South Saskatchewan to Cherry Bush.

July 14th. - 'The river crossed this afternoon. All and everything is safe - thank God. Some of the horses nearly went under, but all got through at last.' [There were great differences in their modes of swimming; some of them floated high in the water, while with others little but the nose appeared above the surface, and their utmost efforts seemed scarcely to prevent them from sinking.]

We began by unloading the carts, after which the men pushed and pulled them through shallows to a half-dry flat, in ordinary times a long projecting spit of sand but now a sort of island, a good way distant from the bank of the river. They were passed to the other side on the oil-skin scows, which also took all the baggage across in several separate transits. For my part, I was quickly and easily ferried over by Toma and Matheson, in an unladen boat.

Indians, we discovered, had lately availed themselves of this very crossing place. Close at hand, we came upon the recent traces of an extensive camp. I picked up among the tent sites a piece of hard grey stone, not unlike a coarse sort of agate, also a broken bit of ore, both of which seemed to have been used for some particular purpose. Fragments of marble and red agate were scattered here and there on the river banks. Wild strawberries, in full ripeness, grew plentifully near our encampment. Small and deficient in flavour, though pleasant to the taste, they much resembled the variety so common in the woodlands of Europe.

July 15th. - We continued our march in a westerly direction, and after some twelve miles over a country of dried-up swamps and sandhills, we arrived at a brackish lake about five miles long and of a similar breadth. Its name, if it had one, was unknown, this road being little frequented; even Numme had never travelled by the line we were following, though he had been on hunting expeditions in the neighbouring country.

The Bulldogs were swarming all around. I killed fifty as a sort of sacrifice while Toma was cooking my dinner, and might easily have doubled the number had I been so inclined. But it was impossible to clear the tent of such thronging legions, besides they were unpleasant to crush, owing to the stickiness that exuded from their large fleshy bodies.

After dinner, we marched some ten miles farther till we came to a branch of Eagle Creek,* where we halted, as the stream was deep and miry, and more than twenty yards across.

While camping went on, I rode a mile or two into the plain in search of cabrees. A small herd coming into view, I dismounted to look at them, upon which Morgan took advantage of a moment's freedom, while I was handling my telescope, and galloped straight to the other horses, leaving me a hot and weary walk home.

'This is the greatest trouble one has, - all the horses are so unwilling to leave one another. They are always looking back and creeping when you are forward, they edge in towards the carts if you are at one side, and they pull and go at a jog-trot if you stay behind. Then they neigh constantly, disturbing the game, and in short drive one mad. Vermont is the worst, but Bichon is very bad too. He is nearly cured of neighing now. One cannot stand much provocation here. After travelling hours under a burning sun, tormented by flies, bathed in sweat, and parched with thirst, unreasonable conduct on the part of one's horse makes one hardly an accountable being.'

July l8th. - This morning brought us the good news that a vast herd of buffalo were close at hand.* "We hastened to cross the creek, and passed through it with no accident worth mentioning; this accomplished, we began to make arrangements for a hunt on the largest scale within our power. Limited by the number of our buffalo runners, only three of us were to be on horseback. The Bichon was, as usual, my own choice; McKay, on Waupoose, was to keep near me for a while, and initiate me into the sport; old Numme, at his particular request, was to ride Black, that most unruly of animals. For the sake of quick loading, I took a smooth- bore instead of my rifle, by which I also gained the advantage of a larger bore.

We soon sighted the buffaloes. They were on a dry prairie, slightly undulated in character, here and there hilly, and bounded by higher ranges to the west and towards the north. Immense herds were stringing across the whole face of the country. The deep rolling voice of the mighty multitude came grandly into the air like the booming of a distant ocean.

As we got nearer the herd we could see that a large proportion were bulls. They were drawn up in close array; some colossal old fellows stalked about by themselves at the flanks of the columns. The cows were mostly wedged up in the front and centre, while the van kept slowly moving on. When within two hundred yards or so we dashed forward; they quickened their pace, but kept their order; we got pretty close to them, the column broke, and the buffaloes cantered off in many separate bands.

