The Great Lone Land
A Narrative of Travel and Adventure in the North-West of America (2024)

THE GREAT LONE LAND: A NARRATIVE OF TRAVEL AND ADVENTURE IN THE NORT-WEST OF AMERICA.

BY COLONEL W. F. BUTLER, C.B., F.R.G.S.

AUTHOR OF "HISTORICAL EVENTS CONNECTED WITH THE SIXTY-NINTH REGIMENT," ETC.

"A full fed river winding slow,By herds-upon an endless plain."

"And some one pacing there aloneWho paced for ever in a glimmering land,Lit with a low, large moon."

TENNYSON.

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS AND ROUTE MAP.

LONDON SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON and COMPANY Limited
St. Dunstan's House FETTER LANE, FLEET STREET,

First Published 1872 (All rights reserved)

PRINTED BY GILBERT AND RIFINGTON, LD.,
ST. JOHN'S HOUSE, CLERKEMWELL ROAD, E.C.

PREFACE.

At York Factory on Hudson Bay there lived, not very long ago, a man whohad stored away in his mind one fixed resolution it was to write a book.

"When I put down," he used to say, "all that I have seen, and all that Ihavn't seen, I will be able to write a good book."

It is probable that had this man carried his intention into effect thenegative portion of his vision would have been more successfal than thepositive. People are generally more ready to believe what a man hasn'tseen'than what he has seen. So, at least, thought Karkakonias theChippeway Chief at Pembina.

Karkakonias was taken to Washington during the great Southern War, inorder that his native mind might be astonished by the grandeur of theUnited States, and by the strength and power of the army of the Potomac.

Upon his return to his tribe he remained silent and impassive; his dayswere spent in smoking, his evenings in quiet contemplation; he spoke notof his adventures in the land of the great white medicine-man. But atlength the tribe grew discontented; they had expected to hear the recitalof the wonders seen by their chief, and lo! he had come-back to them assilent as though his wanderings had ended on the Coteau of the Missouri,or by the borders of the Kitchi-Gami. Their discontent found vent inwords.

"Our father, Karkakonias, has come back to us," they said; "why does henot tell his children of the medicine of the white man? Is our fatherdumb that he does not speak to us of these things?"

Then the old chief took his calumet from his lips, and replied, "'IfKarkakonias told his children of the medicines of the white man--of hiswar-canoes moving by fire, and making thunder as they move, of hiswarriors more numerous than the buffalo in the days of our fathers, ofall the wonderful things he has looked upon-his children would point andsay, Behold! Karkakonias has become in his old age a maker of lies! No,my children, Karkakonias has seen many wonderful things, and his tongueis still able to speak; but, until your eyes have travelled as far as hashis tongue, he will sit silent and smoke the calumet, thinking only ofwhat he has looked upon."

Perhaps I too should have followed the example of the old Chippewaychief, not because of any wonders I have looked upon; but rather becauseof that well-known prejudice against travellers tales, and of thatterribly terse adjuration-".O that mine enemy might write a book!" Bethat as it may, the book has been written; and it only remains to say afew words about its title and its theories.

The "Great Lone Land" is no sensational name. The North-west fulfils, atthe present time, every essential of that title. There is no otherportion of the globe in which travel is possible where loneliness can besaid to live so thoroughly. One may wander 500 miles in a direct linewithout seeing a human being, or an animal larger than a wolf. And ifvastness of plain, and magnitude of lake, mountain, and river can mark aland as great, then no region possesses higher claims to thatdistinction.

A word upon more personal matters. Some two months since I sent to thefirm from whose hands this work has emanated a portion of the unfinishedmanuscript. I received in reply a communication to the effect that theirReader thought highly of my descriptions of real occurrences, but lessof my theories. As it is possible that the general reader may fullyendorse at least the latter portion of this opinion, I have only oneobservation to make.

Almost every page of this book has been written amid the ever-presentpressure of those feelings which spring from a sense of unrequitedlabour, of toil and service theoretically and officially recognized, butpractically and professionally denied. However, a personal preface is notmy object, nor should these things find allusion here, save to account insome manner, if account be necessary, for peculiarities of language oropinion which may hereafter make themselves apparent to the reader. Letit be.

In the solitudes of the Great Lone Land, whither I am once more about toturn my steps, the trifles that spring from such disappointments willcease to trouble.

April 14th 1872.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER ONE.

Peace--Rumours of War--Retrenchment--A Cloud in the far West--A Distant Settlement-Personal--The Purchase System--A Cable-gram--Away to the West

CHAPTER TWO.

The "Samaria"--Across the Atlantic-Shipmates--The Despot ofthe Deck--"Keep her Nor'-West"--Democrat versus Republican--A FirstGlimpse--Boston

CHAPTER THREE.

Bunker--New York--Niagara-Toronto-Spring--time inQuebec--A Summons--A Start--In good Company--Stripping a Peg--AnExpedition--Poor Canada--An Old Glimpse at a New Land--RivalRoutes--Change of Masters--The Red River Revolt--The Halfbreeds--EarlySettlers-Bungling--"Eaters of Pemmican-"--M. Louis Riel--The Murder ofScott

CHAPTER FOUR.

Chicago--"Who is S. B. D.?"--Milwaukie--The GreatFusion-Wisconsin--The Sleeping-car--The Train Boy-Minnesota--St. Paul--Istart for Lake Superior--The Future City--"Bust up" and "Gone on"--TheEnd of the Track

CHAPTER FIVE.

Lake Superior--The Dalles of the St. Louis--The NorthPacific Railroad--Fond-du-Lac-Duluth--Superior City--The Great Lake--APlan to dry up Niagara--Stage Driving--Tom's Shanty again--St. Paul andits Neighbourhood.

CHAPTER SIX.

Our Cousins--Doing America--Two Lessons--St. Cloud-SaukRapids--"Steam Pudding or Pumpkin Pie?"--Trotting him out--Away for theRed River.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

North Minnesota--A beautiful Land--RivalSavages-Abercrombie--News from the North-Plans--A Lonely Shanty--The RedRiver-Prairies-Sunset-Mosquitoes--Going North--A Mosquito Night--AThunder-storm--A Prussian-Dakota--I ride for it--The Steamer"International "--Pembina.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Retrospective--The North-west Passage--The Bay ofHudson--Rival Claims--The Old French Fur Trade--The North-westCompany--How the Half-breeds came--The Highlandersdefeated-Progress--Old Feuds.

CHAPTER NINE.

Running the Gauntlet--Across the Line--Mischiefahead-Preparations--A Night March--The Steamer captured--ThePursuit-Daylight--The Lower Fort--The Red Indian at last--The Chief'sSpeech--A Big Feed--Making ready for the Winnipeg--A Delay--I visit FortGarry--Mr. President Riel--The Final Start-Lake Winnipeg--The First Nightout--My Crew.

CHAPTER TEN.

The Winnipeg River--The Ojibbeway's House--Rushing aRapid--A Camp--No Tidings of the Coming Man--Hope in Danger--RatPortage--A far-fetched Islington--"Like Pemmican".

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

The Expedition--The Lake of the Woods--A Night Alarm--Aclose Shave--Rainy River--A Night Paddle--Fort Francis--A Meeting--TheOfficer commanding the Expedition--The Rank and File--The 60th Rifles--AWindigo--Ojibbeway Bravery--Canadian Volunteers.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

To Fort Garry--Down the Winnipeg--Her Majesty's RoyalMail--Grilling a Mail-bag--Running a Rapid--Up the Red River-A drearyBivouac--The President bolts--The Rebel Chiefs--Departure of the RegularTroops.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

Westward--News from the Outside World--I retrace mySteps--An Offer--The West--The Kissaskatchewan--The InlandOcean--Preparations-Departure--A Terrible Plague--A lonelyGrave-Digressive--The Assineboine River--Rossette.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

The Hudson Bay Company--Furs and Free Trade--FortEllice--Quick Travelling-Horses--Little Blackie--Touchwood Hills--ASnow-storm--The South Saskatchewan--Attempt to cross the River--Death ofpoor Blackie--Carlton.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

Saskatchewan--Start from Carlton--Wild Mares--Lose ourWay--A long Ride--Battle River--Mistawassis the Cree--A Dance.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

The Red Man--Leave Battle River--The Red Deer Hills--Along Ride--Fort Pitt--The Plague--Hauling by the Tail--A pleasantCompanion--An easy Method of Divorce--Reach Edmonton.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

Edmonton--The Ruffian Tahakooch--FrenchMissionaries--Westward still--A beautiful Land--The Blackfeet-Horses--A"Bellox" Soldier--A Blackfoot Speech--The Indian Land--First Sight of theRocky Mountains--The Mountain House--The Mountain Assineboines--An IndianTrade--M. la Combe--Fire-water-A Night Assault.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

Eastward--A beautiful Light.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

I start from Edmonton with Dogs--Dog-travelling--TheCabri Sack--A cold Day-Victoria--"Sent to Rome"--Battle Fort Pitt--Theblind Cree--A Feast or a Famine--Death of Pe-na-koam the Blackfoot.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

The Buffalo--His Limits and favourite Grounds--Modes ofHunting--A Fight--His inevitable End--I become a Medicine-man--GreatCold-Carlton--Family Responsibilities.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.

The Great Sub-Arctic Forest--The "Forks" of theSaskatchewan--An Iroquois--Fort-à-la-Corne--News from the outsideWorld--All haste for Home--The solitary Wigwam--Joe Miller's Death.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.

Cumberland---We bury poor Joe--A good Train ofDogs--The great Marsh-Mutiny--Chicag the Sturgeon-fisher--A Night with aMedicine-man--Lakes Winnipegoosis and Manitoba--Muskeymote eats hisBoots--We reach the Settlement--From the Saskatchewan to the Seine.

APPENDIX.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

Map of the Great Lone Land.

Working up the Winnipeg.

I waved to the leading Canoe.

Across the Plains in November.

The Rocky Mountains at the Sources of the Saskatchewan.

Leaving a cosy Camp at dawn.

The "Forks" of the Saskatchewan.

THE GREAT LONE LAND.

CHAPTER ONE.

Peace--Rumours of War-Retrenchment--A Cloud in the far West--A DistantSettlement-Personal--The Purchase System--A Cable-gram--Away to the West

IT was a period of universal peace over the wide world. There was not ashadow of war in the North, the South, the East, or the West. There wasnot even a Bashote in South Africa, a Beloochee in Scinde, a Bhoottea, aBurmese, or any other of the many "eses" or "eas" forming the greatcolonial empire of Britain who seemed capable of kicking up the semblanceof a row. Newspapers had never been so dull; illustrated journals had tocontent themselves with pictorial representations of prize pigs,foundation stones, and provincial civic magnates. Some of the greatpowers were bent upon disarming; several influential persons of bothsexes had decided, at a meeting held for the suppression of vice, toabolish standing armies. But, to be more precise as to the date of thisepoch, it will be necessary to state that the time was the close of theyear 1869, just twenty-two months ago. Looking back at this most-pipingperiod of peace from the stand-point of today, it is not at allimprobable that even at that tranquil moment a great power, now, verymuch greater, had a firm hold of certain wires carefully concealed; thedexterous pulling of which would cause 100,000,000 of men to rush ateach other's throats: nor is this supposition rendered the moreunlikely because of the utterance of the most religious sentiments on thepart of the great power in question, and because of the well-knownChristianity and orthodoxy of its ruler. But this was not the only powerthat possessed a deeper insight into the future than did its neighbours.It is hardly to be gainsaid that there was, about that period, anothergreat power popularly supposed to dwell amidst darkness-a power which issaid also to possess the faculty of making Scriptural quotations to hisown advantage. It is not at all unlikely that amidst this scene ofuniversal quietude he too was watching certain little snow-wrapt hamlets,scenes of straw-yard and deep thatched byre in which cattle munched theirwinter provender-watching them with the perspective scent of death anddestruction in his nostrils; gloating over them with the knowledge ofwhat was to be their fate before another snow time had come round. Itcould not be supposed that amidst such an era of tranquillity the army ofEngland should have been allowed to remain in a very formidable position.When other powers were talking of disarming, was it not necessary thatGreat Britain should actually disarm? of course there was a slightdifference existing between the respective cases, inasmuch as GreatBritain had never armed; but that distinction was not taken into account,or was not deemed of sufficient importance to be noticed, except by a fewof the opposition journals; and is not every one aware that when acountry is governed on the principle of parties, the party which iscalledthe opposition must be in the wrong? So it was decreed about this timethat the fighting force of the British nation should be reduced. It wasuseless to speak of the chances of war, said the British tax-payer,speak-ing through the mouths of innumerable members of the BritishLegislature. Had not the late Prince Consort and the late Mr. Cobdencome to the same conclusion from the widely different points of greatexhibitions and free trade, that war could never be? And if; in the faceof great exhibitions and universal free trade-even if war did becomepossible, had we not ambassadors, and legations, and consulates all overthe world; had we not military attaches at every great court of Europe;and would we not know all about it long before it commenced? No, no, saidthe tax-payer, speaking through the same medium as before, reduce thearmy, put the ships of war out of commission, take your largest and mostpowerful transport steamships, fill them full with your best and mostexperienced skilled military and naval artisans and labourers, send themacross the Atlantic to forge guns, anchors, and material of war in thenavy-yards of Norfolk and the arsenals of Springfield and Rock Island;and let us hear no more of war or its alarms. It is true, there were somepersons who thought otherwise upon this subject, but many of them weremen whose views had become warped and deranged in such out-of-the-wayplaces as Southern Russia, Eastern China, Central Hindoostan, SouthernAfrica, and Northern America military men, who, in fact, could not beexpected to understand questions of grave political economy, astutematters of place.-and party, upon which the very existence of theparliamentary system depended; and who, from the ignorance of these nicedistinctions of liberal-conservative and conservative-liberal, hadimagined that the strength and power of the empire was not of secondaryimportance to the strength and power of a party. But the year 1869 didnot pass altogether into the bygone without giving a faint echo ofdisturbance in one far-away region of the earth. It is true, that not thesmallest breathing of that strife which was to make: the succeeding yearcrimson through the centuries had yet sounded on the continent of Europe.No; all was as quiet there as befits the mighty hush which precedescolossal conflicts. But far away in the very farthest West, so far thatnot one man in fifty could tell its whereabouts, up somewhere between theRocky Mountains, Hudson Bay, and Lake Superior, along a river called theRed River of the North, a people, of whom nobody could tell who or whatthey were, had risen in insurrection. Well-informed persons said theseinsurgents were only Indians; others, who had relations in America,averreed that they were Scotchmen, and one journal, well-known for itsclearness upon all subjects connected with the American Continent,asserted that they were Frenchmen. Amongst so much conflicting testimony,it was only natural that the average Englishman should possess no verydecided opinions upon the matter; in fact, it came to pass that theaverage Englishman, having heard that somebody was rebelling against himsomewhere or other, looked to his atlas and his journal for informationon the subject, and having failed in obtaining any from either source,naturally concluded that the whole thing was something which no fellowcould be expected to understand. As, however, they who follow the writerof these pages through such vicissitudes as he may encounter will haveto live awhile amongst these people of the Red River of the North, itwill be necessary to examine this little cloud of insurrection which thelast days of 1869 pushed above the political horizon. Bookmark About thetime when Napoleon was carrying half a million of men through the snowsof Russia, a Scotch nobleman of somewhat eccentric habits conceived theidea of planting a colony of his countrymen in the very heart of thevast continent of North America. It was by no means an original idea thatentered into the brain of Lord Selkirk; other British lords had tried inearlier centuries the same experiment; and they, in turn, were only theimitators of those great Spanish nobles who, in the sixteenth century,had planted on the coast of the Carolinas and along the Gulf of Mexicothe first germs of colonization in the New World. But in one respect LordSelkirk's experiment was wholly different from those that had precededit. The earlier adventurers had sought the coast-line of the Atlanticupon which to fix their infant colonies. He boldly penetrated into thevery centre of the continent and reached a fertile spot which to this dayis most difficult of access. But at that time what an oasis in the vastwilderness of America was this Red River of the North! For 1400 milesbetween it and the Atlantic lay the solitudes that now teem with thecities of Minnesota, Wisconsin, Illinois, Indiana, and Michigan. Indeed,so distant appeared the nearest outpost of civilization towards theAtlantic that all means of communication in that direction was utterlyunthought of. The settlers had entered into the new land by theice-locked bay of Hudson, and all communication with the outside worldshould be maintained through the same outlet. No easy task! 300 miles oflake and 400 miles of river, wildly foaming over rocky ledges in itsdescent of 700 feet, lay between them and the ocean, and then only toreach the stormy waters of the great Bay of Hudson, whose ice-boundoutlet to the Atlantic is fast locked save during two short months oflatest summer. No wonder that the infant colony had hard times in storefor it-hard times, if left to fight its way against winter rigour andsummer: inundation, but doubly hard when the hand of a powerful enemy wasraised to crush it in the first year of its existence. Of this morebefore we part. Enough for us now to know: that the little colony, inspite of opposition, increased and multiplied; people lived in it, weremarried in it, and died in it, undisturbed by the busy rush of theoutside world, until, in the last months of 1869, just fifty-seven yearsafter its formation, it rose in insurrection.

And now, my reader, gentle or cruel, whichsoever you may be, thepositions we have hitherto occupied in these few preliminary pages mustundergo some slight variation. You, if you be gentle, will I trust remainso until the end; if you be cruel, you will perhaps relent; but for me,it will be necessary to come forth in the full glory of the individual"I," and to retain it until we part.

It was about the end of the year 1869 that I became conscious of havingexperienced a decided check in life. One day I received from adistinguished military functionary an intimation to the effect that acompany in Her Majesty's service would be at my disposal, provided Icould produce the sum of 1100 pounds. Some dozen years previous to thedate of this letter I entered the British army, and by the slow processof existence had reached-a position among the subalterns of the regimenttechnically known as first for purchase; but now, when the moment arrivedto turn that position to account, I found that neither the 1100 pounds ofregulation amount nor the 400 pounds of over-regulation items (termsvery familiar now, but soon, I trust, to be for ever obsolete) wereforthcoming, and so it came about that younger hands began to pass me inthe race of life. What was to be done? What course lay open? Serve on;let the dull routine of barrack-life grow duller; go from Canada to theCape, from the Cape to the Mauritius, from Mauritius to Madras, fromMadras goodness knows where, and trust to delirium tremens, yellow fever,or: cholera morbus for promotion and advancement; or, on the other hand,cut the service, become in the lapse of time governor of a penitentiary,secretary to a London club, or adjutant of militia. And yet-here came therub-when every fibre of one's existence beat in unison with the truespirit of military adventure, when the old feeling which in boyhood hadmade the study of history a delightful pastime, in late years had growninto a fixed unalterable longing for active service, when the wholecurrent of thought ran in the direction of adventure-no matter in whatclimate, or under what circ*mstances-it was hard beyond the measure ofwords to sever in an instant the link that bound one to a life where suchaspirations were still possible of fulfilment; to separate one's destinyfor ever from that noble profession of arms; to become an outsider, toadmit that the twelve best years of life had been a useless dream, andto bury oneself far away in some Western wilderness out of the reach orsight of red coat or sound of bugle-sights and sounds which oldassociations would have made unbearable. Surely it could not be done; andso, looking abroad into the future, it was difficult to trace a pathWhich could turn the flank of this formidable barrier flung thus suddenlyinto the highway of life.

Thus it was that one, at least, in Great Britain watched with anxiousgaze this small speck of revolt rising so far away in the vast wildernessof the North-West; and when, about the beginning of the month of April,1870, news came of the projected despatch of an armed force from Canadaagainst the malcontents of Red River, there was one who beheld in theapproaching expedition the chance of a solution to the difficulties whichhad beset him in his career. That one was myself.

There was little time to be lost, for already; the cable said, thearrangements were in a forward state; the staff of the little force hadbeen organized, the rough outline of the expedition had been sketched,and with the opening of navigation on the northern lakes the first movewould be commenced. Going one morning to the nearest telegraph station, Isent the following message under the Atlantic to America:--"To: WinnipegExpedition. Please remember me." When words cost at the rate of fourshillings each, conversation and correspondence become of necessitylimited. In the present instance I was only allowed the use of ten wordsto convey address, signature, and substance, and the five words of mymessage were framed both with a view to economy and politeness, as wellas in a manner which by calling for no direct answer still left undecidedthe great question of success. Having despatched my message under theocean, I determined to seek the Horse Guards in a final effort to procureunattached promotion in the army. It is almost unnecessary to remark thatthis attempt failed; and as I issued from the audience in which I hadbeen informed of the utter hopelessness of my request, I had at least thesatisfaction of having reduced my chances of fortune to the narrow limitsof a single throw. Pausing at the gate of the Horse Guards I reviewed ina moment the whole situation; whatever was to be the result there was notime for delay and so, hailing a hansom, I told the cabby to drive to theoffice of the Cunard Steamship Company, Old Broad Street, City.

"What steamer sails on Wednesday for America?"

"The 'Samaria for Boston, the 'Marathon for New York."

"The 'Samaria broke her shaft, didn't she, last voyage, and was amissing ship for a month?" I asked.

"Yes, sir," answered the clerk.

"Then book me a passage in her," I replied; "she's not likely to playthat prank twice in two voyages."

CHAPTER TWO.

The "Samaria "--Across the Atlantic-Shipmates--The Despot of theDeck--"Keep her Nor'-West"--Democrat versus Republican--A FirstGlimpse--Boston

POLITICAL economists and newspaper editors for years have dwelt upon theunfortunate fact that Ireland is not a manufacturing nation, and does notexport largely the products of her soil. But persons who have lived inthe island, or who have visited the ports of its northern or southernshores, or crossed the Atlantic by any of the ocean steamers which saildaily from the United Kingdom, must have arrived at a conclusion totallyat variance with these writers; for assuredly there is no nation underthe sun which manufactures the material called man so readily as doesthat grass-covered island. Ireland is not a manufacturing nation, saysthe political economist. Indeed, my good sir, you are wholly mistaken.She is not only a manufacturing nation, but she manufactures nations. Youdo not see her broad-cloth, or her soft fabrics, or her steam-engines,but you see the broad shoulder of her sons and the soft cheeks of herdaughters in vast states whose names you are utterly ignorant of; and asfor the exportation of her products to foreign lands, just come with meon board this ocean steamship "Samaria", and look at them. The good shiphas run down the channel during the night and now lies at anchor inQueenstown harbour, waiting for mails and passengers. The latter came,quickly and thickly enough. No poor, ill-fed, miserably dressed crowd,but fresh, and fair, and strong, and well clad, the bone and muscle andrustic beauty of the land; the little steam-tender that plies from theshore to the ship is crowded at every trip, and you can scan them as theycome on board in batches of seventy or eighty. Some eyes among the girlsare red with crying, but tears dry quickly on young cheeks, and they willbe laughing before an hour is over. "Let them go," says the economist;"we have too many mouths to feed in these little islands of ours; theirgoing will give us more room, more cattle, more chance to keep our acresfor the few'; let them go." My friend, that is just half the picture, andno more; we may get a peep at the other half before you and I part.

It was about five o'clock in the afternoon of the 4th of May when the"Samaria" steamed slowly between the capes of Camden and Carlisle, androunding out into Atlantic turned her head towards the western horizon.The ocean lay unruffled along the rocky headlands of Ireland's southmostshore. A long line of smoke hanging suspended between sky and sea markedthe unseen course of another steamship farther away to the south. Ahill-top, blue and lonely, rose above the rugged coast-line, the far-offsummit of some inland mountain; and as evening came down over the stilltranquil ocean and the vessel clove her outward way throughphosphorescent water, the lights along the iron coast grew fainter indistance till there lay around only the unbroken circle of the sea.

ON BOARD.-A trip across the Atlantic is now-a-days a very ordinarybusiness; in fact, it is no longer a voyage-it is a run, you may almostcount its duration to within four hours; and as for fine weather, blueskies, and calm seas, if they come, you may be thankful for them, butdon't expect them, and you won't add a sense of disappointment to one ofdiscomfort. Some experience of the Atlantic enables me to affirm thatnorth or south of 35 degrees north and south latitude there exists no suchthing as pleasant sailing.

But the usual run of weather, time, and tide outside the ship is notmore alike in its characteristics than the usual run of passenger onemeets inside. There is the man who has never been sea-sick in his life,and there is the man who has never felt well upon board ship, but who,nevertheless, both manage to consume about fifty meals of solid food inten days. There is the nautical landsman who tells you that he has beeneighteen times across the Atlantic and four times round the Cape of GoodHope, and who is generally such a bore upon marine questions that it is asubject of infinite regret that he should not be performing a fifthvoyage round that distant and interesting promontory. Early in thevoyage, owing to his superior sailing qualities, he has been able tocultivate a close intimacy with the captain of the ship; but thisintimacy has been on the decline for some days, and, as he has committedthe unpardonable error of differing in opinion with the captain upon asubject connected with the general direction and termination of the GulfStream, he begins to fall quickly in the estimation of that potentate.Then there is the relict of the late Major Fusby, of the Fusiliers, goingto or returning from England. Mrs. Fusby has a predilection for portnegus and the first Burmese war, in which campaign her late husbandreceived a wound of such a vital description (he died just twenty-twoyears later), that it has enabled her to provide, at the expense of agrateful nation, for three youthful Fusbies, who now serve their countryin various parts of the world. She does not suffer from sea-sickness, butoccasionally undergoes periods of nervous depression which require theadministration of the stimulant already referred to. It is a singularfact that the present voyage is strangely illustrative of remarkableevents in the life of the late Fusby; there has not been a sail or aporpoise in sight that has not called up some reminiscence of the earlycareer of the major; indeed, even the somewhat unusual appearance of aniceberg, has been turned to account as suggestive of the intensesuffering undergone by the major during the period of his wound, owing tothe scarcity of the article ice in tropical countries. Then on deckwe have the inevitable old sailor who is perpetually engaged in scrapingthe vestiges of paint from your favourite seat, and who, having arrivedat the completion of his monotonous task after four days incessantlabour, is found on the morning of the fifth engaged in smearing thepaint-denuded place of rest with a vilely glutinous compound peculiar toship-board. He never looks directly at you as you approach, with book andjug, the desired spot, but you can tell by the leer in his eye and theroll of the quid in his immense mouth that the old villain knows allabout the discomfort he is causing you, and you fancy you can detect achuckle, you turn away in a vain quest for a quiet cosy spot. Then thereis the captain himself, that most mighty despot. What king ever wieldedsuch power, what czar or kaiser had ever such obedience yielded to theirdecrees? This man, who on shore is nothing, is here on his deck a verypope; he is infallible. Canute could not stay the tide, but our sea-kingregulates the sun. Charles the Fifth could not make half a dozen clocksgo in unison, but Captain Smith can make it twelve o'clock any time hepleases; nay, more, when the sun has made it twelve o'clock no tongue ofbell or sound of clock can proclaim time's decree until it has beenratified by the fiat of the captain; and even in his misfortunes whatgran deur, what absence of excuse or crimination of others in the hour ofhis disaster! Who has not heard of that captain who sailed away fromLiverpool one day bound for America? He had been hard worked on shore,and it was said that when he sought the seclusion of his own cabin he wasnot unmindful of that comfort which we are told the first navigator ofthe ocean did not disdain to use. For a little time things went well. TheIsle of Man was passed; but unfortunately, on the second day out, thegood ship struck the shore of the north-east coast of Ireland and becamea total wreck. As the weather was extremely fine, and there appeared tobe no reason for the disaster, the subject became matter forinvestigation by the authorities connected with the Board of Trade.During the inquiry it was deposed that the Calf of Man had been passed atsuch an hour on such a day, and the circ*mstance duly reported to thecaptain, who, it was said, was below. It was also stated that havingreceived the report of the passage of the Calf of Man the captain hadordered the ship to be kept in a north-west course until further orders.About six hours later the vessel went ashore on the coast of Ireland.Such was the evidence of the first officer. The captain was shortly aftercalled and examined.

"It appears, sir," said the president of the court, "that the passing ofthe Calf of Man was duly reported to you by the first officer. May I ask,sir, what course you ordered to be steered upon receipt of thatinformation?"

"North-west, sir," answered the captain; "I said, 'Keep her north-west."'

"North-west," repeated the president; "a very excellent general coursefor making the coast of America, but not until you had cleared thechannel and were well into the Atlantic. Why, sir, the whole of Irelandlay between you and America on that course."

"Can't help that, sir; can't help that, sir," replied the sea-king in atone of half-contemptuous pity, that the whole of Ireland should havebeen so very unreasonable as to intrude itself in such a position.

And yet, with all the despotism of the deck, what kindly spirits arethese old sea-captains with the freckled hard knuckled hands and the grimstorm-seamed faces! What honest genuine hearts are lying buttoned beneaththose rough pea-jackets! If all despots had been of that kind perhaps weshouldn't have known quite as much about Parliamentary Institutions as wedo.

And now, while we have been talking thus, the "Samaria" has been gettingfar out into mid Atlantic, and yet we know not one among ourfellow-passengers, although they do not number much above a dozen: amerchant from Maryland, a sea-captain-from Maine, a young doctor fromPennsylvania, a Massachusetts man, a Rhode Islander, a German geologistgoing to inspect seams in Colorado, a priest's sister from Ireland goingto look after some little property left her by her brother, a poor fellowwho was always ill, who never appeared at table, and who alluded to thedemon sea-sickness that preyed upon him as "it". "It comes on very bad atnight. It prevents me touching food. It never leaves me," he would say;and in truth this terrible "it" never did leave him until the harbour ofBoston was reached, and even then, I fancy, dwelt in his thoughts duringmany a day on shore.

The sea-captain from Maine was a violent democrat, the Massachusetts mana rabid republican; and many a fierce battle waged between them on thevexed questions of state rights, negro suffrage, and free trade inliquor. To many Englishmen the terms republican and democrat may seemsynonymous; but not between radical and conservative, between outmostWhig and inmost Tory exist more opposite extremes than between thesegreat rival political parties of the United States. As a drop ofsea-water possesses the properties of the entire water of the ocean, sothese units of American political controversy were microscopicrepresentatives of their respective parties. It was curious to remark whata prominent part their religious convictions played in the war of words.The republican was a member of the Baptist congregation; the democrat heldopinions not very easy of description, something of a universalist andsemi-unitarian tendency; these opinions became frequently intermixed withtheir political jargon, forming that curious combination of ideas whichto unaccustomed ears sounds slightly blasphemous. I recollect a veryearnest American once saying that he considered all religious, political,social, and historical teaching should be reduced to three subjects: theSermon on the Mount, the Declaration of American Independence, and theChicago Republican Platform of 1860.

On the present occasion the Massachusetts man was a person whose nerveswere as weak as his political convictions were strong, and the democratbeing equally gifted with strong opinions, strong nerves, and a tendencytowards strong waters, was enabled, particularly after dinner, to obtainan easy victory over his less powerfully gifted antagonist. In fact itwas to the weakness of the latter's nervous system that we were indebtedfor the pleasure of his society on board. Eight weeks before he had beenordered by his medical adviser to leave his wife and office in the littlevillage of Hyde Park to seek change and relaxation on the continent ofEurope. He was now returning to his native land filled, he informed us,with the gloomiest forebodings. He had a very powerful presentiment thatwe were never to see the shores of America. By what agency ourdestruction was to be accomplished he did not enlighten us, but the shiphad not well commenced her voyage before he commenced his evilprognostications. That these were not founded upon any propheticknowledge of future events will be sufficiently apparent from the fact ofthis book being written. Indeed, when the mid Atlantic had been passedour Massachusetts acquaintance began to entertain more hopefulexpectations of once more pressing his wife to his bosom, although herepeatedly reiterated that if that domestic event was really destined totake place no persuasion on earth, medical or other wise, would everinduce him to place the treacherous billows of the Atlantic between himand the person of that bosom's partner. It was drawing near the end ofthe voyage when an event occurred which, though in itself of a mosttrivial nature, had for some time a disturbing effect upon our party. Thepriest's sister, an elderly maiden lady of placidly weak intellect,announced one morning at breakfast that the sea-captain from Maine had onthe previous day addressed her in terms of endearment, and had, in fact,called her his "little duck." This announcement, which was madegenerally to the table, and which was received in dead silence by everymember of the community, had by no means a pleasurable effect upon thecountenance of the person most closely concerned. Indeed, amidst thesilence which succeeded the revelation, a half-smothered sentence, moreforcible than polite, was audible from the lips of the democrat, in whichthose accustomed to the vernacular of America could plainly distinguish"darned old fool." Meantime, in spite of political discussions, oramorous revelations, or prophetic disaster, in spite of mid-ocean stormand misty-fog-bank, our gigantic screw, unceasing as the whirl of lifeitself, had wound its way into the waters which wash the rugged shores ofNew England. To those whose lives are spent in ceaseless movement overthe world, who wander from continent to continent, from island to island,who dwell in many cities but are the citizens of no city, who sail awayand come back again, whose home is the broad earth itself, to such asthese the coming in sight of land is no unusual occurrence, and yet theman has grown old at his trade of wandering who can look utterlyuninterested upon the first glimpse of land rising out of the waste ofocean: small as that glimpse may be, only a rock, a cape, a mountaincrest, it has the power of localizing an idea, the very vastness Of whichprevents its realization on shore. From the deck of an outward-boundvessel one sees rising, faint and blue, a rocky headland or a mountainsummit-one does not ask if the mountain be of Maine, or of Mexico, or theCape be St. Ann's or Hatteras, one only sees America. Behind that stripof blue coast lies a world, and that world the new one. Far away inlandlie scattered many landscapes glorious with mountain, lake, river, andforest, all unseen, all unknown to the wanderer who for the first timeseeks the American shore; yet instinctively their presence is felt inthat faint outline of sea-lapped coast which lifts itself above theocean; and even if in after-time it becomes the lot of the wanderer, asit became my lot, to look again upon these mountain summits, theseimmense inland seas; these mighty rivers whose waters seek their motherocean through 3000 miles of meadow, in none of these glorious parts, vastthough they be, will the sense of the still vaster whole be realized asstrongly as in that first glimpse of land showing dimly over the westernhorizon of the Atlantic.

The sunset of a very beautiful evening in May was making bright theshores of Massachusetts as the "Samaria," under her fullest head ofsteam, ran up the entrance to Plymouth Sound. To save daylight into portwas an object of moment to the Captain, for the approach to Bostonharbour is as intricate as shoal, sunken rock, and fort-crowned islandcan make it. If ever that much talked-of conflict between the two greatbranches of the Anglo-Saxon race is destined to quit the realms of fancyfor those of fact, Boston, at least, will rest as safe from thedestructive engines of British iron-clads as the city of Omaha on theMissouri River. It was only natural that the Massachusetts man shouldhave been in a fever of excitement at finding himself once more withinsight of home; and for once human nature exhibited the unusual spectacleof rejoicing over the falsity of its own predictions. As every revolutionof the screw brought out some new feature into prominence, he skippedgleefully about; and, recognizing in my person the stranger element inthe assembly, he took particular pains to point out the lions of thelandscape. "There, serais Fort Warren, where we kept our rebel prisonersduring the war. In a few minutes more, sir, we will be in sight ofBunker's Hill;" and then, in a frenzy of excitement, he skipped away tosome post of vantage upon the forecastle.

Night had come down over the harbour, and Boston had lighted all herlamps, before the "Samaria," swinging round in the fast-running tide,lay, with quiet screw and smokeless funnel, alongside the wharf of NewEngland's oldest city.

"Real mean of that darned Baptist pointing you out Bunker's Hill," saidthe sea-captain from Maine; "just like the ill-mannered republican cuss!"It was useless to tell him that I had felt really obliged for theinformation given me by his political opponent. "Never mind," he said,"to-morrow I'll show you how these moral Bostonians break their darnedliquor law in every hotel in their city."

Boston has a clean, English look about it, peculiar to it alone of allthe cities in the United States. Its streets, running in curious curves,as though they had not the least idea where they were going, are full ofprettily dressed pretty girls, who look as though they had a very fairidea of where they were going to. Atlantic fogs and French fashions havecombined to make Boston belles pink, pretty,-and piquante; while thewestern states, by drawing fully half their male population from NewEngland, make the preponderance of the female element apparent at aglance. The ladies, thus left at home, have not been idle: theircolleges, their clubs, their reading-classes are numerous; like the manin "Hudibras,"

"'Tis known they can speak Greek as naturally as pigs squeak;"

and it is probable that no city in the world can boast so high a standardof female education as Boston: nevertheless, it must be regretted thatthis standard of mental excellence attributable to the ladies of Bostonshould not have been found capable of association with the duties ofdomestic life. Without going deeper into topics which are betterunderstood in America than in England, and which have undergone mosteloquent elucidation at the hands of Mr. Hepworth Dixon, but which arenevertheless dlightly nauseating, it may safely be observed, that theinculcation at ladies colleges of that somewhat rude but forcible hometruth, enunciated by the first Napoleon in reply to the most illustriousFrenchwoman of her day, when questioned Upon the subject of femaleexcellence, should not be forgotten.

There exists a very generally received idea that strangers are morelikely to notice and complain of the short-comings of a social habit orsystem than are residents who have grown old under that infliction; but Icannot help thinking that there exists a considerable amount of error inthis opinion. A stranger will frequently submit to extortion, toinsolence, or to inconvenience, because, being a stranger, he believesthat extortion, insolence, and inconvenience are the habitualcharacteristics of the new place in which he finds himself: they do notstrike him as things to be objected to, or even wondered at; they aresimply to be submitted to and endured. If he were at home, he would diesooner than yield that extra half-dollar; he would leave the house atonce in which he was told to get up at an unearthly hour in the morning;but, being in another country, he submits, without even a thought ofresistance. In no other way can we account for the strange silence on thepart of English writers upon the tyrannical disposition of Americansocial life. A nation everlastingly boasting itself the freest on theearth submits unhesitatingly to more social tyranny than any people inthe world. In the United States one is marshalled to every event of theday. Whether you like it or not, you must get up, breakfast, dine, sup,and go to bed at fixed hours. Attached upon the inside of your bedroom-dooris a printed document which informs you of all the things you are not todo in the hotel-a list in which, like Mr. J. S. Mill's definitionof Christian doctrine, the shall-nots predominate over the shalls. In theevent of your disobeying any of the numerous mandates set forth in thisdocument-such as not getting up very early-you will not be sent to thepenitentiary or put in the pillory, for that process of punishment wouldimply a necessity for trouble and exertion on the part of therichly-apparelled gentleman who does you the honour of receiving yourpetitions and grossly overcharging you at the office-no, you have simplyto go without food until dinner-time, or to go to bed by the light of ajet of gas for which you will be charged an exorbitant price in yourbill. As in the days of Roman despotism we know that the slaves wereoccasionally permitted to indulge in the grossest excesses, so, under therigorous system of the hotel-keeper, the guest is allowed to expectorateprofusely over every thing; over the marble with which the hall ispaved, over the Brussels carpet which covers the drawing-room, over thebed-room, and over the lobby. Expectoration is apparently the one savingclause which American liberty demands as the price of its submission tothe prevailing tyranny of the hotel. Do not imagine-you, who have neveryet tasted the sweets of a transatlantic transaction-that this tyranny isconfined to the hotel: every person to whom you pay money in the ordinarytravelling transactions of life-your omnibus-man, your railway-conductor,your steamboat-clerk-takes your money, it is true, but takes it in amanner which tells you plainly enough that he is conferring a very greatfavour by so doing. He is in all probability realizing a profit of fromthree to four hundred-per cent. on whatever the transaction may be; but,all the same, although you are fully aware of this fact, you arenevertheless almost overwhelmed with the sense of the very deepobligation which you owe to the man who thus deigns to receive yourmoney.

It was about ten o'clock at night when the steamer anchored at the wharfat Boston. Not until midday. On the following day were we (thepassengers) allowed to leave the vessel. The cause of this delay arosefrom the fact that the collector of customs of the port of Boston was anindividual of great social importance; and as it would have beeninconvenient for him to attend at an earlier hour for the purpose ofbeing present at the examination of our baggage, we were detainedprisoners until the day was far enough advanced to suit his convenience.From a conversation which subsequently I had with this gentleman at ourhotel, I discovered that he was more obliging in his general capacity ofpolitician and prominent citizen than he was in his particular duties ofcustoms collector. Like many other instances of the kind in the UnitedStates, his was a case of evident unfitness for the post he held. A.socially smaller man would have made a much better customs official.Unfortunately for the comfort of the public, the remuneration attached toappointments in the postal and customs departments is frequently verylarge, and these situations are eagerly sought as prizes in the lotteryof political life-prizes, too, which can only be held for the short termof four years. As. A consequence, the official who holds his situation byright of political service rendered to the chief of the predominantclique or party in his state does not consider that he owes to the publicthe service of his office. In theory he is a public servant; in realityhe becomes the master of the public. This is, however, the fault of thesystem and not of the individual.

CHAPTER THREE

Bunker--New York--Niagara-Toronto-Spring--time in Quebec--A Summons--AStart--In good Company--Stripping a Peg--An Expedition--Poor Canada--AnOld Glimpse at a New Land--Rival Routes--Change of Masters--The Red RiverRevolt--The Halfbreeds--Early Settlers-Bungling--"Eaters of Pemmican-"-M.Louis Riel--The Murder of Scott

When a city or a nation has but one military memory, it clings to it withall the affectionate tenacity of an old maid for her solitary poodle orparrot. Boston-supreme over any city in the Republic-can boast ofpossessing one military memento: she has the Hill of Bunker. Bunker haslong passed into the bygone; but his hill remains, and is likely toremain for many a long day. It is not improbable that the life, characterand habits, sayings, even the writings of Bunker-perhaps he couldn'twrite!-are familiar to many persons in the United States; but it is inBoston and Massachusetts that Bunker holds highest carnival. They keep inthe Senate-chamber of the Capitol, nailed over the entrance doorway infull sight of the Speaker's chair, a drum, a musket, and a mitre-shapedsoldier's hat-trophies of the fight fought in front of the low earthworkon Bunker's Hill. Thus the senators of Massachusetts have ever beforethem visible reminders of the glory of their fathers: and I am not surethat these former belongings of some long-waistcoated redcoat are not asvaluable incentives to correct legislation as that historic "bauble" ofour own constitution.

Meantime we must away. Boston and New York have had their stories toldfrequently enough-and, in reality, there is not much to tell about them.The world does not contain a more uninteresting accumulation of men andhouses than the great city of New York: it is a place wherein thestranger feels inexplicably lonely. The traveller has no mental propertyin this city whose enormous growth of life has struck scant roots intothe great heart of the past.

Our course, however, lies west. We will trace the onward stream of empirein many portions of its way; we will reach its limits, and pass beyond itinto the lone spaces which yet silently await its coming; and fartherstill, where the solitude knows not of its approach and the Indian stillreigns in savage supremacy.

NIAGARA--They have all had their say about Niagara. From Hennipin toDilke, travellers have written much about this famous cataract, and yet,put all together, they have not said much about it; description dependsso much on comparison, and comparison necessitates a something like. Ifthere existed another Niagara on the earth, travellers might compare thisone to that one; but as there does not exist a second Niagara, they aregenerally hard up for a comparison. In the matter of roar, however,comparisons are still open. There is so much noise in the world thatanalysis of noise becomes easy. One man hears in it the sound of theBattle of the Nile-a statement not likely to be challenged, as thesurvivors of that celebrated naval action are not numerous, the only onewe ever had the pleasure of meeting having been stone-deaf. Anotherwriter compares the roar to the sound of a vast mill; and thissimilitude, more flowery than poetical, is perhaps as good as that of theone who was in Aboukir Bay. To leave out Niagara when you can possiblybring it in would be as much against the stock-book of travel as to omitthe duel, the steeple-chase, or the escape from the mad bull in athirty-one-and-sixpenny fashionable novel. What the pyramids are toEgypt--what Vesuvius is to Naples--what the field of Waterloo has beenfor fifty years to Brussels, so is Niagara to the entire continent ofNorth America.

It was early in the month of September, three years prior to the time Inow write of, when I first visited this famous spot. The Niagara seasonwas at its height: the monster hotels were ringing with song, music, anddance; tourists were doing the falls, and touts were doing the tourists.Newly-married couples were conducting themselves in that demonstrativemanner characteristic of such as responded freely to the invitationcontained in their favourite nigg*r melody. Venders of Indian bead-work;itinerant philosophers; camera-obscura men; imitation squaws; free andenlightened negroes; guides to go under the cataract, who should havebeen sent over it; spiritualists, phrenologists, and nigg*r minstrels hadmade the place their own. Shoddy and petroleum were having "a high oldtime of it," spending the dollar as though that "almighty article hadbecome the thin end of nothing whittled fine:" altogether, Niagara was aplace to be instinctively shunned.

Just four months after this time the month of January was drawing to aclose. King Frost, holding dominion over Niagara, had worked strangewonders with the scene. Folly and ruffianism had been frozen up, shoddyand petroleum had betaken themselves to other haunts, the bride stronglydemonstrative or weakly reciprocal had vanished, the monster hotels weresilent and deserted, the free and enlightened negro had gone back toBuffalo, and the girls of that thriving city no longer danced, as ofyore, "under de light of de moon." Well, Niagara was worth seeingthen-and the less we say about it, perhaps, the better. "Pat," said anAmerican to a staring Irishman lately landed, "did you ever see such afall as that in the old country?" "Begarra! I niver did; but look herenow, why wouldn't it fall? what's to hinder it from falling?"

When I reached the city of Toronto, capital of the province of Ontario, Ifound that the Red River Expeditionary Force had already been mustered,previous to its start for the North-West. Making my way to the quartersof the commander of the Expedition, I was greeted every now and againwith a "You should have been here last week; every soul wants to get onthe Expedition, and you hav'n't a chance. The whole thing is complete; westart to-morrow." Thus I encountered those few friends who on suchoccasions are as certain to offer their pithy condolences as yourneighbour at the dinner-table when you are late is sure to tell you thatthe soup and fish were delicious. At last I met the commander himself.

"My good fellow, there's not a vacant berth for you," he said; "I gotyour telegram, but the whole army in Canada wanted to get on theExpedition."

"I think, sir, there is one berth still vacant," I answered.

"What is it?"

"You will want to know what they are doing in Minnesota and along theflank of your march, and you have no one to tell you," I said.

"You are right; we do want a man out there. Look now, start for Montrealby first train to-morrow; by to night's mail I will write to the general,recommending your appointment. If you see him as soon as possible, it mayyet be all right."

I thanked him, said "Good-bye," and in little more than twenty-four hourslater found myself in Montreal, the commercial capital of Canada.

"Let me see," said the general next morning, when I presented myselfbefore him, "you sent a cable message from the South of Ireland lastmonth, didn't you? and you now want to get out to the West? Well, we willrequire a man there, but the thing doesn't rest with me; it will have tobe referred to Ottawa; and meantime you can remain here, or with yourregiment, pending the receipt of an answer."

So I went back to my regiment to wait.

Spring breaks late over the province of Quebec-that portion of Americaknown to our fathers as Lower Canada, and of old to the subjects of theGrand Monarque as the kingdom of New France. But when the young treesbegin to open their leafy lids after the long sleep of winter, they do itquickly. The snow is not all gone before the maple-trees are all green;the maple, that most beautiful of trees! Well has Canada made the symbolof her new nationality that tree whose green gives the spring itsearliest freshness, whose autumn dying tints are richer than the clouds,sunset, whose life-stream is sweeter than honey, and whose branches aredrowsy through the long summer with the scent and the hum of bee andflower! Still the long line of the Canadas admits of a varied spring.When the trees are green at Lake St. Clair, they are scarcely budding atKingston, they are leafless at Montreal, and Quebec is white with snow.Even between Montreal and Quebec, a short night's steaming, there existsa difference of ten days in the opening of the summer. But late as comesthe summer to Quebec, it comes in its loveliest and most enticing form,as though it wished to atone for its long delay in banishing from such alandscape the cold tyranny of winter. And with what loveliness does thewhole face of plain, river, lake, and mountain turn from the iron claspof icy winter to kiss the balmy lips of returning summer, and to welcomehis bridal gifts of sun and shower! The trees open their leafy lids tolook at the brooks and streamlets break forth into songs ofgladness--"the birch-tree," as the old Saxon said, "becomes beautiful inits branches, and rustles sweetly in its leafy summit, moved to and froby the breath of heaven "--the lakes uncover their sweet faces, and theirmimic shores steal down in quiet evenings to bathe themselves in thetransparent waters--far into the depths of the great forest speeds theglad message of returning glory, and graceful fern-and soft velvet moss,and-white wax-like lily peep forth to cover rock and fallen tree andwreck of last year's autumn in one great sea of foliage. There are manylandscapes which can never be painted, photographed, or described, butwhich the mind carries away instinctively to look at again And again inafter-time-these are the celebrated views of the world, and they are noteasy to find. From the Queen's rampart, on the citadel of Quebec, the eyesweeps over a greater diversity of landscape than is probably to be foundin any one spot in the universe. Blue mountain, far stretching river,foaming cascade, the white sails of ocean ships, the black trunks ofmany-sized guns, the pointed roofs, the white village nestling amidst itsfields of green, the great isle in mid-channel, the many shades of colourfrom deep blue pine-wood to yellowing corn-field in what other spot onthe earth's broad bosom lie grouped together in a single glance so manyof these "things of beauty" which the eye loves to feast on and to placein memory as joys-for ever?

I had been domiciled in Quebec for about a week, when there appeared onemorning in General Orders a paragraph commanding my presence in Montrealto receive instructions from the military authorities relative to myfurther destination. It was the long-looked-for order, andfortune, after many frowns, seemed at length about to smile upon me. Itwas on the evening of the 8th June, exactly two months after the despatchof my cable message from the South of Ireland, that I turned my face tothe West and commenced a long journey towards the setting sun. When thebroad curves of the majestic river had shut out the rugged outline of thecitadel, and the east was growing coldly dim while the west still glowedwith the fires of sunset, I could not help feeling a thrill of exultantthought at the prospect before me. I little knew then the limits of mywanderings-I little thought that for many and many a day my track wouldlie with almost undeviating precision towards the setting sun, thatsummer would merge itself into autumn, and autumn darken into winter, andthat still the nightly bivouac would be made a little nearer to that westwhose golden gleam was suffusing sky and water.

But though all this was of course unknown, enough was still visible inthe foreground of the future to make even the swift-moving paddles seemlaggards as they beat to foam the long reaches of the darkeningCataraqui. "We must leave matters to yourself, I think," said theGeneral, when I saw him for the last time in Montreal, "you will be bestjudge of how to get on when you know and see the ground. I will not askyou to visit Fort Garry, but if you find it feasible, it would be well ifyou could drop down the Red River and join Wolseley before he gets to theplace. You know what I want, but how to do it, I will leave altogether toyourself. For the rest, you can draw on us for any money you require.Take care of those northern fellows. Good-bye, and success."

This was on the 12th June, and on the morning of the 13th I started bythe Grand Trunk Railway of Canada for the West. On that morning the GrandTrunk Railway of Canada was in a high state of excitement. It was aboutto attempt, for the first time, the despatch of a Lightning Express forToronto; and it was to carry from Montreal, on his way to Quebec, one ofthe Royal Princes of England, whose sojourn in the Canadian capital wasdrawing to a close. The Lightning Express was not attended with theglowing success predicted for it by its originators. At some thirty orforty miles from Montreal it came heavily to grief, owing to somemisfortune having attended the progress of a preceding train over therough uneven track. A delay of two hours having supervened, the LightningExpress got into motion again, and jolted along with tolerable celerityto Kingston. When darkness set in it worked itself up to a high pitch offury, and rushed along the low shores of Lake Ontario with a velocitywhich promised disaster. The car in which I travelled was one belongingto the director of the Northern Railroad of Canada, Mr. Cumberland, andwe had in it a minister of fisheries, one of education, a governor of aprovince, a speaker of a house of commons, and a colonel of adistinguished rifle regiment. Being the last car of the train, thevibration caused by the unusual rate of speed over the very rough railswas excessive; it was, however, consolatory to feel that any littleunpleasantness which might occur through the fact of the car leaving thetrack would be attended with some sense of alleviation. The rook is saidto have thought he was paying dear for good company when he was put intothe pigeon pie, but it by no means follows that a leap from anembankment, or an upset into a river, would be as disastrous as isusually supposed, if taken in the society of such pillars of the state asthose I have already mentioned. Whether a speaker of a house of commonsand a governor of a large province, to say nothing of a minister offisheries, would tend in reality to mitigate the unpleasantness of being"telescoped through colliding," I cannot decide, for we reached Torontowithout accident, at midnight, and I saw no more of my distinguishedfellow-travellers.

I remained long enough in the city of Toronto to provide myself with awardrobe suitable to the countries I was about to seek. In one of theprincipal commercial streets of the flourishing capital of Ontario Ifound a small tailoring establishment, at the door of which stood anexcellent representation of a colonial. The garments be longing to thisfigure appeared to have been originally designed from the world-famouspattern of the American flag, presenting above a combination of stars,and below having a tendency to stripes. The general groundwork of thewhole rig appeared to be shoddy of an inferior-description, and a smallcard attached to the figure intimated that the entire fit-out wasprocurable at the very reasonable sum of ten dollars. It was impossibleto resist the fascination of this attire. While the bargain was beingtransacted the tailor looked askance at the garments worn by hiscustomer, which, having only a few months before emanated from theestablishment of a well-known London cutter, presented a considerablecontrast to the new investment; he even ventured upon some remarks whichevidently had for their object the elucidation of the enigma, but a wordthat such clothes as those worn by me were utterly un suited to the bushrepelled all further questioning-indeed, so pleased did the noor fellowappear in a pecuniary point of view, that he insisted upon presenting megratis with a neck-tie of green and yellow, fully in keeping with theother articles composing the costume. And now, while I am thus arrangingthese little preliminary matters so essential to the work I was about toengage in, let us examine for a moment the objects and scope of thatwork, and settle the limits and extent of the first portion of myjourney, and sketch the route of the Expedition. It will be recollectedthat the Expedition destined for the Red River of the North had startedsome time before for its true base of operations, namely Fort William, onthe north-west shore of Lake Superior. The distance intervening betweenToronto and Thunder Bay is about 600 miles, 100 being by railroadconveyance and 500 by water. The island-studded expanse of Lake Huron,known as Georgian Bay, receives at the northern extremity the waters ofthe great Lake Superior, but a difference of level amounting to upwardsof thirty feet between the broad bosoms of these two vast expanses offresh water has rendered necessary the construction of a canal ofconsiderable magnitude. This canal is situated upon American territory-afact which gives our friendly cousins the exclusive possession of thegreat northern basin, and which enabled them at the very outset of theRed River affair to cause annoyance and delay to the Canadian Expedition.Poor Canada! when one looks at you along the immense length of your nobleriver boundary, how vividly become apparent the evils under which youryouth has grown to manhood! Looked at from home by every succeedingcolonial minister through the particular whig, or tory spectacles of hisparty, subject to violent and radical alterations of policy because ofsome party vote in a Legislative Assembly 3000 miles from your nearestcoast-line, your own politicians, for years, too timid to grasp thelimits of your possible future, parties every where in your provinces,and of every kind, except a national party; no breadth, no depth, noearnest striving to make you great amongst the nations, each one forhimself and no-one for the country; men fighting for a sect, for aprovince, for a nationality, but no one for the nation; and all thiswhile, close alongside, your great rival grew with giant's growth,looking far into the future before him, cutting his cloth withperspective ideas of what his limbs would attain to in after-time,'digging his canals and grading, his railroads, with one eye on theAtlantic and the other on the Pacific, spreading himself, monopolizing,annexing, outmanoeuvring and flanking those colonial bodies who sat insolemn state in Downing Street and wrote windy proclamations anddespatches anent boundary-lines, of which they knew next to nothing.Macaulay laughs at poor Newcastle for his childish delight in finding outthat Cape Breton was an island, but I strongly suspect there were otherand later Newcastles whose geographical knowledge of matters Americanwere not a whit superior. Poor Canada! they muddled you out of Maine,and the open harbour of Portland, out of Rouse's Point, and the commandof Lake Champlain, out of many a fair mile far away by the RockyMountains. It little matters whether it was the treaty of 1783, or 1818,or '21, or '48, or '71, the worst of every bargain, at all times, fell toyou.

I have said that the possession of the canal at the Sault St. Marieenabled the Americans to delay the progress of the Red River Expedition.The embargo put upon the Canadian vessels originated, however, in theState, and not the Federal, authorities; that is to say, the State ofMichigan issued the prohibition against the passage of the steam boat,and not the Cabinet of Washington. Finally, Washington overruled thedecision of Michigan-a feat far more feasible now than it would have beenprior to the Southern war-and the steamers were permitted to pass throughinto the waters of Lake Superior. From thence to Thunder Bay was only thesteaming of four-and-twenty hours through a lake whose vast bosom is thefavourite playmate of the wild storm-king of the North. But althoughfull half the total distance from Toronto to the Red River had beentraversed when the Expedition reached Thunder Bay, not a twentieth of thetime nor one hundredth part of the labour and fatigue had beenaccomplished. For a distance of 600 miles there stretched away to thenorthwest a vast tract of rock-fringed lake, swamp, and forest; lyingspread in primeval savagery, an untravelled wilderness; the home of theOjibbeway, who here, entrenched amongst Nature's fastnesses, has longcalled this land his own. Long before Wolfe had scaled the heights ofAbraham, before even Marlborough, and Eugene, and Villers, and V'endome,and Villeroy had commenced to fight their giants fights in diversportions of the low countries, some adventurous subjects of the GrandMonarque were forcing their way, for the first time, along the northernshores of Lake Superior, nor stopping there: away to the north-west theredwelt wild tribes to be sought out by two classes of men-by the blackrobe, who laboured for souls; by the trader, who sought for skins-and ahard race had these two widely different pioneers who sought at thatearly day these remote and friendless regions, so hard that it wouldalmost seem as though the great powers of good and of evil had bothdespatched at this same moment, on rival errands, ambassadors to gaindominion over these distant savages. It was a curious contest: on the onehand, showy robes, shining beads, and maddening fire-water, on the other,the old, old story of peace and brotherhood, of Christ and Calvary--acontest so full of interest, so teeming with adventure, so pregnant withthe discovery of mighty rivers and great inland seas, that one would fainramble away into its depths; but it must not be, or else the journey Ihave to travel myself would never even begin.

Vast as is the accumulation of fresh water in Lake Superior, the area ofthe country which it drains is limited enough. Fifty miles from itsnorthern shores the rugged hills which form the backbone or "divide" ofthe continent raise their barren heads, and the streams carry from thencethe vast rainfall of this region into the Bay of Hudson. Thus, when thevoyageur has paddled, tracked, poled, and carried his canoe up any of themany rivers which rush like mountain torrents into Lake Superior from thenorth, he reaches the height of land between the Atlantic Ocean andHudson Bay. Here, at an elevation of 1500 feet above the sea level, andof 900 above Lake Superior, he launches his canoe upon water flowingnorth and west; then he has before him hundreds of miles of quiet-lyinglake, of wildly rushing river, of rock-broken rapid, of foaming cataract,but through it all runs ever towards the north the ocean-seeking current.As later on we shall see many and many a mile of this wilderness--livingin it, eating in it, sleeping in it-although reaching it from a differentdirection altogether from the one spoken of now, I anticipate, byalluding to it here, only as illustrating the track of the Expeditionbetween Lake Superior and Red River. For myself, my route was to bealtogether a different one. I was to follow the lines of railroad whichran-out into the frontier territories of the United States, then, leavingthe iron horse, I was to make my way to the settlements on the west shoreof Lake Superior, and from thence to work Round to the Americanboundary-line at Pembina on the Red River; so far through Americanterritory, and with distinct and definite instructions; after that,altogether to my own resources, but with this summary of the general'swishes: "I will not ask you to visit Fort Garry, but however you manageit, try and reach Wolseley-before he gets through from Lake Superior, andlet him know what these Red River men are going to do." Thus the militaryExpedition under Colonel Wolseley was to work its way Across from LakeSuperior to Red River, through British territory; I was to pass round bythe United States, and, after ascertaining the likelihood of Fenianintervention from the side of Minnesota and Dakota, endeavour to reachColonel Wolseley beyond Red River, with all tidings as to state ofparties and chances of fight. But as the reader has heard only a verybrief mention of the state of affairs in Red River, and as he may verynaturally be inclined to ask, What is this Expedition going to do--whyare these men sent through swamp and wilderness at all? A few explanatorywords may not be out of place, serving to make matters now and at a laterperiod much more intelligible. I have said in the opening chapter of thisbook, that the little community, or rather a portion of the littlecommunity, of Red River Settlement had risen in insurrection, protestingvehemently against certain arrangements made between the Governor ofCanada and the Hon. Hudson's Bay Company relative to the cession ofterritorial rights and governing powers. After forcibly expelling theGovernor of the country appointed by Canada, from the frontier station atPembina, the French malcontents had proceeded to other and still morequestionable proceedings. Assembling in large numbers, they had fortifiedportions of the road between Pembina and Fort Garry, and had taken armedpossession of the latter place, in which large stores of provisions,clothing, and merchandise of all descriptions had been stored by theHudson Bay Company. The occupation of this fort, which stands close tothe confluence of the Red and Assineboine Rivers, nearly midway betweenthe American boundary-line and the southern shore of Lake Winnipeg, gavethe French party the virtual command of the entire settlement. Theabundant stores of clothing and provisions were not so important as thearms and ammunition which also fell into their hands--a battery ofnine-pound bronze guns, complete in every respect, besides severalsmaller pieces of ordnance, together with large store of Enfield riflesand old brown-bess smooth bores. The place was, in fact, abundantlysupplied with war material of every description. It is almost refreshingto notice the ability, the energy, the determination which up to thispoint had characterized all the movements of the originator andmainspring of the movement, M. Louis Riel. One hates so much to see athing bungled, that even resistance, although it borders upon rebellion,becomes respectable when it is carried out with courage, energy, anddecision.

And, in truth, up to this point in the little insurrection it is not easyto condemn the wild Metis of the North-west--wild as the bison which hehunted, unreclaimed as the prairies he loved so well, what knew he ofState duty or of loyalty? He knew that this land was his, and that strongmen were coming to square it into rectangular farms and to push himfarther west by the mere pressure of civilization. He had heard ofEngland and the English, but it was in a shadowy, vague, unsubstantialsort of way, unaccompanied by any fixed idea of government or law. TheCompany--not the Hudson Bay Company, but the Company-represented for himall law, all power, all government. Protection he did not need-his quickear, his unerring eye, his untiring horse, his trading gun, gave himthat; but a market for his taurreau, for his buffalo robe, for his lynx,fox, and wolf skins, for the produce of his summer hunt and winter trade,he did need, and in the forts of the Company he found it. His wants werefew-a capôte of blue cloth, with shining brass buttons; a cap, with beadsand tassel; a blanket; a gun, and ball and powder; a box: of matches, anda knife, these were all he wanted, and at every fort, from the mountainto the banks of his well-loved River Rouge, he found them, too. What werethese new people coming to do with him? Who could tell? If they meant himfair, why did they not say so? why did they not come up and tell him whatthey wanted, and what they were going to do for him, and ask him what hewished for? But, no; they either meant to outwit him, or they held him ofso small account that it mattered little what he thought about it; and,with all the pride of his mother's race, that idea of his being slightedhurt him even more than the idea of his being wronged. Did not everything point to his disappearance under the new order of things? He hadonly to look round him to verify the fact; for years before thisannexation to Canada had been carried into effect stragglers from theeast had occasionally reached Red River. It is true that these new-comersfound much to foster the worst passions of the Anglo-Saxon settler. Theyfound a few thousand occupants, half-farmers, half-hunters, living undera vast commercial monopoly, which, though it practically rested upon abasis of the most paternal kindness towards its subjects, wastheoretically hostile to all opposition. Had these men settled quietly tothe usual avocations of farming, clearing the wooded ridges, fencing therich expanses of prairie, covering the great swamps and plains withherds and flocks, it is probable that all would have gone well betweenthe new-comers and the old proprietors. Over that great western thousandmiles of prairie there was room for all. But, no; they came to trade andnot to till, and trade on the Red River of the North was conducted uponthe most peculiar principles. There was, in fact, but one trade, and thatwas the fur trade. Now, the fur trade is, for some reason or other, avery curious description of barter. Like some mysterious chemical agency,it pervades and permeates every thing it touches. If a man cuts off legs,cures diseases, draws teeth, sells whiskey, cotton, wool, or any othercommodity of civilized or uncivilized life, he will be as sure to do itwith a view to furs as any doctor, dentist, or general merchant will besure to practise his particular calling with a view to the acquisition ofgold and silver. Thus, then, in the first instance were the new-comersset in antagonism to the Company, and finally to the inhabitantsthemselves. Let us try and be just to all parties in this little oasis ofthe Western wilderness.

The early settlers in a Western country are not by any means persons muchgiven to the study of abstract justice, still less to its practice; andit is as well, perhaps, that they should not be. They have rough work todo, and they generally do it roughly. The very fact of their coming outso far into the wilderness implies the other fact of their not being ableto dwell quietly and peaceably at home. They are, as it were, theadvanced pioneers of civilization who make smooth the way of the comingrace. Obstacles of any kind are their peculiar detestation-if it is atree, cut it down; if it is a savage, shoot it down; if it is ahalf-breed, force it down. That is about their creed, and it must be saidthey act up to their convictions.

'Now, had the country bordering on Red River been an unpeopledwilderness, the plan carried out in effecting the transfer of land in theNorth-west from the Hudson's Bay Company to the Crown, and from the Crownto the Dominion of Canada, would have been an eminently wise one; but,unfortunately for its wisdom, there were some 15,000 persons living inpeaceful possession of the soil thus transferred, and these 15,000persons very naturally objected to have themselves and possessions signedaway without one word of consent or one note of approval. Nay, more thanthat, these straggling pioneers had on many an occasion taunted the vainhalf-breed with what would happen when the irresistible march of eventshad thrown the country into the arms of Canada: then civilization woulddawn upon the benighted country, the half-breed would seek some westernregion, the Company would dis appear, and all the institutions of NewWorld progress would shed-prosperity over the land; prosperity, not tothe old dwellers and of the old type, but to the new-comers and of thenew order of things. Small wonder, then, if the little community,resenting all this threatened improvement off the face of the earth, gottheir powder-horns ready, took the covers off their trading flint-guns,and with much gesticulation summarily interfered with severalanticipatory surveys of their farms, doubling up the sextants, bundlingthe surveying parties out of their freeholds, and very peremptorilyinforming Mr. Governor M'Dougall, just arrived from Canada, that hispresence was by no means of the least desirability to Red River or itsinhabitants. The man who, with remarkable energy and perseverance, hadworked up his fellow-citizens to this pitch of resistance, organizing anddirecting the whole movement, was a young French half-breed named LouisRiel--a man possessing many of the attributes suited to the leadership ofparties, and quite certain to rise to the surface in any time ofpolitical disturbances. It has doubtless occurred to any body who hasfollowed me through this brief sketch of the causes which led to theassumption of this attitude on the part of the French half-breeds-it hasoccurred to them, I say, to ask who then was to blame for themismanagement of the transfer: was it the Hudson Bay Company whosurrendered for 300,000 pounds their territorial rights? was it theImperial Government who accepted that surrender? or was it the DominionGovernment to whom the country was in turn retransferred by the Imperialauthorities? I answer that the blame of having bungled the whole businessbelongs collectively to all the great and puissant bodies. Any ordinarymatter-of-fact, sensible man would have managed the whole affair in a fewhours; but so many high and potent powers had to consult together, to pendespatches, to speechify, and to lay down the law about it, that thewhole affair became hopelessly muddled. Of course, ignorance andcarelessness were, as they always are, at the bottom of it all. Nothingwould have been easier than to have sent a commissioner from England toRed River, while the negotiations for transfer were pending, who wouldhave ascertained the feelings and wishes of the people of the countryrelative to` the transfer, and would have guaranteed them the exercise oftheir rights and liberties under any and every new arrangement that mightbe entered into. Now, it is no excuse for any Government to pleadignorance upon any matter pertaining to the people it governs, or expectsto govern, for a Government has no right to be ignorant on any suchmatter, and its ignorance must be its condemnation; yet this is the pleaput forward by the Dominion Government of Canada, and yet the DominionGovernment and the Imperial Government had ample opportunity of arrivingat a-correct knowledge of the state of affairs in Red River, if they hadonly taken the trouble to do so. Nay, more, it is an undoubted fact thatwarning had been given to the Dominion Government of the state of feelingamongst the half-breeds, and the phrase, "they are only eaters ofpemmican," so cutting to the Metis, was then first originated by adistinguished Canadian politician.

And now let us see what the "eaters of pemmican" proceeded to do aftertheir forcible occupation of Fort Garry. Well, it must be admitted theybehaved in a very indifferent manner, going steadily from bad to worse,and much befriended in their seditious proceedings by continued and oftrepeated bungling on the part of their opponents. Early in the month ofDecember, 1869, Mr. M'Dougall issued two proclamations from his post atPembina, on the frontier: in one he declared himself Lieutenant-Governorof the territory which Her Majesty had transferred to Canada; and in theother he commissioned an officer of the Canadian militia, under thehigh-sounding title of "Conservator of the Peace," "to attack, arrest,-disarm, and disperse armed men disturbing the public peace, and toassault, fire upon, and break into houses in which these armed men wereto be found." Now, of the first proclamation it will be only necessary toremark, that Her Majesty the Queen had not done any thing of the kind,imputed to her; and of the second it has probably already occurred to thereader that the title of "Conservator of the Peace" was singularlyinappropriate to one vested with such sanguinary and destructive powersas was the holder of this commission, who was to "assault, fire upon,and break into houses, and to attack, arrest, disarm, and dispersepeople," and generally to conduct himself after the manner of Attila,Genshis Khan, the Emperor Theodore, or any other ferocious magnate ofancient or modern times. The officer holding this destructive commissionthought he could do nothing better than imitate the tactics of his Frenchadversary, accordingly we find him taking possession of the otherrectangular building known as the Lower Fort Garry, situated some twentymiles north of the one in which the French had taken post, butunfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, not finding within its walls thesame store of warlike material which had existed in the Fort Garrysenior.

