About midnight, however, on one occasion, when all were sound asleep, the men under the carts, and ourselves in the tent, Treemiss suddenly jumped up with a great shout, and rushed, sans culottes, out of the tent, crying, “Indians! Indians! Indians!” Awakened thus rudely, we ran out after him, frightened and half asleep, and Milton, observing a figure stealthily moving near one of the carts, dashed at it, seized it by the throat, and half strangled—Voudrie, who, hearing the noise, had jumped up also to see what was the matter. When we found there was no real cause for alarm, we searched for Treemiss, and found him on the top of a cart, busily engaged in unpacking one of his boxes. He was still in a state of somnambulism, and tremendously puzzled, when we awoke him, to find himself where he was, shivering in his shirt in the cold night air. We had a hearty laugh over the affair next morning, and concluded that a mushroom supper, and La Ronde’s wild stories together, were the cause of the horrible nightmare. While we were talking it over, the men told us Vital was missing. We had remonstrated with him about his laziness the day before, and he had taken it in high dudgeon, and decamped in the night.
During the day we met a train of carts returning to Red River, and engaged one of the drivers, a loutish-looking youth, who rejoiced in the name of Zear, in place of Vital. The man in charge was the bearer of a note from Lord Dunmore, stating that he was lying ill at Fort Ellice, and requesting Cheadle to come to his relief as quickly as possible. The next morning, therefore, we tied our blankets behind our saddles, hung a tin cup to our belts, and taking a couple of “gallettes,” or unleavened cakes, a-piece, set out on a forced march to the Fort, leaving the men to follow more slowly with the carts.
We rode hard, and reached our destination on the evening of the third day, when we found that our exertions had been useless, as Lord Dunmore had left the day before. When the carts arrived two days afterwards, several of them required repairs, which delayed us two days longer. We were very kindly entertained by Mr. Mackay, the officer in charge of the Fort, and amused ourselves by visiting the half-breeds and Indians, whose lodges were erected in considerable numbers round the Fort. From one of them we purchased a “lodge” in place of our canvass tent, the former being far more comfortable during the cold autumn nights, as it admits of a fire being made in the centre.
The half-breed hunters had just been driven in by the Sioux, who had killed four of their party, having surprised them while cutting wood away from the camp. The remainder of the half-breeds came up, however, and drove them off, killing one, whose bow and arrow they showed us. The Indians who frequent the fort are Sauteux, Assiniboines, and Crees; and the half-breeds, nearly all of whom are related to one or other of these tribes, share their hostility to the Sioux and Blackfeet, and occasionally join the war-parties of their kinsfolk. The women were busily engaged in making pemmican, which is prepared in the following manner:—The meat, having been dried in the sun, or over a fire in thin flakes, is placed in a dressed buffalo skin, and pounded with a flail until it is reduced to small fragments and powder. The fat of the animal is at the same time melted down. The pounded meat is then put into bags of buffalo hide, and the boiling grease poured on to it. The mass is well stirred and mixed together, and on cooling becomes as solid as linseed cake. Although we found pemmican decidedly unpalatable at first, tasting remarkably like a mixture of chips and tallow, we became very partial to it after a time. A finer kind of pemmican is made by using only marrow and soft fat, leaving out the tallow, and sometimes adding berries of different kinds and some sugar. The berry pemmican is much prized, and very difficult to get hold of, and is really capital eating.[3]
In a country where food is scarce, and the means of transport very limited, pemmican is invaluable to the traveller, as it contains a large amount of nourishment in very small weight and compass. It is uncommonly satisfying, and the most hungry mortal is able to devour but a very small portion. Many a time have we sat down half-famished, despising as insignificant the dish of pemmican set before us, and yet been obliged to leave the mess unfinished. The voyageurs of the Hudson’s Bay Company, whose power of enduring fatigue is probably unequalled, subsist almost entirely upon this kind of food. It has, however, one drawback: it is very difficult of digestion, and a full meal of it is certain to cause considerable suffering to an unaccustomed stomach. There are few half-breeds who do not suffer habitually from dyspepsia.
Having crossed the Assiniboine river above the Fort, we now left it to the right, travelling for several days through rich, park-like country, similar to that we had previously traversed. Innumerable lakes and pools, swarming with wild-fowl, supplied us with constant shooting, and Rover with abundance of work. Canada geese, white geese, mallards, canvass-backs, large-billed ducks, various kinds of pochards, blue-winged teal, and common teal, were the most common of the different species which thronged the waters. Occasionally the appearance of a new species of duck, or a flock of white swans, gave fresh zest to the sport. The ducks at this season are most delicious, possessing much of the ordinary flavour of the wild bird, with all the fatness and delicacy of the tame one. The broods of prairie grouse were already full grown, and very plentiful. When driven into the little round copses of aspen which are such a prominent feature of the “park country,” they afforded capital sport.
We were now enjoying all the glory of the Indian summer. The days were of that clear, unclouded brightness almost peculiar to the country; the temperature of a delightful warmth, except at night, when it was slightly frosty, the water sometimes showing a thin incrustation of ice by morning. The mosquitoes and sand-flies had disappeared with the first cool evening, and we slept in peace.
After passing the deserted old Fort at Touchwood Hills, we came, in the course of a day or two, to a long stretch of bare rolling prairie, destitute of tree or shrub, and its hollows occupied by nothing but salt lakes, where we were obliged to carry with us a supply of fire-wood and fresh water. When we were coming to the old park country again, one evening at dark, Cheadle and La Ronde, who were out shooting ahead of the train, came to a little skirt of wood on the shores of a small lake, where they awaited the arrival of the carts, in order to camp. These soon came up, the horses were taken out and hobbled, and whilst the camp was being prepared, La Ronde walked down to the lake to try and get a shot at what he supposed were ducks on the water. He crept cautiously up, but when he peeped through the bushes which fringed the shore, he found to his astonishment that what he took for ducks were prairie hens. The lake was dry, and the saline incrustation in its bed had in the twilight, at a little distance, the most complete appearance of water. Although it was nearly dark, we had no choice but to harness up again, and go forward until we did find water somewhere. La Ronde and Cheadle were considerably chaffed for the mistake they had made, and Milton galloped off in search of a suitable camping ground. After riding two or three miles, principally through thick wood, without meeting with a sign of water, his horse suddenly neighed and turned abruptly out of the track into the bushes. The quacking of ducks at a little distance induced his rider to dismount and search, and there, sure enough, hidden amongst the trees, was a fine sheet of water. The instinct of the horse saved us many miles’ journey in the dark, for we travelled far next morning before we found another lake or stream.
On the 25th of September we reached the south branch of the Saskatchewan, here a stream of about eighty yards wide, flowing in a valley cut deep in the plain level, the sides of which are steep and wooded. The two branches of the river are only eighteen miles apart at this point, and after crossing the south branch on the morning of the 26th, we reached Carlton the same day, having now accomplished about 500 out of the 1,200 or 1,300 miles from Red River to the foot of the Rocky Mountains.