Set out from Edmonton--Prophecies of Evil--Mr. O’B.’s Forebodings--
Lake St. Ann’s--We enter the Forest--A Rough Trail--Mr. O’B.,
impressed with the Difficulties which beset him, commences the
study of Paley--Pembina River--The Coal-bed--Game--Curious
Habit of the Willow Grouse--Mr. O’B. en route--Changes wrought
by Beaver--The Assiniboine’s Adventure with the Grisly Bears--
Mr. O’B. prepares to sell his Life dearly--Hunt for the Bears--
Mr. O’B. Protects the Camp--The Bull-dogs--The Path through
the Pine Forest--The Elbow of the McLeod--Baptiste becomes
Discontented--Trout Fishing--Moose Hunting--Baptiste Deserts--
Council--Resolve to Proceed--We lose the Trail--The Forest
on Fire--Hot Quarters--Working for Life--Escape--Strike
the Athabasca River--First View of the Rocky Mountains--Mr.
O’B. spends a Restless Night--Over the Mountain--Magnificent
Scenery--Jasper House--Wild Flowers--Hunting the “Mouton Gris”
and the “Mouton Blanc.”
On the 3rd of June, 1863, we left Edmonton, amid the good wishes of the
kind friends we had made there. But although they cheerfully wished us
God speed, we found from the men that public opinion at the Fort had
decided that our expedition would certainly end most disastrously,[7]
for they considered that the party was too small, and comprised too
many ineffectives, to succeed in overcoming the difficulties we
must necessarily encounter. We were not much disheartened by these
croakings, however, and started for St. Alban’s in the afternoon.
Here we were joined by our friend Mr. O’B., who had walked on the
night before to see the priest, and suffered dreadful anxiety at our
non-appearance until dusk. The next day we stayed at St. Alban’s,
exchanging some lean horses for fatter ones. Just before dark Mr. O’B.
came to us, and begged us to move on that evening, as the next day
would be the 5th of June, the anniversary of his departure from Red
River, in the first portion of his journey to British Columbia, which
had proved so unfortunate, and he felt a superstitious dread of the
coincidence. However, it was already too late, and Mr. O’B. had the
opportunity of verifying the truth of his presentiments.
The road to Lake St. Ann’s passed through a fertile and park-like
country for about fifty miles, but at St. Ann’s the thick forest
commences, which extends far to the north, and westward to the
mountains. St. Ann’s was, doubtless, chosen as the site for a
settlement on account of the immense number of the _core-gonus_, or
white-fish, furnished by the lake, forming the staple food of the
inhabitants; but it is ill adapted for farming, on account of the
timber, which has been very partially cleared away for little fields
of potatoes and grain. This disadvantage has already been felt by the
settlers, many of whom have migrated to the more promising site of St.
Alban’s. The lake is a pretty sheet of water, several miles in length,
its shores dotted on the western side by forty or fifty houses, and
a church. Mr. Colin Fraser, the Company’s officer, treated us very
kindly, gave us milk, potatoes, and delicious fresh white-fish, and
amused us over our evening pipes by stories of the good old times,
when the wood buffalo were found in plenty as far as Peace River, and
game so abundant that starvation was unknown. He had been thirty-eight
years in the country, seventeen of which he had spent as the solitary
host of Jasper House, and told us that Cariboo deer and bighorns were
so numerous when he first went there, that a “green hand” and a boy
supplied the establishment with ample provision during one winter, when
the regular hunter had died. Mr. Fraser had not seen Fort Garry for
thirty years, and for fifteen had not been further than Edmonton, yet
he was happy and contented as possible.
When we left Lake St. Ann’s the track led us immediately into the
densest forest, where the ground was boggy and rotten, thickly covered
with fallen timber. The horses sank in up to their girths, and every
few yards were obliged to jump over the obstruction in the path. Mr.
O’B. was now deeply impressed with the difficulties he encountered, and
declared that, although he had visited many countries, he had never
known what travelling meant before. His assistance was limited to good
advice, for he was afraid to approach a horse, and when his help was
required to load the animals, he was invariably missing. We generally
ferreted him out, and found him, hidden in the bushes, quietly smoking
his pipe, and diligently studying the last remnant of his library, the
only book he took with him--Paley’s “Evidences of Christianity.”
On the second day after we left Lake St. Ann’s, the road became rather
better, there being a few patches of open country, and the timber
smaller, clustering in the swells of the low undulations. At noon we
reached a large lake, and travelled along its banks for the remainder
of that day. It appeared to be well stocked with wild fowl and fish,
the latter lying basking in the shallows, hardly moving away as our
horses approached along the shore. The mosquitoes were exceedingly
troublesome, obliging us to put up the Indian lodge we carried with
us, and we were frequently compelled to get up in the night to light a
fire, in order to smoke them out before we were able to sleep.
On the 11th of June we struck the Pembina River, a clear, shallow
stream flowing to the N.E., over a pebbly bed, between perpendicular
banks of some eighty feet high. These showed the section of a
magnificent coal-bed, from fifteen to twenty feet in thickness. We
easily crossed the river by fording, and on the further bank met a
couple of half-breeds, who were returning to St. Ann’s from trapping
beaver. We stayed an hour or two examining the coal, and prospecting
the sand of the river for gold.
