Sam Bromfield. Mean
while I picked up odds and ends from the people
about. Discussing Eskimo, Mrs. Dicker, long
Intimate with the coast, said they were more keen
than Indians to get whiskey and told of then
shooting through a house from outside when drunt
This was near RIgolet. Three Eskimo the e had
some gin, got to fighting In a boat and all were
drowned. They were worse than Indians when
drinking. She agreed that the E. boys would be
a dangerous lot if they had dnnk; and old ^
himself said the same. The E.'s get some effect

SAM BROMFIELD'S 211
from spruce beer. It is surprising how a mere
trace of alcohol affects such people, people whose
race has never had it. Mrs. D. hadn't much fancy
for Eskimo women, but respected those of the
Indians. The women of the E. family certainly
seemed good people.
Guy and I had a stiff time getting to Sam
Bromfield's. At the point of the bay the swell
and sea from north piled up against the out
going tide In a heavy, broken "lop." The boat,
though low, would have done well enough reefed
down, but Guy was not a reefer. If I wanted to
see the "thing that couldn't be done" on salt
water, I should get Into a boat with Guy and
Spracklin. This time I was cold, which is not
good for one's serenity at such times. It was a
savage, cold, rainy afternoon. The storm brought
in many gulls; thousands of kittiwakes — "tick
lers" — went with us for hours, often close about.
Their white droppings were like a beginning
snowstorm, hitting the boat thirty or forty times,
nor did we ourselves wholly escape. Yagers, sharp
winged and swallow built, the "bo'suns" of
fishermen and hens of the French, attacked
fiercely the larger gulls, which were glad to aban
don their sea pickings. These hunter gulls, as
graceful as fierce, were black above, with white
breasts and a black bar across the neck.
Sam had a very presentable family. We all
talked endlessly the first evening, Sam in the lead.
The old violin and the new violin, the grapha-
phone and the talk went on long Into the night.
For the rest of the week I was there we were steady
enough, but Sam's first fizz is of high pressure,
the fun is good anyway, and there is nothing for it
but to turn in and join.

212 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
I had thought of bringing a graphaphone that
year, for a novelty, but it would have been coals
to Newcastle indeed. There were no less than
seven from this bay to Shung-ho, just above
Davis Inlet, and most of the talk along was of
new records, chiefly vaudeville songs and smart
dialogue. Sam had $100 worth of records, yet
some of these people had hardly enough to eat
in winter. I could not blame them much. They
were only part Eskimo, and blood of the gay world
was in them all. Moreover, the bay life was not
what it had formerly been. The trees had been
burnt, deer no longer swarmed from the interior,
the old superabundance of sea and shore game had
fallen away; in summer the waters were swept by
schooners from south. The life had been good
while it was easy; now that It was harder the
things of the outer world brightened to them, and
it was not strange that the ragtime tunes gave them
more of a lift than the more serious music.
The speech here is, I suppose, Devonshire.
Mrs. B. said, recounting a punishing trip of the
family from the post the week before, "By the
time we had he (Sam) there it would have been
dark" (if the wind had failed). All use the
nominative thus, and the objective is reversed
In the same way, as in the classic example of
certain children regarding their supposed mother,
"Her don't belong to we. Us don't belong to
she." With dogs about the house and too many mos
quitoes, I netted windows and stopped holes
smartly, as I did In most houses before settling
down — to little result save for getting the netted
windows open for air. Thorough killings in the
evening did only passing good. In the end I won

IN LANE'S BAY 213
by banking the underpinning with sand. They
had been coming in from below.
Sam talked of the coast northward. The Nach-
vack Eskimo burled their more important people
high upon a rock slope, walling them in and
putting stone slabs across. All personal pos
sessions were put alongside, kayak, utensils,
clothes, and the needles and special things of the
women. "What a pity to put a fine kayak there 1 "
said Sam. Everything Is damaged beyond use
before leaving. Guns are put out of gear, and
pots have holes knocked in them. Even now the
older men put meat on the graves, and other
observances survive. On killing seal the tip of the
heart and liver are thrown Into the water. Jim
Lane, who used to hunt at Ungava, still does it
"for luck." Anywhere along the bays an offering
in time of storm or for hunting luck is well
regarded. The Moravians, after a hundred and
forty years of striving, say they do not hope to
suppress these Ideas.
During the whale hunt about Nachvack the
women and children must remain silent and mo
tionless while the men are out. On one occasion
a mouse ran across the floor, a child ran after it,
and the whale of course was lost.
Sam took me to his salmon net, some eight
miles up. After the blow he expected twenty
fish, but there were only two, besides one of "pele"
size, four pounds, and a large red sucker. The
schooners had cut the fish off outside. Their cod
traps have reduced his catch to a tenth of what It
used to be. Climbing " Summer House Hill " I could
see lakes running north on the main stream, called
Hunt's River, also "Grassy Lakes/' off west and
south toward Hopedale, with a waste of burnt

214 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
country west. There had been quite an area of
light, straight spruce about this bay, chiefly black
spruce, but some tall white ones. We saw only
one seal.
Nearby Is a very old Eskimo camp site, once just
above tide on the narrowing bay, but now, by the
gradual elevation of the coast, above a high bank
where no Eskimo would think of camping, even
if the present shallow river offered anything to
camp there for.
The summer house was the usual small box
with a place for fire. When Sam turned in he
wrapped his neck up well. There was a weasel
about, he said, and he had heard they would cut
one's throat sometimes.
He discussed "fair play." An Eskimo had
brought a silver foxskin to Hopedale and was
offered $60 for it. He could get a good deal more
at Davis Inlet and begged hard to be allowed to
sell it there. But he was not allowed to, under
penalty of being cut off from all store privileges.
Sam wondered If this was not "unchrisrian."
I reminded him that the missions buy low
but sell low. They lost largely on an accumula
tion of silvers not long ago, and have resorted to
paying the hunter something down, about half, I
think, then selling the skin in London for the best
price possible and paying the balance afterward.
At Nain, S. told, they had twenty-five silvers the
last year. He shot one in front of his house not
long ago, firing twenty-two shots. It brougt
$180, certainly good pay for his ammunition. He
has caught thirty or forty at one rime or another,
getting four one year.
Sam's ethics of trade are not common. One
year he sold young E. a dog, E, was offering

ETHICS OF TRADE 215
eight or ten dollars for a dog, but Sam said this one
was worth only four dollars, and refused to take
more. So with his son Abram, who sold Easton,
traveling with Wallace, in 1905, a beautiful ranger
seal sleeping bag for six dollars. Easton offered
more, but A. knew that a dollar a skin was the
proper price and would take only that.
But Sam was rather bitter about the low prices
the Hudson's Bay Company has paid in the past,
and said they would be doing no better now if the
competition of the French company did not compel
them to. It is hard for the people to see the high
prices paid at Hamilton Inlet, where there is
competition, compared with what they get here.
All regard a new trader, such as the French com
pany, as a mere deliverer. But new traders
begin high, to get the trade, and I fancy the tale
of overreaching would be the same in the end.
Moreover, the traders sometimes pay too much.
One year an incompetent fur buyer paid absurdly
high prices — he must have lost heavily for his
principals — and I found the next year that furs
were being held in the bays for his promised return.
Meanwhile his prices were taken as throwing light
upon the practices of established dealers. Ex
pectations for the future were high. The non
appearance of this trader relieved the situation
after a time. The rapidly ascending prices of
recent years have given a bad look to even per
fectly fair ones of the earlier period.
But the doubts of the people are not without
a basis. Fair play is not too common where the
sharpened organization of the worid comes in
contact with the isolated hunter. Trade makes
when it can, as much as it can, and the helpless are
exploited. At any rate Sam, living to his prin-

216 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
ciples as with young E. and Easton, had a right
to speak. He had indeed to be wideawake not to
sell his foxes too low, now that his fishing grounds
were being cut off by the cod men.
The salmon net was absolutely empty the morn
ing after we arrived, and we dropped down to
Jim Lane's by luncheon time. Jim's trout, caught
In fresh water, are even better than those outside
in the bay, combining the good qualities of both
the fresh and salt-water fish. Jim's small boy was
about the age of mine, and with his very way.
There was wolf and deer talk in the evening.
Sam told about a deer chase he and Abram had,
using a kometik and dogs. They "brown" them
in the bunch with their repeating rifles while the
sled is going. A large stag slowed up as the sled
came on, as if to save getting out of breath, stood
erect on his haunches, and held his two fore hoofs
upright, then clapped them together, with great
force and sound. His nostrils opened and he blew
jets of steam into the cold air with great fury.
Holding his large split hoofs upright he snapped
the halves together with a loud cracking. At the
demonstration the leading dog shied off; the second
leader jumped for the stag, and by a blow from one
hoof was laid out motionless. The other hoof had
followed, for the deer struck right and left, but
the second blow missed because the dog was al
ready down. The team stood off after that. In
this manner, say the hunters, the old stags kill
wolves. A Cree hunter has told me of having
a woodland caribou he was chasing stop in the
same way in time to tread down the snow around
him and have room In which to fight.
On a time, one of Sam's tales went, wolves
howled at him all one night near his place. In the

Enough for a Cache

Hair Skins Drying, Mistinipi, 1906

WOLVES 217
morning he disabled one, whereupon the other
approached him behind. Thinking the place was
"alive with them" he did not shoot the second
one, but shouted until it went away. Later, when
he found that there had been only two, he followed
and finished the first one, much chagrined at
losing the other.
At another time William Flowers, living in the
next bay, had also a little experience. He saw
fifteen or twenty wolves on the ice and struck off
another way among trees to avoid them. Soon he
ran into more wolves, who made for him instantly.
The first lot heard the uproar and came too. There
may have been thirty or forty altogether. He
killed three and disabled a good many more before
they left. Flowers, a very steady person, owned
to being too scared to do good shooting. He
doubted their knowing he was a man at first sight.
taking him, rather, among the trees, for a deer.
Somewhere along the shore " a bunch of women"
were In a tent while the men were hunting. A
child was outside and a wolf made for it, where
upon the women yelled until he went off. The
men did not believe the story, but the women
would not sleep that night. Before morning
the wolf came, ripped the tent, and was shot.
He was an immense old wolf, with no back
teeth. A sort of Red Riding Hood tale came later
from Spracklin. His girls, one year, complained
of being followed about by three dogs, which they
had to keep off by throwing stones. It was
thought that they belonged to old John Lane. At
one time the men chased them under the landing
stage and punished them with stones. When at
last Lane came over from his bay he said they

218 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
were wolves; he trapped them that winter in the
flat west of the harbor.
Spracklin, who liked his milk, always brought
along a nanny goat from home on his schooner;
It picked up Its living about the station. One day
there was a disturbance outside and the goat was
found in the ring with one of the large foxes of the
region, the goat butting with spirit and the fox
dancing about to get a nip.
The weather settled warm, with fine aurora
on clear nights. The first Sunday Abram and I
walked to George Lane's little house, two miles
east. On the way a shrike was having a sparring
match In the air with two smaller birds,
some two hundred feet up In the air. The
little birds were as ready to attack as the
shrike; It was hard to tell which started the
trouble. Abram told me of an experience taking seven
Southern Indians to Hopedale with his dogs.
They wanted him to go a way he did not want
to take, an unusual route, which he refused to do.
One of them took hold of him, showed anger, and
was unpleasant. Upon this, A. called back his
fifteen powerful dogs, who came bounding in eager
for the fray. It must have been a stirring sight.
The Indians, who had no guns, accepted his
views with marvelous promptness, and were al
ways civil to him after that. Some of my friends
the E.'s were In the group.
"August 20. To net with Sam. He had
twenty-five trout and a pele, the trout not large.
Net set In form of a little cod trap. Fish nearly
all dead, as they were not taken out yesterday,
Sunday. Net bunged up with fuzzy weed; it
is hard to keep them clear as late in the season as

A RAISED BEACH 219
this. Sam got a switchy stick and worked a long
time beating the stuff off.
"A fine raised beach east of the trout net,
one hundred to one hundred and twenty-five
feet above present sea level. Jim Lane's memory
indicates two feet rise here in forty years. This
would put the Eskimo camp site near summer
house at least three hundred years back,
which agrees with the age of the implements
there." A cloud of lance, eel-like fish four or five inches
long, were held in the little trout trap, keeping in a
school, and absurdly enough not daring to go out
through the two-inch meshes. Finally they set
tled to the bottom In despair, regardless not only
of the big meshes, but of the opportunity offered
by two four-foot openings.
These fish behave very little like a salmon,
one of which had gone through the trap like a shot,
leaving a hole almost the size of a stovepipe. A
trout weighing eleven pounds, however, stayed In,
This trout was twenty-nine inches long and
fifteen and seven eighths in girth. All fish grow
large here. In October cod of sixty or seventy-five
pounds are caught in shallow water on the bar
near the house.
Hereabouts a pine grosbeak is a "mope," a
shrike a "jay killer" or "shreek." "The pret
tiest bird is what we call a fly-catcher, small, with
yellow, white, and changeable blue, a little black
cap on the head."
Sam asked me one day If the water in the In
terior was all salt, as he had always heard. He told
me that the term Great Grampus was a loose
one, the proper name of this monster of the waters
being 0-mi-oo-ah-lik (boat wrecker). It lives

220 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
in Ungava Pond, where the waves are always
mountainous. One cannot see across it.
How strange people are! Here they were, the
shore folk, taking the savage coast and shifting
ice, the hunting of the white bear and walrus,
and the dealings with the great sea itself, as all in
the day's work, yet investing the innocent white moss
and lake country behind with their most unheard of
imaginings. It was a foregone conclusion that
when I asked A. if he wanted to go inland whh me
after the mailboat came, his parents should decide
that he could not be spared.
The bay people like summer, and none the less
for Its shortness, but their real life Is the winter
life. The narratives are almost all of winter, of
hunts and storms and journeys; and all revolve
around the dogs. Only with his dogs and when
out with his dogs is the Labrador man in his glory,
whether he be white, mixed, or Eskimo. "With
out our dogs we might as well be dead," has been
said to me by more than one. With the dogs
they can bring their wood, haul their seals, drive
to the far ice edge and away before the pack
swings free. Inland for deer they go, near to the
height of land, out again with meat, off to the
trading posts. In summer the people are bound
to the fishing, and the dogs range about the shore,
or are left on Islands when fish are to be taken to
market or some journey for supplies made in the
uncertain winds; but In the long winter the people
and dogs are Inseparable. Along the coast they
go in the low sun and the keen air, whiriing over
the great white spaces among the islands, across
the wooded necks and lakes, down into the bays
and on. At the houses they dash up and stop,
strong, cheerful Eskimo from Ramah and Nach-

