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Title: The Great Lone Land
       A Narrative of Travel and Adventure in the North-West of America

Author: W. F. Butler

Release Date: March 18, 2005 [EBook #15401]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

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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 alone
Who paced for ever in a glimmering land,
Lit with a low, large moon."

TENNYSON.



WITH ILLUSTRATIONS AND ROUTE MAP. [Not included in this ebook.]

LONDON SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON & 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 who
had 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 I
havn't seen, I will be able to write a good book."

It is probable that had this man carried his intention into effect the
negative portion of his vision would have been more successfal than the
positive. People are generally more ready to believe what a man hasn't
seen'than what he has seen. So, at least, thought Karkakonias the
Chippeway Chief at Pembina.

Karkakonias was taken to Washington during the great Southern War, in
order that his native mind might be astonished by the grandeur of the
United 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 days
were spent in smoking, his evenings in quiet contemplation; he spoke not
of his adventures in the land of the great white medicine-man. But at
length the tribe grew discontented; they had expected to hear the recital
of the wonders seen by their chief, and lo! he had come-back to them as
silent as though his wanderings had ended on the Coteau of the Missouri,
or by the borders of the Kitchi-Gami. Their discontent found vent in
words.

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

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

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

The "Great Lone Land" is no sensational name. The North-west fulfils, at
the present time, every essential of that title. There is no other
portion of the globe in which travel is possible where loneliness can be
said to live so thoroughly. One may wander 500 miles in a direct line
without seeing a human being, or an animal larger than a wolf. And if
vastness of plain, and magnitude of lake, mountain, and river can mark a
land as great, then no region possesses higher claims to that
distinction.

A word upon more personal matters. Some two months since I sent to the
firm from whose hands this work has emanated a portion of the unfinished
manuscript. I received in reply a communication to the effect that their
Reader thought highly of my descriptions of real occurrences, but less
of my theories. As it is possible that the general reader may fully
endorse at least the latter portion of this opinion, I have only one
observation to make.

Almost every page of this book has been written amid the ever-present
pressure of those feelings which spring from a sense of unrequited
labour, of toil and service theoretically and officially recognized, but
practically and professionally denied. However, a personal preface is not
my object, nor should these things find allusion here, save to account in
some manner, if account be necessary, for peculiarities of language or
opinion which may hereafter make themselves apparent to the reader. Let
it be.

In the solitudes of the Great Lone Land, whither I am once more about to
turn my steps, the trifles that spring from such disappointments will
cease 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 of
the Deck--"Keep her Nor'-West"--Democrat versus Republican--A First
Glimpse--Boston

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

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

CHAPTER FIVE. Lake Superior--The Dalles of the St. Louis--The North
Pacific Railroad--Fond-du-Lac-Duluth--Superior City--The Great Lake--A
Plan to dry up Niagara--Stage Driving--Tom's Shanty again--St. Paul and
its Neighbourhood.

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

CHAPTER SEVEN. North Minnesota--A beautiful Land--Rival
Savages-Abercrombie--News from the 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.

CHAPTER EIGHT. Retrospective--The North-west Passage--The Bay of
Hudson--Rival Claims--The Old French Fur Trade--The North-west
Company--How the Half-breeds came--The Highlanders
defeated-Progress--Old Feuds.

CHAPTER NINE. Running the Gauntlet--Across the Line--Mischief
ahead-Preparations--A Night March--The Steamer captured--The
Pursuit-Daylight--The Lower Fort--The Red Indian at last--The Chief's
Speech--A Big Feed--Making ready for the Winnipeg--A Delay--I visit Fort
Garry--Mr. President Riel--The Final Start-Lake Winnipeg--The First Night
out--My Crew.

CHAPTER TEN. The Winnipeg River--The Ojibbeway's House--Rushing a
Rapid--A Camp--No Tidings of the Coming Man--Hope in Danger--Rat
Portage--A far-fetched Islington--"Like Pemmican".

CHAPTER ELEVEN. The Expedition--The Lake of the Woods--A Night Alarm--A
close Shave--Rainy River--A Night Paddle--Fort Francis--A Meeting--The
Officer commanding the Expedition--The Rank and File--The 60th Rifles--A
Windigo--Ojibbeway Bravery--Canadian Volunteers.

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

CHAPTER THIRTEEN. Westward--News from the Outside World--I retrace my
Steps--An Offer--The West--The Kissaskatchewan--The Inland
Ocean--Preparations-Departure--A Terrible Plague--A lonely
Grave-Digressive--The Assineboine River--Rossette.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN. The Hudson Bay Company--Furs and Free Trade--Fort
Ellice--Quick Travelling-Horses--Little Blackie--Touchwood Hills--A
Snow-storm--The South Saskatchewan--Attempt to cross the River--Death of
poor Blackie--Carlton.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN. Saskatchewan--Start from Carlton--Wild Mares--Lose our
Way--A long Ride--Battle River--Mistawassis the Cree--A Dance.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN. The Red Man--Leave Battle River--The Red Deer Hills--A
long Ride--Fort Pitt--The Plague--Hauling by the Tail--A pleasant
Companion--An easy Method of Divorce--Reach Edmonton.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. Edmonton--The Ruffian Tahakooch--French
Missionaries--Westward still--A beautiful Land--The Blackfeet-Horses--A
"Bellox" Soldier--A Blackfoot Speech--The Indian Land--First Sight of the
Rocky Mountains--The Mountain House--The Mountain Assineboines--An Indian
Trade--M. la Combe--Fire-water-A Night Assault.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. Eastward--A beautiful Light.

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

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--Family Responsibilities.

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--The solitary Wigwam--Joe Miller's Death.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO. Cumberland---We bury poor Joe--A good Train of
Dogs--The great Marsh-Mutiny--Chicag the Sturgeon-fisher--A Night with a
Medicine-man--Lakes Winnipegoosis and Manitoba--Muskeymote eats his
Boots--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 Distant
Settlement-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 a
shadow of war in the North, the South, the East, or the West. There was
not even a Bashote in South Africa, a Beloochee in Scinde, a Bhoottea, a
Burmese, or any other of the many "eses" or "eas" forming the great
colonial empire of Britain who seemed capable of kicking up the semblance
of a row. Newspapers had never been so dull; illustrated journals had to
content themselves with pictorial representations of prize pigs,
foundation stones, and provincial civic magnates. Some of the great
powers were bent upon disarming; several influential persons of both
sexes had decided, at a meeting held for the suppression of vice, to
abolish standing armies. But, to be more precise as to the date of this
epoch, it will be necessary to state that the time was the close of the
year 1869, just twenty-two months ago. Looking back at this most-piping
period of peace from the stand-point of today, it is not at all
improbable that even at that tranquil moment a great power, now, very
much greater, had a firm hold of certain wires carefully concealed; the
dexterous pulling of which would cause 100,000,000 of men to rush at
each other's throats: nor is this supposition rendered the more
unlikely because of the utterance of the most religious sentiments on the
part of the great power in question, and because of the well-known
Christianity and orthodoxy of its ruler. But this was not the only power
that possessed a deeper insight into the future than did its neighbours.
It is hardly to be gainsaid that there was, about that period, another
great power popularly supposed to dwell amidst darkness-a power which is
said also to possess the faculty of making Scriptural quotations to his
own advantage. It is not at all unlikely that amidst this scene of
universal quietude he too was watching certain little snow-wrapt hamlets,
scenes of straw-yard and deep thatched byre in which cattle munched their
winter provender-watching them with the perspective scent of death and
destruction in his nostrils; gloating over them with the knowledge of
what was to be their fate before another snow time had come round. It
could not be supposed that amidst such an era of tranquillity the army of
England should have been allowed to remain in a very formidable position.
When other powers were talking of disarming, was it not necessary that
Great Britain should actually disarm? of course there was a slight
difference existing between the respective cases, inasmuch as Great
Britain had never armed; but that distinction was not taken into account,
or was not deemed of sufficient importance to be noticed, except by a few
of the opposition journals; and is not every one aware that when a
country is governed on the principle of parties, the party which iscalled
the opposition must be in the wrong? So it was decreed about this time
that the fighting force of the British nation should be reduced. It was
useless to speak of the chances of war, said the British tax-payer,
speak-ing through the mouths of innumerable members of the British
Legislature. Had not the late Prince Consort and the late Mr. Cobden
come to the same conclusion from the widely different points of great
exhibitions and free trade, that war could never be? And if; in the face
of great exhibitions and universal free trade-even if war did become
possible, had we not ambassadors, and legations, and consulates all over
the 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, said
the tax-payer, speaking through the same medium as before, reduce the
army, put the ships of war out of commission, take your largest and most
powerful transport steamships, fill them full with your best and most
experienced skilled military and naval artisans and labourers, send them
across the Atlantic to forge guns, anchors, and material of war in the
navy-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 some
persons who thought otherwise upon this subject, but many of them were
men whose views had become warped and deranged in such out-of-the-way
places as Southern Russia, Eastern China, Central Hindoostan, Southern
Africa, and Northern America military men, who, in fact, could not be
expected to understand questions of grave political economy, astute
matters of place.-and party, upon which the very existence of the
parliamentary system depended; and who, from the ignorance of these nice
distinctions of liberal-conservative and conservative-liberal, had
imagined that the strength and power of the empire was not of secondary
importance to the strength and power of a party. But the year 1869 did
not pass altogether into the bygone without giving a faint echo of
disturbance in one far-away region of the earth. It is true, that not the
smallest breathing of that strife which was to make: the succeeding year
crimson through the centuries had yet sounded on the continent of Europe.
No; all was as quiet there as befits the mighty hush which precedes
colossal conflicts. But far away in the very farthest West, so far that
not one man in fifty could tell its whereabouts, up somewhere between the
Rocky Mountains, Hudson Bay, and Lake Superior, along a river called the
Red River of the North, a people, of whom nobody could tell who or what
they were, had risen in insurrection. Well-informed persons said these
insurgents were only Indians; others, who had relations in America,
averreed that they were Scotchmen, and one journal, well-known for its
clearness 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 very
decided opinions upon the matter; in fact, it came to pass that the
average Englishman, having heard that somebody was rebelling against him
somewhere or other, looked to his atlas and his journal for information
on the subject, and having failed in obtaining any from either source,
naturally concluded that the whole thing was something which no fellow
could be expected to understand. As, however, they who follow the writer
of these pages through such vicissitudes as he may encounter will have
to live awhile amongst these people of the Red River of the North, it
will be necessary to examine this little cloud of insurrection which the
last days of 1869 pushed above the political horizon. Bookmark About the
time when Napoleon was carrying half a million of men through the snows
of Russia, a Scotch nobleman of somewhat eccentric habits conceived the
idea of planting a colony of his countrymen in the very heart of the
vast continent of North America. It was by no means an original idea that
entered into the brain of Lord Selkirk; other British lords had tried in
earlier centuries the same experiment; and they, in turn, were only the
imitators of those great Spanish nobles who, in the sixteenth century,
had planted on the coast of the Carolinas and along the Gulf of Mexico
the first germs of colonization in the New World. But in one respect Lord
Selkirk's experiment was wholly different from those that had preceded
it. The earlier adventurers had sought the coast-line of the Atlantic
upon which to fix their infant colonies. He boldly penetrated into the
very centre of the continent and reached a fertile spot which to this day
is most difficult of access. But at that time what an oasis in the vast
wilderness of America was this Red River of the North! For 1400 miles
between it and the Atlantic lay the solitudes that now teem with the
cities of Minnesota, Wisconsin, Illinois, Indiana, and Michigan. Indeed,
so distant appeared the nearest outpost of civilization towards the
Atlantic that all means of communication in that direction was utterly
unthought of. The settlers had entered into the new land by the
ice-locked bay of Hudson, and all communication with the outside world
should be maintained through the same outlet. No easy task! 300 miles of
lake and 400 miles of river, wildly foaming over rocky ledges in its
descent of 700 feet, lay between them and the ocean, and then only to
reach the stormy waters of the great Bay of Hudson, whose ice-bound
outlet to the Atlantic is fast locked save during two short months of
latest summer. No wonder that the infant colony had hard times in store
for it-hard times, if left to fight its way against winter rigour and
summer: inundation, but doubly hard when the hand of a powerful enemy was
raised to crush it in the first year of its existence. Of this more
before we part. Enough for us now to know: that the little colony, in
spite of opposition, increased and multiplied; people lived in it, were
married in it, and died in it, undisturbed by the busy rush of the
outside world, until, in the last months of 1869, just fifty-seven years
after its formation, it rose in insurrection.

And now, my reader, gentle or cruel, whichsoever you may be, the
positions we have hitherto occupied in these few preliminary pages must
undergo some slight variation. You, if you be gentle, will I trust remain
so 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 having
experienced a decided check in life. One day I received from a
distinguished military functionary an intimation to the effect that a
company in Her Majesty's service would be at my disposal, provided I
could produce the sum of 1100 pounds. Some dozen years previous to the
date of this letter I entered the British army, and by the slow process
of existence had reached-a position among the subalterns of the regiment
technically known as first for purchase; but now, when the moment arrived
to turn that position to account, I found that neither the 1100 pounds of
regulation amount nor the 400 pounds of over-regulation items (terms
very familiar now, but soon, I trust, to be for ever obsolete) were
forthcoming, and so it came about that younger hands began to pass me in
the 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 the
Cape, from the Cape to the Mauritius, from Mauritius to Madras, from
Madras 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 the
rub-when every fibre of one's existence beat in unison with the true
spirit of military adventure, when the old feeling which in boyhood had
made the study of history a delightful pastime, in late years had grown
into a fixed unalterable longing for active service, when the whole
current of thought ran in the direction of adventure-no matter in what
climate, or under what circumstances-it was hard beyond the measure of
words to sever in an instant the link that bound one to a life where such
aspirations were still possible of fulfilment; to separate one's destiny
for ever from that noble profession of arms; to become an outsider, to
admit that the twelve best years of life had been a useless dream, and
to bury oneself far away in some Western wilderness out of the reach or
sight of red coat or sound of bugle-sights and sounds which old
associations would have made unbearable. Surely it could not be done; and
so, looking abroad into the future, it was difficult to trace a path
Which could turn the flank of this formidable barrier flung thus suddenly
into the highway of life.

Thus it was that one, at least, in Great Britain watched with anxious
gaze this small speck of revolt rising so far away in the vast wilderness
of 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 Canada
against the malcontents of Red River, there was one who beheld in the
approaching expedition the chance of a solution to the difficulties which
had beset him in his career. That one was myself.

There was little time to be lost, for already; the cable said, the
arrangements were in a forward state; the staff of the little force had
been organized, the rough outline of the expedition had been sketched,
and with the opening of navigation on the northern lakes the first move
would be commenced. Going one morning to the nearest telegraph station, I
sent the following message under the Atlantic to America:--"To: Winnipeg
Expedition. Please remember me." When words cost at the rate of four
shillings each, conversation and correspondence become of necessity
limited. In the present instance I was only allowed the use of ten words
to convey address, signature, and substance, and the five words of my
message were framed both with a view to economy and politeness, as well
as in a manner which by calling for no direct answer still left undecided
the great question of success. Having despatched my message under the
ocean, I determined to seek the Horse Guards in a final effort to procure
unattached promotion in the army. It is almost unnecessary to remark that
this attempt failed; and as I issued from the audience in which I had
been informed of the utter hopelessness of my request, I had at least the
satisfaction of having reduced my chances of fortune to the narrow limits
of a single throw. Pausing at the gate of the Horse Guards I reviewed in
a moment the whole situation; whatever was to be the result there was no
time for delay and so, hailing a hansom, I told the cabby to drive to the
office 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 a
missing 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 play
that prank twice in two voyages."





CHAPTER TWO.

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

POLITICAL economists and newspaper editors for years have dwelt upon the
unfortunate fact that Ireland is not a manufacturing nation, and does not
export largely the products of her soil. But persons who have lived in
the island, or who have visited the ports of its northern or southern
shores, or crossed the Atlantic by any of the ocean steamers which sail
daily from the United Kingdom, must have arrived at a conclusion totally
at variance with these writers; for assuredly there is no nation under
the sun which manufactures the material called man so readily as does
that grass-covered island. Ireland is not a manufacturing nation, says
the political economist. Indeed, my good sir, you are wholly mistaken.
She is not only a manufacturing nation, but she manufactures nations. You
do 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 her
daughters in vast states whose names you are utterly ignorant of; and as
for the exportation of her products to foreign lands, just come with me
on board this ocean steamship "Samaria", and look at them. The good ship
has run down the channel during the night and now lies at anchor in
Queenstown 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 and
rustic beauty of the land; the little steam-tender that plies from the
shore to the ship is crowded at every trip, and you can scan them as they
come on board in batches of seventy or eighty. Some eyes among the girls
are red with crying, but tears dry quickly on young cheeks, and they will
be 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; their
going will give us more room, more cattle, more chance to keep our acres
for the few'; let them go." My friend, that is just half the picture, and
no 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, and
rounding out into Atlantic turned her head towards the western horizon.
The ocean lay unruffled along the rocky headlands of Ireland's southmost
shore. A long line of smoke hanging suspended between sky and sea marked
the unseen course of another steamship farther away to the south. A
hill-top, blue and lonely, rose above the rugged coast-line, the far-off
summit of some inland mountain; and as evening came down over the still
tranquil ocean and the vessel clove her outward way through
phosphorescent water, the lights along the iron coast grew fainter in
distance till there lay around only the unbroken circle of the sea.

ON BOARD.-A trip across the Atlantic is now-a-days a very ordinary
business; in fact, it is no longer a voyage-it is a run, you may almost
count its duration to within four hours; and as for fine weather, blue
skies, and calm seas, if they come, you may be thankful for them, but
don't expect them, and you won't add a sense of disappointment to one of
discomfort. Some experience of the Atlantic enables me to affirm that
north or south of 35 degrees north and south latitude there exists no such
thing as pleasant sailing.

But the usual run of weather, time, and tide outside the ship is not
more alike in its characteristics than the usual run of passenger one
meets 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 in
ten days. There is the nautical landsman who tells you that he has been
eighteen times across the Atlantic and four times round the Cape of Good
Hope, and who is generally such a bore upon marine questions that it is a
subject of infinite regret that he should not be performing a fifth
voyage round that distant and interesting promontory. Early in the
voyage, owing to his superior sailing qualities, he has been able to
cultivate a close intimacy with the captain of the ship; but this
intimacy has been on the decline for some days, and, as he has committed
the unpardonable error of differing in opinion with the captain upon a
subject connected with the general direction and termination of the Gulf
Stream, he begins to fall quickly in the estimation of that potentate.
Then there is the relict of the late Major Fusby, of the Fusiliers, going
to or returning from England. Mrs. Fusby has a predilection for port
negus and the first Burmese war, in which campaign her late husband
received a wound of such a vital description (he died just twenty-two
years later), that it has enabled her to provide, at the expense of a
grateful nation, for three youthful Fusbies, who now serve their country
in various parts of the world. She does not suffer from sea-sickness, but
occasionally undergoes periods of nervous depression which require the
administration of the stimulant already referred to. It is a singular
fact that the present voyage is strangely illustrative of remarkable
events in the life of the late Fusby; there has not been a sail or a
porpoise in sight that has not called up some reminiscence of the early
career of the major; indeed, even the somewhat unusual appearance of an
iceberg, has been turned to account as suggestive of the intense
suffering undergone by the major during the period of his wound, owing to
the scarcity of the article ice in tropical countries. Then on deck
we have the inevitable old sailor who is perpetually engaged in scraping
the vestiges of paint from your favourite seat, and who, having arrived
at the completion of his monotonous task after four days incessant
labour, is found on the morning of the fifth engaged in smearing the
paint-denuded place of rest with a vilely glutinous compound peculiar to
ship-board. He never looks directly at you as you approach, with book and
jug, the desired spot, but you can tell by the leer in his eye and the
roll of the quid in his immense mouth that the old villain knows all
about the discomfort he is causing you, and you fancy you can detect a
chuckle, you turn away in a vain quest for a quiet cosy spot. Then there
is the captain himself, that most mighty despot. What king ever wielded
such power, what czar or kaiser had ever such obedience yielded to their
decrees? This man, who on shore is nothing, is here on his deck a very
pope; he is infallible. Canute could not stay the tide, but our sea-king
regulates the sun. Charles the Fifth could not make half a dozen clocks
go in unison, but Captain Smith can make it twelve o'clock any time he
pleases; nay, more, when the sun has made it twelve o'clock no tongue of
bell or sound of clock can proclaim time's decree until it has been
ratified by the fiat of the captain; and even in his misfortunes what
gran deur, what absence of excuse or crimination of others in the hour of
his disaster! Who has not heard of that captain who sailed away from
Liverpool 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 was
not unmindful of that comfort which we are told the first navigator of
the ocean did not disdain to use. For a little time things went well. The
Isle of Man was passed; but unfortunately, on the second day out, the
good ship struck the shore of the north-east coast of Ireland and became
a total wreck. As the weather was extremely fine, and there appeared to
be no reason for the disaster, the subject became matter for
investigation by the authorities connected with the Board of Trade.
During the inquiry it was deposed that the Calf of Man had been passed at
such an hour on such a day, and the circumstance duly reported to the
captain, who, it was said, was below. It was also stated that having
received the report of the passage of the Calf of Man the captain had
ordered 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 after
called and examined.

"It appears, sir," said the president of the court, "that the passing of
the 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 that
information?"

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

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

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

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

And now, while we have been talking thus, the "Samaria" has been getting
far out into mid Atlantic, and yet we know not one among our
fellow-passengers, although they do not number much above a dozen: a
merchant from Maryland, a sea-captain-from Maine, a young doctor from
Pennsylvania, a Massachusetts man, a Rhode Islander, a German geologist
going to inspect seams in Colorado, a priest's sister from Ireland going
to look after some little property left her by her brother, a poor fellow
who was always ill, who never appeared at table, and who alluded to the
demon sea-sickness that preyed upon him as "it". "It comes on very bad at
night. 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 of
Boston was reached, and even then, I fancy, dwelt in his thoughts during
many a day on shore.

The sea-captain from Maine was a violent democrat, the Massachusetts man
a rabid republican; and many a fierce battle waged between them on the
vexed questions of state rights, negro suffrage, and free trade in
liquor. To many Englishmen the terms republican and democrat may seem
synonymous; but not between radical and conservative, between outmost
Whig and inmost Tory exist more opposite extremes than between these
great rival political parties of the United States. As a drop of
sea-water possesses the properties of the entire water of the ocean, so
these units of American political controversy were microscopic
representatives of their respective parties. It was curious to remark what
a prominent part their religious convictions played in the war of words.
The republican was a member of the Baptist congregation; the democrat held
opinions not very easy of description, something of a universalist and
semi-unitarian tendency; these opinions became frequently intermixed with
their political jargon, forming that curious combination of ideas which
to unaccustomed ears sounds slightly blasphemous. I recollect a very
earnest American once saying that he considered all religious, political,
social, and historical teaching should be reduced to three subjects: the
Sermon on the Mount, the Declaration of American Independence, and the
Chicago Republican Platform of 1860.

On the present occasion the Massachusetts man was a person whose nerves
were as weak as his political convictions were strong, and the democrat
being equally gifted with strong opinions, strong nerves, and a tendency
towards strong waters, was enabled, particularly after dinner, to obtain
an easy victory over his less powerfully gifted antagonist. In fact it
was to the weakness of the latter's nervous system that we were indebted
for the pleasure of his society on board. Eight weeks before he had been
ordered by his medical adviser to leave his wife and office in the little
village of Hyde Park to seek change and relaxation on the continent of
Europe. He was now returning to his native land filled, he informed us,
with the gloomiest forebodings. He had a very powerful presentiment that
we were never to see the shores of America. By what agency our
destruction was to be accomplished he did not enlighten us, but the ship
had not well commenced her voyage before he commenced his evil
prognostications. That these were not founded upon any prophetic
knowledge of future events will be sufficiently apparent from the fact of
this book being written. Indeed, when the mid Atlantic had been passed
our Massachusetts acquaintance began to entertain more hopeful
expectations of once more pressing his wife to his bosom, although he
repeatedly reiterated that if that domestic event was really destined to
take place no persuasion on earth, medical or other wise, would ever
induce him to place the treacherous billows of the Atlantic between him
and the person of that bosom's partner. It was drawing near the end of
the voyage when an event occurred which, though in itself of a most
trivial nature, had for some time a disturbing effect upon our party. The
priest's sister, an elderly maiden lady of placidly weak intellect,
announced one morning at breakfast that the sea-captain from Maine had on
the previous day addressed her in terms of endearment, and had, in fact,
called her his "little duck." This announcement, which was made
generally to the table, and which was received in dead silence by every
member of the community, had by no means a pleasurable effect upon the
countenance of the person most closely concerned. Indeed, amidst the
silence which succeeded the revelation, a half-smothered sentence, more
forcible than polite, was audible from the lips of the democrat, in which
those accustomed to the vernacular of America could plainly distinguish
"darned old fool." Meantime, in spite of political discussions, or
amorous revelations, or prophetic disaster, in spite of mid-ocean storm
and misty-fog-bank, our gigantic screw, unceasing as the whirl of life
itself, had wound its way into the waters which wash the rugged shores of
New England. To those whose lives are spent in ceaseless movement over
the 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 away
and come back again, whose home is the broad earth itself, to such as
these the coming in sight of land is no unusual occurrence, and yet the
man has grown old at his trade of wandering who can look utterly
uninterested upon the first glimpse of land rising out of the waste of
ocean: small as that glimpse may be, only a rock, a cape, a mountain
crest, it has the power of localizing an idea, the very vastness Of which
prevents its realization on shore. From the deck of an outward-bound
vessel one sees rising, faint and blue, a rocky headland or a mountain
summit-one does not ask if the mountain be of Maine, or of Mexico, or the
Cape be St. Ann's or Hatteras, one only sees America. Behind that strip
of blue coast lies a world, and that world the new one. Far away inland
lie scattered many landscapes glorious with mountain, lake, river, and
forest, all unseen, all unknown to the wanderer who for the first time
seeks the American shore; yet instinctively their presence is felt in
that faint outline of sea-lapped coast which lifts itself above the
ocean; and even if in after-time it becomes the lot of the wanderer, as
it became my lot, to look again upon these mountain summits, these
immense inland seas; these mighty rivers whose waters seek their mother
ocean through 3000 miles of meadow, in none of these glorious parts, vast
though they be, will the sense of the still vaster whole be realized as
strongly as in that first glimpse of land showing dimly over the western
horizon of the Atlantic.

The sunset of a very beautiful evening in May was making bright the
shores of Massachusetts as the "Samaria," under her fullest head of
steam, ran up the entrance to Plymouth Sound. To save daylight into port
was an object of moment to the Captain, for the approach to Boston
harbour is as intricate as shoal, sunken rock, and fort-crowned island
can make it. If ever that much talked-of conflict between the two great
branches of the Anglo-Saxon race is destined to quit the realms of fancy
for those of fact, Boston, at least, will rest as safe from the
destructive engines of British iron-clads as the city of Omaha on the
Missouri River. It was only natural that the Massachusetts man should
have been in a fever of excitement at finding himself once more within
sight of home; and for once human nature exhibited the unusual spectacle
of rejoicing over the falsity of its own predictions. As every revolution
of the screw brought out some new feature into prominence, he skipped
gleefully about; and, recognizing in my person the stranger element in
the assembly, he took particular pains to point out the lions of the
landscape. "There, serais Fort Warren, where we kept our rebel prisoners
during the war. In a few minutes more, sir, we will be in sight of
Bunker's Hill;" and then, in a frenzy of excitement, he skipped away to
some post of vantage upon the forecastle.

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

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

Boston has a clean, English look about it, peculiar to it alone of all
the 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 of
prettily dressed pretty girls, who look as though they had a very fair
idea of where they were going to. Atlantic fogs and French fashions have
combined to make Boston belles pink, pretty,-and piquante; while the
western states, by drawing fully half their male population from New
England, make the preponderance of the female element apparent at a
glance. The ladies, thus left at home, have not been idle: their
colleges, their clubs, their reading-classes are numerous; like the man
in "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 standard
of female education as Boston: nevertheless, it must be regretted that
this standard of mental excellence attributable to the ladies of Boston
should not have been found capable of association with the duties of
domestic life. Without going deeper into topics which are better
understood in America than in England, and which have undergone most
eloquent elucidation at the hands of Mr. Hepworth Dixon, but which are
nevertheless dlightly nauseating, it may safely be observed, that the
inculcation at ladies colleges of that somewhat rude but forcible home
truth, enunciated by the first Napoleon in reply to the most illustrious
Frenchwoman of her day, when questioned Upon the subject of female
excellence, should not be forgotten.

There exists a very generally received idea that strangers are more
likely to notice and complain of the short-comings of a social habit or
system than are residents who have grown old under that infliction; but I
cannot help thinking that there exists a considerable amount of error in
this opinion. A stranger will frequently submit to extortion, to
insolence, or to inconvenience, because, being a stranger, he believes
that extortion, insolence, and inconvenience are the habitual
characteristics of the new place in which he finds himself: they do not
strike him as things to be objected to, or even wondered at; they are
simply to be submitted to and endured. If he were at home, he would die
sooner than yield that extra half-dollar; he would leave the house at
once 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 of
resistance. In no other way can we account for the strange silence on the
part of English writers upon the tyrannical disposition of American
social life. A nation everlastingly boasting itself the freest on the
earth submits unhesitatingly to more social tyranny than any people in
the world. In the United States one is marshalled to every event of the
day. 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-door
is a printed document which informs you of all the things you are not to
do in the hotel-a list in which, like Mr. J. S. Mill's definition
of Christian doctrine, the shall-nots predominate over the shalls. In the
event of your disobeying any of the numerous mandates set forth in this
document-such as not getting up very early-you will not be sent to the
penitentiary or put in the pillory, for that process of punishment would
imply a necessity for trouble and exertion on the part of the
richly-apparelled gentleman who does you the honour of receiving your
petitions and grossly overcharging you at the office-no, you have simply
to go without food until dinner-time, or to go to bed by the light of a
jet of gas for which you will be charged an exorbitant price in your
bill. As in the days of Roman despotism we know that the slaves were
occasionally permitted to indulge in the grossest excesses, so, under the
rigorous system of the hotel-keeper, the guest is allowed to expectorate
profusely over every thing; over the marble with which the hall is
paved, over the Brussels carpet which covers the drawing-room, over the
bed-room, and over the lobby. Expectoration is apparently the one saving
clause which American liberty demands as the price of its submission to
the prevailing tyranny of the hotel. Do not imagine-you, who have never
yet tasted the sweets of a transatlantic transaction-that this tyranny is
confined to the hotel: every person to whom you pay money in the ordinary
travelling transactions of life-your omnibus-man, your railway-conductor,
your steamboat-clerk-takes your money, it is true, but takes it in a
manner which tells you plainly enough that he is conferring a very great
favour by so doing. He is in all probability realizing a profit of from
three to four hundred-per cent. on whatever the transaction may be; but,
all the same, although you are fully aware of this fact, you are
nevertheless almost overwhelmed with the sense of the very deep
obligation which you owe to the man who thus deigns to receive your
money.

It was about ten o'clock at night when the steamer anchored at the wharf
at Boston. Not until midday. On the following day were we (the
passengers) allowed to leave the vessel. The cause of this delay arose
from the fact that the collector of customs of the port of Boston was an
individual of great social importance; and as it would have been
inconvenient for him to attend at an earlier hour for the purpose of
being present at the examination of our baggage, we were detained
prisoners until the day was far enough advanced to suit his convenience.
From a conversation which subsequently I had with this gentleman at our
hotel, I discovered that he was more obliging in his general capacity of
politician and prominent citizen than he was in his particular duties of
customs collector. Like many other instances of the kind in the United
States, 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 to
appointments in the postal and customs departments is frequently very
large, and these situations are eagerly sought as prizes in the lottery
of political life-prizes, too, which can only be held for the short term
of four years. As. A consequence, the official who holds his situation by
right of political service rendered to the chief of the predominant
clique or party in his state does not consider that he owes to the public
the service of his office. In theory he is a public servant; in reality
he becomes the master of the public. This is, however, the fault of the
system and not of the individual.





CHAPTER THREE

Bunker--New York--Niagara-Toronto-Spring--time in Quebec--A Summons--A
Start--In good Company--Stripping a Peg--An Expedition--Poor Canada--An
Old Glimpse at a New Land--Rival Routes--Change of Masters--The Red River
Revolt--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 with
all the affectionate tenacity of an old maid for her solitary poodle or
parrot. Boston-supreme over any city in the Republic-can boast of
possessing one military memento: she has the Hill of Bunker. Bunker has
long passed into the bygone; but his hill remains, and is likely to
remain for many a long day. It is not improbable that the life, character
and habits, sayings, even the writings of Bunker-perhaps he couldn't
write!-are familiar to many persons in the United States; but it is in
Boston and Massachusetts that Bunker holds highest carnival. They keep in
the Senate-chamber of the Capitol, nailed over the entrance doorway in
full sight of the Speaker's chair, a drum, a musket, and a mitre-shaped
soldier's hat-trophies of the fight fought in front of the low earthwork
on Bunker's Hill. Thus the senators of Massachusetts have ever before
them visible reminders of the glory of their fathers: and I am not sure
that these former belongings of some long-waistcoated redcoat are not as
valuable incentives to correct legislation as that historic "bauble" of
our own constitution.

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

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

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

It was early in the month of September, three years prior to the time I
now write of, when I first visited this famous spot. The Niagara season
was at its height: the monster hotels were ringing with song, music, and
dance; tourists were doing the falls, and touts were doing the tourists.
Newly-married couples were conducting themselves in that demonstrative
manner characteristic of such as responded freely to the invitation
contained in their favourite nigger melody. Venders of Indian bead-work;
itinerant philosophers; camera-obscura men; imitation squaws; free and
enlightened negroes; guides to go under the cataract, who should have
been sent over it; spiritualists, phrenologists, and nigger minstrels had
made the place their own. Shoddy and petroleum were having "a high old
time of it," spending the dollar as though that "almighty article had
become the thin end of nothing whittled fine:" altogether, Niagara was a
place to be instinctively shunned.

Just four months after this time the month of January was drawing to a
close. King Frost, holding dominion over Niagara, had worked strange
wonders with the scene. Folly and ruffianism had been frozen up, shoddy
and petroleum had betaken themselves to other haunts, the bride strongly
demonstrative or weakly reciprocal had vanished, the monster hotels were
silent and deserted, the free and enlightened negro had gone back to
Buffalo, and the girls of that thriving city no longer danced, as of
yore, "under de light of de moon." Well, Niagara was worth seeing
then-and the less we say about it, perhaps, the better. "Pat," said an
American to a staring Irishman lately landed, "did you ever see such a
fall as that in the old country?" "Begarra! I niver did; but look here
now, 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, I
found that the Red River Expeditionary Force had already been mustered,
previous to its start for the North-West. Making my way to the quarters
of the commander of the Expedition, I was greeted every now and again
with a "You should have been here last week; every soul wants to get on
the Expedition, and you hav'n't a chance. The whole thing is complete; we
start to-morrow." Thus I encountered those few friends who on such
occasions are as certain to offer their pithy condolences as your
neighbour at the dinner-table when you are late is sure to tell you that
the 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 got
your telegram, but the whole army in Canada wanted to get on the
Expedition."

"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 the
flank 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 Montreal
by 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 may
yet be all right."

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

"Let me see," said the general next morning, when I presented myself
before him, "you sent a cable message from the South of Ireland last
month, didn't you? and you now want to get out to the West? Well, we will
require a man there, but the thing doesn't rest with me; it will have to
be referred to Ottawa; and meantime you can remain here, or with your
regiment, 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 America
known to our fathers as Lower Canada, and of old to the subjects of the
Grand Monarque as the kingdom of New France. But when the young trees
begin to open their leafy lids after the long sleep of winter, they do it
quickly. 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 symbol
of her new nationality that tree whose green gives the spring its
earliest freshness, whose autumn dying tints are richer than the clouds,
sunset, whose life-stream is sweeter than honey, and whose branches are
drowsy through the long summer with the scent and the hum of bee and
flower! 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 at
Kingston, they are leafless at Montreal, and Quebec is white with snow.
Even between Montreal and Quebec, a short night's steaming, there exists
a difference of ten days in the opening of the summer. But late as comes
the 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 a
landscape the cold tyranny of winter. And with what loveliness does the
whole face of plain, river, lake, and mountain turn from the iron clasp
of icy winter to kiss the balmy lips of returning summer, and to welcome
his bridal gifts of sun and shower! The trees open their leafy lids to
look at the brooks and streamlets break forth into songs of
gladness--"the birch-tree," as the old Saxon said, "becomes beautiful in
its branches, and rustles sweetly in its leafy summit, moved to and fro
by the breath of heaven "--the lakes uncover their sweet faces, and their
mimic shores steal down in quiet evenings to bathe themselves in the
transparent waters--far into the depths of the great forest speeds the
glad message of returning glory, and graceful fern-and soft velvet moss,
and-white wax-like lily peep forth to cover rock and fallen tree and
wreck of last year's autumn in one great sea of foliage. There are many
landscapes which can never be painted, photographed, or described, but
which the mind carries away instinctively to look at again And again in
after-time-these are the celebrated views of the world, and they are not
easy to find. From the Queen's rampart, on the citadel of Quebec, the eye
sweeps over a greater diversity of landscape than is probably to be found
in any one spot in the universe. Blue mountain, far stretching river,
foaming cascade, the white sails of ocean ships, the black trunks of
many-sized guns, the pointed roofs, the white village nestling amidst its
fields of green, the great isle in mid-channel, the many shades of colour
from deep blue pine-wood to yellowing corn-field in what other spot on
the earth's broad bosom lie grouped together in a single glance so many
of these "things of beauty" which the eye loves to feast on and to place
in memory as joys-for ever?

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

But though all this was of course unknown, enough was still visible in
the foreground of the future to make even the swift-moving paddles seem
laggards as they beat to foam the long reaches of the darkening
Cataraqui. "We must leave matters to yourself, I think," said the
General, when I saw him for the last time in Montreal, "you will be best
judge of how to get on when you know and see the ground. I will not ask
you to visit Fort Garry, but if you find it feasible, it would be well if
you could drop down the Red River and join Wolseley before he gets to the
place. You know what I want, but how to do it, I will leave altogether to
yourself. 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 by
the Grand Trunk Railway of Canada for the West. On that morning the Grand
Trunk Railway of Canada was in a high state of excitement. It was about
to attempt, for the first time, the despatch of a Lightning Express for
Toronto; and it was to carry from Montreal, on his way to Quebec, one of
the Royal Princes of England, whose sojourn in the Canadian capital was
drawing to a close. The Lightning Express was not attended with the
glowing success predicted for it by its originators. At some thirty or
forty miles from Montreal it came heavily to grief, owing to some
misfortune having attended the progress of a preceding train over the
rough uneven track. A delay of two hours having supervened, the Lightning
Express got into motion again, and jolted along with tolerable celerity
to Kingston. When darkness set in it worked itself up to a high pitch of
fury, and rushed along the low shores of Lake Ontario with a velocity
which promised disaster. The car in which I travelled was one belonging
to the director of the Northern Railroad of Canada, Mr. Cumberland, and
we had in it a minister of fisheries, one of education, a governor of a
province, a speaker of a house of commons, and a colonel of a
distinguished rifle regiment. Being the last car of the train, the
vibration caused by the unusual rate of speed over the very rough rails
was excessive; it was, however, consolatory to feel that any little
unpleasantness which might occur through the fact of the car leaving the
track would be attended with some sense of alleviation. The rook is said
to have thought he was paying dear for good company when he was put into
the pigeon pie, but it by no means follows that a leap from an
embankment, or an upset into a river, would be as disastrous as is
usually supposed, if taken in the society of such pillars of the state as
those I have already mentioned. Whether a speaker of a house of commons
and a governor of a large province, to say nothing of a minister of
fisheries, would tend in reality to mitigate the unpleasantness of being
"telescoped through colliding," I cannot decide, for we reached Toronto
without accident, at midnight, and I saw no more of my distinguished
fellow-travellers.

