Qu'appelle Fort to The Indian Elbow.

July 4th. - We had arranged for an early start, but a thunderstorm, with heavy rain, delayed us, and it was 8 o'clock before we got fairly underway. Some of the Fort hunters started at the same time for the plains, but they were going by a different track, which tended far to the south of the unfrequented district that we were bound for. Our road ran for a while through a prairie with many islands of brush, it then passed through black-earth plains and swamps with occasional sandhills, then traversed a country of sandy, rolling character.

As we were journeying along a cabree rose close to us: we could have shot it had not the dogs run forward and chased it away. This filled up the measure of Hector's iniquities. McKay and I held a court-martial on him, and condemned him to death, - as useless, as a fool, as spoiling sport, and as teaching the other dog bad lessons. The sentence was instantly carried out: McKay put his pony alongside and sent a bullet through the culprit's heart. As the poor wretch lay dying. Pointer, a generally good-natured dog, flew at him and worried him savagely, though he had never quarrelled with his ill-fated companion.

Towards evening we saw several wolves, and ran a very fine white one, but could not overtake him.* camping, however, near a large wood, - some miles beyond a place called Long Point, where Numme had passed three years with certain free traders, our wolf again made his appearance, so I slipped out alone and tried to stalk him among the bushes. I got within a hundred yards, but by that time it had grown too dark for shooting at any such distance, and to get nearer proved impossible, for he quickly discovered me and kept just out of reach.

July 5th. - I stalked two cabrees and put a bullet through one of them at 130 yards. He ran someway and lay down. I approached him he got up and ran again: I gave him another ball; it failed to stop him, though it grazed his backbone, making the hair fly up like spray from a fountain. Following on with Numme I got another chance. I thought I had missed, for the antelope went on; but no, he stopped short, swayed about a little, and fell dead - the bullet had grazed his heart. He had but small horns, being only a two-year-old buck, worth little except for eating, and not very much for that purpose, owing to his extreme leanness.

Then began a long ride across fine rolling sandy plains, as we made our way to the Qu'Appelle, in which direction the carts were travelling, but at last, we reached the pretty valley through which that river flows towards its ultimate junction with the Assiniboine. Bluffs 200 to 300 feet high, much scored (apparently by torrents in the spring), and in some places in double and triple range, bounded a vale varying from a mile to half a mile in width. Through this meandered the Qu'Appelle, at that time of year a shallow stream some, * albus twenty yards across, pursuing its winding course through endless brushwood and small poplar groves.*

We crossed the river and ascended the opposite bank, taking with us supplies of wood, as a wide, bare, sandy expanse lay before us, dotted with small hillocks and utterly devoid of trees or brush, though not altogether wanting in fuel, being thickly strewn with dry buffalo dung - "bois des prairies" I believe the French voyageurs call it, it is sometimes also spoken of as buffalo chips. We frequently used it in our campfires. I rather liked to burn it, as it throws out a very pleasant strongly aromatic smell redolent of wild thyme and other herbs of the prairie.

The swamps were almost dried up, so we had to march hard and far in search of a good camping place, which at length we found at the side of a small lake. We expected to meet Indians, but they had gone on, which I did not at all regret. Another cabree gave me a chance this afternoon, but I missed him; however, I was luckier with a young wolf, which Klyne saw lying in a hollow about eighty yards from the track.

'The sandflies were most troublesome all day, and towards evening the mosquitoes came out in force. The latter I divide into three classes: the common brown, the large soft drab, and the fierce little black - Quirk, Gammon, and Snap! '[I named them thus after the well-known firm of lawyers in Ten Thousand a Year. The Quirks were pertinaciously blood-sucking, in a humdrum, respectable manner; the Gammons alighted the thistle-down, and drank your blood with tender slyness; the Snaps rushed in with sudden fury, and nipped more than they sucked, though careful not to go empty away.]

Poor thin-skinned Pointer made most absurd contortions as he writhed under the bites of these tormentors. It seemed as if they came as ministers of vengeance to punish him for his cruelty to Hector.

Nor was this the only trouble that immediately befell him. That identical night, as I was settling myself to sleep, tired and feverish from the heat of the weather, I was wakened up by loud and terror-struck yelping, and in a moment Pointer rushed trembling into my tent, seeking refuge from a large white wolf, which, in his anxiety to devour our well-fed dog, had ventured into the very camp in pursuit of him, going close by the place where all the men were sleeping in the open air.

