His plan was to go down the river in a skiff. I was to remain with Mr. Woolsey as a sort of assistant and interpreter.
Our present plan was for Mr. Woolsey to accompany father in the skiff to where we had crossed the river on our southward journey some weeks since, and Peter and I were to take the horses down on the north side to meet them at this point.
William had gone on to Smoking Lake and would meet us there.
We were to leave Edmonton the same day, and hoped to reach our rendezvous about the same time; but Peter and I had quite a bunch of horses to drive, and most of the road was dense forest, with the path narrow and almost overgrown with timber. Our horses, too, would run off into the thicket, so that when we came to an open space beyond, and counted up, we would generally find some were missing. While I guarded those we had, Peter would go back and patiently track up the rest. Thus, instead of reaching the spot where we were to meet father and party the second evening, it was long after dark on the third evening when we came there.
I had not seen father to say "Good-bye," at Edmonton, and I had many things to say to him before we parted for the year, and now I expected to meet him camped on the banks of the river, but as we rode down the hill into the valley all was darkness. There could be no mistake; this was the spot, but no camp and no sign of father. We wondered what was up; presently I saw something white, and, riding to it, found a note stuck in the end of a small pole, and we lit a match and I read:
"My DEAR BOY,—
"We came here early to-day and waited some hours, but the season urges me on. Am sorry to miss meeting you. Play the man. Do your best to help Mr. Woolsey.
"God bless you, my son. Good-bye.
"Your loving father,
"G. McDOUGALL."
If I had been alone I could have cried heartily in my great disappointment. Oh! what a fit of lonesomeness and homesickness came upon me, but there was no time for long lamentation.