A Voyage with the Voyageuers.

Infinitely picturesque was the starting of the boat brigade for the Mission of the White Dog and beyond. Far down on the sandy beach, below the eyrie upon which was perched a Hudson's Bay Company's post a veritable medieval castle transplanted to the bluffs of the Northwest lay the eight boats composing it. Just then they were in holiday apparel, and decorated for departure: small red flags, streaming ribbons, gaudy ensigns, and the spreading antlers of moose and elk, appeared everywhere above the square packages of freight. Congregated upon the beach, attired in their bravest apparel, and accompanied by wives and sweethearts, who had come to wish them a final "Bon voyage" were the seventy or more half-breed and Indian voyageurs who constituted their crews.

The crowd ran the gamut of colour from the deep copper of the Aboriginal to the pure white of the Caucasian. Many of the women were clearly of unmingled Indian blood. Tall and angular, long masses of straight black hair fell over their backs; blue-and-white cotton gowns, shapeless, stayless, un-crinolined, displayed the flatness of their unprojecting figures. Some wore a gaudy handkerchief on the head; the married also bound one across the bosom. The half-castes were in better form, many of them being quite handsome. It was not, however, their comeliness of feature which impressed the traveller: it was their grace; that supple shapeliness, that sveltnesse, for which the English tongue has no word. Theirs was the rich dark beauty of the Creole type. Smaller in figure, they were at once better rounded, and more lithe and willowy. A comely half-breed woman's figure impresses one as a startling realization of the Greek ideal of grace a statue by Phidias animated and garbed, a living Venus of flushed bronze. Beauty of feature with them is, perhaps, not a common gift; but when one does find it, he straightway dreams of Titian, Veronese, and Tintoretto.

The voyageurs themselves, if Indian, were generally young men, heavy-set, copper-coloured, and highly ornamented; their black hair greased, and plaited into small braids, from which depended bright-coloured ribbons, and feathers. About their thick necks were broad bands of wampum, from which hung, suspended over the throat, huge silver medals. These medals were not the rewards of valuable service, however, but may be purchased at any company's store. Their capotes were open at the throat and revealed broad, uncovered chests, corded with muscles. In place of the customary variegated sash, they wore broad leather belts, in which were slung their fire bags, beaded and quilled, containing pipe and tobacco, flint and steel, and serving also, upon occasion, as pocketbooks.

If the voyageurs were half-breed, however, he was a little above the medium height, with the lithe, active frame, enough of the aboriginal to give suppleness, and sufficient of the white to impart a certain solidity of frame lacking in the savage. His features, too, were regular to a fault; complexion nut brown; eyes black, and long black hair hanging down in a straight mass over his shoulders. He wore a tasselled cap, and was also en capote, but of fine blue cloth ornamented with two rows of silver-gilt buttons; variegated sash, corduroy trousers, and moccasins, of course.

As a rule, the voyageurs are of French origin, descendants of the traders and trappers of the old fur companies, though by long intermarriage the blood of three or four nationalities mingles in their veins. Their grandfathers have been French-Canadian, and their grandmother's Cree squaws; English, Crow, and Ojibway, have contributed to their descent on the mother's side. This mixture has produced, in most instances, a genial, good-humoured, and handsome fellow; although, as a class, with some cleverness and cheerfulness, their faces generally betray a certain moodiness of temper, and lack the frank respectability stamped upon countenances more purely Anglo-Saxon. Swarthy in complexion, with dark hair and eyes, their features are generally good and aquiline; and, though sometimes coarse, are invariably well-proportioned. Physically they are a fine race; tall, straight, and well-proportioned, lightly formed but, strong and extremely active and enduring. Of more supple build, as a rule, than the Indian, they combine his endurance and readiness of resource with the greater muscular strength and perseverance of the white man. Indisposition they are a merry, light-hearted and obliging race, recklessly generous, hospitable and extravagant. When idle, they spend much of their time singing, dancing, and gossiping from house to house, getting drunk upon the slightest occasion; and when the voyageur drinks, he does it, as he says, comme il faut, that is, until he obtains the desired happiness of complete intoxication. Vanity is his besetting sin, and he will deprive himself and his family of the common necessaries of life to become the envied possessor of any gewgaw that may attract his fancy. Intensely superstitious, and a firm believer in dreams, omens and warnings, he is an apt disciple of the Romish faith. Completely under the influence of his priest, in most respects, and observing the outward forms of his religion with great regularity, he is yet grossly immoral, often dishonest, and generally untrustworthy. No sense of duty seems to actuate his daily life; for, though the word "devoir" is frequently on the lips of this: semi-Frenchman, the principle of "devoir" is not so strong in his heart as are the impulses of passion and caprice. But little aptitude for continuous labour, moreover, belongs to his constitution. No man will labour more cheerfully and gallantly at the severe toil pertinent to his calling, but these efforts are of short duration, and when they are ended, his chief desire is to do nothing but eat, drink, smoke and be merry, all of their acts in which he greatly excels.

