CHAPTER XII.

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.”

Onthe 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,7for 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 friendMr. 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 thecore-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 buffalowere 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 fewpatches 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 theAmerican 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 simplyfound 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 twoor 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 theAssiniboine 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 wordbearshe 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 lastdecided 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, forwe 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 aboutto 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 compelledto 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,” ortabanus, 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 worsethan 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 keephis 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 theMcLeod, 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.

(Larger)THE FOREST ON FIRE.(Seepage 223.)

(Larger)

THE FOREST ON FIRE.

(Seepage 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 becamefrightened 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 succeededin 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 clothedwith 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 toweredup 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, theGallardia 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.

(Larger)OVER THE MOUNTAIN, NEAR JASPER HOUSE.(Seepage 231.)

(Larger)

OVER THE MOUNTAIN, NEAR JASPER HOUSE.

(Seepage 231.)

On the morrow we remained in camp, mendingmoccasins, 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,9and 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 outonce 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.

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