Riding Ahead In His Yellow Caftan And Black
Burnoose Was Pierre Squirrel On His Spirited Charger, Looking Most
Picturesque.
But remembering that his yellow caftan was a mosquito
net, his black burnoose a Hudson's Bay coat, and his charger an
ornery Indian Cayuse, robbed the picture of most of its poetry.
We marched westerly 7 miles through fine, dry, jack-pine wood,
then, 3 miles through mixed poplar, pine, and spruce, And came to
the Slave River opposite Point Gravois. Thence we went a mile or
so into similar woods, and after another stretch of muskegs. We
camped for lunch at 11.45, having covered 12 miles.
At two we set out, and reached Salt River at three, but did not
cross there. It is a magnificent stream, 200 feet wide, with hard
banks and fine timber on each side; but its waters are brackish.
We travelled north-westerly, or northerly, along the east banks
for an hour, but at length away from it on a wide prairie, a mile
or more across here, but evidently extending much farther behind
interruptions of willow clumps. Probably these prairies join, with
those we saw on the Beaulieu trip. They are wet now, though a horse
can go anywhere, and the grass is good. We camped about six on a dry
place back from the river. At night I was much interested to hear
at intervals the familiar Kick-kick-kick-kick of the Yellow Rail
in the adjoining swamps. This must be its northmost range; we did
not actually see it.
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