Chapter I (7)

On the 17th, the fatigue I had experienced the day before, on horseback, obliged me to re-embark in my canoe. About eight o’clock, we passed a little river flowing from the N. W. We perceived, soon after, three canoes, the persons in which were struggling with their paddles to overtake us. As we were still pursuing our way, we heard a child’s voice cry out in French--“_arrêtez donc, arrêtez donc_”--(stop! stop!). We put ashore, and the canoes having joined us, we perceived in one of them the wife and children of a man named _Pierre Dorion_, a hunter, who had been sent on with a party of eight, under {274} the command of Mr. J. Reed, among the _Snakes_, to join there the hunters left by Messrs. Hunt and Crooks, near Fort Henry, and to secure horses and provisions for our journey.[148] This woman informed us, to our no small dismay, of the tragical fate of all those who composed that party. She told us that in the month of January, the hunters being dispersed here and there, setting their traps for the beaver, Jacob Regner, Gilles Leclerc, and Pierre Dorion, her husband, had been attacked by the natives. Leclerc, having been mortally wounded, reached her tent or hut, where he expired in a few minutes, after having announced to her that her husband had been killed. She immediately took two horses that were near the lodge, mounted her two boys upon them, and fled in all haste to the wintering house of Mr. Reed, which was about five days’ march from the spot where her husband fell. Her horror and disappointment were extreme, when she found the house--a log cabin--deserted, and on drawing nearer, was soon convinced, by the traces of blood, that Mr. Reed also had been {275} murdered. No time was to be lost in lamentations, and she had immediately fled toward the mountains south of the _Wallawalla_, where, being impeded by the depth of the snow, she was forced to winter, having killed both the horses to subsist herself and her children. But at last, finding herself out of provisions, and the snow beginning to melt, she had crossed the mountains with her boys, hoping to find some more humane Indians, who would let her live among them till the boats from the fort below should be ascending the river in the spring, and so reached the banks of the Columbia, by the Wallawalla. Here, indeed, the natives had received her with much hospitality, and it was the Indians of Wallawalla who brought her to us. We made them some presents to repay their care and pains, and they returned well satisfied.

The persons who lost their lives in this unfortunate wintering party, were Mr. John Reed, (clerk), Jacob Regner, John Hubbough, Pierre Dorion (hunters), Gilles Leclerc, François Landry, J. B. Turcotte, André la Chapelle and Pierre {276} De Launay, (_voyageurs_).[149] We had no doubt that this massacre was an act of vengeance, on the part of the natives, in retaliation for the death of one of their people, whom Mr. John Clark had hanged for theft the spring before.[150] This fact, the massacre on the Tonquin, the unhappy end of Captain Cook, and many other similar examples, prove how carefully the Europeans, who have relations with a barbarous people, should abstain from acting in regard to them on the footing of too marked an inequality, and especially from punishing their offences according to usages and codes, in which there is too often an enormous disproportion between the crime and the punishment. If these pretended exemplary punishments seem to have a good effect at first sight, they almost always produce terrible consequences in the sequel.

On the 18th, we passed _Priest’s Rapid_, so named by Mr. Stuart and his people, who saw at {277} this spot, in 1811, as they were ascending the river, a number of savages, one of whom was performing on the rest certain aspersions and other ceremonies, which had the air of being coarse imitations of the Catholic worship.[151] For our part, we met here some Indians of whom we bought two horses. The banks of the river at this place are tolerably high, but the country back of them is flat and uninteresting.

On the 20th, we arrived at a place where the bed of the river is extremely contracted, and where we were obliged to make a portage. Messrs. J. Stuart and Clarke left us here, to proceed on horseback to the Spokan trading house, to procure there the provisions which would be necessary for us, in order to push on to the mountains.

On the 21st, we lightened of their cargoes, three canoes, in which those who were to cross the continent embarked, to get on with greater speed. We passed several rapids, and began to see mountains covered with snow.

On the 22d, we began to see some pines on {278} the ridge of the neighboring hills; and at evening we encamped under _trees_, a thing which had not happened to us since the 12th.

On the 23d, toward 9, A. M., we reached the trading post established by D. Stuart, at the mouth of the river _Okenakan_. The spot appeared to us charming, in comparison with the country through which we had journeyed for twelve days past: the two rivers here meeting, and the immense prairies covered with a fine verdure, strike agreeably the eye of the observer; but there is not a tree or a shrub to diversify the scene, and render it a little less naked and less monotonous. We found here Messrs. J. M’Gillivray and Ross, and Mr. O. de Montigny, who had taken service with the N. W. Company, and who charged me with a letter for his brother.[152]

Toward midday we re-embarked, to continue our journey. After having passed several dangerous rapids without accident, always through a country broken by shelving rocks, diversified with hills and verdant prairies, we arrived, on the 29th, at the portage of the _Chaudieres_ or {279} Kettle falls. This is a fall where the water precipitates itself over an immense rock of white marble, veined with red and green, that traverses the bed of the river from N.W. to S.E. We effected the portage immediately, and encamped on the edge of a charming prairie.[153]

We found at this place some Indians who had been fasting, they assured us, for several days. They appeared, in fact, reduced to the most pitiable state, having nothing left but skin and bones, and scarcely able to drag themselves along, so that not without difficulty could they even reach the margin of the river, to get a little water to wet their parched lips. It is a thing that often happens to these poor people, when their chase has not been productive; their principal nourishment consisting, in that case, of the pine moss, which they boil till it is reduced to a sort of glue or black paste, of a sufficient consistence to take the form of biscuit. I had the curiosity to taste this bread, and I thought I had got in my mouth a bit of soap. Yet some of our people, who had been reduced to eat this glue, assured me that {280} when fresh made it had a very good taste, seasoned with meat.[154] We partly relieved these wretched natives from our scanty store.

