234 PROCEEDINGS OF THE CANADIAN INSTITUTE. 
I was advised to go out with some of the squaws of the Black- 
feet tribe, and get some wild turnips, though why they are so called, 
I never could and never will imagine. The root of the plant resembles 
the bulb of a small tulip, and when the outer skin is removed, the 
heart of the bulb tastes something like the kernel of an almond and 
quite as dry. The leaf of the plant reminded me of the lupin 
(perenniel), but it was too early in the season to take the flower, as 
a specimen. 
The women of the Blackfeet and Sioux seem particularly partial to 
these roots. Armed with genuine ‘ crow-bars” of ion, about four 
feet in length and from one and a-half inches to 2 inches in diameter, 
we sallied forth. .It was a matter of amazement to me, to see the 
manner in which the squaws handled these iron bars. On the side 
of a steep hill they would let themselves down and holding on to a 
shrub, or the end of a rock with one hand they would with the other 
hand wield the bar (always pointed at the end) and soon the roots, 
which were generally about four inches to six inches down in the soil, 
would be dislodged. TI tried to handle one of these bars myself and 
as I had to use two hands and the combined strength of my two arms 
to boot, I appeared to cause much merriment to my redskin friends, 
who looked upon me as a very poor specimen of the human race. I 
had a chance of purchasing a few samples of the bead-work of the 
Sioux women, a few articles of which I have brought with me, also 
one or two of their favourite pipes. 
On the 15th June we reached Medicine Hat and the end of the 
track of the C. P. R., which had just then crossed the Saskatchewan 
River on a temporary trellis-work bridge. Here we had an oppor- 
tunity of witnessing the wonderful rapidity with which this road was 
constructed ; the contractors at that time were building from three 
to five miles a day. 
On June 25th we started for Calgarry. On the 27th we reached 
the Bow River. The mosquitos were terrific. During the night our 
camp was set on fire by Indians, who hoped to make a stampede 
with our horses. Luckily, we discovered the grass on fire in two 
places, in time to put it out with wet blankets, and so saved our pro- 
perty. 
The flora between Calgarry and Edmonton (my next halting-place) 
was simply lovely. The orange and cardinal lilies, or, as the Cree 
Indians call them, ‘“ Wappiconnaisa,” the yellow ladies’ slippers, 
Ee 
