The Pioneers

“I think you are right, father,” replied the youth, with a deep sigh.

“An’ what says Swiftarrow?”

“Go back,” was the Indian’s prompt and laconic answer.

“Well, then, we’re all agreed, so we’ll turn back on our trail to-morrow; but I shall try again next year if I’m above ground. I once know’d a Yankee who had what he called a motto, an’ it was this, ‘Never give in, ’xcept w’en yer wrong.’ I think I’ll take to that motto. It seems to me a good ’un.”

In proof, we presume, of his sincerity, Reuben Guff rolled himself in his blanket, stretched his feet towards the fire, pillowed his head on a bundle of moss, and at once gave in to the seductive influences of sleep; an example which was so irresistible that his companions followed it without delay.

Chapter Three.
Introduces the King of Pioneers

Discarding space and ignoring time, we seize you by the hand, reader, and bound away with you still deeper into the northern wilderness, away into that remote region which, at the time we write of, was the ultima thule of the fur-traders of Canada,—beyond which lay the great unknown world, stretching to the pole. Here, amid the grand scenery of the Rocky Mountains, lies the Athabasca Lake, also styled the Lake of the Hills. We prefer the latter name, as being more romantic.

This is no pretty pond such as we in England are wont to visit and delight in during our summer holidays. It is a great sheet of water; a grand fresh-water sea, 200 miles long and 15 miles broad—a fitting gem for the bosom of the mighty region on which it glitters.

A year has fled since the period of our last chapter, and here, in a birch-bark canoe on the waters of the Lake of the Hills, we find our pioneers—Reuben Guff, his son Lawrence, and his Indian friend Swiftarrow. There is also a young Indian woman in the canoe—Swiftarrow’s wife.

The kind-hearted red man adopted the old woman who had been rescued on their previous trip, but, not finding her a good substitute for his own mother, he bethought him of adding a young squaw to his establishment. While he meditated on this step, the old woman died. About the same time Reuben Guff made proposals to him to join him on a second “v’yage of diskivery.” The Indian agreed; got married off-hand, and took his bride along with him. We now find them all four at the Lake of the Hills.

It may be as well to observe, in passing, that Indian brides are usually more robust than those of civilised communities. They are quite competent to follow their lords on the most arduous canoe voyages, and, besides being able to wield the paddle with great dexterity, are exceedingly useful in managing what may be styled the domestic matters of the camp. They also keep up a constant supply of the Indian’s indispensable foot-gear—moccasins—which are so slender in their nature that a pair may be completely worn-out in a single day of hard hunting.

The brown bride, therefore, was not a hindrance to the party, but a useful member of it, as well as a pleasant companion. True, her companionship consisted chiefly in answering “yes” and “no” when spoken to, and in smiling pleasantly at all times; but this was sufficient to satisfy the moderate demands of her male friends upon her intellectual resources.

“Fort Chipewyan at last,” said Reuben, resting his paddle across the canoe and looking earnestly towards the horizon; “I hope we ain’t too late after all our pushin’ on. It would be hard to find that Monsieur Mackenzie had started.”

“Too much ice in the lake,” said Swiftarrow. “He has not gone yet.”

“I’m not so sure o’ that,” observed Lawrence. “If reports be true, Monsieur Mackenzie is not the man to wait until the ice is all off the lakes and nothin’ but plain sailin’ lies before him.”

“That’s true, lad,” replied Reuben, resuming his paddle. “I wonder,” he murmured to himself, as he gazed wistfully towards the unknown north, “I wonder if the big river is really there, an’ if it do jine the sea?”

That same question was put to himself that same evening—though not for the first time—by one of the inhabitants of Fort Chipewyan. The fort was a mere group of two or three log-huts. In the largest of these huts sat a man whose strongly-marked handsome countenance gave evidence of a bold enterprising spirit and a resolute will. He pored over a map for some time, carefully tracing a few pencil-lines into the blank spaces on the paper, and then murmured, in words which were almost identical with those of Reuben Guff, “I wonder if it joins the Polar Sea?”

This man was the true pioneer, or, rather, the king of pioneers, to whom Guff gave place without a murmur, for Reuben was a modest man; and the moment he heard that one of the gentlemen of the Canadian fur-trading company had taken up his favourite hobby, and meant to work out the problem, he resolved, as he said, “to play second fiddle,” all the more that the man who thus unwittingly supplanted him was a mountaineer of the Scottish Highlands.