On the 30th, while we were yet encamped at Kettle falls, Messrs. J. Stuart and Clarke arrived from the post at Spokan. The last was mounted on the finest-proportioned gray charger, full seventeen hands high, that I had seen in these parts: Mr. Stuart had got a fall from his, in trying to urge him, and had hurt himself severely. These gentlemen not having brought us the provisions we expected, because the hunters who had been sent for that purpose among the _Flatheads_, had not been able to procure any, it was resolved to divide our party, and that Messrs. M’Donald, J. Stuart, and M’Kenzie should go forward to the post situated east of the mountains, in order to send us thence horses and supplies. These gentlemen quitted us on the 1st of May. After their {281} departure we killed two horses and dried the meat; which occupied us the rest of that day and all the next. In the evening of the 2d, Mr. A. Stuart arrived at our camp. He had recovered from his wounds (received in the conflict with the natives, before related), and was on his way to his old wintering place on _Slave lake_, to fetch his family to the Columbia.

We resumed our route on the morning of the 3d of May, and went to encamp that evening at the upper-end of a rapid, where we began to descry mountains covered with forests, and where the banks of the river themselves were low and thinly timbered.

On the 4th, after having passed several considerable rapids, we reached the confluence of _Flathead_ river. This stream comes from the S.E., and falls into the Columbia in the form of a cascade: it may be one hundred and fifty yards wide at its junction.[155]

On the morning of the 5th, we arrived at the confluence of the _Coutonais_ river. This stream also flows from the south, and has nearly the same {282} width as the _Flathead_. Shortly after passing it, we entered a lake or enlargement of the river, which we crossed to encamp at its upper extremity. This lake may be thirty or forty miles [long], and about four wide at its broadest part: it is surrounded by lofty hills, which for the most part have their base at the water’s edge, and rise by gradual and finely-wooded terraces, offering a sufficiently pretty view.[156]

On the 6th, after we had run through a narrow strait or channel some fifteen miles long, we entered another lake, of less extent than the former but equally picturesque. When we were nearly in the middle of it, an accident occurred which, if not very disastrous, was sufficiently singular. One of the men, who had been on the sick-list for several days, requested to be landed for an instant. Not being more than a mile from the shore, we acceded to his request, and made accordingly for a projecting head-land; but when we were about three hundred or four hundred yards from the point, the canoe struck with force against the trunk of a tree which was {283} planted in the bottom of the lake, and the extremity of which barely reached the surface of the water.[157] It needed no more to break a hole in so frail a vessel; the canoe was pierced through the bottom and filled in a trice; and despite all our efforts we could not get off the tree, which had penetrated two or three feet within her; perhaps that was our good fortune, for the opening was at least a yard long. One of the men, who was an expert swimmer, stripped, and was about to go ashore with an axe lashed to his back, to make a raft for us, when the other canoe, which had been proceeding up the lake, and was a mile ahead, perceived our signals of distress, and came to our succor. They carried us to land, where it was necessary to encamp forthwith, as well to dry ourselves as to mend the canoe.

On the 7th, Mr. A. Stuart, whom we had left behind at Kettle falls, came up with us, and we pursued our route in company. Toward evening {284} we met natives, camped on the bank of the river: they gave us a letter from which we learned that Mr. M’Donald and his party had passed there on the 4th. The women at this camp were busy spinning the coarse wool of the mountain sheep: they had blankets or mantles, woven or platted of the same material, with a heavy fringe all round: I would gladly have purchased one of these, but as we were to carry all our baggage on our backs across the mountains, was forced to relinquish the idea. Having bought of these savages some pieces of dried venison, we pursued our journey. The country began to be ascending; the stream was very rapid; and we made that day little progress.

On the 8th we began to see snow on the shoals or sandbanks of the river: the atmosphere grew very cold. The banks on either side presented only high hills covered to the top with impenetrable forests. While the canoes were working up a considerable rapid, I climbed the hills with Mr. M’Gillis, and we walked on, following the course of the river, some five or six miles. The snow {285} was very deep in the ravines or narrow gorges which are found between the bases of the hills. The most common trees are the Norway pine and the cedar: the last is here, as on the borders of the sea, of a prodigious size.

On the 9th and 10th, as we advanced but slowly, the country presented the same aspect as on the 8th. Toward evening of the 10th, we perceived a-head of us a chain of high mountains entirely covered with snow.[158] The bed of the river was hardly more than sixty yards wide, and was filled with dry banks composed of coarse gravel and small pebble.

[148] For the location of Fort Henry see Bradbury’s
_Travels_, vol. V of our series, note 124.--ED.

