I found that father had with him quite a number of Eastern people. There were the Rev. Peter Campbell and family, and the two Sniders, who subsequently became teachers in our Mission schools. There were also a cousin of mine, John Chantler, and a lad, Enoch Skinner, from Toronto. Besides those who belonged to the Mission party, there were three men from Minnesota, a father and his two sons, Barlett by name, who had accompanied them from the Mississippi to the Saskatchewan; also two families of Red River settlers, who had taken this opportunity of travelling in father's train to visit their friends in the Saskatchewan country, and take part once more in a buffalo hunt.
We moved on almost immediately on my arrival, and camping short of where I left my boys I galloped ahead and brought them in. I had ridden in the saddle between ninety and one hundred miles that day, but so glad was I to meet father and these new friends from the East that I did not feel the least fatigue. The next day was Saturday, and by pushing through the Thickwood Hills we camped in the evening at Bear's Paddling Lake. All day as we travelled father and I rode in our saddles side by side, as he recounted to me the work of the year in Eastern Canada. He told me how he had pled with our missionary authorities until they concluded to establish in the Red River Valley, and had sent the Rev. George Young to that work, and the Rev. Egerton R. Young to Norway House. He gave me a description of the journey by steamer to the Upper Mississippi, and thence by carts and waggons through the plains of Minnesota and Dakota, and on into the Selkirk Settlement, where they parted from the Youngs, and, continuing the journey up the valley of the Assiniboine, had crossed the divide and the south branch of the great Saskatchewan. "And now," said he, "I am tired of the long journey, and of handling tenderfeet, and I purpose to start bright and early Monday morning for home, leaving the whole company and outfit to your care for the rest of the trip." I said that I thought I could handle the concern, and that he was welcome to my horses and one of my boys. I wished him a quick trip, and having been a sailor in his youth, he answered me, with a twinkle of his eye, "When I leave you next Monday morning I will not take a reef in my rigging until with the blessing of Heaven I reach Victoria."
CHAPTER XXVII.
Father pushes on for home in advance—Hard times for the "tenderfeet"—A plunge into icy water—My brother David gallops into camp—His high spirits prove infectious—Kindness of the Hudson's Bay Company—Oxen sent to help us in to Victoria—A mutinous camp-follower—My threat of a sound thrashing subdues the mutineer—Our long journey is ended—Adieu to my readers.
We spent a quiet Sabbath on the shore of the lake, resting and worshipping. As some of the new-comers were quite songful, we enjoyed listening to and learning some of the beautiful hymns that had come in vogue since we left older Canada. Early Monday morning we were astir. Father, taking with him Mrs. Campbell and her two children and one of my boys, started on to make a flying trip home. Mrs. Campbell was glad to make a change from slow to fast travel, and I also was glad to see the lady and her children go, for this meant very much earlier starting for the rest of the party. Father had said to me, "The stock is in good shape, John; you can push from here." And push we did, sometimes too much so for the taste and convenience of the green hands amongst us. Already the later autumn was upon us with its cold nights, and to turn out long before daylight and prepare breakfast and harness up, and be rolling on sometimes hours before sunrise, was anything but pleasant to flesh and blood not inured to that kind of life.
As with the "Ancient Pilgrims," murmurings and scoldings were frequent; but notwithstanding we continued to start early and drive late, and made good time westward. I well remember coming to Jackfish Creek early one morning. The crossing was rough with big boulders, and there was about an inch of ice on the water. I rode my horse several times through the ford to smash up the ice, and called to my cart driver to dismount and take his "lead" horse by the head and wade in, thus lessening the chances of an upset while passing through. Setting the example myself, I took the lead ox by the head, and wading beside him, passed him and his load safely over. But certain of our tenderfeet were afraid to step into the cold water, and the result was almost disastrous to some of the carts and loads. One of these gentlemen, having at last to jump down into the middle of the creek, made a misstep and fell full length into the ice and cold water; and not until then did he see that someone knew better than he did. He was a funny-looking specimen as he picked himself up out of the icy stream, and in a little while, when he was standing beside the big camp-fire warming himself, I said to him, "You richly deserved your ducking, young man; the next time do what you are told, and it will be better for you."
"He was a funny-looking specimen as he picked himself up out of the icy stream."