10

THE WANDERING TRAPPERS

Not a man among us seemed to know what to do next. We sat around the fire one night and discussed our situation and all possibilities for making some money. Not that we were worried, for we could almost live off the land in the summertime, what with big game, fish and berries available, should our credit at the trading post be cut off. For that reason we could stay in camp all summer if we wished, and there are few places as good as Jan Lake in the summer time.

Bradley decided to return to Flin Flon for the summer. The Heinrichs brothers elected to stay at the Jan Lake camp for they had not even made enough money to visit their parents in Nipawin. Fairburn and Vessy would also stay.

On my travels to Pelican Narrows that summer I saw on the lake shore a derelict canoe—a big freighter with broken ribs and planking, its canvas rotting and falling away. It looked like something one would haul away to the dump. I enquired of the Indians there if the canoe was for sale. They had a good chuckle but directed me to an elderly Cree, the owner. He laughed outright when I asked him his selling price. Then he gladly accepted when I offered five dollars. I had come with my big canoe and I transported this wreck, top down across my gunwales, after the Indians had ballasted my own canoe with rocks to make everything more stable; then I paddled to the Jan Lake camp.

It almost seemed I would have to build a new canoe to repair this heap of rubbish. We spent some time looking it over. It had a square stern to accommodate an outboard motor, but we had none. It would be necessary to make all new gunwales, cross bars, a great deal of planking, front end, backboard, canvas, and twenty-seven ribs. Our man-powered sawmill was put to work, ripping out the boards. We all worked on the project, and with bolts and canvas brought in from Pelican Narrows, completed the job in short order. Our canoe was as good as a new one for a cash outlay of twenty dollars.

Later the Heinrichs brothers bought a wrecked eighteen-foot freighter. We were all experienced canoe builders by this time and put this canoe into first class condition. Then a third canoe, a sixteen-foot prospector model was acquired for repair during the coming winter. We felt a little proud of these accomplishments and happy that we were now so well supplied with canoes.

I had become interested in prospecting. For some time I had wanted to look for minerals in the region but I did not get the opportunity that summer. I made several trips alone into the hills around Jan Lake but found nothing of interest.

The Heinrichs brothers that summer bought four pups from an Indian. They ran loose all summer at camp and grew large enough to work when winter came. I made a trip to Flin Flon with Bob, my last year’s partner, who now worked for Revillon Frères. At the dog pound we haggled with our old friend the pound keeper and came away leading five big friendly dogs bought for a total of thirty dollars. Two were for me to round out my team to four good dogs and the other three were Bob’s.

On that trip when I purchased groceries I found that our debt was over $200. This caused the Heinrichs brothers such concern that they voiced the opinion that if the bottom should drop out of the fur market then we would owe $500 by spring.

We did have a good catch of fur that winter; several foxes and coyotes, five lynx, and some mink. By Christmas, our bill had been paid at Pelican Narrows and we even had some credit on the books. The brothers bought a dog toboggan and harness. Fairburn and Vessy relied on the two dog teams at camp for their freighting needs. There was considerably less hardship that winter than any of the winters I had gone commercial fishing and had wound up without food and clothing. That was one winter when I kept my promise never to fish again.

Towards spring we were repairing canoes again. The last canoe pur-chased in the fall was fully repaired. Then Roderick Ballantyne brought in the worst wreck yet. This pile of junk was so dilapidated that I hunted for a long time to find a tree with just the proper shape to cut out two new ends for the craft. This canoe too we put in first class condition.

Once more we prepared to go trapping muskrats. That season Fairburn and Vessy trapped the south and east shores of Jan Lake. Fred Heinrichs worked the north end of that lake, used the main cabin, and fed the dogs. Bob Heinrichs and I would cover Tulabi Lake and eastward.

With two canoes now, Bob Heinrichs and I covered a great deal of territory and finished the season with over five hundred pelts. Fred Heinrichs had more than two hundred. We realized seventy cents a skin in that spring of 1934.

That year we bought two Johnson one-and-one-half horsepower motors for $115 each.

When we arrived in Flin Flon that spring the miners had gone on strike for higher wages. That meant that all the beer parlours were closed. Only the bootleggers were in operation and whiskey sold for fifty cents a swallow and beer was two bits for a small glass. I did not buy any drinks as I never was a serious drinker at any time. Not so were some of the trappers in town to celebrate. It was sad to see them spending their hard-earned money on bootleg booze.

