CHAPTER XV.

CHAPTER XV.

We commence to Cut our Way—The Pathless Primeval Forest—The Order of March—Trouble with our Horses; their Perversity—Continual Disasters—Our Daily Fare—Mount Cheadle—Country Improves only in Appearance—Futile Attempt to Escape out of the Valley—A Glimpse of Daylight—Wild Fruits—Mr. O’B. triumphantly Crosses the River—The Assiniboine Disabled—New Arrangements—Hopes of Finding Prairie-Land—Disappointment—Forest and Mountain Everywhere—False Hopes again—Provisions at an End—Council of War—Assiniboine Hunts without Success—The Headless Indian—“Le Petit Noir” Condemned and Executed—Feast on Horse-flesh—Leave Black Horse Camp—Forest again—The Assiniboine becomes Disheartened—The Grand Rapid—A Dead Lock—Famishing Horses—The Barrier—Shall we get Past?—Mr. O’B. and Bucephalus—Extraordinary Escape of the Latter—More Accidents—La Porte d’Enfer—Step by Step—The Assiniboine Downcast and Disabled—Mrs. Assiniboine takes his Place—The Provisions give out again—A Dreary Beaver Swamp—The Assiniboine gives up in Despair—Mr. O’B. begins to Doubt, discards Paley, and prepares to become Insane—We kill another Horse—A Bird of Good Omen—The Crow speaks Truth—Fresher Sign—A Trail—The Road rapidly Improves—Out of the Forest at last!

We commence to Cut our Way—The Pathless Primeval Forest—The Order of March—Trouble with our Horses; their Perversity—Continual Disasters—Our Daily Fare—Mount Cheadle—Country Improves only in Appearance—Futile Attempt to Escape out of the Valley—A Glimpse of Daylight—Wild Fruits—Mr. O’B. triumphantly Crosses the River—The Assiniboine Disabled—New Arrangements—Hopes of Finding Prairie-Land—Disappointment—Forest and Mountain Everywhere—False Hopes again—Provisions at an End—Council of War—Assiniboine Hunts without Success—The Headless Indian—“Le Petit Noir” Condemned and Executed—Feast on Horse-flesh—Leave Black Horse Camp—Forest again—The Assiniboine becomes Disheartened—The Grand Rapid—A Dead Lock—Famishing Horses—The Barrier—Shall we get Past?—Mr. O’B. and Bucephalus—Extraordinary Escape of the Latter—More Accidents—La Porte d’Enfer—Step by Step—The Assiniboine Downcast and Disabled—Mrs. Assiniboine takes his Place—The Provisions give out again—A Dreary Beaver Swamp—The Assiniboine gives up in Despair—Mr. O’B. begins to Doubt, discards Paley, and prepares to become Insane—We kill another Horse—A Bird of Good Omen—The Crow speaks Truth—Fresher Sign—A Trail—The Road rapidly Improves—Out of the Forest at last!

Onthe 31st of July we left Slaughter Camp in a pouring rain, and plunged into the pathless forest before us. We were at once brought up by the steep face of a hill which came down close to the water’s edge. But the steepness of the path was not the greatest difficulty. No one who has not seen a primeval forest, where trees of gigantic size have grown and fallen undisturbed for ages, can form any idea of the collectionof timber, or the impenetrable character of such a region. There were pines and thujas of every size, the patriarch of 300 feet in height standing alone, or thickly clustering groups of young ones struggling for the vacant place of some prostrate giant. The fallen trees lay piled around, forming barriers often six or eight feet high on every side: trunks of huge cedars, moss-grown and decayed, lay half-buried in the ground on which others as mighty had recently fallen; trees still green and living, recently blown down, blocking the view with the walls of earth held in their matted roots; living trunks, dead trunks, rotten trunks; dry, barkless trunks, and trunks moist and green with moss; bare trunks and trunks with branches—prostrate, reclining, horizontal, propped up at different angles; timber of every size, in every stage of growth and decay, in every possible position, entangled in every possible combination. The swampy ground was densely covered with American dogwood, and elsewhere with thickets of the aralea, a tough-stemmed trailer, with leaves as large as those of the rhubarb plant, and growing in many places as high as our shoulders. Both stem and leaves are covered with sharp spines, which pierced our clothes as we forced our way through the tangled growth, and made the legs and hands of the pioneers scarlet from the inflammation of myriads of punctures.

