“I had to come back to the States—that was the end of last season,” continued the man, “and now I’m on my way again to reach the Athabasca. My outfit is in Edmonton, I hope. But this year I’ll have a little less trouble. There’s a railroad now between Edmonton and Athabasca Landing and I expect to get my equipment and my stores to the river in freight cars. I’ve been detained by other business and should have been in Fort McMurray by this time, as the ice goes out of the river late in May. And I have my boats this year that I bought before I left the Landing.
“But when I tried to arrange for my old steersmen to pilot me down the river again, I found that energetic Calgary had beaten me to it. Moosetooth and La Biche are not the best boatmen on the Athabasca, but they are the ones I want. And I’m here, waiting for the show to close. They will go with me, and I suppose their families as well,” added Colonel Howell with a grimace, “directly to Athabasca Landing, and in a week from now there is no reason why we should not be drifting down the big river again.”
“Then your trouble’ll begin again, won’t it?” asked Norman.
Instead of answering, Colonel Howell sat in silence a few moments.
“There’s a good deal I might say about the country I’m going into,” he continued at last, “but I think you young men understand it pretty well.”
“Pretty well up into the Barren Lands, isn’t it?” asked Roy.
“The last of the wilderness before you reach the treeless plains,” explained the colonel, “but as far as Fort McMurray the region is a vast trail-less extent of poplar and spruce. The winter comes in November and lasts until June. In that period, when the nights grow long, you have a pretty good imitation of the Arctic. There are Indians here and there and game abounds, but the white man passes only now and then. The dog and sled are yet the winter means of transportation and here you may find the last of the trappers that have made history in the great Northwest.
“Some of this region will undoubtedly in time provide farms, but as yet no farmer has learned how to use the rich black soil of its river lands in the short summer seasons. In time, powerful steamers will navigate the Athabasca and also, in time, there will be railroads. When they come,” the speaker went on with a chuckle, “I hope to be able to supply them with oil. This at least is why, for the third time, I’m making my way into that little-known country.”
“I hope you don’t get dumped again,” suggested Norman.
“How genuinely do you hope that?” asked Colonel Howell instantly and with renewed animation.