Part 2

By the end of October, Hendry had left the plains and was in a rolling, wooded land northwest of the North Saskatchewan. Here, with occasional moves as the hunting shifted, the Indians wintered: his journal says, "eight hundred and ten miles west of York," moving back and forward north and south of the river. Eight hundred and ten miles would bring Hendry in the region between the modern Edmonton and Battleford. It is to Hendry's credit that he remained on good terms with the Assiniboines. If he had been a weakling, he would easily have become the butt of the children who infested the tents like imps, but he hunted with the hunters, trapped with the trappers, and could outmarch the best of them.

When he met Indians hunting for the French forts, with true trader instinct he bribed them with gifts to bring their furs down to Hudson Bay. Almost the entire winter camp moved from bend to bend or branch to branch of the North Saskatchewan, heading gradually eastward. Towards spring, different tribes joined the Assiniboines to go down to York. Among these were "green scalps" and many women captives from those Blackfeet Indians Hendry had met. Each night the scalps hung like flags from the tent poles. The captives were given around camp as presents. One hears much twaddle of the red man's noble state before he was contaminated by the white man. Hendry saw these tribes of the Far West before they had met any white men but himself, and the disposal of those captives is a criterion of the red man's noble state. Whenever one was not wanted--the present of a girl, for instance, resented by a warrior's jealous wife, she was summarily hacked to pieces and not a passing thought given to the matter. The killing of a dog or a beaver caused more comment. On the value of life as a thing of worth in itself, the Indian had absolutely no conception, not so much conception as a domestic dog trained not to destroy life.

(_To be continued_)

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Montizambert Post News

H. H. BUSCH, Post Manager at Montizambert, widely known in Lake Superior District, recently detailed himself as a "fatigue party" to undertake a task usually considered too weighty for one man to handle. The job was to remove the engine from Mrs. Busch's motor boat.

Once started, however, his pride would not let him quit. He sailed into the craft with a hammer, two wrenches, a file and a pair of chisels. Chips began to fly; nuts and bolts and ejaculations filled the air.

Some hours later the clerk saw our doughty factor wrestling at the water's brim, trying to carry the big engine to the fur house. One spectator remarks, "A fog was rising from him like that from a hot spring in winter." After a long tussle he and the engine arrived at the fur house.

At lunch, however, our factor was a changed man; his appetite was way below normal. And all afternoon the "sap" appeared to have all gone out of him. For once, Mr. Busch had tackled a job too big for him, but he saw it through.--A.D.H.

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Lectures on H.B.C. Operations

THE Canadian Watchman Press, Publishers and Booksellers, of Oshawa, Ontario, have recently been holding meetings of their employees where lectures, illustrated with maps and charts, are given, dealing with the operations of the Hudson's Bay Company in the Northland.

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"Are caterpillars good to eat?" asked little Tommy at the dinner table.

"No," said the father; "what makes you ask a question like that while we are eating?"

"You had one on your lettuce, but it has gone now," replied Tommy.

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A Remarkable Trip by U.S.A. Airmen in a Free Balloon

_From New York to Moose Factory, James Bay, Ontario, 820 Miles in 25 Hours_

By J. BEVERIDGE, Moose Factory

THREE U. S. A. Airmen left Rockaway Station, Long Island, New York, on Monday, 13th December, in a free balloon, with the intention of flying across the State of New York.

After ascending, and while crossing New York City, a storm caught them, and drove them off their course. Being at an altitude of 6000 feet, and above the clouds, they were unable to see the ground.

The country over which they were flying was high, necessitating the discharge of ballast to prevent the balloon striking high land.

Having no chart, and, therefore, losing their bearings, they were unable to tell over which part of the country they were flying.

On Tuesday, December 14th, after being in the air about 24 hours, the men thought they heard a dog bark, and through a rift in the clouds they saw a house; they then decided to descend.

The pilot opened the valve, and the balloon commenced to descend at a rapid speed. The wind had carried the balloon beyond the place where they had seen the house, and there was nothing but trees on which to land. All the remaining ballast was thrown overboard to prevent the basket crashing on the trees; thermos flasks and all the furnishings were cast over. But their descent had been too rapid to be arrested so easily, and the basket collided with the trees. Too much gas had been released to allow the balloon to ascend again. The basket continued to drag through the bush till at last the balloon came to a halt tangled on the side of a tree.

The time of landing was about 2 p.m. Taking a southerly course by their compass, which they had managed to retain, they commenced to walk through the bush, but made little headway owing to the dense mass of foliage, spruce trees, willows and marshy land. They built a fire, cooked one of three carrier pigeons. This was the only food they had had since leaving New York.

Making themselves as comfortable as possible, they rested for the night but had little sleep. Keeping the fire going all night was the only means of being warm.

