Distribute the weight carefully between the kyacks. "Heft" them again and again. The least preponderance on one side will cause a saddle to sag in that direction; that in turn will bring pressure to bear on the opposite side of the withers, and that will surely chafe to a sore. Then you are in trouble.
When you are quite sure the kyacks weigh alike, get your companion to hang one on the pack saddle, at the same time you hook the straps of the other. If you try to do it by yourself you must leave one hanging while you pick up the other, thus running a good risk of twisting the saddle.
Your top pack you will build as the occasion demands. In general, try to make it as low as possible and to get your blankets on top where the pack rope "bites." The strap connecting the kyacks is then buckled. Over all you will throw the canvas tarpaulin that you use to sleep on. Tuck it in back and front to exclude dust. It is now ready for the pack rope.
1. The Jam Hitch.—All hitches possess one thing in common—the rope passes around the horse and through the cinch hook. The first pull is to tighten that cinch. Afterward other maneuvers are attempted. Now ordinarily the packer pulls tight his cinch, and then in the further throwing of the hitch he depends on holding his slack. It is a very difficult thing to do. With the jam hitch, however, the necessity is obviated. The beauty of it is that the rope renders freely one way—the way you are pulling—but will not give a hair the other—the direction of loosening. So you may heave up the cinch as tightly as you please, then drop the rope and go on about your packing perfectly sure that nothing is going to slip back on you.
The rope passes once around the shank of the hook, and then through the jaw (see diagram). Be sure to get it around the shank and not the curve. Simplicity itself; and yet I have seen very few packers who know of it.
2. The Diamond Hitch.—I suppose the diamond in one form or another is more used than any other. Its merit is its adaptability to different shapes and sizes of package—in fact it is the only hitch good for aparejo packing—its great flattening power, and the fact that it rivets the pack to the horse's sides. If you are to learn but one hitch, this will be the best for you, although certain others, as I shall explain under their proper captions, are better adapted to certain circumstances.
The diamond hitch is also much discussed. I have heard more arguments over it than over the Japanese war or original sin.
"That thing a diamond hitch!" shrieks a son of the foothills to a son of the alkali. "Go to! Looks more like a game of cat's cradle. Now this is the real way to throw a diamond."
Certain pacifically inclined individuals have attempted to quell the trouble by a differentiation of nomenclature. Thus one can throw a number of diamond hitches, provided one is catholically minded—such as the "Colorado diamond," the "Arizona diamond," and others. The attempt at peace has failed.
"Oh, yes," says the son of the alkali as he watches the attempts of the son of the foothills. "That's the Colorado diamond," as one would say that is a paste jewel.
The joke of it is that the results are about the same. Most of the variation consists in the manner of throwing. It is as though the discussion were whether the trigger should be pulled with the fore, middle, or both fingers. After all, the bullet would go anyway.
I describe here the single diamond, as thrown in the Sierra Nevadas, and the double diamond as used by government freight packers in many parts of the Rockies. The former is a handy one-man hitch. The latter can be used by one man, but is easier with two.
Throw the pack cinch (a) over the top of the pack, retaining the loose end of the rope. If your horse is bad, reach under him with a stick to draw the cinch within reach of your hand until you hold it and the loose end both on the same side of the animal. Hook it through the hook (a, Fig. II) and bring up along the pack. Thrust the bight (a, Fig. III) of the loose rope under the rope (b); the back over and again under to form a loop. The points (c-c) at which the loose rope goes around the pack rope can be made wide apart or close together, according to the size of the diamond required (Fig. V). With a soft top-pack requiring flattening, the diamond should be large; with heavy side pack, smaller.
Now go around to the other side of the animal. Pass the loose end (d, Fig. III) back, under the alforjas, forward and through the loop from below as shown by the arrows of direction in Fig. IV.
You are now ready to begin tightening. First pull your cinch tight by means of what was the loose end (b) in Fig. II. Place one foot against the animal and heave, good and plenty. Take up the slack by running over both ends of the loop (c-c Fig. III). When you have done this, go around the other side. There take up the slack on b-b Fig. IV. With all there is in you pull the loose end (c, Fig. IV) in the direction of the horse's body, toward his head. Brace your foot against the kyacks. It will sag the whole hitch toward the front of the pack, but don't mind that: the defect will be remedied in a moment.