The Indians, ever ready to have a hand in any fighting which may be"knocking around," came forward in all the glory of paint, feathers, andpow-wow; and to the number of fifty were put as garrison into the place.Some hundreds of English and Scotch half-breeds were enlisted, told offto companies under captains improvised for the occasion, and every thingpointed to a very pretty quarrel before many days had run their course.But, in truth, the hearts of the English and Scotch settlers were not inthis business. By nature peaceably disposed, inheriting from their Orkneyand Shetland forefathers much of the frugal habits of the Scotchmen,these people only asked to be left in peace. So far the French party hadbeen only fighting the battle of every half-breed, whether his father hadhailed from the northern isles, the shires of England, or the snows ofLower Canada; so, after a little time, the Scotch and English volunteersbegan to melt away, and on the 9th of December the last warrior haddisappeared. But the effects of their futile demonstration soon becameapparent in the increasing violence and tyranny of Riel and hisfollowers. The threatened attempt to upset his authority by arraying theScotch and English half-breeds against him served only to add strength tohis party. The number of armed malcontents in Fort Garry became very muchincreased, clergymen of both parties, neglecting their manifestfunctions, began to take sides in the conflict, and the worst form ofreligious animosity became apparent in the little community. Emboldenedby the presence of some five or six hundred armed followers, Rieldetermined to strike a blow against the party most obnoxious to him. Thiswas the English-Canadian party, the pioneers of the Western settlementalready alluded to as having been previously in antagonism with thepeople of Red River. Some sixty or seventy of these men, believing in thecertain advance of the English force upon Fort Garry, had taken up aposition in the little village of Winnipeg, less than a mile distant fromthe fort, where they awaited the advance of their adherents previous tomaking a combined assault upon the French. But Riel proved himself morethan a match for his antagonists; marching quickly out of his stronghold,he surrounded the buildings in which they were posted, and, planting agun in a conspicuously commanding position, summoned them all tosurrender in the shortest possible space of time. As is usual on suchoccasions, and in such circ*mstances, the whole party did as they wereordered, and marching out-with or without side-arms and military honourshistory does not relate-were forthwith conducted into close confinementwithin the walls of Fort Garry. Having by this bold coup got possessionnot only of the most energetic of his opponents, but also of manyvaluable American Remington Rifles, fourteen shooters and revolvers, Mr.Riel, with all the vanity of the Indian peeping out, began to imaginehimself a very great personage, and as very great personages aresometimes supposed to be believers in the idea that to take a man'sproperty is only to confiscate it, and to take his life is merely toexecute him, he too commenced to violently sequestrate, annex, andrequisition not only divers of his prisoners, but also a considerableshare of the goods stored in warehouses of the Hudson Bay Company, havingparticular regard to some hogsheads of old port wine and very potentJamaica rum. The proverb which has reference to a mendicant suddenlyPlaced in an equestrian position had notable exemplification in the caseof the Provisional Government, and many of his colleagues; going steadilyfrom bad to worse, from violence to pillage, from pillage to robbery of avery low type, much supplemented by rum-drunkenness and dictatorialdebauchery, he and they finally, on the 4th of March, 1870, disregardingsome touching appeals for mercy, and with many accessories of needlesscruelty, shot to death a helpless Canadian prisoner named Thomas Scott.This act, committed in the coldest of cold blood, bears only one name:the red name of murder-a name which instantly and for ever drew betweenRiel and his followers, and the outside Canadian world, that impassablegulf which the murderer in all ages digs between himself and society, andwhich society attempts to bridge by the aid of the gallows. It isneedless here to enter into details of this matter; of the second risingwhich preceded it; of the dead blank which followed it; of the heartlessand disgusting cruelty which made the prisoners death a foregoneconclusion at his mock trial; or of the deeds worse than butchery whichcharacterized the last scene. Still, before quitting the revoltingsubject, there is one point that deserves remark, as it seems toillustrate the feeling entertained by the leaders themselves. On thenight of the murder the body was interred in a very deep hole which hadbeen dug within the walls of the fort. Two clergymen had asked permissionto inter the remains in either of their churches, but this request hadbeen denied. On the anniversary of the murder, namely, the 4th March,1871, other powers being then predominant in Fort Garry, a large crowdgathered at the spot where the murdered man had been interred, for thepurpose of exhuming the body. After digging for some time they came toan oblong box or coffin in which the remains had been placed, but it wasempty, the interment within the walls had been a mock ceremony, and thefinal resting-place of the body lies hidden in mystery. Now there is onething very evident from the fact, and that is that Riel and hisimmediate followers were themselves conscious of the enormity of the deedthey had committed, for had they believed that the taking of this man'slife was really an execution justified upon any grounds of military orpolitical necessity, or a forfeit fairly paid as price for crimescommitted, then the hole inside the gateway of Fort Garry would have heldits skeleton, and the midnight interment would not have been a senselesslie. The murderer and the law both take life--it is only the murderer whohides under the midnight shadows the body of his victim.

CHAPTER FOUR.

Chicago--"Who is S. B. D.?"--Milwaukie--The Great Fusion-Wisconsin--TheSleeping-car--The Train Boy-Minnesota--St. Paul--I start for LakeSuperior--The Future City--"Bust up" and "Gone on"--The End of the Track.

ALAS! I have to go a long way back to the city of Toronto, where I hadjust completed the purchase of a full costume of a Western borderer. Onthe 10th of June I crossed the Detroit River from Western Canada to theState of Michigan, and travelling by the central railway of that statereached the great city of Chicago on the following day. All Americans,but particularly all Western Americans, are very proud of this big city,which is not yet as old as many of its inhabitants, and they are justlyproud of it. It is by very much the largest and the richest of the newcities of the New World. Maps made fifty years ago will be searched invain for Chicago. Chicago was then a swamp where the skunks, after whomit is called, held undisputed revels. To-day Chicago numbers about300,000 souls, and it is about "the livest city in our great Republic;sir."

Chicago lies almost 1000 miles due west of New York. A traveller leavingthe latter city, let us say on Monday morning, finds himself on Tuesdayat eight o'clock in the evening in Chicago-one thousand miles inthirty-four hours. In the meantime he will have eaten three meals andslept soundly "on board" his palace-car, if he is so minded. For manyhundred miles during the latter portion of his journey he will havenoticed great tracts of swamp and forest, with towns and cities andsettlements interspersed between; and then, when these tracts of swampand unreclaimed forest seem to be increasing instead of diminishing, hecomes all of a sudden upon a vast, full-grown, bustling city, with tallchimneys sending out much smoke, with heavy horses dragging great: draysof bulky freight through thronged and busy streets, and with tall-mastedships and whole fleets of steamers lying packed against the crowdedquays. He has begun to dream himself in the West, and lo! there rises upa great city. "But is not this the West?" will ask the new-comer from theAtlantic states. "Upon your own showing we are here 1000 miles from NewYork, by water 1500 miles to Quebec; surely this must be the West?" No;for in this New World the West is ever on the move. Twenty years agoChicago was West; ten years ago it was Omaha; then it was Salt Lake City,and now it is San Francisco on the Pacific Ocean.

This big city, with its monster hotels and teeming traffic, was no newscene to me, for I had spent pleasant days in it three years before. AnAmerican in America is a very pleasant fellow. It is true that on manysocial points and habits his views may differ from ours in a manner veryshocking to our prejudices, insular or insolent, as these prejudices ofours too frequently are; but meet him with fair allowance for the factthat there may be two sides to a question, and that a man may not tubevery morning and yet be a good fellow, and in nine cases of ten you willfind him most agreeable, a little inquisitive perhaps to know yourpeculiar belongings, but equally ready to impart to you the details ofevery item connected with his business--altogether a very jolly every-daycompanion when met on even basis. If you happen to be a military man, hewill call you Colonel or General, and expect similar recognition: of rankby virtue of his volunteer services in the 44th: Illinois, or 55thMissourian. At present, and for many years to come, it is and will be asafe method of beginning any observation to a Western American with "Isay, General," and on no account ever to get below the rank of fieldofficer when addressing anybody holding a socially smaller position thanthat of bar-keeper. Indeed major-generals were as plentiful in the UnitedStates at the termination of the great rebellion as brevet-majors were inthe British service at the close of the Crimean campaign. It was atPlymouth, I think, that a grievance was established by a youngster onthe score that he really could not spit out of his own window withouthitting a brevet major outside; and it was in a Western city that the manthrew his stick at a dog across the road, "missed that dawg, sir, but hitfive major-generals on t'other side, and 'twasn't a good day formajor-generals either, sir." Not less necessary than knowledge of socialposition is knowledge of the political institutions and characters of theWest. Not to know Rufus P. W. Smidge, or Ossian W. Dodge of Minnesota, issimply to argue yourself utterly unknown. My first experience of Chicagofully impressed me with this fact. I had made the acquaintance of anAmerican gentleman "on board" the train, and as we approached the cityalong the sandy margin of Lake Michigan he kindly pointed out thebuildings and public institutions of the neighbourhood.

"There, sir," he finally said, "there is our new monument to Stephen B.Douglas."

I looked in the direction indicated, and beheld some blocks of granite incourse of erection into a pedestal. I confess to having been entirelyignorant at the time as to what claim Stephen B. Douglas may have had tothis public recognition of his worth, but the tone of my informant'svoice was sufficient to warn me that everybody knew Stephen B. Douglas,and that ignorance of his career might prove hurtful to the feelings ofmy new acquaintance, so I carefully refrained from showing by word orlook the drawback under which I laboured. There was with me, however, atravelling companion who, to an ignorance of Stephen B. D. fully equal tomine own, added a truly British indignation that monumental honoursshould be bestowed upon one whose fame was still faint across theAtlantic. Looking partly at the monument, partly at our Americaninformant, and partly at me, he hastily ejacul*ted, "Who the devil wasStephen B. Douglas?"

Alas! the murder was out, and out in its most aggravating form. I hastilyattempted a rescue. "Not know who Stephen B. Douglas was?" I exclaimed,in a tone of mingled reproof and surprise. "Is it possible you don't knowwho Stephen B. Douglas was?"

Nothing cowed by the assumption of knowledge implied by my question, myfellow-traveller was not to be done. "All deuced fine," he went on, "I'llbet you a fiver you don't know who he was either!"

I kicked at him under the seat of the carriage, but it was of no use, hepersisted in his reckless offers of "laying fivers," and our unitedignorance stood fatally revealed.

Round the city of Chicago stretches upon three sides a vast levelprairie, a meadow larger than the area of England and Wales, and asfertile as the luxuriant vegetation of thousands of years decaying undera semi-tropic sun could make it. Illinois is in round numbers 400 milesfrom north to south, its greatest breadth being about 200 miles. TheMississippi, running in vast curves along the entire length of itswestern frontier for 700 miles, bears away to southern ports the richburden of wheat and Indian corn. The inland sea of Michigan carries onits waters the wealth of the northern portion of the state to theAtlantic seaboard. The Ohio, flowing south and west, unwaters thesouth-eastern counties, while 5500 miles of completed railroad traversethe interior of the state. This 5500 miles of iron road is a significantfact--5500 miles of railway in the compass of a single western state!More than all Hindostan can boast of, and nearly half the railway mileageof the United Kingdom. Of this immense system of interior connexionChicago is the centre and heart. Other great centres of commerce havestriven to rival the City of the Skunk, but all have failed; and to-day,thanks to the dauntless energy of the men of Chicago, the garden state ofthe Union possesses this immense extent of railroad, ships its ownproduce, north, east, and south, and boasts a population scarcelyinferior to that of many older states; and yet it is only fifty years agosince William Cobbett laboured long and earnestly to prove that Englishemigrants who pushed on into the "wilderness of the Illinois wentstraight to misery and ruin."

Passing through Chicago, and going out by one of the lines running northalong the shore of Lake Michigan, I reached the city of Milwaukie late inthe evening. Now the city of Milwaukie stands above 100 miles north ofChicago and is to the State of Wisconsin what its southern neighbour (100miles in the States is nothing) is to Illinois. Being, also some 100miles nearer to the entrance to Lake Michigan, and consequently nearer bywater to New York and the Atlantic, Milwaukie caries off no small shareof the export wheat trade of the North-west. Behind it lie the rollingprairies of Wisconsin, Iowa, and Minnesota, the three wheat-growingstates of the American Union. Scandinavia, Germany, and Ireland have madethis portion of America their own, and in the streets of Milwaukie onehears the guttural sounds of the Teuton and the deep brogue of the IrishCelt mixed in curious combinations. This railway-station at Milwaukie isone of the great distributing points of the in-coming flood from NorthernEurope. From here they scatter far and wide over the plains which liebetween Lake Michigan and the head-waters of the Mississippi. No onestops to look at these people as they throng the wooden platform and fillthe sheds at the depot, the sight is too common to cause interest now,and yet it is a curious sight this entry of the outcasts into thepromised land. Tired, travel-stained, and worn come the fair-haired crowdof men and women and many children, eating all manner of strange foodwhile they rest, and speaking all manner of strange tongues, carrying themost uncouth shapeless boxes that trunk-maker of Bergen or Upsal candevise--such queer oval red-and-green painted wooden cases, more likeboxes to hold musical instruments than for the Sunday kit of Hans orChristian--clothing much soiled and worn by lower-deck lodgment and sprayof mid-Atlantic roller, and dust of that 1100 miles of railroad sinceNew York was left behind, but still with many traces, under dust andseediness, of Scandinavian rustic fashion; altogether a homely people,but destined ere long to lose every vestige of their old Norse habitsunder the grindstone of the great mill they are now entering. That vasthuman machine Which grinds Celt and Saxon, Teuton and Dane, Fin and Gothinto the same image and likeness of the inevitable Yankee--grinds him toointo that image in one short generation, and oftentimes in less; doing itwithout any apparent outward pressure or any tyrannical law of languageor religion, but nevertheless beating out, welding, and amalgamating thevarious conflicting races of the Old World into the great Americanpeople. Assuredly the world has never witnessed any experiment of sogigantic a nature as this immense fusion of the Caucasian race now goingon before our eyes in North America. One asks oneself, with feelings ofdread, what is to be the result? Is it to eliminate from the human racethe evil habits of each nationality, and to preserve in the new one thenoble characteristics of all? I say one asks the question with a feelingof dread, for it is the question of the well-being, of the whole humanfamily of the future, the question of the advance or retrogression of thehuman race. No man living can answer that question. Time alone can solveit; but one thing is certain-so far the experiment bodes ill for success.Too often the best and noblest attributes of the people wither and dieout by the process of transplanting. The German preserves inviolate hislove of lager, and leaves behind him his love of Fatherland. The Celt,Scotch or Irish, appears to eliminate from his nature many of thosetraits of humour of which their native lands are so pregnant. It may bethat this is only the beginning, that a national decomposition of the olddistinctions must occur before the new elements can arise, and that fromit all will come in the fulness of time a regenerated society:--

"Sin itself be found,A cloudy porch oft opening on the sun."

But at present, looking abroad over the great seething mass of Americansociety, there seems little reason to hope for required alteration. Thedollar must cease to be the only God, and that old, old proverb that"honesty is the best policy" must once more come into fashion.

Four hundred and six miles intervene between Milwaukie, in the State ofWisconsin, and St. Paul, the capital and principal city of the State ofMinnesota. About half that distance lies through the State of Wisconsin,and the remaining half is somewhat unequally divided between Iowa andMinnesota. Leaving Milwaukie at eleven o'clock a.m., one reaches theMississippi at Prairie-du-Chien at ten o'clock same night; here a steamerferries the broad swift-running stream, and at North Macgregor, on theIowa shore, a train is in waiting to take on board the now sleepypassengers. The railway sleeping-car is essentially an Americaninstitution. Like every other institution, it has its critics, favourableand severe. On the one hand, it is said to be the acme of comfort; on theother, the essence of unrest. But it is just what might be expected underthe circ*mstances, neither one thing nor the other. No one in his senseswould prefer to sleep in a bed which was being bornc violently along overrough and uneven iron when he could select a stationary resting-place. Onthe other hand, it is a very great saving of time and expense to travelfor some eighty or one hundred consecutive hours, and this can only beeffected by means of the sleeping-car. Take this distance, from New Yorkto St. Paul, as an instance. It is about 1450 miles, and it can beaccomplished in sixty-four hours. Of course one cannot expect to findoneself as comfortably located as in an hotel; but, all thingsconsidered, the balance of advantage is very much on the side of thesleeping-car. After a night or two one becomes accustomed to the noiseand oscillation; the little peculiarities incidental to turning-in inrather a promiscuous manner with ladies old and young, children in armsand out of arms, vanish before the force of habit; the necessity ofmaking an early rush to the lavatory appliances in the morning, and theresecuring a plentiful supply of water and clean towels, becomes quicklyapparent, and altogether the sleeping-car ceases to be a thing ofnuisance and is accepted as an accomplished fact. The interiorarrangements of the car are conducted as follows. A passage runs down thecentre from one door to the other; on either side are placed the berthsor "sections" for sleeping; during the day-time these form seats, and areoccupied by such as care to take them in the ordinary manner of railroadcars. At night, however, the whole car undergoes a completetransformation. A negro attendant commences to make down the beds. Thisoperation is performed by drawing out, after the manner of telescopes,portions of the car heretofore looked upon as immoveable; from variousreceptacles thus rendered visible he extracts large store of blankets,mattresses, bolsters, pillows, sheets, all which he arranges after theusual method of such articles. His work is done speedily and withoutnoise or bustle, and in a very short time the interior of the carpresents the spectacle of a long, dimly lighted passage, having on eitherside the striped damask curtains which partly shroud the berths behindthem. Into these berths the passengers soon withdraw themselves, and allgoes quietly till morning-unless, indeed, some stray turning bridge hasbeen left turned over one of the numerous creeks that underlie the track,or the loud whistle of "brakes down" is the short prelude to one of themany disasters of American railroad travel. There are many varieties ofthe sleeping-car, but the principle and mode of procedure are identicalin each. Some of those constructed by Messrs. Pullman and Wagner are asgorgeously decorated as gilding, plating, velvet, and damask can makethem. The former gentleman is likely to live long after his death in thetitle of his cars. One takes a Pullman (of course, only a share of aPullman) as one takes a Hansom. Pullman and sleeping-car have becomesynonymous terms likely to last the wear of time. Travelling from sunriseto sunset through a country which offers but few changes to the eye, andat a rate which in the remoter districts seldom exceeds twenty miles anhour, is doubtless a very tiresome occupation; still it has much torelieve the tedium of what under the English system of railroad travelwould be almost insupportable. The fact of easy communication beingmaintained between the different cars renders the passage from one car toanother during motion a most feasible undertaking. One can visit thevarious cars and inspect their occupants, and to a man travelling toobtain information this is no small boon. Americans are always ready toenter into conversation, and though many queer fish will doubtless be metwith in such interviews, still as one is certain to fall in with personsfrom all parts of the Union--easters, Southerners, Western men, andCalifornians--the experiment of "knocking around the cars" is well worththe trial of any person who is not above taking human nature, as we takethe weather, just as it comes.

The individual known by the title of "train-boy" is also worth somestudy. He is oftentimes a grown-up man, but more frequently a mostprecocious boy; he is the agent for some enterprising house in Chicago,New York, or Philadelphia, or some other large town, and his aim is todispose of a very miscellaneous collection of mental and bodilynourishment. He usually commences operations with the mental diet, whichhe serves round in several courses. The first course consists of works ofa high moral character standard English novels in American reprints, andworks of travel or biography. These he lays beside each passenger,stopping now and then to recommend one or the other for some particularexcellence of morality or binding. Having distributed a portion throughthe car, he passes into the next car, and so through the train. After afew minutes delay he returns again to pick up the books and to settlewith any one who may be disposed to retain possession of one. After thelapse of a very short time he reappears with the second course ofliterature. This usually consists of a much lower standard of excellence--Yankee fun, illustrated periodicals of a feeble nature, and cheapreprints of popular works. The third course, which soon follows, is,however, a very much lower one, and it is a subject for regret on thepart of the moralist that the same powers of persuasion which but alittle time ago were put forth to advocate the sale of some works of highmoral excellence should now be exerted to push a vigorous circulation ofthe "Last Sensation," "The Dime Illustrated," "New York under Gaslight," "The Bandits of the Rocky Mountains," and other similarproductions. These pernicious periodicals having been shown around, thetrain-boy evidently becomes convinced that mental culture requires fromhim no further effort; he relinquishes that portion of his labour anddevotes all his energies to the sale of the bodily nourishment,consisting of oranges and peaches, according to season, of a very sicklyand uninviting description; these he follows with sugar in variouspreparations of stickiness, supplementing the whole with pea-nuts andcrackers. In the end he becomes without any doubt a terrible nuisance;one conceives a mortal hatred for this precocious pedlar who with hisvile compounds is ever bent upon forcing you to purchase his wares. Hegets, he will tell you, a percentage on his sales of ten cents in thedollar; if you are going a long journey, he will calculate to sell you adollar's worth of his stock. You are therefore worth to him ten cents.Now you cannot do better in his first round of high moral literature thanpresent him at once with this ten cents, stipulating that on no accountis he to invite your attention, press you to buy, or offer you any candy,condiment, or book during the remainder of the journey. If you do thisyou will get out of the train-boy at a reasonable rate.

Going to sleep as the train works its way slowly up the grades which leadto the higher level of the State of Iowa from the waters of Mississippione sinks into a state of dim consciousness of all that is going on inthe long carriage. The whistle of the locomotive--which, by the way, isvery much more melodious than the one in use in England, being softer,deeper, and reaching to a greater distance-the roll of the train intostations, the stop and the start, all become, as it were, blended intouneasy sleep, until daylight sets the darkey at his work of making up thesections. When the sun rose we were well into Minnesota, the-mostnorthern of the Union States. Around on every side stretched the greatwheat lands of the North-west, that region whose farthest limits lie farwithin the territories where yet the red man holds his own. Here, in thesouth of Minnesota, one is only on the verge of that great wheat region.Far beyond the northern limit of the state it stretches away intolatitudes unknown, save to the fur trader and the red man, latitudeswhich, if you tire not on the road, good reader, you and I may journeyinto together.

The City of St. Paul, capital and chief town of the State of Minnesota,gives promise of rising to a very high position among the great tradecentres of America. It stands almost at the head of the navigation of theMississippi River, about 2050 miles from New Orleans; not that the greatriver has its beginning here or in the vicinity, its cradle lies far tothe north, 700 miles along the stream. But the Falls of St. Anthony, afew miles above St. Paul, interrupt all navigation, and the course of theriver for a considerable distance above the fall is full of rapids andobstructions. Immediately above and below St. Paul the Mississippi Riverreceives several large tributary streams from north-east and north west;the St. Peter's or Minnesota River coming from near the Coteau of theMissouri, and the St. Croix unwatering the great tract of pine land whichlies West of Lake Superior; but it is not alone to water communicationthat St. Paul owes its commercial importance. With the same restlessenergy of the Northern American, its leading men have looked far into thefuture, and shaped their course for later times; railroads are stretchingout in every direction to pierce the solitude of the yet uninhabitedprairies and pine forests of the North. There is probably no part of theworld in which the inhabitants are so unhealthy as in America; but thelife is more trying than the climate, the constant use of spirit taken"straight," the incessant chewing of tobacco with its disgustingaccompaniment, the want of healthier exercise, the habit of eating in ahurry, all tend to cut short the term of man's life in the New World.'Nowhere have I seen so many young wrecks. "Yes, sir, we live fast here,"said a general officer to me one day on the Missouri; "And we die fasttoo," echoed a major from another part of the room. As a matter ofcourse, places possessing salubrious climates are crowded with pallidseekers after health, and as St. Paul enjoys a dry and bracing atmospherefrom its great elevation above the sea level, as well as from the purityof the surrounding prairies, its hotels--and they are many--are crowdedwith the broken wrecks of half the Eastern states; some find what theyseek, but the majority come to Minnesota only to die.

Business connected with the supply of the troops during the coming winterin Red River, detained me for some weeks in Minnesota, and as theletters which I had despatched upon my arrival giving the necessaryparticulars regarding the proposed arrangements, required at least a weekto obtain replies to, I determined to visit in the interim the shores ofLake Superior. Here I would glean what tidings I could of the progress ofthe Expedition, from whose base at Fort William, I would be only 100miles distant, as well as examine the% chances of Fenian intervention, somuch talked of in the American newspapers, as likely to place in perilthe flank of the expeditionary force as it followed the devious track ofswamp and forest which has on one side Minnesota, and on the other theCanadian Dominion.

Since my departure from Canada the weather had been intensely warm:pleasant in Detroit, warm in Chicago, hot in Milwaukie, and sweltering,blazing in St. Paul, would have aptly described the temperature, althoughthe last named city is some hundred miles more to the north than thefirst. But latitude is no criterion of summer heat in America, and theshort Arctic summer of the Mackenzie River knows often a fiercer heatthan the swamp lands of the Carolinas. So, putting together a very lightfield-kit, I started early one morning from St. Paul for the new town ofDuluth, on the extreme westerly end of Lake Superior.

Duluth, I was told, was the very newest of new towns, in fact it only hadan existence of eighteen months; as may be inferred, it had no past, butany want in that respect was compensated for in its marvellous future. Itwas to be the great grain emporium of the North-west; it was to kill St.Paul, Milwaukie, Chicago, and half-a-dozen other thriving towns; itsmurderous propensities seemed to have no bounds; lots were alreadyselling at fabulous prices, and everybody seemed to have Duluth in someshape or other on the brain. To reach this paradise of the future I hadto travel 100 miles by the Superior and Mississippi railroad, to ahalting-place known as the End of the Track-a name which gave a veryaccurate idea of its whereabouts and general capabilities. The line was,in fact, in course of formation, and was being rapidly pushed forwardfrom both ends with a view to its being opened through by the 1st day ofAugust. About forty miles north-east of St. Paul we entered the region ofpine forest. At intervals of ten or twelve miles the train stopped atplaces bearing high-sounding titles, such as Rush City, Pine City; butupon examination one looked in vain for any realization of these names,pines and rushes certainly were plentiful enough, but the city part ofthe arrangement was nowhere visible. Upon asking a fellow-passenger forsome explanation of the phenomena, he answered, "Guess there was a cityhereaway last year, but it busted up or gone on." Travellers unacquaintedwith the vernacular of America might have conjured up visions of acatastrophe not less terrible than that of Pompeii or Herculaneum, butan earlier acquaintance of Western cities had years before taught me tocomprehend such phrases. In the autumn of 1867 I had visited the prairiesof Nebraska, along the banks of the Platte River. Buffalo were numerouson the sandy plains which form the hunting-grounds of the Shienne andArapahoe Indians, and amongst the vast herds the bright October dayspassed quickly enough. One day, in company with an American officer, wewere following, as usual, a herd of buffalo, when we came upon a townstanding silent and deserted in the middle the Trairie. "That," said theAmerican, "is Kearney City; it did a good trade in the old wagon times,but it busted up when the railroad went on farther west; the people movedon to North Platte and Julesburg--guess there's only one man left in itnow, and he's got snakes in his boots the hull season." Marvelling whatmanner of man this might be who dwelt alone in the silent city, we rodeon. One house showed some traces of occupation, and in this house dweltthe man. We had passed through the deserted grass-grown street, and wereagain on the prairie, when a shot rang out behind us, the bullet cuttingup the dust away to the left. "By G---- he's on the shoot," cried ourfriend; "ride, boys!" and so we rode. Much has been written and said ofcities old and new, of Aztec and Peruvian monuments, but I venture tooffer to the attention of the future historian of America this sample ofthe busted up city of Kearney and its solitary indweller, who had snakesin his boots and was on the shoot.

After that explanation of a "busted-up" and "gone-on" city, I was ofcourse sufficiently well "posted" not to require further explanation asto the fate of Pine and Rush Cities; but had I entertained any doubtsupon the subject, the final stoppage of the train at Moose Lake, or City,would have effectually dispelled them. For there stood the portions ofRush and Pine Cities which had not "bust up," but had simply "goneon." Two shanties, with a few outlying sheds, stood on either side of thetrack, which here crossed a clear running forest stream. Passengercommunication ended at this point; the rails were laid down for adistance of eight miles farther, but only the "construction train," withsupplies, men, etc. proceeded to that point. Track-laying was going on atthe rate of three miles a day, I was informed, and the line would soon beopened to the Dalles of the St. Louis River, near the hecad of LakeSuperior. The heat all day had been very great, and it was refreshing toget out of the dusty car, even though the shanties, in which eating,drinking, and sleeping were supposed to be carried on, were of the verylowest description. I had made the acquaintance of the express agent, agentleman connected with the baggage department of the train, and duringthe journey he had taken me somewhat into his confidence on the matter ofthe lodging and entertainment which were to be found in the shanties."The food ain't bad," he said, "but that there shanty of Tom's lickscreation for bugs." This terse and forcibly expressed opinion made meselect the interior of a wagon, and some fresh hay, as a place of rest,where, in spite of vast numbers of mosquitoes, I slept the sleep of theweary.

The construction train started from Moose City at six o'clock a.m., andas the stage, which was supposed to connect with the passenger train andcarry forward its human freight to Superior City was filled tooverflowing, I determined to take advantage of the construction train,and travel on it as far as it would take me. A very motley group oflumberers, navvies, and speculators assembled for breakfast at fiveo'clock a.m. at Tom's table, and although I cannot quite confirm thefavourable opinion of my friend the express agent as to the quality ofthe viands which graced it, I can at least testify to the vigour withwhich the "guests" disposed of the pork and beans, the molasses anddried apples which Tom, with foul fingers, had set before them. Seated onthe floor of a waggon in the construction train, in the midst of navviesof all countries and ages, I reached the end of the track while themorning sun was yet low in the east. I had struck up a kind ofpartnership for the journey with a pedlar Jew and an Ohio man, both goingto Duluth, and as we had a march of eighteen miles to get throughbetween the end of the track and the town of Fond-du-Lac, it becamenecessary to push on before the sun had reached his midday level; so,shouldering our baggage, we left the busy scene of track-laying andstruck out along the graded line for the Dalles of the St. Louis. Up tothis point the line had been fully levelled, and the walking was easyenough, but when the much-talked of Dalles were reached a completechange took place, and the toil became excessive. The St. Louis River,which in reality forms the headwater of the great St. Lawrence, has itssource in the dividing ridge between Minnesota and the British territory.From these rugged Laurentian ridges it foams down in an impetuous torrentthrough wild pine-clad steeps of rock and towering precipice, apparentlyto force an outlet into the valley of the Mississippi, but at the Dallesit seems to have suddenly preferred to seek the cold waters of theAtlantic, and, bending its course abruptly to the east, it pours itsfoaming torrent into the great Lake Superior below the old Frenchtrading-post of Fond-du-Lac. The load which I carried was not of itself aheavy one, but its weight became intolerable under the rapidly increasingheat of the sun and from the toilsome nature of the road. The deep narrowgorges over which the railway was to be carried were yet unbridged, andwe had to let ourselves down the steep yielding embankment to a depth ofover 100 feet, and then clamber up the other side almost upon hands andknees-this under a sun that beat down between the hills with terribleintensity on the yellow sand of the railway cuttings! The Ohio mancarried no baggage, but the Jew was heavily laden, and soon fell behind.For a time I kept pace with my light companion; but soon I too wasobliged to lag, and about midday found myself alone in the solitudes ofthe Dalles. At last there came a gorge deeper and steeper than any thingthat had preceded it, and I was forced to rest long before attempting itsalmost perpendicular ascent. When I did reach the top, it was to findmyself thoroughly done up--the sun came down on the side of theembankment as though it would burn the sandy soil into ashes, not abreath of air moved through the silent hills, not a leaf stirred in theforest. My load was more than I could bear, and again I had to lie downto avoid falling down. Only once before had I experienced a similarsensation of choking, and that was in toiling through a Burmese swamp,snipe-shooting under a midday sun. How near that was to sun-stroke, Ican't say; but I don't think it could be very far. After a little time, Isaw, some distance down below, smoke rising from a shanty. I made my waywith no small difficulty to the door, and found the place full of sometwenty or more rough-bearded looking men sitting down to dinner.

"About played out, I guess?" said one. "Wall, that sun is h--; any how,come in and have a bit. Have a drink of tea or some vinegar and water."

They filled me out a literal dish of tea, black and boiling; and Idrained the tin with a feeling of relief such as one seldom knows. Theplace was lined round with bunks like the forecastle of a ship. After atime I rose to depart and asked the man who acted as cook how much therewas to pay.

"Not a cent, stranger;" and so I left my rough hospitable friends, and,gaining the railroad, lay down to rest until the fiery sun had got lowerin the west. The remainder of the road was thronged with gangs of men atwork along it, bridging, blasting, building, and levelling--strongable-bodied fellows fit for any thing. Each gang was under thesuperintendence of a railroad "boss," and all seemed to be working well.But then two dollars a head per diem will make men work well even undersuch a sun.

CHAPTER FIVE.

Lake Superior--The Dalles of the St. Louis--The North PacificRailroad--Fond-du-Lac-Duluth--Superior City--The Great Lake--A Plan todry up Niagara--Stage Driving--Tom's Shanty again--St. Paul and itsNeighbourhood.

ALMOST in the centre of the Dalles I passed the spot where the NorthernPacific Railroad had on that day turned its first sod, commencing itslong course across the continent. This North Pacific Railroad is destinedto play a great part in the future history of the United States; it isthe second great link which is to bind together the Atlantic and PacificStates (before twenty years there will be many others). From Puget Soundon the Pacific to Duluth on Lake Superior is about 2200 miles, and acrossthis distance the North Pacific Railroad is to run. The immense plains ofDakota, the grassy uplands of Montana and Washington, and the centre ofthe State of Minnesota will behold ere long this iron road of the NorthPacific Company piercing their lonely wilds. "Red Cloud" and "BlackEagle" and "Standing Buffalo" may gather their braves beyond the Coteauto battle against this steam-horse which scares their bison from hisfavourite breeding grounds on the scant pastures of the great Missouriplateau; but all their efforts will be in vain, the dollar will beat themout. Poor Red Cloud! in spite of thy towering form and mighty strength,the dollar is mightier still, and the fiat has gone forth before whichthou and thy braves must pass away from the land! Very tired and covereddeep with the dust of railroad cuttings, I reached the collection ofscattered houses which bears the name of Fond-du Lac. Upon inquiring atthe first house which I came to as to the whereabouts of the hotel, I wasinformed by a sour-visaged old female, that if I wanted to drink and getdrunk, I must go farther on; but that if I wished to behave in a quietand respectable manner, and could live %without liquor, I could stay inher house, which was at once post office, Temperance Hotel, and veryrespectable. Being weary and footsore, I. did not feel disposed to seekfarther, for the place looked clean, the river was close at hand, and thewhole aspect of the scene was suggestive of rest. In the evening hoursmyriads of mosquitoes and flying things of minutest size came forth fromthe wooded hills and did their best towards making life a misery; so badwere they that I welcomed a passing navvy who dropped in as a realgodsend.

"You're come up to look after work on this North Pacific Railroad, Iguess?" he commenced-he was a Southern Irish man, but "guessed" all thesame--"well, now, look here, the North Pacific Railroad will never belike the U.P. (Union Pacific) I worked there, and I know what it was; itwas bully, I can tell you. A chap lay in his bunk all day and got twodollars and a half for doing it; ay, and bit the boss on the head withhis shovel if the boss gave him any d---- chat. No, sirree, the NorthPacific will never be like that."

I could not help thinking that it was perhaps quite as well for the NorthPacific Railroad Company and the boss if they never were destined torival the Union Pacific Company as pictured by my companion; but I didnot attempt to say so, as it might have come under the heading of"d---- chat," worthy only of being replied to by that convincing argument,the shovel.

A good night's sleep and a swim in the St. Louis river banished all traceof toil. I left Fond-du-Lac early in the afternoon, and, descending by asmall steamer the many-winding St. Louis River, soon came in sight of thetown of Duluth. The heat had become excessive; the Bay of St. Louis, shutin on all sides by lofty hills, lay under a mingled mass of thunder-cloudand sunshine; far out in Lake Superior vivid lightnings flashed over thegloomy water and long rolls of thunder shook the hills around. On boardour little steamboat the atmosphere was stifling, and could not have beenshort of 100 degrees in the coolest place (it was 93 at six o'clock sameevening in the hotel at Duluth); there was nothing for it but to liequietly on a wooden bench and listen to the loud talking of somefellow-passengers. Three of the hardest of hard cases were engaged in themental recreation of "'swapping lies;" their respective exchangesconsisting on this occasion of feats of stealing; the experiences of oneI recollect in particular. He had stolen an axe from a man on the NorthPacific Railroad and a few days later sold him the same article. ThisPiece of knavery was received as the acme of cuteness; and I wellrecollect the language in which the brute wound up his self-laudations:"If any chap can steal faster than me, let him."

As we emerged from the last bend of the river and stood across the Bay ofSt. Louis, Duluth, in all its barrenness, stood before us. The futurecapital of the Lakes, the great central port of the continent, the townwhose wharves were to be laden with the teas of China and the silks ofJapan stood out on the rocky north shore of Lake Superior, the sorriestspectacle of city that eye of man could look upon-wooden houses scatteredat intervals along a steep ridge from which the forest had been onlypartially cleared, houses of the smallest possible limits growing out ofa reedy marsh, which lay between lake and ridge, tree-stumps and lumberstanding in street and landing-place, the swamps croaking with bull-frogsand passable only by crazy looking planks of tilting proclivities--overall, a sun fit for a Carnatic coolie, and around, a forest vegetation inwhose heart the memory of Arctic winter rigour seemed to live for ever.Still, in spite of rock and swamp and icy winter, Yankee energy willtriumph here as it has triumphed else where over kindred difficulties.

"There's got to be a Boss City hereaway on this end of the lake," saidthe captain of the little boat; and though he spoke with much labour ofimprecation, both needless then and now, taking what might be termed acursory view of the situation, he summed up the prospects of Duluthconclusively and clearly enough.

I cannot say I enjoyed a stay of two days in Duluth. Several new saloons(name for dram-shops, gaming-houses, and generally questionable places)were being opened for the first time to the public, and free drinks wereconsequently the rule. Now "free drinks" have generally a demoralizingtendency upon a community, but taken in connexion with a temperature of98 degrees in the shade, they quickly develop into free revolvers andfreer bowie-knives. Besides, the spirit of speculation was rampant in thehotel, and so many men had corner lots, dock locations, pine forests, andpre-empted lands to sell me, that nothing but flight prevented mybecoming a large holder of all manner of Duluth securities upon termsthat, upon the clearest showing, would have been ridiculously favourableto me. The principal object of my visit to Duluth was to discover if anysettlement existed at the Vermilion Lakes, eighty miles to the north andnot far from the track of the Expedition, a place which had been named tothe military authorities in Canada as likely to form a base of attack forany filibusters who would be adventurous enough to make a dash at thecommunication of the expeditionary force. A report of the discovery ofgold and silver mines around the Vermilion Lakes had induced a rush ofminers there during the previous year; but the mines had all "bust up,"and the miners had been blown away to other regions, leaving the plantand fixtures of quartz-crushing machinery standing drearily in thewilderness. These facts I ascertained from the engineer, who hadconstructed a forest track from Duluth to the mines, and into whoseoffice I penetrated in quest of information. He, too, looked upon me as aspeculator.

"Don't mind them mines," he said, after I had questioned him on allpoints of distance and road; "don't touch them mines; they're clean goneup. The gold in them mines don't amount to a row of pines, and there'snot a man there now."

That evening there came a violent thunder-storm, which cleared and cooledthe atmosphere; between ten o'clock in the morning and three in theafternoon the thermometer fell 30 degrees. Lake Superior had asserted itsicy influence over the sun. Glad to get away from Duluth, I crossed thebay to Superior City, situated on the opposite, or Wisconsin shore of thelake. A curious formation of sand and shingle runs out from the shore ofDuluth, forming a long narrow spit of land projecting far into LakeSuperior. It bears the name of Minnesota Point, and has evidently beenformed by the opposing influence of the east wind over the great expanseof the lake, and the current of the St. Louis River from the West. It hasa length of seven miles, and is only a few yards in width. Close to theWisconsin shore a break occurs in this long narrow spit, and inside thisopening lies the harbour and city of Superior incomparably a bettersituation for a city and lake-port, level, sheltered, capacious; but,nevertheless, Superior City is doomed to delay, while eight miles off itsyoung rival is rapidly rushing to wealth. This anomaly is easilyexplained. Duluth is pushed forward by the capital of the State ofMinnesota, while the legislature of Wisconsin looks with jealous eye uponthe formation of a second lake-port city which might draw off to itselfthe trade of Milwaukie.

In course of time, however, Superior City must rise, in spite of allhostility, to the very prominent position to which its natural advantagesentitle it. I had not been many minutes in the hotel at Superior Citybefore the trying and unsought character of land speculator was againthrust upon me.

"Now, stranger," said a long-legged Yankee, who, with his boots on thestove---the day had got raw and cold--and his knees considerably higherthan his head, was gazing intently at me, "'I guess I've fixed you." Iwas taken aback by the sudden identification of my business, when hecontinued, "Yes, I've just fixed you. You air a Kanady speculator, ain'tye?" Not deeming it altogether wise to deny the correct ness of hisfixing, I replied I had lived in Kanady for some time, but that I was notgoing to begin speculation until I had knocked round a little. Aninvitation to liquor soon followed. The disagreeable consequenceresulting from this admission soon became apparent. I was much pesteredtowards evening by offers of investment in things varying from asand-hill to a city-square, or what would infallibly in course of timedevelop into a city-square. A gentleman rejoicing in the name of VosePalmer insisted upon inter viewing me until a protracted hour of the night,with a view towards my investing in straight drinks for him at the bar andin an extensive pine forest for myself some where on the north shore ofLake Superior. I have no doubt the pine forest is still in the market; andshould any enterprising capitalist in this country feel disposed to enterinto partnership on a basis of bearing all expenses himself, giving onlythe profits to his partner, he will find "Vose Palmer, Superior City,Wisconsin, United States," ever ready to attend to him.

Before turning our steps westward from this inland ocean of Superior, itwill be well to pause a moment on its shore and look out over its bosom.It is worth looking at, for the world possesses not its equal. FourHundred English miles in length, 50 miles across it, 600 feet aboveAtlantic level, 900 feet in depth-one vast spring of purest crystalwater, so cold, that during summer months its waters are like ice itself,and so clear, that hundreds of feet below the surface the rocks stand outas distinctly as though seen through plate-glass. Follow in fancy theoutpourings of this wonderful basin; seek its future course in Huron,Erie, and Ontario, in that wild leap from the rocky ledge which makesNiagara famous through the world. Seek it farther still, in the quietloveliness of the Thousand Isles; in the whirl and sweep of the CedarRapids; in the silent rush of the great current under the rocks at thefoot of Quebec. Ay, and even farther away still, down where the loneLaurentian Hills come forth to look again upon that water whose earliestbeginnings they cradled along the shores of Lake Superior. There, closeto the sounding billows of the Atlantic, 2000 miles from Superior, thesehills--the only ones that ever last-guard the great gate by which the St.Lawrence seeks the sea.

There are rivers whose current, running red with the silt and mud oftheir soft alluvial shores, carry far into the ocean the record of theirmuddy progress; but this glorious river system, through its many lakesand various names, is ever the same crystal current, flowing pure fromthe fountain-head of Lake Superior. Great cities stud its shores; butthey are powerless to dim the transparency of its waters. Steamshipscover the broad bosom of its lakes and estuaries; but they change not thebeauty of the water-no more than the fleets of the world mark the wavesof the ocean. Any person looking at the map's of the region bounding thegreat lakes of North America will be struck by the absence of riversflowing into Lakes Superior, Michigan, or Huron from the south; in fact,the drainage of the states bordering these lakes on the south isaltogether carried off by the valley of the Mississippi-it follows thatthis valley of Mississippi is at a much lower level than the surface ofthe lakes. These lakes, containing an area of some 73,000 square miles,are therefore an immense reservoir held high over the level of the greatMississippi valley, from which they are separated by a barrier of slightelevation and extent.

It is not many years ago since an enterprising Yankee proposed toannihilate Canada, dry up Niagara, and "fix British creation" generally,by diverting the current of Lake Erie, through a deep canal, into theOhio River; but should nature, in one of her freaks of earthquake, evercause a disruption to this intervening barrier on the southern shores ofthe great northern lakes, the drying up of Niagara, the annihilation ofCanada, and the divers disasters to British power, will in allprobability be followed by the submersion of half of the Mississippistates under the waters of these inland seas.

On the 26th June I quitted the shores of Lake Superior and made my wayback to Moose Lake. Without any exception, the road thither was the veryworst I had ever travelled over--four horses essayed to drag a stage-waggonover, or rather, I should say, through, a track of mud and rutsimpossible to picture. The stage fare amounted to $6, or 4s. for 34miles. An extra dollar reserved the box-seat and gave me the doubleadvantage of knowing what was coming in the rut line and taking anotherlesson in the idiom of the American stage-driver. This idiom consists ofthe smallest possible amount of dictionary words, a few Scriptural namesrather irreverently used, a very large intermixture of "git-ups" andejacul*tory "his," and a general tendency to blasphemy all round. Wereached Tom's shanty at dusk. As before, it was crowded to excess, andthe memory of the express man's warning was still sufficiently strong tomake me prefer the forest to "bunking in" with the motley assemblage; acouple of Eastern Americans shared with me the little camp. We made afire, laid some boards on the ground, spread a blanket upon them, pulledthe "mosquito bars" over our heads, and lay down to attempt to sleep. Itwas a vain effort; mosquitoes came out in myriads, little atoms of gnatspenetrated through the netting of the "bars," and rendered rest or sleepimpossible. At last, when the gnats seemed disposed to retire, twoGermans came along, and, seeing our fire, commenced stumbling about ourboards. To be roused at two o'clock a.m., when one is just sinking intoobliviousness after four hours of useless struggle with unseen enemies,is provoking enough, but to be roused under such circ*mstances by Germansis simply unbearable.

At last daylight came. A bathe in the creek, despite the clouds ofmosquitoes, freshened one up a little and made Tom's terrible table seeless repulsive. Then came a long hot day in the dusty cars, until atlength St. Paul was reached.

I remained at St. Paul some twelve days, detained there from day to dayawaiting the arrival of letters from Canada relative to the future supplyof the Expedition. This delay was at the time most irksome, as I toofrequently pictured the troops pushing on towards Fort Garry while I wasdetained inactive in Minnesota; but one morning the American papers cameout with news that the expeditionary forces had met with much delay intheir first move from Thunder Bay; the road over which it was necessaryfor them to transport their boats, munitions, and supplies for a distanceof forty-four miles from Superior to Lake Shebandowan was utterlyimpracticable, portions of it, indeed, had still to be made, bridges tobe built, swamps to be corduroyed, and thus at the very outset of theExpedition a long delay became necessary. Of course, the American pressheld high jubilee over this check, which was represented as only thebeginning of the end of a series of disasters. The British Expedition wasnever destined to reach Red River--swamps would entrap it, rapids wouldengulf it; and if, in spite of these obstacles, some few men did succeedin piercing the rugged wilderness, the trusty rifle of the Metis wouldsoon annihilate the presumptive intruders. Such was the news and suchwere the comments I had to read day after day, as I anxiously scanned thecolumns of the newspapers for intelligence. Nor were these comments onthe Expedition confined to prophecy of its failure from the swamps andrapids of the route: Fenian aid was largely spoken of by one portion ofthe press. Arms and ammunition, and hands to use them, were being pushedtowards St. Cloud and the Red River to aid the free sons of theNorth-west to follow out their manifest destiny, which, of course, wasannexation to the United States. But although these items made reading amatter of no pleasant description, there were other things to be done inthe good city of St. Paul not without their special interest. The Fallsof the Mississippi at St. Anthony, and the lovely little Fall ofMinnehaha, lay only some seven miles distant. Minnehaha is a perfectlittle beauty; its bright sparkling waters, forming innumerable fleecythreads! of silk-like wavelets, seem to laugh over the rocky edge; solight and so lace-like is the curtain, that the sunlight streamingthrough looks like a lovely bride through some rich bridal veil. TheFalls of St. Anthony are neither grand nor beautiful, and are utterlydisfigured by the various sawmills that surround them.

The hotel in which I lodged at St. Paul was a very favourable specimenof the American hostelry; its proprietor was, of course, a colonel, so itmay be presumed that he kept his company in excellent order. I had butfew acquaintances in St. Paul, and had little to do besides studyAmerican character as displayed in dining-room, lounging-hall, andverandah, during the hot fine days; but when the hour of sunset came itwas my wont to ascend to the roof of the building to look at the gloriouspanorama spread out before me-for sunset in America is of itself a sightof rare beauty, and the valley of the Mississippi never appeared tobetter advantage than when the rich hues of the western sun were gildingthe steep ridges that over hang it.

CHAPTER SIX.

Our Cousins--Doing America--Two Lessons--St. Cloud--Sauk Rapids--"SteamPudding or Pumpkin Pie?"--Trotting him out--Away for the Red River.

ENGLISHMEN who visit America take away with them two widely differentsets of opinions. In most instances they have rushed through the land,note-book in hand, recording impressions and eliciting information. Thevisit is too frequently a first and a last one; the thirty-seven statesare run over in thirty-seven days; then out comes the book, and the greatquestion of America, socially and politically considered, is sealed forevermore. Now, if these gentlemen would only recollect that impressions,which are thus hastily collected must of necessity share theimperfection of all things done in a hurry, they would not record thesehurriedly gleaned facts with such an appearance of infallibility, or,rather, they might be induced to try a second rush across the Atlanticbefore attempting that first rush into print. Let them remember that eventhe genius of Dickens was not proof against such error, and that asubsequent visit to the States caused no small amount of alteration inhis impressions of America. This second visit should be a rule with everyman who wishes to read aright, for his own benefit, or for that ofothers, the great book which America holds open to the traveller. Aboveall, the English traveller who enters the United States with a portfoliofilled with letters of introduction will generally prove the mostuntrustworthy guide to those who follow him for information. He willtravel from city to city, finding everywhere lavish hospitality andboundless kindness; at every hotel he will be introduced to several of"our leading citizens;" newspapers will report his progress,general-superintendents of railroads will pester him with free passesover half the lines in the Union; and he will take his departure from NewYork after a dinner at Delmonico's, the cartes of which will cost adollar each. The chances are extremely probable that his book will beabout as fair a representation of American social and politicalinstitutions as his dinner at Delmonico's would justly represent theordinary cuisine throughout the Western States.

Having been fêted and free-passed through the Union, he of course comesaway delighted with everything. If he is what is called a Liberal inpolitics, his political bias still further strengthens his favourableimpressions of democracy and Delmonico; if he is a rigid Conservative,democracy loses half its terrors when it is seen across theAtlantic--just as widow-burning or Juggernaut are institutions much bettersuited to Bengal than they would be to Berkshire. Of course Canada andthings Canadian are utterly beneath the notice of our traveller. He may,however, introduce them casually with reference to Niagara, which has aCanadian shore, or Quebec, which possesses a fine view; for the rest,America, past, present, and to come, is to be studied in New York,Boston, Cincinnati, St. Louis, and half a dozen other big places, and,with Niagara, Salt Lake City and San Francisco thrown in for sceniceffect, the whole thing is complete. Salt Lake City is peculiarlyvaluable to the traveller, as it affords him much subject-matter forquestionable writing. It might be well to recollect, however, that therereally exists no necessity for crossing the Atlantic and travelling asfar west as Utah in order to compose questionable books uponunquestionable subjects; similar materials in vast quantities exist muchnearer home, and Pimlico and St. John's Wood will be found quite asprolific in "Spiritual Wives" and "Gothic" affinities as any creek orlake in the Western wilderness. Neither is it to be wondered at that somany travellers carry away with them a fixed idea that our cousins arecousins in heart as well as in relationship-the friendship is of theDelmonico type too. Those speeches made to the departing guest, thosePledges of brotherhood over the champagne glass, this "old lang syne"with hands held in Scotch fashion, all these are not worth much in themarkets of brotherhood. You will be told that the hostility of theinhabitants of the United States towards England is confined to oneclass, and that class, though numerically large, is politicallyinsignificant. Do not believe it for one instant: the hostility toEngland is universal; it is more deep rooted than any other feeling; itis an instinct and not a reason, and consequently possesses the doggedstrength of unreasoning antipathy. I tell you, Mr. Bull, that were youpitted to-morrow against a race that had not one idea in kindred withyour own, were you fighting a deadly struggle against a despotism themost galling on earth, were you engaged with an enemy whose grip wasaround your neck and whose foot was on your chest, that English-speakingcousin of yours over the Atlantic whose language is your language, whoseliterature is your literature, whose civil code is begotten from yourdigests of law would stir no hand, no foot, to save you, would gloatover your agony, would keep the ring while you were, being knocked out ofall semblance of nation and power, and would not be very far distant whenthe moment came to hold a feast of eagles over your vast disjointedlimbs. Make no mistake in this matter, and be not blinded by ties ofkindred or belief. You imagine that because he is your cousin-sometimeseven your very son-that he cannot hate you, and you nurse yourself in thebelief that in a moment of peril the stars and stripes would flyalongside the old red cross. Listen one moment; we cannot go five milesthrough any State in the American Union without coming upon a squaresubstantial building in which children are being taught one universallesson-the history of how, through long years of blood and strife, theircountry came forth a nation from the bungling tyranny of Britain. Untilfive short years ago that was the one bit of history that went home tothe heart of Young America, that Was the lesson your cousin learned, andstill learns, in spite of later conflicts. Let us see what was the lessonyour son had laid to heart. Well, your son learned his lesson, not frombooks, for too often he could not read, but he learned it in a mannerwhich perhaps stamps it deeper into the mind than even letter-press orschoolmaster. He left you because you would not keep him, because youpreferred grouse-moors and deer-forests in Scotland, or meadows andsheep-walks in Ireland to him or his. He did not leave you as one or twofrom a household--as one who would go away and establish a branchconnexion across the ocean; he went away by families, by clans, by kithand kin, for ever and for aye and he went away with hate in his heart anddark thoughts towards you who should have been his mother. It matterslittle that he has bettered himself and grown rich in the new land; thatis his affair; so far as you were concerned, it was about even bettingwhether he went to the bottom of the Atlantic or to the top of thesocial tree-so, I say, to close this subject, that son and cousin owe youand give you, scant and feeblest love. You will find themn the firmfriend of the Russian, because that Russian is likely to become yourenemy in Herat, in Cabool, in Kashgar, or in Constantinople; you willfind him the ally of the Prussian whenever Kaiser William, after thefashion of his tribe, orders his legions to obliterate the line betweenHolland and Germany, taking hold of that metaphorical pistol which youspent so many millions-to turn from your throat in the days of the firstNapoleon. Nay, even should any woman-killing Sepoy put you to sorestrait by indiscriminate and ruthless slaughter, he will be your cousin'sfriend, for the simple reason that he is your enemy.

But a study of American habits and opinions, however interesting initself, was not calculated to facilitate in any way the solving of theproblem which now beset me, namely, the further progress of my journey tothe Northwest. The accounts which I daily received were not encouraging.Sometimes there came news that M. Riel had grown tired of hispre-eminence and was anxious to lay down his authority; at other times Iheard of preparation made and making to oppose the Expedition by force,and of strict watch being maintained along the Pembina frontier to arrestand turn back all persons except such as were friendly to the ProvisionalGovernment.

Nor was my own position in St. Paul at all a pleasant one. The inquiriesI had to make on subjects connected with the supply of the troops in RedRiver had made so many persons acquainted with my identity, that it soonbecame known that there was a British officer in the place--a knowledgewhich did not tend in any manner to make the days pleasant in themselvesnor hopeful in the anticipation of a successful prosecution of my journeyin the time to come. About the first week in July I left St. Paul forSt. Cloud, seventy miles higher up on the Mississippi, having decided towait no longer'` for instructions, but to trust to chance for furtherprogress towards the North-west. "You will meet with no obstacle at thisside of the line," said an American gentleman who was acquainted with theobject of my journey, "but I won't answer for the other side;" and so,not knowing exactly how I was to get through to join the Expedition, but'determined to try it some way or other, I set out for Sauk Rapids and St.Cloud. Sauk Rapids, on the Mississippi River, is a city which has neitherburst up nor gone on. It has thought fit to remain, without monument ofany kind, where it originally located itself-on the left bank of theMississippi, opposite the confluence of the Sauk River with the "Fatherof Waters." It takes its name partly from the Sauk River and partly fromthe rapids of the Mississippi which lie abreast of the town. Like manyother cities, it had nourished feelings of the most deadly enmity.against its neighbours, and was to "kill creation" on every side; butthese ideas of animosity have decreased considerably in lapse of time: Ofcourse it possessed a newspaper--I believe it also possessed a church,but I did not see that edifice; the paper, however, I did see, and wasmuch struck by the fact that the greater portion of the first page--thepaper had only two-was taken up with a pictorial delineation of whatSauk Rapids would attain to in the future, when it had sufficientlydeveloped its immense water-power; In the mean time previous to thedevelopment of said water-power-Sauk Rapids was not a bad sort of place:a bath at an hotel in St. Paul was a more expensive luxury than a dinner;but the Mississippi flowing by the door of the hotel at Sauk Rapidspermitted free bathing in its waters. Any traveller in the United Stateswill fully appreciate this condescension on the part of the great river.If a man wishes to be clean, he has to pay highly for the luxury. Thebaths which exist in the hotels are evidently meant for very rare andimportant occasions.

"I would like," said an American gentleman to a friend of mine travellingby railway, "I would like to show % you round our city, and I will callfor you at the hotel."

"Thank you," replied my friend; "I have only to take a bath, and will beready in half an hour."

"Take a bath!" answered the American; "why, you ain't sick, air you?"

There are not many commandments strictly adhered to in the UnitedStates; but had there ever existed a "Thou shalt not tub," the implicitobedience rendered to it would have been delightful, but perhaps, in thatcase, every American would have been a Diogenes.

The Russell House at Sauk Rapids was presided over by Dr. Chase.According to his card, Dr. Chase conferred more benefactions upon thehuman race for the very smallest remuneration than any man living. Hishotel was situated in the loveliest portion of Minnesota, commanding themagnificent rapids of the Mississippi; his board and lodging were of thechoicest description; horses and buggies were free, gratis, and medicalattendance was also uncharged for. Finally, the card intimated that, uponturning over, still more astonishing revelations would meet the eye ofthe reader. Prepared for some terrible instance of humane abnegation onthe part of Dr. Chase, I proceeded to do, as directed, and, turning overthe card, read, "Present of a $500 greenback"!!! The gift of the greenback was attended with some little drawback, inasmuch as it wasconditional upon paying to Dr. Chase the sum of $20,000 for the goodwill,etc., of his hotel, farm, and appurtenances, or procuring a purchaser forthem at that figure, which was, as a matter of course, a ridiculously lowone. Two damsels who assisted Dr. Chase in ministering to the wants ofhis guests at dinner had a very appalling manner of presenting to thefrightened feeder his choice of viands. The solemn silence which usuallypervades the dinner-table of an American hotel was nowhere moreobservable than in this Doctor's establishment; whether it was from thefact that each guest suffered under a painful knowledge of the superhumanefforts which the Doctor was making for his or her benefit, I cannot say;but I never witnessed the proverbially frightened appearance of theAmerican people at meals to such a degree as at the dinner-table of theSauk Hotel. When the damsels before alluded to commenced theirperegrinations round the table, giving in terribly terse language thechoice of meats, the solemnity of the proceeding could not have beenexceeded. "Pork or beef?" "Pork," would answer the trembling feeder;"Beef or pork?" "Beef," would again reply the guest, grasping eagerly atthe first name which struck upon his ear. But when the second course cameround the damsels presented us with a choice of a very mysterious natureindeed. I dimly heard two names being uttered into the ears of myfellow-eaters, and I just had time to notice the paralyzing effect whichthe communication appeared to have upon them, when presently over my ownshoulder I heard the mystic sound-I regret to say that at first thesesounds entirely failed to present to my mind any idea of food orsustenance of known description, I therefore begged for a repetition ofthe words; this time there was no mistake about it, "Steam-pudding orpumpkin-pie?" echoed the maiden, giving me the terrible alternative inher most cutting tones; "Both!" I ejacul*ted, with equal distinctness,but, I believe, audacity unparalleled since the times of Twist. Thefemale Bumble seemed to reel beneath the shock, and I noticed that aftercommunicating her experience to her fellow waiting-woman, I was notthought of much account for the remainder of the meal.

Upon the day of my arrival at Sauk Rapids I had let it be known prettywidely that I was ready to become the purchaser of a saddle-horse, if anyperson had such an animal to dispose of. In the three following days theamount of saddle-horses produced in the neighbourhood was perfectlyastonishing; indeed the fact of placing a saddle upon the back of anything possessing four legs seemed to constitute the required animal; evena German--a "Dutchman'" came along with a miserable thing in horseflesh,sand-cracked and spavined, for which he only asked the trifling sum of$100. Two livery stables in St. Cloud sent up their superannuatedstagers, and Dr. Chase had something to recommend of a very superiordescription. The end of it all was, that, declining to purchase any ofthe animals brought up for inspection, I found there was little chance ofbeing able to get over the 400 miles which lay between St. Cloud and FortGarry. It was now the 12th of July; I had reached the farthest limit ofrailroad communication, and before me lay 200 miles of partly settledcountry lying between the Mississippi and the Red River. It is true thata four-horse stage ran from St. Cloud to Fort Abercrombie on Red River,but that would only have conveyed me to about 300 miles distant from FortGarry, and over that last 300 miles I could see no prospect oftravelling. I had therefore determined upon procuring a horse and ridingthe entire way, and it was with this object that I had entered into theseinspections of horseflesh already mentioned. Matters were in thisunsatisfactory state on the 12th of July, when I was informed that thesolitary steamboat which plied upon the waters of the Red River was aboutto make a descent to Fort Garry, and that a week would elapse before shewould start from her moorings below Georgetown, a. station of the HudsonBay Company situated 250 miles from St. Cloud. This was indeed the bestof good news to me; I saw in it the long-looked-for chance of bridgingthis great stretch of 400 miles and reaching at last the Red RiverSettlement. I saw in it still more the prospect of joining at no verydistant time the expeditionary force itself, after I had run the gauntletof M. Riel and his associates, and although many obstacles yet remainedto be overcome, and distances vast and wild had to be covered before thathope could be realized, still the prospect of immediate movement overcameevery perspective difficulty; and glad indeed I was when from the top ofa well-horsed stage I saw the wooden houses of St. Cloud disappearbeneath the prairie behind me, and I bade good-bye for many a day to thevalley of the Mississippi,

CHAPTER SEVEN.

North Minnesota--A beautiful Land--Rival Savages-Abercrombie--News fromthe North-Plans--A Lonely Shanty--The Red River--Prairies--Sunset--Mosquitoes--Going North--A Mosquito Night--A Thunder-storm--A Prussian--Dakota--I ride for it--The Steamer "International"--Pembina.

The stage-coach takes three days to run from St. Cloud to FortAbercrombie, about 180 miles. The road was tolerably good, and manyportions of the country were very beautiful to look at. On the second dayone reaches the height of land between the Mississippi and Red Rivers, aregion abounding in clear crystal lakes of every size and shape, the oldhome of the great Sioux nation, the true Minnesota of their dreams.Minnesota ("sky-coloured water"), how aptly did it describe that homewhich was no longer theirs! They have left it for ever; the Norwegian andthe Swede now call it theirs, and nothing remains of the red man savethese sounding names of lake and river which long years ago he gave them.Along the margins of these lakes many comfortable dwellings nestleamongst oak openings and glades, and hill and valley are golden insummer with fields of wheat and corn, and little towns are springing upwhere twenty years ago the Sioux lodge-poles were the only signs ofhabitation; but one cannot look on this transformation without feeling,with Longfellow, the terrible surge of the white man, "whose breath, likethe blast of the east wind, drifts evermore to the west the scanty smokeof the wigwams." What savages, too, are they, the successors of the oldrace--savages! not less barbarous because they do not scalp, orwar-dance, or go out to meet the Ojibbeway in the woods or theAssineboine in the plains.

We had passed a beautiful sheet of water called Lake Osakis, and reachedanother lake not less lovely, the name of which I did not know.

"What is the name of this place?" I asked the driver who had stopped towater his horses.

"I don't know," he answered, lifting a bucket of water to his thirstysteeds; "some God-dam Italian name, I guess." This high rolling landwhich divides the waters flowing into the Gulf of Mexico from those ofHudson Bay lies at an elevation of 1600 feet above the sea level. It isrich in every thing that can make a country prosperous; and that portionof the "down-trodden millions," who "starve in the garrets of Europe,"and have made their homes along that height of land, have no reason toregret their choice.

On the evening of the second day we stopped for the night at the oldstockaded post of Pomme-de-Terre, not far from the Ottertail River. Theplace was foul beyond the power of words to paint it, but a "shake down"amidst the hay in a cow-house was far preferable to the society of manclose by.

At eleven o'clock on the following morning we reached and crossed theOttertail River, the main branch of the Red River, and I beheld with joythe stream upon whose banks, still many hundred miles distant, stood FortGarry. Later in the day, having passed the great level expanse known asThe Breckenridge Flats, the stage drew up at Fort Abercrombie, and I sawfor the first time the yellow, muddy waters of the Red River of theNorth. Mr. Nolan, express agent, stage agent, and hotel keeper in thetown of McAulyville, put me up for that night, and although the roomwhich I occupied was shared by no less than five other individuals, henevertheless most kindly provided me with a bed to myself. I can't saythat I enjoyed the diggings very much. A person lately returned from FortGarry detailed his experiences of that place and his interview with thePresident at some length. A large band of the Sioux Indians was ready tosupport the Dictator against all comers, and a vigilant watch wasmaintained upon the Pembina frontier for the purpose of excludingstrangers who might attempt to enter from the United States; andaltogether M. Riel was as securely established in Fort Garry as if therehad not existed a red-coat in the universe. As for the Expedition, itsfailure was looked upon as a foregone conclusion; nothing had been heardof it excepting a single rumour, and that was one of disaster. An Indiancoming from beyond Fort Francis, somewhere in the wilderness north ofLake Superior, had brought tidings to the Lake of the Woods, that fortyCanadian soldiers had already been lost in one of the boiling rapids ofthe route. "Not a man will get through!" was the general verdict ofsociety, as that body was represented at Mr. Nolan's hotel, and, truth'to say, society seemed elated at its verdict. All this, told to a roomfulof Americans, had no very exhilarating effect upon me as I sat, unknownand unnoticed, on my portmanteau, a stranger to every one. When our luckseems at its lowest there is only one thing to be done, and that is to goon and try again. Things certainly looked badly, obstacles grew bigger asI got nearer to them--but that is a way they have, and they never growsmaller merely by being looked at; so I laid my plans for rapidmovement. There was no horse or conveyance of any kind to be had fromAbercrombie; but I discovered in the course of questions that the captainof the "International" steamboat on the Red River had gone to St. Paul aweek before, and was expected to return to Abercrombie by the next stage,two days from this time; he had left a horse and Red River cart atAbercrombie, and it was his intention to start with this horse and cartfor his steamboat immediately upon his arrival by stage from St. Paul.Now the boat "International" was lying at a part of the Red River knownas Frog Point, distant by land 100 miles north from Abercrombie, and as Ihad no means of getting over this 100 miles, except through the agency ofthis horse and cart of the captain's, it became a question of the verygreatest importance to secure a place in it, for, be it understood, thata Red River cart is a very limited conveyance, and a Red River horse, aswe shall hereafter know, an animal capable of wonders, but not ofimpossibilities. To pen a brief letter to the captain asking forconveyance in his cart to Frog Point, and to despatch it-by the stageback towards St. Cloud, was the work of the following morning, and as twodays had to elapse before the return stage could bring the captain, I setout to pass that time in a solitary house in the centre of theBreckenridge Prairie, ten miles back on the stage-road towards St. Cloud.This move withdrew me from the society of Fort Abercrombie, which formany reasons was a matter for congratulation, and put me in a position tointercept the captain on his way to Abercrombie. So-on the 13th of July Ileft Nolan's hotel, and, with dog and gun, arrived at the solitary housewhich was situated not very far from the junction of the Ottertail andBois-des-Sioux River on the Minnesota shore, a small, rough settler'slog-hut which stood out upon the level sea of grass and was visible milesand miles before one reached it. Here had rested one of those unquietbirds whose flight is ever westward, building himself a rude nest of suchmaterial as the oak-wooded "bays" of the Red River afforded, andmultiplying--in spite of much opposition to the contrary. His eldest hadbeen struck dead in his house only a few months before by thethunderbolt, which so frequently hurls destruction upon the valley of theRed River. The settler had seen many lands since his old home in Cavanhad been left behind, and but for his name it would have been difficultto tell his Irish nationality. He had wandered up to Red River Settlementand wandered back again, had squatted in Iowa, and finally, like somebird which long wheels in circles ere it settles upon the earth, hadpitched his tent on the Red River.

The Red River--let us trace it while we wait the coming captain who is tonavigate us down its tortuous channel. Close to the Lake Ithaska, inwhich the great river Mississippi takes its rise, there is a small sheetof water known as Elbow Lake. Here, at an elevation of 1689 feet abovethe sea level, nine feet higher than the source of the Mississippi, theRed River has its birth. It is curious that the primary direction of bothrivers should be in courses diametrically opposite to their afterlines;the Mississippi first running to the north, and the Red River firstbending towards the south; in fact, it is only when it gets down here,near the Breckenridge Prairies, that it finally determines to seek anorthern outlet to the ocean. Meeting the current of the Bois-des-Sioux,which has its source in Lac Travers, in which the Minnesota River, atributary of the Mississippi, also takes its rise, the Red River hurrieson into the level prairie and soon commences its immense windings. ThisLac Travers discharges in wet seasons north and south, and is the onlysheet of water on the Continent which sheds its waters into the tropicsof the Gulf of Mexico and into the polar ocean of the Hudson Bay. Informer times the whole system of rivers bore the name of the great Dakotanation the Sioux River and the title of Red River was only borne by thatportion of the stream which flows from Red Lake to the forks of theAssineboine. Now, however, the whole stream, from its source in ElbowLake to its estuary in Lake Winnipeg fully 900 miles by water, is calledthe Red River: people say that the name is derived from a bloody Indianbattle which once took place upon its banks, tinging the waters withcrimson dye. It certainly cannot be called red from the hue of the water,which is of a dirty-white colour. Flowing towards the north withinnumerable twists and sudden turnings, the Red River divides the Stateof Minnesota, which it has upon its right, from the great territory ofDakota, receiving from each side many tributary streams which take theirsource in the Leaf Hills of Minnesota and in the Coteau of the Missouri.Its tributaries from the east flow through dense forests, those from thewest wind through the vast sandy wastes of the Dakota Prairie, wheretrees are almost unknown. The plain through which Red River flows isfertile beyond description. At a little distance it looks one vast levelplain through which the windings of the river are marked by a dark lineof woods fringing the whole length of the stream--each tributary has alsoits line of forest--a line visible many miles away over the great sea ofgrass. As one travels on, there first rise above the prairie the summitsof the trees; these gradually'! grow larger, until finally, after manyhours, the river is reached. Nothing else breaks the uniform level.Standing upon the ground the eye ranges over many miles of grass,standing on a waggon, one doubles the area of vision, and to look overthe plains from an elevation of twelve feet above the earth is to surveyat a glance a space so vast that distance alone seems to bound itslimits. The effect of sunset over these oceans of verdure is verybeautiful; a thousand hues spread themselves upon the grassy plains; athousand tints of gold are cast along the heavens, and the two oceans ofthe sky and of the earth intermingle in one great blaze of glory at thevery gates of the setting sun. But to speak of sunsets now is only toanticipate. Here at the Red River we are only at the threshold of thesunset, its true home yet lies many days journey to the west: there,where the long shadows of the vast herds of bison trail slowly over theimmense plains, huge and dark against the golden west; there, where thered man still sees in the glory of the setting sun the realization of hisdream of heaven.

Shooting the prairie plover, which were numerous around the solitaryshanty, gossipping with Mr. Connelly on Western life and Red Riverexperiences--I passed the long July day until evening came to a close.Then came the time of the mosquito; he swarmed around the shanty, he cameout from blade of grass and up from river sedge, from the wooded bay andthe dusky prairie, in clouds and clouds, until the air hummed with hispresence. My host "made a smoke," and the cattle came close around andstood into the very fire itself, scorching their hides in attempting toescape the stings of their ruthless tormentors. My friend's house was nota large one, but he managed to make me a shake-down on the loft overhead,and to it he led the way. To live in a country infested by mosquitoesought to insure to a person the possession of health, wisdom, and riches,for assuredly I know of nothing so conducive to early turning in andearly turning out as that most pitiless pest. On the present occasion Ihad not long turned in before I became aware of the presence of at leasttwo other persons within the limits of the little loft, for only a fewfeet distant soft whispers became fintly audible. Listening attentively,I gathered the following dialogue:

"Do you think he has got it about him?"

"Maybe he has," replied the first speaker with the voice of a woman.

"Are you shure he has it at all at all?"

"Didn't I see it in his own hand?"

