On the trunk
they then inscribe the name of the stranger, and he is supposed
to give each of the men a plug of tobacco and a drink of whiskey.
Thus they celebrate the man and his monument, and ever afterwards
it is pointed out as "So-and-so's lob-stick."
It was two months before my men judged that I was entitled to a
lob-stick. We were then on Great Slave Lake where the timber was
small, but the best they could get on a small island was chosen
and trimmed into a monument. They were disappointed however, to
find that I would by no means give whiskey to natives, and my treat
had to take a wholly different form.
Grand Rapids, with its multiplicity of perfectly round pot-hole
boulders, was passed in four days, and then, again in company with
the boats, we entered the real canyon of the river.
Down Athabaska's boiling flood
Of seething, leaping, coiling mud.
CHAPTER III
HUMAN NATURE ON THE RIVER
Sunday morning, 26th of May, there was something like a strike
among the sixty half-breeds and Indians that composed the crews.
They were strict Sabbatarians (when it suited them); they believed
that they should do no work, but give up the day to gambling and
drinking. Old John, the chief pilot, wished to take advantage of the
fine flood on the changing river, and drift down at least to the
head of the Boiler Rapids, twenty miles away, The breeds maintained,
with many white swear words, for lack of strong talk in Indian, that
they never yet knew Sunday work to end in anything but disaster,
and they sullenly scattered among the trees, produced their cards,
and proceeded to gamble away their property, next year's pay,
clothes, families, anything, and otherwise show their respect for
the Lord's Day and defiance of old John MacDonald. John made no
reply to their arguments; he merely boarded the cook's boat, and
pushed off into the swift stream with the cooks and all the grub.
In five minutes the strikers were on the twelve big boats doing
their best to live up to orders. John said nothing, and grinned at
me only with his eyes.
The breeds took their defeat in good part after the first minute,
and their commander rose higher in their respect.
At noon we camped above the Boiler Rapids. In the evening I climbed
the 400- or 500-foot hill behind camp and sketched the canyon
looking northward. The spring birds were now beginning to arrive,
but were said to be a month late this year. The ground was everywhere
marked with moose sign; prospects, were brightening.
The mania for killing that is seen in many white men is evidently
a relic of savagery, for all of these Indians and half-breeds
are full of it. Each carries a rifle, and every living thing that
appears on the banks or on the water is fusilladed with Winchesters
until it is dead or out of sight. This explains why we see so
little from the scows. One should be at least a day ahead of them
to meet with wild life on the river.
This morning two Bears appeared on the high bank - and there was the
usual uproar and fusillading; so far as could be learned without
any effect, except the expenditure of thirty or forty cartridges
at five cents each.
On the 27th we came to the Cascade Rapids. The first or Little
Cascade has about two feet fall, the second or Grand Cascade, a
mile farther, is about a six foot sheer drop. These are considered
very difficult to run, and the manner of doing it changes with
every change in season or water level.
We therefore went through an important ceremony, always carried
out in the same way. All 13 boats were beached, the 13 pilots went
ahead on the bank to study the problem, they decided on the one
safe place and manner, then returned, and each of the 13 boats was
run over in 13 different places and manners. They always do this.
You are supposed to have run the Cascades successfully if you cross
them alive, but to have failed if you drown.. In this case all were
successful.
Below the Cascades I had a sample of Indian gratitude that set me
thinking. My success with John MacDonald and others had added the
whole community to my medical practice, for those who were not
sick thought they were. I cheerfully did my best for all, and was
supposed to be persona grata. Just below the Cascade Rapids was
a famous sucker pool, and after we had camped three Indians came,
saying that the pool was full of suckers - would I lend them my
canoe to get some?
Away they went, and from afar I was horrified to see them clubbing
the fish with my beautiful thin-bladed maple paddles. They returned
with a boat load of 3- and 4-pound Suckers (Catostomus) and 2
paddles broken. Each of their friends came and received one or two
fine fish, for there were plenty. I, presumably part owner of the
catch, since I owned the boat, selected one small one for myself,
whereupon the Indian insolently demanded 25 cents for it; and
these were the men I had been freely doctoring for two weeks! Not
to speak of the loaned canoe and broken paddles! Then did I say a
few things to all and sundry - stinging, biting things, ungainsayable
and forcible things - and took possession of all the fish that were
left, so the Indians slunk off in sullen silence.
Gratitude seems an unknown feeling among these folk; you may give
presents and help and feed them all you like, the moment you want
a slight favour of them they demand the uttermost cent.