I remained long enough in the city of Toronto to provide myself with a
wardrobe suitable to the countries I was about to seek. In one of the
principal commercial streets of the flourishing capital of Ontario I
found a small tailoring establishment, at the door of which stood an
excellent representation of a colonial. The garments be longing to this
figure appeared to have been originally designed from the world-famous
pattern of the American flag, presenting above a combination of stars,
and below having a tendency to stripes. The general groundwork of the
whole rig appeared to be shoddy of an inferior-description, and a small
card attached to the figure intimated that the entire fit-out was
procurable at the very reasonable sum of ten dollars. It was impossible
to resist the fascination of this attire. While the bargain was being
transacted the tailor looked askance at the garments worn by his
customer, which, having only a few months before emanated from the
establishment of a well-known London cutter, presented a considerable
contrast to the new investment; he even ventured upon some remarks which
evidently had for their object the elucidation of the enigma, but a word
that such clothes as those worn by me were utterly un suited to the bush
repelled all further questioning-indeed, so pleased did the noor fellow
appear in a pecuniary point of view, that he insisted upon presenting me
gratis with a neck-tie of green and yellow, fully in keeping with the
other articles composing the costume. And now, while I am thus arranging
these little preliminary matters so essential to the work I was about to
engage in, let us examine for a moment the objects and scope of that
work, and settle the limits and extent of the first portion of my
journey, and sketch the route of the Expedition. It will be recollected
that the Expedition destined for the Red River of the North had started
some time before for its true base of operations, namely Fort William, on
the north-west shore of Lake Superior. The distance intervening between
Toronto and Thunder Bay is about 600 miles, 100 being by railroad
conveyance and 500 by water. The island-studded expanse of Lake Huron,
known as Georgian Bay, receives at the northern extremity the waters of
the great Lake Superior, but a difference of level amounting to upwards
of thirty feet between the broad bosoms of these two vast expanses of
fresh water has rendered necessary the construction of a canal of
considerable magnitude. This canal is situated upon American territory-a
fact which gives our friendly cousins the exclusive possession of the
great northern basin, and which enabled them at the very outset of the
Red River affair to cause annoyance and delay to the Canadian Expedition.
Poor Canada! when one looks at you along the immense length of your noble
river boundary, how vividly become apparent the evils under which your
youth has grown to manhood! Looked at from home by every succeeding
colonial minister through the particular whig, or tory spectacles of his
party, subject to violent and radical alterations of policy because of
some party vote in a Legislative Assembly 3000 miles from your nearest
coast-line, your own politicians, for years, too timid to grasp the
limits of your possible future, parties every where in your provinces,
and of every kind, except a national party; no breadth, no depth, no
earnest striving to make you great amongst the nations, each one for
himself and no-one for the country; men fighting for a sect, for a
province, for a nationality, but no one for the nation; and all this
while, close alongside, your great rival grew with giant's growth,
looking far into the future before him, cutting his cloth with
perspective ideas of what his limbs would attain to in after-time,'
digging his canals and grading, his railroads, with one eye on the
Atlantic and the other on the Pacific, spreading himself, monopolizing,
annexing, outmanoeuvring and flanking those colonial bodies who sat in
solemn state in Downing Street and wrote windy proclamations and
despatches anent boundary-lines, of which they knew next to nothing.
Macaulay laughs at poor Newcastle for his childish delight in finding out
that Cape Breton was an island, but I strongly suspect there were other
and later Newcastles whose geographical knowledge of matters American
were 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 command
of Lake Champlain, out of many a fair mile far away by the Rocky
Mountains. 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 to
you.

I have said that the possession of the canal at the Sault St. Marie
enabled the Americans to delay the progress of the Red River Expedition.
The embargo put upon the Canadian vessels originated, however, in the
State, and not the Federal, authorities; that is to say, the State of
Michigan issued the prohibition against the passage of the steam boat,
and not the Cabinet of Washington. Finally, Washington overruled the
decision of Michigan-a feat far more feasible now than it would have been
prior to the Southern war-and the steamers were permitted to pass through
into the waters of Lake Superior. From thence to Thunder Bay was only the
steaming of four-and-twenty hours through a lake whose vast bosom is the
favourite playmate of the wild storm-king of the North. But although
full half the total distance from Toronto to the Red River had been
traversed when the Expedition reached Thunder Bay, not a twentieth of the
time nor one hundredth part of the labour and fatigue had been
accomplished. For a distance of 600 miles there stretched away to the
northwest a vast tract of rock-fringed lake, swamp, and forest; lying
spread in primeval savagery, an untravelled wilderness; the home of the
Ojibbeway, who here, entrenched amongst Nature's fastnesses, has long
called this land his own. Long before Wolfe had scaled the heights of
Abraham, before even Marlborough, and Eugene, and Villers, and V'endome,
and Villeroy had commenced to fight their giants fights in divers
portions of the low countries, some adventurous subjects of the Grand
Monarque were forcing their way, for the first time, along the northern
shores of Lake Superior, nor stopping there: away to the north-west there
dwelt wild tribes to be sought out by two classes of men-by the black
robe, who laboured for souls; by the trader, who sought for skins-and a
hard race had these two widely different pioneers who sought at that
early day these remote and friendless regions, so hard that it would
almost seem as though the great powers of good and of evil had both
despatched at this same moment, on rival errands, ambassadors to gain
dominion over these distant savages. It was a curious contest: on the one
hand, showy robes, shining beads, and maddening fire-water, on the other,
the old, old story of peace and brotherhood, of Christ and Calvary--a
contest so full of interest, so teeming with adventure, so pregnant with
the discovery of mighty rivers and great inland seas, that one would fain
ramble away into its depths; but it must not be, or else the journey I
have to travel myself would never even begin.

Vast as is the accumulation of fresh water in Lake Superior, the area of
the country which it drains is limited enough. Fifty miles from its
northern shores the rugged hills which form the backbone or "divide" of
the continent raise their barren heads, and the streams carry from thence
the vast rainfall of this region into the Bay of Hudson. Thus, when the
voyageur has paddled, tracked, poled, and carried his canoe up any of the
many rivers which rush like mountain torrents into Lake Superior from the
north, he reaches the height of land between the Atlantic Ocean and
Hudson Bay. Here, at an elevation of 1500 feet above the sea level, and
of 900 above Lake Superior, he launches his canoe upon water flowing
north and west; then he has before him hundreds of miles of quiet-lying
lake, 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--living
in it, eating in it, sleeping in it-although reaching it from a different
direction altogether from the one spoken of now, I anticipate, by
alluding to it here, only as illustrating the track of the Expedition
between Lake Superior and Red River. For myself, my route was to be
altogether a different one. I was to follow the lines of railroad which
ran-out into the frontier territories of the United States, then, leaving
the iron horse, I was to make my way to the settlements on the west shore
of Lake Superior, and from thence to work Round to the American
boundary-line at Pembina on the Red River; so far through American
territory, and with distinct and definite instructions; after that,
altogether to my own resources, but with this summary of the general's
wishes: "I will not ask you to visit Fort Garry, but however you manage
it, try and reach Wolseley-before he gets through from Lake Superior, and
let him know what these Red River men are going to do." Thus the military
Expedition under Colonel Wolseley was to work its way Across from Lake
Superior to Red River, through British territory; I was to pass round by
the United States, and, after ascertaining the likelihood of Fenian
intervention from the side of Minnesota and Dakota, endeavour to reach
Colonel Wolseley beyond Red River, with all tidings as to state of
parties and chances of fight. But as the reader has heard only a very
brief mention of the state of affairs in Red River, and as he may very
naturally be inclined to ask, What is this Expedition going to do--why
are these men sent through swamp and wilderness at all? A few explanatory
words may not be out of place, serving to make matters now and at a later
period much more intelligible. I have said in the opening chapter of this
book, that the little community, or rather a portion of the little
community, of Red River Settlement had risen in insurrection, protesting
vehemently against certain arrangements made between the Governor of
Canada and the Hon. Hudson's Bay Company relative to the cession of
territorial rights and governing powers. After forcibly expelling the
Governor of the country appointed by Canada, from the frontier station at
Pembina, the French malcontents had proceeded to other and still more
questionable proceedings. Assembling in large numbers, they had fortified
portions of the road between Pembina and Fort Garry, and had taken armed
possession of the latter place, in which large stores of provisions,
clothing, and merchandise of all descriptions had been stored by the
Hudson Bay Company. The occupation of this fort, which stands close to
the confluence of the Red and Assineboine Rivers, nearly midway between
the American boundary-line and the southern shore of Lake Winnipeg, gave
the French party the virtual command of the entire settlement. The
abundant stores of clothing and provisions were not so important as the
arms and ammunition which also fell into their hands--a battery of
nine-pound bronze guns, complete in every respect, besides several
smaller pieces of ordnance, together with large store of Enfield rifles
and old brown-bess smooth bores. The place was, in fact, abundantly
supplied with war material of every description. It is almost refreshing
to notice the ability, the energy, the determination which up to this
point had characterized all the movements of the originator and
mainspring of the movement, M. Louis Riel. One hates so much to see a
thing bungled, that even resistance, although it borders upon rebellion,
becomes respectable when it is carried out with courage, energy, and
decision.

And, in truth, up to this point in the little insurrection it is not easy
to condemn the wild Metis of the North-west--wild as the bison which he
hunted, unreclaimed as the prairies he loved so well, what knew he of
State duty or of loyalty? He knew that this land was his, and that strong
men were coming to square it into rectangular farms and to push him
farther west by the mere pressure of civilization. He had heard of
England and the English, but it was in a shadowy, vague, unsubstantial
sort of way, unaccompanied by any fixed idea of government or law. The
Company--not the Hudson Bay Company, but the Company-represented for him
all law, all power, all government. Protection he did not need-his quick
ear, his unerring eye, his untiring horse, his trading gun, gave him
that; 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 were
few-a capôte of blue cloth, with shining brass buttons; a cap, with beads
and tassel; a blanket; a gun, and ball and powder; a box: of matches, and
a knife, these were all he wanted, and at every fort, from the mountain
to the banks of his well-loved River Rouge, he found them, too. What were
these new people coming to do with him? Who could tell? If they meant him
fair, why did they not say so? why did they not come up and tell him what
they wanted, and what they were going to do for him, and ask him what he
wished for? But, no; they either meant to outwit him, or they held him of
so 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 slighted
hurt him even more than the idea of his being wronged. Did not every
thing point to his disappearance under the new order of things? He had
only to look round him to verify the fact; for years before this
annexation to Canada had been carried into effect stragglers from the
east had occasionally reached Red River. It is true that these new-comers
found much to foster the worst passions of the Anglo-Saxon settler. They
found a few thousand occupants, half-farmers, half-hunters, living under
a vast commercial monopoly, which, though it practically rested upon a
basis of the most paternal kindness towards its subjects, was
theoretically hostile to all opposition. Had these men settled quietly to
the usual avocations of farming, clearing the wooded ridges, fencing the
rich expanses of prairie, covering the great swamps and plains with
herds and flocks, it is probable that all would have gone well between
the new-comers and the old proprietors. Over that great western thousand
miles of prairie there was room for all. But, no; they came to trade and
not to till, and trade on the Red River of the North was conducted upon
the most peculiar principles. There was, in fact, but one trade, and that
was the fur trade. Now, the fur trade is, for some reason or other, a
very 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 other
commodity of civilized or uncivilized life, he will be as sure to do it
with a view to furs as any doctor, dentist, or general merchant will be
sure to practise his particular calling with a view to the acquisition of
gold and silver. Thus, then, in the first instance were the new-comers
set in antagonism to the Company, and finally to the inhabitants
themselves. Let us try and be just to all parties in this little oasis of
the Western wilderness.

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

'Now, had the country bordering on Red River been an unpeopled
wilderness, the plan carried out in effecting the transfer of land in the
North-west from the Hudson's Bay Company to the Crown, and from the Crown
to the Dominion of Canada, would have been an eminently wise one; but,
unfortunately for its wisdom, there were some 15,000 persons living in
peaceful possession of the soil thus transferred, and these 15,000
persons very naturally objected to have themselves and possessions signed
away without one word of consent or one note of approval. Nay, more than
that, these straggling pioneers had on many an occasion taunted the vain
half-breed with what would happen when the irresistible march of events
had thrown the country into the arms of Canada: then civilization would
dawn upon the benighted country, the half-breed would seek some western
region, the Company would dis appear, and all the institutions of New
World progress would shed-prosperity over the land; prosperity, not to
the old dwellers and of the old type, but to the new-comers and of the
new order of things. Small wonder, then, if the little community,
resenting all this threatened improvement off the face of the earth, got
their powder-horns ready, took the covers off their trading flint-guns,
and with much gesticulation summarily interfered with several
anticipatory surveys of their farms, doubling up the sextants, bundling
the surveying parties out of their freeholds, and very peremptorily
informing Mr. Governor M'Dougall, just arrived from Canada, that his
presence was by no means of the least desirability to Red River or its
inhabitants. The man who, with remarkable energy and perseverance, had
worked up his fellow-citizens to this pitch of resistance, organizing and
directing the whole movement, was a young French half-breed named Louis
Riel--a man possessing many of the attributes suited to the leadership of
parties, and quite certain to rise to the surface in any time of
political disturbances. It has doubtless occurred to any body who has
followed me through this brief sketch of the causes which led to the
assumption of this attitude on the part of the French half-breeds-it has
occurred to them, I say, to ask who then was to blame for the
mismanagement of the transfer: was it the Hudson Bay Company who
surrendered for 300,000 pounds their territorial rights? was it the
Imperial Government who accepted that surrender? or was it the Dominion
Government to whom the country was in turn retransferred by the Imperial
authorities? I answer that the blame of having bungled the whole business
belongs collectively to all the great and puissant bodies. Any ordinary
matter-of-fact, sensible man would have managed the whole affair in a few
hours; but so many high and potent powers had to consult together, to pen
despatches, to speechify, and to lay down the law about it, that the
whole affair became hopelessly muddled. Of course, ignorance and
carelessness were, as they always are, at the bottom of it all. Nothing
would have been easier than to have sent a commissioner from England to
Red River, while the negotiations for transfer were pending, who would
have ascertained the feelings and wishes of the people of the country
relative to` the transfer, and would have guaranteed them the exercise of
their rights and liberties under any and every new arrangement that might
be entered into. Now, it is no excuse for any Government to plead
ignorance upon any matter pertaining to the people it governs, or expects
to govern, for a Government has no right to be ignorant on any such
matter, and its ignorance must be its condemnation; yet this is the plea
put forward by the Dominion Government of Canada, and yet the Dominion
Government and the Imperial Government had ample opportunity of arriving
at a-correct knowledge of the state of affairs in Red River, if they had
only taken the trouble to do so. Nay, more, it is an undoubted fact that
warning had been given to the Dominion Government of the state of feeling
amongst the half-breeds, and the phrase, "they are only eaters of
pemmican," so cutting to the Metis, was then first originated by a
distinguished Canadian politician.

And now let us see what the "eaters of pemmican" proceeded to do after
their forcible occupation of Fort Garry. Well, it must be admitted they
behaved in a very indifferent manner, going steadily from bad to worse,
and much befriended in their seditious proceedings by continued and oft
repeated bungling on the part of their opponents. Early in the month of
December, 1869, Mr. M'Dougall issued two proclamations from his post at
Pembina, on the frontier: in one he declared himself Lieutenant-Governor
of the territory which Her Majesty had transferred to Canada; and in the
other he commissioned an officer of the Canadian militia, under the
high-sounding title of "Conservator of the Peace," "to attack, arrest,
-disarm, and disperse armed men disturbing the public peace, and to
assault, fire upon, and break into houses in which these armed men were
to be found." Now, of the first proclamation it will be only necessary to
remark, 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 the
reader that the title of "Conservator of the Peace" was singularly
inappropriate to one vested with such sanguinary and destructive powers
as was the holder of this commission, who was to "assault, fire upon,
and break into houses, and to attack, arrest, disarm, and disperse
people," and generally to conduct himself after the manner of Attila,
Genshis Khan, the Emperor Theodore, or any other ferocious magnate of
ancient or modern times. The officer holding this destructive commission
thought he could do nothing better than imitate the tactics of his French
adversary, accordingly we find him taking possession of the other
rectangular building known as the Lower Fort Garry, situated some twenty
miles north of the one in which the French had taken post, but
unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, not finding within its walls the
same store of warlike material which had existed in the Fort Garry
senior.

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, and
pow-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 off
to companies under captains improvised for the occasion, and every thing
pointed 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 in
this business. By nature peaceably disposed, inheriting from their Orkney
and Shetland forefathers much of the frugal habits of the Scotchmen,
these people only asked to be left in peace. So far the French party had
been only fighting the battle of every half-breed, whether his father had
hailed from the northern isles, the shires of England, or the snows of
Lower Canada; so, after a little time, the Scotch and English volunteers
began to melt away, and on the 9th of December the last warrior had
disappeared. But the effects of their futile demonstration soon became
apparent in the increasing violence and tyranny of Riel and his
followers. The threatened attempt to upset his authority by arraying the
Scotch and English half-breeds against him served only to add strength to
his party. The number of armed malcontents in Fort Garry became very much
increased, clergymen of both parties, neglecting their manifest
functions, began to take sides in the conflict, and the worst form of
religious animosity became apparent in the little community. Emboldened
by the presence of some five or six hundred armed followers, Riel
determined to strike a blow against the party most obnoxious to him. This
was the English-Canadian party, the pioneers of the Western settlement
already alluded to as having been previously in antagonism with the
people of Red River. Some sixty or seventy of these men, believing in the
certain advance of the English force upon Fort Garry, had taken up a
position in the little village of Winnipeg, less than a mile distant from
the fort, where they awaited the advance of their adherents previous to
making a combined assault upon the French. But Riel proved himself more
than a match for his antagonists; marching quickly out of his stronghold,
he surrounded the buildings in which they were posted, and, planting a
gun in a conspicuously commanding position, summoned them all to
surrender in the shortest possible space of time. As is usual on such
occasions, and in such circumstances, the whole party did as they were
ordered, and marching out-with or without side-arms and military honours
history does not relate-were forthwith conducted into close confinement
within the walls of Fort Garry. Having by this bold coup got possession
not only of the most energetic of his opponents, but also of many
valuable American Remington Rifles, fourteen shooters and revolvers, Mr.
Riel, with all the vanity of the Indian peeping out, began to imagine
himself a very great personage, and as very great personages are
sometimes supposed to be believers in the idea that to take a man's
property is only to confiscate it, and to take his life is merely to
execute him, he too commenced to violently sequestrate, annex, and
requisition not only divers of his prisoners, but also a considerable
share of the goods stored in warehouses of the Hudson Bay Company, having
particular regard to some hogsheads of old port wine and very potent
Jamaica rum. The proverb which has reference to a mendicant suddenly
Placed in an equestrian position had notable exemplification in the case
of the Provisional Government, and many of his colleagues; going steadily
from bad to worse, from violence to pillage, from pillage to robbery of a
very low type, much supplemented by rum-drunkenness and dictatorial
debauchery, he and they finally, on the 4th of March, 1870, disregarding
some touching appeals for mercy, and with many accessories of needless
cruelty, 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 between
Riel and his followers, and the outside Canadian world, that impassable
gulf which the murderer in all ages digs between himself and society, and
which society attempts to bridge by the aid of the gallows. It is
needless here to enter into details of this matter; of the second rising
which preceded it; of the dead blank which followed it; of the heartless
and disgusting cruelty which made the prisoners death a foregone
conclusion at his mock trial; or of the deeds worse than butchery which
characterized the last scene. Still, before quitting the revolting
subject, there is one point that deserves remark, as it seems to
illustrate the feeling entertained by the leaders themselves. On the
night of the murder the body was interred in a very deep hole which had
been dug within the walls of the fort. Two clergymen had asked permission
to inter the remains in either of their churches, but this request had
been denied. On the anniversary of the murder, namely, the 4th March,
1871, other powers being then predominant in Fort Garry, a large crowd
gathered at the spot where the murdered man had been interred, for the
purpose of exhuming the body. After digging for some time they came to
an oblong box or coffin in which the remains had been placed, but it was
empty, the interment within the walls had been a mock ceremony, and the
final resting-place of the body lies hidden in mystery. Now there is one
thing very evident from the fact, and that is that Riel and his
immediate followers were themselves conscious of the enormity of the deed
they had committed, for had they believed that the taking of this man's
life was really an execution justified upon any grounds of military or
political necessity, or a forfeit fairly paid as price for crimes
committed, then the hole inside the gateway of Fort Garry would have held
its skeleton, and the midnight interment would not have been a senseless
lie. The murderer and the law both take life--it is only the murderer who
hides under the midnight shadows the body of his victim.





CHAPTER FOUR.

Chicago--"Who is S. B. D.?"--Milwaukie--The Great Fusion-Wisconsin--The
Sleeping-car--The Train Boy-Minnesota--St. Paul--I start for Lake
Superior--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 had
just completed the purchase of a full costume of a Western borderer. On
the 10th of June I crossed the Detroit River from Western Canada to the
State of Michigan, and travelling by the central railway of that state
reached 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 justly
proud of it. It is by very much the largest and the richest of the new
cities of the New World. Maps made fifty years ago will be searched in
vain for Chicago. Chicago was then a swamp where the skunks, after whom
it is called, held undisputed revels. To-day Chicago numbers about
300,000 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 leaving
the latter city, let us say on Monday morning, finds himself on Tuesday
at eight o'clock in the evening in Chicago-one thousand miles in
thirty-four hours. In the meantime he will have eaten three meals and
slept soundly "on board" his palace-car, if he is so minded. For many
hundred miles during the latter portion of his journey he will have
noticed great tracts of swamp and forest, with towns and cities and
settlements interspersed between; and then, when these tracts of swamp
and unreclaimed forest seem to be increasing instead of diminishing, he
comes all of a sudden upon a vast, full-grown, bustling city, with tall
chimneys sending out much smoke, with heavy horses dragging great: drays
of bulky freight through thronged and busy streets, and with tall-masted
ships and whole fleets of steamers lying packed against the crowded
quays. He has begun to dream himself in the West, and lo! there rises up
a great city. "But is not this the West?" will ask the new-comer from the
Atlantic states. "Upon your own showing we are here 1000 miles from New
York, 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 ago
Chicago 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 new
scene to me, for I had spent pleasant days in it three years before. An
American in America is a very pleasant fellow. It is true that on many
social points and habits his views may differ from ours in a manner very
shocking to our prejudices, insular or insolent, as these prejudices of
ours too frequently are; but meet him with fair allowance for the fact
that there may be two sides to a question, and that a man may not tub
every morning and yet be a good fellow, and in nine cases of ten you will
find him most agreeable, a little inquisitive perhaps to know your
peculiar belongings, but equally ready to impart to you the details of
every item connected with his business--altogether a very jolly every-day
companion when met on even basis. If you happen to be a military man, he
will call you Colonel or General, and expect similar recognition: of rank
by virtue of his volunteer services in the 44th: Illinois, or 55th
Missourian. At present, and for many years to come, it is and will be a
safe method of beginning any observation to a Western American with "I
say, General," and on no account ever to get below the rank of field
officer when addressing anybody holding a socially smaller position than
that of bar-keeper. Indeed major-generals were as plentiful in the United
States at the termination of the great rebellion as brevet-majors were in
the British service at the close of the Crimean campaign. It was at
Plymouth, I think, that a grievance was established by a youngster on
the score that he really could not spit out of his own window without
hitting a brevet major outside; and it was in a Western city that the man
threw his stick at a dog across the road, "missed that dawg, sir, but hit
five major-generals on t'other side, and 'twasn't a good day for
major-generals either, sir." Not less necessary than knowledge of social
position is knowledge of the political institutions and characters of the
West. Not to know Rufus P. W. Smidge, or Ossian W. Dodge of Minnesota, is
simply to argue yourself utterly unknown. My first experience of Chicago
fully impressed me with this fact. I had made the acquaintance of an
American gentleman "on board" the train, and as we approached the city
along the sandy margin of Lake Michigan he kindly pointed out the
buildings 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 in
course of erection into a pedestal. I confess to having been entirely
ignorant at the time as to what claim Stephen B. Douglas may have had to
this public recognition of his worth, but the tone of my informant's
voice was sufficient to warn me that everybody knew Stephen B. Douglas,
and that ignorance of his career might prove hurtful to the feelings of
my new acquaintance, so I carefully refrained from showing by word or
look the drawback under which I laboured. There was with me, however, a
travelling companion who, to an ignorance of Stephen B. D. fully equal to
mine own, added a truly British indignation that monumental honours
should be bestowed upon one whose fame was still faint across the
Atlantic. Looking partly at the monument, partly at our American
informant, and partly at me, he hastily ejaculated, "Who the devil was
Stephen B. Douglas?"

Alas! the murder was out, and out in its most aggravating form. I hastily
attempted 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 know
who Stephen B. Douglas was?"

Nothing cowed by the assumption of knowledge implied by my question, my
fellow-traveller was not to be done. "All deuced fine," he went on, "I'll
bet 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, he
persisted in his reckless offers of "laying fivers," and our united
ignorance stood fatally revealed.

Round the city of Chicago stretches upon three sides a vast level
prairie, a meadow larger than the area of England and Wales, and as
fertile as the luxuriant vegetation of thousands of years decaying under
a semi-tropic sun could make it. Illinois is in round numbers 400 miles
from north to south, its greatest breadth being about 200 miles. The
Mississippi, running in vast curves along the entire length of its
western frontier for 700 miles, bears away to southern ports the rich
burden of wheat and Indian corn. The inland sea of Michigan carries on
its waters the wealth of the northern portion of the state to the
Atlantic seaboard. The Ohio, flowing south and west, unwaters the
south-eastern counties, while 5500 miles of completed railroad traverse
the interior of the state. This 5500 miles of iron road is a significant
fact--5500 miles of railway in the compass of a single western state!
More than all Hindostan can boast of, and nearly half the railway mileage
of the United Kingdom. Of this immense system of interior connexion
Chicago is the centre and heart. Other great centres of commerce have
striven 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 of
the Union possesses this immense extent of railroad, ships its own
produce, north, east, and south, and boasts a population scarcely
inferior to that of many older states; and yet it is only fifty years ago
since William Cobbett laboured long and earnestly to prove that English
emigrants who pushed on into the "wilderness of the Illinois went
straight to misery and ruin."

Passing through Chicago, and going out by one of the lines running north
along the shore of Lake Michigan, I reached the city of Milwaukie late in
the evening. Now the city of Milwaukie stands above 100 miles north of
Chicago and is to the State of Wisconsin what its southern neighbour (100
miles in the States is nothing) is to Illinois. Being, also some 100
miles nearer to the entrance to Lake Michigan, and consequently nearer by
water to New York and the Atlantic, Milwaukie caries off no small share
of the export wheat trade of the North-west. Behind it lie the rolling
prairies of Wisconsin, Iowa, and Minnesota, the three wheat-growing
states of the American Union. Scandinavia, Germany, and Ireland have made
this portion of America their own, and in the streets of Milwaukie one
hears the guttural sounds of the Teuton and the deep brogue of the Irish
Celt mixed in curious combinations. This railway-station at Milwaukie is
one of the great distributing points of the in-coming flood from Northern
Europe. From here they scatter far and wide over the plains which lie
between Lake Michigan and the head-waters of the Mississippi. No one
stops to look at these people as they throng the wooden platform and fill
the 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 the
promised land. Tired, travel-stained, and worn come the fair-haired crowd
of men and women and many children, eating all manner of strange food
while they rest, and speaking all manner of strange tongues, carrying the
most uncouth shapeless boxes that trunk-maker of Bergen or Upsal can
devise--such queer oval red-and-green painted wooden cases, more like
boxes to hold musical instruments than for the Sunday kit of Hans or
Christian--clothing much soiled and worn by lower-deck lodgment and spray
of mid-Atlantic roller, and dust of that 1100 miles of railroad since
New York was left behind, but still with many traces, under dust and
seediness, of Scandinavian rustic fashion; altogether a homely people,
but destined ere long to lose every vestige of their old Norse habits
under the grindstone of the great mill they are now entering. That vast
human machine Which grinds Celt and Saxon, Teuton and Dane, Fin and Goth
into the same image and likeness of the inevitable Yankee--grinds him too
into that image in one short generation, and oftentimes in less; doing it
without any apparent outward pressure or any tyrannical law of language
or religion, but nevertheless beating out, welding, and amalgamating the
various conflicting races of the Old World into the great American
people. Assuredly the world has never witnessed any experiment of so
gigantic a nature as this immense fusion of the Caucasian race now going
on before our eyes in North America. One asks oneself, with feelings of
dread, what is to be the result? Is it to eliminate from the human race
the evil habits of each nationality, and to preserve in the new one the
noble characteristics of all? I say one asks the question with a feeling
of dread, for it is the question of the well-being, of the whole human
family of the future, the question of the advance or retrogression of the
human race. No man living can answer that question. Time alone can solve
it; 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 die
out by the process of transplanting. The German preserves inviolate his
love of lager, and leaves behind him his love of Fatherland. The Celt,
Scotch or Irish, appears to eliminate from his nature many of those
traits of humour of which their native lands are so pregnant. It may be
that this is only the beginning, that a national decomposition of the old
distinctions must occur before the new elements can arise, and that from
it 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 American
society, there seems little reason to hope for required alteration. The
dollar 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 of
Wisconsin, and St. Paul, the capital and principal city of the State of
Minnesota. About half that distance lies through the State of Wisconsin,
and the remaining half is somewhat unequally divided between Iowa and
Minnesota. Leaving Milwaukie at eleven o'clock a.m., one reaches the
Mississippi at Prairie-du-Chien at ten o'clock same night; here a steamer
ferries the broad swift-running stream, and at North Macgregor, on the
Iowa shore, a train is in waiting to take on board the now sleepy
passengers. The railway sleeping-car is essentially an American
institution. Like every other institution, it has its critics, favourable
and severe. On the one hand, it is said to be the acme of comfort; on the
other, the essence of unrest. But it is just what might be expected under
the circumstances, neither one thing nor the other. No one in his senses
would prefer to sleep in a bed which was being bornc violently along over
rough and uneven iron when he could select a stationary resting-place. On
the other hand, it is a very great saving of time and expense to travel
for some eighty or one hundred consecutive hours, and this can only be
effected by means of the sleeping-car. Take this distance, from New York
to St. Paul, as an instance. It is about 1450 miles, and it can be
accomplished in sixty-four hours. Of course one cannot expect to find
oneself as comfortably located as in an hotel; but, all things
considered, the balance of advantage is very much on the side of the
sleeping-car. After a night or two one becomes accustomed to the noise
and oscillation; the little peculiarities incidental to turning-in in
rather a promiscuous manner with ladies old and young, children in arms
and out of arms, vanish before the force of habit; the necessity of
making an early rush to the lavatory appliances in the morning, and there
securing a plentiful supply of water and clean towels, becomes quickly
apparent, and altogether the sleeping-car ceases to be a thing of
nuisance and is accepted as an accomplished fact. The interior
arrangements of the car are conducted as follows. A passage runs down the
centre from one door to the other; on either side are placed the berths
or "sections" for sleeping; during the day-time these form seats, and are
occupied by such as care to take them in the ordinary manner of railroad
cars. At night, however, the whole car undergoes a complete
transformation. A negro attendant commences to make down the beds. This
operation is performed by drawing out, after the manner of telescopes,
portions of the car heretofore looked upon as immoveable; from various
receptacles thus rendered visible he extracts large store of blankets,
mattresses, bolsters, pillows, sheets, all which he arranges after the
usual method of such articles. His work is done speedily and without
noise or bustle, and in a very short time the interior of the car
presents the spectacle of a long, dimly lighted passage, having on either
side the striped damask curtains which partly shroud the berths behind
them. Into these berths the passengers soon withdraw themselves, and all
goes quietly till morning-unless, indeed, some stray turning bridge has
been 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 the
many disasters of American railroad travel. There are many varieties of
the sleeping-car, but the principle and mode of procedure are identical
in each. Some of those constructed by Messrs. Pullman and Wagner are as
gorgeously decorated as gilding, plating, velvet, and damask can make
them. The former gentleman is likely to live long after his death in the
title of his cars. One takes a Pullman (of course, only a share of a
Pullman) as one takes a Hansom. Pullman and sleeping-car have become
synonymous terms likely to last the wear of time. Travelling from sunrise
to sunset through a country which offers but few changes to the eye, and
at a rate which in the remoter districts seldom exceeds twenty miles an
hour, is doubtless a very tiresome occupation; still it has much to
relieve the tedium of what under the English system of railroad travel
would be almost insupportable. The fact of easy communication being
maintained between the different cars renders the passage from one car to
another during motion a most feasible undertaking. One can visit the
various cars and inspect their occupants, and to a man travelling to
obtain information this is no small boon. Americans are always ready to
enter into conversation, and though many queer fish will doubtless be met
with in such interviews, still as one is certain to fall in with persons
from all parts of the Union--easters, Southerners, Western men, and
Californians--the experiment of "knocking around the cars" is well worth
the trial of any person who is not above taking human nature, as we take
the weather, just as it comes.

The individual known by the title of "train-boy" is also worth some
study. He is oftentimes a grown-up man, but more frequently a most
precocious boy; he is the agent for some enterprising house in Chicago,
New York, or Philadelphia, or some other large town, and his aim is to
dispose of a very miscellaneous collection of mental and bodily
nourishment. He usually commences operations with the mental diet, which
he serves round in several courses. The first course consists of works of
a high moral character standard English novels in American reprints, and
works of travel or biography. These he lays beside each passenger,
stopping now and then to recommend one or the other for some particular
excellence of morality or binding. Having distributed a portion through
the car, he passes into the next car, and so through the train. After a
few minutes delay he returns again to pick up the books and to settle
with any one who may be disposed to retain possession of one. After the
lapse of a very short time he reappears with the second course of
literature. This usually consists of a much lower standard of excellence
--Yankee fun, illustrated periodicals of a feeble nature, and cheap
reprints of popular works. The third course, which soon follows, is,
however, a very much lower one, and it is a subject for regret on the
part of the moralist that the same powers of persuasion which but a
little time ago were put forth to advocate the sale of some works of high
moral excellence should now be exerted to push a vigorous circulation of
the "Last Sensation," "The Dime Illustrated," "New York under Gas
light," "The Bandits of the Rocky Mountains," and other similar
productions. These pernicious periodicals having been shown around, the
train-boy evidently becomes convinced that mental culture requires from
him no further effort; he relinquishes that portion of his labour and
devotes all his energies to the sale of the bodily nourishment,
consisting of oranges and peaches, according to season, of a very sickly
and uninviting description; these he follows with sugar in various
preparations of stickiness, supplementing the whole with pea-nuts and
crackers. In the end he becomes without any doubt a terrible nuisance;
one conceives a mortal hatred for this precocious pedlar who with his
vile compounds is ever bent upon forcing you to purchase his wares. He
gets, he will tell you, a percentage on his sales of ten cents in the
dollar; if you are going a long journey, he will calculate to sell you a
dollar'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 than
present him at once with this ten cents, stipulating that on no account
is 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 this
you 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 lead
to the higher level of the State of Iowa from the waters of Mississippi
one sinks into a state of dim consciousness of all that is going on in
the long carriage. The whistle of the locomotive--which, by the way, is
very much more melodious than the one in use in England, being softer,
deeper, and reaching to a greater distance-the roll of the train into
stations, the stop and the start, all become, as it were, blended into
uneasy sleep, until daylight sets the darkey at his work of making up the
sections. When the sun rose we were well into Minnesota, the-most
northern of the Union States. Around on every side stretched the great
wheat lands of the North-west, that region whose farthest limits lie far
within the territories where yet the red man holds his own. Here, in the
south of Minnesota, one is only on the verge of that great wheat region.
Far beyond the northern limit of the state it stretches away into
latitudes unknown, save to the fur trader and the red man, latitudes
which, if you tire not on the road, good reader, you and I may journey
into 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 trade
centres of America. It stands almost at the head of the navigation of the
Mississippi River, about 2050 miles from New Orleans; not that the great
river has its beginning here or in the vicinity, its cradle lies far to
the north, 700 miles along the stream. But the Falls of St. Anthony, a
few miles above St. Paul, interrupt all navigation, and the course of the
river for a considerable distance above the fall is full of rapids and
obstructions. Immediately above and below St. Paul the Mississippi River
receives several large tributary streams from north-east and north west;
the St. Peter's or Minnesota River coming from near the Coteau of the
Missouri, and the St. Croix unwatering the great tract of pine land which
lies West of Lake Superior; but it is not alone to water communication
that St. Paul owes its commercial importance. With the same restless
energy of the Northern American, its leading men have looked far into the
future, and shaped their course for later times; railroads are stretching
out in every direction to pierce the solitude of the yet uninhabited
prairies and pine forests of the North. There is probably no part of the
world in which the inhabitants are so unhealthy as in America; but the
life is more trying than the climate, the constant use of spirit taken
"straight," the incessant chewing of tobacco with its disgusting
accompaniment, the want of healthier exercise, the habit of eating in a
hurry, 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 fast
too," echoed a major from another part of the room. As a matter of
course, places possessing salubrious climates are crowded with pallid
seekers after health, and as St. Paul enjoys a dry and bracing atmosphere
from its great elevation above the sea level, as well as from the purity
of the surrounding prairies, its hotels--and they are many--are crowded
with the broken wrecks of half the Eastern states; some find what they
seek, but the majority come to Minnesota only to die.

Business connected with the supply of the troops during the coming winter
in Red River, detained me for some weeks in Minnesota, and as the
letters which I had despatched upon my arrival giving the necessary
particulars regarding the proposed arrangements, required at least a week
to obtain replies to, I determined to visit in the interim the shores of
Lake Superior. Here I would glean what tidings I could of the progress of
the Expedition, from whose base at Fort William, I would be only 100
miles distant, as well as examine the% chances of Fenian intervention, so
much talked of in the American newspapers, as likely to place in peril
the flank of the expeditionary force as it followed the devious track of
swamp and forest which has on one side Minnesota, and on the other the
Canadian 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, although
the last named city is some hundred miles more to the north than the
first. But latitude is no criterion of summer heat in America, and the
short Arctic summer of the Mackenzie River knows often a fiercer heat
than the swamp lands of the Carolinas. So, putting together a very light
field-kit, I started early one morning from St. Paul for the new town of
Duluth, on the extreme westerly end of Lake Superior.

Duluth, I was told, was the very newest of new towns, in fact it only had
an existence of eighteen months; as may be inferred, it had no past, but
any want in that respect was compensated for in its marvellous future. It
was 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; its
murderous propensities seemed to have no bounds; lots were already
selling at fabulous prices, and everybody seemed to have Duluth in some
shape or other on the brain. To reach this paradise of the future I had
to travel 100 miles by the Superior and Mississippi railroad, to a
halting-place known as the End of the Track-a name which gave a very
accurate idea of its whereabouts and general capabilities. The line was,
in fact, in course of formation, and was being rapidly pushed forward
from both ends with a view to its being opened through by the 1st day of
August. About forty miles north-east of St. Paul we entered the region of
pine forest. At intervals of ten or twelve miles the train stopped at
places bearing high-sounding titles, such as Rush City, Pine City; but
upon examination one looked in vain for any realization of these names,
pines and rushes certainly were plentiful enough, but the city part of
the arrangement was nowhere visible. Upon asking a fellow-passenger for
some explanation of the phenomena, he answered, "Guess there was a city
hereaway last year, but it busted up or gone on." Travellers unacquainted
with the vernacular of America might have conjured up visions of a
catastrophe not less terrible than that of Pompeii or Herculaneum, but
an earlier acquaintance of Western cities had years before taught me to
comprehend such phrases. In the autumn of 1867 I had visited the prairies
of Nebraska, along the banks of the Platte River. Buffalo were numerous
on the sandy plains which form the hunting-grounds of the Shienne and
Arapahoe Indians, and amongst the vast herds the bright October days
passed quickly enough. One day, in company with an American officer, we
were following, as usual, a herd of buffalo, when we came upon a town
standing silent and deserted in the middle the Trairie. "That," said the
American, "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 moved
on to North Platte and Julesburg--guess there's only one man left in it
now, and he's got snakes in his boots the hull season." Marvelling what
manner of man this might be who dwelt alone in the silent city, we rode
on. One house showed some traces of occupation, and in this house dwelt
the man. We had passed through the deserted grass-grown street, and were
again on the prairie, when a shot rang out behind us, the bullet cutting
up the dust away to the left. "By G---- he's on the shoot," cried our
friend; "ride, boys!" and so we rode. Much has been written and said of
cities old and new, of Aztec and Peruvian monuments, but I venture to
offer to the attention of the future historian of America this sample of
the busted up city of Kearney and its solitary indweller, who had snakes
in his boots and was on the shoot.

After that explanation of a "busted-up" and "gone-on" city, I was of
course sufficiently well "posted" not to require further explanation as
to the fate of Pine and Rush Cities; but had I entertained any doubts
upon the subject, the final stoppage of the train at Moose Lake, or City,
would have effectually dispelled them. For there stood the portions of
Rush and Pine Cities which had not "bust up," but had simply "gone
on." Two shanties, with a few outlying sheds, stood on either side of the
track, which here crossed a clear running forest stream. Passenger
communication ended at this point; the rails were laid down for a
distance of eight miles farther, but only the "construction train," with
supplies, men, etc. proceeded to that point. Track-laying was going on at
the rate of three miles a day, I was informed, and the line would soon be
opened to the Dalles of the St. Louis River, near the hecad of Lake
Superior. The heat all day had been very great, and it was refreshing to
get out of the dusty car, even though the shanties, in which eating,
drinking, and sleeping were supposed to be carried on, were of the very
lowest description. I had made the acquaintance of the express agent, a
gentleman connected with the baggage department of the train, and during
the journey he had taken me somewhat into his confidence on the matter of
the 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 licks
creation for bugs." This terse and forcibly expressed opinion made me
select 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 the
weary.

