CANADIAN MEN OF ACTION—NUMBER II.

The Series edited by W. Stewart Wallace, Librarian
of the University of Toronto.

DAVID THOMPSON

DAVID THOMPSON

THE EXPLORER

BY

CHARLES NORRIS COCHRANE

Associate Professor of Ancient History,
University College, Toronto

TORONTO
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY OF CANADA LIMITED
1924

Copyright, Canada, 1924

BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY OF CANADA LIMITED

Printed in Canada

PREFATORY NOTE

I wish to acknowledge the great debt which I owe to Mr. J. B. Tyrrell for the use of material contained in his edition of Thompson's Narrative.

It was Mr. Tyrrell who first rescued the name of Thompson from the undeserved oblivion into which it had sunk. Those who are familiar with his introduction and notes, will recognize how largely I have borrowed from them in preparing this short life.

C. N. C.

June 1924.

CONTENTS

DAVID THOMPSON

CHAPTER I

APPRENTICED TO THE COMPANY

On the 30th of December, 1783, the Governors of the Grey Coat School at Westminster, England, received from the secretary of the Hudson's Bay Company a request for four boys, trained in navigation, to be apprenticed to the Company for service at their posts in America. At that time, there were in the school but two boys so qualified—Samuel John McPherson and David Thompson. The one was so terrified by the prospect of perils and hardships unknown, that within a week he ran away from the school and was heard of no more. The other accepted the destiny for which he had been marked out, and became one of the greatest land surveyors that the British race has ever produced.

When David Thompson was called before the Headmaster to be informed of his fate, he was in his fourteenth year, and had been for nearly seven years a pupil in the school. No description exists of the poor charity boy as he then was; but from accounts given of him in later life, it is possible to imagine his appearance. Though he was short of stature, his sturdy frame already gave promise of the strength that was to enable him to drive his canoe through the currents and eddies of the western waterways, or trudge at the head of his men across the plains in the teeth of a December blizzard. His complexion was ruddy, though his smooth cheeks were not as yet tanned and furrowed by a life of exposure to the sun and wind of the great North West. The straight, black hair which hung down over his forehead combined with a stub nose to give him an odd look. Yet there must have been already evident, in his expression, the animation and kindliness which in after years distinguished him, and suggested at once the boldness and fire of Curran the Irish orator, and the strength and piety of the puritan Bunyan, both of whom he is said to have greatly resembled.

Thompson's parents were Welsh, and had borne the name of ApThomas until they had come to live in London. It was there in the parish of St. John the Evangelist, that David was born on the last day of April, in the year 1770. While yet a mere child, he was left an orphan by the death of his father. So poor was the family that the dead man had to be buried at the expense of the parish, and the widow, with David and a still younger infant, was left alone to face the hardships of life in the metropolis. The boy, however, must have shown unusual promise; because, while still quite young, he attracted the attention of a certain Abram Acworth. Through the recommendation of this otherwise unknown benefactor, he was at the age of seven accepted as a scholar by the Governors of the Grey Coat School.

The Grey Coat School was a royal foundation "the principall designe of which" was "to educate poor children in the principles of piety and virtue, and thereby lay the foundations for a sober and Christian life". Almost within the shadow of Westminster Abbey, the old building is still to be seen—-a red brick house, built in the Elizabethan manner, its walls covered with grape-vine and Virginia creeper, standing in the midst of a large garden and playground.

In the school, Thompson found himself a member of the class in mathematics, and received such training in geography, algebra, mechanics, and the art of navigation as was possible with the aid of texts, many of which were at that time a century old. In those days books were scarce and dear; and, for their general reading, the boys had to be satisfied with such miscellaneous works as came their way. These were passed eagerly from hand to hand, and as eagerly read and discussed. Youthful imaginations were excited by the romantic adventures of the Persian and Arabian tales, or by the travels of Robinson Crusoe and Gulliver in strange lands and among strange peoples.

Within five minutes' walk of the school was the Abbey and its cloisters. His hours of recreation David spent mainly in wandering through the venerable pile, reading the history of England on the monuments of her heroic dead, and drinking in the beauty of the architecture, especially that of the noble Henry VII Chapel. On other occasions, when chance offered, he would stroll through the Strand and Fleet Street as far east as London Bridge or westward to Chelsea, rich in historical memories and famous for its beautiful lawns. Other favourite haunts were St. James' Park and Spring Gardens in Vauxhall, across the Thames. Forty years of wandering through rock and forest, by plain and mountain, served merely to render yet more vivid his boyish recollection of the city and its parks "where all was beauty to the eye and verdure to the feet."

Thompson's school days, however, were now to be cut short. By the 20th of May, 1784, the formalities were completed by which he was bound apprentice to the Hudson's Bay Company for seven years; and he at once embarked from the Port of London on the Company's ship, Prince Rupert, en route for North America. The lines were cast off, and the vessel with its cargo of goods for the Indian trade drifted lazily down stream with the tide, carrying Thompson away for ever from the sights and sounds of London, which he knew and loved so well.

The voyage was uneventful, except for the usual incidents that attended the westward journey of the Company's annual fleet. Not a detail, however, escaped the keen eye of the young traveller, unaccustomed as he was to anything but the quiet life of the school, and thirsting to see something of the world, which he knew only in the pages of Gulliver and Robinson Crusoe. The ship sailed up the North Sea to Stromness in the Orkneys, there to wait three weeks for the two vessels which were to accompany her across the Atlantic, and to receive final instructions and sailing orders. As they lay in the harbour of Stromness, Thompson's keen eyes noted the strange life of the kelp-burners on shore, men, women, and children who, half-naked, gathered the dripping sea-weed in baskets, and lugged it on their shoulders to the kilns. Gazing at the rocky shore line and the low, dark cottages with their smoky peat fires, which dotted the barren hills, he was smitten with regret for the rich meadows and woods of England, and for a moment he wished himself back amid the scenes of his school life. Yet in his rambles ashore, the lad found much to interest him. He observed with amusement the quaint habits of the cottagers, who combined a brisk trade in smuggled liquor with lengthy and solemn weekly devotions at the old-fashioned Kirk by the shores of the harbour.

Sailing orders finally arrived from London, and the little fleet was soon off on its hazardous journey across the stormy North Atlantic. Presently the sight of icebergs drifting south with the Arctic current, warned the crews that they were nearing Hudson Straits. It was a month before they had worked their way through the floating ice of the Straits; after which the three ships separated, one for the factories at Moose and Albany rivers, the second for York, while the Prince Rupert, with Thompson aboard, headed for Churchill, the most northerly of the Company's settlements on the west side of the Bay. Before long, they sighted the granite coast, which they followed southward. This ended at Churchill in a low point of rock and sand, surmounted by the grim stone battlements of Fort Prince of Wales, which two years before had been gutted by the French in their raid on the Bay. Rounding this point, they found themselves in the mouth of the Churchill, a noble stream, almost a mile in breadth. Up the river they made their way for a distance of five miles to a small bay at the head of the estuary, where they cast anchor before the log huts of the still unfinished new fort.