The ceremony of taking a wife, by which this mercurial race sprang into existence in the old days of the fur trade, cannot be considered, in the light of the present day, as an elaborate performance, or one much encumbered with social and religious preliminaries. If it failed in literally fulfilling the condition of force implied in the word " taking," it usually degenerated into a mere question of barter the French-Canadian wanted a wife, he took a horse, a gun, some white cloth or beads, and, repairing to the lodge of his red brother in the wilderness, purchased the heart and hand of the squaw he desired from her stern parent. If she did not love after "these presents," the lodge poles were always handy to enforce that obedience necessary to domestic tranquillity. This custom, we may say, has by no means fallen into disuse, but is still in vogue along the border. As a class, the voyageurs rank very low in the country.

Their priests profess to have a certain influence over them but admit that their flock is disreputable, and not to be relied upon in the faithful performance of a contract. As a consequence, it sometimes happens that the crews of a boat-brigade mutiny during a voyage, and return home. This evil, it is true, might be obviated were it not for the system of advancing wages for the trip, necessary in dealing with the class of which, for the most part, the crews are composed. But, unfortunately, on the voyageurs' return from the summer voyages, they do not betake themselves to any special modes of industry but vary seasons of hunting and fishing with longer intervals of total idleness. Toward mid-winter, a steady perseverance in this mode of life brings them, and their equally improvident families, to a condition closely allied to starvation. When, about the middle of December, the books are opened at the company's offices for the enrollment of men to serve in the trips of the ensuing season, a general rush of the needy crowd takes place. Upon their acceptance and enrollment, a small advance is made; and afterward, at stated intervals before the beginning of the voyage, further sums are paid. Toward spring, however, when the difficulty of obtaining food lessens to some degree, the men assume a higher tone, and demand larger sums in advance; threatening that, if their demands are not complied with, they will not proceed upon the voyage at all. Counter threats of imprisonment are superciliously smiled away with the remark that the time will be more easily passed endurance than in labour. The result is, that when the day of embarkation arrives, some of the enrolled men do not appear, while those who do have already received half their wages. Once on the voyage, their wives and families draw as frequently as practicable upon the amount "still coming to them," so that the sum forfeited by mutiny and breach of contract is insufficient to restrain the men from a premature return.

The continuance of this system has been caused by the necessities of the men, whom it preserves from absolute starvation and the undoubted fact that the laborious nature of the service renders it difficult, if not impossible, to secure men in the spring, when many other opportunities exist of gaining a livelihood in other and less trying channels.

It is customary to distribute a small quantity of rum among the men immediately before starting, and this, together with the probably considerable amount previously surreptitiously obtained, materially increased the hilarity and excitement of our departure. The Pierres became gratuitously profuse in their farewells, returning again and again to clasp the hands of the entire assembly, and claiming everyone as a brother; the Antoines, violently gesticulative, declaimed with cheerful irrelevance some old chanson about the glory of their ancestors; while the Baptistes hung, limply lachrymose, upon the necks of their best friends, murmuring maudlin sentiment into their receptive ears. Here and there, sober, and with an air of vast importance, stalked a sturdy steersman, getting his men well in hand, and having an eye to the lading of his particular boat. Busy clerks and voluble porters vied with chatting, laughing women in augmenting the Babel of sound.

All things being at last ready, the boat of the guide swung into the stream, followed closely by the others in single file. Vociferous cheers greeted us from the well-lined banks, and the wild boat songs of the voyageurs, sung in full chorus, began a weird but pleasing melody. Steadily the oars were plied, and regularly the beat and rhythm of oar-lock and song resounded, until, sweeping round a projecting headland, fort and friends were lost to view.

