These gruesome stories were happily followed by an hour
or two of song and pleasantry in Mr. McKenna's tent, ending in
"Auld Lang Syne" and "God Save the Queen." It was a unique occasion
in which to wind up so laborious a day; and our camp itself was
unique--on a lofty bluff overlooking the confluence of the
Saulteau River with the Lesser Slave--a bold and beautiful
spot, the woods at the angle of the two rivers, down to the
water's edge, showing like a gigantic V, as clean-cut as if
done by a pair of colossal shears.
Next morning rowing took the place of poling and tracking for a
time, and, presently, the great range of lofty hills called, to
our right, the Moose Watchi, and to our left, the Tuskanatchi--the
Moose and Raspberry Mountains--loomed in the distance. Here, and
when only a few miles from the lake, a York boat came tearing down
stream full of lithe, young half-breed trackers--our long-expected
assistants from the Hudson's Bay Company's post, as we would have
welcomed much more warmly had they come sooner, for we had little
but the lake now to ascend, up which a fair breeze would carry us
in a single night.
Doubtless it would have done so if it had come; but the same
head-winds and storms which had thwarted us from the first
dogged us still. We had camped near the mouth of Muskeg Creek,
a good-sized stream, and evidently the cause hitherto of the
Lesser Slave's rich chocolate colour; for, above the forks, the
latter took its hue from the lake, but with a yellowish tinge
still.
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