[149] Turcotte died of _King’s Evil_. De Launay was a
half-breed, of violent temper, who had taken an
Indian woman to live with him; he left Mr. Reed in
the autumn, and was never heard of again.--FRANCHÈRE.

[150] For this incident see Ross’s _Adventures_, volume
vii of our series.--ED.

[151] Priest Rapid, upon the Columbia in Yakima County,
Washington, still retains the name.--ED.

[152] Of Montigny nothing is known but what is related by
Franchère.

Ross was the author of several works on his Columbia
travels (see preface to volume vii of our series).
Franchère apparently errs in saying that Ross was
found at this post, unless he had pushed forward a
day or so in advance, for he was one of the brigade
which Franchère accompanied. Ross was, however, left
at the post, and remained upon the Columbia until
1817.

Joseph McGillivray was son of William (see note 62,
_ante_), and served in the Canadian chasseurs during
the War of 1812-15, being present at the capture of
Mackinac (1812). The next year he entered the North
West Company, and arrived on the Columbia in the
autumn, wintering at Fort Okanagan. See his letter
in Cox, _Adventures_, pp. 130, 131. After the union
of the North West and Hudson’s Bay companies (1821),
McGillivray was a factor of the latter in the
Columbia district, as late as 1827.--ED.

[153] Kettle Falls (Indian name, Ilthkoyape) in Stevens
County, northeast Washington, were named by David
Thompson, who arrived there June 22, 1811, and
started thence on his voyage to Astoria.--ED.

[154] The process of boiling employed by the Indians in
this case, extracts from the moss its gelatine,
which serves to supply the waste of those tissues
into which that principle enters; but as the moss
contains little or none of the proximates which
constitute the bulk of the living solids and fluids,
it will not, of course, by itself, support life or
strength.--HUNTINGTON.

[155] Flathead River (so called by Thompson) is not the
one at present so named in northwestern Montana,
but the larger stream, of which the Flathead is an
affluent, now known as Pend d’Oreille, or Clark’s
Fork of the Columbia. It flows into the latter very
near the boundary between Washington and British
Columbia.--ED.

[156] Kootenay River is one of the largest tributaries of
the Columbia, found chiefly in British Columbia,
but looping into Montana and Idaho. For a detailed
description of its course, see Coues’s note,
_Henry-Thompson Journals_, pp. 706, 707. The lake
which Franchère mentions is that enlargement of the
Columbia known as Lower Arrow Lake.--ED.

[157] A _snag_ of course, of the nature of which the Young
Canadian seems to have been ignorant.--HUNTINGTON.

[158] The Selkirk Range of the Rocky Mountains.--ED.

{286} CHAPTER XXIII

Course of the Columbia River--Canoe River--Footmarch toward the
Rocky Mountains--Passage of the Mountains.

On the 11th, that is to say, one month, day for day, after our departure from the falls, we quitted the Columbia, to enter a little stream to which Mr. Thompson had given, in 1811, the name of _Canoe_ river, from the fact that it was on this fork that he constructed the canoes which carried him to the Pacific.[159]

The Columbia, which in the portion above the falls (not taking into consideration some local sinuosities) comes from the N. N. E., takes a bend here so that the stream appears to flow from the S. E.[160] Some boatmen, and particularly Mr. {287} Regis Bruguier, who had ascended that river to its source, informed me that it came out of two small lakes, not far from the chain of the Rocky Mountains, which, at that place, diverges considerably to the east. According to Arrowsmith’s map, the course of the _Tacoutche Tessé_, from its mouth in the Pacific Ocean, to its source in the Rocky Mountains, is about twelve hundred English miles, or four hundred French leagues of twenty-five to a degree; that is to say, from two hundred and forty to two hundred and eighty miles from west to east, from its mouth to the first falls: seven hundred and fifty miles nearly from S. S. W. to N. N. E., from the first rapids to the bend at the confluence of _Canoe_ river; and one hundred and fifty or one hundred and eighty miles from that confluence to its source. We were not provided with the necessary instruments to determine the latitude, and still less the longitude, of our different stations; but it took us four or five days to go up from the factory at Astoria to the falls, and we could not have made less than sixty miles a day: and, as I have just {288} remarked, we occupied an entire month in getting from the falls to Canoe river: deducting four or five days, on which we did not travel, there remain twenty-five days march; and it is not possible that we made less than thirty miles a day, one day with another.[161]

We ascended Canoe river to the point where it ceases to be navigable, and encamped in the same place where Mr. Thompson wintered in 1810-’11. We proceeded immediately to secure our canoes, and to divide the baggage among the men, giving each fifty pounds to carry, including his provisions. A sack of _pemican_, or pounded meat, which we found in a _cache_, where it had been left for us, was a great acquisition, as our supplies were nearly exhausted.[162]

On the 12th we began our foot march to the mountains, being twenty-four in number, rank and file. Mr. A. Stuart remained at the portage to bestow in a place of safety the effects which we could not carry, such as boxes, kegs, camp-kettles, &c. We traversed first some swamps, next a dense bit of forest, and then we found {289} ourselves marching up the gravelly banks of the little _Canoe_ river. Fatigue obliged us to camp early.