The coal was not of first-rate quality, having an earthy fracture,
and burning with dull flame and much smoke, yielding a quantity of
yellowish-grey ash. The piece we examined was not, however, a fair
specimen, being one we picked up from the bed of the river, which was
strewn with blocks and fragments. Coal has also been discovered on the
McLeod, Athabasca, Smoky, Peace, and Mackenzie Rivers to the north;
and on the Saskatchewan, Battle, and Red Deer Rivers to the south. A
section of it appears in the cliff of the river-bank at Edmonton, where
it is used for the forge. The lignite strata have been thus observed at
numerous points, scattered over more than ten degrees of latitude, but
invariably in nearly the same longitude.
A line drawn from Mackenzie River to the point where Red Deer River
joins the South Saskatchewan would give the line of coal formation
observed with tolerable accuracy. These coal-fields are of enormous
extent, and will doubtless one day form a large element of wealth in
this richly-endowed country of the Saskatchewan.
After investigating the coal, we set to work to wash for gold in the
sand bars, and were rewarded by finding what miners call “the colour,”
_i.e._, a few specks of the finest gold-dust which remain with the
black sand left behind when the rest of the “dirt” is washed away.
For the next two or three days the country presented the same slightly
undulating character, thickly wooded, with hardly a single break, and
without any eminence from which a view could be obtained. The only
sound ground was on the low narrow ridges which separated the wider
shallow valleys. These latter are occupied by “muskegs,” or level
swamps, the surface of which is covered with a mossy crust five or
six inches in thickness, while a thick growth of pines and the fallen
timber add to the difficulties of the road. No one but a Hudson’s Bay
voyageur would dream of taking horses into such a region.
We met with occasional tracks of the moose and black bear, and at first
a few ducks on the streams and lakes; but as we pierced further into
the forest, the waters were untenanted by wild fowl. Pigeons, wood
partridges, and pine partridges became very plentiful, and we shot
them at first in great numbers. The wood partridge, or willow grouse,
frequents the thick woods and the low grounds, and is found on both
sides of the Rocky Mountains; when disturbed, it generally flies up
into a tree, and if there are several together, they tamely sit to
be shot, one after the other. In the spring, the male bird exhibits
himself for the delight of the female in the following manner. He sits
upon a branch, and ruffling his feathers, and spreading his tail like
a turkey-cock, shuts his eyes, and drums against his sides with his
wings, producing a sound remarkably like distant thunder. When thus
engaged, he becomes so absorbed in the performance, that he will allow
any one to approach him near enough to snare him with a noose attached
to a short stick. By the middle of June, the partridges were surrounded
by broods of young, and we ceased to hunt them. When we encountered
them, the hen bird, and often the cock also, would come rushing up
to within a couple of yards of us, with wings spread, and feathers
erect, just like a barn-door hen protecting her chickens. The pine
partridge is rather larger than the willow grouse, darker-feathered,
like an English grouse, with a scarlet patch over the eyes, and is
found only in the “muskegs” or pine swamps. The pigeon is the beautiful
long-tailed passenger pigeon, so common in the American woods; we
found this bird as far west as the sources of the North Thompson.
A curious bird, which we met with only between the Pembina and
Athabasca, and which we called the “booming swallow,” attracted our
attention, but we were never able to obtain a specimen of it. It was
about the size of a pigeon, with long, narrow wings, like those of the
swift. It careered about in the air after the same fashion, apparently
catching flies, and, when at a great height, would dart down like an
arrow, making a strange booming sound, which can only be compared
to the swelling hum of a thrashing machine at the time when a sheaf
of corn is put into it. We never saw this bird in any other part of
America.
Mr. O’B. employed his time in increasing the enmity which the men
had conceived for him by his dislike for work, and his imperative
manner when demanding their services. He did not attempt to assist in
packing his own horse, but required the help of the men to roll up his
blanket, or stow away his pemmican. Obstinately persisting, in spite
of all remonstrances, in marching last of the single file in which we
travelled, he frequently lagged behind; when he found that the party
ahead were out of sight, which was the case every few yards, from the
closeness of the trees, terror took possession of him, and he sat
down, without attempting to seek the path, making the woods ring again
with his cries for help. The first time this occurred, we stopped the
train in some alarm, and Baptiste hurried back to see what could have
happened, when, to his disgust, he simply found Mr. O’B., seated on a
fallen tree, bawling with all his might. After this, neither of the men
would go back for him, and the duty devolved upon us. Mr. O’B. was a
man of most marvellous timidity. His fears rendered his life a burden
to him. But of all the things he dreaded--and their name was legion--
his particular horror was a grisly bear. On this point he was a
complete monomaniac. He had never yet seen a grisly bear, but he was in
the daily expectation of meeting one of these terrible animals, and a
sanguinary and untimely end at the same time. As he walked through the
forest, the rustle of every leaf and the creaking of the trunks seemed,
to his anxious mind, to herald the approach of his dreaded enemy. The
Assiniboine, taking advantage of his weakness, cured him for a time
of his carelessness in losing sight of the party, by lying in wait,
hid amongst the trees close to the track, and as Mr. O’B. passed by,
set up a most horrible growling, which caused him to take to his heels
incontinently, and for several days he kept near protection. As we sat
round the camp-fire one evening, a rustling in the bushes attracted
our attention, and we were startled for a moment by the sight of a
dark, shaggy object moving along, which, in the dim, fitful fire-light,
looked very like a bear. Mr. O’B. rushed up to us in abject terror,
when the animal, passing into clearer view, disclosed a foot clothed in
a moccasin, and we recognised the boy, enveloped in a buffalo robe, and
creeping on all fours, to practise on the fears of “Le Vieux.”