DOGS 221
vack in the north to Hopedale and Aillik and Mok
kovik in the south, visiting and eating and passing
on, — mainly, if one may say, for the joy of the
road. Forty, fifty, a hundred miles a day they
go when all is well, on under the high winter moon
and the northern lights to their snowhouse inn.
Sam could not bear that I should leave the
coast without seeing dogs in harness, and one day
he drove them to the sled on the level ground. It
did not go well. Eagerly they bounded off
only to foul their traces among snags and
bushes. The distress and yells of the uncom
prehending leader were pathetic. It would not
do, but I caught their spirit. The dogs are as keen
as their drivers. The joy of the winter way to
them aU!
It is not for me, seeing these dogs only in sum
mer, to say where their undoubted quality of de
votion ends and the fierceness of their wolf in
heritance takes on. These dogs of Bromfield's,
and I have seen the like in others, would follow
along the shore as we rowed to the net with all the
appearance of our home dogs that cannot bear to be
left behind, and in spite of our threatenings. I
do not think it was the sculpins and rock cod they
had in mind; they would get all they wanted, or
all there were, anyway.
Those dogs of Sam's were surely good dogs.
A fine old white one, perhaps the "master dog,"
would sit long at A.'s feet on the beach and look
into his eyes as only one's own dog ever looks,
one's own dog.
Yet that was the year of an occurrence, the
Lane tragedy, In which dogs showed another
character. It happened at Easter. Old John
Lane, his wife, and grandson, going to the festivl-

222 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
ties at Hopedale in a great snowstorm, never
arrived. They were last seen by a sledge driver,
who drove off ahead of them, not on the ice, but
on some land portion of the route. In a few days
the dogs came home and were put into confine
ment pending further knowledge of what had
occurred. Nothing more was actually known
until just as I came up on the coast. A good deal
of search had been made, but the snow had leveled
everything over. When found at last the woman
and boy were in the covered kometik untouched
by the dogs, but of old John Lane only the scat
tered bones were left. It was probable that he had
fallen in the deep snow and could not rise, but it
was the opinion of those most used to the life
that his dogs would not have touched him while
he was alive. The dogs were killed upon the finding
of the party, as Is always done under such cir
cumstances. The question of hunger entered in, as the dogs
may have stayed about until they were in straits.
Here develops a curious trait of the Eskimo dog,
though well known, apparently, in the region.
Contrary to what one would expect, it Is not
dogs that are kept underfed that are most likely
to attack persons, but the reverse. Not hunger,
but the instinct of the chase in a strong, vigorous
animal seems to be the mainspring. An animal
heavily fed and gorged would doubtless be dull
for a time, but a general high state is counted
dangerous. It is the sporting Instinct that is to be
feared, the Instinct of the fox hunter.
Another fact In this connection long puzzled
me. It appeared that dogs were more apt to
be dangerous in "thick" weather, in times of
falling snow, and when It Is stormy and dark. In

DOGS 223
the end it occurred to me that as this did not seem
to relate to anything in the human association
it might go back to their original wolf period, and
I asked the old hunters if the wolves hunted at
such times. It seemed , unlikely. We have all
heard of the "truce of danger" among the animals,
how the fiercest of them are mild in the presence of
tumult and danger. But it appeared that wolves
did hunt at such times, and particularly that deer
killed by them were often found after the great
storms. The old wolf instincts still wake the dogs
to the chase when such weather comes on.
The reason for their hunting caribou at such
times seems plain. We who have hunted them in
the woods of Maine and Canada know how ex
traordinarily passive and approachable they are
in snowstorms. They allow one to come very near
and are reluctant to go far when disturbed.
Doubtless they feel that as their tracks are covered
in they are secure, for all deer are chiefly concerned
about their back track. Obviously they are a
good deal hidden In snowstorms. In bright,
breezy days almost all birds and animals are as
tonishingly harder to approach than in dull
weather. Jim Lane had taken up his father's place. I
talked with him and various other members of the
family about the circumstances of the old people's
last journey. Those who remained at home that
night told me some things I wish I had written
down; at the time it seemed as if I could not well
forget them. Their accounts were not very differ
ent from some others that have been told in the
world at one time or another. Their father, I
think, appeared, and they both saw and heard.
The dogs also were affected.

224 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
As mailboat time approached, I made an ar
rangement with a neighbor to take me over to
Fanny's when the weather permitted. The first
calm morning his boat appeared coming up the bay,
and as a matter of course I left the boat I was in
and got on. We made a quiet trip to Fanny's,
with lightish winds, almost faint, before I found
out that he had not been coming for me at all, but
was only going to Jim's, He regarded the day as
too rough.
The week at Bromfield's had been a peaceful
rest. The family are uncommonly pleasant to
visit. But I was chewing a rather bitter cud,
nevertheless, unreconciled to leaving the country
without a visit to the barrens, and if possible the
Indians, If I left as things were the miserable
story of the E.'s would follow me over the penin
sula from side to side, and no lodge would be open
to me. The picture grew In my mind of sitting
on a rock with old Ostinitsu, having got to his
camp in some way, and hammering the truth into
him. To go alone would hardly do. I remem
bered the Eskimo Aaron at Nain, who spoke Eng
lish and had been about the world; he had been
willing to go inland with me at one time. If
home news justified I could go north to Nain on the
mailboat and look for him. It would be better
In any event to start from there and come south
to the Assiwaban, and not to go from Fanny's, for
now the fall winds were on, strong from north, and
cold. It was better to have these subarctic
trades on one's back.
The steamer came the 26th, with good news
from home, and I went up like a cork. In a
matter of hours I was at Nain, looking for Aaron,
Then my prospectis fell off again, for he was away

A START FROM NAIN 225
and no one else would go. The missionaries were
preoccupied, chiefly about their steamer, the
Harmony, now a month late, — perhaps in the ice
at Chldley. There was only one thing to do, and
I slipped away alone the morning of the 27th,
leaving the place to its cares. It was afterward
reported that I had gone north.
Everything was wrong. It was my first row
ing that year and the gear was not tuned up;
with a rope rowlock the oars are apt to twist a lit
tle and wear the hands. A southeast wind, a head
wind, made things worse. Five miles south from
Nain I came across a tent and a man codfishing, a
nearly white man of a good kind, named Webb,
from Port Manvers, north. He would sail me
along a few hours for the price of a quintal of fish,
but as we both thought the wind was going to
shift to southwest and relieve my difficulties, I
rowed on. It was a mistake; the wind held,
increased, and before long a wide, tide-worked
passage barred my way, though doubtless I could
have got across in the course of time. I took to a
smooth, barren island for the night, where there was
a fairly sheltered lee and a little driftwood. The wind
let up a little later, but I stuck to my fire. Rain
came on, and sleepirg under the canoe, which was
rather narrow, the edges of my oilskin coat, which
I had laid down on the ground, worked out under
the drip and collected it under me. The coat was
as good as a bath tub. Memo for travelers:
Let not your ground-cloth get out under the eaves !
A fresh northwester was on In the morning, but
with hard work I got on with a mile or two under
something of a lee. Gyrating about in the puffs
were a good many gulls; one a fine, business-like
burgomaster — they are large, stout birds — who

226 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
bore up wind and deliberately looked me over with
his pale eye as he wore across a few yards away.
He had something in his mind. That long beak
with the hook is for tearing things on the beach.
Then came a wide passage. The wind came
with a long run here, from a deep bay reaching
inland. Landing, I looked and looked again,
then went back on a hill and looked more, trying
to get the measure of the tide run on the other side.
As things looked I could have got over, but the
trouble with such places is that it takes half an
hour to get to the worst of the tide run, and In that
time new currents may develop, let alone more
wind, and everything go to the bad. Not only
does the traveler without local tide knowledge
find himself thus standing on one foot and then
on the other at such times, but the bay people too.
This time I had some two hours of It.
I put out gingerly, but was no sooner beyond
the sheltered water under the shore, and out where
the rough water had been, than everything quieted
down and gave me no trouble. There was still a tide
crotch bobble beyond the turn at the crested hill,
which was almost but not quite troublesome, but
from there the wind was nearly aft.
For hours I rowed most of the time one side
only, letting the wind do the work of the other oar.
Such a yawing craft never was before. In the same
wind the 1903 Oldtown would have rowed evenly
and fast.
I had not much hope of seeing any one along
the way, for the bay people go to outside waters
at this time for codfish. What I had In mind was
to go as far as the high barrens anyway, beyond
the forks of the Assiwaban, see the deer, and if
things went well keep on to Mistinipi and the

RICHARD 227
Indians. If they had moved with the deer, as
they had said they might, the round trip from
Nain inland and back to Davis Inlet might cover
some three hundred miles. If I had not been a
good deal worked up about the situation I should
not have taken on so large a job alone, particularly
at that time of year. Nor was it certain that the
Indians would be a pleasant or profitable find
to make, anyway, as things were.
What changed the face of things for me, for
changed it was, was the finding of Edmund Winters
at his place near Voisey's. Finding him at home
I floored there, as a matter of course, and we all
had things over in the evening. I owned up to
not liking to make the trip alone. In the course
of the evening Edmund and his wife talked to
gether, then asked me If their boy would do me
any good.
"How old is he?"
"Fifteen, but he is strong."
"I'll take him! Now show me the boy."
About seven in the morning, August 29th, we
started for the Assiwaban, some eight miles.
Richard had never been in a canoe before, and I
let him- row while I paddled. We lunched at
my camping place of July, where the date and
record I had left at that time, as always in lone
stopping places, looked quite historical now. A
seal swam about at one hundred and fifty yards,
throwing himself clear of the water in a mag
nificent back somersault at our shot. It did not
follow that we had scraped him; they seem to do it
for fun sometimes.
On the portage by the falls black flies were
plenty in the bushes, as is the way in Septem
ber. Two miles above on a gravel beach we

228 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
camped, with an eye for trout, and the same
redoubtable salmon fly I had used in July came into
play, with Its eight feet of line and a stick. We
slapped the shallow water at twilight in good
Assiwaban style, close to the shore, soon getting
all we wanted; there were ten trout weighing some
twenty-flve pounds. We would haul them around
sideways without any play and run them up the
slopingbank. Richard cleaned them in the dusk. In
the morning he called to me that there were two
kinds, and so there were. Namaycush some were
surely, one nearly two feet long. The few I have
seen in the lakes have been deepish fish, but these
were long and rangy, as If living always in running
water. They were brilliantly colored.
The rapids next day went slowly; Richard was
not used to the running water. At our camp on the
Natua-ashish trout were jumping, but our stick
rod would not reach out to them; we did not need
them anyway. There were few game tracks
along the beaches, even In this year of caribou.
Next day we were well punished getting toward the
wind lake, Inching for hours against vicious
squalls; here some trained paddling power would
have served. All at once the fuss abated, and the
long wind lake, now on the Canadian map as
Cabot Lake, let us through easily after luncheon;
and although rain held us half a day, we made the
forks September 1st. Rather than try the bad
boating beyond in cold, wet weather we hid the
canoe and some provisions at the forks. A can of
pea-meal ration left there In July was intact. We
had, by the way, left enough tins of this along back,
cached beyond possible discovery, to take us out
afoot to the coast at least half fed. f There was not
much danger of personal harm from the Indians, but

Making Pemmican and Working Skins, Mistinipi

ACROSS THE BARRENS 229
with their own peculiar humor they might like
to see how light of supplies and outfit we could
travel. We started for the highlands with a few days'
supplies of bacon, hardbread, tea, and tin rations,
the light, round tent, and a blanket apiece. The
combination gun, a few cartridges, a folding camera
and films pretty much completed the loads of,
say, thirty-five and twenty-two pounds, Richard
had a hooded Eskimo frock or "dickey," We had
tin cups and a small pail for the tea, and a rect
angular dripping pan of sheet Iron some two and
a half Inches deep for frying and stewing, A
square pan is less likely to upset than a round one,
and fits such things as fish and most shapes of
meat better. These "cooking tools" were very
Hght. A notched stick three or four feet long,
shoved into the ring of the pan, saved bending
over, as one has to with a short handle. Such a
handle is a great convenience with a thin pan,
which must be held over the fire by the cook most
of the time, or the fish will burn.
It was a black, misty day of strong north wind,
cold and cheerless, but luckily the wind came from
one side and not ahead. The first caribou ap
peared soon in the deer bush among the rolling
ridges, and I made a high miss. They were nearer
than they looked, as things in the barrens are
usually. There were seven or eight young bucks
and does. It was late when we started, and as the
climb to the high level was more than a thousand
feet, by the end of the afternoon we were tired,
although only twelve or fifteen miles out. We
were then on a high reach of country leading west,
with a streak of scattered spruce, dead and alive,
running along for quite a distance; a sort of growth

230 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
which generally appears on such damp north ex
posures. Rain began, and we put up the tent
In the lee of a stunted tree or two. Wood came
easily; the dead trees, white and hard, four or
five Inches through at the butt, were rotten at the
ground and pushed over easily. With a butt under
each arm we trailed them quickly to camp, and
In twenty minutes had plenty of wood for all
night, though scattered as the trees were it had
taken some acres of land to furnish them. It
had been very cold and raw all day, and oc
casional snow came with the rain. Now the gale
increased. Only a wind break of such evergreen
stuff as we could get together enabled us to keep
the tent and fire from blowing away. If it had
not rained much we could have used the tent as
an extra blanket and got on without fire; as it was
we agreed that one of us must stay up and keep the
other warm. The boy had the first turn. He was
off in an Instant, and though the night was long it
seemed a pity to wake him, especially as the fire
took experienced management. At times I dozed
In the firelight. Before morning the wind shifted
east, a warmer quarter, and fell off a little,
also the rain. I moved the wind-break to suit,
and dawn came at last. How the boy did sleep!
I thought I should have to drag him twice around
the fire before getting him awake. When at
last he became conscious he jumped readily to his
feet and went to work with a will. Things were
quieting down, I was all but asleep anyway, and
In a few minutes must have gone well down to the
level he had pulled up from. In three hours or
so I felt a touch and faintly heard a whisper,
"Cartridge! Shot cartridge!" I waked enough
to find two or three and fell away again. When I

ACROSS THE BARRENS 231
finally turned out the boy was picking four
ptarmigan, which he had killed with two shots.
He was a silent boy, and a little shy then, having
never been away from his people before. I was
of a strange breed and he made no advances, but
was an unusual boy nevertheless; his little white
"dickey" held most of the good qualities of dog,
boy, and man.
Off we went, a little late after the two nights
wehadmadeof it, oneforeachof us, and in four or
five miles had flanked a long pond and were broad
off the high portage. We had occasionally seen
some sign of the Indian route, — it is not a trail —
here a stone laid upon a boulder on the crest of a
ridge, there a burnt brand at the edge of a pond.
The Indians go free, high over the shoulder of a
hill, sloping off to the right or left for some wind
ing pond, across long levels and up some unbeliev
able slope — but where the footing is good. There
is no visible path from where they leave the
bushes near the forks to the hills south of the high
portage where their signs appear no more.
A bunch of caribou appeared before luncheon.
They were feeding on the deerbush In a sheltered
depression. We needed a meat cache there for the
return and sacrificed a doe, weighted our packs reluc
tantly with meat, and went along familiar ponds to
the southwest. We were carrying with a string
over the head, with twigs under It to bear on, and
another string around the points of the shoulders.
The packs so carried kept wonderfully steady;
they seemed a part of us. There was no swing
ing and lurching as we twisted about among the
boulders, then perhaps down Into the mud and
up with a stretch upon a stone again. The wet
weather had spoiled the traveling, doubled the work.

