Indian Elbow to Crossing of the South Branch.

July 9th. - The sun was again powerful, but a high, west wind cooled the air and made travelling far more pleasant. About mid-day, we arrived at the overhanging brow of a valley, and there, outspread beneath us, I beheld the long-desired object - the Elbow of the South Saskatchewan. Few, but Indians have seen this place, as it is in a neighbourhood too dangerous to be much visited.

'The river here makes an elbow-like angle, whence is derived the name; its course is nearly due north, and then it turns due west. The channel seems about five hundred yards wide just above the turn and is full of sandbanks, which give a shallow appearance to the stream. On both sides, its banks are broken into bluffs, with wooded ravines sloping gradually back to the prairies. As if in continuation of [the line of] the lower part of its bend [forming an easterly prolongation of the hollow it occupies after its sharp turn], runs a valley a quarter of a mile wide, at the side of which we are encamped. Down this flows to it a small stream [running due west]* that rises, I am told, about five miles off in a quaking morass, whence also proceeds the River Qu'Appelle, which at first runs due east, though soon making a northerly turn near the Sandy Hills. The valley of the little stream is, in direction, a prolongation of that of the Qu'Appelle, but the ground is so elevated at the marshy height of land which obstructs it, that water communications between the Qu'Appelle and Saskatchewan would be almost impossible. * Arrowsmith's map [then probably the best existing - Sir George Simpson gave me the copy I possess] is very faulty here, the Qu'Appelle being shown to rise some sixty miles from the Elbow, instead of within five [? twelve] miles as it does.'

Mr. Hind describes the South Branch, near the Elbow, as "a river of the first class, nearly half-a-mile broad, and flowing with a swift current, not more than 350 miles from the Rocky Mountains, whence it takes its rise" (Hind, Gan. Ex. Exp., Vol i. p. 366). I cannot help thinking this measurement is too largely generalized. I could hardly have estimated the width of the river at 600 yards if it had nearly approached 880 yards (half a mile).

Mr. Hind, however, repeats his estimate of "half-a-mile broad"... "at the Elbow" (Vol i. p. 388). He elsewhere speaks of the same river as continuing "for many miles [below the Elbow] about 700 yards broad" (vol. i. p. 382). My party crossed at a place between twenty and thirty miles below the Elbow, and I there estimated the breadth at 600 yards, the river being considerably in flood. While noting this discrepancy, I admit that Mr. Hind is far more likely to be right than myself, both as a skilled and accurate observer and as being furnished with scientific instruments - if in this case, he thought it necessary to use them. Our measurements may apply to slightly different portions of the river. Mr. Hind uses the general words - "at the Elbow," while I write - 'just above the corner' [of the Elbow.]

Another discrepancy I may venture to point out. I refer to the obtuseness of the angle at the Elbow in Mr. Hind's map (vol. i. p. 366). In my rough eyes, I make the angle far more acute, and in my diary, I note that the stream flows ' nearly due north, and then due west,' - my authority for these bearings being merely an accurate pocket compass. I observe, however, that in the maps appended to the Reports of Captain Palliser's Exploring Expedition (Blue Books 1859 and 1860), the Elbow has an angle, which, though intermediate, rather less resembles Mr. Hind's drawing than mine.

On the bank above the Aiktow valley we came for the third time on a recent site of the great camp of Indians, Assiniboine's we then supposed, but I believe they were Cree's. They had driven all the buffalo before them to the hills about thirty miles up this south branch of the Saskatchewan, the farthest point in the Blackfoot direction to which the other tribes can venture. In the evening I walked with Numme about the river-banks but saw nothing to shoot, and found the mosquitoes quite unbearable.

July 11th. - After breakfast, I rode with McKay and Numme to explore the country higher up the course of the river. We went to the top of a hill about nine or ten miles off, - not a living creature was in sight; so we returned, keeping along the river-side, among little banks and knolls and patches of wood, but there was nothing there either, not even a fresh track.

McKay having subsequently found out that a great band of buffalo had crossed the Saskatchewan at a place not far from the Elbow, the question presented itself whether we ought to follow them, and afterwards make straight for Fort Pitt, - or travel upstream towards the Cypress Hills and the Blackfoot country, as we had lately thought of doing. After some consideration, I determined on the former route, both as offering better prospects of sport and as likely to be less dangerous, for it lay almost entirely within the territories of the friendly Cree. Want of water seemed our principal risk in traversing such arid deserts; as to that, however, we were ignorant enough, only judging by hearsay - the remoter districts being unknown even to our guide. And here an unlooked-for difficulty arose, - Numme this very guide, quietly announced that he would not go with us to Fort Pitt, alleging that his contract only bound him to take us to Fort Carlton.

