Hunting and trapping in winter, though very interesting and exciting, are not to be followed without considerable hardships. Often the cold was so intense that though sitting close to a blazing fire, and thickly clothed, it was impassible to keep warm. Our usual dress was three flannel shirts, one of duffel, and another of leather, over all; fur caps, protecting our ears and necks, mittens of moose-skin without fingers, easily pulled off; and secured by a string round the neck, and large moccasins over numerous pairs of socks.
Chapter Nineteen.
Across the Rocky Mountains—The Saskatchewan—A coracle, and how to make it—Fort Edmonton—Encounter with a Grizzly—A Banquet in the Wood—We are joined by a Party of Seven.
The winter at length came to an end. The snow began rapidly to disappear, and we commenced preparations for our journey across the Rocky Mountains and British Columbia to Vancouver’s Island. We busied ourselves in getting our carts and stores in order, while Stalker and Garoupe went out in search of the horses, which we knew had not strayed far. The following day they appeared, driving the whole mob before them, every animal looking as fat as if stall-fed, and in far better condition for travelling. Our men we believed were stanch and true. Our party consisted of Stalker, Garoupe, Swiftfoot, the Indian, and Quick-ear, who professed to know the whole country down to the mouth of the Frazer. Thus we had four natives and three Englishmen—Trevor, myself, and Peter—with our faithful four-footed follower, Ready: a number not so great as to provoke attack, yet sufficient to resist wanton aggression. On the last day of March we were up before daybreak, took our last meal in our winter abode, packed our carts, and then—carefully closing up the doorways and windows, so as to preserve the buildings for the use of future travellers who might have to spend a winter in that region—with a feeling of regret bade farewell to the spot, knowing the improbability that we should ever again revisit it.
We had four carts, and each of us was mounted, having a spare horse apiece, so that we formed no inconsiderable a cavalcade. We pushed on as fast as the nature of the ground—wet from the melting snow—would allow till we came to the north bank of the Saskatchewan River. For two days we continued along it till it became necessary to cross for the sake of the more beaten track on the opposite bank. How was this to be accomplished? The water was far too cold to make swimming pleasant. I bethought me of the ancient British water conveyances, still in use in Wales. Having seen an abundant supply of dry reeds and rushes in a creek a little way off, we unloaded a cart, and sent the men to bring it full of them. Meantime, I employed myself in making a framework of green willows, and in well greasing a buffalo hide, so as to prevent the water getting through it. While I worked at the boat, Trevor manufactured a pair of paddles and a third for steering. By the time the cart returned, we had done so much that all that remained was to make the reeds and rushes up into bundles and to fasten them outside the framework on which I had stretched the buffalo skin.
In this somewhat frail though buoyant canoe, resembling somewhat a Welsh coracle, we conveyed all our goods across the river, though with a very moderate freight; it would only carry two people at a time. The carts, which were entirely of wood, floated easily, and were towed across at the tails of the horses. All the party having got safe across, we again loaded and pushed on for another ten miles over a well-beaten track till we camped for the night. The difficulties we encountered in travelling across the country were wonderfully few, and Trevor was constantly exclaiming—