Once their resolution was taken, they lost but little time in making
preparations to carry it out. Most of the articles required for such a
journey were already in their hands. They had the proper dresses--
snow-shoes, skin-blankets, and gloves. They had prepared for themselves
sets of "snow spectacles." These were made out of red cedar-wood. Each
pair consisted of two small thin pieces, that covered the eyes, joined
together and fastened on by thongs of buckskin. In each piece an oblong
slit served for the eye-hole, through which the eye looked without being
dazzled by the snow. Without this, or some like contrivance, travelling
in the Arctic regions is painful to the eyes, and the traveller often
loses his sight. Indeed, one of the most common infirmities of both the
Indians and Esquimaux of these parts is blindness or soreness of the
eyes, caused by the reflexion of the sunbeams from the crystals of the
frozen snow. Norman was aware of this, and had made the spectacles to
guard against this peril. Out of their spare skins they had made a
small tent. This was to be carried along by Marengo in a light sledge,
which they had long since constructed, and taught the dog to draw.
Nothing else remained but to pack their provisions in the smallest bulk
possible, and this was done, according to the custom of the country, by
making "pemmican." The dry meat was first pounded until it became a
powder; it was then put into small skin bags, made for the purpose, and
the hot melted fat was poured in and well mixed with it. This soon
froze hard, and the mixture--that resembled "potted meat,"--was now
ready for use, and would keep for an indefinite time without the least
danger of spoiling. Buffalo-beef, moose-meat, or venison of any sort,
thus prepared, is called "_pemmican_," and is more portable in this
shape than any other. Besides no further cooking is required--an
important consideration upon those vast prairie deserts, where firewood
is seldom to be procured without the trouble of carrying it a great
distance.
Norman, who was the maker of the pemmican, had produced a superior
article upon this occasion. Besides the pounded meat and fat, he had
mixed another ingredient with it, which rendered it a most delicious
food. This third ingredient was a small purple-coloured berry--of which
we have already spoken--not unlike the whortleberry, but sweeter and of
a higher flavour. It grows through most of the Northern regions of
America; and in some places, as upon the Red River and the Elk, the
bushes that produce it are seen in great plenty. When in flower, they
appear almost white, so thickly are they covered with blossoms. The
leaves are small, and generally of an oval shape; but there are several
varieties of the bush, some of them having the dimensions and form of
trees, of twenty-five feet in height. The berries have received
different names in different parts of America. They are known as
"shadberries", "June-berries", "service-berries," and by the Canadian
voyageurs they are called "le poire." Even the botanists have given
them a great variety of names, as _pyrus, mespilus, aronia, crataegus_,
and _amelanchier_. No matter which may be the best name, it is enough
to know that these little berries are delicious to eat when fresh, and
when dried, after the manner of currants, are excellent to mix in
puddings, as well as in pemmican.
Previous to the setting in of winter, our voyageurs had collected a
large bagful upon the banks of the Elk, which they had dried and stored
away--expecting to stand in need of them for this very purpose. They
now came into use, and enabled Norman to make his pemmican of the very
choicest quality. Five bags of it were put up, each weighing over
thirty pounds. One of these was to be drawn upon the sledge, along with
the tent, the axe, and a few other articles. The rest were to be
carried by the voyageurs themselves--each shouldering one, which, along
with their guns and accoutrements, would be load enough.
These arrangements being at length complete, the party bid adieu to
their log-hut--gave a parting look to their little canoe, which still
rested by the door--and then, shouldering their guns and bags of
pemmican, set out over the frozen surface of the snow.
Of course before starting they had decided upon the route they were to
take. This decision, however, had not been arrived at until after much
discussion. Lucien advised that they should follow the shore of the
lake until they should reach the Mackenzie River--which of course was
now frozen up. Its channel, he argued, would then guide them; and, in
case their provisions should run short, they would be more likely to
find game upon its banks than elsewhere, as these were wooded almost to
the sea--in consequence of its head-waters rising in southern latitudes,
and carrying with them a warmer climate.
There was plausibility in Lucien's argument, combined with much
prudence. Norman, however, advised a contrary course. He said that
they would have to make a considerable journey westward before reaching
the place where the Mackenzie River flows out of the lake; and,
moreover, he knew that the river itself was very crooked--in some places
winding about in great curves, whose ends come near meeting each other.
Should they keep the course of the river, Norman believed it would
almost double their journey. A much shorter route, he said, would be
obtained by striking across the country in a north-westerly direction,
so as to reach the Mackenzie near where another great stream--the River
of the Mountains--empties into it from the west. This would certainly
be a more direct route, and they would avoid the windings of the river
channel.
Norman's reasoning prevailed. Basil and Francois readily agreed to his
plan, and Lucien at length also gave his assent, but with some
reluctance. Norman knew nothing whatever of the route he was advising
them to take. His former journeys up and down the Mackenzie had been
made in summer, and of course he had travelled by canoe, in company with
the traders and voyageurs. He only knew that to strike across the
country would be the shorter way. But "the shortest way is not always
the nearest," says the proverb; and although Lucien remembered this
prudent maxim, the others did not give it a thought. Before the end of
their journey they received a practical lesson of its wisdom--a lesson
they were not likely to forget. But they knew not what was before them,
and they started off in high spirits.
