Outdoor Life-February, 1922 
 
he and his father came across a bunch of 
ten in deep snow three years before, and 
killed four of them. 
The wind continued its violence during 
the day, a register of its velocity being re- 
corded upon the government instruments at 
the post showing as high as 74 miles an 
hour, but dying away during the afternoon 
hours sufficiently to permit the Mayer party 
to move up to the post, and just as dusk fell 
they started back towards the railroad for 
the return trip homeward. 
We saw but little of our Indians during 
the day, and as their home was but a half 
mile from the post, they spent most of the 
time there, but the next morning, the wind 
being only moderately bad, and no white- 
caps on the water, they appeared with some- 
thing like a smile on their countenances. 
Particularly was this true of Jim, who be- 
came from this onward my personal guide. 
He was the most intelligent of the lot and 
showed the intermingling of white blood in 
his fairness of skin and hair, which was most 
unlike that of any of the others; and after 
debating the matter they decided we could 
now make the real start in three 16-foot 
canoes, which was done about 9 o'clock. 
We had no sooner started than the wind 
calmed and we passed into a protecting arm 
of the lake, which took us down to the ex- 
treme southern end of Lake Abitibi. The 
sun peered thrn the clouds and the day 
turned into one of magnificent beauty. 
The river's entrance into this lake was so 
hidden that it could not be noticed until 
one had approached right up to its mouth, 
reminding me of such a river as Warburton 
Pike tells of in his travels farther west in 
Canada, but whereas his was concealed by 
rocky formation, this was impossible to de- 
tect, due to the heavy growth of rushes, and 
it seemed we must be going to land, when 
with a quick turn of the canoe we were pro- 
pelled into a river of some 150 feet in width, 
whose sluggish waters cannot be seen to 
flow, as this country is extremely flat, and 
as we are north of the Height of Land, all 
rivers run north into Hudson Bay. We sub- 
sequently found this to be true of all the 
rivers in that part of the country. It was 
necessary to ask the guides which way they 
ran, and as we encountered headwind so 
much of the time, it would have been more 
or less confusing anyway. 
Bliss and his guide were leading some 
hundred yards as we passed up Abitibi 
River. The water was as smooth as un- 
broken glass, and the flashing of their twin 
paddles, like two great fish, slipped in and 
out. The banks were lined with the white 
birch, small pine and spruce, and the good 
 
old elm had its feet down deep in its watery 
home. 
With every lift of the paddles the water 
was whirled forward in myriads of drops that 
struck the unruffled surface of the water like 
white pearls, and so for a moment held their 
shape and skittered over the glass-like sur- 
face, only to merge into the great body of 
the water again. A great stretch of beauti- 
ful scenery and we come to the only rapids 
in Abitibi River, known as Dancing Water 
Portage, deriving its name from the fact that 
the water comes dancing and racing by rapid 
yet gentle degrees down from the higher 
level. For the first time on this trip the 
tump line is brought into play, for here we 
unload, as we must carry everything around 
the rapids onto the higher ground and launch 
the canoe again. It brings back recollec- 
tions of other portages to my companion, 
and he tells me of a seven-mile "carry" down 
in the French River country he took with a 
guide a few years ago while after moose. I 
did not at the time give much thought to 
what a seven-mile portage meant, but later 
on, as I became more familiar with these 
portages, I yielded a proper respect to any- 
one who could endure the strain of those 
long detours. 
Eighteen miles and much effort bring us 
to Lake Duparquet (Lake of Many Islands), 
which is totally unlike Abitibi in that it is 
clearer, much deeper and rockbound, with 
beautiful islands on every hand, and only 
occasional wide sweeps between. It looks 
the habitat of many fish, and we learned 
this is true. Some twenty to thirty miles 
across and as picturesque a bit of water as 
I know of anywhere. 'Twould delight the 
soul of 0. W. Smith, our Angling Editor, to 
look upon this virgin water, and I am sure 
that were I more the fisherman and less the 
hunter I would yield to the ineffable lure of 
Lake Duparquet to visit it many times. 
We find the head camp of our organiza- 
tion located upon a southwesterly point of 
this lake, a splendid promontory that owns 
the only hill in all that country, which is an 
immediate invitation to climb to the top-a 
thing I did after we had acquainted the head 
guide, Erni, with our presence. As it was 
the writer's birthday, I took along the 
Stevens .22, with which six grouse, or as 
they are called in that country, partridges, 
were added to the pot, and were much en- 
joyed. It was here we met a young fellow 
by the name of Bradford from New York, 
who was hunting out from the head camp 
with Erni, and he had a most distressing tale 
to relate of the night before. It seems-that 
Erni, who had been in the camp all summer, 
erecting some new buildings, had located a 
 