Here was a fearful position! The dark loft, the lonely shanty miles awayfrom any other habitation, the mysterious allusions to the possession ofproperty, all naturally combined to raise the most dreadful suspicions inthe mind of the solitary traveller. Strange to say, this conversation hadnot the terrible effect upon me which might be supposed. It was evidentthat my old friends, father and mother of Mrs. C----, occupied the loft incompany with me, and the mention of that most suggestive word,"crathure," was sufficient to neutralize all suspicions connected withthe lonely surroundings of the place. It was, in fact, a drop of thatmuch-desired "crathure" that the old couple were so anxious to obtain.

About three o'clock on the afternoon of Sunday the 17th July I left thehouse of Mr. Connelly, and journeyed back to Abercrombie in the stagewaggon from St. Cloud. I had as a fellow-passenger the captain of the"International" steamboat, whose acquaintance was quickly made. He hadreceived my letter at Pomme-de-Terre, and most kindly offered his ponyand cart for our joint conveyance to George town that evening; so, havingwaited only long enough at Abercrombie to satisfy hunger and get readythe Red River cart, we left Mr. Nolan's door some little time beforesunset, and turning north along the river held our way towardsGeorgetown. The evening was beautifully fine and clear; the plug trottedsteadily on, and darkness soon wrapped its mantle around the prairie. Mynew acquaintance had many questions to ask and much information toimpart, and although a Red River cart is not the easiest mode ofconveyance to one who sits amidships between the wheels, still when Ilooked to the northern skies and saw the old pointers marking our coursealmost due north, and thought that at last I was launched fair on a roadwhose termination was the goal for which I had longed so earnestly, Ilittle recked the rough jolting of the wheels whose revolutions broughtme closer to my journey's end. Shortly after leaving Abercrombie wepassed a small creek in whose leaves and stagnant waters mosquitoes werenumerous.

"If the mosquitoes let us travel," said my companion, as we emerged uponthe prairie again, "we should reach Georgetown to breakfast."

"If the mosquitoes let us travel?" thought I. "Surely he must bejoking!"

I little knew then the significance of the captain's words. I thoughtthat my experiences of mosquitoes in Indian jungles and Irrawaddy swamps,to say nothing of my recent wanderings by Mississippi forests, had taughtme something about these pests; but I was doomed to learn a lesson thatnight and the following which will cause me never to doubt thepossibility of anything, no matter how formidable or how unlikely it mayappear, connected with mosquitoes. It was about ten o'clock at night whenthere rose close to the south-west a small dark cloud scarcely visibleabove the horizon. The wind, which was very light, was blowing from thenorth-east; so when my attention had been called to the speck of cloud bymy companion I naturally concluded that it could in no way concern us,but in this I was grievously mistaken. In a very short space of time thelittle cloud grew bigger, the wind died away altogether, and the starsbegan to look mistily from a sky no longer blue. Every now and again mycompanion looked towards this increasing cloud, and each time his opinionseemed to be less favourable. But another change also occurred of acharacter altogether different. There came upon us, brought apparently bythe cloud, dense swarms of mosquitoes, humming and buzzing along with usas we journeyed on, and covering our faces and heads with their sharpstinging bites. They seemed to come with us, after us, and against us,from above and from below, in volumes that ever increased. It soon beganto dawn upon me that this might mean something akin to the "mosquitoesallowing us to travel," of which my friend had spoken some three hoursearlier. Meantime the cloud had increased to large proportions; it was nolonger in the south-west; it occupied the whole west, and was moving ontowards the north. Presently, from out of the dark heavens, streamedliquid fire, and long peals of thunder rolled far away over the gloomyprairies. So sudden appeared the change that one could scarce realizethat only a little while before the stars had been shining so brightlyupon the ocean of grass. At length the bright flashes came nearer andnearer, the thunder rolled louder and louder, and the mosquitoes seemedto have made up their minds that to achieve the maximum of torture in theminimum of time was the sole end and aim of their existence. Thecaptain's pony showed many signs of agony; my dog howled with pain, androlled himself amongst the baggage in useless writhings.

"I thought it would come to this," said the captain. "We must unhitchand lie down."

It was now midnight. To loose the horse from the shafts, to put theoil-cloth over the cart, and to creep underneath the wheels did-not takemy friend long. I followed his movements, crept in and drew a blanket overmy head. Then came the crash; the fire seemed to pour out of the clouds.It was impossible to keep the blanket on, so raising it every now andagain I. looked out from between the spokes of the wheel. During threehours the lightning seemed to run like a river of flame out of theclouds. Sometimes a stream would descend, then, dividing into twobranches, would pour down on the prairie two distinct channels of fire.The thunder rang sharply, as though the metallic clash of steel was aboutit, and the rain descended in torrents upon the level prairies. At aboutthree o'clock in the morning the storm seemed to lull a little. Mycompanion crept out from underneath the cart; I followed. The plug, whohad managed to improve the occasion by stuffing himself with grass, wassoon in the shafts again, and just as dawn began to streak the denselow-lying clouds towards the east we were once more in motion. Still fora couple of hours more the rain came down in drenching torrents and thelightning flashed with angry fury over the long corn-like grass beatenflat by the rain-torrent. What a dreary prospect lay stretched around uswhen the light grew strong enough to show it! rain and cloud lying lowupon the dank prairie.

Soaked through and through, cold, shivering, and sleepy, glad indeed wasI when a house appeared in view and we drew up at the door of a shantyfor Food and fire. The house belonged to a Prussian subject of the nameof Probsfeld, a terribly self-opinionated North German, with all thebumptious proclivities of that thriving nation most fully developed.'Herr Probsfeld appeared to be a man who regretted that men in generalshould be persons of a very inferior order of intellect, but who acceptedthe fact as a thing not to be avoided under the existing arrangements oflimitation regarding Prussia in general and Probsfelds in particular.While the Herr was thus engaged in illuminating our minds, the Frau wasmuch more agreeably employed in preparing something for our bodilycomfort. I noticed with pleasure that there appeared some hope for thefuture of the human race, in the fact that the generation of theProbsfelds seemed to be progressing satisfactorily. Many youthfulProbsfelds were visible around, and matters appeared to promise acontinuation of the line, so that the State of Minnesota and that portionof Dakota lying adjacent to it may still look confidently to the future.It is more than probable that Herr Probsfeld realized the fact, that justat that moment, when the sun was breaking out through the eastern cloudsover the distant outline of the Leaf Hills, 700,000 of his countrymenwere moving hastily toward the French frontier for the specialfurtherance of those ideas so dear to his mind-it is most probable, Isay, that his self-laudation and co*ck-like conceit would have been in noways lessened.

Our arrival at Georgetown had been delayed by the night storm on theprairie, and it was midday on the 18th when we reached the Hudson BayCompany Post which stood at the confluence of the Buffalo and RedRivers. Food and fresh horses were all we required, and after theserequisites had been obtained the journey was prosecuted with renewedvigour. Forty miles had yet to be traversed before the point at whichthe Steamboat lay could be reached, and for that distance the track ranon the left or Dakota side of the Red River. As we journeyed along theDakota prairies the last hour of daylight overtook us, bringing with ita Scene of magical beauty. The sun resting on the rim of the prairiecast over the vast expanse of grass a flood of light. On the east laythe darker green of the trees of the Red River. The whole western skywas full of wild-looking thunder-clouds, through which the rays ofsunlight shot upward in great trembling shafts of glory. Being onhorseback and alone, for my companion had trotted on in his waggon, Ihad time to watch and note this brilliant spectacle; but as soon as thesun had dipped beneath the sea of verdure an ominous sound caused meto gallop on with increasing haste. The pony seemed to know thesignificance of that sound much better than its rider. He no longerlagged, nor needed the spur or whip to urge him to faster exertion, fordarker and denser than on the previous night there rose around us vastnumbers of mosquitoes--choking masses of biting insects, no mere cloudthicker and denser in one place than in another, but one huge wall ofnever-ending insects filling nostrils, ears, and eyes. Where they camefrom I cannot tell; the prairie seemed too small to hold them; the airtoo limited to yield them space. I had seen many vast accumulations ofinsect life in lands old and new, but never any thing that approached tothis mountain of mosquitoes on the prairies of Dakota. To say that theycovered the coat of the horse I rode would be to give but a faint ideaof their numbers; they were literally six or eight deep upon his skin,and with a single sweep of the hand one could crush myriads from hisneck. Their hum seemed to be in all things around. To ride for it wasthe sole resource. Darkness came quickly down, but the track knew noturn, and for seven miles I kept the pony at a gallop; my face, neck,and hands cut and bleeding.

At last in the gloom I saw, down in what appeared to be the bottom of avalley, a long white wooden building, with lights showing out throughthe windows. Riding quickly down this valley we reached, followed byhosts of winged pursuers, the edge of some water lying amidsttree-covered banks-the water was the Red River, and the white woodenbuilding the steamboat "International."

Now one word about mosquitoes in the valley of the Red River. People willbe inclined to say, "We know well what a mosquito is--very troublesomeand annoying, no doubt, but you needn't make so much of what every oneunderstands." People reading what I have written about this insect willprobably say this. I would have said so myself before the occurrences ofthe last two nights, but I will never say so again, nor perhaps will myreaders when they have read the following: It is no unusual event duringa wet summer in that portion of Minnesota and Dakota to which I refer foroxen and horses to perish from the bites of mosquitoes. An exposure of avery few hours duration is sufficient to cause death to these animals.It is said, too, that not many years ago the Sioux were in the habit ofsometimes killing their captives by exposing them at night to the attacksof the mosquitoes; and any person who has experienced the full intensityof a mosquito night along the American portion of the Red River will nothave any difficulty in realizing how short a period would be necessary tocause death.

Our arrival at the "International" was the cause of no small amount ofdiscomfort to the persons already on board that vessel. It took us butlittle time to rush over the gangway and seek safety from our pursuerswithin the precincts of the steamboat: but they were not to be baffledeasily; they came in after us in millions; like Bishop Haddo's rats, theycame "in at the windows and in at the doors," until in a very short spaceof time the interior of the boat became perfectly black with insects.Attracted by the light they flocked into the saloon, covering walls andceiling in one dark mass. We attempted supper, but had to give it up.They got into the coffee, they stuck fast in the soft, melting butter,until at length, feverish, bitten, bleeding, and hungry, I sought refugebeneath the gauze curtains in my cabin, and fell asleep from sheerexhaustion.

And in truth there was reason enough for sleep independently ofmosquitoes bites. By dint of hard travel we had accomplished 104 milesin twenty-seven hours. The midnight storm had lost us three hours andadded in no small degree to discomfort. Mosquitoes had certainly causedbut little thought to be bestowed upon fatigue during the last two hours;but I much doubt if the spur-goaded horse, when he stretches himself atnight to rest his weary limbs, feels the less tired because the milesflew behind him all unheeded under the influence of the spur-rowel. Whenmorning broke we were in motion. The air was fresh and cool; not amosquito was visible. The green banks of Red River looked pleasant to theeye as the "International" puffed along between them, rolling thetranquil water before her in a great muddy wave, which broke amidst thered and grey willows on the shore. Now and then the eye caught glimpsesof the prairies through the skirting of oak woods on the left, but to theright there lay an unbroken line of forest fringing deeply the Minnesotashore. The "International" was a curious craft; she measured about 130feet in length, drew only two feet of water, and was propelled by anenormous wheel placed over her stern. Eight summers of varied success andas many winters of total inaction had told heavily against her riverworthiness; the sun had cracked her roof and sides, the rigour of theWinnipeg winter left its trace on bows and hull. Her engines were aperfect marvel of patchwork--pieces of rope seemed twisted around crankand shaft, mud was laid thickly on boiler and pipes, little jets andspurts of steam had a disagreeable way of coming out from places notsupposed to be capable of such outpourings. Her capacity for going onfire seemed to be very great; each gust of wind sent showers of sparksfrom the furnaces flying along the lower deck, the charred beams of whichattested the frequency of the occurrence. Alarmed at the prospect ofseeing my conveyance wrapped in flames, I shouted vigorously forassistance, and will long remember the look of surprise and pity withwhich the native regarded me as he leisurely approached with thewater-bucket and cast its contents along the smoking deck.

I have already mentioned the tortuous course which the Red River haswound for itself through these level northern prairies. The windings ofthe river more than double the length of its general direction, and theturns are so sharp that after steaming a mile the traveller will oftenarrive at a spot not one hundred yards distant from where he started.

Steaming thus for one day and one night down the Red River of the North,enjoying no variation of scene or change of prospect, but neverthelessenjoying beyond expression a profound sense of mingled rest andprogression, I reached at eight o'clock on the morning of the-20th ofJuly the frontier post of Pembina.

And here, at the verge of my destination, on the boundary of the RedRiver Settlement, although making but short delay myself, I must ask myreaders to pause awhile and to go back through long years into earliertimes. For it would ill suit the purpose of writer or of reader if thelatter were to be thus hastily introduced to the isolated colony ofAssineboine without any preliminary-acquaintance with its history or itsinhabitants.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Retrospective--The North-west Passage--The Bay of Hudson--RivalClaims--The Old French Fur Trade--The North-west Company--How theHalf-breeds came--The Highlanders defeated-Progress--Old Feuds.

WE who have seen in our times the solution of the long-hidden secretworked out amidst the icy solitudes of the Polar Seas cannot realize theexcitement which for nigh 400 years vexed the minds of European kings andpeoples--how they thought and toiled over this northern passage to wildrealms of Cathay and Hindostan--how from every port, from the Adriatic tothe Baltic, ships had sailed out in quest of this ocean strait, to findin succession portions of the great world which Columbus had given to thehuman race.

Adventurous spirits were these early navigators who thus fearlesslyentered the great unknown oceans of the North in craft scarce largerthan canal-boats. And how long and how tenaciously did they hold thatsome passage must exist by which the Indies could be reached! Not acreek, not a bay, but seemed to promise the long-sought-for opening tothe Pacific.

Hudson and Frobisher, Fox, Baffin, Davis, and James, how little thoughtthey of that vast continent whose presence was but an obstacle in thepath of their discovery! Hudson had long perished in the ocean whichbears his name before it was known to be a cul-de-sac. Two hundred yearshad passed away from the time of Columbus ere his dream of an open sea tothe city of Quinsay in Cathay had ceased to find believers. This immenseinlet of Hudson Bay must lead to the Western Ocean. So, at least, thoughta host of bold navigators who steered their way through fog and ice intothe great Sea of Hudson, giving those names to strait and bay and island,which we read in our school-days upon great wall-hung maps and neverthink or care about again. Nor were these anticipations of reaching theEast held only by the sailors.

La Salle, when he fitted out his expeditions from the Island of Montrealfor the West, named his point of departure La Chine, so certain was hethat his canoes would eventually reach Cathay. And La Chine still existsto attest his object. But those who went on into the great continent,reaching the shores of vast lakes and the banks of mighty rivers, learntanother and a truer story. They saw these rivers flowing with vastvolumes of water from the north-west; and, standing on the brink of theirunknown waves, they rightly judged that such rolling volumes of watermust have their sources far away in distant mountain ranges. Well mightthe great heart of De Soto sink within him when, after long months ofarduous toil through swamp and forest, he stood at last on the low shoresof the Mississippi and beheld in thought the enormous space which laybetween him and the spot where such a river had its birth.

The East--it was always the East. Columbus had said the world was not solarge as the common herd believed it, and yet when he had increased it bya continent he tried to make it smaller than it really was. So fixed weremen's minds upon the East, that it was long before they would think ofturning to account the discoveries of those early navigators. But in timethere came to the markets of Europe the products of the New World. Thegold and the silver of Mexico and the rich sables of the frozen Northfound their way into the marts of Western Europe. And while Drakeplundered galleons from the Spanish Main, England and France commencedtheir career of rivalry for the possession of that trade in furs andpeltries which had its sources round the icy shores of the Bay of Hudson.It was reserved however for the fiery Prince Rupert to carry into effectthe idea of opening up the North-west. Through the ocean of Hudson Bay.

Somewhere about 200 years ago a ship sailed away from England bearing init a company of adventurers sent out to form a colony upon the southernshores of James's Bay. These men named the new land after the Prince whosent them forth, and were the pioneers of that "Hon. Company ofAdventurers from England trading into Hudson Bay."

More than forty years previous to the date of the charter by whichCharles II. conferred the territory of Rupert's Land upon the Londoncompany, a similar grant had been made by the French monarch, LouisXIII, to "La Compagnie de la Nouvelle France." Thus there had arisenrival claims to the possession of this sterile region, and althoughtreaties had at various times attempted to rectify boundaries or torearrange watersheds, the question of the right of Canada or of theCompany to hold a portion of the vast territory draining into Hudson Bayhad never been legally solved.

For some eighty years after this settlement on James's Bay, theCompany held a precarious tenure of their forts and factories. Wild-lookingmen, more Indian than French, marched from Canada over the height ofland and raided upon the posts of Moose and Albany, burning the stockadesand carrying off the little brass howitzers mounted thereon. The samewild-looking men, pushing on into the interior from Lake Superior, madetheir way into Lake Winnipeg, up the great Saskatchewan River, andacross to the valley of the Red River; building their forts for warand trade by distant lake-shore and confluence of river current, anddrawing off the valued trade in furs to France; until all of a suddenthere came the great blow struck by Wolfe under the walls of Quebec, andevery little far-away post and distant fort throughout the vast interiorcontinent felt the echoes of the guns of Abraham. It might have beenimagined that now, when the power of France was crushed in the Canadas,the trade which she had carried on with the Indian tribes of the Far Westwould lapse to the English company trading Into Hudson Bay; but such wasnot the case.

Immediately upon the capitulation of Montreal, fur traders from theEnglish cities of Boston and Albany appeared in Montreal and Quebec, andpushed their way along the old French route to Lake Winnipeg and into thevalley of the Saskatchewan. There they, in turn, erected their littleposts and trading-stations, laid out their beads and blankets, theirstrouds and cottons, and exchanged their long-carried goods for thebeaver and marten and fisher skins of the Nadow, Sioux, Kinistineau, andOsinipoilles. Old maps of the North-west still mark spots along theshores of Winnipeg and the Saskatchewan with names of Henry's House,Finlay's House, and Mackay's House. These "houses" were theTrading-posts of the first English free-traders, whose combination in1783 gave rise to the great North-west Fur Company, so long the fiercerival of the Hudson Bay. To picture here the jealous rivalry which duringforty years raged throughout these immense territories would be to fill avolume with tales of adventure and discovery.

The zeal with which the North-west Company pursued the trade in fursquickly led to the exploration of the entire country. A Mackenziepenetrated to the Arctic Ocean down the immense river which bears hisname--a Frazer and a Thompson pierced the tremendous masses of the RockyMountains and beheld the Pacific rolling its waters against the rocks ofNew Caledonia. Based upon a system which rewarded the efforts of itsemployees by giving them a share in the profits of the trade, making thempartners as well as servants, the North-west Company soon put to sorestraits the older organization of the Hudson Bay. While the heads of bothcompanies were of the same nation, the working men and voyageurs were oftotally different races, the Hudson Bay employing Highlanders and Orkneymen from Scotland, and the North-west Company drawing its recruits fromthe hardy French inhabitants of Lower Canada. This difference ofnationality deepened the strife between them, and many a deed of crueltyand bloodshed lies buried amidst the oblivion of that time in thosedistant regions. The men who went out to the North-west as voyageurs andservants in the employment of the rival companies from Canada and fromScotland hardly ever returned to their native lands. The wild roving lifein the great prairie or the trackless pine forest, the vast solitudes ofinland lakes and rivers, the chase, and the camp-fire had too much ofexcitement in them to allow the voyageur to return again to the narrowlimits of civilization. Besides, he had taken to himself an Indian wife,and although the ceremony by which that was effected was frequentlywanting in those accessories of bell, book, and candle so essential toits proper well-being, nevertheless the voyageur and his squaw got onpretty well together, and little ones, who jabbered the smallest amountof English or French, and a great deal of Ojibbeway, or Cree, orAssineboine, began to multiply around them.

Matters were in this state when, in 1812, as we have already seen in anearlier chapter, the Earl of Selkirk, a large proprietor of the HudsonBay Company, conceived the idea of planting a colony of Highlanders onthe banks of the Red River near the lake called Winnipeg.

Some great magnate was intent on making a deer forest in Scotland aboutthe period that this country was holding its own with difficulty againstNapoleon. So, leaving their native parish of Kildonan in Sutherlandshire,these people established another Kildonan in the very heart of NorthAmerica, in the midst of an immense and apparently boundless prairie.Poor people! they had a hard time of it-inundation and North-west Companyhostility nearly sweeping them off their prairie lands. Before longmatters reached a climax. The North-west Canadians and half-breedssallied forth one day and attacked the settlers; the settlers had a smallguard in whose prowess they placed much credence; the guard turned outafter the usual manner of soldiers, the half-breeds and Indians lay inthe long grass after the method of savages. For once the Indian tacticsprevailed. The Governor of the Hudson Bay Company and the guard were shotdown, the fort at Point Douglas on the Red River was taken, and theScotch settlers driven out to the shores of Lake Winnipeg.

To keep the peace between the rival companies and the two nationalitieswas no easy matter, but at last Lord Selkirk came to the rescue; theywere disbanding regiments after the great peace of 1815, and portions oftwo foreign corps, called De Muiron's and De Watteville's Regiments,were induced to attempt an expedition to the Red River.

Starting in winter from the shores of Lake Superior, these hardy fellowstraversed the forests and frozen lakes upon snow-shoes, and, enteringfrom the Lake of the Woods, suddenly appeared in the Selkirk Settlement,and took possession of Fort Douglas.

A few years later the great Fur Companies became amalgamated, or ratherthe North-west ceased to exist, and henceforth the Hudson Bay Companyruled supreme from the shores of the Atlantic to the frontiers of RussianAmerica.

From that date, 1822, the progress of the little colony had been gradualbut sure. Its numbers were constantly increased by the retired servantsof the Hudson Bay Company, who selected it as a place of settlement whentheir period of active service had expired. Thither came the voyageur andthe trader to spend the winter of their lives in the little world ofAssineboine. Thus the Selkirk Settlement grew and flourished, caringlittle for the outside earth-"the world forgetting, by the world forgot."

But the old feelings which had their rise in earlier years never whollydied out. National rivalry still existed, and it required no violenteffort to fan the embers into flame again. The descendants of the twonationalities dwelt apart; there were the French parishes and the Scotchand English parishes, and, although each nationality spoke the samemother tongue, still the spread of schools and churches fostered thedifferent languages of the fatherland, and perpetuated the distinction ofrace which otherwise would have disappeared by lapsing into savagery. Inan earlier chapter I have traced the events immediately pre ceding thebreaking out of the insurrectionary movement among the Frenchhalf-breeds, and in the foregoing pages I have tried to sketch the earlylife and history of the country into which I am about to ask the readerto follow me. Into the immediate sectional disputes and religiousanimosities of the present movement it is not my intention to enter; as Ijourney on an occasional arrow may be shot to the right or to the left atmen and things; but I will leave to others the details of a pettyprovincial quarrel, while-I have before me, stretching far and wide, thevast solitudes which await in silence the footfall of the future.

CHAPTER NINE.

Running the Gauntlet--Across the Line--Mischief ahead-Preparations--ANight March--The Steamer captured--The Pursuit-Daylight--The LowerFort--The Red-Indian at last--The Chief's Speech--A Big Feed--Makingready for the Winnipeg--A Delay--I visit Fort Garry--Mr. PresidentRiel--The Final Start-Lake Winnipeg--The First Night out--My Crew.

THE steamer "International" made only a short delay at the frontier postof Pembina, but it was long enough to impress the on-looker with a senseof dirt and debauchery, which seemed to pervade the place. Some of theleading citizens came forth with hands stuck so deep in breeches'pockets, that the shoulders seemed to have formed an offensive anddefensive alliance with the arms, never again to permit the hands toemerge into daylight unless it should be in the vicinity of the ankles.

Upon inquiring for the post-office, I was referred to the Postmasterhimself, who, in his-capacity of leading citizen, was standing by. Askingif there were any letters lying at his office for me, I was answered in avery curt negative, the postmaster retiring immediately up the steep banktowards the collection of huts which calls itself Pembina. The boat sooncast off her moorings and steamed on into British territory. We were atlength within the limits of the Red River Settlement, in the land of M.Louis Riel, President, Dictator, Ogre, Saviour of Society, and NewNapoleon; as he was variously named by friends and foes in the littletea-cup of Red River whose tempest had cast him suddenly from dregs tosurface. "I wasn't so sure that they wouldn't have searched the boat foryou," said the captain from his wheel-house on the roof-deck, soon afterwe had passed the Hudson Bay Company's post, whereat M. Riel's frontierguard was supposed to hold its head-quarters. "Now, darn me, if themwhelps had stopped the boat, but I'd have just rounded her back toPembina and tied up under the American post yonder, and claimedprotection as an American citizen." As the act of tying up under theAmerican post would in no way have forwarded my movements, howeverconsolatory it might have proved to the wounded feelings of the captain,I was glad that we had been permitted to proceed without molestation. ButI had in my possession a document which I looked upon as an "open sesame"in case of obstruction from any of the underlings of the ProvisionalGovernment.

This document had been handed to me by an eminent ecclesiastic whom I meton the evening preceding my departure at St. Paul, and who, upon hearingthat it was my intention to proceed to the Red River, had handed me,unsolicited, a very useful notification. So far, then, I had got withinthe outer circle of this so jealously protected settlement. The guard,whose presence had so often been the theme of Manitoban journals, thepicquet line which extended from Pembina Mountain to Lake of the Woods(150 miles), was nowhere visible, and I. began to think that the wholething was only a myth, and that the Red River revolt was as unsubstantialas the Spectre of the Brocken. But just then, as I stood on the high roofof the "International," from whence a wide view was obtained, I sawacross the level prairie outside the huts of Pembina the figures of twohorsem*n riding at a rapid pace towards the north. They were on the roadto Fort Garry. The long July day passed slowly away, and evening began todarken over the level land, to find us still steaming down the wideningreaches of the Red River.

But the day had shown symptoms sufficient to convince me that there wassome reality after all in the stories of detention and resistance, sofrequently mentioned; more than once had the figures of the two horsem*nbeen visible from the roof-deck of the steamer, still keeping the FortGarry trail, and still forcing their horses at a gallop.

The windings of the river enabled these men to keep ahead of the boat, afeat which, from their pace and manner, seemed the object they had inview. But there were other indications of difficulty lying ahead: anindividual connected with the working of our boat had been informed bypersons at Pembina that my expected arrival had been notified to Mr.President Riel and the members of his triumvirate, as I would learn to mycost upon arrival at Fort Garry.

That there was mischief ahead appeared probable enough, and it was withno pleasant feelings that when darkness came I mentally surveyed thesituation, and bethought me of some plan by which to baffle those whosought my detention.

In an hour's time the boat would reach Fort Garry. I was a stranger in astrange land, knowing not a feature in the locality, and with only animperfect map for my guidance. Going down to my cabin, I spread out themap before me. I saw the names: of places familiar in imagination--thewinding river, the junction of the Assineboine and the Red River, andclose to it Fort Garry and the village of Winnipeg; then, twenty milesfarther to the north, the Lower Fort Garry and the Scotch and EnglishSettlement. My object was to reach this lower fort; but in that lay allthe difficulty. The map showed plainly enough the place in which safetylay; but it showed no means by which it could be reached, and left me, asbefore, to my own resources. These were not large.

My baggage was small and compact, but weighty; for it had in it much shotand sporting gear for perspective swamp and prairie work at wild duck andsharp-tailed grouse. I carried arms available against man and beast aColt's six-shooter and a fourteen-shot repeating carbine, both light,good, and trusty; excellent weapons when things came to a certain point,but useless before that point is reached.

Now, amidst perplexing prospects and doubtful expedients, one courseappeared plainly prominent; and that was that there should be no captureby Riel. The baggage and the sporting gear might go, but, for the rest,I was bound to carry myself and my arms, together with my papers and adog, to the Lower Fort and English Settlement. Having decided on thiscourse, I had not much time to lose in putting it into execution. Ipacked my things, loaded my arms, put some extra ammunition into pocket,handed over my personal effects into the safe custody of the captain, andawaited whatever might turn up.

When these preparations were completed, I had still an hour to spare.There happened to be on board the same boat as passenger a gentlemanwhose English proclivities had marked him during the late disturbances atRed River as a dangerous opponent to M. Riel, and who consequently hadforfeited no small portion of his liberty and his chattels. The last twodays had made me acquainted-with his history and opinions, and, knowingthat he could supply the want I was most in need of--a horse--I told himthe plan I had formed for evading M. Ril, in case his minions shouldattempt my capture. This was to pass quickly from the steamboat on itsreaching the landing-place and to hold my way across the country in thedirection of the Lower Fort, which I hoped to reach before daylight. Ifstopped, there was but one course to pursue--to announce name andprofession, and trust to the Colt and sixteen-shooter for the rest. Mynew acquaintance, however, advised a change of programme, suggested byhis knowledge of the locality.

At the point of junction of the Assineboine and Red Rivers the steamer,he said, would touch the north shore. The spot was only a couple ofhundred yards distant from Fort Garry, but it was sufficient in thedarkness to conceal any movement at that point; we would both leave theboat and, passing by the flank of the fort, gain the village of Winnipegbefore the steamer would reach her landing place; he would seek his homeand, if possible, send a horse to meet me at the first wooden bridge uponthe road to the Lower Fort. All this was simple enough, and supplied mewith that knowledge of the ground which I required.

It was now eleven o'clock p.m., dark but fine. With my carbine concealedunder a large coat, I took my station near the bows of the boat, watchingmy companion's movements. Suddenly the steam was shut off, and the boatbegan to round from the Red River into the narrow Assineboine. A shortdistance in front appeared lights and figures moving to and fro along theshore--the lights were those of Fort Garry, the figures those of Riel,O'Donoghue, and Lepine, with a strong body of guards.

A second more, and the boat gently touched the soft mud of the northshore. My friend jumped off to the beach; dragging the pointer by chainand collar after me, I too, sprang to the shore just as the boat began torecede from it. As I did so, I saw my companion rushing up a very steepand lofty bank. Much impeded by the arms and dog, I followed him up theascent and reached the top. Around stretched a dead black level plain, onthe left the fort, and figures were dimly visible about 200 yards away.There was not much time to take in all this, for my companion, whisperingme to follow him closely, commenced to move quickly along an irregularpath which led from the river bank. In a short time we: had reached thevicinity of a few straggling houses whose white walls showed distinctlythrough the darkness; this, he told me, was Winnipeg. Here was hisresidence, and here we were to separate. Giving me a few hurrieddirections for further guidance, he pointed to the road before me as astarting-point, and then vanished into the gloom. For a moment I stood atthe entrance of the little village half irresolute what to do. One or twohouses showed lights in single windows, behind gleamed the lights of thesteamer which had now reached the place of landing. I commenced to walkquickly through the silent houses.

As I emerged from the farther side of the village I saw, standing on thecentre of the road, a solitary figure. Approaching nearer to him, I foundthat he occupied a narrow wooden bridge which opened out upon theprairie. To pause or hesitate would only be to excite suspicion in themind of this man, sentinel or guard, as he might be. So, at a sharp pace,I advanced towards him. He never moved; and without word or sign I passedhim at arm's length. But here the dog, which I had unfastened whenparting from my companion, strayed away, and, being loth to lose him, Istopped at the farther end of the bridge to call him back. This wasevidently the bridge of which my companion had spoken, as the place whereI was to await the horse he would send me.

The trysting-place seemed to be but ill-chosen-close to the village, andalready in possession of a sentinel, it would not do. "If the horsecomes," thought I, "he will be too late; if he does not come, there canbe no use in waiting," so, giving a last whistle for the dog (which Inever saw again), I turned and held my way into the dark level plainlying mistily spread around me. For more than an hour I walked hard alonga black-clay track bordered on both sides by prairie. I saw no one, andheard nothing save the barking of some stray dogs away to my right.

During this time the moon, now at its last quarter, rose above trees tothe east, and enabled me better to discern the general features of thecountry through which I was passing. Another hour passed, and still Iheld on my way. I had said to myself that for three hours I must keep upthe same rapid stride without pause or halt. In the meantime I wascalculating for emergencies. If followed on horseback, I must becomeaware of the fact while yet my enemies were some distance away. The blackcapote flung on the road would have arrested their attention, theenclosed fields on the right of the track would afford me concealment, afew shots from the fourteen shooter fired in the direction of the party,already partly dismounted deliberating over the mysterious capote, wouldhave occasioned a violent demoralization, probably causing a rapidretreat upon Fort Garry, darkness would have multiplied numbers, and afourteen-shooter by day or night is a weapon of very equalizingtendencies.

When the three hours had elapsed I looked anxiously around for water, asI was thirsty in the extreme. A creek soon gave me the drink I thirstedfor, and, once more refreshed, I kept on my lonely way beneath the waningmoon. At the time when I was searching for water along the bottom of theMiddle Creek my pursuers were close at hand--probably not five minutesdistant--but in those things it is the minutes which make all thedifference one way or the other.

We must now go back and join the pursuit, just to see what the followersof M. Riel were about.

Sometime during the afternoon preceding the arrival of the steamer atFort Garry, news had come down by mounted express from Pembina, that astranger was about to make his entrance into Red River.

Who he might be was not clearly discernible; some said he was an officerin Her Majesty's Service, and others, that he was somebody connectedwith the disturbances of the preceding winter who was attempting torevisit the settlement.

Whoever he was, it was unanimously decreed that he should be captured;and a call was made by M. Riel for "men not afraid to fight" who wouldproceed up the river to meet the steamer. Upon after-reflection, however,it was resolved to await the arrival of the boat, and, by capturingcaptain, crew, and passengers, secure the person of the mysteriousstranger.

Accordingly, when the "International" reached the landing-place beneaththe walls of Fort Garry a strange scene was enacted.

Messrs. Riel, Lepine, and O'Donoghue, surrounded by a body-guard ofhalf-breeds and a few American adventurers, appeared upon thelanding-place. A select detachment, I presume, of the "men not afraid tofight'" boarded the boat and commenced to ransack her from stem to stern.While the confusion was at its height, and doors, etc., were being brokenopen, it became known to some of the searchers that two persons had leftthe boat only a few minutes previously. The rage of the petty Napoleonbecame excessive, he sarcéed and stamped and swore, he ordered pursuit onfoot and on horseback; and altogether conducted himself after the mannerof rum-drunkenness and despotism based upon ignorance and "straightdrinks."

All sorts of persons were made prisoners upon the spot. My poor companionwas seized in his house twenty minutes after he had reached it, and,being hurried to the boat, was threatened with instant hanging. Where hadthe stranger gone to? and who was he? He had asserted himself to belongto Her Majesty's Service, and he had gone to the Lower Fort.

"After him!" screamed the President; "bring him in dead or alive."

So some half-dozen men, half-breeds and American filibusters, started outin pursuit. It was averred that the man who left the boat was ofcolossal proportions, that he carried arms of novel and terribleconstruction, and, more mysterious still, that he was closely followed bya gigantic dog.

People shuddered as they listened to this part of the story-a dog ofgigantic size! What a picture, this immense man and that immensedog--stalking through the gloom-wrapped prairie, goodness knows where!Was it to be wondered at, that the pursuit, vigorously though itcommenced, should have waned faint as it reached the dusky prairie andleft behind the neighbourhood and the habitations of men? The party,under the leadership of Lepine the "Adjutant-general," was seen at oneperiod of its progress besides the moments of starting and return. Justprevious to daybreak it halted at a house known by the suggestive titleof "Whisky Tom's," eight miles from the village of Winnipeg; whether itever got farther on its way remains a mystery, but I am inclined tothink that the many attractions of Mr. Tom's residence, as evinced bythe prefix to his name, must have proved a powerful obstacle to suchthirsty souls.

Daylight breaks early in the month of July, and I had been but littlemore than three hours on the march when the first sign of dawn began toglimmer above the tree tops of the Red River. When the light becamestrong enough to afford a clear view of the country, I found that I waswalking along a road or track of very black soil with poplar groves atintervals on each side.

Through openings in these poplar groves I beheld a row of houses builtapparently along the bank of the river, and soon the steeple of a churchand a comfortable-looking glebe became visible about a quarter of a mileto the right. Calculating by my watch, I concluded that I must be somesixteen miles distant from Fort Garry, and therefore not more than fourmiles from the Lower Fort. However, as it was now quite light, I thought'I could not do better than approach the comfortable-looking glebe with adouble view towards refreshment and information. I reached the gate and,having run the gauntlet of an evilly-intentioned dog, pulled a bell atthe door.

Now it had never occurred to me that my outward appearance savoured not alittle of the bandit--a poet has written about "the dark Suliote, in hisshaggy capote" etc., conveying the idea of a very ferocious-looking fellowbut I believe that my appearance fully realized the description, as faras outward semblance was concerned; so, evidently, thought the worthyclergyman when, cautiously approaching his hall-door, he beheld throughthe glass window the person whose reiterated ringing had summoned himhastily from his early slumbers. Half opening his door, he inquired mybusiness.

"How far," asked I, "to the Lower Fort?"

"About four miles."

"Any conveyance thither?"

"None whatever."

He was about to close the door in my face, when I inquired his country,and he replied, "I am English."

"And I am an English officer, arrived last night in the Red River, andnow making my way to the Lower Fort."

Had my appearance been ten times more disreputable than it was, had Icarried a mitrailleuse instead of a fourteen-shooter, I would have beenstill received with open arms after that piece of information was givenand received. The door opened very wide and the worthy clergyman's handshut very close. Then suddenly there became apparent many facilities forreaching the Lower Fort not before visible, nor was the hour deemed tooearly to preclude all thoughts of refreshment.

It was some time before my host could exactly realize the state ofaffairs, but when he did, his horse and buggy were soon in readiness, anddriving along the narrow road which here led almost uninterruptedlythrough little clumps and thickets of poplars, we reached the Lower FortGarry not very long after the sun had begun his morning work of makinggold the forest summits. I had run the gauntlet of the lower settlement;I was between the Expedition and its destination, and it was time to liedown and rest.

Up to this time no intimation had reached the Lower Fort of pursuit bythe myrmidons of M. Riel. But soon there came intelligence. A farmercarrying corn to the mill in the fort had been stopped by a party of mensome seven miles away, and questioned as to his having seen a stranger;others had also seen the mounted scouts. And so while I slept the sleepof the tired my worthy host was receiving all manner of informationregarding the movements of the marauders who were in quest of hissleeping guest.

I may have been asleep some two hours, when I became aware of a hand laidon my shoulder and a voice whispering something into my ear. Rousingmyself from a very deep sleep, I beheld the Hudson Bay officer in chargeof the fort standing by the bed repeating words which failed at first tocarry any meaning along with them.

"The French are after you," he reiterated.

"The French"-where was I, in France?

I had been so sound asleep, that it took some seconds to gather up-thedifferent threads of thought where I had left them off a few hoursbefore, and "the French" was at that time altogether a new name in myears for the Red River natives. "The French are after you!" altogether itwas not an agreeable prospect to open my eyes upon, tired, exhausted, andsleepy as I was. But, under the circ*mstances, breakfast seemed the bestpreparation for the siege, assault, and general battery which, accordingto all the rules of war, ought to have followed the announcement of theGallic Nationality being in full pursuit of me.

Seated at breakfast, and doing full justice to a very excellent muttonchop and cup of Hudson Bay Company Souchong (and where does there existsuch tea; out of China?), I heard a digest of the pursuit from the lipsof my host. The French had visited him in his fort once before with evilintentions, and they might come again, so he proposed that we shoulddrive down to the Indian Settlement, where the ever-faithful Ojibbewayswould, if necessary, roll back the tide of Gallic pursuit, giving thepursuers a reception in which Pahaouza-tau-ka, or "The GreatScalp-taker," would play a prominent part.

Breakfast over, a drive of eight miles brought us to the mission of theIndian Settlement presided over by Archdeacon Cowley.

Here, along the last few miles of the Red River ere it seeks, throughmany channels, the waters of Lake Winnipeg, dwell the remnants of thetribes whose fathers in times gone by claimed the broad lands of the RedRiver; now clothing themselves, after the fashion of the white man, ingarments and in religion, and learning a few of his ways and dealings,but still with many wistful hankerings towards the older era of the paintand feathers, of the medicine bag and the dream omen.

Poor red man of the great North-west, I am at last in your land! Long asI have been hearing of you and your wild doings, it is only here that Ihave reached you on the confines of the far-stretching Winnipeg. It is noeasy task to find you now, for one has to travel far into the lonespaces of the Continent before the smoke of your wigwam or of your tepieblurs the evening air.

But henceforth we will be companions for many months, and through manyvaried scenes, for my path lies amidst the lone spaces which are stillyour own; by the rushing rapids where you spear the great "namha" (sturgeon) will we light the evening fire and lie down to rest, lulled bythe ceaseless thunder of the torrent; the lone lake shore will give usrest for the midday meal, and from your frail canoe, lying like asea-gull on the wave, we will get the "mecuhaga" (the blueberry) and the"wa-wa," (the goose) giving you the great medicine of the white man, thethé and suga in exchange. But I anticipate.

On the morning following my arrival at the mission house a strange soundgreeted my ears as I arose. Looking through the window, I beheld for thefirst time the red man in his glory.

Filing along the outside road came some two hundred of the warriors andbraves of the Ojibbeways, intent upon all manner of rejoicing. At theirhead marched Chief Henry Prince, Chief "Kechiwis" (or the Big Apron) "SouSouse" (or Little Long Ears); there was also "We-we-tak-gum Na-gash" (orthe Man who flies round the Feathers), and Pahaouza-tau-ka, if notpresent, was represented by at least a dozen individuals just as fullyqualified to separate the membrane from the top of the head as was thatmost renowned scalp-taker.

Wheeling into the grass-plot in front of the mission house, the wholebody advanced towards the door shouting, "Ho, ho!" and firing off theirflint trading-guns in token of welcome. The chiefs and old men advancingto the front, seated themselves on the ground in a semi-circle, while theyoung men and braves remained standing or lying on the ground fartherback in two deep lines. In front of all stood Henry Prince the son ofPequis, Chief of the Swampy tribe, attended by his interpreter andpipe-bearer.

My appearance upon the door-step was the signal for a burst of deep andlong-rolling, "Ho, ho's," and then the ceremony commenced. There Was nodance or "pow wow;" it meant business at once. Striking his hand uponhis breast the chief began; as he finished each sentence the interpretertook up the thread, explaining with difficulty the long rolling, words ofthe Indian.

"You see here," he said, "the most faithful children of the Great Mother;they have heard that you have come from the great chief who is bringingthither his warriors from the Kitchi-gami" (Lake Superior), "and theyhave come to bid you welcome, and to place between you and the enemiesof the Great Mother their guns and their lives. But these children aresorely puzzled; they know not what to do. They have gathered in from theEast, and the North, and the West, because bad men have risen their handsagainst the Great Mother and robbed her goods and killed her sons and puta strange flag over her fort. And these bad men are now living in plentyon what they have robbed, and the faithful children of the Great Motherare starving and very poor, and they wish to know what they are to do. Itis said that a great chief is coming across from the big sea-water withmany mighty braves and warriors, and much goods and presents for theIndians. But though we have watched long for him, the lake is stillclear of his canoes, and we begin to think he is not coming at all;therefore we were glad when we were told that you had come, for now youwill tell us what we are to do and what message the great Ogima has sentto the red children of the Great Mother."

The speech ended, a deep and prolonged "Ho!"--a sort of universal "themsour sentiments "--ran round the painted throng of warriors, and then theyawaited my answer, each looking with stolid indifference straight beforehim.

My reply was couched in as few words as possible. "It was true what theyhad heard. The big chief was coming across from the Kitchi-gami at thehead of many warriors. The arm of the Great Mother was a long one, andstretched far over'seas and forests; let them keep quiet, and when thechief would arrive, he would give them store of presents and supplies; hewould reward them for their good behaviour. Bad men had set themselvesagainst the Great Mother; but the Great Mother would feel angry if any ofher red children moved against these men. The big chief would soon bewith them, and all would be made right. As for myself, I was now on myway to meet the big chief and his warriors, and I would say to him howtrue had been the red children, and he would be made glad thereat.Meantime, they should have a present of tea, tobacco, flour, andpemmican; and with full stomachs their harts would feel fuller still."

A universal "Ho!" testified that the speech was good; and then theceremony of hand-shaking began. I intimated, however, that time wouldonly permit of my having that honour with a few of the large assembly--infact, with the leaders and old men of the tribe.

Thus, in turns, I grasped the bony hands of the "Red Deer'" and the "BigApron," of the "Old Englishman" and the "Long Claws," and the "Big Bird;"and, with the same "Ho, ho!" and shot-firing, they filed away as they hadcome, carrying with them my order upon the Lower Fort for one big feedand one long pipe, and, I dare say, many blissful visions of that lifethe red man ever loves to live-the life that never does come to him thefuture of plenty and of ease.

Meantime, my preparations for departure, aided by my friends at themission, had gone on apace. I had got a canoe and five stout Englishhalf-breeds, blankets, pemmican, tea, flour, and biscuit. All were beingmade ready, and the Indian Settlement was alive with excitement on thesubject of the coming man--now no longer a myth--in relation to a generalmillennium of unlimited pemmican and tobacco.

But just when all preparations had been made complete an unexpected eventoccurred which postponed for a time the date of my departure; this wasthe arrival of a very urgent message from the Upper Fort, with aninvitation to visit that place before quitting the settlement. There hadbeen an error in the proceedings on the night of my arrival, I was told,and, acting under a mistake, pursuit had been organized. Great excitementexisted amongst the French half breeds, who were in reality most loyallydisposed; it was quite a mistake to imagine that there was any thingapproaching to treason in the designs of the Provisional Government andmuch more to the same effect. It is needless now to enter into thequestion of how much all this was worth: at that time so much conflictingtestimony was not easily reduced into proper limits. But on three points,at all events, I could form a correct opinion for myself. Had not mycompanion been arrested and threatened with instant death? Was he notstill kept in confinement? and had not my baggage undergone confiscation(it is a new name for an old thing)? And was there not a flag other thanthe Union Jack flying over Fort Garry? Yes, it was true; all these thingswere realities.

Then I replied, "While these things remain, I will not visit Fort Garry."

Then I was told that Colonel Wolseley had written, urging theconstruction of a road between Fort Garry and Lake of the Woods, and thatit could not be done unless I visited the upper settlement.

I felt a wish, and a very strong one, to visit this upper Fort Garry andsee for myself its chief and its garrison, if the thing could be managedin any possible way.

From many sources I was advised that it would be dangerous to do so; butthose who tendered this counsel had in a manner grown old under thedespotism of M. Riel, and had, moreover, begun to doubt that theexpeditionary force would ever succeed in overcoming the terribleobstacles of the long route from Lake Superior. I knew better. Of Riel Iknew nothing, or next to nothing; of the progress of the expeditionaryforce, I knew only that it was led by a man who regarded impossibilitiesmerely in the light of obstacles to be cleared from his path; and that itwas composed of soldiers who, thus led, would go any where, and do anything, that men in any shape of savagery or of civilization can do ordare. And although no tidings had reached me of its having passed therugged portage from the shore of Lake Superior to the height of land andlaunched itself fairly on the waters which flow from thence into LakeWinnipeg, still its ultimate approach never gave me one doubtful thought.I reckoned much on the Bishop's letter, which I had still in mypossession, and on the influence which his last communication to the"President" would of necessity exercise; so I decided to visit FortGarry, upon the conditions that my baggage was restored intact, Mr.Dreever set at liberty, and the nondescript flag taken down. Myinterviewer said he could promise the first two propositions, but of thethird he was not so certain. He would, however, despatch a message to mewith full information as to how they had been received. I gave him untilfive o'clock the following evening, at which hour, if his messenger hadnot appeared, I was to start for the Winnipeg River, en route for theExpedition.

Five o'clock came on the following day, and no messenger. Every thingwas in readiness for my departure: the canoe, freshly pitched, wasdeclared fit for the Winnipeg itself; the provisions were all ready to beput on board at a moment's notice. I gave half an hour's law, and thatdelay brought the messenger; so, putting off my intention of starting, Iturned my face back towards Fort Garry. My former interviewer had sent mea letter; all was as I wished-Mr. Dreever had been set at liberty, mybaggage given up, and he would expect me on the following morning.

The Indians were in a terrible state of commotion over my going. One oftheir chief medicine-men, an old Swampy named Bear, laboured long andearnestly to convince me that Riel had got on what he called "the trackof blood," the devil's track, and that he could not get off of it. Thiscurious proposition he endeavoured to illustrate by means of three smallpegs of wood, which he set up on the ground. One represented Riel,another his Satanic Majesty, while the third was supposed to indicatemyself.

He moved these three pegs about-very much after the fashion of athimble-rigger; and I seemed to have, through my peg, about as bad a timeof it as the pea under the thimble usually experiences. Upon the mostconclusive testimony, Bear proceeded to show that I hadn't a chancebetween Riel and the devil, who, according to an equally cleardemonstration, were about as bad as bad could be.

I had to admit a total inability to follow Bear in the reasoning whichled to his deductions; but that only proved that I was not a"medicine-man," and knew nothing whatever of the peg theory.

So, despite of the evil deductions drawn by Bear from the three pegs, Iset out for Fort Garry, and, journeying along the same road which I hadtravelled two nights previously, I arrived in sight of the village ofWinnipeg before midday on the 23rd of July. At a little distance from thevillage rose the roof and flag-staffs of Fort Garry, and around inunbroken verdure stretched-the prairie lands of Red River.

Passing from the village along the walls of the fort, I crossed theAssineboine River and saw the "International" lying at her mooringsbelow the floating bridge. The captain had been liberated, and waved hishand with a cheer as I crossed the bridge. The gate of the fort stoodopen, a sentry was leaning lazily against the wall, a portion of whichleant in turn against nothing. The whole exterior of the place looked oldand dirty. The muzzles of one or two guns protruding through theembrasures in the flanking bastions failed even to convey the ideaof-fort or fortress to the mind of the beholder.

Returning from the east or St. Boniface side of the Red River, I wasconducted by my companion into the fort. His private residence wassituated within the walls, and to it we proceeded. Upon entering the gateI took in at a glance the surroundings-ranged in a semi-circle with theirmuzzles all pointing towards the entrance, stood some six or eightfield-pieces; on each side and in front were bare looking, white-washedbuildings. The ground and the houses looked equally dirty, and the wholeaspect of the place was desolate and ruinous.

A few ragged-looking dusky men with rusty firelocks, and still morerusty bayonets, stood lounging about. We drove through without stopping,and drew up at the door of my companion's house, which was situated atthe rear of the buildings I have spoken of. From the two flag-staffs flewtwo flags, one-the Union Jack in shreds and tatters, the other awell-kept bit of bunting having the fleur-de-lis and a shamrock on awhite field. Once in the house, my companion asked me if I would see Mr.Riel.

"To call on him, certainly not," was my reply.

"But if he calls on you?"

"Then I will see him," replied I.

The gentleman who had spoken thus soon left the room. There stood in thecentre of the apartment a small billiard table, I took up a cue andcommenced a game with the only other occupant of the room-the sameindividual who had on the previous evening acted as messenger to theIndian Settlement. We had played some half a dozen strokes when the dooropened, and my friend returned. Following him closely came a short stoutman with a large head, a sallow, puffy face, a sharp, restless,intelligent eye, a square-cut massive forehead overhung by a mass of longand thickly clustering hair, and marked with well-cut eyebrows--altogether,a remarkable-looking face, all the more so, perhaps, because it was to beseen in a land where such things are rare sights.

This was M. Louis Riel, the head and front of the Red River Rebellion-thePresident, the little Napoleon, the Ogre, or whatever else he may becalled. He was dressed in a curious mixture of clothing--a blackfrock-coat, vest, and trousers; but the effect of this somewhat clericalcostume was not a little marred by a pair of Indian mocassins, whichnowhere look more out of place than on a carpeted floor.

M. Riel advanced to me, and we shook hands with all that empressem*nt socharacteristic of hand-shaking on the American Continent. Then there camea pause. My companion had laid his cue down. I still retained mine in myhands, and, more as a means of bridging the awkward gulf of silence whichfollowed the introduction, I asked him to continue the game--anotherstroke or two, and the mocassined President began to move nervously aboutthe window recess. To relieve his burthened feelings, I inquired if heever indulged in billiards; a rather laconic "Never," was his reply.

"Quite a loss," I answered, making an absurd stroke across the table; "acapital game."

I had scarcely uttered this profound sentiment when I beheld thePresident moving hastily towards the door, muttering as he went, "I see Iam intruding here." There was hardly time to say, "Not at all," when hevanished.

But my companion was too quick for him; going out into the hall, hebrought him back once more into the room, called away my billiardopponent, and left me alone with the chosen of the people of the newnation.

Motioning M. Riel to be seated, I took a chair myself, and theconversation began.

Speaking with difficulty, and dwelling long upon his words, Rielregretted that I should have shown such distrust of him and his party asto prefer the Lower Fort and the English Settlement to the Upper Fort andthe society of the French. I answered, that if such distrust existed itwas justified by the rumours spread by his sympathizers on the Americanfrontier, who represented him as making active preparations to resist theapproaching Expedition.

"Nothing," he said, "was more false than these statements. I only wish toretain power until I can resign it to a proper Government. I have doneevery thing for the sake of peace, and to prevent bloodshed amongst thepeople of this land. But they will find," he added passionately, "theywill find, if they try, these people here, to put me out-they will findthey cannot do it. I will keep what is mine until the proper Governmentarrives;" as he spoke he got up from his chair and began to pacenervously about the room.

I mentioned having met Bishop Taché in St. Paul and the letter which Ihad received from him. He read it attentively and commenced to speakabout the Expedition.

"Had I come from it?"

"No; I was going to it."

He seemed surprised.

"By the road to the Lake of the Woods?"

"No; by the Winnipeg River," I replied.

"Where was the Expedition?"

I could not answer this question; but I concluded it could not be veryfar from the Lake of the Woods.

"Was it a large force?"

I told him exactly, setting the limits as low as possible, not to deterhim from fighting if such was his intention. The question uppermost inhis mind was one of which he did not speak, and he deserves the credit ofhis silence. Amnesty or no amnesty was at that moment a matter of verygrave import to the French half-breeds, and to none so much as to theirleader. Yet he never asked if that pardon was an event on which he couldcalculate. He did not even allude to it at all.

At one time, when speaking of the efforts he had made for the advantageof his country, he grew very excited, walking hastily up and down theroom with theatrical attitudes and declamation, which he evidentlyfancied had the effect of imposing on his listener; but, alas! for thevanity of man, it only made him appear ridiculous; the mocassins sadlymarred the exhibition of presidential power.

An Indian speaking with the solemn gravity of his race looks right manfulenough, as with moose-clad leg his mocassined feet rest on prairie grassor frozen snow-drift; but this picture of the black-coated Metis playingthe part of Europe's great soldier in the garb of a priest and the shoesof a savage looked simply absurd. At length M. Riel appeared to think hehad enough of the interview, for stopping in front of me he said,

"Had I been your enemy you would have known it be fore. I heard you wouldnot visit me, and, although I felt humiliated, I came to see you to showyou my pacific inclinations."

Then darting quickly from the room he left me. An hour later I left thedirty ill-kept fort. The place was then full of half-breeds armed andunarmed. They said nothing and did nothing, but simply stared as I droveby. I had seen the inside of Fort Garry and its president, not at mysolicitation but at his own; and now before me lay the solitudes of thefoaming Winnipeg and the pathless waters of great inland seas.

It was growing dusk when I reached the Lower Fort. My canoe men stoodready, for the hour at which I was to have joined them had passed, andthey had begun to think some mishap had befallen me. After a hasty supperand a farewell to my kind host of the Lower Fort, I stepped into thefrail canoe of painted bark which lay restive on the swift current. "Allright; away!" The crew, with paddles held high for the first dip, gave aparting shout, and like an arrow from its bow we shot out into thecurrent. Overhead the stars were beginning to brighten in the intenseblue of the twilight heavens; far away to the north, where the river ranbetween wooded shores, the luminous arch of the twilight bow spanned thehorizon, merging the northern constellation into its soft hazy glow.Towards that north we held our rapid way, while the shadows deepened onthe shores and the reflected stars grew brighter on the river.

We halted that night at the mission, resuming our course at sunrise onthe following morning. A few miles below the mission stood the huts andbirch-bark lodges Of the Indians. My men declared that it would beimpossible to pass without the ceremony of a visit. The chief had giventhem orders on the subject, and all the Indians were expecting it; so,paddling in to the shore, I landed and walked up the pathway leading tothe chief's hut.

It was yet very early in the morning, and most of the braves were lyingasleep inside their wigwams, dogs and papooses seeming to have matterspretty much their own way outside.

The hut in which dwelt the son of Pequis was small, low, andill-ventilated. Opening the latched door I entered stooping; nor wasthere much room to extend oneself when the interior was attained.

The son of Pequis had not yet been aroused from his morning's slumber;the noise of my entrance, however, disturbed him, and he quickly cameforth from a small interior den, rubbing his eyelids and gapingprofusely. He looked sleepy all over, and was as much disconcerted as aman usually is who has a visit of ceremony paid to him as he is gettingout of bed.

Prince, the son of Pequis, essayed a speech, but I am constrained toadmit that taken altogether it was a miserable failure. Action losesdignity when it is accompanied by furtive attempts at buttoning nethergarments, and not even the eloquence of the Indian is proof against thegenerally demoralized aspect of a man just out of bed. I felt that someapology was due to the chief for this early visit; but I told him thatbeing on my way to meet the great Ogima whose braves were coming from thebig sea water, I could not pass the Indian camp without stopping to saygood-bye.

Before any thing else could be said I shook Prince by the hand and walkedback towards the river.

By this time, however, the whole camp was thoroughly aroused. From eachlodge came forth warriors decked in whatever garments could be mosteasily donned.

The chief gave a signal, and a hundred trading-guns were held aloft and ahundred shots rang out on the morning air. Again and again the saluteswere repeated, the whole tribe moving down to the water's edge to see meoff. Putting out into the middle of the river, I discharged my four teenshooter in the air in rapid succession; a prolonged war whoop answered mysalute, and paddling their very best, for the eyes of the finest canoersin the world were upon them, my men drove the little craft flying overthe water until the Indian village and its still firing braves werehidden behind a river bend. Through many marsh-lined channels, and amidsta vast sea of reeds and rushes, the Red River of the North seeks thewaters of Lake Winnipeg. A mixture of land and water, of mud, and of thevaried vegetation which grows thereon, this delta of the Red River is,like other spots of a similar description, inexplicably lonely.

The wind sighs over it, bending the tall reeds with mournful rustle, andthe wild bird passes and repasses with plaintive cry over the rusheswhich form his summer home.

Emerging from the sedges of the Red River, we shot out into the waters ofan immense lake, a lake which stretched away into unseen spaces, and overwhose waters the fervid July sun was playing strange freaks of mirage andinverted shore land.

This was Lake Winnipeg, a great lake even on a continent where lakes areinland seas. But vast as it is now, it is only a tithe of what it musthave been in the earlier ages of the earth.

The capes and headlands of what once was a vast inland sea now stand faraway from the shores of Winnipeg. Hundreds of miles from its presentlimits these great landmarks still look down on an ocean, but it is anocean of grass. The waters of Winnipeg have retired from their feet, andthey are now mountain ridges rising over seas of verdure. At the bottomof this bygone lake lay the whole valley of the Red River, the presentLakes Winnipegoos and Manitoba, and the prairie lands of the LowerAssineboine, 100,000 square miles of water. The water has long since beendrained off by the lowering of the rocky channels leading to Hudson Bay,and the bed of the extinct lake now forms the richest prairie land in theworld.

But although Winnipeg has shrunken to a tenth of its original size, itsrivers still remain worthy of the great basin into which they onceflowed. The Saskatchewan is longer than the Danube, the Winnipeg hastwice the volume of the Rhine. 400,000 square miles of continent shedtheir waters into Lake Winnipeg; a lake as changeful as the ocean, but,fortunately for us, in its very calmest mood to-day. Not a wave, not aripple on its surface; not a breath of breeze to aid the untiringpaddles. The little canoe, weighed down by men and provisions, hadscarcely three inches of its gunwale over the water, and yet thesteersman held his course far out into the glassy waste, leaving behindthe marshy headlands which marked the river's mouth.

A long low point stretching from the south shore of the lake was faintlyvisible on the horizon. It was past mid day when we reached it; so,putting in among the rocky boulders which lined the shore, we lighted ourfire and cooked our dinner. Then, resuming our way, the Grande Traversewas entered upon. Far away over the lake rose the point of the Big Stone,a lonely cape whose perpendicular front was raised high over the water.The sun began to sink towards the west; but still not a breath rippledthe surface of the lake, not a sail moved over the wide expanse, all wasas lonely as though our tiny craft had been the sole speck of life on thewaters of the world. The red sun sank into the lake, warning us that itwas time to seek the shore and make our beds for the night. A deep sandybay, with a high backing of woods and rocks, seemed to invite us to itssolitudes. Steering in with great caution amid the rocks, we landed inthis sheltered spot, and our boat upon the sandy beach. The shore yieldedlarge store of drift-wood, the relics of many a northern gale. Behind uslay a trackless forest; in front the golden glory of the Western sky. Asthe night shades deepened around us and the red glare of our drift-woodfire cast its light upon the woods and the rocks, the scene became one ofrare beauty.

As I sat watching from a little distance this picture so full of all thecharms of the wild life of the voyageur and the Indian, I littlemarvelled that the red child of the lakes and the woods should be loth toquit such scenes for all the luxuries of our civilization. Almost as Ithought with pity over his fate, seeing here the treasures of naturewhich were his, there suddenly emerged from the forest two dusky forms.'They were Ojibbeways, who came to share our fire and our evening meal.The land was still their own. When I lay down to rest that night on thedry sandy shore, I long watched the stars above me. As children sleepafter a day of toil and play, so slept the dusky men who lay around me.It was my first night with these poor wild sons of the lone spaces; itwas strange and weird, and the lapping of the mimic wave against therocks close by failed to bring sleep to my thinking eyes. Many a nightafterwards I lay down to sleep beside these men and their brethren--manya night by lake-shore, by torrent's edge, and far out amidst themeasureless meadows of the West--but "custom stales" even nature'sinfinite variety, and through many wild bivouacs my memory still wandersback to that first night out by the shore of Lake Winnipeg.

At break of day we launched the canoe again and pursued our course forthe mouth of the Winnipeg River. The lake which yesterday was allsunshine, to-day looked black and overcast--thunder-clouds hung angrilyaround the horizon, and it seemed as though Winnipeg was anxious to givea sample of her rough ways before she had done with us. While the morningwas yet young we made a portage--that is, we carried the canoe and itsstores across a neck of land, saving thereby a long paddle round aprojecting cape. The portage was through a marshy tract covered with longgrass and rushes. While the men are busily engaged in carrying across theboat and stores, I will introduce them to the reader. They were four innumber, and were named as follows:-Joseph Monkman, cook and interpreter;William Prince, full Indian; Thomas Smith, ditto; Thomas Hope, ci-devantschoolmaster, and now self-constituted steersman. The three first weregood men. Prince, in particular, was a splendid canoe-man in dangerouswater. But Hope possessed the greatest capacity for eating and talking ofany man I ever met. He could devour quantities of pemmican any number oftimes during the day, and be hungry still. What he taught during theperiod when he was schoolmaster I have never been able to find out, buthe was popularly supposed at the mission to be a very good Christian. Hehad a marked disinclination to hard or continued toil, although he wouldimpress an on looker with a sense of unremitting exertion. This heachieved by divesting himself of his shirt and using his paddle, as Alpused his sword, "with right arm bare." A fifth Indian was added to thecanoe soon after crossing the portage.

A couple of Indian lodges stood on the shore along which we werecoasting. We put in towards these lodges to ask information, and foundthem to belong to Samuel Henderson, full Swampy Indian. Samuel, who spokeexcellent English, at once volunteered to come with me as a guide to theWinnipeg River; but I declined to engage him until I had a report of hiscapability for the duty from the Hudson Bay officer in charge of FortAlexander, a fort now only a few miles distant. Samuel at once launchedhis canoe, said "Good-bye" to his wife and nine children, and startedafter us for the fort, where, on the advice of the officer, I finallyengaged him.

CHAPTER TEN.

The Winnipeg River--The Ojibbeway's House--Rushing a Rapid--A Camp--NoTidings of the Coming Man--Hope in Danger--Rat Portage--A far-fetchedIslington--"Like Pemmican".

WE entered the mouth of the Winnipeg River at midday and paddled up toFort Alexander, which stands about a mile from the river's entrance. HereI made my final preparations for the ascent of the Winnipeg, getting afresh canoe better adapted for forcing the rapids, and at five o'clock inthe evening started on my journey Up the river. Eight miles above thefort the roar of a great fall of water sounded through the twilight. Insurge and spray and foaming torrent the enormous volume of the Winnipegwas making its last grand leap on its way to mingle its waters with thelake. On the flat surface of an enormous rock which stood well out intothe boiling water we made our fire and our camp.

The pine-trees which gave the fall its name stood round us, dark andsolemn, waving their long arms to and fro in the gusty winds that sweptthe valley. It was a wild picture. The pine-trees standing in inkyblackness the rushing water, white with foam-above, the riftedthunder-clouds. Soon the lightning began to flash and the voice of thethunder to sound above the roar of the cataract. My Indians made me arough shelter with cross-poles and a sail-cloth, and, huddling themselvestogether under the upturned canoe, we slept regardless of the storm.

I was ninety miles from Fort Garry, and as yet no tidings of theExpedition.

A man may journey very far through the lone spaces of the earth withoutmeeting with another Winnipeg River. In it nature has contrived to placeher two great units of earth and water in strange and wild combinations.To say that the Winnipeg River has an immense volume of water, that itdescends 360 feet in a distance of 160 miles, that it is full of eddiesand whirlpools, of every variation of waterfall from chutes to cataracts,that it expands into lonely pine edged lakes and far-reachingisland-studded bays, that its bed is cumbered with immense wave-polishedrocks, that its vast solitudes are silent and its cascades ceaselesslyactive--to say all this is but to tell in bare items of fact thenarrative of its beauty. For the Winnipeg by the multiplicity of itsperils and the ever-changing beauty of its character, defies thedescription of civilized men as it defies the puny efforts of civilizedtravel. It seems part of the savage-fitted alone for him and for hisways, useless to carry the burden of man's labour, but useful to shelterthe wild things of wood and water which dwell in its waves and along itsshores. And the red man who steers his little birch-bark canoe throughthe foaming rapids of the Winnipeg, how well he knows its various ways!To him it seems to possess life and instinct, he speaks of it as onewould of a high-mettled charger which will do any thing if he be rightlyhandled. It gives him his test of superiority, his proof of courage. Toshoot the Otter Falls or the Rapids of the Barriere, to carry his canoedown the whirling eddies of Portage-de-l'Isle, to lift her from the rushof water at the Seven Portages, or launch her by the edge of thewhirlpool below the Chute-à-Jocko, all this is to be a brave and askilful Indian, for the man who can do all this must possess a power inthe sweep of his paddle, a quickness of glance, and a quiet consciousnessof skill, not to be found except after generations of practice. Forhundreds of years the Indian has lived amidst these rapids; they havebeen the playthings of his boyhood, the realities of his life, theinstinctive habit of his old age. What the horse is to the Arab, what thedog is to the Esquimaux, what the camel is to those who journey acrossArabian deserts, so is the canoe to the Ojibbeway. Yonder wooded shoreyields him from first to last the materials-he requires for itsconstruction: cedar for the slender ribs, birch-bark to cover them,juniper to stitch together the separate pieces, red pine to give resinfor the seams and crevices. By the lake or river shore, close to hiswigwam, the boat is built;

"And the forest life is in it All its mystery and its magic, All thetightness of the birch-tree, All the toughness of the cedar, All thelarch's supple sinews. And it floated on the river Like a yellow leaf inautumn, Like a yellow water-lily."

It is not a boat, it is a house; it can be carried long distances overland from lake to lake. It is frail beyond words, yet you can load itdown to the water's edge; it carries the Indian by day, it shelters himby night; in it he will steer boldly out into a vast lake where land isunseen, or paddle through mud and swamp or reedy shallows; sitting init, he gathers his harvest of wild rice and catches his fish or shootshis game; it will dash down a foaming rapid, brave a fiercely-rushingtorrent, or lie like a sea-bird on the placid water.

For six months the canoe is the home of the Ojibbeway. While the treesare green, while the waters dance and sparkle, while the wild rice bendsits graceful head in the lake and the wild duck dwells amidst therush-covered mere, the Ojibbeway's home is the birch-bark canoe. When thewinter comes and the lake and rivers harden beneath the icy breath of thenorth wind, the canoe is put carefully away; covered with branches andwith snow, it lies through the long dreary winter until the wild swan andthe wavy, passing northward to the polar seas, call it again from itslong icy sleep.

Such is the life of the canoe, and such the river along which it rusheslike an arrow.

The days that now commenced to pass were filled from dawn to dark withmoments of keenest enjoyment, every thing was new and strange, and eachhour brought with it some fresh surprise of Indian skill or Indianscenery.

The sun would be just tipping the western shores with his first rays whenthe canoe would be lifted from its ledge of rock and laid gently on thewater; then the blankets and kettles, the provisions and the guns wouldbe placed in it, and four Indians would take their seats, while oneremained on the shore to steady the bark upon the water and keep itssides from contact with the rock; then when I had taken my place in thecentre, the outside man would spring gently in, and we would glide awayfrom the rocky resting-place. To tell the mere work of each day is nodifficult matter: start at five o'clock a.m., halt for breakfast at seveno'clock, off again at eight, halt at one o'clock for dinner, away at twoo'clock, paddle until sunset at 7:30; that was the work of each day. Buthow shall I attempt to fill in the details of scene and circ*mstancebetween these rough outlines of time and toil, for almost at every hourof the long summer day the great Winnipeg

revealed some new phase ofbeauty and of peril, some changing scene of lonely grandeur? I havealready stated that the river in its course from the Lake of the Woods toLake Winnipeg, 160 miles, makes a descent of 360 feet. This descent iseffected not by a continuous decline, but by a series of terraces atvarious distances from each other; in other words, the river formsinnumerable lakes and wide expanding reaches bound together by rapids andperpendicular falls of varying altitude, thus when the voyageur haslifted his canoe from the foot of the Silver Falls and launched it againabove the head of that rapid, he will have surmounted two-and-twenty feetof the ascent; again, the dreaded Seven Portages will give him a totalrise of sixty feet in a distance of three miles. (How cold does the barenarration of these facts appear beside their actual realization in asmall canoe manned by Indians!) Let us see if we can picture one of thesemany scenes. There sounds ahead a roar of falling water, and we see, uponrounding some pine-clad island or ledge of rock, a tumbling mass of foamand spray studded with projecting rocks and flanked by dark woodedshores; above we can see nothing, but below the waters, maddened by theirwild rush amidst the rocks, surge and leap in angry whirlpools. It is aswild a scene of crag and wood and water as the eye can gaze upon, but welook upon it not for its beauty, because there is no time for that, butbecause it is an enemy that must be conquered. Now mark how these Indianssteal upon this enemy before he is aware of it. The immense volume ofwater, escaping from the eddies and whirlpools at the foot of the fall,rushes on in a majestic sweep into calmer water; this rush producesalong the shores of the river a counter or back-current which flows upsometimes close to the foot of the fall, along this back-water the canoeis carefully steered, being often not six feet from the opposing rush inthe central river, but the back-current in turn ends in a whirlpool, andthe canoe, if it followed this back-current, would inevitably end in thesame place; for a minute there is no paddling, the bow paddle and thesteersman alone keeping the boat in her proper direction as she driftsrapidly up the current. Amongst the crew not a word is spoken, but everyman knows what he has to do and will be ready when the moment comes; andnow the moment has come, for on one side there foams along a mad surge ofwater, and on the other the angry whirlpool twists and turns in smoothgreen hollowing curves round an axis of air, whirling round it with astrength that would snap our birch bark into fragments and suck us downinto great depths below. All that can be gained by the back-current hasbeen gained, and now it is time to quit it; but where? for there is oftenonly the choice of the whirlpool or the central river. Just on the veryedge of the eddy there is one loud shout given by the bow paddle, and thecanoe shoots full into the centre of the boiling flood, driven by theunited strength of the entire crew--the men work for their very lives,and the boat breasts across the river with her head turned full towardthe falls; the waters foam and dash about her, the waves leap high overthe gunwale, the Indians shout as they dip their paddles like lightninginto the foam, and the stranger to such a scene holds his breath amidstthis war of man against nature. Ha! the struggle is useless, they cannotforce her against such a torrent, we are close to the rocks and the foam;but see, she is driven down by the current in spite of those wild faststrokes. The dead strength of such a rushing flood must prevail. Yes, itis true, the canoe has been driven back; but behold, almost in a secondthe whole thing is done-we float suddenly beneath a little rocky isle onthe foot of the cataract. We have crossed the river in the face of thefall, and the portage landing is over this rock, while three yards out oneither side the torrent foams its headlong course. Of the skill necessaryto perform such things it is useless to speak. A single false stroke, andthe whole thing would have failed; driven headlong down the torrent,another attempt would have to be made to gain this rock-protected spot,but now we lie secure here; spray all around us, for the rush of theriver is on either side and you can touch it with an outstretched paddle.The Indians rest on their paddles and laugh; their long hair has escapedfrom its-fastening through their exertion, and they retie it while theyrest. One is already standing upon the wet slippery rock holding thecanoe in its place, then the others get out. The freight is carried uppiece by piece and deposited on the flat surface some ten feet above;that done, the canoe is lifted out very gently, for a single blow againstthis hard granite boulder would shiver and splinter the frail birch-barkcovering; they raise her very carefully up the steep face of the cliffand rest again on the top. What a view there is from this coigne ofvantage! We are on the lip of the fall, on each side it makes its plunge,and below we mark at leisure the torrent we have just braved; above, itis smooth water, and away ahead we see the foam of another rapid. Therock on which we stand has been worn smooth by the washing of the waterduring countless ages, and from a cleft or fissure there springs apine-tree or a rustling aspen. We have crossed the Petit Roches, and ourcourse is onward still.