232 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
Misty rain drove from north again as we
camped. But for being In -the lee of a rifted
boulder, some twenty feet long, we could not
possibly have kept the tent up; It flapped and
loosened as the gusts came around the ends of
the rock, sometimes from one side and again the
other. We would shove out the heavy stones
which held the edges down and tighten up a little
now and then, but It looked as If we should have
the tent down before morning. Once in the
evening I put my head up over the rock and took
the wind and fine rain In hiy face. It was about
impossible to bear the sting. We slept fairly;
it was not so cold as the night before.
Many caribou were feeding on the smooth hill
north of Long Pond next day, moving off and on as
we approached, and circling widely for our wind.
They showed more curiosity than fear. A perky
young buck walked up within fifty feet, dancing
and performing as he tried to make us out behind
a boulder. Catching our wind at last, he turned
short, dove down the steep hill, dashed across
the wide valley, and out of sight, as if pursued by
demons. His Instant change from a dancing
prince to a panic-stricken fugitive, fairly falling
over himself down the hill and not looking back,
was very funny. An hour later we remarked
that he must be going yet.
Four or five of the deer that we had disturbed
in crossing the hill soon appeared swimming across
Long Pond below us, looking like ducks In the
distance. Through the calmer hours came oc
casionally the warning note of geese as we passed
the ponds. They spotted us far away on the ridges.
The cry of loons was frequent, usually high
in the air; their September uneasiness was on.

MICE 233
they would soon be gone. Soon the geese and
loons would be at the shore; Indeed by the time we
were out the former were honking at us again from
low points and islands, and at Fanny's I saw some
part of the "million geese" Spracklin had told
of there — a small part. There were no mice
this year. Whether they had moved or died off
is not clear. There is one circumstance that
supports their migrating, — their habit of swim
ming the rivers in numbers at night. It would
seem that they could not have any motive for
merely swimming about, but were going somewhere.
In 1905 they were so numerous on the land that
we often saw two at a time as we were walking.
Every low twig was riddled by them. One could
not lay bread or meat on the moss without pick
ing up a dozen or two of their minute droppings.
It was pleasanter this year without them, but in
their presence one thing was always worth con
sidering, that so long as they were about one
could not possibly starve. They were like field
mice, with rather stumpy tails. There were lem
mings, also, two kinds as I remember. The Idea of
the mice being night swimmers Is only Inferential;
they were rarely If ever on the water daytimes, yet
all the trout of any size were full of them. A
trout of only a pound weight would contain several.
The fish actually tasted mousey, and we used to
rip them up as fast as caught and let the mice
drop out, which seemed to help matters.
The wolves sang at night, never very near.
The pitch seemed a little higher than that of the
Eskimo dogs. The steady hunting call of the
wolves came sometimes in alternation with the cry
of the loons. Ptarmigan were scarce. In 1905
we ought to have seen one hundred and fifty In

234 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
such a walk, instead of the dozen we did in fact.
Ravens were rather plenty, and jays, the latter
very dark.
The rainy camp at the "Black Rock," as we
called it, was the last at which we put up a tent;
after that we used the tent for a blanket. The
nights were generally freezing, and we had little
enough covering, but slept snug together in
our clothes and always fared well. The packs
were now a little heavy with meat, and the next
night R. owned up to being very tired. Just before
stopping we started a band of four great stags with
immense horns. They would not let us come
nearer then a quarter of a mile, and went off in
a great run. Presently they appeared on the side
of a steep hill quite near, slanting up at a great
pace. They were a grand sight In their wild rush
along the sky line. The old stags are always shy.
Now, with fine weather. It was good to be out.
There were no mosquitoes, and with their depar
ture the curse of the country was lifted. Now
we could sit down in peace, or walk, or have our
thoughts. As the moss dried out on the hills near
the height of land they looked almost snowy — they
were velvet to the feet, and the days of walking
were never too long. Sometimes we went over
the hills, sometimes along the deer paths by the
lakes. At the third camp we left the tent, some food,
and my skin boots. These last are as nothing in
such a walk; when long wet they become pulpy,
"tripy," — and sharp stones cut through easily.
This cache was at the thatched tree where Q.
and I stopped with Indians the year before, on a
small, pretty lake overlooked by a fine, rounded
hill rising abruptly from the south side.

OSTINITSU'S CAMP 235
With beautiful Hawk Lake to the left we kept
the highlands beyond and crossed the height of
land in a high saddle, the third notch north of the
regular portage route. Beyond were wide, boggy
levels, well afloat, but we made Mistinipi before
night at a point three or four miles down the lake,
our crosscut having saved distance which we paid
for in hard bog travel. During the afternoon a
young stag furnished us with a reassuring cache
of meat. There were tamaracks where we finally
stopped, on a friendly level beside the lake, where
wind could not do much harm, and where if neces
sary, being tentless, we could put up a brush roof.
It rained a bit through the night, but as it was
warm we were not the worse. A long belt of
trees following the lake was full of ravens, cawing
almost like crows, but with more modulation and
a pleasanter voice. They had gathered there
with an eye to certain deer carcasses, hauled up
here and there along the shore by Indians. In
the morning we left our blankets, took the camera,
gun, and a bite to eat, and started for the main
narrows to see If the Indians were still there. I
was not very hopeful. Nevertheless in an hour,
as we turned a point, across a wide bay appeared
three deerskin lodges, surprisingly conspicuous
and handsome In the sunshine. We brightened
up and pushed around the bay in high spirits.
Old Ostinitsu was cornered at last. On a
point between us and the camp was a camp
site lately abandoned. Pieces of rotten meat
lay about, and other rubbish not inviting; It
was not pleasant. There was a windrow of large
horns, in the velvet, stacked together. I think
the old meat was left there to attract foxes and
the like; the trapping season would soon be on.

236 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
The Indians' ordinary camping places are kept
clean. Four or five Indians were sitting in a little
dug out, hollow depression on a knoll back of the
lodges, their faces turned rather away from us
across the lake. We were within a hundred
yards of them before they noticed us. Then one
happened to look our way, spoke to the others,
and all rose, tall against the sky, and descended
to meet us. We walked forward, our gun empty
and thrown open. They were the older men.
Ostinitsu I knew, but not the others. They
looked surprised to see us there. "Tante mit-
shluap.?" O. asked, "Where Is your tent?" I
explained, and he remembered the spot. Where
Is your canoe? "Mistastin lishtuets." How
many In the party? "Only the boy," I said,
looking back at Richard, "but he is a good boy."
The men looked at each other, spoke a little, and
seemed at a loss. There was no doubt of their
surprise at the situation. White men did not
travel that way. I took the lead. "Can you let
me have a pair of moccasins ? There has been much
rain, and the country is wet and hard to travel,"
and I turned up my foot to show the holes. 0.
murmured something, but seemed absent. Pre
sently we went on to the lodges. Women, mostly
in cloth dresses, others in deerskins, and children,
came out and stood about, but nothing much
developed, and I felt it in the air that they did not
know precisely what to do with us. To give them
a chance to talk matters over I thought I would go
off out of the way, and accordingly started with
Richard up the long slope of the hill west, saying
to Ostinitsu, "You know it snowed and blew when
we were here a year ago, and now I want to get

GUESTS OF THE CAMP 237
a picture of the lake while it is good weather," —
this of course in Indian, — and leaving our gun on a
rock I asked him to put It Inside if it rained, for
it was a Httle showery. He nodded vaguely and
we departed.
As we approached the camp again an hour
afterward all the people were standing together
about a little tree, evidently in council. They
spread about as we came on. Some of the younger
men, Nahpayo, Pakuunnoh, and Puckway, whom I
knew, came and shook hands warmly. O. also
had turned altogether agreeable, and asked us to
stay with them. We were glad to accept, and I
asked him for a canoe to sleep under, also to have
our things fetched up from the place where we had
slept. He demurred at our sleeping under a canoe,
pointing to a little cloth tent used to store dried
meat in, and urging us to use that, at the same
time sending a canoe for the baggage, with Richard
along to find the place.
My chance had come. I wandered about
with the camera and made the most of the situa
tion. Smiles prevailed everywhere as I went
about; we were guests of the camp. It must
have been agreed that we deserved something for
our walk. The older women did various opera
tions on the skins with their different tools, made
pemmican, went through many acts of their
routine. They lifted the covering skins from
whatever I cast my eyes upon, showed me what
was there and what everything was for. Most of
their dried meat and other things were piled close
alongside the lodges, covered with skins.
i^^fTwo or three young women, "buds" of the
^ason, were round about without visible duties.
They watched me with interest at times, or hob-

238 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
nobbed with the older women over the skins they
were working, discussing this or that point, per
haps the use to which one skin and another was
best adapted, whether they would best go this
way or that. A younger girl, the daughter of
Minowish, one of the best of the older men, cer
tainly had eyes, nor were any of those younger
ones failing in a certain coquettish air. The house
wives were pleasantly grave and simple. These
older women looked hard worked and thin, under
all their unusual toil upon meat and skins, be
sides their household duties. The men appeared
well fed and easy. The man's work of providing
game was mere sport as things were.
The next time I saw these people, in 1910, the
women were comparatively round faced, and
looked as If life was going well, while the men were
trained down and hard conditioned. The deer were
scattered sparsely over the country, the food
scaffolds were low, and the hunting men had to be
always afoot over the country. So it goes, too
much or too little, one year and another. Whether,
In this winter of early 1911, the deer still remain
and all may eat, or the women and children are
waiting, with small hope, for what the hunters
may bring. Is as It may be. Too often the game
fails utterly. If still In the country east of the
George the people should be able, if necessary,
to force their way to the coast for relief before the
worst. A straight old woman, dressed all in caribou
skin, came to me and began to explain something
with great earnestness, but I found it hard to make
much of what she said. After a time I understood
that a young man was 111; I was not to go to the
lodge where he was. The young man. It seemed,

GUESTS OF THE CAMP 239
was about the size and age of a certain girl, and
she pointed to another lodge. I thought little
of the matter then, so much was going on that was
distracting. Old Nijwa, the woman who had done
the talking, asked If I had a bit of tobacco to
spare, for they all smoke, but I had not at that
moment. Later I walked toward her lodge with
a small piece, speaking as I approached. She
flew to the door, warned me away with extreme
energy, and pointed to a girl evidently very ill,
behind in the tent. Then I understood; there
were two young people 111, a young man and a
girl. She was so excited that she hardly noticed
the tobacco. I have often thought of the unusual
conscience she showed in warning us; too rarely
is the like to be met with nearer home.
They had speared no less than twelve or
fifteen hundred deer in a few weeks. From three
to five hundred carcasses, skinned and washed out,
were hauled up on the gravel beach, drying hard
and black In the sun and the cool September wind.
There were no flies about them and no smell.
Later the meat would be stripped off and baled
away. At first I thought the carcasses had been
thrown away, but not so; meat I had seen them
traveling with evidently came from just such
whole carcasses. The head was always gone — the
hunter himself must eat it or forfeit his fortune
in the chase; the rest belongs to the group in com
mon. Not all the carcasses were complete, some
times a leg or other part was gone. The spec
tacle of so many blackened carcasses, more or less
dismembered, was not pleasing, at any rate not
to us who had never suffered famine; it was a
savage feast, alike for Indian, wolf, and raven.
0. asked me If I had any bread — he probably

2W IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
wanted It for the sick ones, I said no, I was
getting to be an old man and could not carry much
across the barrens — there had been plenty of
caribou for us to travel on; but I handed him some
of the pea-meal ration. The old man looked at
me, reached out his long arms, laid his hands upon
my shoulders and said, "You may be an old
man, but you would make a great chief trader!"
They still hoped I would come and trade. I had
no sense of overfamiliarity on his part. It is re
markable how Intimate these people can be when
they care to, without the least offense. It is the
mark of their quality, perceived by many who
have known them. Of these long ago was Baron
Lahontan, who, coming from the most brilliant
court of Europe to the tribes of the Upper St. Law
rence, was able to say, in effect, "As for myself
I must acknowledge that the manners and person
ality of these people are entirely agreeable to me."
And in a recent day on Maniquagan River came
the almost unwilling observation of a companion
from the Anglo-Saxon world, a world which has
scant grace and unseeing eyes for native races,
"After all, the natural Indian is a good deal of a
gentleman." A little fire was made outdoors at ten or eleven
and a large copper kettle went on, filled well up
with crushed marrowbones. As it boiled Ostinitsu
stirred it with a four-foot stick and all the camp
gathered by. After It had boiled enough 0.
skimmed the grease and a little deer hair off the
top, brought out an earthen bowl, took up a pint
and a half of the broth, and offered it to me. It
was a little tallowy; the under part of the stock
had evidently been boiled before, but It was not
bad. I did not get quite enough.

