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The Wild North Land THE STORY OF A WINTER JOURNEY WITH DOGS ACROSS NORTHERN NORTH AMERICA
The Wild North Land THE STORY OF A WINTER JOURNEY WITH DOGS ACROSS NORTHERN NORTH AMERICA
BY LIEUTENANT-GENERAL SIR WILLIAM FRANCIS BUTLER, G.C.B. AUTHOR OF “THE GREAT LONE LAND” AND “RED CLOUD, THE SOLITARY SIOUX” “I cannot rest from travel. I will drink life to the lees.” “I am become a name for always roaming with a hungry heart.” WITH FIFTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS AND A MAP TORONTO THE MACMILLAN COMPANY OF CANADA, LTD. 1910 SIR WILLIAM BUTLER’S WILD NORTH LAND. (Larger)...
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PREFACE.
PREFACE.
People are supposed to have an object in every journey they undertake in this world. A man goes to Africa to look for the Nile, to Rome to see the Coliseum or St. Peter’s; and once, I believe, a certain traveller tramped all the way to Jerusalem for the sole purpose of playing ball against the walls of that city. As this matter of object, then, seems to be a rule with travellers, it may be asked by those who read this book, what object had the writer in undertaking a journey across the snowy wil
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CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER I.
The Situation at Home.—The West again.—A Land of Silence. There had never been so many armies in England. There was a new army, and there was an old army; there was an army of militia, an army of volunteers, and an army of reserve; there were armies on horse, on foot, and on paper. There was the army of the future—of which great things were predicted—and far away, lost in a haze of history (but still more substantial than all other armed realities, present or future), there lay the great dead ar
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CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER II.
Powder versus Primroses.—The American Lounger.—“Home, Sweet Home.” It was just time to leave London. The elm-trees in the parks were beginning to put forth their earliest and greenest leaves; innumerable people were flocking into town because custom ordained that the country must be quitted when the spring is at its finest; as though the odour of primroses had something pestilential about it, and anything in the shape of violets except violet powder was terribly injurious to feminine beauty. You
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CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER III.
Fort Garry under new aspects.—Social Societies.—An Old Friend.—“Pony” the perverse. The long, hot, dusty American summer was drawing to a close. The sand-fly had had his time, the black-fly had run his round, the mosquito had nearly bitten himself to death, and during that operation had rendered existence unbearable to several millions of the human race. The quiet tranquil fall-time had followed the fierce wasting summer, and all nature seemed to rest and bask in the mellow radiance of September
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CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER IV.
The Wilderness.—A Sunset-Scene.—A white Savage.—Cerf-vola the Untiring.—Doggerel for a Dog.—The Hill of the Wolverine.—The Indian Paradise.—I plan a Surprise.—Biscuits and Water. It was the 4th of October, bright with the warmth of the fading summer—that quiet glow which lingers over the face of nature, like the hectic flush upon a dying beauty, ere the wintry storms come to kill. Small and insignificant, the Musk-Rat Creek flows on towards Lake Manitoba amidst bordering thickets of oak and elm
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CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER V.
The Forks of the Saskatchewan.—A perverse Parallel.—Diplomatic Bungling.—Its results. Two hundred and fifty feet above water level, the narrow tongue of land rises over the junction of the two Saskatchewan rivers. Bare and level at top, its scarped front descends like a wall to the rivers; but land-slip and the wear of time have carried down to a lower level the loose sand and earth of the plateau, and thickly clustering along the northern face, pines, birch, and poplar shroud the steep descent.
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CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VI.
Our Winter Home.—A Welcome.—I start again.—The Hunter’s Camp.—In quest of Buffalo on the Plains.—“Lodge-poling” leads to Love. At the foot of the high ridge which marks the junction of the two Saskatchewans, deep in pines and poplars, through which vistas had been cut to give glimpses along the converging rivers, stood the winter hut of which I have already spoken. From its chimney blue smoke curled up amongst the trees into the lower atmosphere, and the sound of wood-cutting came ringing from b
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CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VII.