The construction train started from Moose City at six o'clock a.m., and
as the stage, which was supposed to connect with the passenger train and
carry forward its human freight to Superior City was filled to
overflowing, I determined to take advantage of the construction train,
and travel on it as far as it would take me. A very motley group of
lumberers, navvies, and speculators assembled for breakfast at five
o'clock a.m. at Tom's table, and although I cannot quite confirm the
favourable opinion of my friend the express agent as to the quality of
the viands which graced it, I can at least testify to the vigour with
which the "guests" disposed of the pork and beans, the molasses and
dried apples which Tom, with foul fingers, had set before them. Seated on
the floor of a waggon in the construction train, in the midst of navvies
of all countries and ages, I reached the end of the track while the
morning sun was yet low in the east. I had struck up a kind of
partnership for the journey with a pedlar Jew and an Ohio man, both going
to Duluth, and as we had a march of eighteen miles to get through
between the end of the track and the town of Fond-du-Lac, it became
necessary to push on before the sun had reached his midday level; so,
shouldering our baggage, we left the busy scene of track-laying and
struck out along the graded line for the Dalles of the St. Louis. Up to
this point the line had been fully levelled, and the walking was easy
enough, but when the much-talked of Dalles were reached a complete
change took place, and the toil became excessive. The St. Louis River,
which in reality forms the headwater of the great St. Lawrence, has its
source in the dividing ridge between Minnesota and the British territory.
From these rugged Laurentian ridges it foams down in an impetuous torrent
through wild pine-clad steeps of rock and towering precipice, apparently
to force an outlet into the valley of the Mississippi, but at the Dalles
it seems to have suddenly preferred to seek the cold waters of the
Atlantic, and, bending its course abruptly to the east, it pours its
foaming torrent into the great Lake Superior below the old French
trading-post of Fond-du-Lac. The load which I carried was not of itself a
heavy one, but its weight became intolerable under the rapidly increasing
heat of the sun and from the toilsome nature of the road. The deep narrow
gorges over which the railway was to be carried were yet unbridged, and
we had to let ourselves down the steep yielding embankment to a depth of
over 100 feet, and then clamber up the other side almost upon hands and
knees-this under a sun that beat down between the hills with terrible
intensity on the yellow sand of the railway cuttings! The Ohio man
carried 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 was
obliged to lag, and about midday found myself alone in the solitudes of
the Dalles. At last there came a gorge deeper and steeper than any thing
that had preceded it, and I was forced to rest long before attempting its
almost perpendicular ascent. When I did reach the top, it was to find
myself thoroughly done up--the sun came down on the side of the
embankment as though it would burn the sandy soil into ashes, not a
breath of air moved through the silent hills, not a leaf stirred in the
forest. My load was more than I could bear, and again I had to lie down
to avoid falling down. Only once before had I experienced a similar
sensation of choking, and that was in toiling through a Burmese swamp,
snipe-shooting under a midday sun. How near that was to sun-stroke, I
can't say; but I don't think it could be very far. After a little time, I
saw, some distance down below, smoke rising from a shanty. I made my way
with no small difficulty to the door, and found the place full of some
twenty 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 I
drained the tin with a feeling of relief such as one seldom knows. The
place was lined round with bunks like the forecastle of a ship. After a
time I rose to depart and asked the man who acted as cook how much there
was 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 lower
in the west. The remainder of the road was thronged with gangs of men at
work along it, bridging, blasting, building, and levelling--strong
able-bodied fellows fit for any thing. Each gang was under the
superintendence 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 under
such a sun.





CHAPTER FIVE.

Lake Superior--The Dalles of the St. Louis--The North Pacific
Railroad--Fond-du-Lac-Duluth--Superior City--The Great Lake--A Plan to
dry up Niagara--Stage Driving--Tom's Shanty again--St. Paul and its
Neighbourhood.

ALMOST in the centre of the Dalles I passed the spot where the Northern
Pacific Railroad had on that day turned its first sod, commencing its
long course across the continent. This North Pacific Railroad is destined
to play a great part in the future history of the United States; it is
the second great link which is to bind together the Atlantic and Pacific
States (before twenty years there will be many others). From Puget Sound
on the Pacific to Duluth on Lake Superior is about 2200 miles, and across
this distance the North Pacific Railroad is to run. The immense plains of
Dakota, the grassy uplands of Montana and Washington, and the centre of
the State of Minnesota will behold ere long this iron road of the North
Pacific Company piercing their lonely wilds. "Red Cloud" and "Black
Eagle" and "Standing Buffalo" may gather their braves beyond the Coteau
to battle against this steam-horse which scares their bison from his
favourite breeding grounds on the scant pastures of the great Missouri
plateau; but all their efforts will be in vain, the dollar will beat them
out. Poor Red Cloud! in spite of thy towering form and mighty strength,
the dollar is mightier still, and the fiat has gone forth before which
thou and thy braves must pass away from the land! Very tired and covered
deep with the dust of railroad cuttings, I reached the collection of
scattered houses which bears the name of Fond-du Lac. Upon inquiring at
the first house which I came to as to the whereabouts of the hotel, I was
informed by a sour-visaged old female, that if I wanted to drink and get
drunk, I must go farther on; but that if I wished to behave in a quiet
and respectable manner, and could live %without liquor, I could stay in
her house, which was at once post office, Temperance Hotel, and very
respectable. Being weary and footsore, I. did not feel disposed to seek
farther, for the place looked clean, the river was close at hand, and the
whole aspect of the scene was suggestive of rest. In the evening hours
myriads of mosquitoes and flying things of minutest size came forth from
the wooded hills and did their best towards making life a misery; so bad
were they that I welcomed a passing navvy who dropped in as a real
godsend.

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

I could not help thinking that it was perhaps quite as well for the North
Pacific Railroad Company and the boss if they never were destined to
rival the Union Pacific Company as pictured by my companion; but I did
not 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 trace
of toil. I left Fond-du-Lac early in the afternoon, and, descending by a
small steamer the many-winding St. Louis River, soon came in sight of the
town of Duluth. The heat had become excessive; the Bay of St. Louis, shut
in on all sides by lofty hills, lay under a mingled mass of thunder-cloud
and sunshine; far out in Lake Superior vivid lightnings flashed over the
gloomy water and long rolls of thunder shook the hills around. On board
our little steamboat the atmosphere was stifling, and could not have been
short of 100 degrees in the coolest place (it was 93 at six o'clock same
evening in the hotel at Duluth); there was nothing for it but to lie
quietly on a wooden bench and listen to the loud talking of some
fellow-passengers. Three of the hardest of hard cases were engaged in the
mental recreation of "'swapping lies;" their respective exchanges
consisting on this occasion of feats of stealing; the experiences of one
I recollect in particular. He had stolen an axe from a man on the North
Pacific Railroad and a few days later sold him the same article. This
Piece of knavery was received as the acme of cuteness; and I well
recollect 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 of
St. Louis, Duluth, in all its barrenness, stood before us. The future
capital of the Lakes, the great central port of the continent, the town
whose wharves were to be laden with the teas of China and the silks of
Japan stood out on the rocky north shore of Lake Superior, the sorriest
spectacle of city that eye of man could look upon-wooden houses scattered
at intervals along a steep ridge from which the forest had been only
partially cleared, houses of the smallest possible limits growing out of
a reedy marsh, which lay between lake and ridge, tree-stumps and lumber
standing in street and landing-place, the swamps croaking with bull-frogs
and passable only by crazy looking planks of tilting proclivities--over
all, a sun fit for a Carnatic coolie, and around, a forest vegetation in
whose heart the memory of Arctic winter rigour seemed to live for ever.
Still, in spite of rock and swamp and icy winter, Yankee energy will
triumph 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," said
the captain of the little boat; and though he spoke with much labour of
imprecation, both needless then and now, taking what might be termed a
cursory view of the situation, he summed up the prospects of Duluth
conclusively 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 were
consequently the rule. Now "free drinks" have generally a demoralizing
tendency upon a community, but taken in connexion with a temperature of
98 degrees in the shade, they quickly develop into free revolvers and
freer bowie-knives. Besides, the spirit of speculation was rampant in the
hotel, and so many men had corner lots, dock locations, pine forests, and
pre-empted lands to sell me, that nothing but flight prevented my
becoming a large holder of all manner of Duluth securities upon terms
that, upon the clearest showing, would have been ridiculously favourable
to me. The principal object of my visit to Duluth was to discover if any
settlement existed at the Vermilion Lakes, eighty miles to the north and
not far from the track of the Expedition, a place which had been named to
the military authorities in Canada as likely to form a base of attack for
any filibusters who would be adventurous enough to make a dash at the
communication of the expeditionary force. A report of the discovery of
gold and silver mines around the Vermilion Lakes had induced a rush of
miners there during the previous year; but the mines had all "bust up,"
and the miners had been blown away to other regions, leaving the plant
and fixtures of quartz-crushing machinery standing drearily in the
wilderness. These facts I ascertained from the engineer, who had
constructed a forest track from Duluth to the mines, and into whose
office I penetrated in quest of information. He, too, looked upon me as a
speculator.

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

That evening there came a violent thunder-storm, which cleared and cooled
the atmosphere; between ten o'clock in the morning and three in the
afternoon the thermometer fell 30 degrees. Lake Superior had asserted its
icy influence over the sun. Glad to get away from Duluth, I crossed the
bay to Superior City, situated on the opposite, or Wisconsin shore of the
lake. A curious formation of sand and shingle runs out from the shore of
Duluth, forming a long narrow spit of land projecting far into Lake
Superior. It bears the name of Minnesota Point, and has evidently been
formed by the opposing influence of the east wind over the great expanse
of the lake, and the current of the St. Louis River from the West. It has
a length of seven miles, and is only a few yards in width. Close to the
Wisconsin shore a break occurs in this long narrow spit, and inside this
opening lies the harbour and city of Superior incomparably a better
situation for a city and lake-port, level, sheltered, capacious; but,
nevertheless, Superior City is doomed to delay, while eight miles off its
young rival is rapidly rushing to wealth. This anomaly is easily
explained. Duluth is pushed forward by the capital of the State of
Minnesota, while the legislature of Wisconsin looks with jealous eye upon
the formation of a second lake-port city which might draw off to itself
the trade of Milwaukie.

In course of time, however, Superior City must rise, in spite of all
hostility, to the very prominent position to which its natural advantages
entitle it. I had not been many minutes in the hotel at Superior City
before the trying and unsought character of land speculator was again
thrust upon me.

"Now, stranger," said a long-legged Yankee, who, with his boots on the
stove---the day had got raw and cold--and his knees considerably higher
than his head, was gazing intently at me, "'I guess I've fixed you." I
was taken aback by the sudden identification of my business, when he
continued, "Yes, I've just fixed you. You air a Kanady speculator, ain't
ye?" Not deeming it altogether wise to deny the correct ness of his
fixing, I replied I had lived in Kanady for some time, but that I was not
going to begin speculation until I had knocked round a little. An
invitation to liquor soon followed. The disagreeable consequence
resulting from this admission soon became apparent. I was much pestered
towards evening by offers of investment in things varying from a
sand-hill to a city-square, or what would infallibly in course of time
develop into a city-square. A gentleman rejoicing in the name of Vose
Palmer 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 and
in an extensive pine forest for myself some where on the north shore of
Lake Superior. I have no doubt the pine forest is still in the market; and
should any enterprising capitalist in this country feel disposed to enter
into partnership on a basis of bearing all expenses himself, giving only
the 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, it
will 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. Four
Hundred English miles in length, 50 miles across it, 600 feet above
Atlantic level, 900 feet in depth-one vast spring of purest crystal
water, 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 out
as distinctly as though seen through plate-glass. Follow in fancy the
outpourings of this wonderful basin; seek its future course in Huron,
Erie, and Ontario, in that wild leap from the rocky ledge which makes
Niagara famous through the world. Seek it farther still, in the quiet
loveliness of the Thousand Isles; in the whirl and sweep of the Cedar
Rapids; in the silent rush of the great current under the rocks at the
foot of Quebec. Ay, and even farther away still, down where the lone
Laurentian Hills come forth to look again upon that water whose earliest
beginnings they cradled along the shores of Lake Superior. There, close
to the sounding billows of the Atlantic, 2000 miles from Superior, these
hills--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 of
their soft alluvial shores, carry far into the ocean the record of their
muddy progress; but this glorious river system, through its many lakes
and various names, is ever the same crystal current, flowing pure from
the fountain-head of Lake Superior. Great cities stud its shores; but
they are powerless to dim the transparency of its waters. Steamships
cover the broad bosom of its lakes and estuaries; but they change not the
beauty of the water-no more than the fleets of the world mark the waves
of the ocean. Any person looking at the map's of the region bounding the
great lakes of North America will be struck by the absence of rivers
flowing into Lakes Superior, Michigan, or Huron from the south; in fact,
the drainage of the states bordering these lakes on the south is
altogether carried off by the valley of the Mississippi-it follows that
this valley of Mississippi is at a much lower level than the surface of
the lakes. These lakes, containing an area of some 73,000 square miles,
are therefore an immense reservoir held high over the level of the great
Mississippi valley, from which they are separated by a barrier of slight
elevation and extent.

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

On the 26th June I quitted the shores of Lake Superior and made my way
back to Moose Lake. Without any exception, the road thither was the very
worst I had ever travelled over--four horses essayed to drag a stage-waggon
over, or rather, I should say, through, a track of mud and ruts
impossible to picture. The stage fare amounted to $6, or 4s. for 34
miles. An extra dollar reserved the box-seat and gave me the double
advantage of knowing what was coming in the rut line and taking another
lesson in the idiom of the American stage-driver. This idiom consists of
the smallest possible amount of dictionary words, a few Scriptural names
rather irreverently used, a very large intermixture of "git-ups" and
ejaculatory "his," and a general tendency to blasphemy all round. We
reached Tom's shanty at dusk. As before, it was crowded to excess, and
the memory of the express man's warning was still sufficiently strong to
make me prefer the forest to "bunking in" with the motley assemblage; a
couple of Eastern Americans shared with me the little camp. We made a
fire, laid some boards on the ground, spread a blanket upon them, pulled
the "mosquito bars" over our heads, and lay down to attempt to sleep. It
was a vain effort; mosquitoes came out in myriads, little atoms of gnats
penetrated through the netting of the "bars," and rendered rest or sleep
impossible. At last, when the gnats seemed disposed to retire, two
Germans came along, and, seeing our fire, commenced stumbling about our
boards. To be roused at two o'clock a.m., when one is just sinking into
obliviousness after four hours of useless struggle with unseen enemies,
is provoking enough, but to be roused under such circumstances by Germans
is simply unbearable.

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

I remained at St. Paul some twelve days, detained there from day to day
awaiting the arrival of letters from Canada relative to the future supply
of the Expedition. This delay was at the time most irksome, as I too
frequently pictured the troops pushing on towards Fort Garry while I was
detained inactive in Minnesota; but one morning the American papers came
out with news that the expeditionary forces had met with much delay in
their first move from Thunder Bay; the road over which it was necessary
for them to transport their boats, munitions, and supplies for a distance
of forty-four miles from Superior to Lake Shebandowan was utterly
impracticable, portions of it, indeed, had still to be made, bridges to
be built, swamps to be corduroyed, and thus at the very outset of the
Expedition a long delay became necessary. Of course, the American press
held high jubilee over this check, which was represented as only the
beginning of the end of a series of disasters. The British Expedition was
never destined to reach Red River--swamps would entrap it, rapids would
engulf it; and if, in spite of these obstacles, some few men did succeed
in piercing the rugged wilderness, the trusty rifle of the Metis would
soon annihilate the presumptive intruders. Such was the news and such
were the comments I had to read day after day, as I anxiously scanned the
columns of the newspapers for intelligence. Nor were these comments on
the Expedition confined to prophecy of its failure from the swamps and
rapids of the route: Fenian aid was largely spoken of by one portion of
the press. Arms and ammunition, and hands to use them, were being pushed
towards St. Cloud and the Red River to aid the free sons of the
North-west to follow out their manifest destiny, which, of course, was
annexation to the United States. But although these items made reading a
matter of no pleasant description, there were other things to be done in
the good city of St. Paul not without their special interest. The Falls
of the Mississippi at St. Anthony, and the lovely little Fall of
Minnehaha, lay only some seven miles distant. Minnehaha is a perfect
little beauty; its bright sparkling waters, forming innumerable fleecy
threads! of silk-like wavelets, seem to laugh over the rocky edge; so
light and so lace-like is the curtain, that the sunlight streaming
through looks like a lovely bride through some rich bridal veil. The
Falls of St. Anthony are neither grand nor beautiful, and are utterly
disfigured by the various sawmills that surround them.

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





CHAPTER SIX.

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

ENGLISHMEN who visit America take away with them two widely different
sets of opinions. In most instances they have rushed through the land,
note-book in hand, recording impressions and eliciting information. The
visit is too frequently a first and a last one; the thirty-seven states
are run over in thirty-seven days; then out comes the book, and the great
question of America, socially and politically considered, is sealed for
evermore. Now, if these gentlemen would only recollect that impressions,
which are thus hastily collected must of necessity share the
imperfection of all things done in a hurry, they would not record these
hurriedly gleaned facts with such an appearance of infallibility, or,
rather, they might be induced to try a second rush across the Atlantic
before attempting that first rush into print. Let them remember that even
the genius of Dickens was not proof against such error, and that a
subsequent visit to the States caused no small amount of alteration in
his impressions of America. This second visit should be a rule with every
man who wishes to read aright, for his own benefit, or for that of
others, the great book which America holds open to the traveller. Above
all, the English traveller who enters the United States with a portfolio
filled with letters of introduction will generally prove the most
untrustworthy guide to those who follow him for information. He will
travel from city to city, finding everywhere lavish hospitality and
boundless 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 passes
over half the lines in the Union; and he will take his departure from New
York after a dinner at Delmonico's, the cartes of which will cost a
dollar each. The chances are extremely probable that his book will be
about as fair a representation of American social and political
institutions as his dinner at Delmonico's would justly represent the
ordinary cuisine throughout the Western States.

Having been fêted and free-passed through the Union, he of course comes
away delighted with everything. If he is what is called a Liberal in
politics, his political bias still further strengthens his favourable
impressions of democracy and Delmonico; if he is a rigid Conservative,
democracy loses half its terrors when it is seen across the
Atlantic--just as widow-burning or Juggernaut are institutions much better
suited to Bengal than they would be to Berkshire. Of course Canada and
things Canadian are utterly beneath the notice of our traveller. He may,
however, introduce them casually with reference to Niagara, which has a
Canadian 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 scenic
effect, the whole thing is complete. Salt Lake City is peculiarly
valuable to the traveller, as it affords him much subject-matter for
questionable writing. It might be well to recollect, however, that there
really exists no necessity for crossing the Atlantic and travelling as
far west as Utah in order to compose questionable books upon
unquestionable subjects; similar materials in vast quantities exist much
nearer home, and Pimlico and St. John's Wood will be found quite as
prolific in "Spiritual Wives" and "Gothic" affinities as any creek or
lake in the Western wilderness. Neither is it to be wondered at that so
many travellers carry away with them a fixed idea that our cousins are
cousins in heart as well as in relationship-the friendship is of the
Delmonico type too. Those speeches made to the departing guest, those
Pledges of brotherhood over the champagne glass, this "old lang syne"
with hands held in Scotch fashion, all these are not worth much in the
markets of brotherhood. You will be told that the hostility of the
inhabitants of the United States towards England is confined to one
class, and that class, though numerically large, is politically
insignificant. Do not believe it for one instant: the hostility to
England is universal; it is more deep rooted than any other feeling; it
is an instinct and not a reason, and consequently possesses the dogged
strength of unreasoning antipathy. I tell you, Mr. Bull, that were you
pitted to-morrow against a race that had not one idea in kindred with
your own, were you fighting a deadly struggle against a despotism the
most galling on earth, were you engaged with an enemy whose grip was
around your neck and whose foot was on your chest, that English-speaking
cousin of yours over the Atlantic whose language is your language, whose
literature is your literature, whose civil code is begotten from your
digests of law would stir no hand, no foot, to save you, would gloat
over your agony, would keep the ring while you were, being knocked out of
all semblance of nation and power, and would not be very far distant when
the moment came to hold a feast of eagles over your vast disjointed
limbs. Make no mistake in this matter, and be not blinded by ties of
kindred or belief. You imagine that because he is your cousin-sometimes
even your very son-that he cannot hate you, and you nurse yourself in the
belief that in a moment of peril the stars and stripes would fly
alongside the old red cross. Listen one moment; we cannot go five miles
through any State in the American Union without coming upon a square
substantial building in which children are being taught one universal
lesson-the history of how, through long years of blood and strife, their
country came forth a nation from the bungling tyranny of Britain. Until
five short years ago that was the one bit of history that went home to
the heart of Young America, that Was the lesson your cousin learned, and
still learns, in spite of later conflicts. Let us see what was the lesson
your son had laid to heart. Well, your son learned his lesson, not from
books, for too often he could not read, but he learned it in a manner
which perhaps stamps it deeper into the mind than even letter-press or
schoolmaster. He left you because you would not keep him, because you
preferred grouse-moors and deer-forests in Scotland, or meadows and
sheep-walks in Ireland to him or his. He did not leave you as one or two
from a household--as one who would go away and establish a branch
connexion across the ocean; he went away by families, by clans, by kith
and kin, for ever and for aye and he went away with hate in his heart and
dark thoughts towards you who should have been his mother. It matters
little that he has bettered himself and grown rich in the new land; that
is his affair; so far as you were concerned, it was about even betting
whether he went to the bottom of the Atlantic or to the top of the
social tree-so, I say, to close this subject, that son and cousin owe you
and give you, scant and feeblest love. You will find themn the firm
friend of the Russian, because that Russian is likely to become your
enemy in Herat, in Cabool, in Kashgar, or in Constantinople; you will
find him the ally of the Prussian whenever Kaiser William, after the
fashion of his tribe, orders his legions to obliterate the line between
Holland and Germany, taking hold of that metaphorical pistol which you
spent so many millions-to turn from your throat in the days of the first
Napoleon. Nay, even should any woman-killing Sepoy put you to sore
strait by indiscriminate and ruthless slaughter, he will be your cousin's
friend, for the simple reason that he is your enemy.

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

Nor was my own position in St. Paul at all a pleasant one. The inquiries
I had to make on subjects connected with the supply of the troops in Red
River had made so many persons acquainted with my identity, that it soon
became known that there was a British officer in the place--a knowledge
which did not tend in any manner to make the days pleasant in themselves
nor hopeful in the anticipation of a successful prosecution of my journey
in the time to come. About the first week in July I left St. Paul for
St. Cloud, seventy miles higher up on the Mississippi, having decided to
wait no longer'` for instructions, but to trust to chance for further
progress towards the North-west. "You will meet with no obstacle at this
side of the line," said an American gentleman who was acquainted with the
object 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 neither
burst up nor gone on. It has thought fit to remain, without monument of
any kind, where it originally located itself-on the left bank of the
Mississippi, opposite the confluence of the Sauk River with the "Father
of Waters." It takes its name partly from the Sauk River and partly from
the rapids of the Mississippi which lie abreast of the town. Like many
other cities, it had nourished feelings of the most deadly enmity.
against its neighbours, and was to "kill creation" on every side; but
these ideas of animosity have decreased considerably in lapse of time: Of
course 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 was
much struck by the fact that the greater portion of the first page--the
paper had only two-was taken up with a pictorial delineation of what
Sauk Rapids would attain to in the future, when it had sufficiently
developed its immense water-power; In the mean time previous to the
development 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 Rapids
permitted free bathing in its waters. Any traveller in the United States
will 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. The
baths which exist in the hotels are evidently meant for very rare and
important occasions.

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

"Thank you," replied my friend; "I have only to take a bath, and will be
ready 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 United
States; but had there ever existed a "Thou shalt not tub," the implicit
obedience rendered to it would have been delightful, but perhaps, in that
case, 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 the
human race for the very smallest remuneration than any man living. His
hotel was situated in the loveliest portion of Minnesota, commanding the
magnificent rapids of the Mississippi; his board and lodging were of the
choicest description; horses and buggies were free, gratis, and medical
attendance was also uncharged for. Finally, the card intimated that, upon
turning over, still more astonishing revelations would meet the eye of
the reader. Prepared for some terrible instance of humane abnegation on
the part of Dr. Chase, I proceeded to do, as directed, and, turning over
the card, read, "Present of a $500 greenback"!!! The gift of the green
back was attended with some little drawback, inasmuch as it was
conditional upon paying to Dr. Chase the sum of $20,000 for the goodwill,
etc., of his hotel, farm, and appurtenances, or procuring a purchaser for
them at that figure, which was, as a matter of course, a ridiculously low
one. Two damsels who assisted Dr. Chase in ministering to the wants of
his guests at dinner had a very appalling manner of presenting to the
frightened feeder his choice of viands. The solemn silence which usually
pervades the dinner-table of an American hotel was nowhere more
observable than in this Doctor's establishment; whether it was from the
fact that each guest suffered under a painful knowledge of the superhuman
efforts which the Doctor was making for his or her benefit, I cannot say;
but I never witnessed the proverbially frightened appearance of the
American people at meals to such a degree as at the dinner-table of the
Sauk Hotel. When the damsels before alluded to commenced their
peregrinations round the table, giving in terribly terse language the
choice of meats, the solemnity of the proceeding could not have been
exceeded. "Pork or beef?" "Pork," would answer the trembling feeder;
"Beef or pork?" "Beef," would again reply the guest, grasping eagerly at
the first name which struck upon his ear. But when the second course came
round the damsels presented us with a choice of a very mysterious nature
indeed. I dimly heard two names being uttered into the ears of my
fellow-eaters, and I just had time to notice the paralyzing effect which
the communication appeared to have upon them, when presently over my own
shoulder I heard the mystic sound-I regret to say that at first these
sounds entirely failed to present to my mind any idea of food or
sustenance of known description, I therefore begged for a repetition of
the words; this time there was no mistake about it, "Steam-pudding or
pumpkin-pie?" echoed the maiden, giving me the terrible alternative in
her most cutting tones; "Both!" I ejaculated, with equal distinctness,
but, I believe, audacity unparalleled since the times of Twist. The
female Bumble seemed to reel beneath the shock, and I noticed that after
communicating her experience to her fellow waiting-woman, I was not
thought of much account for the remainder of the meal.

Upon the day of my arrival at Sauk Rapids I had let it be known pretty
widely that I was ready to become the purchaser of a saddle-horse, if any
person had such an animal to dispose of. In the three following days the
amount of saddle-horses produced in the neighbourhood was perfectly
astonishing; indeed the fact of placing a saddle upon the back of any
thing possessing four legs seemed to constitute the required animal; even
a 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 superannuated
stagers, and Dr. Chase had something to recommend of a very superior
description. The end of it all was, that, declining to purchase any of
the animals brought up for inspection, I found there was little chance of
being able to get over the 400 miles which lay between St. Cloud and Fort
Garry. It was now the 12th of July; I had reached the farthest limit of
railroad communication, and before me lay 200 miles of partly settled
country lying between the Mississippi and the Red River. It is true that
a 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 Fort
Garry, and over that last 300 miles I could see no prospect of
travelling. I had therefore determined upon procuring a horse and riding
the entire way, and it was with this object that I had entered into these
inspections of horseflesh already mentioned. Matters were in this
unsatisfactory state on the 12th of July, when I was informed that the
solitary steamboat which plied upon the waters of the Red River was about
to make a descent to Fort Garry, and that a week would elapse before she
would start from her moorings below Georgetown, a. station of the Hudson
Bay Company situated 250 miles from St. Cloud. This was indeed the best
of good news to me; I saw in it the long-looked-for chance of bridging
this great stretch of 400 miles and reaching at last the Red River
Settlement. I saw in it still more the prospect of joining at no very
distant time the expeditionary force itself, after I had run the gauntlet
of M. Riel and his associates, and although many obstacles yet remained
to be overcome, and distances vast and wild had to be covered before that
hope could be realized, still the prospect of immediate movement overcame
every perspective difficulty; and glad indeed I was when from the top of
a well-horsed stage I saw the wooden houses of St. Cloud disappear
beneath the prairie behind me, and I bade good-bye for many a day to the
valley of the Mississippi,





CHAPTER SEVEN.

North Minnesota--A beautiful Land--Rival Savages-Abercrombie--News from
the 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 Fort
Abercrombie, about 180 miles. The road was tolerably good, and many
portions of the country were very beautiful to look at. On the second day
one reaches the height of land between the Mississippi and Red Rivers, a
region abounding in clear crystal lakes of every size and shape, the old
home of the great Sioux nation, the true Minnesota of their dreams.
Minnesota ("sky-coloured water"), how aptly did it describe that home
which was no longer theirs! They have left it for ever; the Norwegian and
the Swede now call it theirs, and nothing remains of the red man save
these sounding names of lake and river which long years ago he gave them.
Along the margins of these lakes many comfortable dwellings nestle
amongst oak openings and glades, and hill and valley are golden in
summer with fields of wheat and corn, and little towns are springing up
where twenty years ago the Sioux lodge-poles were the only signs of
habitation; but one cannot look on this transformation without feeling,
with Longfellow, the terrible surge of the white man, "whose breath, like
the blast of the east wind, drifts evermore to the west the scanty smoke
of the wigwams." What savages, too, are they, the successors of the old
race--savages! not less barbarous because they do not scalp, or
war-dance, or go out to meet the Ojibbeway in the woods or the
Assineboine in the plains.

We had passed a beautiful sheet of water called Lake Osakis, and reached
another 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 to
water his horses.

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

On the evening of the second day we stopped for the night at the old
stockaded post of Pomme-de-Terre, not far from the Ottertail River. The
place 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 man
close by.

At eleven o'clock on the following morning we reached and crossed the
Ottertail River, the main branch of the Red River, and I beheld with joy
the stream upon whose banks, still many hundred miles distant, stood Fort
Garry. Later in the day, having passed the great level expanse known as
The Breckenridge Flats, the stage drew up at Fort Abercrombie, and I saw
for the first time the yellow, muddy waters of the Red River of the
North. Mr. Nolan, express agent, stage agent, and hotel keeper in the
town of McAulyville, put me up for that night, and although the room
which I occupied was shared by no less than five other individuals, he
nevertheless most kindly provided me with a bed to myself. I can't say
that I enjoyed the diggings very much. A person lately returned from Fort
Garry detailed his experiences of that place and his interview with the
President at some length. A large band of the Sioux Indians was ready to
support the Dictator against all comers, and a vigilant watch was
maintained upon the Pembina frontier for the purpose of excluding
strangers who might attempt to enter from the United States; and
altogether M. Riel was as securely established in Fort Garry as if there
had not existed a red-coat in the universe. As for the Expedition, its
failure was looked upon as a foregone conclusion; nothing had been heard
of it excepting a single rumour, and that was one of disaster. An Indian
coming from beyond Fort Francis, somewhere in the wilderness north of
Lake Superior, had brought tidings to the Lake of the Woods, that forty
Canadian soldiers had already been lost in one of the boiling rapids of
the route. "Not a man will get through!" was the general verdict of
society, 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 roomful
of Americans, had no very exhilarating effect upon me as I sat, unknown
and unnoticed, on my portmanteau, a stranger to every one. When our luck
seems at its lowest there is only one thing to be done, and that is to go
on and try again. Things certainly looked badly, obstacles grew bigger as
I got nearer to them--but that is a way they have, and they never grow
smaller merely by being looked at; so I laid my plans for rapid
movement. There was no horse or conveyance of any kind to be had from
Abercrombie; but I discovered in the course of questions that the captain
of the "International" steamboat on the Red River had gone to St. Paul a
week 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 at
Abercrombie, and it was his intention to start with this horse and cart
for his steamboat immediately upon his arrival by stage from St. Paul.
Now the boat "International" was lying at a part of the Red River known
as Frog Point, distant by land 100 miles north from Abercrombie, and as I
had no means of getting over this 100 miles, except through the agency of
this horse and cart of the captain's, it became a question of the very
greatest importance to secure a place in it, for, be it understood, that
a Red River cart is a very limited conveyance, and a Red River horse, as
we shall hereafter know, an animal capable of wonders, but not of
impossibilities. To pen a brief letter to the captain asking for
conveyance in his cart to Frog Point, and to despatch it-by the stage
back towards St. Cloud, was the work of the following morning, and as two
days had to elapse before the return stage could bring the captain, I set
out to pass that time in a solitary house in the centre of the
Breckenridge Prairie, ten miles back on the stage-road towards St. Cloud.
This move withdrew me from the society of Fort Abercrombie, which for
many reasons was a matter for congratulation, and put me in a position to
intercept the captain on his way to Abercrombie. So-on the 13th of July I
left Nolan's hotel, and, with dog and gun, arrived at the solitary house
which was situated not very far from the junction of the Ottertail and
Bois-des-Sioux River on the Minnesota shore, a small, rough settler's
log-hut which stood out upon the level sea of grass and was visible miles
and miles before one reached it. Here had rested one of those unquiet
birds whose flight is ever westward, building himself a rude nest of such
material as the oak-wooded "bays" of the Red River afforded, and
multiplying--in spite of much opposition to the contrary. His eldest had
been struck dead in his house only a few months before by the
thunderbolt, which so frequently hurls destruction upon the valley of the
Red River. The settler had seen many lands since his old home in Cavan
had been left behind, and but for his name it would have been difficult
to tell his Irish nationality. He had wandered up to Red River Settlement
and wandered back again, had squatted in Iowa, and finally, like some
bird which long wheels in circles ere it settles upon the earth, had
pitched his tent on the Red River.

The Red River--let us trace it while we wait the coming captain who is to
navigate us down its tortuous channel. Close to the Lake Ithaska, in
which the great river Mississippi takes its rise, there is a small sheet
of water known as Elbow Lake. Here, at an elevation of 1689 feet above
the sea level, nine feet higher than the source of the Mississippi, the
Red River has its birth. It is curious that the primary direction of both
rivers should be in courses diametrically opposite to their afterlines;
the Mississippi first running to the north, and the Red River first
bending towards the south; in fact, it is only when it gets down here,
near the Breckenridge Prairies, that it finally determines to seek a
northern outlet to the ocean. Meeting the current of the Bois-des-Sioux,
which has its source in Lac Travers, in which the Minnesota River, a
tributary of the Mississippi, also takes its rise, the Red River hurries
on into the level prairie and soon commences its immense windings. This
Lac Travers discharges in wet seasons north and south, and is the only
sheet of water on the Continent which sheds its waters into the tropics
of the Gulf of Mexico and into the polar ocean of the Hudson Bay. In
former times the whole system of rivers bore the name of the great Dakota
nation the Sioux River and the title of Red River was only borne by that
portion of the stream which flows from Red Lake to the forks of the
Assineboine. Now, however, the whole stream, from its source in Elbow
Lake to its estuary in Lake Winnipeg fully 900 miles by water, is called
the Red River: people say that the name is derived from a bloody Indian
battle which once took place upon its banks, tinging the waters with
crimson dye. It certainly cannot be called red from the hue of the water,
which is of a dirty-white colour. Flowing towards the north with
innumerable twists and sudden turnings, the Red River divides the State
of Minnesota, which it has upon its right, from the great territory of
Dakota, receiving from each side many tributary streams which take their
source in the Leaf Hills of Minnesota and in the Coteau of the Missouri.
Its tributaries from the east flow through dense forests, those from the
west wind through the vast sandy wastes of the Dakota Prairie, where
trees are almost unknown. The plain through which Red River flows is
fertile beyond description. At a little distance it looks one vast level
plain through which the windings of the river are marked by a dark line
of woods fringing the whole length of the stream--each tributary has also
its line of forest--a line visible many miles away over the great sea of
grass. As one travels on, there first rise above the prairie the summits
of the trees; these gradually'! grow larger, until finally, after many
hours, 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 over
the plains from an elevation of twelve feet above the earth is to survey
at a glance a space so vast that distance alone seems to bound its
limits. The effect of sunset over these oceans of verdure is very
beautiful; a thousand hues spread themselves upon the grassy plains; a
thousand tints of gold are cast along the heavens, and the two oceans of
the sky and of the earth intermingle in one great blaze of glory at the
very gates of the setting sun. But to speak of sunsets now is only to
anticipate. Here at the Red River we are only at the threshold of the
sunset, 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 the
immense plains, huge and dark against the golden west; there, where the
red man still sees in the glory of the setting sun the realization of his
dream of heaven.

Shooting the prairie plover, which were numerous around the solitary
shanty, gossipping with Mr. Connelly on Western life and Red River
experiences--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 came
out from blade of grass and up from river sedge, from the wooded bay and
the dusky prairie, in clouds and clouds, until the air hummed with his
presence. My host "made a smoke," and the cattle came close around and
stood into the very fire itself, scorching their hides in attempting to
escape the stings of their ruthless tormentors. My friend's house was not
a 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 mosquitoes
ought to insure to a person the possession of health, wisdom, and riches,
for assuredly I know of nothing so conducive to early turning in and
early turning out as that most pitiless pest. On the present occasion I
had not long turned in before I became aware of the presence of at least
two other persons within the limits of the little loft, for only a few
feet 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 away
from any other habitation, the mysterious allusions to the possession of
property, all naturally combined to raise the most dreadful suspicions in
the mind of the solitary traveller. Strange to say, this conversation had
not the terrible effect upon me which might be supposed. It was evident
that my old friends, father and mother of Mrs. C----, occupied the loft in
company with me, and the mention of that most suggestive word,
"crathure," was sufficient to neutralize all suspicions connected with
the lonely surroundings of the place. It was, in fact, a drop of that
much-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 the
house of Mr. Connelly, and journeyed back to Abercrombie in the stage
waggon from St. Cloud. I had as a fellow-passenger the captain of the
"International" steamboat, whose acquaintance was quickly made. He had
received my letter at Pomme-de-Terre, and most kindly offered his pony
and cart for our joint conveyance to George town that evening; so, having
waited only long enough at Abercrombie to satisfy hunger and get ready
the Red River cart, we left Mr. Nolan's door some little time before
sunset, and turning north along the river held our way towards
Georgetown. The evening was beautifully fine and clear; the plug trotted
steadily on, and darkness soon wrapped its mantle around the prairie. My
new acquaintance had many questions to ask and much information to
impart, and although a Red River cart is not the easiest mode of
conveyance to one who sits amidships between the wheels, still when I
looked to the northern skies and saw the old pointers marking our course
almost due north, and thought that at last I was launched fair on a road
whose termination was the goal for which I had longed so earnestly, I
little recked the rough jolting of the wheels whose revolutions brought
me closer to my journey's end. Shortly after leaving Abercrombie we
passed a small creek in whose leaves and stagnant waters mosquitoes were
numerous.

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

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

I little knew then the significance of the captain's words. I thought
that my experiences of mosquitoes in Indian jungles and Irrawaddy swamps,
to say nothing of my recent wanderings by Mississippi forests, had taught
me something about these pests; but I was doomed to learn a lesson that
night and the following which will cause me never to doubt the
possibility of anything, no matter how formidable or how unlikely it may
appear, connected with mosquitoes. It was about ten o'clock at night when
there rose close to the south-west a small dark cloud scarcely visible
above the horizon. The wind, which was very light, was blowing from the
north-east; so when my attention had been called to the speck of cloud by
my 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 the
little cloud grew bigger, the wind died away altogether, and the stars
began to look mistily from a sky no longer blue. Every now and again my
companion looked towards this increasing cloud, and each time his opinion
seemed to be less favourable. But another change also occurred of a
character altogether different. There came upon us, brought apparently by
the cloud, dense swarms of mosquitoes, humming and buzzing along with us
as we journeyed on, and covering our faces and heads with their sharp
stinging bites. They seemed to come with us, after us, and against us,
from above and from below, in volumes that ever increased. It soon began
to dawn upon me that this might mean something akin to the "mosquitoes
allowing us to travel," of which my friend had spoken some three hours
earlier. Meantime the cloud had increased to large proportions; it was no
longer in the south-west; it occupied the whole west, and was moving on
towards the north. Presently, from out of the dark heavens, streamed
liquid fire, and long peals of thunder rolled far away over the gloomy
prairies. So sudden appeared the change that one could scarce realize
that only a little while before the stars had been shining so brightly
upon the ocean of grass. At length the bright flashes came nearer and
nearer, the thunder rolled louder and louder, and the mosquitoes seemed
to have made up their minds that to achieve the maximum of torture in the
minimum of time was the sole end and aim of their existence. The
captain's pony showed many signs of agony; my dog howled with pain, and
rolled himself amongst the baggage in useless writhings.

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

It was now midnight. To loose the horse from the shafts, to put the
oil-cloth over the cart, and to creep underneath the wheels did-not take
my friend long. I followed his movements, crept in and drew a blanket over
my 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 and
again I. looked out from between the spokes of the wheel. During three
hours the lightning seemed to run like a river of flame out of the
clouds. Sometimes a stream would descend, then, dividing into two
branches, would pour down on the prairie two distinct channels of fire.
The thunder rang sharply, as though the metallic clash of steel was about
it, and the rain descended in torrents upon the level prairies. At about
three o'clock in the morning the storm seemed to lull a little. My
companion crept out from underneath the cart; I followed. The plug, who
had managed to improve the occasion by stuffing himself with grass, was
soon in the shafts again, and just as dawn began to streak the dense
low-lying clouds towards the east we were once more in motion. Still for
a couple of hours more the rain came down in drenching torrents and the
lightning flashed with angry fury over the long corn-like grass beaten
flat by the rain-torrent. What a dreary prospect lay stretched around us
when the light grew strong enough to show it! rain and cloud lying low
upon the dank prairie.

Soaked through and through, cold, shivering, and sleepy, glad indeed was
I when a house appeared in view and we drew up at the door of a shanty
for Food and fire. The house belonged to a Prussian subject of the name
of Probsfeld, a terribly self-opinionated North German, with all the
bumptious proclivities of that thriving nation most fully developed.'
Herr Probsfeld appeared to be a man who regretted that men in general
should be persons of a very inferior order of intellect, but who accepted
the fact as a thing not to be avoided under the existing arrangements of
limitation regarding Prussia in general and Probsfelds in particular.
While the Herr was thus engaged in illuminating our minds, the Frau was
much more agreeably employed in preparing something for our bodily
comfort. I noticed with pleasure that there appeared some hope for the
future of the human race, in the fact that the generation of the
Probsfelds seemed to be progressing satisfactorily. Many youthful
Probsfelds were visible around, and matters appeared to promise a
continuation of the line, so that the State of Minnesota and that portion
of Dakota lying adjacent to it may still look confidently to the future.
It is more than probable that Herr Probsfeld realized the fact, that just
at that moment, when the sun was breaking out through the eastern clouds
over the distant outline of the Leaf Hills, 700,000 of his countrymen
were moving hastily toward the French frontier for the special
furtherance of those ideas so dear to his mind-it is most probable, I
say, that his self-laudation and cock-like conceit would have been in no
ways lessened.

