La Ronde’s Return--Letters from Home--A Feast--The Journey to
Red River and back--Hardships--The Frozen Train--Three Extra
Days--The Sioux at Fort Garry--Their Spoils of War--Late
Visitors--Musk-rats and their Houses--Rat-catching--Our
Weather-glass--Moose Hunting in the Spring--Extreme Wariness
of the Moose--His Stratagem to guard against Surprise--
Marching during the Thaw--Prepare to leave Winter Quarters--
Search for the Horses--Their Fine Condition--Nutritious
Pasturage--Leave La Belle Prairie--Carlton again--Good-bye
to Treemiss and La Ronde--Baptiste Supernat--Start for Fort
Pitt--Passage of Wild-fowl--Baptiste’s Stories--Crossing
Swollen Rivers--Addition to our Party--Shooting for a Living--
The Prairie Bird’s Ball--Fort Pitt--Peace between the Crees
and Blackfeet--Cree Full Dress--The Blackfeet--The Dress
of their Women--Indian Solution of a Difficulty--Rumours of
War--Hasty Retreat of the Blackfeet--Louis Battenotte, the
“Assiniboine”--His Seductive Manners--Departure for Edmonton--
A Night Watch--A Fertile Land--The Works of Beaver--Their
Effect on the Country--Their Decline in Power--How we crossed
the Saskatchewan--Up the Hill--Eggs and Chickens--Arrive at
Edmonton.
On the 11th of March, as we were sitting in the hut talking to two
young Indians who had just arrived from the plains with a message
from Gaytchi Mohkamarn, to the effect that he should be compelled,
by hunger, to eat the meat we had left in cache, if we did not fetch
it immediately, the door opened, and in walked La Ronde. He was very
emaciated, and appeared feeble and worn-out. Bruneau arrived soon
after with a dog-sleigh, on which were a pemmican, a sack of flour,
a small chest of tea, and, above all, letters from home. How eagerly
we seized them, and how often we read and re-read them need hardly be
told. We made a feast in honour of the arrival; pancakes were fried in
profusion, and kettleful after kettleful of tea prepared. The latter we
had not tasted for many days, the former not for weeks. We sat up until
long after midnight listening to La Ronde’s account of his journey,
and the news from Red River. They had accomplished the journey of 600
miles to Fort Garry in twenty-three days, and, after a week’s rest, set
out on their return on the last day of January. This and the 1st of
February were the two days on which Cheadle and Isbister travelled from
Carlton, the period of greatest cold, when there was seventy degrees of
frost.
The two sleighs were laden with four sacks of flour, the tea, and
pemmican for themselves and the dogs. The snow was so deep, that
they were frequently obliged to tread out a track twice over with
snow-shoes, before it was firm enough to bear the dogs, who were even
then only able to drag the heavy sleighs by the help of the men pushing
behind with poles. They travelled thus slowly and laboriously for some
200 miles, when the pemmican gave out, and they were obliged to feed
the dogs upon the precious flour.
When within two days’ journey of Fort Pelley, the dogs were so
exhausted, that one of the sleighs had to be abandoned, and one
miserable animal lay down to die by the road-side. Soon afterwards
they passed a sleigh with a team of dogs standing frozen, stark and
stiff in their harness, like the people suddenly turned to stone
in the story of the Arabian Nights. Some passer-by had found the
deserted sleigh, with its dead team, and placed them upright, as if
still drawing the load. Upon arriving at Fort Pelley they found the
inhabitants starving, with but half a bag of pemmican left. Here they
left a sack of flour. After this La Ronde was attacked by bronchitis,
and had great difficulty in finishing the journey, arriving in the weak
and emaciated condition described.
We found, to our surprise, that we had, somehow or other, contrived
to manufacture three days since our last visit to the Fort six weeks
before. By our reckoning we made the day of their return Saturday, the
14th of March, whereas it proved to be Wednesday, the 11th.