Choosing out a small drive of fine-looking cows, McKay and I galloped towards them side by side as hard as ever we could go. The harder we pressed the swifter they ran; they went magnificently, far faster than the bulls; we tried our utmost for a good mile, but could not overtake them.

Presently McKay cried out that Waupoose was done, - poor beast, he was still weak from an attack of illness some days before. There was no time for questions; putting spurs into the Bichon's yellow sides, I sailed away after the cows. On we went, - the heat intense, the dust perfectly blinding. Pulling hard, straining every nerve, Bichon drew nearer and nearer, his laziness quite forgotten in the excitement of the chase, but not for a moment could we get alongside. He began to flag, - it was a case of now or never. I stood in the stirrups and leant over his head, held my gun forward at arm's length, took the level of the cows, and fired into the heaving mass where the best ones seemed to be. To my joy one of them instantly stopped; the others rushed madly on their course, but she crawled slowly along, her bowels protruding from a great wound in her flank torn by the bullet of my No. 12.

Giving her a finishing shot, I halted a moment and considered what next now to do. Of my two chief objects one was attained: I had killed a fine cow for eating purposes - the bulls at this season being unfit for food. My other object was to get a large and perfectly unblemished head to carry home as a trophy; such heads, however, were not easily procurable, especially in that particular district, where the ground is so stony that the old bulls more than usually destroy their horns when rooting up the earth.

* All this time bands of buffalo were streaming past me; the plains were alive as far as the eye could reach. While debating whether or not to go on, I suddenly observed in one of the passing herds the very specimen I sought for, - 'an exceedingly fine, sleek, round-barreled bull, not so large as some of the patriarchs, but with very long, perfect horns, and most luxuriant mane and beard.' Hailing this welcome sight, I marked the noble animal for prey: I remounted in haste, and again stirred up old Bichon, who, greatly refreshed by the halt, went on as gallantly as before.

Never did bull run more fast and strong. For two miles or more I stuck to him, but by no means could I get within fair shooting distance. [It was interesting to ride amid that vast black mass of buffaloes, for, as I went on, the scattered bands seemed more and more to unite, and I sometimes found myself moving in a sort of triangled enclosure with living walls around me, as the nearer animals strove to edge away on either hand, while the ranks were closed in front, and ever-increasing numbers came thundering in the rear. As long as Bichon kept his footing there was little risk; the buffalo were thinking only of escape, the crowd was not dangerously large or dense, and there was plenty of room, for I was still on a gently undulating plain.]

At last, my bull began to slacken his pace. By what strange instinct did he know that I had chosen him for my own? - the same band was still together, his companions were all with him, not one had yet quitted their ranks, yet with a sudden movement he sprang out from among them, and broke away by himself, rushing off at right angles through an opening in the crowd, and seeming to gather fresh speed as he ran on his separate career.

It was but for a while; he abruptly checked himself, faced around, and stood at bay. I closed on him, trying for a flank shot; - down went his head, and onward he came in full charge. Knowing the uselessness of firing at a buffalo's forehead, I cantered out of his way; he followed me a few yards, then turned and resumed his course.

Another mile - again he slackened, breaking into a trot as he drew near to the top of a gently sloping rise, and there he took up his stand and once more came to bay. I approached till but a few yards were between me and him, - then up went his tail in sign of battle, down went his head for a charge; but this time I was too quick, the Bichon had slipped around him, and before he could make one step, I sent a bullet through his heart. He stopped, staggered a few paces, then fell to rise no more.

I got off the panting pony, and took a long look at my bull, feasting my eyes on his noble proportions as he lay lifeless on the crisp brown turf of that utterly deserted plain; then remounting, I began to make my way slowly homewards,- thirsty in the extreme, after all the heat and dust of the gallop, but with no hope of water till most of the distance had been retraced. On coming to the cow I had previously killed I found Numme standing beside her: he had shot nothing, for Black had proved himself quite unmanageable. Preparing to leave the place, he laid his saddle on the cow's body to scare away the wolves after our departure; then, on my offer to stay with the horses, he set off alone in search of carts to carry in the meat or the trophies of the two slain buffaloes.