Through many scenes like this we held our way during the last days ofJuly. The weather was beautiful; now and then a thunder-storm would rollalong during the night, but the morning sun rising clear and bright wouldalmost tempt one to believe that it had been a dream, if the pools ofwater in the hollows of the rocks and the dampness of blanket oroil-cloth had not proved the sun a humbug. Our general distance each daywould be about thirty-two miles, with an average of six portages. Atsunset we made our camp on some rocky isle or shelving shore, one or twocut wood, another got the cooking things ready, a fourth gummed the seamsof the canoe, a fifth cut shavings from a dry stick for the fire--formyself, I generally took a plunge in the cool delicious water--and soonthe supper hissed in the pans, the kettle steamed from its suspendingstick, and the evening meal was eaten with appetites such as only thevoyageur can understand.

Then when the shadows of the night had fallen around and all was silent,save the river's tide against the rocks, we would stretch our blankets onthe springy moss of the crag and lie down to sleep with only the starsfor a roof.

Happy, happy days were these--days the memory of which goes very far intothe future, growing brighter as we journey farther away from them, forthe scenes through which our course was laid were such as speak inwhispers, only when we have left them--the whispers of the pine-tree, themusic of running water, the stillness of great lonely lakes.

On the evening of the fifth day from leaving Fort Alexander we reachedthe foot of the Rat Portage, the twenty-seventh, and last, upon theWinnipeg River; above this portage stretched the Lake of the Woods, whichhere poured its waters through a deep rock-bound gorge with tremendousforce. During the five days we had only encountered two solitary Indians;they knew nothing whatever about the Expedition, and, after a shortparley and a present of tea and flour, we pushed on. About midday on thefourth day we halted at the Mission of the White Dog, a spot which somemore than heathen missionary had named Islington in a moment of virtuousco*ckneyism. What could have tempted him to commit this act of desecrationit is needless to ask.

Islington on the Winnipeg! O religious Gilpin, hadst thou fallen a preyto savage Cannibalism, not even Sidney Smith's farewell aspiration wouldhave saved the savage who devoured you, you must have killed him.

The Mission of the White Dog had been the scene of Thomas Hope's mostbrilliant triumphs in the role of schoolmaster, and the youthfulOjibbeways of the place had formerly belonged to the band of hope. Forsome days past Thomas had been labouring under depression, his power ofdevouring pemmican had, it is true, remained unimpaired, but in one ortwo trying moments of toil, in rapids and portages, he had been foundmiserably wanting; he had, in fact, shown many indications of utteruselessness; he had also begun to entertain gloomy apprehensions of whatthe French would do to him when they caught him on the Lake of the Woods,and although he endeavoured frequently to prove that under certaincirc*mstances the French would have no chance whatever against him, yet,as these circ*mstances were from the nature of things never likely tooccur, necessitating, in the first instance, a presumption that Thomaswould show fight, he failed to convince not only his hearers, buthimself, that he was not in a very bad way. At the White Dog Mission hewas, so to speak, on his own hearth, and was doubtless desirous ofshowing me that his claims to the rank of interpreter were well founded.No tidings whatever had reached the few huts of the Indians at the WhiteDog; the women and children, who now formed the sole inhabitants, wentbut little out of the neighbourhood, and the men had been away for manydays in the forest, hunting and fishing. Thus, through the whole courseof the Winnipeg, from lake to lake, I could glean no tale or tidings ofthe great Ogima or of his myriad warriors. It was quite dark when wereached, on the evening of the 30th July, the northern edge of the Lakeof the Woods and paddled across its placid waters to the Hudson BayCompany's post at the Rat Portage. An arrival of a canoe with sixstrangers is no ordinary event at one of these remote posts which thegreat fur company have built at long intervals over their immenseterritory. Out came the denizens of a few Indian lodges, out came thepeople of the fort and the clerk in charge of it. My first question wasabout the Expedition, but here, as elsewhere, no tidings had been heardof it. Other tidings were however forthcoming which struck terror intothe heart of Hope. Suspicious canoes had been seen for-some days pastamongst the many islands of the lake; strange men had come to the fort atnight, and strange fires had been seen on the islands-the French were outon the lake. The officer in charge of the post was absent at the time ofmy visit, but I had met him at Fort Alexander, and he had anticipated mywants in a letter which I myself carried to his son. I now determined tostrain every effort to cross with rapidity the Lake of the Woods andascend the Rainy River to the next post of the Company, Fort Francis,distant from Rat Portage about 1400 miles, for there I felt sure that Imust learn tidings of the Expedition and bring my long solitary journeyto a close. But the Lake of the Woods is an immense sheet of water lying1000 feet above the sea level, and subject to violent gales which lash*ts bosom into angry billows. To be detained upon some island,storm-bound amidst the lake, %would never have answered, so I ordered alarge keeled boat to be got ready by midday it only required a fewtrifling repairs of sail and oars, but a great feast had to be gonethrough in which my pemmican and flour were destined to play a veryprominent part. As the word pemmican is one which may figure frequentlyin these pages, a few words explanatory of it may be useful. Pemmican,the favourite food of the Indian and the half-breed voyageur, can be madefrom the flesh of any animal, but it is nearly altogether composed ofbuffalo meat; the meat is first cut into slices, then dried either byfire or in the sun, and then pounded or beaten out into a thick flakysubstance; in this state it is put into a large bag made from the hide ofthe animal, the dry pulp being soldered down into a hard solid mass bymelted fat being poured over it-the quantity of fat is nearly half thetotal weight, forty pounds of fat going to fifty pounds of "beat meat;"the best pemmican generally has added to it ten pounds of berries andsugar, the whole composition forming the most solid description of foodthat man can make. If any person should feel inclined to ask, "What doespemmicau taste like?" I can only reply, "Like pemmican," there isnothing else in the world that bears to it the slightest resemblance.-Can I say any thing that Will give the reader an idea of its sufficingquality? Yes, I think I can. A dog that will eat from four to six poundsof raw fish a day when sleighing, will only devour two pounds: ofpemmican, if he be fed upon that food; yet I have seen Indians andhalf-breeds eat four pounds of it in a single day-but this isanticipating. Pemmican can be prepared in many ways, and it is not easyto decide which method is the least objectionable. There is rubeiboo andrichot, and pemmican plain and pemmican raw, this last method being theone most in vogue amongst voyageurs; but the richot, to me, seemed thebest; mixed with a little flour and fried in a pan, pemmican in this formcan be eaten, provided the appetite be sharp and there is nothing else tobe had--this last consideration is, however, of importance.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

The Expedition--The Lake of the Woods--A Night Alarm--A closeShave--Rainy River--A Night Paddle--Fort Francis--A Meeting--The Officercommanding the Expedition--The Rank and File--The 60th Rifles--AWindigo--Ojibbeway Bravery--Canadian Volunteers.

The feast having been concluded (I believe it had gone on all night, andwas protracted far into the morning), the sails and oars were suddenlyreported ready, and about midday on the 31st July we stood away from thePortages du Rat into the Lake of the Woods. I had added another man tomy crew, which now numbered seven hands, the last accession was a Frenchhalf-breed, named Morrisseau. Thomas Hope had possessed himself of aflint gun, with which he was to do desperate things should we fall inwith the French scouts upon the lake. The boat in which I now foundmyself was a large, roomy craft, capable of carrying about three tons offreight; it had a single tall mast carrying a large square lug-sail, andalso possessed of powerful sweeps, which were worked by the men instanding positions, the rise of the oar after each stroke making theoarsman sink back upon the thwarts only to resume again his uprightattitude for the next dip of the heavy sweep.

This is the regular Hudson Bay Mackinaw boat, used for the carryingtrade of the great Fur Company on every river from the Bay of Hudson tothe Polar Ocean. It looks a big, heavy, lumbering affair, but it can sailwell before a wind, and will do good work with the oars too.

That portion of the Lake of the Woods through which we now steered ourway was a perfect maze and network of island and narrow channel; a lightbreeze from the north favoured us, and we passed gently along the rockyislet shores through unruffled water. In all directions there opened outinnumerable channels, some narrow and winding, others straight and open,but all lying'-between shores clothed with a rich and luxuriantvegetation; shores that curved and twisted into mimic bays and tinypromontories, that rose in rocky masses abruptly from the water, thatsloped down to meet the lake in gently swelling undulations, that seemed,in fine, to present in the compass of a single glance every varyingfeature of island scenery. Looking through these rich labyrinths of treeand moss-covered rock, it was difficult to imagine that winter could ever-stamp its frozen image upon such a soft summer scene. The air was balmywith the scented things which grow profusely upon the islands; the waterwas warm, almost tepid, and yet despite of this the winter frost wouldcover the lake with five feet of ice, and the thick brushwood of theislands would lie hidden during many months beneath great depths of snow.

As we glided along through this beautiful scene the men kept a sharplook-out for the suspicious craft whose presence had caused such alarm atthe Portage-du-Rat. We saw no trace of man or canoe, and nothing brokethe stillness of the evening except the splash of a sturgeon in thelonely bays. About sunset we put ashore upon a large rock for supper.While it was being prepared I tried to count the islands around. From aprojecting point I could see island upon island to the number of over ahundred--the wild cherry, the plum, the wild rose, the raspberry,intermixed with ferns and mosses in vast variety, covered every spotaround me, and from rock and crevice the pine and the poplar hung theirbranches over the water. As the breeze still blew fitfully from the northwe again embarked and held our way through the winding channels--at timesthese channels would grow wider only again to close together; but therewas no current, and the large high sail moved us slowly through thewater. When it became dark a fire suddenly appeared on an island somedistance ahead. Thomas Hope grasped his flint gun and seemed to think thesupreme moment had at length arrived. During the evening I could tell bythe gestures and looks of the men that the mysterious rovers formed thechief subject of conversation, and our latest accession painted sovividly their various suspicious movements, that Thomas was more thanever convinced his hour was at hand. Great then was the excitement whenthe fire was observed upon the island, and greater still when I toldSamuel to steer full towards it. As we approached we could distinguishfigures moving to and fro between us and the bright flame, but when wehad got within a few hundred yards of the spot the light was suddenlyextinguished, and the ledge of rock upon which it had been burning becamewrapped in darkness. We hailed, but there was no reply. Whoever had beenaround the fire had vanished through the trees; launching their canoeupon the other side of the island, they had paddled away through theintricate labyrinth scared by our sudden appearance in front of theirlonely bivouac. This apparent confirmation of his worst fears in no wayserved to reanimate the spirits of Hope, and though shortly after he laydown with the other men in the bottom of the boat, it was not withoutmisgivings as to the events which lay before him in the darkness. One manonly remained up to steer, for it was my intention to run as long as thebreeze, faint though it was, lasted. I had been asleep about half an hourwhen I felt my arm quickly pulled, and, looking up, beheld Samuel bendingover me, while with one hand he steered the boat. "Here they are," hewhispered, "here they are." I looked over the gunwale and under the sailand beheld right on the course we were steering two bright fires burningclose to the water's edge. We were running down a channel which seemed tonarrow to a strait between two islands, and presently a third fire cameinto view on the other side of the strait, showing distinctly the narrowpass towards which we were steering, it did not appear to be more thantwenty feet across it, and, from its exceeding narrowness and theposition of the fires, it seemed as though the place had really beenselected to dispute our outward passage. We were not more than twohundred yards from the strait and the breeze was holding well into it.What was to be done? Samuel was for putting the helm up; but that wouldHave been useless, because we were already in the channel, and to run onshore would only place us still more in the power of our enemies, ifenemies they were, so I told him to hold his course and run right throughthe narrow pass. The other men had sprung quickly from their blankets,and Thomas was the picture of terror. When he saw that I was about to runthe boat through the strait, he instantly made up his mind to shape forhimself a different course. Abandoning his flint musket to any body whowould take it, he clambered like a monkey on to the gunwale, with theevident intention of dropping noiselessly into the water, and seeking, byswimming on shore, a safety which he deemed denied to him on board. Nevershall I forget his face as he was pulled back into the boat; nor is iteasy to describe the sudden revulsion of feeling which possessed himwhen: a dozen different fires breaking into view showed at once that theforest was on fire, and that the imaginary bivouac of the French was onlythe flames of burning brushwood. Samuel laughed over his mistake, butThomas looked on it in no laughing light, and, seizing his gun, stoutlymaintained that had it really been the French they would have learnt aterrible lesson from the united volleys of the fourteen-shooter and hisflint musket.

The Lake of the Woods covers a very large extent of country. In length itmeasures about seventy miles, and its greatest breadth is about the samedistance; its shores are but little known, and it is only the Indian whocan steer with accuracy through its labyrinthine channels. In itssouthern portion it spreads out into a vast expanse of open water, thesurface of which is lashed by tempests into high-running seas.

In the early days of the French fur trade it yielded large stores ofbeaver and of martens, but it has long ceased to be rich in furs. Itsshores and islands will be found to abound in minerals whenevercivilization reaches them.

Among the Indians the lake holds high place as the favourite haunt of theManitou. The strange water-worn rocks, the islands of soft pipe-stonefrom which are cut the bowls for many a calumet, the curious masses ofore resting on the polished surface of rock, the islands struck yearlyby lightning, the islands which abound in lizards although these reptilesare scarce elsewhere--all these make the Lake of the Woods a regionabounding in Indian legend and superstition. There are isles upon whichhe will not dare to venture, because the evil spirit has chosen them;there are promontories upon which offerings must be made to the Manitouwhen the canoe drifts by their lonely shores; and there are spots watchedover by the great Kennebic, or Serpent, who is jealous of the treasureswhich they contain. But all these things are too long to dwell upon now;I must haste along my way.

On the second morning after leaving Rat Portage we began to leave behindthe thickly-studded islands and to get out into the open waters. Athunder-storm had swept the lake during the night, but the morning wascalm, and the heavy sweeps were not able to make much way. Suddenly,while we were halted for breakfast, the wind veered round to thenorth-west and promised us a rapid passage across the Grande Traverse tothe mouth of Rainy River. Embarking hastily, we set sail for a straitknown as the Grassy Portage, which the high stage of water in the lakeenabled us to run through without touching ground. Beyond this straitthere stretched away a vast expanse of water over which the white-cappedwaves were running in high billows from the west. It soon became so roughthat we had to take on board the small canoe which I had brought with mefrom Rat Portage in case of accident, and which was towing astern. On weswept over the high-rolling billows with a double reef in the lug-sail.Before us, far away, rose a rocky promontory, the extreme point of whichwe had to weather in order to make the mouth of Rainy River. Keeping theboat as close to the wind as she would go, we reeled on over the tumblingseas. Our lee-way was very great, and for some time it seemed doubtful ifwe would clear the point; as we neared it we saw that there was atremendous sea running against the rock, the white sprays shooting far upinto the air When the rollers struck against it. The wind had nowfreshened to a gale and the boat laboured much, constantly shippingsprays. At last we were abreast of the rocks, close hauled, and yet onlya hundred yards from the breakers. Suddenly the wind veered a little, orthe heavy swell which was running caught us, for we began to driftquickly down into the mass of breakers. The men were all huddled togetherin the bottom of the boat, and for a moment or two nothing could be done."Out with the sweeps!" I roared. All was confusion; the long sweeps gotfoul of each other, and for a second every thing went wrong. At lastthree sweeps were got to work, but they could do nothing against such asea. We were close to the rocks, so close that one began to makepreparations for doing something--one didn't well know what--when weshould strike. Two more oars were out, and for an instant we hung insuspense as to the result. How they did pull! it was the old paddle-workforcing the rapid again; and it told; in spite of wave and wind, we wereround the point, but it was only by a shade. An hour later we wererunning through a vast expanse of marsh and reeds into the mouth of RainyRiver; the Lake of the Woods was passed, and now before me Lay eightymiles of the Rivière-de-la-Pluie.

A friend of mine once, describing the scenery of the Falls of the Cauveryin India, wrote that "below the falls there was an island round whichthere was water on every side:" this mode of description, so very trueand yet so very simple in its character, may fairly-be applied to RainyRiver; one may safely say that it is a river, and that it has banks onEither side of it; if one adds that the banks are rich, fertile, and wellwooded, the description will be complete--such was the river up which Inow steered to meet the Expedition. The Expedition, where was it? AnIndian whom we met on the lake knew nothing about it; perhaps on theriver we should hear some tidings. About five miles from the mouth ofRainy River there was a small out-station of the Hudson Bay Company keptby a man named Morrisseau, a brother of my boatman. As we approached thislittle post it was announced to us by an Indian that Morrisseau had thatmorning lost a child. It was a place so wretched looking that its nameof Hungery Hall seemed well adapted to it.

When the boat touched the shore the father of the dead child came out ofthe hut, and shook hands with every one in solemn silence; when he cameto his brother he kissed him, and the brother in his turn went up thebank and kissed a number of Indian women who were standing round; therewas not a word spoken by any one; after awhile they all went into thehut in which the little body lay, and remained some time inside. In itsway, I don't ever recollect seeing a more solemn exhibition of griefthan this complete silence in the presence of death; there was noquestion asked, no sign given, and the silence of the dead seemed tohave descended upon the living. In a little time several Indiansappeared, and I questioned them as to the Expedition; had they seen orheard of it?

"Yes, there was one young man who had seen with his own eyes the greatarmy of the white braves."

"Where?" I asked.

"Where the road slants down into the lake, was the interpreted reply.

"What were they like?" I asked again, half incredulous after so manydisappointments.

He thought for awhile: "They were like the locusts," he answered, "theycame on one after the other." There could be no mistake about it, he hadseen British soldiers.

The chief of the party now came forward, and asked what I had got to sayto the Indians; that he would like to hear me make a speech; that theywanted to know why all these men were coming through their country. Tomake a speech! it was a curious request. I was leaning with my backagainst the mast, and the Indians were seated in a line on the bank;every thing looked so miserable around, that I thought I might for onceplay the part of Chadband, and improve the occasion, and, as a speech wasexpected of me, make it. So I said, "Tell this old chief that I am sorryhe is poor and hungry; but let him look around, the land on which he sitsis rich and fertile, why does he not cut down the trees that cover it,and plant in their places potatoes and corn? then he will have food inthe winter when the moose is scarce and the sturgeon cannot be caught."He did not seem to relish my speech, but said nothing. I gave a few plugsof tobacco all round, and we shoved out again into the river. "Where theroad comes down to the lake" the Indian had seen the troops; where wasthat spot? No easy matter to decide, for lakes are so numerous in thisland of the North-west that the springs of the earth seem to have foundvent there. Before sunset we fell in with another Indian; he was alone ina canoe, which he paddled close along shore out of the reach of thestrong breeze which was sweeping us fast up the river. While he was yet along way off, Samuel declared that he had recently left Fort Francis, andtherefore would bring us news from that place. "How can you tell at thisdistance that he has come from the fort?" I asked. "Because his shirtlooks bright," he answered. And so it was; he had left the fort on theprevious day and run seventy miles; he was old Monkman's Indian returningafter having left that hardy voyageur at Fort Francis.

Not a soldier of the Expedition had yet reached the fort, nor did any manknow where they were.

On again; another sun set and another sun rose, and we were still runningup the Rainy River before a strong north wind which fell away towardsevening. At sundown of the 3rd August I calculated that some four andtwenty miles must yet lie between me and that fort at which, I feltconvinced, some distinct tidings must reach me of the progress of theinvading column. I was already 180 miles beyond the spot where I hadcounted upon falling in with them. I was nearly 400 miles from FortGarry.

Towards evening on the 3rd it fell a dead calm, and the heavy boat couldmake but little progress against the strong running current of the river,so I bethought me of the little birch-bark canoe which I had brought fromRat Portage; it was a very tiny one, but that was no hindrance to thework I now\ required of it. We had been sailing all day, so my men werefresh. At supper I proposed that Samuel, Monkman, and William Princeshould come on with me during the night, that we would leave Thomas Hopein command of the big boat and push on for the fort in the light canoe,taking with us only sufficient food for one meal. The three men at onceassented, and Thomas was delighted at the prospect of one last grand feedall to himself, besides the great honour of being promoted to the rankand dignity of Captain of the boat. So we got the little craft out, andhaving gummed her all over, started once more on our upward way just asthe shadows of the night began to close around the river. We were four innumber, quite as many as the canoe could carry; she was very low in thewater and, owing to some damage received in the rough waves of the Lakeof the Woods, soon began to leak badly. Once we put ashore to gum andpitch her seams again, but still the water oozed in and we were wet. Whatwas to be done? with these delays we never could hope to reach the fortby daybreak, and something told me instinctively, that unless I did getthere that night I would find the Expedition already arrived. Just atthat moment we descried smoke rising amidst the trees on the right shore,and soon saw the poles of Indian lodges. The men said they were very badIndians. firom the American side--the left shore of Rainy River isAmerican territory--but the chance of a bad Indian was better than thecertainty of a bad canoe, and we stopped at the camp. A lot of half-nakedredskins came out of the trees, and the pow-wow commenced. I gave themall tobacco, and then asked if they would give me a good canoe inexchange for my bad one, telling them that I would give them a presentnext day at the fort if one or two amongst them would come up there.After a short parley they assented, and a beautiful canoe was brought outand placed on the water. They also gave us a supply of dried sturgeon,and, again shaking hands all round, we departed on our way.

This time there was no mistake, the canoe proved as dry as a bottle, andwe paddled bravely on through the mists of night. About midnight wehalted for supper, making a fire amidst the long wet grass, over which wefried the sturgeon and boiled our kettle; then we went on again throughthe small hours of the morning. At times I could see on the right themouths of large rivers which flowed from the west: it is down theserivers that the American Indians come to fish for sturgeon in the RainyRiver. For nearly 200 miles the country is still theirs, and thePillager and Red Lake branches of the Ojibbeway nation yet hold theirhunting-grounds in the vast swamps of North Minnesota.

These Indians have a bad reputation, as the name of Pillager implies, andmy Red River men were anxious to avoid falling in with them. Once duringthe night, opposite the mouth of one of the rivers opening to the west,we saw the lodges of a large party on our left; with paddles that werenever lifted out of the water, we glided noiselessly by, as silently as awild duck would cleave the current. Once again during the long night alarge sturgeon, struck suddenly by a paddle, alarmed us by bounding outof the water and landing full upon the gunwale of the Canoe, splashingback again into the water and wetting us all by his curious manoeuvre. Atlength in the darkness we heard the hollow roar of the great Falls of theChaudiere sounding loud through the stillness. It grew louder and louderas with now tiring strokes my worn-out men worked mechanically at theirpaddles. The day was beginning to break. We were close beneath theChaudiere and alongside of Fort Francis. The scene was wondrouslybeautiful. In the indistinct light of the early dawn the cataract seemedtwice its natural height, the tops of pine trees rose against the palegreen of the coming day, close above the falls the bright morning starhung, diamond-like, over the rim of the descending torrent; around theair was tremulous with the rush of water, and to the north therose-coloured streaks of the aurora were woven into the dawn. My longsolitary journey had nearly reached its close.

Very cold and cramped by the constrained position in which I had remainedall night, I reached the fort, and, unbarring the gate, with my rifleknocked at the door of one of the wooden houses. After a little, a manopened the door in the costume, scant and unpicturesque, in which he hadrisen from his bed.

"Is that Colonel Wolseley?" he asked.

"No," I answered; "but that sounds well; he can't be far off."

"He will be in to breakfast," was the reply.

After all, I was not much too soon. When one has journeyed very far alongsuch a route as the one I had followed since leaving Fort Garry in dailyexpectation of meeting with a body of men making their way from a distantpoint through the same wilderness, one does not like the idea of beingfound at last within the stockades of an Indian trading-post as thoughone had quietly taken one's ease at an inn. Still there were others to beconsulted in the matter, others whose toil during the twenty-seven hoursof our continuous travel had been far greater than mine.

After an hour's delay I went to the house where the men were lying down,and said to them, "The Colonel is close at hand. It will be well for usto go and meet him, and we will thus see the soldiers before they arriveat the Fort;" so getting the canoe out once more, we carried her abovethe falls, and paddled up towards the Rainy Lake, whose waters flow intoRainy River two miles above the fort.

It was the 4th of August-we reached the foot of the rapid which the rivermakes as it flows out of the Lake. Forcing up this rapid, we sawspreading out before us the broad waters of the Rainy Lake.

The eye of the half-breed or the Indian is of marvellous keenness; it.can detect the presence of any strange object long before that objectwill strike the vision of the civilized man; but on this occasion theeyes of my men were at fault, and the glint of something strange upon thelake first caught my sight. There they are! Yes, there they were. Comingalong with the full swing of eight paddles, swept a large North-westcanoe, its Iroquois paddlers timing their strokes to an old French chantas they shot down towards the river's source.

Beyond, in the expanse of the lake, a boat or two showed far and faint.We put into the rocky shore, and, mounting upon a crag which guarded thehead of the rapid, I waved to the leading canoe as it swept along. In thecentre sat a figure in uniform with forage-cap on head, and I could seethat he was scanning through a field-glass the strange figure that waveda welcome from the rock. Soon they entered the rapid, and commenced todip down its rushing waters. Quitting the rock, I got again into mycanoe, and we shoved off into the current. Thus running down the rapidthe two canoes drew together, until at its foot they were only a fewpaces apart.

Then the officer in the large canoe, recognizing a face he had last seenthree months before in the hotel at Toronto, called out, "Where on earthhave you dropped from?" and with a "Fort Garry, twelve days out, sir," Iwas in his boat.

The officer whose canoe thus led the advance into Rainy River was noother than the commander of the Expeditionary Force. During the periodwhich had elapsed since that force had landed at Thunder Bay on theshore of Lake Superior, he had toiled with untiring energy to overcomethe many obstacles which opposed the progress of the troops through therock-bound fastnesses of the North. But there are men whose perseverancehardens, whose energy quickens beneath difficulties and delay, whosegenius, like some spring bent back upon its base, only gathers strengthfrom resistance. These men are the natural soldiers of the world; andfortunate is it for those who carry swords and rifles and are dressed inuniform when such men are allowed to lead them, for with such men asleaders the following, if it be British, will be all right--nay, if it beof any nationality on the earth, it will be all right too. Marches willbe made beneath suns which by every rule of known experience ought to

prove fatal to nine-tenths of those who are exposed to them, rivers willbe crossed, deserts will be traversed, and mountain passes will bepierced, and the men who cross and traverse and pierce them will onlymarvel that doubt or distrust should ever have entered into their mindsas to the feasibility of the undertaking. The man who led the little armyacross the Northern wilderness towards Red River was well fitted inevery respect for the work which was to be done. He was young in yearsbut he was old in service; the highest professional training haddeveloped to the utmost his ability, while it had left unimpaired thenatural instinctive faculty of doing a thing from oneself, which theknowledge of a given rule for a given action so frequently destroys. Norwas it only by his energy, perseverance, and professional training thatWolseley was fitted to lead men upon the very exceptional service nowrequired from them. Officers and soldiers will always follow when thosethree qualities are combined in the man who leads them; but they willfollow with delight the man who, to these qualities, unites a happyaptitude for command, which is neither taught nor learned, but which isinstinctively possessed.

Let us look back a little upon the track of this Expedition. Through avast wilderness of wood and rock and water, extending for more than 600miles, 1200 men, carrying with them all the appliances of modern war, hadto force their way.

The region through which they travelled was utterly destitute of food,except such as the wild game afforded to the few scattered Indians; andeven that source was so limited that whole families of the Ojibbeways hadperished of starvation, and cases of cannibalism had been frequentamongst them. Once cut adrift from Lake Superior, no chance remained forfood until the distant settlement of Red River had been reached. Nor wasit at all certain that even there supplies could be obtained, periods ofgreat distress had occurred in the settlement itself; and the disturbedstate into which its affairs had lately fallen in no way promised to givegreater habits of agricultural industry to a people who were proverbiallyroving in their tastes. It became necessary, therefore, in piercing thiswilderness to take with the Expedition three month's supply of food, andthe magnitude of the undertaking will be somewhat under stood by theoutside world when this fact is borne in mind.

Of course it would have been a simple matter if the-boats which carriedthe men and their supplies had been able to sail through an unbrokenchannel into the bosom of Lake Winnipeg; but through that long 600 milesof lake and river and winding creek, the rocky declivities of cataractsand the wild wooded shores of rapids had to be traversed, and fullforty-seven times between lake and lake had boats, stores, andammunition, had cannon, rifles, sails, and oars to be lifted from thewater, borne across long ridges of rock and swamp and forest, and placedagain upon the northward rolling river. But other difficulties had to beovercome which delayed at the outset the movements of the Expedition. Aroad, leading from Lake Superior to the height by land (42 miles), hadbeen rendered utterly impassable by fires which swept the forest andrains which descended for days in continuous torrents. A considerableportion of this road had also to be opened out in order to carry thecommunication through to Lake Shebandowan close to the height of land.

For weeks the whole available strength of the Expedition f had beenemployed in road-making and in hauling the boats up the rapids of theKaministiquia River, and it was only on the 16th of July, after sevenweeks of unremitting toil and arduous labour, that all these preliminarydifficulties had been finally overcome and the leading detachments ofboats set out upon their long and perilous journey into the wilderness.Thus it came to pass that on the morning of the 4th of August, just threeweeks after that departure, the silent shores of the Rainy River beheldthe advance of these pioneer boats who thus far had "marched on withoutimpediment."

The evening of the day that witnessed my arrival at Fort Francis saw alsomy departure from it; and before the sun had set I was already far downthe Rainy River. But I was no longer the solitary white man; and nolonger the camp-fire had around it the swarthy faces of the Swampies. Thewoods were noisy with many tongues; the night was bright with the glareof many fires. The Indians, frightened by such a concourse of braves, hadfled into the woods, and the roofless poles of their wigwams alone markedthe camping-places where but the evening before I had seen the red manmonarch of all he surveyed. The word had gone forth from the commander topush on with all speed for Red River, and I was now with the advancedportion of the 60th Rifles en route for the Lake of the Woods. Of my oldfriends the Swampies only one remained with me, the others had been keptat Fort Francis to be distributed amongst the various brigades of boatsas guides to the Lake of the Woods and Winnipeg River; even Thomas Hopehad got a promise of a brigade-in the mean time pork was abundant; andbetween pride and pork what more could even Hope desire?

In two days we entered the Lake of the Woods, and hoisting sail stood outacross the waters. Never before had these lonely islands witnessed such asight as they now beheld. Seventeen large boats close hauled to asplendid breeze swept in a great scattered mass through the high runningseas, dashing the foam from their bows as they dipped and rose undertheir large lug-sails. Samuel Henderson led the way, proud of his newposition, and looked upon by the soldiers of his boat as the very acmeof an Indian. How the poor fellows enjoyed that day! no oar, no portageno galling weight over rocky ledges, nothing but a grand day's racingover the immense lake. They smoked-all day, balancing themselves on theweather-side to steadv the boats as they keeled over into the heavy seas.I think they would have-given even Mr. Riel that day a pipeful oftobacco; but Heaven help him if they: had caught him two days later onthe portages of the Winnipeg! he would have had a hard time of it.

There has been some Hungarian poet, I think, who has found a theme forhis genius in the glories of the _private soldier. He had been a soldierhimself, and he knew the wealth of the mine hidden in the unknown andunthought of Rank and File. It is a pity that the knowledge of thatwealth should not be more widely circulated.

Who are the Rank and File? They are the poor wild birds whose countryhas cast them off, and who repay her by offering their lives for herglory; the men who take the shilling, who drink, who drill, who march tomusic, who fill the graveyards of Asia; the men who stand sentry at thegates of world-famous fortresses, who are old when their elder brothersare still young, who are bronzed and burned by fierce suns, who sailover seas packed in great masses, who watch at night over lonelymagazines, who shout, "Who comes there?" through the darkness, who digin trenches, who are blown to pieces in mines, who are torn by shot andshell, who have carried the flag of England into every land, who havemade her name famous through the nations, who are the nation's pride inher hour of peril and her plaything-in her hour of prosperity--theseare the rank and file. We are a curious nation; until lately we boughtour rank, as we buy our mutton, in a market; and we found officers andgentlemen where other nations would have found thieves and swindlers.Until lately we flogged our files with a cat-o'-nine-tails, and foundheroes by treating men like dogs. But to return to the rank and file.

The regiment-which had been selected for the work of piercing thesesolitudes of the American continent had peculiar claims for that service.In bygone times it had been composed exclusively of Americans, and therewas not an Expedition through all the wars which England waged againstFrance in the New World in which the 60th, or "Royal Americans," had nottaken a prominent part. When Munro yielded to Montcalm the fort ofWilliam Henry, when Wolfe reeled back from Montmorenci and stormedAbraham, when Pontiac swept the forts from Lake Superior to the Ohio, the60th, or Royal Americans, had ever been foremost in the struggle. Weedednow of their weak and sickly men, they formed a picked 'body, numbering350 soldiers, of whom any nation on earth might well be proud. They werefit to do anything and to go any where; and if a fear lurked in the mindsof any of them, it was that Mr. Riel would not show fight. Well led, andofficered by men who shared with them every thing, from the portage-strapto a roll of tobacco, there was complete confidence from the highest tothe lowest. To be wet seemed to be the normal condition of man, and tocarry a pork-barrel weighing 200 pounds over a rocky portage was butconstitutional and exhilarating exercise--such were the men with whom, onthe evening of the 8th of August, I once more reached the neighbourhood'of the Rat Portage. In a little bay between many islands the flotillahalted just before entering the reach which led to the portage. Paddlingon in front with Samuel in my little canoe, we came suddenly upon fourlarge Hudson Bay boats with full crews of Red River half-breeds andIndians-they were on their way to meet the Expedition, with the object ofrendering what assistance they could to the troops in the descent of theWinnipeg river. They had begun, to despair of ever falling in with it,and great was the excitement at the sudden meeting; the flint-gun was atonce discharged into the air, and the shrill shouts began to echo throughthe islands. But the excitement on the side of the Expedition was quiteas keen. The sudden shots and the wild shouts made the men in the boatsin rear imagine that the fun was really about to begin, and that askirmish through the wooded isles would be the evening's work. Themistake was quickly discovered. They were glad of course to meet theirRed River friends; but somehow, I fancy, the feeling, of joy wouldcertainly not have been lessened had the boats held the dusky adherentsof the Provisional Government.

On the following morning the seventeen boats commenced the descent of theWinnipeg river, while I remained at the Portage-du-Rat to await thearrival of the chief of the Expedition from Fort Francis. Each succeedingday brought a fresh brigade of boats under the guidance of one of my latecanoe-men; and finally Thomas Hope came along,-seemingly enjoying life tothe utmost--pork was plentiful, and as for the French there was no needto dream of them, and he could sleep in peace in the midst of fifty whitesoldiers. During six days I remained at the little Hudson Bay Company'spost at the Rat Portage, making short excursions into the surroundinglakes and rivers, fishing below the rapids of the Great Chute; and in theevenings listening to the Indian stories of the lake as told by my worthyhost, Mr. Macpherson, a great portion of whose life had been spent in thevicinity.

One day I went some distance away from the fort to fish at the foot ofone of the great rapids formed by the Winnipeg River as it runs from theLake of the Woods. We carried our canoe over two or three portages, andat length reached the chosen spot. In the centre of the river an Indianwas floating quietly in his canoe, casting every now and then a largehook baited with a bit of fish into the water. My bait consisted of abright spinning piece of metal, which I had got in one of the Americancities on my way through Minnesota. Its effect upon the fish of thislonely region was marvellous; they had never before been exposed to sucha fascinating affair, and they rushed at it with avidity. Civilization onthe rocks had certainly a better time of it, as far as catching fishwent, than barbarism in the canoe. With the shining thing we killed threefor the Indian's one. My companion, who was working the spinning baitwhile I sat on the rock, casually observed, pointing to the Indian, "He'sa Windigo."

"A what?" I asked.

"A Windigo."

"What is that?"

"A man that has eaten other men."

"Has this man eaten other men?"

"Yes; a long time ago he and his band were starving, and they killed andate forty other Indians who were starving with them. They lived throughthe winter on them, and in the spring he had to fly from Lake Superiorbecause the others wanted to kill him in revenge; and so he came here,and he now lives alone near this place."

The Windigo soon paddled over to us, and I had a good opportunity ofstudying his appearance. He was a stout, low-sized savage, with coarseand repulsive features, and eyes fixed sideways in his head like aTartar's. We had left our canoe some distance away, and my companionasked him to put us across to an island. The Windigo at once consented:we got into his canoe, and he ferried us over. I don't know the name ofthe island upon which he landed us, and very likely it has got no name,but in my mind, at least, the rock and the Windigo will always beassociated with that celebrated individual of our early days, the Kingof the Cannibal Islands. The Windigo looked with wonder at the spinningbait, seeming to regard it as a "great medicine;" perhaps if he hadpossessed such a thing he would never have been forced by hunger tobecome a Windigo.

Of the bravery of the Lake of the Woods Ojibbeway I did not form a veryhigh estimate. Two instances related to me by Mr. Macpherson will sufficeto show that opinion to have been well founded. Since the days when theBird of Ages dwelt on the Coteau-des-Prairies the Ojibbeway and the Siouxhave warred against each other; but as the Ojibbeway dwelt chiefly in thewoods and the Sioux are denizens of the great plains, the actual warcarried on between them has not beena unusually destructive. TheOjibbeways dislike to go far into the open plains; the Sioux hesitate topierce the dark depths of the forest, and the war is generally confinedto the border land, where the forest begins to merge into the plains.Every now and again, however, it becomes necessary to go through theform of a war-party, and the young men depart upon the war-path againsttheir hereditary enemies. To kill a Sioux and take his scalp then becomesthe great object of existence. Fortunate is the brave who can return tothe camp bearing with him the coveted trophy. Far and near spreads theglorious news that a Sioux scalp has been taken, and for many a night thecamps are noisy with the shouts and revels of the scalp dance fromWinnipeg to Rainy Lake. It matters little whether it be the scalp of aman, a woman, or a child; provided it be a scalp it is all right. Thereis the record of the two last war-paths from the Lake of the Woods.

Thirty Ojibbeways set out one fine day for the plains to war against theSioux, they followed the line of the Rosseaui river, and soon emergedfrom the forest. Before them lay a camp of Sioux. The thirty braves,hidden in the thickets, looked at the camp of their enemies; but the morethey looked the less they liked it. They called a council ofdeliberation; it was unanimously resolved to retire to the Lake of theWoods: but surely they must bring back a scalp, the women would laugh atthem! What was to be done? At length the difficulty was solved. Close bythere was a newly-made grave, a squaw had died and been buried. Excellentidea; one scalp was as good as another. So the braves dug up the buriedsquaw-, took the scalp, and departed for Rat Portage. There was a greatdance, and it was decided that each and every one of the thirtyOjibbeways deserved well of his nation.

But the second instance is still more revolting. A very brave Indiandeparted alone from the Lake of the Woods to war against the Sioux; hewandered about, hiding in the thickets by day and coming forth at night.One evening, being nearly starved, he saw the smoke of a wigwam; he wenttowards it, and found that it was inhabited only by women andchildren, of whom there were four altogether. He went up and asked forfood; they invited him to enter the lodge; they set before him the bestfood they had got, and they laid a buffalo robe for his bed in thewarmest corner of the wigwam. When night came, all slept; when midnightcame the Ojibbeway quietly arose from his couch, killed the two women,killed the two children, and departed for the Lake of the Woods withfour scalps. Oh, he was a very brave Indian, and his name went farthrough the forest! I know somebody who would have gone very far to seehim hanged.

Late on the evening of the 14th August the commander of the Expeditionarrived from Fort Francis at the Portage-du-Rat. He had attempted tocross the Lake of the Woods in a gig manned by soldiers, the weatherbeing too tempestuous to allow the canoe to put out, and had lost his wayin the vast maze of islands already spoken of. As we had receivedintelligence at the Portage-du-Rat of his having set out from the otherside of the lake, and as hour after hour passed without bringing his boatin sight, I got the canoe ready and, with two Indians, started to light abeacon-fire on the top of the Devil's Rock, one of the haunted islands ofthe lake, which towered high over the surrounding isles. We had notproceeded far, however, before we fell in with the missing gig bearingdown for the portage under the guidance of an Indian who had been pickedup en route.

On the following day I received orders to start at once for FortAlexander at the mouth of the Winnipeg River to engage guides for thebrigades of boats which had still to come--two regiments of CanadianMilitia. And here let us not-forget the men who, following in thefootsteps of the regular troops, were now only a few marches behind theirmore fortunate comrades. To the lot of these two regiments of CanadianVolunteers fell the same hard toil of oar and portage which we havealready described. The men composing these regiments were stout athleticfellows, eager for service, tired of citizen life, and only needing thetoil of a campaign to weld them into as tough and resolute a body of menas ever leader could desire.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

To Fort Garry--Down the Winnipeg--Her Majesty's Royal Mail--Grilling aMail-bag--Running a Rapid--Up the Red River-A dreary Bivouac--ThePresident bolts--The Rebel Chiefs--Departure of the Regular Troops.

I TOOK a very small canoe, manned by three Indians--father and twosons--and, with provisions for three days, commenced the descent of theriver of rapids. How we shot down the hissing waters in that tiny craft!How fast we left the wooded shores behind us, and saw the-lonely islesflit by as the powerful current swept us like a leaf upon its bosom!

It was late of the afternoon of the 15th August when I left for the lasttime the Lake of the Woods. Next night our camp was made below theEagle's Nest, seventy miles from the Portage-du-Rat. A wild storm burstupon us at night-fall, and our bivouac was a damp and dreary one. TheIndians lay under the canoe; I sheltered as best I could beneath a hugepine-tree. My oil-cloth was only four feet in length-a shortcoming on thepart of its feet which caused mine to suffer much discomfort. Besides, Ihad Her Majesty's royal mail to keep dry, and, with the limited liabilityof my oil-cloth in the matter of length, that became no easy task--twobags of letters and papers, home letters and papers, too, for theExpedition. They had been flung into my: canoe when leaving Rat Portage,and I had spent the first day in-sorting them as we swept along, and nowthey were getting wet in spite of every effort to the contrary. I madeone bag into a pillow, but the rain came through the big pine-tree,splashing down through the branches, putting out my fire and drenchingmail-bags and blankets.

Daylight came at last, but still the rain hissed down, making it no easymatter to boil our kettle and fry our bit of pork. Then we put out forthe day's work on the river. How bleak and wretched it all was! After awhile we found it was impossible to make head against the storm of windand rain which swept the water, and we had to put back to the shelter ofour miserable camp. About seven o'clock the wind fell, and we set outagain. Soon the sun came forth drying and warming us all over. All day wepaddled on, passing in succession the grand Chute-à-Jacquot, the ThreePortages-des-Bois, the Slave Falls, and the dangerous rapids of theBarrière. The Slave Falls! who that has ever beheld that superb rush ofwater will forget it? Glorious, glorious Winnipeg! it may be that withthese eyes of mine I shall never see thee again, for thou liest far outof the track of life, and man mars not thy beauty with ways of civilizedtravel; but I shall often see thee in imagination, and thy rocks and thywaters shall murmur in memory for life.

That night, the 17th of August, we made our camp on a little island closeto the Otter Falls. It came a night of ceaseless rain, and again themail-bags underwent a drenching. The old Indian cleared a space in thedripping vegetation, and made me a rude shelter with branches woventogether; but the rain beat through, and drenched body, bag, and baggage.And yet how easy it all was, and how sound one slept! simply because onehad to do it; that one consideration is the greatest expounder of thepossible. I could not speak a word to my Indians, but we got on by signs,and seldom found the want of speech--"ugh, ugh" and "caween," yes and no,answered for any difficulty. To make a fire and a camp, to boil a kettleand fry a bit of meat are the home works of the Indian. His life is onelong picnic, and it matters as little to him whether sun or rain, snow orbiting frost, warm, drench, cover, or freeze him, as it does to themoose or the reindeer that share his forest life and yield him often hisforest fare. Upon examining the letters in-the morning the interior ofthe bags presented such a pulpy and generally deplorable appearance thatI was obliged to stop at one of the Seven Portages for the purpose ofdrying Her Majesty's mail. With this object we made a large fire, andplacing cross-sticks above proceeded to toast and grill the drippingpapers. The Indians sat around, turning the letters with little sticks asif they were baking cakes or frying sturgeon. Under their skilfultreatment the pulpy mats soon attained the consistency, and in manyinstances the legibility, of a smoked herring, but as they had beforepresented a very fishy appearance that was not of much consequence.

This day was bright and fine. Notwithstanding the delay caused by dryingthe mails, as well as distributing them to the several brigades which weoverhauled and passed, we ran a distance of forty miles and made no lessthan fifteen portages. The carrying or portaging power of the Indian isvery remarkable. A young boy will trot away under a load which wouldstagger a strong European unaccustomed to such labour. The portages andthe falls which they avoid bear names which seem strange and un meaningbut which have their origin in some long-forgotten incident connectedwith the early history of the fur trade or of Indian war. Thus the greatSlave Fall tells by its name the fate of two Sioux captives taken in someforay by the Ojibbeway; lashed together in a canoe, they were the onlymen who ever ran the Great Chute. The rocks around were black with thefigures of the Ojibbeways, whose wild triumphant yells were hushed by theroar of the cataract; but the torture was a short one; the mighty rush,the wild leap, and the happy hunting-ground, where even Ojibbeways ceasefrom troubling and Sioux warriors are at rest, had been reached. InMackenzie's journal the fall called Galet-du-Bonnet is said to have beennamed by the Canadian voyageurs, from the fact that the Indians were inthe habit of crowning the highest rock above the portage with wreaths offlowers and branches of trees. The Grand Portage, which is three quartersof a mile in length, is the great test of the strength of the Indian andhalf-breed; but, if Mackenzie speaks correctly, the voyageur has muchdegenerated since the early days of the fur trade, for he writes thatseven pieces, weighing each ninety pounds, were carried over the GrandPortage by an Indian in one trip, 630 pounds borne three quarters of a mileby one man--the loads look big enough still, but 250 pounds is consideredexcessive now. These loads are carried in a manner which allows the wholestrength of the body to be put into the work. A broad leather strap isplaced round the forehead, the ends of the strap passing back over theshoulders support the pieces which, thus carried, lie along-the spinefrom the small of the back to the crown of the head. When fully loaded,the voyageur stands with his body bent forward, and with one handsteadying the "pieces," he trots briskly away over the steep androck-strewn portage, his bare or mocassined feet enable him to passnimbly over the slippery rocks in places where boots would infalliblysend portager and pieces feet-foremost to the bottom.

In ascending the Winnipeg we have seen what exciting toil is rushing orbreasting up a rapid. Let us now glance at the still more excitingoperation of running a rapid. It is difficult-to find in life any eventwhich so effectually condenses intense nervous sensation into theshortest possible space of time as does the work of shooting, or runningan immense rapid. There is no toil, no heart-breaking labour about it,but as much coolness, dexterity, and skill as man can throw into the workof hand, eye, and head; knowledge of when to strike and how to do it;knowledge of water and of rock, and of the one hundred combinations whichrock and watercan assume--for these two things, rock and water, taken inthe abstract, fail as completely to convey any idea of their fierceembracings in the throes of a rapid as the fire burning quietly in adrawing-room fireplace fails to convey the idea of a house wrapped andsheeted in flames. Above the rapid all is still and quiet, and one cannotsee what is going on below the first rim of the rush, but stray shoots ofspray and the deafening roar of descending water tell well enough what isabout to happen. The Indian has got some rock or mark to steer by, andknows well the door by which he is to enter the slope of water. As thecanoe--never appearing so frail and tiny as when it is about to commenceits series of wild leaps and rushes--nears the rim where the watersdisappear from view, the bowsman stands up and, stretching forward hishead, peers down the eddying rush'; in a second he is on his knees again;without turning his head he speaks a word or two to those who are behindhim; then not quick enough to take in the rushing scene. There is a rockhere and a big green cave of water there; there is a tumultuous risingand sinking and sinking of snow-tipped waves; there are places that aresmooth-running for a moment and then yawn and open up into great gurglingchasms the next; there are strange whirls and backward eddies and rocks,rough and smooth and polished--and through all this the canoe glanceslike an arrow, dips like a wild bird down the wing of the storm, nowslanting from a rock, now edging a green cavern, now breaking through abackward rolling billow, without a word spoken, but with every now andagain a quick convulsive twist and turn of the bow-paddle to edge far offsome rock, to put her full through some boiling billow, to hold hersteady down the slope of some thundering chute which has the power of athousand horses: for remember, this river of rapids, this Winnipeg, is nomountain torrent, no brawling brook, but over every rocky ledge and"wave-worn precipice" there rushes twice a vaster volume than Rhineitself pours forth. The rocks which strew the torrent are frequently themost trifling of the dangers of the descent, formidable though theyappear to the stranger. Sometimes a huge boulder will stand full in themidst of the channel, apparently presenting an obstacle from which escapeseems impossible. The canoe is rushing full towards it, and no power cansave it--there is just one power that can do it, and the rock itselfprovides it. Not the skill of man could run the boat bows on to thatrock. There is a wilder sweep of water rushing off the polished sidesthan on to them, and the instant that we touch that sweep we shoot awaywith redoubled speed. No, the rock is not as treacherous as the whirlpooland twisting billow.

On the night of the 20th of August the whole of the regular troops of theExpedition and the general commanding it and his staff had reached FortAlexander, at the mouth of the Winnipeg River. Some accidents hadoccurred, and many had been the "close shaves" of rock and rapid, but nolife had been lost; and from the 600 miles of wilderness there emerged400 soldiers whose muscles and sinews, taxed and tested by continuoustoil, had been developed to a pitch of excellence seldom equalled, andwhose appearance and physique--browned, tanned, and powerful told: of theglorious climate of these Northern solitudes, It was near sunset when thelarge canoe touched the wooden pier opposite the Fort Alexander and thecommander of the Expedition stepped on shore to meet his men, assembledfor the first time together since Lake Superior's distant sea had beenleft behind. It-was a meeting not devoid of those associations which makesuch things memorable, and the cheer which went up from the soldiers wholined the steep bank to bid him welcome had in it a note of that sympathywhich binds men together by the inward consciousness of difficultiesshared in common and dangers--successfully overcome together. Next daythe united fleet put out into Lake Winnipeg; and steered for the lonelyshores of the Island of Elks, the solitary island of the southern portionof the lake. In a broad, curving, sandy bay the boats found that night ashelter; a hundred fires threw their lights far into the lake, andbugle-calls startled echoes that assuredly had never been rouse before bynotes so strange. Sailing in a wide scattered mass before a favouringbreeze, the fleet reached about noon the following day the mouth of theRed River, the river whose name was the name of the Expedition, and whoseshores had so long been looked forward to as a haven of rest from portageand oar labour. There it was at last, seeking through its many mouths thewaters of the lake. And now our course lay up along the reed fringedriver and sluggish current to where the tree-tops began to rise over thelow marsh-land-up to where my old friends the Indians had pitched theircamp and given me the parting salute on the morning of my departure justone month before. It was dusk when we reached the Indian Settlement andmade a camp upon the opposite shore, and darkness had quite set in when Ireached the mission-house, some three miles higher up. My old friend theArchdeacon was glad indeed to welcome me back. News from the settlementthere was none--news from the outside world there was plenty. "A greatbattle had been fought near the Rhine," the old man said, "and the Frenchhad been disastrously defeated."

Another day of rowing, poling, tracking, and sailing, and evening closedover the Expedition, camped within six miles of Fort Garry; but allthrough the day the river banks were enlivened with people shoutingwelcome to the soldiers, and church bells rang out peals of gladness asthe boats passed by. This was through the English and Scotch Settlement,the people of which had long grown weary of the tyranny of the DictatorRiel. Riel--why, we have almost forgotten him altogether during theseweeks on the Winnipeg! Nevertheless, he-had still held his own within thewalls of Fort Garry, and still played to a constantly decreasing audiencethe part of the Little Napoleon.

During this day, the 23rd August, vague rumours reached us of terriblethings to be done by the warlike President. He would suddenly appear withhis guns from the woods? he would blow up the fort when the troops hadtaken possession--he would die in the ruins. These and many otherschemes of a similar description were to be enacted by the Dictator inthe last extremity of his despair. I had spent the day in the saddle,scouring the woods on the right bank of the river in advance of thefleet, while on the left shore a company of the 60th, partly mounted,moved on also in advance of the leading boats. But neither Riel nor hisfollowers appeared to dispute-the upward passage of the flotilla, and thewoods through which I rode were silent and deserted. Early in the morninga horse had been lent to me by an individual rejoicing in the classicalname of Tacitus Struthers. Tacitus had also assisted me to swim the steedacross the Red River in order to gain the right shore, and, having doneso, took leave of me with oft-repeated injunctions to preserve from harmthe horse and his accoutrements, "For," said Tacitus, "that horse is aracer." Well, I suppose it must have been that fact that made the horserace all day through the thickets and oak woods of the right shore, but Irather fancy my spurs had something to say to it too.

When night again fell, the whole force had reached a spot six-miles fromthe rebel fort, and camp was formed for the last time on the west bankof the river. And what a night and storm then broke upon the Red RiverExpedition! till the tents flapped and fell and the drenched soldiersshiv'ered shelterless, waiting for the dawn. The occupants of tents whichstood the pelting of the pitiless storm were no better off than thoseoutside; the surface of the ground became ankle-deep in mud and water,and the men lay in pools during the last hours of the night. At length adismal daylight dawned over the dreary scene, and the upward course wasresumed. Still the rain came down in torrents, and, with water above,below, and around, the Expedition neared its destination. If the steed ofTacitus had had a hard day, the night had been less severe upon him thanupon his rider. I had procured him an excellent stable at the other sideof the river, and upon recrossing again in the morning I found him asready to race as his owner could desire. Poor beast, he was a mostmiserable-looking animal, though belying his attenuated appearance by hisperformance. The only race which his generally forlorn aspect justifiedone in believing him capable of running was a race, and a hard one, forexistence; but for all that he went well, and Tacitus himself might haveenvied the classical outline of his Roman nose.

About two miles north of Fort Garry the Red River makes a sharp bend tothe east and, again turning round to the west, forms a projecting pointor neck of land known as Point Douglas. This spot is famous in Red Riverhistory as the scene of the battle, before referred to in these pages,where the voyageurs and French half-breeds of the North west Fur Companyattacked the retainers of the Hudson Bay, some time in 1813, andsucceeded in putting to death by various methods of half-Indian warfarethe governor of the rival company and about a score of his followers. Atthis point, where the usually abrupt bank of the Red River was lesssteep, the troops began to disembark from the boats for the final advanceupon Fort Garry. The preliminary arrangements were soon completed, andthe little army, with its two brass guns trundling along behind Red Rivercarts, commenced its march across the mud-soaked prairie. How unspeakablydreary it all looked! the bridge, the wretched village, the crumblingfort, the vast level prairie, water soaked, draped in mist, and presseddown by low-lying clouds. To me the ground was not new--the bridge wasthe spot where only a month before I had passed the half reed sentry inmy midnight march to the Lower Fort. Other things had changed since thenbesides the weather.

Preceded by skirmishers and followed by a rear-guard, the little forcedrew near Fort Garry. There was no sign of occupation; no flag on theflag-staff, no men upon the 4 walls; the muzzles of one or two guns showedthrough the bastions, but no sign of defence or resistance was visibleabout the place. The gate facing the north was closed, but the ordinaryone, looking South upon the Assineboine River, was found open. As theskirmish line neared the northside two mounted men rode round the westface and entered at a gallop through the open gateway. On the top stepsof the Government House stood a tall, majestic-looking man, who, with hishorse beside him; alternately welcomed with uplifted hat the new arrivalsand enounced in no stinted terms one or two miserable-looking men whoseemed to cower beneath his reproaches. This was an officer of the HudsonBay Company, ell known as one of the most intrepid amongst the many bravemen who had sought for the lost Franklin in the darkness of the longpolar night. He had been the first to enter the fort, some minutes inadvance of the Expedition, and his triumphant imprecations, bestowed withunsparing vigour, had tended to accelerate the flight of M. Riel and themembers of his government, who sought in rapid retreat the safety of theAmerican frontier. How had the mighty fallen! With insult and derisionthe President and his colleagues fled from the scene of their triumph andtheir crimes. An officer in the service of the Company they had plunderedhooted them as they went, but perhaps there was a still harder note ofretribution in the "still small voice" which must have sounded from thebastion wherein the murdered Scott had been so brutally done to death. Onthe bare flag-staff in the fort the Union Jack was once more hoisted, andfrom the battery found in the square a royal salute of twenty-one gunstold to settler and savage that the man who had been "elevated by thegrace of Providence and the suffrage of his fellow-citizens to thehighest position the Government of his country" had been ignominiouslyexpelled from his high position. Still even in his fall we must not betoo hard upon him. Vain, ignorant, and conceited though he was, he seemedto have been an implicit believer in his mission; nor can it be doubtedthat he possessed a fair share of courage too--courage not of the RedRiver type, which is a very peculiar one, but more in accordance with ourEuropean ideas of that virtue.

That he meditated opposition cannot be doubted. The muskets cast away byhis guard were found loaded; ammunition had been served from the magazineon the morning of the flight. But muskets and ammunition are not worthmuch without hands and hearts to use them, and twenty hands with perhapsan aggregate of two and a half hearts among them were all he had todepend on at the last moment. The other members of his government appearto have been utterly devoid of a single redeeming quality. The Hon. W.B. O'Donoghue was one of those miserable beings who seem to inherit theVices of every calling and nationality to which they can claim a kindred.Educated for some semi-clerical profession which he abandoned for themore congenial trade of treason rendered apparently secure by distance,he remained in garb the cleric, while he plundered his prisoners andindulged in the fashionable pastime of gambling with purloined propertyand racing with confiscated horses--a man whose revolting countenance atonce suggested the hulks and prison garb, and who, in any other land saveAmerica, would probably long since have reached the convict level forwhich nature destined him. Of the other active member of the rebelcouncil--Adjutant-General the Hon. Lepine--it is unnecessary to say much.He seems to have possessed all the vices of the Metis without any of hisvirtues or noble traits. A strange ignorance, quite in keeping with therest of the Red River rebellion, seems to have existed among the membersof the Provisional Government to the last moment with regard to theapproach of the Expedition. It is said that it was only the bugle-soundof the skirmishers that finally convinced M. Riel of the proximity of thetroops, and this note, utterly unknown in Red River, followed quickly bythe arrival in hot haste of the Hudson Bay official, whose deprecatorylanguage has been already alluded to, completed the terror of the rebelgovernment, inducing a retreat so hasty, that the breakfast of GovernmentHouse was found untouched. Thus that tempest in the tea-cup, the revoltof Red River, found a fitting conclusion in the President's untasted tea.A wild scene of drunkenness and debauchery amongst the voyageurs followedthe arrival of the troops in Winnipeg'. The miserable-looking villageproduced, as if by magic, more saloons than any city of twice its size inthe States could boast of. The vilest compounds of intoxicating liquorswere sold indiscriminately to every one, and for a time it seemed asthough the place had become a very Pandemonium. No civil authority hadbeen given to the commander of the Expedition, and no civil power of anykind existed in the settlement. The troops alone were under control, butthe populace were free to work what mischief they pleased. It is almostto be considered a matter of congratulation, that the terrible fire-watersold by the people of the village should have been of the nature that itwas, for so deadly were its effects upon the brain and nervous system,that under its influence men became perfectly helpless, lying stretchedupon the prairie for hours, as though they were bereft of life itself. Iregret to say that Samuel Henderson was by no means an exception to thegeneral demoralization that ensued. Men who had been forced to fly fromthe settlement during the reign of the rebel government now returned totheir homes, and for some time it seemed probable that the suddenrevulsion of feeling, unrestrained by the presence of a civil power,would lead to excesses against the late ruling faction; but, with one ortwo exceptions, things began to quiet down again, and soon the arrival ofthe civil governor, the Hon. Mr. Archibald, set matters completely torights.

Before ten days had elapsed the regular troops had commenced their longreturn march to Canada, and the two regiments of Canadian militia hadarrived to remain stationed for some time in the settlement. But whatwork it was to get the voyageurs away! The Iroquois were terriblyintoxicated, and for a long time refused to get into the boats. There wasa bear (a trophy from Fort Garry), and a terrible nuisance he proved atthe embarkation; for a long-time previous to the start he had been keptquiet with un limited sugar, but at last he seemed to have had enough ofthat condiment, and, with a violent tug, he succeeded in snapping hischain and getting away up the bank. What a business it was! drunkenIroquois stumbling about, and the bear, with 100 men after him, scuttlingin every direction. Then when the bear would be captured and put safelyback into his boat, half a dozen of the Iroquois would get out and runa-muck through every thing. Louis (the pilot) would fall foul of JacquesSitsoli, and commence to inflict severe bodily punishment upon the personof the unoffending Jacques, until, by the interference of the multitude,peace would be restored and both would be reconducted to their boats. Atlength they all got away down the river. Thus, during the first week ofSeptember, the whole of the regulars departed once more to try thetorrents of the Winnipeg, and on the 10th of the month the commanderalso took his leave. I was left alone in Fort Garry. The Red RiverExpedition was over, and I had to find my way once more through theUnited States to Canada. My long journey seemed finished, but I wasmistaken, for it was only about to begin.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

Westward--News from the Outside World--I retrace my Steps--AnOffer--The West--The Kissaskatchewan--The Inland Ocean--Preparations--Departure--A Terrible Plague--A lonely Grave-Digressive--The AssineboineRiver--Rossette.

One night, it was the 19th of September, I was lying out in the longprairie grass near the south shore of Lake Manitoba, in the marshes ofwhich I had been hunting wild fowl for some days. It was apparently mylast night in Red River, for the period of my stay there had drawn to itsclose. I had much to think about-that night, for only a few hours beforea French half-breed named La Ronde had brought news to the lonely shoresof Lake Manitoba--news such as men can hear but once in their lives:the whole of the French army and the Emperor had surrendered themselvesprisoners at Sedan, and the Republic had been proclaimed in Paris.

So dreaming and thinking over these stupendous facts, I-lay-under thequiet stars, while around me my fellow travellers slept. The prospects ofmy own career seemed gloomy enough too. I was about to go back to oldassociations and life-rusting routine, and here was a nation, whose everyfeeling my heart had so long echoed a response to, beaten down andtrampled under the heel of the German whose legions must already begathering around the walls of Paris. Why not offer to France in themoment of her bitter adversity the sword and service of even onesympathizing friend--not much of a gift, certainly, but one which wouldbe at least congenial to my own longing for a life of service, and myhopeless prospects in a profession in which wealth was made the test ofability. So as I lay there in the quiet of the starlit prairie, my mind,running in these eddying circles of thought, fixed itself upon this idea:I would go to Paris. I would seek through one well-known in other timesthe means of putting in execution my resolution. I felt strangelyexcited; sleep seemed banished altogether. I arose from the ground, andwalked away into the stillness of the night. Oh, for a sign, for someguiding light in this uncertain hour of my life! I looked towards thenorth as this thought entered my brain. The aurora was burning faint inthe horizon; Arcturus lay like a diamond above the ring of the duskyprairie. As I looked, a bright globe of light flashed from beneath thestar and passed slowly along towards the west, leaving in its train along track of rose-coloured light; in the uttermost bounds of the westit died slowly away. Was my wish answered? and did my path lie to thewest, not east after all? or was it merely that thing which men callchance, and dreamers destiny?

A few days from this time I found myself at the frontier post of Pembina,whither the troublesome doings of the escaped Provisional leaders hadinduced the new governor Mr. Archibald to send me. On the last day ofSeptember I again reached, by the steamer "International," theWell-remembered Point of Frogs. I had left Red River for good. When theboat reached the landing-place a gentleman came on board, a well-knownmember of the Canadian bench.

"Where are you going?" he inquired of me.

"To Canada."

"Why?"

"Because there is nothing more to be done."

"Oh, you must come back."

"Why so?"

"Because we have a lot of despatches to send to Ottawa, and the mail isnot safe. Come back now and you will be here again in ten days time."

Go back again on the steam-boat and come up next trip--would I?

There are many men who pride themselves upon their fixity of purpose, anda lot of similar fixidities and steadiness; but I don't. I know ofnothing so fixed as the mole, so obstinate as the mule, or so steady asa stone wall, but I don't particularly care about making their generalcharacteristics the rule of my life; and so I decided to go back to FortGarry, just as I would have decided to start for the North Pole had theoccasion offered.

Early in the second week of October I once more drew nigh the hallowedprecincts of Fort Garry.

"I am so glad you have returned," said the governor, Mr. Archibald, whenI met him on the evening of my arrival, "because I want to ask you if youwill undertake a much longer journey than any thing you have yet done. Iam going to ask you if you will accept a mission to the SaskatchewanValley and through the Indian countries of the West. Take a couple ofdays to think over it, and let me know your decision."

"There is no necessity, sir," I replied, "to consider the matter, I havealready made up my mind, and, if necessary, will start in half an hour."

This was on the 10th of October, and winter was already sending hisbreath over the yellow grass of the prairies.

And now let us turn our glance to this great North west whither mywandering steps are about to lead me. Fully 900 miles as bird would fly,and 1200 as horse can travel, west of Red River an immense range ofmountains, eternally capped with snow, rises in rugged masses from a vaststream-seared plain. They who first beheld these grand guardians of thecentral prairies named them the Montagnes des Rochers; a fitting titlefor such vast accumulation of rugged magnificence. From the glaciers andice valleys of this great range of mountains innumerable streams descendinto the plains. For a time they wander, as if heedless of direction,through groves and glades and green spreading declivities; then, assuminggreater fixidity of purpose, they gather up many a wandering rill, andstart eastward upon a long journey. At length the many detached streamsresolve themselves into two great water systems; through hundreds ofmiles these two rivers pursue their parallel courses, now approaching,now opening out from each other. Suddenly, the southern river bendstowards the north, and at a point some 600 miles from the mountains poursits volume of water into the northern channel. Then the united riverrolls in vast majestic curves steadily towards the north-east, turnsonce more towards the south, opens out into a great reed covered marsh,sweeps on into a large cedar-lined lake, and finally, rolling over arocky ledge, casts its waters into the northern end of the great LakeWinnipeg, fully 1300 miles from the glacier cradle where it took itsbirth. This river, which has along it every diversity of hill and vale,meadow-land and forest, treeless plain and fertile hill-side, is calledby the wild tribes who dwell-along its glorious shores theKissaskatchewan, or Rapid-flowing River. But this Kissaskatchewan is notthe only river which waters the great central region lying between RedRiver and the Rocky Mountains. The Assineboine or Stony River drains therolling prairie lands 500 miles west from Red River, and many a smallerstream and rushing, bubbling brook carries into its devious channel thewaters of that vast country which lies between the American boundary-lineand the pine woods of the lower Saskatchewan.

So much for the rivers; and now for the land through which they flow. Howshall we picture it? How shall we tell the story of that great,boundless, solitary waste of verdure?

The old, old maps which the navigators of the sixteenth century framedfrom the discoveries of Cabot and Cartier, of Varrazanno and Hudson,played strange pranks with the geography of the New World. Thecoast-line, with the estuaries of large rivers, was tolerably accurate;but the centre of America was represented as a vast inland sea whoseshores stretched far into the Polar North; a sea through which lay themuch-coveted passage to the long sought treasures of the old realms ofCathay. Well, the geographers of that period erred only in thedescription of ocean which they placed in the central continent, for anocean there is, and an ocean through which men seek the treasures ofCathay, even in our own times. But the ocean is one of grass, and theshores are the crests of mountain ranges, and the dark pine forests ofsub-Arctic regions. The great ocean itself does not present more infinitevariety than does this prairie-ocean of which we speak. In winter, adazzling surface-of purest snow; in early summer, a vast expanse of grassand pale pink roses; in autumn too often a-wild sea of raging-fire. Noocean of water in the world can vie with its gorgeous sunsets;--nosolitude can equal the loneliness of a night-shadowed prairie: one feelsthe stillness, and hears the silence, the wail of the prowling wolfmakes the voice of solitude audible, the stars look down through infinitesilence upon a silence almost as intense. This ocean has no past--timehas been nought to it; and men have come and gone, leaving behind themno track, no vestige, of their presence. Some French writer, speaking ofthese prairies, has said that the sense of this utter negation of life,this complete absence of history, has struck him with a lonelinessoppressive and sometimes terrible in its intensity. Perhaps so; but, formy part, the prairies had nothing terrible in their aspect, nothingoppressive in their loneliness. One saw here the world as it had takenshape and form from the hands of the Creator. Nor did the scene look lessbeautiful because nature alone tilled the earth, and the unaided sunbrought forth the flowers.

October had reached its latest week: the wild geese and swans had takentheir long flight to the south, and their wailing cry no more descendedthrough the darkness; ice had settled upon the quiet pools and wassettling upon the quick-running streams; the horizon glowed at night withthe red light of moving prairie fires. It was the close of the Indiansummer, and winter was coming quickly down from his far northern home.

On the 24th of October I quitted Fort Garry, at ten o'clock at night,and, turning out into the level prairie, commenced a long journey towardsthe West. The night was cold and moonless, but a brilliant aurora flashedand trembled in many-coloured shafts across the starry sky. Behind me layfriends and news of friends, civilization, tidings of a terrible war,firesides, and houses; before me lay unknown savage tribes, long days ofsaddle-travel, long nights of chilling bivouac, silence, separation, andspace!