Our arrival at Georgetown had been delayed by the night storm on the
prairie, and it was midday on the 18th when we reached the Hudson Bay
Company Post which stood at the confluence of the Buffalo and Red
Rivers. Food and fresh horses were all we required, and after these
requisites had been obtained the journey was prosecuted with renewed
vigour. Forty miles had yet to be traversed before the point at which
the Steamboat lay could be reached, and for that distance the track ran
on the left or Dakota side of the Red River. As we journeyed along the
Dakota prairies the last hour of daylight overtook us, bringing with it
a Scene of magical beauty. The sun resting on the rim of the prairie
cast over the vast expanse of grass a flood of light. On the east lay
the darker green of the trees of the Red River. The whole western sky
was full of wild-looking thunder-clouds, through which the rays of
sunlight shot upward in great trembling shafts of glory. Being on
horseback and alone, for my companion had trotted on in his waggon, I
had time to watch and note this brilliant spectacle; but as soon as the
sun had dipped beneath the sea of verdure an ominous sound caused me
to gallop on with increasing haste. The pony seemed to know the
significance of that sound much better than its rider. He no longer
lagged, nor needed the spur or whip to urge him to faster exertion, for
darker and denser than on the previous night there rose around us vast
numbers of mosquitoes--choking masses of biting insects, no mere cloud
thicker and denser in one place than in another, but one huge wall of
never-ending insects filling nostrils, ears, and eyes. Where they came
from I cannot tell; the prairie seemed too small to hold them; the air
too limited to yield them space. I had seen many vast accumulations of
insect life in lands old and new, but never any thing that approached to
this mountain of mosquitoes on the prairies of Dakota. To say that they
covered the coat of the horse I rode would be to give but a faint idea
of 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 his
neck. Their hum seemed to be in all things around. To ride for it was
the sole resource. Darkness came quickly down, but the track knew no
turn, 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 a
valley, a long white wooden building, with lights showing out through
the windows. Riding quickly down this valley we reached, followed by
hosts of winged pursuers, the edge of some water lying amidst
tree-covered banks-the water was the Red River, and the white wooden
building the steamboat "International."

Now one word about mosquitoes in the valley of the Red River. People will
be inclined to say, "We know well what a mosquito is--very troublesome
and annoying, no doubt, but you needn't make so much of what every one
understands." People reading what I have written about this insect will
probably say this. I would have said so myself before the occurrences of
the last two nights, but I will never say so again, nor perhaps will my
readers when they have read the following: It is no unusual event during
a wet summer in that portion of Minnesota and Dakota to which I refer for
oxen and horses to perish from the bites of mosquitoes. An exposure of a
very 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 of
sometimes killing their captives by exposing them at night to the attacks
of the mosquitoes; and any person who has experienced the full intensity
of a mosquito night along the American portion of the Red River will not
have any difficulty in realizing how short a period would be necessary to
cause death.

Our arrival at the "International" was the cause of no small amount of
discomfort to the persons already on board that vessel. It took us but
little time to rush over the gangway and seek safety from our pursuers
within the precincts of the steamboat: but they were not to be baffled
easily; they came in after us in millions; like Bishop Haddo's rats, they
came "in at the windows and in at the doors," until in a very short space
of time the interior of the boat became perfectly black with insects.
Attracted by the light they flocked into the saloon, covering walls and
ceiling 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 refuge
beneath the gauze curtains in my cabin, and fell asleep from sheer
exhaustion.

And in truth there was reason enough for sleep independently of
mosquitoes bites. By dint of hard travel we had accomplished 104 miles
in twenty-seven hours. The midnight storm had lost us three hours and
added in no small degree to discomfort. Mosquitoes had certainly caused
but 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 at
night to rest his weary limbs, feels the less tired because the miles
flew behind him all unheeded under the influence of the spur-rowel. When
morning broke we were in motion. The air was fresh and cool; not a
mosquito was visible. The green banks of Red River looked pleasant to the
eye as the "International" puffed along between them, rolling the
tranquil water before her in a great muddy wave, which broke amidst the
red and grey willows on the shore. Now and then the eye caught glimpses
of the prairies through the skirting of oak woods on the left, but to the
right there lay an unbroken line of forest fringing deeply the Minnesota
shore. The "International" was a curious craft; she measured about 130
feet in length, drew only two feet of water, and was propelled by an
enormous wheel placed over her stern. Eight summers of varied success and
as many winters of total inaction had told heavily against her river
worthiness; the sun had cracked her roof and sides, the rigour of the
Winnipeg winter left its trace on bows and hull. Her engines were a
perfect marvel of patchwork--pieces of rope seemed twisted around crank
and shaft, mud was laid thickly on boiler and pipes, little jets and
spurts of steam had a disagreeable way of coming out from places not
supposed to be capable of such outpourings. Her capacity for going on
fire seemed to be very great; each gust of wind sent showers of sparks
from the furnaces flying along the lower deck, the charred beams of which
attested the frequency of the occurrence. Alarmed at the prospect of
seeing my conveyance wrapped in flames, I shouted vigorously for
assistance, and will long remember the look of surprise and pity with
which the native regarded me as he leisurely approached with the
water-bucket and cast its contents along the smoking deck.

I have already mentioned the tortuous course which the Red River has
wound for itself through these level northern prairies. The windings of
the river more than double the length of its general direction, and the
turns are so sharp that after steaming a mile the traveller will often
arrive 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 nevertheless
enjoying beyond expression a profound sense of mingled rest and
progression, I reached at eight o'clock on the morning of the-20th of
July the frontier post of Pembina.

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





CHAPTER EIGHT.

Retrospective--The North-west Passage--The Bay of Hudson--Rival
Claims--The Old French Fur Trade--The North-west Company--How the
Half-breeds came--The Highlanders defeated-Progress--Old Feuds.

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

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

Hudson and Frobisher, Fox, Baffin, Davis, and James, how little thought
they of that vast continent whose presence was but an obstacle in the
path of their discovery! Hudson had long perished in the ocean which
bears his name before it was known to be a cul-de-sac. Two hundred years
had passed away from the time of Columbus ere his dream of an open sea to
the city of Quinsay in Cathay had ceased to find believers. This immense
inlet of Hudson Bay must lead to the Western Ocean. So, at least, thought
a host of bold navigators who steered their way through fog and ice into
the 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 never
think or care about again. Nor were these anticipations of reaching the
East held only by the sailors.

La Salle, when he fitted out his expeditions from the Island of Montreal
for the West, named his point of departure La Chine, so certain was he
that his canoes would eventually reach Cathay. And La Chine still exists
to attest his object. But those who went on into the great continent,
reaching the shores of vast lakes and the banks of mighty rivers, learnt
another and a truer story. They saw these rivers flowing with vast
volumes of water from the north-west; and, standing on the brink of their
unknown waves, they rightly judged that such rolling volumes of water
must have their sources far away in distant mountain ranges. Well might
the great heart of De Soto sink within him when, after long months of
arduous toil through swamp and forest, he stood at last on the low shores
of the Mississippi and beheld in thought the enormous space which lay
between 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 so
large as the common herd believed it, and yet when he had increased it by
a continent he tried to make it smaller than it really was. So fixed were
men's minds upon the East, that it was long before they would think of
turning to account the discoveries of those early navigators. But in time
there came to the markets of Europe the products of the New World. The
gold and the silver of Mexico and the rich sables of the frozen North
found their way into the marts of Western Europe. And while Drake
plundered galleons from the Spanish Main, England and France commenced
their career of rivalry for the possession of that trade in furs and
peltries 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 effect
the 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 in
it a company of adventurers sent out to form a colony upon the southern
shores of James's Bay. These men named the new land after the Prince who
sent them forth, and were the pioneers of that "Hon. Company of
Adventurers from England trading into Hudson Bay."

More than forty years previous to the date of the charter by which
Charles II. conferred the territory of Rupert's Land upon the London
company, a similar grant had been made by the French monarch, Louis
XIII, to "La Compagnie de la Nouvelle France." Thus there had arisen
rival claims to the possession of this sterile region, and although
treaties had at various times attempted to rectify boundaries or to
rearrange watersheds, the question of the right of Canada or of the
Company to hold a portion of the vast territory draining into Hudson Bay
had never been legally solved.

For some eighty years after this settlement on James's Bay, the
Company held a precarious tenure of their forts and factories. Wild-looking
men, more Indian than French, marched from Canada over the height of
land and raided upon the posts of Moose and Albany, burning the stockades
and carrying off the little brass howitzers mounted thereon. The same
wild-looking men, pushing on into the interior from Lake Superior, made
their way into Lake Winnipeg, up the great Saskatchewan River, and
across to the valley of the Red River; building their forts for war
and trade by distant lake-shore and confluence of river current, and
drawing off the valued trade in furs to France; until all of a sudden
there came the great blow struck by Wolfe under the walls of Quebec, and
every little far-away post and distant fort throughout the vast interior
continent felt the echoes of the guns of Abraham. It might have been
imagined 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 West
would lapse to the English company trading Into Hudson Bay; but such was
not the case.

Immediately upon the capitulation of Montreal, fur traders from the
English cities of Boston and Albany appeared in Montreal and Quebec, and
pushed their way along the old French route to Lake Winnipeg and into the
valley of the Saskatchewan. There they, in turn, erected their little
posts and trading-stations, laid out their beads and blankets, their
strouds and cottons, and exchanged their long-carried goods for the
beaver and marten and fisher skins of the Nadow, Sioux, Kinistineau, and
Osinipoilles. Old maps of the North-west still mark spots along the
shores of Winnipeg and the Saskatchewan with names of Henry's House,
Finlay's House, and Mackay's House. These "houses" were the
Trading-posts of the first English free-traders, whose combination in
1783 gave rise to the great North-west Fur Company, so long the fierce
rival of the Hudson Bay. To picture here the jealous rivalry which during
forty years raged throughout these immense territories would be to fill a
volume with tales of adventure and discovery.

The zeal with which the North-west Company pursued the trade in furs
quickly led to the exploration of the entire country. A Mackenzie
penetrated to the Arctic Ocean down the immense river which bears his
name--a Frazer and a Thompson pierced the tremendous masses of the Rocky
Mountains and beheld the Pacific rolling its waters against the rocks of
New Caledonia. Based upon a system which rewarded the efforts of its
employees by giving them a share in the profits of the trade, making them
partners as well as servants, the North-west Company soon put to sore
straits the older organization of the Hudson Bay. While the heads of both
companies were of the same nation, the working men and voyageurs were of
totally different races, the Hudson Bay employing Highlanders and Orkney
men from Scotland, and the North-west Company drawing its recruits from
the hardy French inhabitants of Lower Canada. This difference of
nationality deepened the strife between them, and many a deed of cruelty
and bloodshed lies buried amidst the oblivion of that time in those
distant regions. The men who went out to the North-west as voyageurs and
servants in the employment of the rival companies from Canada and from
Scotland hardly ever returned to their native lands. The wild roving life
in the great prairie or the trackless pine forest, the vast solitudes of
inland lakes and rivers, the chase, and the camp-fire had too much of
excitement in them to allow the voyageur to return again to the narrow
limits of civilization. Besides, he had taken to himself an Indian wife,
and although the ceremony by which that was effected was frequently
wanting in those accessories of bell, book, and candle so essential to
its proper well-being, nevertheless the voyageur and his squaw got on
pretty well together, and little ones, who jabbered the smallest amount
of English or French, and a great deal of Ojibbeway, or Cree, or
Assineboine, began to multiply around them.

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

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

To keep the peace between the rival companies and the two nationalities
was no easy matter, but at last Lord Selkirk came to the rescue; they
were disbanding regiments after the great peace of 1815, and portions of
two 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 fellows
traversed the forests and frozen lakes upon snow-shoes, and, entering
from 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 rather
the North-west ceased to exist, and henceforth the Hudson Bay Company
ruled supreme from the shores of the Atlantic to the frontiers of Russian
America.

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

But the old feelings which had their rise in earlier years never wholly
died out. National rivalry still existed, and it required no violent
effort to fan the embers into flame again. The descendants of the two
nationalities dwelt apart; there were the French parishes and the Scotch
and English parishes, and, although each nationality spoke the same
mother tongue, still the spread of schools and churches fostered the
different languages of the fatherland, and perpetuated the distinction of
race which otherwise would have disappeared by lapsing into savagery. In
an earlier chapter I have traced the events immediately pre ceding the
breaking out of the insurrectionary movement among the French
half-breeds, and in the foregoing pages I have tried to sketch the early
life and history of the country into which I am about to ask the reader
to follow me. Into the immediate sectional disputes and religious
animosities of the present movement it is not my intention to enter; as I
journey on an occasional arrow may be shot to the right or to the left at
men and things; but I will leave to others the details of a petty
provincial quarrel, while-I have before me, stretching far and wide, the
vast solitudes which await in silence the footfall of the future.





CHAPTER NINE

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

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

Upon inquiring for the post-office, I was referred to the Postmaster
himself, who, in his-capacity of leading citizen, was standing by. Asking
if there were any letters lying at his office for me, I was answered in a
very curt negative, the postmaster retiring immediately up the steep bank
towards the collection of huts which calls itself Pembina. The boat soon
cast off her moorings and steamed on into British territory. We were at
length within the limits of the Red River Settlement, in the land of M.
Louis Riel, President, Dictator, Ogre, Saviour of Society, and New
Napoleon; as he was variously named by friends and foes in the little
tea-cup of Red River whose tempest had cast him suddenly from dregs to
surface. "I wasn't so sure that they wouldn't have searched the boat for
you," said the captain from his wheel-house on the roof-deck, soon after
we had passed the Hudson Bay Company's post, whereat M. Riel's frontier
guard was supposed to hold its head-quarters. "Now, darn me, if them
whelps had stopped the boat, but I'd have just rounded her back to
Pembina and tied up under the American post yonder, and claimed
protection as an American citizen." As the act of tying up under the
American post would in no way have forwarded my movements, however
consolatory it might have proved to the wounded feelings of the captain,
I was glad that we had been permitted to proceed without molestation. But
I 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 Provisional
Government.

This document had been handed to me by an eminent ecclesiastic whom I met
on the evening preceding my departure at St. Paul, and who, upon hearing
that it was my intention to proceed to the Red River, had handed me,
unsolicited, a very useful notification. So far, then, I had got within
the outer circle of this so jealously protected settlement. The guard,
whose presence had so often been the theme of Manitoban journals, the
picquet line which extended from Pembina Mountain to Lake of the Woods
(150 miles), was nowhere visible, and I. began to think that the whole
thing was only a myth, and that the Red River revolt was as unsubstantial
as the Spectre of the Brocken. But just then, as I stood on the high roof
of the "International," from whence a wide view was obtained, I saw
across the level prairie outside the huts of Pembina the figures of two
horsemen riding at a rapid pace towards the north. They were on the road
to Fort Garry. The long July day passed slowly away, and evening began to
darken over the level land, to find us still steaming down the widening
reaches of the Red River.

But the day had shown symptoms sufficient to convince me that there was
some reality after all in the stories of detention and resistance, so
frequently mentioned; more than once had the figures of the two horsemen
been visible from the roof-deck of the steamer, still keeping the Fort
Garry trail, and still forcing their horses at a gallop.

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

That there was mischief ahead appeared probable enough, and it was with
no pleasant feelings that when darkness came I mentally surveyed the
situation, and bethought me of some plan by which to baffle those who
sought my detention.

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

My baggage was small and compact, but weighty; for it had in it much shot
and sporting gear for perspective swamp and prairie work at wild duck and
sharp-tailed grouse. I carried arms available against man and beast a
Colt'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 course
appeared plainly prominent; and that was that there should be no capture
by 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 a
dog, to the Lower Fort and English Settlement. Having decided on this
course, I had not much time to lose in putting it into execution. I
packed my things, loaded my arms, put some extra ammunition into pocket,
handed over my personal effects into the safe custody of the captain, and
awaited 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 gentleman
whose English proclivities had marked him during the late disturbances at
Red River as a dangerous opponent to M. Riel, and who consequently had
forfeited no small portion of his liberty and his chattels. The last two
days had made me acquainted-with his history and opinions, and, knowing
that he could supply the want I was most in need of--a horse--I told him
the plan I had formed for evading M. Ril, in case his minions should
attempt my capture. This was to pass quickly from the steamboat on its
reaching the landing-place and to hold my way across the country in the
direction of the Lower Fort, which I hoped to reach before daylight. If
stopped, there was but one course to pursue--to announce name and
profession, and trust to the Colt and sixteen-shooter for the rest. My
new acquaintance, however, advised a change of programme, suggested by
his 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 of
hundred yards distant from Fort Garry, but it was sufficient in the
darkness to conceal any movement at that point; we would both leave the
boat and, passing by the flank of the fort, gain the village of Winnipeg
before the steamer would reach her landing place; he would seek his home
and, if possible, send a horse to meet me at the first wooden bridge upon
the road to the Lower Fort. All this was simple enough, and supplied me
with that knowledge of the ground which I required.

It was now eleven o'clock p.m., dark but fine. With my carbine concealed
under a large coat, I took my station near the bows of the boat, watching
my companion's movements. Suddenly the steam was shut off, and the boat
began to round from the Red River into the narrow Assineboine. A short
distance in front appeared lights and figures moving to and fro along the
shore--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 north
shore. My friend jumped off to the beach; dragging the pointer by chain
and collar after me, I too, sprang to the shore just as the boat began to
recede from it. As I did so, I saw my companion rushing up a very steep
and lofty bank. Much impeded by the arms and dog, I followed him up the
ascent and reached the top. Around stretched a dead black level plain, on
the 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, whispering
me to follow him closely, commenced to move quickly along an irregular
path which led from the river bank. In a short time we: had reached the
vicinity of a few straggling houses whose white walls showed distinctly
through the darkness; this, he told me, was Winnipeg. Here was his
residence, and here we were to separate. Giving me a few hurried
directions for further guidance, he pointed to the road before me as a
starting-point, and then vanished into the gloom. For a moment I stood at
the entrance of the little village half irresolute what to do. One or two
houses showed lights in single windows, behind gleamed the lights of the
steamer which had now reached the place of landing. I commenced to walk
quickly through the silent houses.

As I emerged from the farther side of the village I saw, standing on the
centre of the road, a solitary figure. Approaching nearer to him, I found
that he occupied a narrow wooden bridge which opened out upon the
prairie. To pause or hesitate would only be to excite suspicion in the
mind 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 passed
him at arm's length. But here the dog, which I had unfastened when
parting from my companion, strayed away, and, being loth to lose him, I
stopped at the farther end of the bridge to call him back. This was
evidently the bridge of which my companion had spoken, as the place where
I was to await the horse he would send me.

The trysting-place seemed to be but ill-chosen-close to the village, and
already in possession of a sentinel, it would not do. "If the horse
comes," thought I, "he will be too late; if he does not come, there can
be no use in waiting," so, giving a last whistle for the dog (which I
never saw again), I turned and held my way into the dark level plain
lying mistily spread around me. For more than an hour I walked hard along
a black-clay track bordered on both sides by prairie. I saw no one, and
heard 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 to
the east, and enabled me better to discern the general features of the
country through which I was passing. Another hour passed, and still I
held on my way. I had said to myself that for three hours I must keep up
the same rapid stride without pause or halt. In the meantime I was
calculating for emergencies. If followed on horseback, I must become
aware of the fact while yet my enemies were some distance away. The black
capote flung on the road would have arrested their attention, the
enclosed fields on the right of the track would afford me concealment, a
few shots from the fourteen shooter fired in the direction of the party,
already partly dismounted deliberating over the mysterious capote, would
have occasioned a violent demoralization, probably causing a rapid
retreat upon Fort Garry, darkness would have multiplied numbers, and a
fourteen-shooter by day or night is a weapon of very equalizing
tendencies.

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

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

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

Who he might be was not clearly discernible; some said he was an officer
in Her Majesty's Service, and others, that he was somebody connected
with the disturbances of the preceding winter who was attempting to
revisit 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 would
proceed up the river to meet the steamer. Upon after-reflection, however,
it was resolved to await the arrival of the boat, and, by capturing
captain, crew, and passengers, secure the person of the mysterious
stranger.

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

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

All sorts of persons were made prisoners upon the spot. My poor companion
was seized in his house twenty minutes after he had reached it, and,
being hurried to the boat, was threatened with instant hanging. Where had
the stranger gone to? and who was he? He had asserted himself to belong
to 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 out
in pursuit. It was averred that the man who left the boat was of
colossal proportions, that he carried arms of novel and terrible
construction, and, more mysterious still, that he was closely followed by
a gigantic dog.

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

Daylight breaks early in the month of July, and I had been but little
more than three hours on the march when the first sign of dawn began to
glimmer above the tree tops of the Red River. When the light became
strong enough to afford a clear view of the country, I found that I was
walking along a road or track of very black soil with poplar groves at
intervals on each side.

Through openings in these poplar groves I beheld a row of houses built
apparently along the bank of the river, and soon the steeple of a church
and a comfortable-looking glebe became visible about a quarter of a mile
to the right. Calculating by my watch, I concluded that I must be some
sixteen miles distant from Fort Garry, and therefore not more than four
miles 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 a
double view towards refreshment and information. I reached the gate and,
having run the gauntlet of an evilly-intentioned dog, pulled a bell at
the door.

Now it had never occurred to me that my outward appearance savoured not a
little of the bandit--a poet has written about "the dark Suliote, in his
shaggy capote" etc., conveying the idea of a very ferocious-looking fellow
but I believe that my appearance fully realized the description, as far
as outward semblance was concerned; so, evidently, thought the worthy
clergyman when, cautiously approaching his hall-door, he beheld through
the glass window the person whose reiterated ringing had summoned him
hastily from his early slumbers. Half opening his door, he inquired my
business.

"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, and
now making my way to the Lower Fort."

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

It was some time before my host could exactly realize the state of
affairs, but when he did, his horse and buggy were soon in readiness, and
driving along the narrow road which here led almost uninterruptedly
through little clumps and thickets of poplars, we reached the Lower Fort
Garry not very long after the sun had begun his morning work of making
gold 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 lie
down and rest.

Up to this time no intimation had reached the Lower Fort of pursuit by
the myrmidons of M. Riel. But soon there came intelligence. A farmer
carrying corn to the mill in the fort had been stopped by a party of men
some 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 sleep
of the tired my worthy host was receiving all manner of information
regarding the movements of the marauders who were in quest of his
sleeping guest.

I may have been asleep some two hours, when I became aware of a hand laid
on my shoulder and a voice whispering something into my ear. Rousing
myself from a very deep sleep, I beheld the Hudson Bay officer in charge
of the fort standing by the bed repeating words which failed at first to
carry 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-the
different threads of thought where I had left them off a few hours
before, and "the French" was at that time altogether a new name in my
ears for the Red River natives. "The French are after you!" altogether it
was not an agreeable prospect to open my eyes upon, tired, exhausted, and
sleepy as I was. But, under the circumstances, breakfast seemed the best
preparation for the siege, assault, and general battery which, according
to all the rules of war, ought to have followed the announcement of the
Gallic Nationality being in full pursuit of me.

Seated at breakfast, and doing full justice to a very excellent mutton
chop and cup of Hudson Bay Company Souchong (and where does there exist
such tea; out of China?), I heard a digest of the pursuit from the lips
of my host. The French had visited him in his fort once before with evil
intentions, and they might come again, so he proposed that we should
drive down to the Indian Settlement, where the ever-faithful Ojibbeways
would, if necessary, roll back the tide of Gallic pursuit, giving the
pursuers a reception in which Pahaouza-tau-ka, or "The Great
Scalp-taker," would play a prominent part.

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

Here, along the last few miles of the Red River ere it seeks, through
many channels, the waters of Lake Winnipeg, dwell the remnants of the
tribes whose fathers in times gone by claimed the broad lands of the Red
River; now clothing themselves, after the fashion of the white man, in
garments and in religion, and learning a few of his ways and dealings,
but still with many wistful hankerings towards the older era of the paint
and 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 as
I have been hearing of you and your wild doings, it is only here that I
have reached you on the confines of the far-stretching Winnipeg. It is no
easy task to find you now, for one has to travel far into the lone
spaces of the Continent before the smoke of your wigwam or of your tepie
blurs the evening air.

But henceforth we will be companions for many months, and through many
varied scenes, for my path lies amidst the lone spaces which are still
your own; by the rushing rapids where you spear the great "namha" (
sturgeon) will we light the evening fire and lie down to rest, lulled by
the ceaseless thunder of the torrent; the lone lake shore will give us
rest for the midday meal, and from your frail canoe, lying like a
sea-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, the
thé and suga in exchange. But I anticipate.

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

Filing along the outside road came some two hundred of the warriors and
braves of the Ojibbeways, intent upon all manner of rejoicing. At their
head marched Chief Henry Prince, Chief "Kechiwis" (or the Big Apron) "Sou
Souse" (or Little Long Ears); there was also "We-we-tak-gum Na-gash" (or
the Man who flies round the Feathers), and Pahaouza-tau-ka, if not
present, was represented by at least a dozen individuals just as fully
qualified to separate the membrane from the top of the head as was that
most renowned scalp-taker.

Wheeling into the grass-plot in front of the mission house, the whole
body advanced towards the door shouting, "Ho, ho!" and firing off their
flint trading-guns in token of welcome. The chiefs and old men advancing
to the front, seated themselves on the ground in a semi-circle, while the
young men and braves remained standing or lying on the ground farther
back in two deep lines. In front of all stood Henry Prince the son of
Pequis, Chief of the Swampy tribe, attended by his interpreter and
pipe-bearer.

My appearance upon the door-step was the signal for a burst of deep and
long-rolling, "Ho, ho's," and then the ceremony commenced. There Was no
dance or "pow wow;" it meant business at once. Striking his hand upon
his breast the chief began; as he finished each sentence the interpreter
took up the thread, explaining with difficulty the long rolling, words of
the 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 bringing
thither his warriors from the Kitchi-gami" (Lake Superior), "and they
have come to bid you welcome, and to place between you and the enemies
of the Great Mother their guns and their lives. But these children are
sorely puzzled; they know not what to do. They have gathered in from the
East, and the North, and the West, because bad men have risen their hands
against the Great Mother and robbed her goods and killed her sons and put
a strange flag over her fort. And these bad men are now living in plenty
on what they have robbed, and the faithful children of the Great Mother
are starving and very poor, and they wish to know what they are to do. It
is said that a great chief is coming across from the big sea-water with
many mighty braves and warriors, and much goods and presents for the
Indians. But though we have watched long for him, the lake is still
clear 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 you
will tell us what we are to do and what message the great Ogima has sent
to the red children of the Great Mother."

The speech ended, a deep and prolonged "Ho!"--a sort of universal "thems
our sentiments "--ran round the painted throng of warriors, and then they
awaited my answer, each looking with stolid indifference straight before
him.

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

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

Thus, in turns, I grasped the bony hands of the "Red Deer'" and the "Big
Apron," 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 had
come, carrying with them my order upon the Lower Fort for one big feed
and one long pipe, and, I dare say, many blissful visions of that life
the red man ever loves to live-the life that never does come to him the
future of plenty and of ease.

Meantime, my preparations for departure, aided by my friends at the
mission, had gone on apace. I had got a canoe and five stout English
half-breeds, blankets, pemmican, tea, flour, and biscuit. All were being
made ready, and the Indian Settlement was alive with excitement on the
subject of the coming man--now no longer a myth--in relation to a general
millennium of unlimited pemmican and tobacco.

But just when all preparations had been made complete an unexpected event
occurred which postponed for a time the date of my departure; this was
the arrival of a very urgent message from the Upper Fort, with an
invitation to visit that place before quitting the settlement. There had
been an error in the proceedings on the night of my arrival, I was told,
and, acting under a mistake, pursuit had been organized. Great excitement
existed amongst the French half breeds, who were in reality most loyally
disposed; it was quite a mistake to imagine that there was any thing
approaching to treason in the designs of the Provisional Government and
much more to the same effect. It is needless now to enter into the
question of how much all this was worth: at that time so much conflicting
testimony was not easily reduced into proper limits. But on three points,
at all events, I could form a correct opinion for myself. Had not my
companion been arrested and threatened with instant death? Was he not
still 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 than
the Union Jack flying over Fort Garry? Yes, it was true; all these things
were realities.

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

Then I was told that Colonel Wolseley had written, urging the
construction of a road between Fort Garry and Lake of the Woods, and that
it 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 and
see for myself its chief and its garrison, if the thing could be managed
in any possible way.

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

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

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

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

I had to admit a total inability to follow Bear in the reasoning which
led 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, I
set out for Fort Garry, and, journeying along the same road which I had
travelled two nights previously, I arrived in sight of the village of
Winnipeg before midday on the 23rd of July. At a little distance from the
village rose the roof and flag-staffs of Fort Garry, and around in
unbroken verdure stretched-the prairie lands of Red River.

Passing from the village along the walls of the fort, I crossed the
Assineboine River and saw the "International" lying at her moorings
below the floating bridge. The captain had been liberated, and waved his
hand with a cheer as I crossed the bridge. The gate of the fort stood
open, a sentry was leaning lazily against the wall, a portion of which
leant in turn against nothing. The whole exterior of the place looked old
and dirty. The muzzles of one or two guns protruding through the
embrasures in the flanking bastions failed even to convey the idea
of-fort or fortress to the mind of the beholder.

Returning from the east or St. Boniface side of the Red River, I was
conducted by my companion into the fort. His private residence was
situated within the walls, and to it we proceeded. Upon entering the gate
I took in at a glance the surroundings-ranged in a semi-circle with their
muzzles all pointing towards the entrance, stood some six or eight
field-pieces; on each side and in front were bare looking, white-washed
buildings. The ground and the houses looked equally dirty, and the whole
aspect of the place was desolate and ruinous.

A few ragged-looking dusky men with rusty firelocks, and still more
rusty bayonets, stood lounging about. We drove through without stopping,
and drew up at the door of my companion's house, which was situated at
the rear of the buildings I have spoken of. From the two flag-staffs flew
two flags, one-the Union Jack in shreds and tatters, the other a
well-kept bit of bunting having the fleur-de-lis and a shamrock on a
white 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 the
centre of the apartment a small billiard table, I took up a cue and
commenced a game with the only other occupant of the room-the same
individual who had on the previous evening acted as messenger to the
Indian Settlement. We had played some half a dozen strokes when the door
opened, and my friend returned. Following him closely came a short stout
man with a large head, a sallow, puffy face, a sharp, restless,
intelligent eye, a square-cut massive forehead overhung by a mass of long
and thickly clustering hair, and marked with well-cut eyebrows--altogether,
a remarkable-looking face, all the more so, perhaps, because it was to be
seen in a land where such things are rare sights.

This was M. Louis Riel, the head and front of the Red River Rebellion-the
President, the little Napoleon, the Ogre, or whatever else he may be
called. He was dressed in a curious mixture of clothing--a black
frock-coat, vest, and trousers; but the effect of this somewhat clerical
costume was not a little marred by a pair of Indian mocassins, which
nowhere look more out of place than on a carpeted floor.

M. Riel advanced to me, and we shook hands with all that empressement so
characteristic of hand-shaking on the American Continent. Then there came
a pause. My companion had laid his cue down. I still retained mine in my
hands, and, more as a means of bridging the awkward gulf of silence which
followed the introduction, I asked him to continue the game--another
stroke or two, and the mocassined President began to move nervously about
the window recess. To relieve his burthened feelings, I inquired if he
ever indulged in billiards; a rather laconic "Never," was his reply.

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

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

But my companion was too quick for him; going out into the hall, he
brought him back once more into the room, called away my billiard
opponent, and left me alone with the chosen of the people of the new
nation.

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

Speaking with difficulty, and dwelling long upon his words, Riel
regretted that I should have shown such distrust of him and his party as
to prefer the Lower Fort and the English Settlement to the Upper Fort and
the society of the French. I answered, that if such distrust existed it
was justified by the rumours spread by his sympathizers on the American
frontier, who represented him as making active preparations to resist the
approaching Expedition.

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

I mentioned having met Bishop Taché in St. Paul and the letter which I
had received from him. He read it attentively and commenced to speak
about 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 very
far from the Lake of the Woods.

"Was it a large force?"

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

At one time, when speaking of the efforts he had made for the advantage
of his country, he grew very excited, walking hastily up and down the
room with theatrical attitudes and declamation, which he evidently
fancied had the effect of imposing on his listener; but, alas! for the
vanity of man, it only made him appear ridiculous; the mocassins sadly
marred the exhibition of presidential power.

An Indian speaking with the solemn gravity of his race looks right manful
enough, as with moose-clad leg his mocassined feet rest on prairie grass
or frozen snow-drift; but this picture of the black-coated Metis playing
the part of Europe's great soldier in the garb of a priest and the shoes
of a savage looked simply absurd. At length M. Riel appeared to think he
had 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 would
not visit me, and, although I felt humiliated, I came to see you to show
you my pacific inclinations."

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

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

We halted that night at the mission, resuming our course at sunrise on
the following morning. A few miles below the mission stood the huts and
birch-bark lodges Of the Indians. My men declared that it would be
impossible to pass without the ceremony of a visit. The chief had given
them 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 to
the chief's hut.

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

The hut in which dwelt the son of Pequis was small, low, and
ill-ventilated. Opening the latched door I entered stooping; nor was
there 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 came
forth from a small interior den, rubbing his eyelids and gaping
profusely. He looked sleepy all over, and was as much disconcerted as a
man usually is who has a visit of ceremony paid to him as he is getting
out of bed.

Prince, the son of Pequis, essayed a speech, but I am constrained to
admit that taken altogether it was a miserable failure. Action loses
dignity when it is accompanied by furtive attempts at buttoning nether
garments, and not even the eloquence of the Indian is proof against the
generally demoralized aspect of a man just out of bed. I felt that some
apology was due to the chief for this early visit; but I told him that
being on my way to meet the great Ogima whose braves were coming from the
big sea water, I could not pass the Indian camp without stopping to say
good-bye.

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

By this time, however, the whole camp was thoroughly aroused. From each
lodge came forth warriors decked in whatever garments could be most
easily donned.

The chief gave a signal, and a hundred trading-guns were held aloft and a
hundred shots rang out on the morning air. Again and again the salutes
were repeated, the whole tribe moving down to the water's edge to see me
off. Putting out into the middle of the river, I discharged my four teen
shooter in the air in rapid succession; a prolonged war whoop answered my
salute, and paddling their very best, for the eyes of the finest canoers
in the world were upon them, my men drove the little craft flying over
the water until the Indian village and its still firing braves were
hidden behind a river bend. Through many marsh-lined channels, and amidst
a vast sea of reeds and rushes, the Red River of the North seeks the
waters of Lake Winnipeg. A mixture of land and water, of mud, and of the
varied 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, and
the wild bird passes and repasses with plaintive cry over the rushes
which form his summer home.

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

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

The capes and headlands of what once was a vast inland sea now stand far
away from the shores of Winnipeg. Hundreds of miles from its present
limits these great landmarks still look down on an ocean, but it is an
ocean of grass. The waters of Winnipeg have retired from their feet, and
they are now mountain ridges rising over seas of verdure. At the bottom
of this bygone lake lay the whole valley of the Red River, the present
Lakes Winnipegoos and Manitoba, and the prairie lands of the Lower
Assineboine, 100,000 square miles of water. The water has long since been
drained 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 the
world.

But although Winnipeg has shrunken to a tenth of its original size, its
rivers still remain worthy of the great basin into which they once
flowed. The Saskatchewan is longer than the Danube, the Winnipeg has
twice the volume of the Rhine. 400,000 square miles of continent shed
their 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 a
ripple on its surface; not a breath of breeze to aid the untiring
paddles. The little canoe, weighed down by men and provisions, had
scarcely three inches of its gunwale over the water, and yet the
steersman held his course far out into the glassy waste, leaving behind
the marshy headlands which marked the river's mouth.

A long low point stretching from the south shore of the lake was faintly
visible 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 our
fire and cooked our dinner. Then, resuming our way, the Grande Traverse
was 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 rippled
the surface of the lake, not a sail moved over the wide expanse, all was
as lonely as though our tiny craft had been the sole speck of life on the
waters of the world. The red sun sank into the lake, warning us that it
was time to seek the shore and make our beds for the night. A deep sandy
bay, with a high backing of woods and rocks, seemed to invite us to its
solitudes. Steering in with great caution amid the rocks, we landed in
this sheltered spot, and our boat upon the sandy beach. The shore yielded
large store of drift-wood, the relics of many a northern gale. Behind us
lay a trackless forest; in front the golden glory of the Western sky. As
the night shades deepened around us and the red glare of our drift-wood
fire cast its light upon the woods and the rocks, the scene became one of
rare beauty.

As I sat watching from a little distance this picture so full of all the
charms of the wild life of the voyageur and the Indian, I little
marvelled that the red child of the lakes and the woods should be loth to
quit such scenes for all the luxuries of our civilization. Almost as I
thought with pity over his fate, seeing here the treasures of nature
which 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 the
dry sandy shore, I long watched the stars above me. As children sleep
after 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; it
was strange and weird, and the lapping of the mimic wave against the
rocks close by failed to bring sleep to my thinking eyes. Many a night
afterwards I lay down to sleep beside these men and their brethren--many
a night by lake-shore, by torrent's edge, and far out amidst the
measureless meadows of the West--but "custom stales" even nature's
infinite variety, and through many wild bivouacs my memory still wanders
back to that first night out by the shore of Lake Winnipeg.

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

A couple of Indian lodges stood on the shore along which we were
coasting. We put in towards these lodges to ask information, and found
them to belong to Samuel Henderson, full Swampy Indian. Samuel, who spoke
excellent English, at once volunteered to come with me as a guide to the
Winnipeg River; but I declined to engage him until I had a report of his
capability for the duty from the Hudson Bay officer in charge of Fort
Alexander, a fort now only a few miles distant. Samuel at once launched
his canoe, said "Good-bye" to his wife and nine children, and started
after us for the fort, where, on the advice of the officer, I finally
engaged him.





CHAPTER TEN.