The lower course of the Red River of the North presents, for the last thirty miles, a picture of grand simplicity, and, it must be confessed, monotony, which, magnificent as it appears, wearies the eye and tires the mind at last. Flowing, like all other prairie streams, deep below the surface of the plain, there is nothing to be seen but the dead calm of an unruffled, mirror-like sheet of water glaring in the sun, and, as far as the eye can reach, two walls of dark-green foliage with the deep-blue firmament above them. In the foreground, slender stems of cottonwood and gigantic oaks, with long festoons of moss hanging from their aged limbs, dip down into the turbid flood. No hill breaks the finely-indented line of foliage, which everywhere bounds the horizon; only here and there a half-breed's hut, or the tepee of some child of the prairie and stream, peeps out of the green. Happily, the novelty of a first voyage by boat brigade was sufficient to engross the attention of the traveler, and attract his thoughts from the magnificent panorama offered by Nature to the vignette of northern boat life embraced within the limits occupied by the eight boats speeding their way down the centre of the broad stream.

The comparatively limited season during which water transportation is available in the Fur Land; the nature of the cargoes to be transported, and the channels through which they must pass, render the strictly summer months a season of much bustle and activity. The loss of a few days in the departure of boats, destined for the interior, may deprive some important districts of the means of traffic for the ensuing year, and necessitate the holding over of immense stocks of goods, to the serious derangement of trade, and a heavy curtailment of the annual profits. The matter of transportation, then, is one of vital importance to the fur company and is conducted with care and system devoted, perhaps, to no other branch of a trade in which close attention to details and routine are distinguishing characteristics. Though the actual duties of freighting occupy about four months in the year, the preparation pertinent to its perfect performance engrosses to a great extent the remaining eight. The result is a system so perfect that over the long courses traversed by the boat brigades their arrival may be calculated upon almost to the hour; and the anxious trader may ascend his lookout post with the certainty of seeing, sweeping around the nearest point, the well-laden boats, with swarthy crews bending low to their oars, and singing their weird chansons in time to the measured oar-stroke.

The freighting season begins about the first week in June, when the ice has disappeared from the rivers, and the spring supplies of merchandise, destined for the interior, have reached the depot-forts. At that period, the advance brigade of seven or eight boats leaves Fort Garry, now the principal point of forwarding in the service, followed a week later by yet another. This interval is allowed to prevent the meeting of the boats at any post, thereby creating undue bustle and confusion. These boats tend north and northwest, toward Methy Portage and York Factory, there to meet other brigades from the remote arctic regions, to whom they deliver their cargoes, receiving in exchange the furs brought down from the interior posts, the proceeds of the year's trade. When this exchange is effected, each brigade retraces its course. The time occupied by the longest trip, that of Methy Portage, the height of land from which the waters flow into Hudson's Bay and the Arctic Ocean, is about four months. Numerous shorter trips are also made, and the whole country is alive during this season with advancing and returning boats.

The peculiar nature of the transportation service of the company necessitates certain conditions in freight, boats and boatmen about it, not elsewhere to be found. The entire water-carriage of the country is performed using what is technically called "inland boats," of three and a half tons' burden, and requiring nine men as crew. Of the shape of the ordinary whaleboat, they carry a small mast, unstepped at will, upon which in crossing lakes, should the wind prove favourable, a square sail is set. A small platform, or deck, covers the stern of the vessel, upon which is seated the steersman, using at times the ordinary rudder-lever; again, a long sweep, with one stroke of which the direction of the craft is radically changed. The steersman is the captain of the vessel, the eight men under him being ranged as middlemen, or, rowers. A number of these boats constitute a brigade, over which a guide, skilled in the intricacies of current and coast, is placed, and who may be regarded as the commodore of the fleet. His duty is to guide the brigade through dangerous waters, to support the authority of the steersmen, and to transact the business of the brigade at the stations touched en route. The position is an important one when properly filled, and is generally held by the same person until advancing years necessitate his relinquishment.