Next, still holding the slack (Fig. V), carry the loose end around the bottom of the alforjas and under the original main pack rope (c). Now pull again along the direction of the horse's body, but this time toward his tail. The strain will bend the pack rope (c), heretofore straight across, back to form the diamond. It will likewise drag back to its original position amidships in the pack the entire hitch, which, you will remember, was drawn too far forward by your previous pull toward the horse's head. Thus the last pull tightens the entire pack, clamps it down, secures it immovably, which is the main recommendation and beautiful feature of the diamond hitch.
The double diamond is a much more complicated affair. Begin by throwing the cinch under, not over the horse. Let it lie there. Lay the end of the rope (a) lengthwise of the horse across one side the top of the pack (Fig. 1). Experience will teach you just how big to leave loop (b). Throw loop (b) over top of pack (Fig. 2). Reverse loop a (Fig. 2) by turning it from left to right (Fig. 3). Pass loop (a) around front and back of kyack, and end of rope d over rope c, and under rope d. Pass around the horse and hook the cinch hook in loop (e).
This forms another loop (a, Fig. 4), which must be extended to the proper size and passed around the kyack on the other side (Fig. 5). Now tighten the cinch, pull up the slack, giving strong heaves where the hitch pulls forward or back along the left of the horse, ending with a last tightener at the end (b, Fig. 5). The end is then carried back under the kyack and fastened.
3. The Square Hitch is easily and quickly thrown, and is a very good fair-weather lash. In conjunction with half hitches, as later explained, it makes a good hitch for a bucking horse. For a very bulky pack it is excellent in that it binds in so many places. It is thrown as follows:
Throw the cinch hook over the pack, and cinch tight with the jam hitch before described. Lead the end across the horse, around the back of kyack on the other side, underneath it, and up over at a. The end here passes beneath at b. You will find that you can, when you cinch up at first, throw a loose loop over the pack comprising the bight bed, so as to leave your loose end at d. Then place the loop bed around the kyack. A moment's study of the diagram will show you what I mean, and will also convince you that much is gained by not having to pass rope (a) underneath at b. Now pull hard on loose end at d, taking care to exert your power lengthwise of the horse. Pass the line under the alforjas toward the rear, up over the pack and under the original rope at c. Pull on the loose end, this time exerting the power toward the rear. You cannot put too much strength into the three tightening pulls: (1) in cinching through the cinch hook; (2) the pull forward; (3) the pull back. On them depends the stability of your pack. Double back the loose end and fasten it. This is a very quick hitch.
4. The Bucking Hitch is good to tie things down on a bad horse, but it is otherwise useless to take so much trouble.
Pass the pack rope around the kyacks on one side, and over itself. This forms a half hitch, below which hangs the cinch. Lead the pack rope over the top of the pack, around the other kyack, and through to form another half hitch. Cinch up, and throw either the single diamond or the square hitch. The combination will clamp the kyacks as firmly as anything can.
5. The Miner's Hitch.—This hitch is very much on the same principle, but is valuable when you happen to be provided with only a short rope, or a cinch with two rings, instead of a ring and a hook.
Take your rope—with the cinch unattached—by the middle and throw it across the pack. Make a half hitch over either kyack. These half hitches, instead of running around the sides of the kyacks, as in the last hitch, should run around the top, bottom, and ends (see diagram). Thrust bight (b) through cinch ring, and end (a) through the bight. Do the same thing on the other side. Make fast end a at c, and end d at e, cinching up strongly on the bights that come through the cinch rings.
THE LONE PACKER HITCH.
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The Lone Packer Hitch.
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6. The Lone Packer or Basco Hitch.—This is a valuable hitch when the kyacks are heavy or knobby, because the last pull lifts them away from the horse's sides. It requires at least forty feet of rope. I use it a great deal.
Cinch up with the jam hitch as usual. Throw the end of the rope across the horse, under the forward end of the kyack on the far side, beneath it and up over the rear end of the kyack. The rope in all other hitches binds against the bottom of the kyacks; but in this it should pass between the kyack and the horse's side (Fig. 1). Now bring a bight in loose end (a) forward over rope (c), and thrust it through under rope (c) from front to back (Fig. 2). Be sure to get this right. Hold bight (b) with left hand where it is, and with the other slide end (a) down along rope (c) until beneath the kyacks (Fig. 3). Seize rope at d and pull hard directly back; then pull cinchwise on a. The first pull tightens the pack; the second lifts the kyacks. Carry end (a) across the pack and repeat on the other side. Fasten finally anywhere on top. Fig. 4 shows one side completed, with rope thrown across ready for the other side. Fig. 5 is a view from above of the hitch, completed except for the fastening of end (a).
