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40 T H R O U G H T H E M A C K E N Z I E B A S IN
Rocky Mountains generally begins, filling the channel bank-high,
submerging the tracking paths, and bearing upon its
foaming surface such a mass of uprooted trees and river
trash that it is almost impossible to make head against it.
The next morning opened dry and pleasant, but with a
milky and foreboding sky. Again the boats were i n motion,
passing the Pusquatenao, or Naked H i l l , beyond which is
the Echo Lake— Katoo Sakaigon— where a good many
Indians lived, having a pack- trail thereto from the river.
The afternoon proved to be hot, the clouds cumulose
against a clear, blue sky, with occasional sun- showers. The
tracking became better for a time, the lofty benches decreasing
in height as we ascended. Innumerable ice- cold creeks
poured in from the forest, all of a reddish- yellow east, and
the frequent marks on trees, informing passing hunters of
the success of their friends, and the number of stages along
the shore for drying meat, indicated a fine moose country.
The next day was treaty day, and we were still a long way
from the treaty post. The Police, not yet hardened to the
work, felt fagged, but would not own up, a nephew of S ir
W i l l i am Vernon Hareourt bringing up the rear, and all slithering,
but hanging to it with dogged perseverance. Nothing,
indeed, can be imagined more arduous than this tracking
up a swift river, against constant head winds i n bad weather.
Much of it is in the water, wading up " snies," or tortuous
shallow channels, plunging into numberless creeks, clambering
up slimy banks, creeping under or passing the line over
fallen trees, wading out in the stream to round long spits
of sand or boulders, floundering i n gumbo slides, tripping,
crawling, plunging, and, finally, tottering to the camping-place
sweating like horses, and mud to the eyes— but never
grumbling. After a whole clay of this slavish work, no
sooner was the bath taken, supper stowed, and pipes filled,
than laughter began, and jokes and merriment ran round the
camp- fires as if such things as mud and toil had never
existed.
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| Title | Page 46 |
| OCR | 40 T H R O U G H T H E M A C K E N Z I E B A S IN Rocky Mountains generally begins, filling the channel bank-high, submerging the tracking paths, and bearing upon its foaming surface such a mass of uprooted trees and river trash that it is almost impossible to make head against it. The next morning opened dry and pleasant, but with a milky and foreboding sky. Again the boats were i n motion, passing the Pusquatenao, or Naked H i l l , beyond which is the Echo Lake— Katoo Sakaigon— where a good many Indians lived, having a pack- trail thereto from the river. The afternoon proved to be hot, the clouds cumulose against a clear, blue sky, with occasional sun- showers. The tracking became better for a time, the lofty benches decreasing in height as we ascended. Innumerable ice- cold creeks poured in from the forest, all of a reddish- yellow east, and the frequent marks on trees, informing passing hunters of the success of their friends, and the number of stages along the shore for drying meat, indicated a fine moose country. The next day was treaty day, and we were still a long way from the treaty post. The Police, not yet hardened to the work, felt fagged, but would not own up, a nephew of S ir W i l l i am Vernon Hareourt bringing up the rear, and all slithering, but hanging to it with dogged perseverance. Nothing, indeed, can be imagined more arduous than this tracking up a swift river, against constant head winds i n bad weather. Much of it is in the water, wading up " snies," or tortuous shallow channels, plunging into numberless creeks, clambering up slimy banks, creeping under or passing the line over fallen trees, wading out in the stream to round long spits of sand or boulders, floundering i n gumbo slides, tripping, crawling, plunging, and, finally, tottering to the camping-place sweating like horses, and mud to the eyes— but never grumbling. After a whole clay of this slavish work, no sooner was the bath taken, supper stowed, and pipes filled, than laughter began, and jokes and merriment ran round the camp- fires as if such things as mud and toil had never existed. |
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