were not the men to back down. With unfaltering "go" they
pulled on day after day, landing their boat at its destination
at last, having worked in the harness and at the sweeps,
without relief, from the start almost to the finish.

Meanwhile all enjoyed good health and spirits in spite of the
weather. There were fair grounds for the belief that Mr. Ross,
who had set out by trail from Edmonton, would reach the lake in
time to distribute to the congregated Indians and half-breeds
the Government rations stored there for that purpose, and,
therefore, our anxiety was not so great as it would otherwise
have been.

Our trackers being thus reinforced, the outlook was more
satisfactory, not so much in increased speed as in the certainty
of progress. The rain had ceased, and though the sky was still
lowering, the temperature was higher. Tents were struck, and
the boats got under way at once, taking chances on the weather,
which, instead of breaking up in another deluge, improved.
Eight men were now put to each line, Peokus, a remarkable old
Blackfoot Indian, captured and adopted in boyhood by the Crees,
and who afterwards attracted the attention of us all, being
detailed to lead the Police gang, who, raw and unused to the
work, required an experienced tracker at their head.

The country passed through hitherto was rolling, hilly, and
densely forested, but, alas, with prostrate trunks and fire-blasted
"rampikes," which ranged in all directions in desolate profusion.
The timber was Banksian pine, spruce, poplar and birch, much of
it merchantable, but not of large size. It was pitiful to see