This could not for a moment be endured. I summoned Numme to my tent and made McKay read the engagement aloud, and explain to him that if he refused to guide us wherever I might desire, we would guide ourselves, and would send him back forthwith, on foot, and without the remainder of his pay - more I could not threaten, for he had been partly paid in advance. On hearing this decision he at once gave in; said he had merely wanted to know what his contract was, - that he had misunderstood something, - that he was ready to go anywhere.

July 12th. - 'We left the Elbow soon after breakfast, and travelled northwards down the course of the stream, keeping as near it as the many ravines permitted. Our object was to discover a suitable crossing, to follow the buffalo herd, but it was no easy matter to find one, such facilities being rare in that part of Saskatchewan, owing to the general steepness and muddiness of the descent to the water's edge.

The river became much prettier below the Elbow. The banks had a gentler slope, and were less broken into unsightly naked bluffs; the stream itself was more free from shoals, and looked very noble in its vast expanse, with level grass-clad promontories projecting into it at varying intervals, marking out its course and diverting it into many a graceful bend. The weather was pleasant and genial, though a high easterly wind struck hard upon us as we continued our journey. We made quick marching over the hard, dry, sunbaked ground, crossing alternate hills and plain as we kept along the river banks, and it was late in the day when we halted.

This morning, seeing a cabree buck with a magnificent head, I ran him several miles. Vain attempt! Morgan did his best, but could not approach the antelope. Then I got on Black and ran a doe, - equally hopeless, even the swift Black was left far behind.

As I returned from the second chase I perceived McKay and Numme driving a large buffalo before them, which on my nearer approach I found to be an old bull, very thin and sickly and hardly able to move. It was a mercy to save him from the cruelty of the wolves; so, as he had to die, I rode past him on Black and gave him a shot for practice' sake - a buffalo's strange form making him a puzzling mark for a beginner, - but I placed it too high, as one is always apt to do, and it merely dropped him on his knees, without depriving him of life. I then dismounted, and, walking close up to him, fired both barrels of my gun right at the center of his forehead. There was no result, no more than if a clod of earth had struck him: the bull continued in the same position, glaring at me with savage eyes; the densely matted hair on his thick skull had completely defied the penetrative force of smooth-bore. McKay then gave me my Purdey rifle. At the very first shot, the conical bullet passed clean through hair and bone, and the huge old buffalo rolled over, dead.

Soon afterwards we saw another bull feeding about, a good distance away on the prairie. I mounted the Bichon, McKay took his favourite Waupoose, and we set out, using every depression in the ground to conceal ourselves from view. The bull, however, quickly observed us, and made off at a remarkably fast pace, with a long start in his favour besides. After some miles' galloping, we began to near him. McKay was leading, though not by much, and when signs of the finish appeared, he drew rein and let me pass on.

The bull was still running but in evident distress. Suddenly he stopped short in a small hollow, turned round and faced me. Bichon was rather blown, and as I checked him at the edge of the hollow he made a great stumble, as nearly as possible falling on his head - in which case I should have landed directly on the horns of the buffalo. Happily, my pony recovered himself in time, and the bull remaining at bay about ten yards from me, I dropped him with a bullet in the shoulder, and finished him with another in the brain. Like many of the males at that season (Rutting) this fine, well-grown bull was exceedingly scant of flesh, so we left his carcass and merely brought in the tongue. Even that was tough eating, though far from being rank or ill-flavoured. Bichon agreeably disappointed me. On seeing the buffalo he got quite excited, and forgetting his usual laziness, ran far better than I had at all expected from his recent performances. He was a quiet and manageable beast, very different from troublesome Black, who required one's whole attention when the game was on foot. No more buffalo appeared that day. There were numbers of cabree, but the plan was to level for approaching them.

July 13th. - 'As we sat around the fire before turning in last night, McKay and Matheson told me some interesting stories about the Indian magic, 'medicine' as they term it. The Cree, it seems, are the most noted for these mysterious arts. Some of them, when wishing to injure another man's horse, either through jealousy or to secure a race, can destroy its galloping powers forever by rubbing a certain substance on its legs. There was a hunter at Edmonton who was the swiftest-footed runner in the district. While he was sleeping, some Indians who were in the same tent rubbed his legs with magic stuff; thenceforth his power left him and has never since returned.'