Rapidly we sped down the waters of the turbid stream, and monotonously echoed the loud "ough" of the boatmen, as they rose from their seats with each stroke of the oar, only to sink back again with a sudden jar as the broad blades left the water. Stately swans looking thoughtfully into the stream, tall cranes standing motionless on one leg, and ducks of every hue disappearing behind the foliage screening the mouth of some creek or coolie, were the only living things to be seen. The landscape was monotonously splendid, and the hours passed in unvarying succession. Ten minutes in every hour were allowed the hardy voyageurs for rest; the long oars were lifted from the flood, from every fire-bag came pipes and tobacco, and the bark of the grey willow, mingled with equal proportions of the Indian weed, lent its fragrance to the morning air. After such a pleasant interlude, the paddles were plied with renewed vigour, and soon the woods disappeared and the banks, which gradually sank to a lower level, became covered with the long reedy grass marking the delta of the stream. Further on, even the semblance of vegetation afforded by the reeds ceased abruptly, leaving naught but a sandy bar, submerged at high tide, and the waters of an immense lake extending northward out of sight, a lake which stretched away into unseen places, and on whose waters a fervid June sun was playing strange freaks of mirage and inverted shore-land.

Upon the sandbar at the outlet of the main channel our boats were run along-shore, and preparations ensued for the mid-day meal. Generally speaking, while voyaging it is only allowable to put ashore for breakfast, a cold dinner being taken in the boats; but as no voyageur could be expected to labour in his holiday apparel, a halt was necessary before setting out upon the lake. The low beach yielded ample store of driftwood, the relics of many a northern gale, and of this a fire was lighted, and the dinner apparatus arranged in the stern sheets of the boat.

*The functions of the chef, limited to the preparation of pemmican in some palatable form, and the invariable dish of black tea, were simple enough. For boatmen, pemmican is the unalterable bill-of-fare and is the favourite food of the half-breed and Indian voyageur.

The best form of pemmican, made for table use, generally has added to it ten pounds of sugar per bag, and saskatoon or, service berries, the latter acting much as currant jelly does with venison, correcting the greasiness of the fat by a slightly acid sweetness. Sometimes wild cherries are used instead of the Saskatoon. This berry-pemmican is considered the best of its kind and is very palatable. As to the appearance of the commoner form of pemmican, take the scrapings from the driest outside corner of a very stale piece of cold roast beef, add to it lumps of tallowy, rancid fat, then garnish all with long human hairs, on which string pieces, like beads upon a necklace, and short hairs of dogs or oxen, or both, and you have a fair imitation of common pemmican. Indeed, the presence of hairs in the food has suggested the inquiry whether the hair on the buffaloes from which the pemmican is made does not grow on the inside of the skin. The abundance of small stones or pebbles in pemmican also indicates the discovery of a new buffalo diet heretofore unknown to naturalists.

Carefully made pemmican, flavoured with berries and sugar, is nearly good; but of most persons new to the diet it may be said that, in two senses, a little of it goes a long way. Nothing can exceed its sufficing quality; it is equal or superior to the famous Prussian sausage, judging it as we must. Two pounds' weight, with bread and tea, is enough for the dinner of eight hungry men. A bag weighing one hundred pounds, then, would supply three good meals for one hundred and thirty men. A sledge-dog that will eat from four to six pounds of fish per day, when at work, will only consume two pounds of pemmican, if fed upon that food alone. Hungry men are often seen to laugh incredulously at a small handful of pemmican placed before them as sufficient for a meal; yet they go away satisfied, leaving half of it. On the other hand, half-breeds and Indians will eat four pounds of it in a single day; appetites like that, however, do not count in ordinary food estimates.

The flavour of pemmican depends much on the fancy of the person eating it. There is no other article of food that bears the slightest resemblance to it, and as a consequence, it is difficult to define its peculiar flavour by comparison. It may be prepared for the table in many different ways, the consumer being at full liberty to decide which is the least objectionable. The method largely in vogue among the voyageurs is that known as "pemmican straight," that is, uncooked. But there are several ways of cooking which improve its flavour for the civilized palate. There is rubiboo, which is a composition of potatoes, onions, or other esculents, and pemmican, boiled up together, and, when properly seasoned, very palatable. In the form of richot, however, pemmican is best liked by persons who use it, and by the voyageurs. Mixed with a little flour and fried in a pan, pemmican in this form can be eaten, provided the appetite is sharp, and there is nothing else to be had. This last consideration is, however, of importance.

As to the consumption of tea by the voyageurs, it is simply enormous. The delay which would be occasioned were the demands of the men with reference to tea-drinking to be indulged, renders guides and steersmen peremptory in opposing the ever-renewed proposition that the boat should be hauled to, and the kettle put on the fire, wherever an inviting promontory presents itself along the route.