On the 13th we pursued our journey, and entered into the valleys between the mountains, where there lay not less than four or five feet of snow. We were obliged to ford the river ten or a dozen times in the course of the day, sometimes with the water up to our necks. These frequent fordings were rendered necessary by abrupt and steep rocks or bluffs, which it was impossible to get over without plunging into the wood for a great distance. The stream being very swift, and rushing over a bed of stones, one of the men fell and lost a sack containing our last piece of salt pork, which we were preserving as a most precious treasure. The circumstances in which we found ourselves made us regard this as a most unfortunate accident. We encamped that night at the foot of a steep mountain, and sent on Mr. Pillet and the guide, M’Kay, to hasten a supply of provisions to meet us.

On the morning of the 14th we began to climb {290} the mountain which we had before us. We were obliged to stop every moment, to take breath, so stiff was the ascent. Happily it had frozen hard the night before, and the crust of the snow was sufficient to bear us. After two or three hours of incredible exertions and fatigues, we arrived at the _plateau_ or summit, and followed the foot-prints of those who had preceded us. This mountain is placed between two others a great deal more elevated, compared with which it is but a hill, and of which, indeed, it is only, as it were, the valley. Our march soon became fatiguing, on account of the depth of the snow, which, softened by the rays of the sun, could no longer bear us as in the morning. We were obliged to follow exactly the traces of those who had preceded us, and to plunge our legs up to the knees in the holes they had made, so that it was as if we had put on and taken off, at every step, a very large pair of boots. At last we arrived at a good hard bottom, and a clear space, which our guide said was a little lake frozen over, and here we stopped for the night. This lake, or {291} rather these lakes (for there are two) are situated in the midst of the valley or _cup_ of the mountains. On either side were immense glaciers, or ice-bound rocks, on which the rays of the setting sun reflected the most beautiful prismatic colors. One of these icy peaks was like a fortress of rock; it rose perpendicularly some fifteen or eighteen hundred feet above the level of the lakes, and had the summit covered with ice. Mr. J. Henry, who first discovered the pass, gave this extraordinary rock the name of _M’Gillivray’s Rock_, in honor of one of the partners of the N. W. Company. The lakes themselves are not much over three or four hundred yards in circuit, and not over two hundred yards apart.[163] Canoe river, which, as we have already seen, flows to the west, and falls into the Columbia, takes its rise in one of them; while the other gives birth to one of the branches of the _Athabasca_, which runs first eastward, then northward, and which, after its junction with the _Unjighah_, north of the Lake of the Mountains, takes the name of _Slave_ river, as far [as] the lake of that name, and afterward that of {292} _M’Kenzie_ river, till it empties into, or is lost in, the Frozen ocean.[164] Having cut a large pile of wood, and having, by tedious labor for nearly an hour, got through the ice to the clear water of the lake on which we were encamped, we supped frugally on pounded maize, arranged our bivouac, and passed a pretty good night, though it was bitterly cold. The most common wood of the locality was cedar and stunted pine. The heat of our fire made the snow melt, and by morning the embers had reached the solid ice: the depth from the snow surface was about five feet.

On the 15th, we continued our route, and soon began to descend the mountain. At the end of three hours, we reached the banks of a stream--the outlet of the second lake above mentioned--here and there frozen over, and then again tumbling down over rock and pebbly bottom in a thousand fantastic gambols; and very soon we had to ford it. After a tiresome march, by an extremely difficult path in the midst of woods, we encamped in the evening under some cypresses. I had hit my right knee against the branch {293} of a fallen tree on the first day of our march, and now began to suffer acutely with it. It was impossible, however, to flinch, as I must keep up with the party or be left to perish.

On the 16th, our path lay through thick swamps and forest; we recrossed the small stream we had forded the day before, and our guide conducted us to the banks of the _Athabasca_, which we also forded. As this passage was the last to be made, we dried our clothes, and pursued our journey through a more agreeable country than on the preceding days. In the evening we camped on the margin of a verdant plain, which, the guide informed us, was called _Coro prairie_. We had met in the course of the day several buffalo tracks, and a number of the bones of that quadruped bleached by time. Our flesh-meat having given out entirely, our supper consisted in some handfuls of corn, which we parched in a pan.

We resumed our route very early on the 17th, and after passing a forest of trembling poplar or aspen, we again came in sight of the river which we had left the day before. Arriving then at an {294} elevated promontory or cape, our guide made us turn back in order to pass it at its most accessible point. After crossing it, not without difficulty, we soon came upon fresh horse-prints, a sure indication that there were some of those animals in our neighborhood. Emerging from the forest, each took the direction which he thought would lead soonest to an encampment. We all presently arrived at an old house which the traders of the N. W. Company had once constructed, but which had been abandoned for some four or five years. The site of this trading post is the most charming that can be imagined: suffice to say that it is built on the bank of the beautiful river _Athabasca_, and is surrounded by green and smiling prairies and superb woodlands. Pity there is nobody there to enjoy these rural beauties and to praise, while admiring them, the Author of Nature. We found there Mr. Pillet, and one of Mr. J. M’Donald’s party, who had his leg broken by the kick of a horse.[165] After regaling ourselves with _pemican_ and some fresh venison, we set out again, leaving two of the party to {295} take care of the lame man, and went on about eight or nine miles farther to encamp.