The Assiniboine went first with the axe, his wife went after him leading a horse, and the rest of the party followed, driving two or three horses apiece in single file. Mr. O’B. had by this time been trainedto take charge of one pack-animal, which he managed very well under favourable conditions. But although it had been hard enough to keep our caravan in order when there was a track to follow, it was ten times more difficult and troublesome now. As long as each horse could see the one in front of him, he followed with tolerable fidelity; but whenever any little delay occurred, and the leading horses disappeared amongst the trees and underwood, the rest turned aside in different directions. Then followed a rush and scramble after them, our efforts to bring them back often only causing them to plunge into a bog or entangle themselves amongst piles of logs. When involved in any predicament of this kind, the miserable animals remained stupidly passive, for they had become so spiritless and worn out, and so injured about the legs by falling amongst the timber and rocks, that they would make no effort to help themselves, except under the stimulus of repeated blows. These accidents occurring a dozen times a day, caused the labour to fall very heavily; for we were so short-handed, that each man could obtain little assistance from the rest, and was obliged to get out of his difficulties as well as he could, unaided. When this was accomplished, often only to be effected by cutting off the packs, most of the party had gone he knew not whither, and the other horses in his charge had disappeared. These had to be sought up, and a careful cast made to regain the faint trail left by the party in advance. Another similar misfortune would often occur before he joined his companions, and the same exertionsagain be necessary. The work was vexatious and wearisome in the extreme, and we found our stock of philosophy quite unequal to the occasion.

With a view of economising our provisions and making more rapid progress, we reduced our meals to breakfast and supper, resting only a short time at mid-day to allow the horses to feed, but not unpacking them. Our fare was what the half-breeds call “rubaboo,” which we made by boiling a piece of pemmican the size of one’s fist in a large quantity of water thickened with a single handful of flour. The latter commodity had now become very valuable, and was used in this way only, three or four pounds being all we had left. Occasionally we were lucky enough to kill a partridge or skunk, and this formed a welcome addition to the “rubaboo.” The mess was equally divided, and two ordinary platesful formed the portion of each individual. Under these trying circumstances we had the advantage of Mr. O’B.’s advice, which he did not fail to offer at every opportunity. When we stopped for the night, and the work of unloading the horses and preparing camp was over, he would emerge from some quiet retreat, fresh from the solace of Paley, and deliver his opinions on the prospects of the journey and his views on the course to be pursued. “Now, my lord; now, Doctor,” he would say, “I don’t think that we have gone on nearly so well to-day as we might have done. I don’t think our route was well chosen. We may have done fifteen or twenty miles (we had probably accomplished three or four), but that’s not at all satisfactory. ‘Festina lente’ waswisely said by the great lyric; but he was never lost in a forest, you see. Now, what I think ought to be done is this: the Doctor and The Assiniboine are strong vigorous fellows; let them go five or six miles ahead and investigate the country, and then we shall travel much more easily to-morrow.” The two “vigorous fellows” were, however, generally too much jaded by hard work during the day to adopt his advice, and declined the proposal.

The valley continued to run nearly due south, and ranges of mountains separated only by the narrowest ravines came down from the N.E. and N.W. up to it on each side at an angle of 45°. These proved serious obstacles to our progress, rising almost perpendicularly from the water’s edge.

On the 1st of August we came in sight of a fine snowy mountain which appeared to block up the valley ahead, and we hoped this might be the second of two described to us as landmarks by the old woman at The Cache, which she stated was not far from Fort Kamloops. To this Milton gave the name of Mount Cheadle, in return for the compliment previously paid him by his companion. The river also became wider and less rapid, and at one point divided into several channels, flowing round low wooded islands. Only one snowy mountain could be seen to the right, to which we gave the name of Mount St. Anne; but the road was as encumbered as ever.