On our way back to Jan Lake we camped at the Indian village of Birch Portage. All the men were there having just arrived home from far-away traplines. They were interested in one of our canoes—one that I had almost totally rebuilt. One man asked me what price I would take for it.

“Oh,” I said, “I guess it ought to be worth $25.”

He ran to his cabin and brought out the cash—five ones and a twenty dollar bill.

There was nothing I could do but load everything in that craft to one of our other canoes.

On our return trip to Pelican Narrows, we had brought in thirty-five hundred pounds of freight to the Revillon Frères trading post there. For this we were paid four dollars a hundredweight or $140 for the trip. With outboard motors to drive our big canoes this had been a good earning, which was divided between five of us. This also paid for our travelling expenses to Flin Flon.

Fairburn, Vessy, and Bob Heinrichs left Pelican Narrows for our camp at Jan Lake, taking the dogs which had been left in the care of an Indian. Fred Heinrichs and I, in company with the Revillon trader and a native guide named David Mirasty, then freighted three Revillon canoes loaded with supplies to the south end of Reindeer Lake.

Mirasty was extremely capable and a strong packer. The water was so high that summer that at all the rapids the water had backed up into the trees. The flood had spilled over the banks of rivers and the shores of lakes so that trees standing in water became a common sight. Mirasty said it was thirty years since the water had been so high. We avoided a great deal of portaging; at some of the rapids we pulled up the canoes by hand among the trees, wading waist deep in water. At larger rapids only part of the loads were portaged, the partly loaded canoes were pulled up through flooded and seldom used channels, now become navigable. Mirasty knew exactly where to go at all times and we lost no time by never having to backtrack and look for the route.

This was my first trip to Reindeer Lake and it was certainly an interesting journey. At Frog Portage the water was pouring over the bank of the Churchill River, over the divide and into Wood Lake, which is part of the Saskatchewan River drainage basin. When this occurs the water level rises about six feet on the Sturgeon-weir River and even Beaver Lake had been known to rise high enough to inundate the docking facilities and boat houses.

With two outboard motors to push us along, the trip was made in one week. We cleared about $20 each for our work.

On our return to Jan Lake the Heinrichs brothers left for Nipawin by canoe, a long journey by way of Sturgeon-weir River and Cumberland Lake, then upstream on the Saskatchewan River.

A great change had taken place for us since the acquisition of the outboard motors. It was now possible to travel against the wind and sit back in our good canoes and just watch the shoreline recede into the distance. I sold my nineteen-foot freighter to a trapper for $90. I traded my smaller canoe for a twenty-foot freighter so that I could haul a larger load. This canoe needed a new canvas which I applied for a cost of $20. Then I made another freighting trip for Revillon Frères with two Indians. This time we went to Flin Flon and again cleared $20.

Fairburn and Vessy remained at Jan Lake all summer. They did some prospecting and I accompanied them on several trips into mineralized areas. We worked at a spot where we hoped to find gold, but discovered nothing of commercial value there. We were hampered in travelling any distance in that we had to feed the eight dogs at camp.

That summer too I began to concentrate on adding to my woodcraft knowledge by making a study of trees and other vegetation to assist me in my wilderness travels. I received my finest training in direction sense while at Jan Lake. Prospecting was working handily into this study and I was improving in my ability to find my directions. I have known Indians who got lost and had to face real hardship. Of course, white men were reported lost every year in this country and some were never found where they lay dead of starvation and exposure. As time went on I never had any difficulty in getting back to camp. The signs had become very plain indeed. By watching these signs closely and making a mental note of each time I changed my direction while walking in the bush as you often do while prospecting, I could always point back to camp with accuracy. I also knew how far I was from camp. After two years of this study any time I was in the woods, in sunshine, cloud, fog, rain, or snowstorms, I always knew how to determine my location in relation to my starting point. It grew to be a real pleasure to confidently strike out on foot through new country.

Today Jan Lake is a popular summer resort and a great place to spend a vacation. The scenery is uncommonly beautiful with its many islands with fine sandy beaches. As I think back on my years at Jan Lake I realize it was one of the most pleasant times of my life. There were hardships of course, but there were many compensations.

We had no worries. Every day there was something new to be done and new projects were always being planned. Each time someone went to Pelican Narrows he brought back our mail along with newspapers and magazines. We wore out many decks of cards. In our first year at Jan Lake I bought a gramophone and many additions to my record album collection. When we finally got tired of hearing the same tunes I traded gramophone and records away to an Indian.

