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Fine fertile country.—The
water question.—Duck shooting.—Salt Lakes.—Camping on the plains.—Fort
Ellice.—Qu'appelle Valley.—"Souzie."—The River Assiniboine.—The
Buffalo.—Cold nights.—Rich soil.—Lovely Country.—Little Touchwood
Hills.—Cause of prairie fires.—A day of rest.—Prairie uplands.—Indian
family.—Buffalo skulls.— Desolate tract.—Quill Lake.—Salt water.—Broken
prairie.—Round hill.—Prairie fire.—Rich black soil.—Magnificent
Panorama.—Break-neck speed.—The South Saskatchewan. — Sweethearts and
wives.— Fort Carlton. —Free traders.— The Indians.—Crop raising.
August 5th.—This morning it
rained heavily, and delayed us a little; but, by the time we had our
morning cup or pannikin of tea, the carts packed, and everything in its
place, the weather cleared up. We got away at 5 A.M., and rode sixteen
miles before breakfast; reaching "Pine Creek," a favorite camping ground;
still following up the course of the Assiniboine, though never coming near
enough to get a sight of it, after leaving our first camp from Fort Garry.
The next stage was fourteen miles to 'Bog Creek,' and, after dinner,
eleven miles more, making forty-one for the day. Instead of the level
prairie of the two preceding days, and the black peaty loam, we had an
undulating and more wooded country, with soil of sandy loam of varying
degrees of richness. Here and there ridges of sand dunes, covered,
however, with vegetation, sloped to the south, having originally drifted
from the north, probably from the Riding Mountains of which they may be
considered the outlying spurs. From the top of any one of these, a
magnificent view can be had. At our feet a park-like country stretched far
out, studded with young oaks ; vast expanses beyond, extending on the
north to the Riding Mountains, and on the south to the Tortoise Mountain
on the boundary line; a beautiful country extending hundreds of square
miles without a settler, though there is less bad land in the whole of it
than there is in the little peninsula of Halifax, or within five or ten
miles of any of our eastern cities. This almost entire absence of
unproductive land is to us very wonderful. If we except the narrow range
of sandhills, there is actually none ; for the soil, even at their base,
is a light sandy loam which would yield a good return to the farmer. The
soil about these hills is not what is usually termed prairie, and is not
equal to prairie. Its flora is not that of the prairie. Both soil and
flora are like those of the Rice Lake plains, and the County of Simcoe in
Ontario, where excellent wheat crops are raised. The only question,
suggestive of a doubt, that came up was the old one of "Is there plenty of
water?" The rivers are few; the creeks small. Along their banks there is
no difficulty, but what of the intervening ground? We had heard of wells
sunk in different places, and good water found from four to fifty feet
down. But, yesterday, Grant informed us that a beautiful stretch of
prairie, immediately to the west of his location, which had been taken up
by a friend of his, had been abandoned because no water could be got. They
had sunk wells in three places, one of them to the depth of seventy-five
feet, but pierced only hard white clay. Grant believed that this stratum
of clay extended over a limited area, and that, under it, water would be
tapped if they went deep enough. But the matter is of too great importance
to be left to conjecture. Test-wells should be sunk by the Government in
different places; and even where there are saline or brackish lakes, or
even should the first water tapped prove saline, artesian wells might be
tried, so as to get to the fresh water beneath. Till it is certain that
good water can be easily had all over the prairie, successful colonization
on a large scale cannot be expected. The general belief is that there is
water enough everywhere. There is an abundant rain fall, and the water
does not form little brooks and run off, but is absorbed by the rich,
deep, porous ground. Still the claims of our North-west on the attention
of emigrants would be rendered all the stronger, were they assured that
the water supply was unfailing everywhere. Up to this time the question
has not been started, because much of the land on the river-banks has not
yet been taken up. But it would be well to be prepared with an answer.
Nothing could be more exhilarating than our
rides across the prairie, especially the morning ones. The weather, since
our arrival at Fort Garry, had been delightful, and we knew that we had
escaped the sultry heat of July, and were just at the commencement of the
two pleasantest months of the year. The nights were so cool that the
blanket was welcome, and in the evenings and mornings we could enjoy the
hot tea. The air throughout the day was delicious, fresh, flower-scented,
healthful, and generally breezy, so that neither horse nor rider was warm
after a fifteen or twenty miles' ride. We ceased to wonder that we had not
heard of a case of sickness in one of the settlers' families. Each day was
like a new pic-nic. Even the short, terrific, thunder storm of the day
before yesterday had been enjoyed because of its grandeur. Grant told us
that it was the heaviest he had ever seen in the country, and that we had
felt its full force. Three miles away there had been no hail.
August 6th.—Up before four A.M., but were
delayed some time by the difficulty of lassoing the horses that were
wanted. The Doctor had, meanwhile, some shooting round the little lake by
which we had camped ; and getting some more on the way, Terry, the cook,
was enabled to serve up plover, duck and pigeons, with rice curry for
breakfast. Our morning's ride was sixteen miles, and brought us to the
Little Saskatchewan,—a swift-flowing pebbly-bottomed stream, running south
into the Assiniboine. Its valley was about two miles wide and two hundred
and fifty feet deep. All the rivers of the North-west have this
peculiarity of wide valleys, and it constitutes a serious difficulty in
the way of railroad making; they must be crossed, but regular bridging on
so gigantic a scale is out of the question. The hill sides sloping down
into the valley or intervale of the river are green and rounded, with
clumps of trees, most of them fire-scorched, in the depressions.
We hailed the sight of this flowing stream
with peculiar delight; for it was the first thing that looked, to our
eyes, like a river in all the hundred and twenty miles since leaving the
Assiniboine. The creeks crossed on the way were sluggish and had little
water in them, and most of the swamps and lakelets were dried up, and
their bottom covered with rank coarse grass, instead of the water that
fills them in the spring. This morning, however, we passed by several
pretty-well-filled lakes,— plover and snipe about most of them—on the
"height of land," from which the ground slopes toward the Little
Saskatchewan. Our
second stage for the day was only eleven miles; but the next was fourteen,
and we drove or rode along the winding road at a rattling pace, reaching
our camping ground, at Salt Lake, an hour before sunset. This lake is
bitter or brackish, but, on the opposite side of the road, there is good
water; and, although the mosquitoes gave us a little trouble, here we
fared well—as at all our camps. This was the first saline lake we had
seen, but farther north on the way to Edmonton, there are many such; and
grievous has been the disappointment of weary travellers, on drawing near
to one of them and preparing to camp. The causes are probably local, for
good water is found near, and, all around, the grass is as luxuriant as
elsewhere. A white crust forms on the dried up part of the bottom and the
shores are covered with marine plants, chiefly reddish-colored, thick,
succulent samphire and sea-blite growing together and extending over
several acres of ground. The salt in these lakes is sulphate of soda.
A bathe in the little Saskatchewan before
breakfast was our first good wash for two or three days, and we enjoyed it
proportionately. Our horses did their forty-one miles to-day, seemingly
with greater ease than they had any previous day's work. Most of them are
of pure native breed; some of them—the largest— have been crossed with
Canadian, and the swiftest with Yankee breeds. In all our pack there are
only two or three bad horses; none of them looked well at first, but,
though small and common looking, they are so patient, hardy and
companionable, that it is impossible for their riders to avoid becoming
attached to them. Hardly two of the saddles provided for our party were
alike. There was choice of English, American, and Mexican military,—the
first kind being the general favorite.