Growing tired of waiting, I followed in the same direction, and on presently coming in sight of the old hunter, a most amusing scene burst upon my view. He was stalking a young bull which had remained in a grassy hollow after the departure of the rest of the herd, - McKay, or one of the other men, having crippled it by a shot somewhere pretty close to now the shoulder. Hid in the long herbage, Numme had crept to within thirty yards of the wounded animal and was proceeding to open against it a sort of masked battery. Three times the report resounded, three times I saw the smoke curl upwards, but it always rose from a new place as the wary old man shifted his quarters, while the buffalo, mad with rage, leaped round and round, vainly trying to discover the aggressor. Not one of these balls had struck it, for Numme, though reputed a good shot, was just now using the wonderful gun that had been straightened in the cart-wheel at Qu'Appelle - the sport seemed likely to be dangerous as well as tedious, for the buffalo was quite active enough for mischief, so I thought it better to ride in and finish matters with a rifle-bullet.

By this time Klyne had brought one of the carts, and McKay coming also, the former remained to cut up the cow which was in tolerably fat condition, while the latter rode off with me in search of my bull, the cart following soon afterwards. We had much trouble finding this buffalo, for the run had been a long one, arid towards the end over a rather broken country, but at last, our search proved successful. McKay was surprised at the goodness of the horns; such fine ones, he assured me, were very seldom met with. * The head weighed heavily, as we found on lifting it into the cart after its separation from the carcass: we left that to the wolves and ravens, for it was too coarse and tough for human food.

A thunderstorm came on, but we escaped with a slight wetting, being near camp when it began: it only lasted two hours, and then the sun came glowing out with all its former intensity. As I sat after dinner smoking at my tent door, an old bull suddenly made his appearance, on which several of the men snatched up their guns and ran out into the plain to take a shot at him. I gave my rifle to Toma, who was starting with the rest, and the others allowing him the first chance, he made two excellent shots, putting both bullets splendidly in at 140 paces.

This checked the bull, and the other men running up poured a volley into it close at hand; but, far from dropping, it continued to move on, though crippled with a broken foreleg - a thing most disabling to a buffalo, owing to the weight of his immense fore quarters. Intending to reload, my men now discovered that in their hurry they had taken no ammunition. I saw what was happening, and came out with one of the smooth-bores to assist them.

Going pretty near the bull, I fired two shots, aiming just behind his shoulder; both went rather high, but either should have brought him down; still, he stood as firmly as before. Someone then said, "Try him in the flank:" I did not believe it would answer, but I tried it, with no result, however, but to make the horrid scene still more disgusting to me. Next time I went quite close to him and aimed very carefully at his heart. No other shot was needed; over he rolled, and expired without a struggle or a groan.

This was an instance of the well-known fact that when an animal does not immediately drop to a body shot in the regions of the heart, he will bear bullet after bullet without flinching or sinking until the very brain or heart is penetrated. Perhaps when the first shock fails to prostrate the nerves it only serves to dull them, producing insensibility to every succeeding shock that does not ruin one of the vital organs.

No fewer than fourteen bullets had pierced this buffalo. Toma's rifle balls had both struck him among the front ribs and were lodged close together under the skin of his flank far back on the opposite side. They had not touched a bone and were so perfect that I loaded with them again. The bull proved to be in capital condition, with plenty of fat, which came in usefully, as we were much in want of grease at that particular time. Altogether we had killed six buffaloes in the day. Besides the two killed by myself, there were - the bull just mentioned, another stalked and shot by McKay after taking Waupoose home, another killed by Short, and the young one that Numme had persecuted. It would have been easy to kill a far larger number had there been any object in doing so.