Early in September the Heinrichs brothers returned from Nipawin. They had made a very fine voyage by canoe, five days to their destination and the same on the return trip. From Nipawin they had freighted two hundred pounds of flour, fifty pounds of sugar, one hundred of potatoes, and two sides of bacon. Prices of these items in Pelican Narrows were almost double their cost outside.

On September 10, 1933, we all left for Flin Flon to purchase what we needed before trapping began once more. I met Jack Hackens, who wanted to join me because he had not been taken back as an employee after the mine strike was settled. I agreed to take him along if he would pay his share of the expense, a proposition to which he readily agreed. Once more we were a group of six, commonly known around Flin Flon as “The Jan Lake Trappers.”

On our return trip when we called in at Pelican Narrows, the post manager for Revillon Frères hired the six of us to build a bunkhouse to accommodate overnight guests. We all pitched in and had the cabin built in eight days—a neat little structure of peeled logs, factory windows, and “Rubberoid” roofing. Small logs had been hewn square and placed side by side over the dirt to make a fine solid floor.

It was nearing the end of September and that time of the year when we should have been on our way to prepare for the trapping season. In spite of this, the post manager talked us into staying two more days when an aeroplane was due in from Flin Flon. Aboard would be a supply of liquor with which we could all celebrate the completing of the bunk house—a kind of bunk house warming as it were.

When the plane at last arrived we all trooped down to the dock. The pilot confirmed that the liquor was aboard indeed. The first thing we did was to offer him a drink, which he declined, saying that were he not obligated to continue his flying schedule that day, he would certainly have stayed and helped us to celebrate.

In the liquor shipment there were three bottles of Scotch whiskey, three bottles of rye, two gallons of wine, and two cases of beer. The manager took one bottle of Scotch and a case of beer. The balance was for the celebration.

I will always remember that particular evening. The plane had arrived quite late in the day when we were in the process of preparing our supper. Two freighters with two loaded canoes arrived just after dark, followed shortly thereafter by two trappers just arrived from Ballantyne Bay. One was a white man, the other a native. We had finished our supper when they arrived.

The last two arrivals went up to the store, bought some grub for supper, came back to the bunkhouse and started frying some corned beef. When we offered them a drink they accepted gladly. They looked tired and half starved from their long trip on short rations. They both took a big drink of whiskey and very soon began to show its effects. We passed each a big slug of wine and then a bottle of beer apiece. They had forgotten about eating and one mumbled something about paying for their share of the booze.

“Forget it,” someone sang out. “This is on the bunk house.”

The corned beef was burnt black before they got around to looking at it. One of the trappers took a bite but the other was sitting on the floor, unable to stand up.

The two freighters came over to join the celebration. They also each took a big drink of whiskey, a cupful of wine, and a bottle of beer.

Fairburn had taken only one drink of whiskey and that before supper. I had stopped drinking when I saw what was happening. I saw Fairburn silently pick up his sleeping bag and walk out in disgust to find a quiet place to sleep. I did not see him again that night.

When the manager came over to see us some of the men were staggering about or holding onto something for support, while others were crawling around on their hands and knees. He talked for a while about good times and hard times, took a few drinks and then left.

The two freighters were standing near a window. One pushed the window open, leaned across the sill and proceeded to vomit the whiskey, wine, beer and his supper for the whiskey jacks to look over in the morning. The other fellow decided that he did not have time to make it to the door either so he jumped up on his partner’s back, hung his head out the window and was sick also.

No one had mentioned that he was hungry. One of the Ballantyne Bay trappers managed to pick up his sleeping bag and walk out. His partner, who had earlier begun to cook supper, was now sound asleep in the middle of the floor. Fred Heinrichs and I pulled him over to a wall and out of the way. The two freighters left then; one leaning against the other as they staggered down to their canoes. By 2 A.M. only the Heinrichs brothers and I were left in the cabin and turned in for the rest of the night.

Next morning most of the men were badly hung over and there was very little liquor left. Fairburn, the first man to get up, and I, who had soon followed, were enjoying the sight of all those trappers and canoe freighters greet the day, some sitting up and others still in their bedrolls. The new bunkhouse had been officially opened.

It was after dinner before our group got underway for Jan Lake. We left in pairs, two men to a canoe with Fairburn and Vessy in the lead, the Heinrichs brothers followed, while Jack Hackens and I were last to leave. It was dark when we got ‘home’ as we always referred to the Jan Lake cabin. Here we were safe from outside influences and here we could find peace, contentment, and rest.