August 7th.—Made a good day's journey of
forty-five miles, from the Salt Lake to the junction of the Qu'Appelle and
Assiniboine rivers. The first stage was ten miles, to the "Shoal Lake"—a
large and beautiful sheet of water with a pebbly or sandy beach—a capital
place for a halt or for camping. The great requirements of such spots are
wood, water, and feed for the horses ; the traveller has to make his
stages square with the absence or presence of those essentials. If he can
get a hilly spot where there are few mosquitoes, and a sheet of water
large enough to bathe in, and a resort of game, so much the better.
Arrived at the ground, the grassiest and most level spots, gently sloping,
if possible, that the head may be higher than the feet, are selected. The
tents are pitched over these, one tent being allotted to two persons, when
comfort is desirable, though sometimes a dozen crowd inside of one. A
waterproof is spread on the ground, and, over that, a blanket. Each man
has another blanket to pull over him, and he may be sound asleep ten
minutes after arriving at the ground, if he has not to cook or wait for
his supper. The horses need very little attention; the harness is taken
off and they are turned loose—the leaders or most turbulent ones being
hobbled, i. e., their fore feet are fettered with intertwined folds of
shaganappi or raw buffalo hide, so that they can only move about by a
succession of short jumps. Hobbling is the western substitute for
tethering. They find out, or are driven to, the water, and, immediately
after, begin grazing around ; next morning they are ready for the road. A
morning's swim and wash in Shoal Lake was a great luxury, and the Doctor
had some good shooting at ducks, loons, yellowlegs, and snipe.
Our second stage was twenty-one miles to
"Bird's Tail Creek," a pretty little running stream, with valley nearly as
wide, and banks as high, as the Little Saskatchewan. It is wonderful to
see the immense breadth of valley that insignificant creeks, in land where
they have not to cut their way through rocks, have eroded in the course of
ages. At this creek,
we were only twelve miles distant from Fort Ellice. The true distance from
Fort Garry, as measured by our odometer being two hundred and fifteen
miles, and not two hundred and thirty-one, as stated on Palliser's map and
by Captain Butler in his book. As our course lay to the north of Fort
Ellice, the Chief and two of the party went on ahead to get provisions and
half a dozen Government horses that had been left to winter there, and to
attend to some business, while the rest followed the direct trail and
struck the edge of the plateau overlooking the Assiniboine,—which was
running south —just where the Qu'Appelle joined it from the west. The view
from this point is magnificent; between two and three hundred feet below,
extending far south and then winding to the east, was the valley of the
Assiniboine,—at least two miles wide.
Opposite us, the Qu'Appelle joined it, and
both ran so slowly, that the united river meandered through the intervale,
as circuitously as the links of the Forth, cutting necks and promontories
of land that seemed, and were, almost islands, some of them soft and
grassy, and others covered with willows or timber. The broad open valley
of the Qu'Appelle stretched along to the west, making a grand break in
what would otherwise have been an unbroken plateau of prairie. Three miles
to the south of this valley, and therefore opposite us but farther down,
two or three small white buildings on the edge of the plateau were pointed
out as Fort Ellice. To the north of the Qu'Appelle, the sun was dipping
behind woods far away on the edge of the horizon, and throwing a mellow
light on the vast expanse which spread around in every direction.
We descended to the intervale by a
much-winding path, and moved on north a little to the "crossing" three
miles above the Fort, and immediately above where the Qu'Appelle flows
into the main river. Scarcely had the tents been pitched and the fires
lighted, when the Chief appeared bringing supplies of flour, pemmican,
dried meat, salt, etc., from Fort Ellice. He reported that there were
several parties of Indians about the Fort, who had emigrated two or three
years ago from the United States, anxious to settle in British territory.
One of them, from Ohio, spoke good English, and from him he gained the
information about them.
The first portion of the journey from Fort
Garry is considered to extend to Fort Ellice, and we had accomplished it
in less than six days. The last stage had been over the worst road—a road
winding between broad hill-sides strewn with granite boulders, and lacking
only brawling streams and foaming fells to make it like Moffatdale, and
many another similar dale in the south of Scotland. But here there never
had been bold moss troopers, and there were no "Tales of the Borders."
Crees, and Sioux and Ojibbeways may have gone in the war path against each
other, and have hunted the buffalo over the plains to the west, but there
has been no Walter Scott or even Wilson to gather up and record their
legends, and hand down the fame of their braves. And there are no sheep
grazing on those rich hill-sides, and there was neither wigwam, steading,
nor shieling on the last hundred and sixty miles of road. Silence reigned
everywhere, broken only by the harsh cry of wild fowl rising from lakelets,
[or the grouse-like whirr of the prairie hen on its short flight. We had
seen but a small part, and that by no means the best of the land. The
trail follows along the ridges, where there is a probability of its being
dry for most of the year, as it was not part of its object to shew the
fertility of the country or its suitableness for settlers. But we had seen
enough to show that, even east of Fort Ellice, there is room for a large
population. Those great breadths of unoccupied land are calling 'come,
plough, sow, and reap us.' The rich grass is destroyed by the autumn
fires, which a spark kindles, and which destroy also the wood, which
formerly was of larger size and much more abundant than now. This
destruction of wood seriously affects the water supply. Lakes that once
had water all the year round are now dry, except in the spring time. But,
when settlers come in, all this shall be changed. The grass will be cut at
the proper time, and stacked for the cattle, and then there shall not be
the wide spreading dried fuel to feed the fires, and give them ever
increasing force. Fields of ploughed land, interspersed here and there,
shall set bounds to the flames, and tourists and travellers will be less
likely to leave their camp-fires burning, when they know that there are
settlers near, whose property would be endangered, and who therefore would
not tolerate criminal carelessness on the part of strangers.
8th August.—Being in the neighbourhood of a
fort, and having to re-arrange luggage and look after the new horses, we
did not get away till nine o'clock. An hour before, greatly to the
surprise of Emilien,—for he had calculated on keeping in advance the
twenty-two miles he had gained on Sunday,—and greatly to our delight, Mr.
McDougal drove up and rejoined us with his man "Souzie." Souzie had never
been east before, and the glories of Winnepeg had fairly dazzled him. He
was going home heavy-laden with wonderful stories of all he had seen ;—
the crowd hearing Mr. Punshon preach and the collection taken up at the
close, the review of the battalion of militia, the splendour of the
village stores, the Red River steamboat, the quantities of rum, were all
amazing. When the plate came round at the church Souzie rejoiced, and was
going to help himself, but, noticing his neighbors put money in, he was so
puzzled that he let it pass. He chuckled for many a day at the simplicity
of the Winnepeggers:—"Who ever before saw a plate handed round except to
take something from it?" The review excited his highest admiration:—"Wah,
wah! wonderful! I have seen a hundred men turned into one!"
