“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

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.

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.

“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.

“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)

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

(Continued from December issue)
By N. M. W. J. McKENZIE

BUFFALO were plentiful in my first years and I have seen thousands of them. Many of the old freighters have told me that very often when the buffalo were travelling south that they were compelled to stop their brigades of carts and camp for one or two days until the great herds passed. Of course the freighters picked out the choice ones, or as many as they required, for meat supply on the trip.

I saw where buffalo in the fall had tried to cross the Saskatchewan River, and had broken through the ice. The animals behind had forced the others on, trampling them to death. Carcasses of dead buffalo completely bridged the river, the remainder of the herd passing over them. Buffalo always followed the leader like sheep. There were millions of them in that part of the country and all disappeared in a few years. Today there is a herd of about two hundred and fifty animals in the MacKenzie River valley. They have not increased in numbers. The Siberian wolves get among them continually and destroy many of the calves. There is another herd in the government park at Wainwright, Saskatchewan, which is thriving and increasing.

After the buffalo had disappeared, the plains Indians, who numbered many thousands at that time, were reduced to starvation. Many of them died, and the Canadian government of that day was compelled to gather them all into reservations throughout the country, and ration them. Living in small log houses, with only one room, was a great change from their roaming, open-air life on the plains, and they became afflicted with all kinds of diseases, consumption being their greatest destroyer.

The number of horses an Indian owned was the gauge of his wealth. Some of them had as many as three hundred head, of which quite a large number were in the buffalo-runner class. A horse in that class was never put to any other work. He had to be extra long-winded, swift and tough as steel, able to keep pace with a stampeding herd until his rider had shot down ten or fifteen animals. As a rule, these horses stood about fourteen and a half hands high and weighed nearly a thousand pounds. Their sires were usually imported thoroughbreds. The most of that breed of horses have gone to the “happy hunting grounds” where the Indian says the buffalo have gone. The gun used was a single barrel, muzzle-loading, flint-lock shot gun, using number twenty-eight ball instead of shot. Skill in riding was necessary and quickness at re-loading.

Fort Ellice, where I was assigned to duty, was built on the south bank of the valley of the Assiniboine River. It was a beautiful location with charming scenery, about three miles from where the Qu’Appelle River empties into the Assiniboine. The Assiniboine Valley was about two miles wide and that of the Beaver Creek about one thousand yards. The Fort was built on the top level between the two, on a beautiful plain dotted with little poplar bluffs, with numerous springs of gushing water up at the top of the level in the face of the banks. The river in the centre of the valley winds its tortuous way to empty itself later on into the Red River, thence to Lake Winnipeg, thence to Hudson Bay and the Atlantic Ocean.

The Fort itself was built in a large square, the big front gates being about thirty yards from the edge of the bank which was very precipitous at this point, and well wooded with small trees, ferns and saskatoon bushes.

On one side of the square was a long row of one-storey log buildings, with thatched roofs all joined with one another. Our carpenter shop was at one end of this row and the blacksmith’s shop at the other. The doors or entrances all faced to the Fort. There was the men’s house, the mechanics’ house, the native servants’ and dog drivers’ houses, also the married servants’ houses, each consisting of one large room.

A door opened into each from the outside and there was no other means of entrance to any of the other houses in that long row of buildings, except by its own door or down the chimney. Two tiers of rough bunks round the walls represented the sleeping accommodations. A large mud chimney and open fire-place provided ventilation. We did all cooking at the open fireside.

On the other side of the square, in an equally long row, built in the same style, were warehouses, ration houses, dry meat and pemmican house, flour, pork and beef house, and a well-appointed dairy, with a good cellar and lots of ice. These buildings were one and a-half storeys high and were without chimneys or fire-places.

At one side of the big gate in front was the trading store and district office, and on the other side the fur store and reserve stock warehouse. Each of these buildings was very long and substantial, fully one and a-half storeys high.

The main building in the Fort was the Factor’s dwelling or the “big house,” as it was called. This was the quarters of the officers and clerks. It stood well back in the square, its front being in line with the end of the long rows of buildings on either side, so that every house in the Fort could be seen from its windows. The “big house” was a two and a-half storey building, with a large kitchen behind, built from the same plan as the officers’ dwellings in Fort Garry, and known as a Red River frame building.

It had a fine balcony and verandah. The main entrance was in the centre of the building opening into a large recreation and council hall.

The Factor’s private office was at the right, and the parlour or sitting-room to the left. The large mess-room, dining-room, and private bedrooms were in the rear. Upstairs was a large hall and reading-room, and bedrooms for the clerks. The upper floor was heated with large Carron stoves, as well as the hall downstairs, and the trading shop and district office.

There were four fire-places on the ground floor and another in the kitchen, as well as a large cooking range. A splendid mud oven stood outside for baking bread and cooking extra large roasts. There was also a fine well close at hand with the proverbial oaken bucket attached to a rope and chain. The “big house” and kitchen were thatched, and all the houses were mudded and white-washed with lime. They presented a good appearance from a distance.

A four foot sidewalk ran all around the square, and another one from the front gate to the front door of the “big house.” There was a nice vegetable, flower and kitchen garden of about an acre behind the house. The flagstaff stood at the front gate, and the belfry stood outside the Factor’s private office. While a high stockade enclosed the whole square, so when the big gates were locked at night there was no danger of losing any scalps before morning.

(To be continued)

Captain Freakley Married

CAPTAIN NORMAN FREAKLEY, Superintendent of Transport for the Company, with headquarters at Montreal, came to Winnipeg last month to claim a bride from the head office staff of the Fur Trade Department. The captain was wedded December 30th to Miss Frances Menagh, at St. George’s Church, Winnipeg. Miss Menagh, daughter of the late Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Menagh of Cork, Ireland, had been engaged with the Company at Winnipeg for several years.

Two Ends to Every Stick

By J. M. GREEN, Portage la Loche.