After cutting a path for two days, The Assiniboine was almost disabled by thorns in his hands and legs, and as we had not accomplished more than two or threemiles each day, we attempted to escape out of the narrow valley in which we were confined, in the hope of finding clearer ground above. But the mountain sides were too steep; the horses rolled down one after another, crashing amongst the fallen timber; and we were compelled to imitate the example of the King of France, and come down again. On the 3rd we reached a marsh about 300 yards in length, scantily covered with timber, the first open space we had met with for ten days; and the change from the deep gloom of the forest to the bright sunlight made our eyes blink indeed, but produced a most cheering effect on our spirits. The horses here found plenty of pasture, although of poor quality—a great boon to them after their long course of twigs and mare’s-tail. This was altogether a brighter day than common, for we met with several patches of raspberries, as large as English garden-fruit, and two species of bilberry, the size of sloes, growing on bushes two feet high. The woods were garnished with large fern, like the English male fern, a tall and slender bracken, and quantities of the oak and beech fern. We had the luck, too, to kill four partridges for supper; and although the day was showery, and we were completely soaked in pushing through the underwood, we felt rather jollier that night than we had done since the trail ended.

Before evening we came to a rocky rapid stream from the N.W. We all mounted our horses to traverse it except Mr. O’B., who had never become reconciled to riding since his dire experience along the Fraser. What was to be done? Mr. O’B. obstinatelypersisted that he dare not venture on horseback, and the river was too deep and rapid to be safely forded on foot. After some useless discussion with him, we plunged our horses in, The Assiniboine and his family having crossed already; but before Cheadle’s horse had left the bank a yard, Mr. O’B. rushed madly after, dashed in, and grasping the flowing tail of Bucephalus with both hands, was towed over triumphantly. After this great success, his anxiety about prospective rivers was greatly alleviated.

After leaving the little marsh above-mentioned, we were again buried in the densest forest, without any opening whatever, for several days, and worked away in the old routine of cutting through timber, driving perverse horses and extricating them from difficulties, and subsisting on our scanty mess of “rubaboo.” Tracks of bears were numerous, and we saw signs of beaver on all the streams, but our advance was necessarily so noisy that we had small chance of seeing game, and we could not afford to rest a day or two for the purpose of hunting.

(Larger)MR. O’B. TRIUMPHANTLY CROSSES THE RIVER.(Seepage 291.)

(Larger)

MR. O’B. TRIUMPHANTLY CROSSES THE RIVER.

MR. O’B. TRIUMPHANTLY CROSSES THE RIVER.

(Seepage 291.)

(Seepage 291.)

On the 5th The Assiniboine’s single hand became so swollen and painful from the injuries caused by the thorns of the aralea, that he was unable to handle an axe, and the task of clearing a path devolved upon Cheadle. This misfortune retarded us greatly, for he was, of course, not so expert a pioneer as The Assiniboine, and his assistance could ill be spared by the horse-drivers, who were now reduced to Milton and the boy—with Mr. O’B., who began to afford more active assistance than he had done hitherto. During this day the valley appeared to open out widely a few miles ahead, and we reached a rounded hill, from which we could see some distance to the south. But we were bitterly disappointed; vast woods were still before us without a sign of open country, and in the distance the hills closed in most ominously. At the foot of this eminence we crossed a rapid stream, flowing into the main river by two channels some twenty yards in width, which Mr. O’B. crossed with great success by his improved method.

The following day we struggled on from morning to night without stopping, through difficulties greater than ever; but on the 7th of August, the eighth day of our being lost in the forest, we crossed another stream, about thirty yards wide, clear and shallow, and evidently not fed by mountain snows. We named it Elsecar River. Soon after we were greatly encouraged by entering upon a tolerably level space, about a square mile in extent, the confluence of five narrow valleys. Part of this was timbered, some of it burnt, and the rest marshy meadow, with a few stunted trees here and there. In the burnt portion we found large quantities of small bilberries, not yet ripe, on which we stayed and dined, and then forced our way to the marshy open, where we encamped.

The hopes of speedy escape which had sprung up when we first observed the retreat of the hills to the west, were quickly dispelled. The flat proved to be a mere oasis in the mountains, surrounded by steep, pine-clad hills, from which the narrow gorgesbetween the different ranges afforded the only means of egress. On this evening we ate our last morsel of pemmican, and the only food we had left was about a quart of flour. The distance from Tête Jaune Cache to Kamloops was, according to our map, about 200 miles; but this estimate might be very erroneous, the exact latitude of either being probably unknown when our map was made. Calculating that we had travelled ten miles a day, or seventy miles, when the road ended, and had done three miles a day, or thirty altogether, since we began to cut our way, we had still 100 miles to travel before reaching the Fort. Nearly the whole of this distance might be country similar to what we had already encountered. At any rate, the prospect around gave us no hope of speedy change for the better. We progressed so slowly, at the best only five or six miles a day—often not one—that it must take us many days yet to get in. There seemed no chance of any assistance, for since leaving Slaughter Camp we had seen no sign that man had ever before visited this dismal region. No axe mark on a tree, no “blaze” or broken twig, no remains of an old camp fire had greeted our eyes. Animal life was scarce, and the solemn stillness, unbroken by note of bird or sound of living creature, and the deep gloom of thewoods—

