We loaded our canoe with meat and pushed on toward the Buffalo
country for two miles more up the river. Navigation now became very
difficult on account of alders in the stream. Bezkya says that only
a few hundred yards farther and the river comes from underground.
This did not prove quite correct, for I went half a mile farther
by land and found no change.
Here, however, we did find some Buffalo tracks; one went through
our camp, and farther on were many, but all dated from the spring
and were evidently six weeks old.
There were no recent tracks, which was discouraging, and the air
of gloom over our camp grew heavier. The weather had been bad ever
since we left Fort Smith, cloudy or showery. This morning for the
first time the day dawned with a clear sky, but by noon it was
cloudy and soon again raining. Our diet consisted of nothing but
Moose meat and tea; we had neither sugar nor salt, and the craving
for farinaceous food was strong and growing. We were what the.
natives call "flour hungry"; our three-times-a-day prospect of Moose,
Moose, Moose was becoming loathsome. Bezkya was openly rebellious
once more, and even my two trusties were very, very glum. Still,
the thought of giving up was horrible, so I made a proposition:
"Bezkya, you go out scouting on, foot and see if you can locate a
band. I'll give you five dollars extra if you show me one Buffalo."
At length he agreed to go provided I would set out for Fort
Resolution at once unless he found Buffalo near. This was leaving
it all in his hands. While I was considering, Preble said: "I tell
you this delay is playing the mischief with our Barren-Ground trip;
we should have started for the north ten days ago," which was in
truth enough to settle the matter.
I knew perfectly well beforehand what Bezkya's report would be.
At 6.30 he returned to say he found nothing but old tracks. There
were no Buffalo nearer than two days' travel on foot, and he should
like to return at once to Fort Resolution.
There was no further ground for debate; every one and everything
now was against me. Again I had to swallow the nauseating draught
of defeat and retreat.
"We start northward first thing in the morning," I said briefly,
and our third Buffalo hunt was over.
These, then, were the results so far as Buffalo were concerned:
Old tracks as far down as last camp, plenty of old tracks here and
westward, but the Buffalo, as before on so many occasions, were
two days' travel to the westward.