On the 18th, we had rain. I took the lead, and after having walked about ten or twelve miles, on the slope of a mountain denuded of trees, I perceived some smoke issuing from a tuft of trees in the bottom of the valley, and near the river. I descended immediately, and reached a small camp, where I found two men who were coming to meet us with four horses. I made them fire off two guns as a signal to the rest of our people who were coming up in the rear, and presently we heard it repeated on the river, from which we were not far distant. We repaired thither, and found two of the men, who had been left at the last ford, and who, having constructed a bark canoe, were descending the river. I made one of them disembark, and took his place, my knee being so painful that I could walk no further. Meanwhile the whole party came up; they loaded the horses, and pursued their route. In the course of the day my companion (an Iroquois) and I, shot seven ducks. Coming, at last, {296} to a high promontory called _Millet’s rock_, we found some of our foot-travellers with Messrs. Stewart and Clarke, who were on horseback, all at a stand, doubting whether it would answer to wade round the base of the rock, which dipped in the water. We sounded the stream for them, and found it fordable. So they all passed round, thereby avoiding the inland path, which is excessively fatiguing by reason of the hills, which it is necessary perpetually to mount and descend.[166] We encamped, to the number of seven, at the entrance of what at high water might be a lake, but was then but a flat of blackish sand, with a narrow channel in the centre. Here we made an excellent supper on the wild ducks, while those who were behind had nothing to eat.

[159] Canoe River is the northernmost tributary of the
Columbia, flowing into it in latitude 52° north. Its
source is near that of Fraser River. Thompson was
here in the winter of 1810-11.--ED.

[160] Mr. Franchère uniformly mentions the direction from
which a stream appears to flow, not that toward
which it runs; a natural method on the part of one
who was ascending the current.--HUNTINGTON.

[161] On Arrowsmith’s map of “British Possessions in
North America,” in his _Atlas_ (Boston, 1812), the
Tacoutché Tessé or Columbia is laid down with a
dotted or indefinite line. The former name was in
reality that of Fraser River (explored 1806-08), but
long supposed to be the headwaters of the Columbia.
Franchère’s description of the latter river is quite
accurate.--ED.

[162] The place of Thompson’s wintering camp is still
(according to Coues) called Boat Encampment. On the
method of making a cache, see _Original Journals of
Lewis and Clark Expedition_, under entry for June
10, 1805. For pemmican see note 197, _post._--ED.

[163] This is one of the earliest descriptions extant
of the Athabascan Pass between British Columbia
and Alberta. It was discovered in 1810-11 by David
Thompson (see his account in _Henry-Thompson
Journals_, pp. 668, 669). Franchère’s “J. Henry” is
unidentified, probably it refers to William Henry
who crossed the year following Thompson’s passage.
The lake which forms the source of the Athabasca is
known as “Committee’s Punch Bowl.”--ED.

[164] The correctness of Franchère’s geographical
assertions shows the completeness with which this
vast region had been explored by the “Nor’Westers,”
who were doubtless his informants. The small branch
of the Athabasca whose source they had reached, was
Whirlpool River. Athabasca River, flowing through
the lake of the same name (Franchère’s Lake of the
Mountains), unites with the Peace (Indian name,
Unjighah), and becomes the Slave and Mackenzie
rivers, as here described.--ED.

[165] Coues locates this abandoned trading house at the
junction of the Miette and Athabasca rivers, in
Western Alberta. It was founded by William Henry,
and commanded both the Athabasca and Yellowhead
passes, but was abandoned because of the difficulty
of securing provisions.

McDonald, in his journal (Masson, _Bourgeois_, ii,
p. 53) speaks of this man whose leg was broken.--ED.

[166] Millet’s rock is given in the original French
edition as “Le Rocher de Miette.” Ross Cox and his
party crossed it in 1817; he speaks of the steepness
of the ascent and the magnificence of the view from
the summit. See Cox, _Adventures_, pp. 253, 254.--ED.

{297} CHAPTER XXIV

Arrival at the Fort of the Mountains--Description of this
Post--Some Details in Regard to the Rocky Mountains--Mountain
Sheep, &c.--Continuation of the Journey--Unhappy
Accident--Reflections--News from Canada--Hunter’s Lodge--Pimbina
and Red Deer Rivers.

On the 19th we raised our camp and followed the shore of the little dry lake, along a smooth sandy beach, having abandoned our little bark canoe, both because it had become nearly unserviceable, and because we knew ourselves to be very near the Rocky Mountains House.[167] In fact, we had not gone above five or six miles when we discerned a column of smoke on the opposite side of the stream. We immediately forded across, and arrived at the post, where we found Messrs. M’Donald, Stuart, and M’Kenzie, who had preceded us only two days.

{298} The post of the Rocky Mountains, in English, _Rocky Mountains House_, is situated on the shore of the little lake I have mentioned, in the midst of a wood, and is surrounded, except on the water side, by steep rocks, inhabited only by the mountain sheep and goat. Here is seen in the west the chain of the Rocky Mountains, whose summits are covered with perpetual snow. On the lake side, _Millet’s Rock_, of which I have spoken above, is in full view, of an immense height, and resembles the front of a huge church seen in perspective. The post was under the charge of a Mr. Decoigne.[168] He does not procure many furs for the company, which has only established the house as a provision depot, with the view of facilitating the passage of the mountains to those of its _employés_ who are repairing to, or returning from, the Columbia.