On Wednesday, the 15th, they commenced their slow progress once more through the bush. The serious nature of their situation was only dawning on them at this time, and finding no house, nor any traces of dogs, they began thinking their minds had been playing them tricks.

No food whatever was available, so they had to make their two remaining pigeons last indefinitely, not knowing when they would reach civilization.

As their strength was waning, the oldest man of the party had discarded nearly all his clothes keeping only his flying suit and underclothes. He was nearly "all in" and kept falling down, but the older of the other two kept them all going, knowing that to keep going was their only means of salvation. To stop would have meant being frozen. Moss was their only food this day. Again they made a fire and rested for the night.

On December 16th, Thursday, they set off again, travelling in a southerly direction. A second pigeon was devoured. At last they struck a creek and they were thankful to escape from the bush, walking on the ice being much easier. They travelled all day but discerned no signs of human life. The usual nightly performance was gone through, and each thought it all was rather hopeless, but "life is sweet."

Friday, December 17th, they commenced their slow and wearisome journey once more, walking on the creek; but at last the creek joined the river and here they perceived sleigh tracks. Noting the direction it had travelled by the imprint of the dog's feet, they followed the trail. About noon they sighted the sleigh, and the younger of the three commenced to hurry in an endeavour to overtake the sleigh. At last the man, an Indian trapper, observed that someone was endeavouring to overtake him, but, instead of waiting as would be expected, the Indian commenced to hurry. It appears that he was very frightened at the airman's uniform or his sudden appearance. The young officer managed at last to overtake the Indian, due to the slow progress of the dogs.

The Indian was at last made to understand that the men were starving and lost, so he took the young airman to his house which happened to be at hand, and was, in fact, on Moose Island. A team was sent for the other two airmen, and all were brought to the Company's Post, where they were thawed out, given a good meal, and put off to bed.

The airmen's footwear consisted of ordinary leather boots, but thanks to the mild spell and little snow there were no bad effects. "All's well that ends well." Now they are looking forward to the two hundred miles of snowshoeing to the main line and let their wives and families know they are safe and sound.

The names of the airmen are:

Lieutenant Farrell, senior; Lieutenant Hinton, the one who was responsible for keeping up the courage of the party, and who was pilot on the N.C. 4 when Commander Read made the famous Trans-Atlantic flight; Lieutenant Kloor, the only free balloon pilot in the party, and who overtook the Indian.

The trip was, I believe, a record flight for a free balloon, 820 miles, as the crow flies, in 25 hours.

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_Issued Every Now and Then in the Interests of Those in the Service of the Hudson's Bay Company_

The Beaver

"_A Journal of Progress_"

Copyright, 1921, by the Hudson's Bay Company

Address all communications to Editor, "THE BEAVER," York and Main Streets, Winnipeg, Canada

======================================= Vol. I FEBRUARY, 1921 No. 5 =======================================

Never a "Wild West" in Canada

CANADA never knew a "Wild West." We are forced to turn elsewhere for "penny thriller" and "dime novel" material, based on frontier lawlessness and bloodshed.

Three agencies have been mainly responsible for the peaceful and prosperous peopling of the West. Two of them, the R.N.W.M.P. and the Hudson's Bay Company, have long ago received recognition for their part in this marvel of empire-building. But there is another whose achievement is but little known or lightly heralded.

It is WOMAN. Wives and daughters of the bearded pioneers who conquered Canada's plains trekked west _with_ them; lived in lowly sod-houses; shared all hardships; made instant Home wherever the oxen were unyoked. These women helped tame a wilderness, and wherever they went was law and order.

Elsewhere in Western America, the hotbloods, the blacksheep and fortune hunters sloughed off from a rising civilization went into the West without the good influence of womenfolks--and straight-way became "bad men," "killers" and "road-agents."

Because nearly every early Canadian in the West had found _good women_ nearby, there was no "Wild West." And the influence of Canadian women is still alive--on the farms, in the factories, the stores and in the modern civic life of this oldtime buffalo kingdom of the Northwest.

Abroad at Home

WHAT has become of the old-fashioned winter? We would like to know the feelings of that self-exiled band who fled the wholesome prairies of Canada last fall, as they open up their home papers on some Californian strand and read of the ice famine in Iceland; of the hens laying and the dandelions sprouting in Canada, in December; of outdoor swimming at Vancouver; of spring-like mornings in Manitoba, with birds singing and school boys laying off overcoats at play.

Enthusiasm

ENTHUSIASM is the spark which fires the fuel of ability and personality to do its work. Without Enthusiasm, these qualities are dormant and ineffective--mere potentialities of power.

A man may overcome error; he may lack judgment and acquire it; he may make mistakes and remedy them; but he can do none of these things without enthusiasm.