We now heard the particulars of the Sioux outbreak, and how the stage
to Georgetown had been attacked by them, the driver and passengers
scalped, and the wagon thrown into Red River. This occurred only a few
days after our journey by it. Two thousand Sioux had come to Fort Garry
for ammunition, and the greatest terror and excitement reigned in the
settlement.
These Indians were rich in the spoils of war; strings of twenty-dollar
gold pieces adorned their necks, and they had bags of coin, officers’
epaulettes, and women’s finery, swords, rifles, revolvers, and
bowie-knives; horses, and even buggies were amongst their trophies.
La Ronde also brought the provoking intelligence that all the valuable
horses we sent back to Fort Garry, in charge of Voudrie and Zear,
had perished on the road through the carelessness of these worthless
fellows.
Shortly after we were all comfortably asleep, we were aroused by the
yelping of dogs, and presently heard some one stealthily entering the
hut. It was pitch dark, and Milton hastily jumped out of bed and struck
a light, which disclosed the Hunter, his father-in-law, and the whole
family. They had heard of La Ronde’s return from the two young Indians
who had visited us that day, and lost no time in coming to welcome
him, and share in the good things which he had brought. We were very
sulky at the disturbance, and they slunk quietly to sleep on the floor,
dreadfully ashamed of themselves.
La Ronde continued seriously ill for several days, but when he became
convalescent, we resumed the trapper’s life, varying it at times by
spearing musk-rats, now in full season, and although somewhat strong
flavoured, by no means despicable food. These animals are very numerous
on all the lakes, and their houses of reeds dot the surface of the ice
in winter like so many haycocks. They build these as soon as the water
is frozen over, lining them with soft moss and grasses, and storing
them with the aquatic plants on which they feed. A hole through the
ice communicates with the water beneath, and at various distances
breathing holes are kept open, covered with smaller mounds of cut
reeds, about the size of mole-hills. As long as the frost remains
severe the musk-rat’s house is impregnable; but when the sun shines on
it with greater power, enemies force an entrance through the softening
walls. The fox, the wolverine, and the mink prey upon the musk-rats
towards the end of winter; and the Indian, armed with a long, slender
spear, barbed at the point, approaches stealthily the family dwelling,
and plunging the weapon through the middle of it, often impales two or
three at a single thrust.
When the skunk-skin which served us as a weather-glass informed us
through our noses that the thaw was at hand,[6] we looked eagerly
forward to the prospect of hunting moose. We had found many tracks
within a few miles of our house, and expected to have some good sport
with the assistance of Rover. The surface of the snow thawed by the
sun during the day is frozen into a firm crust by the night-frosts of
the early spring. This is strong enough to bear a man on snow-shoes,
or a dog of no great size, but breaks through beneath the small feet
and gigantic weight of the moose. When pursued by a dog, the animal
tries to escape; but sinking through up to the hocks at every stride,
and wounded about the legs by the sharp ice, he soon turns to bay, and
is easily shot by the hunter when he comes up. This is almost the only
way, except by watching their bathing-places in the rivers and lakes in
summer, that this wary animal can be killed by any but the most skilful
hunters. Few half-breeds, and not every Indian, is expert enough to
track and kill a moose under ordinary circumstances, and it is a saying
amongst them that a man may follow moose all his life, and never even
catch sight of one. Frequenting the thickest forests, where he can
only be seen when close at hand, his sense of hearing is so acute that
the snapping of the smallest twig or the crackling of a dry leaf is
sufficient to give him warning. A windy day offers the best chance of
approaching him, when the noises of the woods drown the sound of the
hunter’s stealthy footsteps. The moose adopts a cunning stratagem to
guard against surprise. When about to rest, he walks in a circle and
lies down within it, close to the commencement of the curve. Thus the
hunter following the track unconsciously passes close beside him as
he lies concealed, and whilst his pursuer follows the trail ahead, he
dashes away on one side unseen. This year, however, on the 30th of
March, the thaw set in suddenly and completely, so that no firm crust
formed on the snow, and our anticipations of sport were altogether
disappointed.