“Nulli penetrabilis astroLucus iners,”

“Nulli penetrabilis astroLucus iners,”

“Nulli penetrabilis astroLucus iners,”

“Nulli penetrabilis astro

Lucus iners,”

as Mr. O’B. quoted—increased the sense of solitude. We had become so worn-out and emaciated by the hard work and insufficient food of the last ten days, that it was clear enough we could not hold out muchlonger. We held a council of war after our last meal was ended, and Mr. O.’B. laid down his one-eyed spectacles and his Paley, to suggest that we should immediately kill “Blackie,” as he affectionately denominated the little black horse he usually took charge of on the way. The Assiniboine and Cheadle proposed to starve a few days longer, in the hope of something turning up. Against this Mr. O’B. entered a solemn protest, and eventually Milton’s proposal was agreed to. This was that The Assiniboine should spend the next day in hunting: if he were successful, we were relieved; and if not, the “Petit Noir” must die. There seemed some chance for his life, for The Assiniboine had caught sight of a bear during the day, and the dog had chased another. Their tracks were tolerably numerous, and The Assiniboine we knew to be the most expert hunter of the Saskatchewan.

(Larger)THE HEADLESS INDIAN.(Seepage 296.)

(Larger)

THE HEADLESS INDIAN.

THE HEADLESS INDIAN.

(Seepage 296.)

(Seepage 296.)

Early next day The Assiniboine set out on his hunt; Cheadle and the boy went to a small lake ahead to try to get a shot at some geese which had flown over the day before; Milton gathered bilberries; and Mr. O’B. studied; whilst the woman essayed to patch together shreds of moccasins. The party was not a lively one, for there had been no breakfast that morning. Mr. O’B., wearied of his Paley, declared that he was beginning to have painful doubts concerning his faith, and would read no more. He did not keep his resolution, however, but resumed his reading the same evening, and brought out his book afterwards at every resting-place with the same regularity as ever. In the afternoon Cheadle and the boyreturned empty-handed. The Assiniboine arrived about the same time, and, producing a marten, threw it down, saying drily, “J’ai trouvé rien que cela et un homme—un mort.” He directed us where to find the dead body, which was only a few hundred yards from camp, and we set off with the boy to have a look at the ominous spectacle. After a long search, we discovered it at the foot of a large pine. The corpse was in a sitting posture, with the legs crossed, and the arms clasped over the knees, bending forward over the ashes of a miserable fire of small sticks. The ghastly figure was headless, and the cervical vertebræ projected dry and bare; the skin, brown and shrivelled, stretched like parchment tightly over the bony framework, so that the ribs showed through distinctly prominent; the cavity of the chest and abdomen was filled with the exuviæ of chrysales, and the arms and legs resembled those of a mummy. The clothes, consisting of woollen shirt and leggings, with a tattered blanket, still hung round the shrunken form. Near the body were a small axe, fire-bag, large tin kettle, and two baskets made of birch-bark. In the bag were flint, steel, and tinder, an old knife, and a single charge of shot carefully tied up in a piece of rag. One of the baskets contained a fishing-line of cedar bark, not yet finished, and two curious hooks, made of a piece of stick and a pointed wire; the other, a few wild onions, still green and growing. A heap of broken bones at the skeleton’s side—the fragments of a horse’s head—told the sad story of his fate. They were chipped into the smallest pieces, showing that the unfortunate man had died of starvation, and prolongedexistence as far as possible by sucking every particle of nutriment out of the broken fragments. He was probably a Rocky Mountain Shushwap, who had been, like ourselves, endeavouring to reach Kamloops, perhaps in quest of a wife. He had evidently intended to subsist by fishing, but before his tackle was completed, weakness—perchance illness—overtook him, he made a small fire, squatted down before it, and died there. But where was his head? We searched diligently everywhere, but could find no traces of it. If it had fallen off we should have found it lying near, for an animal which had dared to abstract that would have returned to attack the body. It could not have been removed by violence, as the undisturbed position of the trunk bore witness. We could not solve the problem, and left him as we found him, taking only his little axe for our necessities, and the steel, fishing-line, and hooks as mementoes of the strange event. We walked back to the camp silent and full of thought. Our spirits, already sufficiently low from physical weakness and the uncertainty of our position, were greatly depressed by this somewhat ominous discovery. The similarity between the attempt of the Indian to penetrate through the pathless forest—his starvation, his killing of his horse for food—and our own condition was striking. His story had been exhibited before our eyes with unmistakable clearness by the spectacle we had just left: increasing weakness; hopeless starvation; the effort to sustain the waning life by sucking the fragments of bones; the death from want at last. We also had arrived at such extremity that we should be compelled tokill a horse. The Indian had started with one advantage over us; he was in his own country—we were wanderers in a strange land. We were in the last act of the play. Would the final scene be the same?