McKay congratulated me on shooting such a good cow, besides getting so fine-headed a bull, at my very first attempt with the great herd, left as I had been entirely to my resources. Nevertheless, I was far from pleased with myself, and thus did I record my feelings - ' I find myself awkward in managing a gun on a galloping horse. I do not succeed well in urging my horse close to a buffalo and shooting it at the gallop. I can kill the buffaloes I want in my way, but I wish to do it in the best way. Ought I to content myself with success in my fashion, or should I aim at perfection? - the latter, I think.'

Sunday, July 17th. - We were camped in a hollow beside a deep narrow lake about half a mile long, with low hills immediately behind us that gradually raised themselves into a a higher range. At dinner time our camp was surprised by a very alarming invasion. We were in our tents, thinking of nothing less than any disturbance; the most perfect quiet prevailed. In an instant, without the slightest warning, a storm of noise burst upon us, - bells jingled, whips cracked, - the tramp of galloping horses resounded close at hand. I leapt up to seize my rifle, - it was not there; I hastened out to my men, and found them equally defenseless, for all guns had been laid aside on account of the Sunday rest. A strange and unwelcome sight greeted our astonished eyes. Widely apart, extended in a semicircle which completely hemmed us in, several armed and mostly naked warriors were rushing down the slope, urging their horses to furious speed with whip and heel. "The Blackfeet!" said my men, and we prepared for the worst. The invaders were almost upon us, a few yards only lay between us and them, when suddenly they checked their speed, stared at us for a moment, then trotted peacefully up with smiling faces, offering the most friendly greetings, which my men heartily reciprocated.

The mystery was soon explained. Our visitors were a party of Cree Indians and half-breeds from Fort Carlton, who were camping on the other side of the range, under the leadership of a hunter named Tait. One of their men, it appeared while going back for a broken cart, had noticed a couple of our horses which had strayed to the top of a neighbouring hill. Supposing us to be Blackfeet, with whom the Cree's were just going to war, they planned to surprise us, - and so indeed they did. Each man had his mouth full of bullets, ready for action, and most of them were nearly stark naked; everything had been skillfully planned, and some of the number 100 had been expressly told off to drive away our horses. They would have shown no mercy, I was informed, to a Blackfoot party: so at least it was said at the time; Tait, however, afterwards assured me that he had ordered his men not to shoot even Blackfeet unless positively obliged.

There was something wrong with our arrangements. If these Carlton people had been enemies, not one of us could have escaped; even had they spared our lives they would have carried off all our horses. Had they come by night we should have been ready for them, two watchers being always posted during the hours of darkness; after sunrise, however, the whole camp slept unguarded, offering a so too easy chance to any lurking horse-thieves. Some change was required that, much as I disliked interfering with his management of the party, I called McKay to a consultation, and it was settled between us that henceforth the horses were to be watched incessantly, not merely by night but by day.

If only for one reason, Tait's coming might well be counted fortunate. Through him, we learned that both at Fort Pitt and Port Edmonton the inhabitants were nearly starving, as the buffalo were far distant, and the Blackfeet, afraid of the Cree's, with whom they had just begun hostilities, were not bringing in meat according to their custom. Had we gone directly to Port Pitt, as I had of late been planning, we should have been unable to get supplies to carry us to the Rocky Mountains, and our stock of pemmican having run short, the journey would almost certainly have come to an untimely conclusion.

I now decided to go and camp near Tait, hunt buffalo in that neighbourhood, and employ the women who accompanied his party to dry a large store of meat for our purposes. This suited me in another respect, for it brought us nearer to a hill that was reported to abound with grizzly bears, a few of which I confidently hoped to secure.

Our camp was surrounded by dozens of wolves devouring the remains of the buffaloes. Someone suddenly proposing to frighten them, we all joined in the fun and sallied forth armed with whatever came handiest, I with the single - tree of the wagon, Duncan with a long stick, McKay with a log of wood, McBeath with the tent-pin mallet; then spreading out crescent - ways, we ran down the bank of the lake, trying to force the wolves to meet us, or else to betake themselves to the water.