Awoke by the disturbance McKay reached out for his gun, and with one shot ended the career of this voracious enemy. It was a wolf of the largest size, a gaunt old monster, with teeth worn to the sockets from long use. No vestiges of food were to be found in his stomach; sheer hunger had doubtless driven him to his unusual act of daring. It was the last night he could have crept in unperceived, for we afterwards kept regular watch, having come to a more dangerous part of the country, where our horses required protection from the attempts of Indian marauders.

July 6th. - There was heavy rain in the night and morning, and the dampness, I suppose, brought on an attack that made me feel very weak and ill for a while. After we set out stalked a cabree, but in vain. Then I stalked three white cranes, which I had observed looking exquisitely beautiful beside a small pool of water; could not get near them; tried a long shot, and missed.

During part of the day we travelled near a branch of the Qu'Appelle, called Long Lake Creek, a stream flowing through a gorge of considerable depth. As we came to the brink of a steep-sided narrow trench of a glen that runs into this valley, we were surprised to find in it a hidden grove of trees, in one of which a raven had built its nest and reared its young.

We camped at the end of a lake in Stony Valley. So intense was the heat that I was compelled to leave the tent door open all night, trying for the first time a muslin mosquito net, which was hung from above to encompass my bed and form a sort of inner chamber. It answered tolerably well, but not well enough to repay the trouble of arranging it, so I never used it again. 'The flies [mosquitoes] are the pest of creation. Welcome rain, wind, sun, anything that annoys and destroys the tormentors!'

July 7th. - Marching before breakfast we came to some stony sand bluffs, where I ran a wolf a little way, but unsuccessfully. Presently Numme and I observed a single buffalo bull, about half a mile from us. He instantly made off, the wind blowing towards him, and as neither the ground nor our horses suited, we had to let him go his way.

Hoping to come on more buffalo, I mounted the Bichon, and McKay mounting Waupoose, we rode on together and searched all the country round. No game, however, was to be seen, except some cabrees in the distance. Large bands of Indians were evidently in the neighbourhood; in one recent camp, probably of Cree's, we counted no less than forty-two tent sites. Anxious not to draw their attention, I had the canvas tilt removed from the wagon, as it was by far too conspicuous an object.

This was a prairie country of sand and crisp grass, of level tracts varied with hills and bluffs and undulations, of many little lakes and swamps scattered about here and there. Flowers of the gayest colour enlivened the landscape. The most common were the small tiger lilies and the roses, and next came blue-bells and white strawberry blossoms. Sometimes acres and acres were covered with intermingled masses of the orange lily and the pendulous blue-bell, the whole of them so short of the stem that the glory of the flowers combined with the rich greenness of their leaves, and it seemed as if a vast oriental carpet had been thrown upon the plain.

Towards evening the heat of the weather changed to heavy showers, with flashes of lightning at intervals; we saw that a storm was coming, and made haste to camp in a wild rocky valley that offered itself at no great distance from the track. Three very young wolves appeared when we entered this secluded glen, but I did not care to shoot the poor little creatures. The plains we had been passing through during the day were thickly strewn with buffalo skulls, the relics of former slaughter by Indians or half-breed hunting parties. 'We did not see as many ground squirrels as usual, but, as usual, saw a pair of small birds chasing a crow.'

July 8th. - The little wolves kept up a chorus all night long, beginning each fresh strain with mewing whines, like a family of peevish kittens, then bursting into tremulous, melancholy howls. The effect was very pleasing; it harmonized so well with the savage loneliness of the scene, that should have been sorry to miss this wild wolfish music. The rain had ceased, and it was a fine morning when we resumed our journey.

I again mounted myself on Bichon, in case of meeting with buffalo, and carried a twelve-bore gun loaded with ball, instead of my favourite rifle. McKay, as before, selected Waupoose. No buffalo were anywhere discoverable, but we presently observed a large white wolf, and at once gave chase. He ran well, so well that I could not get near him; Waupoose, however, showed his speed and distanced the Bichon, just as he had done in a race on the previous day, he soon brought McKay all but alongside. Another moment and a shot would have finished the exhausted wolf, but he saved his life by turning suddenly down a steep rocky bank that overhung some swampy shallows of the Qu'Appelle. I dismounted and followed, but the beast kept himself closely hidden in a jungle of high reeds and rushes: I could see nothing of him and got badly mosquitoed for my pains.

Soon after this we all descended into the valley and halted for dinner. The heat was intense, not a breath of wind stirring; the earth glowed like a furnace. The air swarmed with bulldog flies, the only living creatures that seemed to flourish in this stifling atmosphere.

