A run to Edmonton--Mr. Hardisty and other Hudson's Bay Company
officers spend New Year's with us--Sports and amusements--Our party
sets out for Mountain House--I experience a "scare"--Intense cold--A
cunning dog--Mishaps to a cariole--In the foot-hills--My first view
of the Rockies--Hearty reception at Mountain House--Back to Victoria.
It was now the middle of December, and father arranged to spend a
Sabbath in Edmonton before the winter holidays came on. I went as
cariole driver, and Mark brought on the provision and baggage sled.
A little more than a day and a half brought us to the fort, and while
we were there Mr. Hardisty and party arrived from the Rocky Mountain
House. This fort and trading-post had been abandoned by the Hudson's
Bay Company for some years, but in the summer of 1865 it was decided
to reopen it in order to draw the trade of the surrounding Indian
tribes--Blackfeet and Bloods, Piegans and Sarcees--as also to keep
these turbulent tribes as much as possible from collision with the
wood and plain Crees, their hereditary foes.
Mr. Hardisty had been put in charge of this enterprise, and with a
large complement of men and an ample outfit, had gone overland during
the autumn to the site of the abandoned post. A temporary fort was
built in the woods near by, and his men were now taking out timber
and sawing lumber preparatory to the erection of permanent buildings
during the next season. The old fort had been the scene of many a
fight between the contending tribes, and as the Hudson's Bay Company
invariably followed a "peace policy," not only between themselves and
the various tribes, but also in preserving amity among the different
races, they had given up the fort and in so doing lost a large
portion of the southern trade. But now that the Crees had moved
farther east, Victoria had become an important post, intermediate
between Edmonton and Fort Pitt, and the reasonable conclusion
presented itself that the Blackfeet and southern trade might now
again be secured by rebuilding the Mountain Fort.
Mr. Hardisty and Messrs. McAnley and MacDonald returned with us to
spend the holidays at Victoria, father having promised to go to the
Mountain Fort directly after New Year's day, for the two-fold purpose
of meeting the Mountain Stonies, who were expected there then, and
also of marrying Mr. McAuley to Miss Brazeau, the daughter of the
second officer in charge of the fort.
On our return trip to Victoria, in company with the Hudson's Bay
officers, we did not camp, but leaving Edmonton in the evening we
journeyed all night, reaching Victoria early next morning. As I had
father in my cariole, and the rest of the party were comparatively
light, the run of between ninety and a hundred miles was a hard one
for my team. But old Draffan and his driver did not come in last by
any means.
Readers of "FOREST, LAKE AND PRAIRIE" will remember that in the
autumn of 1862 Gladstone and I began this place. In loneliness
sublime our leather lodge stood on the north bank of the big
Saskatchewan. Little more than three years have passed, and this is
now the rendezvous of several large camps of Indians. Wood and plain
Crees and wood Stonies have frequented the spot. A colony of some
twenty-five families of English half-breeds have settled beside us.
The Hudson's Bay Company have established a post alongside the
Mission. The Mission party has been augmented by the arrival of
father and mother, and part of the family from Norway House, and of
my brother and sister from Ontario. I have taken unto me a wife, and
we are no more alone at Victoria.
The holidays of 1865-66 were full of pleasurable excitement.
Religious services and literary entertainments and concerts occupied
the evenings, and out-door games, such as football, snowshoe and
dog-train races and foot races, were provided for the day. Thus the
fun and enjoyment were kept up. Then came watch-night with its
solemnity and New Year's day as the culmination of our feasting and
innocent frolic.
The second day of January, 1866, found us driving our dog-teams
westward for the Mountain House. Again I had father and the cariole
as far as Edmonton, and from that point we had the Chief Factor of
the Saskatchewan District, William Christie, Esq., as one of our
company.
The distance between Edmonton and the Mountain House is 180 miles.