The arrival of the annual ship was the event of the year. Hurried preparations were made for discharging the cargo of provisions for the factory and supplies for the Indian trade, and taking on board the year's accumulation of furs, which were destined to adorn the persons of the fashionable world of England and the Continent. In the midst of this confusion, the new apprentice was taken ashore, and within ten days the Prince Rupert sailed away, leaving him to face the rigours of his new life on the dismal shores of Hudson Bay.

It was indeed a new life in which David Thompson found himself. Apart from the officers, there was a staff of sixty artisans and servants in the fort. These were all busy from dawn till dark; for, besides conducting their trade with the Indians, they had to maintain themselves as a community in an utterly barren land. At six each morning in summer, and eight in winter, the duty bell summoned to their toil, accountant, steward, armourer, shipwright, carpenter, cooper, blacksmith, mason, tailor, and labourers. Assisted by his officers, the governor, gorgeous in scarlet tunic and ruffles, his sword and pistols in his belt, supervised the labours of the factory.

By the early part of October, the myriads of wild geese and ducks which each summer lived in the vast swamps to the south of Churchill had winged their way to warmer climes. The middle of the month saw the marshes stiff with frost, and snow lying on the ground. The polar bear made his appearance, waiting for the ice to extend some distance from the shore, when he left to prey on the seal, his favourite food. By the fifteenth of November, the broad and deep river was frozen solid from bank to bank, not to break up until the middle of June in the following year. Till the end of December, the staff were able to keep the yard of the fort clear of snow. At that time, a three days' blow from the north-east filled the fort with snow to a depth of six feet, with drifts as high as the stockades. Thereafter it was enough if they could keep paths cleared from one hut to another.

The cold was intense. The noise of rocks split by the frost broke the silence of the night with a sound like that of a cannon shot. On the interior walls of the still unfurnished huts, the rime collected to a depth of four inches, and on this the shivering inhabitants threw pails of water in order that it might form a coat of ice to increase the warmth of the houses. Owing to the haste with which the huts had been thrown up, there had been no time to lay in a sufficient supply of firewood for the winter; and all the wood that could be gathered for fuel allowed only one fire in the morning and one in the evening. During the rest of the day, if the weather was bad, Thompson, with the others, had to pace the guard room floor, muffled to the eyes in his beaver coat, in order to keep himself from freezing. On clear days, however, he passed his time in shooting grouse, and this activity he enjoyed except for the tumbles in the snow and the sore feet and ankles that resulted from his eager efforts to walk in snow-shoes.

The dreary winter seemed endless, when, in the middle of June, summer burst with the suddenness of dawn in the Tropics, bringing with it torments which made Thompson regret even the discomforts of winter. "Hudson Bay," he says in his narrative, "is certainly a country which Sinbad the sailor never saw, for he makes no mention of musketoes." These pests rose from the marshes in clouds, driving man and beast to distraction. The dogs in the fort howled in their agony, rolling themselves on the ground and hiding in the pools. Even the fox was in a fighting humour, barking and snapping; and, hungry though he was, he was forced to seek shelter in his hole.

Such was Thompson's first year on the Bay. He had expected, when he reached the Fort, to be employed as a clerk, but he soon found that his only business was to amuse himself, "in winter growling at the cold, and in the open season shooting gulls, duck, and plover and quarreling with musketoes and sand flies." Fortunately, however, he had for company three of the officers of the factory, the deputy governor, the sloop-master, and the surgeon. To these gentlemen he felt himself greatly indebted for the loan of various books on history and natural science, by reading which he was able to put his hours of idleness to profitable use.

The governor at that time was Samuel Hearne, a handsome giant with a rubicund face. It was Hearne who in 1782 had surrendered without a blow the great stone fort at the mouth of the river. That fort had cost the Company forty years to build, and it was barely completed when Hearne raised the white flag at the challenge of the French admiral, La Pérouse. To the mind of young Thompson, this act was enough to stamp the governor as a coward. It was, none the less, the same Hearne who had succeeded in penetrating as far North as the mouth of the Coppermine river, and was thus the first white man to reach the margin of the Arctic ocean. Nevertheless, Thompson disliked him. Like so many others at the close of the eighteenth century, Hearne was infected with the doctrines of Voltaire, and his atheism shocked the sensitive mind of the pious boy. To a lad of Thompson's ambition, the life of a hunter afforded no sort of satisfaction, and he dreaded lest he should succumb to the deadening influence of his surroundings. He complained to Hearne that his lack of clerical employment might lead to the loss of his penmanship, and was barely satisfied when the governor handed him an invoice or two to copy, and gave him occupation for a few days upon the manuscript of his Journey to the North.

The idleness of which Thompson complained was, however, to end before long. With the arrival of the annual ship in 1785, orders came that the young apprentice should proceed to York factory, the principal dépôt of the Company, situated near the mouth of the Hayes river, one hundred and fifty miles further up the Bay. South of the Churchill, the rim of granite which hems the coast recedes for some miles inland, leaving a vast waste of marshy alluvial between the hills and the water line. Trees there are none, and the monotony of the landscape is relieved only by boulders which the ice has scattered over the face of the land.

To journey on foot the length of this swamp, with two drunken Indians alone for company, was enough to test the courage and reliance of a boy of fifteen. Equipped with but a single blanket to protect him from the chill of the September nights, the young David was ferried across the river and put ashore on the south bank. The day was fine; but the Indians had been given their usual gallon of grog on leaving the fort, and they soon reduced themselves to a drunken stupor. A night in the open, however, restored them to their senses. The next morning the party made an early start, marching till evening without breakfast or dinner. During the day, the Indians had shot a goose and three ducks. When they finally came to something like a dry spot by the bank of a stream, the wild fowl were hastily cooked and eaten; and the wearied travellers, wrapped in their blankets, flung themselves on the ground to sleep.

Day after day, they trudged along the beach at high water mark, always wet and muddy. Innumerable creeks which drained the swamp crossed their path and interrupted their progress. Finally they came to the mighty Kissiskatchewan or Nelson river, on the north bank of which the Indians had laid up a canoe. Paddling across to the south shore, they crossed the tongue of low land that separates the mouth of the Nelson from that of the Hayes river; and were at last in York.

The governor to whom Thompson reported was the notorious Humphrey Marten. This old tyrant was now in his twenty-fourth year of service with the Company. Surrounded by his numerous native wives and a horde of half-breed children, he ruled the fort with a rod of iron. The Indians who visited the factory he would beat most cruelly, sending them away with revenge burning in their hearts. In the fort, his subordinates felt the weight of his unbridled temper; and they bowed to his brutality only because they feared his vindictiveness. Amid such surroundings and under such a taskmaster, Thompson passed the following year. He kept the accounts of the factory in his neat handwriting, and joined with the rest of the staff in the hunting necessary to supply the fort with food during the winter.

