Bill Biddon, Trapper; or, Life in the NorthwestEllis, Edward Sylvester
General
Bill Biddon, Trapper; or, Life in the Northwest
Ellis, Edward Sylvester
Hunting -- West (U.S.) -- Fiction; Indians of North America -- Fiction; Trappers -- Fiction; Western stories
A few weeks subsequent to this, there came a storm which laid the snow
six feet deep, and Jim informed me that, in company with several
others, he should proceed to set his traps for the winter’s work, and
he willingly consented that I should accompany him. Preparations were
accordingly made. Extra garments were donned, a couple of traps taken
by each, and, placing our snow-shoes upon our feet, we sallied forth.
This was the first time I ever attempted to travel with snow-shoes,
and, as may be supposed, I made awkward work of it. These were fully
six feet in length, resembling a canoe somewhat in shape, and of
extreme lightness. The interior is filled with a gauzy network, which
allows the light, sand-like snow to fall through without impeding
one’s progress. They are fastened loosely but securely to the feet,
and when the snow is not dampened by thaws, twenty miles can be easily
made in a day. Without these convenient things, it would be next to
impossible to travel during six months of the year in the fur-bearing
regions.
We proceeded westward some eight or ten miles before all of the traps
were set, when, turning, we retraced our steps, intending to visit
them the following night. The trap used by the Indians of this section
is much the same as the common steel-trap of the States, being,
however, much larger, and without the saw-like teeth of the latter. A
long chain, with a heavy stone attached, is fastened to the trap, and
concealed beneath the snow, to prevent the animal making off with the
whole concern. The trap is placed just beneath the surface of the
snow, and bits of frozen fish are scattered around, which attract the
half-starved foxes, lynx, beavers, and wolves in the region. Having
completed all arrangements, we retraced our steps, and reached the
village just as night was setting in.
Nothing of note took place the next day, and, as the night came on,
Jim informed me that they were going to visit their traps to ascertain
what luck they had. As he made no objection, I again donned my
snow-shoes and joined them. There was but one savage beside himself.
The snow was crisp and fine, and the traveling comparatively easy. Jim
dragged a small sled behind him for the purpose of bringing back
anything found in the traps.
It was a bright moonlight night, and as we journeyed through the
forest, there were patches of snow almost as light as day. We shunned
the trees, as the snow-crust was brittle around them, and once or
twice crossed broad belts of snow, devoid of timber, which Jim
informed me were the beds of rivers. As we traveled on, nothing broke
the silence, except the muffled sliding of our shoes over the icy
crust, or a single word from one of the savages; and it occurred to me
that if my friends at home could have seen me at this particular
moment, they would have imagined I was searching for gold in a strange
country.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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