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

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

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

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

A man may journey very far through the lone spaces of the earth without
meeting with another Winnipeg River. In it nature has contrived to place
her 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 it
descends 360 feet in a distance of 160 miles, that it is full of eddies
and whirlpools, of every variation of waterfall from chutes to cataracts,
that it expands into lonely pine edged lakes and far-reaching
island-studded bays, that its bed is cumbered with immense wave-polished
rocks, that its vast solitudes are silent and its cascades ceaselessly
active--to say all this is but to tell in bare items of fact the
narrative of its beauty. For the Winnipeg by the multiplicity of its
perils and the ever-changing beauty of its character, defies the
description of civilized men as it defies the puny efforts of civilized
travel. It seems part of the savage-fitted alone for him and for his
ways, useless to carry the burden of man's labour, but useful to shelter
the wild things of wood and water which dwell in its waves and along its
shores. And the red man who steers his little birch-bark canoe through
the 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 one
would of a high-mettled charger which will do any thing if he be rightly
handled. It gives him his test of superiority, his proof of courage. To
shoot the Otter Falls or the Rapids of the Barriere, to carry his canoe
down the whirling eddies of Portage-de-l'Isle, to lift her from the rush
of water at the Seven Portages, or launch her by the edge of the
whirlpool below the Chute-à-Jocko, all this is to be a brave and a
skilful Indian, for the man who can do all this must possess a power in
the sweep of his paddle, a quickness of glance, and a quiet consciousness
of skill, not to be found except after generations of practice. For
hundreds of years the Indian has lived amidst these rapids; they have
been the playthings of his boyhood, the realities of his life, the
instinctive habit of his old age. What the horse is to the Arab, what the
dog is to the Esquimaux, what the camel is to those who journey across
Arabian deserts, so is the canoe to the Ojibbeway. Yonder wooded shore
yields him from first to last the materials-he requires for its
construction: cedar for the slender ribs, birch-bark to cover them,
juniper to stitch together the separate pieces, red pine to give resin
for the seams and crevices. By the lake or river shore, close to his
wigwam, the boat is built;

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

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

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

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

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

The sun would be just tipping the western shores with his first rays when
the canoe would be lifted from its ledge of rock and laid gently on the
water; then the blankets and kettles, the provisions and the guns would
be placed in it, and four Indians would take their seats, while one
remained on the shore to steady the bark upon the water and keep its
sides from contact with the rock; then when I had taken my place in the
centre, the outside man would spring gently in, and we would glide away
from the rocky resting-place. To tell the mere work of each day is no
difficult matter: start at five o'clock a.m., halt for breakfast at seven
o'clock, off again at eight, halt at one o'clock for dinner, away at two
o'clock, paddle until sunset at 7:30; that was the work of each day. But
how shall I attempt to fill in the details of scene and circumstance
between these rough outlines of time and toil, for almost at every hour
of the long summer day the great Winnipeg revealed some new phase of
beauty and of peril, some changing scene of lonely grandeur? I have
already stated that the river in its course from the Lake of the Woods to
Lake Winnipeg, 160 miles, makes a descent of 360 feet. This descent is
effected not by a continuous decline, but by a series of terraces at
various distances from each other; in other words, the river forms
innumerable lakes and wide expanding reaches bound together by rapids and
perpendicular falls of varying altitude, thus when the voyageur has
lifted his canoe from the foot of the Silver Falls and launched it again
above the head of that rapid, he will have surmounted two-and-twenty feet
of the ascent; again, the dreaded Seven Portages will give him a total
rise of sixty feet in a distance of three miles. (How cold does the bare
narration of these facts appear beside their actual realization in a
small canoe manned by Indians!) Let us see if we can picture one of these
many scenes. There sounds ahead a roar of falling water, and we see, upon
rounding some pine-clad island or ledge of rock, a tumbling mass of foam
and spray studded with projecting rocks and flanked by dark wooded
shores; above we can see nothing, but below the waters, maddened by their
wild rush amidst the rocks, surge and leap in angry whirlpools. It is as
wild a scene of crag and wood and water as the eye can gaze upon, but we
look upon it not for its beauty, because there is no time for that, but
because it is an enemy that must be conquered. Now mark how these Indians
steal upon this enemy before he is aware of it. The immense volume of
water, escaping from the eddies and whirlpools at the foot of the fall,
rushes on in a majestic sweep into calmer water; this rush produces
along the shores of the river a counter or back-current which flows up
sometimes close to the foot of the fall, along this back-water the canoe
is carefully steered, being often not six feet from the opposing rush in
the central river, but the back-current in turn ends in a whirlpool, and
the canoe, if it followed this back-current, would inevitably end in the
same place; for a minute there is no paddling, the bow paddle and the
steersman alone keeping the boat in her proper direction as she drifts
rapidly up the current. Amongst the crew not a word is spoken, but every
man knows what he has to do and will be ready when the moment comes; and
now the moment has come, for on one side there foams along a mad surge of
water, and on the other the angry whirlpool twists and turns in smooth
green hollowing curves round an axis of air, whirling round it with a
strength that would snap our birch bark into fragments and suck us down
into great depths below. All that can be gained by the back-current has
been gained, and now it is time to quit it; but where? for there is often
only the choice of the whirlpool or the central river. Just on the very
edge of the eddy there is one loud shout given by the bow paddle, and the
canoe shoots full into the centre of the boiling flood, driven by the
united strength of the entire crew--the men work for their very lives,
and the boat breasts across the river with her head turned full toward
the falls; the waters foam and dash about her, the waves leap high over
the gunwale, the Indians shout as they dip their paddles like lightning
into the foam, and the stranger to such a scene holds his breath amidst
this war of man against nature. Ha! the struggle is useless, they cannot
force 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 fast
strokes. The dead strength of such a rushing flood must prevail. Yes, it
is true, the canoe has been driven back; but behold, almost in a second
the whole thing is done-we float suddenly beneath a little rocky isle on
the foot of the cataract. We have crossed the river in the face of the
fall, and the portage landing is over this rock, while three yards out on
either side the torrent foams its headlong course. Of the skill necessary
to perform such things it is useless to speak. A single false stroke, and
the 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 the
river 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 escaped
from its-fastening through their exertion, and they retie it while they
rest. One is already standing upon the wet slippery rock holding the
canoe in its place, then the others get out. The freight is carried up
piece 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 against
this hard granite boulder would shiver and splinter the frail birch-bark
covering; they raise her very carefully up the steep face of the cliff
and rest again on the top. What a view there is from this coigne of
vantage! 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, it
is smooth water, and away ahead we see the foam of another rapid. The
rock on which we stand has been worn smooth by the washing of the water
during countless ages, and from a cleft or fissure there springs a
pine-tree or a rustling aspen. We have crossed the Petit Roches, and our
course is onward still.

Through many scenes like this we held our way during the last days of
July. The weather was beautiful; now and then a thunder-storm would roll
along during the night, but the morning sun rising clear and bright would
almost tempt one to believe that it had been a dream, if the pools of
water in the hollows of the rocks and the dampness of blanket or
oil-cloth had not proved the sun a humbug. Our general distance each day
would be about thirty-two miles, with an average of six portages. At
sunset we made our camp on some rocky isle or shelving shore, one or two
cut wood, another got the cooking things ready, a fourth gummed the seams
of the canoe, a fifth cut shavings from a dry stick for the fire--for
myself, I generally took a plunge in the cool delicious water--and soon
the supper hissed in the pans, the kettle steamed from its suspending
stick, and the evening meal was eaten with appetites such as only the
voyageur 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 on
the springy moss of the crag and lie down to sleep with only the stars
for a roof.

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

On the evening of the fifth day from leaving Fort Alexander we reached
the foot of the Rat Portage, the twenty-seventh, and last, upon the
Winnipeg River; above this portage stretched the Lake of the Woods, which
here poured its waters through a deep rock-bound gorge with tremendous
force. During the five days we had only encountered two solitary Indians;
they knew nothing whatever about the Expedition, and, after a short
parley and a present of tea and flour, we pushed on. About midday on the
fourth day we halted at the Mission of the White Dog, a spot which some
more than heathen missionary had named Islington in a moment of virtuous
cockneyism. What could have tempted him to commit this act of desecration
it is needless to ask.

Islington on the Winnipeg! O religious Gilpin, hadst thou fallen a prey
to savage Cannibalism, not even Sidney Smith's farewell aspiration would
have 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 most
brilliant triumphs in the role of schoolmaster, and the youthful
Ojibbeways of the place had formerly belonged to the band of hope. For
some days past Thomas had been labouring under depression, his power of
devouring pemmican had, it is true, remained unimpaired, but in one or
two trying moments of toil, in rapids and portages, he had been found
miserably wanting; he had, in fact, shown many indications of utter
uselessness; he had also begun to entertain gloomy apprehensions of what
the French would do to him when they caught him on the Lake of the Woods,
and although he endeavoured frequently to prove that under certain
circumstances the French would have no chance whatever against him, yet,
as these circumstances were from the nature of things never likely to
occur, necessitating, in the first instance, a presumption that Thomas
would show fight, he failed to convince not only his hearers, but
himself, that he was not in a very bad way. At the White Dog Mission he
was, so to speak, on his own hearth, and was doubtless desirous of
showing 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 White
Dog; the women and children, who now formed the sole inhabitants, went
but little out of the neighbourhood, and the men had been away for many
days in the forest, hunting and fishing. Thus, through the whole course
of the Winnipeg, from lake to lake, I could glean no tale or tidings of
the great Ogima or of his myriad warriors. It was quite dark when we
reached, on the evening of the 30th July, the northern edge of the Lake
of the Woods and paddled across its placid waters to the Hudson Bay
Company's post at the Rat Portage. An arrival of a canoe with six
strangers is no ordinary event at one of these remote posts which the
great fur company have built at long intervals over their immense
territory. Out came the denizens of a few Indian lodges, out came the
people of the fort and the clerk in charge of it. My first question was
about the Expedition, but here, as elsewhere, no tidings had been heard
of it. Other tidings were however forthcoming which struck terror into
the heart of Hope. Suspicious canoes had been seen for-some days past
amongst the many islands of the lake; strange men had come to the fort at
night, and strange fires had been seen on the islands-the French were out
on the lake. The officer in charge of the post was absent at the time of
my visit, but I had met him at Fort Alexander, and he had anticipated my
wants in a letter which I myself carried to his son. I now determined to
strain every effort to cross with rapidity the Lake of the Woods and
ascend 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 I
must learn tidings of the Expedition and bring my long solitary journey
to a close. But the Lake of the Woods is an immense sheet of water lying
1000 feet above the sea level, and subject to violent gales which lash
its bosom into angry billows. To be detained upon some island,
storm-bound amidst the lake, %would never have answered, so I ordered a
large keeled boat to be got ready by midday it only required a few
trifling repairs of sail and oars, but a great feast had to be gone
through in which my pemmican and flour were destined to play a very
prominent part. As the word pemmican is one which may figure frequently
in 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 made
from the flesh of any animal, but it is nearly altogether composed of
buffalo meat; the meat is first cut into slices, then dried either by
fire or in the sun, and then pounded or beaten out into a thick flaky
substance; in this state it is put into a large bag made from the hide of
the animal, the dry pulp being soldered down into a hard solid mass by
melted fat being poured over it-the quantity of fat is nearly half the
total weight, forty pounds of fat going to fifty pounds of "beat meat;"
the best pemmican generally has added to it ten pounds of berries and
sugar, the whole composition forming the most solid description of food
that man can make. If any person should feel inclined to ask, "What does
pemmicau taste like?" I can only reply, "Like pemmican," there is
nothing 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 sufficing
quality? Yes, I think I can. A dog that will eat from four to six pounds
of raw fish a day when sleighing, will only devour two pounds: of
pemmican, if he be fed upon that food; yet I have seen Indians and
half-breeds eat four pounds of it in a single day-but this is
anticipating. Pemmican can be prepared in many ways, and it is not easy
to decide which method is the least objectionable. There is rubeiboo and
richot, and pemmican plain and pemmican raw, this last method being the
one most in vogue amongst voyageurs; but the richot, to me, seemed the
best; mixed with a little flour and fried in a pan, pemmican in this form
can be eaten, provided the appetite be sharp and there is nothing else to
be had--this last consideration is, however, of importance.





CHAPTER ELEVEN.

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

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

This is the regular Hudson Bay Mackinaw boat, used for the carrying
trade of the great Fur Company on every river from the Bay of Hudson to
the Polar Ocean. It looks a big, heavy, lumbering affair, but it can sail
well 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 our
way was a perfect maze and network of island and narrow channel; a light
breeze from the north favoured us, and we passed gently along the rocky
islet shores through unruffled water. In all directions there opened out
innumerable channels, some narrow and winding, others straight and open,
but all lying'-between shores clothed with a rich and luxuriant
vegetation; shores that curved and twisted into mimic bays and tiny
promontories, that rose in rocky masses abruptly from the water, that
sloped down to meet the lake in gently swelling undulations, that seemed,
in fine, to present in the compass of a single glance every varying
feature of island scenery. Looking through these rich labyrinths of tree
and 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 balmy
with the scented things which grow profusely upon the islands; the water
was warm, almost tepid, and yet despite of this the winter frost would
cover the lake with five feet of ice, and the thick brushwood of the
islands would lie hidden during many months beneath great depths of snow.

As we glided along through this beautiful scene the men kept a sharp
look-out for the suspicious craft whose presence had caused such alarm at
the Portage-du-Rat. We saw no trace of man or canoe, and nothing broke
the stillness of the evening except the splash of a sturgeon in the
lonely 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 a
projecting point I could see island upon island to the number of over a
hundred--the wild cherry, the plum, the wild rose, the raspberry,
intermixed with ferns and mosses in vast variety, covered every spot
around me, and from rock and crevice the pine and the poplar hung their
branches over the water. As the breeze still blew fitfully from the north
we again embarked and held our way through the winding channels--at times
these channels would grow wider only again to close together; but there
was no current, and the large high sail moved us slowly through the
water. When it became dark a fire suddenly appeared on an island some
distance ahead. Thomas Hope grasped his flint gun and seemed to think the
supreme moment had at length arrived. During the evening I could tell by
the gestures and looks of the men that the mysterious rovers formed the
chief subject of conversation, and our latest accession painted so
vividly their various suspicious movements, that Thomas was more than
ever convinced his hour was at hand. Great then was the excitement when
the fire was observed upon the island, and greater still when I told
Samuel to steer full towards it. As we approached we could distinguish
figures moving to and fro between us and the bright flame, but when we
had got within a few hundred yards of the spot the light was suddenly
extinguished, and the ledge of rock upon which it had been burning became
wrapped in darkness. We hailed, but there was no reply. Whoever had been
around the fire had vanished through the trees; launching their canoe
upon the other side of the island, they had paddled away through the
intricate labyrinth scared by our sudden appearance in front of their
lonely bivouac. This apparent confirmation of his worst fears in no way
served to reanimate the spirits of Hope, and though shortly after he lay
down with the other men in the bottom of the boat, it was not without
misgivings as to the events which lay before him in the darkness. One man
only remained up to steer, for it was my intention to run as long as the
breeze, faint though it was, lasted. I had been asleep about half an hour
when I felt my arm quickly pulled, and, looking up, beheld Samuel bending
over me, while with one hand he steered the boat. "Here they are," he
whispered, "here they are." I looked over the gunwale and under the sail
and beheld right on the course we were steering two bright fires burning
close to the water's edge. We were running down a channel which seemed to
narrow to a strait between two islands, and presently a third fire came
into view on the other side of the strait, showing distinctly the narrow
pass towards which we were steering, it did not appear to be more than
twenty feet across it, and, from its exceeding narrowness and the
position of the fires, it seemed as though the place had really been
selected to dispute our outward passage. We were not more than two
hundred 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 would
Have been useless, because we were already in the channel, and to run on
shore would only place us still more in the power of our enemies, if
enemies they were, so I told him to hold his course and run right through
the 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 run
the boat through the strait, he instantly made up his mind to shape for
himself a different course. Abandoning his flint musket to any body who
would take it, he clambered like a monkey on to the gunwale, with the
evident intention of dropping noiselessly into the water, and seeking, by
swimming on shore, a safety which he deemed denied to him on board. Never
shall I forget his face as he was pulled back into the boat; nor is it
easy to describe the sudden revulsion of feeling which possessed him
when: a dozen different fires breaking into view showed at once that the
forest was on fire, and that the imaginary bivouac of the French was only
the flames of burning brushwood. Samuel laughed over his mistake, but
Thomas looked on it in no laughing light, and, seizing his gun, stoutly
maintained that had it really been the French they would have learnt a
terrible lesson from the united volleys of the fourteen-shooter and his
flint musket.

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

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

Among the Indians the lake holds high place as the favourite haunt of the
Manitou. The strange water-worn rocks, the islands of soft pipe-stone
from which are cut the bowls for many a calumet, the curious masses of
ore resting on the polished surface of rock, the islands struck yearly
by lightning, the islands which abound in lizards although these reptiles
are scarce elsewhere--all these make the Lake of the Woods a region
abounding in Indian legend and superstition. There are isles upon which
he will not dare to venture, because the evil spirit has chosen them;
there are promontories upon which offerings must be made to the Manitou
when the canoe drifts by their lonely shores; and there are spots watched
over by the great Kennebic, or Serpent, who is jealous of the treasures
which 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 behind
the thickly-studded islands and to get out into the open waters. A
thunder-storm had swept the lake during the night, but the morning was
calm, and the heavy sweeps were not able to make much way. Suddenly,
while we were halted for breakfast, the wind veered round to the
north-west and promised us a rapid passage across the Grande Traverse to
the mouth of Rainy River. Embarking hastily, we set sail for a strait
known as the Grassy Portage, which the high stage of water in the lake
enabled us to run through without touching ground. Beyond this strait
there stretched away a vast expanse of water over which the white-capped
waves were running in high billows from the west. It soon became so rough
that we had to take on board the small canoe which I had brought with me
from Rat Portage in case of accident, and which was towing astern. On we
swept 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 which
we had to weather in order to make the mouth of Rainy River. Keeping the
boat as close to the wind as she would go, we reeled on over the tumbling
seas. Our lee-way was very great, and for some time it seemed doubtful if
we would clear the point; as we neared it we saw that there was a
tremendous sea running against the rock, the white sprays shooting far up
into the air When the rollers struck against it. The wind had now
freshened to a gale and the boat laboured much, constantly shipping
sprays. At last we were abreast of the rocks, close hauled, and yet only
a hundred yards from the breakers. Suddenly the wind veered a little, or
the heavy swell which was running caught us, for we began to drift
quickly down into the mass of breakers. The men were all huddled together
in 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 got
foul of each other, and for a second every thing went wrong. At last
three sweeps were got to work, but they could do nothing against such a
sea. We were close to the rocks, so close that one began to make
preparations for doing something--one didn't well know what--when we
should strike. Two more oars were out, and for an instant we hung in
suspense as to the result. How they did pull! it was the old paddle-work
forcing the rapid again; and it told; in spite of wave and wind, we were
round the point, but it was only by a shade. An hour later we were
running through a vast expanse of marsh and reeds into the mouth of Rainy
River; the Lake of the Woods was passed, and now before me Lay eighty
miles of the Rivière-de-la-Pluie.

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

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

"Yes, there was one young man who had seen with his own eyes the great
army 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 many
disappointments.

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

The chief of the party now came forward, and asked what I had got to say
to the Indians; that he would like to hear me make a speech; that they
wanted to know why all these men were coming through their country. To
make a speech! it was a curious request. I was leaning with my back
against 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 once
play the part of Chadband, and improve the occasion, and, as a speech was
expected of me, make it. So I said, "Tell this old chief that I am sorry
he is poor and hungry; but let him look around, the land on which he sits
is 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 in
the 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 plugs
of tobacco all round, and we shoved out again into the river. "Where the
road comes down to the lake" the Indian had seen the troops; where was
that spot? No easy matter to decide, for lakes are so numerous in this
land of the North-west that the springs of the earth seem to have found
vent there. Before sunset we fell in with another Indian; he was alone in
a canoe, which he paddled close along shore out of the reach of the
strong breeze which was sweeping us fast up the river. While he was yet a
long way off, Samuel declared that he had recently left Fort Francis, and
therefore would bring us news from that place. "How can you tell at this
distance that he has come from the fort?" I asked. "Because his shirt
looks bright," he answered. And so it was; he had left the fort on the
previous day and run seventy miles; he was old Monkman's Indian returning
after having left that hardy voyageur at Fort Francis.

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

On again; another sun set and another sun rose, and we were still running
up the Rainy River before a strong north wind which fell away towards
evening. At sundown of the 3rd August I calculated that some four and
twenty miles must yet lie between me and that fort at which, I felt
convinced, some distinct tidings must reach me of the progress of the
invading column. I was already 180 miles beyond the spot where I had
counted upon falling in with them. I was nearly 400 miles from Fort
Garry.

Towards evening on the 3rd it fell a dead calm, and the heavy boat could
make 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 from
Rat Portage; it was a very tiny one, but that was no hindrance to the
work I now\ required of it. We had been sailing all day, so my men were
fresh. At supper I proposed that Samuel, Monkman, and William Prince
should come on with me during the night, that we would leave Thomas Hope
in 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 once
assented, and Thomas was delighted at the prospect of one last grand feed
all to himself, besides the great honour of being promoted to the rank
and dignity of Captain of the boat. So we got the little craft out, and
having gummed her all over, started once more on our upward way just as
the shadows of the night began to close around the river. We were four in
number, quite as many as the canoe could carry; she was very low in the
water and, owing to some damage received in the rough waves of the Lake
of the Woods, soon began to leak badly. Once we put ashore to gum and
pitch her seams again, but still the water oozed in and we were wet. What
was to be done? with these delays we never could hope to reach the fort
by daybreak, and something told me instinctively, that unless I did get
there that night I would find the Expedition already arrived. Just at
that 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 bad
Indians. firom the American side--the left shore of Rainy River is
American territory--but the chance of a bad Indian was better than the
certainty of a bad canoe, and we stopped at the camp. A lot of half-naked
redskins came out of the trees, and the pow-wow commenced. I gave them
all tobacco, and then asked if they would give me a good canoe in
exchange for my bad one, telling them that I would give them a present
next 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 out
and 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, and
we paddled bravely on through the mists of night. About midnight we
halted for supper, making a fire amidst the long wet grass, over which we
fried the sturgeon and boiled our kettle; then we went on again through
the small hours of the morning. At times I could see on the right the
mouths of large rivers which flowed from the west: it is down these
rivers that the American Indians come to fish for sturgeon in the Rainy
River. For nearly 200 miles the country is still theirs, and the
Pillager and Red Lake branches of the Ojibbeway nation yet hold their
hunting-grounds in the vast swamps of North Minnesota.

These Indians have a bad reputation, as the name of Pillager implies, and
my Red River men were anxious to avoid falling in with them. Once during
the 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 were
never lifted out of the water, we glided noiselessly by, as silently as a
wild duck would cleave the current. Once again during the long night a
large sturgeon, struck suddenly by a paddle, alarmed us by bounding out
of the water and landing full upon the gunwale of the Canoe, splashing
back again into the water and wetting us all by his curious manoeuvre. At
length in the darkness we heard the hollow roar of the great Falls of the
Chaudiere sounding loud through the stillness. It grew louder and louder
as with now tiring strokes my worn-out men worked mechanically at their
paddles. The day was beginning to break. We were close beneath the
Chaudiere and alongside of Fort Francis. The scene was wondrously
beautiful. In the indistinct light of the early dawn the cataract seemed
twice its natural height, the tops of pine trees rose against the pale
green of the coming day, close above the falls the bright morning star
hung, diamond-like, over the rim of the descending torrent; around the
air was tremulous with the rush of water, and to the north the
rose-coloured streaks of the aurora were woven into the dawn. My long
solitary journey had nearly reached its close.

Very cold and cramped by the constrained position in which I had remained
all night, I reached the fort, and, unbarring the gate, with my rifle
knocked at the door of one of the wooden houses. After a little, a man
opened the door in the costume, scant and unpicturesque, in which he had
risen 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 along
such a route as the one I had followed since leaving Fort Garry in daily
expectation of meeting with a body of men making their way from a distant
point through the same wilderness, one does not like the idea of being
found at last within the stockades of an Indian trading-post as though
one had quietly taken one's ease at an inn. Still there were others to be
consulted in the matter, others whose toil during the twenty-seven hours
of 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 us
to go and meet him, and we will thus see the soldiers before they arrive
at the Fort;" so getting the canoe out once more, we carried her above
the falls, and paddled up towards the Rainy Lake, whose waters flow into
Rainy River two miles above the fort.

It was the 4th of August-we reached the foot of the rapid which the river
makes as it flows out of the Lake. Forcing up this rapid, we saw
spreading 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 object
will strike the vision of the civilized man; but on this occasion the
eyes of my men were at fault, and the glint of something strange upon the
lake first caught my sight. There they are! Yes, there they were. Coming
along with the full swing of eight paddles, swept a large North-west
canoe, its Iroquois paddlers timing their strokes to an old French chant
as 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 the
head of the rapid, I waved to the leading canoe as it swept along. In the
centre sat a figure in uniform with forage-cap on head, and I could see
that he was scanning through a field-glass the strange figure that waved
a welcome from the rock. Soon they entered the rapid, and commenced to
dip down its rushing waters. Quitting the rock, I got again into my
canoe, and we shoved off into the current. Thus running down the rapid
the two canoes drew together, until at its foot they were only a few
paces apart.

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

The officer whose canoe thus led the advance into Rainy River was no
other than the commander of the Expeditionary Force. During the period
which had elapsed since that force had landed at Thunder Bay on the
shore of Lake Superior, he had toiled with untiring energy to overcome
the many obstacles which opposed the progress of the troops through the
rock-bound fastnesses of the North. But there are men whose perseverance
hardens, whose energy quickens beneath difficulties and delay, whose
genius, like some spring bent back upon its base, only gathers strength
from resistance. These men are the natural soldiers of the world; and
fortunate is it for those who carry swords and rifles and are dressed in
uniform when such men are allowed to lead them, for with such men as
leaders the following, if it be British, will be all right--nay, if it be
of any nationality on the earth, it will be all right too. Marches will
be 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 will
be crossed, deserts will be traversed, and mountain passes will be
pierced, and the men who cross and traverse and pierce them will only
marvel that doubt or distrust should ever have entered into their minds
as to the feasibility of the undertaking. The man who led the little army
across the Northern wilderness towards Red River was well fitted in
every respect for the work which was to be done. He was young in years
but he was old in service; the highest professional training had
developed to the utmost his ability, while it had left unimpaired the
natural instinctive faculty of doing a thing from oneself, which the
knowledge of a given rule for a given action so frequently destroys. Nor
was it only by his energy, perseverance, and professional training that
Wolseley was fitted to lead men upon the very exceptional service now
required from them. Officers and soldiers will always follow when those
three qualities are combined in the man who leads them; but they will
follow with delight the man who, to these qualities, unites a happy
aptitude for command, which is neither taught nor learned, but which is
instinctively possessed.

Let us look back a little upon the track of this Expedition. Through a
vast wilderness of wood and rock and water, extending for more than 600
miles, 1200 men, carrying with them all the appliances of modern war, had
to 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; and
even that source was so limited that whole families of the Ojibbeways had
perished of starvation, and cases of cannibalism had been frequent
amongst them. Once cut adrift from Lake Superior, no chance remained for
food until the distant settlement of Red River had been reached. Nor was
it at all certain that even there supplies could be obtained, periods of
great distress had occurred in the settlement itself; and the disturbed
state into which its affairs had lately fallen in no way promised to give
greater habits of agricultural industry to a people who were proverbially
roving in their tastes. It became necessary, therefore, in piercing this
wilderness to take with the Expedition three month's supply of food, and
the magnitude of the undertaking will be somewhat under stood by the
outside world when this fact is borne in mind.

Of course it would have been a simple matter if the-boats which carried
the men and their supplies had been able to sail through an unbroken
channel into the bosom of Lake Winnipeg; but through that long 600 miles
of lake and river and winding creek, the rocky declivities of cataracts
and the wild wooded shores of rapids had to be traversed, and full
forty-seven times between lake and lake had boats, stores, and
ammunition, had cannon, rifles, sails, and oars to be lifted from the
water, borne across long ridges of rock and swamp and forest, and placed
again upon the northward rolling river. But other difficulties had to be
overcome which delayed at the outset the movements of the Expedition. A
road, leading from Lake Superior to the height by land (42 miles), had
been rendered utterly impassable by fires which swept the forest and
rains which descended for days in continuous torrents. A considerable
portion of this road had also to be opened out in order to carry the
communication through to Lake Shebandowan close to the height of land.

For weeks the whole available strength of the Expedition f had been
employed in road-making and in hauling the boats up the rapids of the
Kaministiquia River, and it was only on the 16th of July, after seven
weeks of unremitting toil and arduous labour, that all these preliminary
difficulties had been finally overcome and the leading detachments of
boats 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 three
weeks after that departure, the silent shores of the Rainy River beheld
the advance of these pioneer boats who thus far had "marched on without
impediment."

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

In two days we entered the Lake of the Woods, and hoisting sail stood out
across the waters. Never before had these lonely islands witnessed such a
sight as they now beheld. Seventeen large boats close hauled to a
splendid breeze swept in a great scattered mass through the high running
seas, dashing the foam from their bows as they dipped and rose under
their large lug-sails. Samuel Henderson led the way, proud of his new
position, and looked upon by the soldiers of his boat as the very acme
of an Indian. How the poor fellows enjoyed that day! no oar, no portage
no galling weight over rocky ledges, nothing but a grand day's racing
over the immense lake. They smoked-all day, balancing themselves on the
weather-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 of
tobacco; but Heaven help him if they: had caught him two days later on
the 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 for
his genius in the glories of the _private soldier. He had been a soldier
himself, and he knew the wealth of the mine hidden in the unknown and
unthought of Rank and File. It is a pity that the knowledge of that
wealth should not be more widely circulated.

Who are the Rank and File? They are the poor wild birds whose country
has cast them off, and who repay her by offering their lives for her
glory; the men who take the shilling, who drink, who drill, who march to
music, who fill the graveyards of Asia; the men who stand sentry at the
gates of world-famous fortresses, who are old when their elder brothers
are still young, who are bronzed and burned by fierce suns, who sail
over seas packed in great masses, who watch at night over lonely
magazines, who shout, "Who comes there?" through the darkness, who dig
in trenches, who are blown to pieces in mines, who are torn by shot and
shell, who have carried the flag of England into every land, who have
made her name famous through the nations, who are the nation's pride in
her hour of peril and her plaything-in her hour of prosperity--these
are the rank and file. We are a curious nation; until lately we bought
our rank, as we buy our mutton, in a market; and we found officers and
gentlemen where other nations would have found thieves and swindlers.
Until lately we flogged our files with a cat-o'-nine-tails, and found
heroes by treating men like dogs. But to return to the rank and file.

The regiment-which had been selected for the work of piercing these
solitudes of the American continent had peculiar claims for that service.
In bygone times it had been composed exclusively of Americans, and there
was not an Expedition through all the wars which England waged against
France in the New World in which the 60th, or "Royal Americans," had not
taken a prominent part. When Munro yielded to Montcalm the fort of
William Henry, when Wolfe reeled back from Montmorenci and stormed
Abraham, when Pontiac swept the forts from Lake Superior to the Ohio, the
60th, or Royal Americans, had ever been foremost in the struggle. Weeded
now of their weak and sickly men, they formed a picked 'body, numbering
350 soldiers, of whom any nation on earth might well be proud. They were
fit to do anything and to go any where; and if a fear lurked in the minds
of any of them, it was that Mr. Riel would not show fight. Well led, and
officered by men who shared with them every thing, from the portage-strap
to a roll of tobacco, there was complete confidence from the highest to
the lowest. To be wet seemed to be the normal condition of man, and to
carry a pork-barrel weighing 200 pounds over a rocky portage was but
constitutional and exhilarating exercise--such were the men with whom, on
the evening of the 8th of August, I once more reached the neighbourhood'
of the Rat Portage. In a little bay between many islands the flotilla
halted just before entering the reach which led to the portage. Paddling
on in front with Samuel in my little canoe, we came suddenly upon four
large Hudson Bay boats with full crews of Red River half-breeds and
Indians-they were on their way to meet the Expedition, with the object of
rendering what assistance they could to the troops in the descent of the
Winnipeg 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 at
once discharged into the air, and the shrill shouts began to echo through
the islands. But the excitement on the side of the Expedition was quite
as keen. The sudden shots and the wild shouts made the men in the boats
in rear imagine that the fun was really about to begin, and that a
skirmish through the wooded isles would be the evening's work. The
mistake was quickly discovered. They were glad of course to meet their
Red River friends; but somehow, I fancy, the feeling, of joy would
certainly not have been lessened had the boats held the dusky adherents
of the Provisional Government.

On the following morning the seventeen boats commenced the descent of the
Winnipeg river, while I remained at the Portage-du-Rat to await the
arrival of the chief of the Expedition from Fort Francis. Each succeeding
day brought a fresh brigade of boats under the guidance of one of my late
canoe-men; and finally Thomas Hope came along,-seemingly enjoying life to
the utmost--pork was plentiful, and as for the French there was no need
to dream of them, and he could sleep in peace in the midst of fifty white
soldiers. During six days I remained at the little Hudson Bay Company's
post at the Rat Portage, making short excursions into the surrounding
lakes and rivers, fishing below the rapids of the Great Chute; and in the
evenings listening to the Indian stories of the lake as told by my worthy
host, Mr. Macpherson, a great portion of whose life had been spent in the
vicinity.

One day I went some distance away from the fort to fish at the foot of
one of the great rapids formed by the Winnipeg River as it runs from the
Lake of the Woods. We carried our canoe over two or three portages, and
at length reached the chosen spot. In the centre of the river an Indian
was floating quietly in his canoe, casting every now and then a large
hook baited with a bit of fish into the water. My bait consisted of a
bright spinning piece of metal, which I had got in one of the American
cities on my way through Minnesota. Its effect upon the fish of this
lonely region was marvellous; they had never before been exposed to such
a fascinating affair, and they rushed at it with avidity. Civilization on
the rocks had certainly a better time of it, as far as catching fish
went, than barbarism in the canoe. With the shining thing we killed three
for the Indian's one. My companion, who was working the spinning bait
while I sat on the rock, casually observed, pointing to the Indian, "He's
a 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 and
ate forty other Indians who were starving with them. They lived through
the winter on them, and in the spring he had to fly from Lake Superior
because 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 of
studying his appearance. He was a stout, low-sized savage, with coarse
and repulsive features, and eyes fixed sideways in his head like a
Tartar's. We had left our canoe some distance away, and my companion
asked 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 of
the 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 be
associated with that celebrated individual of our early days, the King
of the Cannibal Islands. The Windigo looked with wonder at the spinning
bait, seeming to regard it as a "great medicine;" perhaps if he had
possessed such a thing he would never have been forced by hunger to
become a Windigo.

Of the bravery of the Lake of the Woods Ojibbeway I did not form a very
high estimate. Two instances related to me by Mr. Macpherson will suffice
to show that opinion to have been well founded. Since the days when the
Bird of Ages dwelt on the Coteau-des-Prairies the Ojibbeway and the Sioux
have warred against each other; but as the Ojibbeway dwelt chiefly in the
woods and the Sioux are denizens of the great plains, the actual war
carried on between them has not beena unusually destructive. The
Ojibbeways dislike to go far into the open plains; the Sioux hesitate to
pierce the dark depths of the forest, and the war is generally confined
to the border land, where the forest begins to merge into the plains.
Every now and again, however, it becomes necessary to go through the
form of a war-party, and the young men depart upon the war-path against
their hereditary enemies. To kill a Sioux and take his scalp then becomes
the great object of existence. Fortunate is the brave who can return to
the camp bearing with him the coveted trophy. Far and near spreads the
glorious news that a Sioux scalp has been taken, and for many a night the
camps are noisy with the shouts and revels of the scalp dance from
Winnipeg to Rainy Lake. It matters little whether it be the scalp of a
man, a woman, or a child; provided it be a scalp it is all right. There
is 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 the
Sioux, they followed the line of the Rosseaui river, and soon emerged
from 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 more
they looked the less they liked it. They called a council of
deliberation; it was unanimously resolved to retire to the Lake of the
Woods: but surely they must bring back a scalp, the women would laugh at
them! What was to be done? At length the difficulty was solved. Close by
there was a newly-made grave, a squaw had died and been buried. Excellent
idea; one scalp was as good as another. So the braves dug up the buried
squaw-, took the scalp, and departed for Rat Portage. There was a great
dance, and it was decided that each and every one of the thirty
Ojibbeways deserved well of his nation.

But the second instance is still more revolting. A very brave Indian
departed alone from the Lake of the Woods to war against the Sioux; he
wandered 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 went
towards it, and found that it was inhabited only by women and
children, of whom there were four altogether. He went up and asked for
food; they invited him to enter the lodge; they set before him the best
food they had got, and they laid a buffalo robe for his bed in the
warmest corner of the wigwam. When night came, all slept; when midnight
came the Ojibbeway quietly arose from his couch, killed the two women,
killed the two children, and departed for the Lake of the Woods with
four scalps. Oh, he was a very brave Indian, and his name went far
through the forest! I know somebody who would have gone very far to see
him hanged.

Late on the evening of the 14th August the commander of the Expedition
arrived from Fort Francis at the Portage-du-Rat. He had attempted to
cross the Lake of the Woods in a gig manned by soldiers, the weather
being too tempestuous to allow the canoe to put out, and had lost his way
in the vast maze of islands already spoken of. As we had received
intelligence at the Portage-du-Rat of his having set out from the other
side of the lake, and as hour after hour passed without bringing his boat
in sight, I got the canoe ready and, with two Indians, started to light a
beacon-fire on the top of the Devil's Rock, one of the haunted islands of
the lake, which towered high over the surrounding isles. We had not
proceeded far, however, before we fell in with the missing gig bearing
down for the portage under the guidance of an Indian who had been picked
up en route.

On the following day I received orders to start at once for Fort
Alexander at the mouth of the Winnipeg River to engage guides for the
brigades of boats which had still to come--two regiments of Canadian
Militia. And here let us not-forget the men who, following in the
footsteps of the regular troops, were now only a few marches behind their
more fortunate comrades. To the lot of these two regiments of Canadian
Volunteers fell the same hard toil of oar and portage which we have
already described. The men composing these regiments were stout athletic
fellows, eager for service, tired of citizen life, and only needing the
toil of a campaign to weld them into as tough and resolute a body of men
as ever leader could desire.





CHAPTER TWELVE.

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

I TOOK a very small canoe, manned by three Indians--father and two
sons--and, with provisions for three days, commenced the descent of the
river 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 isles
flit 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 last
time the Lake of the Woods. Next night our camp was made below the
Eagle's Nest, seventy miles from the Portage-du-Rat. A wild storm burst
upon us at night-fall, and our bivouac was a damp and dreary one. The
Indians lay under the canoe; I sheltered as best I could beneath a huge
pine-tree. My oil-cloth was only four feet in length-a shortcoming on the
part of its feet which caused mine to suffer much discomfort. Besides, I
had Her Majesty's royal mail to keep dry, and, with the limited liability
of my oil-cloth in the matter of length, that became no easy task--two
bags of letters and papers, home letters and papers, too, for the
Expedition. 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 now
they were getting wet in spite of every effort to the contrary. I made
one bag into a pillow, but the rain came through the big pine-tree,
splashing down through the branches, putting out my fire and drenching
mail-bags and blankets.

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

That night, the 17th of August, we made our camp on a little island close
to the Otter Falls. It came a night of ceaseless rain, and again the
mail-bags underwent a drenching. The old Indian cleared a space in the
dripping vegetation, and made me a rude shelter with branches woven
together; 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 one
had to do it; that one consideration is the greatest expounder of the
possible. 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 kettle
and fry a bit of meat are the home works of the Indian. His life is one
long picnic, and it matters as little to him whether sun or rain, snow or
biting frost, warm, drench, cover, or freeze him, as it does to the
moose or the reindeer that share his forest life and yield him often his
forest fare. Upon examining the letters in-the morning the interior of
the bags presented such a pulpy and generally deplorable appearance that
I was obliged to stop at one of the Seven Portages for the purpose of
drying Her Majesty's mail. With this object we made a large fire, and
placing cross-sticks above proceeded to toast and grill the dripping
papers. The Indians sat around, turning the letters with little sticks as
if they were baking cakes or frying sturgeon. Under their skilful
treatment the pulpy mats soon attained the consistency, and in many
instances the legibility, of a smoked herring, but as they had before
presented a very fishy appearance that was not of much consequence.

This day was bright and fine. Notwithstanding the delay caused by drying
the mails, as well as distributing them to the several brigades which we
overhauled and passed, we ran a distance of forty miles and made no less
than fifteen portages. The carrying or portaging power of the Indian is
very remarkable. A young boy will trot away under a load which would
stagger a strong European unaccustomed to such labour. The portages and
the falls which they avoid bear names which seem strange and un meaning
but which have their origin in some long-forgotten incident connected
with the early history of the fur trade or of Indian war. Thus the great
Slave Fall tells by its name the fate of two Sioux captives taken in some
foray by the Ojibbeway; lashed together in a canoe, they were the only
men who ever ran the Great Chute. The rocks around were black with the
figures of the Ojibbeways, whose wild triumphant yells were hushed by the
roar of the cataract; but the torture was a short one; the mighty rush,
the wild leap, and the happy hunting-ground, where even Ojibbeways cease
from troubling and Sioux warriors are at rest, had been reached. In
Mackenzie's journal the fall called Galet-du-Bonnet is said to have been
named by the Canadian voyageurs, from the fact that the Indians were in
the habit of crowning the highest rock above the portage with wreaths of
flowers and branches of trees. The Grand Portage, which is three quarters
of a mile in length, is the great test of the strength of the Indian and
half-breed; but, if Mackenzie speaks correctly, the voyageur has much
degenerated since the early days of the fur trade, for he writes that
seven pieces, weighing each ninety pounds, were carried over the Grand
Portage by an Indian in one trip, 630 pounds borne three quarters of a mile
by one man--the loads look big enough still, but 250 pounds is considered
excessive now. These loads are carried in a manner which allows the whole
strength of the body to be put into the work. A broad leather strap is
placed round the forehead, the ends of the strap passing back over the
shoulders support the pieces which, thus carried, lie along-the spine
from 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 hand
steadying the "pieces," he trots briskly away over the steep and
rock-strewn portage, his bare or mocassined feet enable him to pass
nimbly over the slippery rocks in places where boots would infallibly
send portager and pieces feet-foremost to the bottom.

In ascending the Winnipeg we have seen what exciting toil is rushing or
breasting up a rapid. Let us now glance at the still more exciting
operation of running a rapid. It is difficult-to find in life any event
which so effectually condenses intense nervous sensation into the
shortest possible space of time as does the work of shooting, or running
an 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 work
of 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 which
rock and watercan assume--for these two things, rock and water, taken in
the abstract, fail as completely to convey any idea of their fierce
embracings in the throes of a rapid as the fire burning quietly in a
drawing-room fireplace fails to convey the idea of a house wrapped and
sheeted in flames. Above the rapid all is still and quiet, and one cannot
see what is going on below the first rim of the rush, but stray shoots of
spray and the deafening roar of descending water tell well enough what is
about to happen. The Indian has got some rock or mark to steer by, and
knows well the door by which he is to enter the slope of water. As the
canoe--never appearing so frail and tiny as when it is about to commence
its series of wild leaps and rushes--nears the rim where the waters
disappear from view, the bowsman stands up and, stretching forward his
head, 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 behind
him; then not quick enough to take in the rushing scene. There is a rock
here and a big green cave of water there; there is a tumultuous rising
and sinking and sinking of snow-tipped waves; there are places that are
smooth-running for a moment and then yawn and open up into great gurgling
chasms the next; there are strange whirls and backward eddies and rocks,
rough and smooth and polished--and through all this the canoe glances
like an arrow, dips like a wild bird down the wing of the storm, now
slanting from a rock, now edging a green cavern, now breaking through a
backward rolling billow, without a word spoken, but with every now and
again a quick convulsive twist and turn of the bow-paddle to edge far off
some rock, to put her full through some boiling billow, to hold her
steady down the slope of some thundering chute which has the power of a
thousand horses: for remember, this river of rapids, this Winnipeg, is no
mountain torrent, no brawling brook, but over every rocky ledge and
"wave-worn precipice" there rushes twice a vaster volume than Rhine
itself pours forth. The rocks which strew the torrent are frequently the
most trifling of the dangers of the descent, formidable though they
appear to the stranger. Sometimes a huge boulder will stand full in the
midst of the channel, apparently presenting an obstacle from which escape
seems impossible. The canoe is rushing full towards it, and no power can
save it--there is just one power that can do it, and the rock itself
provides it. Not the skill of man could run the boat bows on to that
rock. There is a wilder sweep of water rushing off the polished sides
than on to them, and the instant that we touch that sweep we shoot away
with redoubled speed. No, the rock is not as treacherous as the whirlpool
and twisting billow.