CHAPTER II

HE FINDS HIS MÉTIER

His first two years of service brought nothing but disappointment and disillusion to David Thompson. Vaguely sensible of his capacities, he was conscious of nothing except that as yet he had been given no scope to realize them. But in the summer of 1786 a new and important chapter opened in his life. Fitted out with a trunk, a handkerchief, shoes, shirts, a gun, powder, and a tin cup, he was included in a party of forty-six "Englishmen" who left for the interior under the leadership of Robert Longmore to establish trading posts on the Saskatchewan river to the west of those already occupied by the Company.

For over one hundred years from the time when the merry monarch had vested in them a monopoly of trading rights in the vast territory whose waters drain into Hudson Bay, the "adventurers of England trading into Hudson Bay" had maintained their factories on the coast, and allowed the Indians from the interior to make their way to them for trade. Great rivers flowed from all directions to the Bay; but the courses of these rivers were still unknown to the map makers of the British Admiralty in 1784, the year in which David Thompson landed at Churchill. For Hudson Bay is encircled from Labrador on the north-east to the Arctic on the north-west by a giant horse shoe of Archaean rock, most of it clothed with the dense northern forest; and so long as the red men were willing to make the tedious journey up and down the rivers, the slumbering giant on the Bay was content to accept the annual tribute of furs which they flung at his feet. Each September, when the ships from London arrived, the factories were crammed with pelts that meant a fortune on the markets of the Continent; and the traders eagerly awaited a fresh supply of guns, axes, and kettles for the Indian, and awls and beads for his squaw, as well as the fire-water which made him the anxious though reluctant slave of the great white chiefs on the Bay.

But the monopoly of trade to which the Company laid claim had not been accepted without challenge. On the eastern face of North America, the St. Lawrence river points like a finger to the heart of the continent, and from the head of Lake Superior it is possible, by a comparatively easy portage, to cross the height of land and descend through Rainy lake, the Lake of the Woods, and the Winnipeg river to Lake Winnipeg. Lake Winnipeg forms a vast collecting basin for the waters of the interior, before they finally discharge through the Nelson river into Hudson Bay. Thus it affords communication south and west by way of the Red and Assiniboine rivers through the prairie country of southern Manitoba, the Dakotas, and Minnesota; while, from the north west corner of the lake, the Saskatchewan carries the traveller to its sources in the Rockies. While therefore the English had waited for the Indians to bring their furs down to them on the Bay, the French from Quebec had pushed their way along these waters to the heart of the hunting grounds, and the advance of these gallant adventurers was marked by a string of forts that extended from Dulhut's post at the head of Lake Superior to Fort La Jonquière near the site of Calgary.

The fall of Quebec in 1759 had brought with it the destruction of the organized French fur trade, and the traders were scattered through the wilds. But new groups of adventurers, mainly of Scotch descent, swarmed westward from their headquarters at Montreal, and penetrated into the wilderness further than the French had ever gone. By the year 1772, the Montreal traders had crossed from the Saskatchewan to the still more northerly Churchill river, and cut the line of communication ordinarily used by the Indians of Lake Athabaska in their long journey to Hudson Bay. The consolidation of the rival interests into one great firm—the North West Company—was accomplished in 1784 at the very time of Thompson's arrival in the West. This achievement brought vastly increased strength to the Montreal traders by mitigating the evils of their fierce competition. Thus the Hudson's Bay Company was threatened with the loss of its fur supply at the same moment as the French war interrupted its convoys, and La Pérouse swept the Bay, destroying the posts at Churchill, York, and Albany.

Energetic measures were necessary if the lost trade was to be recovered. As early as 1774, Samuel Hearne had taken the momentous step of founding the first inland post of the Hudson's Bay Company at Cumberland House. Situated on the Saskatchewan a few miles west of Lake Winnipeg, Cumberland House stood, as it were, in the centre of a vast web of waterways. "A canoe could start from this house, and with no portage of more than a day's length could be launched on the Arctic ocean, Hudson Bay, the Gulf of St. Lawrence or the Gulf of Mexico; and without much greater interruption could be floated on to the Pacific ocean." Despite the disasters of the French war, and the dreadful epidemic of smallpox which in 1781 had swept across the West, decimating and demoralizing the natives, the advance of the Company was continued by the establishment of further posts along the Saskatchewan river. Thompson was thus drawn into the forefront of the battle for furs, when he was included in Longmore's party in the summer of '86.

On the 21st of July, the brigade of canoes left York factory for the upper country. Longmore, the chief, was well qualified for the task of leading the expedition. For many years he had served as lieutenant to Tomison, the "chief inland" of the dépôt at Cumberland House. Here he had acquired the difficult knack of dealing with the Indians, besides earning their love and respect. Thompson's immediate superior was Mitchell Oman, an old and experienced trader of the Company, to whom he had been assigned as clerk. Oman could neither read nor write, but he nevertheless impressed the lad by the unusual quality of his curious and inquisitive mind. During the tedious paddle into the interior, he drew from the pages of a retentive memory endless tales of the Company's early activities inland. "In those days," he declared, "our situation was by no means pleasant. The Indians were very numerous, and although by far the greater part behaved well, and were kindly to us, yet among such a number there will always be found bad men. To protect ourselves from them, we had to get a respectable chief to stay with us and assist us in trading, and prevent as much as possible the demands of these men." His valuable reminiscences were not lost upon the boy.

As the boatmen slowly worked their way up the river, Thompson's eyes gazed for the first time on the country he was afterwards to know so well. Their course lay up the Hayes river, and thence, by way of Lake Winnipeg, to the Saskatchewan. Progress at first was rapid, even against the stream, for they were still in the low and marshy country that fringes the south-west corner of the Bay. Presently, however, they encountered the first of the many rapids which mark the descent of the river to the sea. At each of these, with monotonous reiteration, the packs were all heaved ashore and shouldered along the rugged path of the portage to the higher level of the river. At the same time, the face of the landscape suddenly altered. The marshy alluvial gave way to naked granite, and they entered the belt of dark and gloomy northern forest. As they passed through the heart of the rocky country, the character of the river was also changed. From point to point the stream was held back by ledges of granite which broke its progress, giving rise to an irregular chain of wide and deep lakes. Through these lakes they threaded their way until, reaching the end of the granite country, they saw before them the broad expanse of Lake Winnipeg, the "bad water" of the Indians. Sixty miles along its northern coast brought them to the point where the Saskatchewan, after a swift and unbroken course of over one thousand miles through the plains, plunges in a long series of cascades into the lake. Having portaged past these, and wended their way through the alluvial flats of Cedar lake, they came at last to Cumberland House, and the first stage of their journey was accomplished.

Their objective was a point on the Saskatchewan about fifty miles above the present site of Battleford. As they continued their journey westward from Cumberland House, the forest gradually gave way to open country, and they found themselves in the vast expanse of the plains, dotted here and there with clumps of trees—the country of the bison, the antelope, and the red deer. Passing the forks of the river, they came to the site which the keen eye of Longmore had selected. There, on the northern bank of the stream, they cleared the ground and ran up a series of log huts, surrounded by a wooden stockade—the future Manchester House. Except for a solitary post which the North-Westers had for three years maintained about forty miles further up stream, Thompson had now reached the limit of country at that time familiar to civilized men. To the west stretched the unknown wilderness, which it was his destiny, in considerable measure, to explore.