Some Indian conjurors will allow themselves to be bound from head to foot with nets, cords, straps, or anything; then, entering their small 'medicine tent,' it is seen to heave violently for about five minutes, after which all the fastenings are thrown out at the top of the tent, not one knot being disturbed, and the wizard steps forth perfectly free. This I had heard before from James McKay and also from his brother; it was Matheson who began speaking of it last night. Angus McKay (another brother) once tied a leaf of a Bible in the net, and the conjuror presently declared he could do nothing till it was taken away!

'John McKay and Matheson both vouched for the following story. Two Red River men of their acquaintance (whose names they mentioned) beat an Indian for stealing their clothes. A day or two afterwards the men both went raving mad; they spoke constantly of the Indian, they even told where he would be found when people were sent to apprehend him, and sure enough, he was discovered hidden in that very place. These two men have been subject to similar attacks ever since, and cannot stand the least drop of strong liquor. The charm is said to be wrought by conjuring with a lock of the victim's hair.

McKay told me that an uncle of his had a wonderful power of seeing what took place at a distance - second sight. He did not dream, but sat rapt in meditation, and then told what he saw. He constantly directed the hunters to where the buffalo were to be found. On one occasion a man (whose name was mentioned) had half his gunlock blown off when firing at a cow. Assisted by his friends, he searched for it everywhere, but in vain. The next morning the seer said to him - 'The lock is about ten yards from where the cow fell. It is close to a badger heap, and you will see it glitter in the sun as soon as you get near.' Believing in his powers, they went, though the distance was long, and all happened as he had declared it to them.

'Once some horses were lost. He told the owners to go to a valley near Scratching River, where they would find a certain number of their animals. They went; all was as he had said. This seer's power suddenly left him a few years ago.

'There is a well-known hunter at (name mentioned), said to be a very good, religious man, and he solemnly vouches for the truth of the following story. He was one of the best shots in the country and was the owner of a particularly good gun. One day an Indian came in, took up the gun, looked at the lock, handled it a little, and then walked away. The hunter went out hunting as usual, to his surprise he could hit nothing. He cleaned and examined his gun; - it seemed all right, and shot perfectly at a mark, but again and again, he found that he missed every living creature with it, though with other guns he shot with all his former skill. Some time afterwards the Indian returned. The hunter told him what had happened. 'Oh,' said the Indian,' give me your gun and I will make it shoot for you again.' So saying, he took it up, handled it a little, and returned it to its owner. Thenceforth the hunter could kill game with it as well as ever.'

During our march this morning I rode a good way into the plain, leaving the carts on the track, and on rejoining them when they had halted near the river, I found that McKay had just wounded a large cabree buck. It had run some distance, but I followed on till a lucky chance occurred and enabled me to finish it. As the head was very fine, I had it prepared for stuffing.

* After this, we saw a buffalo bull lying at the foot of a sand-hill, his huge brown body looking strangely sombre in its contrast with the pale yellowish bank immediately behind it. I hastened to mount the Bichon, McKay mounted the impetuous Black, and, managing to get near the bull before he observed us, we soon pressed him hard, though he ran exceedingly well. Finding we had the speed of him, he suddenly faced in my direction, and made a half charge, as if doubtful whether to fight or fly. I shot at his shoulder but missed him, then on he came - with no want of purpose this time. I waited till he got within ten yards, then turning in the saddle I fired my other barrel, - a second failure, for at that moment the experienced old Bichon made a quick side-leap to avoid the horns of the bull, which all but grazed us at as he passed, - onward he went, and never looked back me, but rushed savagely at McKay who had now just opened upon his view. With ready movement, McKay drew his horse out of danger's way, and tried for a flank shot, - snap! his gun misses fire; the bull, however, made no further attack but went off as hard as ever he could gallop.

By this time my rifle was reloaded; I followed the fugitive, and soon* got abreast of him. Again I missed - or at least did not kill; he was hit, perhaps, but bullet holes are invisible in the thick wool about a buffalo's neck and shoulders: however, hit or miss, for some good reason he presently stopped, and stood motionless. I rode close up to him, took steady aim, and shot him through the heart.

