1906-7. TRANSACTIONS. 39 



been rewarded for their toil. She was among the other boats 

 lying along the bank at Hay river mission, and without showing 

 much damage either to the scow itself or to the cargo. The latter 

 is much the more important as it contains supplies brought for 

 such long distances, and at such great expense, and besides there 

 are anxious men, women and children whose very existence de- 

 pends on its reaching them in good condition. At this point the 

 Rev. Mr. Marsh, of the Anglican Church, has established a very 

 prosperous mission and school. 



Awaking early in the morning, and before the crew or the 

 inhabitants of the place had risen, I walked up the river and 

 found a sandy beach, and was soon enjoying a bath. While 

 engaged in this luxury, I noticed that I had attracted the attention 

 of a half a dozen rather large sized and very hungry looking, 

 Husky dogs, which came rushing down the bank barking furiously, 

 and evidently thinking me a legitimate object of prey. In the 

 whole course of my journey, this is the only instance where I was 

 the subject of attack of any kind, and I must confess I felt greatly 

 alarmed, as I realized my situation, and cannot help thinking that 

 had it not been for some Indians suddenly appearing in a canoe 

 around a point in the river who paddled quickly to my rescue, the 

 consequences might have been serious. They probably thought 

 I was some animal trying to escape them by swimming the river. 



The morning was fine. The wind had subsided, and the great 

 lake, which serves as a settling basin for the turbid waters entering 

 it from the Slave river, was here as clear as that of the St. Law- 

 rence. A few hours run brought us to a bay with many islands, 

 which gradually contracted to a width of two or three miles, and 

 we now realized from the current that we had entered the great 

 river, into which all the waters that we have traversed flow. No 

 more delays are now anticipated, no lakes to cross, no rapids to 

 encounter, and no darkness to delay us on our course for the rest 

 of the journey of a thousand miles to Fort McPherson. 



The blowing of the whistle of the Wrigley early on the morning 

 of the 15th of July, announced that we were approaching Fort 

 Providence, and as the boat rounded an island in the river excla- 

 mations of astonishment were heard on every hand. There on the 

 right bank of the river lay a village, for all the world like some of 

 those along the St. Lawrence. The church, with bells ringing 

 out a call to the Sunday morning service, the convent hard by 

 with the Indian pupils in their pretty costumes accompanied by 