Their first three or four days' journeys were without any event worth
being chronicled. They travelled full twenty miles each day. The
Southerners had become quite skilful in the management of their
snow-shoes, and they skimmed along upon the icy crust at the rate of
three or four miles an hour. Marengo and his sledge gave them very
little trouble. There was full sixty pounds weight upon it; but to the
huge dog this was a mere bagatelle, and he pulled it after him without
any great strain. His harness was neatly made of moose-skin, and
consisted of a collar with a back strap and traces--the traces meeting
behind, where they were attached to the head of the sledge. No
head-gear was necessary, as Marengo needed not to be either led or
driven. The sledge consisted of two or three light planks of smooth
wood, laid alongside each other, and held together by transverse bands.
In front it turned up with a circular sweep, so as not to "plough" the
snow; and at the top of this curved part the traces were adjusted. The
load was, of course, carefully packed and tied, so that the overturning
of the vehicle did no damage whatever, and it could be easily righted
again. Marengo required no one to guide him, but followed quietly in
the tracks of the snow-shoes, and thus avoided the trees, rocks, and
other inequalities. If a rabbit or other creature started up, Marengo
knew better than to go galloping after it; he felt that he had a more
important duty to perform than to throw away his time upon
rabbit-hunting. Each night a spot was chosen for the camp by the side
of some lake or stream, where wood could be obtained for their fire.
Water was got by breaking a hole in the ice, and the little tent was
always set up in a sheltered situation.
Upon the fifth day after leaving the log-hut the woods began to grow
thinner and more straggling; and towards night of the same day they
found themselves travelling through a country, where the timber only
grew here and there in small clumps, and the individual trees were small
and stunted. Next day still less timber was seen upon their route; and
when camping-time came, they were obliged to halt at a spot where
nothing but willows could be procured for their fire. They had, in
fact, arrived upon the edge of that vast wilderness, the Barren Grounds,
which stretches in all its wild desolation along the Northern half of
the American continent, (from the Great Slave Lake even to the shores of
the Arctic Sea on the north, and to those of Hudson's Bay on the east).
This territory bears an appropriate name, for, perhaps, upon the whole
surface of the earth there is no tract more barren or desolate--not even
the Sahara of Africa. Both are deserts of immense extent, equally
difficult to cross, and equally dangerous to the traveller. On both the
traveller often perishes, but from different causes. On the Sahara it
is _thirst_ that kills; upon the Barren Grounds _hunger_ is more
frequently the destroyer. In the latter there is but little to be
feared on the score of water. That exists in great plenty; or where it
is not found, snow supplies its place. But there is water everywhere.
Hill succeeds hill, bleak, rocky, and bare. Everywhere granite, gneiss,
or other primitive rocks, show themselves. No vegetation covers the
steep declivities of the hills, except the moss and lichen upon the
rocks, a few willows upon the banks of streams, the dwarf birch-tree
(_Betula nana_), or the scrub-pines, rising only to the height of a few
inches, and often straggling over the earth like vines. Every hill has
its valley, and every valley its lake--dark, and deep, and silent--in
winter scarce to be distinguished under the snow-covered ice. The
prospect in every direction exhibits a surface of rocks, or bleak hills,
half covered with snow. The traveller looks around and sees no life.
He listens and hears no sound. The world appears dead and wrapped in
its cold winding-sheet!
Amidst just such scenes did our voyageurs find themselves on the seventh
day after parting from the lake. They had heard of the Barren
Grounds,--had heard many fearful stories of the sufferings of travellers
who had attempted to cross them; but the description had fallen far
short of the actual reality. None of them could believe in the
difficulties to be encountered, and the desolateness of the scene they
were to witness, until now that they found themselves in its midst; and,
as they proceeded on their journey, getting farther and farther from the
wooded region, their apprehensions, already aroused by the wild aspect
of the country, grew stronger and stronger. They began to entertain
serious fears, for they knew not how far the barren tract extended along
their route. On calculation they found they had provisions enough to
last them for a month. That in some measure restored their confidence;
but even then, they could not help giving way to serious reflections.
Should they get lost or retarded in their course by mountains, or other
obstacles, it might take them longer than a month to reach some place
where game was to be met with. Each day, as they advanced, they found
the country more hilly and difficult. Precipices often bounded the
valleys, lying directly across their track; and as these could not be
scaled, it was necessary to make long _detours_ to pass them, so that
some days they actually advanced less than five miles upon their
journey.
Notwithstanding these impediments, they might still have got over the
Barren Grounds without further suffering than the fatigue and necessary
exposure to cold; but at this time an incident occurred, that not only
frustrated all their calculations, but placed them in imminent danger of
perishing.