CHAPTER XXVII
THE LAST OF THAT INDIAN CREW
Carved on the lobstick of the Landing were many names famous in
the annals of this region, Pike, Maltern, McKinley, Munn, Tyrrel
among them. All about were evidences of an ancient and modern
camp - lodge poles ready for the covers, relics and wrecks of all
sorts, fragments of canoes and sleds, and the inevitable stray
Indian dog.
First we made a meal, of course; then I explained to the crew that
I wanted all the stuff carried over the portage, 31 miles, to the
first lake. At once there was a row; I was used to that. There had
been a row every morning over getting up, and one or two each day
about other details. Now the evil face of Beaulieu showed that his
tongue was at work again. But I knew my lesson.
"You were brought to man the boat and bring my stuff over this
portage. So do it and start right now."
They started 3 1/4 miles with heavy loads, very heavy labour I must
admit, back then in four hours to make another meal, and camp.
Next morning another row before they would get up and take each
another load. But canoe and everything were over by noon. And then
came the final scene.
In all the quarrels and mutinies, old Weeso had been faithful to
me. Freesay had said little or nothing, and had always worked well
and cheerfully. Weeso was old and weak, Freesay young and strong,
and therefore he was the one for our canoe. I decided it would pay
to subsidise Weeso to resign in favour of the younger man. But, to
be sure, first asked Freesay if he would like to come with me to
the land of the Musk-ox. His answer was short and final, "Yes,"
but he could not, as his uncle had told him not to go beyond this
portage. That settled it. The childlike obedience to their elders
is admirable, but embarrassing at times.
So Weeso went after all, and we got very well acquainted on that
long trip. He was a nice old chap. He always meant well; grinned
so happily, when he was praised, and looked so glum when he was
scolded. There was little of the latter to do; so far as he knew,
he did his best, and it is a pleasure now to conjure up his face
and ways. His cheery voice, at my tent door every morning, was the
signal that Billy had the breakfast within ten minutes of ready.
"Okimow, To" (Chief, here is water), he would say as he set down
the water for my bath and wondered what in the name of common sense
should make the Okimow need washing every morning. He himself was
of a cleaner kind, having needed no bath during the whole term of
our acquaintance.
There were two peculiarities of the old man that should make him
a good guide for the next party going northward. First, he never
forgot a place once he had been there, and could afterward go to
it direct from any other place. Second, he had the most wonderful
nose for firewood; no keen-eyed raven or starving wolf could go more
surely to a marrow-bone in cache, than could Weeso to the little
sticks in far away hollows or granite clefts. Again and again,
when we landed on the level or rocky shore and all hands set out
to pick up the few pencil-thick stems of creeping birch, roots
of annual plants, or wisps of grass to boil the kettle, old Weeso
would wander off by himself and in five minutes return with an
armful of the most amazingly acceptable firewood conjured out of
the absolutely timberless, unpromising waste. I never yet saw the
camp where he could not find wood. So he proved good stuff; I was
glad we had brought him along.
And I was equally glad now to say good-bye to the rest of the crew.
I gave them provisions for a week, added a boiling of beans, and
finally the wonderful paper in which I stated the days they had
worked for me, and the kind of service they had rendered, commended
Freesay, and told the truth about Beaulieu.
"Dat paper tell about me," said that worthy suspiciously.
"Yes," I said, "and about the others; and it tells Harding to pay
you as agreed."
We all shook hands and parted. I have not seen them since, nor do
I wish to meet any of them again, except Freesay.
My advice to the next traveller would be: get white men for the trip
and one Indian for guide. When alone they are manageable, and some
of them, as seen already, are quite satisfactory, but the more of
them the worse. They combine, as Pike says, the meanest qualities
of a savage and an unscrupulous moneylender. The worst one in the
crowd seems most readily followed by the others.
CHAPTER XXVIII
GEOLOGICAL FORCES AT WORK
It seems to me that never before have I seen the geological forces
of nature so obviously at work. Elsewhere I have seen great valleys,
cliffs, islands, etc., held on good evidence to be the results of
such and such powers formerly very active; but here on the Athabaska
I saw daily evidence of these powers in full blast, ripping, tearing
reconstructing, while we looked on.
All the way down the river we saw the process of undermining the
bank, tearing down the trees to whirl them again on distant northern
shores, thus widening the river channel until too wide for its normal
flood, which in time, drops into a deeper restricted channel, in
the wide summer waste of gravel and sand.
Ten thousand landslides take place every spring, contributing
their tons of mud to the millions that the river is deporting to
the broad catch basins called the Athabaska and Great Slave Lakes.