On the night of the 20th of August the whole of the regular troops of the
Expedition and the general commanding it and his staff had reached Fort
Alexander, at the mouth of the Winnipeg River. Some accidents had
occurred, and many had been the "close shaves" of rock and rapid, but no
life had been lost; and from the 600 miles of wilderness there emerged
400 soldiers whose muscles and sinews, taxed and tested by continuous
toil, had been developed to a pitch of excellence seldom equalled, and
whose appearance and physique--browned, tanned, and powerful told: of the
glorious climate of these Northern solitudes, It was near sunset when the
large canoe touched the wooden pier opposite the Fort Alexander and the
commander of the Expedition stepped on shore to meet his men, assembled
for the first time together since Lake Superior's distant sea had been
left behind. It-was a meeting not devoid of those associations which make
such things memorable, and the cheer which went up from the soldiers who
lined the steep bank to bid him welcome had in it a note of that sympathy
which binds men together by the inward consciousness of difficulties
shared in common and dangers--successfully overcome together. Next day
the united fleet put out into Lake Winnipeg; and steered for the lonely
shores of the Island of Elks, the solitary island of the southern portion
of the lake. In a broad, curving, sandy bay the boats found that night a
shelter; a hundred fires threw their lights far into the lake, and
bugle-calls startled echoes that assuredly had never been rouse before by
notes so strange. Sailing in a wide scattered mass before a favouring
breeze, the fleet reached about noon the following day the mouth of the
Red River, the river whose name was the name of the Expedition, and whose
shores had so long been looked forward to as a haven of rest from portage
and oar labour. There it was at last, seeking through its many mouths the
waters of the lake. And now our course lay up along the reed fringed
river and sluggish current to where the tree-tops began to rise over the
low marsh-land-up to where my old friends the Indians had pitched their
camp and given me the parting salute on the morning of my departure just
one month before. It was dusk when we reached the Indian Settlement and
made a camp upon the opposite shore, and darkness had quite set in when I
reached the mission-house, some three miles higher up. My old friend the
Archdeacon was glad indeed to welcome me back. News from the settlement
there was none--news from the outside world there was plenty. "A great
battle had been fought near the Rhine," the old man said, "and the French
had been disastrously defeated."

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

During this day, the 23rd August, vague rumours reached us of terrible
things to be done by the warlike President. He would suddenly appear with
his guns from the woods? he would blow up the fort when the troops had
taken possession--he would die in the ruins. These and many other
schemes of a similar description were to be enacted by the Dictator in
the 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 the
fleet, 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 his
followers appeared to dispute-the upward passage of the flotilla, and the
woods through which I rode were silent and deserted. Early in the morning
a horse had been lent to me by an individual rejoicing in the classical
name of Tacitus Struthers. Tacitus had also assisted me to swim the steed
across the Red River in order to gain the right shore, and, having done
so, took leave of me with oft-repeated injunctions to preserve from harm
the horse and his accoutrements, "For," said Tacitus, "that horse is a
racer." Well, I suppose it must have been that fact that made the horse
race all day through the thickets and oak woods of the right shore, but I
rather fancy my spurs had something to say to it too.

When night again fell, the whole force had reached a spot six-miles from
the rebel fort, and camp was formed for the last time on the west bank
of the river. And what a night and storm then broke upon the Red River
Expedition! till the tents flapped and fell and the drenched soldiers
shiv'ered shelterless, waiting for the dawn. The occupants of tents which
stood the pelting of the pitiless storm were no better off than those
outside; 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 a
dismal daylight dawned over the dreary scene, and the upward course was
resumed. Still the rain came down in torrents, and, with water above,
below, and around, the Expedition neared its destination. If the steed of
Tacitus had had a hard day, the night had been less severe upon him than
upon his rider. I had procured him an excellent stable at the other side
of the river, and upon recrossing again in the morning I found him as
ready to race as his owner could desire. Poor beast, he was a most
miserable-looking animal, though belying his attenuated appearance by his
performance. The only race which his generally forlorn aspect justified
one in believing him capable of running was a race, and a hard one, for
existence; but for all that he went well, and Tacitus himself might have
envied the classical outline of his Roman nose.

About two miles north of Fort Garry the Red River makes a sharp bend to
the east and, again turning round to the west, forms a projecting point
or neck of land known as Point Douglas. This spot is famous in Red River
history as the scene of the battle, before referred to in these pages,
where the voyageurs and French half-breeds of the North west Fur Company
attacked the retainers of the Hudson Bay, some time in 1813, and
succeeded in putting to death by various methods of half-Indian warfare
the governor of the rival company and about a score of his followers. At
this point, where the usually abrupt bank of the Red River was less
steep, the troops began to disembark from the boats for the final advance
upon Fort Garry. The preliminary arrangements were soon completed, and
the little army, with its two brass guns trundling along behind Red River
carts, commenced its march across the mud-soaked prairie. How unspeakably
dreary it all looked! the bridge, the wretched village, the crumbling
fort, the vast level prairie, water soaked, draped in mist, and pressed
down by low-lying clouds. To me the ground was not new--the bridge was
the spot where only a month before I had passed the half reed sentry in
my midnight march to the Lower Fort. Other things had changed since then
besides the weather.

Preceded by skirmishers and followed by a rear-guard, the little force
drew near Fort Garry. There was no sign of occupation; no flag on the
flag-staff, no men upon the 4 walls; the muzzles of one or two guns showed
through the bastions, but no sign of defence or resistance was visible
about the place. The gate facing the north was closed, but the ordinary
one, looking South upon the Assineboine River, was found open. As the
skirmish line neared the northside two mounted men rode round the west
face and entered at a gallop through the open gateway. On the top steps
of the Government House stood a tall, majestic-looking man, who, with his
horse beside him; alternately welcomed with uplifted hat the new arrivals
and enounced in no stinted terms one or two miserable-looking men who
seemed to cower beneath his reproaches. This was an officer of the Hudson
Bay Company, ell known as one of the most intrepid amongst the many brave
men who had sought for the lost Franklin in the darkness of the long
polar night. He had been the first to enter the fort, some minutes in
advance of the Expedition, and his triumphant imprecations, bestowed with
unsparing vigour, had tended to accelerate the flight of M. Riel and the
members of his government, who sought in rapid retreat the safety of the
American frontier. How had the mighty fallen! With insult and derision
the President and his colleagues fled from the scene of their triumph and
their crimes. An officer in the service of the Company they had plundered
hooted them as they went, but perhaps there was a still harder note of
retribution in the "still small voice" which must have sounded from the
bastion wherein the murdered Scott had been so brutally done to death. On
the bare flag-staff in the fort the Union Jack was once more hoisted, and
from the battery found in the square a royal salute of twenty-one guns
told to settler and savage that the man who had been "elevated by the
grace of Providence and the suffrage of his fellow-citizens to the
highest position the Government of his country" had been ignominiously
expelled from his high position. Still even in his fall we must not be
too hard upon him. Vain, ignorant, and conceited though he was, he seemed
to have been an implicit believer in his mission; nor can it be doubted
that he possessed a fair share of courage too--courage not of the Red
River type, which is a very peculiar one, but more in accordance with our
European ideas of that virtue.

That he meditated opposition cannot be doubted. The muskets cast away by
his guard were found loaded; ammunition had been served from the magazine
on the morning of the flight. But muskets and ammunition are not worth
much without hands and hearts to use them, and twenty hands with perhaps
an aggregate of two and a half hearts among them were all he had to
depend on at the last moment. The other members of his government appear
to 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 the
Vices of every calling and nationality to which they can claim a kindred.
Educated for some semi-clerical profession which he abandoned for the
more congenial trade of treason rendered apparently secure by distance,
he remained in garb the cleric, while he plundered his prisoners and
indulged in the fashionable pastime of gambling with purloined property
and racing with confiscated horses--a man whose revolting countenance at
once suggested the hulks and prison garb, and who, in any other land save
America, would probably long since have reached the convict level for
which nature destined him. Of the other active member of the rebel
council--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 his
virtues or noble traits. A strange ignorance, quite in keeping with the
rest of the Red River rebellion, seems to have existed among the members
of the Provisional Government to the last moment with regard to the
approach of the Expedition. It is said that it was only the bugle-sound
of the skirmishers that finally convinced M. Riel of the proximity of the
troops, and this note, utterly unknown in Red River, followed quickly by
the arrival in hot haste of the Hudson Bay official, whose deprecatory
language has been already alluded to, completed the terror of the rebel
government, inducing a retreat so hasty, that the breakfast of Government
House was found untouched. Thus that tempest in the tea-cup, the revolt
of Red River, found a fitting conclusion in the President's untasted tea.
A wild scene of drunkenness and debauchery amongst the voyageurs followed
the arrival of the troops in Winnipeg'. The miserable-looking village
produced, as if by magic, more saloons than any city of twice its size in
the States could boast of. The vilest compounds of intoxicating liquors
were sold indiscriminately to every one, and for a time it seemed as
though the place had become a very Pandemonium. No civil authority had
been given to the commander of the Expedition, and no civil power of any
kind existed in the settlement. The troops alone were under control, but
the populace were free to work what mischief they pleased. It is almost
to be considered a matter of congratulation, that the terrible fire-water
sold by the people of the village should have been of the nature that it
was, for so deadly were its effects upon the brain and nervous system,
that under its influence men became perfectly helpless, lying stretched
upon the prairie for hours, as though they were bereft of life itself. I
regret to say that Samuel Henderson was by no means an exception to the
general demoralization that ensued. Men who had been forced to fly from
the settlement during the reign of the rebel government now returned to
their homes, and for some time it seemed probable that the sudden
revulsion of feeling, unrestrained by the presence of a civil power,
would lead to excesses against the late ruling faction; but, with one or
two exceptions, things began to quiet down again, and soon the arrival of
the civil governor, the Hon. Mr. Archibald, set matters completely to
rights.

Before ten days had elapsed the regular troops had commenced their long
return march to Canada, and the two regiments of Canadian militia had
arrived to remain stationed for some time in the settlement. But what
work it was to get the voyageurs away! The Iroquois were terribly
intoxicated, and for a long time refused to get into the boats. There was
a bear (a trophy from Fort Garry), and a terrible nuisance he proved at
the embarkation; for a long-time previous to the start he had been kept
quiet with un limited sugar, but at last he seemed to have had enough of
that condiment, and, with a violent tug, he succeeded in snapping his
chain and getting away up the bank. What a business it was! drunken
Iroquois stumbling about, and the bear, with 100 men after him, scuttling
in every direction. Then when the bear would be captured and put safely
back into his boat, half a dozen of the Iroquois would get out and run
a-muck through every thing. Louis (the pilot) would fall foul of Jacques
Sitsoli, and commence to inflict severe bodily punishment upon the person
of the unoffending Jacques, until, by the interference of the multitude,
peace would be restored and both would be reconducted to their boats. At
length they all got away down the river. Thus, during the first week of
September, the whole of the regulars departed once more to try the
torrents of the Winnipeg, and on the 10th of the month the commander
also took his leave. I was left alone in Fort Garry. The Red River
Expedition was over, and I had to find my way once more through the
United States to Canada. My long journey seemed finished, but I was
mistaken, for it was only about to begin.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

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

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

So dreaming and thinking over these stupendous facts, I-lay-under the
quiet stars, while around me my fellow travellers slept. The prospects of
my own career seemed gloomy enough too. I was about to go back to old
associations and life-rusting routine, and here was a nation, whose every
feeling my heart had so long echoed a response to, beaten down and
trampled under the heel of the German whose legions must already be
gathering around the walls of Paris. Why not offer to France in the
moment of her bitter adversity the sword and service of even one
sympathizing friend--not much of a gift, certainly, but one which would
be at least congenial to my own longing for a life of service, and my
hopeless prospects in a profession in which wealth was made the test of
ability. 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 times
the means of putting in execution my resolution. I felt strangely
excited; sleep seemed banished altogether. I arose from the ground, and
walked away into the stillness of the night. Oh, for a sign, for some
guiding light in this uncertain hour of my life! I looked towards the
north as this thought entered my brain. The aurora was burning faint in
the horizon; Arcturus lay like a diamond above the ring of the dusky
prairie. As I looked, a bright globe of light flashed from beneath the
star and passed slowly along towards the west, leaving in its train a
long track of rose-coloured light; in the uttermost bounds of the west
it died slowly away. Was my wish answered? and did my path lie to the
west, not east after all? or was it merely that thing which men call
chance, 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 had
induced the new governor Mr. Archibald to send me. On the last day of
September I again reached, by the steamer "International," the
Well-remembered Point of Frogs. I had left Red River for good. When the
boat reached the landing-place a gentleman came on board, a well-known
member 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 is
not 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, and
a lot of similar fixidities and steadiness; but I don't. I know of
nothing so fixed as the mole, so obstinate as the mule, or so steady as
a stone wall, but I don't particularly care about making their general
characteristics the rule of my life; and so I decided to go back to Fort
Garry, just as I would have decided to start for the North Pole had the
occasion offered.

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

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

"There is no necessity, sir," I replied, "to consider the matter, I have
already 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 his
breath over the yellow grass of the prairies.

And now let us turn our glance to this great North west whither my
wandering 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 of
mountains, eternally capped with snow, rises in rugged masses from a vast
stream-seared plain. They who first beheld these grand guardians of the
central prairies named them the Montagnes des Rochers; a fitting title
for such vast accumulation of rugged magnificence. From the glaciers and
ice valleys of this great range of mountains innumerable streams descend
into the plains. For a time they wander, as if heedless of direction,
through groves and glades and green spreading declivities; then, assuming
greater fixidity of purpose, they gather up many a wandering rill, and
start eastward upon a long journey. At length the many detached streams
resolve themselves into two great water systems; through hundreds of
miles these two rivers pursue their parallel courses, now approaching,
now opening out from each other. Suddenly, the southern river bends
towards the north, and at a point some 600 miles from the mountains pours
its volume of water into the northern channel. Then the united river
rolls in vast majestic curves steadily towards the north-east, turns
once more towards the south, opens out into a great reed covered marsh,
sweeps on into a large cedar-lined lake, and finally, rolling over a
rocky ledge, casts its waters into the northern end of the great Lake
Winnipeg, fully 1300 miles from the glacier cradle where it took its
birth. This river, which has along it every diversity of hill and vale,
meadow-land and forest, treeless plain and fertile hill-side, is called
by the wild tribes who dwell-along its glorious shores the
Kissaskatchewan, or Rapid-flowing River. But this Kissaskatchewan is not
the only river which waters the great central region lying between Red
River and the Rocky Mountains. The Assineboine or Stony River drains the
rolling prairie lands 500 miles west from Red River, and many a smaller
stream and rushing, bubbling brook carries into its devious channel the
waters of that vast country which lies between the American boundary-line
and the pine woods of the lower Saskatchewan.

So much for the rivers; and now for the land through which they flow. How
shall 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 framed
from the discoveries of Cabot and Cartier, of Varrazanno and Hudson,
played strange pranks with the geography of the New World. The
coast-line, with the estuaries of large rivers, was tolerably accurate;
but the centre of America was represented as a vast inland sea whose
shores stretched far into the Polar North; a sea through which lay the
much-coveted passage to the long sought treasures of the old realms of
Cathay. Well, the geographers of that period erred only in the
description of ocean which they placed in the central continent, for an
ocean there is, and an ocean through which men seek the treasures of
Cathay, even in our own times. But the ocean is one of grass, and the
shores are the crests of mountain ranges, and the dark pine forests of
sub-Arctic regions. The great ocean itself does not present more infinite
variety than does this prairie-ocean of which we speak. In winter, a
dazzling surface-of purest snow; in early summer, a vast expanse of grass
and pale pink roses; in autumn too often a-wild sea of raging-fire. No
ocean of water in the world can vie with its gorgeous sunsets;--no
solitude can equal the loneliness of a night-shadowed prairie: one feels
the stillness, and hears the silence, the wail of the prowling wolf
makes the voice of solitude audible, the stars look down through infinite
silence upon a silence almost as intense. This ocean has no past--time
has been nought to it; and men have come and gone, leaving behind them
no track, no vestige, of their presence. Some French writer, speaking of
these prairies, has said that the sense of this utter negation of life,
this complete absence of history, has struck him with a loneliness
oppressive and sometimes terrible in its intensity. Perhaps so; but, for
my part, the prairies had nothing terrible in their aspect, nothing
oppressive in their loneliness. One saw here the world as it had taken
shape and form from the hands of the Creator. Nor did the scene look less
beautiful because nature alone tilled the earth, and the unaided sun
brought forth the flowers.

October had reached its latest week: the wild geese and swans had taken
their long flight to the south, and their wailing cry no more descended
through the darkness; ice had settled upon the quiet pools and was
settling upon the quick-running streams; the horizon glowed at night with
the red light of moving prairie fires. It was the close of the Indian
summer, 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 towards
the West. The night was cold and moonless, but a brilliant aurora flashed
and trembled in many-coloured shafts across the starry sky. Behind me lay
friends and news of friends, civilization, tidings of a terrible war,
firesides, and houses; before me lay unknown savage tribes, long days of
saddle-travel, long nights of chilling bivouac, silence, separation, and
space!

I had as a companion for a portion of the journey an officer of the
Hudson Bay Company's service who was returning to his fort in the
Saskatchewan, from whence he had but recently come. As attendant I had a
French half-breed from Red River Settlement--a tall, active fellow, by
name Pierre Diome. My means of travel consisted of five horses and one
Red 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 well
found in blankets, deer-skins, and moccassins; all the appliances of
half-breed apparel had been brought into play to fit me out, and I found
myself possessed of ample stores of leggings, buffalo "mittaines" and
capots, where with to face the biting breeze of the prairie and to stand
at night the icy bivouac. So much for personal costume; now for official
kit. 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 in
the Saskatchewan the rank and status of Justice of the Peace; and in the
second I was appointed to that rank and status myself. As to the matter
of extent of jurisdiction comprehended under the name of Justice of the
Peace for Rupert's Land and the North-west, I believe that the only
parallel to be found in the world exists under the title of "Czar of all
the Russias" and "Khan of Mongolia;" but the northern limit of all the
Russias has been successfully arrived at, whereas the North-west is but a
general term for every thing between the 49th parallel of north latitude
and the North-Pole itself. But documentary evidence of unlimited
jurisdiction over Blackfeet, Bloods, Big Bellies (how much better this
name sounds in French!), Sircies, Peagins, Assineboines, Crees,
uskegoes, Salteaux, Chipwayans, Loucheaux, and Dogribs, not including
Esquimaux, was not the only cartulary carried by me into the prairies. A
terrible disease had swept, for some months previous to the date of my
journey, the Indian tribes of Saskatchewan. Small-pox, in its most
aggravated type, had passed from tribe to tribe, leaving in its track
depopulated wigwams and vacant council-lodges; thousands (and there are
not many thousands, all told) had perished on the great sandy plains that
lie between the Saskatchewan and the Missouri. Why this most terrible of
diseases should prey with especial fury upon the poor red man of America
has never been accounted for by, medical authority; but that it does prey
upon him with a violence nowhere else to be found is an undoubted fact.
Of all the fatal methods of destroying the Indians which his white
brother has introduced into the West, this plague of small-pox is the
most deadly. The history of its annihilating progress is written in too
legible characters on the desolate expanses of untenanted wilds, where
the Indian graves are the sole traces of the red man's former domination.
Beneath this awful scourge whole tribes have disappeared the bravest and
the best have vanished, because their bravery forbade that they should
flee from the terrible infection, and, like soldiers in some square
plunged through and rent with shot, the survivors only closed more
despairingly together when the death-stroke fell heaviest among them.
They knew nothing of this terrible disease; it had come from the white
man 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 men
who carried the firewater had crossed the Mississippi. For eighty years
these vast regions had known at intervals the deadly presence of this
disease, and through that lapse of time its history had been ever the
same. It had commenced in the trading camp; but the white man had
remained comparatively secure, while his red brothers were swept away by
hundreds. Then it had travelled on, and every thing had gone down before
it-the chief and the brave, the medicine-man, the squaw, the papoose. The
camp moved away; but the dread disease clung to it--dogged it--with a
perseverance more deadly than hostile tribe or prowling war-party; and
far over the plains the track was marked with the unburied bodies and
bleaching bones of the wild warriors of the West.

The summer which had just passed had witnessed one of the deadliest
attacks of this disease. It had swept from the Missouri through the
Blackfeet 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 of
death. Carlton House, a fort of the Hudson Bay Company, 600 miles
north-west from Red River, had been attacked in August. Late in September
the disease still raged among its few inhabitants. From farther west
tidings had also come bearing the same message of disaster. Crees,
half-breeds, and even the few Europeans had been attacked; all medicines
had been expended, and the officer in charge at Carlton had perished of
the disease.

"You are to ascertain as far as you can in what places and among what
tribes of Indians, and what settlements of Whites, the small-pox is now
prevailing, including the extent of its ravages, and every particular you
can 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 be
deemed by the Board of Health here suitable and proper for the treatment
of small-pox, and you will obtain written instructions for the proper
treatment of the disease, and will leave a copy thereof with the chief
officer of each fort you pass, and with any clergyman or other
intelligent person belonging to settlements outside the forts." So ran
this clause in my instructions, and thus it came about that amongst many
curious parts which a wandering life had caused me to play, that of
physician in ordinary to the Indian tribes of the farthest west became
the most original. The preparation of these medicines and the printing of
the instructions and directions for the treatment of small-pox had
consumed many days and occasioned considerable delay in my departure. At
length the medicines were declared complete, and I proceeded to inspect
them. Eight large cases met my astonished gaze. I was in despair; eight
cases would necessitate slow progression and extra horses; fortunately a
remedy arose. A medical officer was directed by the Board of Health to
visit the Saskatchewan; he was to start at a later date. I handed over to
him six of the eight cases, and with my two remaining ones and unlimited
printed directions for small-pox in three stages, departed, as we have
already seen. By forced marching I hoped to reach the distant station of
Edmonton on the Upper Saskatchewan in a little less than one month, but
much would depend upon the state of the larger rivers and upon the
snow-fall en route. The first week in November is usually the period of
the freezing in of rivers; but crossing large rivers partially frozen is
a dangerous work, and many such obstacles lay between me and the
mountains. If Edmonton was to be reached before the end of November
delays would not be possible, and the season of my journey was one which
made the question of rapid travel a question of the change of temperature
of 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 crossed
the Rat Creek, the boundary of the new province of Manitoba, and
struck out into the solitudes. The first sight was not a cheering
one. Close beside the trail, just where it ascended from the ravine
of the Rat Creek, stood a solitary newly-made grave. It was the grave
of one who had been left to die only a few days before. Thrown away
by his companions, who had passed on towards Red River, he had lingered
for three days all exposed to dew and frost. At length death had kindly
put an end to his sufferings, but three days more elapsed before any
person would approach to bury the remains. He had died from smallpox
brought from the Saskatchewan, and no one would go near the fatal spot. A
French missionary, however, passing by stopped to dig a hole in the
black, soft earth; and so the poor disfigured clay found at length its
lonely resting-place. That night we made our first camp out in the
solitudes. It was a dark, cold night, and the wind howled dismally
through some bare thickets close by. When the fire flickered low and the
wind wailed and sighed amongst the dry white grass, it was impossible to
resist a feeling of utter loneliness. A long journey lay before me,
nearly 3000 miles would have to be traversed before I could hope to reach
the neighbourhood of even this lonely spot itself, this last verge of
civilization; the terrific cold of a winter of which I had only heard, a
cold so intense that travel ceases, except in the vicinity of the forts
of the Hudson Bay Company-a cold which freezes mercury, and of which the
spirit registers 80 degrees of frost-this was to be the thought of many
nights, the ever-present companion of many days. Between this little
camp-fire and the giant mountains to which my steps were turned, there
stood in that long 1200 miles but six houses, and in these houses a
terrible 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 felt
as one who had to face not a few of those things from which is evolved
that strange mystery called death, and looking out into the vague dark
immensity around me, saw in it the gloomy shapes and shadowy outlines of
the by gone which memory hides but to produce at such times. Men whose
lot in life is cast in that mould which is so aptly described by the term
of "having only their wits to depend on," must accustom themselves to
fling aside quickly and at will all such thoughts and gloomy memories,
for assuredly, if they do not so habituate themselves, they had better
never try in life to race against those more favoured individuals who
have things other than their wits to rely upon. The Wit will prove but a
sorry steed unless its owner be ever ready to race it against those more
substantial horses called Wealth and Interest, and if in that race, the
prize of which is Success, Wit should have to carry its rider into
strange and uncouth places, over rough and broken country, while the
other two horses have only plain sailing before them, there is only all
the more reason for throwing aside all useless weight and extra
incumbrance; and, with these few digressive remarks, we will proceed into
the solitudes.

The days that now commenced to pass were filled from dawn to dark with
unceasing travel; clear, bright days of mellow sunshine followed by
nights of sharp frost which almost imperceptibly made stronger the icy
covering of the pools and carried farther and farther out into the
running streams the edging of ice which so soon was destined to cover
completely the river and the rill. Our route lay along the left bank of
the Assineboine, but at a considerable distance from the river, whose
winding course could be marked at times by the dark oak woods that
fringed it. Far away to the south rose the outline of the Blue Hills of
the Souris, and to the north the Riding Mountains lay faintly upon the
horizon. The country was no longer level, fine rolling hills stretched
away before us over which the wind came with a keenness that made our
prairie-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 looked
at it by the fire-light as we arose from our blankets-before the dawn and
shivered in the keen hoarfrost while the kettle was being boiled.
Perceptibly getting colder, but still clear and fine, and with every
Breeze laden with healthy and invigorating freshness, for four days we
journeyed without seeing man or beast; but on the morning of the fifth
day, while camped in a thicket on the right of the trail, we heard the
noise of horses passing near us. A few hours afterwards we passed a small
band of Salteaux encamped farther on; and later in the day overtook a
half-breed trader on his way to the Missouri to trade with the Sioux.
This was a celebrated &French half breed named Chaumon Rossette. Chaumon
had been undergoing a severe course of drink since he had left the
settlement some ten days earlier, and his haggard eyes and swollen
features revealed the incessant orgies of his travels. He had as
companion and defender a young Sioux brave, whose handsome face also bore
token 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 terrible
drunkard, but tolerated for some stray tokens of a better nature which
seemed at times to belong to him. When we came up to him he was camped
with his horses and carts on a piece of rising ground situated between
two 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 I
drink 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 or
semi-wild man possesses. There is nothing so terrible to the savage as
the idea of imprisonment; the wilder the bird the harder he will feel the
cage. The next thing to imprisonment in Chaumon's mind was a Government
proclamation--a thing all the more terrible because he could not read a
line of it nor comprehend what it could be about. Chaumon's face was a
study when I handed him three different proclamations and one copy of
"The Small-pox in Three Stages." Whether he ever reached the Coteau and
his friends the Sioux I don't know, for I soon passed on my way; but if
that 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 upon
Chaumon, that he was doing something very reprehensible indeed, if he
could only find out what it was, abject terror must have been carried far
over the Coteau and the authority of the law fully vindicated along the
Missouri.

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







CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

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

IT may have occurred to some reader to ask, What is this company whose
name so often appears upon these pages? Who are the men composing it, and
what are the objects it has in view? You have glanced at its early
history, its rivalries, and its discoveries, but now, now at this present
time, while our giant rush of life roars and surges along, what is the
work 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 the
impecuniosity of Charles II. gave birth to, the Hudson Bay Company alone
survives, but to-day the monopoly is one of fact, and not of law. All men
are now free to come and go, to trade and sell and gather furs in the
great Northern territory, but distance and climate raise more formidable
barriers against strangers than law or protection could devise. Bold
would be the trader who would carry his goods to the far away Mackenzie
River; intrepid would be the voyageur who sought a profit from the lonely
shores of the great Bear Lake. Locked in their fastnesses of ice and
distance, these remote and friendless solitudes of the North must long
remain, as they are at present, the great fur preserve of the Hudson Bay
Company. Dwellers within the limits of European states can ill comprehend
the vastness of territory over which this Fur Company holds sway. I say
holds sway, for the north of North America is still as much in the
possession of the Company, despite all cession of title to Canada, as
Crusoe was the monarch of his island, or the man must be the owner of the
moon. From Pembina on Red River to Fort Anderson on the Mackenzie is as
great a distance as from London to Mecca. From the King's Posts to the
Pelly Banks is farther than from Paris to Samarcand, and yet today
throughout that immense region the Company is king. And what a king! no
monarch rules his subjects with half the power of this Fur Company. It
clothes, feeds, and utterly maintains nine-tenths of its subjects. From
the Esquimaux at Ungava to the Loucheaux at Fort Simpson, all live by and
through this London Corporation. The earth possesses not a wilder spot
than the barren grounds of Fort Providence; around lie the desolate
shores of the great_ Slave Lake. _Twice in the year news comes from the
outside world-news many, many months old--news borne by men and dogs
through 2000 miles of snow; and yet even there the gun that brings down
the moose and the musk-ox has been forged in a London smithy; the blanket
that covers the wild Indian in his cold camp has been woven in a Whitney
loom; that knife is from Sheffield; that string of beads from Birmingham.
Let us follow the ships that sail annually from the Thames bound for the
supply of this vast region. It is early in June when she gets clear of
the 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 end
of the month has been reached when the ship comes to anchor off the
sand-barred mouth of the Nelson River. For one year-the stores that she has
brought lie in the warehouses of York factory; twelve months later they
reach Red River; twelve months later again they reach Fort Simpson on the
Mackenzie. That rough flint-gun, which might have done duty in the days
of the Stuarts, is worth many a rich sable in the country of the Dogribs
and the Loucheaux, and is bartered for skins whose value can be rated at
four times their weight in gold; but the gun on the banks of the Thames
and the gun in the pine woods of the Mackenzie are two widely different
articles. The old rough flint, whose bent barrel the Indians will often
straighten between the cleft of a tree or the crevice of a rock, has been
made precious by the labour of many men; by the trackless wastes through
which 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 and
the return of that skin of sable or silver-fox for which it has been
bartered. They are short-sighted men who hold that because the flint-gun
and the sable possess such different values in London, these articles
should also possess their relative values in North America, and argue
from this that the Hudson Bay Company treat the Indians unfairly; they
are short-sighted men, I say, and know not of what they speak. That old
rough flint has often cost more to put in the hands of that Dogrib hunter
than the best finished central fire of Boss or Purdey. But that is not
all that has to be said about the trade of this Company. Free trade may
be an admirable institution for some nations-making them, amongst other
things, very-much more liable to national destruction; but it by no means
follows that it should be adapted equally well to the savage Indian.
Unfortunately for the universality of British institutions, free trade
has invariably been found to improve the red man from the face of the
earth. 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 dears
and their four corollaries ought not to be associated with free trade, an
institution which is so pre-eminently pure; I only answer that these
things have ever been associated with free trade in furs, and I see no
reason whatever to behold in our present day amongst traders, Indian, or,
for that matter, English, any very remarkable reformation in the
principles of trade. Now the Hudson Bay Company are in the position of
men who have taken a valuable shooting for a very long term of years or
for a perpetuity,-and who therefore are desirous of preserving for a
future time the game which they hunt, and also of preserving the hunters
and trappers who are their servants. The free trader is as a man who
takes his shooting for the term of a year or two and wishes to destroy
all 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 get
them, then he shan't. Hunt, hunt, hunt, kill, kill, kill; next year may
take care of itself." One word more. Other companies and other means have
been tried to carry on the Indian trade and to protect the interests of
the Indians, but all have failed; from Texas to the Saskatchewan there
has been but one result, and that result has been the destruction of the
wild animals and the extinction, partial or total, of the Indian race.

I remained only long enough at Fort Ellice to complete a few changes in
costume which the rapidly increasing cold rendered necessary. Boots and
hat were finally discarded, the stirrup-irons were rolled in strips of
buffalo skin,-the large moose-skin "mittaines" taken into wear, and
immense moccassins got ready. These precautions were necessary, for
before us there now lay a great open region with treeless expanses that
were sixty miles across them-a vast tract of rolling hill and plain over
which, 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, my
little party turned once more towards the North-west and, fording the
Qu'Appelle five miles above its confluence with the Assineboine, struck
out into a lovely country. It was the last day of October and almost the
last of the Indian summer. Clear and distinct lay the blue sky upon the
quiet sun-lit prairie. The horses trotted briskly on under the charge of
an English half-breed named Daniel. Pierre Diome had returned to Red
River, and Daniel was to bear me company as far as Carlton on the North
Saskatchewan. My five horses were now beginning to show the effect of
their incessant work, but it was only in appearance, and the distance
travelled each day was increased instead of diminished as we journeyed
on. I would not have believed it possible that horses could travel the
daily distance which mine did without breaking down altogether under it,
still less would it have appeared possible upon the food which they had
to eat. We had neither hay nor oats to give them; there was nothing-but
the dry grass of the prairie, and no time to eat that but the cold frosty
hours of the night. Still we seldom travelled less than fifty miles
a-day, stopping only for one hour at midday, and going on again until
night began to wrap her mantle around the shivering prairie. My horse was
a wonderful animal; day after day would I fear that his game little limbs
were growing weary, and that soon he must give out; but no, not a bit of
it; his black coat roughened and his flanks grew a little leaner, but
still he went on as gamely and as pluckily as ever. Often during the long
day I would dismount and walk along leading him by the bridle, while the
other two men and the six horses jogged on far in advance; when they had
disappeared altogether behind some distant ridge of the prairie my little
horse would commence to look anxiously around, whinnying and trying to
get along after his comrades; and then how gamely he trotted on when I
remounted, watching out for the first sign of his friends again, far-away
little specks on the great wilds before us. When the camping place would
be reached at nightfall the first care went to the horse. To remove
saddle, bridle, and saddle-cloth, to untie the strip of soft buffalo
leather from his neck and twist it well around his fore-legs, for the
purpose of hobbling, was the work of only a few minutes, and then poor
Blackie hobbled away to find over the darkening expanse his night's
provender. Before our own supper of pemmican, half-baked bread, and tea
had been discussed, we always drove the band of horses down to some
frozen lake hard-by, and Daniel cut with the axe little drinking holes in
the ever-thickening ice; then up would bubble the water and down went the
heads-of the thirsty horses for a long pull at the too often bitter
spring, for in this region between the Assineboine and the South
Saskatchewan fully half the lakes and pools that lie scattered about
in-vast variety are harsh with salt and alkalis. Three horses always
ran loose while the other three worked in harness. These loose horses,
one might imagine, would be prone to gallop away when they found
themselves at liberty to do so: but nothing seems farther from their
thoughts; they trot along by the side of their harnessed comrades
apparently as though they knew all about it now and again they stop
behind, 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 ears
thrown back, the jog-trot is resumed, and the whole band sweeps on over
hill 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 stirs
while the hot harness is being put upon him; in he goes into the rough
shafts, 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 so
well 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 will
let him run loose;" but when to-morrow came he used to look so fresh and
well, carrying his little head as high as ever, that again I put the
saddle on his back, and another day's talk and companionship would still
further cement our friendship, for I grew to like that horse as one only
can like the poor dumb beast that serves us. I know not how it is, but
horse and dog have worn themselves into my heart as few men have ever
done in life and now, as day by day went by in one long scene of true
companionship, I came to feel for little Blackie a friendship not the
less sincere because all the service was upon his side, and I was
powerless to make his supper a better one, or give him more cosy lodging
for the night. He fed and lodged himself and he carried me--all he asks
in 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 open
treeless plain, without shelter, water, or grass, and then we would
continue on in the inky darkness as though our march was to last
eternally, and poor Blackie would step out as if his natural state was
one 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 bare
willows, the snow was lying cold upon the prairies, and Blackie and his
comrades went out to shiver through their supper in the bleakest scene my
eyes had ever looked upon.

About midway between Fort Ellice and Carlton a sudden and well-defined
change 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 and
vetches. Beautiful hills swell in slopes more or less abrupt on all
sides, while lakes fringed with thickets and clumps of good-sized poplar
balsam lie lapped in their fertile hollows.

This region bears the name of the Touchwood Hills. Around it, far into
endless space, stretch immense plains of bare and scanty vegetation,
plains seared with the tracks of countless buffalo which, until a few
years ago, were wont to roam in vast herds between the Assineboine and
the Saskatchewan. Upon whatever side the eye turns when crossing these
great expanses, the same wrecks of the monarch of the prairie lie
thickly strewn over the surface. Hundreds of thousands of skeletons dot
the short scant grass; and when fire has laid barer still the level
surface, the bleached ribs and skulls of long-killed bison whiten far and
near the dark burnt prairie. There is something unspeakably melancholy in
the aspect of this portion of the North-west. From one of the westward
jutting spurs of the Touchwood Hills the eye sees far away over an
immense plain; the sun goes down, and as he sinks upon the earth the
straight line of the horizon becomes visible for a moment across this
blood red disc, but so distant, so far away, that it seems dream like in
its immensity. There is not a sound in the air or on the earth; on every
side lie spread the relics of the great fight waged by man against the
brute creation: all is silent and deserted--the Indian and the buffalo
gone, 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 vast
prairie begins to grow dim, and darkness forsakes the skies because they
light their stars, coming down to seek in the utter solitude of the
blackened plains a kindred spirit for the night.

On the night of the 4th November we made our camp long after dark in a
little clump of willows far out in the plain which lies west of the
Touchwood Hills. We had missed the only lake that was known to lie in
this part of the plain, and after journeying far in the darkness halted
at length, determined to go supperless, or next to supperless, to bed,
for pemmican without that cup which nowhere tastes more delicious than in
the wilds of the North-west would prove but sorry comfort, and the supper
without tea would be only a delusion. The fire was made, the frying-pan
taken out, the bag of dried buffalo meat and the block of pemmican got
ready, but we said little in the presence of such a loss as the steaming
kettle and the hot, delicious, fragrant tea. Why not have provided
against this evil hour by bringing on from the last frozen lake some
blocks of ice? Alas! why not? Moodily we sat down round the blazing
willows. Meantime Daniel commenced to unroll the oil cloth cart cover-and
lo, in the ruddy glare of the fire, out rolled three or four large pieces
of thick, heavy ice, sufficient to fill our kettle three times over with
delicious tea. Oh, what a joy it was! and how we relished that cup! for
remember, cynical friend who may be inclined to hold such happiness
cheap and light, that this wild life of ours is a curious leveller of
civilized habits--a cup of water to a thirsty man can be more valuable
than a cup of diamonds, and the value of one article over the other is
only the question of a few hours privation. When the morning of the. 5th
dawned we were covered deep in snow, a storm had burst in the night, and
all around was hidden in a dense sheet of driving snow-flakes; not a
vestige of our horses was to be seen, their tracks were obliterated by
the fast-falling snow, and the surrounding objects close at hand showed
dim and indistinct through the white cloud. After fruitless search,
Daniel returned to camp with the tidings that the horses were nowhere to
be found; so, when breakfast had been finished, all three set out in
separate directions to look again for the missing steeds. Keeping the
snow-storm on my left shoulder, I went along through little clumps of
stunted bushes which frequently deceived me by their resemblance through
the driving snow to horses grouped together. After awhile I bent round
towards the wind and, making a long sweep in that direction, bent again
so as to bring the drift upon my right shoulder. No horses, no tracks,
any where--nothing but a waste of white drifting flake and feathery
snow-spray. At last I turned away from the wind, and soon struck full on
our little camp; neither of the others had returned. I cut down some
willows 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; and
Daniel soon emerged from the mist, driving before him the hobbled
wanderers; they had been hidden under the lea of a thicket some distance
off, all clustered together for shelter and warmth. Our only difficulty
was now the absence of my friend the Hudson Bay officer. We waited some
time, and at length, putting the saddle on Blackie, I started out in the
direction he had taken. Soon I heard a faint far-away shout; riding
quickly in the direction from whence it proceeded, I heard the calls
getting louder and louder, and soon came up with a figure heading right
away into the immense plain, going altogether in a direction opposite to
where our camp lay. I shouted, and back came my friend no little pleased
to find his road again, for a snowstorm is no easy thing to steer
through, and at times it will even fall out that not the Indian with all
his craft and instinct for direction will be able to find his way through
its blinding maze. Woe betide the wretched man who at such a time finds
himself 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 a
more pitiable strait. During the greater portion of this day it snowed
hard, but our track was distinctly-marked across the plains, and we held
on all day. I still rode Blackie; the little fellow had to keep his wits
at work to avoid tumbling into the badger holes which the snow soon
rendered invisible. These badger holes in this portion of the plains were
very numerous; it is not always easy to avoid them when the ground is
clear of snow, but riding becomes extremely difficult when once the
winter has set in. The badger burrows straight down for two or three
feet, and if a horse be travelling at any pace his fall is so sudden and
violent that a broken leg is too often the result. Once or twice Blackie
went in nearly to the shoulder, but he invariably scrambled up again all
right-poor fellow, he was reserved for a worse fate, and his long journey
was near its end! A clear cold day followed the day of snow, and for the
first time the thermometer fell below zero.