The object of the new post was to secure the trade of the natives of the plains; and during the following winter David was busy learning the complicated ritual of Indian barter. In the course of a year he had so far mastered his duties that he was selected to lead a party of six men across country to the south branch of the Saskatchewan, in order to open friendly relations with the Piegan and Blackfeet Indians whose camps lay along the banks of that stream. Each man had a horse, and among them they carried a small assortment of goods. The duties of the young diplomat were to find the camps of the Piegans and winter among them, in order to induce them to hunt for furs and to make pemmican or dried buffalo meat for the traders. He was to persuade as many as possible to travel to the post for trade. With those who were unwilling to do so, he was to bargain for furs.

The party set forth in October, under their seventeen-year-old leader. The trail they followed led through a fine rolling country, everywhere clothed with short grass, and dotted with islands of poplar and birch. For twenty-three days they rode without seeing any animals other than a chance bull-bison which they shot for food. To the south of the Bow river they found an Indian camp pitched in a spot where the tender grass afforded rich pasture for the buffalo; but the plains, which were ordinarily black with moving herds, were at this time strangely deserted. After several moves, they finally struck a large encampment of Piegans near the present site of Calgary. Sending some of his men back to Manchester House, Thompson settled down in this camp to spend the winter.

The Piegan, Blood, and Blackfeet Indians were three allied tribes of Algonquin stock who had emerged from the northern forest and taken possession of the plains, driving their enemies, the Kootenay, Salish, and Snake Indians, before them to the mountains. Since the white men had come to trade on the river, they had advanced from the Eagle hills in western Saskatchewan to the very foot of the Rockies. This rapid conclusion of an age-long struggle for the mastery of the grazing country had been due to the fire-arms which they had procured from the traders.

The manners and customs of the confederate tribes were in keeping with their war-like disposition and constant danger. Unlike the scattered forest Indians, they lived in large camps, and without yielding their traditional liberty to the control of a single authority, they had nevertheless evolved a rudimentary form of social organization. Hunters of the bison, they were in constant need of horses. Horse-stealing was thus among them an honourable pursuit, and their raids extended far to the south and west. During the winter of Thompson's stay among them, a raid on the Snakes took a part of two hundred and fifty warriors a distance of one thousand, five hundred miles to the south-west, as was testified by the thirty well-bred animals that were brought back to camp, and the Spanish saddles and bridles that lay thrown about among the tents.

Of the three allied tribes, the Piegans occupied the most exposed position, and consequently led the most precarious and watchful life. From boyhood they were trained in arms, and their martial bearing and enterprising character produced a strong impression upon Thompson. They had an hereditary civil chief or "orator", as he was called, who presided at all councils except those of war. Arrayed in his splendid mantle of otter skin, he paced the camp each day three hours after sunset, reciting in a loud voice the news which his couriers had gathered, announcing in particular where the herds of bison were feeding and what direction they were taking. The war chief, on the other hand, was a self-made man, whose power and influence had developed from his conduct in war. Kootanae Appee, as he was called, was a magnificent giant, six feet six inches in height, and was the father of twenty-two warriors, no less tall and sinewy than himself. In after years, when Thompson was battling his way south along the Columbia river, the bond of friendship which he now forged with this old chief stood him in good stead.

The chief in whose tent Thompson passed the winter bore the name of Saukamappee (Young Man). Saukamappee was broad of shoulder and strong of limb. Old age had not bowed his grey head, nor had a troubled life obliterated the mild and playful expression of his countenance. During the long winter evenings, he entertained his guest with reminiscences that went back for fifty years. From him, Thompson learned of the Indian methods of fighting before the time of firearms, of the first importation of these deadly weapons from the distant factory at York, of the introduction of the horse among the Blackfeet, and of the dreadful effects of the small-pox epidemic in '81, of which Saukamappee himself had been a victim. While Thompson thus learned the history of the tribes among whom he was staying, he practised himself in the use of their language. His note books contain long lists of Indian words with their English equivalents, gathered from the Piegans and from other tribes whom he encountered.

The winter over, Thompson returned to the post, from which he was sent to Cumberland House in the summer of 1789. Here he began to keep a careful meteorological journal, noting two or three times daily the temperature, the strength and direction of the wind, and the general character of the climate. He also began a series of astronomical observations, as the result of which he was able to determine the exact latitude and longitude of Cumberland House. This post was thus the first of a series of widely scattered points fixed by him on the map of British North America. It was then, too, that he acquired the large brass sextant which was to be his constant companion for years to come.

Having made this start, Thompson attempted in the following summer to make a survey of the canoe route from Cumberland House to York factory, by way of the Saskatchewan and the Hayes rivers. In the autumn, he returned to Cumberland House. While there, he had the good fortune to meet Philip Turnor, the man without whose guidance and help Thompson could hardly have realized his future career.

For several years, the Colonial Office had been urging the Hudson's Bay Company to proceed with the survey of the vast territory over which it exercised sway; and to satisfy the pressing demand of the government, the Company had engaged Philip Turnor as astronomer and surveyor. Possessed of a sound theoretical training, Turnor had been employed in England as one of the compilers of the Nautical Almanac; and since 1776 he had added to his qualifications a wide practical experience drawn from numerous surveys throughout the region of the Bay. Here was a man who could solve Thompson's doubts and difficulties, and correct the deficiencies of his education for the work which he had in view. An eager pupil, Thompson sat at the feet of Turnor during the winter of 1790; and when, in the following spring, he returned to York factory, it was as a man with his mind made up. If a man knows clearly what he wants and has the intelligence and perseverance to pursue his aims, no obstacle, not even such as these which confronted Thompson, can keep him from attaining his goal.

Thereafter Thompson and his beloved instruments were inseparable companions in journeys that carried him for thousands of miles through the wildest parts of the unknown west. By day and night, he was an object of wonder to his French-Canadian and Indian followers, as, armed with his sextant, telescope, compass, and other instruments, he took observations on the sun, moon, and stars. While he sought to determine the position of rivers, lakes, and mountains, to be recorded on the map which was to be his life's work, his activities suggested to their superstitious minds the idea that he was in communication with powers not of this world, and earned him the title which he bore among them, Koo-Koo-Sint, "The man who looks at the stars."

CHAPTER III

TRADER, SURVEYOR, EXPLORER

When Thompson returned to York factory in the spring of 1791, it was to find that great changes had taken place at the fort. Five years before, the tyrannous sway of old Humphrey Marten had come to an end, and he had been succeeded as governor by Joseph Colen. This man was to direct Thompson's movements during the next six years.

The new governor was a man of unquestioned ability; but his jealous and suspicious temperament made him work at cross purposes with the governor of Churchill, and brought him into frequent conflict with Tomison at Cumberland House. He had never caught the spirit of the aggressive policy initiated by Samuel Hearne, and preferred to develop the fur trade with the Indians who came down to the coast for trade, rather than to follow them to their hunting grounds. In his reports to the directors in London, he endeavoured to excuse his lack of enterprise by hurling vague accusations at his colleagues; while his subordinates, men like Thompson and Malcolm Ross, were irritated and provoked by the lack of support from headquarters which constantly frustrated their efforts to push forward the work of exploring the more remote interior.