The next morning we went across to the west shore where we had left our dogs and fish nets with Roderick Ballantyne, who had agreed to feed the dogs in our absence. He complained that he had had great difficulty in catching fish to feed our dogs and his own. We paid him off in groceries which left him a much happier man.

It was mid-October and time to put up fish for dog food. Hackens and I set up a tent on the south shore of Jan Lake as a base camp for fishing. That day Hackens suddenly asked me if I knew what the date was.

“I think it must be the 14th of October,” I suggested.

“Well no. It is actually the 13th and that’s bad luck,” he said gravely.

The first time we looked at the net we counted thirteen fish, also a bad luck sign, according to Hackens. Multiples of thirteen were just as unlucky, he said. In spite of these omens of misfortune we all had a good winter. When Hackens and I caught twenty-six foxes he thought it a bad sign for we had thirteen apiece and should catch more to break the evil sign. We did not catch another fox that winter.

Altogether, Hackens, the Heinrichs brothers and I collected forty foxes, twelve coyotes, six lynx, thirteen mink, and several weasels. Prices for fox were from ten to fifteen dollars a pelt, coyote averaged eight dollars, lynx forty, and weasel one dollar. We had made wages at least, splitting the proceeds four ways.

We looked forward now to the opening of the muskrat trapping season. On our travels that winter we saw hundreds of muskrat houses any time we were in an area where there were bulrushes and reeds along the shores of lakes and rivers. In fact the country was full of muskrats according to all the signs.

In March the traps were set. Strangely, as we opened the muskrat dens many were found to be frozen up, in fact, dead muskrats in some of their houses, frozen solid and shrouded in hoar frost. Hackens and I worked the Tulabi Lake area while the Heinrichs brothers trapped on Jan Lake. Hackens and I caught eighty muskrats while the brothers gathered about one hundred. Fairburn and Vessy came over one day with the disquieting information that very few live muskrats were to be found in their trapping territory.

Something very strange had happened. Where there were large numbers of muskrats last fall, now there were only a few or none at all. We came to the conclusion that some sinister disease had severely decimated their numbers, probably the same that kills off bush rabbits every time their numbers reach a certain level in relation to the amount of winter food available in that area.

Fred and Bob Heinrichs then came up with the news that while travelling through the channels and marshes of the Cumberland Lake region on their return from Nipawin they had observed muskrats swimming everywhere, more than they had ever seen before.

Our plans for further spring operations were considerably revised at this time. Four of us would move south-eastward some sixty miles as the crow flies to the Cumberland country to trap muskrats. Following generally the creeks and lakes, that distance would stretch to one hundred miles. Fairburn and Vessy would take their small canoe down to where Hackens and I had already hauled our freighter canoe on Tulabi Lake. Bob and Fred were to stay at Jan Lake and trap as many muskrats as possible on the ice before following us with their big canoe and outboard motor later in the season. On their way they were to trap Tulabi Lake in open water, then Tulabi Brook to Bigstone Lake, down to Grassberry River, then rendezvous with us at Windy Lake to wind up the trapping season.

The advance party, Fairburn, Vessy, Hackens and myself chose a partly overland route westward of the Heinrichs’ route, through lakes, muskeg, and swamp. Once we reached Brougham Creek, we would canoe down to Mossy River, and then down to Cumberland Lake. On our return we would meet the Heinrichs brothers by ascending the Grassberry River to Windy Lake. All our planning had been done from a recently completed aerial map of the region.

Our advance party left Jan Lake as scheduled, with the dogs transporting our gear, supplies, and canoes. This involved more than one trip to haul everything across the still frozen lakes and the portages. We stopped for a time at Big Stone Lake where only three muskrats were taken. As we moved along, we had set traps then returned to pick them up when we backtracked to bring up our freight in relays. Later we tried trapping at Limestone Lake but found all the muskrat houses and push-ups to be frozen solid. This was a week out of Jan Lake.

The travelling had been very good until our route led southward and we had to cut a mile long portage to an unnamed lake we had seen only on the map. Here we counted about fifty muskrat houses, which motivated us to set up our tent and begin trapping. Meanwhile, I made two trips back to our last camp and hauled up the canoes. The snow was disappearing more each day now as the warming sun shone brightly every day. This heat would put an end to sleighing any day now.