On the third day after leaving Pembina River, we rested to dine at
a marshy meadow formed by the damming up of the stream by beaver,
exactly similar to those we noticed near Dog River and at Edmonton. But
now these places were of the greatest value to us, for they afforded
almost the only open grassy spaces we found with pasturage for our
horses until reaching the mountains. They were very common along our
track, the grassy mound and bank across showing the old beaver house
and dam in most cases. Nearly every stream between the Pembina and
the Athabasca--except the large river McLeod--appeared to have
been destroyed by the agency of these animals. The whole of this
region is little more than a succession of pine swamps, separated by
narrow ridges of higher ground, and it is a curious question whether
that enormous tract of country, marked “Swampy” in the maps, has
not been brought to this condition by the work of beaver, who have
thus destroyed, by their own labour, the streams necessary to their
existence.[8]
On the evening of this same day we encamped early in a little open
space on the bank of a small stream, one of the very few we met with in
this part. Cheadle and The Assiniboine started up the river in search
of beaver, but the former, seeing some trout rising, turned back in
order to fish for them, and The Assiniboine went on alone. The camp
was made, Cheadle came in at dark with some fish, and we had supper.
Mr. O’B. went to bed, and the rest sat smoking and wondering what made
The Assiniboine so late, when the door of the lodge was lifted, and
he entered, literally trembling with excitement, and for some time
hardly able to explain the cause, merely saying, in his French patois,
“J’etais en pas mal de danger. J’ai vu les ours gris, proche--proche!”
and devoted himself to smoking a pipe, which his son immediately filled
and handed to him. When sufficiently calmed down by the composing weed,
he related his adventures. He had found beaver up the stream and shot
one, which sunk, and he was unable to secure it. Wandering on for some
time without meeting with anything more, he turned back, just before
dusk, and retraced his steps. When he arrived within a few hundred
yards of the camp, he heard a rustling in some underwood near by, and
thinking the horses had strayed there, turned aside into the cover to
drive them back. Instead of seeing the horses he expected, he found
himself face to face with an enormous grisly bear, which was engaged in
tearing open a rotten trunk in search of insects. On the appearance of
The Assiniboine, the animal desisted from its employment, and advanced
towards him with a terrible growling and lips upcurled, displaying
her great teeth and enormous mouth. The first bear was now joined by
two others of rather smaller size, who came running up, attracted by
the growling. The Assiniboine, an old and practised hunter, stood his
ground firmly, and as the old bear came within two or three yards,
suddenly threw up his arms. This, a usual device in hunting the grisly
bear, caused the animal to stop for a moment and sit up on her hind
legs, giving an opportunity for a steady shot. The Assiniboine took
a deliberate aim, and pulled the trigger, but, to his dismay, the
snapping of the cap only followed. He pulled the second trigger, and
that missed fire also. Strange to say, the bear did not attack him,
and as he continued to show a firm and immovable front, retired with
the others, and all three stood watching him. At every attempt he made
to move, one or other rushed towards him, growling fiercely. This
continued, for some time, but at length they resumed their occupation
of breaking up the rotten logs, and he stole off unperceived. He was
not, however, content to leave them undisturbed after his narrow
escape. When well out of sight he stopped, poured fresh powder into
the nipples of his gun, and re-capped it. He then crept cautiously
round, so as to approach them from an opposite quarter. He found them
still in the same place, occupied as before. Crouching behind a natural
barricade of fallen trees, he took a fair deliberate shot at the old
bear. Again both barrels missed fire, and the three, aroused by the
snapping of the caps, looked round, and quickly perceiving him, rushed
up, growling and showing their teeth, but stopped as they came to the
barrier of trees, which they fortunately made no attempt to pass.
The same scene previously described was now re-enacted, the animals
resenting any sign which the man showed of retiring, but refraining
from actual attack. At last they all suddenly set off at speed,
and after a time the Assiniboine reached the camp without further
molestation. The man probably owed his life to his courageous bearing,
and the circumstance that his gun missed fire, for had he wounded one
of them, all three would certainly have attacked and, undoubtedly,
killed him.
Whilst The Assiniboine was relating his exciting adventure, Mr. O’B.
lay rolled in his blanket, quite unconscious that anything unusual
had occurred, not understanding a word of the mixed patois of Cree
and French in which the Assiniboine spoke. Milton therefore said in
English, “Mr. O’B., The Assiniboine has been attacked by three grisly
bears, close to camp.” At the word _bears_ he sat bolt upright, his
countenance betraying the greatest anxiety, and eagerly asked if it
was really true, and how it happened. We told him the story, and as
he listened his jaw fell ruefully, and his face assumed an agonised
expression. “Doctor,” said he, when we had finished, “we are in a
very serious position--in very great danger. This is a most terrible
journey; will you do me a great favour, and lend me your revolver? for
I am resolved to sell my life dearly, and how can I defend myself if
the bears attack us in the night? I’m an unarmed man.”
“Oh, certainly,” replied Cheadle, producing the pistol, and playfully
working the hammer up and down with his thumb; “with the greatest
pleasure; here it is: oh, yes, if you like: perhaps, under the
circumstances, you had better take it; but I ought to tell you that you
must be extremely careful with it, for it is in the habit of going off
of its own accord.”
Mr. O’B. hastily drew back his hand stretched out to take the pistol,
considered--hesitated--and at last decided that perhaps he had
better not meddle with so dangerous a weapon. He contented himself
with taking the large axe to bed with him, although it may be doubted
whether he would have used it very effectually if occasion had
required. We were all much excited at The Assiniboine’s story, and at
once resolved to go in pursuit of the bears at daybreak next morning.