To have enthusiasm is a matter of "morale"; if you believe in yourself and believe in the things you do, Enthusiasm is sure to ignite your dormant power and bring out your capacities to their utmost accomplishment. Conquer doubt, Enthusiasm's greatest foe.

Be enthusiastic in the doing of even the smallest job!

Ideals

NO INSTITUTION ever amounted to anything until some man or group of men back of it established an Ideal and set out to attain it. The realization of any Ideal, or the success of any business which is struggling toward an Ideal, requires conviction. _Skepticism, cynicism and pessimism never made a dollar for anyone._

H.B.C. has an Ideal and that is to _serve_. Too often, indeed, this is said by business firms in a trite, meaningless, parrot-fashion way; but not so with the Hudson's Bay Company.

With the Company, to _serve_ means to _satisfy_. Real satisfaction results only from high quality merchandise and high standards of business dealing. The honor of H.B.C. is bound up with these, because the Company established them as Ideals _centuries ago_.

The Wilderness Is Shrinking

"FLY TO FORT NORMAN" is the bold headline of a startling advertisement in Western newspapers, "... in absolute safety and comfort; flying time about eight hours each way," continues this epochal announcement.

Commercial enterprise has brought the air-boat to its aid in penetrating the fastnesses of the Northland where, reports say, oil will soon be gushing. But yesterday, this thousand-mile journey from McMurray down toward the Arctic Ocean was achieved only by toilsome weeks of tedious travel. What must the astonishment of leather-hued rivermen be to view these winged canoes darting from civilization to Norman almost "between meals." How that great wilderness shrinks and becomes smaller. The terror and loneliness of it, the hardships of it begin already to pass away.

There are men living who labored over Chillkoot and spent months on the ghastly Klondike trail, and they must marvel at the advantages given by science and invention to the prospectors of 1921.

The Key to Progress

TO the plumber, the bathroom is the most beautiful room in the house. To him, pipes and joints and taps are more interesting than Chippendales and Wedgwood.

Is your office, your desk, your work the most attractive and interesting in the whole institution--to YOU? Whatever your situation or task in the great H.B.C. organization, endeavor to find such beauty, charm and satisfaction in the business of your own little "work-shop" that the seduction of "greener fields" may not deceive you. The greatest symptom of individual progress is a sincere love for _the work in hand_; advancement follows naturally upon a faithful apprenticeship.

The Speed Game

HOCKEY, king of speed games, is Canada's _national sport_. The pace of it, the skill and thrill of it appeal to the youth of Canada. No other boys in the world could ever play hockey quite as Canadian youngsters do. Hockey has developed to suit a temperament which expresses itself most completely in this game. It is the spirit of Vimy Ridge and Festubert that crops out strongest in a fast rush down the ice with the puck. The vigor, stamina, fearlessness and self reliant manliness demanded by the game are _natural_, because the Canadian came first and then hockey developed as his characteristic sport.

What Is _Your Best_?

IF one does _his best_ every day, it is soon noticeable that what was _his best_ at one time is not now _his best_ by any means. Practice in hard work never fails to enlarge the capacity for hard work. It is a natural law that to be strong one must not only possess muscles but must use them constantly.

There is an immense "shake-up" and "shake-down" going on in commerce and industry all over the world. Today the time of trial for individual efficiency has arrived. The bricklayer who lays more bricks than the "average" bricklayer and the man who can raise his _level best_ a little higher every day is the man who will weather the storm.

Covering a Wide Field

_THE BEAVER_ goes to every H.B.C. employee at the retail stores from Winnipeg to the Coast; at all branches of the wholesale department, including the candy factory at Winnipeg; at every fur trade post and outpost in all provinces and the Northwest Territories; at the Land Department, Winnipeg, and its branches in Edmonton and Victoria; at the Executive, Accounting, Audit and Publicity offices in Winnipeg; at the Eastern Buying offices, Montreal and New York; at the London offices and fur warehouse; and to retired officers of the Company, members of the Canadian Advisory Committee, the London Board, the Governor and Committee.

_The Beaver_, by special request, exchange and subscription, also reaches a large number of leading Canadian and United States business concerns, prominent citizens, government officials, editors, and the principal libraries of the continent.

_The Beaver_ is a great "traveller." It is doing a good work. Please keep these facts in mind as H.B.C. employees and associate editors and correspondents of our journal.

