Far down, near the south shore of the lake, the quick eye of a French half-breed caught the faint print of a snow-shoe edge on the hard drifted surface; he followed the clue—another print—and then another;—soon the shore was reached, and the impress of a human form found among the willows.
Never doubting for an instant that the next sight would be the frozen body of the man they sought for (since the fireless camping-place showed that he was without the means of making a fire), the searchers went along. They reached the Sulphur Spring, and there, cold, hungry, but safe, sat the object of their search. Five days had passed, yet he had not frozen!
If I wished to learn more of the deserter Harper, I had ample opportunity of doing so. His villainous face formed a prominent object at my camp fire. He was now the packet bearer to Fort Vermilion on the Peace River; he was one of the worthies I have already spoken of.
We crossed Lac Clair at a rapid pace, and reached at dusk the north-western shore; of course we had lost ourselves; but the evening was calm and clear, and the error was set right by a two-hours’ additional march.
It was piercingly cold when, some time after dark, the shore was gained; but wood was found by the yellow light of a full moon, and a good camp made on a swampy island. From here our path lay through the woods and ridges nearly due west again.
On the fourth day after leaving Fort Chipewyan we gained a sandy ridge covered with cypress, and saw beneath us a far-stretching valley; beyond, in the distance to the north and west, the blue ridges of the Cariboo Mountains closed the prospect. In the valley a broad river lay in long sweeping curves from west to east.
We were on the banks of the Peace River.
CHAPTER XV.
The Peace River.—Volcanos.—M. Jean Batiste St. Cyr.—Half a loaf is better than no bread.—An oasis in the desert.—Tecumseh and Black Hawk.