As soon as it became light we prepared for the hunt. The woman and
boy were to accompany us in order to search for the beaver which
Assiniboine had killed the night before, Mr. O’B., to his infinite
dismay, being left alone in charge of the camp. He remonstrated
strongly, and dilated upon the probability of the bears taking
advantage of our absence to attack the undefended position. Finding we
were inflexible, “Delirant reges, plectuntur Achivi,” said Mr. O’B.
disconsolately, and immediately retired within the lodge, let down the
door, made up a tremendous fire to scare away the enemy, and remained
seated, with the axe by his side, in anxious expectation until our
return. We proceeded under the guidance of The Assiniboine to the scene
of his adventure the previous evening. There we found every detail of
his narrative confirmed--the rotten trunks torn asunder, the huge
footprints of the bears in the soft soil or long grass, worn into a
beaten track where they had so repeatedly charged up to him, his own
track as he took the circuitous route to his second position behind
the logs; and leading away from the place, the marks of the three
bears going off at speed. It appeared, however, that they had not left
the neighbourhood until that morning, for we found very fresh tracks
crossing the stream, and on the opposite bank, a wet line marked by the
drippings from the shaggy coats of the animals after emerging from the
water.
We followed on, The Assiniboine leading, at a great pace, yet with
wonderful stillness, through the thick underwood, finding from time to
time fresher and still fresher signs--a rotten log newly torn open, a
bees’ nest just dug up, and footmarks in which the grass seemed still
rising after the removal of the pressure. We were in a high state of
excitement, stealthily advancing, with guns cocked and bated breath,
expecting every moment to see their terrible forms close to us, when
we came upon a hard, grassless stretch of ground, where the men were
unable to follow the tracks, and, after a long search, were, much to
our chagrin, compelled to give up the pursuit.
Milton and Baptiste returned to camp to pack up and proceed on the
journey, Cheadle and Assiniboine being bent on following a fresh
moose-track which we had crossed. They rejoined the party before
nightfall, without having succeeded in finding the animal they had
followed.
When Milton arrived near the camp, he observed Mr. O’B.’s head
cautiously protruded from the lodge door, taking an observation, and
when he perceived that human beings, and not bears, were approaching,
he ventured forth, welcoming them with great glee, and discoursing on
the dreadful suspense he had endured during their absence.
On the following day, when Cheadle was about to start ahead of the
party, for the sake of meeting with game, Mr. O’B. warned him to be
very careful, advising him to load both barrels with ball, and carry
his gun on full cock, ready for emergency. Cheadle, however, told him
it was necessary to have one barrel loaded with small shot for the
feathered game, and marched off laughing, Mr. O’B. looking after him
with an expression of pity, and shaking his head ominously. Milton and
the rest travelled on nearly the whole day, wondering that they did not
find Cheadle at mid-day, as usual, waiting for them in some convenient
camping ground. Cursing his folly for leading them so far, they at last
pulled up in despair, and waited, in the belief that he must have lost
his way. Mr. O’B., however, took a different view. “My lord,” said he
to Milton, “you may depend upon it the Doctor has met those bears.
I’ve warned him repeatedly against the rashness of walking alone in
this way. It was only this very morning, as you heard, I advised him
to be careful, and load both barrels with ball. But he only laughed at
me, and walked off with his gun on half-cock, carelessly thrown over
his shoulder. And now you see the terrible consequences. There is not
the slightest doubt that he has been surprised by those three bears,
and torn to pieces, poor fellow!” Mr. O’B.’s prophecies of evil were,
however, upset by the appearance of the missing man. He had lost his
way in a series of swamps, and with some difficulty retraced his steps
to the right track. Then he had a long, stern chase to catch the rest,
who had, in the meantime, passed on before him.
A short stage in the afternoon, passing through firmer ground, still
thickly covered with pines, and ankle-deep in a profusion of oak and
beech fern, brought us to the banks of the McLeod, where we camped for
the night.
The McLeod is a fine stream, about 150 yards broad, flowing over a
rocky, pebbly bed, and clear and shallow like the Pembina. The channel
of the latter where we crossed it was clean cut through soft strata,
with perpendicular cliffs on either side; whilst the banks of the
McLeod are wider apart, rising steeply, but not vertically, to a
greater height, and richly clothed with pine and aspen. The McLeod
is subject to great floods at certain seasons, as evidenced by the
great boulders strewn high along the shore, and the collections of
driftwood accumulated at different points and turns of the river. On
the following day we forded it without difficulty, and sending the
men forward with the pack animals, hitched our horses to a tree, and
stopped to prospect for gold.
After washing two or three pans of “dirt,” we found but slight and
doubtful traces of the precious metal, and re-ascended the bank
to follow our party. Our horses had, however, broken loose and
disappeared, but after a short distance, we discovered Milton’s, pulled
up by the bridle, which had caught on a stump. The other horse was not
to be found. We came up with the train, resting at a beaver swamp, and
found that Cheadle’s horse had joined the rest, but without bridle.
The large axe, too, had tumbled out of one of the packs, and we were
compelled to delay a couple of hours whilst the men went back in
search of the missing articles. The bridle was found, but the axe--far
more important, since it was the only large one we possessed--we did
not recover.
The heat was very great, and the mosquitoes and gad-flies--called
“bull-dogs” by the half-breeds--tormented the horses to such an
extent that, in spite of the large green-wood fire which we made for
their benefit--the smoke keeping off the insects--they were unable
to feed, and rushed madly about in their distress. The “bull-dog,” or
_tabanus_, is a large fly, about twice the size of a “bluebottle,”
with a long body, banded with yellow, like that of the wasp, and its
mouth is armed with a formidable cutting apparatus of four lancets.