Every one took a rather gloomy view when we discussed our prospects that evening, and “Blackie” was unanimously condemned to die at daybreak. The marten, made into a “rubaboo,” with some bilberries, formed our only supper that evening, the stinking and nauseous mess being distasteful even to our ravenous appetites, and poor Mr. O’B. had not the satisfaction of retaining what it had cost him so great an effort to swallow.

Early on the 9th of August “Blackie” was led out to execution, but although all were agreed as to the necessity of the deed, every one felt compunction at putting to death an animal which had been our companion through so many difficulties. The Assiniboine, however, at last seized his gun and dispatched him with a ball behind the ear. In a few minutes steaks were roasting at the fire, and all hands were at work cutting up the meat into thin flakes for jerking. All day long we feasted to repletion on the portions we could not carry with us, whilst the rest was drying over a large fire; for although doubts had been expressed beforehand as to whether it would prove palatable, and Milton declared it tasted of the stable, none showed any deficiency of appetite. The short intervals between eating we filled up by mending our ragged clothes and moccasins, by this time barely hanging together. Before turning into our blankets we crowned the enjoyment of the feastby one last smoke. We had not had tobacco for weeks, but now obtained the flavour of it by pounding up one or two black and well-seasoned clays, and mixing the dust with “kinnikinnick.” But this was killing the goose with the golden egg, and as pure “kinnikinnick” did not satisfy the craving, we laid our pipes by for a happier day. We had tea, too—not indeed the dark decoction of black Chinese indulged in by unthrifty bachelors, or the chlorotic beverage affected by careful, mature spinsters—but the “tea muskeg” used by the Indians. This is made from the leaves and flowers of a small white azalea which we found in considerable quantities growing in the boggy ground near our camp. The decoction is really a good substitute for tea, and we became very fond of it. The taste is like ordinary black tea with a dash of senna in it.

By noon on the following day the meat was dry. There was but little of it, not more than thirty or forty pounds, for the horse was small and miserably lean, and we resolved to restrict ourselves still to a small “rubaboo” twice a day. As we had now two axes, and The Assiniboine’s hand was nearly well, he and Cheadle both went ahead to clear the way, and we again entered the forest, still following the Thompson Valley. The same difficulties met us as before, the same mishaps occurred, and the horses proved as perverse and obstinate as ever. The weather was fine and exceedingly hot, and the second evening after leaving “Black Horse Camp”—as we named the scene of “Blackie’s” fate—TheAssiniboine, worn out by the continual toil, became thoroughly disheartened, protesting it was perfectly impossible to get through such a country, and useless to attempt it. We anxiously discussed the question, as on every evening, of how many miles we had come that day, and whether it was possible that the river we had struck might not be the Thompson at all, but some unknown stream which might lead us into inextricable difficulties. We got out our imperfect map, and showed The Assiniboine that according to that the river ran due south through a narrow valley shut in by mountains up to the very Fort, in exact correspondence, so far, with the stream along the banks of which we were making our way. This encouraged him a little, and he worked away next day with his usual untiring perseverance. We found our diet of dried horse-meat, and that in exceedingly small quantity—for we still kept ourselves on half-rations—very insufficient, and we were frightfully hungry and faint all day long. We rarely killed more than two partridges in the day, and sometimes, though not often, a skunk or a marten, and these were but little amongst six people. Cheadle at this time discovered three fish-hooks amongst the wreck of our property, and made some night lines, which he set, baited with horse-flesh. These produced three white trout the first night, one of which weighed at least a couple of pounds, but, although they were diligently set every night afterwards, we never had such luck again, occasionally killing a fish, but not a dozen in all during the rest of the journey. Thesefish were marked like a salmon-trout, but with larger heads. They were sluggish fish, lying at the bottom of the deepest holes, and would not take a fly or spinning bait, preferring, like the other barbarous fish of the country, a piece of meat to more delicate food. They had very much the flavour of ordinary trout, but their flesh was whiter and less firm.

