CHAPTER X.

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.

Onthe 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 theypassed 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, andbowie-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 communicateswith 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,6we 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 pursuedby 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 woodswith 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 verythin 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 mainridge 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 thingwhich 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 usto 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 havebeen 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 oftheir 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. Asthey 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, notwithout 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 wasnot 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 toexist. 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.

(Larger)SWAMP FORMED BY BEAVER, WITH ANCIENT BEAVER HOUSE AND DAM.(Seepage 179.)

(Larger)

SWAMP FORMED BY BEAVER, WITH ANCIENT BEAVER HOUSE AND DAM.

(Seepage 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 considerablestream 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 themost 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 blackenedground 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.

(Larger)FORT EDMONTON, ON THE NORTH SASKATCHEWAN.(Seepage 183.)

(Larger)

FORT EDMONTON, ON THE NORTH SASKATCHEWAN.

(Seepage 183.)

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