They are very numerous in wooded or swampy country, and are very
fierce and persistent in their attacks on both men and animals. The
“bull-dog” settles lightly and unnoticed on any exposed portion of the
skin, and the first warning of his presence is a sharp stab, like that
of a needle, which makes the sufferer wince again. There is, however,
no after-irritation or swelling, as is the case with the sting of a
mosquito. The horses suffer dreadfully from these creatures in the
summer, and their necks--a part which they cannot reach with either
head or tail to brush off their tormentors--are covered with great
clusters of these vampires, and dripping with blood.
After crossing the McLeod, we continued to follow the western bank
pretty closely, the road being worse than any we had yet encountered,
the ground very boggy, and the pines closely set. The trail is merely
cut of sufficient width to allow of one horse with his pack to pass,
and this is encumbered with roots and fallen trees, for the travellers
in this region never delay to remove any obstructions a horse can
possibly be forced to jump or scramble over. The mossy crust having
been broken through by repeated tramplings, the horses sink up to their
hocks in the boggy substratum, while the thick wall of timber on either
side prevents any escape to firmer ground. A day’s journey on the road
to Jasper House generally consists of floundering through bogs, varied
by jumps and plunges over the timber which lies strewn, piled, and
interlaced across the path and on every side. The horses stick fast in
the mire, tumble crashing amongst the logs, or, driven to desperation,
plunge amongst the thickly-growing trees at the side, where they are
generally quickly brought up by the wedging of their packs in some
narrow passage between contiguous trunks.
On the 16th we reached a point where the river makes a great bend to
the south, and the trail turns off at right angles to avoid it. Here a
small river enters the McLeod, and the hills are seen swelling higher
towards the west. In the smaller stream we observed some fish rising
at the fly, and on the banks fresh beaver “sign,” with here and there
tracks of moose and bear. As the horses had had little food for two or
three days, and some burnt ground offered better pasturage than usual,
we decided to rest for a day, and try our luck in hunting and fishing.
Cheadle and The Assiniboine set out at daybreak in search of moose,
while Milton and the rest devoted themselves to the trout. Mr. O’B.
also, attracted by the prospect of a meal on something more savoury
than pemmican, essayed to fish; but he splashed about so restlessly,
and met with so little encouragement, that he soon wearied of his
employment. Baptiste showed a most discontented and rebellious spirit
at this time, refusing to put up the lodge where Milton directed him,
and, after some altercation, sulkily packed up his small property,
declaring he should leave at once. However, he changed his mind, and
took to fishing with the rest. A nice dish of fish was caught before
evening, amongst which were two or three large white trout, from the
McLeod, several of the small banded trout, and some fish resembling
dace. Before dark Cheadle and The Assiniboine came back again, without
having met with any large game. They had followed a fresh moose track
a long distance, found the place where the animal had been recently
lying down, and as he lay pulled the twigs within his reach, the sap
being still moist where the bark had been abraded by his teeth. The
sagacity with which the hunter followed the tracks was very wonderful.
Without hesitation he passed rapidly and noiselessly amidst the thick
wood, and over the thickly-piled fallen trunks, at a pace which his
companion found it difficult to keep up with, never overrunning or
neglecting the footprints, which to Cheadle’s less instructed eye were
quite invisible, except on the closest scrutiny. The hunter has not
only to keep his eye on the trail, but also to look out constantly
for the animal he is following, which he may come upon at any moment,
and carefully avoid breaking a dry twig, or making a rustling in the
underwood through which he passes. Amongst the few qualities of the Red
Indian, good or evil, which have not been exaggerated are his power of
sight, sagacity in following a track, and interpreting the signs he
meets with. He will often follow a moose for days, and in winter, when
the sound of the breaking through of the crust on the snow beneath his
feet would betray his approach, will carefully cut out each footstep
with his knife. The moose in this case had changed his quarters, and
the pursuit was given up.
Our dish of fish in the evening was an immense treat, and but for the
ominous taciturnity of Baptiste, we should have been jolly enough. In
the morning affairs looked brighter, Baptiste cheerfully helped to
pack the horses, talked away as usual, and seemed quite contented.
Cheadle started in advance of the party, and after an hour or two
pulled up to await the arrival of the train. When it came up, Baptiste
was missing, and Milton was the first to perceive his absence. The
Assiniboine declared he knew nothing more than that he stayed behind
after the train started to light his pipe, as he said, and he expected
him to make his appearance very shortly. We travelled on till noon,
and then, as Baptiste did not come, we felt convinced that he really
had deserted, and stopped to hold a solemn council on the course to
be taken under this change of circumstances. Baptiste had probably
never intended to go with us further than this point, and had taken
the opportunity to raise a dispute in order to have some excuse for
his conduct. He had carried off one of the most valuable horses, and
a small amount of provision. It was useless to attempt to follow him,
unless we determined to turn back to Edmonton. But we were firmly
resolved to proceed with our expedition, come what might, although we
could not conceal from ourselves that the work would be very heavy.
We had thirteen horses to pack and drive through the thick woods;
the one-handed Assiniboine, with his wife and boy, were our only
assistants; and Mr. O’B. represented a minus quantity. At least six or
perhaps seven hundred miles of the most difficult country in the world
lay before us, and not one of the party had ever previously set foot
in this region. But we resolved to trust to The Assiniboine, if he
would give his solemn promise to stand by us in every emergency, having
confidence that his wonderful sagacity would be sufficient to find the
road. We therefore at once proposed to him that he should be raised to
Baptiste’s position, and greater emoluments, as guide--requiring only
his solemn engagement to go through with us to the end. We sent him to
consult his wife, and after a short conversation with her, he came back
to say that they were both determined to stick to us faithfully, and
he felt no doubt about being able to find the emigrants’ track without
difficulty.