Our first work this morning was to cross the
Assiniboine. The ford was only three feet deep, but the bottom was of
shifting sand, so that it did not do to let the horses stand still while
crossing. The bank on the west side is bold, and the sand so deep, that it
is a heavy pull up to the top. After ascending, we moved west for the
first few miles along the north bank of the Qu'Appelle. The Botanist went
down to the intervale and sand-hills near the stream, to inspect the
flora, and was rewarded by finding half-a-dozen new species. We soon
turned in a more northerly direction, though, had there been a fortnight
to spare, some of us would have liked to have gone a hundred miles up the
Qu'Appelle, where, we had been told yesterday by a Scotch half-breed,
called Mackay, that the buffalo were in swarms. Mackay was on his way back
to Fort Garry with the spoils of his hunt. He had left home with his wife
and seven children and six carts, late in May, joined a party at Fort
Ellice and gone up to the high plains, where the source of the Qu'Appelle
is, near the elbow of the South Saskatchewan, and obtained his food for
the year in the way most pleasing to a half-breed. They had all lived
sumptuously while near the buffalo, and when they had dried enough meat to
fill their carts, at the rate of ten buffalos to a cart, they parted
company; and he and his wife, with the meat and skins, turned homewards,
to do little for the rest of the year, but enjoy themselves. This is all
very well when the buffalo are plenty ; but as they get scarcer or move
farther away, what is to be done? A man cannot be both a hunter and a
farmer; and, therefore, as the buffalo go west, so will the half-breeds.
But, fascinating as a buffalo-hunt seemed,
described in all the glowing language and gesticulations of a successful
hunter, the time could not be spared, and so we jogged along our road,
hoping that we might fall in with the lord of the prairies as far north as
Carlton or Fort Pitt.
The first part of the day's ride, like the
last part of the previous day's, was over the poorest ground we had
seen—light and sandy—and yet the grass nowhere presented the dried up,
crisp, brownish look that is so often seen in the eastern provinces at
this time of the year. Still the land about Fort Ellice is not to be
recommended, especially when there is so much of the very best waiting to
be cultivated. Nine
miles from the Assiniboine, we breakfasted beside a spring in the marsh
where the water is good, but where a barrel or some such thing, sunk in
the ground, would be desirable. This is every traveller's business, and,
therefore, is not done. We are now in "No man's Land;"—where the Governor
of Manitoba has a nominal jurisdiction, but where there are no taxes and
no laws ; where every man does what is right in his own eyes, and prays
that the great Manitou would prosper him in his horse, stealing or
scalping expeditions.
Our next stage was twenty-two miles to "Broken
Arm River" —a pretty little stream with the usual deep and broad valley.
The soil improved as we travelled west. The grass was richer, and much of
the flora that had disappeared for the previous twenty miles began to show
again. On the banks of the river there was time before tea to indulge in a
great feast of raspberries, as we camped early in the evening, after
having travelled only thirty-one miles. The Botanist had found exactly
that number of new species,—the largest number by far on any one day since
leaving Fort Garry. The explanation is, that he had the valleys of two
rivers and several varieties of soil to botanize over.
August 9th.—Last night the thermometer fell to
34°, and we all suffered from the cold, not being prepared for such a
sudden change. There was heavy dew, as there always is on prairies, and at
four o'clock, when we came out of the tents, shivering a little, the cold
wet grass was comfortless enough; but a warm cup of tea around the camp
fire put all right. We were on horseback before sunrise, and a trot of
thirteen miles, over a beautiful and somewhat broken country, fitted us
for breakfast. Mr. McDougal told us that in the elevated part of the
country in which we were, extending north-west from Fort Ellice, light
frosts were not unusual in July or August. They are not so heavy as
seriously to injure grain crops; but still they must be regarded as an
unpleasant feature in this section of the country. The general destruction
of the trees by fires makes a recurrence of these frosts only too likely,
till some action is taken to stop the real fountain of all the evils. If
there were forests, there would be a greater rainfall, less heavy dews,
and probably no frosts. But it will be little use for the government to
issue proclamations in reference to the extinguishing of camp-fires, until
there are settlers here and there, who will see to their observance for
their own interest. Settlers will plant trees, or give a chance of growing
to those that sow themselves, cut the grass, and prevent the spread of
fires. But settlers will not come, till there is a railroad to bring them
in. Our second stage
for the day was sixteen miles over an excellent road and through a country
that evoked spontaneous bursts of admiration from every one. The prairie
was more than rolling, it was undulating; broken into natural fields by
the rounded hillocks and ridges crowned with clumps of aspens —too often,
alas ! fire-scathed. In the hollows grew tall, rich, grass which would
never be mowed; everywhere else, even on the sandy ridges, was excellent
pasture. We met a
half-breed travelling, with dried meat and buffalo, skins, to Fort Garry,
in his wooden cart covered with a cotton roof, and he informed us that men
were hunting, two days' journey ahead, about the Touchwood Hills. This
excited our men to the highest pitch, for the buffalo have not come on
this route for many years, and eager hopes were exchanged that we might
see and get a shot at them. Wonderful stories were told of the
buffalo-hunts in former days, and men, hitherto taciturn, perhaps because
they knew little English (more, however, than we knew of French or Indian,
which they all spoke fluently) began explaining volubly—eking out their
meaning with expressive gesticulation,—the nature of a buffalo hunt. Fine
fellows all our half-breeds were as far as riding, hunting, camping,
dancing and such like were concerned; though they would have made but poor
farm-servants. Two of them had belonged to Riel's body-guard in the days
of his little rebellion. The youngest was Willie, a boy of sixteen, who
rode and lassoed, and raged, and stormed, and swore on the slightest
provocation, better than any of them. He looked part of the horse when on
his back, and never shirked the roughest work. We were horrified at his
ready profanity however, and the Doctor rowed him up about it; but, though
they all liked the Doctor, for he had physicked two or three of them
successfully, and had even bound up the sore leg of one of the horses
better than they could, the jawing had no effect. The Secretary then tried
his hand. Finding that Willie believed in his father, an adventurous
daring Scot, who had married a squaw, he accosted him one day when none of
the others were near, with, "Willie, would you like to hear me yelling out
your father's name, with shameful words among strangers?" He looked up
with a half-puzzled, half-defiant air, and shook his head. "Well, how can
I like to hear you shouting out bad language about my best friend?" A few
more words "on that line" and Willie was 'converted.' We heard no more
oaths from him except the mild ones, "By George,"by jing," or "by Golly,"
and in many an ingenious way thereafter he showed a sneaking fondness for
the Secretary. We
rested to-day for dinner on a hillock beside two deep pools of water, and
the Doctor made us some capital soup from preserved tomatoes and mutton.
Ten or eleven miles from our dining table brought us to the end of this
section of wooded country, where we had intended to camp for the night,
but the ponds were empty and no halt could be made. We therefore pushed on
across a vast treeless plain, twenty miles wide, with the knowledge that
if there was no water in a marsh beside a solitary tree four miles ahead,
we would have to go off the road for five miles to get some, and, as the
sun was setting, the prospect for the first time looked a little gloomy.
Making rapidly for the lonely tree, enough water for ourselves and horses
was found, and with hurrahs from the united party, the tents were pitched.
Forty-two and a half miles, the odometer shewed to be our day's travel.