The aspect of the country now changed, and on the 12th of August we entered a region rocky and barren, where the timber was of smaller size, but grew much more thickly, and the surface of the ground was covered only by moss and a few small lilies. The ravine suddenly narrowed, its sides became precipitous, and the river rushed over a bed of huge boulders, a roaring, mighty rapid. The fallen timber lay as thickly and entangled as the spiculæ in the children’s game of spelicans; we had literally to force our way by inches. We met with a godsend, however, in the way of provisions, shooting a porcupine which had been “treed” by the dog Papillon. We found it delicious, although rather strong-flavoured, a thick layer of fat under the skin being almost equal to that of a turtle. The road at this point became so impracticable from the steep, encumbered hill-sides which came down to the water’s edge, that we were frequently obliged to pull up and wait for hours whilst The Assiniboine found a way by which it was possible to pass. We expected every day to come to some barrier which would completely prevent our further advance. What course could we take then? Take to a raft or abandon our horses and climb past onfoot? We feared the alternative, yet were unwilling to confess the probable extremity. We had come too far to turn back, even if we had been willing to retreat.

After three days’ travelling along the bank of this rapid, to which we gave the name of Murchison’s Rapids, never out of hearing of its continual roar, offensive to the ears of Mr. O’B., the valley became narrower still, and we were brought to a standstill by a precipice before us. We were shut in on one side by the river, and on the other by hills so steep and embarrassed that it seemed hopeless to attempt to scale them, for we had tried that before, and miserably failed. There was nothing for it but to camp at once, and seek a way by which to pass this barrier. The horses had not tasted grass since leaving the marsh, four days ago, and for the last three had fed upon the moss and lilies growing amongst the rocks. They wandered to and fro all the night, walking in and out between us, and stepping over us as we lay on the ground. Mr. O’B., too, passed a restless night in consequence, and aroused us continually by jumping up and whacking them with his great stick. The poor animals grubbed up the moss from the rocks, and everything green within their reach had disappeared by morning. The indefatigable Assiniboine started at daybreak to search for a path, whilst the rest of us packed the horses and awaited his return. He came back in an hour or two with the news that the country ahead grew more and more difficult, but thatwe could, with care, lead the horses past the present opposing bluff. This relieved us from the fear that we might be compelled to abandon our horses here, and have to make our way on foot. We had to mount the hill-side by a zig-zag, over loose moss-grown rocks, leading the horses past one by one. The accidents which occurred, though perhaps not so numerous as on some occasions, were more extraordinary, and will serve to illustrate what occurred daily. All the horses had safely passed the dangerous precipice except one which Cheadle was leading, and Bucephalus, in charge of Mr. O’B., who brought up the rear. The length of the zig-zag was about a quarter of a mile, and when the former had got nearly over, he turned to look for those behind him. They were not to be seen. Cheadle, therefore, left his horse, and going back to see what had happened, met Mr. O’B. climbing hastily up the mountain-side, but minus Bucephalus. “Where’s the horse?” said Cheadle. “Oh,” said Mr. O’B., “he’s gone, killed, tumbled over a precipice,Facilis descensus, you see. He slipped and fell over—ἕπειτα πέδονδε κυλίνδετο ἽΠΠΟΣ ἀναιδής, you know, Doctor, and I have not seen him since. It’s not the slightest use going back, I assure you, to look for him, for he’scomminuted, smashed to atoms, dashed to a thousand pieces! It’s a dreadful thing isn’t it?” Cheadle, however, sternly insisted that Mr. O’B. should accompany him back to the scene of the accident, and the latter reluctantly followed.