'I do not think a buffalo bull near so terrible-looking as a common bull, nor does he seem to be very rapid in his movements:' - so runs my journal, but I believe that I was underrating the power and speed of the buffalo, being deceived by the lumbering awkwardness of his action, and the grotesque wildness of his appearance. There was certainly one very critical moment in the adventure just recorded, nothing but Bichon's readiness having saved me from a possibly fatal overthrow. Immediately after this another old bull presented himself, and, thinking that a little sport would please the men, I offered to let anyone run it who felt that way inclined. They settled that Duncan, being a stranger, should have the first chance, so I lent him Bichon, with my gun and saddle, and McKay and he set off together. When they approached closely the buffalo charged with some savageness, and Duncan was unable to get a proper shot; however, they drove it nearly up to the camp, when several bullets were put into it, it fell dead, and its carcass rolled into the river.

It proved to be the best bull yet killed, though very far from fat. All this time I was having a severe chase after a wolf, which I pursued on foot, while McBeath, riding slow little Nez-blanc, endeavoured to cut it off and force it to go in my direction. Being a lame and sickly animal it was soon overtaken by the pony, but nothing would induce it to turn, regardless of shouts, and lashings from a heavy whip, it obstinately headed towards the plains. I followed at a good run, but its pace was a little faster than mine, - I could no more overtake it than McBeath could make it change its course. After running a mile I grew very hot and weary, for the sun was powerful. The chase up-hill, so, pausing for a moment to draw breath, I chanced two long shots at the fugitive and luckily broke one of its hind legs, which Pointer, who had been keeping his distance, no sooner observed than he valorously ran in and bit at the wounded animal's haunches, just as he had done to poor Hector when in his dying agony. After this, the wolf was quickly finished. It was a female of the large white variety, but extremely thin and wasted from some injury or disease.

Feeling tired after the chase, I put on a swimming belt and refreshed myself with a bathe in the turbid river; but I took care not to venture far from land, for the current was tremendously strong and rapid, and the belt helped much less than I had expected. The Saskatchewan, which was in a very flooded state, seemed to me to measure about six hundred yards across. Two or three flat sandy islands just showed their heads above the rush of the stream. The banks at that part were comparatively low, and sloped gradually from the prairie till within some fifty feet of the water when a steep pitch intervened. The whole place abounded with the berries we had been feasting on during the last week. 'They grow on a willow-like bush, and taste like geans or wild cherries, but sweeter. In size, they resemble common white currants and are purple. McKay calls them Shad (? Shade) berries; the Indian name is Meesasskootoom-meena.' (Saskatoons)*

All this evening we were busy with preparations for crossing the river. 'The men worked at frames for two flat-bottomed canoes. They placed six stakes in the ground to mark out the shape, and round these (which they afterwards removed) they made an open frame of light wood, with ribs still lighter. The whole was tied together with bark or leather thongs, then an oil cloth was stretched over [and securely fastened at the gunwale.] * The Indians use prepared skins to cover the outside.

'Duncan and I tried our hand at bait fishing, but we soon gave it up, for we could catch nothing but some soft-looking little fish of a kind considered hardly fit to eat. [I believe that these fish were "suckers" {Catostomus Hudsonian, - Grey Sucker, Carpe Blanche; Namaypeeth - Cree Indians), a species of carp of which four varieties appear to frequent the Saskatchewan, the whole of them stated by Dr. Richardson to be little "esteemed as articles of food, being soft and watery when boiled." According to the same authority, the average length of the grey sucker is eighteen inches.

Unfortunately, I made but a small inquiry as to the fishing capabilities of the Saskatchewan streams and my party only tested their resources on one other occasion, - I refer to the capture of some fine trout (October 1st) in the Bow River, the principal head-water of the South Branch. On consulting Dr. Richardson's treatise, I do not find that any salmon exist in Saskatchewan, whose generally turbid water would appear but little suitable for them, - the fish more or less directly indicated by him as its inhabitants being - The Sterlet or Sturgeon, the Burbot, the Sucker, the Hudson's Bay Perch or Pickerel, the Trout, and the Gold Eye. Besides these, the Catfish or Burbot, and the Pike or Jackfish, are referred to, - the former as "found sparingly in the lakes that flow into the Saskatchewan; "the latter as" abundant in every lake in North America." (Franklin, Journey to the Polar Sea, Ann. 1819-22. App. pp. 705-28, - Notices of the Fishes, by Dr. Richardson.) The Whitefish {Coregonus Alius) is also exceedingly abundant in many lakes of that district, but I have never heard of its occurrence in the rivers with which they communicate.]