People speak so often of the Rocky Mountains, and appear to know so little about them, that the reader will naturally desire me to say here a word on that subject. If we are to credit travellers, and the most recent maps, these mountains {299} extend nearly in a straight line, from the 35th or 36th degree of north latitude, to the mouth of the _Unjighah_, or _M’Kenzie’s river_, in the Arctic ocean, in latitude 65° or 66° N. This distance of thirty degrees of latitude, or seven hundred and fifty leagues, equivalent to two thousand two hundred and fifty English miles or thereabouts, is, however, only the mean side of a right-angled triangle, the base of which occupies twenty-six degrees of longitude, in latitude 35° or 36°, that is to say, is about sixteen hundred miles long, while the chain of mountains forms the _hypotenuse_; so that the real, and as it were diagonal, length of the chain, across the continent, must be very near three thousand miles from S. E. to N. W. In such a vast extent of mountains, the perpendicular height and width of base must necessarily be very unequal. We were about eight days in crossing them; whence I conclude, from our daily rate of travel, that they may have, at this point, i. e., about latitude 54°, a base of two hundred miles.

The geographer Pinkerton[169] is assuredly mistaken, {300} when he gives these mountains an elevation of but three thousand feet above the level of the sea; from my own observations I would not hesitate to give them six thousand; we attained, in crossing them, an elevation probably of fifteen hundred feet above the valleys, and were not, perhaps, nearer than half way of their total height, while the valleys themselves must be considerably elevated above the level of the Pacific, considering the prodigious number of rapids and falls which are met in the Columbia, from the first falls to Canoe river. Be that as it may, if these mountains yield to the Andes in elevation and extent, they very much surpass in both respects the Apalachian chain, regarded until recently as the principal mountains of North America: they give rise, accordingly, to an infinity of streams, and to the greatest rivers of the continent.[170]

{301} They offer a vast and unexplored field to natural history: no botanist, no mineralogist, has yet examined them. The first travellers called them the Glittering mountains, on account of the infinite number of immense rock crystals, which, they say, cover their surface, and which, when they are not covered with snow, or in the bare places, reflect to an immense distance the rays of the sun. The name of Rocky mountains was given them, probably, by later travellers, in consequence of the enormous isolated rocks which they offer here and there to the view.[171] In fact, Millet’s rock, and _M’Gillivray’s_ above all, appeared to me wonders of nature. Some think that they contain metals, and precious stones.

With the exception of the mountain sheep and goat, the animals of the Rocky mountains, if these rocky passes support any, are not better known than their vegetable and mineral productions. The mountain sheep resorts generally to steep rocks, where it is impossible for men or even for wolves to reach them: we saw several on the rocks which surround the Mountain House. {302} This animal has great curved horns, like those of the domestic ram: its wool is long, but coarse; that on the belly is the finest and whitest. The Indians who dwell near the mountains, make blankets of it, similar to ours, which they exchange with the Indians of the Columbia for fish, and other commodities. The ibex, or mountain goat, frequents, like the sheep, the top and the declivities of the rocks: it differs from the sheep in having hair instead of wool, and straight horns projecting backward, instead of curved ones. The color is also different. The natives soften the horns of these animals by boiling, and make platters, spoons, &c., of them, in a very artistic manner.[172]

Mr. Decoigne had not sufficient food for us, not having expected so many people to arrive at once. His hunters were then absent on _Smoke_ river (so called by some travellers who saw in the neighborhood a volcanic mountain belching smoke), in quest of game.[173] We were therefore compelled to kill one of the horses for food. We found no birch bark either to make canoes, and {303} set the men to work in constructing some of wood. For want of better materials, we were obliged to use poplar. On the 22d, the three men whom we had left at the old-house, arrived in a little canoe made of two elk-skins sewed together, and stretched like a drum, on a frame of poles.

On the 24th, four canoes being ready, we fastened them together two and two, and embarked, to descend the river to an old post called _Hunter’s Lodge_, where Mr. Decoigne, who was to return with us to Canada, informed us that we should find some bark canoes _en cache_, placed there for the use of the persons who descend the river. The water was not deep, and the stream was rapid; we glided along, so to speak, for ten or a dozen leagues, and encamped, having lost sight of the mountains. In proportion as we advanced, the banks of the river grew less steep, and the country became more agreeable.