The trapping results at this lake were so poor that we moved on. Once again we found frozen muskrat in houses everywhere.

We still had a half-mile portage to cut before we struck the headwaters of Brougham Creek and our water route to Cumberland Lake. The snow was all gone, which forced us to drag everything or carry it across that portage. The dogs gave us great deal of assistance for they worked hard dragging the sleigh and small loads over the trail while being fuelled on boiled corn meal.

In the grassy upper reaches of Brougham Creek it was now spawning time for jackfish and suckers, so dog food was easily available. We caught the jack for ourselves and suckers, which we boiled, for the dogs.

A fine camping spot was found where there was much dry firewood. After a week it was time to move on but the creek was so full of fallen trees that canoeing was impossible. We cut a portage through tamarack swamp and moved all our gear to a place on the creek where it ran through open muskeg and a large swamp.

This turned out to be the most difficult canoe trip that I have ever made. It took us six days to travel one section of Brougham Creek to the point where it joins the Mossy River, a distance of seven miles cross country. In places the creek’s channel was so choked with willows that we had to chop a channel to get our canoes through.

One morning as I was standing in the canoe I saw a large lone tamarack about a quarter of a mile to the south.

I said to Fairburn, “I hope that we can reach that tree by lunch time so that we can have our lunch on dry ground.”

After four hours of travelling I realized that we would not be lunching at that spot. We were a little closer but the creek was so crooked that we were travelling in all directions to follow its course. There was a great deal of water moving with the spring thaw in what was normally a small meandering stream. We waded, often up to our hips at some spots, while pulling the canoes along. In some places the water was over the banks so that at one point we waded the canoes into the open swamp to get around dense willow growth in the creek bed. In many very sharp bends we had to the lift the canoes at their sterns to pass dense clumps of willow.

All the while the creek was swarming with spawning fish. As we waded on, we saw fish in the creek ahead of us and in the grass along the banks. Dog feeding was even easier now for the fish were so thick that the dogs caught them themselves. We obtained fresh fish for our own food by clubbing them with our paddles.

The dogs, of course, could not travel in the canoes for we were forever lifting the craft to get them farther downstream. Thus the dogs ran free, having a wonderful time fishing, or just cavorting in the water. Sometimes we would not see them for an hour or more. Then they came charging back with tongues lolling and spray flying to find us and a dry place to lie down and rest.

At intervals of about an hour it became necessary to clean out the canoes. As we had dragged our canoes around the sharp bends, dry branches, moss, and other debris fell into them so that they took on the appearance of two large crows’ nests.

The only way to get to dry land on this creek was to wade the canoes out of it, across the bordering swamp, and into the trees. We saw many muskrat feeding stations but did not set traps because we could not get back to them with canoes.

After the sixth day of this travel at a snail’s pace, the creek suddenly widened and we resumed normal paddling. Hackens and I caught five muskrats in this area. Meanwhile, Fairburn and Vessy had taken nine more while working farther downstream. These were the last muskrats our party took in these waters.

At this time one of my dogs became very sick. Sadly I had to part with it and buried the carcass covered with moss in a muskeg. I never learned the cause of its problem.

At long last we were on the Mossy River. The current was so swift that travel was brisk over fast-flowing water in the shallows and in the navigable rapids. When we came to the end of the swift water we stopped to skin and dry our most recently caught muskrats. Our grand total was twenty-six since leaving Jan Lake.

While our group was camped there two men came paddling upstream in a canoe and stayed to a visit. When they learned that we had come all the way from Jan Lake to trap muskrats in the Cumberland country they both began to chuckle.

One said, “You might as well take it easy and have a good rest. We have not caught a single muskrat in the past week. There are no muskrats to be seen anywhere on Cumberland Lake or the Saskatchewan River. Right now we’re on our way up the Mossy River to trap muskrats.”

Nature had used its own ruthless method of solving the problem of the great abundance of muskrats. A disease I considered might have been water-borne accounted for the many hundreds of dead muskrat houses we had seen.

We thought about accompanying our two visitors up the Mossy River but we were too many trappers for the available fur. Instead we decided to ascend the Saskatchewan River to the Old Channel in search of muskrats. As we started on our way we met a lone trapper returning from the Old Channel. He told us that he had been trapping there for four days and had caught but two muskrats.

There was nothing else we could do but turn back. At the mouth of the Grassberry River in those days stood a trading post called Pine Bluff. Our twenty-six muskrat pelts sold there for $1.30 each. After a stay of two days we pointed the canoes northward and upstream on the Grassberry River.