August 10th.—The night of the 8th having been
so cold, we divided out more blankets the following evening by dispensing
with one tent, and sleeping three, instead of two, in each. The precaution
turned out to be unnecessary, though we kept it up afterwards for the
nights were always cool. This feature of cool nights after hot days is an
agreeable surprise to those who know how different it is in inland
countries, or wherever there is no sea breeze. It is one of the causes of
the healthy appearance of the new settlers even in the summer months. In
the hottest season of the year the nights are cool on these prairies and
the dews abundant, except when the sky is covered with clouds, and then
there is usually rain. No wonder that the grass keeps green when elsewhere
it is dry and grey.
Our morning's ride was across sixteen miles of the great plain, four miles
from the easterly edge of which we had camped. The Secretary walked the
distance, and got into the breakfast-place ten minutes after the mounted
party. A morning's walk or ride across such an open has a wonderfully
exhilarating effect. The air is so pure that it acts as a perpetual gentle
stimulant, and so bracing that little fatigue is felt, even after unusual
exertion; seldom is a hair turned on either horse or man.
The plain was not an unbroken expanse but a
succession of very shallow basins, enclosed in one large basin, itself
shallow, from the run of which you could look across the whole, whereas,
at the bottom of one of the smaller basins, the horizon was exceedingly
limited. No sound broke the stillness except the chirp of the gopher, or
prairie squirrel, running to his hole in the ground. The character of the
soil every few yards could be seen from the fresh earth, that the moles
had scarcely finished throwing up. It varied from the richest of black
peaty loam, crumbled as if it had been worked by a gardener's hand for his
pots, to a very light sandy soil. The ridges of the basins were often
gravelly. Everywhere the pasturage was excellent, though it was tall
enough for hay only in the depressions or marshy spots.
Our two next stages carried us over
twenty-five miles of a lovely country, known as the Little Touchwood
Hills; aspens were grouped on gentle slopes, or so thrown in at the right
points of valley and plain, as to convey the idea of distance and every
other effect that a landscape gardener could desire. Lakelets and pools,
fringed with willows, glistened out at almost every turn of the
road—though many of them were saline. Only the manorhouses and some
gently-flowing streams were wanting, to make out a resemblance to the most
beautiful parts of England. For generations, all this boundless extent of
beauty and wealth had been here, owned by England ; and yet statesmen had
been puzzling their heads over the "Condition of England's Poor, the Irish
Famine, the Land and Labor Questions," without once turning their eyes to
a land that offered a practical solution to them all. And the beauty in
former years had been still greater, for, though the fires have somehow
been kept oft this district for a few years, it is not very long since
both hardwood and evergreens as well as willows and aspens, grew all over
it; and then, at every season of the year, it must have been beautiful. It
is only of late years that fires have been frequent; and they are so
disastrous to the whole of our North-west that energetic action should be
taken to prevent them. Formerly, when the Hudson's Bay Company was the
only power in this "Great Lone Land," it was alive to the necessity of
this, and very successful in impressing its views on the Indians as well
as on its own servants. Each of its travelling parties carried a spade
with which the piece of ground on which the fire was to be made was dug
up, and as the party moved off, earth thrown on the embers extinguished
them. But since miners, traders, tourists and others have entered the
country, there has been a very different state of affairs. Some of the
spring traders set fire to the grass round their camps, that it may grow
up the better and be fresh on their return in autumn. The destruction of
forests, the drying up of pools, and the extermination of game by roasting
the spring eggs, are all nothing compared to a little selfish advantage.
And the Indians and the Hudson's Bay parties seeing this, have become
nearly as reckless.
This afternoon we had some idea of the lovely aspect that this country
would soon assume, if protected from the fire-demon. The trees grow up
with great rapidity; in five or six years the aspens are thick enough for
fencing purposes. There was good sport near the lake, and clumps of trees,
and Frank shot prairie-hen, partridge and teal, for dinner and next day's
breakfast. As he was confined to the roadside, and had no dog, he had but
indifferent chances for a good bag. We had to push on to do our forty-one
miles, and could not wait for sportsmen. At sunset the camp was selected,
by a pond in the middle of a plain, away from the bush so as to avoid
mosquitoes; and as Emilien was tired enough by this time, he agreed
readily to the proposal to rest on the following day.
August 11th.—Breakfast at 9 a. m., having
allowed ourselves the luxury of a long sleep on the "Day of Rest." The
water beside our camp was hard and brackish, scarcely drinkable in fact,
and not good even to wash with. It gave an unpleasant taste to the tea,
and even a dash of spirits did not neutralize its brackishness. Here again
the necessity of finding out the real state of the water-supply to this
country, was forced on our attention. Even if the pools do not all dry up,
the water in them at this time of the year is only what is left of melted
snow and the spring and summer rains, tainted with decayed vegetable
matter, and filled with animalculae. The question must be satisfactorily
settled; for men must have pure water and plenty of it.
This was a grand day for horses and men. Most
of the latter rose early and had their breakfasts and then went to sleep
again; others did not rise from under the carts and shake themselves out
of their buffalo blankets, till after ten o'clock. At 11.15 all assembled
for service—Roman Catholics, Methodists, Episcopalians and Presbyterians.
The Secretary sat on a box in front of the tents, with Frank by his side
holding an umbrella over both heads, as the sun shone fiercely. The
congregation, thirteen in number, sat in the doors, or shade of the tents.
Mr. McDougal led the responses, and all joined in devoutly. After the
service had been read and hymns sung, a short sermon was preached.
The advantages of resting
on the Lord's Day, on such expeditions as this, and also of uniting in
some common form of worship, are very manifest. The physical rest is
needed by man and beast. All through the week there has been a rush; the
camp begins to be astir at three in the morning, and from that hour till
nine or ten at night, there is constant high pressure. At the halting
places, meals have to be cooked, baggage arranged and re-arranged, horses
looked to, harness mended, clothes washed or dried, and everything kept
clean and trim; rest is therefore impossible. From four to six hours of
sleep are all that can be snatched. The excitement keeps a mere tourist
up, so that on Saturday night he feels quite able to go ahead, but if he
insists on pushing on, the strain soon becomes too much, and he loses all
the benefit to his health that he had gained: and to the men there is none
of the excitement of novelty, and they therefore need the periodic rest
all the more. But the
great advantages of the day, to such a party, are lost if each man is left
the whole time to look after himself,—as if there was no common bond of
union,—to sleep, to gamble, to ramble, to shoot, to snare gophers, to read
or write, and eat. Let the head of the party ask them to meet for
common-prayer or some simple service, let it be ever so short; all will
come if they believe that they are welcome. The singing of a hymn will
bring them round the tent or hillock where the service is held ; and the
kneeling together, the alternate reading, a few earnest kindly words, will
do more than anything else to awaken old remembrances, to stir the better
nature of all, to heal up little bitternesses, and give each that
sentiment or common brotherhood that cements into one the whole party.