On the 25th, having only a little _pemican_ left, which we wished to keep, we sent forward a hunter in the little elk-skin canoe, to kill some {304} game. About ten o’clock, we found him waiting for us with two moose that he had killed. He had suspended the hearts from the branch of a tree as a signal. We landed some men to help him in cutting up and shipping the game. We continued to glide safely down. But toward two o’clock, P. M., after doubling a point, we got into a considerable rapid, where, by the maladroitness of those who managed the double pirogue in which I was, we met with a melancholy accident. I had proposed to go ashore, in order to lighten the canoes, which were loaded to the water’s edge; but the steersman insisted that we could go down safe, while the bow-man was turning the head of the pirogue toward the beach; by this manœuvre we were brought athwart the stream, which was carrying us fast toward the falls; just then our frail bark struck upon a sunken rock; the lower canoe broke amid-ships and filled instantly, and the upper one being lighted, rolled over, precipitating us all into the water. Two of our men, Olivier Roy Lapensée and André Bélanger, were drowned; {305} and it was not without extreme difficulty that we succeeded in saving Messrs. Pillet and Wallace, as well as a man named _J. Hurteau_.[174] The latter was so far gone that we were obliged to have recourse to the usual means for the resuscitation of drowned persons. The men lost all their effects; the others recovered but a part of theirs; and all our provisions went. Toward evening, in ascending the river (for I had gone about two miles below, to recover the effects floating down), we found the body of Lapensée. We interred it as decently as we could, and planted at his grave a cross, on which I inscribed with the point of my knife, his name and the manner and date of his death.[175] Bélanger’s body was not found. If anything could console the shades of the departed for a premature and unfortunate end, it would be, no doubt, that the funeral rites have been paid to their remains, and that they themselves have given their names to the places where they perished: it is thus that the shade of Palinurus rejoiced in the regions below, at learning from the mouth of the Sibyl, {306} that the promontory near which he was drowned would henceforth be called by his name: _gaudet cognomine terra_. The rapid and the point of land where the accident I have described took place, will bear, and bears already, probably, the name of _Lapensée_.[176]

On the 26th, a part of our people embarked in the three canoes which remained, and the others followed the banks of the river on foot. We saw in several places some veins of bituminous coal, on the banks between the surface of the water and that of the plain, say thirty feet below the latter; the veins had a dip of about 25°. We tried some and found it to burn well. We halted in the evening near a small stream, where we constructed some rafts, to carry all our people.

On the 27th, I went forward in the little canoe {307} of skins, with the two hunters. We soon killed an elk, which we skinned and suspended the hide, besmeared with blood, from the branch of a tree at the extremity of a point, in order that the people behind, as they came up, might perceive and take in the fruit of our chase. After fortifying ourselves with a little food, we continued to glide down, and encamped for the night near a thick wood where our hunters, from the tracks they observed, had hopes of encountering and capturing some bears. This hope was not realized.

On the 28th, a little after quitting camp, we killed a swan. While I was busy cooking it, the hunters having plunged into the wood, I heard a rifle-shot, which seemed to me to proceed from a direction opposite to that which they had taken. They returned very soon running, and were extremely surprised to learn that it was not I who had fired it. Nevertheless, the canoes and rafts having overtaken us, we continued to descend the river. Very soon we met a bark canoe, containing two men and a woman, who were ascending {308} the river and bringing letters and some goods for the _Rocky Mountains House_. We learned from these letters addressed to Mr. Decoigne, several circumstances of the war, and among others the defeat of Captain Barclay on Lake Erie. We arrived that evening at _Hunter’s Lodge_, where we found four new birch-bark canoes. We got ready two of them, and resumed our journey down, on the 31st. Mr. Pillet set out before us with the hunters, at a very early hour. They killed an elk, which they left on a point, and which we took in. The country through which we passed that day is the most charming possible; the river is wide, handsome, and bordered with low outjutting points, covered with birch and poplar.

On the 1st of June, in the evening, we encamped at the confluence of the river _Pembina_. This stream comes from the south, and takes its rise in one of the spurs of the great chain of the Rocky mountains; ascending it for two days, and crossing a neck of land about seventy-five miles, one reaches Fort Augustus, a trading-post {309} on the _Saskatchawine_ river. Messrs. M’Donald and M’Kenzie had taken this route, and had left for us half a sack of pemican in a _cache_, at the mouth of the river _Pembina_.[177] After landing that evening, Mr. Stuart and I amused ourselves with angling, but took only five or six small fish.

On the 2d, we passed the confluence of _Little Slave Lake_ river. At eight o’clock in the morning, we met a band or family of Indians, of the _Knisteneaux_ tribe.[178] They had just killed a buffalo, which we bought of them for a small brass-kettle. We could not have had a more seasonable _rencontre_, for our provisions were all consumed.

On the 3d, we reached _Little Red Elk_ river, which we began to ascend, quitting the _Athabasca_, or _Great Red Elk_.[179] This stream was very narrow in its channel, and obstructed with boulders: we were obliged to take to the shore, while some of the men dragged along the canoes. Their method was to lash poles across, and wading themselves, lift the canoes over the rocks--a laborious and infinitely tedious operation. {310} The march along the banks was not less disagreeable: for we had to traverse points of forest where the fire had passed, and which were filled with fallen trees.

Wallace and I having stopped to quench our thirst at a rill, the rest got in advance of us; and we lost our way in a labyrinth of buffalo tracks which we mistook for the trail, so that we wandered about for three hours before we came up with the party, who began to fear for our safety, and were firing signal-guns to direct us. As the river now grew deeper, we all embarked in the canoes, and about evening overtook our hunters, who had killed a moose and her two calves.

We continued our journey on the 4th, sometimes seated in our canoes, sometimes marching along the river on foot, and encamped in the evening, excessively fatigued.

[167] The Rocky Mountain House, at this place, is usually
spoken of as Jasper House from a North West clerk
by the name of Jasper Hawse, who was stationed here
for some years. It was situated on the second or
Burnt (Brulé) Lake, and was “a miserable concern
of rough logs.” A few years later the Hudson’s Bay
Company built a better post on the first, or Jasper
Lake, which was the Rocky Mountain House for the
Athabascan route. See Ross, _Fur Traders_, ii, pp.
202-204.--ED.