An Ocean of Grass.—The Red Man.—Whence comes he?—The Buffalo.—Puritans and Pioneers.—The Red Man’s Friend. The general term “prairie” comprises many varieties of open landscape. There are the level, alluvial prairies of Illinois, long since settled and colonized; there are the low, fertile prairies of the Red River, where the rich black mould, fallow under five months of snow, puts forth the rank luxuriance of a hot-bed during the half tropic heat of summer; there are the sandy prairies of the A
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CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER VIII.
Buffalo Hunts.—A Picture once seen, long remembered.—L’Homme capable.—A wonderful Lake.—The lost Indian.—An Apparition.—We return home. It was mid-November before we reached the buffalo; the snow had deepened, the cold had become intense, and our horses under the influence of travel, cold, and exposure, had become miserably thin. To hunt the herds on horseback would have been an impossibility; the new-fallen snow hid the murderous badger holes that covered the prairie surface, and to gallop weak
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CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER IX.
Strange Visitors.—At-tistighat the Philosopher.—Indian Converts.—A Domestic Scene.—The Winter Packet.—Adam and his Dogs. December passed away, the new year came, the cold became more intense. The snow deepened and the broad rivers lay hushed under their sparkling covering; wide roadways for our dog sleighs. At times there came a day of beautiful clearness, the sun shone brightly, the sky was of the deepest blue, and the earth sparkled in its spotless covering. At night the moon hung over the sno
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CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER X.
A tale of warfare.—Dog-sleds.—A missing link.—The North Sea.—“Winterers.”—Samuel Hearne. During the three months which had elapsed since his arrival at the Forks, Cerf-vola had led an idle life; he had led his train occasionally to Fort à la Corne, or hauled a light sled along the ice of the frozen rivers, but these were only desultory trips, and his days had usually passed in peace and plenty. Perhaps I am wrong in saying peace, for the introduction of several strange dogs had occasioned much w
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CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XI.
A dog of no character.—The Green Lake.—Lac Ile à la Crosse.—A cold day.—Fort Ile à la Crosse.—A long-lost brother.—Lost upon the Lake.—Unwelcome neighbours.—Mr. Roderick Macfarlane.—A beautiful morning.—Marble features. On the night of the 11th of February, under a brilliant moonlight, we quitted Fort Carlton; crossing the Saskatchewan, we climbed the steep northern bank, and paused a moment to look back. The moon was at its full, not a cloud slept in the vast blue vault of heaven, a great plane
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CHAPTER XII.
CHAPTER XII.
The Clearwater.—A bygone Ocean.—A Land of Lakes.—The Athabasca River.—Who is he?—Chipewyan Indians.—Echo.—Major succumbs at last.—Mal de Raquette. The Clearwater, a river small in a land where rivers are often a mile in width, meanders between its lofty wooded hills; or rather one should say, meanders in the deep valley which it has worn for itself through countless ages. Ever since the beginning of the fur trade it has been the sole route followed into the North. More practicable routes undoubt
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CHAPTER XIII.
CHAPTER XIII.
Lake Athabasca.—Northern Lights.—Chipewyan.—The real Workers of the World. Athabasca, or more correctly “Arabascow,” “The Meeting-place of many Waters,” is a large lake. At this fort of Chipewyan we stand near its western end. Two hundred miles away to the east, its lonely waters still lave against the granite rocks. Whatever may be the work to which he turns hand or brain, an Indian seldom errs. If he names a lake or fashions a piece of bark to sail its waters, both will fit the work for which
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CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XIV
A Hudson’s Bay Fort.—It comes at last.—News from the outside world.—Tame and wild Savages.—Lac Clair.—A treacherous deed.—Harper. The term “Fort” which so frequently occurs in these pages may perhaps convey an erroneous impression to the reader’s mind. An imposing array of rampart and bastion, a loop-holed wall or formidable fortalice may arise before his mind’s eye as he reads the oft-recurring word. Built generally upon the lower bank of a large river or lake, but sometimes perched upon the lo
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CHAPTER XV.