“It’s of no manner of use, you see,” he said to Swiftarrow, when conversing on the subject, “for me to go off on a v’yage o’ diskivery w’en a gentleman like Monsieur Mackenzie, with a good edication an’ scienteefic knowledge and the wealth of a fur company at his back, is goin’ to take it in hand. No; the right thing for Reuben Guff to do in the circumstances is to jine him an’ play second fiddle—or third, if need be.”

Alexander Mackenzie—while seated in the lowly hut of that solitary outpost poring over his map, trying to penetrate mentally into those mysterious and unknown lands which lay just beyond him—saw, in imagination, a great river winding its course among majestic mountains towards the shores of the ice-laden polar seas. He also saw the lofty peaks and snow-clad ridges of that mighty range which forms the back-bone of the American continent, and—again in imagination—passed beyond it and penetrated the vast wilderness to the Pacific, thus adding new lands to the British Crown, and opening up new sources of wealth to the fur company of which he was one of the most energetic members. He saw all this in imagination, we say, but he did not, at that time, see his name attached to one of the largest American rivers, classed with the names of the most noted discoverers of the world, and himself knighted. Still less, if possible, did he see, even in his wildest flights of fancy, that the book of travels which he was destined to write, would be translated into French by the order of Napoleon the First, for the express purpose of being studied by Marshal Bernadotte, with the view of enabling that warrior to devise a roundabout and unlooked-for attack on Canada—in rear, as it were—from the region of the northern wilderness—a fact which is well worthy of record! (See Appendix for an interesting letter on the subject.)

None of these things loomed on the mind of the modest though romantic and enterprising man, for at that time he was only at the beginning of his career of discovery.

It may not be out of place here to say a word or two as to the early career of the hero whose footsteps we are about to follow.

He was a Highlander, to begin with; and possessed all the fire and determination peculiar to that race. At an early period of life he was led to engage in commercial enterprises in the country north-west of Lake Superior, joined the North-West Fur Company of Canada in 1784, and went into the Indian country the following spring. It is not necessary to say more than that Alexander Mackenzie proved himself to be a first-rate fur-trader at a time when the fur-trade was carried on under great difficulties and amid severe privations. For many years he was in charge of Fort Chipewyan, the remote establishment to which we have just conducted our reader. Seven years before his coming on the scene, the Lake of the Hills had not been visited by white men, and was known only through Indian report. When Mackenzie became ruler of the district, all beyond the lake was terra incognita. His spirit was one which thirsted to explore the unknown. He was eminently fitted both to hold an advanced post and to invade new regions, being robust in constitution, powerful in frame, inquisitive in mind, and enterprising in spirit. Frequently had he arrived at Fort Chipewyan with ninety or a hundred men without any provision for their sustenance for the winter save their fishing-nets and guns. He was therefore accustomed to live from hand to mouth, and to depend on his own exertions and resources in a country where the winter is upwards of eight months long and the severity of the climate extreme.

It was in June 1789 that he made preparations to start on his first voyage of discovery.

Rising from the table at which he had been studying his projected route, Mackenzie turned, with the air of a man who has made up his mind, and said to a clerk who was smoking beside the fireplace—

“Le Roux, if we cannot prevail on these Indians to accompany us, I have determined to start without them. Has the small canoe been gummed?”

“It has,” answered Le Roux, “but I would advise delay for a day or two. If we give them time, the Indians may change their minds; besides, the ice has not yet sufficiently cleared away.”

Mackenzie paced the room impatiently, and his eyes flashed for one moment with impatience. They were deep blue eyes that could beam with melting tenderness or sparkle with suppressed passion—it is but just to add that passion in his case was usually suppressed, for he was a lover of peace, as most truly great and powerful men usually are:

“Let us see now,” he said, sitting down in front of Le Roux, “how our resources stand. In my canoe there will be the four Canadians and the German. Then there’s our Indian friend, English Chief and his two wives, who will embark in the second-sized canoe. The two young Indians whom we want to accompany us with their wives must make up their minds to-night, else I will start without them. Your own canoe with goods for trade and provisions, will not be fully loaded; I shall therefore place in it the provisions that we can’t carry, and when we come to the place where you are to stop and trade, and where I shall bid you farewell, we shall doubtless have eaten our lading down sufficiently to take the whole on board. See, by the way, that the goods and trinkets to be given in presents as we go along are not placed in the wrong canoe.”

“They are already laid with the other goods, and also the nets and ammunition by themselves,” said Le Roux, rising and laying down his pipe.