The large body of Canadians that preceded
Milton and Cheadle in their journey across these same plains ten years
ago, would hardly have held together, had it not been for their observance
of the Sunday rest. In an account of their arduous expedition by this
route to the Cariboo gold mines, one of themselves gives the following
earnestly-worded testimony:— "The fatigues of the journey were now
beginning to have an injurious effect upon our animals, as well as upon
the tempers and dispositions of the men, and especially towards the end of
the week were these effects more apparent, when frequent disagreements and
petty disputes or quarrels of a more serious kind would take place, when
each was ready to contradict the other, and, at the slightest occasion or
without any occasion, to take offence. But to-morrow would be the Sabbath;
and no wonder that its approach should be regarded with pleasurable
anticipations, as furnishing an opportunity for restoring the exhausted
energies of both man and beast, for smoothing down the asperities of our
natures, and by allowing us time for reflection, for regaining a just
opinion of our duties towards one another ; and the vigor with which our
journey would be prosecuted, and the cordiality and good feeling that
characterized our intercourse after our accustomed rest on the first day
of the week, are sufficient evidence to us that the law of the Sabbath is
of physical as well as moral obligation, and that its precepts cannot be
violated with impunity. We certainly have had much reason gratefully to
adore that infinite wisdom and goodness that provided for us such a
rest."—All which we endorse as the utterances of sound common sense.
Our Sunday dinner was a good one. Terry had
time and did his best. Soup made from canned tomatoes and canned meat
gladdened our hearts. The Chief gave a little whiskey to the men, to take
the bad taste from the water and kill the animalculae; and Emilien took as
kindly to resting as if he had never travelled on Sundays in his life.
The afternoon was sultry and thundery. Heavy
showers, we could see, were falling ahead and all around, but, although
the clouds threatened serious things, we got only a sprinkling, and the
evening cleared up with a glorious sunset.
After tea, Mr. McDougal led our "family
worship." We did not ask the men to come, but the sound of the hymn
brought them round, and they joined in the short service with devoutness,
Willie, who had done a good day's work in snaring fat gophers, being
particularly attentive. They were all thankful for the rest of the day.
August 12th.—"The 12th" found us up early, as
if near a highland moor, and away from camp a few minutes after sunrise.
Another delightful day; sunny and breezy. First stage, thirteen miles; the
second, sixteen, and the third, fourteen miles, or forty-three for the
day; every mile across a country of unequalled beauty and fertility ; of
swelling uplands enclosing in their hollows lakelets, the homes of snipe,
plover and duck, fringed with tall reeds, and surrounded with a belt of
soft woods; long reaches of rich lowlands, with hillsides spreading gently
away from them, on which we were always imagining the houses of the
owners; avenues of whispering trees through which we rode on, without ever
coming to lodge or gate.
Our first "spell" [The term "spell" is
commonly used, all over the plains, to indicate the length of journey
between meals or stopping-places; the latter are sometimes called
spelling-places, by half-breeds and others.] was through the most
beautiful country, beautiful simply because longest spared by fire. Many
of the aspens were from one to two feet in diameter. Most of the water was
fresh, but probably not very healthy, for the lakes or ponds were shallow,
and the water tainted by the annual deposition of an enormous quantity of
decomposed organic matter. In summer when the water is low, it is
difficult to get at it, because of the depth of the mire. When the buffalo
ranged through this country and came to ponds to drink, they often sank so
deep in the mud that they were unable to extricate themselves, especially
if the foremost were driven on by those behind, or the hunters were
pressing them. The harder the poor beasts struggled, the deeper they sank;
till, resigning themselves to the inevitable, they have been known to
disappear from sight and be trampled over by others of the herd. The old
deeply indented trails of the herd, in the direction of the saline lakes,
are still visible. They used to lick greedily the saline incrustations
round the border, as they do still when near such lakes, Like domestic
cattle, they instinctively understand the medicinal value of salt. From
this point of view, it is doubtful if the saline lakes will prove a
serious disadvantage to the stock-raising farmer. In British Columbia and
on the Pacific Coast generally, such lakes are found, and the cattle that
are accustomed to the water. receive no injury from drinking it.
On our way to dinner, two large white cranes
rose swan-like from a wet marsh near the road. Frank with his gun and
Willie with a stone made after them. The larger of the two flew high, but
Willie's stone brought down the other. As he was seizing it, the big one,
evidently the mother, attacked him, but, seeing the gun coming, flew up in
time to save herself. The young one was a beautiful bird, the extended
wings measuring over six feet from tip to tip. As soon as Willie had
killed his game, he rode off in triumph with it slung across his
shoulders. In twenty minutes after his arrival at camp, he and his mates
had plucked, cooked, and disposed of it, all uniting in pronouncing the
meat delicate and 'first-class.'
After dinner a good chance of killing a brown"
bear was lost. At a turn of the road he was surprised on a hillock, not
twenty yards distant from the buckboard that led our cavalcade. Had the
horsemen and guns been in front as usual, he could have been shot at once;
but, before they came up, he was off, at a shambling but rapid gait among
the thickets, and there was not time to give chase. This was a
disappointment, for all of us would have relished a bear-steak.
The low line of the
Touchwood Hills had been visible in the forenoon; and, for the rest of the
day's journey, we first skirted them in a north-westerly direction, and
then, turning directly west, we gained their height by a road so winding
and an ascent so easy, that there was no point at which we could look back
and get an extended view of the ground travelled in the course of the
afternoon. It is almost inaccurate to call this section of country by the
name of "Hills," little or big. It is simply a series of prairie uplands,
from fifty to eighty miles wide, that swell up in beautiful undulations
from the level prairies on each side. They have no decided summits from
which the ascent and the plain beyond can be seen; but everywhere are
grassy or wooded, rounded knolls, enclosing natural fields or farms, with
small ponds in the windings and larger ones in the lowest hollows. The
land everywhere is of the richest loam. Every acre that we saw might be
ploughed. Though not as well suited for steam ploughs as the open prairie,
in many respects this section is better adapted for farming purposes,
being well wooded, well watered, and with excellent and natural drainage,
not to speak of its wonderful beauty. All that it lacks is a murmuring
brook or brawling burn; but there is not one, partly because the trail is
along the watershed. On a parallel road farther north that passes by Quill
Lake, Mr. McDougal says that there are running streams, and that the
country is, of course, all the more beautiful.
Our camp for the night was beside two lakelets
near forks where the road divides, one going northerly from our course to
the old Touchwood trading-post, fifteen miles distant.
So passed 'the 12th' with us. If we had not
sweet-scented heather and Scotch grouse, we had duck and plover and
prairie hen ; and, beside the cheery camp-fires under a cloudless
star-lit-sky, we enjoyed our feast as heartily as any band of gypsies or
sportsmen on the moors.
August 13th.—Heavy rain this morning which
ceased at sunrise. Got off an hour after, and descended, in our first
stage of fourteen and a half miles, the western side of the Touchwood
Hills. This side is very much like the other; the descent to us was so
imperceptible that nowhere could we see far ahead or feel certain that we
were descending, until the most western upland was reached, and then,
beneath and far before us, stretched a seemingly endless sea of level
prairie, a mist on the horizon giving it still more the look of a sea.