In case you have eggs or glassware to pack, spread your tarp on the horse twice as long as usual. Cinch up with the jam hitch, lay your eggs, etc., atop the rope; fold back the canvas to cover the whole, and then throw the lone packer, placing one rope each side the package (Figs. 6 and 7).
7. The Squaw Hitch.—Often it may happen that you find yourself possessed of a rope and a horse, but nothing else. It is quite possible to pack your equipment with only these simple auxiliaries.
Lay your tarp on the ground fully spread. On half of it pack your effects, striving always to keep them as flat and smooth as possible. Fold the other half of the canvas to cover the pack. Lay this thick mattress-like affair across the horse's bare back, and proceed to throw the squaw hitch as follows:
Throw a double bight across the top of the pack (Fig. 1). Pass end a under the horse and through loop c; and end b under the horse and through loop (d). Take both a and b directly back under the horse again, in the opposite direction, of course, and pass both through loop (e). Now cinch up on the two ends and fasten.
8. Sling No. 1.—When you possess no kyacks, but have some sort of pack saddle, it is necessary to improvise a sling.
Fasten the middle of your rope by means of two half hitches to the front of the pack saddle (Fig. 1). Throw the ends (b, b) crossed as shown in Fig. 2. Place the box or sack in bight (a), passing the rope around the outside and the ends, as in Fig. 3. The end of the sack should be just even with the front of the pack saddle. If you bring it too far forward the front of the sling will sag. Pass the end (b) underneath the sack or burden, across its middle, and over the top of the saddle. When the other side is similarly laden, the ends (b, b) may be tied together at the top; or if they are long enough, may be fastened at c (Fig. 4).
9. Sling No. 2.—Another sling is sometimes handy for long bundles, and is made as follows:
Fasten the rope by the middle as explained in the last. Fasten ends (b, b) to the rear horn or to each other (see diagram). Leave the bights of the rope (a, a) of sufficient length so they can be looped around the burden and over the horns. This sling is useful only on a regular pack saddle, while the other really does not need the rear pommel at all, as the ropes can be crossed without it.
10. The Saddle Hitch.—There remains now the possibility, or let us hope probability, that you may some day wish to pack a deer on your riding saddle, or perhaps bring in a sack of grain or some such matter.
Throw the rope across the seat of the saddle, leaving long ends on both sides. Lay your deer aboard, crosswise. Thrust a bight (a) of one end through your cinch ring, and pass the loop thus formed around the deer's neck (Fig. 1). Repeat on the other side, bringing the loop there about his haunch. Cinch up the two ends of the rope, and tie them on top.
The great point in throwing any hitch is to keep the rope taut. To do this, pay no attention to your free end, but clamp down firmly the fast end with your left hand until the right has made the next turn. Remember this; it is important. The least slip back of the slack you have gained is going to loosen that pack by ever so little; and then you can rely on the swing and knocks of the day's journey to do the rest. The horse rubs under a limb or against a big rock; the loosened rope scrapes off the top of the pack; something flops or rattles or falls—immediately that cayuse arches his back, lowers his head, and begins to buck. It is marvelous to what height the bowed back will send small articles catapult-wise into the air. First go the tarpaulin and blankets; then the duffle bags; then one by one the contents of the alforjas; finally, after they have been sufficiently lightened, the alforjas themselves in an abandoned parabola of debauched delight. In the meantime that horse, and all the others, has been running frantically all over the rough mountains, through the rocks, ravines, brush and forest trees. You have ridden recklessly trying to round them up, sweating, swearing, praying to the Red Gods that none of those indispensable animals is going to get lame in this insane hippodrome. Finally between you, you have succeeded in collecting and tying to trees all the culprits. Then you have to trail inch by inch along the track of the cyclone, picking up from where they have fallen, rolled, or been trampled, the contents of that pack down to the smallest. It will take you the rest of the day; and then you'll miss some. Oh, it pays to get your hitch on snug!
11. The Tie Hitch.—The hitches described are all I have ever had occasion to use, and will probably carry you through any emergencies that may be likely to arise. But perhaps many times during the day you are likely to want to stop the train for the purpose of some adjustments. Therefore you will attach your lead ropes in a manner easily to be thrown loose. Thrust the bight (a) of the lead rope beneath any part of the pack rope (b, b). Double back the bight (d) of the loose end (c) through the loop (a) thus formed. Tighten the knot by pulling tight on loop d. A sharp pull on c will free the entire lead rope.
