We were given an early supper by kind Mrs. T., who had mothered us when we were there before, and, thus fortified, started on our twenty-mile drive to the ferry over the Saskatchewan River, where we camped. There was another thunderstorm that night. I got up very early, and had an awful business cooking breakfast because of the raging wind. I had determined that on any future trips there should be a tin shield for the Primus, as digging a trench was of little use.
Meanwhile we heard that the ferry had not been running for several days, as the river had fallen and the sand had silted up. If I had known this sooner we might have crossed at Saskatoon, where there was a bridge, but we were now a hundred miles or more away. It was necessary to cross without loss of time, because Winifred wanted to catch the train at Outlook on the following evening. She was obliged to get back to England by an earlier boat than I was taking, because the tour had been prolonged beyond the original date, owing to weather and other difficulties.
When we had got down the steep, slippery trail to the river I found that the ferry-barge was not starting from the pier, but lower down stream where there was no pier, and between us and it was nothing but sand and mud and water in which the caravan would sink. There were two other cars waiting to cross. Their owners had gone over to Outlook in the ferry to get a team of horses to pull them through. Just at this moment a wagon and two fine horses drove down to the river bank. We explained our difficulty to the driver, and he offered to tow us on to the barge. The ferry-boat had now returned, and the touring cars were towed on with difficulty. The waggoner hitched us on to his wagon, and I asked Winifred to get out, as there was no reason why she should run the risk of being overturned. Then our wagon started, and I started the engine to help the horses, but this frightened them and they tried to bolt. The man shouted to me to switch off, which I did, but they still galloped on and seemed to be making straight for the river. Hitched on behind like this I was helpless. But the man was a splendid whip, and he knew his horses. He steadied them with his voice, and, getting them in hand, swung them sharply round and on to the barge, though still snorting and plunging in their fright. It was exceedingly difficult to steer the van round just at the right moment, but I managed it somehow. The barge men (our former friends) seemed to find it very hard work getting the heavily-laden boat across, with the wind against them. On the other side there was no pier to land on, only mud and water as before, so the waggoner offered to pull us ashore. His horses were really magnificent—extraordinarily strong—for they pulled both the wagon and the laden van through the sand and water, past the touring cars stuck in the mud. The man refused to take any money for his services, though it was usual to charge a dollar or so for pulling out cars, etc. But only once in all our three months on the prairie, and with our numerous calls for help, would any man take money for his services to us. I am sure that our work was helped by our being women. Much more consideration was shown to us than would have been the case with men similarly situated. Perhaps this is because there are fewer women than men out there. The men certainly seem to feel that they cannot do enough for them.
I took the grass track up from the river, the same which I had used when crossing the ferry before; but the van stuck at the top, so I had to unload, and then back down to the bottom and rush up again at full speed. It was a very hot day and a weary task repacking the van. We bitterly regretted our refusal of the kind waggoner's offer to pull us up.
I saw Winifred off by train, and then went on to Eyebrow, 96 miles. It was rather fun trying to race Winifred's train, which I could see on the track a little ahead of me. I did nearly catch her at one station, but was not quite quick enough. I was very grateful for all Winifred's help, and found it rather difficult to find my way without her, as she always held the map. But I struck a green blazed trail after a time, and then found my way quite easily. This trail fortunately avoided that bad corner at Elbow, and the surface of all the trails was far better now than when we came up. I arrived at Eyebrow about 5 p.m.
The next day Mr. T. took me to visit some parents, with whom we had meals, and then on to Keelerville day-school, where I gave an address. I was surprised to find one little girl answering all my questions with great fluency, while the others sat in open-mouthed admiration. I said to myself, "I'm sure you've been to the Qu'Appelle Diocesan School for Girls," as I had noticed the same phenomena in Sunday Schools in Regina, and my surmise proved to be correct.
We went out to supper, where we had the usual great bowl of boiled eggs, from which we helped ourselves, everyone being expected to eat at least three. It was very dark on our return journey, and the headlights sometimes went very dim. I found it extremely pleasant to be driven for once.
I left Eyebrow on the Wednesday afternoon, and went on to Mortlack, about 38 miles. I found my way all right, but had to go through a great deal of sand. Fortunately I did not stick. The vicar and his wife gave me a very warm welcome when I arrived that evening. There were five small children and a young theological student in the house. The vicar had been presented with a Ford caravan very much like mine, in which to get about his rural deanery. For everyday use he had a Ford car, and he took me round the district in this. I taught in two schools and held a parents' meeting on the first day, and gave a picture talk and two addresses to parents and teachers on the next day. Indoors I helped the student with the household chores, which he had made part of his duty. The vicar's wife had her hands full with the children. The latter were charming people; they specially loved jumping in and out of the caravan. I secured temporary quietude by taking them down the town and presenting them with "all-day suckers." This protection of the Canadian parent is a large hard, brightly-coloured confection, stuck on a pointed stick, which forms a handle. As the name suggests, it is supposed to last all day. Another favourite comestible is chewing-gum. The children in their turn frequently presented me with both these dainties. But what I really liked were the delicious ice-creams and ice-cream sodas and sundaes. Those of the latter that one buys in England are but pale shadows of the original. The real, true sundae is a bowl of genuine ice-cream, on the top of which is preserved fruit in rich syrup, with chopped nuts scattered over it.
This rural deanery received a great deal of support from the Colonial and Continental Church Society. They wanted me to stop at Mortlack over Sunday, but I felt that I should never get all my affairs settled up in Regina before catching my boat unless I went on at once.
So I started off for Regina on the Saturday, and got there in the afternoon (70 miles). The trail was exceedingly bad, as they were newly grading it, and in some places I had to get over mounds of loose earth about four feet or more high. It was odd to find my watch an hour different from the Regina clocks. The big towns have summer time, but the C.P.R. and the country places keep to ordinary time.