A Windrow of Horns

SPEARING DEER 241
Richard came back in due time with the bag
gage. The party had come upon two deer swim
ming the lake. The canoe was run hard upon one,
which was speared, and then the other, both in the
back. One of them nearly upset the canoe.
Richard said the blood spurted as high as the
gunwale. The deer were left with just enough
strength to reach the shore, where they fell in the
edge of the water without being able to get out.
The Indians took the skins and the best of the meat,
leaving the rest.
Richard was hungry enough by this time, for
it was long since breakfast, and I advised him to
take his share of the soup, but after looking into
the kettle he shook his head. Ostinitsu looked
at him sharply, but said nothing. I had to get
up some tea and ration for the boy.
Some of the Indians went up to the lookout
with us, taking along a little spyglass. Deer were
visible three or four miles away on the ridges,
passing west and not coming to the crossing,
perhaps owing to the wind, which made the lake
a little rough, and no deer came across that day.
The glass was not very good, and I could see them
only when their backs were above the sky line.
The spear is a sharp-edged, diamond-shaped
blade of steel, on a slender shaft three or four feet
long. As soon as the on-coming deer are safely
away from land the older men from the lookout
signal the young fellows down at the shore with
the canoe, and these eager young wolves fairiy lift
their canoe over the water for the prey. A long
wmdrow of horns, besides a separate pile of very
large ones, were close by, and each pair must have
stood for four or five does and smaller deer killed.
It IS a matter of necessity that the horns are piled

242 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
together; if they are left about it is understood
that the deer will scatter when they come through
the country, and be hard to get.
After a while, though I was not thinly dressed,
the cool wind became too much for me, and I
turned to go down the hill. The people laughed,
as well they might. Some of the four and five
year olds were about in perfect comfort, though
wearing only one scant garment of caribou skin;
near half their chests and legs were bare. The
people stand cold as well as Eskimo, but cannot
keep their working strength as well under star
vation. Four or five women had gone about sewing
moccasins, and I hoped that one pair or another
would turn out to be for me. A pair indeed!
When the time came they gave them all to me,
every pair, and smoked tongues and meat until
we were embarrassed. Luckily I had some half
dollars for them, which they accepted readily, ex
amining the designs upon them with pleased in
terest. Most of all they were interested in some
small photographs of my children. They passed
them about and talked about them, but I could
not understand much of what they said. Soon
Ostinltsu's quiet wife went to her lodge and came
back with two children of eight or nine. Standing
by the side of Ostinitsu, the children between us,
she said simply, "These are our children." She
knew her jewels.
So the day wore on. Richard moved about
contentedly, approved by all. Indians like boys.
His share of presents was not small. Few had seen
what we were seeing, perhaps none from the outer
world of to-day — the primitive phase in its
unchanged estate, on this Immemorial range of

INDIAN MANNERS 243
the caribou. Some things that the people had
were from white hands, but the essential life was
the same; the manners, the occupations, the means
to a livelihood, the ancient belief.
To me they had the civil deference of bred
people to a guest. When I pitched away my
heavy old moccasins with the holes in them,
which, however, had strong material left in them,
Pakuunnoh picked them up, brought them to me,
and asked if he might have them, an exhibition
of mere manners. He knew I was done with them.
So with a tin can thrown away at Mistastin one
year, it was brought to us in the same way. From
Richard and me, there at Mistinipi, they seemed to
expect nothing.
We had meant to stay some time, a week or
more. But toward the end of the day I had time
for reflection and the matter of the sickness In
camp rose to my mind. The trouble was probably
measles, and I had had it, but the boy's danger
was serious. With people of his blood measles
was apt to be as fatal as smallpox. Indeed
Nahpayo's young wife had suggestive pits In her
face, hardly healed, and this was another matter.
Richard's people had said to me, "We think you
will take care of him," but if he was caught in the
barrens with measles the result would be almost
sure. Moreover, north storms were now season
able and might bring heavy snow and cold; In
truth just this thing happened three days after
we were out of the country.
I spoke to Ostinitsu, saying I was afraid for
the boy, and asked him to send us to the head of
the lake by canoe. He seemed to appreciate my
situation, and a little later, at a word from him,
Pakuunnoh and Puckway put in a large rough-

244 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
water birch and we were off, all four paddling.
The people of the camp stood upon the bank above
the line of deer carcasses, a silent group, and waved
us as we moved away. A stiff little sea was coming
down the lake. We moved into It like a battle
ship, throwing high the spray, but no water came
in. The spray divided and fell outside in a marvel
ous way. I had never seen the like. We made
fast time, having almost no cargo and strong power.
They put us off at a little eastern bay near the end,
where we boiled a last kettle together and shared
what we had — our pea-meal ration against their
deer tongues.
The sun went low. Pakuunnoh pointed at it.
"Shakashtuet piishum," he said, "The sun is
setting," then pointed toward their camp. They
must be going. I nodded and turned to the fire. I
did not want to see them make the miserable
averted Naskapi departure, especially after the
day we had had together, but I heard their pad
dles dip away fast and knew they were gone.
In a little, as I bent over the fire getting up
more tea, there came a sound fom the lake and
I looked up. The big canoe was swung broad
side, and the two Indians were waving their long
arms and whooping until the echoes came back.
For some minutes It lasted. This was the real
Naskapi good by — to friends. We sprang up and
waved back, shouting; they turned the canoe,
went fast down the lake before the wind, and it
was four years before I saw any face of the tribe
again. In snug, sheltered ground with enough of wood, a
mile on, we made a sky camp and were off in the gray
of the morning. I was anxious about the measles.
In the evening I had singed everything we had

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Long Pond, from Caribou Hill, the Caribou Darkened for Contrast
AN EXPOSED CAMP 245
taken from the Indians In the fire, by way of
sterilizing them, but we had ourselves been a good
deal exposed early in the day. Whether Richard
was worried I never knew; we did not mention
the subject on the march. From the way he held
to the trail from daylight to dark I suspected that
he was thinking.
It was well that we cached meat on the out
ward trip, for not a deer did we see on the way
home. There were many tracks, and doubtless
there were some deer to be seen if we had kept
our eyes well out, but the newer tracks were all
leading one way, to the south and west behind us.
Our pace was good, light as we were, and night
found us beyond the close hills on the broad
slopes off Long Pond. A cold wind came from
north, there was no shelter, and after the shower
of the day we were long looking for a dry place
to lie down on. In exposed places such as we
were in one watches the weather signs anxiously
before dark, for the nights are long and there is
time between night and morning for great changes
to come on. Now the storms were sudden and cold
and a foot or more of snow might come over night.
In the short nights of summer, if the signs are good
at dark, there is little chance of a bad change before
dawn. By the middle of September the situation Is
different, and if a norther should come in the night
one would almost surely have to drive with it until
stopped by some lake, or at best come upon some
boulder or bush to get behind, perhaps for a day or
two, and without fire. Then would come. If one
could do it, a wallow of days In snow to the forks,
without winter clothes and In moccasins like blot
ting paper. If the boy should be taken ill during
such a period his chance would be small.

246 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
Most of one's misgivings are unnecessary, but a
tremendous storm did come on a few days later,
and the barrens must have been a wild place for
seven or eight days. After all, a certain habit
of considering possibilities serves at least to keep
one's perceptions keen.
Our moccasins were stiff with Ice when we got
out in the morning, and we walked away on the
top of the frozen moss. After the sun came up
we began to sink through. Our meat at the Black
Rock was just prime by this time, and we felt
mere kings by our lunch fire there. We were
having a royal walk! From there to our last
meat cache it was wet and stony and boggy, a
hard walk of hours; though at last, tired but
cheerful, we walked up to the tree cache. Now
the bad going was over, now we would have some
more of that prime meat; for miles we had thought
of nothing but that particular leg of caribou.
Instead we had a surprise; not a sign of it was left!
Our faces would have done to photograph.
The carcass of the deer was not far away and
we went over to see what had happened to that.
Before we got there a large wolf appeared, off
beyond a brook, trotting briskly toward the car
cass. He saw us, and instead of stopping, as most
animals do, kept on and away with only a look;
but before disappearing he did stop, at some two
hundred and twenty yards, and I shot carefully,
elbows on knees. The broad double muzzle of
the gun lifted a little, and shut off the view for an
instant, but I could see the wolf shoot high into
the air, then gather and go over the crest behind
him in a wabbling canter. It was bad, bushy
walking in that direction, so, cross and tired, I
turned back to the packs without going over.

DISAPPOINTED TRAVELERS 247
Later the boy, who had seen clearly, said he was
sure the beast was hit, as he came down in a ball
and took time to get up. I ought to have gone
over there. Anyway, he would steal no more
meat. Crossed in our dream we ill naturedly left the
place, going on a mile or two before putting the
kettle on. We had food enough, and indeed the
pea-meal ration was better to travel on than the
meat would have been. Mixed with a little hot
bacon fat in the corner of the frying-pan, and fol
lowed by tea, it was the best thing to stand by one
on a hard road of anything I have ever had. It
was substantially like the German erbswurst, but
with dried meat mixed in, a sort of dried meat
sawdust. Whether dry or cooked. In soup or
cakes, it was always good, and kept one going.
Richard and I were acquainted now, and
talked. On the first of the outer road he had been
shy, with little to say but "Yessir" and "No
sir," and had no idea of the way of camp things.
Now he did all the camp work handily and well.
An early doubt on my part as to whether he was
a bit lacking or really a genius had passed away.
He had imagination and sensitiveness. The cari
bou killing we had to do hurt him. Curiously,
part Eskimo that he was, he liked the Indians.
At Mistinipi, as we went up the hill with the camera
to leave them to themselves, he remarked on their
fine looks — what good manners they had !
How clean they were in their ways and cooking,
compared with the Eskimo! He had once been
out with his father and Eskimo in winter, and
hated the Eskimo way of killing wounded deer
with stones, to save cartridges. After we left
the Indians he again dwelt upon their superiori-

248 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
ties — what fine people they were! This from
a shore boy of Eskimo blood, whose life had been
passed where almost none but Eskimo passed the
door, was the last testimony one would expect.
We shared everything, of course. At night
my oil jacket would go down on the moss, then
the two blankets, then the tent as a coverlet.
Close together we slept those frosty nights, under
the stars and the waving north lights, each of us
as good as a blanket to the other. Then the fire
in the early gray, and the quick cooking — there
was no bread to make. We ate the meat Indian
fashion without salt. The scrap of bacon gave us all
we used, and the little bag of salt we had was never
opened. Until the small supply of hardbread was
out we both had a tendency to prig It between
meals, from keen starch hunger. At the last the
dingy crumbs tasted plainly sweet, a curious fact
that I have seen noted somewhere since. It looked
to us as candy does to a child.
Richard's eyes were a marvel. My own are
apt to dull a little when walking long with a head-
strap pack, but he saw everything. All the game,
without exception, he saw first. He was good, too,
at keeping his bearings, and once, when we had
swung in a long semicircle around a hill and were
going back west, put me to flat discomfiture, the
worse that I had disagreed with him sharply. It
was a little time before I perceived that as I was
taking it the setting sun was exactly In the east.
Perhaps It was well for Richard's soul that I
caught him nearly as far wrong a little later.
We both wanted to walk all night on the day
of the wolf-looted cache, as It would bring us to
the canoe by morning. I wonder to this day if
Richard was thinking of what I was, of being taken

Watching the Caribou. Lookout and Deer Crossing at Mistinipi, Nah-pay-o has a Small Spy Glass

A BERRY BEAR 249
down with the Indian sickness. But the ground
became rough and hilly at dark, we could not see
our feet, and a cold breeze and a snow squall kept
us hugged close under some lucky little bushes
where we had had supper. It was very bleak and
barren along there.
The hills were white for an hour in the morning.
Before long we crossed a commanding ridge from
which the walls of the wind-lake portal, many miles
away, opened high and imposing. About nine
R. spotted a bear a mile away plain against the
white moss. I was disposed to let him go, as he
was off our course, but Richard was eager and we
turned that way. Some bushes gave an approach.
It was a large he-animal, nosing the flat blueberry
vines on a smooth level. I fired at near a hundred
yards, when he leaped and ran fast for some little
trees, among which we found him dead. They are
slow to skin, like a beaver; there Is no end of knife-
work. It took a good while, for the bear was large,
but there was no fat to mess up with — this year
there were no mice for the bears, and the meat was
lean, tender, and sweet. A berry bear is the
thing. When at last I straightened up from the
long job of skinning, there, not three hundred
yards away, were two other bears, one a large cub.
My films were just out, to my sorrow, for there were
bushes near the bears and we could have gone
close. We waved our caps and shouted, and the
show vanished In a twinkling.
The skin and meat we had taken were heavy,
and by the time we made the canoe, about one
o'clock, we were well warmed up. The wind lake
let us by rather decently, but once in the river a
raw sea wind came up the valley with a chill
which went through us, unused as we were to sit-

250 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
ting still, and we camped about dark under a
wooded point not far below the lake. The shel
tered place seemed like a tavern with cheer, after
the naked barrens. A fine driftwood fire blazed
long after we were asleep.
Now came a little personal experience. In the
night I awoke uncomfortable and found myself
broken out on the body just as Ostinitsu had de
scribed the sick young man to be. Some fever
went with the great Irritation, and I began to
speculate on what was coming. I had had mea
sles, and ought to be immune, but remembered
the pits on the face of Napao's wife. Who, on
the coast, could be expected to take care of a
smallpox stranger? It would be almost certain
death to any native to do it. For an hour or two
I thought very hard. Plans of getting in some
way to Dr. Grenfell's hospital at Indian Harbor,
some four hundred miles away, would not work
out. I had thought that at one time or another
I had considered about all the things that could
well happen to one knocking about in this way —
accident, starvation, freezing, drowning, or or
dinary illness, but here was a new idea. I was
never, I believe, more inclined to call myself
names for wandering about at all in such places.
It was an unpleasant situation.
At last I remembered some old bouts I had had
with hives, heat rash, in hot weather, and that
alkali was the thing. It would ease the impossible
Itching, whatever the cause. There was a piece
of old castile soap in my kit, the nearest alkaline
thing available. It remains to be said that before
this remedy my cause of woe faded readily away.
Still the circumstance was not a dream, for before
I left the coast the nuisance came on more than

OUT TO THE SHORE 251
once, with fever, and again shook my faith a little;
perhaps it was really not so uninteresting a matter
as hives. The immediate cause on the river was
doubtless the unusual perspiration from carrying
the heavy unfleshed bearskin with head and feet
attached. In addition to my pack.
Ah-pe-wat, the young man at Mistinipi, died
of his Illness, as did the girl. It was said afterward
that some of old Edward's tribe had carried up
measles to the Indians from the shore.
The next day, the 13th of September, was our
last day out. Passing through the great pools
there were trout everywhere even at that late
date; a little farther down some geese cheered us
with their talk and presence, and a good many seal
heads showed below the falls. One of the seals
came very near, almost under the boat, near our
tea place at my old roost of July. Richard shot
at it with his forty-four, now taken out of cache
along the river, but missed. It is a curious thing
that with all his experience on water he was If
anything a little less steady on it than I. His
father had said when we started, "He will do well
on the water, I am sure of that, but you may be
too much for him walking." Not so. He was
uneasy as we ran the slight rapids of the river
coming down, and curiously enough, I saw all the
water game first, up river and outside. He was,
of course, perfectly easy on the large Inlet where
he was at home, though not remarkable. But on
the land he was for his age a wonder of endurance,
courage, and all the silent qualities that take one
over the barrens unstarved, and make for the joy
of the trail.
At just sunset we cleared Assiwaban Point. Tide
and wind were wrong as far as the low point of

252 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
Long Island, where a stout clangor of geese saluted
us In the dark, and the metallic rush of beds of un
seen ducks sounded again and again to the front.
At ten we called out to the sleeping Winters.
They had not been worried; that morning for the
first time the mother had remarked that we might
be looked for now. But I was thankful, on the
whole, to hand their boy over without harm, as
thankful as I had been for having him. The little
bread upon the waters, sowed in carelessness when
E. had had his trifles to sell two years before, and
without which I fancy he would not have thought
of offering me his son, had certainly come back
to me. The trip was not long, scarcely two hun
dred and fifty miles as we had traveled, nor had
there been any hardships, but considering all, —
the season, the ordinary chances of the way, and
the little plot In the Indian matter, things might
not have gone so well.
It was now a run for the steamer and home.
It ought to have taken a fortnight or so. What
It did take was forty-two days — six weeks.
Apropos is the remark of an old fisherman at
House Harbor, the evening before Q. and I caught
the Virginia there, in 1905. A few men from
schooners about were gathered in Voisey's little
house by the stove, and some one remarked that
Skipper So and So had got his cargo of fish —
a "voyage of fish," as they say, — and was starting
for home. Fish were scarce that year and the
skipper's good fortune was generally conceded,^ if
not envied. Then an old fisherman spoke in:
"Yes, he's got his voyage; but he's not clear of the
Labrador yet." Nor did any demur at the im
plication. It Is a coast of uncertainties.

