As we floated down we
sighted a Lynx on the bank looking contemplatively into the flood. One
of the police boys seized a gun and with a charge of No. 6 killed
the Lynx. Poor thing, it was in a starving condition, as indeed
are most meat-eaters this year in the north. Though it was fully
grown, it weighed but 15 pounds.
In its stomach was part of a sparrow (white-throat?) and a piece
of rawhide an inch wide and 4 feet long, evidently a portion of a
dog-harness picked up somewhere along the river. I wonder what he
did with the bells.
That night we decided to drift, leaving one man on guard. Next day,
as we neared Lake Athabaska, the shores got lower, and the spruce
disappeared, giving way to dense thickets of low willow. Here
the long expected steamer, Graham, passed, going upstream. We now
began to get occasional glimpses of Lake Athabaska across uncertain
marshes and sand bars. It was very necessary to make Fort Chipewyan
while there was a calm, so we pushed on. After four hours' groping
among blind channels and mud banks, we reached the lake at
midnight - though of course there was no night, but a sort of gloaming
even at the darkest - and it took us four hours' hard rowing to
cover the ten miles that separated us from Chipewyan.
It sounds very easy and commonplace when one says "hard rowing,"
but it takes on more significance when one is reminded that those
oars were 18 feet long, 5 inches through, and weighed about 20 pounds
each; the boat was 30 feet long, a demasted schooner indeed, and
rowing her through shallow muddy water, where the ground suction
was excessive, made labour so heavy that 15 minute spells were all
any one could do. We formed four relays, and all worked in turn
all night through, arriving at Chipewyan. 4 A.M., blistered, sore,
and completely tired out.
Fort Chipewyan (pronounced Chip-we-yan') was Billy Loutit's home,
and here we met his father, mother, and numerous as well as interesting
sisters. Meanwhile I called at the Roman Catholic Mission, under
Bishop Gruard, and the rival establishment, under Reverend Roberts,
good men all, and devoted to the cause, but loving not each other.
The Hudson's Bay Company, however, was here, as everywhere in the
north, the really important thing.
There was a long stretch of dead water before we could resume our
downward drift, and, worse than that, there was such a flood on the
Peace River that it was backing the Athabaska, that is, the tide
of the latter was reversed on the Rocher River, which extends
twenty-five miles between here and Peace mouth. To meet this, I
hired Colin Fraser's steamer. We left Chipewyan at 6.15; at 11.15
camped below the Peace on Great Slave River, and bade farewell to
the steamer.
The reader may well be puzzled by these numerous names; the fact
is the Mackenzie, the Slave, the Peace, the Rocher, and the Unchaga
are all one and the same river, but, unfortunately, the early
explorers thought proper to give it a new name each time it did
something, such as expand into a lake. By rights it should be the
Unchaga or Unjiza, from the Rockies to the Arctic, with the Athabaska
as its principal southern tributary.
The next day another Lynx was collected. In its stomach were
remains of a Redsquirrel, a Chipmunk, and a Bog-lemming. The last
was important as it made a new record.
The Athabaska is a great river, the Peace is a greater, and the
Slave, formed by their union, is worthy of its parents. Its placid
flood is here nearly a mile wide, and its banks are covered with
a great continuous forest of spruce trees of the largest size. How
far back this extends I do not know, but the natives say the best
timber is along the river.
More than once a Lynx was seen trotting by or staring at us from
the bank, but no other large animal.
On the night of June 7 we reached Smith Landing.
CHAPTER V
A CONFERENCE WITH THE CHIEFS
A few bands of Buffalo are said to exist in the country east of
Great Slave River. Among other matters, Major Jarvis had to report
on these, find out how many were left, and exactly where they were.
When he invited me to join his expedition, with these questions in
view, I needed no pressing.
Our first business was to get guides, and now our troubles began.
Through the traders we found four natives who knew the Buffalo
range - they were Kiya, Sousi, Kirma, and Peter Squirrel. However,
they seemed in no way desirous of guiding any one into that
country. They dodged and delayed and secured many postponements,
but the Royal Mounted Police and the Hudson's Bay Company are the
two mighty powers of the land, so, urged by an officer of each,
these worthies sullenly assembled to meet us in Sousi's cabin.
Sousi, by the way, is Chipewyan for Joseph, and this man's name
was Joseph Beaulieu. Other northern travellers have warned all that
came after them to beware of the tribe of Beaulieu, so we were on
guard.
Sullen silence greeted us as we entered; we could feel their
covert antagonism. Jarvis is one of those affable, good-tempered
individuals that most persons take for "easy." In some ways he may
be so, but I soon realised that he was a keen judge of men and their
ways, and he whispered to me: "They mean to block us if possible."
Sousi understood French and had some English, but the others professed
ignorance of everything but Chipewyan.
