But think of it--they did it not only one year, but every year for more than a hundred years!"

Rob continued his diary more or less impatiently during the time they lay at the Mountain Portage, but noted that on Monday, June 23d, at seven-thirty in the evening, the work was all concluded. His notes ran:

"We are off. Fort Smith is next. Fast water. Pilot Boniface in bow. River very wide below the Mountain Rapids, and wanders very much--every which way. Shallow so the boats have trouble. They say no one could run the big water below Pelican Island off to the right. Crossed the river in a wide circle. Could hear roar of heavy rapids on both sides.

Boniface says if the water was high we would run the big rapids on the left straight through, but we cannot do it now. Our channel is crooked like a double letter S, and I don't see how he follows it. It takes fancy steering.

"We are following what they call the old Hudson's Bay channel. This carries us to the right-hand side of the river, and it looks a mile or two across. Storm came up and we got wet. Over to the left we could see lights. They said it was the steamboat _Mackenzie River_ lying at her moorings at Fort Smith. Jolly glad to get done with this work.

"Dark and wet and late. Went on board steamboat. Quite a post here. A good many strangers besides the Company people.

Well, here we are at the head of the Mackenzie River, or the Big Slave, as they call it here. I'm pretty glad."

VIII

ON THE MACKENZIE

The three young companions stood in the bright sunlight on the high bank of Fort Smith at the foot of which lay the steamer which was to carry them yet farther on their northwest journey. About them lay the scattered settlements at the foot of the Grand Traverse between the Slave and the Mackenzie. Off to the right, along the low bed of the river, lay the encampment of the natives, waiting for the "trade" of the season. Upon the other hand were the log houses of the Company employees, structures not quite so well built, perhaps, as those at Chippewyan, but adapted to the severity of this northern climate.

At the foot of the high embankment, busy among the unloaded piles of cargo which had been traversed from the disembarkment point of Smith's Landing, trotted in steady stream the sinewy laborers, the same half-breeds who everywhere make the reliance of the fur trade in the upper lat.i.tudes. They were carrying now on board the _Mackenzie River_, as the steamboat was named, the usual heavy loads of flour, bacon, side-meat, sugar, trade goods, all the staples of the trade, not too expensive in their total.

There were to be seen also the human flotsam and jetsam of this northern country--miners, prospectors, drifters, government employees, and adventurers--all caught here as though in the cleats of a flume, at this focusing-point at the foot of the wild northern waters.

"John," said Jesse, at last, as he drew a full breath of warm yet invigorating air, "how is your map coming along?"

"Pretty well," replied John. "I've got everything charted this far.

Look here how I've put down our journey through the rapids of the Slave River; we zigzagged all about. I put down the rocks and the biggest headlands, so I think I've got it pretty close to correct. I wonder how we ever got through there, and how the old Company men first went through."

"Two boats came through directly over the big rapids which we didn't dare tackle," said Rob. "They were tenderfeet, and they don't know to this day how lucky they were."

"Well, we were lucky enough, too," said John, "for in spite of our bad omens at Chippewyan, everything has come through fine. Here we are, all ready for our last great swing to the North. Look here on the map, fellows--I always thought that the Mackenzie River ran straight north up to the Arctic Ocean, but look here--if you start from where we are right now, and follow the Great Slave River on out through Great Slave Lake, you'll find it runs almost as much west as it does north. It lurches clear over toward Alaska, although it's all on British ground."

Jesse expressed his surprise at seeing so many "common-looking people," as he called it, up here in the fur country, where he had expected to find only gaudily dressed traders and trappers; but Rob, who had observed more closely, explained some of this to him.

"A good many of these people," he said, "are simply drifters who intend to live any way they can. They make a sort of fringe on the last thrust of west-bound settler folk; there is always such a wave goes out ahead of the permanent settlers.

"Not that they can settle this country permanently. They tell me that they raise potatoes even north of here, and, as you know, they raise fine wheat at Chippewyan; but this will never be an agricultural country. No, it's the country of the fur trade--always has been, and I hope and believe always will be."

