About ten days' rapid travelling down the Elk River brought our party
into the Athabasca Lake--sometimes called the "Lake of the Hills." This
is another of those great bodies of fresh water that lie between the
primitive rocks of the "Barren Grounds," and the more fertile limestone
deposit upon the west. It is nearly two hundred miles long from west to
east, and is only fifteen miles in breadth, but in some places it is so
narrow and full of islands that it looks more like a broad river than a
lake. Its shores and many of its islands are thickly wooded,
particularly upon the southern and western edges; and the eye of the
traveller is delighted with many a beautiful vista as he passes along.
But our voyageurs took little heed of these things. A gloom had come
over their spirits, for one of their party had taken ill, and was
suffering from a painful and dangerous disease--an intermittent fever.
It was Lucien--he that was beloved by all of them. He had been
complaining for several days--even while admiring the fair scenery of
the romantic Elk--but every day he had been getting worse, until, on
their arrival at the lake, he declared himself no longer able to travel.
It became necessary, therefore, to suspend their journey; and choosing
a place for their camp, they made arrangements to remain until Lucien
should recover. They built a small log-hut for the invalid, and did
everything to make him as comfortable as possible. The best skins were
spread for his couch; and cooling drinks were brewed for him from roots,
fruits, and berries, in the way he had already taught his companions to
prepare them. Every day Francois went forth with his gun, and returned
with a pair of young pigeons, or a wood-partridge, or a brace of the
beautiful ruffed grouse; and out of these he would make delicate soups,
which he was the better able to do as they had procured salt, pepper,
and other ingredients, at the Fort. They had also brought with them a
stock of tea--the real China tea--and sugar; and as the quantity of both
was but small, this luxurious beverage was made exclusively for Lucien,
and was found by him exceedingly beneficial during his illness.
To the great joy of all the invalid was at length restored to health,
and the canoe being once more launched and freighted, they continued
their journey.
They coasted along the shores of the lake, and entered the Great Slave
River, which runs from the Athabasca into the Great Slave Lake. They
soon came to the mouth of another large river, called the Peace. This
runs into the Great Slave a short distance below Lake Athabasca, and,
strange to say, the sources of the Peace River lie upon the _western_
side of the Rocky Mountains, so that this stream actually runs across
the mountain-chain! It passes through the mountains in a succession of
deep gorges, which are terrible to behold. On both sides dizzy cliffs
and snow-capped peaks rise thousands of feet above its rocky bed, and
the scenery is cold and desolate. Its head-waters interlock with those
of several streams that run into the Pacific; so that, had our voyageurs
wished to travel to the shores of that ocean, they might have done so in
their birch-bark canoe nearly the whole of the way. But this was not
their design at present, so they passed the _debouchure_ of the Peace,
and kept on for the Great Slave Lake. They were still upon the same
water as the Elk, for the Great Slave is only another name for that part
of the river lying between the two lakes--Athabasca and Great Slave. Of
course the river had now become much larger by the influx of the Peace,
and they were travelling upon the bosom of a magnificent stream, with
varied scenery upon its banks. They were not so happy, however, as when
descending the Elk--not but that they were all in good health, for
Lucien had grown quite strong again. No, it was not any want of health
that rendered them less cheerful. It was the prospect before them--the
prospect of coming winter, which they now felt certain would arrive
before they had got to the end of their journey. The delay of nearly a
month, occasioned by Lucien's illness, had deranged all their
calculations; and they had no longer any hope of being able to finish
their voyage in what remained of the short summer. The ice would soon
make its appearance; the lakes and rivers would be frozen up; they could
no longer navigate them in their canoe. To travel afoot would be a most
laborious undertaking, as well as perilous in an extreme degree. In
this way it is only possible to carry a very small quantity of
provisions--for the traveller is compelled to load himself with
skin-clothing in order to keep out the cold. The chances of procuring
game by the way in that season are precarious, and not to be depended
upon. Most of the birds and many of the quadrupeds migrate to more
southern regions; and those that remain are shy and rare. Besides,
great snow-storms are to be encountered, in which the traveller is in
danger of getting "smoored." The earth is buried under a deep covering
of snow, and to pass over this while soft is difficult, and at times
quite impossible. All these circumstances were known to our young
voyageurs--to Norman better than any of them--and of course the prospect
was a cheerless one--much more so than those unacquainted with the
winter of these dreary regions would be willing to believe.
It was the month of August, near its end, when they reached the Great
Slave Lake, in the latitude of 62 degrees. The days had now become very
short, and their journeys grew short in proportion. They already
experienced weather as cold as an English winter. There were slight
frosts at night--though not yet enough to cover the water with ice--and
the midday hours were hot, sometimes too hot to be comfortable. But
this only caused them to feel the cold the more sensibly when evening
set in; and all their robes and skins were necessary to keep them warm
during the night.
The Great Slave Lake, like the Athabasca, is very long and very narrow.
It extends full 260 miles from east to west, but at its widest part is
not over thirty, and in some places much less. Along its northern
shores lies the edge of the "Barren Grounds," and there nothing meets
the eye but bleak and naked hills of primitive rock. On its southern
side the geology is entirely of a different character. There the
limestone prevails, and scarcely anything that deserves the name of hill
is to be seen. There are fine forests too, in which poplars, pines, and
birches, are the principal trees. The lake is filled with islands, many
of which are wholly or partially covered with timber of these kinds, and
willows also are abundant. There are fish of several species in its
waters, which are in many places of great depth--sixty fathoms deep--and
in some of the islands, and around the wooded shores, game exists in
abundance in the summer season. Even in winter it is not scarce, but
then it is difficult to follow it on account of the deep snow. Many of
the animals, too, at this season become torpid, and are of course hidden
in caves and hollow trees, and even in the snow itself, where no one can
find them. Notwithstanding all this, our voyageurs knew that it would
be the best place for them to make their winter camp. They saw that to
complete their journey during that season would be impossible. Even had
it been a month earlier it would have been a difficult undertaking. In
a few days winter would be upon them. They would have to stop
somewhere. There was no place where they could so safely stay as by the
lake. One thing they would have there, which might not be found so
plenty elsewhere, that was wood for their fire; and this was an
inducement to remain by the lake. Having made up their minds,
therefore, to encamp on some part of it, they looked from day to day for
a place that would be most suitable, still continuing their journey
towards its western end. As yet no place appeared to their liking, and
as the lake near its western point trends away towards the south, Norman
proposed that they should follow the shore no longer, but strike across
to a promontory on the northern shore of the lake, known as "Slave
Point." This promontory is of the limestone formation, and as Norman
had heard, is well wooded, and stocked with game. Even buffaloes are
found there. It is, in fact, the farthest point to the north-east that
these animals range, and this presents us with a curious fact. It is
the farthest point that the limestone deposit extends in that direction.
Beyond that, to the east and north, lie the primitive rocks of the
Barren Grounds, into which the buffaloes never stray. Thus we observe
the connexion that exists between the _fauna_ of a country and its
geological character.
Of course they all agreed to Norman's proposal. The canoe was,
therefore, headed for the open waters; and, after a hard day's
paddling--for there was a head-wind--the voyageurs landed upon a small
wooded island, about halfway over the lake, where they encamped for the
night, intending next day to cross the remaining part.