On the 16th we reached a point where the river makes a great bend to the south, and the trail turns off at right angles to avoid it. Here a small river enters the McLeod, and the hills are seen swelling higher towards the west. In the smaller stream we observed some fish rising at the fly, and on the banks fresh beaver “sign,” with here and there tracks of moose and bear. As the horses had had little food for two or three days, and some burnt ground offered better pasturage than usual, we decided to rest for a day, and try our luck in hunting and fishing. Cheadle and The Assiniboine set out at daybreak in search of moose, while Milton and the rest devoted themselves to the trout. Mr. O’B. also, attracted by the prospect of a meal on something more savoury than pemmican, essayed to fish; but he splashed about so restlessly, and met with so little encouragement, that he soon wearied of his employment. Baptiste showed a most discontented and rebellious spirit at this time, refusing to put up the lodge where Milton directed him, and, after some altercation, sulkily packed up his small property, declaring he should leave at once. However, he changed his mind, and took to fishing with the rest. A nice dish of fish was caught before evening, amongst which were two or three large white trout, from the McLeod, several of the small banded trout, and some fish resembling dace. Before dark Cheadle and The Assiniboine came back again, without having met with any large game. They had followed a fresh moose track a long distance, found the place where the animal had been recently lying down, and as he lay pulled the twigs within his reach, the sap being still moist where the bark had been abraded by his teeth. The sagacity with which the hunter followed the tracks was very wonderful. Without hesitation he passed rapidly and noiselessly amidst the thick wood, and over the thickly-piled fallen trunks, at a pace which his companion found it difficult to keep up with, never overrunning or neglecting the footprints, which to Cheadle’s less instructed eye were quite invisible, except on the closest scrutiny. The hunter has not only to keep his eye on the trail, but also to look out constantly for the animal he is following, which he may come upon at any moment, and carefully avoid breaking a dry twig, or making a rustling in the underwood through which he passes. Amongst the few qualities of the Red Indian, good or evil, which have not been exaggerated are his power of sight, sagacity in following a track, and interpreting the signs he meets with. He will often follow a moose for days, and in winter, when the sound of the breaking through of the crust on the snow beneath his feet would betray his approach, will carefully cut out each footstep with his knife. The moose in this case had changed his quarters, and the pursuit was given up.

Our dish of fish in the evening was an immense treat, and but for the ominous taciturnity of Baptiste, we should have been jolly enough. In the morning affairs looked brighter, Baptiste cheerfully helped to pack the horses, talked away as usual, and seemed quite contented. Cheadle started in advance of the party, and after an hour or two pulled up to await the arrival of the train. When it came up, Baptiste was missing, and Milton was the first to perceive his absence. The Assiniboine declared he knew nothing more than that he stayed behind after the train started to light his pipe, as he said, and he expected him to make his appearance very shortly. We travelled on till noon, and then, as Baptiste did not come, we felt convinced that he really had deserted, and stopped to hold a solemn council on the course to be taken under this change of circumstances. Baptiste had probably never intended to go with us further than this point, and had taken the opportunity to raise a dispute in order to have some excuse for his conduct. He had carried off one of the most valuable horses, and a small amount of provision. It was useless to attempt to follow him, unless we determined to turn back to Edmonton. But we were firmly resolved to proceed with our expedition, come what might, although we could not conceal from ourselves that the work would be very heavy. We had thirteen horses to pack and drive through the thick woods; the one-handed Assiniboine, with his wife and boy, were our only assistants; and Mr. O’B. represented a minus quantity. At least six or perhaps seven hundred miles of the most difficult country in the world lay before us, and not one of the party had ever previously set foot in this region. But we resolved to trust to The Assiniboine, if he would give his solemn promise to stand by us in every emergency, having confidence that his wonderful sagacity would be sufficient to find the road. We therefore at once proposed to him that he should be raised to Baptiste’s position, and greater emoluments, as guide—requiring only his solemn engagement to go through with us to the end. We sent him to consult his wife, and after a short conversation with her, he came back to say that they were both determined to stick to us faithfully, and he felt no doubt about being able to find the emigrants’ track without difficulty.

On the next morning we again struck the McLeod, and continued to follow it for a couple of days. In a small tributary we caught a few trout in a somewhat novel manner. Whilst dinner was being prepared, we went down to the stream with the boy, to fish with some of the gad-flies which we caught on the horses. A number of trout were lying in the shade of a large overhanging willow, and we disposed ourselves along the trunk, in order to drop the tempting fly before the noses of the fish. Cheadle, in his eagerness to accomplish this, fell head first into the water with a tremendous splash, and the boy, in his amusement at his companion’s misfortune, slipped also, and splashed in after him. Finding that the fish immediately returned to the protecting shade, in spite of their fright, and were even then too sleepy to take the bait, we set the boy to manage the fly, whilst we stirred up the fish judiciously with a long pole. They were then sufficiently roused from their lethargic state to notice the bait, and a good dish of them secured. Not one had been taken before this device was adopted.

[(Larger)]

THE FOREST ON FIRE.

(See [page 223].)