"Well," said John, drawing himself up to his full height, "I'm for a little more excitement. It's getting slow here, watching the people load the boats."

As to what did happen in the way of interest to our travelers, Rob's diary will serve as well as anything to explain their experiences for the next few days:

"_Tuesday, June 24th._--Not quite a month out from Athabasca Landing. Have come 553 miles. Steamboat now for the rest of the way north. She is a side-wheeler, pretty big, with several berths and a dining-room. I think she will be pretty well crowded.

"More dogs here. To-day three or four big huskies ate up a little Lapland dog puppy which one of the men had brought along to take home with him. They broke through the bars of the crate and hauled out the puppy and ate him alive! Don't like the looks of them after dark.

"There is a mission school here. The Church people are against fur-hunting. I don't see what else the natives can do. If you wanted to buy any fur here you would have to go to the independents and pay a big price. This place had very little to eat left in it when we got here. Not much fish just now, as the river is too high. The cargo of the mission scows is not over the portage yet. Some people of the Anglican Church go north with us, too, also four Northwest Mounted Police, who go to Fort McPherson and Herschel Island. They relieve others who will go out. Lonesome life, I should think.

"_Wednesday, June 25th._--Loaded and got off 3 P.M. They call this the Big Slave, then Mackenzie River, but I can't see why it isn't just the same river that starts back in the Rocky Mountains. Pa.s.sed the little steamboat _St. Marie_.

The bishop of this country is on it, also many Indians. Our boat asked him if the ice was out of Great Slave Lake, and he says yes. Tied up very late at night.

"_Thursday, June 26th._--Have seen no game. The banks are low and very monotonous. Not very pretty. Most people are playing cards on the boat. No one to talk to but ourselves.

Have to slow up because the head wind is filling the scows with water.

"There is very little darkness now, even at midnight, although there is a sort of sunset even yet.

"_Friday, June 27th._--Tied up twelve miles from Resolution, in delta of the Slave River. Low marshes all around. Some men on the boat, traders and others, took canoe and paddled over to the post.

"_Sat.u.r.day, June 28th._--This is my birthday. If I were home might have a cake or something. Other boys and Uncle d.i.c.k very nice to me. Went out into the lake, but did not dare to chance the waves, so came back in the channel. Our captain is uneasy because he is afraid the independent traders will get into Resolution before we do. Some compet.i.tion even here. Wind dropped at 9 P.M. We could have gone on, but the Hudson's Bay always waits if it gets a chance.

"_Sunday, June 29th._--The _St. Marie_ and the _Caribou_, an independent trading-boat, both sighted. Both probably will beat us in to Resolution.

"_Monday, June 30th._--Loafed another day. Other boats pa.s.sed out at night. We started out late. Pulled the nose out of our sturgeon nose scow and she began to settle. All that the men and three pumps could do to keep her from sinking. Got her in shallow water at last and tried to patch her up. This was the Fort Nelson cargo, and it is ruined.

Boat covered with smeared calico and blankets and everything else, hung up to dry. Pretty mess they will have at Fort Nelson--but this is all they'll have for another year!

n.o.body seems to care.

"_Tuesday, July 1st._--Anch.o.r.ed off Fort Resolution, and went ash.o.r.e. Indian tepees all over the beach. Hundreds of dogs. Two trading-posts here, a mission school, and a church. Mixed scenes, mostly savage. There is a York boat down from Fort Rae. Says they are starving there. Plenty of fish here. Hudson's Bay boat lost in this race. Independent goods are now eighty miles farther down the river than we are. Left a Mounted Policeman and a scientist here. No Mounted Policeman ever had a horse up here.

"They say that the damaged cargo in the Fort Nelson boat will lose half its value. Fort Nelson is up the Liard River, and it takes twenty-five days of tracking from the mouth of the Liard in the Mackenzie.

"As we go down the edge of the Great Slave Lake--the big river runs through it--everything is quiet and the sky is bright. Once in a while we see a belt of clear water now.

Have been on muddy water ever since we started out at Athabasca Landing. Fort Resolution as we leave it under the morning sun makes a pretty picture.