Cheadle was at this time far away in the woods with Bruneau, and
immediately started homewards. They were only able to travel at night,
when it was frosty, for snow-shoes are useless in a thaw. On the second
evening these broke down, from being continually wet, and they were
obliged to flounder along as they could without them. Nothing can be
more fatiguing than walking through deep snow at the commencement of
the thaw. The thin crust on the surface will bear the weight of a man
in some places, and you walk on triumphantly for a few yards, and then
are suddenly shaken to pieces by crashing through up to your middle.
Struggling on, wading through the mass until you come to another
stronger portion, you step on to it, and are again let down with a run.
Travelling like this all night brought them to the edge of the lake,
only two miles from the hut. But they were too exhausted to proceed
further, and lighting a good fire, lay down and slept for several
hours, after which they were sufficiently restored to be equal to the
walk home across the lake.
We now prepared to leave our winter quarters, as soon as the snow had
disappeared sufficiently to admit of travelling with carts. The first
thing to do was to find the horses, which had been turned loose at
the commencement of the winter. We had seen them or their tracks from
time to time, and knew in what direction they had wandered. La Ronde
followed their trail without difficulty, and discovered them about
eight or ten miles away. We were very much astonished at their fine
condition when he drove them back to La Belle Prairie. Although very
thin when the snow began to fall, and two of them had been used for
sleigh work in the early part of the winter, they were now perfect
balls of fat, and as wild and full of spirit as if fed on corn--a most
unusual condition for Indian horses. The pasture is so nutritious that
animals fatten rapidly even in winter--when they have to scratch away
the snow to feed--if they find woods to shelter them from the piercing
winds. No horses are more hardy or enduring than those of this country,
yet their only food is the grass of the prairies and the vetches of the
copses. The milch cows and draught oxen at Red River, and in Minnesota,
feeding on grass alone, were generally in nearly as fine condition as
the stall-fed cattle of the Baker Street Show.
On the 3rd of April we loaded our carts and turned our backs on La
Belle Prairie, not without feelings of regret. Our Indian friends
were all away, and we reluctantly set out without saying good-bye to
either the Hunter or Misquapamayoo. On the 6th of April we reached the
Saskatchewan, which we found still firmly frozen over, and crossed on
the ice. At Carlton we found Treemiss, on his way back to England, and
he started with La Ronde the next day for Red River. We sent Rover with
them, as we were afraid of losing him after reaching British Columbia--
a mistake we have never ceased to regret. As our guide forward we
engaged Baptiste Supernat, a tall, powerful, French half-breed, who
professed to know the route we intended to follow as far as Tête
Jaune’s Cache, on the western side of the main ridge of the Rocky
Mountains. After resting three days at the Fort, we re-crossed the
river on the ice, already beginning to break up, and journeyed quietly
along the northern bank, towards Fort Pitt. We took two carts and two
horses with us, and as Baptiste was our only attendant, one of us
drove, while the other walked ahead to look for game. The weather was
beautifully bright and fine, and the snow had almost gone. Flocks of
ducks and geese passed continually, and the whistling of their wings,
as they flew overhead on their way northwards, went on incessantly all
night, almost preventing sleep. The country we passed through was of
the usual rich character--mingled woods, rolling prairies, and lakes
and streams--except for one day’s journey, when we crossed a bleak
and barren tract. This was a level plain, backed by an amphitheatre of
bare, rugged hills. But beyond this, at a place called the Source, from
a river which springs out of the ground there, the country resumed its
former character.
Baptiste proved, like all his race, very talkative, and told us many
curious stories, in the truth of which, perhaps, not very great faith
could be placed. One of these tales was the following:--Many years
ago, but within the memory of people still living, an Indian found a
piece of native iron in the neighbourhood of Edmonton, which he carried
out to the plains, and placed on the top of a hill. Since that time
it had regularly increased in size, and was now so large that no man
could lift it! The only thing which makes this tale worth mentioning,
is that it obtains universal credence amongst the half-breeds. Many of
them profess to have seen it, and one man told us he had visited it
twice. On the first occasion he lifted it with ease; on the second,
several years afterwards, he was utterly unable to move it! The man
most solemnly assured us this was perfectly true.