The seven years of David's apprenticeship were now at an end, and he was engaged at a good salary as trader and surveyor to the Company. He was not yet, however, given an opportunity of practising his profession. The previous spring, an ice-jam at the mouth of the Hayes river had caused the water to rise, flooding the low land on which the factory was situated; and for a year or more, Thompson had to assist Colen in moving the fort to its present site on a high clay bank about a quarter mile further up stream.

Meanwhile Philip Turnor had returned from a journey to Lake Athabaska, and the report of his explorations had reached the directors in London. Proceeding from Cumberland House, he had worked his way north through Amisk and Pelican lakes to Frog Portage, a distance of one hundred miles. After crossing the portage, he found himself in the basin of the upper Churchill river. This stream he ascended as far as Isle à la Crosse, and thence he made his way through Buffalo lake and Lake la Roche to the Methy Portage. This portage marks the divide between the waters that flow eastward to Hudson Bay and those that discharge through the Mackenzie into the Arctic ocean. Crossing the portage, he descended the Clearwater river to its junction with the Athabaska, whose broad stream soon carried him to the lake of that name. This was the regular route followed by the Indians of the far north in their journeys to Hudson Bay.

Turnor's report filled the directors with a desire to dispute the trade of Lake Athabaska with the men of the North West Company; and they bombarded Colen with instructions to send Ross and Thompson to that region. But to Colen's mind there was a more pressing necessity nearer home. The North-Westers had entered the rocky belt to the south-west of York, and had monopolized trade throughout the irregular series of lakes and rivers which form the tributaries of the Nelson and lower Churchill, thus challenging the "English" on their home front itself. Accordingly Colen ignored the instructions from London, and despatched Ross and Thompson into this "muskrat country," as it was called, with orders to build posts at strategic points and restore the trade of the Company.

On the 5th of September, 1792, Thompson set forth with two canoes on his first independent command. Rounding the point from York factory, the canoes swung into the broad channel of the Nelson river. By the end of the month they were well above Split lake, Thompson making a survey as they moved along. At this point one of the canoes turned aside to ascend Grass river, while Thompson with the other continued along the main stream until he reached the upper end of Sipiwisk lake. Here in a little cove formed by two projecting points of rock, with the dark spruce forest at his back and a view to the south west over the island-studded lake, he built his first trading post, and settled down to face the winter in a country almost devoid of fish and game.

His heart, however, was set on exploration. From the Indians he learned that, besides the well-known route which had been followed by Turnor to Lake Athabaska, there existed another, north from the Churchill river to Reindeer lake, and thence westward by way of the Black river to the east end of Lake Athabaska. This route he made up his mind to explore.

Accordingly, when the ice had cleared from the rivers, he set forth alone without any help or encouragement from headquarters. Descending to the lower end of Sipiwisk lake, he turned to the left and passed by a series of portages through Wintering, Red Paint and Burntwood lakes to the Missinippi or Churchill river, up which he paddled for a distance of thirty-three miles. But the Indian guides whom he had expected to meet failed to put in an appearance, and he was forced to turn back. He therefore descended through Burntwood lake and the Nelson river to York factory.

Colen had given the English directors to understand that he planned to send Ross and Thompson to the Athabaska country; and with the arrival of the annual ship in the autumn of '93, they wrote that they expected much good to follow from the projected expedition, and that they wished William Cook, who had accompanied David into the Muskrat country the previous autumn, to join with the others in the invasion of the far north. But Cook was not recalled from his post on Split lake, and Ross and Thompson were sent up the Saskatchewan to Cumberland House. Thence Thompson was despatched, not to Lake Athabaska, as he had expected, but westward along the river to a new post called Buckingham House, from which he rode still further west to the Beaver hills near the future site of Fort Augustus (Edmonton). Returning, he surveyed the Saskatchewan east from Buckingham House to the Forks, and from the Forks he resurveyed the rest of the river. From Cumberland House, he explored a new route through Goose, Reed, and Burntwood lakes to the Nelson, and thus opened up a direct line of communication between the dépôt at Cumberland House and York factory, much superior to the old course by way of Lake Winnipeg and the Hayes river.

Thompson's reappearance at York without having been to the Athabaska country made it necessary for Colen to do no little explaining to the impatient London directors. In a long letter to them, he hinted that it was Tomison who was responsible for the fiasco. Tomison, he said, had refused to pass his word for the advance of wages promised by the Council to those who would volunteer to accompany the expedition. Ross, he declared, was utterly disgusted with the repeated disappointments, and would have returned at once to England, had not Thompson prevailed upon him to make one last trial, this time by way of Reindeer lake. Thompson and Ross, he added, were being fitted out with canoes and supplies at York, and would be sent up the Nelson river track. The directors were deceived, and swallowed their disappointment, hoping to hear that the difficulties which stood in the way of the Athabaska expedition had been successfully overcome.

But, even now, Thompson was sent, not to the North, but back once more to the Muskrat country, this time to Reed lake. Here, in a district comparatively rich in fish, game, and furs, he built a house, and spent one of the coldest winters in the history of the Hudson Bay. While hunting and trading, he also prepared for the directors of the Company, the maps and surveys of the country which he had already traversed. In July of the following year, 1795, he paddled down the river on what was to be his last visit to York.

On this occasion Colen was absent on a trip to England, but the factory was seething with discontent. Thompson found the staff impatiently waiting, in order that he, the youngest and bravest among them, might take the lead in drawing up a statement of the grievances which they suffered under Colen's rule. This office he accepted, although with some hesitation on account of the absence of the governor. Assisted by his friend the surgeon, he drew up a statement which Colen declared seriously prejudiced him in the eyes of the directors; although, according to Thompson, not one half of the evils were even mentioned of which the staff had cause to complain. Thompson was not ashamed of the part he had played in this mutinous outbreak. As soon as he had left the service, he took the opportunity of explaining to his old chief that he was the author of the protest which had so much displeased him. "Many of us," his letter concluded, "acknowledge with readiness that you have some good qualities, and I once had the greatest respect for you; I have some yet, but——it is not my wish to say those things which I know you do not wish to hear. How is it, Sir, that everyone who has once wished you well should turn to be indifferent to you, and even some to hate you, although they are constant in their other friendships?—there must be a defect somewhere. The fact is, that from your peculiar manner of conduct, you are also one of those unfortunate men who will have many an acquaintance, but never a real friend."

Thompson's final break with Colen did not, however, occur until two years later. He turned in his furs, and without waiting, except to secure supplies for the coming winter, went back to his duties in the Muskrat country. This time he built a house far to the north on Duck Portage, the link connecting Burntwood lake with the Churchill river. When spring opened, instead of returning to York, he made ready for his dash to Lake Athabaska.