Early in the morning we came upon two buffalo-tents by the roadside. In
these were the first Indians we had fallen in with since meeting the Sioux
at Rat Creek, with the exception of two or three tents at "the crossing"
of the Assiniboine. They were two families of Bungys, (a section of the
Salteaux or Ojibbeway tribe) who had been hunting buffalo on the prairie
to the south-west of us.. They had a good many skins on their carts, and
the women were engaged at the door of a tent chopping up the fat and meat
to make pemmican. Marchaud, our guide, at once struck "a trade" with them,
a few handfuls of tea for several pieces of dried buffalo meat. The men
seemed willing that he should take as much as he liked, but the oldest
squaw haggled pertinaciously over each piece, and chuckled and grinned
horribly when she succeeded in snatching away from him the last piece he
was carrying off. She was the only ugly being in their camp. The men had
straight delicate features, with little appearance of manly strength in
their limbs; hair nicely trimmed and plaited. Two or three young girls
were decidedly pretty, and so were the little pappooses. The whole party
would have been taken for good looking gypsies in England.
The road on this stage was the worst we had
travelled over; so full of ruts and boulders that the axle of one of the
carts snapped, and as there was not time to make another, the cart had to
be abandoned by the road-side till Emilien's return from Carlton. It was a
marvel how well those Red River carts stood out all the jolting they got.
When any part broke before, a thong of Shaganappi had united the pieces.
Shaganappi in this part of the world does all that leather, cloth, rope,
nails, glue, straps, cord, tape, and a number of other articles are used
for elsewhere. Without it the Red River cart, which is simply a clumsy
looking, but really light, box cart with wheels six or seven feet in
diameter, and not a bit of iron about the whole concern, would be an
impossibility. These high wheeled carts cross the miry creeks, borne up by
the grass roots, when ordinary waggons would sink to the hubs.
After breakfast we entered on a vast plain
that stretched out on every side, but the one we had left, to the horizon.
This had once been a favourite resort of the buffalo, and we passed in the
course of the day more than a score of skulls that were bleaching on the
prairie. All the other bones had been of course chopped and boiled by the
Indian women for the oil in them. The Chief picked up two or three of the
best skulls to send as specimens to Ottawa. Great was "Souzie's" amazement
at such an act He had been amused at the Botanist gathering flowers and
grasses; but the idea of a great O-ghe-ma coming hundreds of miles, to
carry home bones without any marrow in them, was inexplicable. He went up
to Frank and explained by gestures that they were quite useless, and urged
him to throw them out of the buckboard, and when Frank shook his head he
appealed to Mr. McDougal to argue with us. All his efforts failing, he
gave it up; but whenever his eyes caught sight of the skulls it was too
much for even Indian gravity, and off he would go into fits of laughing at
the folly of the white men.
Our second "spell" was nineteen, and the
third, nine miles across this treeless desolate-looking prairie. Towards
evening the country became slightly broken and wooded, but we had to camp
on a spot where there was not enough wood to make the fires for the night.
Knowing this, Marchaud passed the word to the men on horseback, two or
three miles before arriving at the camp. They dashed into a thicket,
pitched some small dead dry wood into the carts, and then each throwing an
uprooted tree from fifteen to twenty-five feet long, and four to six
inches in diameter across his shoulders or on the pommel of his saddle,
cantered off with it, Sancho Panza like, as easily as if it was only a
long whip. They had done this several times before, Willie generally
picking out the biggest tree to carry, and, no matter how unwieldy the
load, they rode their horses firmly and gracefully as ever.
The prairie crossed to-day extends
north-easterly to Quill Lake, the largest of the salt lakes. Just on that
account, and because all the ponds on it are saline, clearly shown, even
where dried up, by the reddish samphire or white incrustations about the
edges, one or two test wells should be sunk here; for if good water is
found on this plain, it will likely be found everywhere.
To-day we had two opportunities of sending to
Red River letters or telegrams for home, and—lest one should fail—availed
ourselves of both. Tying our packets with red tape, to give them an
official look and thus impress Posty with due care, and sealing the
commission with a plug of tobacco, we trusted our venture with the
comfortable feeling that we had re-established our communications with the
outer world. [It is
only fair to mention that both messengers, one of them a French, the other
a Scotch half-breed and parishioner of Mr. McDougal's, proved trusty.
Every letter or telegram we sent from the plains reached home sooner than
we had counted on.]
All day our men had been on the outlook for
buffalo but without result. Marchaud rode in advance, gun slung across his
shoulders, but although he scanned every corner of the horizon eagerly,
and galloped ahead or on either side to any overhanging lip of the
plateau, no herd or solitary bull came within his view. They were not far
off, for fresh tracks were seen, few in comparison to the tracks of former
times, indented in the ground like old furrows and running in parallel
lines to the salt lakes, as if in those days the whole prairie had been
covered with wood, and the beasts had made their way through in long files
of thousands. August
14th.—The thermometer fell below freezing point last night, but the
additional allowance of blankets kept us warm enough. At sunrise there was
a slight skiff of ice on some water in a bucket; and, in the course of the
morning's ride, we noticed some of the leaves of the more tender plants
withered, but whether from the frost, or blight, or natural decay—they
having reached maturity,—we could not determine.
The sun rose clear, and the day like its
predecessors was warm and bracing, the perfection of weather for
travelling. We had hitherto been on "the height of land" that divides the
streams running into the Assiniboine from those that run into the Qu'
Appelle, and this, in part, accounts for the absence of creeks near our
road. To-day we got to a still higher elevation, the watershed of the
South Saskatchewan, and found, in consequence, that the grass and flowers
were in an advanced stage as compared with those farther east. The grass
was grey and ripe, and flowers, that were in bloom not far away, were
seeding here. The general upward slope of the plains between Red River and
Lake Winnepeg, and the Rocky Mountains, is towards the west. The elevation
at Fort Garry is 700 feet, at Fort Edmonton 2088 feet, and at the base of
the Mountain Chain 3000 feet above the sea. This rise of 2,300 feet is
spread over a thousand miles, but Captain Palliser marked three distinct
steppes in this great plain. The first springs from the southern shore of
the Lake of the Woods, and, trending to the south-west, crosses the Red
River well south of the boundary line; thence it runs irregularly, in a
north-westerly direction, by the Riding Mountains toward Swan River, and
thence to the Saskatchewan—where the north and south branches unite. The
average altitude of the easterly steppe is from 800 to 900 feet above the
sea level. The second or middle steppe, on which we now are, extends west
to the elbow of the South Saskatchewan, and thence northwards to the Eagle
Hills, west of Fort Carlton. Its mean altitude is 1600 feet. The third
prairie steppe extends to the mountains. Each of these steppes, says
Palliser, is marked by important changes in the composition of the soil,
and consequently in the character of the vegetation.
Our first "spell" to-day was fifteen, and our
second, twenty miles, to "the Round Hill," over rolling or slightly broken
prairie; the loam was not so rich as usual and had a sandy subsoil. Ridges
and hillocks of gravel intersected or broke the general level, so that,
should the railway come in this direction, abundant material for
ballasting can be promised.
The prairie to-day had an upward slope till
about one o'clock, when it terminated in a range of grassy round hills.