I had as a companion for a portion of the journey an officer of theHudson Bay Company's service who was returning to his fort in theSaskatchewan, from whence he had but recently come. As attendant I had aFrench half-breed from Red River Settlement--a tall, active fellow, byname Pierre Diome. My means of travel consisted of five horses and oneRed River cart. For my personal use I had a small black Canadian horse,or pony, and an English saddle. My companion, the Hudson Bay officer,drove his own light spring-waggon, and had also his own horse. I was wellfound in blankets, deer-skins, and moccassins; all the appliances ofhalf-breed apparel had been brought into play to fit me out, and I foundmyself possessed of ample stores of leggings, buffalo "mittaines" andcapots, where with to face the biting breeze of the prairie and to standat night the icy bivouac. So much for personal costume; now for officialkit. In the first place, I was the bearer and owner of two commissions.By virtue of the first I was empowered to confer upon two gentlemen inthe Saskatchewan the rank and status of Justice of the Peace; and in thesecond I was appointed to that rank and status myself. As to the matterof extent of jurisdiction comprehended under the name of Justice of thePeace for Rupert's Land and the North-west, I believe that the onlyparallel to be found in the world exists under the title of "Czar of allthe Russias" and "Khan of Mongolia;" but the northern limit of all theRussias has been successfully arrived at, whereas the North-west is but ageneral term for every thing between the 49th parallel of north latitudeand the North-Pole itself. But documentary evidence of unlimitedjurisdiction over Blackfeet, Bloods, Big Bellies (how much better thisname sounds in French!), Sircies, Peagins, Assineboines, Crees,uskegoes, Salteaux, Chipwayans, Loucheaux, and Dogribs, not includingEsquimaux, was not the only cartulary carried by me into the prairies. Aterrible disease had swept, for some months previous to the date of myjourney, the Indian tribes of Saskatchewan. Small-pox, in its mostaggravated type, had passed from tribe to tribe, leaving in its trackdepopulated wigwams and vacant council-lodges; thousands (and there arenot many thousands, all told) had perished on the great sandy plains thatlie between the Saskatchewan and the Missouri. Why this most terrible ofdiseases should prey with especial fury upon the poor red man of Americahas never been accounted for by, medical authority; but that it does preyupon him with a violence nowhere else to be found is an undoubted fact.Of all the fatal methods of destroying the Indians which his whitebrother has introduced into the West, this plague of small-pox is themost deadly. The history of its annihilating progress is written in toolegible characters on the desolate expanses of untenanted wilds, wherethe Indian graves are the sole traces of the red man's former domination.Beneath this awful scourge whole tribes have disappeared the bravest andthe best have vanished, because their bravery forbade that they shouldflee from the terrible infection, and, like soldiers in some squareplunged through and rent with shot, the survivors only closed moredespairingly together when the death-stroke fell heaviest among them.They knew nothing of this terrible disease; it had come from the whiteman and the trader; but its speed had distanced even the race for gold,and the Missouri Valley had been swept by the epidemic before the menwho carried the firewater had crossed the Mississippi. For eighty yearsthese vast regions had known at intervals the deadly presence of thisdisease, and through that lapse of time its history had been ever thesame. It had commenced in the trading camp; but the white man hadremained comparatively secure, while his red brothers were swept away byhundreds. Then it had travelled on, and every thing had gone down beforeit-the chief and the brave, the medicine-man, the squaw, the papoose. Thecamp moved away; but the dread disease clung to it--dogged it--with aperseverance more deadly than hostile tribe or prowling war-party; andfar over the plains the track was marked with the unburied bodies andbleaching bones of the wild warriors of the West.

The summer which had just passed had witnessed one of the deadliestattacks of this disease. It had swept from the Missouri through theBlackfeet tribes, and had run the whole length of the North Saskatchewan,attacking indiscriminately Crees, half-breeds, and Hudson Bay employees.The latest news received from the Saskatchewan was one long record ofdeath. Carlton House, a fort of the Hudson Bay Company, 600 milesnorth-west from Red River, had been attacked in August. Late in Septemberthe disease still raged among its few inhabitants. From farther westtidings had also come bearing the same message of disaster. Crees,half-breeds, and even the few Europeans had been attacked; all medicineshad been expended, and the officer in charge at Carlton had perished ofthe disease.

"You are to ascertain as far as you can in what places and among whattribes of Indians, and what settlements of Whites, the small-pox is nowprevailing, including the extent of its ravages, and every particular youcan ascertain in connexion with the rise and the spread of the disease.You are to take with you such, small supply of medicines as shall bedeemed by the Board of Health here suitable and proper for the treatmentof small-pox, and you will obtain written instructions for the propertreatment of the disease, and will leave a copy thereof with the chiefofficer of each fort you pass, and with any clergyman or otherintelligent person belonging to settlements outside the forts." So ranthis clause in my instructions, and thus it came about that amongst manycurious parts which a wandering life had caused me to play, that ofphysician in ordinary to the Indian tribes of the farthest west becamethe most original. The preparation of these medicines and the printing ofthe instructions and directions for the treatment of small-pox hadconsumed many days and occasioned considerable delay in my departure. Atlength the medicines were declared complete, and I proceeded to inspectthem. Eight large cases met my astonished gaze. I was in despair; eightcases would necessitate slow progression and extra horses; fortunately aremedy arose. A medical officer was directed by the Board of Health tovisit the Saskatchewan; he was to start at a later date. I handed over tohim six of the eight cases, and with my two remaining ones and unlimitedprinted directions for small-pox in three stages, departed, as we havealready seen. By forced marching I hoped to reach the distant station ofEdmonton on the Upper Saskatchewan in a little less than one month, butmuch would depend upon the state of the larger rivers and upon thesnow-fall en route. The first week in November is usually the period ofthe freezing in of rivers; but crossing large rivers partially frozen isa dangerous work, and many such obstacles lay between me and themountains. If Edmonton was to be reached before the end of Novemberdelays would not be possible, and the season of my journey was one whichmade the question of rapid travel a question of the change of temperatureof a single night. On the second day out we passed the Portage-la-prairie,the last settlement towards the West. A few miles farther on we crossedthe Rat Creek, the boundary of the new province of Manitoba, andstruck out into the solitudes. The first sight was not a cheeringone. Close beside the trail, just where it ascended from the ravineof the Rat Creek, stood a solitary newly-made grave. It was the graveof one who had been left to die only a few days before. Thrown awayby his companions, who had passed on towards Red River, he had lingeredfor three days all exposed to dew and frost. At length death had kindlyput an end to his sufferings, but three days more elapsed before anyperson would approach to bury the remains. He had died from smallpoxbrought from the Saskatchewan, and no one would go near the fatal spot. AFrench missionary, however, passing by stopped to dig a hole in theblack, soft earth; and so the poor disfigured clay found at length itslonely resting-place. That night we made our first camp out in thesolitudes. It was a dark, cold night, and the wind howled dismallythrough some bare thickets close by. When the fire flickered low and thewind wailed and sighed amongst the dry white grass, it was impossible toresist a feeling of utter loneliness. A long journey lay before me,nearly 3000 miles would have to be traversed before I could hope to reachthe neighbourhood of even this lonely spot itself, this last verge ofcivilization; the terrific cold of a winter of which I had only heard, acold so intense that travel ceases, except in the vicinity of the fortsof the Hudson Bay Company-a cold which freezes mercury, and of which thespirit registers 80 degrees of frost-this was to be the thought of manynights, the ever-present companion of many days. Between this littlecamp-fire and the giant mountains to which my steps were turned, therestood in that long 1200 miles but six houses, and in these houses aterrible malady had swept nearly half the inhabitants out of life. So,lying down that night for the first time with all this before me, I feltas one who had to face not a few of those things from which is evolvedthat strange mystery called death, and looking out into the vague darkimmensity around me, saw in it the gloomy shapes and shadowy outlines ofthe by gone which memory hides but to produce at such times. Men whoselot in life is cast in that mould which is so aptly described by the termof "having only their wits to depend on," must accustom themselves tofling aside quickly and at will all such thoughts and gloomy memories,for assuredly, if they do not so habituate themselves, they had betternever try in life to race against those more favoured individuals whohave things other than their wits to rely upon. The Wit will prove but asorry steed unless its owner be ever ready to race it against those moresubstantial horses called Wealth and Interest, and if in that race, theprize of which is Success, Wit should have to carry its rider intostrange and uncouth places, over rough and broken country, while theother two horses have only plain sailing before them, there is only allthe more reason for throwing aside all useless weight and extraincumbrance; and, with these few digressive remarks, we will proceed intothe solitudes.

The days that now commenced to pass were filled from dawn to dark withunceasing travel; clear, bright days of mellow sunshine followed bynights of sharp frost which almost imperceptibly made stronger the icycovering of the pools and carried farther and farther out into therunning streams the edging of ice which so soon was destined to covercompletely the river and the rill. Our route lay along the left bank ofthe Assineboine, but at a considerable distance from the river, whosewinding course could be marked at times by the dark oak woods thatfringed it. Far away to the south rose the outline of the Blue Hills ofthe Souris, and to the north the Riding Mountains lay faintly upon thehorizon. The country was no longer level, fine rolling hills stretchedaway before us over which the wind came with a keenness that made ourprairie-fare seem delicious at the close of a hard day's toil. 36, 22,24, 20; such were the readings of my thermometer as each morning I lookedat it by the fire-light as we arose from our blankets-before the dawn andshivered in the keen hoarfrost while the kettle was being boiled.Perceptibly getting colder, but still clear and fine, and with everyBreeze laden with healthy and invigorating freshness, for four days wejourneyed without seeing man or beast; but on the morning of the fifthday, while camped in a thicket on the right of the trail, we heard thenoise of horses passing near us. A few hours afterwards we passed a smallband of Salteaux encamped farther on; and later in the day overtook ahalf-breed trader on his way to the Missouri to trade with the Sioux.This was a celebrated French half breed named Chaumon Rossette. Chaumonhad been undergoing a severe course of drink since he had left thesettlement some ten days earlier, and his haggard eyes and swollenfeatures revealed the incessant orgies of his travels. He had ascompanion and defender a young Sioux brave, whose handsome face also boretoken to his having been busily employed in seeing Chaumon through it. M.Rossette was one of the most noted of the Red River bullies, a terribledrunkard, but tolerated for some stray tokens of a better nature whichseemed at times to belong to him. When we came up to him he was campedwith his horses and carts on a piece of rising ground situated betweentwo clear and beautiful lakes.

"Well, Chaumon, going to trade again?"

"Oui, Captain."

"You had better not come to the forts, all liquor can be confiscated now.No more whisky for Indian-all stopped."

"I go very far out on Coteau to meet Sioux. Long before I get to Sioux Idrink all my own liquor; drink all, trade none. Sioux know me very well,Sioux give me plenty horses; plenty things: I quite fond of Sioux."

Chaumon had that holy horror of the law and its ways which every wild orsemi-wild man possesses. There is nothing so terrible to the savage asthe idea of imprisonment; the wilder the bird the harder he will feel thecage. The next thing to imprisonment in Chaumon's mind was a Governmentproclamation--a thing all the more terrible because he could not read aline of it nor comprehend what it could be about. Chaumon's face was astudy when I handed him three different proclamations and one copy of"The Small-pox in Three Stages." Whether he ever reached the Coteau andhis friends the Sioux I don't know, for I soon passed on my way; but ifthat lively bit of literature, entitled "The Small-pox in Three Stages,"had as convincing an impression on the minds of the Sioux as it had uponChaumon, that he was doing something very reprehensible indeed, if hecould only find out what it was, abject terror must have been carried farover the Coteau and the authority of the law fully vindicated along theMissouri.

On Sunday morning the 30th of October we reached a high bank overlooking'a deep valley through which rolled the Assineboine River. On the oppositeshore, 300 feet above the current, stood a few white houses surrounded bya wooden palisade. Around, the country stretched away on all sides inmagnificent expanses. This was Fort Ellice, near the junction of theQu'Appelle and Assineboine Rivers, 230 miles west from Fort Garry.Fording the Assineboine, which rolled its masses of ice Swiftly againstthe shoulder and neck of my horse, we climbed the steep hill, and gainedthe fort. I had ridden that distance in five days and two hours.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

The Hudson Bay Company--Furs and Free Trade--Fort Ellice--QuickTravelling-Horses--Little Blackie--Touchwood Hills--A Snow-storm--TheSouth Saskatchewan--Attempt to cross the River--Death of poorBlackie--Carlton.

IT may have occurred to some reader to ask, What is this company whosename so often appears upon these pages? Who are the men composing it, andwhat are the objects it has in view? You have glanced at its earlyhistory, its rivalries, and its discoveries, but now, now at this presenttime, while our giant rush of life roars and surges along, what is thework done by this Company of Adventurers trading into the Bay of Hudson?Let us see if we can answer. Of the two great monopolies which theimpecuniosity of Charles II. gave birth to, the Hudson Bay Company alonesurvives, but to-day the monopoly is one of fact, and not of law. All menare now free to come and go, to trade and sell and gather furs in thegreat Northern territory, but distance and climate raise more formidablebarriers against strangers than law or protection could devise. Boldwould be the trader who would carry his goods to the far away MackenzieRiver; intrepid would be the voyageur who sought a profit from the lonelyshores of the great Bear Lake. Locked in their fastnesses of ice anddistance, these remote and friendless solitudes of the North must longremain, as they are at present, the great fur preserve of the Hudson BayCompany. Dwellers within the limits of European states can ill comprehendthe vastness of territory over which this Fur Company holds sway. I sayholds sway, for the north of North America is still as much in thepossession of the Company, despite all cession of title to Canada, asCrusoe was the monarch of his island, or the man must be the owner of themoon. From Pembina on Red River to Fort Anderson on the Mackenzie is asgreat a distance as from London to Mecca. From the King's Posts to thePelly Banks is farther than from Paris to Samarcand, and yet todaythroughout that immense region the Company is king. And what a king! nomonarch rules his subjects with half the power of this Fur Company. Itclothes, feeds, and utterly maintains nine-tenths of its subjects. Fromthe Esquimaux at Ungava to the Loucheaux at Fort Simpson, all live by andthrough this London Corporation. The earth possesses not a wilder spotthan the barren grounds of Fort Providence; around lie the desolateshores of the great_ Slave Lake. _Twice in the year news comes from theoutside world-news many, many months old--news borne by men and dogsthrough 2000 miles of snow; and yet even there the gun that brings downthe moose and the musk-ox has been forged in a London smithy; the blanketthat covers the wild Indian in his cold camp has been woven in a Whitneyloom; that knife is from Sheffield; that string of beads from Birmingham.Let us follow the ships that sail annually from the Thames bound for thesupply of this vast region. It is early in June when she gets clear ofthe Nore; it is mid-June when the Orkneys and Stornaway are left behind;it is August when the frozen Straits of Hudson are pierced; and the endof the month has been reached when the ship comes to anchor off thesand-barred mouth of the Nelson River. For one year-the stores that she hasbrought lie in the warehouses of York factory; twelve months later theyreach Red River; twelve months later again they reach Fort Simpson on theMackenzie. That rough flint-gun, which might have done duty in the daysof the Stuarts, is worth many a rich sable in the country of the Dogribsand the Loucheaux, and is bartered for skins whose value can be rated atfour times their weight in gold; but the gun on the banks of the Thamesand the gun in the pine woods of the Mackenzie are two widely differentarticles. The old rough flint, whose bent barrel the Indians will oftenstraighten between the cleft of a tree or the crevice of a rock, has beenmade precious by the labour of many men; by the trackless wastes throughwhich it has been carried; by winter-famine of those who have to vend it;by the years which elapse between its departure from the work shop andthe return of that skin of sable or silver-fox for which it has beenbartered. They are short-sighted men who hold that because the flint-gunand the sable possess such different values in London, these articlesshould also possess their relative values in North America, and arguefrom this that the Hudson Bay Company treat the Indians unfairly; theyare short-sighted men, I say, and know not of what they speak. That oldrough flint has often cost more to put in the hands of that Dogrib hunterthan the best finished central fire of Boss or Purdey. But that is notall that has to be said about the trade of this Company. Free trade maybe an admirable institution for some nations-making them, amongst otherthings, very-much more liable to national destruction; but it by no meansfollows that it should be adapted equally well to the savage Indian.Unfortunately for the universality of British institutions, free tradehas invariably been found to improve the red man from the face of theearth. Free trade in furs means dear beavers, dear martens, dear minks,and dear otters; and all these "dears" mean whisky, alcohol, high wine,and poison, which in their turn mean, to the Indian, murder, disease,small-pox, and death. There is no need to tell me that these four dearsand their four corollaries ought not to be associated with free trade, aninstitution which is so pre-eminently pure; I only answer that thesethings have ever been associated with free trade in furs, and I see noreason whatever to behold in our present day amongst traders, Indian, or,for that matter, English, any very remarkable reformation in theprinciples of trade. Now the Hudson Bay Company are in the position ofmen who have taken a valuable shooting for a very long term of years orfor a perpetuity,-and who therefore are desirous of preserving for afuture time the game which they hunt, and also of preserving the huntersand trappers who are their servants. The free trader is as a man whotakes his shooting for the term of a year or two and wishes to destroyall he can. He has two objects in view; first, to get the furs himself,second, to prevent the other traders from getting them. "If I cannot getthem, then he shan't. Hunt, hunt, hunt, kill, kill, kill; next year maytake care of itself." One word more. Other companies and other means havebeen tried to carry on the Indian trade and to protect the interests ofthe Indians, but all have failed; from Texas to the Saskatchewan therehas been but one result, and that result has been the destruction of thewild animals and the extinction, partial or total, of the Indian race.

I remained only long enough at Fort Ellice to complete a few changes incostume which the rapidly increasing cold rendered necessary. Boots andhat were finally discarded, the stirrup-irons were rolled in strips ofbuffalo skin,-the large moose-skin "mittaines" taken into wear, andimmense moccassins got ready. These precautions were necessary, forbefore us there now lay a great open region with treeless expanses thatwere sixty miles across them-a vast tract of rolling hill and plain overwhich, for three hundred miles, there lay no fort or house of any kind.

Bidding adieu to my host, a young Scotch gentleman, at Fort Ellice, mylittle party turned once more towards the North-west and, fording theQu'Appelle five miles above its confluence with the Assineboine, struckout into a lovely country. It was the last day of October and almost thelast of the Indian summer. Clear and distinct lay the blue sky upon thequiet sun-lit prairie. The horses trotted briskly on under the charge ofan English half-breed named Daniel. Pierre Diome had returned to RedRiver, and Daniel was to bear me company as far as Carlton on the NorthSaskatchewan. My five horses were now beginning to show the effect oftheir incessant work, but it was only in appearance, and the distancetravelled each day was increased instead of diminished as we journeyedon. I would not have believed it possible that horses could travel thedaily distance which mine did without breaking down altogether under it,still less would it have appeared possible upon the food which they hadto eat. We had neither hay nor oats to give them; there was nothing--butthe dry grass of the prairie, and no time to eat that but the cold frostyhours of the night. Still we seldom travelled less than fifty milesa-day, stopping only for one hour at midday, and going on again untilnight began to wrap her mantle around the shivering prairie. My horse wasa wonderful animal; day after day would I fear that his game little limbswere growing weary, and that soon he must give out; but no, not a bit ofit; his black coat roughened and his flanks grew a little leaner, butstill he went on as gamely and as pluckily as ever.

Often during the long day I would dismount and walk along leading himby the bridle, while the other two men and the six horses jogged onfar in advance; when they had disappeared altogether behind somedistant ridge of the prairie my little horse would commence to lookanxiously around, whinnying and trying to get along after hiscomrades; and then how gamely he trotted on when I remounted,watching out for the first sign of his friends again, far-awaylittle specks on the great wilds before us. When the camping place wouldbe reached at nightfall the first care went to the horse. To removesaddle, bridle, and saddle-cloth, to untie the strip of soft buffaloleather from his neck and twist it well around his fore-legs, for thepurpose of hobbling, was the work of only a few minutes, and then poorBlackie hobbled away to find over the darkening expanse his night'sprovender. Before our own supper of pemmican, half-baked bread, and teahad been discussed, we always drove the band of horses down to somefrozen lake hard-by, and Daniel cut with the axe little drinking holes inthe ever-thickening ice; then up would bubble the water and down went theheads-of the thirsty horses for a long pull at the too often bitterspring, for in this region between the Assineboine and the SouthSaskatchewan fully half the lakes and pools that lie scattered aboutin-vast variety are harsh with salt and alkalis. Three horses alwaysran loose while the other three worked in harness. These loose horses,one might imagine, would be prone to gallop away when they foundthemselves at liberty to do so: but nothing seems farther from theirthoughts; they trot along by the side of their harnessed comradesapparently as though they knew all about it now and again they stopbehind, to crop a bit of grass or tempting stalk of wild pea or vetches,but on they come again until the party has been reached, then, with earsthrown back, the jog-trot is resumed, and the whole band sweeps on overhill and plain. To halt and change horses is only the work of two minutes--out comes one horse, the other is standing close by and never stirswhile the hot harness is being put upon him; in he goes into the roughshafts, and, with a crack of the half-breed's whip across his flanks,away we start again.

But my little Blackie seldom got a respite from the saddle; he seemed sowell up to his work, so much stronger and better than any of the others,that day after day I rode him, thinking each day, "Well, to-morrow I willlet him run loose;" but when to-morrow came he used to look so fresh andwell, carrying his little head as high as ever, that again I put thesaddle on his back, and another day's talk and companionship would stillfurther cement our friendship, for I grew to like that horse as one onlycan like the poor dumb beast that serves us. I know not how it is, buthorse and dog have worn themselves into my heart as few men have everdone in life and now, as day by day went by in one long scene of truecompanionship, I came to feel for little Blackie a friendship not theless sincere because all the service was upon his side, and I waspowerless to make his supper a better one, or give him more cosy lodgingfor the night. He fed and lodged himself and he carried me--all he asksin return was a water-hole in the frozen lake, and that I cut for him.Sometimes the night came down upon us still in the midst of a great opentreeless plain, without shelter, water, or grass, and then we wouldcontinue on in the inky darkness as though our march was to lasteternally, and poor Blackie would step out as if his natural state wasone of perpetual motion. On the 4th November we rode over sixty miles;and when at length the camp was made in the lea of a little clump of barewillows, the snow was lying cold upon the prairies, and Blackie and hiscomrades went out to shiver through their supper in the bleakest scene myeyes had ever looked upon.

About midway between Fort Ellice and Carlton a sudden and well-definedchange occurs in the character of the country; the light soil disappears,and its place is succeeded by a rich dark loam covered deep in grass andvetches. Beautiful hills swell in slopes more or less abrupt on allsides, while lakes fringed with thickets and clumps of good-sized poplarbalsam lie lapped in their fertile hollows.

This region bears the name of the Touchwood Hills. Around it, far intoendless space, stretch immense plains of bare and scanty vegetation,plains seared with the tracks of countless buffalo which, until a fewyears ago, were wont to roam in vast herds between the Assineboine andthe Saskatchewan. Upon whatever side the eye turns when crossing thesegreat expanses, the same wrecks of the monarch of the prairie liethickly strewn over the surface. Hundreds of thousands of skeletons dotthe short scant grass; and when fire has laid barer still the levelsurface, the bleached ribs and skulls of long-killed bison whiten far andnear the dark burnt prairie. There is something unspeakably melancholy inthe aspect of this portion of the North-west. From one of the westwardjutting spurs of the Touchwood Hills the eye sees far away over animmense plain; the sun goes down, and as he sinks upon the earth thestraight line of the horizon becomes visible for a moment across thisblood red disc, but so distant, so far away, that it seems dream like inits immensity. There is not a sound in the air or on the earth; on everyside lie spread the relics of the great fight waged by man against thebrute creation: all is silent and deserted--the Indian and the buffalogone, the settler not yet come. You turn quickly to the right or left;over a hill-top, close by, a solitary wolf steals away. Quickly the vastprairie begins to grow dim, and darkness forsakes the skies because theylight their stars, coming down to seek in the utter solitude of theblackened plains a kindred spirit for the night.

On the night of the 4th November we made our camp long after dark in alittle clump of willows far out in the plain which lies west of theTouchwood Hills. We had missed the only lake that was known to lie inthis part of the plain, and after journeying far in the darkness haltedat length, determined to go supperless, or next to supperless, to bed,for pemmican without that cup which nowhere tastes more delicious than inthe wilds of the North-west would prove but sorry comfort, and the supperwithout tea would be only a delusion. The fire was made, the frying-pantaken out, the bag of dried buffalo meat and the block of pemmican gotready, but we said little in the presence of such a loss as the steamingkettle and the hot, delicious, fragrant tea. Why not have providedagainst this evil hour by bringing on from the last frozen lake someblocks of ice? Alas! why not? Moodily we sat down round the blazingwillows. Meantime Daniel commenced to unroll the oil cloth cart cover-andlo, in the ruddy glare of the fire, out rolled three or four large piecesof thick, heavy ice, sufficient to fill our kettle three times over withdelicious tea. Oh, what a joy it was! and how we relished that cup! forremember, cynical friend who may be inclined to hold such happinesscheap and light, that this wild life of ours is a curious leveller ofcivilized habits--a cup of water to a thirsty man can be more valuablethan a cup of diamonds, and the value of one article over the other isonly the question of a few hours privation. When the morning of the. 5thdawned we were covered deep in snow, a storm had burst in the night, andall around was hidden in a dense sheet of driving snow-flakes; not avestige of our horses was to be seen, their tracks were obliterated bythe fast-falling snow, and the surrounding objects close at hand showeddim and indistinct through the white cloud. After fruitless search,Daniel returned to camp with the tidings that the horses were nowhere tobe found; so, when breakfast had been finished, all three set out inseparate directions to look again for the missing steeds. Keeping thesnow-storm on my left shoulder, I went along through little clumps ofstunted bushes which frequently deceived me by their resemblance throughthe driving snow to horses grouped together. After awhile I bent roundtowards the wind and, making a long sweep in that direction, bent againso as to bring the drift upon my right shoulder. No horses, no tracks,any where--nothing but a waste of white drifting flake and featherysnow-spray. At last I turned away from the wind, and soon struck full onour little camp; neither of the others had returned. I cut down somewillows and made a blaze. After a while I got on to the top of the cart,and looked out again into the waste. Presently I heard a distant shout;replying vigorously to it, several indistinct forms came into view; andDaniel soon emerged from the mist, driving before him the hobbledwanderers; they had been hidden under the lea of a thicket some distanceoff, all clustered together for shelter and warmth. Our only difficultywas now the absence of my friend the Hudson Bay officer. We waited sometime, and at length, putting the saddle on Blackie, I started out in thedirection he had taken. Soon I heard a faint far-away shout; ridingquickly in the direction from whence it proceeded, I heard the callsgetting louder and louder, and soon came up with a figure heading rightaway into the immense plain, going altogether in a direction opposite towhere our camp lay. I shouted, and back came my friend no little pleasedto find his road again, for a snowstorm is no easy thing to steerthrough, and at times it will even fall out that not the Indian with allhis craft and instinct for direction will be able to find his way throughits blinding maze. Woe betide the wretched man who at such a time findshimself alone upon the prairie, without fire or the means of making it;not even the ship-wrecked-sailor clinging to the floating mast is in amore pitiable strait. During the greater portion of this day it snowedhard, but our track was distinctly-marked across the plains, and we heldon all day. I still rode Blackie; the little fellow had to keep his witsat work to avoid tumbling into the badger holes which the snow soonrendered invisible. These badger holes in this portion of the plains werevery numerous; it is not always easy to avoid them when the ground isclear of snow, but riding becomes extremely difficult when once thewinter has set in. The badger burrows straight down for two or threefeet, and if a horse be travelling at any pace his fall is so sudden andviolent that a broken leg is too often the result. Once or twice Blackiewent in nearly to the shoulder, but he invariably scrambled up again allright-poor fellow, he was reserved for a worse fate, and his long journeywas near its end! A clear cold day followed the day of snow, and for thefirst time the thermometer fell below zero.

Day dawned upon us on the 6th November camped in a little thicket ofpoplars some seventy miles from the South Saskatchewan; the thermometerstood 30 below zero, and as I drew the girths tight on poor Blackie'sribs that morning, I felt happy in the thought that I had slept for thefirst time under the stars with 35 degrees of frost lying on the blanketoutside. Another long day's ride, and the last great treeless plain wascrossed and evening found us camped near the Minitchinass, or SolitaryHill, some sixteen miles south-east of the South Saskatchewan. The grassagain grew long and thick, the clumps of willow, poplar, and birch hadreappeared, and the soil, when we scraped the snow away to make oursleeping place, turned up black and rich-looking under the blows of theaxe. About midday on the 7th November, in a driving storm of snow, wesuddenly emerged upon a high plateau. Before us, at a little distance, agreat gap or valley seemed to open suddenly out, and farther off thewhite sides of hills and dark tree-tops rose into view. Riding to theedge of this steep valley I beheld a magnificent river flowing betweengreat banks of ice and snow 300 feet below the level on which we stood.Upon each side masses of ice stretched out far into the river, but inthe centre, between these banks of ice, ran a swift, black-lookingcurrent the sight of which for a moment filled us with dismay. We hadcounted upon the Saskatchewan being firmly locked in ice, and here wasthe river rolling along between its icy banks forbidding all passage.Descending to the low valley of the river, we halted for dinner,determined to try some method by which to cross this formidable barrier.An examination of the river and its banks soon revealed the difficultiesbefore us. The ice, as it approached the open portion, was unsafe,rendering it impossible to get within reach of the running water.` Aninterval of some ten yards separated the sound ice from the current,while nearly 100 yards of solid ice lay between the true bank of theriver and the dangerous portion; thus our first labour was to make asolid footing for ourselves from which to launch any raft or make-shiftboat which we might construct. After a great deal of trouble and labour,we got the waggon-box roughly fashioned into a raft, covered over withone of our large oil-cloths, and Lashed together with buffalo leather.This most primitive looking craft we carried down over the ice to wherethe dangerous portion commenced; then Daniel,-wielding the axe withpowerful dexterity, began to hew away at the ice until space enough wasopened out to float our raft upon. Into this-we slipped the-waggon-box,and into the waggon-box we put the half-breed Daniel. It floatedadmirably, and on went the axe-man, hewing, as before, with might andmain. It was cold, wet work, and, in spite of every thing, the waterbegan to ooze through the oil-cloth into the waggon-box. We had to haulit up, empty it, and launch again; thus for some hours we kept on, cold,wet, and miserable, until night forced us to desist and make our camp onthe tree-lined shore. So we hauled in the wagon and retired, baffled, butnot beaten, to begin again next morning. There were many reasons to makethis delay feel vexatious and disappointing; we had travelled a distanceof 560 miles in twelve days; travelled only to find ourselves stopped bythis partially frozen river at a point twenty miles distant from Carlton,the first great station on my journey. Our stock of provisions, too, wasnot such as would admit of much delay; pemmican and dried meat we hadnone, and flour, tea, and grease were all that remained to us. However,Daniel declared that he knew a most excellent method of making acombination of flour and fat which Would allay all disappointment-and Imust conscientiously admit that a more hunger-satiating mixture than heproduced out of the frying-pan it had never before been my lot to taste.A little of it went such a long way, that it would be impossible to finda parallel for it in portability; in fact, it went such a long way, thatthe person who dined off it found himself, by common reciprocity offeeling, bound to go a long way in return before he again partook of it;but Daniel was not of that opinion, for he ate the greater portion of ourunited shares, and slept peacefully when it was all gone. I wouldparticularly recommend this mixture to the consideration of the guardiansof the poor throughout the United Kingdom, as I know of nothing whichwould so readily conduce to the satisfaction of the hungry element in'our society. Had such a combination been known to Bumble. and his Board,the hunger of Twist would even have been satisfied by a single helping;but, perhaps, it might be injudicious to introduce into the sister islandany condiment so antidotal in its nature to the removal of the Celtacross the Atlantic--that "consummation so devoutly wished for" by the"leading journal."

Fortified by Daniel's delicacy, we set to work early next morning atraft-making and ice-cutting; but we made the attempt to cross at aportion of the river where the open water was narrower and the borderingice sounded more firm to the testing blows of the axe. One part of theriver had now closed in, but the ice over it was unsafe. We succeeded in'getting the craft into the running water and, having strung together allthe available line and rope we possessed, prepared for the venture. Itwas found that the waggon-boat would only carry one passenger, andaccordingly I took my place in it, and with a make-shift paddle put outinto the quick-running stream. The current had great power over theill-shaped craft, and it was no easy-matter to keep her head at allagainst stream.

I had not got five yards out when the whole thing commenced to fillrapidly with water, and I had just time to get back again to ice beforeshe was quite full. We hauled her out once more, and found the oil-clothhad been cut by the jagged ice, so there was nothing for it but to removeit altogether and put on another. This was done, and soon our waggon-boxwas once again afloat. This time I reached in safety the farther side;but there a difficulty arose which we had not foreseen. Along thisfarther edge of ice the current ran with great force, and as the leatherline which was attached to the back of the boat sank deeper and deeperinto the water, the drag upon it caused the boat to drift quicker andquicker downstream; thus, when I touched the opposite ice, I found thedrift was so rapid that my axe failed to catch a hold in the yieldingedge, which broke away at every stroke. After several ineffectualattempts to stay the rush of the boat, and as I was being borne rapidlyinto a mass of rushing water and huge blocks of ice, I saw it was all up,and shouted to the others to rope in the line; but this was no easymatter, because the rope had got foul of the running ice, and was caughtunderneath. At last, by careful handling, it was freed, and I stood oncemore on the spot from whence I had started, having crossed the RiverSaskatchevan to no purpose. Daniel now essayed the task, and reached theopposite shore, taking the precaution to work up the nearer side beforecrossing; once over, his vigorous use of the axe told on the ice, and hesucceeded in fixing the boat against the edge. Then lhe quickly clove hisway into the frozen mass, and, by repeated blows, finally reached a spotfrom which he got on shore.

This success of our long labour and exertion was announced to thesolitude by three ringing cheers, which we gave from our side; for, beit remembered, that it was now our intention to use the waggon-boat toconvey across all our baggage, towing the boat from one side to the otherby means of our line; after which, we would force the horses to swim theriver, and then cross ourselves in the boat. But all our plans weredefeated by an unlooked-for accident; the line lay deep in the water, asbefore, and to raise it required no small amount of force. We hauled andhauled, until snap went the long rope somewhere underneath the water, andall was over. With no little difficulty Daniel got the boat across againto our side, and we all went back to camp wet, tired, and dispirited byso much labour and so many misfortunes. It froze hard that night, and inthe morning the great river had its waters altogether hidden opposite ourcamp by a covering of ice. Would it bear? that was the question. We wenton it early, testing with axe and sharp-pointed poles. In places it wasvery thin, but in other parts it rang hard and solid to the blows. Thedangerous spot was in the very centre of the river, where the water hadshown through in round holes on the previous day, but we hoped to avoidthese bad places by taking a slanting course across the channel. Afterwalking backwards and forwards several times, we determined to try alight horse. He was led out with a long piece of rope attached to hisneck. In the centre of the stream the ice seemed to bend slightly as hepassed over, but no break occurred, and in safety we reached the oppositeside. Now came Blackie's turn. Somehow or other I felt uncomfortableabout it and remarked that the horse ought to have his shoes removedbefore the attempt was made. My companion, however, demurred, and hisexperience in these matters had extended over so many years, that I wasfoolishly induced to allow him to proceed as he thought fit, even againstmy better judgment. Blackie was taken out, led as before, tied by a longline. I followed close behind him, to drive him if necessary. He did notneed much driving, but took the ice quite readily. We had got to thecentre of the river, when the surface suddenly bent downwards, and, to myhorror, the poor horse plunged deep into black, quick-running water! Hewas not three yards in front of me when the ice broke. I recoiledinvoluntarily from the black, seething chasm; the horse, though heplunged suddenly down, never let his head under water, but kept swimmingmanfully round and round the narrow hole, trying all he could to getupon the ice. All his efforts were useless; a cruel wall of sharp icestruck his knees as he tried to lift them on the surface, and thecurrent, running with immense velocity, repeatedly carried him backunderneath. As soon as the horse had broken through, the man who heldthe rope let it go, and the leather line flew back about poor Blackie'shead. I got up almost to the edge of the hole, and stretching out tookhold of the line again; but that could do no good nor give him anyassistance in his struggles. I shall never forget the way the poor brutelooked at me--even now, as I write these lines, the whole scene comesback in memory with all the vividness of a picture, and I feel again thehorrible sensation of being utterly unable, though almost within touchingdistance, to give him help in his dire extremity and if ever dumb animalspoke with unutterable eloquence, that horse called to me in his agony heturned to me as to one from whom he had a right to expect assistance. Icould not stand the scene any longer. "Is there no help for him?" I criedto the other men. "None whatever," was the reply; "the ice is dangerous-all around."

Then I rushed back to the shore and up to the camp where my rifle lay,then back again to the fatal spot where the poor beast still struggledagainst his fate. As I raised the rifle he looked at me so imploringlythat my hand shook and trembled. Another instant, and the deadly bulletcrashed through his head, and, with one look never to be forgotten, hewent down under the cold, unpitying ice!

It may have been very foolish, perhaps, for poor Blackie was only a.horse, but for all that I went back to camp, and, sitting down in thesnow, cried like a child. With my own hand I had taken my poor friend'slife; but if there should exist somewhere in the regions of space thathappy Indian paradise where horses are never hungry and never tired,Blackie, at least, will forgive the hand that sent him there, if he canbut see the heart that long regretted him.

Leaving Daniel in charge of the remaining horses, we crossed on foot thefatal river, and with a single horse set out for Carlton. From the highnorth bank I took one last look back at the South Saskatchewan-it lay inits broad deep valley glittering in one great band of purest 'snow; but Iloathed the sight of it, while the small round open hole, dwarfed to aspeck by distance, marked the spot where my poor horse had found hisgrave, after having carried me so faithfully through the long lonelywilds. We had travelled about six miles when a figure appeared in sight,coming towards us upon the same track. The new-comer proved to be a CreeIndian travelling to Fort Pelly. He bore the name of the Starving Bull.Starving Bull and his boy at once turned back With us towards Carlton. Ina little while a party of horsem*n hove in sight: they had come out fromthe fort to visit the South Branch, and amongst them was the Hudson Bayofficer in charge of the station. Our first question had reference to theplague. Like a fire, it had burned itself out. There was no case then inthe fort, but out of the little garrison of some sixty souls no fewerthan thirty-two had perished! Four only had recovered of the thirty-sixwho had taken the terrible infection.

We halted for dinner by the edge of the Duck Lake; midway between theNorth and South Branches of the Saskatchewan. It was a rich, beautifulcountry, although the snow lay some inches deep. Clumps of trees dottedthe undulating surface, and lakelets glittering in the bright sunshinespread out in sheets of dazzling whiteness. The Starving Bull set himselfbusily to work preparing our dinner. What it would have been underordinary circ*mstances, I cannot state; but, unfortunately for itssuccess on the present occasion, its preparation was attended withunusual drawbacks. Starving Bull had succeeded in killing a skunk duringhis journey. This performance, while highly creditable to his energy as ahunter, was by no means conducive to his success, as a cook. Bitterly didthat skunk revente himself upon us who had borne no part in hisdestruction. Pemmican is at no time a delicacy; but pemmican flavouredwith skunk was more than I could attempt. However, Starving Bull provedhimself worthy of his name, and the frying-pan was-soon scraped cleanunder his hungry manipulations.

Another hour's ride brought us to a high bank, at the base of which laythe North Saskatchewan. In the low ground adjoining the river stoodCarlton House, a large square enclosure, the wooden walls of which weremore than twenty feet in height. Within these palisades some dozen ormore houses stood crowded together. Close by, to the right, manysnow-covered mounds with a few rough wooden crosses above them marked thespot where, only four weeks before, the last Victim of the epidemic hadbeen laid. On the very spot where I stood looking at this sceiqe, aBlackfoot Indian, three years earlier, had stolen out from a thicket,fired at, and grievously wounded the Hudson Bay officer belonging to thefort, and now close to the same spot a small cross marked that officer'slast resting-place. Strange fate! he had escaped the Blackfoot's bulletonly to be the first to succumb to the deadly epidemic. I cannot say thatCarlton was at all a lively place of sojourn. Its natural gloom wasconsiderably deepened by the events of the last few months, and the wholeplace seemed to have received the stamp of death upon it. To add to thegeneral depression, provisions were by no means abundant, the few Indiansthat had come in from the plains brought the same tidings of unsuccessfulchase--for the buffalo were "far out" on the great prairie, and thatphrase "far out," applied to buffalo, means starvation in the North-west.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

The Saskatchewan--Start from Carlton--Wild Mares--Lose our Way--A longRide-Battle River--Mistawassis the Cree--A Dance.

Two things strike the new-comer at Carlton. First, he sees evidences onevery side of a rich and fertile country; and, secondly, he sees by manysigns that war is the normal condition of the wild men who have pitchedtheir tents in the land of the Saskatchewan that land from which we havetaken the Indian prefix Kis, without much improvement of length oreuphony. It is a name but little known to the ear of the outside world,but destined one day or other to fill its place in the long list of landswhose surface yields back to man, in manifold, the toil of his brain andhand. Its boundaries are of the simplest description, and it is as wellto begin with them. It has on the north a huge forest, on the west a hugemountain, on the south an immense desert, on the east an immense marsh.From the forest to the desert there lies a distance varying from 40 to150 miles, and from the marsh to the mountain, 800 miles of land liespread in every varying phase of undulating fertility. This is theFertile Belt, the land of the Saskatchewan, the winter home of thebuffalo, the war country of the Crees and Blackfeet, the future home ofmillions yet unborn. Few men have looked on this land-but the thoughts ofmany in the New World tend towards it, and crave for description and factwhich in many instances can only be given to them at second-hand.

Like all things in this world, the Saskatchcwan has its poles of opinion;there are those who paint it a paradise, and those who picture it a hell.It is unfit for habitation, it is to be the garden-spot of America--it istoo cold, it is too dry--it is too beautiful; and, in reality, what isit? I answer in a few words. It is rich; it is fertile; it is fair to theeye. Man lives long in it, and the children of his body are cast in manlymould. The cold of winter is intense, the strongest heat of summer is notexcessive. The autumn days are bright and-beautiful; the snow is seldomdeep, the frosts are early to come and late to go. All crops flourish,though primitive and rude are the means by which they are tilled; timberis in places plentiful, in other places scarce; grass grows high, thick,and rich. Horses winter out, and are round-carcased, and fat in spring.The lake-shores are deep in hay; lakelets every where. Rivers close inmid-November and open in mid-April. The lakes teem with fish; and suchfish! fit for the table of a prince, but disdained at the feast of theIndian. The river-heads lie all in a forest region; and it is midsummerwhen their water has reached its highest level. Through the land the redman stalks; war, his unceasing toil--horse-raiding, the pastime of hislife. How long has the Indian thus warred?-since he has been known to thewhite man, and long before.

In 1776 the earliest English voyager in these regions speaks of warbetween the Assineboines and their trouble some western neighbours, theSnake and Blackfeet Indians. But war was older than the era of theearliest white man, older probably than the Indian himself; for, fromwhat ever branch of the human race this stock is sprung, the lesson ofwarfare was in all cases the same to him. To say he fights is, after all,but to say he is a man; for whether it be in Polynesia or in Paris, inthe Saskatchewan or in Sweden, in Bundelond or in Bulgaria, fighting isjust the one universal "touch of nature which makes the whole worldkin."

"My good brothers," said a missionary friend of mine, some little whileago, to an assemblage of Crees, "My good brothers--why do you carry onthis unceasing war with the Blackfeet and Peaginoos, with Sircies andBloods? It is not good, it is not right; the great Manitou does not likehis children to kill each other, but he wishes them to live in peace andbrotherhood."

To which the Cree chief made answer--"My friend, what you say is good;but look, you are white man and Christian, we are red men and worshipthe Manitou; but what is the news we hear from the traders and theblack-robes? Is it not always the news of war? The Kitchi Mokamans (i.e.the Americans) are on the war-path against their brethren of the South,the English are fighting some tribes far away over the big lake; theFrench, and all the other tribes are fighting too! My brother, it isnews of war, always news of war! and we--we go on the war-path in smallnumbers. We stop when we kill a few of our enemies and take a few scalps;but your nations go to war in countless thousands, and we hear of more ofyour braves killed in one battle than all our tribe numbers together. So,my brother, do not say to us that it is wrong to go on the war-path, forwhat is right for the white man cannot be wrong in his red brother. Ihave done!"

During the seven days which I remained at Carlton the winter was notidle. It snowed and froze, and looked dreary enough within the darkeningwalls of the fort. A French missionary had come down from the northernlake of Isle-à-la-Crosse, but, unlike his brethren, he appeared shy anduncommunicative. Two of the stories which he related, however, deserverecord. One was a singular magnetic storm which took place atIsle-à-la-Crosse during the preceding winter. A party of Indians andhalf-breeds were crossing the lake on the ice when suddenly their hairstood up on end; the hair of the dogs also turned the wrong way, and theblankets belonging to the part even evinced signs of acting, in anupright manner. I will not pretend to account for this phenomenon, butmerely tell it as the worthy père told it to me, and I shall restperfectly satisfied if my readers hair does not follow the example ofthe Indians dogs and blankets and proceed generally after the manner ofthe "frightful porcupine." The other tale told by the père was of a moretragical nature. During a storm in the prairies near the South Branch ofthe Saskatchewan a rain of fire suddenly descended upon a camp of CreeIndians and burned everything around. Thirty-two Crees perished in theflames; the ground was burned deeply for a considerable distance, andonly one or two of the party who happened to stand close to a lake weresaved by throwing themselves into the water. "It was," said my informant,"not a flash of lightning, but a rain of fire which descended for somemoments."

The increasing severity of the frost hardened into a solid mass thesurface of the Saskatchewan, and on the morning of the 14th November weset out again upon our Western journey. The North Saskatchewan which Inow crossed for the first time, is a river 400 yards in width, lyingbetween banks descending steeply to a low alluvial valley. These outerbanks are some 200 feet in height, and in some by-gone age were doubtlessthe boundaries of the majestic stream that then rolled between them. Ihad now a new-band of horses numbering altogether nine head, but three ofthem were wild brood mares that had never before been in harness, andlaughable was the scene that ensued at starting. The snow was nowsufficiently deep to prevent wheels running with ease, so we substitutedtwo small horse-sleds for the Red River cart, and into these sleds thewild mares were put. At first they refused to move an inch--no, not aninch; then came loud and prolonged thwacking from a motley assemblage ofCrees and half-breeds. Ropes, shanganappi, whips, and sticks were freelyused; then, like an arrow out of a bow, away went the mare; then suddenlya dead stop, two or three plunges high in air, and down flat upon theground. Againthe thwacking, and again suddenly up starts the mare and offlike a rocket. Shanganappi harness is tough stuff and a broken sled iseasily set to rights, or else we would have been in a bad way. But forall horses in the North-west there is the very simplest manner ofpersuasion: if the horse lies down, lick him until he gets up; if hestands up on his hind-legs, lick him until he reverts to his originalposition; if he bucks, jibs, or kicks, lick him, lick him, lick him;when you are tired of licking him, get another man to continue theprocess; if you can use violent language in three different tongues somuch the better, but if you cannot imprecate freely at least in French,you will have a bad time of it. Thus we started from Carlton and,crossing the wide Saskatchewan, held our way south-west for the EagleHills. It was yet the dusk of the early morning, but as we climbed thesteep northern bank the sun was beginning to lift himself above thehorizon. Looking back, beneath lay the wide frozen river, and beyond thesolitary fort still wrapped in shade, the trees glistened pure and whiteon the high-rolling bank beside me, and the untrodden snow stretched faraway in dazzling brilliancy. Our course now lay to the south of west, and-our pace was even faster than it had been in the days of poor Blackie.About midday we entered upon a vast tract of burnt country, the unbrokensnow filling the hollows of the ground beneath it. Fortunately, just atcamping-time we reached a hill-side whose grass and tangled vetches hadescaped the fire, and here we pitched our camp for the night. Around rosehills whose sides were covered with the traces of fire-destroyed'forests, and a lake lay close beside us, wrapped in ice and snow. A smallwinter-station had been established by the Hudson Bay Company at a pointsome ninety miles distant from Carlton, opposite the junction of theBattle River with the North Saskatchewan. There, it was said, a largecamp of Crees had assembled, and to this post we were now directing oursteps.

On the morning of the second day out from Carlton, the guide showedsymptoms of haziness as to direction: he began to bend greatly to thesouth, and at sunrise he ascended a high hill for the purpose of taking ageneral survey of the surrounding country. From this hill the eye rangedover a vast extent of landscape, and although the guide failedaltogether to correct his course, the hill-top yielded such a gloriousview of sun rising from a sea of snow into an ocean of pale green barredwith pink and crimson streaks, that I felt well repaid for the trouble ofthe long ascent. When evening closed around us that day, I found myselfalone amidst a wild, weird scene. Far as the eye could reach in front andto the right a boundless, treeless plain stretched into unseen distance;to the left a range of steep hills rose abruptly from the plain; over allthe night was coming down. Long before sunset I had noticed a clump oftrees many miles ahead, and thought that in this solitary thicket wewould make our camp for the night. Hours passed away, and yet thesolitary clump seemed as distant as ever--nay, more, it even appeared togrow smaller as I approached it. At last, just at dusk, I drew near thewished for camping-place; but lo! it was nothing but a single bush. Myclump had vanished, my camping-place had gone, the mirage had beenplaying tricks with the little bush and magnifying it into a grove ofaspens. When night fell there was no trace of camp or companions, but thesnow marks showed that I was still upon the right track. On again for twohours in darkness often it was so dark that it was only by giving thehorse his head that he was able to smell out the hoofs of his comrades inthe partially covered grass of frozen swamp and moorland. No living thingstirred, save now and then a prairie owl flitting through the gloom addedto the sombre desolation of the scene. At last the trail turned suddenlytowards a deep ravine to the left. Riding to the edge of this ravine, thewelcome glare of a fire glittering through a thick screen of bushesstruck my eye. The guide had hopelessly lost his way, and after thirteenhours hard riding we were lucky to find this cosy nook in thetree-sheltered valley. The Saskatchewan was close beside us, and the darkridges beyond were the Eagle Hills of the Battle River.

Early next forenoon we reached the camp of Crees and the winter post ofthe Hudson Bay Company some distance above the confluence of the BattleRiverwith the Saskatchewan. A wild scene of confusion followed our entryinto the camp; braves and squaws, dogs and papooses crowded round, and itwas difficult work to get to the door of the little shanty where theHudson Bay officer dwelt. Fortunately, there was no small-pox in thiscrowded camp, although many traces of its effects were to be seen in theseared and disfigured faces around, and in none more than my host, whohad been one of the four that had recovered at Carlton. He was a splendidspecimen of a half-breed, but his handsome face was awfully marked by theterrible scourge. This assemblage of Crees was under the leadership ofMistawassis, a man of small and slight stature, but whose bravery hadoften been tested in fight against the Blackfeet. He was a man of quietand dignified manner, a good listener, a fluent speaker, as much at hisease and as free from restraint as any lord in Christendom. He hears thenews I have to tell him through the interpreter, bending his head inassent to every sentence; then he pauses a bit and speaks. "He wishes toknow if aught can be done against the Blackfeet; they are troublesome,they are fond of war; he has seen war for many years, and he would wishfor peace; it is only the young men, who want scalps and the soft wordsof the squaws, who desire war." I tell him that "the Great Mother wishesher red children to live at peace; but what is the use? do they notthemselves break the peace when it is made, and is not the war as oftencommenced by the Crees as by the Blackfeet?" He says that "men have toldthem that the white man was coming to take their lands, that the whitebraves were coming to the country, and he wished to know if it was true.""If the white braves did come," I replied, "it would be to protect thered man, and to keep peace amongst all. So dear was the red man to theheart of the chief whom the Great Mother had sent, that the sale of allspirits had been stopped in the Indian country, and henceforth, when hesaw any trader bringing whisky or fire-water into the camp, he could tellhis young men to go and take the fire-water by force from the trader."

"That is good," he repeated twice, "that is good!" but whether thisremark of approval had reference to the stoppage of the fire-water or tothe prospective seizure of liquor by his braves, I cannot say. Soon afterthe departure of Mistawassis from the hut, a loud drumming outside wassuddenly struck up, and going to the door I found the young men hadassembled to dance the dance of welcome in my honour; they drummed anddanced in different stages of semi-nudity for some time, and at thetermination of the performance I gave an order for tobacco all round.When the dancing-party had departed, a very garrulous Indian presentedhimself, saying that he had been informed that the Ogima was possessed ofsome "great medicines," and that he wished to see them. I have almostforgotten to remark that my store of drugs and medicines had under goneconsiderable delapidation from frost and fast travelling. An examinationheld at Carlton into the contents of the two cases had revealed a sadstate of affairs. Frost had smashed many bottles; powders badly folded uphad fetched way in a deplorable manner; tinctures had proved theircapability for the work they had to perform by tincturing every thingthat came within their reach; hopeless confusion reigned in thedepartment of pills. A few glass-stoppered bottles had indeed resistedthe general demoralization; but, for the rest, it really seemed as thoughblisters, pills, powders, scales, and disinfecting fluids had been wildlybent upon blistering, pilling, powdering, weighing, and disinfecting oneanother ever since they had left Fort Garry. I deposited at Carlton aconsiderable quantity of a disinfecting fluid frozen solid, and as highlygarnished with pills as the exterior of that condiment known as achancellor's pudding is resplendent with raisins. Whether thisconglomerate really did disinfect the walls of Carlton I cannot state,but from its appearance and general medicinal aspect I should say that nodisease, however virulent, had the slightest chance against it. Havingrepacked the other things as safely as possible into one large box, Istill found that I was the possessor of medicine amply sufficient topoison a very large extent of territory, and in particular I had a smallleather medicine-chest in which the glass-stoppered bottles had keptintact. This chest I now produced for the benefit of my garrulous friend;one very strong essence of smelling-salts particularly delighted him; themore it burned his nostrils the more he laughed and hugged it, and aftera time declared that there could be no doubt whatever as to that article,--forit was a very "great medicine" indeed.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

The Red Man--Leave Battle River--The Red Deer Hills--A long Ride--FortPitt--The Plague--Hauling by the Tail--A pleasant Companion--An easyMethod of Divorce--Reach Edmonton.

EVER, towards the setting sun drifts the flow of Indian migration; evernearer and nearer to that glorious range of snow-clad peaks which the redman has so aptly named "the Mountains of the Setting Sun." It is amournful task to trace back through the long list of extinct tribes thehistory of this migration. Turning over the leaves of books belonging tothat "old colonial time" of which Longfellow speaks, we find strangenames of Indian tribes now utterly unknown, meetings of council andtreaty making with Mohawks and Oneidas and Tuscaroras.

They are gone, and scarcely a trace remains of them. Others have left inlake and mountain-top the record of their names. Erie and Ottawa, Senecaand Cayuga tell of forgotten or almost forgotten nations which a centuryago were great and powerful. But never at any time since first the whiteman was welcomed on the newly-discovered shores of the Western Continentby his red brother, never has such disaster and destruction overtakenthese poor wild, wandering sons of nature as at the moment in which wewrite. Of yore it was the pioneers of France, England, and Spain withwhom they had to contend, but now the whole white world is leagued inbitter strife against the Indian. The American and Canadian are onlynames that hide beneath them the greed of united Europe. Terrible deedshave been wrought out in that western land; terrible heart-sickeningdeeds of cruelty and rapacious infamy--have been, I say? no, are to thisday and hour, and never perhaps more sickening than now in the full blazeof nineteenth-century civilization. If on the long line of the Americanfrontier, from the Gulf of Mexico to the British boundary, a Single lifeis taken by an Indian, if even a horse or ox be stolen from a settler,the fact is chronicled in scores of-journals throughout the UnitedStates, but the reverse of the story we never know. The countless deedsof perfidious robbery, of ruthless murder done by white savages out inthese Western wilds never find the light of day. The poor red man has notelegraph, no newspaper, no type, to tell his sufferings and his woes. MyGod, what a terrible tale could I not tell of these dark deeds done bythe white savage against the far nobler red man! From southernmost Texasto most northern Montana there is but one universal remedy for Indiandifficulty--kill him. Let no man tell me that such is not the case. Ianswer, I have heard it hundreds of times: "Never trust a redskin unlesshe be dead." "Kill every buffalo you see," said a Yankee colonel to meone day in Nebraska; "every buffalo dead is an Indiaan gone;" suchthings are only trifles. Listen to this cute feat of a Montana trader. Astore-keeper in Helena City had some sugar stolen from him. He poisonedthe sugar next night and left his door open. In the morning six Indianswere found dead outside the town. That was a cute notion, I guess; andyet there are other examples worse than that, but they are too revoltingto tell. Never mind; I suppose they have found record somewhere else ifnot in this world, and in one shape or another they will speak in duetime. The Crees are perhaps the only tribe of prairie Indians who have asyet suffered no injustice at the hands of the white man. The land isstill theirs, the hunting-rounds remain almost undisturbed; but theirdays are numbered, and already the echo of the approaching wave ofWestern immigration is sounding through the solitudes of the Creecountry.

It is the same story from the Atlantic to the Pacific. First the Whiteman was the welcome guest, the honoured visitor; then the greedy hunter,the death-dealing vender of fire-water and poison; then the settler andexterminator--every where it has been the same story.

This wild man who first welcomed the new-comer is the only perfectsocialist or communist in the world. He holds all things in common withhis tribe--the land, the bison, the river, and the moose. He is starving,and the rest of the tribe want food. Well, he kills a moose, and to thelast bit the coveted food is shared by all. That war-party has taken onehundred horses in the last raid into Blackfoot or Peagin territory; well,the whole tribe are free to help themselves to the best and fleeteststeeds before the captors will touch one out of the band. There is but ascrap of beaver, a thin rabbit, or a bit of sturgeon in the lodge; astranger comes, and he is hungry; give him his share and let him be firstserved and best attended to. If one child starves in an Indian camp youmay know that in every lodge scarcity is universal and that every stomachis hungry. Poor, poor fellow! his virtues are all his own; crimes he mayhave, and plenty, but his noble traits spring from no book-learning, fromno school-craft, from the preaching of no pulpit; they come from theinstinct of good which the Great Spirit has taught him; they are thewhisperings from that lost world whose glorious shores beyond theMountains of the Setting Sun are the long dream of his life. The mostcurious anomaly among the race of man, the red man of America, is passingaway beneath our eyes into the infinite solitude. The possession of thesame noble qualities which we affect to reverence among our nations makesus kill him. If he would be as the African or the Asiatic it would be allright for him; if he would be our slave he might live, but as he won'tbe that, won't toil and delve and hew for us, and will persist inhunting, fishing, and roaming over the beautiful prairie land which theGreat Spirit gave him; in a word, since he will be free we kill him. Whydo I call this wild child the great anomaly of the human race? I willtell you. Alone amongst savage tribes he has learnt the lesson which thegreat mother Nature teaches to her sons through the voices of the night,the forest, and the solitude. This river, this mountain, this measurelessmeadow speak to him in a language of their own. Dwelling with them, helearns their varied tongues, and his speech becomes the echo of thebeauty that lies spread around him. Every name for lake or river, formountain or meadow, has its peculiar significance, and to tell the Indiantitle of such things is generally to tell the nature of them also. Ossiannever spoke with the voice of the mist-shrouded mountain or the wave-beatshores of the isles more thoroughly than does this chief of the Blackfeetor the Sioux speak the voices of the things of earth and air amidst whichhis wild life is cast.

I know that it is the fashion to hold in derision and mockery the ideathat nobility, poetry, or eloquence exist in the wild Indian. I know thatwith that low brutality which has ever made the Anglo-Saxon race deny itsenemy the possession of one atom of generous sensibility, that dullenmity which prompted us to paint the Maid of Orleans a harlot, and tocall Napoleon the Corsican robber--I know that that same instinct gloriesin degrading the savage, whose chief crime is that he prefers death toslavery; glories in painting him devoid of every trait of manhood, worthyonly to share the fate of the wild beast of the wilderness--to be shotdown mercilessly when seen. But those bright spirits who have redeemedthe America of to-day from the dreary waste of vulgar greed and ignorantconceit which we in Europe have flung so heavily upon her; those menwhose writings have come back across the Atlantic, and have become ashousehold words among us--Irving, Cooper, Longfellow--have they not foundin the rich store of Indian poetry the source of their choicest thought?Nay, I will go farther, because it may be said that the a poet would beprone to drape with poetry every subject on which his fancy lighted, asthe sun turns to gold and crimson the dullest and the dreariest clouds:but Search the books of travel amongst remote Indian tribes, fromColumbus to Catlin, from Charlevoix to Carver, from Bonneville toPallisser the story is ever the same. The traveller is welcomed and mademuch of; he is free to come and go; the best food is set before him; thelodge is made warm and bright; he is welcome to stay his lifetime if hepleases. "I swear to your majesties," writes Columbus--alas! the redman's greatest enemy--"I swear to your majesties that there is not in theworld a better people than these, more affectionate, affable, or mild."

"At this moment," writes an American officer only ten years back, "it iscertain a man can go about throughout the Blackfoot territory withoutmolestation, except in the contingency of being mistaken at night for anIndian." No, they are-fast going, and soon they will be all gone, but inafter-times men will judge more justly the poor wild creatures whomto-day we kill and vilify; men will go back again to those old books oftravel, or to those pages of "Hiawatha" and "Mohican," to find that faraway from the border-land of civilization the wild red man, if more ofthe savage, was infinitely less of the brute than was the white ruffianwho destroyed him.

I quitted the camp at Battle River on the 17th November, with a largeband of horses and a young Cree brave who had volunteered his servicesfor some reason of his own which he did not think necessary to impart tous. The usual crowd of squaws, braves in buffalo robes, naked children,and howling dogs assembled to see us start. The Cree led the way mountedon a ragged-looking pony, then came the baggage-sleds, and I brought upthe rear on a tall horse belonging to the Company. Thus we held our wayin a north-west direction over high-rolling plains along the north bankof the Saskatchewan towards Fort Pitt.

On the morning of the 18th we got away from our camping thicket ofpoplars long before the break of day. There was no track to guide us, butthe Cree went straight as an arrow over hill and dale and frozen lake.The hour that preceded the dawn was brilliant with the flash and glow ofmeteors across the North-western sky. I lagged so far behind to watchthem that when day broke I found myself alone, miles from the party. TheCree kept the pace so well that it took me some hours before I againCaught sight of them. After a hard ride of six-and-thirty miles, wehalted for dinner on the banks of English Creek. Close beside ourcamping-place a large clump of spruce-pine stood in dull contrast to thesnowy surface. They looked like old friends to me--friends of theWinnipeg and the now distant Lake of the Woods; for from Red River toEnglish Creek, a distance of 750 miles, I-had seen but a solitarypine-tree. After a short dinner We resumed our rapid way, forcing thepace with a view of making Fort Pitt by night-fall. A French half-breeddeclared he knew a short cut across the hills of the Red Deer, a wildrugged tract of country lying on the north of the Saskatchewan. Crossingthese hills, he said, we would strike the river at their farther side,and then, passing over on the ice, cut the bend which the Saskatchewanmakes to the north, and, emerging again opposite Fort Pitt, finallyre-cross the river at that station. So much for the plan, and now for itsfulfilment.

We entered the region of the Red Deer Hills at about two o'clock in theafternoon, and continued at a very rapid pace in a westerly direction forthree hours. As we proceeded the country became more broken, the hillsrising steeply from narrow V-shaped valleys, and the ground in manyplaces covered with fallen and decaying trees--the wrecks of fire andtempest. Every where throughout this wild region lay the antlers andheads of moose and elk; but, with the exception of an occasional largejackass-rabbit, nothing living moved through the silent hills. The groundwas free from badger-holes; the day, though dark, was fine; and, with agood horse under me, that two hours gallop over, the Red Deer Hills wasglorious work. It wanted yet an hour of sunset when we came suddenly uponthe Saskatchewan flowing in a deep narrow valley between steep and loftyhills, which were bare of trees and bushes and clear of snow. A very wilddesolate scene it looked as I surveyed it from a projecting spur uponwhose summit I rested my blown horse. I was now far in advance of theparty who occupied a parallel ridge behind me. By signs they intimatedthat our course now lay to the north; in fact, Daniel had steered verymuch too ar south, and we had struck the Saskatchewan river a long,distance below the intended place of crossing. Away we went again to thenorth, soon losing sight of the party; but as I kept the river on my leftfar below in the valley I knew they could not cross without my beingaware of it. Just before sun set they appeared again in sight, makingsigns that they were about to descend into the valley and to cross theriver. The valley here was five hundred feet in depth, the slope beingone of the steepest I had ever seen. At the bottom of this steep descentthe Saskatchewan lay in its icy bed, a large majestic-looking river threehundred yards in width. We crossed on the ice without accident, andwinding up the steep southern shore gained the level plateau above. Thesun was going down, right on our forward track. In the deep valley belowthe Cree and an English half-breed were getting the horses andbaggage-sleds over the river. We made signs to them to camp in thevalley, and we ourselves turned our tired horses towards the west,determined at all hazards to reach the fort that night. The Frenchman ledthe way riding, the Hudson Bay officer followed in a horse-sled, Ibrought up the rear on horseback. Soon it got quite dark, and we held onover a rough and bushless plateau seamed with deep gullies into which wedescended at hap hazard forcing our weary horses with difficulty up theopposite sides. The night got later and later, and still no sign of FortPitt; riding in rear I was able to mark the course taken by our guide,and it soon struck me that he was steering wrong; our correct course laywest, but he seemed to be heading gradually to the North, and finally,began to veer even towards the East. I called out to the Hudson Bay manthat I had serious doubts as to Daniel's knowledge of the track, but Iwas assured that all was correct. Still we went on, and still no sign offort or river. At length the Frenchman suddenly pulled Up and asked us tohalt while he rode on and surveyed the country, because he had lost thetrack, and didn't know where he had got to. Here was a pleasant prospect!without food, fire, or covering, out on the bleak plains, with thethermometer at 20 degrees of frost! After some time the Frenchmanreturned and declared that he had altogether lost his way, and that therewas nothing for it but to camp where we were, and wait for daylight toproceed. I looked around in the darkness. The ridge on which we stood wasbare and bleak, with the snow drifted off into the valleys. A fewmiserable stunted willows were the only signs of vegetation, and the windwhistling through their ragged branches made up as dismal a prospect asman could look at. I certainly felt in no very amiable mood with the menwho had brought me into this predicament, because I had been overruled inthe matter of leaving our baggage behind and in the track we had beenpursuing. My companion, however, accepted the situation with apparentresignation, and I saw him commence to unharness his horse from the sledwith the aspect of a man who thought a bare hill-top without food, fire,or clothes was the normal state of happiness to which a man mightreasonably aspire at the close of an eighty-mile march, with out layinghimself open to the accusation of being over effeminate.

Watching this for some seconds in silence, I determined to shape formyself a different course. I dismounted, and taking from the sled a shirtmade of deer-skin, mounted again my poor weary horse and turned off aloneinto the darkness. "Where are you going to?" I heard my companionscalling out after me. I was half inclined not to answer, but turned inthe saddle and holloaed back, "To Fort Pitt, that's all." I heard behindme a violent bustle, as though they were busily engaged in yoking up thehorses again, and then I rode off as hard as my weary horse could go. Myfriends took a very short time to harness up again, and they were soonpowdering along through the wilderness. I kept on for about half an hour,steering by the stars due west; suddenly I came out upon the edge of adeep valley, and by the broad white band beneath recognized the frozenSaskatchewan again. I have at least found the river, and Fort Pitt, weknew, lay somewhere upon the bank. Turning away from the river, I held onin a south-westerly direction for a considerable distance, passing upalong a bare snow-covered valley and crossing a high ridge at its end. Icould hear my friends behind in the dark. But they had got, I think, anotion that I had taken leave of my senses, and they were afraid to callout to me. After a bit I bent my course again to the west, and steeringby my old guides, the stars, those truest and most unchanging friends ofthe wanderer, I once more struck the Saskatchewan, this time descendingto its level and crossing it on the ice.

As I walked along, leading my horse, I must admit to experiencing asensation not at all pleasant. The memory of the crossing of the SouthBranch was still too strong to admit of over-confidence in the strengthof the ice, and as every now and again my tired horse broke through theupper crust of snow and the ice beneath cracked, as it always will whenweight is placed on it for the first time, no matter how strong it maybe, I felt by no means as comfortable as I would have wished. At last thelong river was passed, and there on the opposite shore lay the cart trackto Fort Pitt. We were close to Pipe-stone Creek, and only three milesfrom the Fort.

It was ten o'clock when we reached the closely-barred gate of this HudsonBay post, the inhabitants of which had gone to bed. Ten o'clock at night,and we had started at six o'clock in the morning. I had been fifteenhours in the saddle, and no less than ninety miles had passed under myhorse's hoofs, but so accustomed had I grown to travel that I felt justas ready to set out again as though only twenty miles had been traversed.The excitement of the last few hours steering by the stars in an unknowncountry, and its most successful denouement, had put fatigue andweariness in the background; and as we sat down to a well-cooked supperof buffalo steaks and potatoes, with the brightest eyed little lassie,half Cree, half Scotch, in the North-west to wait upon us, while a greatfire of pine wood blazed and crackled on the open hearth, I couldn't helpsaying to my companions, "Well, this is better than your hill-top and thefireless bivouac in the rustling willows."

Fort Pitt was free from small-pox, but it had gone through a fearfulordeal: more than one hundred Crees had perished close around itsstockades. The unburied dead lay for days by the road-side, till thewolves, growing bold with the impunity which death among the hunters evergives to the hunted, approached and fought over the decay ing bodies.From a spot many marches to the south the Indians had come to the fort inmidsummer, leaving behind them a long track of dead and dying men overthe waste of distance. "Give us help," they cried, "give us help, ourmedicine-men can do nothing against this plague; from the white man Wegot it, and it is only the white man who can take it away from us."

But there was no help to be given, and day by day the wretched band grewless. Then came another idea into the red man's brain: "If we can onlygive this disease to the white man and the trader in the fort," thoughtthey, "we will cease to suffer from it ourselves;" so they came into thehouses dying and disfigured as they were, horrible beyond description tolook at, and sat down in the entrances of the wooden houses, andstretched themselves on the floors and spat upon the door-handles. It wasno use, the fell disease held them in a grasp from which there was noescape, and just six weeks before my arrival the living remnant fled awayin despair.

Fort Pitt stands on the left or north shore of the Saskatchewan River,which is here more than four hundred yards in width. On the oppositeshore immense bare, bleak hills raise their wind-swept heads sevenhundred feet above the river level. A few pine-trees show their tops somedistance away to the north, but no other trace of wood is to be seen inthat vast amphitheatre of dry grassy hill in which the fort is built. Itis a singularly wild-looking scene, not without a certain beauty of itsown, but difficult of association with the idea of disease orepidemic, sopure and bracing is the air which sweeps over those great grassy uplands.

On the 20th November I left Fort Pitt, having exchanged some tired horsesfor fresher ones, but still keeping the same steed for the saddle, asnothing, better could be procured from the band at the fort. The snow hadnow almost disappeared from the ground, and a Red River cart was oncemore taken into use for the baggage. Still keeping along the north shoreof the Saskatchewan, we now held our way towards the station of Victoria,a small half-breed settlement situated at the most northerly bend whichthe Saskatchewan makes in its long course from the mountains to LakeWinnipeg. The order of march was ever the same; the Cree, wrapped in aloose blanket, with his gun balanced across the shoulder of his pony,jogged on in front, then came a young half-breed named Batte notte, whowill be better known perhaps to the English reader when I say that he wasthe son of the Assineboine guide who conducted Lord Milton and Dr.Cheadle through the pine forests of the Thompson River. This youngsteremployed himself by continually shouting the name of the horse he wasdriving--thus "Rouge!" would be vigorously yelled out by his tongue, andRouge at the same moment would be vigorously belaboured by his whip;"Noir!" he would again shout, when that most ragged animal would bewithin the shafts; and as Rouge and Noir invariably had this ejacul*tionof their respective titles coupled with the descent of the whip upontheir respective backs, it followed that after a while the mere mentionof the name conveyed to the animal the sensation of being licked. Onehorse, rejoicing in the title of "Jean l'Hereux," seemed speciallyselected for this mode of treatment. He was a brute of surpassingobstinacy, but, as he bore the name of his former owner, a Frenchsemi-clerical maniac who had fled from Canada and joined the Blackfeet,and who was regarded by the Crees as one of their direst foes, I ratherthink that the youthful Battenotte took out on the horse some of thegrudges that he owed to the man. Be that as it may, Jean l'Hereux gotmany a trouncing as he laboured along the sandy pine-covered ridgeswhich rise to the north-west of Fort Pitt.