large bull moose during the summer, and 
when Bradford came along he had taken him 
out to where this fellow fed, feeling sure he 
could procure Bradford a good shot. As the 
story went, they had hidden on the left bank 
of the river, remaining in the canoe, but 
sheltered by the screen of the overhanging 
branches, from which vantage point Erni had 
used the birch bark horn to good advantage, 
so much so that three cows and two bulls 
appeared, one of which was the large bull 
they were after. It seems that he came down 
well within a hundred feet, and Bradford 
had a good standing shot, but missed. At 
this writing I do not recall if he shot more 
than once or not, but the moose escaped, 
and he was the most dejected hunter imagin- 
able when we came into camp. I should 
say, by way of extenuation, that Bradford 
was undertaking his first big game hunt, and 
that he was badly broken up nervously from 
some months spent in our country's aeroplane 
service. 
Later in the afternoon he and I went out 
in one of the canoes and he tried for bass, 
but casting from a round-bottom canoe is a 
pretty desperate undertaking, and we gave 
up the venture after a half hour without a 
rise. I am most happy to record, however, 
that some two weeks later, when we returned 
through the head camp, we found that Brad- 
ford had stayed on and secured the very 
moose he was after. We saw the head which 
he had left to be shipped out later. It had 
a very fine spread of 57 inches, 20 points, 
and while something of the spread was due 
to the flatness of the palms and the failure 
of the points to turn upwards, yet it was a 
nice head, and I believe the record spread 
taken out of Quebec in that year. 
We also saw at this time the trophies 
spoken of earlier belonging to Dr. Parsons. 
The moose head was about 44 inches spread, 
killed before it had become colored nicely, 
and the points were very short and blunt. 
During the evening the guides got our 
grub and tentage together ready for the start 
the next morning, which we made at 9 
o'clock. Our route took us across the re- 
mainder of the lake, passing into the mouth 
of Canasute River, where is located the 
winter hunting and trapping cabin belonging 
to the father of our guides. The country 
now begins to look like moose country. Lily 
pads line the water's edge on all sides. 
Somewhere in reading a story of the war 
written by a boy in Flanders I recall that 
he says: "Remember that with all other 
features here it is always raining." And 
now I say, remember that here it is always 
blowing, and we face a very stiff headwind, 
the progress being necessarily slow, the fact 
that we are passing up a river being our 
only protection, as the banks are lined with 
trees which afford us some respite from the 
wind. 
We come to our first portage of the day, 
a short carry, where we "bile the kettle," 
and the only thing I found in that country 
that exceeds the regularity with which the 
wind blows is the clock-like precision of tea 
time. Nothing is allowed to interfere with 
this function. A short distance and another 
portage, where I go out after partridges 
while the guides are carrying the load over, 
secure one and find a lot of fresh moose 
tracks, come across the only runway I saw 
on the trip, which turns abruptly towards 
the river, and I follow it back to the water, 
call the guide's attention to it, and he tells 
us that he snared a moose on this runway 
last winter. Some little distance above we 
come to three portages, close to each other, 
and a good deal of time is required to un- 
load and reload the canoes so many times. 
We had debated the possibility of hunting 
near the runway for one evening, and after 
we had paddled up to the end of this river 
and into the northern shores of Lake Das- 
seratt we made camp, but the ever-present 
wind had now become a gale, accompanied 
 
CARRYING THE CANOES OVER A PORTAGE