The Winter in Camp—Our Log-house and Huts—Hunting and Fishing—Buffalo Stalking—Supper and a Dance, and Supper again—How we fared in Camp—Indian Stalking—Winter Pastime.
We found that although the weather was still very warm in the day-time, that the comparatively short summer of those regions was already too far advanced to allow of our pushing our way across the Rocky Mountains in the present wild state of the country; a feat, however, which my friend Paul Kane performed some years ago; but then boats were in waiting on the upper branch of the Columbia to convey him and his party to the south. We therefore agreed to employ ourselves in hunting, and in preparing our winter quarters till it was time to go into them. As I have already described a summer buffalo hunt, I will pass over those we at this time engaged in, and proceed to an account of our life in the winter.
Our canoes and such articles as we no longer required we exchanged for horses—such as were likely to prove of value to us in our onward journey in the spring. We had selected a beautiful spot near a lake and in the neighbourhood of a tribe of peaceably-disposed Indians, for the erection of our residence, about fifty miles from the forts; and we now set out for it, with our carts, horses, stores, and cattle in the true patriarchal style, only the women and children were fortunately wanting.
Having reached our location we pitched our tents, and having unpacked such provisions and goods as we required for our immediate use, placed the carts together, and covered the whole with tarpaulins. Our horses we turned out, as they would be able to exist through the whole winter, sheltered by the woods, and feeding on the rich grass which they could get at by digging with their noses under the snow. Our first business was then to cut down the trees necessary for the erection of our abodes. We all took axes in our hands, and in the course of a couple of days had trees enough felled for our purpose. There they lay around in all directions, but it puzzled Trevor and Peter not a little to say how they were to be made to answer the purpose of sheltering us during a winter of almost arctic severity. John Stalker was the chief builder, and I was architect; that is to say, I designed the plan of the buildings, and he directed the way in which they were to be put up, while the rest of the party lopped off the branches and dragged the logs up to the spot. I had studied the way to construct a log-house while recovering from the wounds I received in our skirmish with the Comanches, and now I found an opportunity of turning my knowledge to account. The chief residence was to be oblong; so we cut two long and two short trunks, making deep scores at each end that they might fit into each other. Above these were placed others also scored at the ends, till four thick walls had been erected about seven feet high, without a roof and without doors and windows. Trevor looked at it with astonishment, and Peter walked round and round it till, stopping short near the builder, he remarked—
“Well, Master Stalker, that’s a rum house! I’ll be bold to ask, are we to be shut up all winter, so that we don’t want a door to go in and out at? And is it so dark that we don’t want a window to see out of?”
“Wait a bit, and you’ll see what we’ll do, lad,” answered Stalker, laughing. “Light enough, day and night, when the snow’s on the ground; and you’ll be as much out of doors as in doors when the sky’s clear.”
Peter waited and wondered, for Stalker insisted on getting up all the walls of the huts before proceeding to other portions of the work.
Besides ours, in which were to be deposited the stores for greater safety, there were to be two of smaller size for the men. The walls, when only thus far completed, looked in no way fitted to keep out the cold, as we could see through the interstices on every side. “Wait a bit,” was Stalker’s remark. “Now, lads, some on you go and dig the stiffest clay you can find, and others chop up some grass.” This order was speedily obeyed, and, with a mixture formed of the two, every cranny was completely stopped up; and in the inside the walls were made so perfectly smooth that the logs were almost concealed. “There!” exclaimed Stalker, as he surveyed his work; “I doubt if Jack Frost, though he is pretty sharp in these parts, will ever get through that.” With their hatchets, he and two of the other men literally chopped out a doorway and a window in each hut. The doors were formed from some boards taken from the carts, and the windows with sheets of parchment nailed tightly over the aperture, so that they served the double purpose of drums and windows. As yet there were no roofs; but the men had been set to work to cut a number of tall, thin young pine-trees, which served as rafters placed close together, while a quantity of marsh grass, over which was spread a heavy layer of clay, formed a thatch which no storm could remove.
We began to talk of putting up our bedsteads, and making ourselves comfortable inside our huts.