At that moment Reuben Guff entered with his friends. The surprise of Mackenzie was great on beholding them, but greater still was his delight when he learned their errand. The young Indians were forthwith told that their services would not now be required, and our friends—including Swiftarrow’s wife, Darkeye—were at once added to the exploring party.

Next day the expedition set forth from Fort Chipewyan and swept over the broad breast of the Lake of the Hills.

We will not trace their course over known ground. Suffice it to say that their troubles began at once. Soon after leaving the lake they came to a rapid part of the river which flows out of it, where they were obliged to land and carry canoes and goods to the still water further down, but here the ice was still unthawed on the banks, rendering the process of reloading difficult. Soon after they came to a place called the Portage d’Embarras, which is occasioned by driftwood filling up the channel of the river. There they entered the Slave River, where there is a portage or carrying-place named the Mountain, the landing at which is very steep and close to the fall. Below this fall there is a mile of dangerous rapids—and here they met with their first disaster.

Reuben and Swiftarrow having landed with part of the cargo of the small canoe, had left it in charge of Darkeye,—so named because of her large and lustrous eyes, which, however, were the only good points about her, for she was ill-favoured and clumsy, though strong of frame and a diligent worker. While she was moving from one point of rock to another that appeared to her more convenient for landing, the canoe was caught by an eddy and swept in a moment out into the strong current, down which it sped with fearful velocity towards the falls. Darkeye was quite collected and cool, but she happened to dip her paddle on the edge of a sunk rock with such vigour that the canoe overturned. Upon the heights above her husband saw the accident, and stood rooted for a moment in helpless dismay to the spot. It chanced that Lawrence Guff was at the time the only man near the unfortunate woman, who, although she swam like an otter, could not gain the bank. Seeing this, the youth sprang towards a jutting rock that almost overhung the fall, and entering the rushing stream so deeply that he could barely retain his foothold, caught the woman by the hair of the head as she was sweeping towards the edge of the fall. The two swayed for a few seconds on the verge of destruction; then Swiftarrow came bounding down the bank like a deer, and, catching Lawrence by the hand, dragged them both out of danger; but before they were fairly landed the canoe was carried over the falls, dashed to pieces, and in a few seconds its shreds were tossed wildly on the surging rapids far down the river.

This accident caused them little loss beyond the canoe, which was soon replaced by another, purchased from a party of Indians, with whom they fell in that same evening.

Passing through Slave River, they swept out on the bright waters of Great Slave Lake. Over these they sped during several days. This lake is one of the largest fresh-water oceans of the continent, about 250 miles long and 50 broad.

And here the work of exploration fairly began. Great Slave Lake was at that time imperfectly known from Indian report; and the river of which they were in search flowed, it was supposed, out of its western extremity. Here also Monsieur Le Roux was to be left behind with a party of men to prosecute the fur-trade.

Chapter Four.
Vicissitudes of the Voyage—Indians Met with, etcetera

We have passed over the first three weeks of the voyage rapidly, but it must not be supposed that therefore it was all plain sailing. On the contrary, the travellers were delayed by thunderstorms, and heavy rains, and gales, and impeded by ice, which, even in the middle of June lay thick on the waters in some parts. They were also tormented by hosts of mosquitoes, and at times they found difficulty in procuring food—despite the ability of our friends Reuben, Swiftarrow, and Lawrence, who were constituted hunters to the expedition. At other times, however, the supply of food was abundant and varied. On one occasion the hunters brought in seven geese, a beaver, and four ducks, besides which a large supply of excellent trout and other fish was obtained from the nets; and on another occasion they procured two swans, ten beavers, and a goose. But sometimes they returned empty-handed, or with a single bird or so, while the nets produced nothing at all. Deer were also shot occasionally, and they found immense numbers of wild cranberries, strawberries, rasps, and other berries, besides small spring onions; so that, upon the whole, they fared well, and days of abstinence were more than compensated by days of superabundance.

One evening while they were coasting along this great lake, some Indians were discovered on the shore, and the travellers landed to make inquiries of them as to the nature of the country beyond. There were three lodges belonging to the Red-knife Indians, who were so named because their knifes were made of the copper found in that region. To the leading man of these, English Chief, being interpreter, addressed himself.

English Chief, we may remark in passing, was one of the followers of the chief who conducted Hearne on his expedition to the Coppermine River; since which event he had been a principal leader of his countrymen who were in the habit of carrying furs to the English fur-traders at Churchill, on Hudson’s Bay, and was much attached to the interest of the Hudson Bay Company, which, at that time, was in opposition to the Canadian or Nor’-West Company. These circumstances procured him the title of the English Chief. An able, active, but self-sufficient and somewhat obstinate chief he was, and caused Mackenzie a good deal of anxiety and much trouble to keep him with the party.