While we had travelled in the Cumberland region our outboard motor had been put to work. After replenishing our gas supply at Pine Bluff, I was towing the other canoe. Past three miles we found shallow water that put an end to travel by motor. The river was so shallow in several places that we waded the canoes. In stretches of deep water we could paddle.

After a day and a half we reached Windy Lake. Here the motor could be used once more and with the greatest of pleasure. After crossing Windy Lake we headed for Suggi Lake. On the river that connects the two lakes, we saw a campfire on the bank, and drawing closer we were surprised and delighted to find the Heinrichs brothers waiting for us.

They were relieved for they had been waiting for three days and were about to go down to Pine Bluff to make enquiries about our whereabouts. As we compared notes we learned that they had, since we parted, caught fifty-seven muskrats, most of them before they left Jan Lake. Ruefully we all admitted that the muskrat hunt of the spring of 1935 had been a disaster. Once our pelts had been traded away at Pine Bluff there was a surplus of only ten dollars to be divided between the four men of the advance party.

Across country it is not far to Flin Flon, probably thirty-five miles. Our entire group ascended Balsam Creek to Little Limestone Lake (Usinne Lake). We spent two days on the shallow creek wading or dragging the canoes over shallows and beaver dams. The next day a portage of three quarters of a mile brought us to Balsam Lake. A short portage saw us on the shore of Beaver Lake. Everyone was happy to be so near to Flin Flon.

It was the third day since leaving Windy Lake. Fairburn was at this time appointed camp cook while some of us set a fishnet. That night it caught five whitefish for us and one sucker—a slim meal for the dogs in camp, now numbering seven since the Heinrichs’ had brought their four from Jan Lake.

Once across Beaver Lake the next day we camped at the mouth of Meridian Creek. There were enough muskrat signs there to persuade us to resume trapping. The Heinrichs brothers elected to move on up Beaver Lake, as they intended to portage to Mosher Lake on an alternative route to Flin Flon.

Fairburn, Vessy, Hackens and I began to set traps upstream on Meridian Creek as we worked our way closer to town. After five days of trapping we headed for Flin Flon with twenty-eight muskrats.

On our way we reached Bootleg Lake and the site of the Henney-Malone Mine. This mine had closed when the ore supply was found to be insufficient to warrant its continued extraction.

Mr. and Mrs. Henney still lived there. They asked us to have supper with them that night. We had a most delicious meal and spent a wonderful evening. Our conversation centred around mining, prospecting, and trapping. Henney enquired if we had ever seen in all our travels any good gold or copper showings. I explained to him that I had trapped on a good sized lake, as yet unnamed, which looked very promising for copper and gold—a bit of information in which he showed keen interest.

We slept in their bunkhouse that night and the next morning went down to the lake shore to cook breakfast.

Henney came along and insisted that we eat breakfast in his home. He wanted to know what we were doing for the summer and I told him that we were dead broke and at loose ends. He then proposed that we go prospecting, he to furnish the groceries and gasoline for my outboard motor in exchange for a fifty-fifty split on any profit. We all accepted except for Hackens, who wanted to try to get his job back in Flin Flon.

The Henneys agreed to look after my dogs and our canoes while we walked to Flin Flon, where we sold our furs for $35. With the proceeds we did some shopping in town for summer clothing and a few necessities for prospecting.

Here we met the Heinrichs brothers for the last time. Sometime on their way to Flin Flon they had suddenly changed their minds and gone north to Pelican Narrows. There they sold their four dogs for $20; toboggan and harness went for $8. They had travelled on to Jan Lake and picked up all their possessions at the cabin. Then they sold all their traps to Revillon Frères Fur Company. The brothers still had their canoe and outboard motor for sale. They were going to live in a shack with Hackens while they tried to get work at the mine.

I heard later that they were unsuccessful in finding employment at the mine and that Bob Heinrichs returned to his home at Nipawin. Fred Heinrichs moved eastward to Sudbury, Ontario and went to work at the nickel mine where he did well, got married, and bought a good home. Jack Hackens went to live in England. All left in the summer of 1935.

Just before I left Flin Flon I sold my dogs for $35 to two trappers from Reindeer Lake who were just arrived in Flin Flon to sell their furs. I kept my dog harness and dog sleigh as an ace-in-the-hole should I some day need to return to trapping as a livelihood.