George Was A Famous Hunter And Fisher, And
A "Good Man" To Travel.
I marked his broad shoulders and sinewy,
active form with joy, especially in view of his reputation.
In one
respect he was different from all other half-breeds that I ever
knew - he always gave a straight answer. Ask an ordinary half-breed,
or western white man, indeed, how far it is to such a point, his
reply commonly is, "Oh, not so awful far," or "It is quite a piece,"
or "It aint such a hell of a ways," conveying to the stranger no
shadow of idea whether it is a hundred yards, a mile, or a week's
travel. Again and again when Sanderson was asked how far it was to
a given place, he would pause and say, "Three miles and a half,"
or "Little more than eight miles," as the case might be. The usual
half-breed when asked if we could make such a point by noon would
say "Maybe. I don't know. It is quite a piece." Sanderson would
say, "Yes," or "No, not by two miles," according to circumstances;
and his information was always correct; he knew the river "like a
book."
On the afternoon of September 27 we left "Dogtown" with Sanderson
in Weeso's place and began our upward journey. George proved as
good as his reputation. The way that active fellow would stride
along the shore, over logs and brush, around fallen trees, hauling
the canoe against stream some three or four miles an hour was
perfectly fine; and each night my heart was glad and sang the old
refrain, "A day's march nearer home."
The toil of this tracking is second only to that of portageing.
The men usually relieve each other every 30 minutes.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 221 of 252
Words from 58734 to 59030
of 67135
