Although peace had been proclaimed, it was not by any means improbable that some of the young Cree braves might attempt to steal the Blackfeet horses. Mr. Chantelaine, therefore, had them secured for the night together with ours, within the Fort. On the morrow a Cree came in from the camp on the plains with the news that hostilities were imminent, on account of a Cree woman having been killed in the Blackfoot camp. She had gone there to be married to a Blackfoot chief, but on her arrival another took a fancy to her. A quarrel arose, and, to put an end to the matter, one of them stabbed the woman to the heart. Mr. Chantelaine immediately communicated the news to the Blackfoot chief, and advised him to be off at once. He agreed to this, and in a few minutes they crossed the river. As they landed on the other side, a Blackfoot runner, stripped to his breech cloth, breathless and excited, met them, having been sent to warn them of impending danger. Eventually the alarm turned out to be a false one, and the peace continued unbroken for the few weeks we remained on the Saskatchewan.

At Fort Pitt we engaged another man, who, like Baptiste, expressed his willingness to go with us as far as we might require. Our new attendant, Louis Battenotte, more generally known by the sobriquet of “The Assiniboine,” from his having been brought up in childhood by that tribe, was a middle-sized though athletic man, of very Indian appearance. His hair was long and black, and secured by a fillet of silk, his nose prominently aquiline, his mouth small, and with unusually thin and delicate lips. His manner was very mild and pleasing, and the effect of this was increased by the singular softness and melody of his voice.

At the time we were at Fort Pitt, his youngest child fell ill and died, and he and his wife became so unhappy and unsettled on account of the loss, that they became anxious to leave the scene of their misfortune, and volunteered to accompany us. We were willing enough, and indeed anxious, to secure the services of the man, who had the reputation of being the most accomplished hunter and voyageur of the district, but demurred for a long time to his proposal to take with him his wife and son—the latter a boy of thirteen. We were, however, so charmed with the fellow, that we at last agreed, not without many misgivings as to the wisdom of allowing what we thought would be supernumeraries on a journey so difficult as ours would be across the mountains, and through a country where food would be difficult to obtain. But this arrangement, which appeared of such doubtful wisdom at the time, eventually proved our salvation.

“The Assiniboine,” although he possessed but one hand—the left one having been shattered by the bursting of a gun, which left but two fingers—was as useful and expert as if he were unmaimed. His gentle and insinuating manners, which had so fascinated us, belied his character, for he was passionate and violent, and although his countenance beamed forth benevolent, and he cooed softly as any dove when at peace, yet, when angry and excited, his aspect became perfectly fiendish, and his voice thundered like the roar of a lion. But he proved a valuable servant in our many difficulties afterwards, and we never regretted being misled by his seductive manners. We learnt subsequently that he had killed another half-breed in a drunken squabble, and had been dismissed the Company’s service and excommunicated by the priest in consequence. The murdered man was, however, a notorious bully, the dread and terror of all the half-breeds. Every one agreed, moreover, that the provocation had been excessive, and the deed done in a moment of passion.

We left Fort Pitt on the 28th of April, choosing the road on the north side of the river, as it was not advisable to encounter the vast numbers of Plains Indians now collected together on the south. The first night after our departure we kept careful watch over our horses, fearful lest the Indians from whom we had purchased them might attempt to steal them back. For it is common enough for them to repent having parted with their horses, and ease their minds by again taking possession of their former property. The night passed quietly, and we turned in with daylight for a few hours’ rest before starting again.

We now entered a most glorious country—not indeed grandly picturesque, but rich and beautiful: a country of rolling hills and fertile valleys, of lakes and streams, groves of birch and aspen, and miniature prairies; a land of a kindly soil, and full of promise to the settler to come in future years, when an enlightened policy shall open out the wealth now uncared-for or unknown.

Our live stock was increased before reaching Edmonton by the birth of a foal, but this did not delay us in the least. The foal was tied on to a “travaille” for the first day, and thus drawn along by its mother; and after that marched bravely all day, swimming the rivers we had to cross in gallant style.

On the way we frequently met with marks of the labours of the beaver in days long gone by, when they were a numerous and powerful race; and at one place we found a long chain of marshes, formed by the damming up of a stream which had now ceased to exist. Their dwelling had been abandoned ages ago, for the house had become a grassy mound on the dry land, and the dam in front a green and solid bank.

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