A fresh moose head, seen lying on the bank, indicated a hunting
party, but no human life was seen aside from our own people.
Indeed, the absence of life of any kind along the river, excepting
the song-birds, which were in some places numerous, was surprising.
No deer, no bears, not even a fox or a timber wolf made one's
fingers itch for the trigger. A few brent, which took wing afar
off, and a high-flying duck or two, were the sole wildings observed,
save a big humble-bee which droned around our boat for an instant,
then darted off again. Even fish seemed to be anything but plentiful.
That night's camp was hurriedly made in a hummocky fastness of
pine and birch, where we found few comfortable bedding-places.
In the morning we passed several ice-ledges along shore, the
survivals of the severe winter, and, presently, met a canoe
with two men from Peace River, crestfallen "Klondikers," who
had "struck it rich," they said, with a laugh, and who reported
good water. Next morning a very early start was made, and after
some long, strong pulls, and a vigorous spurt, the mouth of the
Lesser Slave River opened at last on our sight.
We had latterly passed along what appeared to be fertile soil,
a sandy clay country, which improved to the west and south-west
at every turn. It had an inviting look, and the "lie," as well,
of a region foreordained for settlement. It was irritating not
to be able to explore the inner land, but our urgency was too
great for that.
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