We succeeded in obtaining very good saddle horses. Treemiss bought the champion runner of the settlement, and Milton had an old favourite of his and La Ronde’s, the hero of a thousand runs. Cheadle’s horse was, however, the most extraordinary-looking animal in the whole cavalcade. Bucephalus stood about fifteen hands, was straight in the shoulder, one of his legs was malformed and crooked, his head was very large, and his tail very long. On the road he was continually stumbling; and when Cheadle rode him about the settlement, he was at first nearly pitched over every gate and fence he came to. When the horse caught sight of one, he made for it, and suddenly stopping, stood stock-still, as a hint for his rider to dismount and tie him up—an illustration of the gossiping habits of his late owner. But he turned out the most useful horse of the whole number, galloped over the roughest ground after buffalo without ever making a mistake, or giving his rider a fall, and eventually carried packs over the mountains into British Columbia.
Our supplies consisted of pemmican, dried meat, flour, tea, salt, tobacco, rum, a large quantity of ammunition, blankets, and buffalo robes, and knives and trinkets for presents or barter. These and a canvass tent were carried in six of the small rough carts of the country, which are made entirely of wood; and although they break more readily than if iron were used, yet they are easily repaired when travelling where iron and blacksmiths are not found.
We discarded boots and coats, adopting the costume of the country, viz., moccasins, and hunting-shirts of the skin of the Cariboo deer. Our weapons were a double-barrelled gun, hunting-knife, and a revolver a-piece, which last we only carried when in dangerous localities.
And here we would offer a word of advice to any future traveller in the Hudson’s Bay territories. If he intends merely to hunt buffalo on the plains in the summer, when he can take carts along with him, and ample supplies, let him take a rifle if he will; but if he wishes to see wild life in every phase, and rough it through the winter, as we did, let him be content with a double-barrelled smooth-bore, which will carry ball well. Carts cannot travel in the deep snow, and everything has to be carried on dog-sleighs. Every pound of weight is a consideration, and a gun packed on a sleigh is almost certain to be bent or broken. In the woods the hunter must carry all his baggage and provisions on his back.
Two guns are, therefore, out of the question in both cases. The hunter and trapper lives by the feathered game which he kills, rather than by the larger animals, which are only occasionally met with; and although he may be a crack shot, he cannot kill birds on the wing with a rifle, or two or three at a time, as he must do if he would avoid starvation, and economise his ammunition. A good smooth-bore shoots well enough, up to sixty or eighty yards, for all practical purposes, and during our experience we never met with an instance where we could not approach within that distance of large game.
We left Fort Garry on the 23rd of August, in the highest spirits, feeling free as air, riding alongside our train of carts, which carried all we possessed on the continent. We had several spare horses, and these trotted along after us as naturally as Rover. The road followed the left bank of the Assiniboine pretty closely, passing through level prairie land, with here and there patches of woodland and a few houses. As we passed one of these hamlets, Voudrie informed us that a cousin of his—the cousins of a half-breed are legion—had been married that morning, and invited us to the wedding festivities, which were then going on at the house of the bride’s father close by. As we had some curiosity to see a “noce,” we agreed, and immediately camped, and walked to the house, where we were duly introduced by Voudrie, and warmly welcomed by the assembled company.
After we had discussed some meat, cakes, pasties, tea, and whisky spread out on the ground outside, we adjourned to the ball-room, the sitting-room of the little two-roomed house. It was crowded with guests, dressed in full half-breed finery. At one end were two fiddlers, who worked in relays, the music being in most rapid time, and doubtless very fatiguing to the instrumentalists. The dance, in which about half a dozen couples were engaged when we entered, appeared to be a kind of cross between a Scotch reel and the “Lancers,” a number of lively steps, including a double-shuffle and stamp, being executed with great vigour. The dancing was dancing, and no mistake, and both the men and their fair partners were exceedingly hot and exhausted when the “set” was finished. The figures appeared so intricate, and the skill of the performers so admirable, that we were deterred by our natural diffidence from yielding to the repeated solicitations of the M.C. to select partners and foot it with the rest. At length, however, Milton, with a courage equal to the occasion, and, it is suspected, strongly attracted by the beauty of the bride—a delicate-featured, pensive-looking girl of sixteen or seventeen, with a light and graceful figure—boldly advanced, and led her out amid the applause of the company. He succeeded in interpreting the spirit of the music, if not with the energy, certainly with a greater dignity and infinitely less exertion than his compeers. His performance was highly appreciated by all—including Treemiss and Cheadle—who gazed with admiration, mingled with envy, at a success they were unequal to achieve.
Weary at length of the hot room, and the incessant scraping of fiddles and stamping of feet, we returned to camp and proposed to start again. La Ronde, who had been in various stages of intoxication ever since leaving Fort Garry, taking parting drinks with his friends at every opportunity, had disappeared, and the others endeavoured to persuade us that it was too late to go further that night. We overruled their objections, however, and set out. La Ronde made his appearance before we had gone very far, considerably sobered, and very penitent. He assured us he had had his last drunk for many a long day, saying, “Je boive pas souvent, messieurs, mais quand je boive, je boive comme il faut, c’est ma façon voyez vous.” And so it turned out, for we never had to complain of him again, and although we frequently offered him rum, he always refused it, declaring he did not care for it unless he could have a regular carouse. And thus it is with both half-breeds and Indians; they do not drink from a liking for the taste of the liquor, but simply to produce the happy state of intoxication.
After leaving Portage La Prairie, fifty miles beyond Fort Garry, and the western boundary of the settlement, we entered a fine, undulating country, full of lakes and marshes thronged with wild-fowl, and studded with pretty copses of aspen. As we rode along we continually came across the skulls of buffalo, whitened by age and exposure. A few years ago buffalo were plentiful along the road between Red River and Carlton. The prairies were gay with the flowers of the dark blue gentianella, which grew in great profusion.
Each day was like the one before, yet without a wearisome monotony. Sometimes we jogged dreamily along beside the carts, or lay basking in the bright sunshine. When tired of idleness, we cantered ahead, with Rover in attendance, and shot geese and ducks at the lakes, or prairie grouse in the copses. Feathered game was so plentiful that we easily killed enough to feed the whole party, and rarely had occasion to trench on our stock of pemmican. A little before sundown we camped by wood and water, hobbled the horses, and then ate our suppers with appetites such as we had never known before. At night, while smoking our pipes round the camp fire, La Ronde amused us with stories of his hunting adventures, of encounters with the Sioux, or of his journey with Dr. Rae, after which we turned into our blankets and slept soundly till daybreak.