ponding to the late October and early November of the white man,
that the trapper sets out through the illimitable stretches of the
forest land and waste prairie south of Hudson Bay, between Labrador and
the Upper Missouri.
His birch canoe has been made during the summer. Now, splits and seams,
where the bark crinkles at the gunwale, must be filled with rosin and
pitch. A light sled, with only runners and cross frame, is made to haul
the canoe over still water, where the ice first forms. Sled, provisions,
blanket, and fish-net are put in the canoe, not forgetting the most
important part of his kit--the trapper's tools. Whether he hunts from
point to point all winter, travelling light and taking nothing but
absolute necessaries, or builds a central lodge, where he leaves full
store and radiates out to the hunting-grounds, at least four things must
be in his tool-bag: a woodman's axe; a gimlet to bore holes in his
snow-shoe frame; a crooked knife--not the sheathed dagger of fiction,
but a blade crooked hook-shape, somewhat like a farrier's knife, at one
end--to smooth without splintering, as a carpenter's plane; and a small
chisel to use on the snow-shoe frames and wooden contrivances that
stretch the pelts.
If accompanied by a boy, who carries half the pack, the hunter may take
more tools; but the old trapper prefers to travel light. Fire-arms,
ammunition, a common hunting-knife, steel-traps, a cotton-factory tepee,
a large sheet of canvas, locally known as _abuckwan_, for a shed tent,
complete the trapper's equipment. His dog is not part of the equipment:
it is fellow-hunter and companion.
From the moose must come the heavy filling for the snow-shoes; but the
snow-shoes will not be needed for a month, and there is no haste about
shooting an unfound moose while mink and musk-rat and otter and beaver
are waiting to be trapped. With the dog showing his wisdom by sitting
motionless as an Indian bowman, the trapper steps into his canoe and
pushes out.
Eye and ear alert for sign of game or feeding-place, where traps would
be effective, the man paddles silently on. If he travels after
nightfall, the chances are his craft will steal unawares close to a
black head above a swimming body. With both wind and current meeting the
canoe, no suspicion of his presence catches the scent of the sharp-nosed
swimmer. Otter or beaver, it is shot from the canoe. With a leap over
bow or stern--over his master's shoulder if necessary, b
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