"All sorts of people on the boat. One Oxford man, an interpreter and Indian agent, and his five breed children.

Another ex-Indian agent who is going north with the last of the treaty payments. These old-timers in the north country tell us all kinds of stories. Wish I had time to put them down. People up here get about one mail a year. One winter mail comes across the mountains from Dawson. They say a mail goes into Fort McPherson from Dawson every winter, too.

Three years ago four members of the Mounted Police were lost trying to make it across from McPherson to Dawson. Their names were Inspector Fitzgerald, Constables Taylor and Kenny, and Carter, a special constable. They all starved.

They are buried at Fort McPherson. Their guide was Carter, and he got lost. The inspector of the Mounted Police who is to go to Fort Herschel was in the Boer War, in Africa, far south of the Equator.

"Uncle d.i.c.k tells me that the names of the tribes through which we will pa.s.s on our big journey are, first, the Crees, who go as far north as McMurray and Chippewyan; then the Great Chippewyan people, scattered here over a big country; then the Dog Ribs, the Yellow Knives, the Slavies, the Mountain Slavies, the Rabbit or Hare people, the Loucheux, and the Eskimos. The Loucheux and the Eskimos lap over along the southern edge of the Arctic. We are among the Dog Ribs here. Their canoes are very small, made out of spruce and birch bark, and so narrow you would not think they could float anything at all. That's as big as they can get the bark up here.

"Now we begin to see sledges and snow-shoes and meat-racks.

They have to put everything up high so the dogs can't get them. Dried fish everywhere, or what is left of the last winter's supply. Looks like we were in the North at last.

Father Le Fevre told me that at Chippewyan they put up over a hundred thousand 'pieces of fish'--that means a whole fish each--every year for the people and the dogs.

"English mission at Hay River has seventy scholars. They are put in red coats. They live on fish and potatoes. We leave at Hay River the wife of the Anglican minister. There are two young ladies stationed there also. The minister's wife had been gone for two years--outside, as we call it in Alaska. Found a garden here, quite a potato-field, also fresh pie-plant, lettuce, and radishes, all big enough to eat on July 1st. Many fat dogs. Don't know whether the natives eat these or not. This country under the Arctic Ocean is different from what we thought it was--not so cold, and more civilized in some ways.

"Our ex-Indian agent leaves us here to pay treaty money. A young teacher leaves us also here for the Anglican mission.

We find here, much to our wonder, on one of the little mission steamboats which beat us out from Fort Smith word from the two good Sisters with whom we traveled on the scows up to Fort McMurray. One was left at Chippewyan and one at Resolution. Here also is the judicial party which we left back at Fort McMurray. They have come down on the _St.

Marie_. We say good-by here to Father Le Fevre. Several church dignitaries about here. The Anglican Church seems more prominent here than at most of the posts.

"I went out with an Indian boy here to run his nets, and we took out an awful lot of fish--one lake trout of thirty-three and a half pounds, and one of twenty-five pounds, five fine whitefish, and four fish that I never saw.

The boy called them 'connies.' _Inconnu_ is the real name for this fish. The first French _voyageurs_ who saw this fish did not know what it was, so they called it 'unknown.'

It looks something like a salmon and something like a sucker. Its mouth is rather square. Its flesh is something like that of a whitefish, and it is used a great deal as food. We don't like any fish as well as the whitefish right along. They tell me a lake trout has been caught here weighing forty-four and a half pounds. The boat captain says he has seen one weighing sixty-three pounds.

"Our steamer left at 1 A.M., but when well under way remembered that it had forgotten the mail-bags! So we turned around and went back. If we had not done so the people north of here would not have had any mail this year. The Hudson's Bay Company has funny ways.

"_Wednesday, July 2d._--Off for Fort Providence. Running better, for scows are lighter loaded now. In the morning came into Beaver Lake, which they say is the head of the true Mackenzie, not at Fort Smith. I suppose the lower point is more correct; at least the other map-makers say so, in spite of what John believes. But it's all one river.