The place where the horse had slipped and struggled was easily found, for the bark torn off the recumbent trunks marked the course of his headlong descent. The place from which he fell was about 120 or 130 feet above the river, and the last thirty or forty feet of this a perpendicular face of rock. Cheadle crept down and looked over the edge, and on a little flat space below saw Bucephalus, astride of a large tree, lengthwise. The tree was propped up by others horizontally at such a height that the animal’s legs hung down on each side without touching the ground. The two then descended, expecting to find him mortally injured, but, to their astonishment, he appeared quite comfortable in his novel position. The packs were taken off, and Cheadle, by a vigorous lift—Mr. O’B. declining the suggestion that he should haul at the tail, on the ground of the dangerous nature of the service—rolled the horse from his perch. He was uninjured, and Mr. O’B. led him past the most dangerous part, whilst his companion toiled after, carrying the packs up the brow to safer ground. After the horse had been re-loaded, the two pursued their way, but before many yards were passed, the other horse slipped, and rolled down the hill. He luckily brought up against some trees, before reaching the bottom; but again the pack had to be cut off, again carried up, and the horse hauled on to his legs and led up the steep. Soon after they joined the rest, another horse, refusing to jump some timber in the path, bolted aside and fell into a regular pit, formed by fallen trees and rocks; every effort to extricate him was useless. We werealone, for the rest of the party had gone on, and after trying in vain for nearly an hour, Milton ran ahead, caught them up, and brought back the axe. It was another hour’s work to cut him out and re-pack, but we found our companions not far before us, and indeed there was little danger of their leaving us any great distance behind.

The river still continued a grand rapid, and a short distance more brought us to a place where the ravine suddenly narrowed to about fifty feet, with high straight-cut rocks on either side, through which, for about 100 yards, almost at a right angle, and down a swift descent, the waters raged so frightfully about huge rocks standing out in the stream, that it was instantly named by The Assiniboine the “Porte d’Enfer.” No raft or canoe could have lived there for a moment, and we thankfully congratulated ourselves that we had decided to make our way by land.

We camped for the night close to where we had started in the morning, and The Assiniboine, having cut his foot to the bone on the sharp rocks, amongst which we walked nearly barefoot, was completely disabled. That night he was thoroughly disheartened, declared the river we were following was not the Thompson at all, and we must make up our minds to perish miserably. Mr. O’B. of course heartily concurred, and it required all our powers of persuasion, and an explanation by the map, to restore hope.

Another day similar to the last brought us to the end of the rapid. The woman had bravely taken herhusband’s place ahead with an axe, and worked away like a man. The last of the dried horse-flesh, boiled with the scrapings of the flour-bag, formed our supper. We had only three charges of powder left, and this we kept for special emergency. The Assiniboine, however, and his son had succeeded in “nobbling” a brace of partridges, knocking the young birds out of the trees with short sticks, missiles they used with great dexterity. We had been cheered during the day by observing the first traces of man—except the dead body of the Indian—we had seen for sixteen days. These were old stumps of trees, which bore marks of an axe, though now decayed and mossed over. The next day, however, was cold and wet, and we felt wretched enough as we forced our way for hours through a beaver swamp, where the bracken grew higher than our heads, and tangled willows of great size required cutting away at every step. Slimy, stagnant pools, treacherous and deep, continually forced us to turn aside. At last a stream, whose banks were densely clothed with underwood, barred the path, and we could not find a practicable ford. Drenched to the skin, shivering, miserable, having had no food since the previous evening, we felt almost inclined to give way to despair, for we seemed to have gained nothing by our labours. There was no sign of the end.

Our journey had now lasted nearly three months; for five weeks we had not seen a human being, nor for the last three had we seen the smallest evidence of man’s presence at any time in the wild forest in which we were buried.

