Strange, isn't it, that the writers of northern novels never depict a
scene like that? Probably because they have never been inside a
northern church.

Next, breakfasts were hurriedly eaten, then the voyageurs assembled
upon the beach placed those big, beautifully formed, six-fathom canoes
upon the water, and paddled them to the landing. Then Chief Factor
Thompson and Factor Mackenzie joined the throng; and that veteran
voyageur, Oo-koo-hoo, who was to command the Fur Brigade, touched his
hat and conversed with the officers. A few moments later the old guide
waved his swarthy men into line. From them he chose the bowmen,
calling each by name, and motioning them to rank beside him; then, in
turn, each bowman selected a man for his crew; until, for each of the
eight canoes, eight men were chosen. Then work began.

Some went off with tump-line in hand to the warehouse, ascended the
massive stairs, and entered the fur loft. Tiers of empty shelves
circled the room, where the furs were stored during the winter; but
upon the floor were stacked packs of valuable pelts--the harvest of the
fur trade. The old-fashioned scales, the collapsible mould, and the
giant fur press told of the work that had been done. Every pack
weighed eighty pounds. Loading up, they rapidly carried the fur to the
landing. In the storeroom the voyageurs gathered up the "tripping" kit
of paddles, tents, axes, tarpaulins, sponges; and a box for each crew
containing frying-pans, tea pails, tin plates, and tea-dishes. In the
trading room the crews were supplied with provisions of flour, pork,
and tea, at the rate of three pounds a day for each man. They were
also given tobacco. Most of the voyageurs received "advances" from the
clerk in the way of clothing, knives, pipes, and things deemed