Puckway

WINDBOUND AT UN'SEKAT 253
Winter's fish were "out of salt," and had to be
taken care of without much delay. He would
sail me for a day or two, however, and he and
Richard and I started the 14th, after only a night
at the house. We worked our way In a calm only
to Un'sekat, that day, twelve miles, there to be
windbound two days by a northwester. The
house was unoccupied and wood scarce, but it was
a comfortable period and I was glad to have rest.
The bear skull came in for a cleaning and W.
scraped the skin and staked it out. In the night
some white foxes came nosing about and we had
to cover the skin. The foxes would hardly go
away from the light when we opened the door.
They are tame, innocent things compared with
other foxes.
W. talked about his letting the boy go with me,
a notable thing considering the coast feeling about
the Interior. He had always heard of me as a
" kind man." If we had been gone over two weeks
they might have feared lest something had hap
pened to me, "so as to leave the boy uncared for."
Without accident to me they "felt sure the boy
would be safe" — they were trusting enough!
By five the second day we parted, he for the
north and I south by canoe. I meant to camp
about seven miles on in a little rock-walled am
phitheater open to the south, where there were
Eskimo circles, and a little wood and water;
it was a favorite place of mine. There I did stop
and boiled a kettle. The weather signs were
peculiar; with the letting down of the north
wester it became warm, a faint air from south
occasionally stirred the surface and quite a few
stars showed through overhead. It seemed as
though the thin overhead scurf might thicken

254 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
and bring a little warm rain and south wind, but
nothing more. But the peculiar feature was
in the northeast. Behind level gray clouds
showed a long background of an unusual pale
salmon color. In the northwest it would have
stood for bright weather at least, the color was well
enough, but there seemed something not quite
usual about it, and the clouds of the sunset quarter
had remained gray. Still It seemed better to be
going along in the warm, calm night than to be
bounding about on a northwester, perhaps, next
day. Not much good weather could be expected
now, and what there was ought to be made the
most of. So, well satisfied with the opportunity
and my own diagnosis of things, I put out after
supper on the ten-mile stretch to Tom Geer's. It
was easy going, the oars worked well and silently.
A wonderful phosphorescence appeared with any
stirring of the water. I have hardly seen the like.
The whirls from the oars were very bright. If I
had only known It here was one of the weather
signs, as I knew later, of old John Lane, who
used to say, "When the water burns look out for
wind!" Four or five miles on was a low, black point.
I headed for It when near, with seemingly a third
of a mile to go, pulling complacently along at
a good rate and taking a sort of pride in the fire
works I was making in the water. The eddies from
the oars were wonderfully bright, but faded fast.
"A blaze, a nebula, a mist," I was repeating to
myself at each stroke — things go in rhythm when
one Is rowing alone. All at once there was a bang
and I was on my back In the bottom of the canoe.
I had rowed full speed into a square-faced rock
and bounded back, I put my hand down instantly

CAUGHT BY A NORTHER 255
for water, thinking the bow must be shattered.
None came, nor did later, though I tried for it
now and then. Not the least damage was done.
But one needs a bow-facing gear by night; there
Is no judging distances then.
By the time I reached Geer's, about midnight,
the sky had thickened and It was very dark.
I did rather well to find the house, weathered
white though it was. No one was there and I
hesitated to break the lock — foolishly, for it was
now sure to rain soon. I was sleepy, my mind was
only half working; anyway, I started along and
edged around the shore for Daniel's Rattle. There
are several little irregular bays along, and not
liking to get Into the wide outside run among the
islands I worked slowly around all these bays. In
and out, so as not to miss the Inside passage.
There is a certain comfort in being on the main
land if one is driven upon shore. If I could have
gone straight along past the little bays it would
have taken much less time, but in such darkness
there was no doing anything by landmarks. It
was so dark that at the very oar's end I could not
see the little white breakers against the boulders
without straining my eyes.
Somewhere about two o'clock big drops began
to fall and the wind struck like a club from north.
The night's work was over. Luckily I came In a
few minutes to a little rocky nook sheltering
enough level moss ground for the canoe. There
was just room between the boulders to get
through to a most providential landing place.
The rock shore had been steep, broken, and sharp
edged for some distance. Under foot on the beach
some white driftwood was visible; the first thing
was to put three six-foot sticks up under the canoe

256 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
before they were soaked, for some time there
would need to be a fire, then I took care of the gun
and baggage. I lay on a cross bar of the canoe,
to_ keep it down, and, wrapped in blanket, bear
skin, and tent, got on fairiy until morning. The
rain blew under and things became pretty damp
as the hours went on. At daylight it began to snow
hard. It was a great storm. Twenty-six schooners
along southward went down that night or were
wrecked on the shore. Others than myself had not
read rightly that salmon band.
There was no having a fire; the place, though
somewhat sheltered, was still too much exposed
to the wind. Something had to be done, the damp
and cold were creeping in. The air was just at
freezing, the snow neither melting nor stiffening.
On a ridge in sight were some trees and I made a
sortie, but there was no dry wood there; the
wind was strong, the long moss full of water.
Back I went soon with a run; neither hands nor
feet would stand the wet cold. Deerskin mocca
sins are as blotting paper. Diving under the bear
skin I stayed a few hours more, eating cold ration
and wondering if It was to be a three-day blow. If
so, I could not hold out there, and without the
bearskin I should have been damaged as it was.
Somewhere about one o'clock, I thought, the snow
let up, and I got a little fire started under a tiny
bush growing against a rock, in a little sort of hen's
nest there. Soon there was a good fire going and
I was steaming before it. The F. S. H, match
box and the dry sticks had stood by, and the fire
went with the first match,
Daniel Noah's winter house was not more than
two miles away, and though there was not much
chance of his being there, a house, after all, is a

A Mistinipi Bearskin

Fleshing a Deerskin with Double Leg Bone of a Deer

A HARD NIGHT 257
house. It was still raining and blowing, but I
could get about. In fully exposed places the wind
was too strong to stand up In, so avoiding the
open shore, struck off back through the woods,
taking blanket, eatables, and axe. Two swamps
took me well to my waist and over my matchbox.
Of course, as the luck was going, there was no
one at Daniel's, nor was the house Itself much of a
find. The windows were partly out, the roof
dripped all over, wood was scarce, the old oven
stove had holes in it. These last I patched with
tin cans. An hour's steady firing and the miser
able thing was scarcely warm, and I was chattering
and wishing too late that I was back with the drift
wood pile and bearskin. Things looked bad, with
another shivering night on. I was overtrained
from the inland trip and hadn't much internal
heat. To my surprise, however, after a second
hour of firing the old stove glowed well, and I
smoked a pipe after supper In comfort. There
was a two by six dry spot In front of the stove, the
only one about — the Noahs had to have one place
to stand, I suppose. There I put down the blanket
and as soon as my head was down went off like
a trap, dead to all things. In an hour I waked; the
fire was out and my bones were fairly knocking
together. One blanket at freezing, with wind
blowing through the house. Is not overmuch.
This went on through the night, which was a good
bit more wearing than the night before.
The wind let down somewhat by two. In the
evening it had been stronger than ever, a tre
mendous blow. The house Itself was somewhat
sheltered, but the wild racing of the water parallel
with the shore In front was remarkable to hear.
Getting back through the swamps in the morning

258 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
was sloppy work. I was pretty sure the canoe
would have been blown away by the strong wind
of the evening and involuntarily balked and stood
still just before the place came in sight; then with
an effort kicked myself along. It was all right,
and the sight was decidedly a lift. I tumbled down
the steep moss slope, slammed the canoe into the
water, and hobbled off around the point. There
was wind still, but not half what had been, and
with a little cockade of a spruce tree in the bow
for a head sail, to prevent yawlhg, I blew off down
to Davis Inlet at a good pace. I had been laid
up there thirty hours, with some wear, and but
for the bearskin would have found it hard to get
along at all the first night and morning. There
Is a moral about salmon streaks in the northeast
and another as to summer clothes for freezing
gales. The next year at Hopedale I saw that
northeast salmon streak, mentioned it, and
gained prestige when a norther came on, as it
did. Getting down to Davis Inlet the wider waters
were lively. Squalls ran out from the points until
I imagined being translated bodily, and flakes of
snow were blowing about. The bearskin made a
good lap robe, tucked well up. There was some
thing of an audience on the wharf, David Edmunds
and Poy among them, the best hunters. When
they asked questions I told them I started from
Un'sekat two nights ago, and tried to appear
jaunty. But they saw the joke. Rather gravely,
however, they took It. The ancient powers had
been abroad those nights. Nor were the days
just to their liking. David and Poy especially,
lords of the open, knew the way of snow north
easters, and when they carried up the little canoe

HOME PLACES 259
from the beach they handled her with a certain
regard, as for a horse that had made a good run.
The next two days I sat in the house, glad to
be there. Then Guy came back from Lane's
Bay with the Hudson's Bay Company schooner,
which had been well mauled in the blow. Mean
while the mailboat came to Fanny's and went
back south without me. Even if I had tried to
keep on I doubt my catching her; for the weather
conrinued too bad for small boat travel until after
she had gone.
The end of a trip needs little elaboration. A
schooner came up the run and would take me to
Fanny's. It was curious, when the three big,
high-booted Newfoundlanders climbed out on the
end of the post wharf, to see their worry about the
dogs. They paused, eyed the dogs on the shore,
got behind each other and argued as to who should
go first. The dogs seemed . quite in the humor
of the situation. After all, a row of Interested
Eskimo dogs can be suggestive. The Newfound
landers' own dogs, a wellnigh vanished breed now,
are wonderfully like themselves, mild, strong,
enduring, a water breed courageous.
Spracklin's fish had been washed, dried on his
smooth rocks, and stowed aboard. For a week or
two I wandered the island, somewhat with an eye
for hares, which had, however, been well picked
up by the foxes. One day, without gun or camera,
I came close upon an Arctic fox, snow-white and
ready for winter; he danced and postured long
before his final departure.
In calm afternoons geese dropped Into the
little ponds of the level tundra. I saw a line of
them winging in low one day, and threw myself

260 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
flat In a sag while they came down two hundred
and fifty yards away. One of them assumed
guard, while the others fed busily In the shallow
pool. When the sentinel saw a flick as I turned
over he spoke, a low quonk. Another took place
beside him, and the two stood immovable, in
double watch. The others splashed and reached
under without reserve, but the two remained
unrelaxed, statues in gray, to the end. There was
no getting nearer, and I flred a little over.
Snow buntings were blowing about the rocks
everywhere, the horned larks were gone, next
would be snow and winter; the tremendous sea
gales would sweep the island. On the hills of the
mainland, to stay until spring, was snow from the
great storm. The days were mild though cool.
I knew they were the last free days In the North
that I should ever have.
The gray old island, with its ice-cap smoothed
hills, is the very emblem of the unchanging and
Immovable. The sea bellows In vain upon its
outer shores, against stern walls, into spouting
flssures and caves, washing high and recoiling
low, heaving betimes its tremendous ice — and the
granite gives no sign. Yet where shall be found
the enduring? These granite hills, even, are not
at rest, although the eye might choose this, if
earth held the unchanging, as the place to endure
to the end. The whole region Is rising. One
steps or climbs across fissures that are fresh to the
eye. Above, about the slopes of the hills, are
pebbled beach lines where once was the sea. The
weight of the old ice-cap, it may be, bore down the
granite Into the plastic mass of the planet. Slowly
the hills are returning to their height, rising cen
tury by century from the dank sea depths. When

Nijwa, dressed wholly in Caribou Skins

FAREWELL DAYS 261
the Norsemen came cod wandered the kelp
where now the Irok blooms and the mitten flower
bends in the wind. Another day the Islands may
again be hills, the sea passages valleys, with their
lakes and streams; and again, in geologic time,
may the ice-cap return, and the sea.
But through my waiting days the Cape island
lay untroubled In the autumn sunshine, a place
where aU was peace, where feet might saunter
and mind might drift in the ways of their will.
Ah, the sweetening air of that long pause before
the storms of fall! For the last time these hills!
We were gathering to go, the birds and I. But
now peace, the sun-warmed moss, and the creatures
that were. It was a time of reckoning for me, the
turning over of what had been in my Labrador
years, the stringing of beads that should always a
little shine. Some of these had seemed clouded in
the gathering, but In the reverie of those final days
they were lighted all. Though never the world
again were young, there had been days. Coast
and inland — inland and coast. The early hard
days on the mainland, the hills and valleys alone,
the calm of the noble bays; their silence, broken
only by the rise of wings; Tuh-pungiuk and
Un'sekat and Opetik; and the strong opposing
sea. The rolling barrens, the hills of the height
of land. The tall, grave people there, the smiling
strong ones here; the aurora and the bergs and the
innumerable insect foe. Long days and twilight
nights, dark nights and stormy days ; the sunshine
on the sea and the white-backed eiders' charge.
So my string was strung. Always for me now
would return the gray barrens, stretching far and
on, always the lakes and the lodge-smokes on their
shores. Always would the people watch the deer.

262 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
always stand silent at the shore, as friends would
wave as they go; the land be ever theirs. The
light that has been never quite fails the wilderness
traveler; his feet may remain afar, but his mind
returns Where the caribou are standing
On the gilded hills of morning.
Where the white moss meets the^jfootstep
And the way is long before.

