"On reaching the Fort after our interrupted meeting," said George, "I was ordered off to the North to open a new trading-post. Our crew consisted of one French-Canadian, four Indians, and myself. We left Fort Chippewyan in July, our canoe loaded with pemmican, an assortment of useful and ornamental articles to be given as gifts to the Indians, to ensure us a friendly reception among them, and the ammunition and arms necessary for defence, as well as a supply for our Indians, upon whom we depended for our chief supply of provisions, as it was impossible to carry all that would be required before our return.
"Our course, which led from the Ungigah (Peace) to the Slave River, from thence to the Dog River, and from that to Slave Lake, was uneventful. The weather was extremely cold, and we were much hindered by ice. It was after we left the lake that our trouble really commenced. Our guide, who professed to know the route, mistook a small lake for the river, and led us into the midst of a tribe of the most hostile natives, known as the Red Knife Indians.
"My men spoke to these people in the Chippewyan language, and the information they gave respecting the river for which we were searching had so much of the fabulous that I shall not attempt to recall it. They said it would require several winters to reach it; that there was a great Manitou in the midst of it which consumed everything that attempted to pass, and that there were other monsters of horrid shapes and such destructive powers that all travel on it was effectually blocked.
"Though I did not believe a word they said, it had a very different effect upon my Indians, who were already tired of the voyage. It was only too evident that they were determined to return. They said that, according to the information they had received, there were very few animals in the country beyond us, and that as we proceeded the scarcity would increase, and that we would perish from hunger. Seeing that this had no effect upon me, they said that some treacherous design was meditated against me. A panic had seized them, and any further prosecution of the voyage, or of means of escape, was considered by them as altogether hopeless and impracticable.
"Without paying the least attention to the opinions or surmises of my Indians, I ordered them to take everything out of the canoe, which had become so leaky that we did not consider it safe to continue our journey in it. To add to the perplexity of the situation we had not an ounce of gum to repair it, and not one of the men had sufficient courage to venture into the woods to collect it. I dared not leave the crew with the canoe lest they might prove deserters. We were under the necessity of making a smoke to keep off the swarms of mosquitoes, which would otherwise have tormented us to death, but we did not venture to excite a blaze, as it would have been a mark for the arrows of the Red Knives. Though almost prostrated with weariness, I dared not sleep, but spent the night from sunset at 10 p.m. till nearly daylight at 2 a.m. in plotting and planning means to bring about a reconciliation with the natives, which alone would enable me to procure guides, without whose assistance it would be impossible for me to proceed.
"Just before sunrise, while sitting quietly in my tent, from which I could observe the crew, I heard a slow, stealthy movement in the rear of the tent. Turning hastily to investigate, I could see the dim figure of a man, dagger in hand, creeping under the canvas. In a moment I jumped on him, disarmed him, and secured his hands and feet with the fathoming-line, which fortunately was within reach. During the scuffle my whole crew fled to the canoe and escaped, leaving me at the mercy of the natives."
By this time the Chief had become an interested listener, and had beckoned to the others, who joined the little group and were listening intently to George as he related his adventures with the Red Knives.
"How shall I find words," he said, "to depict the fiendish atrocities perpetrated by that tribe during the months and years which followed. Their greatest cruelty lay in torturing their victim to the verge of insanity, and in stopping short of the final act, which would have proved a most blessed release. Escape was impossible. Suicide, which seemed so desirable, was forbidden by Divine law.
"We had returned to the camp from a hunting excursion one rainy day, and as they always insisted upon having me do the paddling up stream, as well as any other drudgery too difficult for the squaws, I was steaming from having been overheated, and as I was on the verge of exhaustion, fell asleep without sufficient covering, which I was unable to procure; consequently I became a martyr to rheumatism. There I was, helpless, racked with pains which would provoke the mildest of men to an Indian war-dance, and with red-hot joints and swollen limbs.
"After three months of misery among them, I began to suffer many things from many medicine-men, and was nothing better, but rather grew worse. I had nauseous medicines in large doses from one, and small doses from another, with exactly the same results. I was drenched, and steamed, and packed, and baked, externally, and almost poisoned internally with draughts of water which, to say the least, were unclean; but all to no purpose. They blew upon me, and then whistled. They pressed their extended fingers with all their strength into me. They put their forefingers doubled into my mouth, and spouted water from their own mouths into mine. They applied pieces of lighted touchwood to my flesh in many places. They then placed me on a litter made of saplings, and I was carried by four men into the woods, and as I observed one Indian carrying fire, another an axe, and a third dry wood, I could not but conjecture that they had arrived at the humane conclusion of relieving me of all pain forever. When we had advanced a short distance into the woods, they laid me on a clear spot and kindled a fire against my back. Then the medicine-men began to scarify my flesh with blunt instruments.