On the next morning we again struck the McLeod, and continued to
follow it for a couple of days. In a small tributary we caught a few
trout in a somewhat novel manner. Whilst dinner was being prepared,
we went down to the stream with the boy, to fish with some of the
gad-flies which we caught on the horses. A number of trout were lying
in the shade of a large overhanging willow, and we disposed ourselves
along the trunk, in order to drop the tempting fly before the noses
of the fish. Cheadle, in his eagerness to accomplish this, fell head
first into the water with a tremendous splash, and the boy, in his
amusement at his companion’s misfortune, slipped also, and splashed in
after him. Finding that the fish immediately returned to the protecting
shade, in spite of their fright, and were even then too sleepy to take
the bait, we set the boy to manage the fly, whilst we stirred up the
fish judiciously with a long pole. They were then sufficiently roused
from their lethargic state to notice the bait, and a good dish of them
secured. Not one had been taken before this device was adopted.
[Illustration: THE FOREST ON FIRE.
(_See page 223._)
]
The trail now led along the bed of the river, and, becoming fainter and
fainter, The Assiniboine began to suspect that we had strayed from the
main track to Jasper House, and were following some casual hunter’s or
miner’s path. We therefore encamped at noon in the middle of a thick
forest of young pines. The trees grew very closely together, and we
were obliged to cut a clear space for the horses and our own camp.
The Assiniboine started off to search for the proper path, the woman
and boy to the river to wash some clothes, and we remained behind
with Mr. O’B. The “bull-dogs” were very numerous, and we built a large
fire, for the benefit of the horses, in the little open space we had
cleared. We then proceeded to make a smaller one for ourselves, and
were quietly seated round it cooking our pemmican, Mr. O’B. having
divested his feet of his boots, lying at his ease, and smoking his
pipe with great satisfaction. Suddenly a louder crackling and roaring
of the other fire attracted our attention, and, on looking round, we
saw, to our horror, that some of the trees surrounding the little
clearing we had made had caught fire. The horses, in their pushing and
struggling to supplant one another in the thickest of the smoke, had
kicked some of the blazing logs among the closely-set pines, which,
although green, burn more fiercely than the driest timber. The moment
was critical enough. Cheadle, seizing an axe, rushed to the place,
and felled tree after tree, to isolate those already fired from the
rest, whilst Milton ran to and fro, fetching water in a bucket from
a little pool, which was fortunately close at hand, and poured it on
the thick, dry moss through which the fire was rapidly spreading along
the surface of the ground. We were, by this time, nearly surrounded
by blazing trees, and the flames flared and leapt up from branch to
branch, and from tree to tree, in the most appalling manner, as they
greedily licked up, with a crackle and splutter, the congenial resin of
the trunks, or devoured with a flash and a fizz the inflammable leaves
of the flat, wide-spreading branches. The horses became frightened
and unmanageable, some of them burst through the thick timber around,
in spite of the flames, and one, severely burnt about the legs, threw
himself down, and rolled in his agony in the very hottest of the fire.
We dropped axe and bucket, hauled at him by the head and tail in vain,
and at last, in desperation, beat him savagely about the head, when he
sprang up, and bolted away. But the delay caused by this incident had
nearly been fatal. The fire had rapidly gained head, the air became
hot, and the smoke almost stifling, the flames raged fiercely, with
terrific roar, and for a moment we hesitated whether we should not
abandon all, and make for the river. But we took courage, snatched up
hatchet and pail once more, and as each tree fell, and patches of moss
were extinguished, we began to hope. While we were thus busily engaged
in our frantic exertions, it occurred to us that our friend Mr. O’B.
had hitherto given us no assistance, and, looking round, descried him
still seated where we had left him, feebly tugging at a boot which he
appeared to have great difficulty in pulling on. We shouted to him,
for God’s sake, to come and help us, or we should all be burnt to
death. He replied, in a doubtful, uncertain manner, that he was coming
directly, when he had got his boots on. Roused at length by our fierce
objurgations, and struck by the suggestion that he would burn as easily
with his boots off as when properly shod, he ran up, trembling and
bewildered, bringing a tardy and ineffectual assistance in the shape
of half-pints of water in his little tin mug! Gradually, however, we
succeeded in cutting off the fire, which still raged fiercely away
from us, recovered our horses, and found that even the one which had
caused us such anxiety was not seriously injured, although singed all
over, and much burnt about the legs.
The Assiniboine came back soon after, having found the road, and we
therefore re-packed the horses, rapidly retraced our steps to the point
where the trails diverged, and camped there for the night. Clouds of
smoke, visible during this and the following day behind us, showed
that the fire was still burning furiously. The next day we turned off
at right angles from the McLeod, passing through the usual routine of
muskeg and pine forest, and before night came were drenched through
and through by the rain of the most tremendous thunder-storm we ever
encountered, with the exception of the memorable one on Red River. At
our evening’s camping place we found an inscription on a tree, to the
effect that the three miners who had left the party in the Saskatchewan
to find out the sources of that river, discovering that they were
close to the Athabasca, had turned back to prospect the sources of
the McLeod. Heavy rain continued to fall without intermission the
following day, and we were obliged to remain under shelter of our
lodge. But the following morning broke clear and bright, and a good
trail of about half a mile brought us to the banks of the Athabasca,
flowing like the Saskatchewan, in a channel cut in the flat bottom of
the wide river-valley, the steep sides of which, 200 feet in height,
were thickly clothed with pine, spruce, and poplar, resembling those
of the McLeod. The river-valley of the Athabasca is, however, deeper
and wider, and its waters turbid, deep, and rapid. At this time it was
tremendously swollen--at the height of the summer flood--and formed a
striking contrast to the clear, shallow stream we had crossed before.
