That the Indian has made them so by allowing them to
come into this country, that the Indian is very poor because he
never was properly compensated, and that therefore all he can get
out of said white man is much less than the white man owes him.
As we rounded a point one day a Lynx appeared statuesque on a stranded
cake of ice, a hundred yards off, and gazed at the approaching
boats. True to their religion, the half-breeds seized their rifles,
the bullets whistled harmlessly about the "Peeshoo" - whereupon he
turned and walked calmly up the slope, stopping to look at each
fresh volley, but finally waved his stumpy tail and walked unharmed
over the ridge. Distance fifty yards.
On May 28 we reached Fort MacMurray.
Here I saw several interesting persons: Miss Christine Gordon, the
postmaster; Joe Bird, a half-breed with all the advanced ideas of
a progressive white man; and an American ex-patriot, G - - - , a
tall, raw-boned Yank from Illinois. He was a typical American of
the kind, that knows little of America and nothing of Europe; but
shrewd and successful in spite of these limitations. In appearance
he was not unlike Abraham Lincoln. He was a rabid American, and
why he stayed here was a question.
He had had no detailed tidings from home for years, and I never saw
a man more keen for the news. On the banks of the river we sat for
an hour while he plied me with questions, which I answered so far
as I could. He hung on my lips; he interrupted only when there seemed
a halt in the stream; he revelled in, all the details of wrecks
by rail and sea. Roosevelt and the trusts - insurance scandals - the
South the burnings in the West - massacres - murders - horrors - risings - these
were his special gloats, and yet he kept me going with "Yes - yes - and
then?" or "Yes, by golly - that's the way we're a-doing it. Go on."
Then, after I had robbed New York of $100,000,000 a year, burnt 10
large towns and 45 small ones, wrecked 200 express trains, lynched
96 negroes in the South and murdered many men every night for 7
years in Chicago - he broke out:
"By golly, we are a-doing it. We are the people. We are a-moving
things now; and I tell you I give the worst of them there European
countries, the very worst of 'em, just 100 years to become
Americanised."
Think of that, ye polished Frenchmen; ye refined, courteous Swedes;
ye civilised Danes; you have 100 years to become truly Americanised!
All down the river route we came on relics of another class of
wanderers - the Klondikers of 1898. Sometimes these were empty winter
cabins; sometimes curious tools left at Hudson's Bay Posts, and in
some cases expensive provisions; in all cases we heard weird tales
of their madness.
There is, I am told, a shanty on the Mackenzie above Simpson, where
four of them made a strange record. Cooped up for months in tight
winter quarters, they soon quarrelled, and at length their partnership
was dissolved. Each took the articles he had contributed, and those
of common purchase they divided in four equal parts. The stove, the
canoe, the lamp, the spade, were broken relentlessly and savagely
into four parts - four piles of useless rubbish. The shanty was
divided in four. One man had some candles of his own bringing.
These he kept and carefully screened off his corner of the room so
no chance rays might reach the others to comfort them; they spent
the winter in darkness. None spoke to the other, and they parted,
singly and silently, hatefully as ever, as soon as the springtime
opened the way.
CHAPTER IV
DOWN THE SILENT RIVER WITH THE MOUNTED POLICE
At Fort MacMurray we learned that there was no telling when the
steamer might arrive; Major Jarvis was under orders to proceed
without delay to Smith Landing; so to solve all our difficulties
I bought a 30-foot boat (sturgeon-head) of Joe Bird, and arranged
to join forces with the police for the next part of the journey.
I had made several unsuccessful attempts to get an experienced native
boatman to go northward with me. All seemed to fear the intending
plunge into the unknown; so was agreeably surprised when a sturdy
young fellow of Scottish and Cree parentage came and volunteered
for the trip. A few inquiries proved him to bear a good reputation
as a river-man and worker, so William C. Loutit was added to my
expedition and served me faithfully throughout.
In time I learned that Billy was a famous traveller. Some years
ago, when the flood had severed all communication between Athabaska
Landing and Edmonton, Billy volunteered to carry some important
despatches, and covered the 96 miles on foot in one and a half days,
although much of the road was under water. On another occasion he
went alone and afoot from House River up the Athabaska to Calling
River, and across the Point to the Athabaska again, then up to the
Landing-150 rough miles in four days. These exploits I had to find
out for myself later on, but much more important to me at the time
was the fact that he was a first-class cook, a steady, cheerful
worker, and a capable guide as far as Great Slave Lake.
The Athabaska below Fort MacMurray is a noble stream, one-third
of a mile wide, deep, steady, unmarred; the banks are covered with
unbroken virginal forests of tall white poplar, balsam poplar,
spruce, and birch. The fire has done no damage here as yet, the
axe has left no trace, there are no houses, no sign of man except
occasional teepee poles.