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H.B.C. PIONEER STEAMER IN PACIFIC

(_Continued from page 4_)

_New Quarters of H.B.C. Executive, Accounting and Audit Departments were occupied at 208 Main Street, Winnipeg, January 14th. The quaint old building originally housed the general offices of the land department more than two decades ago, but most recently was used by the Adanac Club of Winnipeg. The Company has always owned both building and site but several tenants have occupied the premises during the past twenty years._

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The Great-West Life Assurance Company Dept. "D 30" Head Office: WINNIPEG _A postal will bring full information by mail. State age._

+------------------------------------------------------------------+

"A Type That Made H.B.C. Leadership"

_ERNEST RENOUF, who has been appointed manager of Fort George Post James Bay District, appears in the photograph. Mr. Renouf joined the H.B.C. service as apprentice clerk in 1910, served in James Bay District until November, 1916, when he enlisted for active service overseas; and since September, 1919, he has been stationed at Moose Factory._

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"SKIPPERING A SCOW" ON THE ATHABASCA

(_Continued from last issue_)

By N. A. Howland

The only other boat besides mine that remained above the rapid was the York boat, drawn back up to the Island on the cable to re-load and continue the trip to McMurray if necessary.

_We Cut Loose to Shoot the Rapids_

Gathering my crew and sundry other loose boatmen lying around, we embarked on the scow for the short but swift journey, there being sixteen souls aboard. We shoved off, the steersman standing on the after-deck, alertly watching the stream. He worked the boat into the passage by means of the sweep, which is a massive oar protruding half of the scow's length over and pivoted to the stern with a steel pin. This acted as a rudder, but twice as effectively as the ordinary rudder, because of its length, with the additional advantage that being movable up, down and to either side it offers no resistance to the rocks, therefore cannot break. We travelled slowly at first, but gradually gaining impetus, the scow was soon tossing in the boiling waters, travelling with the speed of an express train. It trembled from stem to stern with the shock of the waves. There was an exhilarating sensation with an element of danger in it.

_The Steersman Distinguished Himself_

The performance of the steersman was admirable. It was difficult to believe that this lithe, active fellow who with powerful arms handled the heavy sweep with such ease, bearing down on the handle to lift the blade clear of the water, jumping from one gunwale to the other with a speed and agility truly astonishing, could be the same slow-moving figure that idly lounged on his oar all the previous way.

_We Made the Big Eddy Safely_

He seemed to guide the boat as by instinct and with such unerring skill, twisting and turning her among the boulders in the roughest of the water through the narrow channel, that we had hardly time to realize what was happening before the restless figure in the stern resumed his usual listless attitude and we were riding in the Big Eddy. At the cry of "Out oars," we were quickly rowed ashore by the remainder of the crew.

_Pulling the Scow Back by Cable_

After dropping passengers, no time was lost in endeavoring to pick up the cable and pull back to the island. Luck was against us. Repeatedly the scow was swept away before the log attached to the end of the rope could be caught, though we knew it was being tossed around on the outer rim of the eddy. After battling the current for an hour the men put me ashore. There were still some matters requiring attention on the island, so I walked back, ferrying across again above the rapids. When I reached the landing place the crew had just managed to secure the cable and were being pulled up.

After loading the rails and car wheels there was nothing to hinder our departure. My work was done.

The next eighty miles to our destination was a succession of rapids, but none bad enough at this time to necessitate unloading. The journey was continued next morning, the previous evening having been spent by all hands in a futile attempt to dislodge the tug "Crester." It was apparent that nothing but a further rise of water would move her off, so we left a force of men to help Captain Barber out of his difficulty and continued on our way.

_We Carried Russian Passengers_

Cornwall had previously arranged with me to take some of the Russians as passengers, his boat being too crowded for rough water work. Thus it happened that thirty of these smelly gentlemen were transferred to me. They were not desirable company on account of their odour. Besides, they were afraid of the rapids. The weather, which ever since our leaving Athabasca Landing had been perfect, now changed. The bright sky was obscured by clouds. It rained intermittently all day. The Russians huddled themselves up under my tarpaulins. They presented an inexpressibly comic appearance to me, as they sat around for the most part completely covered up, dismal faces now and then peering out from unexpected places to survey the scenes. When the boat hit a few waves, the lumpy canvas would contort and wriggle all over in anguish, uncouth muffled sounds arising. Louison, who rarely smiled, took particular pains to seek out the worst water. He grinned broadly whenever we struck a big wave.

_The Arrival at Fort McMurray_

Next day this eventful voyage ended. We arrived at Fort McMurray before noon. There was one particularly handsome fellow among my passengers, who attracted me by his refined appearance, but he spoke no English. The lad with many of his companions went in to bathe in the Clearwater River, which joins the Athabasca at this point. In front of the village it is very shallow. This man went out too far. There was a hole into which he fell and could not swim out. He was drowned before it was possible for a boat to reach him. A drag was improvised out of a two-by-four to which were attached cords fitted with fish hooks. After six hours' labor our mournful task was successfully accomplished and he was laid to rest in a new outfit of store clothes in accordance with the Mohomedan faith. Thus for a week was my journeying at an end.

(_To be continued_)

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FORTY YEARS IN SERVICE OF THE HUDSON'S BAY COMPANY INLAND

(_Continued from December issue_)

By N. M. W. J. McKENZIE