Formal permission had reached him from Colen, sanctioning his venture into the unknown wilds. This, however, meant nothing, because it was not accompanied by help of any kind. At that moment, indeed, the Company was seriously crippled for lack of men to keep up the few inland trading posts that then existed, for the war which was raging between England and France had drained the Orkney islands of all men who were fit for service in the army and navy. The few miserable dwarfs who could be obtained for the fur trade excited the contempt of even the Indians.

Thompson, nevertheless, was not to be deterred from his enterprise. He proceeded at once to Fairford House, the trading post kept by Malcolm Ross on the Churchill near the mouth of the Reindeer river, where he hoped to get some assistance. To his great disappointment, he found that not a man could be spared from the trade in furs. There were, however, a few Chepawyan Indians lingering about the fort and from among these he managed to engage two young men. Kozdaw and "Paddy" had hunted for two winters in the country he was about to explore, although neither of them had ever been on the rivers and lakes in summer. Their only practice in canoes had been to lie offshore in the lakes on a calm day, watching for the deer to take refuge from the flies, and this gave them no experience of the currents and rapids of rivers; yet, such as they were, Thompson had no choice but to take them.

The first task was to construct a canoe. Having searched the forest for a supply of birch bark, they made a boat seventeen feet in length. Into this they packed their meagre outfit, a fowling piece with forty balls, five pounds of shot, three flints and five pounds of powder, a fishing net, a hatchet and a small tent of grey cotton. These articles, together with a few handfuls of beads, rings, and awls for trading, made up their terribly inadequate equipment.

In the grey dawn of a June morning, 1796, Thompson launched his canoe on the turbid waters of the Missinippi. The party advanced rapidly, making a survey as they went. For supplies they relied on their solitary net and gun. Turning into the Reindeer river, they worked their way north against a moderate current to Reindeer lake. A hundred miles up the west coast of this lake brought them to a point clothed with tolerably good pines. This point Thompson noted as a suitable site for building a trading post on his return.

The whole distance through which they had come had a barren, rocky appearance, relieved only by patches of stunted birch, aspen, and spruce. Since there was little or no soil, the trees stood with their roots interlaced like the trees on the frozen lands of Hudson Bay; and, like them, they were kept moist in summer by the wet moss with which their roots were covered. Through wide stretches the forest fires had passed, leaving the country unsightly and ghostlike, and destroying the wild animals of the forest. Thompson was now in fact approaching the northern limit of trees, beyond which stretch the barren lands, the home of the musk ox and caribou.

In order to avoid the wide circuit of the Cochrane river, which flows to Reindeer lake from Lake Wollaston, the guides directed Thompson up a stream that emptied from the west a few miles north of his point of pines. From the head of this stream there was a passage by a series of ponds and brooks to the south end of Wollaston lake. But the water was low, and they were forced to carry their packs for the better part of fifty miles, stumbling over the rocks and wading through the marshes, while clouds of mosquitoes buzzed about their defenceless heads. It was a welcome relief when they launched out on the clear and deep waters of Lake Wollaston, which they crossed without trouble to the Black river. Here they made camp on the evening of June 23, and rested while Thompson took observations and made up the notes of his survey.

Two days later they were once more under way. Lake Wollaston, as Thompson discovered, was situated on the height of land between the basins of Hudson Bay and the Mackenzie river. Part of its waters discharged eastward and south into Reindeer lake, while part flowed westward through the Black river into Lake Athabaska. From this curious circumstance, the lake was known to the Indians as "Lake Manito," and was considered to be of supernatural character. Entering the Black river, the party passed at first through the quiet reaches of the upper river, in a wretched country of solitude, where the wild laugh of the loon alone woke the echoes of the barren hills. Presently the banks closed in, and as the current stiffened, they had to paddle vigorously to avoid the projecting rocks. Finally an expansion of the stream brought them to Black lake. It was during this stretch that they came upon the only human beings they had so far encountered—five tents of Chepawyans, hunting and fishing in an otherwise deserted land.

They could afford but one day to enjoy the hospitality of the Indians. From Black lake, the river tumbles in two wild cascades to the level of Lake Athabaska. A series of rapids, cutting through a high hill, warned them that they were approaching the first of the falls. For half a mile they shot the rapids to a point where the river is compressed within a channel only twelve yards in width. At the end of this channel, the current rushed against a projecting ledge of rock with such force that the whole river seemed to be turned up from its bottom. The dashing of the water against the rocks, the deep roar of the torrent, the hollow sound of the fall, in the midst of the dark, high, and frowning hills, made a sight so grand and terrible that Kozdaw and Paddy were awe-struck, and offered their simple tributes to the manito of the fall—the one a bit of tobacco, the other a ring. Past this fall the travellers descended by a well-beaten native trail. A second series of rapids and a second fall brought them to the last lap of their journey, and they paddled quietly for six miles into the east end of Lake Athabaska. Here they passed the night, resting from their dangers, toils, and sufferings under a pine tree which had been lopped and marked by Philip Turnor in his survey of 1791.

Thompson's heart was thrilled by the thought that he had finally accomplished the journey on which for the last five years his heart had been set, and that in so doing he had blazed a trail through the wilderness over ground which the feet of white men had never trod before. He was sobered, however, by the prospect of the long and difficult journey home. His net and gun afforded but a scanty supply of food, and should these fail him, there was but slight hope of succour. But gloomy as were his forebodings, it was well that he did not know what lay before him.

Half way up the Black river, he encountered one of the rapids which was broken about the middle by a twelve-foot fall. Portaging past the fall, he attempted to "track" the canoe up the rest of the rapid. The two Indians were ashore tugging at the tow-line, while Thompson in the canoe tried to steer and at the same time direct their movements. Near the head of the rapid there was at the water's edge a tree which blocked their progress, and as the Indians stood hesitating which side of it they should pass, the canoe sheered off across the current. An upset was inevitable, had not Thompson waved to the Indians to let go the line and leave him to his fate. Springing to the bow, he cut the rope off short with the clasp knife which he kept in his waistcoat pocket, and got the head of the canoe around into the stream just in time to take the plunge over the cataract. For an instant, Thompson was buried beneath the boiling water at the foot of the fall. Striking his feet against the bottom, he pushed himself to the surface close to the upturned canoe. This he seized and dragged through shallow water to the beach. The Indians came rushing to his assistance, and, while he lay on the rocks, bruised, bleeding, and exhausted by his exertions, they searched the shore below the rapids for what could be recovered of their precious kit.

The gun, the axe, and the tent had remained fastened in the canoe. In half an hour's time, the Indians brought back the cork-lined box containing Thompson's instruments and the maps of his survey, together with their three paddles and a pewter basin. Not one moment was to be lost. Thompson's body was naked except for his shirt and a thin linen vest, and his companions were in like condition. The small tent they tore into three pieces with which to wrap themselves as a defence against flies by day and chill by night. Worse still, Thompson found as he painfully raised himself from the rocks that the flesh of his foot had been torn away by the impact of the jagged stones of the river bed, and a part of his share of the tent had to be taken to bind the wound.