Day dawned upon us on the 6th November camped in a little thicket of
poplars some seventy miles from the South Saskatchewan; the thermometer
stood 30 below zero, and as I drew the girths tight on poor Blackie's
ribs that morning, I felt happy in the thought that I had slept for the
first time under the stars with 35 degrees of frost lying on the blanket
outside. Another long day's ride, and the last great treeless plain was
crossed and evening found us camped near the Minitchinass, or Solitary
Hill, some sixteen miles south-east of the South Saskatchewan. The grass
again grew long and thick, the clumps of willow, poplar, and birch had
reappeared, and the soil, when we scraped the snow away to make our
sleeping place, turned up black and rich-looking under the blows of the
axe. About midday on the 7th November, in a driving storm of snow, we
suddenly emerged upon a high plateau. Before us, at a little distance, a
great gap or valley seemed to open suddenly out, and farther off the
white sides of hills and dark tree-tops rose into view. Riding to the
edge of this steep valley I beheld a magnificent river flowing between
great 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 in
the centre, between these banks of ice, ran a swift, black-looking
current the sight of which for a moment filled us with dismay. We had
counted upon the Saskatchewan being firmly locked in ice, and here was
the 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 difficulties
before us. The ice, as it approached the open portion, was unsafe,
rendering it impossible to get within reach of the running water.` An
interval of some ten yards separated the sound ice from the current,
while nearly 100 yards of solid ice lay between the true bank of the
river and the dangerous portion; thus our first labour was to make a
solid footing for ourselves from which to launch any raft or make-shift
boat which we might construct. After a great deal of trouble and labour,
we got the waggon-box roughly fashioned into a raft, covered over with
one of our large oil-cloths, and Lashed together with buffalo leather.
This most primitive looking craft we carried down over the ice to where
the dangerous portion commenced; then Daniel,-wielding the axe with
powerful dexterity, began to hew away at the ice until space enough was
opened 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 floated
admirably, and on went the axe-man, hewing, as before, with might and
main. It was cold, wet work, and, in spite of every thing, the water
began to ooze through the oil-cloth into the waggon-box. We had to haul
it 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 on
the tree-lined shore. So we hauled in the wagon and retired, baffled, but
not beaten, to begin again next morning. There were many reasons to make
this delay feel vexatious and disappointing; we had travelled a distance
of 560 miles in twelve days; travelled only to find ourselves stopped by
this partially frozen river at a point twenty miles distant from Carlton,
the first great station on my journey. Our stock of provisions, too, was
not such as would admit of much delay; pemmican and dried meat we had
none, and flour, tea, and grease were all that remained to us. However,
Daniel declared that he knew a most excellent method of making a
combination of flour and fat which Would allay all disappointment-and I
must conscientiously admit that a more hunger-satiating mixture than he
produced 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 find
a parallel for it in portability; in fact, it went such a long way, that
the person who dined off it found himself, by common reciprocity of
feeling, 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 our
united shares, and slept peacefully when it was all gone. I would
particularly recommend this mixture to the consideration of the guardians
of the poor throughout the United Kingdom, as I know of nothing which
would 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 island
any condiment so antidotal in its nature to the removal of the Celt
across the Atlantic--that "consummation so devoutly wished for" by the
"leading journal."

Fortified by Daniel's delicacy, we set to work early next morning at
raft-making and ice-cutting; but we made the attempt to cross at a
portion of the river where the open water was narrower and the bordering
ice sounded more firm to the testing blows of the axe. One part of the
river 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 all
the available line and rope we possessed, prepared for the venture. It
was found that the waggon-boat would only carry one passenger, and
accordingly I took my place in it, and with a make-shift paddle put out
into the quick-running stream. The current had great power over the
ill-shaped craft, and it was no easy-matter to keep her head at all
against stream.

I had not got five yards out when the whole thing commenced to fill
rapidly with water, and I had just time to get back again to ice before
she was quite full. We hauled her out once more, and found the oil-cloth
had been cut by the jagged ice, so there was nothing for it but to remove
it altogether and put on another. This was done, and soon our waggon-box
was once again afloat. This time I reached in safety the farther side;
but there a difficulty arose which we had not foreseen. Along this
farther edge of ice the current ran with great force, and as the leather
line which was attached to the back of the boat sank deeper and deeper
into the water, the drag upon it caused the boat to drift quicker and
quicker downstream; thus, when I touched the opposite ice, I found the
drift was so rapid that my axe failed to catch a hold in the yielding
edge, which broke away at every stroke. After several ineffectual
attempts to stay the rush of the boat, and as I was being borne rapidly
into 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 easy
matter, because the rope had got foul of the running ice, and was caught
underneath. At last, by careful handling, it was freed, and I stood once
more on the spot from whence I had started, having crossed the River
Saskatchevan to no purpose. Daniel now essayed the task, and reached the
opposite shore, taking the precaution to work up the nearer side before
crossing; once over, his vigorous use of the axe told on the ice, and he
succeeded in fixing the boat against the edge. Then lhe quickly clove his
way into the frozen mass, and, by repeated blows, finally reached a spot
from which he got on shore.

This success of our long labour and exertion was announced to the
solitude by three ringing cheers, which we gave from our side; for, be
it remembered, that it was now our intention to use the waggon-boat to
convey across all our baggage, towing the boat from one side to the other
by means of our line; after which, we would force the horses to swim the
river, and then cross ourselves in the boat. But all our plans were
defeated by an unlooked-for accident; the line lay deep in the water, as
before, and to raise it required no small amount of force. We hauled and
hauled, until snap went the long rope somewhere underneath the water, and
all was over. With no little difficulty Daniel got the boat across again
to our side, and we all went back to camp wet, tired, and dispirited by
so much labour and so many misfortunes. It froze hard that night, and in
the morning the great river had its waters altogether hidden opposite our
camp by a covering of ice. Would it bear? that was the question. We went
on it early, testing with axe and sharp-pointed poles. In places it was
very thin, but in other parts it rang hard and solid to the blows. The
dangerous spot was in the very centre of the river, where the water had
shown through in round holes on the previous day, but we hoped to avoid
these bad places by taking a slanting course across the channel. After
walking backwards and forwards several times, we determined to try a
light horse. He was led out with a long piece of rope attached to his
neck. In the centre of the stream the ice seemed to bend slightly as he
passed over, but no break occurred, and in safety we reached the opposite
side. Now came Blackie's turn. Somehow or other I felt uncomfortable
about it and remarked that the horse ought to have his shoes removed
before the attempt was made. My companion, however, demurred, and his
experience in these matters had extended over so many years, that I was
foolishly induced to allow him to proceed as he thought fit, even against
my better judgment. Blackie was taken out, led as before, tied by a long
line. I followed close behind him, to drive him if necessary. He did not
need much driving, but took the ice quite readily. We had got to the
centre of the river, when the surface suddenly bent downwards, and, to my
horror, the poor horse plunged deep into black, quick-running water! He
was not three yards in front of me when the ice broke. I recoiled
involuntarily from the black, seething chasm; the horse, though he
plunged suddenly down, never let his head under water, but kept swimming
manfully round and round the narrow hole, trying all he could to get
upon the ice. All his efforts were useless; a cruel wall of sharp ice
struck his knees as he tried to lift them on the surface, and the
current, running with immense velocity, repeatedly carried him back
underneath. As soon as the horse had broken through, the man who held
the rope let it go, and the leather line flew back about poor Blackie's
head. I got up almost to the edge of the hole, and stretching out took
hold of the line again; but that could do no good nor give him any
assistance in his struggles. I shall never forget the way the poor brute
looked at me--even now, as I write these lines, the whole scene comes
back in memory with all the vividness of a picture, and I feel again the
horrible sensation of being utterly unable, though almost within touching
distance, to give him help in his dire extremity and if ever dumb animal
spoke with unutterable eloquence, that horse called to me in his agony he
turned to me as to one from whom he had a right to expect assistance. I
could not stand the scene any longer. "Is there no help for him?" I cried
to 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 struggled
against his fate. As I raised the rifle he looked at me so imploringly
that my hand shook and trembled. Another instant, and the deadly bullet
crashed through his head, and, with one look never to be forgotten, he
went 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 the
snow, cried like a child. With my own hand I had taken my poor friend's
life; but if there should exist somewhere in the regions of space that
happy Indian paradise where horses are never hungry and never tired,
Blackie, at least, will forgive the hand that sent him there, if he can
but see the heart that long regretted him.

Leaving Daniel in charge of the remaining horses, we crossed on foot the
fatal river, and with a single horse set out for Carlton. From the high
north bank I took one last look back at the South Saskatchewan-it lay in
its broad deep valley glittering in one great band of purest 'snow; but I
loathed the sight of it, while the small round open hole, dwarfed to a
speck by distance, marked the spot where my poor horse had found his
grave, after having carried me so faithfully through the long lonely
wilds. 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 Cree
Indian 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. In
a little while a party of horsemen hove in sight: they had come out from
the fort to visit the South Branch, and amongst them was the Hudson Bay
officer in charge of the station. Our first question had reference to the
plague. Like a fire, it had burned itself out. There was no case then in
the fort, but out of the little garrison of some sixty souls no fewer
than thirty-two had perished! Four only had recovered of the thirty-six
who had taken the terrible infection.

We halted for dinner by the edge of the Duck Lake; midway between the
North and South Branches of the Saskatchewan. It was a rich, beautiful
country, although the snow lay some inches deep. Clumps of trees dotted
the undulating surface, and lakelets glittering in the bright sunshine
spread out in sheets of dazzling whiteness. The Starving Bull set himself
busily to work preparing our dinner. What it would have been under
ordinary circumstances, I cannot state; but, unfortunately for its
success on the present occasion, its preparation was attended with
unusual drawbacks. Starving Bull had succeeded in killing a skunk during
his journey. This performance, while highly creditable to his energy as a
hunter, was by no means conducive to his success, as a cook. Bitterly did
that skunk revente himself upon us who had borne no part in his
destruction. Pemmican is at no time a delicacy; but pemmican flavoured
with skunk was more than I could attempt. However, Starving Bull proved
himself worthy of his name, and the frying-pan was-soon scraped clean
under his hungry manipulations.

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





CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

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

Two things strike the new-comer at Carlton. First, he sees evidences on
every side of a rich and fertile country; and, secondly, he sees by many
signs that war is the normal condition of the wild men who have pitched
their tents in the land of the Saskatchewan that land from which we have
taken the Indian prefix Kis, without much improvement of length or
euphony. 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 lands
whose surface yields back to man, in manifold, the toil of his brain and
hand. Its boundaries are of the simplest description, and it is as well
to begin with them. It has on the north a huge forest, on the west a huge
mountain, 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 to
150 miles, and from the marsh to the mountain, 800 miles of land lie
spread in every varying phase of undulating fertility. This is the
Fertile Belt, the land of the Saskatchewan, the winter home of the
buffalo, the war country of the Crees and Blackfeet, the future home of
millions yet unborn. Few men have looked on this land-but the thoughts of
many in the New World tend towards it, and crave for description and fact
which 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 is
too cold, it is too dry--it is too beautiful; and, in reality, what is
it? I answer in a few words. It is rich; it is fertile; it is fair to the
eye. Man lives long in it, and the children of his body are cast in manly
mould. The cold of winter is intense, the strongest heat of summer is not
excessive. The autumn days are bright and-beautiful; the snow is seldom
deep, 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; timber
is 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 in
mid-November and open in mid-April. The lakes teem with fish; and such
fish! fit for the table of a prince, but disdained at the feast of the
Indian. The river-heads lie all in a forest region; and it is midsummer
when their water has reached its highest level. Through the land the red
man stalks; war, his unceasing toil--horse-raiding, the pastime of his
life. How long has the Indian thus warred?-since he has been known to the
white man, and long before.

In 1776 the earliest English voyager in these regions speaks of war
between the Assineboines and their trouble some western neighbours, the
Snake and Blackfeet Indians. But war was older than the era of the
earliest white man, older probably than the Indian himself; for, from
what ever branch of the human race this stock is sprung, the lesson of
warfare 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, in
the Saskatchewan or in Sweden, in Bundelond or in Bulgaria, fighting is
just the one universal "touch of nature which makes the whole world
kin."

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

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 worship
the Manitou; but what is the news we hear from the traders and the
black-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; the
French, and all the other tribes are fighting too! My brother, it is
news of war, always news of war! and we--we go on the war-path in small
numbers. 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 of
your 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, for
what is right for the white man cannot be wrong in his red brother. I
have done!"

During the seven days which I remained at Carlton the winter was not
idle. It snowed and froze, and looked dreary enough within the darkening
walls of the fort. A French missionary had come down from the northern
lake of Isle-à-la-Crosse, but, unlike his brethren, he appeared shy and
uncommunicative. Two of the stories which he related, however, deserve
record. One was a singular magnetic storm which took place at
Isle-à-la-Crosse during the preceding winter. A party of Indians and
half-breeds were crossing the lake on the ice when suddenly their hair
stood up on end; the hair of the dogs also turned the wrong way, and the
blankets belonging to the part even evinced signs of acting, in an
upright manner. I will not pretend to account for this phenomenon, but
merely tell it as the worthy père told it to me, and I shall rest
perfectly satisfied if my readers hair does not follow the example of
the Indians dogs and blankets and proceed generally after the manner of
the "frightful porcupine." The other tale told by the père was of a more
tragical nature. During a storm in the prairies near the South Branch of
the Saskatchewan a rain of fire suddenly descended upon a camp of Cree
Indians and burned everything around. Thirty-two Crees perished in the
flames; the ground was burned deeply for a considerable distance, and
only one or two of the party who happened to stand close to a lake were
saved by throwing themselves into the water. "It was," said my informant,
"not a flash of lightning, but a rain of fire which descended for some
moments."

The increasing severity of the frost hardened into a solid mass the
surface of the Saskatchewan, and on the morning of the 14th November we
set out again upon our Western journey. The North Saskatchewan which I
now crossed for the first time, is a river 400 yards in width, lying
between banks descending steeply to a low alluvial valley. These outer
banks are some 200 feet in height, and in some by-gone age were doubtless
the boundaries of the majestic stream that then rolled between them. I
had now a new-band of horses numbering altogether nine head, but three of
them were wild brood mares that had never before been in harness, and
laughable was the scene that ensued at starting. The snow was now
sufficiently deep to prevent wheels running with ease, so we substituted
two small horse-sleds for the Red River cart, and into these sleds the
wild mares were put. At first they refused to move an inch--no, not an
inch; then came loud and prolonged thwacking from a motley assemblage of
Crees and half-breeds. Ropes, shanganappi, whips, and sticks were freely
used; then, like an arrow out of a bow, away went the mare; then suddenly
a dead stop, two or three plunges high in air, and down flat upon the
ground. Againthe thwacking, and again suddenly up starts the mare and off
like a rocket. Shanganappi harness is tough stuff and a broken sled is
easily set to rights, or else we would have been in a bad way. But for
all horses in the North-west there is the very simplest manner of
persuasion: if the horse lies down, lick him until he gets up; if he
stands up on his hind-legs, lick him until he reverts to his original
position; if he bucks, jibs, or kicks, lick him, lick him, lick him;
when you are tired of licking him, get another man to continue the
process; if you can use violent language in three different tongues so
much 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 Eagle
Hills. It was yet the dusk of the early morning, but as we climbed the
steep northern bank the sun was beginning to lift himself above the
horizon. Looking back, beneath lay the wide frozen river, and beyond the
solitary fort still wrapped in shade, the trees glistened pure and white
on the high-rolling bank beside me, and the untrodden snow stretched far
away 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 unbroken
snow filling the hollows of the ground beneath it. Fortunately, just at
camping-time we reached a hill-side whose grass and tangled vetches had
escaped the fire, and here we pitched our camp for the night. Around rose
hills whose sides were covered with the traces of fire-destroyed'
forests, and a lake lay close beside us, wrapped in ice and snow. A small
winter-station had been established by the Hudson Bay Company at a point
some ninety miles distant from Carlton, opposite the junction of the
Battle River with the North Saskatchewan. There, it was said, a large
camp of Crees had assembled, and to this post we were now directing our
steps.

On the morning of the second day out from Carlton, the guide showed
symptoms of haziness as to direction: he began to bend greatly to the
south, and at sunrise he ascended a high hill for the purpose of taking a
general survey of the surrounding country. From this hill the eye ranged
over a vast extent of landscape, and although the guide failed
altogether to correct his course, the hill-top yielded such a glorious
view of sun rising from a sea of snow into an ocean of pale green barred
with pink and crimson streaks, that I felt well repaid for the trouble of
the long ascent. When evening closed around us that day, I found myself
alone amidst a wild, weird scene. Far as the eye could reach in front and
to the right a boundless, treeless plain stretched into unseen distance;
to the left a range of steep hills rose abruptly from the plain; over all
the night was coming down. Long before sunset I had noticed a clump of
trees many miles ahead, and thought that in this solitary thicket we
would make our camp for the night. Hours passed away, and yet the
solitary clump seemed as distant as ever--nay, more, it even appeared to
grow smaller as I approached it. At last, just at dusk, I drew near the
wished for camping-place; but lo! it was nothing but a single bush. My
clump had vanished, my camping-place had gone, the mirage had been
playing tricks with the little bush and magnifying it into a grove of
aspens. When night fell there was no trace of camp or companions, but the
snow marks showed that I was still upon the right track. On again for two
hours in darkness often it was so dark that it was only by giving the
horse his head that he was able to smell out the hoofs of his comrades in
the partially covered grass of frozen swamp and moorland. No living thing
stirred, save now and then a prairie owl flitting through the gloom added
to the sombre desolation of the scene. At last the trail turned suddenly
towards a deep ravine to the left. Riding to the edge of this ravine, the
welcome glare of a fire glittering through a thick screen of bushes
struck my eye. The guide had hopelessly lost his way, and after thirteen
hours hard riding we were lucky to find this cosy nook in the
tree-sheltered valley. The Saskatchewan was close beside us, and the dark
ridges beyond were the Eagle Hills of the Battle River.

Early next forenoon we reached the camp of Crees and the winter post of
the Hudson Bay Company some distance above the confluence of the Battle
Riverwith the Saskatchewan. A wild scene of confusion followed our entry
into the camp; braves and squaws, dogs and papooses crowded round, and it
was difficult work to get to the door of the little shanty where the
Hudson Bay officer dwelt. Fortunately, there was no small-pox in this
crowded camp, although many traces of its effects were to be seen in the
seared and disfigured faces around, and in none more than my host, who
had been one of the four that had recovered at Carlton. He was a splendid
specimen of a half-breed, but his handsome face was awfully marked by the
terrible scourge. This assemblage of Crees was under the leadership of
Mistawassis, a man of small and slight stature, but whose bravery had
often been tested in fight against the Blackfeet. He was a man of quiet
and dignified manner, a good listener, a fluent speaker, as much at his
ease and as free from restraint as any lord in Christendom. He hears the
news I have to tell him through the interpreter, bending his head in
assent to every sentence; then he pauses a bit and speaks. "He wishes to
know 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 wish
for peace; it is only the young men, who want scalps and the soft words
of the squaws, who desire war." I tell him that "the Great Mother wishes
her red children to live at peace; but what is the use? do they not
themselves break the peace when it is made, and is not the war as often
commenced by the Crees as by the Blackfeet?" He says that "men have told
them that the white man was coming to take their lands, that the white
braves 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 the
red man, and to keep peace amongst all. So dear was the red man to the
heart of the chief whom the Great Mother had sent, that the sale of all
spirits had been stopped in the Indian country, and henceforth, when he
saw any trader bringing whisky or fire-water into the camp, he could tell
his 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 this
remark of approval had reference to the stoppage of the fire-water or to
the prospective seizure of liquor by his braves, I cannot say. Soon after
the departure of Mistawassis from the hut, a loud drumming outside was
suddenly struck up, and going to the door I found the young men had
assembled to dance the dance of welcome in my honour; they drummed and
danced in different stages of semi-nudity for some time, and at the
termination of the performance I gave an order for tobacco all round.
When the dancing-party had departed, a very garrulous Indian presented
himself, saying that he had been informed that the Ogima was possessed of
some "great medicines," and that he wished to see them. I have almost
forgotten to remark that my store of drugs and medicines had under gone
considerable delapidation from frost and fast travelling. An examination
held at Carlton into the contents of the two cases had revealed a sad
state of affairs. Frost had smashed many bottles; powders badly folded up
had fetched way in a deplorable manner; tinctures had proved their
capability for the work they had to perform by tincturing every thing
that came within their reach; hopeless confusion reigned in the
department of pills. A few glass-stoppered bottles had indeed resisted
the general demoralization; but, for the rest, it really seemed as though
blisters, pills, powders, scales, and disinfecting fluids had been wildly
bent upon blistering, pilling, powdering, weighing, and disinfecting one
another ever since they had left Fort Garry. I deposited at Carlton a
considerable quantity of a disinfecting fluid frozen solid, and as highly
garnished with pills as the exterior of that condiment known as a
chancellor's pudding is resplendent with raisins. Whether this
conglomerate really did disinfect the walls of Carlton I cannot state,
but from its appearance and general medicinal aspect I should say that no
disease, however virulent, had the slightest chance against it. Having
repacked the other things as safely as possible into one large box, I
still found that I was the possessor of medicine amply sufficient to
poison a very large extent of territory, and in particular I had a small
leather medicine-chest in which the glass-stoppered bottles had kept
intact. This chest I now produced for the benefit of my garrulous friend;
one very strong essence of smelling-salts particularly delighted him; the
more it burned his nostrils the more he laughed and hugged it, and after
a time declared that there could be no doubt whatever as to that article,
-for it was a very "great medicine" indeed.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

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

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

They are gone, and scarcely a trace remains of them. Others have left in
lake and mountain-top the record of their names. Erie and Ottawa, Seneca
and Cayuga tell of forgotten or almost forgotten nations which a century
ago were great and powerful. But never at any time since first the white
man was welcomed on the newly-discovered shores of the Western Continent
by his red brother, never has such disaster and destruction overtaken
these poor wild, wandering sons of nature as at the moment in which we
write. Of yore it was the pioneers of France, England, and Spain with
whom they had to contend, but now the whole white world is leagued in
bitter strife against the Indian. The American and Canadian are only
names that hide beneath them the greed of united Europe. Terrible deeds
have been wrought out in that western land; terrible heart-sickening
deeds of cruelty and rapacious infamy--have been, I say? no, are to this
day and hour, and never perhaps more sickening than now in the full blaze
of nineteenth-century civilization. If on the long line of the American
frontier, from the Gulf of Mexico to the British boundary, a Single life
is 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 United
States, but the reverse of the story we never know. The countless deeds
of perfidious robbery, of ruthless murder done by white savages out in
these Western wilds never find the light of day. The poor red man has no
telegraph, no newspaper, no type, to tell his sufferings and his woes. My
God, what a terrible tale could I not tell of these dark deeds done by
the white savage against the far nobler red man! From southernmost Texas
to most northern Montana there is but one universal remedy for Indian
difficulty--kill him. Let no man tell me that such is not the case. I
answer, I have heard it hundreds of times: "Never trust a redskin unless
he be dead." "Kill every buffalo you see," said a Yankee colonel to me
one day in Nebraska; "every buffalo dead is an Indiaan gone;" such
things are only trifles. Listen to this cute feat of a Montana trader. A
store-keeper in Helena City had some sugar stolen from him. He poisoned
the sugar next night and left his door open. In the morning six Indians
were found dead outside the town. That was a cute notion, I guess; and
yet there are other examples worse than that, but they are too revolting
to tell. Never mind; I suppose they have found record somewhere else if
not in this world, and in one shape or another they will speak in due
time. The Crees are perhaps the only tribe of prairie Indians who have as
yet suffered no injustice at the hands of the white man. The land is
still theirs, the hunting-rounds remain almost undisturbed; but their
days are numbered, and already the echo of the approaching wave of
Western immigration is sounding through the solitudes of the Cree
country.

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

This wild man who first welcomed the new-comer is the only perfect
socialist or communist in the world. He holds all things in common with
his 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 the
last bit the coveted food is shared by all. That war-party has taken one
hundred horses in the last raid into Blackfoot or Peagin territory; well,
the whole tribe are free to help themselves to the best and fleetest
steeds before the captors will touch one out of the band. There is but a
scrap of beaver, a thin rabbit, or a bit of sturgeon in the lodge; a
stranger comes, and he is hungry; give him his share and let him be first
served and best attended to. If one child starves in an Indian camp you
may know that in every lodge scarcity is universal and that every stomach
is hungry. Poor, poor fellow! his virtues are all his own; crimes he may
have, and plenty, but his noble traits spring from no book-learning, from
no school-craft, from the preaching of no pulpit; they come from the
instinct of good which the Great Spirit has taught him; they are the
whisperings from that lost world whose glorious shores beyond the
Mountains of the Setting Sun are the long dream of his life. The most
curious anomaly among the race of man, the red man of America, is passing
away beneath our eyes into the infinite solitude. The possession of the
same noble qualities which we affect to reverence among our nations makes
us kill him. If he would be as the African or the Asiatic it would be all
right for him; if he would be our slave he might live, but as he won't
be that, won't toil and delve and hew for us, and will persist in
hunting, fishing, and roaming over the beautiful prairie land which the
Great Spirit gave him; in a word, since he will be free we kill him. Why
do I call this wild child the great anomaly of the human race? I will
tell you. Alone amongst savage tribes he has learnt the lesson which the
great mother Nature teaches to her sons through the voices of the night,
the forest, and the solitude. This river, this mountain, this measureless
meadow speak to him in a language of their own. Dwelling with them, he
learns their varied tongues, and his speech becomes the echo of the
beauty that lies spread around him. Every name for lake or river, for
mountain or meadow, has its peculiar significance, and to tell the Indian
title of such things is generally to tell the nature of them also. Ossian
never spoke with the voice of the mist-shrouded mountain or the wave-beat
shores of the isles more thoroughly than does this chief of the Blackfeet
or the Sioux speak the voices of the things of earth and air amidst which
his wild life is cast.

I know that it is the fashion to hold in derision and mockery the idea
that nobility, poetry, or eloquence exist in the wild Indian. I know that
with that low brutality which has ever made the Anglo-Saxon race deny its
enemy the possession of one atom of generous sensibility, that dull
enmity which prompted us to paint the Maid of Orleans a harlot, and to
call Napoleon the Corsican robber--I know that that same instinct glories
in degrading the savage, whose chief crime is that he prefers death to
slavery; glories in painting him devoid of every trait of manhood, worthy
only to share the fate of the wild beast of the wilderness--to be shot
down mercilessly when seen. But those bright spirits who have redeemed
the America of to-day from the dreary waste of vulgar greed and ignorant
conceit which we in Europe have flung so heavily upon her; those men
whose writings have come back across the Atlantic, and have become as
household words among us--Irving, Cooper, Longfellow--have they not found
in 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 be
prone to drape with poetry every subject on which his fancy lighted, as
the sun turns to gold and crimson the dullest and the dreariest clouds:
but Search the books of travel amongst remote Indian tribes, from
Columbus to Catlin, from Charlevoix to Carver, from Bonneville to
Pallisser the story is ever the same. The traveller is welcomed and made
much of; he is free to come and go; the best food is set before him; the
lodge is made warm and bright; he is welcome to stay his lifetime if he
pleases. "I swear to your majesties," writes Columbus--alas! the red
man's greatest enemy--"I swear to your majesties that there is not in the
world a better people than these, more affectionate, affable, or mild."

"At this moment," writes an American officer only ten years back, "it is
certain a man can go about throughout the Blackfoot territory without
molestation, except in the contingency of being mistaken at night for an
Indian." No, they are-fast going, and soon they will be all gone, but in
after-times men will judge more justly the poor wild creatures whom
to-day we kill and vilify; men will go back again to those old books of
travel, or to those pages of "Hiawatha" and "Mohican," to find that far
away from the border-land of civilization the wild red man, if more of
the savage, was infinitely less of the brute than was the white ruffian
who destroyed him.

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

On the morning of the 18th we got away from our camping thicket of
poplars long before the break of day. There was no track to guide us, but
the 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 of
meteors across the North-western sky. I lagged so far behind to watch
them that when day broke I found myself alone, miles from the party. The
Cree kept the pace so well that it took me some hours before I again
Caught sight of them. After a hard ride of six-and-thirty miles, we
halted for dinner on the banks of English Creek. Close beside our
camping-place a large clump of spruce-pine stood in dull contrast to the
snowy surface. They looked like old friends to me--friends of the
Winnipeg and the now distant Lake of the Woods; for from Red River to
English Creek, a distance of 750 miles, I-had seen but a solitary
pine-tree. After a short dinner We resumed our rapid way, forcing the
pace with a view of making Fort Pitt by night-fall. A French half-breed
declared he knew a short cut across the hills of the Red Deer, a wild
rugged tract of country lying on the north of the Saskatchewan. Crossing
these hills, he said, we would strike the river at their farther side,
and then, passing over on the ice, cut the bend which the Saskatchewan
makes to the north, and, emerging again opposite Fort Pitt, finally
re-cross the river at that station. So much for the plan, and now for its
fulfilment.

We entered the region of the Red Deer Hills at about two o'clock in the
afternoon, and continued at a very rapid pace in a westerly direction for
three hours. As we proceeded the country became more broken, the hills
rising steeply from narrow V-shaped valleys, and the ground in many
places covered with fallen and decaying trees--the wrecks of fire and
tempest. Every where throughout this wild region lay the antlers and
heads of moose and elk; but, with the exception of an occasional large
jackass-rabbit, nothing living moved through the silent hills. The ground
was free from badger-holes; the day, though dark, was fine; and, with a
good horse under me, that two hours gallop over, the Red Deer Hills was
glorious work. It wanted yet an hour of sunset when we came suddenly upon
the Saskatchewan flowing in a deep narrow valley between steep and lofty
hills, which were bare of trees and bushes and clear of snow. A very wild
desolate scene it looked as I surveyed it from a projecting spur upon
whose summit I rested my blown horse. I was now far in advance of the
party who occupied a parallel ridge behind me. By signs they intimated
that our course now lay to the north; in fact, Daniel had steered very
much too ar south, and we had struck the Saskatchewan river a long,
distance below the intended place of crossing. Away we went again to the
north, soon losing sight of the party; but as I kept the river on my left
far below in the valley I knew they could not cross without my being
aware of it. Just before sun set they appeared again in sight, making
signs that they were about to descend into the valley and to cross the
river. The valley here was five hundred feet in depth, the slope being
one of the steepest I had ever seen. At the bottom of this steep descent
the Saskatchewan lay in its icy bed, a large majestic-looking river three
hundred yards in width. We crossed on the ice without accident, and
winding up the steep southern shore gained the level plateau above. The
sun was going down, right on our forward track. In the deep valley below
the Cree and an English half-breed were getting the horses and
baggage-sleds over the river. We made signs to them to camp in the
valley, and we ourselves turned our tired horses towards the west,
determined at all hazards to reach the fort that night. The Frenchman led
the way riding, the Hudson Bay officer followed in a horse-sled, I
brought up the rear on horseback. Soon it got quite dark, and we held on
over a rough and bushless plateau seamed with deep gullies into which we
descended at hap hazard forcing our weary horses with difficulty up the
opposite sides. The night got later and later, and still no sign of Fort
Pitt; 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 lay
west, 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 man
that I had serious doubts as to Daniel's knowledge of the track, but I
was assured that all was correct. Still we went on, and still no sign of
fort or river. At length the Frenchman suddenly pulled Up and asked us to
halt while he rode on and surveyed the country, because he had lost the
track, 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 the
thermometer at 20 degrees of frost! After some time the Frenchman
returned and declared that he had altogether lost his way, and that there
was nothing for it but to camp where we were, and wait for daylight to
proceed. I looked around in the darkness. The ridge on which we stood was
bare and bleak, with the snow drifted off into the valleys. A few
miserable stunted willows were the only signs of vegetation, and the wind
whistling through their ragged branches made up as dismal a prospect as
man could look at. I certainly felt in no very amiable mood with the men
who had brought me into this predicament, because I had been overruled in
the matter of leaving our baggage behind and in the track we had been
pursuing. My companion, however, accepted the situation with apparent
resignation, and I saw him commence to unharness his horse from the sled
with 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 might
reasonably aspire at the close of an eighty-mile march, with out laying
himself open to the accusation of being over effeminate.

Watching this for some seconds in silence, I determined to shape for
myself a different course. I dismounted, and taking from the sled a shirt
made of deer-skin, mounted again my poor weary horse and turned off alone
into the darkness. "Where are you going to?" I heard my companions
calling out after me. I was half inclined not to answer, but turned in
the saddle and holloaed back, "To Fort Pitt, that's all." I heard behind
me a violent bustle, as though they were busily engaged in yoking up the
horses again, and then I rode off as hard as my weary horse could go. My
friends took a very short time to harness up again, and they were soon
powdering 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 a
deep valley, and by the broad white band beneath recognized the frozen
Saskatchewan again. I have at least found the river, and Fort Pitt, we
knew, lay somewhere upon the bank. Turning away from the river, I held on
in a south-westerly direction for a considerable distance, passing up
along a bare snow-covered valley and crossing a high ridge at its end. I
could hear my friends behind in the dark. But they had got, I think, a
notion that I had taken leave of my senses, and they were afraid to call
out to me. After a bit I bent my course again to the west, and steering
by my old guides, the stars, those truest and most unchanging friends of
the wanderer, I once more struck the Saskatchewan, this time descending
to its level and crossing it on the ice.

As I walked along, leading my horse, I must admit to experiencing a
sensation not at all pleasant. The memory of the crossing of the South
Branch was still too strong to admit of over-confidence in the strength
of the ice, and as every now and again my tired horse broke through the
upper crust of snow and the ice beneath cracked, as it always will when
weight is placed on it for the first time, no matter how strong it may
be, I felt by no means as comfortable as I would have wished. At last the
long river was passed, and there on the opposite shore lay the cart track
to Fort Pitt. We were close to Pipe-stone Creek, and only three miles
from the Fort.

It was ten o'clock when we reached the closely-barred gate of this Hudson
Bay 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 fifteen
hours in the saddle, and no less than ninety miles had passed under my
horse's hoofs, but so accustomed had I grown to travel that I felt just
as 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 unknown
country, and its most successful denouement, had put fatigue and
weariness in the background; and as we sat down to a well-cooked supper
of buffalo steaks and potatoes, with the brightest eyed little lassie,
half Cree, half Scotch, in the North-west to wait upon us, while a great
fire of pine wood blazed and crackled on the open hearth, I couldn't help
saying to my companions, "Well, this is better than your hill-top and the
fireless bivouac in the rustling willows."

Fort Pitt was free from small-pox, but it had gone through a fearful
ordeal: more than one hundred Crees had perished close around its
stockades. The unburied dead lay for days by the road-side, till the
wolves, growing bold with the impunity which death among the hunters ever
gives 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 in
midsummer, leaving behind them a long track of dead and dying men over
the waste of distance. "Give us help," they cried, "give us help, our
medicine-men can do nothing against this plague; from the white man We
got 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 grew
less. Then came another idea into the red man's brain: "If we can only
give this disease to the white man and the trader in the fort," thought
they, "we will cease to suffer from it ourselves;" so they came into the
houses dying and disfigured as they were, horrible beyond description to
look at, and sat down in the entrances of the wooden houses, and
stretched themselves on the floors and spat upon the door-handles. It was
no use, the fell disease held them in a grasp from which there was no
escape, and just six weeks before my arrival the living remnant fled away
in 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 opposite
shore immense bare, bleak hills raise their wind-swept heads seven
hundred feet above the river level. A few pine-trees show their tops some
distance away to the north, but no other trace of wood is to be seen in
that vast amphitheatre of dry grassy hill in which the fort is built. It
is a singularly wild-looking scene, not without a certain beauty of its
own, but difficult of association with the idea of disease orepidemic, so
pure and bracing is the air which sweeps over those great grassy uplands.

On the 20th November I left Fort Pitt, having exchanged some tired horses
for fresher ones, but still keeping the same steed for the saddle, as
nothing, better could be procured from the band at the fort. The snow had
now almost disappeared from the ground, and a Red River cart was once
more taken into use for the baggage. Still keeping along the north shore
of the Saskatchewan, we now held our way towards the station of Victoria,
a small half-breed settlement situated at the most northerly bend which
the Saskatchewan makes in its long course from the mountains to Lake
Winnipeg. The order of march was ever the same; the Cree, wrapped in a
loose blanket, with his gun balanced across the shoulder of his pony,
jogged on in front, then came a young half-breed named Batte notte, who
will be better known perhaps to the English reader when I say that he was
the son of the Assineboine guide who conducted Lord Milton and Dr.
Cheadle through the pine forests of the Thompson River. This youngster
employed himself by continually shouting the name of the horse he was
driving--thus "Rouge!" would be vigorously yelled out by his tongue, and
Rouge at the same moment would be vigorously belaboured by his whip;
"Noir!" he would again shout, when that most ragged animal would be
within the shafts; and as Rouge and Noir invariably had this ejaculation
of their respective titles coupled with the descent of the whip upon
their respective backs, it followed that after a while the mere mention
of the name conveyed to the animal the sensation of being licked. One
horse, rejoicing in the title of "Jean l'Hereux," seemed specially
selected for this mode of treatment. He was a brute of surpassing
obstinacy, but, as he bore the name of his former owner, a French
semi-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 rather
think that the youthful Battenotte took out on the horse some of the
grudges that he owed to the man. Be that as it may, Jean l'Hereux got
many a trouncing as he laboured along the sandy pine-covered ridges
which 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 the
following day we came in sight of the Saddle Lake, a favourite
camping-ground of the Crees, owing to its inexhaustible stores of finest
fish. Nothing struck me more as we thus pushed on rapidly along the Upper
Saskatchewan than the absence of all authentic information from stations
farther west. Every thing was rumour, and the most absurd rumour. "If you
meet an old Indian named Pinguish and a boy without a name at Saddle
Lake," said the Hudson Bay officer at Fort Pitt to me, "they may give you
letters from Edmonton, and you may get some news from them, because they
lost letters near the lake three weeks ago, and perhaps they may have
found them by the time you get there." It struck me very forcibly, after
a little while, that this "boy without a name" was a most puzzling
individual to go in search of. The usual interrogatory question of
"What's your name?" would not be of the least use to find such a
personage, 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 could
obtain no intelligence of him whatever. Pinguish had apparently never
been heard of. It then occurred to me that the boy without the name might
perhaps be a remarkable character in the neighbourhood, owing to his
peculiar exception from the lot of humanity; but no such negative person
had ever been known, and I was constrained to believe that Pinguish and
his mysterious partner had fallen victims to the small-pox or had no
existence; 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 we
halted for dinner near the south end of the lake the first man who
approached was marked and seared by the disease. It was fated that this
day we were to be honoured by peculiar company at our dinner. In addition
to the small-pox man, there came an ill-looking fellow of the name of
Fayel, who at once proceeded to make himself at his ease beside us. This
individual bore a deeper brand than that of small-pox upon him, inasmuch
as a couple of years before he had foully murdered a comrade in one of
the passes of the Rocky Mountains when returning from British Columbia.
But this was not the only intelligence as to my companions that I was
destined to receive upon my arrival on the following day at Victoria.

"You have got Louis Battenotte, with you, I see," said the Hudson Bay
officer 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 and
trousers that he now wears were the same articles of clothing in which he
lay all the time he had it," was the pleasant reply.

After this little revelation concerning Battenotte and his habiliments, I
must admit that I was not quite as ready to look with pleasure upon his
performance of the duties of cook, chambermaid, and general valet as I
had been in the earlier stage of our acquaintance; but a little
reflection made the hole thing right again, convincing one of the fact
that travelling, like misery, "makes one acquainted with strange
bedfellows," and that luck has more to do with our lives than we are wont
to admit. After leaving Saddle Lake we entered a very rich and beautiful
country, completely clear of snow and covered deep in grass and vetches.
We travelled hard, and reached at nightfall a thick wood of pines and
spruce-trees, in which we made a cosy camp. I had brought with me a
bottle of old brandy from Red River in case of illness, and on this
evening, not feeling all right, I drew the cork while the Cree was away
with the horses, and drank a little with my companion. Before we had
quite finished, the Cree returned to camp, and at once declared that he
smelt grog. He became very lively at this discovery. We had taken the
precaution to rinse out the cup that had held the spirit, but he
nevertheless commenced a series of brewing which appeared to give him
infinite satisfaction. Two or three times did he fill the empty cup with
water and drain it to the bottom, laughing and rolling his head each time
with delight, and in order to be sure that he had got the right one he
proceeded in the same manner with every cup we possessed; then he
confided to Battenotte that he had not tasted grog for a long time
before, the last occasion being one on which he had divested himself of
his shirt and buffalo robe, in other words, gone naked, in order to
obtain the coveted fire-water.