In answer to his queries, the principal man of the Red-knife Indians said that there were many more of his tribe a short distance off, and that he would send a man to fetch them. He also said that the explorers should see no more of them at that time, because the Slave and Beaver Indians, as well as others of the tribe, were about to depart, and would not be in that region again till the time when the swans cast their feathers.

“Ask him,” said Mackenzie, “if he and his friends have many furs to dispose of.”

To this the Indian replied by at once producing upwards of eight large packs of good beaver and marten skins; and added the information that his friends had plenty more.

“Now, then, Le Roux,” said Mackenzie, turning to his clerk, “here you and I shall part. This seems a good spot and a good opportunity for opening up the trade with these Indians. When the rest of them arrive we shall have a palaver, and then you shall remain to look after them, so, open up your packs, and get ready a few small presents without delay.”

That day was spent in considerable bustle and excitement; the Indians being overjoyed that the white traders had at last penetrated into their country; and their joy being increased by the distribution of such trifling, but much-prized, gifts as glass beads, knives, small looking-glasses, etcetera. It rained in torrents all the time but this did not damp their spirits; and as for their bodies—they were used to it! In the afternoon Mackenzie assembled the whole tribe, and made them the following speech, which was translated by English Chief in a very pompous manner, for that excellent red-skin was fully alive to the dignity of his position.

“My friends,” began our explorer, “I am glad to meet with you. The white man and the Indians are always glad to meet—they can benefit each other mutually. Each has got what the other requires. I have come for the purpose of opening up trade with you. It is true that I myself will take my departure to-morrow, because I am in search of new lands; but some of my people will remain on the spot, and if you bring in a sufficient quantity of furs to make it answer, my men will return to Fort Chipewyan for more goods, and will spend the winter here. They will build a fort and continue to dwell among you as long as you shall be found to deserve it.”

At this point the speaker paused, and the dark-skinned audience gave vent to a loud “Ho!” which was equivalent to the British “Hear, hear!”

“In regard to my own work,” continued Mackenzie, “I intend to search for, and find the great river, which, it is said, flows out of this lake, and follow its current to the sea—or, as you call it, the great salt lake. Do my brothers know anything about this river? If so, let them speak.”

Hereupon an old chief, with hair like small iron wire, and a skin like shoe-leather, got up, and delivered himself as follows—

“We are glad to hear what our white brother says. It encourages us to know that you will make a trading fort in our country, for we have need of one. Hitherto we have had to travel far—very far—with our furs; or if, to save trouble, we intrusted our furs to the Chipewyans, they often pillaged us, or, at most, gave us very little for the fruits of our toil. For a long time we have been so discouraged that we had no motive to pursue the beaver, except to obtain a sufficiency of food and clothing. Now if you come to us, we shall be happy—wauch!”

The last word was equivalent to the expression—“There, think o’ that!” The old man paused as if to give his audience time for reflection.

“As to the great river,” he continued sententiously, “we know of its existence; but none of our tribe has ever followed its course down to the great salt lake. We earnestly advise our brother not to go there, for it is a dreadful river. It is said that there are two impassable falls in its course; and it is so long that old age will come upon you before the time of your return. You will also encounter monsters of horrid shapes and awful strength on the land and in the water—wauch!”

The old chief began to glare solemnly at this point, and the whole tribe followed his example.

“It is said,” he continued, “that there are bears which eat the trees as if they were grass; whose cubs, even at their birth, are strong enough to kill the stoutest man. There are monsters in the river so big that a canoe full of men would be but a mouthful to them. There are so few animals or fish fit for food, that you will all certainly be starved. And, besides all this, evil spirits dwell there, whose chief delight lies in attacking, killing, roasting, and devouring men—wauch!”

Here the Indian sat down with the decision of a man who has given unanswerable arguments for the overturning of foolish plans; nevertheless, Mackenzie’s plans remained unaltered. Not so, however, those of a young Indian, who had been engaged to guide the explorers to the other end of the lake, in order to save them from the loss of time which would be occasioned by the necessity of coasting round its numerous bays. The imagination of this youth—Coppernose, as Lawrence Guff facetiously styled him—was so wrought upon by the dreadful description of the great river, that he manifested a strong desire to draw back; but by the timely addition of a small kettle, an axe, a knife, and a few beads to the gifts already bestowed on him, he was eventually persuaded to venture.