After dinner the voyageurs doffed the holiday apparel in which the start had been made, appearing thereafter in travelling costumes. These changes made, the ensemble of the crews became rougher but, more picturesque. Corduroy trousers, tied at the knee with beadwork garters, encased their limbs; capotes were discarded, and striped shirts open in front, with cotton handkerchiefs tied sailor-fashion round their swarthy necks, took their place; a scarlet sash encircled the waist of each, while moose-skin moccasins defended their feet. Their head-dresses were as various as fanciful, some trusted their thickly matted hair to guard them from the sun and rain; some wore caps of coarse cloth, others twisted coloured kerchiefs turban-fashion around their heads; while one or two sported tall black hats covered so plenteously with tassels and feathers as to be scarcely recognizable. They were a wild yet handsome set of men, as they lay or stood in careless attitudes around the fires, puffing clouds of smoke from their ever-burning pipes.

At the command of the guide, however, they fell to re-adjusting the cargoes of the boats for the passage of the lake, and the portages immediately beyond. For on the waters traversed by these brigades navigation is seriously interrupted by rapids, waterfalls and cataracts, to surmount which the 'boats with their cargoes have to be landed and carried round the obstruction, to be relaunched at the nearest practicable point. Again it occurs that a height of land is reached, across which the boats and merchandise must be dragged to descend the opposite stream. In either event, the process is technically known as "making a portage," and constitutes the hardest feature of the voyageur's labour.

It is owing to the vast amount of handling, necessitated by the numerous portages intervening between the depot-forts and even the nearest inland districts, that the packing of merchandise becomes a matter of so great importance. The standard weight of each package used in the fur trade is one hundred pounds, and each boat is supposed capable of containing seventy-five"inland pieces," as such packages are called. It is the method of reckoning tonnage in the country. The facility with which such pieces are handled by the muscular tripmen is very remarkable, a boat being loaded by its crew of nine men in five minutes, and presenting a neat, orderly appearance upon completion of the operation. In crossing a portage, each boatman is supposed to be equal to the task of carrying two inland pieces upon his back. These loads are carried in such a manner as to allow the whole strength of the body to be put into the work. A broad leather band, called a "portage strap," is placed round the forehead, the ends of which strap, passing back over the shoulders, support the pieces which, thus carried, lie along the spine from the small of the back to the crown of the head. When fully loaded, the voyageur stands with his body bent forward, and with one hand steadying the pieces, he trots nimbly away over the steep and rock-strewn portage, his bare or, moccasined feet enabling him to pass briskly over the slippery rocks in places where boots would inevitably send both tripman and load feet-foremost to the bottom. In the frequent unloading of the vessel, the task of raising the pieces and placing them upon the backs of the muscular voyageurs devolves upon the steersman; and the task of raising seventy-five packages of one hundred pounds' weight from a position below the feet to a level with the shoulders, demands a greater amount of muscle than is possessed by the average man.

Winnipeg, like all other great lakes, is liable to be visited by sudden storms, which, taking a boat by surprise while making a long traverse, might be attended with fatal consequences. The coasts, generally speaking, offer only a limited number of harbours for small boats, but these are fortunately within a few hours' sail of each other. In the event of a boat being overtaken by a sudden tempest, it is sometimes necessary to make for the nearest land and "beach" her, carrying herself and cargo ashore by main force, over a considerable length of breaker-washed shore. It was for this reason, perhaps, that our guide marched solemnly to and fro upon the shingle, curiously examining, with twisted neck and upturned eyes, the signs of the weather; and presenting, with his long blue great coat and cautious gait, a somewhat quaint and antiquated spectacle. Having with some difficulty satisfied himself that the weather would hold good until we could reach the nearest harbour, he recalled the crews, who had scattered along the shore, smoking their pipes and loosed from land. The lake, changeful as the ocean, was in its very calmest mood; not a wave, not a ripple on its surface; not a breath of air to aid the untiring paddles. The guide held his course far out into the glassy waste, leaving behind the marshy headlands which marked the river's delta. The point at which we had dined became speedily undistinguishable among the long line of apparently exactly similar localities ranging along the low shore.

A long, low point reaching out from the south shore of the lake, was faintly visible on the horizon, and toward it our guide steered. The traveller, seated comfortably on the deck of the boat, indulged alternately in reading and smoking; the whole style of progress being more like the realization of a scene from Telemaque or the Eneid, than a sober business voyage undertaken in the interests of a trading company of the present day.