The first duty was to repair the canoe, and the Indians were sent to the woods to procure gum from the pines. The question was then how to light a fire, for they had neither flint nor steel. Thompson pointed to his gun from which they took the flint, and with the steel blade of his pocket knife they struck a spark. When the gum was melted, they repaired the canoe and carried their kit above the fall and rapids. The Indians shouldered the canoe, while behind them the wounded leader hobbled painfully along under the burden of gun, axe, and sextant case.

Night had fallen before they found time to make a fire and warm themselves. Their situation was enough to strike terror into the boldest heart. Destitute, almost naked, and suffering from the weather, they faced a journey of three hundred miles through a barren country. Yet Thompson did not despair. For two days they paddled and portaged up the river without a bite to eat. On the afternoon of the second day they saw two gulls hovering over a reedy bay as if to protect their young. They found the nest and in it three young gulls, but the few ounces of meat which they were able to pick from their miserable carcases sufficed only to sharpen their hunger.

The next day as they went along, Thompson remembered an eagle's nest on the banks of a small lake before them. When they came to the lake they found the nest in the spreading branches of a birch tree, about sixteen feet above the ground. Kozdaw had barely time to climb to the nest before the old birds arrived. Paddy and Thompson, with shouts and stones, succeeded in preventing them from attacking Kozdaw, while the latter threw the two young eagles to the ground. The birds fought with beak and claw for their lives, but were finally killed and flung into the canoe.

In the evening, they opened the eagles by the gleam of the camp fire, and divided the meat and yellow fat into three equal portions. While Kozdaw roasted his meat and oiled his body with the fat, the others ate only the fat, reserving the meat for next day. In the night they were both awakened by a violent dysentery, which continued to plague them for many days, although a strong infusion of a certain dried moss, known as Labrador tea, brought them some relief.

Day by day they continued their voyage, subsisting on the wretched crow-berries of the far north. By the sixteenth of July, Thompson and Paddy were like skeletons, from hunger, dysentery, and cold. On that day Thompson scratched what he thought was his dying message on a scrap of birch bark which Kozdaw was to carry back with him to civilization. Late in the afternoon, as they paddled weakly and painfully along, they came upon two tents of Chepawyans. The savages pitied their condition and restored them with broth. From them Thompson procured some provisions, a flint and a few rounds of ammunition, together with a pair of shoes each for himself and his men. Thus they were able to proceed on their journey, and arrived without further adventure at Fairford House after an absence of thirty-one days.

At Fairford House Thompson was joined by Malcolm Ross with a stock of provisions for the northern trade, and together they returned to build a trading post on Reindeer lake. Along with the supplies, Ross brought a letter from Colen to Thompson, containing a curt order that he should cease his surveys and explorations. This was his reward.

CHAPTER IV

WITH THE NORTH-WESTERS

The chilly reception which Thompson met after his return from Lake Athabaska was enough to quench the enthusiasm of any man. He might have lain down under the blow. In that case he would no doubt have ended his days as an obscure and broken-spirited trader, embittered by his fate, but powerless so late in life to change it. Another course, however, was open to him, if he had the courage and self-reliance to take it. This was to throw up his post with the Hudson's Bay Company, and seek employment in other quarters where his talents would meet with the recognition they deserved.

In the long winter evenings at Reindeer lake, he weighed the problem before him. Colen, his chief, had undoubtedly failed to appreciate the value of his work. Worse still, he had hampered it, since for the last two years he had neglected even to supply Thompson with the Nautical Almanac so necessary for his surveys. But behind Colen stood the Company. How far had they given him the sympathy and encouragement which he needed? The directors, he felt, might easily have had the northern part of the continent surveyed as far as the Pacific coast, and thus greatly extended the range of their trade. This they could have accomplished at trifling expense, for in England there were numbers of highly-trained naval officers on half pay, who would have jumped at the chance of employment. But any explorations which they had undertaken were solely at the behest of the Colonial Office. His feelings toward the Company may not have been altogether justified. Nevertheless, he could only conclude that there was little or no future for him in the service. With Thompson to think was to act. On the 28th of May, 1797, he left his post on Reindeer lake and walked south through the bush for seventy-five miles to the nearest house of the North-Westers. After ten days spent there, he proceeded to Grand Portage, the headquarters of the Company at the west end of Lake Superior, in order that he might offer his services to the merchants from Canada.

Situated on a small bay at the mouth of Pigeon river, Grand Portage had been for several years the general dépôt for the trader of the North West Company, the lair from which those "sly wolves of the North" had sallied forth to work such havoc with the trade of the English on Hudson Bay. Along the shore ran a line of docks, which each summer were piled high, now with the parcels of merchandise for the interior trade, now with the packs of furs which had been gathered from the distant trading posts for the market in the east. Along the bay front and up the bank of the river sprawled the village of log huts in which dwelt the half-breed families of the French voyageurs.

The fort itself was in keeping with the dignity of the Company and the magnitude of its operations. A palisade eighteen feet high enclosed the great square in which stood the various offices—storehouses, servants' quarters, and lodgings for the clerks. In the centre of the courtyard towered the main building, a stout log structure surmounted by a high balcony. This contained the apartments of the partners, and the great hall, its walls covered with portraits of the leading members of the Company in all the glory of ruffles and scarlet coats. Here took place the grave deliberations of the merchants, and here each evening they dined in solemn state. The stone powder magazine, the jail with its barred windows, and the sentry in the archway of the great gate lent a touch of grimness to the picture of this far-flung outpost of commerce.

At Grand Portage, Thompson received a warm welcome from those of the partners who were at the time present in the fort. On his way down he had met Roderick Mackenzie, cousin to the famous Sir Alexander, and Simon Fraser, soon to win distinction as the discoverer of the Fraser river. At the post he found the Honourable William McGillivray, prominent in the councils of the Company, and Sir Alexander Mackenzie himself. Sir Alexander had been the first white man to descend the Mackenzie river to its mouth, and he had blazed a trail across the Rocky Mountains to the Pacific. He had but recently returned from England, wearing the honour of knighthood which he had earned for his explorations. All of these gentlemen impressed Thompson as being men of enterprise and vision, and among them he found the liberal and public spirit which in his former employers he had sought in vain.

At that time, questions of serious import were agitating the minds of the partners. By the treaty which closed the American Revolutionary War, the boundary between the British dominions and the territories of the United States had been fixed as a line drawn from the northwest corner of the Lake of the Woods to the source of the Mississippi, which was then thought to lie considerably north of its true position. Nine years later, the forty-ninth parallel of latitude had been accepted as the boundary; and by the Treaty of Amity and Commerce subsequently passed, it had been agreed that all British trading posts south of this line should be withdrawn. This made it necessary for the Company to fix at once the location of their houses on the upper Red river, and incidentally if possible to discover the true source of the Mississippi. The partners were also anxious to have a route surveyed to the headwaters of the Missouri river, where there existed the villages of an Indian people who got their living from the cultivation of the soil. The scientific spirit of the merchants was shown by their further desire to search for the fossil bones of prehistoric animals and any monuments which might throw light on the earlier condition of the regions surveyed. Finally, they wished to ascertain the courses of the rivers and the situation of the lakes, in order that they might rearrange their network of trading houses so as to cover more completely the territory under their sway.