[168] François Decoigne (Ducoigne) was an experienced
employé of the North West Company, having been in
their service since 1798 or 1799. McDonald, the
leader of the brigade, had wintered with him in the
Athabascan district in 1803-04; he had also served
with Alexander Henry. In 1818 he joined the Hudson’s
Bay Company.--ED.

[169] Franchère here refers to John Pinkerton (1758-1826),
the well-known Scotch antiquarian, historian, and
geographer. He published a _Modern Geography_
in several editions; also a _New Modern Atlas_
(1808).--ED.

[170] This is interesting, as the rough calculation of an
unscientific traveller, unprovided with instruments,
and at that date. The real height of the Rocky
Mountains, as now ascertained, averages twelve
thousand feet; the highest known peak is about
sixteen thousand.--HUNTINGTON.

[171] See Thwaites, _Rocky Mountain Exploration_, chap.
ii, for the early French explorations, and the name
“Shining Mountains.”--ED.

[172] Franchère here gives a brief but accurate account
of the two distinctive animals of the Rocky
Mountains--the sheep usually known as the bighorn
(_ovis montana_), and the ibex (_haplocerus
montana_). They were first made known in the United
States by Lewis and Clark.--ED.

[173] This is probably not the Smoky River, an affluent of
the Peace, but a small neighboring stream called by
Cox, who gives the same derivation for the name, La
Rivière à la Boucane.--ED.

[174] Of these unfortunate men, Lapensée was an Astorian
voyageur, the others were Nor’Westers. William
Wallace came out as a clerk with Franchère on the
“Tonquin.” He had wintered both years since upon the
Willamette.--ED.

[175] Ross in 1825 found the wooden cross with the
inscription “Olivie Lapensie, from Lachine, drowned
here in May, 1814.”--ED.

[176] Mr. Franchère, not having the fear of the _Abbé
Gaume_ before his eyes, so wrote in his Journal of
1814; finding consolation in a thought savoring, we
confess, more of Virgil than of the catechism. It is
a classic term that calls to our mind rough Captain
_Thorn’s_ sailor-like contempt for his literary
passengers so comically described by Mr. _Irving_.
Half of the humor as well as of the real interest of
Mr. Franchère’s charming narrative, is lost by one
who has never read “Astoria.”--HUNTINGTON.

[177] Pembina River is the largest southern affluent of
the Athabasca. It was discovered and explored by
Thompson in 1799. The name is from a berry found on
its bank.

Fort Augustus was built about 1809, after the
destruction of an older fort of the same name, some
twenty miles farther up on the Saskatchewan. It became
the principal post of the region, and under the name
of Edmonton is still a Hudson’s Bay station, and
the terminus of the Edmonton branch of the Canadian
Pacific Railway.--ED.

[178] For the Cristineaux (Knisteneaux), see J. Long’s
_Voyages_, volume ii of our series, note 75.--ED.

[179] Little Red Elk River, an affluent of the Athabasca
from the east, in northeastern Alberta, is now known
as La Biche River.--ED.

{311} CHAPTER XXV

Red Deer Lake--Antoine Déjarlais--Beaver River--N. Nadeau--Moose
River--Bridge Lake--Saskatchawine River--Fort Vermilion--Mr.
Hallet--Trading-Houses--Beautiful Country--Reflections.

The 5th of June brought us to the beautiful sheet of water called _Red Deer lake_, irregular in shape, dotted with islands, and about forty miles in length by thirty in its greatest width. We met, about the middle of it, a small canoe conducted by two young women. They were searching for gulls’ and ducks’ eggs on the islands, this being the season of laying for those aquatics. They told us that their father was not far distant from the place where we met them. In fact, we presently saw him appear in a canoe with his two boys, rounding a little isle. We joined him, and learned that his name was {312} Antoine Déjarlais; that he had been a guide in the services of the Northwest Company, but had left them since 1805.[180] On being made acquainted with our need of provisions, he offered us a great quantity of eggs, and made one of our men embark with his two daughters in their little canoe, to seek some more substantial supplies at his cabin, on the other side of the lake. He himself accompanied us as far as a portage of about twenty-five yards formed at the outlet of the lake by a Beaver dam. Having performed the portage, and passed a small pond or marsh, we encamped to await the return of our man. He arrived the next morning, with Déjarlais, bringing us about fifty pounds of dried venison and from ten to twelve pounds of tallow. We invited our host to breakfast with us: it was the least we could do after the good offices he had rendered us. This man was married to an Indian woman, and lived with his family, on the produce of his chase; he appeared quite contented with his lot. Nobody at least disputed with him the sovereignty of Red Deer lake, of which he {313} had, as it were, taken possession. He begged me to read for him two letters which he had had in his possession for two years, and of which he did not yet know the contents. They were from one of his sisters, and dated at _Verchères_, in Canada. I even thought that I recognised the handwriting of Mr. L. G. Labadie, teacher of that parish. At last, having testified to this good man, in suitable terms, our gratitude for the services he had rendered us, we quitted him and prosecuted our journey.