Baptiste also told us that many years ago a nugget of gold was brought
to Mr. Rowand, of Edmonton, by an Indian, who stated he had found it
near the foot of the Rocky Mountains. The gold was forwarded to the
Company in England, and the Indian strictly enjoined to tell no man,
lest something evil should happen unto him.
At Jack Fish Lake we met Gaytchi Mohkamarn and some Wood Crees of our
acquaintance. The former apologised for eating our meat in the winter,
urging the dire necessity which compelled him. After accompanying us
for a day, they left us, seeming really sorry that they would see us no
more. The principal difficulty we met with in this part of our journey
was the crossing of rivers, which were now bank full from the melted
snows. We generally adopted the plan of making a small raft, on which
one of us crossed; then, with a rope from either bank, we hauled the
raft backwards and forwards, until the baggage was all ferried over.
The horses were made to swim the stream, and the carts dragged across.
This we found rather miserable work, standing up to our knees in the
icy water, sometimes in the chilly evening, or the raw cold of early
morning.
One river we crossed on a narrow bridge of ice which had not yet broken
up. A large fissure extended down the middle, through which we could
see the waters boiling along beneath. Taking the wheels off one of
the carts, we pushed the body before us on the ice, and placed it as
a bridge across the dangerous portion. As we removed the cart, when
everything had been brought over, the ice broke up in great masses,
which were whirled away down stream, and in a few minutes the river was
open.
Some days before we reached Fort Pitt, we were overtaken by a party
of the Company’s men from Carlton, who accompanied us for the rest of
the journey. They travelled on foot, and their baggage was carried on
“travailles,” drawn by dogs. A “travaille” is an Indian contrivance,
consisting of two poles fastened together at an acute angle, with
cross-bars between. The point of the angle rests upon the back of the
dog or horse, the diverging ends of the poles drag along the ground,
and the baggage is tied on to the cross-bars. The Indians use these
contrivances instead of carts. The new-comers were out of provisions
and ammunition, and depended upon our liberality for subsistence. We
had little left, and had to work hard to kill a sufficient number of
ducks and prairie chickens, for ten hungry men will eat a great many
brace of birds.
A peculiarity of the prairie grouse enabled us to procure a good
supply of them. In the spring of the year these birds assemble together
at sunrise and sunset, in parties of from twenty to thirty, at some
favourite spot, generally a little hillock, or rising ground, and
dance--yes, dance like mad! The prairie grouse is a running bird,
and does not ordinarily progress by hopping; but on these festive
occasions, they open their wings, put both feet together, and hop like
men in sacks, or the birds in a pantomime, or “The Perfect Cure,” up
to one another, waltz round, and “set” to the next! A prairie chicken
dance is a most ludicrous sight, and whilst they are engaged in it,
they become so absorbed in the performance that it is easy to approach
them. Their places of rendezvous are recognisable at once from the
state of the ground, the grass being beaten perfectly flat in a
circular patch, or worn away by the constant beating of feet.
At the present juncture we took advantage of their weakness for
a social hop, and broke up the ball in a most sanguinary manner,
justified, we hope, by the dire necessity. We never, however, took this
mean advantage of them except when driven by actual hunger to obtain
food in the best manner we could.
The prairie was at this time very beautiful, being covered with the
large blue flowers of a species of anemone. The grouse feed greedily
upon them when in bloom, and we always found their crops full of them.
On the 20th we made a forced march, in order to get in that night,
travelling very fast and hard all day, and we were very weary before
we saw the welcome stockade, and gained the hospitable quarters of Mr.
Chantelaine, who reigned at this time at Fort Pitt.
