176 FOURTH EXPLORATION, 1880 



came to meet me. I was now elevated a good deal above the 

 valley in which the men were travelling and I saw, to my surprise, 

 about a mile off, in the direction of the sand hills, a large party of 

 Indians driving horses into the hills. I found the Indian did not 

 understand English but I showed him by signs that if he came with 

 me to where the men were now stopping, I would give him his 

 dinner. As I remarked before, we had the Union Jack displayed 

 on one of our carts and I showed him many of the articles that 

 we had that showed we were not traders and had him observe the 

 flag. After dinner, he mounted his horse and rode away. 



In the autumn, when I reached Fort Ellice, I saw Colonel 

 McDonald, and he informed me that the party I saw at the sand 

 hills had just come from the northern side of the Cypress Hills and 

 had stolen all the horses belonging to the Assiniboines. They were 

 Piegans and the same horse thieves that had been so busy at 

 Fort Walsh when I was there. 



We were now on the last leg of our journey and were not 

 limited for time as I had arranged with my wife that I would 

 telegraph her from Humboldt on the 20th of September. For 

 nearly a month after this, we travelled steadily on the prairie 

 and our only difficulty was crossing creeks and getting fuel, as in 

 this region there were few buffalo chips and no wood of any kind. 

 We passed close to the Elbow of the Saskatchewan where I had 

 been the preceding year and then on to the north and came into 

 a tract of very difficult country. The following extract will show 

 one of the great difficulties in passing through a country where 

 white mud-flats were a feature. 



"White mud-swamps are the terror of both Indians and half- 

 breeds. To a person, incautiously attempting to cross one, or 

 having led a horse to the margin to drink, he will find it a difficult 

 matter to get on firm ground again. In the south, where the 

 rain-fall is slight, these swamps, in the dry season, are hard-baked 

 clay flats, covered with a sprinkling of saline plants. Proceeding 

 northward, these greatly change their character, and pass into 

 the much dreaded swamp. One of the worst kind has a dry surface 

 which will not bear the weight of a horse, and into which he sinks 

 deeper at every step, until he lies down from sheer exhaustion. 



