(See [page 245].)
In the morning all set to work, cutting and carrying timber, Mr. Macaulay working with the rest; but Mr. O’B., as before, could not be found. As the last log was carried down to the water, he suddenly came up with—“Oh! dear, can I be of any use, my lord?—can I help you, Doctor?” We expressed our sorrow that he was too late, but The Assiniboine was very angry, and vowed he should not come on board the raft. It required the exercise of all our authority to overrule his determination, and we saw in this occurrence signs pregnant of future trouble. By noon the raft was ready, and we drove our horses into the stream. When we had seen them safely across, we rewarded our half-breed friends by dividing the last remains of our rum amongst them—a treat they appreciated above everything—and bidding a hearty good-bye to Mr. Macaulay and the rest, pushed off on our adventure. The stream at this place was deep, wide, and tranquil, and we crossed without difficulty or mishap. Before we were fairly over we found that we had left one of our two remaining axes behind; but we did not turn back to regain it, since it was no light matter to navigate so large a raft. Had we known how sorely we should need this axe afterwards, we should not have spared any trouble to obtain it.
We landed on a sparsely timbered flat, where the trees had all been destroyed by fire, packed the horses, and travelled a few miles before sundown. By noon on the following day, still following the Athabasca, we reached a beautiful little prairie, surrounded by pine hills green almost to their summits, and overtopped by lofty snow-clad peaks. One of these, which has received the name of the Priest’s Rock, was of curious shape, its apex resembling the top of a pyramid, and covered with snow. The prairie was richly carpeted with flowers, and a rugged excrescence upon it marked the site of the old Rocky Mountain Fort, Henry’s House.
The track, leaving the valley of the Athabasca at this point, turned towards the north-west, and entered a narrow rocky ravine, the valley of the river Myette. The stream was not more than thirty yards in width, but deep and rapid, and its bed beset with great rocks and boulders. The path was obstructed by large stones and fallen timber, lying so thickly that our two men were kept hard at work all the afternoon, and the horses progressed only by a succession of jumps. We made but a short distance with great labour, and camped for the night on the banks of the stream.
For the whole of the next morning the road presented the same difficulties, and our advance was as slow as on the preceding day. At mid-day we reached the place where we were to cross the river, and pulled up to make a raft. After crossing by this means, we toiled on through a ravine so narrow, and where the mountains came down so close to the water’s edge, that, in order to pass them, we were compelled to traverse the stream no less than six times more before evening. In each of these cases we crossed on horseback, the river now being a succession of rapids, not more than four or five feet deep. These passages of the river were difficult, and many of them dangerous, for the water was very high, and the current extremely powerful.
At the last fording-place, the waters rushed down a swift descent in a foaming cataract, raging and boiling so fiercely round great rocks which studded the channel, that we hesitated before we ventured to urge our horses forward. But the Iroquois led the way, and crossed safely, although his horse staggered about and hardly held his own. We then drove the pack-horses before us, and plunged in. The water streamed over our horses’ shoulders, as they struggled against the current, and slipped amongst the smooth boulders, tumbling about and regaining their footing in the most wonderful manner. Mr. O’B. was compelled to mount his steed again for this occasion, and, judging from the despairing expression of his countenance, he did so with little hope of reaching the other side in safety. He was exhorted carefully to follow the line taken by the guide, and Milton and the woman rode on either side of him. Clutching the mane with both hands, he did not attempt to guide his horse, but employed all his powers in sticking to the saddle, and exhorting his companions, “Steady, my lord, please, or I shall be swept off. Do speak to Mrs. Assiniboine, my lord; she’s leading us to destruction; what a reckless woman! ‘varium et mutabile semper femina!’ Mrs. Assiniboine!—Mrs. Assiniboine! oh, dear! oh, dear! what an awful journey! I’m going! I’m going! Narrow escape that, my lord! very narrow escape, indeed, Doctor. We can’t expect to be so lucky every time, you know.” And the moment he gained the shore, he scrambled off and left his horse to its own devices.
Many of the pack-horses were carried off far down the stream, and we fully expected some of them would be lost, but they eventually all struggled ashore. The only damage we suffered was the wetting of the flour and pemmican, but by immediate care the injury was in great measure repaired.
The next day we followed the south bank of the Myette, the narrow strip of bank between the mountain sides of the valley and the river being very boggy, and much of it under water. A few hours of this disagreeable travelling brought us to the last crossing of this aggravating river, where we expected to have to construct a raft. On reaching the place, however, we observed a small “cajot,” or raft, moored by willows to the opposite bank, left there doubtless by the three Americans who had passed a few weeks before.
The boy volunteered to swim his horse over and fetch it across, and, stripping to his shirt, mounted, and rode into the water. The horse soon swam to the other side, but the bank was steep, and he reared and fell back in attempting to scramble up. The boy slipped off, but regained his seat, and, becoming frightened, turned the horse’s head and swam back again to us, without accomplishing anything. The Assiniboine now resolved himself to try and bring the raft over, and by his direction we drove all the horses across, with the exception of one. They all succeeded in climbing up the bank at various points, and then The Assiniboine, having tied the end of a long rope to the tail of the remaining horse, stripped and drove him in, holding on to the mane with his only hand. They crossed and landed with little difficulty, but the rope had become unfastened, and we were yet in a quandary how to bring the raft across at once, for the river was too deep for any pole, and too wide for the rope to be thrown across. In this dilemma we fastened one end of the rope round the body of the dog Papillon, which The Assiniboine had brought with him, and when called by his master he swam across with it. We then ferried all the baggage over in a few voyages, and bade final adieu to the unkindly Myette with immense satisfaction. We pursued our way along the base of the pine-clad hills, now beginning to diverge more widely, and through scenery which bore a strong likeness to the beautiful vale of Todmorden, in Yorkshire. One of the snowy peaks closely resembled the pyramidal Priest’s Rock, and white-topped mountains rose up more thickly around us.
Extensive fires had swept over this portion of country years before, and great trees lay fallen across the path, tangled and interlaced on every side. We had great difficulty in driving the horses along, for they continually forked out of the track, to escape the barriers across it, and hid themselves in the thick wood. We met with many severe falls, in jumping our horses over the fallen trees, which were often so close together that there was barely standing room between for the horse, from which to take a second spring over the succeeding trunk. We camped that night on the banks of a small stream, a source of the Myette, which our Iroquois told us was named Pipestone River. The place was very pretty, a tiny plain, covered with flowers, and surrounded by the Rocky Mountains in all their grandeur.