We made a long halt, and then travelled up the valley came to the Sandy Hills, the first of which we ascended. These hills, covering a considerable tract, are about 200 feet high and are entirely composed of sand as fine as that of the seashores. Near them, the grass grows short and scantily, much as on some of the "links" along the Scottish coast. The Cree fancy that the souls of good men enter into a paradise concealed amidst these arid ranges, while the souls of the bad have to pass over an exceedingly narrow bridge, whence they fall into pits of despair and utter wretchedness.

I was much disappointed at seeing no buffalo, for we had fully expected to come upon them today. The only tracks of any sort that we noticed were those of some Americans, who having started for Fraser River without a guide, had here lost themselves in the desert, to judge at least from the circuitous courses they had been describing. 'Others of the same party had engaged one Whiteford for their guide from Fort Garry, but he had positively refused to go by the road we were following, fearing the Indians, - "les sauvages," as the half-breeds call them.

'As we toiled onwards through the sand hills the heat became almost unbearable. For miles together no water could be found. Pointer twice fell into a fit, choking and gasping in agony, but both times fortunately when water happened to be within easy reach. He had another narrow escape for his life, the wagon very nearly running over him, but the wheel merely bruised his paws, and did him no harm to speak of.

The horses suffered miserably from the bulldog flies. Poor Bichon, being light coloured and thin of skin, was more attacked than the others. The blood ran in streams down his cream-coloured sides - he looked as if he had been spurred from head to foot. My arm grew stiff from killing his tormentors; again and again, I slew seven or eight at a blow. Sometimes I counted three or four dozen upon him: and this lasted all day, and only ended at sunset.

'Bichon is a pony of an original mind. He is not pretty, me indeed is getting somewhat elderly, but he is the most amiable of animals, albeit rather obstinate. Bland affability beams from his countenance and rests on the white star on his broad forehead. He likes to be petted, and will come up to me when I am riding another horse to have his face scratched, which, alas! it often much needs, for the mosquitoes and bulldogs make sad havoc of 'le pauvre Bichon.'

'Of all my horses he is the only one that eats flowers, and I have had many a laugh at seeing the old fellow wander off the track to browse on a tuft of blue-bells or tiger lilies. He particularly delights in certain purple weeds that grow in such large tufts as to be often mistaken at a distance for buffaloes. Why is it absurd that a horse should eat flowers? I know not why, but it is. An ancient philosopher died of laughter at the sight of an ass eating roses.

'Poor Bichon! His worst fault is neighing when parted by ever so little from his friends. At length he has learnt that this is a forbidden practice, so he takes great pains to check himself, and at any moment of forgetfulness or strong temptation changes his incipient neigh into the funniest little muffled squeaks, ending in a sort of low appealing sigh. . . .

'I could go on writing for hours about my horses, for having no companion, I am always watching them and amusing myself with their queer ways. 'Much might be said about that strange little pony Waupoose, who looks such a weak, poor wretch, and is one of the fastest and most enduring of buffalo runners. He is milky white, with red specks on his head and neck; his mane and tail are very long and straight and fine and of a silvery glitter; his skin is as sleek and shiny as satin.

'He has the funniest head that ever was seen, very large about the nose, and his eyes have a most singular expression of resigned gravity and patient endurance of life - the Cynic philosopher, of one soured rather an unhappy. I call him Waupoose, which means Rabbit, because he looks like one of those animals - not one of the silly kind, by no means so, but some austere old buck, who under sufficient provocation, would drum handsomely on any spaniel's ribs; yet he is very mild and peaceable, and all the other horses bite and bully him.

'When evening approached, we began to search for a camping place near some good water, but for long in vain. McKay and I went to examine several small lakes that came into our view; all of them were brackish and tasted like bad carbonates of soda. Anxious to cool my horse, I rode him into one that looked better than the rest; half mad with thirst, he plunged his head in and tried to drink, but instantly stopped in disgust. For my part, I could not refrain, whatever might be the nature of the fluid, so I dipped down my leather cup and swallowed large draughts of the tepid brine, and, parched and feverish as I was, it seemed refreshing despite its nauseousness.

At last, we came to a lake filled near the upper end with a luxuriant growth of rushes and wild garlic, among which the water proved on trial to be nearly free from salt. This, it is said, is usually the case where such vegetation is found, - whether because the plants have a purifying quality, or because they mark the position of wholesome springs, I did not happen to ascertain.