In this excerpt it is winter 1927. 19-year old Earle Frood is fishing at Cadotte Lake. Before setting off on the adventure that is the subject of his story he returns briefly to his parents' home in Faust, travelling by dogsled to Grouard to take a bobsleigh 'stage' to the railway station at Enilda:

              We arrived at Enilda, just a few minutes ahead of the train.
              I had the dogs on their chains when the locomotive came steaming and snorting into the station. I kept them well back until the big black monster was past and the cars had stopped. Then I advanced and lifted them up to the floor of the baggage car along with my kit which was lashed to the toboggan.
              A car's length back I entered the coach and flopped down on one of the soft seats. Passengers were just settling down for the night. In my case I had only an hour's ride ahead of me. I would be home by ten-thirty.
              At Faust, the train took me right past our house and I had to walk back a third of a mile. The house was dark so I just walked in; people rarely locked doors in those days. The folks had just gone to bed but my entrance got them up again without any urging. Home again, I had a lot to tell. Both my parents, and particularly my father, were excited about my coming trip. I had the floor only for a short time before they let me know they had news as well.
              My family had been living on acreage on the edge of town for a few years and now there was to be a move. My father had applied for homesteading rights on a hundred and sixty acres that were adjoining the town. And strangely, this meant that our new home would be closer to town than the old location.
              I said strange because it is not often a homestead is available so close to a settlement. The town didn't amount to much. There were two places of business. Each was a store and hotel combined. Each had started as a residence that kept boarders and, from that modest start, they grew. My sister and her husband owned one of them. In addition, there were two fish packing plants that operated only during the two and a half month summer fishing season.
              The houses were not arranged in neat rows, but scattered far and wide, meaning east and west since the lake was on the north, and the south of town had nothing but trees.
              My father operated a wooden box-making business. Each of the fish companies required several thousand of these boxes every year. However there were other box-making plants, so the competition for business was quite keen.
              I had a talk-fest with my parents. I told them what a good cook I had turned out to be, and mentioned how my woods cabin smelled good just because of my baking.
              My mother joined in with the news that were going to have a new house. "If we move we have to have another house and the next one will be a lot better than this one."
              Dad took over with more of the same. "We have often talked about getting a small sawmill," he said, "if we have to build a house, we might as well cut the lumber for it ourselves."
              That made sense. There were plenty of trees on the homestead he now had at his disposal. Building on the property was one of the requirements in "proving it up." Residing on it and improvements were other requirements.
              The main reason for this long trip south had been to find a home for my dogs while I was away, but I had another purpose as well. The coming expedition had two objectives: gold and beaver, and both required special equipment. I needed a pan for washing the gold-bearing sand, mercury to help separate the gold from the dross, and a couple of number four traps. Number four is a big trap, used for wolves. Although beavers are not big, experts agree that for beaver, big is better.
              I got a letter away pronto to Uncle Ben's in Edmonton, ordering the required items. They were outfitters who stocked everything that could be fired, set or packed.
              Four days later the goods were at the post office and there was no reason for staying at home any longer. The big north country was waiting for me and I was eager to see a lot more of it.
              I left Faust in the last part of March. I went on the freight train because it passed through at noon and would get me to Enilda at a reasonable time instead of three in the morning by regular rail. There, I was lucky enough to get a ride with a farmer who lived near Grouard, so I got there just before dark. Inquiring, I found there was a team leaving for Whitefish Lake in the morning. I was glad of that because I had a pack to carry this time.