CHAPTER XI
HORSES, MULES, BURROS
Burros are an aggravation; and yet in some circumstances they are hard to beat. They are unbelievably slow, and unbelievably stubborn. When they get tired—or think they do—they stop, and urging merely confirms their decision to rest. You cannot hurry them. They hate water, and it is sometimes next to impossible to force them into a deep or swift stream. They are camp thieves, and will eat anything left within their reach. Still, they can live on sage-bush, go incredible periods without drinking, make their way through country impassible to any other hoofed animals excepting goats and sheep. Certain kinds of desert travel is impossible without them, and some sorts of high rough mountaineering is practicable only with their aid. At times you will be driven to the use of them. In such an emergency gird your soul with patience, and try to buy big ones.
Pack mules are almost impossible to get, and are generally very high priced. A good pack mule does not mean any old mule that comes along. The animal should be rather small, chunkily built, gentle as to the heels and teeth, accustomed to carrying and taking care of a pack, trained to follow the saddle horses, and not inclined to stray from camp. Such perfection costs anywhere from seventy-five to one hundred and fifty dollars. It is worth the price to one who does much packing; but as perfectly adequate pack horses can be had for from twenty to forty dollars, and are easy to find, you will in all likelihood choose them.
Now I know perfectly well that I can tell you nothing about choosing a horse. If you are a New Englander you will know all about the trade; if you are a New Yorker, you could give me points on every horse in the ring; if you are Middle West, you probably have read or worked or traded or raised more horses than I will ever ride. But in selecting a mountain horse, his mere points as a physical specimen are often little in his favor, while glaring defects may concern his usefulness hardly at all.
Never mind at first how the horse offered for your inspection looks. Examine him for blemishes later. You must first discover if he is sure-footed and courageous. An eastern horse would not last five minutes on a western trail. A western horse, no matter how accustomed to mountain work, is worse than useless if subject to ordinary horse-panics at suddenly rustling leaves, unexpected black stubs, and the like. He must attend to his footing, keep his eyes for the trail, and be wise. Next you must inquire if this steadiness carries over into other things. He must stand when left without hitching, and must be easy to catch. Often you will have to dismount for the purpose of clearing trail, helping the pack train, tightening ropes, or reconnoitering. At such junctures iron hitching posts are not always at hand. Nothing is more aggravating than the necessity of searching everywhere for a place to tie, or worse, to be forced to chase down and coax quiet a horse that has promptly decamped when left for a moment to himself. Nor does it add to your joy to get up at four for the purpose of making an early start, only to spend the extra hour filched from sleep in an attempt to catch some snorting fool horse.
The picture I have sketched looks to you somewhat like what is known as an "old cow," doesn't it? But in reality good horses of the quality named are not difficult to find. Equine intelligence is of a higher grade West than East, mainly because a western horse is all his life thrown on his own resources. It is perfectly possible to find a horse both handsome and spirited, which will nevertheless permit himself to be directly approached in pasture, and will stand until further orders on the trail.
But the point is that it is much better, oh, infinitely! to get an "old cow" than a horse without these qualities. The "old cow" will carry you, and will be there when wanted. That is the main thing in the mountains. While as for the other horse, no matter how well bred he is, how spirited, how well gaited, how handsome, how appealing in every way to a horseman's eye—he will be worse than no horse if you have to keep your hands on him, if he must be picketed at night, if he is likely to shy on a bad trail, if he may refuse to tackle a rough place or to swim a river.
Of course it is nice to ride a good-looking horse; but in the mountains most emphatically "handsome is what handsome does." The horses I now own are fine animals and fine mountain ponies; but some of the best I have ever ridden, a horseman would not look at twice. On a time, being under the absolute necessity of getting a pack quickly, I purchased a bay that I promptly named Methuselah. He was some sixteen years old, badly stove forward by hard riding, and not much of a horse anyway. For three months he carried a pack. Then one day I threw a saddle on him to go a short distance on some little errand. Methuselah, overjoyed, did his best. The old horse was one of the best mountain saddlers in the outfit. He climbed surely and well; he used his head in negotiating bad places; would stay where he was put. The fact that he was not sound was utterly unimportant, for not once in a week was he required to go faster than a walk.
On the other hand I once owned a Bill-horse, mountain-bred and raised. He was a beautiful beast, proud, high-stepping—one you would be glad to be seen on. He would have been worth considerable money, and would have afforded much solid satisfaction if I had wanted him for cow work, or pleasure riding in the lower country. But it was absolutely impossible to catch him, even hobbled, without a corral. One day I saw him leap from a stand and with hobbles over a fence and feed trough. So I traded him for another, not near so much of a horse, as a horse, but worth two dozen Bill-horses.