The red sun sank into the lake, warning us to seek the shore and camp for the night, as we reached the point toward which we steered. A deep, sandy bay, with a high background of woods and rocks, seemed to invite us to its solitude. The boats were moored in a recess of the bank, or drawn bodily upon the beach; sails brought ashore, and roofs extemporized as protection against possible storms. Drift-wood was again collected, and active preparations for the evening meal ensued. Each boat's crew had a fire to itself, over which were placed gypsy-like tripods, from which huge tin kettles depended; while above them hovered numerous volunteer cooks, who were employed in stirring their contents with persevering industry. The curling wreaths of smoke formed a black cloud among the numerous fleecy ones arising from the steaming kettles, while all around, in every imaginable attitude, sat, stood, and reclined the sunburned savage-looking voyageurs, laughing, chatting, and smoking, in perfect happiness.

Meanwhile, the bedding of the traveller, after being unwrapped from its protecting oil cloths, was spread upon the ground. The bedding consists of, say, three blankets and a pillow. The former are folded lengthways, and arranged on the oilcloth, which, when camp is struck in the morning, is so rolled about them as to form a compact, portable bundle, when properly corded, practically impervious to weather.

All occupations ceased at the call of the cooks, and the crews gathered around the campfire with their scant supply of tinware. The bill-of-fare was limited, as before, to pemmican and tea. As the brigade penetrates the interior, however, wildfowl become abundant, and the stews more fragrant and savoury. Supper over, half a dozen huge log fires are lighted roundabout, casting a ruddy glow upon the surrounding foliage, and the wild, uncouth figures of the voyageurs, with their long, dark hair hanging in luxuriant masses over their bronzed faces. They warm themselves in the cheerful glow, smoking and chatting with much good humour and carelessness of the day's adventures, or, rather of what are regarded as such, unusually good or ill-luck at fishing or hunting, the casual meeting of some aboriginal canoe, or the sight of some lone Indian's leather lodge. Only the dense swarms of mosquitoes, which set in immediately after sunset, remind the traveller that he is not realizing a scene from tropical life.

To be appreciated, the pain and inconvenience caused by the attacks of these little insects must be felt. They swarm in the woods and marshes, and, lying amid the shade of the bushes during the heat of the day, come abroad in the cool of the evening and make night hideous where no grateful breeze blows for the protection of the traveller. They form, in fact, the principal drawback to the pleasure of summer travel in the Fur Land. The voyageur, after working hard through the long, hot day, simply spreads the single blanket he is allowed to carry on the ground, and with no other covering than the starry firmament above him, sleeps undisturbed till dawn; only occasionally brushing away, as if by way of diversion, the most obtrusive of the little fiends. But the more refined and less case-hardened traveller suffers severely. In vain are trousers tied tightly about the ankles, and coat sleeves at the wrist, while mosquito veils surround the head. The enemy finds his way in single file through apertures unseen by human eyes, and bites without mercy; while his escape is secured by the impossibility of hunting him up without making way for the surrounding hosts of his confreres. For the victim, feeding under such circumstances is no easy matter. Independent of the loss of appetite occasioned by the nature of the situation, the veil must be removed to obtain access to the mouth, and the hands must be uncovered to work knife, fork, and spoon. Sleep is also to be obtained only for a few short, feverish moments at long intervals. Any attempt to gain repose by concealing one's self beneath the blankets is in vain; and long before sleep can come, the baffled experimenter is compelled to emerge, half-smothered, to breathe the sultry air.

The traveller can, however, often have an awning fitted up over the stern sheets of the boat, and sleep on board. By this arrangement, in the event of a favourable breeze blowing at daybreak, the crews can pursue their journey without disturbing him. On the other hand, the traveller is often called upon to give up the boat to the men during the night, so that they may be further removed from the mosquitoes, and better prepared for work on the ensuing day, when the passenger can make up for the night's sleeplessness. Under this system, then, the steersman occupies the stern sheets, while the crew, by arranging the mast and oars lengthways over the boat, and stretching oil cloths over the framework so formed, turn the vessel into one long, snug tent, in which they can rest in comfort. This device is called a "tanley," the word being corrupted from the French "tendre-le"

