Part 16 (1/2)
”Yes, that's true,” acknowledged the trader, ”the packeteers do make great efforts to break records between posts. But, though they may have succeeded in cutting down the time, their achievement is never mentioned on the way-bill, nor does it affect the time allowed for the completion of the trip; for, though the mail be brought in ahead of time, it is never handed over to the relay until the appointed hour has struck. Otherwise, the whole system would be thrown out of gear.
Exceptionally fast runs are not shown upon the way-bills, because they would eventually affect the average time allowed for the trip; and in stormy weather that would be hard upon the packeteers. The time allowed for the transmission of a packet is calculated on a ten-years'
average. No excuse for delay, except death, is tolerated. At each post on certain fixed dates relays of men and dogs are kept in readiness to forward the mail without delay. A through way-bill accompanies every packet from point of departure to point of delivery.
At each post along the route the time of arrival and the time of departure of the mail must be entered upon the way-bill, as well as the names of the packeteers and of the officers in charge.”
”I understand that packets contain not only the despatches of the Company, but the private mail of the employees, that of missionaries of all denominations, that of chance 'explorers' or travellers, and even that of opposition fur-traders. Is that a fact?”
”Yes, sir, and moreover, no charge is made by the Company.”
”Do the Company's officers experience much trouble in procuring men to act as packeteers?”
”Oh, no; none whatever. As a rule, when men enter the Company's service, they stipulate that they shall be given a place on the packet; for that affords them an opportunity to pay a visit to the next post, and to join in the dance which is always held on the arrival of the mail. Trippers consider themselves greatly honoured on being given charge of a packet; for it means that they are held to be trustworthy, and thoroughly familiar with the topography of the district.”
”Before the advent of the railroad and the steamboat, which was the longest of the Company's packet routes?”
”By all odds that of the Yukon packet. It made the journey from Montreal to Fort Yukon, which was then situated at the junction of the Porcupine and Yukon rivers. It was routed by way of the Ottawa River, Lake Huron, Lake Superior, Lake of the Woods, Lake Winnipeg, the Athabasca River, the Slave River, and the Mackenzie River. It was forwarded in summer by canoe, in winter by dog-train, for the enormous distance of four thousand five hundred miles. And let me tell you, it is to-day, as it was two hundred years ago, the pride of the Company's people that not one packet was ever lost beyond recovery. Packeteers have been drowned, frozen, burned, shot, smothered, and even eaten; but the packet has always reached its destination somehow.”
BEAR HOLDS UP MAIL
A sudden burst of laughter from the men at a neighbouring fire attracted the attention of Chief Factor Thompson, and glancing over, he remarked to me:
”Telling yarns, eh! Let's go over and listen.”
Twelve or fifteen men were crowded round that fire--including Factor Mackenzie, the Rev. Mr. Wilson, Father Jois, and Oo-koo-hoo--and they were now coaxing ”Old Billy Bra.s.s” to tell the next story. He was a wiry little white man of about sixty who had seen much service in the Hudson's Bay Company. He hesitated. They clamoured again, and he began:
”But talkin' 'bout bears reminds me of a little affair I once had on the Peace River,” said the old man, glancing slyly from the corner of his eye to see what effect his statement made upon his campfire companions. Billy was sitting cross-legged upon his caribou robe; and, as he turned the browning bannocks before the fire, he continued:
”Well, as I was sayin', me an' Old-pot-head's son once had a go with a great big black bear away up on the Peace River. But, don't you forget it, Billy Bra.s.s didn't lose the packet.”
”Come, Billy, tell us all about it,” coaxed the Chief Factor, well knowing that if he were once started there would be on his part little need of urging in order to extract from the old tripper all he knew, or could invent to suit the occasion.
”Well, gentlemen, if you ain't too sleepy, an' if some o' you boys'll watch the bannock, I don't mind tellin',” replied Billy as he leaned toward the fire, picked up a red-hot coal, and palmed it into his pipe.
”But I can't give a funny bear story, the same as you've been tellin', because all my experiences with bears have been mighty serious.
However, I'll try and tell you 'bout me an Old-pot-head's son; an' to my mind it's the most serious of 'em all.
”As I was sayin', we was in charge of the Peace River packet; an' if it hadn't been for the charm Father La Mille blessed for me at Fort Good Hope, I don't know 's I'd be here to tell about it.
”Anyway, me an' Old-pot-head's son was carryin' the packet and headin'
for Hudson's Hope. It was the fall packet, an'--as winter was just about due--we was hustlin' 'long for all we was worth, an' jabbin'
holes in the river with our paddles as fast as we could, in fear o' the freeze up.
”As bad lack would have it, that very night the ice overtook us, an' we had to leave the canoe ash.o.r.e an' finish the voyage afoot. Lucky for us, we was only about three-days' travel from the Fort, so we leaves our axe an' whatever we don't particular need with the canoe.
”Mile after mile we walks along the river bank; an' as we don't have no extra moccasins, our bare skin was soon upon the sand. What with havin' our duds torn by bushes, an' our fallin' in the mud once or twice, and several times a-wadin' creeks, we was a pretty sight when we stops to camp that night. When the sun went down, we was so tired that we just stopped dead in our tracks. We had been packin' our blankets, our grub, an' cookin' gear to say nothin' o' the packet; so, of course, we didn't give much thought to the campin' ground. But after supper I looks round an' sees that we'd made our fire down in a little hollow, an' that the place was bare o' trees 'ception three that stood in a row 'bout four lengths of a three-fathom canoe from our fire. The middle one was a birch with a long bare trunk, an' on each side stood a pine.
Now, I want you gentlemen to pay perticler 'tention to just how they stood; for them three trees is goin' to do a mighty lot o' figgerin' in this here story.
”As I was sayin', there was two pines with a birch in between, an' all standin' in a row, with the upper branches o' pines runnin' square in among the branches o' the birch. 'Bout half ways between the birch and the east pine, but a trifle off the line, was a pool o' water. Before I turns in for the night, I takes the packet an' sticks it on the end of a long pole, an' shoves it up against the birch tree, for fear o'
the fire spreadin' an' burnin' up the mail.
”Me an' Old-pot-head's son turns in an' sleeps as sound as any trippers could. Some time in the night I wakes up with a mighty start that almost busts me heart. Somethin' was maulin' me. So, with me head still under the blanket, for I da.s.sn't peep out, I sings out to the Injun an' asks him what in creation he's kickin' me for; an' if he couldn't wake me without killin' me. Old-pot-head's son yells back that he hasn't touched me. Then you bet I was scared; for the thing hauls off agen an' gives me a clout that knocks the wind plum' out o'