One other thing you must notice, and that is whether or not the beast is gun shy. A great many stampede wildly at the report of firearms. I once owned a pack horse named Sam Fat, on which for some time I congratulated myself. He was a heavy animal, and could carry a tremendous load; and yet he was sure-footed and handled himself well on rough country. He was gentle and friendly. He took excellent care of his pack, and he followed perfectly. No one needed to ride behind him to keep Sam Fat coming. I used to turn him loose when I started, and pay no more attention to him until I stopped. No matter how rich the feed through which we passed, Sam Fat was always on hand when the halt was called. And, very important point, he was a good rustler—he kept fat and sleek on poor food where other horses gaunted. Altogether Sam Fat was a find. Then one day one of the party shot off a harmless little twenty-two caliber popgun. Sam Fat went crazy. He squatted flat, uttered a terrified squeal, and departed through the woods, banging his pack against trees and hanging limbs. We chased him a mile, and finally brought him back, but all the rest of the day he was panicky. I tried to get him accustomed to shooting by tying him near our target practice, but it was no use. Finally, though reluctantly, I sold him.
So when the natives bring in their horses for your selection blind your eyes to the question of looks and points until you have divided the offering into two parts—those that are sure-footed, courageous, gentle, tractable, easy to catch, good grub rustlers, and if pack horses, those that will follow and will take care of their packs, and those that lack one or more of these qualifications. Discard the second group. Then if the first group contains nothing but blemished or homely horses, make the best of it, perfectly sure that the others might as well not exist.
In general, a horse just from pasture should have a big belly. A small-bellied horse will prove to be a poor feeder, and will probably weaken down on a long hike. The best horse stands from fourteen hands to fourteen two, and is chunkily built. There are exceptions, both ways, to this rule. A pack horse is better with low withers on account of the possibility of sore backs. Avoid a horse whose ears hang sidewise from his head; he is apt to be stubborn. As for the rest, horse sense is the same everywhere.
A pack horse can carry two hundred pounds—not more. Of course more can be piled on him, and he will stand up under it, but on a long trip he will deteriorate. Greater weights are carried only in text books, in camp-fire lies, and where a regular pack route permits of grain feeding. A good animal, with care, will take two hundred successfully enough, but I personally always pack much lighter. Feed costs nothing, so it is every bit as cheap to take three horses as two. The only expense is the slight bother of packing an extra animal. In return you can travel farther and more steadily, the chances of sore backs are minimized, your animals keep fat and strong, and in case one meets with an accident, you can still save all your effects on the other. For the last three years I have made it a practice to pack only about a hundred to a hundred and twenty-five pounds when off for a very long trip. My animals have always come out fat and hearty, sometimes in marked contrast to those of my companions, and I have not had a single case of sore back.
The latter are best treated by Bickmore's Gall Cure. Its use does not interfere in the least with packing; and I have never seen a case it did not cure inside ten days or two weeks if applied at the beginning of the trouble.
In the mountains and on grass-feed twenty miles a day is big travel. If you push more than that you are living beyond your income. It is much better, if you are moving every day, to confine yourself to jaunts of from twelve to fifteen miles on an average. Then if necessity arises, you have something to fall back on, and are able to make a forced march.
The distance may seem very short to you if you have never traveled in the mountains; but as a matter of fact you will probably find it quite sufficient, both in length of time and in variety of scenery. To cover it you will travel steadily for from six to eight hours; and in the diversity of country will be interested every step of the way. Indeed so varied will be the details that it will probably be difficult to believe you have made so small a mileage, until you stop to reflect that, climbing and resting, no horse can go faster than two or two and one-half miles an hour.
On the desert or the plains the length of your journey must depend entirely on the sort of feed you can get. Thirty miles a day for a long period is all a fed-horse can do, while twenty is plenty enough for an animal depending on his own foraging. Longer rides are not to be considered in the course of regular travel. I once did one hundred and eighty miles in two days—and then took a rest.
In the mountains you must keep in mind that a horse must both eat and rest; and that he will not graze when frost is on the meadows. Many otherwise skillful mountaineers ride until nearly dark, and are up and off soon after daylight. They wonder why their horses lose flesh and strength. The truth is the poor beasts must compress their twenty-four hours of sustenance into the short noon stop, and the shorter evening before the frost falls. It is often much wiser to get a very early start, to travel until the middle of the afternoon, and then to go into camp. Whatever inconvenience and discomfort you may suffer is more than made up for by the opportunities to hunt, fish, or cook afforded by the early stop; and the time you imagine you lose is regained in the long run by the regularity of your days' journeys.