The trail now led along the bed of the river, and, becoming fainter and fainter, The Assiniboine began to suspect that we had strayed from the main track to Jasper House, and were following some casual hunter’s or miner’s path. We therefore encamped at noon in the middle of a thick forest of young pines. The trees grew very closely together, and we were obliged to cut a clear space for the horses and our own camp. The Assiniboine started off to search for the proper path, the woman and boy to the river to wash some clothes, and we remained behind with Mr. O’B. The “bull-dogs” were very numerous, and we built a large fire, for the benefit of the horses, in the little open space we had cleared. We then proceeded to make a smaller one for ourselves, and were quietly seated round it cooking our pemmican, Mr. O’B. having divested his feet of his boots, lying at his ease, and smoking his pipe with great satisfaction. Suddenly a louder crackling and roaring of the other fire attracted our attention, and, on looking round, we saw, to our horror, that some of the trees surrounding the little clearing we had made had caught fire. The horses, in their pushing and struggling to supplant one another in the thickest of the smoke, had kicked some of the blazing logs among the closely-set pines, which, although green, burn more fiercely than the driest timber. The moment was critical enough. Cheadle, seizing an axe, rushed to the place, and felled tree after tree, to isolate those already fired from the rest, whilst Milton ran to and fro, fetching water in a bucket from a little pool, which was fortunately close at hand, and poured it on the thick, dry moss through which the fire was rapidly spreading along the surface of the ground. We were, by this time, nearly surrounded by blazing trees, and the flames flared and leapt up from branch to branch, and from tree to tree, in the most appalling manner, as they greedily licked up, with a crackle and splutter, the congenial resin of the trunks, or devoured with a flash and a fizz the inflammable leaves of the flat, wide-spreading branches. The horses became frightened and unmanageable, some of them burst through the thick timber around, in spite of the flames, and one, severely burnt about the legs, threw himself down, and rolled in his agony in the very hottest of the fire. We dropped axe and bucket, hauled at him by the head and tail in vain, and at last, in desperation, beat him savagely about the head, when he sprang up, and bolted away. But the delay caused by this incident had nearly been fatal. The fire had rapidly gained head, the air became hot, and the smoke almost stifling, the flames raged fiercely, with terrific roar, and for a moment we hesitated whether we should not abandon all, and make for the river. But we took courage, snatched up hatchet and pail once more, and as each tree fell, and patches of moss were extinguished, we began to hope. While we were thus busily engaged in our frantic exertions, it occurred to us that our friend Mr. O’B. had hitherto given us no assistance, and, looking round, descried him still seated where we had left him, feebly tugging at a boot which he appeared to have great difficulty in pulling on. We shouted to him, for God’s sake, to come and help us, or we should all be burnt to death. He replied, in a doubtful, uncertain manner, that he was coming directly, when he had got his boots on. Roused at length by our fierce objurgations, and struck by the suggestion that he would burn as easily with his boots off as when properly shod, he ran up, trembling and bewildered, bringing a tardy and ineffectual assistance in the shape of half-pints of water in his little tin mug! Gradually, however, we succeeded in cutting off the fire, which still raged fiercely away from us, recovered our horses, and found that even the one which had caused us such anxiety was not seriously injured, although singed all over, and much burnt about the legs.

The Assiniboine came back soon after, having found the road, and we therefore re-packed the horses, rapidly retraced our steps to the point where the trails diverged, and camped there for the night. Clouds of smoke, visible during this and the following day behind us, showed that the fire was still burning furiously. The next day we turned off at right angles from the McLeod, passing through the usual routine of muskeg and pine forest, and before night came were drenched through and through by the rain of the most tremendous thunder-storm we ever encountered, with the exception of the memorable one on Red River. At our evening’s camping place we found an inscription on a tree, to the effect that the three miners who had left the party in the Saskatchewan to find out the sources of that river, discovering that they were close to the Athabasca, had turned back to prospect the sources of the McLeod. Heavy rain continued to fall without intermission the following day, and we were obliged to remain under shelter of our lodge. But the following morning broke clear and bright, and a good trail of about half a mile brought us to the banks of the Athabasca, flowing like the Saskatchewan, in a channel cut in the flat bottom of the wide river-valley, the steep sides of which, 200 feet in height, were thickly clothed with pine, spruce, and poplar, resembling those of the McLeod. The river-valley of the Athabasca is, however, deeper and wider, and its waters turbid, deep, and rapid. At this time it was tremendously swollen—at the height of the summer flood—and formed a striking contrast to the clear, shallow stream we had crossed before. Full to the overflowing of the present banks, the stream, some 200 yards in breadth, rushed along, swelling in great waves over the huge boulders in its bed, and bearing along large pine-trees of five or six feet in diameter, which played about like straws in the powerful current. This river is called by the Indians Mistahay Shakow Seepee, or the “Great River of the Woods,” in distinction to the Saskatchewan, the Mistahay Paskwow Seepee, or “Great River of the Plains.” We viewed it in some dismay, for there seemed little hope of rafting across it in safety in its present condition. We were relieved, however, by finding that the track still followed the bank of the river, and from a little bare and rounded knoll we had our first view of the Rocky Mountains. The prospect was a glorious one, and most exhilarating to us, who had lived so long in level country, and for the last three weeks had been buried in dense forest, which shut out every prospect, and almost the light of day.

Ranges of pine-clad hills, running nearly north and south, rise in higher and higher succession towards the west, and in the further distance we could see parallel to them a range of rugged, rocky peaks, backed by the snow-clad summits of some giants which towered up beyond. The snow which crowned the loftier peaks, and still lingered in the hollows of the lower hills, glittered in the brilliant sunlight through the soft blue haze which mellowed the scene, and brought the far-distant mountains seemingly close before us. A cleft in the ridge, cut clean as if with a knife, showed us what we supposed to be the opening of the gorge through which we were to pass. The singular rock on the left or eastern side of this gateway, somewhat like the half of a sponge-cake cut vertically, we knew must be one of which we had heard as La Roche à Myette, close to Jasper House. Following the river-valley, we travelled through thick timber, marshes, and boggy ground, pleasantly varied occasionally by beautiful park-like oases of an acre or two in extent, and crossed several small streams, swollen into muddy torrents.