Full to the overflowing of the present banks, the stream, some 200
yards in breadth, rushed along, swelling in great waves over the huge
boulders in its bed, and bearing along large pine-trees of five or
six feet in diameter, which played about like straws in the powerful
current. This river is called by the Indians Mistahay Shakow Seepee,
or the “Great River of the Woods,” in distinction to the Saskatchewan,
the Mistahay Paskwow Seepee, or “Great River of the Plains.” We viewed
it in some dismay, for there seemed little hope of rafting across it in
safety in its present condition. We were relieved, however, by finding
that the track still followed the bank of the river, and from a little
bare and rounded knoll we had our first view of the Rocky Mountains.
The prospect was a glorious one, and most exhilarating to us, who had
lived so long in level country, and for the last three weeks had been
buried in dense forest, which shut out every prospect, and almost the
light of day.
Ranges of pine-clad hills, running nearly north and south, rise in
higher and higher succession towards the west, and in the further
distance we could see parallel to them a range of rugged, rocky peaks,
backed by the snow-clad summits of some giants which towered up
beyond. The snow which crowned the loftier peaks, and still lingered
in the hollows of the lower hills, glittered in the brilliant sunlight
through the soft blue haze which mellowed the scene, and brought
the far-distant mountains seemingly close before us. A cleft in the
ridge, cut clean as if with a knife, showed us what we supposed to be
the opening of the gorge through which we were to pass. The singular
rock on the left or eastern side of this gateway, somewhat like the
half of a sponge-cake cut vertically, we knew must be one of which we
had heard as La Roche à Myette, close to Jasper House. Following the
river-valley, we travelled through thick timber, marshes, and boggy
ground, pleasantly varied occasionally by beautiful park-like oases of
an acre or two in extent, and crossed several small streams, swollen
into muddy torrents.
In the evening we encamped on a tiny prairie, rich with vetches in full
bloom. The frost set in keenly, so that water left standing in the cups
overnight showed an incrustation of ice one-eighth of an inch thick in
the morning; and Mr. O’B., who persisted in wearing boots in preference
to moccasins, found them frozen so hard that we were compelled to delay
our start until they were thoroughly thawed. The next day, at noon, we
reached a very picturesque little lake, circular in shape, and shut in
on every side by lofty mountains, with rugged, precipitous sides. A
solitary loon, resting alone on the surface of the lake, sent forth its
melancholy wail, and added to the wildness of the place.
The flowers in the open glade were very gay; tiger lilies, roses,
the _Gallardia picta_, the blue borage, the white and purple vetch,
red orchis, and the marsh violet were the most conspicuous. After
leaving the lake, tracks diverged in various directions, and the one
we followed ended at the river’s edge. We, however, discovered an old,
grown-up track, which also came to an end very quickly, where was a
rough log structure, which appeared to have been used as a cache for
meat, for it was too small to have served as a dwelling. The river
here widened into a lake about a mile in length, and some half a mile
in breadth. We encamped for the night, hoping to recover the right
trail on the morrow. The mosquitoes and gad-flies were more tormenting
than ever, and the horses wandered restlessly about all night long.
Mr. O’B., who chose to make his bed in the open air, passed a wakeful
time, in expectation of being trampled to death by the horses, who
persisted in walking over him in spite of the thumpings they received
from a long pole which he invariably kept beside his bed for the
purpose, and before daylight he crept into the lodge for safety.
Milton, dreaming at the time, woke up with a shout, and Mr. O’B. cried
out in terror, “Oh, dear! oh, dear! this is perfectly horrible--what
has happened? _It’s only me--O’B.--don’t shoot, my lord!_” Every one
then woke up, and there was a general commotion; but finding the alarm
groundless, all returned to their blankets, except the unhappy cause of
the disturbance, who remained sitting out the hours of darkness, too
discomposed for sleep.
[Illustration: OVER THE MOUNTAIN, NEAR JASPER HOUSE.
(_See page 231._)
]
On the morrow we remained in camp, mending moccasins, and fruitlessly
fishing, whilst The Assiniboine searched for the right trail. He
returned in the evening, having found the path, still following the
river. The trail began to ascend the river bank, and we presently
encountered a thick smoke. A little further we found the path
completely obstructed by fallen trees, and obliterated by the effects
of a fire which was still smouldering. Although this was encouraging,
as evidence of the recent presence of man, we made very slow progress;
now chopping through the trees which barred the road, now descending to
seek the very brink of the river, now again ascending the steep hill
side, so as to avoid as much as possible the difficulties which beset
us. The Assiniboine brought us out about noon where the path showed
clearly on a little open plateau, covered with wild flowers, at the
base of the “Roche à Myette,” which rose perpendicularly above. Here we
unpacked the horses and stayed to rest.
In the afternoon we saw numerous fresh tracks of the bighorn, or
“mouton gris,” the wild sheep of the Rocky Mountains,[9] and The
Assiniboine and Cheadle scaled the steep sides of the mountains, which
now closely shut in the valley, in pursuit. The rest passed on along
a well-marked trail, which ascended abruptly, to avoid a precipitous
cliff overhanging the river at this point. Higher and higher still it
led them, along rocky ledges or up steep, green, slippery slopes, until
it reached the point where vegetation ceased, separated by a rocky
precipice from the height of perpetual snow. The horses frequently
stopped, and tried to turn back from their arduous task, and Mr.