In the early morning, before the mists had risen from the waters, the loud "Leve! leve! leve!" of the guide roused the camp. Five minutes were sufficient to complete the traveller's toilet, tie up his blankets, and embark. The prows of the boat-brigade swung into the lake, and the day's voyage began. Usually, a short sail is made until a favourable camping spot is reached, when the boats are again beached, and the breakfast prepared. Then succeeds a renewed plying of the oars, or, if the wind proves favourable, the sails are set, and the little fleet glides smoothly upon its way. When the wind is fair and the weather fine, boats make very long traverses, keeping so far out that, about the middle of the run, neither the point from which they started nor the one toward which they are steering is visible. In calm weather, however, when the oars are used, it is usual to keep closer in-shore and make shorter traverses. The pursuit of game and wildfowl daily indulged in, tends to vary the monotony of the voyage. Occasionally the breeding-places of the latter are found, in which event the crews lay in a stock of eggs and young birds sufficient for the voyage. Again, returning boats are encountered, and a short season is devoted to the exchange of news and compliments.

The wind springing up, the guide ordered all sail set and stood far out into the lake. The boats of the brigade proved very unequal sailors, from difference of build and diverse lading, the white sails soon lost all semblance of line, and straggled over the placid waters of the lake, each upon its own tack. Nor did they meet again until we entered the mouth of Winnipeg River, shortly after mid-day, and prepared to encounter its twenty-seven portages, the first of which began but eight miles above the company's fort, at its delta. The Winnipeg River, with twice the volume of water the Rhine pours forth, descends three hundred and sixty feet in a distance of one hundred and sixty miles. This descent is not affected by a continuous decline, but by a series of terraces at irregular distances from each other, thus forming innumerable lakes and wide-spreading reaches, bound together by rapids and perpendicular falls of varying altitudes. It was over this pathway of rock and stream, of terrace and lagoon, that the course of the boat brigade now lay. To describe the forcing of one barrier is only to iterate that of the one preceding or, following it.

Passing through lonely lakes and island-studded bays, there sounds ahead the rush and roar of falling water; and, rounding some pine-clad island, or projecting point, a tumbling mass of foam and spray, studded with rocks and bordered with dark-wooded shores, bars the way. Above the falls nothing can be seen; below, the waters boil in angry surge for a moment, then leap away in maddened flight, threatening to toss the well-laden boats like corks upon their sweeping surface. But against this boiling, rushing flood comes the craft and skill of the intrepid voyageurs. They advance upon the fall as if it were an equally subtle enemy with themselves; they steal upon it before it is aware. The immense volume of water, after its wild leap, lingers a moment in the huge cauldron at the foot of the fall; then, escaping from the circling eddies and whirlpools, sweeps away in rushing flood into the calmer waters below.

But this mighty rush in mid-stream produces a counter-current along the shore, which, taking an opposite turn, sweeps back nearly, if not quite, to the foot of the fall. Into this back-current, the stealthy voyageurs steer their well-laden boat. On one side the rocky bank towers overhead, slender pine and fir trees finding a precarious foothold in its crevices; on the other, ofttimes but a yard from the advancing boat, sweeps the mad rush of the central current. Up the backcurrent goes the boat, driven cautiously by its oarsmen, until, just in advance of its bow, appears the whirlpool in which it ends, at the foot of the fall. To enter that revolving mass of water is to be wrecked in a twinkling; to turn into the broad current of the mid-stream is to be swept away in a moment of time. What next?

For a moment there is no paddling, the bowsman and steersman alone keeping the boat in position, as she rapidly drifts into the whirlpool. Among the crew, not a word is spoken, but every man is at his utmost tension, and awaiting the instant which shall call every muscle, nerve, and intelligence into play. Now the supreme moment has come; for on one side begins the mighty rush of the mid-current, and on the other circle and twist the smooth, green, hollowing curves of the angry whirlpool, revolving around its axis of air with a giant strength that would overturn and suck down the stanch whale-boat in the twinkling of an eye. Just as the prow touches the angry curves, a quick shout is given by the bowsman, and the boat shoots full into the centre of the rushing stream, driven by the united efforts of the entire crew, supplemented by extra oarsmen from the other boats. The men work for their very lives, and the boat breasts across the stream full in the face of the fall. The waters foam and dash around her; the mad waves leap over the gunwale; the voyageurs shout as they dash their oars like lightning into the flood; and the traveller holds his breath amidst this war of man against Nature. But the struggle seems useless. Man can effect naught against such a torrent; the boat is close to the rocks and is driven down despite the rapid strokes of the oarsmen. For an instant she pauses, as if gathering strength for her mad flight down the mid-channel. The dead strength of the rushing flood seems to have prevailed, when, lo! the whole thing is done. A dexterous twist of the oars, and the boat floats suddenly beneath a little rocky isle in mid-stream, at the foot of the falls. The portage-landing is over this rock, while a few yards out on either side the mighty flood sweeps on its headlong course. A voyageur leaps out on the wet, slippery rock, and holds the boat in place while the others get out. The cool fellows laugh as they survey the torrent they have just defeated, then turn to carry the freight piece by piece up the rocky stairway and deposit it upon the flat landing ten feet above. That accomplished, the boat is dragged over and re-launched upon the very lip of the fall.