Away we rush under the clear moonlight, the pace terrific, McKay leading; McBeath steps into a hole, and measures his long length on the ground; some fall over him, others keep their course, bounding down the slope with shouts and tremendous peals of laughter.

The wolves managed to slip through our ranks, but they had a very narrow escape. All night long Short amused himself by chasing them with a hatchet, which he hurled most vigorously at such as came within distance: he did no execution that time, however, though a most splendid shot with every sort of missile. He was a wonderfully active young fellow, surpassed by few in feats of skill and cleverness. After Tait left us, the men began to play at a certain game, in which, the players were blindfolded and playing in turn, the object was to be the first to break with an axe a marrow bone laid on the grass three paces off, - the breaker of the bone to get its contents for his benefit. Several attempts have been made all round. Short finally proved the successful competitor. He had cunningly taken off his moccasins, then groped about with his feet until he found a tuft of grass that he knew to be near the marrow bone, thus discovering the right direction for the winning effort.

This morning McKay came upon a sleeping wolf, and hit it so violently on the ribs with a heavy stone, that the wretched creature rolled over as if dead, and blood spurted from its jaws. It summoned up strength, however, to scramble to its feet, and ran off in time to escape a second visitation.

July 18th. - The buffaloes were still all around us in scattered bands, so after breakfast, I shouldered my rifle, and walked a mile or two alone into the prairie in hopes of shooting another fat cow. The only herd I could at all approach was feeding in the open plain, but a slight undulation enabled me to get within 150 yards; nearer I could not go, being already just on the edge of the wind. The cows unluckily were at the farther side, a good fifty paces beyond the bulls; still, I thought it possible to kill one, but before I had got fair aim they took the alarm and began to move off, upon which I rather too hastily fired both barrels at the slowly-retreating animals. There was no apparent result; and then I found myself in a difficulty, for the old bulls, instead of moving off too, remained on the spot, bellowing, pawing the ground, and looking fiercely about them. I could not load while stretched flat on the turf; if I raised myself in the least, I came into view; if I lay still, I was equally sure to be discovered, owing to a shift in the wind, which now blew towards them. After a moment's thought I resolved to load at all hazards; so, laying everything ready, I raised myself and loaded as quickly as possible. The buffaloes must have seen me, but none of them showed symptoms of charging, and, as nothing more could be done with the cows, I was, glad to leave the bulls without further disturbance. They were savage and dangerous at that season, but, from what I afterwards heard, I doubt if they ever attack unless very closely approached or driven to bay*

While coining home I saw an old wolf a long way off and saluted him with both barrels. One bullet passed close to his tail if it did not graze it, evidently to his great astonishment, for he doubtless thought himself safe at such a distance, having no experience of guns that were dangerous at two or three hundred yards.

On my return, we struck tents and made a move for Tait's encampment, which was situated at a place called Cherry Bush, nine or ten miles away towards the other side of the range. As we marched over the shoulder of these hills, - the "Roasting Hills" by name, - we passed by many bands of buffalo, but would not disturb them for fear of spoiling Tait's hunting arrangements.

A badger was foolish enough to show itself in the open plain: as a matter of course, all the men immediately pursued it, Short, as usual, among the foremost, leaping round and round, pelting it with pieces of dry buffalo dung, and out of some half-dozen shots never once failing to hit its pointed nose. Kline at last ran in and slew the badger with a long stick, - a needless act, unfortunately, for the poor harmless animal proved to be much too thin for eating.

Two or three cows then came past. As they were so close that we could not interfere with Tait by following them, McKay started to run them on Black, whom he happened to be riding; I started also, though only mounted on Morgan, who was not then reckoned among our buffalo runners. Suddenly Black's girthing got unloosed, and the saddle slipping back, he began to kick so violently that McKay was obliged to jump off without delay. On seeing this I halted, knowing that Black would go nearly mad if another horse passed him, so the cows went away unmolested.

