124 DOWN THE PEACE RIVER 



were an old ox and a miserable horse and, with these and a young 

 Cree for guide, who was never over the road before, I was to start 

 the next day, from the southern end of the lake, for Carlton, a 

 distance of 140 miles. 



On the afternoon of the 27th, Mr. Sinclair took me up the 

 lake in a birch-bark canoe, so small that I had to stand in the 

 water and hold it while Mr. Sinclair took his seat in the stern. 

 Up till now, I had been in boats which were perfectly safe, but this 

 one was so small that the two of us almost filled it and to sit 

 steady in it, while he paddled, was almost impossible. I certain- 

 ly was afraid for my life, and asked him if I might be permitted 

 to paddle as well as himself. He said that I might, if I wanted to, 

 and I found that working took my mind off the danger. Long 

 after dark, we reached the head of the lake and I thanked God for 

 His preserving care of me, since I started down McLeod's River 

 on the eventful 3rd of July, and for having kept me safely through 

 nearly 1 ,600 miles of river navigation. 



My guide was a poor childish fellow, but I got along very 

 well with him although I could not understand a word he said 

 nor he one of mine. We did not take the old horse, but a cart 

 and the ox, to carry my stuff. I walked in the rear, while he 

 walked by the ox or sat in the cart. To pass away the time, I 

 would sometimes sit down by the side of the road and read four 

 or five pages of the "Heart of Midlothian," which Mrs. MacMur- 

 ray had given me at Isle-a-la-Crosse. On the third morning, on 

 our way, I sat down, as usual, to read on the roadside and read a 

 number of pages and rose up and walked on expecting to overtake 

 the cart. When I had walked a mile or more and had not seen 

 it, I became frightened and thought that possibly the man had 

 hidden in the woods and left me to shift for myself. This thought 

 pressed heavily upon me as I had nearly one hundred miles to go 

 before I reached the Mission, where I would get food. After 

 walking a mile, I turned back and went to the place where I had 

 sat down and examined carefully both sides of the road as I went, 

 and found that the Indian had not turned off, and so I concluded 

 that, by some unaccountable means, he had disappeared and that 

 there was no hope for me but to go on to the Mission. About 