CHAPTER XV.
The Peace River.—Volcanos.—M. Jean Batiste St. Cyr.—Half a loaf is better than no bread.—An oasis in the desert.—Tecumseh and Black Hawk. It is possible that the majority of my readers have never heard of the Peace River. The British empire is a large one, and Britons can get on very well without knowing much of any river, excepting perhaps the Thames, a knowledge of which, until lately, Londoners easily obtained by the simple process of smelling. Britannia it is well known rules the waves, and
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CHAPTER XVI.
CHAPTER XVI.
The Buffalo Hills.—A fatal Quarrel.—The exiled Beavers.—“At-tal-loo” deplores his wives.—A Cree Interior.—An attractive Camp.—I camp alone.—Cerf-vola without a Supper.—The Recreants return.—Dunvegan.—A Wolf-hunt. A long distance, destitute of fort or post, had now to be passed. For fully 300 miles above Vermilion, no sign of life but the wild man and his prey (the former scant enough) are to be found along the shores of the Peace River. The old fort known as Dunvegan lies twelve long winter days
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CHAPTER XVII.
CHAPTER XVII.
Alexander Mackenzie.—The first sign of Spring.—Spanker the suspicious.—Cerf-vola contemplates cutlets.—An Indian hunter.—“Encumbrances.”—Furs and finery.—A “dead fall.”—The fur trade at both ends.—An old fort.—A night attack.—Wife-lifting.—Cerf-vola in difficulties and boots.—The Rocky Mountains at last. About eighty years ago a solitary canoe floated on the waters of the Peace River. Eight sturdy Iroquois or Canadians moved it with dexterous paddle; in the centre sat the figure of a European, b
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CHAPTER XVIII.
CHAPTER XVIII.
The wild animals of the Peace River.—Indian method of hunting the moose.—Twa-poos.—The beaver.—The bear.—Bear’s butter.—A bear’s hug and how it ended.—Fort St. John.—The river awakes.—A rose without a thorn.—Nigger Dan.—A threatening letter.—I issue a Judicial Memorandum.—Its effect is all that could be desired.—Working up the Peace River. Three animals have made their homes on the shores of the Peace River and its tributaries. They are the bear, the moose, and the beaver. All are valuable to th
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CHAPTER XIX.
CHAPTER XIX.
Start from St. John’s.—Crossing the ice.—Batiste La Fleur.—Chimeroo.—The last wood-buffalo.—A dangerous weapon.—Our raft collapses.—Across the Half-way River. The 22nd of April had come. For some days we were engaged at St. John’s in preparing supplies for the ascent of the river, and in catching and bringing in from the prairie the horses which were to carry me to the point of embarcation at the west end of the cañon; the snow had nearly all disappeared from the level prairie. The river opposit
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CHAPTER XX.
CHAPTER XX.
Hudson’s Hope.—A lover of literature.—Crossing the Peace.—An unskilful pilot.—We are upset.—Our rescue.—A strange variety of arms.—The Buffalo’s Head.—A glorious view. Dismounting from our tired horses, we loosened saddles and bridles, hobbled the two fore-legs together, and turned them adrift in the forest. Then we cached our baggage in the trees, for wolves were plentiful around, and a grey wolf has about as extensive a bill of fare in the matter of man’s clothing and appointments as any anima
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CHAPTER XXI.
CHAPTER XXI.
Jacques, the French miner.—A fearful abyss.—The Great Cañon of the Peace River.—We are off on our western way.—Unfortunate Indians.—A burnt baby.—The moose that walks. It was dusk when I reached the ruined hut which stood at the western end of the portage. My men had long preceded me, and Kalder had supper ready before the great fireplace. The fire shed its light upon a fourth figure; it was that of Jacques, the French miner, five feet two inches in height; miner, trapper, trader, and wanderer s
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CHAPTER XXII.
CHAPTER XXII.