Before departing, poor Coppernose took a ceremonious leave of his family. He cut off a lock of his hair, and divided it into three parts. One of these he fastened to the top of his wife’s head, and blew on it three times with the utmost violence, at the same time uttering certain cabalistic words. The other two portions he fastened with the same formalities to the heads of his two children.

Even at the last he hesitated, and was finally made to enter the canoe more by force than by persuasion!

A few days later, and our pioneers were fairly embarked on the great river, whose course to the mouth it was their object to explore.

The expedition was now somewhat reduced, owing to Monsieur Le Roux having been left behind. It consisted of three canoes—the large one with Mackenzie and five men; a small one, with English Chief and his two wives, and Coppernose; and another small one, containing Reuben, his son, Swiftarrow, and Darkeye. Two of the Canadians were also attended by their wives; so that the party numbered sixteen souls, five of whom were women. They all kept company as much as possible, but English Chief was frequently left behind by the large canoe; while Reuben and his friends, being the hunters as we have said, were necessarily absent for considerable periods in search of game.

One evening as they were descending a beautiful sweep of the river under sail in grand style, the English Chief—leaning composedly back in his canoe, while his right hand slightly moved the steering paddle, and his teeth grasped his beloved pipe—said quietly to Coppernose, of course in the Indian tongue—

“A pretty guide you are, not to know something more about a river so near to your own wigwam.”

Coppernose, who was a humble-minded man, smiled slightly, and shook his head as he said—

“All red men are not so adventurous as the English Chief. I never had occasion to travel in this direction, and do not know the way.”

“Boo!” ejaculated English Chief; meaning, no doubt, fiddlededee!

“But I know of a river,” continued Coppernose, “which falls into this one from the north, and comes from the Horn Mountain that we passed at the end of Great Slave Lake; it is the country of the Beaver Indians. My relations meet me frequently on that river. There are great plains on both sides of that river, which abound in buffaloes and moose-deer.”

“I don’t believe it—wauch!” said English Chief. As this was a discouraging reception of his remarks, Coppernose relapsed into silence.

Soon afterwards the large canoe was observed to make for a low grassy point; and as it was about the usual camping time, English Chief made for the same place. The hunters reached it about ten minutes later, and bore into camp two reindeer, four geese, and a swan, besides a large quantity of berries gathered by the fair (or brown) hands of Darkeye.

“There is plenty of game everywhere,” said Reuben, in answer to a query from his leader, “we might have killed much more if we’d had more time—but enough is as good as a feast, as the sayin’ goes in my country.”

“In your country?” said Mackenzie, with a smile.

“Ay, I claim to be a Scotchman—though I was born and raised in Canada—my father hailed from the land o’ cakes.”

“Does Lawrence claim the same nationality on the same ground, Reuben?”

“He does not!” answered Lawrence for himself, while busy cleaning his father’s gun.

“The lad loves the Canadians,” replied Reuben, with a chuckle; “besides, he couldn’t claim it on the same ground, seein’ that I am fully half a Scot, while he is at least three-quarters a Canadian.”

“More the better luck for him,” said one of the Canadians, who had already kindled a fire, before which one of his comrades was busily engaged setting up juicy venison steaks to roast.

“Oui,” observed another; “vraiment, Canada beats Scottish land altogeder.”

“Ha! Faderland ees more best, den all ze vorld,” said the German, quaffing a can of water with as much zest as if it had been his own native Rhine wine.

“I warrant me,” said Mackenzie with a laugh, “that our trusty guide, Coppernose, would not give the wilderness here for Canada, Scotland, and Faderland put together. What say you, lad?”

Coppernose looked gravely at his questioner, but made no reply.

“Boo!” said English Chief; regarding his countryman with a look of contempt; “hims no onerstan’ Eengleesh.”

“He understands how to eat a rumpsteak of venison, however,” said Mackenzie, with a laugh, as Coppernose at that moment coolly appropriated a mass of half-roasted meat, and began to devour it. “You’d better follow his example, lads.”

The men were not slow to take this advice. In a short time all were more or less busily engaged with venison steaks, marrow-bones, goose drum-sticks, and fish; and comparative silence prevailed while the cravings of nature were being appeased. After supper, pipes were lighted, and conversation became animated for some time; but they were all too much fatigued to prolong this period, interesting though it was. One after another they spread their blankets under a convenient bush or tree, and, ere long, the whole party was in the land of Nod.