On the night of the 21st November we reached the shore of the Eggo Lake,and made our camp in a thick clump of aspens. About midday on thefollowing day we came in sight of the Saddle Lake, a favouritecamping-ground of the Crees, owing to its inexhaustible stores of finestfish. Nothing struck me more as we thus pushed on rapidly along the UpperSaskatchewan than the absence of all authentic information from stationsfarther west. Every thing was rumour, and the most absurd rumour. "If youmeet an old Indian named Pinguish and a boy without a name at SaddleLake," said the Hudson Bay officer at Fort Pitt to me, "they may give youletters from Edmonton, and you may get some news from them, because theylost letters near the lake three weeks ago, and perhaps they may havefound them by the time you get there." It struck me very forcibly, aftera little while, that this "boy without a name" was a most puzzlingindividual to go in search of. The usual interrogatory question of"What's your name?" would not be of the least use to find such apersonage, and to ask a man if he had no name, as a preliminary question,might be to insult him. I therefore fell back upon Pinguish, but couldobtain no intelligence of him whatever. Pinguish had apparently neverbeen heard of. It then occurred to me that the boy without the name mightperhaps be a remarkable character in the neighbourhood, owing to hispeculiar exception from the lot of humanity; but no such negative personhad ever been known, and I was constrained to believe that Pinguish andhis mysterious partner had fallen victims to the small-pox or had noexistence; for at Saddle Lake the small-pox had worked its direst fury,it was still raging in two little huts close to the track, and when wehalted for dinner near the south end of the lake the first man whoapproached was marked and seared by the disease. It was fated that thisday we were to be honoured by peculiar company at our dinner. In additionto the small-pox man, there came an ill-looking fellow of the name ofFayel, who at once proceeded to make himself at his ease beside us. Thisindividual bore a deeper brand than that of small-pox upon him, inasmuchas a couple of years before he had foully murdered a comrade in one ofthe passes of the Rocky Mountains when returning from British Columbia.But this was not the only intelligence as to my companions that I wasdestined to receive upon my arrival on the following day at Victoria.

"You have got Louis Battenotte, with you, I see," said the Hudson Bayofficer in charge.

"Yes," I replied.

"Did he tell you any thing about the small-pox?"

"Oh yes; a great deal; he often spoke about it."

"Did he say he had had it himself?"

"No."

"Well, he had," continued ny host, "only a month ago, and the coat andtrousers that he now wears were the same articles of clothing in which helay all the time he had it," was the pleasant reply.

After this little revelation concerning Battenotte and his habiliments, Imust admit that I was not quite as ready to look with pleasure upon hisperformance of the duties of cook, chambermaid, and general valet as Ihad been in the earlier stage of our acquaintance; but a littlereflection made the hole thing right again, convincing one of the factthat travelling, like misery, "makes one acquainted with strangebedfellows," and that luck has more to do with our lives than we are wontto admit. After leaving Saddle Lake we entered a very rich and beautifulcountry, completely clear of snow and covered deep in grass and vetches.We travelled hard, and reached at nightfall a thick wood of pines andspruce-trees, in which we made a cosy camp. I had brought with me abottle of old brandy from Red River in case of illness, and on thisevening, not feeling all right, I drew the cork while the Cree was awaywith the horses, and drank a little with my companion. Before we hadquite finished, the Cree returned to camp, and at once declared that hesmelt grog. He became very lively at this discovery. We had taken theprecaution to rinse out the cup that had held the spirit, but henevertheless commenced a series of brewing which appeared to give himinfinite satisfaction. Two or three times did he fill the empty cup withwater and drain it to the bottom, laughing and rolling his head each timewith delight, and in order to be sure that he had got the right one heproceeded in the same manner with every cup we possessed; then heconfided to Battenotte that he had not tasted grog for a long timebefore, the last occasion being one on which he had divested himself ofhis shirt and buffalo robe, in other words, gone naked, in order toobtain the coveted fire-water.

The weather had now become beautifully mild, and on the 23rd of Novemberthe thermometer did not show even one degree of frost. As we approachedthe neighbourhood of the White Earth River the aspect of the countrybecame very striking: groves of spruce and pine crowned the ridges; rich,well-watered valleys lay between, deep in the long white grass of theautumn. The track wound in and out through groves and wooded declivities,and all nature looked bright and beautiful. Some of the ascents from theriver bottoms were so steep that the united efforts of Battenotte and theCree were powerless to induce Rouge or Noir, or even Jean l'Hcreux, todraw the cart to the summit. But the Cree was equal to the occasion. Witha piece of shanganappi he fastened L'Hereux's tail to the shafts of thecart-shafts which had already between them the redoubted Noir. This newmethod of harnessing had a marked effect upon L'Hereux; he strained andhauled with a persistency and vigour which I feared must prove fatal tothe permanency of his tail in that portion of his body in which naturehad located it, but happily such was not the case, and by the unitedefforts of all parties the summit was reached.

I only remained one day at Victoria, and the 25th of November found meagain en route for Edmonton. Our Cree had, however, disappeared. Onenight when he was eating his supper with his scalping-knife--a knife, bythe way, with which he had taken, he informed us, three Black feet scalps--I asked him why he had come away with us from Battle River. Because hewanted to get rid of his wife, of whom he was tired, he replied. He hadcome off without saying any thing to her. "And what will happen to thewife?" I asked. "Oh, she will marry another brave when she finds megone," he answered, laughing at the idea. I did not enter into theprevious domestic events which had led to this separation, but I presumethey were of a nature similar to those which are not altogether unknownin more civilized society, and I make no hesitation in offering to ourlegislators the example of my friend the Cree as tending to simplify thesolution, or rather the dissolution, of that knotty point, the separationof couples who, for reasons best known to themselves, have ceased tolove. Whether it was that the Cree found in Victoria a lady suitad to hisfancy, or whether he had heard of a war-party against the Sircies, Icannot say, but he vanished during the night of our stay in the fort, andwe saw him no more.

As we journeyed on towards Edmonton the country maintained its rich andbeautiful appearance, and the weather continued fine and mild. Everywhere nature had written in unmistakable characters the story of thefertility of the soil over which we rode--every where the eye looked uponpanoramas filled with the beauty of lake and winding river, and grassyslope and undulating woodland. The whole face of the country was indeedone vast park. For two days we passed through this beautiful land,-and onthe evening of the 28th November drew near to Edmonton. My party had beenincreased by the presence of two gentlemen from Victoria, a Wesleyanminister and the Hudson Bay official in charge of the Company's post atthat place. Both of these gentlemen had resided long in the UpperSaskatchewan, and were intimately acquainted with the tribes who inhabitThe vast territory from the Rocky Mountains to Carlton House. It was latein the evening, just one month after I had started from the banks of theRed River, that I approached the high palisades of Edmonton. As one wholooks back at evening from the summit of some lofty ridge over the longtrack which he has followed since the morning, so now did my mind travelback over the immense distance through which I had ridden in twenty-twodays of actual travel and in thirty-three of the entire journey-thatdistance could not have been less than 1000 miles; and as each camp scenerose again before me, with its surrounding of snow and storm-sweptprairie and lonely clump of aspens, it seemed as though something likeinfinite space stretched between me and that far-away land which one wordalone can picture, that one word in which so many others centre--Home.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

Edmonton--The Ruffian Tahakooch--French Missionaries--Westward still--Abeautiful Land--The Blackfeet-Horses--A "Bellox" Soldier--A BlackfootSpeech--The Indian Land--First Sight of the Rocky Mountains--The MountainHouse--The Mountain Assineboines--An Indian Trade--M. laCombe--Fire-water--A Night Assault.

EDMONTON, the head-quarters of the Hudson Bay Company's Saskatchewantrade, and the residence of a chief factor of the corporation, is a largefive-sided fort with the usual flanking bastions and high stockades. Ithas within these stockades many commodious and well-built wooden houses,and differs in the cleanliness and order of its arrangements from thegeneral run of trading forts in the Indian country. It stands on a highlevel bank 100 feet above the Saskatchewan River, which rolls below in abroad majestic stream, 300 yards in width. Farming operations,boat-building, and flour-milling are carried on extensively at the fort,and a blacksmith's forge is also kept going. My business with the officerin charge of Edmonton was soon concluded. It principally consisted inconferring upon him, by commission, the same high judicial functionswhich I have already observed had been entrusted to me before setting outfor the Indian territories. There was one very serious drawback, however,to the possession of magisterial or other authority in the Saskatchewan,in as much as there existed no means whatever of putting that authorityinto force.

The Lord High Chancellor of England, together with the Master of theRolls and the twenty-four judges of different degrees, would be perfectlyuseless if placed in the Saskatchewan to put in execution the authorityof the law. The Crees, Blackfeet, Peagins, and Sircies would doubtlesshave come to the conclusion that these high judicial functionaries were"very great medicines;" but beyond that conclusion, which they would havedrawn more from the remarkable costume and head-gear worn by thoseexponents of the law than from the possession of any legal acumen, muchwould not have been attained. These considerations somewhat mollified thefeelings of disappointment with which I now found myself face to facewith the most desperate set of criminals, while I was utterly unable toenforce against them the majesty of my commission.

First, there was the notorious Tahakooch-murderer, robber, and generalscoundrel of deepest dye; then there was the sister of the above, amaiden of some twenty summers, who had also perpetrated the murder of twoBlack foot children close to Edmonton; then there was a youthful Frenchhalf-breed who had killed his uncle at the settlement of Grand Lac, ninemiles to the north-west; and, finally, there was my dinner companion atSaddle Lake, whose crime I only became aware of after I had left thatlocality. But this Tahakooch was a ruffian too desperate. Here was one ofhis murderous acts. A short time previous to my arrival two Sircies cameto Edmonton. Tahakooch and two of his brothers were camped near the fort.Tahakooch professed friendship for the Sircies, and they went to hislodge. After a few days had passed the Sircies thought it was time toreturn to their tribe. Rumour said that the charms of the sister ofTahakooch had captivated either one or both of them, and that she had notbeen insensible to their admiration. Be this as it may, it was time togo; and so they prepared for the journey. An Indian will travel by nightas readily as by day, and it was night when these men left the tent ofTahakooch.

"We will go to the fort," said the host, "in order to get provisions foryour journey."

The party, three in number, went to the fort, and knocked at the gate foradmittance. The man on watch at the gate, before unharring, looked fromthe bastion over the stockades, to see who might be the three men whosought an entrance. It was bright moonlight, and he noticed the shimmerof a gun-barrel under the blanket of Tahakooch. The Sircies were providedwith some dried meat, and the party went away. The Sircies marched firstin single file, then followed Tahakooch close behind them; the threeformed one line. Suddenly, Tahakooch drew from beneath his blanket ashort double-barrelled gun, and discharged both barrels into the back ofthe nearest Sircie. The bullets passed through one man into the body ofthe other, killing the nearest one instantly. The leading Sircie, thoughdesperately wounded, ran fleetly along the moonlit path until, faint andbleeding, he fell. Tahakooch was close behind; but the villain's handshook, and four times his shots missed the wounded wretch upon theground. Summoning up all his strength, the Sircie sprung upon hisassailant; a hand-to-hand struggle ensued; but the desperate wound wastoo much for him, he grew faint in his efforts, and the villain Tahakoochpassed his knife into his victim's body. All this took place in the sameyear during which I reached Edmonton, and within sight of the walls ofthe fort. Tahakooch lived only a short distance away, and was a dailyvisitor at the fort.

But to recount the deeds of blood enacted around the wooden walls ofEdmonton Would be to fill a volume. Edmonton and Fort Pitt both standwithin the war country of the Crees and Blackfeet, and are consequentlythe scenes of many conflicts between these fierce and implacable enemies.Hitherto my route has led through the Cree country, hitherto we have seenonly the prairies and woods through which the Crees hunt and camp; but mywanderings are yet far from their end. To the south-west, for many andmany a mile, lie the wide regions of the Blackfeet and the mountainAssineboines; and into these regions I am about to push my way. It is awild, lone land guarded by the giant peaks of mountains whose snow-cappedsummits lift themselves 17,000 feet above the sea level. It is thebirth-place of waters which seek in four mighty streams the four distantoceans--the Polar Sea, the Atlantic, the Gulf of Mexico, and the Pacific.

A few miles north-west of Edmonton a settlement composed exclusively ofFrench half-breeds is situated on the shores of a rather extensive lakewhich bears the name of the Grand Lac, or St. Albert. This settlement ispresided over by a mission of French Roman Catholic clergymen of theorder of Oblates, headed by a bishop of the same order and nationality.It is a curious contrast to find in this distant and strange land men ofculture and high mental excellence devoting their lives to the task ofcivilizing the wild Indians of the forest and the prairie--going far inadvance of the settler, whose advent they have but too much cause todread. I care not what may be the form of belief which the on-looker mayhold--whether it be in unison or in antagonism with that faith preachedby these men; but he is only a poor semblance of a man who can beholdsuch a sight through the narrow glass of sectarian feeling, holding'opinions foreign to his own. He who has travelled through the vastcolonial empire of Britain--that empire which covers one third of theentire habitable surface of the globe and probably half of the lone landsof the world must often have met with men dwelling in the midst of wild,savage peoples whom they tended with a strange and mother-like devotion.If you asked who was this stranger who dwelt thus among wild men in theseLone places, you were told he was the French missionary; and if yousought him in his lonely hut, you found ever the same surroundings, thesame simple evidences of a faith which seemed more than human. I do notspeak from hearsay or book-knowledge. I have myself witnessed the scenesI now try to recall. And it has ever been the same, East and West, far inadvance of trader or merchant, of sailor or soldier, has gone thisdark-haired, fragile man, whose earliest memories are thick with sunnyscenes by bank of Loire or vine-clad slope of Rhone or Garonne, and whosevision in this life, at least, is never destined to rest again upon theseoft-remembered places. Glancing through a pamphlet one day at Edmonton, apamphlet which recorded the progress of a Canadian Wesleyan MissionarySociety, I read the following extract from the letter of a Westernmissionary:--"These representatives of the Man of Sin, these priests, arehard-workers; summer and winter they follow the camps, suffering greatprivations. They are indefatigable in their efforts to make converts, buttheir converts," he adds, "have never heard of the Holy Ghost." "The manof sin "--which of us is without it? To these French missionaries atGrand Lac I was the bearer of terrible tidings. I carried to them thestory of Sedan, the overwhelming rush of armed Germany into the heart ofFrance, the closing of the high-schooled hordes of Teuton savagery aroundParis; all that was hard home news to: hear. Fate had leant heavily upontheir little congregation; out of 900 souls more than 300 had perished ofsmall-pox up to the date of my arrival, and others were still sick in thehuts along the lake. Well might the bishop and his priests bow theirheads in the midst of such manifold tribulations of death and disaster.

By the last day of November my preparations for further travel into theregions lying west of Edmonton were completed, and at midday on the 1stDecember I set out for the Rocky Mountain House. This station, the mostWestern and southern held by the Hudson Bay Company in the Saskatchewan,is distant from Edmonton about 180 miles by horse trail, and 211 miles byriver. I was provided with five fresh horses, two good guides, and Icarried letters to merchants in the United States, should fortune permitme to push through the great stretch of Blackfoot country lying on thenorthern borders of the American territory; for it was my intention toleave the Mountain House as soon as possible, and to endeavour to crossby rapid marches the 400 miles of plains to some of the mining cities ofMontana or Idaho; the principal difficulty lay, however, in thereluctance of men to come with me into the country of the Blackfeet. AtEdmonton only one man spoke the Blackfoot tongue, and the offer of highwages failed to induce him to attempt the journey. He was a splendidspecimen of a half-breed; he had married a Blackfoot squaw, and spokethe difficult language with fluency; but he had lost nearly all hisrelations in the fatal plague, and his answer was full of quiet thoughtwhen asked to be my guide.

"It is a work of peril," he said, "to pass the Blackfoot country all'pitching along the foot of the mountains; they will see our trail in thesnow, follow it, and steal our horses, or perhaps worse still. At anothertime I would attempt it, but death has been too heavy upon my friends,and I don't feel that I can go."

It was still possible, however, that at the Mountain House I might finda guide ready to attempt the journey, and my kind host at Edmontonprovided me with letters to facilitate my procuring all supplies from hissubordinate officer at that station. Thus fully accoutred and prepared tomeet the now rapidly increasing severity of the winter, I started on the1st December for the mountains. It-was a bright, beautiful day. I wasalone with my two retainers; before me lay an uncertain future, but somany curious scenes had been passed in safety during the last six monthsof my life, that I recked little of what was before me, drawing a kind ofblind confidence from the thought that so much could not have been invain. Crossing the now fast-frozen Saskatchewan, we ascended the southernbank and entered upon a rich country watered with many streams andwooded with park-like clumps of aspen and pine. My two retainers werefirst-rate fellows. One spoke English very fairly: he was a brother ofthe bright-eyed little beauty at Fort Pitt. The other, Paul Foyale, was athick, stout-set man, a good voyageur, and excellent-in camp. Both werenoted travellers, and both had suffered severely in the epidemic of thesmall-pox. Paul had lost his wife and child, and Rowland's children hadall had the disease, but had recovered. As for any idea about takinginfection from men coming out of places where that infection existed,that would have been the merest foolishness; at least, Paul and Rowlandthought so, and as they were destined to be my close companions for somedays, cooking for me, tying up my blankets, and sleeping beside me, itwas just as well to put a good face upon the matter and trust once moreto the glorious doctrine of chance. Besides, they were really such goodfellows, princes among voyayeurs, that, small-pox or no small-pox, theywere first-rate company for any ordinary mortal. For two days we joggedmerrily along. The Musquashis or Bears Hill rose before us and faded awayinto blue distance behind us. After sundown on the 2nd we camped in athicket of large aspens by the high bank of the Battle River, the samestream at whose mouth nearly 400 miles away I had found the Crees afortnight before. On the 3rd December we crossed this river, and,quitting the Blackfeet trail, struck in a south-westerly directionthrough a succession of grassy hills with partially wooded valleys andsmall frozen lakes. A glorious country to ride over--a country in whichthe eye ranged across miles and miles of fair-lying hill andlong-stretching valley; a silent, beautiful land upon which summer hadstamped so many traces, that December had so far been powerless to effacetheir beauty. Close by to the south lay the country of the greatBlackfeet nation--that wild, restless tribe whose name has been a terrorto other tribes and to trader and trapper for many and many a year. Whoand what are these wild dusky men who have held their own against allcomers, sweeping like a whirlwind over the sand deserts of the centralcontinent? They speak a tongue distinct from all other Indian tribes;they have ceremonies and feasts wholly different, too, from the feastsand ceremonies of other nations; they are at war with every nation thattouches the wide circle of their boundaries; the Crows, the Flatheads,the Kootenies, the Rocky Mountain Assineboines, the Crees, the PlainAssineboines, the Minnitarrees, all are and have been the inveterateenemies of the five confederate nations which form together the greatBlackfeet tribe. Long years ago, when their great forefather crossed theMountains of the Setting Sun and settled along the sources of theMissouri and the South Saskatchewan, so runs the legend of their oldchiefs, it came to pass that a chief had three sons, Kenna, or The Blood,Peaginou, or The Wealth, and a third who was nameless. The two first weregreat hunters, they brought to their father's lodge rich store of mooseand elk meat, and the buffalo fell before their unerring arrows; but thethird, or nameless one, ever returned empty-handed from the chase, untilhis brothers mocked him for his want of skill. One day the old chief saidto this unsuccessful hunter, "My son, you cannot kill the moose, yourarrows shun the buffalo, the elk is too fleet for your footsteps, andyour brothers mock you because you bring no meat into the lodge; but see,I will make you a great hunter." And the old chief took from thelodge-fire a piece of burnt stick, and, wetting it, he rubbed the feet ofhis son with the blackened charcoal, and he named him Sat-Sia-qua, or TheBlackfeet, and evermore Sat-Sia-qua was a mighty hunter, and his arrowsflew straight to the buffalo, and his feet moved swift in the chase. Fromthese three sons are descended the three tribes of Blood, Peaginou, andBlackfeet, but in addition, for many generations, two other tribes orportions of tribes have been admitted into the confederacy; These are theSircies, on the north, a branch, or offshoot from the Chipwayans of theAthabasca; and the Gros Ventres, or Atsinas, on the southeast, a branchfrom the Arrapahoe nation who dwelt along the sources of the Platte. Howthese branches became detached from the parent stocks has never beendetermined, but to this day they speak the languages of their originaltribe in addition to that of the adopted one. The parent tongue of theSircies is harsh and guttural, that of the Blackfeet is rich and musical;and while the Sircies always speak Blackfeet in addition to their owntongue, the Blackfeet rarely master the language of the Sircies.

War, as we have already said, is the sole toil and thought of the redman's life. He has three great causes of fight: to steal a horse, take ascalp, or get a wife. I regret to have to write that the possession of ahorse is valued before that of a wife-and this has been the case for manyyears. "A horse," writes McKenzie, "is valued at ten guns, a woman isonly worth one gun;" but at that time horses were scarcer than atpresent. Horses have been a late importation, comparatively speaking,into the Indian country. They travelled rapidly north from Mexico, andthe prairies soon became covered with the Spanish mustang, for whosepossession the red man killed his brother with singular pertinacity. TheIndian to-day believes that the horse has ever dwelt with him on theWestern deserts, but that such is not the case his own languageundoubtedly tells. It is curious to compare the different names which thewild men gave the new-comer who was destined to work such evil amongthem. In Cree, a dog is called "Atim," and a horse, "Mistatim," or the"Big Dog." In the Assineboine tongue the horse is called "Sho-a-th-in-ga,""Thongatch shonga," a great dog. In Blackfeet, "Po-no-ka-mi-taa" signifiesthe horse; and "Po-no-ko" means red deer, and "Emita," a dog--the "Red-deerDog." But the Sircies made the best name of all for the new-comer; theycalled him the "Chistli" "Chis," seven, "Li," dogs "Seven Dogs." Thuswe have him called the big dog, the great dog, the red-deer dog, theseven dogs, and the red dog, or "It-shou-ma-shungu," by the Gros Ventres.The dog was their universal beast of burthen, and so they multiplied thename in many ways to enable it to define the Superior powers of thenew beast.

But a far more formidable enemy than Crow or Cree has lately come incontact with the Blackfeet--an enemy before whom all his stratagem, allhis skill with lance or arrow, all his dexterity of horsemanship is of noavail. The "Moka-manus" (the Big-knives), the white men, have pushed upthe great Missouri River into the heart of the Blackfeet country, thefire-canoes have forced their way along the muddy waters, and behind thema long chain of armed posts have arisen to hold in check the wild rovingraces of Dakota and the Montana. It is a useless struggle that whichthese Indians wage against their latest and most deadly enemy, butnevertheless it is one in which the sympathy of any brave heart must lieon the side of the savage. Here, at the head-waters of the great RiverMissouri which finds its outlet into the Gulf of Mexico-here, pent upagainst the barriers of the "Mountains of the Setting Sun," the Blackfeetoffer a last despairing struggle to the ever-increasing tide that hemsthem in. It is not yet two years since a certain citizen soldier of theUnited States made a famous raid against a portion of this tribe at thehead-waters of the Missouri. It so happened that I had the opportunity ofhearing this raid described from the rival points of view of the Indianand the white man, and, if possible, the brutality of the latter--brutalitywhich was gloried in--exceeded the relation of the former. Here isthe story of the raid as told me by a miner whose "pal" was present inthe scene. "It was a little afore day when the boys came upon tworedskins in a gulch near-away to the Sun River" (the Sun River flows intothe Missouri, and the forks lie below Benton). "They caught the darnedred devils and strapped them on a horse, and swore that if they didn'tjust lead the way to their camp that they'd blow their b---- brains out;and Jim Baker wasn't the coon to go under if he said he'd do it--no, youbet he wasn't. So the red devils showed the trail, and soon the boys cameout on a wide gulch, and saw down below the lodges of the Pagans. Bakerjust says, 'Now, boys, says he, 'thar's the devils, and just you go inand clear them out. No darned prisoners, you know; Uncle Sam ain't agoin'to keep prisoners, I guess. No darned squaws or young uns, but justkill'em all, squaws and all; it's them squaws what breeds'em, and themyoung uns will only be horse-thieves or hair-lifters when they grows up;so just make a clean shave of the hull brood. Wall, mister, ye see, theboys jist rode in among the lodges afore daylight, and they killed everything that was able to come out of the tents, for, you see, the redskinshad the small-pox bad, they had, and a heap of them couldn't come outnohow; so the boys jist turned over the lodges and fixed them as they layon the ground. Thar was up to 170 of them Pagans wiped out that mornin',and thar was only one of the boys sent under by a redskin firing out athim from inside a lodge. I say, mister, that Baker's a bell-ox amongsodgers, you bet."

One month after this slaughter on the Sun River a band of Peagins weremet on the Bow River by a French missionary priest, the only missionarywhose daring spirit has carried him into the country of these redoubledtribes. They told him of the cruel loss their tribe had suffered at thehands of the "Long-knives;" but they spoke of it as the fortune of war,as a thing to be deplored, but to be also revenged: it was after themanner of their own war, and it did not strike them as brutal orcowardly; for, alas! they knew no better. But what shall be said of theseheroes--the outscourings of Europe--who, under the congenial guidance ofthat "bell-ox" soldier Jim Baker, "wiped out them Pagan redskins"? Thismeeting of the missionary with the Indians was in: its way singular. Thepriest, thinking that the loss of so many lives would teach the tribe howuseless must be a war carried on against-the Americans, and how its endmust inevitably be the complete destruction of the Indians, asked thechief to assemble his band to listen to his counsel and advice. They mettogether in the council-tent, and then the priest began. He told themthat "their recent loss was only the beginning of their destruction, thatthe Long knives had countless braves, guns and rifles beyond number,fleet steeds, and huge war-canoes, and that it was useless for the poorwild man to attempt to stop their progress through the great Westernsolitudes." He asked them "why were their faces black and their heartsheavy? was it not for their relatives and friends so lately killed, andwould it not be better to make peace while yet they could do it, and thussave the lives of their remaining friends?"

While thus he spoke there reigned a deep silence through the council-tent,each one looked fixedly at the ground before him; but when theaddress was over the chief rose quietly, and, casting around a look fullof dignity, he asked, "My brother, have you done, or is there aught youwould like yet to say to us?"

To this the priest made answer that he had no more to say.

"It is well," answered the Indian; "and listen now to what I say to you;but first," he said, turning to his men, "you, my brethren, you, my sons,who sit around me, if there should be aught in my words from which youdiffer, if I say one word that you would not say yourselves, stop me, andsay to this black-robe I speak with a forked tongue." Then, turning againto the priest, he continued, "You have spoken true, your words comestraight; the Long-knives are too many and too strong for us; their gunsshoot farther than ours, their big guns shoot twice" (alluding to shellswhich exploded after they fell); "their numbers are as the buffalo werein the days of our fathers. But what of all that? do you want us tostarve on the land which is ours? to lie down as slaves to the white man,to die away one by one in misery and hunger? It is true that thelong-knives must kill us, but I say still, to my children and to mytribe, fight on, fight on, fight on! go on fighting to the very last man;and let that last man go on fighting too, for it is better to die thus,as a brave man should die, than to live a little time and then die like acoward. So now, my brethren, I tell you, as I have told you before, keepfighting still. When you see these men coming along the river, diggingholes in the ground and looking for the little bright sand" (gold), "killthem, for they mean to kill you; fight, and if it must be, die, for youcan only die once, and it is better to die than to starve."

He ceased, and a universal hum of approval running through the duskywarriors told how truly the chief had spoken the thoughts of hisfollowers; Again he said, "What does the white man want in our land? Youtell us he is rich and strong, and has plenty of food to eat; for whatthen does he come to our land? We have only the buffalo, and he takesthat from us. See the buffalo, how they dwell with us; they care not forthe closeness of our lodges, the smoke of our camp-fires does not frightthem, the shouts of our young men will not drive them away; but beholdhow they flee from the sight, the sound, and the smell of the white man!Why does he take the land from us? who sent him here? He puts up sticks,and he calls the land his land, the river his river, the trees his trees.Who gave him the ground, and the water, and the trees? was it the GreatSpirit? No; for the Great Spirit gave to us the beasts and the fish, andthe white man comes to take the waters and the ground where these fishesand these beasts live--why does he not take the sky as well as theground? We who have dwelt on these prairies ever since the stars fell"(an epoch from which the Blackfeet are fond of dating, their antiquity)"do not put sticks over the land and say, Between these sticks this landis mine; you shall not come here or go there."

Fortunate is it for these Blackfeet tribes that their hunting grounds liepartly on British territory--from where our midday camp was made on the2nd December to the boundary-line at the 49th parallel, fully 180 milesof plain knows only the domination of the Blackfeet tribes. Here, aroundthis midday camp, lies spread a fair and fertile land; but close by,scarce half a day's journey to the south, the sandy plains begin tosupplant the rich grass-covered hills, and that immense central desertcommences to spread out those ocean-like expanses which find theirsouthern limits far down by the waters of the Canadian River,1200 milesdue south of the Saskatchewan. This immense central sandy plateau is thetrue home of the bison. Here were raised for countless ages these hugeherds whose hollow tramp shook the solid roof of America during thecountless cycles which it remained unknown to man. Here, too, was thetrue home of the Indian: the Commanche, the Apache, the Kio-wa, theArapahoe, the Shienne, the Crow, the Sioux, the Pawnee, the Omahaw, theMandan, the Manatarree, the Blackfeet, the Cree, and the Assineboinedivided between them the immense region, warring and wandering throughthe vast expanses until the white race from the East pushed their wayinto the land, and carved out states and territories from the Mississippito the Rocky Mountains. How it came to pass in the building of the worldthat to the north of that great region of sand and waste should spreadout suddenly the fair country of the Saskatchewan, I must leave to theguess-work of other and more scientific writers; but the fact remains,that alone, from Texas to the sub-Arctic forest, the Saskatchewan Valleylays its fair length for 800 miles in mixed fertility.

But we must resume our Western way. The evening of the 3rd December foundus crossing a succession of wooded hills which divide the water system ofthe North from that of the South Saskatchewan. These systems come soclose together at this region, that while my midday kettle was filledwith water which finds its way through Battle River into the NorthSaskatchewan, that of my evening meal was taken from the ice of thePas-co-pee, or Blindman's; River, whose waters seek through Red DeerRiver the South Saskatchewan.

It was near sunset when we rode by the lonely shores of the Gull Lake,whose frozen surface stretched beyond the horizon to the north. Beforeus, at a distance of some ten miles, lay the abrupt line of the ThreeMedicine Hills, from whose gorges the first view of the great range ofthe Rocky Mountains was destined to burst upon my sight; But not on thisday was I to behold that long-looked-for vision. Night came quickly downupon the silent wilderness; and it was long after dark when we made ourcamps by the bank of the Pas-co-pee, or Blindman's River, and turnedadrift the weary horses to graze in a well-grassed meadow lying in one ofthe curves of the river. We had ridden more than sixty miles that day.

About midnight a heavy storm of snow burst upon us, and daybreak revealedthe whole camp buried deep in snow. As I threw back the blankets from myhead (one always lies covered up completely), the wet, cold mass struckchillily upon my face. The snow was wet and sticky, and therefore thingswere much more wretched than if the temperature had been lower; but thehot tea made matters seem brighter, and about breakfast-time the snowceased to fall and the clouds began to clear away. Packing our wetblankets together, we set out for the three Medicine Hills, through whosedefiles our course lay; the snow was deep in the narrow valleys, makingtravelling slower and more laborious than before. It was midday when,having rounded the highest of the three hills, we entered a narrow gorgefringed with a fire-ravaged forest. This gorge wound through the hills,preventing a far-reaching view ahead; but at length its westerntermination was reached, and there lay before me a sight to be longremembered. The great chain of the Rocky Mountains rose their snow-cladsierras in endless succession. Climbing one of the eminences, I gained avantage-point on the summit from which some by-gone fire had swept thetrees. Then, looking west, I beheld the great range in unclouded glory.The snow had cleared the atmosphere, the sky was coldly bright. Animmense plain stretched from my feet to the mountain--a plain so vastthat every object of hill and wood and lake lay dwarfed into onecontinuous level, and at the back of this level, beyond the pines and thelakes and the river-courses, rose the giant range, solid, impassable,silent--a mighty barrier rising-midst an immense land, standing sentinelover the plains and prairies of America, over the measureless solitudesof this Great Lone Land. Here, at last, lay the Rocky Mountains.

Leaving behind the Medicine Hills, we descended into the plain and heldour way until sunset towards the west. It was a calm and beautifulevening; far away objects stood out sharp and distinct in the pureatmosphere of these elevated regions. For some hours we had lost sight ofthe mountains, but shortly before sunset the summit of a long ridge wasgained, and they burst suddenly into view in greater magnificence than atmidday. Telling my men to go on and make the camp at the Medicine River,I rode through some fire-wasted forest to a lofty grass-covered heightwhich the declining sun was bathing in floods of glory. I cannot hope toput into the compass of words the scene which lay rolled beneath fromthis sunset-lighted eminence; for, as I looked over the immense plain andwatched the slow descent of the evening sun upon the frosted crest ofthese lone mountains, it seemed as if the varied scenes of my longjourney had woven themselves into the landscape, filling with the musicof memory the earth, the sky, and the mighty panorama of mountains. Hereat length lay the barrier to my onward wanderings, here lay the boundaryto that 4000 miles of unceasing travel which had carried me by so manyvaried scenes so far into the lone-land; and other thoughts were notwanting. The peaks on which I gazed were no pigmies; they stood theculminating monarchs of the mighty range of the Rocky Mountains. From theestuary of the Mackenzie to the Lake of Mexico no point of the Americancontinent reaches higher to the skies. That eternal crust of snow seeksin summer widely-severed oceans. The Mackenzie, the Columbia, and theSaskatchewan spring from the peaks whose teeth-like summits lie groupedfrom this spot into the compass of a single glance. The clouds that casttheir moisture upon this long line of upheaven rocks seek again the oceanwhich gave them birth in its far-separated divisions of Atlantic,Pacific, and Arctic. The sun sank slowly behind the range and darknessbegan to fall on the immense plain, but aloft on the topmost edge thepure white of the jagged crest-line glowed for an instant inmany-coloured silver, and then the lonely peaks grew dark and dim.

As thus I watched from the silent hill-top this great mountain-chain,whose summits slept in the glory of the sunset, it seemed no stretch offancy which made the red man place his paradise beyond their goldenpeaks. The "Mountains of the Setting Sun," the "Bridge of the World,"Thus he has named them, and beyond them the soul first catches a glimpseof that mystical land where the tents are pitched midst everlastingverdure and countless herds and the music of ceaseless streams.

That night there came a frost, the first of real severity that had fallenupon us. At daybreak next morning, the 5th December, my thermometershowed 22 degrees below zero, and, in spite of buffalo boots and moose"mittaines," the saddle proved a freezing affair; many a time I got downand trotted on in front of my horse until feet and hands, cased as theywere, began to be felt again. But the morning, though piercingly cold,was bright with sunshine, and the snowy range was lighted up in many afair hue, and the contrasts of pine wood and snow and towering wind-sweptcliff showed in rich beauty. As the day wore on we entered the pineforest which stretches to the base of the mountains, and emerged suddenlyupon the high banks of the Saskatchewan. The river here ran in a deep,wooded valley, over the western extremity of which rose the RockyMountains; the windings of the river showed distinctly from the height onwhich we stood; and in mid-distance the light blue smoke of the MountainHouse curled in fair contrast from amidst a mass of dark green pines.

Leaving my little party to get my baggage across the Clear Water River, Irode on ahead to the fort. While yet a long way off we had been descriedby the watchful eyes of some Rocky Mountain Assineboines, and our arrivalhad been duly telegraphed to the officer in charge. As usual, theexcitement was intense to know what the strange party could mean. Thedenizens of the place looked upon themselves as closed up for thewinter, and the arrival of a party with a baggage-cart at such a timebetokened something unusual. Nor was this excitement at all lessened whenin answer to a summons from the opposite bank of the Saskatchewan Iannounced my name and place of departure. The river was still open, itsrushing waters had resisted so far the efforts of the winter to coverthem up, but the ice projected a considerable distance from either shore;the open water in the centre was, however, shallow, and when the rottenice had been cut away on each side I was able to force my horse into it.In he went with a great splash, but he kept his feet nevertheless; thenat the other side the people of the fort had cut away the ice too, andagain the horse scrambled safely up. The long ride to the West was over;exactly forty-one days earlier I had left Red River, and in twenty-sevendays of actual travel I had ridden 1180 miles.

The Rocky Mountain House of the Hudson Bay Company stands in a levelmeadow which is clear of trees, although dense forest lies around it atsome little distance. It is indifferently situated with regard to theIndian trade, being too far from the Plain Indians, who seek in theAmerican posts along the Missouri a nearer and more profitable exchangefor their goods; while the wooded district in which it lies produces fursof a second-class quality, and has for years been deficient in game. Theneighbouring forest, however, supplies a rich store of the white sprucefor boat-building, and several full-sized Hudson Bay boats are builtannually at the fort. Coal of very fair quality is also plentiful alongthe river banks, and the forge glows with the ruddy light of a real coalfire--a friendly sight when one has not seen it during many months. TheMountain House stands within the limits of the Rocky MountainAssineboines, a branch of-the once famous Assineboines of the Plainswhose wars in times not very remote made them the terror of the prairieswhich lie between the middle Missouri and the Saskatchewan. TheAssineboines derive their name, which signifies "stone-heaters," from acustom in vogue among them before the advent of the traders into theircountry. Their manner of boiling meat was as follows: a round hole wasscooped in the earth, and into the hole was sunk a piece of raw hide;this was filled with water, and the buffalo meat placed in it, then afire was lighted close by and a number of round stones made red hot; inthis state they were dropped into, or held in, the water, which was thusraised to boiling temperature and the meat cooked. When the white mancame he sold his kettle to the stone-heaters, and henceforth the practicedisappeared, while the name it had given rise to remained--a name whichlong after the final extinction of the tribe will still exist in theRiver Assineboine and its surroundings. Nothing testifies moreconclusively to the varied changes and vicissitude's Indian tribes thanthe presence of this branch of the Assineboine nation in the pine forestsof the Rocky Mountains. It is not yet a hundred years since the"Ossinepoilles" were found by one of the earliest traders inhabiting thecountry between the head of the Pasquayah or Saskatchewan and thecountry of the Sioux, a stretch of territory fully 900 miles in length.

Twenty years later they still were numerous along the whole line of theNorth Saskatchewan, and their lodges were at intervals seen along ariver line of 800 miles in length, but even then a great change had comeupon them. In 1780 the first epidemic of small-pox swept over the Westernplains, and almost annihilated the powerful Assineboines. The wholecentral portion of the tribe was destroyed, but the outskirting portionsdrew together and again made themselves a terror to trapper and trader.In 1821 they were noted for their desperate forays, and for many yearslater a fierce conflict raged between them and the Blackfeet; under theleadership of a chief still famous in Indian story--Tehatka, or the"Left-handed;" they for a long time more than held their own againstthese redoubtable warriors. Tehatka was a medicine-man of the firstorder, and by the exercise of his superior cunning and dream power he wasimplicitly relied on by his followers; at length fortune deserted him,and he fell in a bloody battle with the Gros Ventres near the KnifeRiver, a branch of the Missouri, in 1837. About the same date small-poxagain swept the tribe, and they almost disappeared from the prairies. TheCrees too pressed down from the North and East, and occupied agreat-portion of their territory; the Blackfeet smote them hard on thesouth-west frontier; and thus, between foes and disease, the Assineboinesof to-day have dwindled down into far-scattered remnants of tribes.Warned by the tradition of the frightful losses of earlier times from theravages of small-pox, the Assineboines this year kept far out in thegreat central prairie along the coteau, and escaped the infectionaltogether, but their cousins, the Rocky Mountain Stonies, were not sofortunate, they lost some of their bravest men during the pre cedingsummer and autumn. Even under the changed circ*mstances of their presentlives, dwelling amidst the forests and rocks instead of in the plains andopen country, these Assineboines of the Mountains retain many of thebetter characteristics of their race; they are brave and skilful men,good hunters of red deer, moose, and big horn, and are still held indread by the Blackfeet, who rarely venture into their country. They arewell acquainted with the valleys and passes through the mountains, andwill probably take a horse over as rough ground as any men in thecreation.

At the ford on the Clear Water River, half a mile from the MountainHouse, a small clump of old pine-trees stands on the north side of thestream. A few years ago a large band of Blood Indians camped round thisclump of pines during a trading expedition to the Mountain House. Theywere under the leadership of two young chiefs, brothers. One evening adispute about some trifling matter arose, words ran high, there was aflash of a scalping-knife, a plunge, and one brother reeled back with afearful gash in his side, the other stalked slowly to his tent, and satdown silent and impassive. The wounded man loaded his gun, and keepingthe fatal wound closed together with one hand walked steadily to hisbrothers tent; pulling back the door-casing, he placed the muzzle of hisgun to the heart of the man who sat immovable all the time, and shot himdead, then, removing his hand from his own mortal wound, he fell lifelessbeside his brother's body. They buried the two brothers in the same graveby the shadow of the dark pine-trees. The band to which the chiefsbelonged broke up and moved away into the great plains--the reckoning ofblood had been paid, and the account was closed. Many tales of Indian warand revenge could I tell--tales gleaned from trader and missionary andvoyageur, and told by camp-fire or distant trading post, but there is notime to recount them now, a long period of travel lies before me and Imust away to enter upon it; the scattered thread must be gathered up andtied together too quickly, perhaps, for the success of this wanderingstory, but not an hour too soon for the success of another expeditioninto a still farther and more friendless region. Eight days passedpleasantly at the Mountain House; rambles by day into the neighbouringhills, stories of Indian life and prairie scenes at the evening firefilled up the time, and it was near mid-December before I thought ofmoving my quarters.

The Mountain House is perhaps the most singular specimen of an Indiantrading post to be found in the wide territory of the Hudson Bay Company.Every precaution known to the traders has been put in force to preventthe possibility of surprise during "a trade." Bars and bolts and placesto fire down at the Indians who are trading abound in every direction; sodreaded is the name borne by the Black feet, that it is thus theirtrading post has been constructed. Some fifty years ago the Company hada post far south on the Bow River in the very heart of the Blackfeetcountry. Despite of all precautions it was frequently plundered And atlast burnt down by the Blackfeet, and since that date no attempt has everbeen made to erect another fort in their country.

Still, I believe the Blackfeet and their confederates are not nearly sobad as they have been painted, those among the Hudson Bay Company who arebest acquainted with them are of the same opinion, and, to use the wordsof Pe to-pee, or the Perched Eagle, to Dr. Hector in 1857, "We see butlittle of the white man," he said, "and our young men do not know how tobehave; but if you come among us, the chiefs will restrain the young men,for we have power over them. But look at the Crees, they have long livedin the company of white men, and nevertheless they are just like dogs,they try to bite when your head is turned--they have no manners; but theBlackfeet have large hearts and they love to show hospitality." Withoutgoing the length of Pe-to-pee in this estimate of the virtues of histribe, I am still of opinion that under proper management these wildwandering men might be made trusty friends. We have been too muchinclined to believe all the bad things said of them by other tribes, and,as they are at war with every nation around them, the wickedness of theBlackfeet'has grown into a proverb among men. But to go back to thetrading house. When the Blackfeet arrive on a trading visit to theMountain House they usually come in large numbers, prepared for a brushwith either Crees or Stonies. The camp is formed at some distance fromthe fort, and the braves, having piled their robes, leather, andprovisions on the backs of their wives or their horses, approach in longcavalcade. The officer goes out to meet them, and the gates are closed.Many speeches are made, and the chief, to show his "big heart," usuallypiles on top of a horse a heterogeneous mass of buffalo robes, pemmican,and dried meat, and hands horse and all he carries over to the trader.After such a present no man can possibly enter tain for a moment a doubtupon the subject of the big-heartedness of the donor, but if, in thetrade which ensues: after this present has been made, it should happenthat fifty horses are bought by the Company, not one of all the band willcost so dear as that which demonstrates the large heartedness of thebrave.

Money-values are entirely unknown in these trades. The values of articlesare computed by "skins;" for instance, a horse will be reckoned at 60skins; and these 60 skins will be given thus: a gun, 15 skins; a capote,10 skins; a blanket, 10 skins; ball and powder, 10 skins; tobacco, 15skins total, 60 skins. The Bull Ermine, or the Four Bears, or the RedDaybreak, or whatever may be the brave's name, hands over the horse, andgets in return a blanket, a gun, a capote, ball and powder, and tobacco.The term "skin" is a very old one in the fur trade; the originalstandard, the beaver skin or, as it was called, "the made beaver" wasthe medium of exchange, and every other skin and article of trade wasgraduated upon the scale of the beaver; thus a beaver, or a skin, wasreckoned equivalent to 1 mink skin, one marten was equal to 2 skins, oneblack fox 20 skins, and so on; in the same manner, a blanket, a capote, agun, or a kettle had their different values in skins. This beingexplained, we will now proceed with the trade.

Sapoomaxica, or the Big Crow's Foot, having demonstrated the bigness ofhis heart, and received in return a tangible proof of the correspondingsize of the trader's, addresses his braves, cautioning them againstviolence or rough behaviour. The braves, standing ready with theirpeltries, are in a high state of excitement to begin the trade. Withinthe fort all the preparations have been completed, communication cut offbetween the Indian room and the rest of the buildings, guns placed up inthe loft overhead, and men all get ready for any thing that might turnup; then the outer gate is thrown open, and a large throng enters theIndian room. Three or four of the first-comers are now admitted througha narrow passage into the trading-shop, from the shelves of which mostof the blankets, red cloth, and beads have been removed, for the red manbrought into the presence of so much finery would unfortunately behavevery much after the manner of a hungry boy put in immediatejuxtaposition to bath-buns, cream-cakes, and jam-fritters, to thecomplete collapse of profit upon the trade to the Hudson Bay Company.The first Indians admitted hand in their peltries through a woodengrating, and receive in exchange so many blankets, beads, or strouds.Out they go to the large hall where their comrades are anxiouslyawaiting their turn, and in rush another batch, and the doors are lockedagain. The reappearance of the fortunate braves with the much-covetedarticles of finery adds immensely to the excitement. What did they seeinside? "Oh, not much, only a few dozen blankets and a few guns, and alittle tea and sugar;" this is terrible news for the outsiders, and thecrush to get\in increases tenfold, under the belief that the good thingswill all be gone. So the trade progresses, until at last all thepeltries and provisions have changed hands, and there is nothing more tobe traded; but some times things do not run quite so smoothly.Sometimes, when the stock of pemmican or robes is small, the bravesobject to see their "pile" go for a little parcel of tea or sugar. Thesteelyard and weighing-balance are their especial objects of dislike."What for you put on one side tea or sugar, and on the other a littlebit of iron?" they say; "we don't know what that medicine is-but, lookhere, put on one side of that thing that swings a bag of pemmican, andput on the other side blankets and tea and sugar, and then, when the twosides stop swinging, you take the bag of pemmican and we will take theblankets and the tea: that would be fair, for one side will be as big asthe other." This is a very bright idea on the part of the Four Bears,and elicits universal satisfaction all round. Four Bears and hisbrethren are, however, a little bit put out of conceit when the traderobserves, "Well, let be as you say. We will make the balance swinglevel between the bag of pemmican and the blankets, but we will carryout the idea still further. You will put your marten skins and yourotter and fisher skins on one side, I will put against them on the othermy blankets, and my gun and ball and powder; then, when both sides arelevel, you will take the ball and powder and the blankets, and I willtake the marten and the rest of the fine furs." This proposition throwsa new light upon the question of weighing-machines and steelyards, and,after some little deliberation, it is resolved to abide by the old planof letting the white trader decide the weight himself in his own way,for it is clear that the steelyard is a great medicine which no bravecan understand, and which can only be manipulated by a whitemedicine-man.

This white medicine-man was in olden times a terrible demon in the eyes'of the Indian. His power reached far into the plains; he possessed threemedicines of the very highest order: his heart could sing, demons sprungfrom the light of his candle, and he had a little box stronger than thestrongest Indian. When a large band of the Blackfeet would assemble atEdmonton, years ago, the Chief Factor would-win-dup his musical box, gethis magic lantern ready, and take out his galvanic battery. Impartingwith the last-named article a terrific shock to the frame of the Indianchief, he would warn him that far out in the plains he could at willinflict the same medicine upon him if he ever behaved badly. "Look," hewould say, "now my heart beats for you," then the spring of the littlemusical box concealed under his coat would be touched, and lo! the heartof the white trader would sing with the strength of his love for theBlackfeet. "To-morrow I start to cross the mountains against the NezPerces," a chief would say, "what says my white brother, don't he dreamthat my arm will be strong in battle, and that the scalps and horses ofthe Nez Perces will be ours?" "I have dreamt that you are to draw one ofthese two little sticks which I hold in my hand. If you draw the rightone, your arm will be strong, your eye keen, the horses of the Nez Perceswill be yours; but, listen, the fleetest horse must come to me; you willhave to give me the best steed in the band of the Nez Perces. Woe betideyou if you should draw the wrong stick!" Trembling with fear, theBlackfoot would approach and draw the bit of wood. "My brother, you are agreat chief, you have drawn the right stick--your fortune is assured,go." Three weeks later a magnificent horse, the pride of some Nez Percechief on the lower Columbia, would be led into the fort on theSaskatchewan, and when next the Blackfoot chief came to visit the whitemedicine-man a couple of freshly taken scalps would dangle from his spearshaft.

In former times, when rum was used in the trade, the most frightfulscenes were in the habit of occurring in the Indian room. The fire-water,although freely diluted with water soon reduced the assemblage to a stateof wild hilarity, quickly followed by stupidity and sleep. The fire-waterfor the Crees was composed of three parts of water to one of spirit,that of the Blackfeet, seven of water to one of spirit, but so potent isthe power which alcohol in any shape his well-diluted liquor, was wont tobecome helplessly intoxicated. The trade usually began with a presentof-fire water all round--then the business went on apace. 'Horses, robes,tents, provisions, all would be proffered for one more drink at thebeloved poison. Nothing could exceed the excitement inside the tent,except it was the excitement outside. There the anxious crowd could onlylearn by hearsay what was going on within. Now and then a brave, with anamount of self-abnegation worthy of a better cause, would issue from thetent with his cheeks distended and his mouth full of the fire-water, andgoing along the ranks of his friends he would squirt a little of theliquor into the open mouths of his less fortunate brethren.

But things did not always go so smoothly. Knives were wont to flash,shots to be fired--even-now the walls of the Indian rooms at Fort Pittand Edmonton show many traces of bullet marks and knife hacking done inthe wild fury of the intoxicated savage. Some ten years ago this mostbaneful distribution was stopped by the Hudson Bay Company in theSaskatchewan district, but the free traders still continued to employalcohol as a means of acquiring the furs belonging to the Indians. I wasthe bearer of an Order in Council from the Lieutenant-Governorprohibiting, under heavy penalties, the sale, distribution, or possessionof alcohol, and this law, if hereafter enforced, will do much to removeat least one leading source of Indian demoralization.

The universal passion for dress is strangely illustrated in the WesternIndian. His ideal of perfection is the English costume of some fortyyears ago. The tall chimney-pot hat with round narrow brim, the coat withhigh collar going up over the neck, sleeves tight-fitting, waist narrow.All this is perfection, and the chief who can array himself in thisancient garb struts out of the fort the envy and admiration of allbeholders. Sometimes the tall felt chimney-pot is graced by a largefeather which has done duty in the turban of a dowager thirty years agoin England. The addition of a little gold tinsel to the coat collar is ofconsiderable consequence, but the presence of a nether garment is not atall requisite to the completeness of the general get-up. For this mostridiculous-looking costume a Blackfeet chief will readily exchange hisbeautifully-dressed deerskin Indian shirt embroidered with porcupinequills and ornamented with the raven locks of his enemies--his head-dressof ermine skins, his flowing buffalo robe: a dress in which he looksevery inch a savage king for one in which he looks every inch a foolishsavage. But the new dress does not long survive--bit by bit it is foundunsuited to the wild work which its: owner has to perform; and althoughit never loses the high estimate originally set upon it, it,nevertheless, is discarded by virtue of the many inconveniences arisingout of running buffalo in'a tall beaver,-or fighting in a tail coatagainst Crees.

During the days spent in the Mountain House I enjoyed the society of themost enterprising and best informed missionary in the Indian countries-M.la Combe. This gentleman, a native of Lower Canada, has devoted himselffor more than twenty years to the Blackfeet and Crees of the far-West,sharing their sufferings, their hunts, their summer journeys, and theirwinter camps--sharing even, unwillingly, their war forays and nightassaults. The devotion which he has evinced towards these poor wildwarriors has not been thrown away upon them, and Pèere la Combe is theonly man who can pass and repass from Blackfoot camp to Cree camp withperfect impunity when these long-lasting enemies are at war. On oneoccasion he was camped with a small party of Blackfeet south of the. RedDeer River. It was night, and the lodges were silent and dark, all saveone, the lodge of the chief, who had invited the black-robe to his tentfor the night and was conversing with him as they lay on the buffalorobes, while the fire in the centre of the lodge burned clear and bright.Every thing was quiet, and no thought of war-party or lurking enemy wasentertained. Suddenly a small dog put his head into the lodge. A dog issuch an ordinary and inevitable nuisance in the camp of the Indians, thatthe missionary never even noticed the partial intrusion. Not so theIndian; he hissed out, "It is a Cree dog. We are surprised! run!" then,catching his gun in one hand and dragging his wife by the other, hedarted from his tent into the darkness. Not one second too soon, forinstantly there crashed through the leather lodge some score of bullets,and the wild war-whoop of the Crees broke forth through the sharp andrapid detonation of many muskets. The Crees were upon them in force.Darkness, and the want of a dashing leader on the part of the Crees,Saved the Blackfeet from total destruction, for nothing could have helpedthem had their enemies charged home; but as soon as the priest hadreached the open which he did when he saw how matters stood-he calledloudly to the Blackfeet not to run, but to stand and return the fire oftheir attackers. This timely advice checked the onslaught of the Crees,who were in numbers nmore than sufficient to make an end of the Blackfeetparty in a few minutes. Mean time, the Blackfeet Women delved busily inthe earth with knife and finger, while the men fired at random into thedarkness. The lighted, semi-transparent tent of the chief had given amark for the guns of the Crees; but that was quickly overturned, riddled'with balls and although the Crees continued to fire without intermission,their shots generally went high. Sometimes the Crees would charge boldlyup to within a few feet of their enemies, then fire and rush back again,yelling all the time, and taunting their enemies. The père spent thenight in attending to the wounded Blackfeet. When day dawned the Creesdrew off to count their losses; but it was afterwards ascertained thateighteen of their braves had been killed or wounded, and of the smallparty of Blackfeet twenty had fallen--but who cared? Both sides kepttheir scalps, and that was every thing.

This battle served not a little to increase the reputation in which themissionary was held as a "great medicine-man." The Blackfeet ascribed tohis "medicine" what was really due to his pluck; and the Crees, when theylearnt that he had been with their enemies during the fight, at oncefound in that fact a satisfactory explanation for the want of couragethey had displayed.

But it is time to quit the Mountain House, for winter has run on intomid-December, and 1500 miles have yet to be travelled, but not travelledtowards the South. The most trusty guide, Piscan Munro, was away on theplains; and as day after day passed by, making the snow a little deeperand the cold a little colder, it was evident that the passage of the 400miles intervening between the Mountain House and the nearest AmericanFort had become almost an impossibility.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

Eastward--A beautiful Light.

On the 12th of December I said "Good-bye" to my friends at the MountainHouse, and, crossing the now ice-bound torrent of the Saskatchewan,turned my steps, for the first time during many months towards the East.With the same two men, and eight horses, I passed quickly throughthe snow-covered country. One day later I looked my last look at thefar-stretching range of the Rocky Mountains from the lonely ridges ofthe Medicine Hills. Henceforth there would be no mountains. That immenseregion through which I had traveled--from Quebec to these Three MedicineHills--has not a single mountain ridge in its long 3000 miles; woods,streams, and mighty rivers, ocean-lakes, rocks, hills, and prairies,but no mountains, no rough cloud-seeking summit on which to rest theeye that loves the bold outlined of peak and precipice.

"Ah! doctor, dear," Said an old Highland woman, dying in the Red RiverSettlement long years after she had left her Highland home--"Ah! doctor,dear, if I could but see a wee bit of hill I thinking I might get wellagain."

Camped that night near a beaver lodge on the Pas-co-pe, the conversationturned upon the mountains we had just left.

"Are they the greatest mountains in the world?" asked Paul Foyale.

"No, there are others nearly as big again."

"Is the Company there, too?" again inquired the faithful Paul.

I was obliged to admit that the Company did not exist in the country ofthese very big mountains, and I rather fear that the admission somewhatdetracted from the altitude of the Himalayas in the estimation of myhearers.

About an hour before daybreak on the 16th of December a Very remarkablelight was visible for some time in the zenith, A central orb, or heart ofred and crimson light, became suddenly visible a little to the north ofthe zenith; around this most luminous centre was a great ring, or circleof bright light, and from this outer band there flashed innumerable raysfar-into the surrounding darkness. As I looked at it, my thoughtstraveled far away to the proud city by the Seine. Was she holding herselfbravely against the German hordes? In olden times these weird lights ofthe sky were supposed only to flash forth when "kings or heroes" fell.Did the sky mirror the earth, even as the ocean mirrors the sky? While Ilooked at the gorgeous spectacle blazing above me, the great heart ofFrance was red with the blood of her sons, and from the circles of theGerman league there flashed the glare of cannon round the doomed butdefiant city.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

I start from Edmonton with Dogs--Dog-travelling--The Cabri Sack--A ColdDay--Victoria--"Sent to Rome"--Reach Fort Pitt--The blind Cree--A Feast ora Famine--Death of Pe-na-koam the Blackfoot.

I was now making my way back to Edmonton, with the intention of thereexchanging my horses for dogs, and then endeavouring to make the returnjourney to Red River upon the ice of the River Saskatchewan. Dogtravelling was a novelty. The cold had more than reached the limit atwhich the saddle is a safe mode of travel, and the horses suffered somuch in pawing away the snow to get within reach of the grass lyingunderneath, that I longed to exchange them for the train of dogs, thepainted cariole, and little baggage-sled. It took me four days tocomplete the arrangements necessary for my new journey; and, on theafternoon of the 20th December, I set out upon a long journey, with dogs,down the valley of the Saskatchewan. I little thought then of thedistance before me; of the intense cold through which I was destined totravel during two entire months of most rigorous winter; how day by daythe frost was to harden, the snow to deepen, all nature to sink morecompletely under the breath of the ice-king. And it was well that allthis was hidden from me at the time, or perhaps I should have beentempted to remain during the winter at Edmonton, until the spring had setfree once more the rushing waters of the Saskatchewan.

Behold me then on the 20th of December starting from Edmonton with threetrains of dogs--one to carry myself, the other two to drag provisions,baggage, and blankets and all the usual paraphernalia of winter travel.The cold which, with the exception of a few nights severe frost, hadbeen so long-delayed now seemed determined to atone for lost time bybecoming suddenly intense. On the night of the 21st December we reached,just at dusk, a magnificent clump of large pine-trees on the right bankof the river. During the afternoon the temperature had fallen below zero;a keen wind blew along-the frozen river, and the dogs and men were gladto clamber up the steep clayey bank into the thick shelter of the pinebluff', amidst whose dark-green recesses a huge fire was quickly alight.While here we sit in the ruddy blaze: of immense dry pine logs it will bewell to say a few words on dogs and dog driving.

Dogs in the territories of the North-west have but one function--to haul.Pointer, setter, lurcher, foxhound, greyhound, Indian mongrel, miserablecur or beautiful Esquimaux, all alike are destined to pull a sled of somekind or other during, the months of snow and ice: all are destined tohowl under the driver's lash; to tug wildly at the moose-skin collar; todrag until they can drag no more, and then to die. At what age a dog isput to haul I could never satisfactorily ascertain, but I have seen dogsdoing some kind of hauling long be fore the peculiar expression of thepuppy had left their countenances. Speaking now with the experience ofnearly fifty days of dog travelling, and the knowledge of some twentydifferent trains of dogs of all sizes, ages, and degrees, watching themclosely on the track and in the camp during 1300 miles of travel, I mayclaim, I think, some right to assert that I possess no inconsiderableinsight into the habits, customs, and thoughts (for a dog thinks farbetter than many of his masters) of the hauling dog. When I look backagain upon the long list of "Whiskies," "Brandies," "Chocolats,""Corbeaus," "Tigres," "Tete Noirs," "Cerf Volants," "Pilots,""Capitaines," "Cariboos," "muskymotes," "Coffees," and "Nichinassis" whoindividually and collectively did their best to haul me and my baggageover that immense waste of snow and ice, what a host of sadly resignedfaces rises up in the dusky light of the fire! faces seared by whip-markand blow of stick, faces mutely conscious that that master for whom thedog gives up every thing in this life was treating him in a most brutalmanner. I do not for an instant mean to assert that these dogs were not,many of them, great rascals and rank imposters; but Just as slaveryproduces certain vices in the slave which it would be unfair to hold himaccountable for, so does this perversion of the dog from his true use tothat of a beast of burthen produce in endless variety traits of cunningand deception in the hauling-dog. To be a thorough expert in dog-traininga man must be able to imprecate freely and with considerable variety inat least three different languages. But whatever number of tongues thedriver may speak, one is indispensable to perfection in the art, and thatis French: curses seem useful adjuncts in any language, but cursesdelivered in French will get a train of dogs through or over any thing.There is a good story told which illustrates this peculiar feature indog-training. It is said that a high dignitary of the Church was oncemaking a winter tour through his missions in the North-west. The driver,out of deference for his freight's profession, abstained from the use offorcible language to his dogs, and the hauling was very indifferentlyperformed. Soon the train came to the foot of a hill, and notwithstandingall the efforts of the driver with whip and stick the dogs were unable todraw the cariole to the summit.

"Oh," said the Church dignitary, "this is not at all as good a train ofdogs as the one you drove last year; why, they are unable to pull me upthis hill!"

"No, monseigneur," replied the owner of the dogs, "but I am driving themdifferently; if you will only permit me to drive them in the old way youwill see how easily they will pull the cariole to the top of this hill;they do not understand my new method."

"By all means," said the bishop; "drive them then in the usual manner."

Instantly there rang out a long string of "sacré chien," "sacré diable,"and still more unmentionable phrases. The effect-upon the dogs wasmagical; the cariole flew to the summit; the progress of the episcopaltour was undeniably expedited, and a-practical exposition was given ofthe poet's thought, "From seeming evil still aducing good."

Dogs in the Hudson Bay territories haul in various ways. The Esquimaux inthe far North run their dogs abreast. The natives of Labrador and alongthe shores of Hudson Bay harness their dogs by many separate lines in akind of band or pack, while in the Saskatchewan, and Mackenzie Riverterritories the dogs are put one after the other, in tandem fashion. Theusual number allowed to a complete train is four, but three, andsometimes even two are used. The train of four dogs is harnessed to the'cariole, or sled, by means of two long traces; between these traces thedogs stand one after the other, the head of one dog being about a footbehind the tail of the dog in front of him. They are attached to thetraces by a round collar which slips on over the head and ears and thenlies close on the swell of the neck; this collar buckles on each side tothe traces, which are kept from touching the ground by a back-band ofleather buttoned under the dog's ribs or stomach. This back band isgenerally covered with little brass bells; the collar is also hung withlarger bells, and tufts of gay-coloured ribbons or fox-tails are put uponit. Great pride is taken in turning out a train of dogs in good style.Beads, bells, and embroidery are freely used to bedizen the poor brutes,and a most comical effect is produced by the appearance of so much fineryupon the woefully frightened dog, who, when he is first put into hisharness, usually looks the picture of fear. The fact is patent that inhauling the dog is put to a work from which his whole nature revolts,that is to say the ordinary dog; with the beautiful dog of the Esquimauxbreed the case is very different. To haul is as natural to him as topoint is natural to the pointer. He alone looks jolly over the work andtakes to it kindly, and consequently he alone of all dogs is the best andmost lasting hauler; longer than any other dog will his clean firm feethold tough over the trying ice, and although other dogs will surpass himin the speed which they will maintain for a few days, he alone can travelhis many hundreds of miles and finish fresh and hearty after all. It is apleasure to sit behind such a train of dogs; it is a pain to watch theother poor brutes toiling at their traces. But, after all it is the samewith dog-driving as with every other thing; there are dogs and there-are dogs, and the distance from one to the other is as, great as thatbetween a Thames barge and a Cowes schooner.

The hauling-dogs day is a long tissue of trial. While yet the night isin its small hours, and the aurora is beginning to think of hiding itstrembling lustre in the earliest dawn, the hauling-dog has his slumberrudely broken by the summons of his driver. Poor beast! All night long hehas lain curled up in the roundest of round balls hard by the camp;there, in the lea of tree-stumps or snow-drift, he has dreamt the dreamsof peace and comfort. If the night has been one of storm, thefast-falling flakes have added to his sense of warmth by covering himcompletely beneath them. Perhaps, too, he will remain unseen by thedriver when the fatal moment comes for harnessing-up. Not a bit of it. Helies ever so quiet under the snow, but the rounded hillock betrays hishiding place; and he is dragged forth to the gaudy gear of bells andmoose-skin lying ready to receive him. Then comes the start. The pine oraspen bluff is left behind, and under the grey starlight we plod alongthrough the snow. Day dawns, sun rises, morning wears into midday, and itis time to halt for dinner; then on again in Indian file, as before. Ifthere is no track in the snow a man goes in front on snow-shoes, and theleading dog, or "foregoer," as he is called, trots close behind him. Ifthere should be a track, however faint, the dog-will follow it himself;and when sight fails to show it, or storm has hidden it beneath drifts,his sense of smell will enable him to keep straight. Thus through thelong waste we journey on, by frozen lakelet, by willow copse, throughpine forest, or over treeless prairie, until the winter's day draws toits close and the darkening landscape bids us seek some resting-placefor the night. Then the hauling-dog is taken out of the harness, and hisday's work is at an end; his whip-marked face begins to look less rueful,he stretches and rolls in the dry powdery snow, and finally twistshimself a bed and goes fast asleep. But the real moment of pleasure isstill in store for him When our supper is over the chopping of the axe,on the block of pemmican, or the unloading of the frozen white-fish

from the provision-sled, tells him that his is about to begin. He springslightly up and watches eagerly these preparations for his supper. Onthe plains he receives a daily ration of 2 lbs. of pemmican. In theforest and lake country, where fish is the staple food, he gets two largewhite-fish raw. He prefers fish to meat, and will work better on it too.His supper is soon over; there is a short after-piece of growling andsnapping at hungry comrade, and then he lies down out in the snow todream that whips have been abolished and hauling is discarded for ever,sleeping peacefully until morning, unless indeed some band of wolvesshould prowl around and, scenting campfire, howl their long chorus to themidnight skies.

And now, with this introductory digression on dogs, let us return to ourcamp in the thick pine-bluff on the river bank.

The night fell very cold. Between supper and bed there is not much timewhen present cold and perspective early-rising are the chief features ofthe night and morning. I laid down my buffalo robe with more care thanusual, and got into my sack of deer-skins with a notion that the nightwas going to be one of unusual severity. My sack of deer-skins--so far ithas been scarcely mentioned in this journal, and yet it played noinsignificant part in the nightly programme. Its origin and constructionwere simply these. Before leaving Red River I had received from agentleman, well known in the Hudson Bay Company, some most usefulsuggestions as to winter travel. His residence of many years in thecoldest parts of Labrador, and his long journey into the interior of thatmost wild and sterile land, had made him acquainted with all thevicissitudes of northern travel. Under his direction I had procured anumber of the skins of the common cabri, or small deer, had them madeinto a large sack of some seven feet in length and three in diameter. Theskin of this deer is very light, but possesses, for some reason withwhich I am unacquainted, a power of giving great warmth to the person itcovers. The sack was made with the hair turned inside, and was covered onthe outside with canvass. To make my bed, therefore, became a very simpleoperation: lay down a buffalo robe, unroll the sack, and the thing wasdone. To get into bed was simply to get into the sack, pull the hood overone's head, and go to sleep. Remember, there was no tent, no outercovering of any kind, nothing but the trees--sometimes not many ofthem--the clouds, or the stars.

During the journey with horses I had generally found the bag too warm,and had for the most part slept on it, not in it; but now its time wasabout to begin, and this night in the pine-bluff was to record a signaltriumph for the sack principle applied to shake-downs.

About three o'clock in the morning the men got up, unable to sleep onaccount of the cold, and set the fire going. The noise soon awoke me, butI lay quiet inside the bag, knowing what was going on outside. Now,amongst its other advantages, the sack possessed one of no small value.It enabled me to tell at once on awaking what the cold was doing outside;if it was cold in the sack, or if the hood was fastened down by frozenbreath to the opening, then it must be a howler outside; then it was timeto get ready the greasiest breakfast and put on the thickest duffel-socksand mittens. On the morning of the 22nd all these symptoms weremanifest; the bag was not warm, the hood was frozen fast against theopening, and one or two smooth-haired dogs were shivering close beside myfeet and on top of the bag. Tearing under the frozen mouth of the sack, Igot out into the open. Beyond a doubt it was cold; I don't mean cold inthe ordinary manner, cold such as you can localize to your feet, or yourfingers, or your nose, but cold all over, crushing cold. Putting on coatand moccassins as close to the fire as possible, I ran to the tree onwhich I had hung the thermometer on the previous evening; it stood at 37below zero at 3:30 in the morning. I had slept well; the cabri sack was avery Ajax among roosts; it defied the elements. Having eaten a tolerablyfat breakfast and swallowed a good many cups of hot tea, we packed thesleds, harnessed the dogs, and got away from the pine bluff two hoursbefore daybreak. Oh, how biting cold it was! On in the grey snow lightwith a terrible wind sweeping up the long reaches of the river; nothingspoken, for such cold makes men silent, morose, and savage. After fourhours travelling, we stopped to dine. It was only 9:30, but we hadbreakfasted six hours before. We were some time before we could makefire, but at length it was set going, and we piled the dry driftwood fastupon the flames. Then I set up my thermometer again; it registered 39below zero, 71 degrees of frost. What it must have been at day break Icannot say; but it was sensibly colder than at ten o'clock, and I do notdoubt must have been 45 below zero. I had never been exposed to any thinglike this cold before. Set full in the sun at eleven o'clock, thethermometer rose only to 26 below zero, the sun seemed to have lost allpower of warmth; it was very low in the heavens, the day being theshortest in the year; in fact, in the centre of the river the sun did notshow above the steep south bank, while the wind had full sweep from thenorth-east. This portion of the Saskatchewan is the farthest northreached by the river in its entire course. It here runs for some distancea little north of the 51th parallel of north latitude, and its elevationabove the sea is about 1801 feet. During the whole day we journeyed on,the wind still kept dead against us, and at times it was impossible toface its terrible keenness. The dogs began to tire out; the ice cuttheir feet, and the white surface was often speckled with the crimsonicicles that fell from their wounded toes. Out of the twelve dogscomposing my cavalcade, it would have been impossible to select four goodones. Coffee, Tête Noir, Michinass, and another whose name I forget,underwent repeated whalings at the hands of my driver, a half-breed fromEdmonnton named Frazer. Early in the afternoon the head of Tête Noir wasreduced to shapeless pulp from tremendous thrashings. Michinass, or the"Spotted One," had one eye wherewith to watch the dreaded driver, andcoffee had devoted so much strength to wild lurches and sudden springs inorder to dodge the descending whip, that he had none whatever to bestowupon his legitimate toil of hauling me. At length, so useless did hebecome, that he had to be taken out altogether from the harness and leftto his fate on the river. "And this," I said to myself, "is dog-driving;this inhuman thrashing and varied cursing, this frantic howling of dogs,this bitter, terrible cold is the long-talked of mode of winter travel!"To say that I was disgusted and stunned by the prospect of such work forhundreds of Miles would be-only to speak a portion of what I felt. Wasthe cold always to be so crushing? were the dogs always to be the samewretched creatures? Fortunately, no; but it was only when I reachedVictoria that night, long after dark, that I learned that the day hadbeen very exceptionally severe, and that my dogs were unusually miserableones.

