David Thompson, the explorer

by Charles Norris Cochrane

McDonnell's house was the natural point of departure for the journey across to the Mandan Villages on the upper Missouri. The trail lay in a south-westerly direction along the south bank of the Souris river as far as the great bend, and from thence across the open plains to the heights of the Missouri. As the country was generally treeless, the custom of travellers was to move from point to point where patches of wood growing in the river bottom or at the higher levels afforded firewood and shelter for the night.

Winter had come, and three inches of snow lay upon the ground, making travel both disagreeable and dangerous. Worse still, the road passed through the hunting grounds of the Sioux Indians, those wild riders of the plains who lived by pursuit of the bison. The Sioux had lately suffered the loss of several men at the hands of the Mandan Indians; and these losses they blamed on the whites who had supplied the Mandans with guns and ammunition. They were therefore in a very menacing temper, and had determined to waylay, scalp, and plunder the next party of traders who ventured the journey to the villages.

Thompson, however, was not to be deterred; and he made his preparations for the dash across the plains. As guide and interpreter, he engaged a man who had resided for eight years among the Mandans, by name René Jussomme. He also picked up a light-hearted Irishman, Hugh McCrachan, who had often been to the villages for months at a time. The rest of the party was made up of French Canadians, gay and gluttonous vagabonds, who could nevertheless work as hard as they boasted, and hunt as much as they ate. All these men enlisted for the expedition as free traders; that is to say, each of them borrowed from McDonnell goods and trinkets to the value of fifty beaver skins, which he undertook to repay on his return. Thompson himself was supplied with two horses, and ammunition and tobacco for trade. Jussomme had one horse; while the men each bought two half-savage dogs from the Assiniboines. These were to haul their sled-loads of goods across the plains.

Thus equipped, the party set forth on the 28th day of November. The dogs were unaccustomed to hauling anything. Snapping and barking, they dashed hither and thither in all directions, hardly restrained by the loud sacrés of the Frenchmen, reinforced by lashes freely administered with their stout rawhide whips. The motley procession crossed the Assiniboine on the ice, and camped that evening in a wood by the side of the Souris river, hardly six miles from the point from which they had set out. Meanwhile, the temperature was falling. At eight that night Thompson observed that it was 20° below zero. By the following morning it had dropped seven degrees more, and a stinging west wind had sprung up which kept them in camp. Here they remained for five days, in a temperature that sank as low as 40° below zero; while the high wind whistled through their canvas, and filled the tent with smoke from their fire. During this time, they devoured the flesh of three bison which the Frenchmen had brought into camp, while the dogs rejoiced in the offal.

The wind had by this time shifted to the north-west, and the weather turned milder with snow. When the storm was over, they renewed their journey, keeping close to the river in order that they might not lose sight of the familiar landmarks, for the men neither knew the compass nor would trust it to guide them. After making eleven miles, they came to a grove of hardwood, in which they found five tents of Assiniboine Indians. These gave them a hospitable welcome, but warned them that the Sioux were on the warpath. Nevertheless, they pressed forward, and by the following morning had reached the point where the trail led away from the river across the wind-swept plain to Turtle Mountain on the international frontier.

Jussomme now announced that they must prepare for an early start, as they faced a long journey across country before they could reach the shelter of the wooded heights. At seven the following morning they were on their way. Mile after mile they trudged over the boundless plain until one o'clock in the afternoon, and still no Turtle hill was in sight. The weather had now turned threatening, and anxiety was in every face. At this point Jussomme threw up his hands and confessed that he had lost his way.

It was a critical moment. Springing to his horse, Thompson galloped to the nearest knoll, from which with his glass he scanned the horizon on every side. Not a vestige of wood was in sight, but far to the north-west his eye caught what seemed to be the tops of a clump of trees. On this he took a bearing with his compass, and called to the party to follow him, which after some hesitation they made up their minds to do. Meanwhile the wind came on with increasing force, and the darkness closed in before they could see whether it was really a wood to which their painful and tedious march led. However, they kept in file and close together, and the dogs gave no trouble. It was black night before they finally reached the wood. Utterly wearied, the men hurriedly threw up their canvas and sought shelter from the storm.

The blizzard continued through the next day, and the men were too exhausted to proceed. They remained in camp with nothing but the meat of two tough old bulls to relieve their hunger. The day following two of the three horses went lame, their hoofs eaten away by the hard crusty snow. Luckily they encountered a small party of Assiniboines on their way to McDonnell's house to trade, and were able to send the horses back with them to the fort, purchasing dogs from the Indians in their stead. Two days later they met another party of Indians, and from them got a good meal. These Indians warned them that the Sioux were in waiting at the Dog Tent Hills; and no offer would induce anyone of them to go forward with the party as a guide.

They were now in the neighbourhood of Turtle Mountain, and Thompson had taken sole command. Another gale, another blizzard, and another march till nightfall brought them to the hill. On this occasion again the compass proved a trusty guide. In the darkness, Thompson's face brushed against the overhanging branch of a tree, and he knew that he had guided his men safely to the wood. Thus they continued as far as the Dog Tent Hills, near the elbow of the Souris. On approaching the broken country, Thompson espied a long line of horsemen descending the slope and moving off to the south. It was the Sioux, who had made up their minds that no traveller would venture forth in such tempestuous weather. Thompson signalled his men to throw themselves flat on the ground. This they did, and remained unperceived until the enemy was out of sight. They then entered the hills, and while they rested and hunted, cut tent poles and firewood for the dash across the barren plain. The fifty miles that still divided them from the waters of the Missouri were passed without adventure, and they arrived, tired but triumphant, at the upper village of the Mandans after a journey of thirty-three days.

Thompson was now introduced by Jussomme to a chief who bore the name of "Big White Man." To this chief he explained that his business was not to trade, but to visit the various tribes of natives, in order to see how they could be more regularly supplied with arms, ammunition, and other articles which they much needed. Surprised and pleased at this agreeable information, the chief led the white man to his own hut, where he and his servant Boisseau were comfortably installed and entertained with all the rites of native hospitality.