Fort Pitt stands, like Carlton, on the flat below the high old bank
of the river Saskatchewan, and is a similar building, but of smaller
size. This establishment furnishes the largest quantity of pemmican and
dry meat for the posts more distant from the plains. The buffalo are
seldom far from Fort Pitt, and often whilst there is famine at Carlton
and Edmonton, the people of the “Little Fort,” as it is called, are
feasting on fresh meat every day.
The farming, although carried on in somewhat primitive fashion, is very
productive. Potatoes are abundant, and attain an immense size; carrots
and turnips grow equally well, and wheat would no doubt flourish as
luxuriantly here as at Edmonton or Red River, were there sufficient
inducement to sow it.
We stayed several days visiting the Indians who were encamped around,
and trading a few horses from them. Cheadle was fully employed, for
the advent of a white medicine man is so rare an event, that every
one seized the opportunity to employ his services, or ask his advice;
and he was expected not only to cure present ailments, and prophesy
concerning prospective ones, but also, with retrospective view, declare
what course ought to have been pursued in various cases long gone by.
The little community in and around the hut was in a state of intense
excitement. Peace had just been concluded between the Crees and the
Blackfeet; large camps of both nations were within a day or two’s
journey of the Fort. From these there was a continual going and coming
of visitors, all anxious to avail themselves of the rare occasion of
a peace, generally only of very short duration. On these state visits
by the members of one tribe to those of the other, the men adorned
themselves in gaudiest finery and brightest paint. Scarlet leggings and
blankets, abundance of ribbons in the cap, if any were worn, or the
hair plaited into a long queue behind, and two shorter ones hanging
down on each side the face in front, each bound round by coils of
bright brass wire; round the eyes a halo of bright vermilion, a streak
down the nose, a patch on each cheek, and a circle round the mouth of
the same colour, constituted the most effective toilet of a Cree dandy.
During our stay here a party of Blackfeet arrived to trade. They were
fine-looking fellows, generally better dressed and cleaner than other
Indians. They appeared of a less stature than the Crees, but still tall
and well made. Their faces were very intelligent, their features being
strongly marked, the nose large, well formed, straight or slightly
Roman, the cheek-bones less prominent, and the lips thinner than in
the Cree. The mouth was large, and the teeth beautifully white, as in
all Indians. The dress of the men differed but little from that of
their ancient enemies, the Crees, except being generally cleaner and
in better preservation. The faces of both men and women were highly
painted with vermilion. The dress of the latter was very singular
and striking. It consisted of long gowns of buffalo skin, dressed
beautifully soft, and dyed with yellow ochre. This was confined at the
waist by a broad belt of the same material, thickly studded over with
round brass plates, the size of a crown piece, brightly polished. These
Indians were very dignified in manner, submitting with great composure
to the gaze of an inquisitive crowd of half-breeds and Crees, who
looked with eager interest at a race seldom seen by them, except when
meeting on the battle-field.
Although peace had been proclaimed, it was not by any means improbable
that some of the young Cree braves might attempt to steal the Blackfeet
horses. Mr. Chantelaine, therefore, had them secured for the night
together with ours, within the Fort. On the morrow a Cree came in from
the camp on the plains with the news that hostilities were imminent, on
account of a Cree woman having been killed in the Blackfoot camp. She
had gone there to be married to a Blackfoot chief, but on her arrival
another took a fancy to her. A quarrel arose, and, to put an end to the
matter, one of them stabbed the woman to the heart. Mr. Chantelaine
immediately communicated the news to the Blackfoot chief, and advised
him to be off at once. He agreed to this, and in a few minutes they
crossed the river. As they landed on the other side, a Blackfoot
runner, stripped to his breech cloth, breathless and excited, met them,
having been sent to warn them of impending danger. Eventually the alarm
turned out to be a false one, and the peace continued unbroken for the
few weeks we remained on the Saskatchewan.