As at Edmonton so in the fort at Victoria the small-pox had again brokenout; in spite of cold and frost the infection still lurked in manyplaces, and in none more fatally than in this little settlement where,during the autumn, it had wrought so much havoc among the scantycommunity. In this distant settlement I spent the few days of Christmas;the weather had become suddenly milder, although the thermometer stillstood below zero.

Small-pox had not been the only evil from which Victoria had sufferedduring the year which was about to close; the Sircies had made many raidsupon it during the summer, stealing-down the sheltering banks of a smallcreek which entered the Saskatchewan at the opposite side, and thenswimming the broad river during the night and lying hidden at day in thehigh corn-fields of the mission. Incredible though it may appear, theycontinued this practice at a time when they were being; swept away by thesmall-pox; their bodies were found in one instance dead upon the bank ofthe river they had crossed by swimming when the fever of the disease hadbeen at its height. Those who live their lives quietly at home, who sleepin beds, and lay up when sickness comes upon them, know but little ofwhat the human frame is capable of enduring if put to the test. With us,to be ill is to lie down; not so with the Indian; he is never ill withthe casual illnesses of our civilization: when he lies down it is tosleep for a few hours, or-for ever. Thus these Sircies had literally keptthe war-trail till they died. When the corn-fields were being cut aroundthe mission, the reapers found unmistakable traces of how these wild menhad kept the field undaunted by disease. Long black hair was found whereit had fallen from the head of some brave in the lairs from which he hadwatched the horses of his enemies; the ruling passion had been strong indeath. In the end, the much-coveted horses were carried off by the fewsurvivors, and the mission had to bewail the loss of some of its beststeeds. One, a mare belonging to the missionary himself, had returned toher home after an absence of a few days, but she carried in her flank acouple of Sircie arrows. She had broken away from the band, and thebraves had sent their arrows after her in an attempt to kill what theycould not keep. To add to the-misfortunes of the settlement, the buffalowere far out in the great plains; so between disease, war, and famine,Victoria had had a hard time of it.

In the farmyard of the mission-house there lay-a curious block of metalof immense weight'; it was ringed,-deeply indented, and polished on theouter edges of the indentations by the wear and friction of many years.Its history was a curious one. Longer than any man could say, it had lainon the summit of a hill far out in the southern prairies. It had been amedicine-stone of surpassing virtue among the Indians over a vastterritory. No tribe or portion of a tribe would pass in the vicinitywithout paying a visit to this great-medicine: it was said to beincreasing yearly in weight. Old men remembered having heard old men saythat they had once lifted it easily from the ground. Now no single mancould carry it. And it was no wonder that this metallic stone should be aManito-stone and an object of intense veneration to the Indian; it hadcome down from heaven; it did not belong to the earth, but had descendedout of the sky; it was, in fact an aerolite. Not very long before my,visit this curious stone had been removed from the hill upon which it hadso long rested and brought to the Mission of Victoria by some person fromthat place: When the Indians found that it had been taken away, theywere loud in the expression of their regret. The old medicine mendeclared that its removal would lead to great misfortunes and that war,disease, and dearth of buffalo would afflict the tribes of theSaskatchewan. This was not a prophecy made after the occurrence of theplague of small-pox, for in a magazine published by the Wesleyan Societyin Canada there appears a letter from the missionary, setting forth thepredictions of the medicine-men a year prior to my visit. The letterconcludes with an expression of thanks that their evil prognosticationshad not been attended with success. But a few months later brought allthe three evils upon the Indians; and never, probably, since the firsttrader had reached the country had so many afflictions of war, famine,and plague fallen upon the _Crees and the Blackfeet as during the yearwhich succeeded the useless removal of their Manito-stone from the lonehill-top upon which the skies had cast it.

I spent the evening of Christmas Day in the house of the missionary. Twoof his daughters sang very sweetly to the music of a small melodian. Bothsong and strain were sad--sadder, perhaps, than the words or music couldmake them; for the recollection of the two absent ones, whosenewly-made graves, covered with their first snow, lay close outside,mingled with the hymn and deepened the melancholy of the music.

On the day after Christmas Day I left Victoria, with three trains ofdogs, bound for Fort Pitt. This time the drivers were all Englishhalf-breeds, and that tongue was chiefly used to accelerate the dogs. Thetemperature had risen considerably, and the snow was soft and clammy,making the "hauling" heavy upon the dogs. For my own use I had a veryexcellent train, but the other two were of the useless class.` Asbefore, the beatings were incessant, and I witnessed the first exampleof a very common occurrence in dog-driving--I beheld the operation knownas "sending a dog to Rome." This consists simply of striking him over thehead with a large stick until he falls perfectly senseless to theground; after a little he revives, and, with memory of the awful blowsthat took his consciousness away full upon him, he pulls franticly at hisload. Oftentimes a dog is "sent to Rome" because he will not allow thedriver to arrange some hitch in the harness; then, while he isinsensible, the necessary alteration is carried out, and when the dogrecovers he receives a terrible lash of the whip to set him going again.The half-breeds are a race easily offended, prone to sulk if reproved;but at the risk of causing delay and inconvenience I had to interfere'with a peremptory order that "sending to Rome" should be at oncediscontinued in my trains. The wretched "Whisky," after his voyage to theEternal City, appeared quite overcome with what he had there seen, andcontinued to stagger along the trail, making feeble efforts to keepstraight. This tendency to wobble caused the half-breeds to indulge infunny remarks, one of them calling the track a "drunken trail."Eventually, "Whisky" was abandoned to his fate. I had never been abeliever in the pluck and courage of the men who are the descendants ofmixed European and Indian parents. Admirable as guides, unequalled asvoyageurs, trappers, and hunters, they nevertheless are wanting in thosequalities which give courage or true manhood. "Tell me your friends and Iwill tell you what you are ": is a sound proverb, and in no sense moretrue than when the bounds of man's friendships are stretched Wide.enough to admit those dumb companions, the horse and the dog. I neverknew a man yet, or for that matter a woman, worth much who did not likedogs and horses, and I would always feel inclined to suspect a man whowas shunned by a dog. The cruelty so systematically practised upon dogsby their half-breed drivers is utterly unwarrantable. In winter the poorbrutes become more than ever the benefactors of man, uniting inthemselves all the services of horse and dog--by day they work, by nightthey watch, and the man must be a very cur in nature who would inflict,at such a time, needless cruelty upon the animal that renders him so muchassistance. On this day, the 29th December, we made a night march in thehope of reaching Fort Pitt. For four hours we walked on through the darkuntil the trail led us suddenly into the midst of an immense band ofanimals, which commenced to dash around us in a high state of alarm. Atfirst we fancied in the indistinct moonlight that they were buffalo, butanother instant sufficed to prove them horses. We had, in fact, struckinto the middle of the Fort Pitt band of horses, numbering some ninety ora hundred head. We were, however, still a long way from the fort, and asthe trail was utterly lost in the confused medley of tracks all round us,we were compelled to halt for the night near midnight. In a small clumpof willows we made a hasty camp and lay down to sleep. Daylight nextmorning showed that conspicuous landmark called the Frenchman's Knollrising north-east; and lying in the snow close beside us was poor"Whisky." He had followed on during the night from the place where he hadbeen abandoned on the previous day, and had come up again with hispersecutors while they lay asleep; for, after all, there was one fateworse than being "sent to Rome," and that was being left to starve. Aftera few hours run we reached Fort Pitt, having travelled about 150 milesin three days and a half.

Fort Pitt was destitute of fresh dogs or drivers, and consequently adelay of some days became necessary before my onward journey could beresumed. In the absence of dogs and drivers Fort Pitt, however, offeredsmall-pox to its visitors. A case had broken out a few days previous tomy arrival impossible to trace in any way, but probably the result ofsome infection conveyed into the fort during the terrible visitation ofthe autumn. I have already spoken of the power which the Indian possessesof continuing the ordinary avocations of his life in the presence ofdisease. This power he also possesses under that most terribleaffliction-the loss of sight. Blindness is by no means an uncommonoccurrence among the tribes of the Saskatchewan. The blinding glare ofthe snow-covered plains, the sand in summer, and, above all, the densesmoke of the tents, where the fire of wood, lighted in the centre, fillsthe whole lodge with a smoke which is peculiarly trying to the sight-allthese causes render ophthalmic affections among the Indians a commonmisfortune. Here is the story of a blind Cree who arrived at Fort Pittone day weak with starvation: From a distant camp he had started fivedays before, in company with his wife. They had some skins to trade, sothey loaded their dog and set out on the march--the woman led the way,the blind man followed next, and the dog brought up the rear. Soon theyapproached a plain upon which buffalo were feeding. The dog, seeing thebuffalo, left the trail, and, carrying the furs with him, gave chase.Away out of sight he went, until there was nothing for it but to set outin pursuit of him. Telling her husband to wait in this spot until shereturned, the woman now started after the dog. Time passed,--it wasgrowing late, and the wind swept coldly over the snow. The blind man beganto grow uneasy; "She has lost her way," he said to himself; "I will goon, and we may meet." He walked on--he called aloud, but there was noanswer; go back he could not; he knew by the coldness of the air thatnight had fallen on the plain, but day and night were alike to him. Hewas alone--he was lost. Suddenly he felt against his feet the rustle oflong sedgy grass--he stooped down and found that he had reached themargin of a frozen lake. He was tired, and it was time to rest; so withhis knife he cut a quantity of long dry grass, and, making a bed forhimself on the margin of the lake, lay down and slept. Let us go back tothe woman. The dog had led her a long chase, and it was very late whenshe got back to the spot where she had left her husband-he was gone, buthis tracks in the snow were visible, and she hurried after him. Suddenlythe wind arose, the light powdery snow began to drift in clouds over thesurface of the plain, the track was speedily obliterated and night wascoming on. Still she followed the general direction of the footprints,and at last came to the border of the same lake by which her husband waslying asleep, but it was at some distance from the spot. She too wastired, and, making a fire in a thicket, she lay down to sleep. About themiddle of the night the man awoke and set out again on his solitary way.It snowed all night: the morning came, the day passed, the night closedagain--again the morning dawned, and still he wandered on. For three dayshe travelled thus over an immense plain, without food, and having onlythe snow wherewith to quench his thirst. On the third day he walked intoa thicket; he felt around, and found that the timber was dry; with hisaxe he cut down some wood, then struck a light and made a fire. When thefire was alight he laid his gun down beside it, and went to gather morewood; but fate was heavy against him, he was unable to find the firewhich he had lighted, and by which he had left his gun. He made anotherfire, and again the same result. A third time he set to work; and now, tomake certain of his getting back, again, he tied a line to a tree closebeside his fire, and then set on to gather wood. Again the fates smotehim-his line broke, and he had to grope his way in weary search. Butchance, tired of ill-treating him so long, now stood his friend--he foundthe first fire, and with it his gun and blanket. Again he travelled on,but now his strength began to fail, and for the first time his heart sankwithin him--blind, starving, and utterly lost, there seemed no hope onearth for him. "Then," he said, "I thought of the Great Spirit of whomthe white men speak, and I called aloud to him, 'O Great Spirit! havepity on me, and show me the path! and as I said it I heard close by thecalling of a crow, and I knew that the road was not far off. I followedthe call; soon I felt the crusted snow of a path under my feet, and thenext day reached the fort." He had been five days without food.

No man can starve better than the Indian--no man can feast better either.For long days and nights, he will go without sustenance of any kind; butsee him when the buffalo are near, when the cows are fat; see him then ifyou want to know what quantity of food it is possible for a man toconsume at a sitting. Here is one bill of fare:--Seven men in thirteendays consumed two buffalo bulls, seven cabri, 40 lbs. of pemmican, and agreat many ducks and geese, and on the last day there was nothing to eat.I am perfectly aware that this enormous quantity could not haveweighed less than 1600 lbs. at the very lowest estimate, which wouldgive a daily ration to each man of 18 lbs.; but, incredible as this mayappear, it is by no means impossible. During the entire time I remainedat Fort Pitt the daily ration issued to each man was 10 lbs. of beef.Beef is so much richer and coarser food than buffalo meat, that 10 lbs.of the former would be equivalent-to 15lbs. or 16 lbs. of the latter, andyet every scrap of that 10 lbs. was eaten by the man who received it. Thewomen got 5 lbs., and the children, no matter how small, 3 lbs. each.Fancy a child in arms getting 3 lbs. of beef for its daily sustenance!The old Orkney men of the Hudson Bay Company servants must have seen insuch a ration the realization of the poet's lines, "O Caledonia, sternand wild! Meet nurse for a poetic child," etc. All these people at FortPitt were idle, and therefore were not capable of eating as much as ifthey had been on the plains. The wild hills that surround Fort Pitt arefrequently the scenes of Indian ambush and attack, and on more than oneoccasion the fort itself has been captured by the Blackfeet. The regionin which Fort Pitt stands is a favourite camping-ground of the Crees,and the Blackfeet cannot be persuaded that the people of the fort are notthe active friends and allies of their enemies in fact, Fort Pitt andCarlton are looked upon by them as places belonging to another companyaltogether from the one which rules at the Mountain House and atEdmonton. "If it was the same company," they-say, "how could they giveour enemies, the Crees, guns and powder; for do they not give us gunsand powder too?" This mode of argument, which refuses to recognize thatspecies of neutrality so dear to the English heart, is eminentlycalculated to lay Fort Pitt open to Blackfeet raid. It is only a fewyears since the place was plundered by a large band, but the generalforbearance displayed by the Indians on that occasion is neverthelessremarkable. Here is the story:

One morning the people in the fort beheld a small party of Blackfeet on ahigh hill at the opposite side of the Saskatchewan. The usual flagcarried by the chief was waved to denote a wish to trade, and accordinglythe officer in charge pushed off in his boat to meet and hold conversewith the party. When he reached the other side he found the chief and afew men drawn up to receive him.

"Are there Crees around the fort?" asked the chief.

"No," replied the trader; "there are none with us."

"You speak with a forked tongue," answered the Blackfoot--dividing hisfingers as he spoke to indicate that the-other was speaking falsely.

Just at that moment something caught the traders eye in the bushes alongthe river bank; he looked again and saw, close alongside, the willowsswarming with naked Blackfeet. He made one spring back into his boat, andcalled to his men to shove off; but it was too late. In an instant twohundred braves rose out of the grass and willows and rushed into thewater; they caught the boat and brought her back to the shore; then,filling her as full as she would hold with men, they pushed off for theother side. To put as good a face upon matters as possible, the tradercommenced a trade, and at first the batch that had crossed, about fortyin number, kept quiet enough, but some-of their number took the boat backagain to the south shore and brought over the entire band; then the wildwork commenced, bolts and bars were broken open, the trading-shop wasquickly cleared out, and in the highest spirits, laughing loudly at theglorious fun they were having, the braves commenced to enter the houses,ripping up the feather beds to look for guns and tearing down calicocurtains for finery. The men of the fort were nearly all away in theplains, and the women and children were in a high state of alarm.Sometimes the Indians would point their guns at the women, then drag themoff the beds on which they were sitting and rip open bedding andmattress, looking for concealed weapons; but no further violence wasattempted, and the whole thing was accompanied by such peals of laughterthat it was evident the braves had not enjoyed such a "high old time" fora very long period. At last the chief, thinking, perhaps, that things hadgone quite far enough, called out, in a loud voice, "Crees! Crees!" and,dashing out of the fort, was quickly followed by the whole band.

Still in high good humour, the braves recrossed the river, and, turninground on the farther shore, fired a volley to Wards the fort; but as thedistance was at least 500 yards, this parting salute was simply as abravado. This band was evidently bent on mischief. As they retreatedsouth to their own country they met the carts belonging to the fort ontheir way from the plains; the men in charge ran off with the fleetesthorses, but the carts were all captured and ransacked, and an oldScotchman, a servant of the Company, who stood his ground, was reduced toa state bordering upon nudity by the frequent demands of his captors.

The Blackfeet chiefs exercise great authority over their braves; some ofthem are men of considerable natural abilities, and all-must be brave andcelebrated in battle. To disobey the mandate of a chief is at times tocourt instant death at his hands. At the present time the two mostformidable chiefs of the Blackfeet nations are Sapoo-max-sikes, or "TheGreat Crow's Claw;" and Oma-ka-pee-mulkee-yeu, or "The Great Swan."These men are widely different in their characters; the Crow's Claw beinga man whose word once given can be relied on to the death, but theother is represented as a man of colossal size and savage disposition,crafty and treacherous.

During the year just past death had struck heavily among the Blackfeetchiefs. The death of one of their greatest men, Pe-na-koam, or "TheFar-off Dawn," was worthy of a great brave. When he felt that his lastnight had come, he ordered his best horse to be brought to the door ofthe tent, and mounting him he rode slowly around the camp; at eachcorner he halted and called out, in a loud voice to his people, "The lasthour of Pe-na-koam has come; but to his people he says, Be brave;separate into small parties, so that this disease will have less powerto kill you; be strong to fight our enemies the Crees, and be able todestroy them. It is no matter now that this disease has come upon us, forour enemies have got it too, and they will also die of it. Pe-na-koamtells his people before he dies to live so that they may fight theirenemies, and be strong." It is said that, having spoken thus, he diedquietly. Upon the top of a lonely hill they laid the body of their chiefbeneath a tent hung round with scarlet cloth; beside him they put sixrevolvers and two American repeating rifles, an at the door of his tenttwelve horses were slain, so that their spirits would carry him in thegreen prairies of the happy hunting-grounds; four hundred blankets werepiled around as offerings to his memory, and then the tribe moved awayfrom the spot, leaving the tomb of their dead king to the winds and tothe wolves.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

The Buffalo--His Limits and favourite Grounds--Modes of Hunting--A Fight--His inevitable End--I become a Medicine-man--Great Cold-Carlton--FamilyResponsibilities.

WHEN the early Spanish adventurers penetrated from the sea-board ofAmerica into the great central prairie region, they beheld for the firsttime a strange animal whose countless numbers covered the face of thecountry. When De Soto had been buried in the dark waters of theMississippi, the remnant of his band, pursuing their western way, enteredthe "Country of the Wild Cows." When in the same year explorers pushedtheir way northward from Mexico into the region of the Rio-del-Norte,they looked over immense plains black with moving beasts. Nearly 100years later settlers on the coasts of New England heard fromwestward-hailing Indians of huge beasts on the shores of a great lake notmany days journey to the north-west. Naturalists in Europe, hearing ofthe new animal, named it the bison; but the colonists united in callingit the buffalo, and, as is usual in such cases, although science clearlydemonstrated that it was a bison, and was not a buffalo, scientificknowledge had not a chance against practical ignorance, and "buffalo"carried the day. The true home of this animal lay in the great prairieregion between the Rocky Mountains, the Mississippi, the Texan forest,and the Saskatchewan River and although undoubted evidence exists to showthat at some period the buffalo reached in his vast migrations the shoresof the Pacific and the Atlantic; yet since the party of De Soto onlyentered the Country of the Wild Cows after they had crossed theMississippi, it may fairly be inferred that the Ohio River and the lowerMississippi formed the eastern boundaries to the wanderings of the herdssince the New World has been known to the white man. Still even withinthis immense region, a region not less than 1,000,000 of square miles inarea, the havoc worked by the European has been terrible. Faster eventhan the decay of the Indian has gone on the destruction-of the bison andonly a few years must elapse before this noble beast, hunted down in thelast recesses of his breeding-grounds, will have taken his place in thelong list of those extinct giants which once dwelt in our world. Manyfavourite spots had this huge animal throughout the great domain overwhich he roamed-many beautiful scenes where, along river meadows, thegrass in winter was still succulent and the wooded "bays" gave food andshelter, but-no more favourite ground than this valley of theSaskatchewan; thither he wended his way from the bleak plains of theMissouri in herds that passed and passed for days and nights in seeminglynever-ending numbers. Along the countless creeks and rivers that addtheir tribute to the great stream, along the banks of the Battle Riverand the Vermilion River, along the many White Earth Rivers and SturgeonCreeks of the upper and middle Saskatchewan, down through the willowcopses and aspen thickets of the Touchwood Hills and the Assineboine, thegreat beasts dwelt in all the happiness of calf-rearing and connubialfelicity. The Indians who then occupied these regions killed only whatwas required for the supply of the camps-a mere speck in the dense herdsthat roamed up to the very doors of the wigwams; but when the traderpushed his adventurous way into the fur regions of the North, the herdsof the Saskatchewan plains began to experience a change in theirsurroundings. The meat, pounded down` and mixed with fat into "pemmican,"was found to supply a most excellent food for transport service, andaccordingly vast numbers of buffalo were destroyed to supply the demandof the fur traders. In the border-land between the wooded country and theplains, the Crees, not satisfied with the ordinary methods of destroyingthe buffalo, devised a plan by which great multitudes could be easilyannihilated. This method of hunting, consists in the erection of strongwooden enclosures called pounds, into which the buffalo are guided by thesupposed magic power of a medicine-man. Sometimes for two days themedicine-man will live with the herd, which he half guides and halfdrives into the enclosures; sometimes he is on the right, sometimes onthe left, and sometimes, again, in rear of the herd, but never towindward of them. At last they approach the pound, which is usuallyconcealed in a thicket of wood. For many miles from the entrance to thispound two gradually diverging lines of tree-stumps and heaps of snow leadout into the plains. Within these lines the buffalo are led by themedicine-man, and as the lines narrow towards the entrance, the herd,finding itself hemmed in on both sides, becomes more and more alarmed,until at length the great beasts plunge on into the pound itself, acrossthe mouth of which ropes are quickly thrown and barriers raised. Thencommences the slaughter. From the wooded fence around arrows and bulletsare poured into the dense plunging mass of buffalo careering wildly roundthe ring. Always going in one direction, with the sun, the poor beastsrace on until not a living thing is left; then, when there is nothingmore to kill, the cutting-up commences, and pemmican-making goes on.

Widely different from this indiscriminate slaughter is the fair hunt onhorseback in the great open plains. The approach, the cautious surveyover some hill-top, the wild charge on the herd, the headlong flight, theturn to bay, the flight and fall--all this contains a large share of thatexcitement which we call by the much abused term sport. It is possible,however, that many of those who delight in killing placid pheasants andstoical partridges might enjoy the huge battue of an Indian "pound" inpreference to the wild charge over the sky bound prairie, but, for mypart, not being of the privileged few who breed pheasants at the expenseof peasants (what a difference the "h" makes in Malthusian theories!), Ihave been compelled to seek my sport in hot climates instead of in hotcorners, and in the sandy bluffs of Nebraska and the Missouri have drawnmany an hour of keen enjoyment from the long chase of the buffalo. Oneevening, shortly before sunset, I was steering my way through the sandyhills of the Platte Valley, in the State of Nebraska, slowly towards FortKearney; both horse and rider were tired after a long day over sand-bluffand meadow-land, for buffalo were plenty, and five tongues dangling tothe saddle told that horse, man, and rifle had not been idle. Crossing agrassy ridge, I suddenly came in sight of three buffalo just emergingfrom the broken bluff. Tired as was my horse, the sight of one of thesethree animals urged me to one last chase. He was a very large bull,whose black shaggy mane and dewlaps nearly brushed the short prairie grassbeneath him. I dismounted behind the hill, tightened the saddle-girths,looked to rifle and cartridge touch, and then remounting rode slowlyover the intervening ridge. As I came in view of the three beaststhus majestically stalking their way towards the Platte for the luxury ofan evening drink, the three shaggy heads were thrown up--one steady lookgiven, then round went the animals and away for the bluffs again. With awhoop and a cheer I gave chase, and the mustang, answering gamely to mycall, launched himself well over the prairie. Singling out the largebull, I urged the horse with spur and voice, then, rising in the stirrupsI took a snap-shot at my quarry. The bullet struck him in the flanks, andquick as lightning he wheeled down upon me. It was now my turn to run. Ihad urged the horse with voice and spur to close with the buffalo, butstill more vigorously did I endeavour, under the altered position ofaffairs, to make him increase the distance lying between us. Down thesandy incline thundered the huge beast, gaining on us at every stride.Looking back over my shoulder, I saw him close to my horse's tail, withhead lowered and eyes flashing furiously-under their shaggy covering. Thehorse was tired; the buffalo was fresh, and it seemed as though anotherinstant must bring pursuer and pursued into wild collision. Throwing backmy rifle over the crupper; I laid it at arm's length, with muzzle fullupon the buffalo's head. The shot struck the centre of his forehead, buthe only shook his head when he received it; still it seemed to check hispace a little, and as we had now reached level ground the horse began togain something upon his pursuer. Quite as suddenly as he had charged thebull now changed his tactics. Wheeling off he followed his companions,who by this time had vanished into the bluffs. It never would have doneto lose him after such a fight, so Ii brought the mustang round again,and gave chase. This time a shot fired low behind the shoulder brought myfierce friend to bay. Proudly he turned upon me, but now his rage wascalm and stately, he pawed the ground, and blew with short angry snortsthe sand in clouds from the plain; moving thus slowly towards me, helooked the incarnation of strength and angry pride. But his doom wassealed. I remember so vividly all the wild surroundings of the scene--thegreat silent waste, the two buffalo watching from a hill-top the fight oftheir leader, the noble beast himself stricken but defiant, and beyond,the thousand glories of the prairie sunset. It was only to last aninstant, for the giant bull, still with low-bent head and angry snorts,advancing slowly towards his puny enemy, sank quietly to the plain andstretched his limbs in death. Late that night I reached the Americanfort with six tongues hanging to my saddle, but never since that hour,though often but a two days ride from buffalo, have I sought to take thelife of one of these noble animals. Too soon will the last of them havevanished from the great central prairie land; never again will thosecountless herds roam from the Platte to the Missouri, from the Missourito the Saskatchewan; chased for his robe, for his beef, for sport, forthe very pastime of his death, he is rapidly vanishing from the land. Farin the northern forests of the Athabasca a few buffaloes may for a timebid defiance to man, but they, too, must disappear and nothing be left ofthis giant beast save the bones that for many an age will whiten theprairies over which the great herds roamed at will in times before thewhite man came.

It was the 5th of January before the return of the dogs from an Indiantrade enabled me to get away from Fort Pitt. During the days I hadremained in the fort the snow covering had deepened on the plains andwinter had got a still firmer grasp upon the river and meadow. In twodays travel we ran the length of the river between Fort Pitt and BattleRiver, travelling rapidly over the ice down the centre of the stream. Thedogs were good ones, the drivers well versed in their work, and althoughthe thermometer stood at 20 degrees below zero on the evening of the 6th,the whole run tended in no small degree to improve the general opinionwhich I had previously formed upon the delights of dog-travel. Arrived atBattle River, I found that the Crees had disappeared since my formervisit; the place was now tenanted only by a few Indians and half-breeds.It seemed to be my fate to encounter cases of sickness at every post onmy return journey. Here a woman was lying in a state of completeunconsciousness with intervals of convulsion and spitting of blood. Itwas in vain that I represented my total inability to deal with such acase. The friends of the lady all declared that it was necessary that Ishould see her, and accordingly I was introduced into the miserable hutin which she lay. She was stretched upon a low bed in one corner of aroom about seven feet square; the roof approached so near the ground thatI was unable to stand straight in any part of the place; the rough floorwas crowded with women squatted thickly upon it, and a huge fire blazedin a corner, making the heat something terrible. Having gone through theordinary medical programme of pulse feeling, I put some generalquestions to the surrounding bevy of women which, being duly interpretedinto Cree, elicited the fact that the sick woman had been engaged incarrying a very heavy load of wood on her back for the use of her lordand master, and that while she had been thus employed she was seized withconvulsions and became senseless. "What is it?" said the Hudson Bay man,looking at me in a manner which seemed to indicate complete confidence inmy professional sagacity. "Do you think it's small-pox?" Someacquaintance with this disease enabled me to state my deliberateconviction that it was not small-pox, but as to what particular form ofthe many "ills that flesh is heir to" it really was, I could not for thelife of me determine. I had not even that clue which the Yankeepractitioner is said to have established for his guidance in the case ofhis infant patient, whose puzzling ailment he endeavoured todiagnosticate by administering what he termed "a convulsion powder,"being a whale at the treatment of convulsions. In the case now before meconvulsions were unfortunately of frequent occurrence, and I could notlay claim to the high powers of pathology which the Yankee had assertedhimself to be the possessor of. Under all the circ*mstances I judged itexpedient to forego any direct opinion upon the case, and to administer acompound quite as innocuous in its nature as the "soothing syrup" ofinfantile notoriety. It was, how ever, a gratifying fact to learn nextmorning that--whether owing to the syrup or not, I am not prepared tostate the patient had shown decided symptoms of rallying, and took mydeparture from Battle River with the reputation of being a "medicine-man"of the very first order.

I now began to experience the full toil and labour of a winter journey.Our course lay across a bare, open region on which for distances ofthirty to forty miles not one tree or bush was visible; the cold was verygreat, and the snow, lying loosely as it had fallen, was so soft that thedogs sank through the drifts as they pulled slowly at their loads. On theevening of the 10th January we reached a little clump of poplars on theedge of a large plain on which no tree was visible. It was piercinglycold, a bitter wind swept across the snow, making us glad to find eventhis poor shelter against the coming night. Two hours after dark thethermometer stood at minus 38 degrees, or 70 degrees of frost. The woodwas small and poor; the wind howled through the scanty thicket, drivingthe smoke into our eyes as we cowered over the fire. Oh, what misery itwas! and how blank seemed the prospect before me! 900 miles still totravel, and to-day I had only made about twenty miles, toiling from dawnto dark through blinding drift and intense cold. On again next morningover the trackless plain, thermometer at minus 20 in morning, and minus12 at midday, with high wind, snow, and heavy drift. One of my men, ahalf-breed in name, an Indian in reality, became utterly done up fromcold and exposure-the others would have left him behind to make his ownway through the snow, or most likely to lie down and die, but I stoppedthe doggs until he came up, and then let him lie on one of the sleds forthe remainder of the day. He was a miserable-looking wretch, but he ateenormous quantities of pemmican at every meal. After four days of veryarduous travel we reached Carlton at sunset on the 12th January. Thethermometer had kept varying between 20 and 38 degrees below zero everynight, but on the night of the 12th surpassed any thing I had yetexperienced. I spent that night in a room at Carlton, a room in which afire had been burning until midnight, nevertheless at daybreak on the 13ththe thermometer showed -20 degrees on the table close to my bed. Athalf-past ten o'clock, when placed outside, facing north, it fell to -44degrees, and I afterwards ascertained that an instrument kept at themission of Prince Albert, 60 miles east from Carlton, showed the enormousamount of 51 degrees below zero at daybreak that morning, 83 degrees offrost. This was the coldest night during the winter, but it was clear,calm, and fine. I now determined to leave the usual winter route fromCarlton to Red River, and to strike out a new line of travel, which,though very much longer than the trail via Fort Pelly, had severaladvantages to recommend it to my choice. In the first place, it promised anew line of country down the great valley of the Saskatchewan River to itsexpansion into the sheet of water called Cedar Lake, and from thenceacross the dividing ridge into the Lake Winnipegosis, down the length ofthat water and its southern neighbour, the Lake Manitoba, until theboundary of the new province would be again reached, fully 700 miles fromCarlton. It was a long, cold travel, but it promised the novelty oftracing to its delta in the vast marshes of Cumberland and the Pasquia,the great river whose foaming torrent I had forded at the Rocky Mountains,and whose middle course I had followed for more than a month of wintrytravel.

Great as Were the hardships and privations of this Winter journey, it hadnevertheless many moments of keen pleasure, moments filled with thoseinstincts of that long-ago time before our civilization and its servitudehad commenced--that time when, like the Arab and the Indian, we were allrovers over the earth; as a dog on a drawing-room carpet twists himselfround and round before he lies down to sleep--the instinct bred in him inthat time when bhis ancestors thus trampled smooth their beds in thelong grasses of the primeval prairies--so man, in the midst of hiscivilization, instinctively goes back to some half-hidden reminiscence ofthe forest and the wilderness in which his savage forefathers dwelt. Mylord seeks his highland moor, Norvegian salmon river, or more homelycoverside; the retired grocer, in his snug retreat at Tooting, buildshimself an arbour of rocks and mosses, and, by dint of strong imaginationand stronger tobacco, becomes a very Kalmuck in his back-garden; and itis by no means improbable that the grocer in his rockery and the grandeeat his rocketers draw their instincts of pleasure from the same long-agotime "When wild in woods the noble savage ran." But be this as it may,-this long journey of mine, despite its excessive cold, its nights underthe wintry heavens, its days of ceaseless travel, had not as yet grownmonotonous or devoid of pleasure, and although there were moments longbefore daylight when the shivering scene around the camp-fire froze oneto the marrow, and I half feared to ask myself how many more morningslike this will I have to endure? how many more miles have been taken fromthat long total of travel? still, as the day wore on and the hour ofthe midday meal came round, and, warmed and hungry by exercise, I wouldrelish with keen appetite the plate of moose steaks and the hot delicioustea, as camped amidst the snow, with buffalo robe spread out before thefire, and the dogs watching the feast with perspective ideas of bones andpan-licking, then the balance would veer back again to the side ofenjoyment; and I could look forward to twice 600 miles of ice and snowwithout one feeling of despondency. These icy nights, too, were oftenfilled with the strange meteors of the north. Hour by hour have I watchedthe many-hued shafts of the aurora trembling from their northern homeacross the starlight of the zenith, till their lustre lighted up thesilent landscape of the frozen river with that weird light which theIndians name "the dance of the dead spirits." At times, too, the "sundogs" hung about the sun so close, that it was not always easy to tellwhich was the real sun and which the mock one; but wild weather usuallyfollowed the track of the sun dogs; and whenever I saw them in theheavens I looked for deeper snow and colder bivouacs.

Carlton stands on the edge of the great forest region whose shores, if wemay use the expression, are washed by the waves of the prairie oceanlying south of it; but the waves are of fire, not of water. Year by yearthe great torrent of flame moves on deeper and deeper into the dark ranksof the solemn-standing pines; year by year a wider region is laid open tothe influences of sun and shower, and soon the traces of the conflict arehidden beneath the waving grass, and clinging vetches, and the clumps oftufted prairie roses. But another species of vegetation also springs upin the track of the fire; groves of aspens and poplars grow out of theburnt soil, giving to the country that park-like appearance alreadyspoken of. Nestling along the borders of the innumerable lakes that studthe face of the Saskatchewan region, these poplar thickets sometimesattain large growth, but the fire too frequently checks their progress,and many of them stand bare and dry to delight the eye of the travellerwith the assurance of an ample store of bright and warm firewood for hiswinter camp when the sunset bids him begin to make all cosy against thenight.

After my usual delay of one day, I set out from Carlton, bound for thepine woods of the Lower Saskatchewan. My first stage was to be a shortone. Sixty miles east from Carlton lies the small Presbyterian missioncalled Prince Albert. Carlton being destitute of dogs, I was obliged totake horses again into use; but the distance was only a two days march,and the track lay all the way upon the river. The wife of one of theHudson Bay officers, desirous of visiting the mission, took advantage ofmy escort to travel to Prince Albert; and thus a lady, a nurse, and aninfant aged eight months, became suddenly added to my responsibilities,with the thermometer varying between 70 and 80 degrees of frost I mustcandidly admit to having entertained very grave feelings at thecontemplation of these family liabilities. A baby at any period of aman's life is a very serious affair, but a baby below zero is somethingappalling.

The first night passed over without accident.` I resigned my deerskin bagto the lady and her infant, and Mrs. Winslow herself could not havedesired a more peaceful state of slumber than that enjoyed by theyouthful traveller. But the second night was a terror long to beremembered; the cold was intense. Out of the inmost recesses of myabandoned bag came those dire screams which result from infantiledisquietude. Shivering, under my blanket, I listened to the terriblecommotion going on in the interior of that cold-defying construction thatso long had stood my warmest friend.

At daybreak, chilled to the marrow, I rose, and gathered the fire togetherin speechless agony: no wonder, the thermometer stood at 40 degreesbelow zero; and yet, can it be believed? the baby seemed to be perfectlyoblivious to the benefits of the bag, and continued to howl unmercifully.Such is the perversity of human nature even at that early age! Ourarrival at the mission put an end to my family responsibilities, andrestored me once more to the beloved bag; but the warm atmosphere of ahouse soon revealed the cause of much of the commotion of the night."Wasn't-it-its-mother's-pet" displayed two round red marks upon itschubby countenance! "Wasn't-it-its-mother's-pet" had, in fact, beenfrost-bitten about the region of the nose and cheeks, and hence thehubbub. After a delay of two days at the mission, during which thethermometer always showed more than 60 degrees of frost in the earlymorning, I continued my journey towards the east, crossing over from theNorth to the South Branch of the Saskatchewan at a point some twentymiles from the junction of the two rivers--a rich and fertile land, wellwooded and watered, a region destined in the near future to hear itsechoes wake to other sounds than those of moose-call or wolf-howl. It wasdusk in the evening of the 19th of January when we reached the highground which looks down upon the "forks" of the Saskatchewan River. Onsome low ground at the farther side of the North Branch a camp-fireglimmered in the twilight. On the ridges beyond stood the dark pines ofthe Great Sub-Arctic Forest, and below lay the two broad convergingrivers whose immense currents; hushed beneath the weight of ice, heremerged into the single channel of the Lower Saskatchewan--a wild, weirdscene it looked as the shadows closed around it. We descended withdifficulty the steep bank and crossed the river to the camp-fire on thenorth shore. Three red-deer hunters were around it; they had some freshlykilled elk meat, and potatoes from Fort-à-la-Corne, eighteen miles belowthe forks; and with so many delicacies our supper à-la-fourchette,despite a snow-storm, was a decided success.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.

The Great Sub-Arctic Forest--The "Forks" of the Saskatchewan--An Iroquois--Fort-à-la-Corne--News from the outside World--All haste for Home--Thesolitary Wigwam--Joe Miller's Death.

At the "forks" of the Saskatchcwan the traveller to the east enters theGreat Sub-Arctic Forest. Let us look for a moment at this region wherethe earth dwells in the perpetual gloom of the pine-trees. Travellingnorth from the Saskatchewan River at any portion of its course FromCarlton to Edmonton, one enters on the second day's journey this regionof the Great Pine Forest. We have before compared it to the shore of anocean, and like a shore it has its capes and promontories which stretchfar into the sea-like prairie, the indentations caused by the firessometimes forming large bays and open spaces won from the domain of theforest by the fierce flames which beat against it in the dry days ofautumn. Some 500 or 600 miles to the north this forest ends, giving placeto that most desolate region of the earth, the barren grounds of theextreme north, the lasting home of the musk-ox and the summer haunt ofthe reindeer; but along the valley of the Mackenzie River the woodedtract is continued close to the Arctic Sea, and on the shores of thegreat Bear Lake a slow growth of four centuries scarce brings acircumference of thirty inches to the trunks of the white spruce. Swampand lake, muskeg, and river rocks of the earliest formations, wild woodedtracts of impenetrable wilderness combine to make this region the greatpreserve of the rich fur-bearing animals whose skins are rated in themarts of Europe at four times their weight in gold. Here the darkestmink, the silkiest sable, the blackest otter are trapped and traded; hereare bred these rich furs whose possession women prize as second only toprecious stones. Into the extreme north of this region only the furtrader and the missionary have as yet penetrated. The sullen Chipwayan,the feeble Dogrib, and the fierce and warlike Kutchin dwell along thesystems which carry the waters of this vast forest into Hudson Bay andthee Arctic Ocean.

This place, the "forks" of the Saskatchewan, is destined at some time orother to be an important centre of commerce and civilization. When menshall have cast down the barriers which now intervene between the shoresof Lake Winnipeg and Lake Superior, what a highway will not these twogreat river Systems of the St. Lawrence and the Saskatchewan offer to thetrader! Less than 100 miles of canal through low alluvial soil have onlyto be built to carry a boat from the foot of the Rocky Mountains to thehead of Rainy Lake, within 100 miles of Lake Superior. With inexhaustiblesupplies of water held at a level high above the current surface of theheight of land, it is not too much to say, that before many years haverolled by, boats will float from the base of the Rocky Mountains to theharbour of Quebec. But long before that time the Saskatchewan must haverisen to importance from its fertility, its beauty, and its mineralwealth. Long before the period shall arrive when the Saskatchewan willship its products to the ocean, another period will have come, when themining populations of Montana and Idaho will seek in the fertile lands ofthe middle Saskatchewan a supply of those necessaries of life which thearid soil of the central States is powerless to yield. It is impossiblethat the wave of life which rolls so unceasingly into America can leaveunoccupied this great fertile tract; as the river valleys farther easthave all been peopled long before settlers found their way into thecountries lying at the back, so must this great valley of theSaskatchewan, when once brought within the reach of the emigrant, becomethe scene of numerous settlements. As I stood in twilight looking down onthe silent rivers merging into the great single stream which here entersthe forest region, the mind had little difficulty in seeing anotherpicture, when the river forks would be a busy scene of commerce, andman's labour would waken echoes now answering only to the wild things ofplain and forest. At this point, as I have said, we leave the plains andthe park-like country. The land of the prairie Indian and thebuffalo-hunter lies behind us-of the thick-wood Indian and moose-hunterbefore us.

As far back as 1780 the French had pushed their Way into the Saskatchewanand established forts along its banks. It is generally held that theirmost western post was situated below the junction of the Saskatchewans,at a place called Nippoween; but I am of opinion that this is an error,and That their pioneer settlements had even gone west of Carlton. One ofthe earliest English travellers into the country, in 1776, speaks ofFort-des-Prairies as a post twenty-four days journey from Cumberland onthe lower river, and as the Hudson Bay Company only moved west ofCumberland in 1774, it is only natural to suppose that this Fort-desPrairies had originally been a French post. Nothing proves moreconclusively that the whole territory of the Saskatchewan was supposed tohave belonged by treaty to Canada, and not to England, than does the factthat it was only at this date--1774--that the Hudson Bay Company tookpossession of it.

During the bitter rivalry between the North-west and the Hudson BayCompanies a small colony of Iroquois indians was brought from Canada tothe Saskatchewan and planted near the forks of the river. Thedescendants of these men are still to be found scattered over differentportions of the country; nor have they lost that boldness and skill inall the wild works of Indian life which made their tribe such formidablewarriors in the early contests of the French colonists; neither, havethey lost that gift of eloquence which was so much prized in the days ofChamplain and Frontinac. Here are the concluding words of a speechaddressed by an Iroquois against the establishment of a missionarystation near the junction of the Saskatchewan:

"You have spoken of your Great Spirit," said the Indian; "you have toldus He died for all men--for the red tribes of the West as for the whitetribes of the East; but did He not die with His arms stretched forth indifferent directions, one hang towards the rising sun and the othertowards the setting sun?"

"Well, it is true."

"And now say, did He not mean by those outstretched arms that forevermore the white tribes should dwell in the East and the red tribes inthe West? when the Great Spirit could not speak, did He not still pointout where His children should live?" What a curious compound must be theman who is capable of such a strange, beautiful metaphor and yet remain asavage!

Fort-à-la-Corne lies some twenty miles below the point of junction of therivers. Towards Fort-à-la-Corne I bent my steps with a strange anxiety,for at that point I was to intercept the "Winter Express" carrying fromRed River its burden of news to the far-distant forts of the MackenzieRiver. This winter packet had left Fort Garry in mid-December, andtravelling by way of Lake Winnipeg, Norway House and Cumberland, was dueat Fort-à-la-Corne about the 21st January. Anxiously then did I press onto the little fort, where I expected to get tidings of that strife whoseechoes during the past month had been powerless to pierce the solitudesof this lone land. With tired dogs whose pace no whip or call couldaccelerate, we reached the fort at midday on the 21st. On the river,'close by, an old Indian met us. Has the packet arrived? "Ask him if thepacket has come," I said. He only stared blankly at me and shook hishead. I had forgotten, what was the packet to him? the capture of amusk-rat was of more consequence than the capture of Metz. The packet hadnot come, I found when we reached the fort, but it was hourly expected,and I determined to await its arrival.

Two days passed away in wild storms of snow. The wind howled dismallythrough the pine woods, but within the logs crackled and flew, and theboard of my host was always set with moose steaks and good things,although outside, and far down the river, starvation had laid his handheavily upon the red man. It had fallen dark some hours on the eveningof the 22nd January when there came a knock at the door of our house; theraised latch gave admittance to an old travel-worn Indian who held in hishand a small bundle of papers. He had cached the packet, he said, manymiles down the river, for his dogs were utterly tired out and unable tomove; he had come on himself with a few papers for the fort: the snowwas very deep to Cumberland. He had been eight days in travelling 200miles; he was tired and starving, and white with drift and storm. Suchwas his tale. I tore open the packet--it was a paper of mid-November.Metz had surrendered; Orleans been retaken; Paris, starving, still heldout; for the rest, the Russians had torn to pieces the Treaty of Paris,and our millions and our priceless blood had been spilt and spent in vainon the Peninsula of the Black Sea--perhaps, after all, we would fight? Sothe night drew itself out, and the pine-tops began to jag the horizonbefore I ceased to read.

Early on the following morning, the express was hauled from its cache andbrought to the fort; but it failed to throw much later light upon themeagre news of the previous evening. Old Adam was tried for verbalintelligence, but he too proved a failure. He had carried the packet fromNorway House on Lake Winnipeg to Carlton for more than a score ofwinters, and, from the fact of his being the bearer of so much news inhis lifetime, was looked upon by his compeers as a kind of condensedelectric telegraph; but when the question of war was fairly put to him,he gravely replied that at the forts he had heard there was war, and"England," he added, "was gaining the day." This latter fact was too muchfor me, for I was but too well aware that had war been declared inNovember, an army organization based upon the Parliamentary system wasnot likely to have "gained the day" in the short space of three weeks.

To cross with celerity the 700 miles lying between me and Fort GarryBecame now the chief object of my life. I lightened my baggage as much aspossible, dispensing with many comforts of clothing and equipment, and onthe morn ing of the 23rd January started for Cumberland. I will not dwellon the seven days that now ensued, or how from long before dawn to vergeof evening we toiled down the great silent river. It was the close ofJanuary, the very depth of winter. With heads bent down to meet thecrushing blast, we plodded on, oft times as silent as the river and theforest, from whose bosom no sound ever came, no ripple ever broke, nobird, no beast, no human face, but ever the same great forest-fringedriver whose majestic turns bent always to the north-east. To tell, dayafter day, the extreme of cold that now seldom varied would be to inflicton the reader a tiresome record; and, in truth, there would be no use inattempting it; 40 below zero means so many things impossible to pictureor to describe, that it would be a hopeless task to enter upon itsdelineation. After one has gone through the list of all those things thatfreeze; after one has spoken of the knife which burns the hand that wouldtouch its blade, the tea that freezes while it is being dlrunk, therestill remains a sense of having said nothing; a sense which may perhapsbe better understood by saying that 40 degrees below zero means just onething more than all these items--it means death, in a period whose durationwould expire in the hours of a winter's daylight, if there was no fire ormeans of making it on the track.

Conversation round a camp-fire in the North-west is limited to oneSubject--dogs and dog-driving. To be a good driver of dogs, and to beable to run fifty miles in a day with ease, is to be a great man. Thefame of a noted dog-driver spreads far and wide. Night after night wouldI listen to the prodigies of running performed by some Ba'tiste or Angus,doughty champions of the rival races. If Ba'tiste dwelt at Cumberland, IWould begin to hear his name mentioned 200 miles from that place, and hisfame would still be talked of 200 miles beyond it. With delight would Ihear the name of this celebrity dying gradually away in distance, for bythe disappearance of some oft-heard name and the rising of some newconstellation of dog-driver, one could mark a stage of many hundred mileson the long road upon which I was travelling.

On the 29th January we reached the shore of Pine Island Lake, and saw inour track the birch lodge of an Indian. It was before sunrise, and westopped the dogs to warm our fingers over the fire of the wigwam. Withinsat a very old Indian and two or three women and children. The old manwas singing to himself a low monotonous chant; beside him some reeds,marked by the impress of a human form, were spread upon the ground; thefire burned brightly in the centre of the lodge, while the smoke escapedand the light entered through the same round aperture in the top of theconical roof. When we had entered and seated ourselves, the old manstill continued his song. "What is he saying?" I asked, although theIndian etiquette forbids abrupt questioning. "He is singing for his son,"a man answered, "who died yesterday, and whose body they have taken tothe fort last night." It was even so. A French Canadian who had dwelt inIndian fashion for some years, marrying the daughter of the old man, haddied from the effects of over-exertion in running down a silver fox, andthe men from Cumberland had taken away the body a few hours before.Thus the old man mourned, while his daughter the widow, and a child satmoodily looking at the flames. "He hunted for us; he fed us," the old mansaid. "I am too old to hunt; I can scarce see the light; I would like todie too." Those old words which the presence of the great mystery forcesfrom our lips-those words of consolation which some one says are "chaffwell meant for grain"--were changed into their Cree equivalents and dulyrendered to him, but he he only shook his head, as though the change oflanguage had not altered the value of the commodity. But the name of thedead hunter was a curious anomaly-Joe Miller. What a strange antithesisappeared this name beside the presence of the childless father, thefatherless child, and the mateless woman! One service the death of poorJoe Miller conferred on me--the dog-sled that had carried his body hadmade a track over the snow-covered lake, and we quickly glided along itto the Fort of Cumberland.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.

Cumberland---We bury poor Joe--A good Train of Dogs--The greatMarsh--Mutiny--Chicag the Sturgeon-fisher--A Night with a Medicine-man--Lakes Winnipegoosis and Manitoba--Muskeymote eats his Boots--We reach theSettlement--From the Saskatchewan to the Seine.

CUMBERLAND HOUSE, the oldest post of the Company in the interior, standson the south shore of Pine Island Lake; the waters of which seek theSaskatchewan by two channels--Tearing River and Big-stone River. Thesetwo rivers form, together with the Saskatchewan and the lake, a largeisland, upon which stands Cumberland. Time moves slowly at such placesas Cumberland, and change is almost unknown. To-day it is the same as itwas 100 years ago. An old list of goods sent to Cumberland, from Englandin 1783 had precisely the same items as one of 1870. Strouds, cotton,beads, and trading-guns are still the wants of the Indian, and are stilltraded for marten and musquash. In its day Cumberland has haddistinguished visitors. Franklin; in 1819, wintered at the fort, and asun-dial still stands in rear of the house, a gift from the greatexplorer. We buried Joe Miller in the pine-shadowed graveyard near thefort. Hard work it was with pick and crowbar to prise up the ice-lockedearth and to get poor Joe that depth which the frozen clay would seem togrudge him. It was long after dark when his bed was ready, and by thelight of a couple of lanterns we laid him down in the great rest. Thegraveyard and the funeral had few of those accessories of the modernmortuary which are supposed to be the characteristics of civilizedsorrow. There was no mute, no crape, no parade--nothing of that imposingarray of hat-bands and horses by which man, even` in the face of themighty mystery, seeks still to glorify the miserable conceits of life;but the silent snow-laden pine-trees, the few words of prayer read in theflickering light of the lantern, the hush of nature and of night, madeaccessions full as fitting, as all the muffled music and craped sorrow ofchurch and city.

At Cumberland I beheld for the first time a genuine train of dogs. Therewas no mistake about them in shape or form, from fore-goer to hindermosthauler. Two of them were the pure Esquimaux breed, the bush-tailed,fox-headed, long-furred, clean-legged animals whose ears, sharp-pointedand erect, sprung from a head embedded in thick tufts of woolly hair;Pomeranians multiplied by four; the other two were a curious compound ofEsquimaux and Athabascan, with hair so long that eyes were scarcely'visible. I had suffered so long from the wretched condition anddescription of the dogs of the Hudson Bay Company, that I determined tobecome the possessor of those animals, and, although I had to payconsiderably more than had ever been previously demanded as the price ofa train of dogs in the North, I was still glad, to get them at anyfigure. Five hundred miles yet lay between me and Red River-five hundredmiles of marsh and frozen lakes, the delta of the Saskatchewan and thegreat Lakes Winnipegoosis and Manitoba.

It was the last day of January when I got away from Cumberland with thisfine train of dogs and another 2 serviceable set which belonged to aSwampy Indian named Bear, who had agreed to accompany me to Red River.Bear was the son of the old man whose evolutions with the three pegs hadcaused so much commotion among the Indians at Red River on the occasionof my visit to Fort Garry eight months earlier. He was now to be my closecompanion during many days and nights, and it may not be out of placehere to anticipate the verdict of three weeks, and to award him as avoyageur, snow-sho*r and camp-maker a place second to none in the longlist of my employees. Soon after quitting Cumberland we struck theSaskatchewan River, and, turning eastward along it, entered the greatregion of marsh and swamp. During five days our course lay through vastexpanses of stiff frozen reeds, whose corn-like stalks rattled harshlyagainst the parchment sides of the cariole as the dog-trains wound alongthrough their snow-covered roots. Bleak and dreary beyond expressionstretched this region of frozen swamp for fully 100 miles. The coldremained all the time at about the same degree--20 below zero. The campswere generally poor and miserable ones. Stunted willow is the chieftimber of the region, and fortunate did we deem ourselves when atnightfall a low line of willows would rise above the sea of reeds to bidus seek its shelter for the night. The snow became deeper as weproceeded. At the Pasquia three feet lay level over the country, and thedogs sank deep as they toiled along. Through this great marsh theSaskatchewan winds in tortuous course, its flooded level in summer scarcelower than the alluvial shores that line it. The bends made by the riverwould have been too long to follow, so we held a straight track throughthe marsh, cutting the points as we travelled. It was difficult toimagine that this many-channelled, marsh-lined river could be the samenoble stream whose mountain birth I had beheld far away in the RockyMountains, and whose central course had lain for so many miles throughthe bold precipitous bank of the Western prairies.

On the 7th February we emerged from this desolate region of lake andswamp, and saw before us in the twilight a ridge covered with densewoods. It was the west shore of the Cedar Lake, and on the woodedpromontory towards which we steered some Indian sturgeon-fishers hadpitched their lodges. But I had not got thus far without much trouble andvexatious resistance. Of the three men from Cumberland, one had utterlyknocked up, and the other two had turned mutinous. What cared they for myanxiety to push on for Red River? What did it matter if the whole worldwas at war? Nay, must I not be the rankest of impostors; for if there waswar away beyond the big sea, was that not the very reason why any manpossessing a particle of sense should take his time over the journey, andbe in no hurry to get back again to his house?

One night I reached the post of Moose Lake a few hours before daybreak,having been induced to make the flank march by representations of thewonderful train of dogs at that station, and being anxious to obtainthem in addition to my own: It is almost needless to remark that thesedogs had no existence except in the imagination of Bear and hiscompanion. Arrived at Moose Lake (one of the most desolate spots-I had'ever looked upon), I found out that the dog-trick was not the only onemy men intended playing upon me, for a message was sent in by Bear tothe effect that his dogs were unable to stand the hard travel of thepast week, and that he could no longer accompany me. Here was a pleasantprospect--stranded on the wild shores of the Moose Lake with one train ofdogs, deserted and deceived! There was but one course to pursue, andfortunately it proved the right one. "Can you give me a guide to NorwayHouse?" I asked the Hudson Bay Company's half-breed clerk. "Yes." "Thentell Bear that he can go," I said, "and the quicker he goes the better.I will start for Norway House with my single train of dogs, and thoughit will add eighty miles to my journey I will get from thence to RedRiver down the length of Lake Winnipeg. Tell Bear he has the wholeNorth-west to choose from except Red River. He had better not go there;for if I have to wait for six months For his arrival, I'll wait, just toput him in prison for breach of contract." What a glorious institutionis the law! The idea of the prison, that terrible punishment in theeyes of the wild man, quelled the mutiny, and I was quickly assured thatthe whole thing was a mistake, and that Bear and his dogs were still atmy service. Glad was I then, on the night of the 7th, to behold thewooded shores of the Cedar Lake rising out of the reeds of the greatmarsh, and to know that by another sunset I would have reached theWinnipegoosis and looked my last upon the valley of the Saskatchewan.

The lodge of Chicag the sturgeon-fisher was small; one entered almost onall-fours, and once inside matters were not much bettered. To thequestion, "Was Chicag at home?" one of his ladies replied that he wasattending a medicine-feast close by, and that he would soon be in. Aloud and prolonged drumming corroborated the statement of the medicine,and seemed to indicate that Chicag was putting on the steam with theManito, having got an inkling of the new arrival. Meantime I inquired ofBear as to the ceremony which was being enacted. Chicag, or the "Skunk,"I was told, and his friends were bound to devour as many sturgeon and todrink as much sturgeon oil as it was possible to contain. When that pointhad been attained the ceremony might be considered over, and if themorrow's dawn did not show the sturgeon nets filled with fish, all thatcould be said upon the matter was that the Manito was oblivious to theefforts of Chicag and his comrades. The drumming now reached a point thatseemed to indicate that either Chicag or the sturgeon was having a badtime of it. Presently the noise ceased, the low door opened, and the"Skunk" entered, followed by some ten or a dozen of his friends andrelations. How they all found room in the little hut remains a mystery,but its eight-by-ten of superficial space held some eighteen persons, thegreater number of whom were greasy with the oil of the sturgeon. Meantimea supper of sturgeon had been prepared for me, and great was theexcitement to watch me eat it. The fish was by no means bad; but I havereason to believe that my performance in the matter of eating it was notat all a success. It is true that stifling atmosphere, in tense heat, andmany varieties of nastiness and nudity are not promoters of appetite; buteven had I been given a clearer stage and more favourable conducerstowards voracity, I must still have proved but a mere nibbler of sturgeonin the eyes of such a whale as Chicag.

Glad to escape from the suffocating hole, I emptied my fire-bag oftobacco among the group and got out into the cold night-air. What achange! Over the silent snow-sheeted lake, over the dark isles and thecedar shores, the moon was shining amidst a deep blue sky. Around weregrouped a few birch-bark wigwams. My four dogs, now well known and trustyfriends, were holding high carnival over the heads and tails of Chicag'sfeast. In one of the wigwams, detached from the rest, sat a very old manwrapped in a tattered blanket. He was splitting wood into little pieces,and feeding a small fire in the centre of the lodge, while he chatteredto himself all the time. The place was clean, and as I watched the littleold fellow at his work I decided to make my bed in his lodge. He was noother than Parisiboy, the medicine-man of the camp, the quaintest littleold savage I had ever encountered. Two small white mongrels alone sharedhis wigwam. "See," he said, "I have no one with me but these two dogs."The curs thus alluded to felt themselves bound to prove that they werecognizant of the fact by shoving forward their noses one on each side ofold Parisiboy, an impertinence on their part which led to their suddenexpulsion by being pitched headlong out of the door. Parisiboy nowcommenced a lengthened exposition of his woes. "His blanket was old andfull of holes, through which the cold found easy entrance. He was a verygreat medicine-man, but he was very poor, and tea was a luxury which heseldom tasted." I put a handful of tea into his little kettle, and hisbright eyes twinkled with delight under their shaggy brows. "I never goto sleep," he continued; "it is too cold to go to sleep; I sit up allnight splitting wood and smoking and keeping the fire alight; if I hadtea I would never lie down at all." As I made my bed he continued to singto himself, chatter and laugh with a peculiar low chuckle, watching meall the time. His first brew of tea was quickly made; hot and strong, hepoured it into a cup, and drank it with evident delight; then in wentmore water on the leaves and down on the fire again went the littlekettle.` But I was not permitted to lie down without interruption. Chicagheaded a deputation of his brethren, and grew loud over the recital ofhis grievances. Between the sturgeon and the Company he appeared to thinkhimself victim, but I was unable to gather whether the balance ofill-treatment lay on the side of the fish or of the corporation. FinallyI got rid of the lot, and crept into my bag. Parisiboy sat at the otherside of the fire, grinning and chuckling and sipping his tea. All nightlong I heard through my fitful sleep his harsh chuckle and his song.Whenever I opened my eyes, there was the little old man in the sameattitude, crouching over the fire, which he sedulously kept alight. Howmany brews of tea he made, I can't say; but when daylight came he wasstill at the work, and as I replenished the kettle the old leaves seemedwell-nigh bleached by continued boilings.

That morning I got away from the camp of Chicag, and crossing one arm ofCedar Lake reached at noon the Mossy Portage. Striking into the cedarForest at this point, I quitted for good the Saskatchewan. Just threeMonths earlier I had struck its waters at the South Branch, and sincethat day fully 1600 miles of travel had carried me far along its shores.The Mossy Portage is a low swampy ridge dividing the waters of Cedar Lakefrom those of Lake Winnipegoosis. From one lake to the other is adistance of about four miles. Coming from the Cedar Lake the portage isquite level until it reaches the close vicinity of the Winnipegoosis,when there is a steep descent of some forty feet to gain the waters ofthe latter lake. These two lakes are supposed to lie at almost the samelevel, but I shall not be surprised if a closer examination of theirrespective heights proves the Cedar to be some thirty feet higher thanits neighbour the Winnipegoosis. The question is one of considerableinterest, as the Mossy Portage will one day or other form the easy lineof communication between the waters of Red River and those ofSaskatchewan.

It was late in the afternoon when we got the dogs on the broad bosom ofLake Winnipegoosis, whose immense surface spread out south and west untilthe sky alone bounded the prospect. But there were many islands scatteredover the sea of ice that lay rolled before us; islands dark with thepine-trees that covered them, and standing out in strong relief from thedazzling whiteness amidst which they lay. On one of these islands wecamped, spreading the robes under a large pine-tree and building up ahuge fire from the wrecks of bygone storms. This Lake Winnipegoosis, orthe "Small Sea,'" is a very large expanse of water measuring about 120miles in length and some 30 in width. Its shores and islands are denselywooded with the white spruce, the juniper, the banksian pine, and theblack spruce, and as the traveller draws near the southern shores hebeholds again the dwarf white-oak which here reaches its northern limit.This growth of the oak-tree may be said to mark at present the linebetween civilization and savagery. Within the limit of the oak lies thecountry of the white man; without lies that Great Lone Land through whichmy steps have wandered so far. Descending the Lake Winnipegoosis to ShoalLake, I passed across the belt of forest which. Lies between the twolakes, and emerging again upon Winnipegoosis crossed it in a long day'sjourney to the Waterhen River. This river carries the surplus water ofWinnipegosis into the large expanse of Lake Manitoba. For anotherhundred miles this lake lays its length towards the south, but here thepine-trees have vanished, and birch and poplar alone cover the shores.Along the whole line of the western shores of these lakes the bold ridgesof the Pas, the Porcupine, Duck, and Riding Mountains rise over theforest-covered swamps which lie immediately along the water. These fourmountain ranges never exceed an elevation of 1600 feet above the sea.They are wooded to the summits, and long ages ago their rugged cliffsformed, doubtless, a fitting shore-line to that great lake whosefresh-water billows were nursed in a space twice larger than evenSuperior itself can boast of; but, as has been stated in an earlierchapter, that inland ocean has long since shrunken into the narrowerlimits of Winnipeg, Winnipegoosis, and Manitoba-the Great Sea, the LittleSea, and the Straits of the God.

I have not dwelt upon the days of travel during which we passed down thelength of these lakes. From the camp of Chicag I had driven my own trainof dogs; with Bear the sole companion of the journey. Nor were these dayson the great lakes by any means the dullest of the journey, Cerf Volant,Tigre, Cariboo, and Muskeymote gave ample occupation to their driver.Long before Manitoba was reached they had learnt a new lesson-that menwere not all cruel to dogs in camp or on the road. It is true that in thelearning of that lesson some little difficulty was occasioned by thesudden loosening and disruption of ideas implanted by generations ofcruelty in the dog-mind of my train. It is true that Muskeymote, inparticular, long held aloof from offers of friendship, and then suddenlypassed from the excess of caution to the extreme of imprudence,imagining, doubtless, that the millennium had at length arrived, andthat dogs were henceforth no more to haul. But Muskeymote was soon setright upon that point, and showed no inclination to repeat his mistake.Then there was Cerf Volant, that most perfect Esquimaux. Cerf Volantentered readily into friendship, upon an under-standing of an additionalhalf-fish at supper every evening. No alderman ever loved his turtlebetter than did Cerf Volant love his white fish; but I rather think thatthe white fish was better earned than the turtle--however we will letthat be matter of opinion. Having satisfied his hunger, which, by theway, is a luxury only allowed to the hauling-dog once a day, Cerf Volantwould generally establish himself in close proximity to my feet,frequently on the top of the bag, from which coigne of vantage he wouldexchange fierce growls with any dog who had the temerity to approach us.None of our dogs were harness-eaters, a circ*mstance that saved us thenightly trouble of placing harness and cariole in the branches of a tree.On one or two occasions Muskeymote, however, ate his boots. "Boots!" thereader will exclaim; "how came Muskeymote to possess boots? We have heardof a puss in boots, but a dog, that is something new." NeverthelessMuskeymote had his boots, and ate them, too. This is how a dog is put inboots. When the day is very cold--I don't mean in your reading of thatword, reader, but in its North-west sense--when the morning, then, comesvery cold, the dogs travel fast, the drivers run to try and restore thecirculation, and noses and cheeks which grow white beneath the bitterblast are rubbed with snow caught-quickly from the ground without pausingin the rapid stride; on such mornings, and they are by no means uncommon,the particles of snow which adhere to the feet of the dog form sharpicicles between his toes, which grow larger and larger as he travels. Anowing old hauler will stop every now and then, and tear out theseicicles with his teeth, but a young dog plods wearily along leaving hisfootprints in crimson stains upon the snow behind him. When he comes intocamp, he lies down and licks his poor wounded feet, but the rest is onlyfor a short time, and the next start makes them worse than before. Nowcomes the time for boots. The dog-boot is simply a fingerless glove drawnon over the toes and foot, and tied by a running string of leather roundthe wrist or ankle of the animal; the boot itself is either made ofleather or strong white cloth. Thus protected, the dog will travel fordays and days with wounded feet, and get no worse, in fact he willfrequently recover while still on the journey. Now Muskeymote, being ayoung dog, had not attained to that degree of wisdom which induces olderdogs to drag the icicles from their toes, and consequently Muskeymote hadto be duly booted every morning--a cold operation it was too, and many arun had I to make to the fire while it was being performed, holding myhands into the blaze for a moment and then back again to the dog. Uponarrival in camp these boots should always be removed from the dogs feet,and hung up in the smoke of the fire, with moccassins of the men, to dry.It was on an occasion when this custom had been forgotten that Muskeymoteperformed the feat we have already mentioned, of eating his boots.

The night-camps along the lakes were all good ones; it took some time toclear away the deep snow and to reach the ground, but wood for fire andyoung spruce tops for bedding were plenty, and fifteen minutes axe worksufficed to fell as many trees as our fire needed for night and morning.From wooded point to wooded point we journeyed on over the frozen lakes;the snow lying packed into the crevices and uneven places of the iceformed a compact level surface, upon which the dogs scarce marked theimpress of their feet, and the sleds and cariole bounded briskly afterthe train, jumping the little wavelets of hardened snow to the merryjingling of innumerable bells. On snow such as this dogs will make a runof forty miles in a day, and keep that pace for many days in succession,but in the soft snow of the woods or the river thirty miles will form afair day's work for continuous travel.

On the night of the 19th of February we made our last camp on the ridgeto the south of Lake Manitoba, fifty miles from Fort Garry. Not withouta feeling of regret was the old work gone through for the last time--theold work of tree-cutting, and fire-making, and supper-frying, anddog-feeding. Once more I had reached those confines of civilization onwhose limits four months earlier I had made my first camp on theshivering Prairie of the Lonely Grave; then the long journey lay beforeme, now the unnumbered scenes of nigh 3000 miles of travel were spreadout in that picture which memory sees in the embers of slow-burningfires, when the night-wind speaks in dreamy tones to the willow branchesand waving grasses. And if there be those among my readers who can ilcomprehend such feelings, seeing only in this return the escape fromsavagery to civilization--from the wild Indian to the Anglo-American,from the life of toil and hardship to that of rest and comfort-then wordswould be useless to throw light upon the matter, or to better enablesuch men to understand that it was possible to look back with keen regretto the wild days of the forest and the prairie. Natures, no matter how wemay mould them beneath the uniform pressure of the great machine calledcivilization, are not all alike, and many men's minds echo in some shapeor other the voice of the Kirghis woman, which says, "Man must keepmoving; for, behold, sun, moon, stars, water, beast, bird, fish, all arein movement: it is but the dead and the earth that remain in one place."

There are many who have seen a prisoned lark sitting on its perch,looking listlessly through the bars, from some brick wall against whichits cage was hung; but at times, when the spring comes round, and a bitof grassy earth is put into the narrow cage, and, in spite of smoke andmist, the blue sky looks a moment on the foul face of the city, the littleprisoner dreams himself free, and, with eyes fixed on the blue skyand feet clasping the tiny turf of green sod, he pours forth into the dirtystreet those notes which nature taught him in the never-to-be-forgottendays of boundless freedom. So I have seen an Indian, far downin Canada, listlessly watching the vista of a broad river whose watersand whose shores once owned the dominion of his race; and when I told himof regions where his brothers still built their lodges midst thewandering herds of the stupendous wilds, far away towards that settingsun upon 'which his eyes were fixed, there came a change over hislistless look, and when he spoke in answer there was in his voice an echofrom that bygone time when the Five Nations were a mighty power on theshores of the Great Lakes. Nor are such as these the only prisoners ofour civilization. He who has once tasted the unworded freedom of theWestern wilds must ever feel a sense of constraint within the boundariesof civilized life. The Russian is not the only man who has the Tartarclose underneath his skin. That Indian idea of the earth being free toall men catches quick and lasting hold of the imagination--the mindwidens out to grasp the reality of the lone space and cannot shrink againto suit the requirements of fenced divisions. There is a strangefascination in the idea, "Wheresoever my horse wanders there is myhome;" stronger perhaps is that thought than any allurement of wealth, orpower, or possession given us by life. Nor can after-time ever whollyremove it; midst the smoke and hum of cities, midst the prayer ofchurches, in street or salon, it needs but little cause to recall againto the wanderer the image of the immense meadows where, far away at theportals of the setting sun, lies the Great Lone Land.

It is time to close. It was my lot to shift the scene of life withcurious rapidity. In a shorter space of time than it had taken totraverse the length of the Saskatchewan, I stood by the banks of thatriver whose proud city had just paid the price of conquest in blood andruin--yet I witnessed a still heavier ransom than that paid to Germanrobbers. I saw the blank windows of the Tuileries red with the light offlames fed from five hundred years of history, and the flagged courtyardof La Roquette running deep in the blood of Frenchmen spilt by France,while the common enemy smoked and laughed, leaning on the ramparts of St.Denis.

