The whole cargo of provisions and furs was carried in bundles or packs of ninety-five pounds each by means of pack-straps, called "tump-lines," arranged so that the middle or broad part of the strap rested against the forehead; the ends securing the load, which rested upon the shoulders. Each voyageur had one, two or three of these packs, which they had carried over the nine-mile portage at a slow trot, with the knees much bent, stopping for a few moments every half-hour for "a pipe," as the rest was called, until at last the landing-place was reached.
The crew of the second brigade almost out-rivalled those of the first in their appearance. They were the most extraordinary-looking individuals that Chrissy and Phil had ever beheld; mostly dark, gipsy-like men in blanket-coats with borders and sashes of brilliant hue, and hats with silver bands stuck full of feathers of a variety and brilliancy of color, all with long hair to protect their necks and faces from mosquitoes.
The clamour, jargoning and confusion of this wild, impetuous multitude cannot be described. The commander of the brigade was a Welshman, David Thompson, with a young Scotchman named Simon Fraser as assistant, whose names have been handed down to posterity as the discoverers of the Thompson and the Fraser Rivers.
Thompson was almost as extraordinary in his appearance as some of the members of his brigade. Though plainly and quietly dressed, his black hair was worn long all round and cut square, as if by one stroke of the scissors, just above the eyebrows. His figure was short and thick-set. His complexion was a ruddy brown, while the expression of his features was friendly and intelligent. His Bunyan-like hair and short nose gave him a very odd appearance. He had a powerful mind and had perfect command of his crew.
With them was a French priest, who had secured passage for Montreal in one of the Company's canoes.
The shout of greeting brought the Chief and his sons to the landing to see what was the matter, and they remained interested witnesses of the gay scene till nearly midnight, when the din ceased and all were soon asleep—the leaders in their tents; the men, some beneath their upturned canoes, some on blankets or skins spread on spruce boughs, and some just rolled in their blankets on the rocks before the fire, the cooks only remaining up to cook the hominy for the following day. Hominy was the regular fare for the voyageurs of the great fur-trading companies. It was made of dried corn, prepared by boiling in strong alkali to remove the outer husk. It was then carefully washed and dried, when it was fit for use. One quart of this was boiled for two hours over a moderate fire in a gallon of water, to which, when boiled, was added two ounces of melted suet. This caused the corn to split and form a thick pudding, which was a wholesome, palatable food, easy of digestion and easy of transportation, one quart being sufficient for a man's subsistence for twenty-four hours.
After taking leave of the Chief and Chrissy, George invited Phil, Bearie, Christie and Rug to remain all night, most of which was spent in conversation with the old Factor, who entertained them with accounts of the discoveries in the great unknown land.
"Eh, mon," he said, "it is a graund cuintree. My auld frien' Sandy Mackenzie, when juist a bit lad, cam' oot frae Inverness tae tak' a poseetion wi' Mr. Gregory at Fort Chipewyan, at the heed o' the Athabasca Lake, in the wild cuintree wast o' Hudson Bay. Sandy sune got wearied o' office life, an' got Greegory tae agree to let him gang explorin'; that ood be about twenty years sin'. Weel, sir, he took wi' 'im fower canoes wi' fower Indians an' twa squaws, an' they left the fort in June. In a week they had gotten the length o' Slave Lake, as muckle as fower hunner an' seeventy miles frae the Fort. After they had stoppit for some days they gaed on for about three weeks mair, an' gangin' roond the side of the lake frae the outgoing o' the river that has been ca'd aifter him, he gaed awa' doon the river, whar they had an unco time drawin' their canoes ower the frozen bits 'an gettin' them again intae the open watter, until at the hinner en' they foond 'oot that it emptit intae the North Sea."
"Did he see any polar bears?" asked Rug, who stood gazing intently at the rugged face of the speaker.
"Ay, lots o' them. I seen them mysel' in Davis Strait on the ice-floes comin' doon frae the North. We used to set a blubber fire burnin', an' they wad gether roond it, sniffin' an' smellin', at the bleezin' daintie. We wastit mony a boolit on them, but they didna seem tae mind it muckle. When ye cam' on them withoot waarnin', the only thing that ye could dae was tae roar oot as lood as ye could an' tae keep roarin'. Our men whiles triet tae catch them."