This happened near Tait's camp. Meanwhile, a half-breed, who had a wonderful power - magical, some thought it - of guiding buffalo in any direction that he pleased, was driving, or rather leading, a great band of bulls and cows to the very tents, and the runners had just begun to set out in pursuit. On our arrival at Cherry Bush, we camped upon a sandy hillock near a small swampy pool, about a quarter of a mile from the Carlton encampment. Several of the hunters presently came to see us. Tait himself paid me a special visit, accompanied by his eldest daughter, a very pretty child of some six years old, - a charming little girl, whose bright black eyes and pleasant smiles seemed to bring sunbeams with them to my solitary tent.

After dinner, a large band of buffalo appeared from over the hill. We prepared to run them. One of the Indians, a very bold intelligent young man named Namesakes, asked to leave to ride Black, which, being arranged, I set off with him myself, riding the Bichon, as was now my ordinary custom.

For half an hour we had to wait in a hollow till the signal was given, and then we rushed from our concealment. Black went right to the front, and Bichon kept well with him so far, but the old pony was singularly restive and excited all the while, and for a minute or two I could scarcely get him too close. When at length alongside, I found great difficulty in making out the cows, as there were very few to be seen and it was hard to distinguish them from the young bulls. As for bulls, one might have shot them right and left by dozens. At last, I got a chance at a cow, but missed her; - no one, till he tries it, can fancy how hard it is to shoot a galloping buffalo from a galloping horse.

The buffaloes were now running round me in every quarter, the herd for the most part broken into small lots separated by trifling intervals from one another; and, having after some trouble reloaded without stopping the pony, I set myself to follow a mixed band of cows and bulls, of various ages. As I came opposite Tait's camp I met the Indian who had borrowed Black, he laughingly held up two fingers to show that he had killed a pair of cows. He was very clever at signs. We had previously passed a peculiar-looking skull with slight and much-curved horns, placed by itself on the ground, and no sooner did I notice it, than he made me understand that this was not the head of a bull, but of an ox - a variety of somewhat rare occurrence that he shot it himself; and that it had stood half as high again as a male of the ordinary description.

Scarce slackening speed while passing Napesskes, I continued to urge on the Bichon, but his hardest efforts failed to place me alongside the cows. I then tried two long shots; both were fruitless; so I drew rein a little, and settled my pony into a steady gallop, resolved to follow to the death.

'How they did run! After two miles (due west) Bichon began to gain a little on them; I urged him, and he nearly closed. I fired at a fine cow; she staggered, but went on, the blood pouring from a wound high in her shoulder. The shock seemed to sicken her, she slackened; I pressed on to give her the other barrel; Bichon lengthened his stride, and we went sailing down a gently sloping hill. We got close to the leant forward to give her the finisher, - crash! Down came Bichon on the top 'of his head.'

My gun flew yards away; I shot through the air and fell in front of the horse; he rolled over and over, and then came right upon me in such a manner that my left leg, spur uppermost, was pinned under him, and my head lay between his hind and fore feet. I expected instant death, but the good God protected me, and after a minute of terrible suspense I got clear of the horse's hoofs and jumped up in time to catch his bridle as he rose. Had he been a violent beast The Black, I must have been killed. As it was, no injury was done to either man, gun, or horse, except that my elbow got a trifling cut.

'Leaping on Bichon's back, I went on after the cow, but another mile convinced me I could not catch her, as she was going as fast as the others, and had gained so long a start. Her well-grown calf was running at her side, as it had done the whole time. A wolf was following close behind her, smelling her blood and anticipating prey, which he was not likely to get, for the chances are she would recover.' I then turned towards camp, and the provoking Bichon, who had gone very soberly since his fall, began to pull hard and neigh. It was fortunate that he was so fond of his home, for I had great doubts about the position of the camp, and he encouraged me by always pulling in what I also thought to be the right direction; He was not wrong. On getting to a knoll I had been making for, Tait's camp appeared exactly in front, and I was soon at my tent door.'