Chapter IX
1910
TO take one to a far country, year in and
out, even though its people are well
worth while, something of a mission is
needed, an objective, and with its attainment the
light which has led is apt to pale. With the passing
of 1906 I felt that my shaft in the North had
been shot, and so it proved. Revisiting, indeed,
followed in 1907 and 1908, but only to the coast
and nearer Assiwaban. From 1906 my days were
bound. One trip which followed, and worth men
tioning, though Its days were not as the old days,
had, after all, a motive, mainly geographical.
Through the years from 1905 to 1910 I had
always thought I should like to work out the
remaining part of the Indian route to the George,
from Mistinipi on. Having done all the knocking
about the country I had, it seemed a good finish
to put on the map the whole route to Indian House
Lake, the more so that It was doubtless the most
feasible way into the interior anywhere from
Hamilton Inlet up the whole Atlantic coast.
After Mrs. Hubbard's journey down the George,
in 1905, the idea strengthened a little with me,
as her survey for latitudes afforded a convenient
check line to connect with. In truth, as the In
dian route was said to swing to the northwest
from Mistinipi narrows, I could not see, from the
compass work I had already done, how we could
well agree in our positions. It seemed as If her
mapping of Indian House Lake would turn out
263

264 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
a little too far south; but It is only fair to her to
say that the course of the Indian route continued
more nearly west than I had reason to suppose,
and my compass courses, which I finally did carry
through In 1910, mapped out In remarkable
agreement with Mrs. Hubbard's work.
As elsewhere told, I had visited Mistinipi
narrows, for the second time, in 1906, and on that
occasion photographed the lake from a headland
on the north side where the broad lake opens out,
and which commands the lake well to the west end
near the outlet. At that time the northward
migration of the caribou was on, and Ostinitsu
and his band, to the number of about twenty-five
all told, were spearing the deer at the east end of
the narrows. The beach was strewn with car
casses, and the deer were still coming.
An Interval of four years had passed, when
on the 4th of August, 1910, our party of four
reached Mistinipi, camping on a well shut-off little
bay on the north side, a mile or two from the east
end of the lake. We had only one canoe for the
four of us, two of the party walking the shores,
and the other two navigating with the baggage.
The plan worked well on the whole, with some in
conveniences, the arrangement lightening the port
age work, and enabling very complete observations
of the country by the foot party, which went over
the hills and was able to see a good deal of the coun
try and whatever signs there were of game and In
dians. In all such travel, by the way, it Is the man
who goes afoot who really knows the country, rather
than the one who goes by canoe. The party was
made up of Scoville Clark, with whom the trip
was planned, and George P. Howe and D. G.
McMillan, who fell in by invitation on the way.

A Food Scaffold

Crushed Marrowbones from perhaps a Thousand Deer

MISTINIPI DEER CROSSING 265
The old deer crossing at the narrows showed
still a lot of bleached horns, but the long windrow
at the first camp of 1906, a little southward, had
disappeared — of course into the lake. This dis
posal counts as an offering to the powers that rule
the chase; without some such observance the
surviving deer will be offended and avoid the hunt
ers. Why the horns at the second camp were not
likewise put Into the lake I am not quite sure;
probably because the people were there so long a
time that the spirits animating the horns had de
parted from them, after which eventuality they
need not be held In respect. A long stay of the
Indians almost surely occurred, for in 1906 they
had a year's meat laid In when I left them, and
would not have their usual motive for moving,
that of following the deer, until at least the next
summer. A strong deadfall had been built, probably for
wolverenes, foxes, and the like, possibly for wolves
too. A great lot of broken up marrowbones had
accumulated; they had been boiled and reboiled.
What we saw may have represented the leg bones
of a thousand deer. This of itself would show
that the camp had been kept there a very long
time. We followed the northern shore of the lake.
There are three deep bays on that side leading
toward passes in the hills east. In the second
or third of these was even the standing poles of
a winter lodge, as if used for cross-country travel
in the direction of Davis Inlet. The winter route
to that place Is much shorter than the summer one.
A good many deer had summered over the
country, though In a scattered way, but most
of them had recently moved north. Hunting with

266 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
the rifle among the hills had gone on at some time
a year or two back, probably in 1907, and skulls
and parts of skulls with horns attached were rather
frequent beyond the narrows. Some of the horns
were fine specimens, but all had been killed in the
velvet, were now weathered white and porous, and
were as light as cork. There were a few bear and
wolf tracks in the paths, not many, and the bears
were small.
The second day on Mistinipi McMillan and
I, circling far inland to flank the deep bays, missed
the canoe and walked by it. The next thing we
came to, as luck would have it, was a chain of
Impassable ponds running Inland several miles, and
these we had to go around, in one of the hottest days
and the worst for flies that I remember that year.
We had no luncheon beyond a mouthful, and I,
having footed It -from the high portage nearly to
the foot of Mistinipi without any boating, at the
same time making my portages with the others,
had more than enough of It. Coming out on a
point about the middle of the afternoon we made a
strong smoke, putting on much moss, and before
long saw the canoe break around a point two or
three miles behind and come on fast for the smoke.
Curiously, just before the canoe really did appear
I was perfectly sure I saw it In another place. It
was some deer swimming along a far-away shore.
The moral of the episode is first that one ought
never to separate from the commissary without
at least two rations In hand, and some fishing
tackle — a hook and line at least. We had a gun
but very few cartridges, and If really lost from the
canoe party might have been a day or two without
anything to eat. We did have matches. Another
thing to remember is that If two parties are to

ON MISTINIPI 267
meet on unknown ground it may become Important
for one or the other, on arriving, to put up a signal
visible from far. In this case we walkers were
thrown back Into the country two miles by deep,
narrow bays, and though the canoe stopped
at an old lodge which was visible enough to us at
luncheon time, and the other men were lying In
side it, even McM. 's good eyes could not detect
anything more than the white standing poles.
If a tent or white blanket had been spread upon
the poles we could have seen it in the sunshine
five or six miles away.
As it was we came rather near going through
the experience of getting a raft together in a bad
place for timber, with no axe, to get across the
ponds. The most feasible way to do it was to
adopt McM.'s suggestion of tying the raft together
with our underclothes, a daunting proposition,
for such were the files that we could hardly get
along with all our clothes on.
Toward evening — this was the 6th — we came
to a long chain of lakes leading northeast from the
main lake; they had to be crossed and all got
into the canoe at once. It brought the weight up
to about nine hundred pounds, and this In a fifty-
six-pound canoe, only fifteen feet long. If the
ratio of weight of vehicle to cargo was ever brought
lower I should like to know where.
There was some question where to look for the
portage route at the end of the lake. My Indian
maps of 1905 and 1906 were out of reach when I
left home, and I could only remember that by
various Indian accounts the route swung somewhat
toward the north, and I had some doubt lest the
chain of lakes referred to was the route. We
talked it over and decided to look along the main

268 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
lake for the outlet anyway. This proved right,
and a short portage led to more lakes stretching
off west; these were evidently our nearest way to
the George, whether the Indians went that way
or not. There were, however, a good many In
dian signs, poles, etc., — "Metukuf" in the vernacu
lar, about the outlet.
The outlet Is a smart rapid which we did not
try to run. At the shore we were met by the most
suffocating cloud of black flies I have ever seen.
Eyes and nose were instantly full, and we had to
make a smoke In as few seconds as possible. One
can really work a good deal of actual destruction
on flies of either kind by keeping a smart fire going.
So it had been that day earlier when Howe and I
made a mere wisp of a fire on a rock while waiting
for the canoe to bring up my camera, left a mile
behind. The water around the rock was calm,
and we could see the singed mosquitoes as they
floated. In about half an hour they looked to
count at least ten thousand, and there were
visibly fewer about. Again, the day before this,
I sat waiting some twenty minutes for McM. to
return from hunting up some other left-behind
thing, and amused myself killing off what mos
quitoes I could as they lit on my hands and
trousers, and by the time I was done they were
quite thinned out. StiU I was batting pretty fast
for awhile. They will shower into a broad, hot
flre after dark, like a snowstorm when very thick.
Heat Is worse for them than smoke; one can lie
close up to a wide, thin fire and be let alone. In
a very hot sun they are noticeably inert.
This camp, at the foot of the short rapid, was
on a smooth, velvety piece of ground, in no way
suggestive of flies, but the place became referred

At Davis Inlet

A Dead Fall, Mistinipi, 1910

MOSQUITO POINT 269
to always afterward as Mosquito Point. There
was some swale ground just beyond which may
have accounted for the trouble. Other camps
came to have names that were never bestowed as
such; one was the "Windy" camp, another the
"Comfort" camp, but the names began as com
mon adjectives; we never set out to name anything.
McM. caught a good namaycush on the fly in
the eddy, and shot an old herring gull very hand
somely next morning, across the river; it went
into the kettle. When the morning came I begged
for a Sunday, a day off, for I had had more walk
ing than the others, and we proceeded to take It
easy, though the calm, beautiful morning was too
good to waste. H. and I went up a symmetrical,
smooth hill northeast, and took observations.
It looked eight or ten miles west a little north to the
end of the second lake, the last one visible, and
that was evidently our best course to the George.
While we were about camp a tremendous wolf
came to the shore across, looking as large as a mod
erate caribou. We were not sure for a moment
but he was a caribou. He passed without hesi
tation into the strong water and swam toward us
with head high. When forty or fifty yards away
some one must have moved — we were somewhat
conspicuous from being above and on the sky
line — for he turned arid swam back. Reaching
shore he paused not an instant, but took to a lope
and disappeared. In the water he showed a
grand, massive head and back, and swam with
power. By luncheon time H., who had not walked
much for three days, became uneasy to be off,
and my good resolves to be prudent yielded. We
made a small lake and a large one before camping.

270 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
all four In the boat, and so disposed continued
for a week or two, though low in the water and
crowded, until we were back at the high portage,
where our other canoe was. The country became
flat and less interesting to the west, and the lakes,
called by the Indians Kanekautsh, meaning proba
bly Sand Lake, or something of the sort, are shal
low. The lakes are rather stony than sandy, how
ever, save for a point where the lodges were gen
erally placed. There were many sets of standing
poles. By midday, the 8th, the three lakes were
behind. At the end of the last one we met a party of
twenty Indians, most of whom I knew, going
to the coast from Tshinutivish. They were
Ostinitsu, Minowish, Puckway, my old but doubt
ful friend, young Edward, of 1906 history, and
three or four women and giris. They met us with
great civility, but we had little to entertain them
with, tobacco or tea, and I think they were dis
appointed. At the post we had been told that
they were all near the coast, and we had taken
nothing for them. Off they went, in an hour or
so, we going the other way on foot with a mail and
boy who were returning to Tshinutivish, six or
seven miles northwesteriy. Our guide was not
enthusiastic about our going along, though as a
matter of course we would naturally go by his
place when we moved camp. But as the river was
hard to travel, having, as various Indians explained,
many rapids, we decided merely to make an after
noon walk to Tshinutivish and back and then return
to the coast. , ...
Our guide took us a mile west to a rockytii u
promontory and pointed out Tshinutivish Hill,
still some miles away. The word means Little-

TSHINUTIVISH 271
Long-Brain, and has a fair basis of resemblance.
When the man started off I told him we would go
too. He took it well enough, but the walk was a.
ludicrous affair. Our Indian, I imagine, took his
course with the idea of looking for game on his
way, or perhaps it was his sense of humor that
inspired him; at any rate, he led through more
swamps and over more bad ground generally than
we had seen for a long time. He had given me,
for one, a pretty sharp walk to the lookout hill,
though I kept up well that far. Now, with his
long legs, he made a spectacle of all of us In the
swamps and bushes. H., very near sighted, had
broken his only pair of glasses, and wearing a net
too, could not see the ground, and was soon out of
sight behind. We were in a long procession. Now
and then I called to the man not to hurry, that
the doctor could not see; then he would smile
gently and pause a little. He stepped slowly
with his thin legs and without effort, but at no
time were we really In the running at all. The
young boy had no trouble keeping up, but circled
about like a puppy. Showers came, one long and
effective, and we were wet and done up by the
time we got to the river. We were loaded, all,
into a fine canvas canoe, myself distinguished by
being permitted one of the two paddles, and were
soon across the Tshinutivish estuary.
Several persons came down from the lodges, one
a barefooted man of some presence, in red leggings.
Of course my Indian words failed, as they gene
rally do with Naskapi I have not talked with before.
I tried to say we wanted to sleep there. The word
was right enough, nipan it is In at least three
kindred dialects, but here it looked as If it meant
not to sleep, but to get married. There was a

272 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
roar from the men, and disturbance, with some
scattering, among the women. A little knowledge
Is a dangerous thing.
Most of the people drifted back to the lodges.
We were wet and getting cold. Finally I got at
the older man, explained that we could not go back
that night and wanted shelter. He pointed to his
lodge and said we could go there. Presently we
went in. It was a matter of course, anyway, I
imagine. The lodge was large, of near fifty poles,
with seven or eight persons inside, mostly women
and children. It would have held twenty persons,
I should say, sleeping as they do, like spokes of a
wheel, with feet to the fire In the middle. One side
of the tent was given to us visitors. We took off
more or less of our wet things and hung them to
dry. Presently a white cloth went down in front of us,
the size of a towel, and a few ordinary glazed ware
dishes, followed In time by some extremely good
boiled whitefish. Dried caribou meat, equally
good, was handed about, and tea. After some
rummaging a little salt was found, a thimbleful
or two; they do not eat It themselves as a habit.
Our host tried to talk, but I could not make much
of It and he gave up disgusted. He was mainly
concerned about the Mistukushu, the deer mi
gration. Had we seen it? I was sorry to have to
tell him not, that the deer were scattered and not
very many.
Their outlook for the winter seemed bad; their
scaffolds were low. All the men looked hard
worked, the women, on the other hand, fuller
than when I saw them at Mistinipi in 1906. So
It goes, one side of the house or the other is always
having the worst of it. In 1906 the men were fat

Tshinutivish

A NIGHT IN A NASKAPI LODGE 273
and the women thin and overworked upon the
abundant and easily got meat and skms of the
Mistukushu. , ,
After supper the neighbors came in, mostly
women whose men had gone to the shore. My
old acquaintances of 1906, every one, brought
presents of meat and skins and moccasins, nor had
they lost their pleasing manners I remembered.
We could only thank them then, having brought
nothing from our camp.
What went on in the course of the evening
brought to us as real a phase of the primitive life
as I had seen. While we were eating the people
roasted whitefish over the fire, the children in
particular chewed the dried meat. There was no
vegetable food; whitefish and dried deer meat were
all. We were given skins and blankets for the night.
The puckered deerskins of the lodge dripped a
little as it came on to rain, and I had to wriggle
about for a dry place. Some one kept a little fire,
putting on wood when necessary, and we were
wholly comfortable. Breakfast was of dried meat
boiled. By the time it was done with the sun
came out and we wandered about the place.
Howe particulariy pleased the old women,
though nothing could be said between them. Mc
Millan, with his gift for boys, had his following of
them there as at home, Clark wandered at large,
and helped me change films. On my part, I used
the camera as best I could. The tension of the
time, with forty Naskapi about, was plain upon
most of our unaccustomed party; I felt it myself,
and after I was pretty well around with the kodak,
one of my friends, and of great Eskimo experience
at that, came to me and said with growing inten-