Thompson's arrival came therefore at an opportune moment. He was promptly engaged as astronomer and surveyor to the company, and the partners and agents all agreed to send orders to their various trading posts that he should be given any assistance he required. In August, the great canoes arrived from Montreal with the goods for the Indian trade. When these were unloaded, the merchandise was assorted and made up in parcels each of ninety pounds' weight, so that the boatmen might be able to shoulder them over the portages. These were then taken in charge by the various agents and their shouting crews of voyageurs. Five days of hard labour were needed for the carry over Grand Portage to the upper waters of Pigeon river. When all was ready, Thompson climbed the long trail from the lake. Armed with his precious instruments, he joined the Swan river brigade of four canoes, and embarked on what was to be the longest, fastest and most brilliant piece of survey in his whole career.

Progress was tedious until the party had crossed the watershed beyond which all streams flow north-westward into Lake Winnipeg and thence into Hudson Bay. They then made a rapid descent through Rainy lake and the Lake of the Woods to the Winnipeg river (the mad or foaming water of the Indians), down which they paddled and portaged to its mouth. Coasting along the south shore of Lake Winnipeg under the shelter of its low limestone cliffs, they came to the mouth of the Dauphin or Little Saskatchewan river. The ascent of this stream brought them to the waters of Lake Manitoba. They had only to paddle to the head of this lake, and from thence the length of Lake Winnipegosis, in order to find themselves at the mouth of the Swan river. Twelve miles up this stream was their objective—Swan River House.

As they approached their goal, Thompson observed that the land was rapidly improving in character; until at Swan River House he found himself in the heart of a fine varied country of hill and plain, woodland and meadow—the beaver country par excellence. Here on every side were to be found traces of the labours of these industrious animals; the dammed brooks, the flooded meadows, the dome-like huts in which they lived and the burrows to which they fled for refuge when attacked. All this fine country was the hunting ground of the Cree Indians, the possession of which they had from time immemorial disputed with the beaver, the bison, and the red deer.

When the early French traders arrived, they brought with them chisels, knives, and other implements of iron. The Indians, having got possession of these, were able to cut through the dams, drain the waters of the ponds, and thus expose the huts and burrows of the beaver. Then, assisted by their small half-savage dogs, they would chisel their way through the thick walls of the huts until they came to the beaver. Since there was a ready market for his skin among the French traders, they soon became rich, and for several years men, women, and children were gay with brooches, ear-rings and beads, and gaudy with scarlet coats.

But then the Nipissing and Iroquois Indians, who had exhausted their own countries, spread to the north and west. Armed with their new steel traps, they began a war of annihilation upon the beaver; and by the year 1797, when Thompson travelled through the Swan river district, almost the whole of that extensive region was denuded. The short phase of prosperity was over. The greed of the white man and the improvidence of the Indian had done their work, and while the native might still hope to gain a bare subsistence from hunting the deer and the bison, he was once more poor, thus to remain for ever.

Over this country, Thompson made a series of rapid excursions by horse and canoe, in order that he might fix the location of the various trading houses of the North West Company. In the course of five weeks, he had crossed to the basins of the Red Deer and the Assiniboine rivers, and surveyed each of these streams to its source. He then descended the Assiniboine to its confluence with the Souris, near where the city of Brandon now stands. Here toward the end of November he put up at Assiniboine House, which was at that time kept by a trader called John McDonnell.

McDonnell's house was the natural point of departure for the journey across to the Mandan Villages on the upper Missouri. The trail lay in a south-westerly direction along the south bank of the Souris river as far as the great bend, and from thence across the open plains to the heights of the Missouri. As the country was generally treeless, the custom of travellers was to move from point to point where patches of wood growing in the river bottom or at the higher levels afforded firewood and shelter for the night.

Winter had come, and three inches of snow lay upon the ground, making travel both disagreeable and dangerous. Worse still, the road passed through the hunting grounds of the Sioux Indians, those wild riders of the plains who lived by pursuit of the bison. The Sioux had lately suffered the loss of several men at the hands of the Mandan Indians; and these losses they blamed on the whites who had supplied the Mandans with guns and ammunition. They were therefore in a very menacing temper, and had determined to waylay, scalp, and plunder the next party of traders who ventured the journey to the villages.

Thompson, however, was not to be deterred; and he made his preparations for the dash across the plains. As guide and interpreter, he engaged a man who had resided for eight years among the Mandans, by name René Jussomme. He also picked up a light-hearted Irishman, Hugh McCrachan, who had often been to the villages for months at a time. The rest of the party was made up of French Canadians, gay and gluttonous vagabonds, who could nevertheless work as hard as they boasted, and hunt as much as they ate. All these men enlisted for the expedition as free traders; that is to say, each of them borrowed from McDonnell goods and trinkets to the value of fifty beaver skins, which he undertook to repay on his return. Thompson himself was supplied with two horses, and ammunition and tobacco for trade. Jussomme had one horse; while the men each bought two half-savage dogs from the Assiniboines. These were to haul their sled-loads of goods across the plains.

Thus equipped, the party set forth on the 28th day of November. The dogs were unaccustomed to hauling anything. Snapping and barking, they dashed hither and thither in all directions, hardly restrained by the loud sacrés of the Frenchmen, reinforced by lashes freely administered with their stout rawhide whips. The motley procession crossed the Assiniboine on the ice, and camped that evening in a wood by the side of the Souris river, hardly six miles from the point from which they had set out. Meanwhile, the temperature was falling. At eight that night Thompson observed that it was 20° below zero. By the following morning it had dropped seven degrees more, and a stinging west wind had sprung up which kept them in camp. Here they remained for five days, in a temperature that sank as low as 40° below zero; while the high wind whistled through their canvas, and filled the tent with smoke from their fire. During this time, they devoured the flesh of three bison which the Frenchmen had brought into camp, while the dogs rejoiced in the offal.

The wind had by this time shifted to the north-west, and the weather turned milder with snow. When the storm was over, they renewed their journey, keeping close to the river in order that they might not lose sight of the familiar landmarks, for the men neither knew the compass nor would trust it to guide them. After making eleven miles, they came to a grove of hardwood, in which they found five tents of Assiniboine Indians. These gave them a hospitable welcome, but warned them that the Sioux were on the warpath. Nevertheless, they pressed forward, and by the following morning had reached the point where the trail led away from the river across the wind-swept plain to Turtle Mountain on the international frontier.

Jussomme now announced that they must prepare for an early start, as they faced a long journey across country before they could reach the shelter of the wooded heights. At seven the following morning they were on their way. Mile after mile they trudged over the boundless plain until one o'clock in the afternoon, and still no Turtle hill was in sight. The weather had now turned threatening, and anxiety was in every face. At this point Jussomme threw up his hands and confessed that he had lost his way.