The daily morning journal and courier., 1902-01-16
IN THE WILDS OF CANADA.
ExPERIENCE WITH VOYAGEURs IN
 THE LONESOME LAND
Between Labrador and Lake of the
 Woods.

writer for ''The Empire Review" un der the title, Canadian Vayageurs. In the course of it he writes as follows But to those who know the smell o the balsam and the aroma of the twist ed cedar, who have seen the indefinit cliffs, the hollow canyons and the dash
 ing cascades of the Canadian northland
 the yearning for the woods is not on
 which passes understanding. The feve
 Is still in the blood though the breed
 has changed. The coureurs de boi
 were the lost legion of the French re
 gine, but they were empire builders
 after their kind, who stayed not fo
 forest or torrent, but pressed north
 west and south, to spread the Gallic Ill
 ies over half continent. To-day tn,
 Canadian voyageur is the scout of an
 other empire. Still resoIutely he pierce!
 the sub-Arctic wilderness, and paddles
 his birch bark into unknown waters
 The rulers of the old regime set them
 selves against this woodland fever To- day the government turns it to ac-
 count by organizing and dispatching ex-
 ploring parties into that vast country
 lying between Hudson's Bay and the Great Lakes.
 Expeditions of this kind are naturally
 through an Indian hunting ground; but
 In that broad district stretching from
 Labrador to the Lake of the Woods,
 where once the populous Montagnais,
 Algonquins and PottaWattamies
 roamed, the tribes are few and far be- | tween. A century of commercial hunt | inc fro inc 1a
 scarce, and now the struggling natives
 are selling their birthright for mess of pottage. The aboriglnes are surely | passing with thes game. Hunger and
 exposure bring consumption, and it is now rare to find an Indian whose lungs are sound.
 It was about five o'clock on a June
 morning that our small fleet of canoes
 pushed off in the rain from the south
 shore of Lake Helen, and a paddle of
 three miles brought us to the Narrows;
 nine miles further up we came to Camp Alexander which lies at the foot of two
 miles of rapids. the first chute on that magnificent waterway, which is also the finest trout stream in the world. Here,
 in a bindlng rain-storn, we pitched our tents, and, besides the discomfort of being wet, we were ravaged that night by mosquitoes, All next day, and
 the next, we waded over the portage through the mud weighed down by loads ranging from one hundred to two hundred pounds, according as we were whites or Indians, itenderfeet or sea soned packmen. The man who has new CT had pack-strap across his fore head or staggered a mile or so under hundredweight of penmican will know but faintly the joy of two-mile port age or the perspiration which attendeth it. f8t"
 On the fourth day we had our canoes once more in the water, and an early start brought us toa Split Rock Portage before noon. Islet Portage was reached in due course, and for the night we camped at the south end of Pine Port age. At the foot of these rapids we landed several five and six pound speckled trout, which made pleasant variation in our menu. The day follow ing we forwarded our supplies across Pine Portage a distance of two miles. around the foot of the White Chute we came to3Little Flat Rock earrly in the afternoon, and, leaving the Nepigon river, crossed Little Black Sturgeon Lake to the west, camping for the night on Flat Rock Portage-the home of the original black fly.
 At daybreak we made our way across the trail and had our first glimpse of Lage Nepigon. the largest body of wa ter between Lake Superior and Hud- | sons Bay, measuring about forty miles long by as many broad. High rocky shores rise abruptly from the dark, deep water, and forest fires have l it's bleak headlands. Here the | Hudson's Bay schooner Bella was wait | ng for us, and as soon as our supplies | barren harbor.
 l must not give the impression of the Indians as a race idle childish and in capable. In his own business, so to speak, the Indian cannot be surpassed Tn the woods he is as agile as a deer. He will carry his canoe through under :, growth that almost balks you empty landed On one occasion we were nak- ng our way overland to a small lake There was no trail to speak of and the
 stance was five miles. We rested only 'nce. and, although I was only bur ened with a rifle, l had great trouble In ,eeping pace with the copperhead who ore on his shoulders my fifty pound ca loe Seeing that the savage triumphs yer his environment through the |. harpness of his wits, one-half expects he ingenuity by which he secures his rey. His traps and deadfalls are mar els of crude engineering. but he does ot rely on such implements exclusive y One day partridge started up in ront of us as we were crashing through he brush and by some chance We were yithout a firearm. The bird looked own upon us foolishly, after the man. CT of cartridges, little suspecting the equel. In about a minute an Indian ad cut down sapling, pulled forth 0 andril from under the moss, and, exc l uting a flank movement, he soon had | ( he silly bird dangling at the end of his $ ole. { Our cook, Perrot, was a French Cana ian, who knew the backwoods from le Ottawa to Hudson's Bay, but before e reached home we had dragged him yer a country he had never seen be- Ire Perrot was also our irterpret er. -e knew all about Indians. Some said lat his own mother was an Oiibway luaw, but this Perrot denied with a. pod Scotch oath, and as he wore d 4 z.I..> l