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

I only remained one day at Victoria, and the 25th of November found me
again en route for Edmonton. Our Cree had, however, disappeared. One
night when he was eating his supper with his scalping-knife--a knife, by
the 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 he
wanted to get rid of his wife, of whom he was tired, he replied. He had
come off without saying any thing to her. "And what will happen to the
wife?" I asked. "Oh, she will marry another brave when she finds me
gone," he answered, laughing at the idea. I did not enter into the
previous domestic events which had led to this separation, but I presume
they were of a nature similar to those which are not altogether unknown
in more civilized society, and I make no hesitation in offering to our
legislators the example of my friend the Cree as tending to simplify the
solution, or rather the dissolution, of that knotty point, the separation
of couples who, for reasons best known to themselves, have ceased to
love. Whether it was that the Cree found in Victoria a lady suitad to his
fancy, or whether he had heard of a war-party against the Sircies, I
cannot say, but he vanished during the night of our stay in the fort, and
we saw him no more.

As we journeyed on towards Edmonton the country maintained its rich and
beautiful appearance, and the weather continued fine and mild. Every
where nature had written in unmistakable characters the story of the
fertility of the soil over which we rode--every where the eye looked upon
panoramas filled with the beauty of lake and winding river, and grassy
slope and undulating woodland. The whole face of the country was indeed
one vast park. For two days we passed through this beautiful land,-and on
the evening of the 28th November drew near to Edmonton. My party had been
increased by the presence of two gentlemen from Victoria, a Wesleyan
minister and the Hudson Bay official in charge of the Company's post at
that place. Both of these gentlemen had resided long in the Upper
Saskatchewan, and were intimately acquainted with the tribes who inhabit
The vast territory from the Rocky Mountains to Carlton House. It was late
in the evening, just one month after I had started from the banks of the
Red River, that I approached the high palisades of Edmonton. As one who
looks back at evening from the summit of some lofty ridge over the long
track which he has followed since the morning, so now did my mind travel
back over the immense distance through which I had ridden in twenty-two
days of actual travel and in thirty-three of the entire journey-that
distance could not have been less than 1000 miles; and as each camp scene
rose again before me, with its surrounding of snow and storm-swept
prairie and lonely clump of aspens, it seemed as though something like
infinite space stretched between me and that far-away land which one word
alone can picture, that one word in which so many others centre--Home.



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

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

EDMONTON, the head-quarters of the Hudson Bay Company's Saskatchewan
trade, and the residence of a chief factor of the corporation, is a large
five-sided fort with the usual flanking bastions and high stockades. It
has within these stockades many commodious and well-built wooden houses,
and differs in the cleanliness and order of its arrangements from the
general run of trading forts in the Indian country. It stands on a high
level bank 100 feet above the Saskatchewan River, which rolls below in a
broad 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 officer
in charge of Edmonton was soon concluded. It principally consisted in
conferring upon him, by commission, the same high judicial functions
which I have already observed had been entrusted to me before setting out
for 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 authority
into force.

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

First, there was the notorious Tahakooch-murderer, robber, and general
scoundrel of deepest dye; then there was the sister of the above, a
maiden of some twenty summers, who had also perpetrated the murder of two
Black foot children close to Edmonton; then there was a youthful French
half-breed who had killed his uncle at the settlement of Grand Lac, nine
miles to the north-west; and, finally, there was my dinner companion at
Saddle Lake, whose crime I only became aware of after I had left that
locality. But this Tahakooch was a ruffian too desperate. Here was one of
his murderous acts. A short time previous to my arrival two Sircies came
to Edmonton. Tahakooch and two of his brothers were camped near the fort.
Tahakooch professed friendship for the Sircies, and they went to his
lodge. After a few days had passed the Sircies thought it was time to
return to their tribe. Rumour said that the charms of the sister of
Tahakooch had captivated either one or both of them, and that she had not
been insensible to their admiration. Be this as it may, it was time to
go; and so they prepared for the journey. An Indian will travel by night
as readily as by day, and it was night when these men left the tent of
Tahakooch.

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

The party, three in number, went to the fort, and knocked at the gate for
admittance. The man on watch at the gate, before unharring, looked from
the bastion over the stockades, to see who might be the three men who
sought an entrance. It was bright moonlight, and he noticed the shimmer
of a gun-barrel under the blanket of Tahakooch. The Sircies were provided
with some dried meat, and the party went away. The Sircies marched first
in single file, then followed Tahakooch close behind them; the three
formed one line. Suddenly, Tahakooch drew from beneath his blanket a
short double-barrelled gun, and discharged both barrels into the back of
the nearest Sircie. The bullets passed through one man into the body of
the other, killing the nearest one instantly. The leading Sircie, though
desperately wounded, ran fleetly along the moonlit path until, faint and
bleeding, he fell. Tahakooch was close behind; but the villain's hand
shook, and four times his shots missed the wounded wretch upon the
ground. Summoning up all his strength, the Sircie sprung upon his
assailant; a hand-to-hand struggle ensued; but the desperate wound was
too much for him, he grew faint in his efforts, and the villain Tahakooch
passed his knife into his victim's body. All this took place in the same
year during which I reached Edmonton, and within sight of the walls of
the fort. Tahakooch lived only a short distance away, and was a daily
visitor at the fort.

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

A few miles north-west of Edmonton a settlement composed exclusively of
French half-breeds is situated on the shores of a rather extensive lake
which bears the name of the Grand Lac, or St. Albert. This settlement is
presided over by a mission of French Roman Catholic clergymen of the
order 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 of
culture and high mental excellence devoting their lives to the task of
civilizing the wild Indians of the forest and the prairie--going far in
advance of the settler, whose advent they have but too much cause to
dread. I care not what may be the form of belief which the on-looker may
hold--whether it be in unison or in antagonism with that faith preached
by these men; but he is only a poor semblance of a man who can behold
such a sight through the narrow glass of sectarian feeling, holding'
opinions foreign to his own. He who has travelled through the vast
colonial empire of Britain--that empire which covers one third of the
entire habitable surface of the globe and probably half of the lone lands
of 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 these
Lone places, you were told he was the French missionary; and if you
sought him in his lonely hut, you found ever the same surroundings, the
same simple evidences of a faith which seemed more than human. I do not
speak from hearsay or book-knowledge. I have myself witnessed the scenes
I now try to recall. And it has ever been the same, East and West, far in
advance of trader or merchant, of sailor or soldier, has gone this
dark-haired, fragile man, whose earliest memories are thick with sunny
scenes by bank of Loire or vine-clad slope of Rhone or Garonne, and whose
vision in this life, at least, is never destined to rest again upon these
oft-remembered places. Glancing through a pamphlet one day at Edmonton, a
pamphlet which recorded the progress of a Canadian Wesleyan Missionary
Society, I read the following extract from the letter of a Western
missionary:--"These representatives of the Man of Sin, these priests, are
hard-workers; summer and winter they follow the camps, suffering great
privations. They are indefatigable in their efforts to make converts, but
their converts," he adds, "have never heard of the Holy Ghost." "The man
of sin "--which of us is without it? To these French missionaries at
Grand Lac I was the bearer of terrible tidings. I carried to them the
story of Sedan, the overwhelming rush of armed Germany into the heart of
France, the closing of the high-schooled hordes of Teuton savagery around
Paris; all that was hard home news to: hear. Fate had leant heavily upon
their little congregation; out of 900 souls more than 300 had perished of
small-pox up to the date of my arrival, and others were still sick in the
huts along the lake. Well might the bishop and his priests bow their
heads in the midst of such manifold tribulations of death and disaster.

By the last day of November my preparations for further travel into the
regions lying west of Edmonton were completed, and at midday on the 1st
December I set out for the Rocky Mountain House. This station, the most
Western and southern held by the Hudson Bay Company in the Saskatchewan,
is distant from Edmonton about 180 miles by horse trail, and 211 miles by
river. I was provided with five fresh horses, two good guides, and I
carried letters to merchants in the United States, should fortune permit
me to push through the great stretch of Blackfoot country lying on the
northern borders of the American territory; for it was my intention to
leave the Mountain House as soon as possible, and to endeavour to cross
by rapid marches the 400 miles of plains to some of the mining cities of
Montana or Idaho; the principal difficulty lay, however, in the
reluctance of men to come with me into the country of the Blackfeet. At
Edmonton only one man spoke the Blackfoot tongue, and the offer of high
wages failed to induce him to attempt the journey. He was a splendid
specimen of a half-breed; he had married a Blackfoot squaw, and spoke
the difficult language with fluency; but he had lost nearly all his
relations in the fatal plague, and his answer was full of quiet thought
when 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 the
snow, follow it, and steal our horses, or perhaps worse still. At another
time 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 find
a guide ready to attempt the journey, and my kind host at Edmonton
provided me with letters to facilitate my procuring all supplies from his
subordinate officer at that station. Thus fully accoutred and prepared to
meet the now rapidly increasing severity of the winter, I started on the
1st December for the mountains. It-was a bright, beautiful day. I was
alone with my two retainers; before me lay an uncertain future, but so
many curious scenes had been passed in safety during the last six months
of my life, that I recked little of what was before me, drawing a kind of
blind confidence from the thought that so much could not have been in
vain. Crossing the now fast-frozen Saskatchewan, we ascended the southern
bank and entered upon a rich country watered with many streams and
wooded with park-like clumps of aspen and pine. My two retainers were
first-rate fellows. One spoke English very fairly: he was a brother of
the bright-eyed little beauty at Fort Pitt. The other, Paul Foyale, was a
thick, stout-set man, a good voyageur, and excellent-in camp. Both were
noted travellers, and both had suffered severely in the epidemic of the
small-pox. Paul had lost his wife and child, and Rowland's children had
all had the disease, but had recovered. As for any idea about taking
infection from men coming out of places where that infection existed,
that would have been the merest foolishness; at least, Paul and Rowland
thought so, and as they were destined to be my close companions for some
days, cooking for me, tying up my blankets, and sleeping beside me, it
was just as well to put a good face upon the matter and trust once more
to the glorious doctrine of chance. Besides, they were really such good
fellows, princes among voyayeurs, that, small-pox or no small-pox, they
were first-rate company for any ordinary mortal. For two days we jogged
merrily along. The Musquashis or Bears Hill rose before us and faded away
into blue distance behind us. After sundown on the 2nd we camped in a
thicket of large aspens by the high bank of the Battle River, the same
stream at whose mouth nearly 400 miles away I had found the Crees a
fortnight before. On the 3rd December we crossed this river, and,
quitting the Blackfeet trail, struck in a south-westerly direction
through a succession of grassy hills with partially wooded valleys and
small frozen lakes. A glorious country to ride over--a country in which
the eye ranged across miles and miles of fair-lying hill and
long-stretching valley; a silent, beautiful land upon which summer had
stamped so many traces, that December had so far been powerless to efface
their beauty. Close by to the south lay the country of the great
Blackfeet nation--that wild, restless tribe whose name has been a terror
to other tribes and to trader and trapper for many and many a year. Who
and what are these wild dusky men who have held their own against all
comers, sweeping like a whirlwind over the sand deserts of the central
continent? They speak a tongue distinct from all other Indian tribes;
they have ceremonies and feasts wholly different, too, from the feasts
and ceremonies of other nations; they are at war with every nation that
touches the wide circle of their boundaries; the Crows, the Flatheads,
the Kootenies, the Rocky Mountain Assineboines, the Crees, the Plain
Assineboines, the Minnitarrees, all are and have been the inveterate
enemies of the five confederate nations which form together the great
Blackfeet tribe. Long years ago, when their great forefather crossed the
Mountains of the Setting Sun and settled along the sources of the
Missouri and the South Saskatchewan, so runs the legend of their old
chiefs, 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 were
great hunters, they brought to their father's lodge rich store of moose
and elk meat, and the buffalo fell before their unerring arrows; but the
third, or nameless one, ever returned empty-handed from the chase, until
his brothers mocked him for his want of skill. One day the old chief said
to this unsuccessful hunter, "My son, you cannot kill the moose, your
arrows shun the buffalo, the elk is too fleet for your footsteps, and
your 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 the
lodge-fire a piece of burnt stick, and, wetting it, he rubbed the feet of
his son with the blackened charcoal, and he named him Sat-Sia-qua, or The
Blackfeet, and evermore Sat-Sia-qua was a mighty hunter, and his arrows
flew straight to the buffalo, and his feet moved swift in the chase. From
these three sons are descended the three tribes of Blood, Peaginou, and
Blackfeet, but in addition, for many generations, two other tribes or
portions of tribes have been admitted into the confederacy; These are the
Sircies, on the north, a branch, or offshoot from the Chipwayans of the
Athabasca; and the Gros Ventres, or Atsinas, on the southeast, a branch
from the Arrapahoe nation who dwelt along the sources of the Platte. How
these branches became detached from the parent stocks has never been
determined, but to this day they speak the languages of their original
tribe in addition to that of the adopted one. The parent tongue of the
Sircies is harsh and guttural, that of the Blackfeet is rich and musical;
and while the Sircies always speak Blackfeet in addition to their own
tongue, the Blackfeet rarely master the language of the Sircies.

War, as we have already said, is the sole toil and thought of the red
man's life. He has three great causes of fight: to steal a horse, take a
scalp, or get a wife. I regret to have to write that the possession of a
horse is valued before that of a wife-and this has been the case for many
years. "A horse," writes McKenzie, "is valued at ten guns, a woman is
only worth one gun;" but at that time horses were scarcer than at
present. Horses have been a late importation, comparatively speaking,
into the Indian country. They travelled rapidly north from Mexico, and
the prairies soon became covered with the Spanish mustang, for whose
possession the red man killed his brother with singular pertinacity. The
Indian to-day believes that the horse has ever dwelt with him on the
Western deserts, but that such is not the case his own language
undoubtedly tells. It is curious to compare the different names which the
wild men gave the new-comer who was destined to work such evil among
them. 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" signifies
the horse; and "Po-no-ko" means red deer, and "Emita," a dog--the "Red-deer
Dog." But the Sircies made the best name of all for the new-comer; they
called him the "Chistli" "Chis," seven, "Li," dogs "Seven Dogs." Thus
we have him called the big dog, the great dog, the red-deer dog, the
seven 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 the
name in many ways to enable it to define the Superior powers of the
new beast.

But a far more formidable enemy than Crow or Cree has lately come in
contact with the Blackfeet--an enemy before whom all his stratagem, all
his skill with lance or arrow, all his dexterity of horsemanship is of no
avail. The "Moka-manus" (the Big-knives), the white men, have pushed up
the great Missouri River into the heart of the Blackfeet country, the
fire-canoes have forced their way along the muddy waters, and behind them
a long chain of armed posts have arisen to hold in check the wild roving
races of Dakota and the Montana. It is a useless struggle that which
these Indians wage against their latest and most deadly enemy, but
nevertheless it is one in which the sympathy of any brave heart must lie
on the side of the savage. Here, at the head-waters of the great River
Missouri which finds its outlet into the Gulf of Mexico-here, pent up
against the barriers of the "Mountains of the Setting Sun," the Blackfeet
offer a last despairing struggle to the ever-increasing tide that hems
them in. It is not yet two years since a certain citizen soldier of the
United States made a famous raid against a portion of this tribe at the
head-waters of the Missouri. It so happened that I had the opportunity of
hearing this raid described from the rival points of view of the Indian
and the white man, and, if possible, the brutality of the latter--brutality
which was gloried in--exceeded the relation of the former. Here is
the story of the raid as told me by a miner whose "pal" was present in
the scene. "It was a little afore day when the boys came upon two
redskins in a gulch near-away to the Sun River" (the Sun River flows into
the Missouri, and the forks lie below Benton). "They caught the darned
red devils and strapped them on a horse, and swore that if they didn't
just 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, you
bet he wasn't. So the red devils showed the trail, and soon the boys came
out on a wide gulch, and saw down below the lodges of the Pagans. Baker
just says, 'Now, boys, says he, 'thar's the devils, and just you go in
and 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 just
kill'em all, squaws and all; it's them squaws what breeds'em, and them
young 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, the
boys jist rode in among the lodges afore daylight, and they killed every
thing that was able to come out of the tents, for, you see, the redskins
had the small-pox bad, they had, and a heap of them couldn't come out
nohow; so the boys jist turned over the lodges and fixed them as they lay
on 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 at
him from inside a lodge. I say, mister, that Baker's a bell-ox among
sodgers, you bet."

One month after this slaughter on the Sun River a band of Peagins were
met on the Bow River by a French missionary priest, the only missionary
whose daring spirit has carried him into the country of these redoubled
tribes. They told him of the cruel loss their tribe had suffered at the
hands 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 the
manner of their own war, and it did not strike them as brutal or
cowardly; for, alas! they knew no better. But what shall be said of these
heroes--the outscourings of Europe--who, under the congenial guidance of
that "bell-ox" soldier Jim Baker, "wiped out them Pagan redskins"? This
meeting of the missionary with the Indians was in: its way singular. The
priest, thinking that the loss of so many lives would teach the tribe how
useless must be a war carried on against-the Americans, and how its end
must inevitably be the complete destruction of the Indians, asked the
chief to assemble his band to listen to his counsel and advice. They met
together in the council-tent, and then the priest began. He told them
that "their recent loss was only the beginning of their destruction, that
the Long knives had countless braves, guns and rifles beyond number,
fleet steeds, and huge war-canoes, and that it was useless for the poor
wild man to attempt to stop their progress through the great Western
solitudes." He asked them "why were their faces black and their hearts
heavy? was it not for their relatives and friends so lately killed, and
would it not be better to make peace while yet they could do it, and thus
save 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 the
address was over the chief rose quietly, and, casting around a look full
of dignity, he asked, "My brother, have you done, or is there aught you
would 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 you
differ, if I say one word that you would not say yourselves, stop me, and
say to this black-robe I speak with a forked tongue." Then, turning again
to the priest, he continued, "You have spoken true, your words come
straight; the Long-knives are too many and too strong for us; their guns
shoot farther than ours, their big guns shoot twice" (alluding to shells
which exploded after they fell); "their numbers are as the buffalo were
in the days of our fathers. But what of all that? do you want us to
starve 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 the
long-knives must kill us, but I say still, to my children and to my
tribe, 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 a
coward. So now, my brethren, I tell you, as I have told you before, keep
fighting still. When you see these men coming along the river, digging
holes in the ground and looking for the little bright sand" (gold), "kill
them, for they mean to kill you; fight, and if it must be, die, for you
can only die once, and it is better to die than to starve."

He ceased, and a universal hum of approval running through the dusky
warriors told how truly the chief had spoken the thoughts of his
followers; Again he said, "What does the white man want in our land? You
tell us he is rich and strong, and has plenty of food to eat; for what
then does he come to our land? We have only the buffalo, and he takes
that from us. See the buffalo, how they dwell with us; they care not for
the closeness of our lodges, the smoke of our camp-fires does not fright
them, the shouts of our young men will not drive them away; but behold
how 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 Great
Spirit? No; for the Great Spirit gave to us the beasts and the fish, and
the white man comes to take the waters and the ground where these fishes
and these beasts live--why does he not take the sky as well as the
ground? 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 land
is mine; you shall not come here or go there."

Fortunate is it for these Blackfeet tribes that their hunting grounds lie
partly on British territory--from where our midday camp was made on the
2nd December to the boundary-line at the 49th parallel, fully 180 miles
of plain knows only the domination of the Blackfeet tribes. Here, around
this 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 to
supplant the rich grass-covered hills, and that immense central desert
commences to spread out those ocean-like expanses which find their
southern limits far down by the waters of the Canadian River,1200 miles
due south of the Saskatchewan. This immense central sandy plateau is the
true home of the bison. Here were raised for countless ages these huge
herds whose hollow tramp shook the solid roof of America during the
countless cycles which it remained unknown to man. Here, too, was the
true home of the Indian: the Commanche, the Apache, the Kio-wa, the
Arapahoe, the Shienne, the Crow, the Sioux, the Pawnee, the Omahaw, the
Mandan, the Manatarree, the Blackfeet, the Cree, and the Assineboine
divided between them the immense region, warring and wandering through
the vast expanses until the white race from the East pushed their way
into the land, and carved out states and territories from the Mississippi
to the Rocky Mountains. How it came to pass in the building of the world
that to the north of that great region of sand and waste should spread
out suddenly the fair country of the Saskatchewan, I must leave to the
guess-work of other and more scientific writers; but the fact remains,
that alone, from Texas to the sub-Arctic forest, the Saskatchewan Valley
lays its fair length for 800 miles in mixed fertility.

But we must resume our Western way. The evening of the 3rd December found
us crossing a succession of wooded hills which divide the water system of
the North from that of the South Saskatchewan. These systems come so
close together at this region, that while my midday kettle was filled
with water which finds its way through Battle River into the North
Saskatchewan, that of my evening meal was taken from the ice of the
Pas-co-pee, or Blindman's; River, whose waters seek through Red Deer
River 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. Before
us, at a distance of some ten miles, lay the abrupt line of the Three
Medicine Hills, from whose gorges the first view of the great range of
the Rocky Mountains was destined to burst upon my sight; But not on this
day was I to behold that long-looked-for vision. Night came quickly down
upon the silent wilderness; and it was long after dark when we made our
camps by the bank of the Pas-co-pee, or Blindman's River, and turned
adrift the weary horses to graze in a well-grassed meadow lying in one of
the 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 revealed
the whole camp buried deep in snow. As I threw back the blankets from my
head (one always lies covered up completely), the wet, cold mass struck
chillily upon my face. The snow was wet and sticky, and therefore things
were much more wretched than if the temperature had been lower; but the
hot tea made matters seem brighter, and about breakfast-time the snow
ceased to fall and the clouds began to clear away. Packing our wet
blankets together, we set out for the three Medicine Hills, through whose
defiles our course lay; the snow was deep in the narrow valleys, making
travelling slower and more laborious than before. It was midday when,
having rounded the highest of the three hills, we entered a narrow gorge
fringed with a fire-ravaged forest. This gorge wound through the hills,
preventing a far-reaching view ahead; but at length its western
termination was reached, and there lay before me a sight to be long
remembered. The great chain of the Rocky Mountains rose their snow-clad
sierras in endless succession. Climbing one of the eminences, I gained a
vantage-point on the summit from which some by-gone fire had swept the
trees. Then, looking west, I beheld the great range in unclouded glory.
The snow had cleared the atmosphere, the sky was coldly bright. An
immense plain stretched from my feet to the mountain--a plain so vast
that every object of hill and wood and lake lay dwarfed into one
continuous level, and at the back of this level, beyond the pines and the
lakes and the river-courses, rose the giant range, solid, impassable,
silent--a mighty barrier rising-midst an immense land, standing sentinel
over the plains and prairies of America, over the measureless solitudes
of this Great Lone Land. Here, at last, lay the Rocky Mountains.

Leaving behind the Medicine Hills, we descended into the plain and held
our way until sunset towards the west. It was a calm and beautiful
evening; far away objects stood out sharp and distinct in the pure
atmosphere of these elevated regions. For some hours we had lost sight of
the mountains, but shortly before sunset the summit of a long ridge was
gained, and they burst suddenly into view in greater magnificence than at
midday. 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 height
which the declining sun was bathing in floods of glory. I cannot hope to
put into the compass of words the scene which lay rolled beneath from
this sunset-lighted eminence; for, as I looked over the immense plain and
watched the slow descent of the evening sun upon the frosted crest of
these lone mountains, it seemed as if the varied scenes of my long
journey had woven themselves into the landscape, filling with the music
of memory the earth, the sky, and the mighty panorama of mountains. Here
at length lay the barrier to my onward wanderings, here lay the boundary
to that 4000 miles of unceasing travel which had carried me by so many
varied scenes so far into the lone-land; and other thoughts were not
wanting. The peaks on which I gazed were no pigmies; they stood the
culminating monarchs of the mighty range of the Rocky Mountains. From the
estuary of the Mackenzie to the Lake of Mexico no point of the American
continent reaches higher to the skies. That eternal crust of snow seeks
in summer widely-severed oceans. The Mackenzie, the Columbia, and the
Saskatchewan spring from the peaks whose teeth-like summits lie grouped
from this spot into the compass of a single glance. The clouds that cast
their moisture upon this long line of upheaven rocks seek again the ocean
which gave them birth in its far-separated divisions of Atlantic,
Pacific, and Arctic. The sun sank slowly behind the range and darkness
began to fall on the immense plain, but aloft on the topmost edge the
pure white of the jagged crest-line glowed for an instant in
many-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 of
fancy which made the red man place his paradise beyond their golden
peaks. The "Mountains of the Setting Sun," the "Bridge of the World,"
Thus he has named them, and beyond them the soul first catches a glimpse
of that mystical land where the tents are pitched midst everlasting
verdure and countless herds and the music of ceaseless streams.

That night there came a frost, the first of real severity that had fallen
upon us. At daybreak next morning, the 5th December, my thermometer
showed 22 degrees below zero, and, in spite of buffalo boots and moose
"mittaines," the saddle proved a freezing affair; many a time I got down
and trotted on in front of my horse until feet and hands, cased as they
were, began to be felt again. But the morning, though piercingly cold,
was bright with sunshine, and the snowy range was lighted up in many a
fair hue, and the contrasts of pine wood and snow and towering wind-swept
cliff showed in rich beauty. As the day wore on we entered the pine
forest which stretches to the base of the mountains, and emerged suddenly
upon the high banks of the Saskatchewan. The river here ran in a deep,
wooded valley, over the western extremity of which rose the Rocky
Mountains; the windings of the river showed distinctly from the height on
which we stood; and in mid-distance the light blue smoke of the Mountain
House 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, I
rode on ahead to the fort. While yet a long way off we had been descried
by the watchful eyes of some Rocky Mountain Assineboines, and our arrival
had been duly telegraphed to the officer in charge. As usual, the
excitement was intense to know what the strange party could mean. The
denizens of the place looked upon themselves as closed up for the
winter, and the arrival of a party with a baggage-cart at such a time
betokened something unusual. Nor was this excitement at all lessened when
in answer to a summons from the opposite bank of the Saskatchewan I
announced my name and place of departure. The river was still open, its
rushing waters had resisted so far the efforts of the winter to cover
them up, but the ice projected a considerable distance from either shore;
the open water in the centre was, however, shallow, and when the rotten
ice 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; then
at the other side the people of the fort had cut away the ice too, and
again 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-seven
days of actual travel I had ridden 1180 miles.

The Rocky Mountain House of the Hudson Bay Company stands in a level
meadow which is clear of trees, although dense forest lies around it at
some little distance. It is indifferently situated with regard to the
Indian trade, being too far from the Plain Indians, who seek in the
American posts along the Missouri a nearer and more profitable exchange
for their goods; while the wooded district in which it lies produces furs
of a second-class quality, and has for years been deficient in game. The
neighbouring forest, however, supplies a rich store of the white spruce
for boat-building, and several full-sized Hudson Bay boats are built
annually at the fort. Coal of very fair quality is also plentiful along
the river banks, and the forge glows with the ruddy light of a real coal
fire--a friendly sight when one has not seen it during many months. The
Mountain House stands within the limits of the Rocky Mountain
Assineboines, a branch of-the once famous Assineboines of the Plains
whose wars in times not very remote made them the terror of the prairies
which lie between the middle Missouri and the Saskatchewan. The
Assineboines derive their name, which signifies "stone-heaters," from a
custom in vogue among them before the advent of the traders into their
country. Their manner of boiling meat was as follows: a round hole was
scooped 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 a
fire was lighted close by and a number of round stones made red hot; in
this state they were dropped into, or held in, the water, which was thus
raised to boiling temperature and the meat cooked. When the white man
came he sold his kettle to the stone-heaters, and henceforth the practice
disappeared, while the name it had given rise to remained--a name which
long after the final extinction of the tribe will still exist in the
River Assineboine and its surroundings. Nothing testifies more
conclusively to the varied changes and vicissitude's Indian tribes than
the presence of this branch of the Assineboine nation in the pine forests
of the Rocky Mountains. It is not yet a hundred years since the
"Ossinepoilles" were found by one of the earliest traders inhabiting the
country between the head of the Pasquayah or Saskatchewan and the
country of the Sioux, a stretch of territory fully 900 miles in length.

Twenty years later they still were numerous along the whole line of the
North Saskatchewan, and their lodges were at intervals seen along a
river line of 800 miles in length, but even then a great change had come
upon them. In 1780 the first epidemic of small-pox swept over the Western
plains, and almost annihilated the powerful Assineboines. The whole
central portion of the tribe was destroyed, but the outskirting portions
drew together and again made themselves a terror to trapper and trader.
In 1821 they were noted for their desperate forays, and for many years
later a fierce conflict raged between them and the Blackfeet; under the
leadership of a chief still famous in Indian story--Tehatka, or the
"Left-handed;" they for a long time more than held their own against
these redoubtable warriors. Tehatka was a medicine-man of the first
order, and by the exercise of his superior cunning and dream power he was
implicitly relied on by his followers; at length fortune deserted him,
and he fell in a bloody battle with the Gros Ventres near the Knife
River, a branch of the Missouri, in 1837. About the same date small-pox
again swept the tribe, and they almost disappeared from the prairies. The
Crees too pressed down from the North and East, and occupied a
great-portion of their territory; the Blackfeet smote them hard on the
south-west frontier; and thus, between foes and disease, the Assineboines
of to-day have dwindled down into far-scattered remnants of tribes.
Warned by the tradition of the frightful losses of earlier times from the
ravages of small-pox, the Assineboines this year kept far out in the
great central prairie along the coteau, and escaped the infection
altogether, but their cousins, the Rocky Mountain Stonies, were not so
fortunate, they lost some of their bravest men during the pre ceding
summer and autumn. Even under the changed circumstances of their present
lives, dwelling amidst the forests and rocks instead of in the plains and
open country, these Assineboines of the Mountains retain many of the
better characteristics of their race; they are brave and skilful men,
good hunters of red deer, moose, and big horn, and are still held in
dread by the Blackfeet, who rarely venture into their country. They are
well acquainted with the valleys and passes through the mountains, and
will probably take a horse over as rough ground as any men in the
creation.

At the ford on the Clear Water River, half a mile from the Mountain
House, a small clump of old pine-trees stands on the north side of the
stream. A few years ago a large band of Blood Indians camped round this
clump of pines during a trading expedition to the Mountain House. They
were under the leadership of two young chiefs, brothers. One evening a
dispute about some trifling matter arose, words ran high, there was a
flash of a scalping-knife, a plunge, and one brother reeled back with a
fearful gash in his side, the other stalked slowly to his tent, and sat
down silent and impassive. The wounded man loaded his gun, and keeping
the fatal wound closed together with one hand walked steadily to his
brothers tent; pulling back the door-casing, he placed the muzzle of his
gun to the heart of the man who sat immovable all the time, and shot him
dead, then, removing his hand from his own mortal wound, he fell lifeless
beside his brother's body. They buried the two brothers in the same grave
by the shadow of the dark pine-trees. The band to which the chiefs
belonged broke up and moved away into the great plains--the reckoning of
blood had been paid, and the account was closed. Many tales of Indian war
and revenge could I tell--tales gleaned from trader and missionary and
voyageur, and told by camp-fire or distant trading post, but there is no
time to recount them now, a long period of travel lies before me and I
must away to enter upon it; the scattered thread must be gathered up and
tied together too quickly, perhaps, for the success of this wandering
story, but not an hour too soon for the success of another expedition
into a still farther and more friendless region. Eight days passed
pleasantly at the Mountain House; rambles by day into the neighbouring
hills, stories of Indian life and prairie scenes at the evening fire
filled up the time, and it was near mid-December before I thought of
moving my quarters.

The Mountain House is perhaps the most singular specimen of an Indian
trading 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 prevent
the possibility of surprise during "a trade." Bars and bolts and places
to fire down at the Indians who are trading abound in every direction; so
dreaded is the name borne by the Black feet, that it is thus their
trading post has been constructed. Some fifty years ago the Company had
a post far south on the Bow River in the very heart of the Blackfeet
country. Despite of all precautions it was frequently plundered And at
last burnt down by the Blackfeet, and since that date no attempt has ever
been made to erect another fort in their country.

Still, I believe the Blackfeet and their confederates are not nearly so
bad as they have been painted, those among the Hudson Bay Company who are
best acquainted with them are of the same opinion, and, to use the words
of Pe to-pee, or the Perched Eagle, to Dr. Hector in 1857, "We see but
little of the white man," he said, "and our young men do not know how to
behave; 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 lived
in 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 the
Blackfeet have large hearts and they love to show hospitality." Without
going the length of Pe-to-pee in this estimate of the virtues of his
tribe, I am still of opinion that under proper management these wild
wandering men might be made trusty friends. We have been too much
inclined 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 the
Blackfeet'has grown into a proverb among men. But to go back to the
trading house. When the Blackfeet arrive on a trading visit to the
Mountain House they usually come in large numbers, prepared for a brush
with either Crees or Stonies. The camp is formed at some distance from
the fort, and the braves, having piled their robes, leather, and
provisions on the backs of their wives or their horses, approach in long
cavalcade. The officer goes out to meet them, and the gates are closed.
Many speeches are made, and the chief, to show his "big heart," usually
piles 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 doubt
upon the subject of the big-heartedness of the donor, but if, in the
trade which ensues: after this present has been made, it should happen
that fifty horses are bought by the Company, not one of all the band will
cost so dear as that which demonstrates the large heartedness of the
brave.

Money-values are entirely unknown in these trades. The values of articles
are computed by "skins;" for instance, a horse will be reckoned at 60
skins; 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, 15
skins total, 60 skins. The Bull Ermine, or the Four Bears, or the Red
Daybreak, or whatever may be the brave's name, hands over the horse, and
gets 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 original
standard, the beaver skin or, as it was called, "the made beaver" was
the medium of exchange, and every other skin and article of trade was
graduated upon the scale of the beaver; thus a beaver, or a skin, was
reckoned equivalent to 1 mink skin, one marten was equal to 2 skins, one
black fox 20 skins, and so on; in the same manner, a blanket, a capote, a
gun, or a kettle had their different values in skins. This being
explained, we will now proceed with the trade.

Sapoomaxica, or the Big Crow's Foot, having demonstrated the bigness of
his heart, and received in return a tangible proof of the corresponding
size of the trader's, addresses his braves, cautioning them against
violence or rough behaviour. The braves, standing ready with their
peltries, are in a high state of excitement to begin the trade. Within
the fort all the preparations have been completed, communication cut off
between the Indian room and the rest of the buildings, guns placed up in
the loft overhead, and men all get ready for any thing that might turn
up; then the outer gate is thrown open, and a large throng enters the
Indian room. Three or four of the first-comers are now admitted through
a narrow passage into the trading-shop, from the shelves of which most
of the blankets, red cloth, and beads have been removed, for the red man
brought into the presence of so much finery would unfortunately behave
very much after the manner of a hungry boy put in immediate
juxtaposition to bath-buns, cream-cakes, and jam-fritters, to the
complete collapse of profit upon the trade to the Hudson Bay Company.
The first Indians admitted hand in their peltries through a wooden
grating, and receive in exchange so many blankets, beads, or strouds.
Out they go to the large hall where their comrades are anxiously
awaiting their turn, and in rush another batch, and the doors are locked
again. The reappearance of the fortunate braves with the much-coveted
articles of finery adds immensely to the excitement. What did they see
inside? "Oh, not much, only a few dozen blankets and a few guns, and a
little tea and sugar;" this is terrible news for the outsiders, and the
crush to get\in increases tenfold, under the belief that the good things
will all be gone. So the trade progresses, until at last all the
peltries and provisions have changed hands, and there is nothing more to
be traded; but some times things do not run quite so smoothly.
Sometimes, when the stock of pemmican or robes is small, the braves
object to see their "pile" go for a little parcel of tea or sugar. The
steelyard and weighing-balance are their especial objects of dislike.
"What for you put on one side tea or sugar, and on the other a little
bit of iron?" they say; "we don't know what that medicine is-but, look
here, put on one side of that thing that swings a bag of pemmican, and
put on the other side blankets and tea and sugar, and then, when the two
sides stop swinging, you take the bag of pemmican and we will take the
blankets and the tea: that would be fair, for one side will be as big as
the other." This is a very bright idea on the part of the Four Bears,
and elicits universal satisfaction all round. Four Bears and his
brethren are, however, a little bit put out of conceit when the trader
observes, "Well, let be as you say. We will make the balance swing
level between the bag of pemmican and the blankets, but we will carry
out the idea still further. You will put your marten skins and your
otter and fisher skins on one side, I will put against them on the other
my blankets, and my gun and ball and powder; then, when both sides are
level, you will take the ball and powder and the blankets, and I will
take the marten and the rest of the fine furs." This proposition throws
a new light upon the question of weighing-machines and steelyards, and,
after some little deliberation, it is resolved to abide by the old plan
of 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 brave
can understand, and which can only be manipulated by a white
medicine-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 three
medicines of the very highest order: his heart could sing, demons sprung
from the light of his candle, and he had a little box stronger than the
strongest Indian. When a large band of the Blackfeet would assemble at
Edmonton, years ago, the Chief Factor would-win-dup his musical box, get
his magic lantern ready, and take out his galvanic battery. Imparting
with the last-named article a terrific shock to the frame of the Indian
chief, he would warn him that far out in the plains he could at will
inflict the same medicine upon him if he ever behaved badly. "Look," he
would say, "now my heart beats for you," then the spring of the little
musical box concealed under his coat would be touched, and lo! the heart
of the white trader would sing with the strength of his love for the
Blackfeet. "To-morrow I start to cross the mountains against the Nez
Perces," a chief would say, "what says my white brother, don't he dream
that my arm will be strong in battle, and that the scalps and horses of
the Nez Perces will be ours?" "I have dreamt that you are to draw one of
these two little sticks which I hold in my hand. If you draw the right
one, your arm will be strong, your eye keen, the horses of the Nez Perces
will be yours; but, listen, the fleetest horse must come to me; you will
have to give me the best steed in the band of the Nez Perces. Woe betide
you if you should draw the wrong stick!" Trembling with fear, the
Blackfoot would approach and draw the bit of wood. "My brother, you are a
great chief, you have drawn the right stick--your fortune is assured,
go." Three weeks later a magnificent horse, the pride of some Nez Perce
chief on the lower Columbia, would be led into the fort on the
Saskatchewan, and when next the Blackfoot chief came to visit the white
medicine-man a couple of freshly taken scalps would dangle from his spear
shaft.

In former times, when rum was used in the trade, the most frightful
scenes were in the habit of occurring in the Indian room. The fire-water,
although freely diluted with water soon reduced the assemblage to a state
of wild hilarity, quickly followed by stupidity and sleep. The fire-water
for 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 is
the power which alcohol in any shape his well-diluted liquor, was wont to
become helplessly intoxicated. The trade usually began with a present
of-fire water all round--then the business went on apace. 'Horses, robes,
tents, provisions, all would be proffered for one more drink at the
beloved poison. Nothing could exceed the excitement inside the tent,
except it was the excitement outside. There the anxious crowd could only
learn by hearsay what was going on within. Now and then a brave, with an
amount of self-abnegation worthy of a better cause, would issue from the
tent with his cheeks distended and his mouth full of the fire-water, and
going along the ranks of his friends he would squirt a little of the
liquor 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 Pitt
and Edmonton show many traces of bullet marks and knife hacking done in
the wild fury of the intoxicated savage. Some ten years ago this most
baneful distribution was stopped by the Hudson Bay Company in the
Saskatchewan district, but the free traders still continued to employ
alcohol as a means of acquiring the furs belonging to the Indians. I was
the bearer of an Order in Council from the Lieutenant-Governor
prohibiting, under heavy penalties, the sale, distribution, or possession
of alcohol, and this law, if hereafter enforced, will do much to remove
at least one leading source of Indian demoralization.

The universal passion for dress is strangely illustrated in the Western
Indian. His ideal of perfection is the English costume of some forty
years ago. The tall chimney-pot hat with round narrow brim, the coat with
high collar going up over the neck, sleeves tight-fitting, waist narrow.
All this is perfection, and the chief who can array himself in this
ancient garb struts out of the fort the envy and admiration of all
beholders. Sometimes the tall felt chimney-pot is graced by a large
feather which has done duty in the turban of a dowager thirty years ago
in England. The addition of a little gold tinsel to the coat collar is of
considerable consequence, but the presence of a nether garment is not at
all requisite to the completeness of the general get-up. For this most
ridiculous-looking costume a Blackfeet chief will readily exchange his
beautifully-dressed deerskin Indian shirt embroidered with porcupine
quills and ornamented with the raven locks of his enemies--his head-dress
of ermine skins, his flowing buffalo robe: a dress in which he looks
every inch a savage king for one in which he looks every inch a foolish
savage. But the new dress does not long survive--bit by bit it is found
unsuited to the wild work which its: owner has to perform; and although
it never loses the high estimate originally set upon it, it,
nevertheless, is discarded by virtue of the many inconveniences arising
out of running buffalo in'a tall beaver,-or fighting in a tail coat
against Crees.

During the days spent in the Mountain House I enjoyed the society of the
most enterprising and best informed missionary in the Indian countries-M.
la Combe. This gentleman, a native of Lower Canada, has devoted himself
for more than twenty years to the Blackfeet and Crees of the far-West,
sharing their sufferings, their hunts, their summer journeys, and their
winter camps--sharing even, unwillingly, their war forays and night
assaults. The devotion which he has evinced towards these poor wild
warriors has not been thrown away upon them, and Pèere la Combe is the
only man who can pass and repass from Blackfoot camp to Cree camp with
perfect impunity when these long-lasting enemies are at war. On one
occasion he was camped with a small party of Blackfeet south of the. Red
Deer River. It was night, and the lodges were silent and dark, all save
one, the lodge of the chief, who had invited the black-robe to his tent
for the night and was conversing with him as they lay on the buffalo
robes, while the fire in the centre of the lodge burned clear and bright.
Every thing wa