274 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
sity, "Now we've stayed over night and we've
seen everything, you've got your photographs —-
let's go!"
I photographed one quiet, oldish man, using
my spectacles to see the focusing scale with. He
reached out apologetically for them and tried
them on the cloth of my sleeve. His face bright
ened to see so well, and he handed them back a
little wistfully. I explained that they were all
I had. Later I remembered that there were more
In my kit at camp, and on leaving him to step into
the canoe I pulled them out of my pocket and
handed them to him. I like to remember his
look. A beggarly gift in a way, yet something
after all for one whose eyes have failed.
Almost at once came running good old Nijwa,
to whom on old scores I owed more than any mere
spectacles — came running for a pair too, but I
had to tell her I had no more. In truth, I ought
to have sent my last pair back to her from our
camp. We were soon off. All the people gathered at
the shore and stood silent as we started, waving
as we made the distance, as is their custom to guests.
Our host of the night was with us, also our guide of
yesterday, and two boys, their sons, I had told
them that If they would come over I would give
them some silver I had,
Tshinutivish is a few miles down from the head
of Mushauau Nipi, Barren Ground Lake. There
was an Hudson's Bay Company post In the little
estuary under the hill at one time, but the expense
of supplying it was too great, the river below being
very hard to ascend. It has no important falls,
but a tremendous incline leading down a thousand
feet or more. John McLean brought up a heavy

A LITTLE KNOWN REGION 275
boat about 1840, and his discovery of the Grand
Falls was made from Chimo by way of this lake.
Eriandson, prior to McLean, doubtless knew It
well. Mrs. Hubbard passed It in 1905, Dillon
Wallace later the same year.
The Kanekautsh lakes we had traversed were
doubtless known to the people of the former post,
but it is not likely that they went far east, and our
journey was almost certainly the first that has
been made by whites from the coast to the George
itself, certainly the first of which there is record.
Thebestof the country, however, is the belt explored
by Quackenbush and myself along the height of
land. With its beautiful white moss hills and
fine lakes it Is one of the best wild places left any
where. But for the mosquitoes it would be a rare
place in which to travel, as has been elsewhere
intimated; indeed, but for their most effective
guardianship of the shore the Inland would doubt
less have been explored long ago. As it is, a
warm weather trip there merely for pleasure, as
one ordinarily goes to wild places, is not worth
while. It was on the 9th of August we left Tshinutivish,
a sunny, cool day. The Indians took us always
over high, firm ground. If a little roundabout,
consulting now and then how they would better
go, and keeping us well out of swamps and calm
fly pockets. The two men, who may have been
brothers, talked with a pleasant rather rapid
utterance much of the way. They were dis
cussing the deer situation, with them all In all,
and were anxious. The season was well on and
there was no sign of the deer coming together. I
would have given much to be able to understand
all they said; the epic of the life was in it. There

276 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
were a good many deer, the country over, but
by one of their mysterious impulses they might
all vanish and go a hundred or two miles as If
in some wireless way the word had been passed
among them. The people had little food ahead.
By the turn of the year the fish would go dormant
in deep water and the desolate snow barrens would
be lifeless. They could keep to the east side of
the country and escape the worst by falling upon
the trading posts, but the country on that side
was empty of deer now, and had not had many since
1903. Moreover, for the whole population to
come upon outside resources would be a strain
on the usual coast supply of provisions. On
that side of the country there was little fur, more
over, to pay for their food. Grave questions
these, and the lives of many, women and children
and men, depended on the judgment of a few
older heads — and upon fate. No wonder they
make their offerings to the powers that can either
withhold the deer entirely or send them In thou
sands to cover the hills !
As we walked and talked a doe and fawn took
our track somewhere behind, and, caribou fashion,
followed us along not far back, stepping high and
lightly and beautiful In the sunshine, starting and
stopping ready to flee. When they saw us turn and
look they halted, and when an Indian went back
for a shot they took themselves safely away.
Arrived at the lake, we got out our kit and
cooked for all. The Indians had cooked for us,
now we cooked for them. Our good pemmican
they appreciated, and the bread and tea. We
were all leisurely, there was time and sunshine,
and the day was ours. When the meal was over
I shook out my bag of odds and ends and found

In a Tshinutivish Lodge

Hair Skins, Mistinipi, 1906, (See Page 238)

A NASKAPI FAREWELL 277
the silver. They looked It over, talked, and were
cheerful. From Inside their coats, after all seemed
done, they pulled out little fawn skins for us,
and I had to scrape together the last few dimes
to meet the occasion. Then casually, and without
words, they rose and strolled away; I set my
camera scale and waited for their figures to rise
upon the horizon. Arriving there, each Indian
mounted one of the large boulders which stood
sharp against the sky and all waved high their
long arms for a little. We waved in return and
they vanished.
There was nothing more for us at Kanekautsh,
and we departed, still four in the small canoe.
We were anxious to be over the large lakes; the
bays were deep, the country flat and scrubby, and
not very good to travel afoot. There was some
forty miles of large-water navigation, broken
by three short portages, to the head of Mistinipi.
At the east end of the first lake, McM. and I took
a couple of time-sights for longitude, the most
valuable sights of the trip. Howe had taken two
double altitudes at Mosquito Point on the 7th,
but the meridian one was doubtful. A pan of
bacon fat is not bad for a horizon when the sun
is warm enough to keep it fluid, but there was
air enough stirring to riffle Its surface whenever the
job came to a contact. The worst was mosquitoes,
dropping into the pan In droves and descending
upon H.'s succulent face and hands whenever the
breeze let up.
The "red sun" was plain enough to catch,
coming direct, but the reflected one through the
green glass was hard to flnd, and between wind
and flies the observation was doubtful. It was an
inhuman spectacle — H., the sensitive one of us

278 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
to flies, jumping with torture, but holding himself
desperately to the sacrifice, looking to the last
for a green sun in a frying pan!
At Kanekautsh the time-sights were quickly
made, and we kept on up the large lake until the
sun was well under. Then a curious episode
occurred. Ahead less than a mile a canoe, which
we took for one of Ostinltsu's, or possibly of
strange Indians, came around a point and made
directly our way, presently swinging so as to
cross our course a quarter of a mile ahead, but
going steadily and fast. We could see no paddles
In the underlight, and some one appeared to be
standing. Then we saw that It was nearer than it
had seemed and that there was something wrong,
and In truth weird about it. Whatever the mani
festation was it paid no attention to us. By this
time we were all mystified and at a loss. Once
it was by we turned In chase, and before long
saw that it was simply a huge pair of antlers
carried by a stag low down in the water. Soon
our four paddles overhauled him, and as we needed
meat McMillan, in the bow, killed him neatly near
the shore.
The Illusion of a canoe, and then the impres
sion of something outside one's daylight ex
perience, had been remarkably definite and identi
cal with us all. If the apparition had passed behind
a point in the first eight or ten minutes we should
always have counted it a canoe, after that heaven
knows what. We should have had something to
argue about for all time.
This was the only large game shot during the
trip. We were fresh meat hungry. The liver
bore our first onslaught; it would not do to say how
many pounds we ate before noon next day, when

A MEAT GORGE 279
we started on again. The liver cannot well be
bettered in summer, however In winter, and even
then the deer's barren ground diet of starchy
white moss may maintain Its quality. In southern
regions the deer kind change wholly as the snow
deepens, the liver becomes blue, knurly, and bad
to eat. So even with the solid meat then, that
of the .woodland caribou at least becoming hard
and black after long feeding on the old-men's
beards of tree moss; the flesh then smells of fer
mented moss, and does not keep well ; even pickled
it spoils soon unless the bones are taken out.
For a few days our meat improved, until the
solid, thick collops that we roasted on sticks,
each for himself, seemed beyond anything we had
ever fallen upon. Clark and I had them without
salt, Indian fashion, and were sure they were best
that way. With time to lie about and give one's
self up to the business of digestion there seems
no limit to the amount one can eat and the fre
quency with which one can turn to It again.
But one cannot play anaconda and do hard travel
ing at the same time. When steady on the road
one needs more concentrated food, not much
of it at a time, and better If what there is of it Is
paratively indigestible.
'That year we had good fortune on sea, land,
and lakes. From Turnavik, where the Invermore
put us out in disappointment at her untimely
turning back, to the foot of Kanekautsh, what
ever wind blew was with us. Now, going eastward
again, we had no head wind of account all the
way to Davis Inlet, near two hundred miles.
Never was such persistent luck. Still, with the
little canoe, it was kittle work crossing large bays.
Mostly we followed far In and around, for the

280 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
boat was like a log, and the shorter waves passed
from end to end without lifting her. Sometimes
the temptation to cut across a bay was too much,
and then, sometimes, we needed all our little free
board, all. If a strong push of wind had followed
us a mile we would have filled. There was little
or no room to bail. Howe and Clark sat on the
bottom with light packs actually laid upon their
legs. What they would have done if things had
gone wrong Is not too easy to see. I was uneasy
for myself at times, though high up at the steering
paddle. A secondary object of the trip, after the carrying
the Tshinutivish route through, was to look up the
large lake on the head of Mistastin. I thought we
could find It without much trouble, from what
Indians had told me. We left the second lake
east of the height of land August 13th, going afoot
for the highest hill in sight, some six or eight
miles away and somewhat west of south. There
had been some discussion as to having time enough. :
The rest of the party feared missing their Octo- ;
ber engagements. I demurred, suggested their
keeping on to the coast, and urged them to do so, :
but to leave me the small canoe at the high portage ;
to get out with; it was only twenty miles away. .
Finally they decided to stay, and we started for
Mistastin with two or three days' supplies. It ¦
was about two o'clock In the afternoon.
By five or six we reached the far hill, and ,
Mistastin, a large spreading lake, was plainly ^
visible off to the south. We made a sky camp, .
with good northern lights, in a wooded valley on
toward the lake. It was nearer to a non-mosquito ,
night than any other we had on the plateau save .
at Tshinutivish, The way on to the lake was poor, ,'

MISTASTIN 281
along a rough valley side, with flies and bushes,
and only occasional deer paths to follow. Near
the lake McM. concluded to take a half day off,
and the rest of us kept on three or four miles to a
remarkable trap headland where I had been told
the old-time Indians got their arrow-head ma
terial. There was some good travel, alternating
with half-swampy levels, where grew larch, spruce,
and alders, and we slopped through two barely
passable streams. At the headland Clark's mocca
sins went through. Howe and I kept on up the hill.
The southwest side was of organ-pipe basalt, with
a fine, even talus slope below, the northeast corner
a flintish-looking, light-colored trap. In small,
flat slabs. Service berries were plenty on top and
bear tracks to match. The western foot of the
hill is skirted by a game trail, where the deer have
to go in flanking the west end of the lake. After
two hours of exploration we returned to Clark and
started back north. I held the way unnecessarily
over swampy ground east of our outgoing track,
and carelessly came out quite a way east of the
baggage. Turning westerly, Clark soon sighted
McM. on a far sky line, concerned about us, for
it was getting dark.
We made a mile or so north and camped open
to the sky again, on the very crest of the country,
the wide moss hills of the height of land. The
northern lights were remarkable. They shifted
over us for hours In bands and curtains, looking
marvelously near. I venture that one of the great
festoons hung within three or four hundred feet
of us. Westeriy from Mistastin the country Is low,
and in places unusually well timbered with straight
larch and spruce. One could build canoes and

282 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
rafts at will. The great flow down Mistastin
valley anciently Is accounted for by this wide
depression at its head. The headland we had
visited Is the striking remnant of a great erupted
dike which has been torn through from west.
I had seen porous gray basalt, probably from this
dike, about the Assiwaban Forks for years with
out knowing Its source. The Mistastin River
takes the course of a great Z from the lake to the
Assiwaban, with a deep caiion and high falls. The
lake Itself is probably at least twelve miles long
and six or seven wide, with bold shores everywhere
save at the west end. A high, long island, looking
eruptive, rises In the west half, the rest of the lake
being open. It is the finest piece of water I have
seen in the Northeast, though not really very large;
nothing of it would seem to have been known before.
We took a stralghtish course back, making one
high lift, but escaping many ridge-crossings, and
saving some actual distance over our outward trip.
But I, for one, was tired; the last few miles,
though with only a moderate pack, dragged a good
deal. I had missed a good deal of sleep when the
others were doing well. Once back at our base
camp I slumped down limp while the others cooked
caribou. We all had a long afternoon of lying
about. Next day we were off for the coast, all in tune
and surprisingly springy. Caribou collops had
picked us up. We passed several ponds quickly,
half running the portages. At the kettle-boiling
on a little pond along came Ostinitsu, with two
other Indians and a boy; the rest of his party
had taken a more westerly route. The little party
spent an hour with us and were off west. At
dark we were well toward the high portage.