After several futile attempts to cross the stream, The Assiniboine sat down with his wife and son, and refused to go any further. We did not attempt to argue the matter, but, merely remarking that we did not intend to give in without another struggle, took the axes, and renewed the search for a crossing place. Having at length discovered a shallow place, and cut a path to it, we led the horses into the water, but the mud was so soft and deep, and the banks so beset with slippery logs, that they could not climb up, and rolled back into the water. At this juncture The Assiniboine, fairly put to shame, came to our assistance, and we unpacked the animals and hauled them out. We were quite benumbed by standing so long up to our waists in the ice-cold water, and after we had got the horses across, as the rain still poured down, we camped on a little mound in the midst of the dismal swamp. There was no chance of finding any other provision, and we therefore led out another horse and shot him at once. Another day was occupied in drying the meat, and in mending our tattered garments as before. Mr. O’B., who, it is only justice to say, had improved vastly under his severe trials, was now plunged in the depths of despair. He confided to us that he loathed Paley, whom he looked upon as a special pleader; that his faith was sapped to its foundations, and—“curis ingentibus æger”—he was rapidly becoming insane, adding that he should have lost his wits long ago but for his book; and now, since he must be deprived of that consolation, there could be but one horrible result—madness. And in truth we hadnoticed a remarkable change during the last week. From being the most garrulous of men, he had lately become the most taciturn; and although solemn and silent in company, he muttered to himself incessantly as he walked along. Revived, however, by a plentiful meal of fresh meat, he became more cheerful, took a more orthodox view of the “Evidences,” the one-eyed spectacles again stole on to his nose, Paley again came forth from the pocket of the clerical coat, and he was presently absorbed in theology once more.

The rest of us discussed our prospects, and various plans were proposed. It was certain that the horses, already mere skeletons, could not hold out many days longer, unless they found proper pasturage. For a long time past indeed we had expected some of them to lie down and die in their tracks. Their bodies mere frames of bone covered with skin, their flanks hollow, their backs raw, their legs battered, swollen, and bleeding—a band for the knackers’ yard—they were painful to look upon.

The project of rafting was renewed, for the river now flowed with a tempting tranquillity; but the recollection of the Grand Rapid and Porte d’Enfer decided us against it, and doubtless we thus escaped great disaster, for we afterwards met with several dangerous rapids in the river below. We agreed to stick to our horses as long as they could travel, then kill some for provisions, and make for the Fort on foot. The Assiniboine was utterly dispirited, and continued gloomy and morose, dropping from time to time hints of desertion, and reproaching us bitterly withhaving led him into such desperate straits. He camped apart from us, with his wife and boy, holding frequent and significant consultations with them; and it required all the forbearance we could command, to prevent an open rupture with the man and his family.

On the morning of the 18th, before we started, our ears were greeted by the cry of that bird of ill omen, a crow—to us proclaiming glad tidings, for it was a sure indication of more open country being at hand. Our spirits were raised still more by observing during the day’s journey signs of man’s presence as recent as the preceding spring—a few branches cut with a knife, as if by some one making his way through the bushes.

A heavy thunder-storm which came on obliged us to camp very early; but the next day we struck a faint trail, which slightly improved as we advanced, and towards evening we found the tracks of horses. The path disappeared, and re-appeared again, during the next two days, and was still very dubious and faint, so that we were afraid it might be a deceptive one, after all; but on the night of the 21st we came to a marsh where horse tracks were very numerous, and found on the further side, where we camped, a large cedar felled, from which a canoe had been made. On a tree was an inscription which was not legible, although the words seemed to be English. To our intense delight, the next morning we hit upon a trail where the trees had been “blazed,” or marked with an axe a long time ago, and old marten-traps at intervals informed us that we had at last touchedthe extreme end of an old trapping path from the Fort. The valley began rapidly to expand, the hills became lower, the trail continued to become more and more beaten, and at noon on the 22nd we fairly shouted for joy as we emerged from the gloom in which we had so long been imprisoned, on to a beautiful little prairie, and saw before us a free, open country, diversified with rounded hills and stretches of woodland. We stopped with one accord, and lay down on the green turf, basking in the sun, whilst we allowed our horses to feed on the rich prairie grass, such as they had not tasted since leaving Edmonton.

The day was gloriously bright and fine, and the delight with which we gazed upon the beautiful landscape before us will be appreciated, if the reader will reflect that we had travelled for more than eleven weeks without cessation, and for the last month had been lost in the forest, starving, over-worked, almost hopeless of escape. Even Mr. O’B., who had resumed the study of Paley with renewed zest, looked up from his book from time to time, and ventured to express a hope that wemightescape, after all, and offered his advice upon the course to be pursued in the happier time at hand.

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