We left the fort about four o'clock one dark morning, our train
comprising in all nine sleds. I had a load of baggage, a portion of
which gave me quite a start. As I jumped on the sled while going
down a gentle slope, there seemed to be a living, moving object
lashed in my load, for it moved under my moccasined feet. Instantly
I sprang into the snow, and then it flashed upon me that it was a bag
of mashed potatoes which a friend was sending to the Mountain House
and which had not yet frozen. I laughed at my scare, but at five
o'clock on a dark stormy morning in a narrow winding forest path, a
very little will startle one. The cold was intense, a keen cutting
wind making us keep a sharp lookout for frostbites. The road was
drifted and very heavy, so that when night came on we were glad
enough to make camp, which we pitched in a spruce grove at the
eastern base of the Woodpecker Hills.
Pile on the logs as we would, still the cold was bound to assert
itself, and our clothing alternately steamed and froze as we turned
before that fire. The Chief Factor and father, who had been
constrained to sit in one position in their coffin-like carioles
since five o'clock in the morning, were now making up for it by
indulging in lively anecdote and joke and repartee. Pemmican and hot
tea went a long way towards heating the internal man, and the great
fire did something for our extremities. But the cold was
omnipresent. In great chunks, in morsels, in atoms, it was all about
us. You could reach out and grasp it. You could shiver in your
clothes and feel it. You could almost smell it and see it, and you
could hear it plainly enough as with might and force it strained the
very earth and made the forest monarchs crack as if these were so
many ends to its lash.
Hours before daybreak we were climbing the hills and crossing the
ice-bound creeks and lakes, and those of us who had loads or carioles
to drive were "running with patience" (at times) "the race set before
us." The bridegroom-elect being the shortest-legged of the party,
and I doubt not the shortest-winded also, generally brought up the
rear. Even if he started out ahead, or in the middle of the
procession, before many miles were passed he fell behind. The law of
gravitation was doing its work. From the rear at frequent intervals
would come the shout to Pat (his leading dog), "Marse!" uttered with
a strong Scotch accent.
Pat was a big white dog with a short bobtail. He also had a peculiar
twist of the head and a squint of the eye which gave him a wise,
knowing appearance. If he had lived in these latter days, and become
possessed of eye-glasses, doubtless he would have been given a
degree! The shrewd fellow seemed to know that his master was on an
important mission, and the dignity of leading a train the owner and
driver of which was on his way to be married, was fully apparent to
"His Dogness." His demeanor _en route_ and around camp was simply
taking. Pat and his master gave us endless fun on that trip. When
these would come up, which was generally after camp was made, the
Chief Factor, the Chairman of the Hudson's Bay Missions, and the rest
of our party became all attention, and Pat and his master were the
centre of joke and fun. Their account of the morning's or
afternoon's run (I say their, for Pat would by nod and look confirm
his master's recital) was sure to "bring the house down." We were
unanimously thankful during the days and nights of that very cold
trip for the stimulating presence of Pat and our short-limbed
bridegroom-elect.
During our second afternoon's run, while making through a rough
country, we came to an exceedingly sidling place in the trail.
Having sent my own load past and helped father over it, I thought I
would wait and see what our rearguard was doing. After some time I
heard "Marse, Pat!" coming from the little Scot's big lungs (for have
you not noticed that Nature in the nice balance of her equity
generally gives the little man a big pair of lungs), and soon Pat
hove in sight, his tongue protruding, and the breath from his big
mouth making little clouds of frozen vapor in the sharp cold air.
The cunning old dog was making the appearance of doing it all, but
all the while I could see that his traces were slack.
Soon dogs and sled were on the sidling road down the hill, and over
went the cariole and down the slope rolled its contents. Pat and his
companions felt the load lighten, and just then remembered that they
were far behind, and in vain my friend shouted "Whoa, Pat, whoa!" On
went the train, and now I came upon the scene. The bridegroom-elect
shouted, "Catch those dogs, John! I say, John, stop those dogs!"
Laughing as I ran, I caught and pulled Pat up, righted the cariole
and held the train while the little Celt gathered up the fragments,
which I saw largely consisted of presents from Edmonton friends to
the marriage supper, now nearly two days nearer in view than when we
started.