At Fort Pitt we engaged another man, who, like Baptiste, expressed
his willingness to go with us as far as we might require. Our new
attendant, Louis Battenotte, more generally known by the sobriquet
of “The Assiniboine,” from his having been brought up in childhood
by that tribe, was a middle-sized though athletic man, of very
Indian appearance. His hair was long and black, and secured by a
fillet of silk, his nose prominently aquiline, his mouth small, and
with unusually thin and delicate lips. His manner was very mild and
pleasing, and the effect of this was increased by the singular softness
and melody of his voice.
At the time we were at Fort Pitt, his youngest child fell ill and died,
and he and his wife became so unhappy and unsettled on account of the
loss, that they became anxious to leave the scene of their misfortune,
and volunteered to accompany us. We were willing enough, and indeed
anxious, to secure the services of the man, who had the reputation of
being the most accomplished hunter and voyageur of the district, but
demurred for a long time to his proposal to take with him his wife
and son--the latter a boy of thirteen. We were, however, so charmed
with the fellow, that we at last agreed, not without many misgivings
as to the wisdom of allowing what we thought would be supernumeraries
on a journey so difficult as ours would be across the mountains, and
through a country where food would be difficult to obtain. But this
arrangement, which appeared of such doubtful wisdom at the time,
eventually proved our salvation.
“The Assiniboine,” although he possessed but one hand--the left
one having been shattered by the bursting of a gun, which left but
two fingers--was as useful and expert as if he were unmaimed. His
gentle and insinuating manners, which had so fascinated us, belied
his character, for he was passionate and violent, and although his
countenance beamed forth benevolent, and he cooed softly as any
dove when at peace, yet, when angry and excited, his aspect became
perfectly fiendish, and his voice thundered like the roar of a
lion. But he proved a valuable servant in our many difficulties
afterwards, and we never regretted being misled by his seductive
manners. We learnt subsequently that he had killed another half-breed
in a drunken squabble, and had been dismissed the Company’s service
and excommunicated by the priest in consequence. The murdered man
was, however, a notorious bully, the dread and terror of all the
half-breeds. Every one agreed, moreover, that the provocation had been
excessive, and the deed done in a moment of passion.
We left Fort Pitt on the 28th of April, choosing the road on the
north side of the river, as it was not advisable to encounter the
vast numbers of Plains Indians now collected together on the south.
The first night after our departure we kept careful watch over our
horses, fearful lest the Indians from whom we had purchased them might
attempt to steal them back. For it is common enough for them to repent
having parted with their horses, and ease their minds by again taking
possession of their former property. The night passed quietly, and we
turned in with daylight for a few hours’ rest before starting again.
We now entered a most glorious country--not indeed grandly
picturesque, but rich and beautiful: a country of rolling hills and
fertile valleys, of lakes and streams, groves of birch and aspen, and
miniature prairies; a land of a kindly soil, and full of promise to the
settler to come in future years, when an enlightened policy shall open
out the wealth now uncared-for or unknown.
Our live stock was increased before reaching Edmonton by the birth of a
foal, but this did not delay us in the least. The foal was tied on to a
“travaille” for the first day, and thus drawn along by its mother; and
after that marched bravely all day, swimming the rivers we had to cross
in gallant style.
On the way we frequently met with marks of the labours of the beaver in
days long gone by, when they were a numerous and powerful race; and at
one place we found a long chain of marshes, formed by the damming up
of a stream which had now ceased to exist. Their dwelling had been
abandoned ages ago, for the house had become a grassy mound on the dry
land, and the dam in front a green and solid bank.
[Illustration: SWAMP FORMED BY BEAVER, WITH ANCIENT BEAVER HOUSE AND
DAM.
(_See page 179._)
]
On Dog River, a small tributary of the Saskatchewan, a colony of these
animals still survived. We found fresh tracks along the bank, and a few
small trees cut down; and following these indications up the stream,
we came upon the dam. This was a weir of trunks and branches, over
which the water poured gently, to resume a more rapid course below. In
the quiet pool above, and close to the opposite bank, stood the beaver
house, a conical structure of six or seven feet in height, formed
of poles and branches plastered over with mud. We watched long and
silently, hid amongst the bushes which fringed the stream, hoping for
a sight of some of the tenants, but in vain. This settlement must have
been in existence a very long time, for we saw stumps of trees which
had been cut down by them, now moss-grown and rotten. Some of these
were of large size, one measuring more than two feet in diameter. The
beaver had fallen off wofully from the glory of their ancestors, not
only in the number and size of the communities, but in the magnitude of
their undertakings.