On the desert or the plains where it is hot, to the contrary, you will have better luck by traveling early and late. Desert journeying is uncomfortable anyway, but has its compensations. We ordinarily get under way by three in the morning; keep going until nine; start about six again—after supper—and travel until nine of the evening. Thus we take advantage of whatever coolness is possible, and see the rising and the falling of the day, which is the most wonderful and beautiful of the desert's gifts.
Going up steep hills in high altitudes you must breathe your horse every fifty feet or so. It need not be a long rest. Merely rein him in for eight or ten seconds. Do the same thing always before entering the negotiation of a bad place in the trail. Do this, no matter how fresh and eager your animal may seem. Often it spells the difference between a stumble and a good clean climb. An experienced pack horse will take these rests on his own initiative, stopping and also starting again with the regularity of clockwork.
It does not hurt a horse to sweat, but if ever he begins to drip heavily, and to tremble in the legs, it is getting time to hunt the shade for a rest. I realize that such minor points as these may be perfectly well known to every one likely to read this book, and yet I have seen so many cases of ignorance of them on the trail that I risk their inclusion here.
Every hour or so loosen the cinches of your saddle horse and raise the saddle and blankets an inch or so to permit a current of air to pass through. Steaming makes the back tender. When you unsaddle him or the pack animals, if they are very hot, leave the blankets across them for a few moments. A hot sun shining on a sweaty back causes small pimples, which may develop into sores. It is better to bathe with cold water the backs of green horses; but such a trouble is not necessary after they are hardened.
Two more things I will mention, though strictly speaking, they do not fall in the province of equipment. When you pick up a horse's hind foot, face to the rear, put the hand nearest the horse firmly against his flank, and use the other to raise the hoof. Then if he tries to kick, you can hold him off sufficiently to get out of the way. Indeed the very force of his movement toward you will thrust against the hand on his flank and tend to throw you to one side.
If you are called upon to mount a bad horse, seize the check piece of his bridle in your left hand and twist his head sharply toward you. At the same time grasp the pommel in your right hand, thrust your foot in the stirrup and swing aboard. Never get on any western horse as an easterner mounts—left hand on pommel and right hand on cantle. If a horse plunges forward to buck while you are in this position, you will inevitably land back of the saddle. Then he has a fine leverage to throw you about forty feet. A bad pack horse you can handle by blindfolding. Anchor things for a storm, take off the bandage, and stand one side.
CHAPTER XII
CANOES
Practicable canoes are made of birch bark stretched over light frames; of cedar; of basswood; of canvas, and of canvas cover over stiff frames.
The birch bark canoe has several unassailable advantages. It is light; it carries a greater weight in proportion to its length than any other; it is very easily mended. On the other hand it is not nearly so fast as a wooden canoe of sweeter lines; does not bear transportation so well; is more easily punctured; and does not handle so readily in a heavy wind. These advantages and disadvantages, as you can see, balance against one another. If it tends to veer in a heavy wind more than the wooden canoe, it is lighter on portage. If more fragile, it is very easily mended. If it is not quite so fast, it carries more duffle. Altogether, it is a very satisfactory all-around craft in which I have paddled many hundreds of miles, and with which I have never been seriously dissatisfied. If I were to repeat some long explorations in the absolute wilds of Canada I should choose a birch canoe, if only for the reason that no matter how badly I might smash it, the materials are always at hand for repairs. A strip of bark from the nearest birch tree; a wad of gum from the next spruce; some spruce roots; a little lard and a knife will mend a canoe stove in utterly.
In selecting a birch bark canoe the most important thing to look after is to see that the bottom is all one piece without projecting knots or mended cracks. Many canoes have bottoms made of two pieces. These when grounded almost invariably spring a leak at the seam, for the simple reason that it takes very little to scrape off the slightly projecting gum. On the other hand, a bottom of one good piece of bark will stand an extraordinary amount of raking and bumping without being any the worse. If in addition you can get hold of one made of the winter cut of bark, the outside shell will be as good as possible. Try to purchase a new canoe. Should this be impossible, look well to the watap, or roots, used in the sewing, that they are not frayed or burst. The frames should lie so close together as fairly to touch. Such a canoe, "two fathoms," will carry two men and four hundred pounds besides. It will weigh about fifty to seventy pounds, and should cost new from six to eight dollars.