“It’s old,” said John, after a time. “They don’t seem to rustle very much now, but they have done things—haven’t they?”
VII
THE WILD PORTAGE
According to Rob’s diary, it was on Friday, June 13th, that the steamer Grahame left the ancient trading-post of Chippewyan on the rocky shores of Athabasca Lake. Rob also made the curious entry that as the boat left shore two ravens flew across its bow, and that the Indians and half-breeds were very much distressed over what they considered a bad omen. Uncle Dick and his two companions, Jesse and John, laughed with Rob at this, and, indeed, no ill fortune seemed to attend them.
By this time the great brigade had begun to thin and scatter. Several scows were unloaded and left at Chippewyan. Yet others were despatched for the post at the eastern side of the lake. The legal party and the Indian Commissioner now parted company with our travelers. But occasionally, as the steamer swept away from the high and bold shores on which the old trading-post lay, and passed the vast marshes where the wild-fowl nest in millions every year, they found in the main current of the river scattered odds and ends of river traffic, now and then a brigade scow, or the shapeless boat of some prospector going north, he knew not how or where.
Continually, however, the impression of the deepening of the wilderness fell upon our party as they pushed on steadily down-stream between the low timbered banks of the river. John now noted on his map that this river, the outlet of Lake Athabasca, which received the combined floods of the Peace and the Athabasca, was known as the Slave River, or sometimes the Little Slave River.
As had been the Athabasca all the way down, this river was very much discolored and stained by the high waters of the spring.
“Now, young men,” said Uncle Dick to his charges as they stood on the fore deck of the steamer in the hot sun of midafternoon, “you can say that you are getting into the real wilderness. It runs every way you can look—west, north, south, and east. From where we are now, draw a circle large as you like, and you will embrace in it thousands of miles of country which no man really knows. Trust not too much even in the Dominion maps. I’d rather trust John’s map, here, because he doesn’t have to guess.”