The trees cut down more lately were all comparatively small, and it
would seem as if a number of beaver worked at the same tree, and a
weak colony felt unequal to attempt one of the giants which their
forefathers would not have hesitated to attack. Nor did we ever
discover any considerable stream dammed up by beaver of this present
time--a work requiring large timber, and numerous workmen; yet we
frequently met with the grass-grown banks described, works of the
golden age gone by, stretched across what had been streams of thirty or
forty yards in width.
At a place called Snake Hills, we again struck the banks of the
Saskatchewan; and as the road on the north side beyond this point
was merely a pack trail through the woods, we prepared to cross the
river, in order to follow the regular cart track along the southern
bank. We were at first rather puzzled how to get over, for the river
was deep and wide, and we were unable to find any timber wherewith to
make a raft. But the ingenuity of “The Assiniboine” was not long at
fault. He built a slender framework of green willows, tied together
with strips of hide, and covered this with a buffalo skin tightly
stretched and well greased at all the seams. This frail canoe was but
six feet long, two in breadth, and about the same in depth. Baptiste
acted as ferryman, and transferred the baggage safely across. Then came
Cheadle’s turn, and his thirteen stone, added to the weight of the
ponderous Baptiste, sunk the light craft to the water’s edge. A log of
wood was attached on one side to prevent the canoe from capsizing, and
the two pushed off on their uncertain voyage. The slightest rocking
caused the boat to ship water, which also soaked rapidly through the
pervious skin, and Cheadle viewed with some anxiety the gradual sinking
of one of the most fragile vessels mortal ever embarked in. The
leakage went on rapidly, and the water crept up outside until it really
appeared to overhang the brim. It was already nearly dark, and the
prospect of immersion appeared so imminent that the passenger became
seriously uncomfortable. The bank was reached only just in time, for
the water was already beginning to trickle over the side.
Milton was next brought over, and the rest remained behind to
superintend the passage of the horses and carts in the morning. The
latter were brought over in a very easy and simple manner. Each cart
was attached by a rope from one of the shafts to the tail of a horse,
the animals driven into the water, and the carts pushed after them.
Being built entirely of wood, these floated in their proper position,
and the horses swam across with them without difficulty.
When the carts were again loaded, we found the bank so steep that the
horses were unable to drag them up the ascent. We possessed no extra
harness by which to attach another horse, but made shift after the
fashion of the country, by a rope from the shaft to a horse’s tail. It
was necessary to start gently, in order not to dislocate the caudal
vertebræ, but with Milton and the boy as postillions on the leaders,
and the rest of the party pushing behind, we went bravely up the hill.
When we gained the level plain above, dense clouds of smoke on every
hand told that the prairie was on fire, and we soon reached the
blackened ground which the fire had passed over. The only pasture we
found for our horses was a large marsh where we encamped for the night.
Before we reached Edmonton, our stock of provisions, as usual, began
to fall short; but wild-fowl were so plentiful, and we collected their
eggs in such quantity, that we were never short of food. Baptiste and
the Assiniboine family were indifferent as to the condition of the
eggs, or indeed rather preferred those which contained good-sized
chickens. They would hold up the downy dainty by a leg or wing, and
drop it into their mouths, as we should eat asparagus.
On the 14th of May we came in sight of the Fort, prettily situated on a
high cliff overhanging the river on the northern side. We were quickly
fetched over in the Company’s barge, and took up our quarters in the
building, where we received every kindness and hospitality from the
chief trader, Mr. Hardisty.
[Illustration: FORT EDMONTON, ON THE NORTH SASKATCHEWAN.
(_See page 183._)
]