O’B.’s steed, a powerful roan stallion, in high condition, coolly
lay down and refused to proceed. Mr. O’B. slipped off with great
celerity, remarking, “Poor fellow! my weight is too much for him.”
The horse took advantage of the opportunity and began to descend,
his owner remarking, indifferently, that it was no use attempting to
fetch him, as he was far too exhausted to proceed further. Milton and
the boy, however, speedily brought him back to the rest, and before
long the utmost height was reached. We were now fairly in the Rocky
Mountains, and even the woman and boy cried out, “Aiwakarken!” with
delight and admiration at the magnificent scenery around. On every
side a succession of peaks towered up, of strange fantastic shape. To
the west, the Priest’s Rock, a pyramid of ice, shone brightly above a
dark pine-clad hill; to the east, the remarkable Roche à Myette; in
front and behind, conical, pinnacled, and rugged mountains. Hundreds of
feet immediately beneath rushed the torrent of the Athabasca. Emerging
from the heart of the mountains through a narrow gorge into the wider
valley, the river expands into a lake three or four miles in length;
then again narrowing, flows in several channels round wooded islands,
to open out once more into a second lake, smaller than the first.
On the further bank of the river, between the two lakes, they had the
satisfaction of seeing, like a mere speck in the valley below, the
little wooden building we had been so anxiously expecting to reach,
for until it lay actually in view, it was very uncertain that we were
really following the road to Jasper House, and not some mere hunter’s
track into the mountains.
[Illustration: VIEW FROM THE HILL OPPOSITE JASPER HOUSE.--THE UPPER
LAKE OF THE ATHABASCA RIVER AND PRIEST’S ROCK.
(_See page 232._)
]
Descending into the valley again by a similar path, Milton and his
party camped in a little sandy plain opposite the Fort, to await the
arrival of Cheadle and The Assiniboine. Jasper House is a neat white
building, surrounded by a low palisade, standing in a perfect garden of
wild flowers, which form a rich sheet of varied and brilliant colours,
backed by dark green pines which clustered thickly round the bases
of the hills. Above, a zone of light green shrubs and herbage still
retained their vernal freshness, and contrasted with the more sombre
trees below, and the terraced rocks above with their snow-clad summits.
In the neighbourhood of Jasper House the flowers were very beautiful
and various. Here grew Cinerarias, in the greatest profusion, of every
shade of blue, an immense variety of Composite, and a flower like
the lychnis, with sepals of brilliant scarlet, roses, tiger lilies,
orchids, and vetches.
While Milton, with Mr. O’B., the woman, and boy, were taking the train
of horses over the mountain, Cheadle and his companion clambered up
the crags close to the Roche à Myette, following the tracks of the
_mouton gris_. Along narrow ledges of a precipice of limestone rock,
up to a giddy height, the hunters struggled on--breathless, and
their legs aching with the exertion of climbing such as they had long
been strangers to--without catching sight of a bighorn. When they
had ascended 700 or 800 feet, they espied a mountain goat--_mouton
blanc_--feeding quietly, along with a kid by its side, a few hundred
yards in advance. Making a long detour, and going higher yet, to get
above the animal, they crawled cautiously along to the point where
they had last seen the goat, and, peering over the edge of a rock,
saw its face looking upwards, about twenty yards below. The rest of
the body was hidden by a projecting stone, and Cheadle fired at the
forehead. The animal tumbled over, but got up again, bewildered, making
no attempt to escape. The Assiniboine now got a sight of the shoulder
and fired, when the animal scrambled away, with difficulty, a short
distance. They quickly followed and found it almost dead. Having no
more ball, The Assiniboine killed the kid with a charge of shot. On
going up to the game, it appeared that the first shot had merely struck
the frontal bone, close to the root of the horn, which it tore off
without further damage; but the shock had so stunned the beast, that
it was unable to move away. The hunters pushed the goat and kid over
the precipice, and scrambled down after it. Looking up at the precipice
from below, it seemed as if not even a goat could find footing, and
Cheadle wondered he had ever dared to venture there. They found also,
now the excitement of the chase was over, that their moccasins were
cut to shreds, and they had been walking nearly barefoot over the sharp
rocks, without noticing it at the time. The best portions of the meat
were cut off, the goat slung, together with the kid, on a pole, and
each shouldering an end, the two started after the rest of the party.
They had now to ascend the mountain-side, to which Mr. O’B.’s horse
had so objected--a very arduous task, with their heavy load. Many a
halt was made before they gained the summit. It was nearly dusk, and
far below, two or three miles away, they saw the light of the camp
fire. Being thoroughly done, and feeling almost unable to carry their
prize much further, they sat down and fired a number of signal shots
for the others to bring a horse for the meat. These were presently
answered, and the pair took up their load again to descend, hoping to
meet assistance before long. This was almost more harassing than the
climbing up, the grass and “Uva Ursi,” on the lower slopes, being very
slippery; but at last they reached the bottom, and coming to a stream,
The Assiniboine, thoroughly beaten, dropped the load, and plunged his
head in the water to refresh himself. Soon after, Milton and the boy
came up with a horse, to carry the meat, and that night we all enjoyed
the most delicious supper we had eaten since leaving Edmonton. Since
that time--three weeks before--we had not tasted any fresh meat,
with the exception of a few wood partridges, and the roast kid was an
immense treat, causing even Mr. O’B. to forget his troubles for a time.