A RETURN TO THE SHORE 283
We had cached two pieces of bacon near the
top of the portage, one In a tree and the other in a
cold pond, and were interested to see what had
happened to them; the weather had been far from
cold, and after the sixteen days' absence we had
not much hope of the water bacon. Indeed it was
slimy and pretty bad, though the Inner part would
have done at a pinch. The outside would have
needed real starvation for a sauce. The tree
bacon, which had escaped enemies from above
and below, seemed to have actually sweetened
in the cool, clean air, and was rather im
proved. The Natua-ashu gave us a cuffing; a north
wester came on as we started In. We kept close
to the north shore for safety, but the small canoe
Clark and I had required bailing. We held on, riding
for a fall; there was little to risk at this stage of the
trip. At the very last point was a little hook
bight, beyond which we would be safe. I had not
cared to go out around far, with our low freeboard,
and was keeping well in, when, just in the bight,
three large waves came; if there were more behind,
things would go hard. We tried to turn the point,
a mistake— I should rather have driven straight
ashore. A squall kept the waves coming, actually
broaching the larger canoe full into the trough,
without filling her, however. Our fate was differ
ent, the boat filled, turned over instantly, and we
had to swim for it. There was no trouble getting
ashore, but the rifle and other sinkable kit went
down in eight or nine feet of water.
( There was plenty of driftwood behind the lee
' of some alders, and we spent the rest of the day
there, from ten o'clock, drying out and resting.
In the calm of the next morning we hooked up the

284 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
derelict stuff. What a hook would not catch a '
wire snare on a stick did.
Our trap boat, bought from Captain Bartlett
at Turnavik, was waiting at Winter's, and in
two days we worked our way to Geer's. The boat
was slow and heavy, albeit known to us as the
"Lady Maud," but we came to a sort of affection '
for her. For a few hours getting to Geer's place we ;
had a head wind, the only one of that miraculously :;
wind-favored trip. '
Tom Geer and his wife helped us to Davis
Inlet, flfteen miles, and showed us what intimate
knowledge of tides would do. We rowed or
paddled, all six of us, till the heavy craft moved
like a thing of life; currents and a final wind did
more, and we made port in a wonderfully short time.
On our own resources we might have taken a day
or more. We were glad to rest two or three days in the;
willing hands of Mr. Johnson, the new agent, whoj
helped us on later. We had brought some souve-j
nirs from the Indian camp, but in experienced i
hands at the post they were soon boiled out.,
(Mem.: Some sulpho-napthol for Insects is worthj
having along to save boiling one's woolens.)
Wind and rain put us ashore a night in Flowers' ^
Bay, and a northwester following, a cracking wihd,|
made us glad to change from the open boat to a
schooner in Windy Tickle. We caught the Stella^
Maris at Hopedale by a scratch, but not too late,;
to dine with the Lenzes at the Mission.
The 1910 trip was a fair success. The strong''
party, perhaps physically the most capable, andj
without professional packers the best equipped'
of any that has gone Into the peninsula, was very
effective and hard to stop. We did not work very;'

THE LAST OF LABRADOR 285
long days, though taking it by and large all had
work enough, and every one at one time or another
showed signs of wear.

On coming out we were surprised to learn that
an expedition had gone into the country from
Nain at about the time we started In by the Assi
waban. The travelers were Mr. Hesketh Prichard
and Mr. Hardie, with their guide. Porter. They
paralleled our route at a distance from it of some
twenty miles, reaching the Barren Ground Lake
ten days after we did. They saw no Indians.
The ground they traversed is somewhat higher
and more rocky than along the Assiwaban, with
fewer lakes, and withal should be better suited
to a foot trip. Much of this country was more or
less distantly viewed by one and another of us in
1904 and 1905, from elevations along our way,
in particular from the hills about Mistinipi.
In 1911 the Indian country was unvexed by
any white person, so far as I can learn. McMillan
made a long canoe trip on the coast, but did not
go inland. At Davis Inlet he saw one or two of
old E.'s family and a chance Naskapi. After all,
the people had managed to pull through the winter,
and in the spring had a great migration at Mis
tinipi. They speared a thousand deer.
Now, in November, the snow is over the coun
try, there is meat for the winter, and the lodge life
at its best is going on In the sheltered bays. In
such times of plenty the Indian life is peculiarly
attractive, perhaps more so than the life of any
other hunter race that survives on earth. The
people are lords over their fine country, asking

286 IN NORTHERN LABRADOR
little favor, ever, save that the deer may come in
their time. It was one of the notable privileges
of my wilderness days to have the best of their
country to myself for some years, unexplored as
It was, and even more to me was the relation with
the people themselves.
They are all east of the George now; all that
I know who are living. Old Ostinitsu is there
surely, for he is tough; and Nahpayo, who "sees
far," with his pretty young wife. Pakuun-noh, a
good man, is gone; he Is hunting in an easier worid
now. His wife Is with the others; her son. Fox-
boy, with his father's and mother's gentleness,
must be getting a large boy now. Puckway is
there, with his friendly eyes, Ashimaganish, Kamo
ques, Pi-a-shun-a-hwao, and straight old Nijwa,
who has outlived her looks.
They are all there, where the nights are
already long, and the snow flashes keen to the
northern lights. There is plenty now, the chil
dren's faces are round; there is plenty for the burnt
offerings, always of the best — and the people do
not forget. There is plenty to offer Kl-way-tin-o-
shuh, the god of the Northwind and Snow, in
these days of his growing power. Now are the
Maquish, the Little People, hidden in their rocks,
now are the Under-water People sleeping the win
ter away. The wide snowshoes come and go, the
tracks of the long tapakun ribbon the winter ways.
Little the people are asking. Their country still
is theirs, and the deer; and long may they so remain.

APPENDIX MICE
THE 'part played by that humble creature, one might
easily say humble nuisance, the mouse, in the econ
omy of barren ground life, has been touched upon
in previous pages. With the caplin of the coast waters, and
the rabbit, the varying hare of the forested North, creatures
existing mainly to feed their predatory superiors, the mouse
has an importance quite beyond its apparent insignificance.
The mouse of the barrens is rather square built, about
the size of a common field mouse, with a shortish, stumpy
tail. Like the rabbit it increases in numbers through a term
of years and suddenly disappears. The rabbits at least are
known to die off from a disease like anthrax. In years of
their scarcity districts where there are no lakes to provide
a fish supply are not hunted by the Indians, who seek other
grounds. In these years the lynx, the chief rabbit hunter of
all, is said not to breed. The hardship of the rabbit's ab
sence is felt also by the martens, whose Indian name, by the
way, is Wapistan, "Rabbit-hunter," as well as by the birds
of prey and other hunting creatures.
In like manner the caplin governs the movements of the
cod, and probably certain of the whales. It has been held
that the recent destruction of whales from the stations at
Hawic Harbor and Cape Charles, on the Labrador, has
affected the cod fishing through the caplin as intermediary.
The idea is that the whales drive the caplin inshore, and the
cod follow in where they can be caught. Now, with the
thinning out of the whales, it is thought that the caplin and
cod tend to remain out at sea where they cannot be reached.
On this theory, I have been told, whaling has been restricted
in certain Norwegian waters, and similar legislation has been
suggested for Labrador.
Perhaps as many creatures depend upon mice as upon
either rabbit or caplin, although people, indeed, rarely eat
them. Indirectly they may play as important a part in the
concerns of the Indians as the rabbit itself; and this although,
287

288 APPENDIX
in the fur countries at least, one may well touch his hat
with respect when the name of the Indians' "Little
White One" is mentioned.
In 1903, my first year in the country, mice were not
noticeably plenty. Caribou had been abundant through the
winter, by early July passing north in large numbers close
to the coast. There were some falcons about, the splendid
light-colored gyrfalcons, besides broad-winged hawks, dark
and almost equally fierce. Both kinds breed in cliffs about
the islands. I saw few ptarmigan, the one with chicks at
Jim Lane's being all I remember; however, I spent little
time inland that year. Foxes, the most important fur game,
were fairly plenty.
By 1904 mice were distinctly abundant. Hawks were
more numerous, the white ones shrilling from many cliffs
as we approached their nests. It was that year, I think, per
haps the next, that foxes were noted by the shore people
as being scattered and shy; they would not take bait. As to
the trout up river I do not remember, but they probably
made something of their chance at the mice. If, however,
the mice take to the water mainly when migrating, the trout
may not have had many that year.
Ptarmigan were fairly numerous. The wolverene we
shot was full of mice. There were no caribou to speak of.
We saw a good many wolf tracks, chiefly along the river
banks, where mice are apt to be, but heard no wolves at
night. There were some hawks and a few owls all the way
inland. The next year, 1905, was the culminating year of the mice.
Sometimes two at a time could be seen in the daylight. Low
twigs and all small growth were riddled by them. There was
a tattered aspect about the moss and ground in many places
not quite pleasant to see. We saw few mice in the river,
but perhaps they swam nights. Falcons had increased
visibly, nesting on most cliffs from Cape Harrigan to Misti
nipi, a hundred and fifty miles distance. Owls were not
many, but had increased somewhat; we saw only one snpwy
owl. All trout of more than a half pound had mice inside.
Ptarmigan were very plenty, and the wolves — we may have
seen the tracks of two hundred — were silent still. The bear
of the trip was full of mice. He was very fat, as doubtless
the other predatory animals and birds were. They were in

MICE 289
much the situation of some of us Vermont children one year
when blackberries were unusually thick; the bushes were
hanging with them, and all we had to do was to walk up to
them with hands down and "eat with our mouths." Cari
bou were still scarce, even on George River, and foxes plenty.
In the spring of 1906 the mice disappeared with the snow.
The local impression was that they moved away at these
times, but such is almost always the prevailing belief,
whether as to buffalo, caribou, or fish, in fact any sort of
game. It is possible that they did move, but if so one ought
to hear of their reappearing somewhere occasionally in
large numbers, and so far as I learn this is not their way.
With the vanishing of the mice the change in the visible
life of the country was remarkable. The falcon cliffs were
deserted, coast and inland. Where the birds had gone none
could say. They had seemed to belong to the country.
We felt the absence of their superb flights and cries.
In the trout reaches of the Assiwaban fish were numerous,
but they were living on flies now, with what minnows they
could get, and were no longer mousey, but sweet and good.
No owls appeared; there had, however, never been very many.
Our bear of the year was living on berries, and did not smell
beary or greasy when we skinned him; the meat was singu
larly sweet and well flavored.
Ptarmigan were all but wanting, old birds and young.
It is fair to suppose that in previous years they were let
alone by their natural enemies in the presence of the super
abundant mouse supply, and were enabled to increase to
their unusual numbers of 1905. Their enemies — birds,
wolves, foxes, wolverenes and what not, increased also.
For two or three years they had had only to sit down and
eat. Now, in a plight with the disappearance of the mice,
they harried the ptarmigan to nearly the last egg and
feather. We missed their evening crowing in the scrub.
The refuse of the deer crossing at Mistinipi gathered
many of the animals and the ravens. Sixty wolverene skins
came to Davis Inlet post that year, where eight or ten
would come ordinarily.
For the first time we heard the wolves nights, a far, high-
pitched howl — their hunting cry. I suppose it is for the ears
of the caribou. Uneasy, they move, a track is left for the
wolf tg find, and sooner or later the chase is on. There had

290 APPENDIX
been no need of thus stirring up the game from a distance
in the mouse hunt.
Whether the caribou may not have kept out of the coun
try because the mice were in possession is a question.
The ravelled moss and other leavings of the mice were a
little unpleasant to our eyes, perhaps also to the sensitive
nose and taste of the caribou, as sheep ground is to the
larger grazing animals. I have long suspected that the
caribou did not care to feed along with the mice. It is
possible, however, that being let alone by the wolves in the
south while the latter were sitting among the mice in the
north, the caribou merely stayed passively where they were.
The absence of Indians in the southern part of the deer range
would also support the idea that their being undisturbed had
to do with their staying there. Once the wolves found
themselves upon the hard times of early 1906 they may
have sought the caribou and stirred them to move. They
certainly did move, as the twelve or fifteen hundred carcasses
at Mistinipi that year went to show.
The bearing of the mouse situation on the human inter
ests of the region are easy to see. It affected all the game,
food game and fur. The abundance of mice tended to
build up the ptarmigan, which are of vital importance in the
winter living of the Indians through the whole forested area
to the Gulf. Likewise it built up the caribou herd by pro
viding easier game than they for the wolves.
The departure of the mice did the reverse, reducing the
deer and ptarmigan, but it may have brought the deer
migration as suggested, giving at any rate an easy year to the
hard-pressed Indians of the George. At last they had good
food and new clothes and lodges, in all of which necessaries
they had gone very low. They killed too many deer at Mis
tinipi, still very many passed south again the next year.
There have been deer in the country ever since, with not
many mice.
All in all it is hard to imagine any other natural change
which would have affected the fortunes, sometimes the fate,
of all the other creatures of the peninsula, from man to fish,
as did the coming and going of the mice during the years
from 1903 to 1906. Only fire could have done the like.
Nor were the shore people by any means untouched. All
their land game came and went, was plenty or wanting, shy

MICE 291
or easily taken, according to the supply of mice. London
and St. Petersburg, easily, were affected through their ereat
fur trade. ^
It would be farfetched to speculate seriously as to the
influence of our multitudinous little rodent upon the fish and
whales of the deep sea, even if there were any such thing as
tracing these matters to their final end. A run of mice
nevertheless, may make itself felt quite beyond adjacent sea
waters. The fish we are concerned with all feed at much the
same sea table — the salmon and sea trout that visit the
inland, the cod and the whales that do not. Their business,
chiefly, is eating, and they are more or less in competition.
What one gets another does not. The wellbeing of the
anadromous fish, the fish which ascend a hundred rivers,
is somewhat at the expense of the other kinds of fish left
behind. What one kind eats the others cannot have. In
mouse times there are more and larger fish to go back to the
sea, if partly because their enemies such as otter and mink ne
glect fishing for the easy mouse-hunt. There are more fresh
water trout left, too, to go down to the bays as they do, and
join the hunt for caplin; and again, whatever they get the
cod do not, nor the whales.
The gulls may be regarded; they are neighbors, at least,
with the fish — the predatory gulls which nest over the in
land waters, picking up mice and young birds and all dere
lict life they can master, all things dead and alive. Their
range extends from the cod and caplin swarming passages
of the coast archipelago to the far apex of the peninsula at
Nichicun. The falcons? When the mice go and famine comes, do
they descend upon the young of the gulls, and vice-versa?
Truly the maze of life is complicated!
The year the mice disappeared I was not wholly away from
their influence even at home in New Hampshire. They
or their ghosts followed as in the old tale of the Mouse Tower.
Whether as a case of cause and effect, that winter a remark
able flight of goshawks, the "winter hawks" of the Labrador,
moved down upon the northern states, looking for food.
There also appeared, so I read at the time, a wide flight of
snowy owls. The hawks were a scourge to our native game.
One of them used to sit on a high dead limb, commanding a
reach of woods behind our family house in Dublin, looking

292 APPENDIX
for partridges, which had become numerous. The partridges
could cope well enough with our usual birds of prey, such as
hawks and owls, and the ground animals, and had more than
held their own for some time. But in the presence of this
lightning bolt from the north they were helpless, and were
picked up fast. By spring they were about all gone.
In time, if whale and cod, wolverene and wolf, Indian
and falcon are not swept from the scene by our remorseless
civilization, the important role of such creatures as have
been mentioned, the low food-bearers, may be followed
through, and what is casual inference, in many fields, may be
demonstrated as true cause and result, or, on the other hand,
dismissed as unwarranted. We can only put together first
coincidences at sight, leaving further observation to deter
mine certainties. The thread of causality traced here Is at
least more obvious than some outdoor theories that are
based upon longer experience; as was, for Instance, Sprack
lin's belief that cod came in well at Fanny's only in years
when berries were plentiful on the land. Who shall say?
Among the myriad existences of the open there Is room for
many a thread unseen.

YALE UNIVERSITY

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