Nicely cut roasts of beef and pork, bottles of wine, and sundry
parcels lay around in sweet confusion. It took some time to gather
them up and pack them in place in that parchment-sided, primitive
vehicle; and all this time his owner was discoursing on Pat's good
qualities--"were it not for his big load he would take the lead,"
etc. After a time everything was adjusted again, and on we went,
camping that night among the rolling hills west of Blindman's River.
Another "stingo" night and away long before day. Roads heavy, snow
deep, day so cloudy and stormy that the promised view of the Rockies
failed to realize. There were some of us in the party who had
travelled far and wide in the North-West for from five to fifteen
years, and as yet had not seen the mountains. We were now looking
keenly for the first glimpse of them, but the third night came, and
still because of cloud and storm we had not beheld them.
Our camp that night was made on the wooded summit of a foot-hill. We
were climbing the world fast. If it had been moonlight or clear
daylight we would have looked upon a sea of mountains, but darkness
and storm and smoke were our portion instead. The smoke from our
camp-fire found no vacuum in the overhanging atmosphere, but on the
contrary was pressed to the ground about our camp. In fact the
conditions were such that I think of that "hill summit camp" as one
of the more disagreeable experiences of my frontier life. Gladly we
left it while hours of the long night were still unspent, and as
daylight came we were ascending another big foot-hill, from the
summit of which I first beheld the glorious old Rockies.
Spellbound and in rapture I gazed upon the sublime spectacle before
me. How supremely beyond my largest imaginings those lofty ranges
stood revealed to the delighted senses. The clouds had disappeared,
and in clear, distinct outline hundreds of snow-clad peaks stood out
as if cut by a mighty diamond upon the dimly lighted morning sky.
The beauty of the scene intensely moved me. The majesty and power
apparent were most satisfying to my soul. The God who made these
made me also: I felt exultant in the thought. But now the morning
sun had clearly risen, and as I looked the highest peaks were
illumined as by electric touch, and scores of great beacon-fires
seemed to have sprung into instantaneous being. And the great
picture quickly grew. Snow-clad summit and glacier glint and granite
wall and forest growth speedily became transformed as with the
touches of a million brushes. Halos of light, radiant and grandly
bright, spread themselves upon the mighty canvas. In rapture I
beheld and worshipped. I had seen a glimpse of the glory of the
Eternal, and still I lived. As I reluctantly left the scene and ran
to catch up with our party over the foot-hills and across the wide
valley beyond, I was elated above measure. What matter the cost in
travel and cold and extreme hardship, I had seen the mountains, and
the sight would be a perennial blessing in my life.
When I came up to our party they were already descending the sloping
bank of the Saskatchewan. Miles of this, and then an almost
perpendicular jump or slide, and we were on the ice of the river,
following up which for a couple of miles we reached the temporary
fort.
It was early morn, but up went the flag, and the little metropolis
was all excitement in consequence of our arrival. The Chief Factor
in those days was supreme in his own district. And what a district!
From below the junction of the two Saskatchewans it stretched to the
Columbia, and from the forty-ninth parallel it extended to the north
tributaries of the Peace River. Father's field was still larger, in
that it stretched eastward down to below Oxford House and close to
Hudson Bay.
No wonder the roughly built but strongly made fort was _en fete_ when
such ecclesiastical and commercial dignity came suddenly upon it.
Our welcome was hearty, and that of our "rearguard" doubly so. We
were fortunate in meeting here numbers of Mountain Stonies and
Blackfeet, hardy, muscular mountaineers and wild plain Indians, both
comparatively new types to me.
The temporary fort was built on a low flat near the river. The
permanent new fort was to be placed on a higher bench. I found that
the site of Mountain Fort was about sixty miles from the real base of
the mountains and on the north bank of the North Saskatchewan.
We spent a Sabbath at the fort. Father held services for both whites
and Indians. In due time the marriage was solemnized, and the
wedding supper eaten, and we began our return journey. As the cold
had intensified there was no loitering by the way, and early the
third day we were back at Edmonton. Sixty miles per day was not bad
travelling in such hard weather. The last night we left camp about
midnight. I wrapped father in his cariole and kept it right side up
until we stopped for breakfast. The next day we started for
Victoria, and camping once, arrived there early the second day, right
glad to be at home once more.