APPENDIX.

GOVERNOR ARCHIBALD'S INSTRUCTIONS.

Fort Garry, 10th October, 1870.

W. F. Butler, Esq., 69th Regiment.

SIR,--Adverting to the interviews between his honour theLieutenant-Governor and yourself on the subject of the proposed missionto the Saskatchewan, I have it now in command to acquaint you with theobjects his honour has in view in asking you to undertake the mission,and also to define the duties he desires you to perform.

In the first place, I am to say that representations have been made fromvarious quarters that within the last two years much disorder hasprevailed in the settlements along the line of the Saskatchewan, andthat the local authorities are utterly powerless for the protection oflife and property within that region. It is asserted to be absolutelynecessary for the protection, not only of the Hudson Bay Company's Forts,but for the safety of the settlements along the river, that a small bodyof troops should be sent to some of the forts of the Hudson Bay Company,to assist the local authorities in the maintenance of peace and order.

I am to enclose you a copy of a communication on this subject from DonaldA. Smith, Esq., the Governor of the Hudson Bay Company, and also. anextract of a letter from W. J. Christie, Esq., a chief factor stationedat Fort Carlton, which will give you some of the facts which have beenadduced to show the representations to be well grounded.

The statements made in these papers come from the officers of the HudsonBay Company, whose views may be supposed to be in some measure affectedby their pecuniary interests.

It is the desire of the Lieutenant-Governor that you should examine thematter entirely from an independent point of view, giving his honour forthe benefit of the Government of Canada your views of the state ofmatters on the Saskatchewan in reference to the necessity of troops beingsent there, basing your report upon what you shall find by actualexamination.

You will be expected to report upon the whole question of the existingstate of affairs in that territory, and to state your views on what maybe necessary to be done in the interest of peace and order.

Secondly, you are to ascertain, as far as you can, in what places andamong what tribes of Indians, and what settlements of whites, thesmall-pox is now prevailing, including the extent of its ravages andevery particular you can ascertain in connexion with the rise and thespread of the disease. You are to take with you such small supply ofmedicines as shall be considered by the Board of Health here suitable andproper for the treatment of small-pox, and you will obtain writteninstructions for the proper treatment of the disease, and will leave acopy thereof with the chief officer of each fort you pass, and with anyclergyman or other intelligent person belonging to settlements outsidethe forts.

You will also ascertain, as far as in your power, the number of Indianson the line between Red River and the Rocky Mountains; the differentnations and tribes into which they are divided and the particularlocality inhabited, and the language spoken, and also the names of theprincipal chiefs of each tribe.

In doing this you will be careful to obtain the information without inany manner leading the Indians to suppose you are acting under authority,or inducing them to form any expectations based on your inquiries.

You will also be expected to ascertain, as far as possible, the nature ofthe trade in furs conducted upon the Saskatchewan, the number andnationality of the persons employed in what has been called the FreeTrade there, and what portion of the supplies, if any, come from theUnited States territory, and what portion of the furs are sent thither;and generally to make such inquiries as to the source of trade in thatregion as may enable the Lieutenant-Governor to form an accurate idea ofthe commerce of the Saskatchewan.

You are to report from time to time as you proceed westward, and forwardyour communications by such opportunities as may occur. TheLieutenant-Governor will rely upon your executing this mission with allreasonable despatch.

(Signed) S. W. HILL, P. Secretary.

LIEUTENANT BUTLER'S REPORT.

INTRODUCTORY.

The Hon. Adams G. Archibald, Lieut.-Governor, Manitoba.

SIR,--Before entering into the questions contained in the writteninstructions under which I acted, and before attempting to state anopinion upon the existing situation of affairs in the Saskatchewvan, Iwill briefly allude to the time occupied in travel, to the routefollowed, and to the general circ*mstances attending my journey.

Starting from Fort Garry on the 25th October, I reached Fort Ellice atjunction of Qu'Appelle and Assineboine Rivers on the 30th of the samemonth. On the following day I continued my journey towards Carlton, whichplace was reached on the 9th November, a detention of two days havingoccurred upon the banks of the South Saskatchewan River, the waters ofwhich were only partially frozen. After a delay of five days in Carlton,the North Branch of the Saskatchewan was reported fit for the passage ofhorses, and on the morning of the 14th November I proceeded on my westernjourney towards Edmonton. By this time snow had fallen to the depth ofabout six inches over the country, which rendered it necessary toabandon the use of wheels for the transport of baggage, substituting alight sled in place of the cart which had hitherto been used, although Istill retained the same mode of conveyance, namely the saddle, forpersonal use. Passing the Hudson Bay Company Posts of Battle River, FortPitt and Victoria, I reached Edmonton on the night of the 26th November.For the last 200 miles the country had become clear of snow, and thefrosts, notwithstanding the high altitude of the region, had decreased inseverity. Starting again on the afternoon of the 1st December, Irecrossed the Saskatchewan River below Edmonton and continued in asouth-westerly direction towards the Rocky Mountain House, passingthrough a country which, even at that advanced period of the year, stillretained many traces of its summer beauty. At midday on the 4th December,having passed the gorges of the Three Medicine Hills, I came in sight ofthe Rocky Mountains, which rose from the western extremity of an immenseplain and stretched their great snow-clad peaks far away to the northernand southern horizons.

Finding it impossible to procure guides for the prosecution of my journeysouth to Montana, I left the Rocky Mountain House on the 12th Decemberand commenced my return travels to Red River along the valley of theSaskatchewan. Snow had now fallen to the depth of about a foot, and thecold had of late begun to show symptoms of its winter intensity. Thus onthe morning of the 5th December my thermometer indicated 22 degrees belowzero, and again on the 13th 16 below zero, a degree of cold which in itselfwas not remarkable, but which had the effect of rendering the saddle by nomeans a comfortable mode of transport.

Arriving at Edmonton on the 16th December, I exchanged my horses fordogs, the saddle for a small cariole, and on the 20th December commencedin earnest the winter journey to Red River. The cold, long delayed, now\began in all its severity. On the 22nd December my thermometer at teno'clock in the morning indicated 39 degrees below zero, later in the day abiting wind swept the long reaches of the Saskatchewan River and renderedtravelling on the ice almost insupportable. To note here the long days oftravel down the great valley of the Saskatchewan, at times on the frozenriver and at times upon the neighbouring plains, would prove only atiresome record. Little by little the snow seemed to deepen, day by daythe frost to obtain a more lasting power and to bind in a still moresolid embrace all visible Nature. No human voice, no sound of bird orbeast, no ripple of stream to break the intense silence of these vastsolitudes of the Lower Saskatchewan. At length, early in the month ofFebruary, I quitted the valley of Saskatchewan at Cedar Lake, crossed theridge which separates that sheet of water from Lake Winnipegoosis, and,descending the latter lake to its outlet at Waterhen River, passed fromthence to the northern extremity of the Lake Manitoba. Finally, on the18th February, I reached the settlement of Oak Point on south shore ofManitoba, and two days later arrived at Fort Garry.

In following the river and lake route from Carlton, I passed insuccession the Mission of Prince Albert, Forts-à-la-Corne and Cumberland,the Posts of the Pas, Moose Lake, Shoal River and Manitoba House, and,with a few exceptions, travelled upon ice the entire way.

The journey from first to last occupied 119 days and embraced a distanceof about 2700 miles.

I have now to offer the expression of my best acknowledgements to theofficers of the various posts of the Hudson Bay Company passed en route.To Mr. W. J. Christie, of Edmonton, to Mr. Richard Hardistry, ofVictoria, as well as to Messrs. Hackland, Sinclair, Ballenden, Trail,Turner, Belanger, Matheison, McBeath, Munro, and MacDonald, I am indebtedfor much kindness and hospitality, and I have to thank Mr. W. J. Christiefor information of much value regarding statistics connected with hisdistrict. I have also to offer to the Rev. Messrs. Lacombe, McDougall,and Nisbet the expression of the obligations which I am under towardsthem for uniform kindness and hospitality.

GENERAL REPORT.

Having in the foregoing pages briefly alluded to the time occupied intravel, to the route followed, and to the general circ*mstances attendingmy journey, I now propose entering upon the subjects contained in thewritten instructions under which I acted, and in the first instance tolay before you the views which I have formed upon the important questionof the existing state of affairs in the Saskatchewan.

The institutions of Law and Order, as understood in civilizedcommunities, are wholly unknown in the regions of the Saskatchewan,insomuch as the country is without any executive organization, anddestitute of any means to enforce the authority of the law.

I do not mean to assert that crime and outrage are of habitual occurrenceamong the people of this territory, or that a state of anarchy exists inany particular portion of it, but it is an undoubted fact that crimes ofthe most serious nature have been committed, in various places, bypersons of mixed and native blood, without any vindication of the lawbeing possible, and that the position of affairs rests at the presentmoment not on the just power of an executive authority to enforceobedience, but rather upon the passive acquiescence of the majority of ascant population who hitherto have lived in ignorance of thoseconflicting interests which, in more populous and civilized communities,tend to anarchy and disorder.

But the question may be asked, If the Hudson Bay Company represent thecentres round which the half-breed settlers have gathered, how then doesit occur that that body should be destitute of governing power, andunable to repress crime and outrage? To this question I would reply thatthe Hudson Bay Company, being a commercial corporation, dependent for itsprofits on the suffrages of the people, is of necessity cautious in theexercise of repressive powers; that, also, it is exposed in theSaskatchewan to the evil influence which free trade has ever developedamong the native races; that, furthermore, it is brought in contact withtribes long remarkable for their lawlessness and ferocity; and that,lastly, the elements of disorder in the whole territory of Saskatchewanare for many causes, yearly on the increase. But before entering uponthe subject into which this last-consideration would lead me, it will beadvisable to glance at the various elements which comprise the populationof this Western region. In point of numbers, and in the power which theypossess of committing depredations, the aboriginal races claim theforemost place among the inhabitants of the Saskatchewan. These tribes,like the Indians of other portions of Rupert's Land and the North-west,carry on the pursuits of hunting, bringing the produce of their hunts tobarter for the goods of the Hudson Bay Company; but, unlike the Indiansof more northern regions, they subsist almost entirely upon the buffalo,and they carry on among themselves an unceasing warfare which has longbecome traditional. Accustomed to regard murder as honourable war,robbery and pillage as the traits most ennobling to man hood, free fromall restraint, these warring tribes of Crees, Assineboines, and Blackfeetform some of the most savage among even the races of Western America.

Hitherto it maybe said that the Crees have looked upon the white man astheir friend, but latterly indications have not been wanting toforeshadow a change in this respect--a change which I. have found manycauses to account for, and which, if the Saskatchewan remains in itspresent condition, must, I fear, deepen into more positive enmity. Thebuffalo, the red man's sole means of subsistence, is rapidlydisappearing; year by year the prairies, which once shook beneath thetread of countless herds of bisons, are becoming denuded of animal life,and year by year the affliction of starvation comes with anever-increasing intensity upon the land. There are men still living whor*member to have hunted buffalo on the shores of Lake Manitoba. It isscarcely twelve years since Fort Ellice, on the Assineboine River, formedone of the principal posts of supply for the Hudson Bay Company; and thevast prairies which flank the southern and western spurs of the TouchwoodHills, now utterly silent and deserted, are still white with the bones ofthe migratory herds which, until lately, roamed over their surface.

Nor is this absence of animal life confined to the plains of theQu'Appelle and of the Upper Assineboine--all along the line of the NorthSaskatchewan, from Carlton to Edmonton House, the same scarcity prevails;and if further illustration of this decrease of buffalo be wanting, Iwould state that, during the present winter, I have traversed the plainsfrom the Red River to the Rocky Mountains without seeing even onesolitary animal upon 1200 miles of prairie. The Indian is not slow toattribute this lessening of his principal food to the presence of thewhite and half-breed settlers, whose active competition for pemmican(valuable as supplying the transport service of the Hudson Bay Company)has led to this all but total extinction of the bison.

Nor does he fail to trace other grievances--some real, some imaginary-tothe same cause. Wherever the half-breed settler or hunter has establishedhimself he has resorted to the use of poison as a means of destroying thewolves and foxes which were numerous on the prairies. This mostpernicious practice has had the effect of greatly embittering the Indiansagainst the settler, for not only have large numbers of animals beenuselessly destroyed, inasmuch as fully one-half the animals thus killedare lost to the trapper, but also the poison is frequently communicatedto the Indian dogs, and thus a very important mode of winter transport islost to the red man. It is asserted, too, that horses are sometimespoisoned by eating grasses which have become tainted by the presence ofstrychnine; and although this latter assertion may not be true, yetit*effects are the same, as the Indian fully believes it. In consequence ofthese losses a threat has been made, very generally, by the nativesagainst the half-breeds, to the effect that if the use of poison waspersisted in, the horses belonging to the settlers would be shot.

Another increasing source of Indian discontent is to be found in thepolicy pursued by the American Government in their settlement of thecountries lying south of the Saskatchewan. Throughout the territories ofDakota and Montana a state of hostility has long existed between theAmericans and the tribes of Sioux, Black feet, and Peagin Indians. Thisstate of hostility has latterly degenerated on the part of the Americans,into a war of extermination; and the policy of "clearing out" the red manhas now become a recognized portion of Indian warfare. Some of these actsof extermination find their way into the public records, many of themnever find publicity. Among the former, the attack made during thespring of 1870 by a large party of troops upon a camp of Peagin Indiansclose to the British boundary-line will be fresh in the recollection ofyour Excellency. The tribe thus attacked was suffering severely fromsmall-pox, was surprised at daybreak by the soldiers, who, rushing inupon the tents, destroyed 170 men, women, and children in a few moments.This tribe forms one of the four nations comprised in the Blackfeetleague, and have their hunting-grounds partly on British and partly onAmerican territory. I have mentioned the presence of small-pox inconnexion with these Indians. It is very generally believed in theSaskatchewan that this disease was originally communicated to theBlackfeet tribes by Missouri traders with a view to the accumulation ofrobes; and this opinion, monstrous though it may appear, has beensomewhat terrified by the Western press when treating of the epidemiclast year. As I propose to enter at some length into the question of thisdisease at a later portion of this report, I now only make allusion to itas forming one of the grievances which the Indian affirms he suffers atthe hands of the white man.

In estimating the causes of Indian discontent as bearing upon the futurepreservation of peace and order in the Saskatchewan, and as illustratingthe growing difficulties which a commercial corporation like the HudsonBay Company have to contend against when acting in an executive capacity,I must now allude to the subject of Free Trade. The policy of a freetrader in furs is essentially a short-sighted one-he does not care aboutthe future--the continuance and partial well-being of the Indian is of noconsequence to him. His object is to obtain possession of all the fursthe Indian may have at the moment to barter, and to gain that end hespares no effort. Alcohol, discontinued by the Hudson Bay Company intheir Saskatchewan district for many years, has been freely used of lateby free traders from Red River; and, as great competition always existsbetween the traders and the employees of the Company, the former have nothesitated to circulate among the natives the idea that they have sufferedmuch injustice in their intercourse with the Company. The events whichtook place in the Settlement of Red River during the winter of '69 and '70have also tended to disturb the minds of the Indians--they have heard ofchanges of Government, of rebellion and pillage of property, of theoccupation of forts belonging to the Hudson Bay Company, and the stoppageof trade and ammunition. Many of these events have been magnified anddistorted--evil-disposed persons have not been wanting to spread abroadamong the natives the idea of the downfall of the Company, and thethreatened immigration of settlers to occupy the hunting-grounds anddrive the Indian from the land. All these rumours, some of them vague andwild in the extreme, have found ready credence by camp-fires and incouncil-lodge, and thus it is easy to perceive how the red man, with manyof his old convictions and beliefs rudely shaken, should now be moredisturbed and discontented than he has been at any former period.

In endeavouring to correctly estimate the present condition of Indianaffairs in the Saskatchewan the efforts and influence of the variousmissionary bodies must not be overlooked. It has only been during thelast twenty years that the Plain Tribes have been brought into contactwith the individuals whom the contributions of European and Colonialcommunities have sent out on missions of religion and civilization. Manyof these individuals have toiled with untiring energy and undauntedperseverance in the work to which they have devoted themselves, but it isunfortunately true that the jarring interests of different religiousdenominations have sometimes induced them to introduce into the field ofIndian theology that polemical rancour which so unhappily distinguishesmore civilized communities.

To fully understand the question of missionary enterprise, as bearingupon the Indian tribes of the Saskatchewan valley, I must glance for amoment at the peculiarities in the mental condition of the Indians whichrender extreme caution necessary in all inter course between him and thewhite man. It is most difficult to make the Indian comprehend the truenature of the foreigner with whom he is brought in contact, or rather, Ishould say, that having his own standard by which he measures truth andfalsehood, misery and happiness, and all the accompaniments of life, itis almost impossible to induce him to look at the white man from anypoint of view but his own. From this point of view every thing isIndian. English, French, Canadians, and Americans are so many tribesinhabiting various parts of the world, whose land is bad, and who are notpossessed of buffalo--for this last desideratum they (the strangers) sendgoods, missions, etc., to the Indians of the Plains. "Ah!" they say, "ifit was not for our buffalo where would you be? You would starve, yourbones would whiten the prairies." It is useless to tell them that such isnot the case, they answer, "Where then does all the pemmican go to thatyou take away in your boats and in your carts?" With the Indian, seeingis believing, and his world is the visible one in which his wild life iscast. This being understood, the necessity for caution in communicatingwith the native will at once be apparent-yet such caution on the part ofthose who seek the Indians as missionaries is not always observed. Toofrequently the language suitable for civilized society has been addressedto the red man. He is told of governments, and changes in the politicalworld, successive religious systems are laid before him by their variousadvocates. To-day he is told to believe one religion, to-morrow to havefaith in another. Is it any wonder that, applying his own simple tests toso much conflicting testimony, he becomes utterly confused, unsettled,and suspicious? To the white man, as a white man, the Indian has nodislike; on the contrary, he is pretty certain to receive him withkindness and friendship, provided always that the new-comer will adoptthe native system, join the hunting-camp, and live on the plains; but tothe white man as a settler, or hunter on his own account, the Crees andBlackfeet are in direct antagonism. Ownership in any particular portionof the soil by an individual is altogether foreign to men who, in thecourse of a single summer, roam over 500 miles of prairie. In anotherportion of this report I hope to refer again to the Indian question, whentreating upon that clause in my instructions which relates exclusively toIndian matters. I have alluded here to missionary enterprise and to theIndian generally, as both subjects are very closely connected with thestate of affairs in the Saskatchewan.

Next in importance to the native race is the half-breed element in thepopulation which now claims our attention.

The persons composing this class are chiefly of French descent originallyof no fixed habitation, they have, within the last few years, beeninduced by their clergy to form scattered settlements along the line ofthe North Saskatchewan. Many of them have emigrated from Red River, andothers are either the discharged servants of the Hudson Bay Company orthe relatives of persons still in the employment of the Company. Incontradistinction to this latter class they bear the name of "free men"and if freedom from all restraint, general inaptitude for settledemployment, and love for the pursuits of hunting be the characteristicsof free men, then they are eminently entitled to the name they bear. Withvery few exceptions, they have preferred adopting the exciting butprecarious means of living, the chase, to following the more certain`methods of agriculture. Almost the entire summer is spent by them uponthe plains, where they carry on the pursuit of the buffalo in large andwell organized bands, bringing the produce of their hunt to trade withthe Hudson Bay Company.

In winter they generally reside at their settlements, going to the nearerplains in small parties and dragging the frozen buffalo meat for thesupply of the Company's posts. This preference for the wild life of theprairies, by bringing them more in contact with their savage brethren,and by removing them from the means of acquiring knowledge andcivilization, has tended in no small degree to throw them back in thesocial scale, and to make the establishment of a prosperous colony almostan impossibility--even starvation, that most potent inducement to toil,seems powerless to promote habits of industry and agriculture. Duringthe winter season they frequently undergo periods of great privation,but, like he Indian, they refuse to credit the gradual extinction of thebuffalo, and persist in still depending on that animal for their food.Were I to sum up the general character of the Saskatchewan half-breedpopulation, I would say: They are gay, idle, dissipated, unreliable, andungrateful, in a measure brave, hasty to form conclusions and quick toact upon them, possessing extra ordinary power-of endurance, and capableof undergoing immense fatigue, yet scarcely-ever to be depended on incritical moments, superstitious and ignorant, having a very deep-rooteddistaste to any fixed employment, opposed to the Indian, yet widelyseparated from the white man--altogether a race presenting, I fear, ahopeless prospect to those who would attempt to frame, from suchmaterials, a future nationality. In the appendix will be found astatement showing the population and extent of the half-breed settlementsin the West. I will here merely remark that the principal settlements areto be found in the Upper Saskatchewan, in the vicinity of Edmonton House,at which post their trade is chiefly carried on.

Among the French half-breed population there exists the same politicalfeeling which is to be found among their brethren in Manitoba, and thesame sentiments which produced the outbreak of 1869-70 are undoubtedlyexisting in the small communities of the Saskatchewan. It is no easymatter to understand how the feeling of distrust towards Canada, and acertain hesitation to accept the Dominion Government, first entered intothe mind of the half-breed, but undoubtedly such distrust and hesitationhave made themselves apparent in the Upper Saskatchewan, as in Red River,though in a much less formidable degree; in fact, I may fairly close thisnotice of the half-breed population by observing that an exactcounterpart of French political feeling in Manitoba may be found in theterritory of the Saskatchewan, but kept in abeyance both by the isolationof the various settlements, as well as by a certain dread of Indianattack which presses equally upon all classes.

The next element of which I would speak is that composed of the whitesettler, European and American,` not being servants of the Hudson BayCompany. At the present time this class is numerically insignificant,and were it not that causes might at any moment arise which wouldrapidly develop it into consequence, it would not now claim more than apassing notice. These causes are to be found in the existence of goldthroughout a large extent of the territory lying at the eastern base ofthe Rocky Mountains, and in the effect which the discovery of gold-fieldswould have in inducing a rapid movement of miners from the alreadyover-worked fields of the Pacific States and British Columbia. For someyears back indication of gold, in more or less quantities, have beenfound in almost every river running east from the mountains. On thePeace, Athabasca, McLeod, and Pembina Rivers, all of which drain theirwaters into the Arctic Ocean, as well as on the North Saskatchewan, RedBeer, and Bow Rivers, which shed to Lake Winnipeg, gold has beendiscovered. The obstacles which the miner has to contend with are,however, very great, and preclude any thing but the most partialexamination of the country. The Blackfeet are especially hostile towardsminers, and never hesitate to attack them, nor is the miner slow toretaliate; indeed he has been too frequently the aggressor, and therecords of gold discovery are full of horrible atrocities committed uponthe red man. It has only been in the neighbourhood of the forts of theHudson Bay Company that continued washing for gold could be carried on.In the neighbourhood of Edmonton from three to twelve dollars of goldhave frequently been "washed" in a single day by one man; but the mineris not satisfied with what he calls "dirt washing," and craves for themore exciting work in the dry diggings where, if the "strike" is good,the yield is sometimes enormous. The difficulty of procuring provisionsor supplies of any kind has also prevented "prospecting" parties fromexamining the head-waters of the numerous streams which form the sourcesof the North and South Saskatchewan. It is not the high price ofprovisions that deters the miner from penetrating these regions, but theabsolute impossibility of procuring any. Notwithstanding the manydifficulties which I have enumerated, a very determined effort will inall probability be made, during the coming summer, to examine thehead-waters of the North Branch of the Saskatchewan. A party of miners,four in number, crossed the mountains late in the autumn of 1870, and arenow wintering between Edmonton and the Mountain House, having laid inlarge supplies for the coming season. These men speak with confidence ofthe existence of rich diggings in some portion of the country lyingwithin the outer range of the mountains. From conversations which I haveheld with these men, as well as with others who have partly investigatedthe country, I am of opinion that there exists a very strong probabilityof the discovery of gold-fields in the Upper Saskatchewan at no distantperiod. Should this opinion be well founded, the effect which it willhave upon the whole Western territory will be of the utmost consequence.

Despite the hostility of the Indians inhabiting the neighbourhood of suchdiscoveries, or the plains or passes leading to them, a general influx ofminers will take place into the Saskatchewan, and in their track willcome the waggon or pack-horse of the merchant from the towns of Benton orKootenais, or Helena. It is impossible to say what effect such an influxof strangers would have upon the plain Indians; but of one fact we mayrest assured, namely, that should these tribes exhibit their usual spiritof robbery and murder they would quickly be exterminated by the miners.

Every where throughout the Pacific States and along the centralterritories of America, as well as in our own colony of British Columbia,a war of extermination has arisen, under such circum stances, between theminers and the savages, and there is good reason to suppose that similarresults would follow contact with the proverbially hostile tribe ofBlackfeet Indians.

Having in the foregoing remarks reviewed the various elements whichcompose the scanty but widely extended population of the Saskatchewan,outside the circle of the Hudson Bay Company, I have now to refer to thatbody, as far as it is connected with the present condition of affairs inthe Saskatchewan.

As a governing body the Hudson Bay Company has ever had to contendagainst the evils which are inseparable from monopoly of trade combinedwith monopoly of judicial power, but so long as the aboriginalinhabitants were the only people with whom it came in contact itsauthority could be preserved; and as it centred within itself whateverknowledge and enlightenment existed in the country, its officials wereregarded by the aboriginals as persons of a superior nature, nay, even inbygone times it was by no means unusual for the Indians to regard thepossession of some of the most ordinary inventions of civilization on thepart of the officials of the Company as clearly demonstrating a closeaffinity between these gentlemen and the Manitou, nor were theseattributes of divinity altogether distasteful to the officers, who foundthem both remunerative as to trade and conducive to the exercise ofauthority. When, however, the Free Traders and the missionary reached theSaskatchewan this primitive state of affairs ceased-with theenlightenment of the savage came the inevitable discontent of the'Indian, until there arose the condition of things to which I have alreadyalluded. I am aware that there are persons who, while admitting thepresent unsatisfactory state of the Saskatchewan, ascribe its evils moreto mistakes committed by officers of the Company, in their management ofthe Indians, than to any material change in the character of the people;but I believe such opinion to be founded in error. It would beimpossible to revert to the old management of affairs. The Indians andthe half-breeds are aware of their strength, and openly speak of it; andalthough I am far from asserting that a more determined policy on thepart of the officer in charge of the Saskatchewan District would not beattended by better results, still it is apparent that the great isolationof the posts, as well as the absence of any fighting element in the classof servants belonging to the Company, render the forts on the UpperSaskatchewan, in a very great degree, helpless, and at the mercy of thepeople of that country. Nor are the engaged servants of the Company aclass of persons with whom it is at all easy to deal. Recruitedprincipally from the French half-breed population, and exposed, as Ihave already shown, to the wild and lawless life of the prairies, thereexists in reality only a very slight distinction between them and theirIndian brethren, hence it is not surprising that acts of insubordinationShould be of frequent occurrence among these servants, and that personalviolence towards superior officers should be by no means an unusual eventin the forts of the Saskatchewan; indeed it has only been by the exerciseof manual force on the part of the officials in charge that the semblanceof authority has sometimes been preserved. This tendency towardsinsubordination is still more observable among the casual servants or"trip men" belonging to the Company. These persons are in the habit ofengaging for a trip or journey, and-frequently select the most criticalmoments to demand an increased rate of pay, or to desert en masse.

At Edmonton House, the head-quarters of the Saskatchewan District, and atthe posts of Victoria and Fort Pitt, this state of lawlessness is moreapparent than on the lower portion of the river. Threats are frequentlymade use of by the Indians and half-breeds as a means of extortingfavourable terms from the officers in charge, the cattle belonging to theposts are uselessly killed, and altogether the Hudson Bay Company may besaid to retain their tenure of the Upper Saskatchewan upon a base whichappears insecure and unsatisfactory.

In the foregoing remarks I have entered at some length into the questionof the materials comprising the population of the Saskatchewan, with a,view to demonstrate that the condition of affairs in-that territory isthe natural result of many causes, which have been gradually developingthemselves, and which must of necessity undergo still furtherdevelopments if left in their present state. I have endeavoured to pointout how from the growing wants of the aboriginal inhabitants, from theconflicting nature of the interests of the half-breed and Indianpopulation, as well as from the natural constitution of the Hudson BayCompany, a state of society has arisen in the Saskatchewan whichthreatens at no distant day to give rise to grave complications; andwhich now has the effect of rendering life and property insecure andpreventing the settlement of those fertile regions which in otherrespects are so admirably suited to colonization.

As matters at present rest, the region of the Saskatchewan is withoutlaw, order, or security for life or property; robbery and murder foryears have gone unpunished; Indian massacres are unchecked even in theclose vicinity of the Hudson Bay Company's posts, and all civil and legalinstitutions are entirely unknown.

I now enter upon that portion of your Excellency's instructions which hasreference to the epidemic of small-pox in the Saskatchewan. It is aboutfifty years since the first great epidemic of small pox swept over theregions of the Missouri and the Saskatchewan, committing great ravagesamong the tribes of Sioux, Gros-Ventres, and Flatheads upon Americanterritory; and among the Crees and Assineboines of the British. TheBlackfeet Indians escaped that epidemic, while, on the other hand, theAssineboines, or Stonies of the Qu'Appelle Plains, were almost entirelydestroyed. Since that-period the disease appears to have visited some ofthe tribes at intervals of greater or less duration; but until this andthe previous year its ravages were confined to certain localities and didnot extend universally throughout the country. During the summer andearly winter of '69 and '70 reports reached the Saskatchewan of theprevalence of small-pox of a very malignant type among the South PeaginIndians, a branch of the great Blackfeet nation. It was hoped, however,that the disease would be confined to the Missouri River, and the Creeswho, as usual, were at war with their traditional enemies, were warnedby Missionaries and others that the prosecution of their predatoryexpeditions into the Blackfeet country would in all probability carrythe infection into the North Saskatchewan. From the South Peagin tribes,on the head-waters of the Missouri, the disease spread rapidly throughthe kindred tribes of Blood, Blackfeet, and Lucee Indians, all which newtribes have their hunting-grounds north of the boundary-line.Unfortunately for the Crees, they failed to listen to the advice of thosepersons who had recommended a suspension of hostilities. With the openingof spring the war-parties commenced their raids; a band of seventeenCrees penetrated, in the month of April, into the Blackfeet country, andcoming upon a deserted camp of their enemies in which a tent was stillstanding, they proceeded to ransack it, This tent contained the deadbodies of some Blackfeet, and although these bodies presented a veryrevolting spectacle, being in an advanced stage of decomposition, theywere nevertheless-subjected to the usual process of mutilation, thescalps and clothing being also carried away.

For this act the Crees paid a terrible penalty; scarcely had theyreached their own country before the disease appeared among them, in itsmost virulent and infectious form. Nor were the consequences of this raidless disastrous to the whole Cree nation. At the period of the-year towhich I allude, the early summer, these Indians usually assemble togetherfrom different directions in large numbers, and it was towards one ofthose numerous assemblies that the returning war-party, still carryingthe scalps and clothing of the Blackfeet, directed their steps. Almostimmediately upon their arrival the disease broke out amongst them in itsmost malignant form. Out of the seventeen men who took part in the raid,it is asserted that not one escape the infection, and only two of thenumber appear to have survived. The disease, once-introduced into thecamp, spread with the utmost rapidity; numbers of men, women, andchildren fell victims to it during the month of June; the cures of themedicine-men were found utterly-unavailing to arrest it, and, as a lastresource, the camp broke up into small parties, some directing theirmarch towards Edmonton, and others to Victoria, Saddle Lake, Fort Pitt,and along the whole line of the North Saskatchewan. Thus, at the sameperiod, the beginning of July, small-pox of the very worst descriptionwas spread throughout some 500 miles of territory, appearing almostsimultaneously at the Hudson Bay Company's posts from the Rocky MountainHouse to Carlton.

It is difficult to imagine, a state of pestilence more terrible thanthat which kept pace with these moving parties of Crees during the summermonths of 1870. By streams and lakes, in willow copses,'! and upon barehill-sides, often shelterless from the fierce rays of the summer sun andexposed to the rains and dews of night, the poor plague-stricken wretcheslay down to die--no assistance of any kind, for the ties of family werequickly loosened, and mothers abandoned their helpless children upon thewayside, fleeing onward to some fancied place of safety. The districtlying between Fort Pitt and Victoria, a distance of about 140 miles, wasperhaps the scene of the greatest suffering.

In the immediate neighbourhood of Fort Pitt two camps of Creesestablished themselves, at first in the hope of obtaining medicalassistance, and failing in that--for the officer in charge soon exhaustedhis slender store--they appear to have endeavoured to convey theinfection into the fort, in the belief that by doing so they would ceaseto suffer from it themselves. The dead bodies were left unburied close tothe stockades, and frequently Indians in the worst stage of the diseasemight be seen trying to force an entrance into the houses, or rubbingportions of the infections matter from their persons against thedoor-handles and window-frames of the dwellings. It is singular that onlythree persons within the fort should have been infected with the disease,and I can only attribute the comparative immunity enjoyed by theresidents at that post to the fact that Mr. John Sinclair had taken theprecaution early in the summer to vaccinate all the persons residingthere, having obtained the vaccine matter from a Salteaux Indian who hadbeen vaccinated at the Mission of Prince Albert, presided over by Rev.Mr. Nesbit, sometime during the spring. In this matter of vaccination avery important difference appears to have existed between the Upper andLower Saskatchewan. At the settlement of St. Albert, near Edmonton, theopinion prevails that vaccination was of little or no avail to check-thespread of the disease, while, on the contrary, residents on the lowerportion of the Saskatchewan assert that they cannot trace a single casein which death had ensued after vaccination had been properly performed.I attribute this difference of opinion on the benefits resulting fromvaccination to the fact that the vaccine matter used at St. Albert andEdimonton was of a spurious description, having been brought from FortBenton, on the Missouri River, by traders during the early summer, andthat also it was used when the disease had reached its height, while, onthe other hand, the vaccination carried on from Mr. Nesbit's Missionappears to have been commenced early in the spring, and also to have beenof a genuine description.

At the Mission of St. Albert, called also "Big Lake," the diseaseassumed a most malignant form; the infection appears to have beenintroduced into the settlement from two different sources almost at thesame period. The summer hunting-party met the Blackfeet on the plains andvisited the Indian camp (then infected with small-pox) for the purpose ofmaking peace and trading. A few days later the disease appeared amongthem and swept off half their number in a very short space of time. Tosuch a degree of helplessness were they reduced that when the prairiefires broke out in the neighbourhood of their camp they were unable to doany thing towards arresting its progress or saving their property. Thefire swept through the camp, destroying a number of horses, carts, andtents, and the unfortunate people returned to their homes at Big Lakecarrying the disease with them. About the same time some of the Creesalso reached the settlement, and the infection thus communicated fromboth quarters spread with amazing rapidity. Out of a total populationnumbering about 900 souls, 600 caught the disease, and up to the date ofmy departure from Edmonton (22nd December) 311 deaths had occurred. Noris this enormous percentage of deaths very much to be wondered at when weconsider the circ*mstances attending this epidemic. The people, huddledtogether in small hordes, were destitute of medical assistance or of eventhe most ordinary requirements of the hospital. During the period ofdelirium incidental to small-pox, they frequently wandered forth at nightinto the open air, and remained exposed for hours to dew or rain; in thelatter stages of the disease they took no precautions against cold, andfrequently died from relapse produced by exposure; on the other hand,they appear to have suffered but little pain after the primary feverpassed away. "I have frequently," says Père André, "asked a man in thelast stages of small pox,-whose end was close at hand, if he wassuffering much pain; and the almost invariable reply was, Nonewhatever." They seem also to have died without suffering, although thefearfully swollen appearance of the face, upon which scarcely a featurewas visible, would lead to the supposition that such a condition must ofnecessity be accompanied by great pain.

The circ*mstances attending the progress of the epidemic at Carlton Houseare worthy of notice, both on account of the extreme virulence whichcharacterized the disease at that post, and also as no official recordof this visitation of small-pox would be complete which failed to bringto the notice of your Excellency the undaunted: heroism displayed by ayoung officer of the Hudson Bay Company who was in temporary charge ofthe station. At the breaking out of the disease, early in the month ofAugust, the population of Carlton: numbered about seventy souls. Of thesethirty-two persons caught the infection, and twenty-eight persons died.Throughout the entire period of the epidemic the officer already alludedto, Mr. Wm. Traill, laboured with untiring perseverance in ministering tothe necessities of the sick, at whose bedsides he was to be found bothday and night, undeterred by the fear of infection, and undismayed by theunusually loathsome nature of the disease. To estimate with any thinglike accuracy the losses caused among the Indian tribes is a matter ofconsiderable difficulty. Some tribes and portions of tribes suffered muchmore severely than others. That most competent authority, Père Lacombe,is of opinion that neither the Blood nor Blackfeet Indians had, inproportion to their numbers, as many casualties as the Crees, whoselosses may be safely stated at from 600 to 800 persons. The Lurcees, asmall tribe in close alliance with the Blackfeet, suffered very severely,the number of their tents being reduced from fifty to twelve. On the.'other hand, the Assineboines, or Stonies of the Plains, warned by thememory of the former epidemic, by which they were almost annihilated,fled at the first approach of the disease, and, keeping far out in thesouth-eastern prairies, escaped the infection altogether. The very heavyloss suffered by the Lurcees to which I have just alluded was, Iapprehend, due to the fact that the members of this tribe have long beennoted as persons possessing enfeebled constitutions, as evidenced by theprevalence of goitre almost universally amongst them. As a singularillustration of the intractable nature of these Indians, I would mentionthat at the period when the small-pox was most destructive among themthey still continued to carry on their horse-stealing raids against theCrees and half-breeds in the neighbourhood of Victoria Mission. It wasnot unusual to come upon traces of the disease in the corn-fields aroundthe settlement, and even the dead bodies of some Lurcees were discoveredin the vicinity of a river which they had been in the habit of swimmingwhile in the prosecution of their predatory attacks. The Rocky MountainStonies are stated to have lost over fifty souls. The losses sustained bythe Blood, Blackfeet, and Peagin tribes are merely conjectural; but, astheir loss in leading men or chiefs has been heavy, it is only reasonableto presume that the casualties suffered generally by those tribes havebeen proportionately severe. Only three white persons appear to havefallen victims to the disease, one an officer of the Hudson Bay Companyservice at Carlton, and two members of the family of the Rev. Mr.McDougall, at Victoria. Altogether, I should be inclined to estimate theentire loss along the North Saskatchewan, not including Blood, Blackfeet,or Peagin Indians, at about 1200 persons. At the period of my departurefrom the Saskatchewan, the beginning of-the present year, the diseasewhich committed such terrible havoc among the scanty population of thatregion still lingered in many localities. On my upward journey to theRocky Mountains I had found the forts of the Hudson Bay Company free frominfection: On my return journey I found cases of small-pox in the Forts,of Edmonton, Victoria, and Pitt--cases which, it is true, were of amilder description than those of the autumn and summer, but which,nevertheless, boded ill for the hoped for disappearance of the plaguebeneath the snows and cold of winter. With regard to the supply ofmedicine sent by direction of the Board of Health in Manitoba to theSaskatchewan, I have only to remark that I conveyed to Edmonton theportion of the supply destined for that station. It was found, however,that many of the bottles had been much injured by frost, and I cannot inany way favourably notice either the composition or general selection ofthese supplies.

Amongst the many sad traces of the epidemic existing in the UpperSaskatchewan I know of none so touching as that which is to be found inan assemblage of some twenty little orphan children gathered togetherbeneath the roof of the sisters of charity at the settlement of St.Albert. These children are of all races, and even in some instances thesole survivors of what was lately a numerous family. They are fed,clothed, and taught at the expense of the Mission; and when we considerthat the war which is at present raging in France has dried up thesources of charity from whence the Missions of the North-west derivedtheir chief support, and that the present winter is one of unusualscarcity and distress along the North Saskatchewan, then it will beperceived what a fitting object for the assistance of other communitiesis now existing in this distant orphanage of the North.

I cannot close this notice of the epidemic without alluding to the dangerwhich will arise in the spring of introducing the infection intoManitoba. As soon as the prairie route becomes practicable there will bemuch traffic to and from the Saskatchewan--furs and robes will beintroduced into the settlement despite the law which prohibits theirimportation. The present quarantine establishment at Rat Creek issituated too near to the settlement to admit of a strict enforcement ofthe sanitary regulations. It was only in the month of October last yearthat a man coming direct from Carlton died at-this Rat Creek, while hiscompanions, who were also from the same place, and from whom he caughtthe infection, passed on into the province. If I might suggest the coursewhich appears to me to be the most efficacious, I would say that aconstable stationed at Fort Ellice during the spring and summer monthswho would examine freighters and others, giving them bills of health toenable them to enter the province, would effectually meet therequirements of the situation. All persons coming from the West areobliged to pass close to the neighbourhood of Fort Ellice. This stationis situated about 170 miles west of the provincial boundary, and about300 miles south-east of the South Saskatchewan, forming the only post ofcall upon the road between Carlton and Portage la-Prairie. I have only toadd that, unless vaccination is made compulsory among the half-breedinhabitants, they will, I fear, be slow to avail themselves of it. Itmust not be forgotten that with the disappearance of the snow from theplains a quantity of infected matter--clothing, robes, and portions ofskeletons--will again be come exposed to the atmosphere, and also thatthe skins of wolves, etc., collected during the present winter will bevery liable to contain infection of the most virulent description.

The portion of-your Excellency's instructions which has reference to theIndian tribes of the Assineboine and Saskatchewan regions now claims myattention.

The aboriginal inhabitants of the country lying between Red River andthe Rocky Monntains are divided into tribes of Salteaux, Swampies, Crees,Assineboines, or Stonies of the Plains, Blackfeet and Assineboines of theMountains. A simpler classification, and one which will be found moreuseful when estimating the relative habits of these tribes, is to dividethem into two great classes of Trairie Indians and Thickwood Indians--thefirst comprising the Blackfeet with their kindred tribes of Bloods,Lurcees, and Peagins, as also the Crees of the Saskatchewan and theAssineboines of the Qu'Appelle; and the last being composed of the RockyMountain Stonies, the Swampy Crees, and the Salteaux of the country lyingbetween Manitoba and Fort Ellice. This classification marks in realitythe distinctive characteristics of the Western Indians. On the one hand,we find the Prairie tribes subsisting almost entirely upon the buffalo,assembling together in large camps, acknowledging the leadership andauthority of men conspicuous by their abilities in war or in the chase,and carrying on a perpetual state\of warfare with the other Indians ofthe plains. On the other hand, we find the Indians of the woodssubsisting by fishing and by the pursuit of moose and deer, livingtogether in small parties, admitting only a very nominal authority onthe part of one man, professing to entertain hostile feelings towardscertain races, but rarely developing such feelings into positivehostilities--altogether a much more peacefully disposed people, becauseless exposed to the dangerous influence of large assemblies.

Commencing with the Salteaux, I find that they extend westward fromPortage-la-Prairie to Fort Ellice, and from thence north to Fort Pellyand the neighbourhood of Fort-à-la-Corne, where they border and mix withthe kindred race of Swampy or Muskego Crees. At Portage-la-Prairie and inthe vicinity of Fort Ellice a few Sioux have appeared since the outbreakin Minnesota and Dakota in 1862. It is probable that the number of thistribe on British territory will annually increase with the prosecution ofrailroad enterprise and settlement in the northern portion of the UnitedStates. At present, however, the Sioux are strangers at Fort Ellice, andhave not yet assumed those rights of proprietorship which other tribes,longer resident, arrogate to themselves. The Salteaux, who inhabit thecountry lying west of Manitoba, partake partly of the character ofThickwood, and partly of Prairie Indians--the buffalo no longer exists inthat portion of the country, the Indian camps are small, and theauthority of the chief merely nominal. The language spoken by this tribeis the same dialect of the Algonquin tongue which is used in theLac-la-Pluie District and throughout the greater portion of thesettlement.

Passing north-west from Fort Ellice, we enter the country of the CreeIndians, having to the north and east the Thickwood Crees, and to thesouth and west the Plain Crees. The former, under the various names ofSwampies or Muskego Indians, inhabit the country west of Lake Winnipeg,extending as far as Forts Pelly and à-la-Corne, and from, the latterplace, in a north-westerly direction, to Carlton and Fort Pitt. Theirlanguage, which is similar to that spoken by their cousins, the PlainCrees, is also a dialect of the Algonquin tongue. They are seldom foundin large numbers, usually forming camps of from four to ten families.They carry on the pursuit of the moose and red deer, and are, generallyspeaking, expert hunters and trappers.

Bordering the Thickwood Crees on the south and west lies the country ofthe Plain Crees--a land of vast treeless expanses, of high rollingprairies, of wooded tracts lying in valleys of many-sized streams, in aword, the land of the Saskatchewan. A line running direct from theTouchwood Hills to Edmonton House would measure 500 miles in length, yetwould lie altogether within the country of the Plain Crees. They inhabitthe prairies which extend from the Qu'Appelle to the South Saskatchewan,a portion of territory which was formerly the land of the Assineboine,but which became the country of the Crees through lapse of time andchance of war. From the elbow of the South Branch of the Saskatchewan theCree nation extends in a west and north-west direction to the vicinityof the Peace Hills, some fifty miles south of Edmonton. Along the entireline there exists a state of perpetual warfare during the months ofsummer and autumn, for here commences the territory over which roams thegreat Blackfeet tribe, whose southern boundary lies be yond the MissouriRiver, and whose western limits are guarded by the giant peaks of theRocky Mountains. Ever since these tribes became known to the fur-tradersof the North-west and Hudson Bay Companies there has existed this stateof hostility amongst them. The Crees, having been the first to obtainfire-arms from the white traders, quickly-extended their boundaries, andmoving from the Hudson Bay and the region of the lakes overran theplains of the Upper Saskatchewan. Fragments of other tribes scattered atlong intervals through the present country of the Crees attest thisconquest, and it is-probable that the whole Indian territory lyingbetween the Saskatchewan and the American boundary-line would have beendominated over by this tribe had they not found themselves opposed by thegreat Blackfeet nation, which dwelt along the sources of the Missouri.

Passing west from Edmonton, we enter the country of the Rocky MountainStonies, a small tribe of Thickwood Indians dwelling along the source ofthe North Saskatchewan and in the outer ranges of the Rocky Mountains,-afragment, no doubt, from the once-powerful Assineboine nation which hasfound a refuge amidst the forests and mountains of the West. This tribeis noted as possessing hunters and mountain guides of great energy andskill. Although at war with the Blackfeet, collisions are not frequentbetween them, as the Assineboines never go upon war-parties; and theBlackfeet rarely venture into the wooded country.

Having spoken in detail of the Indian tribes inhabiting the line offertile country lying between Red River and the Rocky Mountains, it onlyremains for me to allude to the Blackfeet with the confederate tribes ofBlood, Lurcees and Peagins. These tribes inhabit the great plains lyingbetween the Red Deer River and the Missouri, a vast tract of countrywhich, with few exceptions, is treeless, and sandy--a portion of thetrue American desert, which extends from the fertile belt of theSaskatchewan to the borders of Texas. With the exception of the Lurcees,the other confederate tribes speak the same language--the Lurcees, beinga branch of the Chipwayans of the North, speak a language peculiar tothemselves, while at the same time understanding and speaking theBlackfeet tongue. At war with their hereditary enemies, the Crees, upontheir northern and eastern boundaries--at war with Kootanais andFlathead tribes on south and west--at war with Assineboines on thesouth-east and north-west--carrying on predatory excursions against theAmericans on the Missouri, this Blackfeet nation forms a people of whomit may truly be said that they are against every man, and that every manis against them. Essentially a wild, lawless, erring race, whose natureshave received the stamps of the region in which they dwell; whoseknowledge is read from the great book which Day, Night, and the Desertunfold to them; and who yet possess a rude eloquence, a savage pride,and a wild love of freedom of their own. Nor are there other indicationswanting to lead to the hope that this tribe may yet be found to becapable of yielding to influences to which they have heretofore beenstrangers, namely, Justice and Kindness.

Inhabiting, as the Blackfeet do, a large extent of country which, fromthe arid nature of its soil mist ever prove useless for purposes ofsettlement and colonization, I do not apprehend that much difficulty willarise between them and the whites, provided always that measures aretaken to guard against certain possibilities of danger, and that theCrees are made to unnderstand that the forts and settlements along theUpper Saskatchewan must be considered as neutral ground upon whichhostilities cannot be waged against the Black feet. As matters at presentstand, whenever the Blackfeet venture in upon a trading expedition to theforts of the Hudson Bay Company they are generally assaulted by theCrees, and savagely murdered. Pèe Lacombe estimates the nunber ofBlackfeet killed in and around Edmonton alone during his residence in theWest, at over forty men, and he has assured me that to his knowledge theBlackfeet have never killed a Cree at that place, except in self-defence.Mr. W. J. Christie, chief factor at Edmonton house, confirms thisstatement. He says, "The Blackfeet respect the whites more than the Creesdo, that is, a Blackfoot will never attempt the life of a Cree at ourforts, and bands of them are more easily controlled in an excitement,than Crees. It would be easier for one of us to save the life of a Creeamong a band of Blackfeet than it would be to save a Blackfoot in a bandof Crees." In consequence of these repeated assaults in the vicinity ofthe forts, the Blackfeet can with difficulty be persuaded that the whitesare not in active alliance with the Crees. Any person who studies thegeographical position of the posts of the Hudson Bay Company cannot failto notice the immense extent of country intervening between the NorthSaskatchewan and the American boundary-line in which there exists no fortor trading post of the Company. This blank space upon the maps is thecountry of the Blackfeet. Many years ago a post was established upon theBow River, in the heart of the Blackfeet country, but at that time theywere even more lawless than at present, and the position had to beabandoned on account of the expenses necessary to keep up a largegarrison of servants. Since that time (nearly forty years ago) theBlackfeet have only had the Rocky Mountain House to depend on forsupplies, and as it is situated far from the centre of their country itonly receives a portion of their trade. Thus we find a very activebusiness carried on by the Americans upon the Upper Missouri, and therecan be little doubt that the greater portion of robes, buffalo leather,etc. traded by the Blackfeet finds its way down the waters of theMissouri. There is also another point connected with Americau tradeamongst the Blackfeet to which I desire to draw special attention.Indians visiting the Rocky Mountain House during the fall of 1870 havespoken of the existence of a trading post of Americans from Fort Benton,upon the Belly River, sixty miles within the British bounndary-line. Theyhave asserted that two American traders, well-known on the Missouri,named Culverston and Healy, have established themselves at this post forthe purpose of trading alcohol, whiskey, and arms and ammunition of themost improved description, with the Blackfeet Indians; and that an activetrade is being carried on in all these articles, which, it is said, areconstantly smuggled across the boundary-line by people from Fort Benton.This story is apparently confirmed by the absence of the Blackfeet fromthe Rocky Mountain House this season, and also from the fact of the armsin question (repeating rifles) being found in possession of theseIndians. The town of Benton on the Missouri River has long been noted forsupplying the Indians with arms and ammunition; to such an extent hasthis trade been carried on, that miners in Montana, who have sufferedfrom Indian attack, have threatened on some occasions to burn the storesbelonging to the traders, if the practice was continued. I have alreadyspoken of the great extent of the Blackfeet country; some idea of theroamings of these Indians may be gathered from a circ*mstance connectedwit the trade of the Rocky Mountain House. During the spring and summerraids which the Blackfeet make upon the Crees of the Middle Saskatchewan,a number of horses belonging to the Hudson Bay Company and to settlersare yearly carried away. It is a general practice for persons whosehorses have been stolen to send during the fall to the Rocky MountainHouse for the missing animals, although that station is 300 to 600 milesdistant from the places where the thefts have been committed. If thehorse has not perished from the ill treatment to which he has beensubjected by his captors, he is usually found at the above-named station,to which he has been brought for barter in a terribly worn out condition.In the Appendix marked B will be found information regarding thelocalities occupied by-the Indian tribes, the names of the principalchiefs, estimate of numbers in each tribe, and other informationconnected with the aboriginal inhabitants, which for sake of clearness Ihave arranged in a tabular form.

It now only remains for me to refer to the last clause in theinstructions under which I acted, before entering into an expression ofthe views which I have formed upon the subject of what appears necessaryto be done in the interests of peace and order in the Saskatchewan.The fur trade of the Saskatchewan District has long been in a decliningstate, great scarcity of the richer descriptions of furs, competition offree traders, and the very heavy expenses incurred in the maintenance oflarge establishments, have combined to render the district a source ofloss to the Hudson Bay Company. This loss has, I believe, varied annuallyfrom 2000 to 6000 pounds, but heretofore it has been somewhatcounter-balanced by the fact that the Inland Transport Line of theCompany was dependent for its supply of provisions upon the buffalo meat,which of late years has only been procurable in the Saskatchewan. Now,however; that buffalo can no longer be procured in numbers, the UpperSaskatchewan becomes more than ever a burden to the Hudson Bay Company;still the abandonment of it by the Company might be attended by moreserious loss to the trade than that which is incurred in its retention,Undoubtedly the Saskatchewan, if abandoned by the Hudson Bay Company,would be speedily occupied by traders from the Missouri, who would alsotap the trade of the richer fur-producing districts of Lesser Slave Lakeand the North. The products-of the Saskatchewan proper principallyconsists of provisions, including pemmican and dry meat, buffalo robesand leather, linx, cat, and wolf skins. The richer furs; such as otters,minks, beavers, martins, etc., are chiefly procured in the Lesser SlaveLake Division of the Saskatchewan District. With regard to the subject ofFree Trade in the Saskatchewan, it is at present conducted uponprinciples quite different from those existing in Manitoba. The free menor "winterers" are, strictly speaking, free traders, but they dispose ofthe greater portion of their furs, robes, etc., to the Company. Some, itis true, carry the produce of their trade or hunt (for they are bothhunters and traders) to Red River, disposing of it to the merchants inWinnipeg, but I do not imagine that more than one-third of their tradethus finds its way into the market. These free men are nearly all Frenchhalf-breeds, and are mostly outfitted by the Company. It has frequentlyoccurred that a very considerable trade has been carried on with alcohol,brought by free men from the Settlement of Red River; and distributed toIndians and others in the Upper Saskatchewan. This trade has beenproductive of the very worst consequences, but the law prohibiting thesale or possession of liquor is now widely known throughout the Western,territory, and its beneficial effects have already been experienced.

I feel convinced that if the proper means are taken the suppression ofthe liquor traffic of the West can be easily accomplished.

A very important subject is that which has reference to the communicationbetween the Upper Saskatchewan and Missouri Rivers.

Fort Benton on the Missouri has of late become a place of veryconsiderable importance as a post for the supply of the mining districtsof Montana. Its geographical position is favourable. Standing at the headof the navigation of the Missouri, it commands: the trade of Idaho andMontana.-'A steamboat, without breaking bulk, can go from New Orleans toBenton, a distance of 4000 miles. Speaking from the recollection ofinformation obtained at Omaha three years ago, it takes about thirty daysto ascend the river from that town to Benton, the distance being about2000 miles. Only boats drawing two or three feet of water can perform thejourney, as there are many shoals and shifting sands to obstruct heaviervessels. It has been estimated that between thirty or forty steamboatsreached Benton during the course of last summer. The season, forpurposes of navigation, may be reckoned as having a duration of aboutfour months. Let us now travel north of the American boundary-line, andsee what effect Benton is likely to produce upon the trade of theSaskatchewan. Edmonton lies N.N.W. from Benton about 370 miles. Carltonabout the same distance north-east. From both Carlton and Edmonton toFort Benton the country presents no obstacle whatever to the passage ofloaded carts or waggons, but the road from Edmonton is free fromBlackfeet during the summer months, and is better provided with wood andwater. For the first time in the history of the Saskatchewan, cartspassed safely from Edmonton to Benton during the course of last summer.These carts, ten in number, started from Edmonton in the month of May,bringing furs, robes, etc., to the Missouri. They returned in the month ofJune with a cargo consisting of flour and alcohol.

The furs and robes realized good prices, and altogether the journey wasso successful as to hold out high inducements to other persons to attemptit during the coming summer. Already the merchants of Benton are biddinghigh for the possession of the trade of the Upper Saskatchewan, andestimates have been received by missionaries offering to deliver goods atEdmonton for 7 (American currency) per 100 lbs., all risks being insured.In fact it has only been on account of the absence of a frontier customhouse that importations of bonded goods have not already been made viaBenton.

These facts speak for themselves.

Without doubt, if the natural outlet to the trade of the Saskatchewan,namely the River Saskatchewan itself, remains in its present neglectedstate, the trade of the Western territory will seek a new source, andBenton will become to Edmonton what St. Paul in Minnesota is to Manitoba.

With a view to bringing the regions of the Saskatchewan into a state oforder and security, and to establish the authority and jurisdiction ofthe Dominion Government, as well as to promote the colonization of thecountry known as the "Fertile Belt," and particularly to guard againstthe deplorable evils arising out of an Indian war, I would recommend thefollowing course for the consideration of your Excellency. 1st--Theappointment of a Civil Magistrate or Commissioner, after the model ofsimilar appointments in Ireland and in India. This official would berequired to make semi-annual tours through the Saskatchewan for thepurpose of holding courts; he would be assisted in the discharge of hisjudicial functions by the civil magistrates of the Hudson Bay Company whohave been already nominated, and by others yet to be appointed fromamongst the most influential and respected persons of the French andEnglish half-breed population. This officer should reside in the UpperSaskatchewan.

2nd. The organization of a well-equipped force of from 100 to 150 men,one-third to be mounted, specially recruited and engaged for service inthe Saskatchewan; enlisting for two or three years service, and atexpiration of that period to become military settlers, receiving grantsof land, but still remaining as a reserve force should their services berequired.

3rd. The establishment of two Government stations, one on the UpperSaskatchewan, in the neighbourhood of Edmonton, the other at thejunctions of the North and South Branches of the River Saskatchewan,below Carlton. The establishment of these stations to be followed by theextinguishment of the Indian title, within certain limits, to bedetermined by the geographical features of the locality; for instance,say from longitude of Carlton House eastward to junction of-twoSaskatchewans, the northern and southern limits being the river banks.Again, at Edmonton, I would recommend the Government to take possessionof both banks of the Saskatchewan River, from Edmonton House to Victoria,a distance of about 80 miles, with a depth of, say, from six to eightmiles. The districts thus taken possession of would immediately becomeavailable for settlement, Government titles being given at rates whichwould induce immigration. These are the three general propositions, witha few additions to be mentioned hereafter, which I believe will, ifacted upon, secure peace and order to the Saskatchewan, encouragesettlement, and open up to the influences of civilized man one of thefairest regions of the earth. For the sake of clearness, I have embodied these three suggestions in the shortest possible forms. I will nowreview the reasons which recommend their adoption and the benefits likelyto accrue from them.

With reference to the first suggestion, namely, the appointment of aresident magistrate, or civil commissioner. I would merely observe thatthe general report which I have already made on the subject of the stateof the Saskatchewan, as well as the particular statement to be found inthe Appendix marked D, will be sufficient to prove the necessity of thatappointment. With regard, however, to this appointment as connected withthe other suggestion of military force and Government stations ordistricts, I have much to advance. The first pressing necessity is theestablishment, as speedily as possible, of some civil authority whichwill give a distinct and tangible idea of Government to the native andhalf-breed population, now so totally devoid of the knowledge of what lawand civil government may pertain to. The establishment of such anauthority, distinct from, and independent of, the Hudson Bay Company, aswell as from any missionary body situated in the country, wouldinaugurate a new series of events, a commencement, as it were, ofcivilization in these vast regions, free from all associations connectedwith the former history of the country, and separate from the rivalsystems of missionary enterprise, while at the same time lendingcountenance and support to all. Without some material force to renderobligatory the ordinances of such an authority matters would, I believe,become even worse than they are at present, where the wrong-doer does notappear to violate any law, because there is no law to violate. On theother hand, I am strongly of opinion that any military force which wouldmerely be sent to the forts of the Hudson Bay Company would prove only asource of useless expenditure to the Dominion Government, leaving mattersin very much the same state as they exist at present, affording littleprotection outside the immediate circle of the forts in question, holdingout no inducements to the establishment of new settlements, and liable tobe mistaken by the ignorant people of the country for the-hired defendersof the Hudson Bay Company. Thus it seems to me that force withoutdistinct civil government would be useless, and that civil governmentwould be powerless without a material force. Again, as to the purchase ofIndian rights upon certain localities and the formation of settlements,it must be borne in mind that no settlement is possible in theSaskatchewan until some such plan is adopted.

People will not build houses, rear stock, or cultivate land in placeswhere their cattle are liable to be killed and their crops stolen. Itmust also be remembered that the Saskatchewan offers at present not onlya magnificent soil and a fine climate, but also a market for all farmingproduce at rates which are exorbitantly high. For instance, flour sellsfrom 2 pounds 10 shillings to 5 pounds per 100 lbs.; potatoes from 5shillings to 7 shillings a bushel; and other commodities in proportion.No apprehension need be entertained that such settlements would remainisolated establishments. There are at the present time many personsscattered through the Saskatchewan who wish to become farmers andsettlers, but hesitate to do so in the absence of protection andsecurity. These persons are old servants of the Hudson Bay Company whohave made money, or hunters whose lives have been passed in the greatWest, and who now desire to settle down. Nor would another class ofsettler be absent. Several of the missionaries in the Saskatchewan havebeen in correspondence with persons in Canada who desire to seek a homein this western land, but who have been advised to remain in theirpresent country until matters have become more settled along theSaskatchewan. The advantages of the localities which I have specified,the junction of the branches of the Saskatchewan River and theneighbourhood of Edmonton, may be stated as follows:--Junction of northand south branch--a place of great future military and commercialimportance, commanding navigation of both rivers; enjoys a climatesuitable to the production of all cereals and roots, and a soil ofunsurpassed fertility; is situated about midway between Red River and theRocky Mountains, and possesses abundant and excellent supplies of timberfor building and fuel; is below the presumed interruption to steamnavigation on Saskatchewan River known as "Coal Falls," and is situatedon direct cart-road from Manitoba to Carlton.

Edmonton, the centre of the Upper Saskatchewan, also the centre of alarge population (half-breed)-country lying between it and Victoria veryfertile, is within easy reach of Blackfeet, Cree, and Assineboinecountry; summer frosts often injurious to wheat, but all other cropsthrive well, and even wheat is frequently a large and productive crop;timber for fuel plenty, and for building can be obtained in largequantities ten miles distant; coal in large quantities on bank of riverand gold at from three to ten dollars a day in sand bars.

Only one other subject remains for consideration (I presume that theestablishment of regular mail communication and steam navigation wouldfollow the adoption of the course I have recommended, and, therefore,have not thought fit to introduce them), and to that subject I will nowallude before closing this Report, which has already reached proportionsvery much larger than I had anticipated. I refer to the Indian question,and the best mode of dealing with it. As the military protection of thelinq of the Saskatchewan against Indian attack would be a practicalimpossibility without a very great expenditure of money, it becomesnecessary that all precautions should be taken to prevent the outbreak ofan Indian war, which, if once commenced, could not fail to be productiveof evil consequences. I would urge the advisability of sending aCommissioner to meet the tribes of the Saskatchewan during their summerassemblies.

It must be borne in mind that the real Indian Question exists manyhundred miles west of Manitoba, in a region where the red man wields apower and an influence of his own. Upon one point I would recommendparticular caution, and that is, in the selection of the individual forthis purpose. I have heard a good deal of persons who were said topossess great knowledge of the Indian character, and I have seen enoughof the red man to estimate at its real worth the possession of thisknowledge. Knowledge of Indian character has too long been synonymouswith knowledge of how to cheat the Indian--a species of cleverness which,even in the science of chicanery, does not require the exercise of thehighest abilities. I fear that the Indian has already had too manydealings with persons of this class, and has now got a very shrewd ideathat those who possess this knowledge of his character have also managedto possess themselves of his property.

With regard to the objects to be attended to by a Commission of the kindI have referred to, the principal would be the establishment of peacebetween the warring tribes of Crees and Blackfeet. I believe that a peaceduly entered into, and signed by the chiefs of both nations, in thepresence and under the authority of a Government Commissioner, with thatshow of ceremony and display so dear to the mind of the Indian, would belasting in its effects. Such a peace should be made on the basis ofrestitution to Government in case of robbery. For instance, during timeof peace a Cree steals five horses from a Black-foot. In that case theparticular branch of the Cree nation to which the thief belonged wouldhave to give up ten horses to Government, which would be handed over tothe Black-feet as restitution and atonement. The idea of peace on somesuch understanding occurred to me in the Saskatchewan, and I questionedone of the most influential of the Cree chiefs upon the subject. Hisanswer to me-was that his band would agree to such a proposal and abideby it, but that he could not speak for the other bands. I would alsorecommend that medals, such as those given to the Indian chiefs of Canadaand Lake Superior many years ago, be distributed among the leading men ofthe Plain Tribes. It is astonishing with what religious veneration theselarge silver medals have been preserved by their owners through all thevicissitudes of war and time, and with what pride the well-polishedeffigy is still pointed out, and the words "King George" shouted by theIndian, who has yet a firm belief in the present existence of thatmonarch. If it should be decided that a body of troops should bedespatched to the West, I think it very advisable that the officer incommand of such body should make himself thoroughly acquainted with thePlain Tribes, visiting them at least annually in their camps, andconferring with them on points connected with their interest. I am alsoof opinion that if the Government establishes itself in the Saskatchewan,a third post': should be formed, after the lapse of a year, at thejunction of the Medicine and Red Deer Rivers in latitude 52.18 north, andlongitude 114.15 west, about 90 miles south of Edmonton. This position iswell within the Blackfeet country, possesses a good soil, excellenttimber, and commands the road to Benton. This post need not be the centreof a settlement, but merely a military, customs, missionary, and tradingestablishment.

Such, Sir, are the views which I have formed upon the whole question ofthe existing state of affairs in the Saskatchewan. They result from thethought and experience of-many long days of travel through a largeportion of the region to which they have reference. If I were askedfrom what point of view I have looked upon this question, I would answerFrom that point which sees a vast country lying, as it were, silentlyawaiting the approach of the immense wave of human life which rollsunceasingly from Europe to America. Far off as lie the regions of theSaskatchewan from the Atlantic sea-board on which that wave is thrown,remote as are the fertile glades which fringe the eastern slopes of theRocky Mountains, still that wave of human life is destined to reach thosebeautiful solitudes, and to convert the wild luxuriance of their nowUseless vegetation into all the requirements of civilized existence. AndIf it-be matter for desire that across this immense continent, restingupon the two greatest oceans of the world, a powerful nation should.arise with the strength and the manhood which race and climate andtradition would assign to it--a nation which would look with no evil eyeupon the old mother land from whence it sprung, a nation which, having nobitter memories to recall would have no idle prejudices to perpetuatethen surely it is worthy of all toil of hand and brain, on the part ofthose who to-day rule, that this great link in the chain of such a futurenationality should no longer remain undeveloped, a prey to the conflictsof savage races, at once the garden and the wilderness of the CentralContinent.

W. F. BUTLER, Lieutenant, 69th Regiment. Manitoba, 10th March, 1871.

APPENDIX A

Settlements (Half-breed) in Saskatchewan.

PRINCE ALBERT.--English half-breed. A Presbyterian Mission presided overby Rev. Mr. Nesbit. Small post of Hudson Bay Company with large farmattached. On North Branch of Saskatchewan River, 35 miles above junctionof both branches; a fine soil, plenty of timber, and good winteringground for stock; 50 miles east of Carlton, and 60 west ofFort-à-la-Corne.

WHITEFISH LAKE.--English. Wesleyan Mission--only a few settlers--soilgood--timber plenty. Situated north-east of Victoria 60 miles.

LAC LA BICHE.--French half-breed. Roman Catholic Mission. Large farmattached to mission with water grist mill, etc. Soil very good and timberabundant; excellent fishery. Situated at 70 miles north-west from FortPitt.

VICTORIA.--English half-breed. Wesleyan Mission. Large farm, soil good,altogether a rising little colony. Situated on North Branch ofSaskatchewan River, 84 miles below Edmonton Mission, presided over byRev. J. McDougall.

ST. ALBERT.--French half-breed. Roman Catholic Mission and residence ofBishop (Grandin); fine church building, school and convent, etc. Previousto epidemic, 900 French, the largest settlement in Saskatchewan; verylittle farming done, all hunters. Situated 9 miles north of Edmonton;orphanage here.

ST. ANNE.--French half-breed. Roman Catholic. Settlers mostly emigratedto St. Albert. Good fishery; a few farms existing and doing well. Timberplenty, and soil (as usual) very good; 50 miles north-west from Edmonton.

Information concerning Native Tribes of Saskatchewan River Livingbetween Red River and Rocky Mountains. (Transcriber's Note: The originalpresents this in tabular form. Where a field is blank, I have shown thisby . . . Fields are: Name of Tribe. Locality Occupied. No. by PellitierPressent Estimate. Language. Where Trading. Names of Chiefs.)

Salteaux-Assiniboine River--. . .--. . .-Salteaux--Forts Ellice andPelly. Koota. . . . .

Crees--N. Saskatchewan--11,500-7000-Cree--Carlton, Pitt, Victoria,Edmonton, Battle River-Sgamnat, Sweet Grass--. . .

Blackfeet--S. Saskatchewan-6000-4000-Blackfeet--R. Mount. House--The BigCrow--Represented as being a good man.

Blood-S. Saskatchewan-2800-2000-Ditto--R. Mount. House--The Swan--A greatvillain.

Peagin--49 Parallel-4400-3000-Ditto--R. Mount. House--The Horn--. . . .

Lorcees--Red Deer River-1100-200-Ditto, Chipawayan--R. Mount. House,Edmonton.

Assineboine--S. of Qu'Appelle-1000-500-Assineboine--Qu'Appelle--. . . --. .

Wood Crees--North of Carlton-425--. . . Cree-Forts-à-la-Corne andCarlton-Misstawasis--A good man.

Rocky Mountain Assimneboine--Rocky Mountains-225--. . . Assineboine--R.Mount. House, Assineboine--The Bear's Paw--. . .

Estimated population of half-breed about 2000 souls, forming manyscattered settlements not permanently located.

APPENDIX C.

Names of persons whose appointment to the Commission of the Peace wouldbe recommended:

All officers of Hudson Bay Company in charge of posts. Mr. Chanletain, ofSt. Albert Mission, Edmonton. Mr. Brazeau. Mr. McKenzie, of Victoria. Mr.Wm. Borwick, St. Albert Mission, Edmonton. Mr. McGillis, residing nearFort Pitt.

APPENDIX D.

List of some of the crimes which have been committed in Saskatchewanwithout investigation or punishment:

Murder of a man named Whitford near Rocky Mountains.

Murder of George Daniels by George Robertson at White Mud River, NearVictoria.

Murder of French half-breed by his nephew at St. Albert.

Murder of two Lurcee Indians by half-breed close to Edmonton House.

Murderous attack upon a small party of Blackfeet Indians (men, women,and children), made by Crees, near Edmonton, in April, 1870, by whichseveral of the former were killed and wounded. This attack occurred afterthe safety of these Indians had been purchased from the Crees by theofficer of the Hudson Bay Company in charge at Edmonton, and a guardprovided for their safe passage across the rivers. This guard, composedof French half-breeds from St. Albert opened out to right and left whenthe attack commenced, and did nothing towards saving the lives of theBlackfeet, who were nearly all killed or wounded. There is now livingclose to Edmonton a woman who beat out the brain of a little child agedtwo years on this occasion; also a half-bred man who is the foremostinstigator to all these atrocities. Besides these murders and acts ofviolence robbery is of continual occurrence in the Saskatchewan. Theoutrages specified above have taken place during the last few years.

The End.