Still westward.—The dangers of the ice.—We enter the main range.—In the mountains.—A grizzly.—Tho death of the moose.—Peace River Pass.—Pete Toy.—The Ominica.—“Travellers” at home. We held our way up the river, fighting many a battle with the current. Round the points the stream ran strong, and our canoe was a big, lumbering affair, hollowed out of a single cotton-wood tree by Jacques, years before on the Fraser River, and ill-adapted to the ice, which was our most dangerous enemy. Many a near s
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CHAPTER XXIII.
CHAPTER XXIII.
The Black Cañon.—An ugly prospect.—The vanished boat.—We struggle on.—A forlorn hope.—We fail again.—An unhoped for meeting and a feast of joy.—The Black Cañon conquered. Casting off from camp, on the morning of the 12th, we pushed right into the mouth of the cañon. At once our troubles began. The steep walls of smooth rock rose directly out of the water—sometimes washed by a torrent, at others beaten by a back-whirl and foaming eddy. In the centre ran a rush of water that nothing could stem. Po
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CHAPTER XXIV.
CHAPTER XXIV.
The Untiring over-estimates his powers.—He is not particular as to the nature of his dinner.—Toil and temper.—Farewell to the Ominica.—Germansen.—The mining camp.—Celebrities. In the struggle which it was our daily work to wage with Nature, whose dead weight seemed to be bent on holding us back, the wear and tear of the things of life had been considerable. Clothes we will say nothing of—it is their function to go—but our rough life had told heavily against less perishable articles. My aneroid w
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CHAPTER XXV.
CHAPTER XXV.
Mr. Rufus Sylvester.—The Untiring developes a new sphere of usefulness.—Mansen.—A last landmark. On the evening of my arrival at Germansen Mr. Rufus Sylvester appeared from the south, carrying the mail for the camp. Eleven days earlier he had started from Quesnelle on the Frazer River; the trail was, he said, in a very bad state; snow yet lay five feet deep on the Bald, and Nation River Mountains; the rivers and streams were running bank-high; he had swum his horses eleven times, and finally lef
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CHAPTER XXVI.
CHAPTER XXVI.
British Columbia.—Boundaries again.—Juan de Fuça.—Carver.—The Shining Mountains.—Jacob Astor.—The monarch of salmon.—Oregon.—Riding and tying.—Nation Lake.—The Pacific. We have been a long time now in that portion of the American continent which is known as British Columbia, and yet we have said but little of its early life, or how it came into the limits of a defined colony. Sometime about that evening when we lay camped (now a long way back) upon the hill where the grim face of Chimeroo looked
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CHAPTER XXVII.
CHAPTER XXVII.
The Look-out Mountain.—A gigantic tree.—The Untiring retires before superior numbers.—Fort St. James.—A strange sight in the forest.—Lake Noola.—Quesnelle.—Cerf-vola in civilized life.—Old dog, good-bye. We marched that day over thirty miles, and halted in a valley of cotton-wood trees, amid green leaves again. We were yet distant about forty-five miles from the Fort St. James, but my friend Rufus declared that a rapid march on the morrow would take us to the half-way house by sun-down. Rapid ma
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POSTSCRIPT
POSTSCRIPT
FOR THE EDITION OF 1907. I have been asked to write a few new words for this old book, and it is not easy to do it. Most of the men and all the dogs of that wild time in the North are dead. I have never been able to understand why dogs should have short lives, and so many other things, such as tortoises, elephants, carp, and even men, should have long lives. A few months ago I saw at St. Helena two tortoises which were said to have been at Plantation House for more than one hundred years. During
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APPENDIX.
APPENDIX.
Nearly twenty years ago we began to talk of building a railroad across the continent of North America to lie wholly within British territory, and we are still talking about it. Meantime our cousins have built their inter-oceanic road, and having opened it and run upon it for six years: they are also talking much about their work. But of such things it is, perhaps, better to speak after the work has been accomplished than before it has been begun. The line which thus connects the Pacific and Atla
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