But slightly different was the ascent of many of the rapids encountered from time to time. Upon arriving at one, advantage was taken of the back-current near the banks to run up as far as the eddy would permit; then the bowsman rose from his seat and craned his neck forward to take a look before attempting the passage. Signalling the route he intended to pursue to the steersman, the boat at once shot into the chaos of boiling waters that rushed swiftly by. At first, it was swept downward with the speed of an arrow, while the mad flood threatened to swamp it in a moment. To the traveller, unaccustomed to such perilous navigation, it seemed utter folly to attempt the ascent, but a moment more revealed the plan and brought the stanch craft into a temporary harbour. Right in the middle of the central current, a huge rock rose above the surface, while from its base a long eddy ran, like the gradually lessening tail of a comet, nearly a score of yards down the stream. It was just opposite this rock that the voyageurs had entered the rapid, and for which they paddled with all their might. The current, sweeping them down, brought the boat just to the extreme point of the eddy by the time mid-stream was reached, and a few vigorous strokes of the oars floated it quietly in the lee of the rock. A minute's rest and the bowsman selected another rock a few yards higher up, but a good deal to one side. Another rush was made, and the second haven reached. In this way, yard by yard, the boat brigade ascended for miles, sometimes scarcely gaining a foot; again, as a favouring bay or curve presented a long stretch of smooth water, advancing more rapidly.

In rapids where the strength of the current forbade the use of oars, progress was made using the tracking line. Tracking, as it is called, is dreadfully harassing work. Half the crew go ashore, and drag the boat slowly along, while the other half go asleep. After an hour's walk, the others take their turn, and so on, alternately, during the entire day. As the banks about the rapids were generally high and very precipitous, the voyageurs had to scramble along, now close to the water's edge, again high up on the bank, on ledges where they could hardly find a footing, and where they resembled flies on a wall. The banks, too, composed of soft clay and mud, increased the labour of hauling; but the lighthearted voyageurs seemed to think nothing of it, and laughed and joked as they toiled along, playing tricks upon each other, and plunging occasionally up to the waist in mud and water, with a reckless carelessness all their own.

So, day after day, the boat-brigade journeyed on; through island-studded bays, over long reaches of limpid water whose placid surface not a ripple stirred, over turbid floods thick with the ooze of muddy banks, breasting fierce rapids, climbing thundering waterfalls; sometimes making a fair day's travel, again, after a day of weary toil, bivouacking almost within sight of last night's camp-fire.

One day the traveler became aware of an undue bustle and excitement among the swarthy crews of the brigade. The pointed prows were turned shoreward and run upon a pebbly beach, affording easy access to the limpid water, and facing the warm rays of the sun. The voyageurs brought forth all the soiled clothing worn upon the journey, and a general scrubbing took place. Soon the bushes in the vicinity, the branches of the trees, and the flat rocks bore plentiful burdens of gaudy-coloured apparel, waving in the breeze to dry. Copious baths were next administered to their persons, capped by each man donning the bravest garments of his outfit. Ribbons were braided in the hair, flashy sashes encircled their waists, and moccasins of bewildering beadwork encased their feet. Then, with a dash and wild chorus of boat song, the oars were plied with quickly-measured stroke. Soon the sharp point of a headland was turned, and the Mission of the White Dog appeared, perched upon the precipitous banks of the stream. It was the end of the traveller's journey. A few huts, a few Indians, a company's trading store, and an aroma of decaying fish which, amalgamating with the slight mist from the river, surrounded the traveller's head like an aureole.