For the next hour's travelling the road wound through these; a succession
of knolls enclosing cup-like basins, which in the heart of the range
contained water, either fresh or saline. Wood also began to re-appear;
and, when we halted for dinner, at the height of the range, the beauty
that wood, water, and bold hill-sides give were blended in one spot. We
were certainly three or four hundred feet above the prairie ; the scenery
round us was bolder than is to be found in any part of Ontario, and
resembled that of the Pentlands, near Edinburgh. It is well to mention
this, because of the exaggerated ideas that some people have when a
country is spoken of. The hill at the foot of which we camped rose
abruptly from the rest, like the site of an ancient fortalice. Horetski
described it as a New Zealand pah; one hill, like a wall, enclosing
another in its centre, and a deep precipitous valley, that would have
served admirably as a moat, filled with thick wood and underbrush, between
the two. Climbing to the summit of the central hill, we found ourselves in
the middle of a circle, thirty to forty miles in diameter, enclosing about
a thousand square miles of beautiful country. North and east it was
undulating, studded with aspen groves and shining with lakes. To the south
and west was a level prairie, with a sky line of hills to the south-west.
To the north-west—our direction—a prairie fire, kindled probably by embers
that had been left carelessly behind at a camp, partly hid the view.
Masses of fiery smoke rose from the burning grass and willows, and if
there had been a strong wind, or the grass less green and damp, the beauty
of much of the fair scene we were gazing on would soon have vanished, and
a vast blackened surface alone been left.
It was nearly 4 P.M. before we left "the Round
Hill:" and then we passed between the remaining hills of the range, and
gradually descended to the more level prairie beyond, through a beautiful,
boldly irregular country, with more open expanses than the Touchwood Hills
showed, and more beautiful pools, though the wood was not so artistically
grouped. Passing near the fire, which was blazing fiercely along a line of
a quarter of a mile, we saw that it had commenced from a camping ground
near the roadside. Heavy clouds were gathering that would soon extinguish
the flames. As there was the appearance of a terrific thunder storm, we
hurried to a sheltered spot seven or eight miles from Round Hill, and
camped before sunset, just as heavy drops commenced to fall. The speed
with which our arrangements for the night were made astonished ourselves.
Every one did what he could ; and in five minutes the horses were
unharnessed, the tents pitched, the saddles and all perishable articles
covered with waterproofs; but, while exchanging congratulations, the dense
black clouds drove on to the south, and, though the sky was a-flame with
lightning, the rain scarcely touched us.
August 15th.—Early in the morning rain
pattered on our tents, but before day-light it had all passed off, and we
started comfortably at our usual hour, a little after sunrise. Our aim was
to reach the south branch of the Saskatchewan, forty-six miles away,
before night; the distance was divided into three 'spells' of thirteen,
seventeen, and sixteen miles.
The scenery in the morning's ride was a
continuation of that of last night ; through a lovely country, well
wooded, abounding in lakelets, swelling into softly-rounded knolls, and
occasionally opening out into a wide and fair landscape. The soil was of
the richest loam and the vegetation correspondingly luxuriant; the flora
the same, and almost at the same stage, as that we had first seen on the
prairie, a fortnight before, near Red River;—the roses just going out of
bloom; the yellow marigolds and golden-rods, the lilac bergamot, the white
tansey, blue-bells and harebells, and asters, of many colours and sizes,
in all their splendour. We were quite beyond the high and dry region ; and
again in a country that could easily be converted into an earthly
paradise. We met or
passed a great many teams and "brigades" to-day; traders going west, and
half-breeds returning east with carts well-laden with buffalo skins and
dried meat. A number of Red River people club together in the spring, and
go west to hunt the buffalo. Their united caravan is popularly called "a
brigade," and very picturesque is its appearance on the road or round the
camp-fire. The old men, the women and little children are all engaged on
the expedition, and all help. The men ride and the women drive the carts.
The children make the fires and do 'chores' for the women. The men shoot
buffalo ; the women dry the meat and make it into pemmican.
Our breakfast place was a neck of land between
two lakes, one of them sweet, the other bitter. The elevation of the two
seemed to be the same, but, on a closer look, the fresh lake was seen to
be the higher of the two, so that when full it would overflow into the
other. This was invariably the case, as* far as we saw, when two or more
of such lakes were near each other. The salt lakes had no outlet, the
natural drainage passing off only by absorption and evaporation.
The country between this first halt and the
Saskatchewan consisted of three successive basins; each bounded by a low
ridge, less or more broken. Everywhere the ground was uneven, not so well
suited as the level for steam agricultural implements, but the very
country for stock-raising or dairy farms. The road was bad, and no wonder,
according to the axiom that good soil makes bad roads. The ruts were deep
in black loam, and rough with willow roots. Even when the wheels sank to
the axles, they never brought up any clay; moist, dripping, black muck,
that would gladden the eyes of a farmer, was all that they found.
Soon after dinner, we came to the last ridge,
and before us spread out a magnificent panorama. Fifteen miles farther
west rolled the South Saskatchewan. We could not see the river, but the
blue plateau that formed our sky line was on the other side of it. And
those fifteen miles at our feet, stretching to an indefinite horizon on
the south, and bounded five miles away to the north by Minitchenass or
'the lumping hill of the woods,' showed every variety of rolling plain,
gentle upland, wooded knoll, and gleaming lake. Where hundreds of
homesteads shall yet be, there is not one. Perhaps it is not to be
regretted that there is so much good land in the world still unoccupied.
The intense saltness of many of the lakes was to us the only doubtful
feature in the landscape. One at our feet several miles long had a shore
of brightest red, sure sign of how it would taste. All at the foot of the
ridge with one exception are saline; after going on a few miles and
mounting a slope, they are fresh.
The sun set when we were still five miles from
the river. Another axle had broken and heavy clouds threatened instant
rain. Some advised halting; but the desire to see the Saskatchewan was too
strong to be resisted, and we pushed on at a rattling rate over the rutty
and uneven road. Never were buckboards tested more severely, and no carts
but those of Red River could have stood for ten minutes the bumps from
hillock to hillock, over boulders, roots, and holes, at a break-neck rate.
The last mile was down hill. The Doctor and the Chief dashed on at a
gallop, and only drew rein when, right beneath, they saw the shining
waters of the river. The rest of us were scarcely a minute behind, and
three rousing cheers sent back the news to the carts. In twelve working
days, we had travelled five hundred and six miles, doing on this last
forty-six; and the horses looked as fresh as at the beginning of the
journey; a fact that establishes the nutritious properties of the grasses
that were their only food on the way, as well as the strength and the
hardihood of the breed.
The first thing the Chief saw to, after
pitching the tents, was the preparation of a kettle of whiskey-toddy, of
which all who were not teetotallers received an equal share. The allowance
was not excessive after nearly a fortnight's work; about three half-pints
to thirteen men, six of them old voyageurs; but they had been so
abstemious on the road that it was quite enough, and great was the
hilarity with which each one drank his mug-full, pledging the Queen,
sweethearts and wives, the Dominion, and the Chief. It shakes a company
together to share something in common occasionally; and by this time we
felt a personal interest in every member of the party, and looked forward
with regret to the farewells that would be exchanged to-morrow.
While at supper rain began to fall, and it
continued with intermissions all night, but we slept soundly in our
tents,—caring nothing, for were we not faring on in good style? A month
from Toronto and we were on the Saskatchewan.
August 16th.—The morning was grey and chilly,
and there was some delay in getting the scow, that is now kept on the
river by the Hudson's Bay Company, up from a point where it had been left,
so that we did not move from camp till 8 o'clock. This delay gave the
Botanist an hour or two to hunt for new species, which he did with all
diligence, and the rest of us had time for a swim or a ramble up and down
the river. Our Botanist had been slightly cast down of late by finding few
new varieties. The flora of the five hundred and thirty miles between the
eastern verge of the prairie at Oak Point, and the Saskatchewan, is
wonderfully uniform. The characteristic flowers and grasses are everywhere
the same. We expect, however, to meet with many strange varieties after
crossing the two Saskatchewans.
At this point of the river, where the scow is
usually kept and where a regular ferry is to be established next year,
crossing is an easy matter. When there was no scow, every party that came
along had to make a raft for their baggage, and a whole day was lost. Our
buckboards, carts, and Mr. McDougal's waggons made two scow-loads ; and
the horses swam across. Some were very reluctant to go into the water, but
they were forced on by the men, who waded after them—shouting and throwing
stones,—to the very brink of the channel. Once in there, they had to swim.
Some,—ignorant of "how to do it"— struggled violently against the full
force of the current or to get back, when of course they were stoned in
again. Others went quietly and cunningly with the current and got across
at the very point the scow made. The river for a few minutes looked alive
with horses' heads, for that was all that was seen of them from the shore.
As the water was lower and the force of the stream less than usual, all
got across with comparative ease. The river at this point is from two
hundred to two hundred and fifty yards wide. A hand-level showed the west
bank to be about a hundred and seventy feet high, and the east somewhat
higher. Groves of aspens, balsams, poplars, and small white birch are on
both banks. The valley is about a mile wide, narrower therefore than the
valley of the Assiniboine or the Qu'Appelle, though the Saskatchewan is
larger than the two put together. The water now is of a milky grey colour,
but very sweet to the taste, especially to those who had not drunk of
'living water' for some days. A month hence it will be clear as crystal.
In the spring it is discoloured by the turbid torrents along its banks,
composed of the melting snows and an admixture of soil and sand ; and this
colour is continued through the summer, by the melted snow and ice and the
debris borne along with them from the Rocky Mountains. In August it begins
to get clear, and remains so till frozen, which usually happens about the
end of November. Near
the ferry an extensive reserve of land has been secured for a French
half-breed settlement. A number of families have already come up from Fort
Garry. We did not see them as the buffalo-magnet had drawn them away to
the plains. The scantling for a house was on the ground near our camp.
After crossing, most of us drove rapidly to
Fort Carlton,— eighteen miles distant, on the North Saskatchewan,—being
anxious to see a house, store, and civilized ways and people again. Mr.
Clark, the agent, received us with customary Hudson's Bay hospitality. The
eighteen miles between the two rivers is a plateau, not more at its
highest than three hundred feet above either stream. The soil looked
rather light and sandy, but sufficiently rich for profitable farming.
There is capital duck-shooting on lakes near the road. From the ancient
bank of the river, above the Fort, is a good view of the course of the
north stream. It is a noble river, rather broader, with higher banks and a
wider valley, than the south branch. The usual square of four or five
wooden buildings, surrounded by a high plank fence, constitutes "the
Fort," and, having been intended for defence against Indians only, it is
of little consequence that it is built on the low ground, so immediately
under the ancient bank of the river that you can look down into the
inclosure, and almost throw a stone into it from a point on the bank.
Fifty miles down stream is the Prince Albert Presbyterian Mission to the
Crees, where there is also the nucleus of a thriving Scotch settlement.
Fifty miles farther down, in the same north-easterly direction, the two
Saskatchewans unite, and then pursue their way with a magnificent volume
of water—broken only by one rapid of any consequence—to Lake Winnipeg.
We dined with Mr. Clark on pemmican, a strong
but savoury dish, not at all like 'the dried chips and tallow' some
Sybarites have called it. There is pemmican and pemmican however, and we
were warned that what is made for ordinary fare needs all the sauce that
hunger supplies to make it palatable.
A few hours before our arrival, Mr. Clark had
received intelligence from Edmonton, that Yankee free-traders from Belly
River had entered the country, and were selling rum to the Indians in
exchange for their horses. The worst consequences were feared, as when the
Indians have no horses they cannot hunt. When they cannot hunt, they are
not ashamed to steal, and stealing leads to wars. The Crees and Blackfeet
had been at peace for the last two or three years, but, if the peace was
once broken, the old thirst for scalps would revive and the country be
rendered insecure. Mr. Clark spoke bitterly of the helplessness of the
authorities, in consequence of having had no force from the outset to back
up the proclamations that had been issued. Both traders and Indians were
learning the dangerous lesson that the Queen's orders could be disregarded
with impunity; and it would cost more before the lesson was unlearned,
than would have taught the opposite at the beginning of the new regime. We
comforted our good host with the assurance that the Adjutant-General was
coming up with thirty men, to repress all disorders and to see what was
necessary to be done for the future peace of the country.
Making all allowances for the fears of those
who see no protection for life or property within five hundred or a
thousand miles of them, and for the exaggerated size to which rumours
swell in a country of such magnificent distances, where there are no
newspapers and no means of communication except 'expresses,' it is clear
that if the government wishes to avoid worrying, expensive, murderous
difficulties with the Indians, 'something must be done.' There must be law
and order all over our North-west from the first. Three or four companies
of fifty men each, like those now in Manitoba, would be sufficient for the
purpose, if judiciously stationed. Ten times the number may be required if
there is long delay. The country cannot afford repetitions of the Manitoba
rebellion, on account of the neglect of either half-breeds or Indians. The
Crees are anxious for a treaty. The Blackfeet should be dealt with firmly
and generously; treaties made with both on the basis of those agreed upon
in the east; a few simple laws for the protection of life and property
explained to them, and their observance enforced; small annuities allowed;
the spirit-traffic prohibited, and schools and missionaries encouraged.
On asking Mr. Clark why there was no farm at
Carlton, he explained that the neighbourhood of a fort was the worst
possible place for farm or garden ; that the Indians who come about a fort
from all quarters, to trade and to see what they can get, would, without
the slightest intention of stealing, use the fences for firewood, dig up
the potatoes and turnips, and let their horses get into the grain-fields.
He had therefore established a farm at the Prince Albert Mission, fifty
miles down the river.
With regards to crops, barley and potatoes
were always sure, wheat generally a success, though threatened by frosts
or early drought, and never a total failure. This year, he expected two
thousand bushels of wheat from a sowing of a hundred. The land at Carlton,
and everywhere round, is the same as at Prince Albert. Its only fault is
that it is rather too rich.
After dinner, three or four hours were allowed
for writing letters home, and making arrangements for the journey farther
west. We got some fresh horses and provisions from Mr. Clark; said
good-bye to Emilien, Marchand, Willie, Frederick, and Jerome ; and taking
two of our old crew, Terry and Maxime, along with two half-breeds and a
hunch-backed Indian from Carlton, crossed the North Saskatchewan before
sunset. In addition to Mr. McDougal, two Hudson's Bay officers joined
us—one of whom, Mr. Macaulay, had been long stationed at Jasper House and
Edmonton, and the other, Mr. King, far north on the McKenzie River. The
scow took everything across in two loads, and the horses swam the river;
but it was after dark before the tents were pitched on the top of the
hill, and nearly midnight when we got to bed.
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