74 



EXPLORATIONS IN THE FAR NORTH 



The next day, which was Sunday, we were compelled to lie 

 in camp by a northeast wind that covered the bay with white 

 caps. In traveling in the North, Sunday is seldom observed 

 as a day of rest. The natives perform the usual service and 

 then continue their journey. Some missionaries remain in 

 camp unless there is a fair wind blowing. Yellow Knife Bay is 

 nearly clear of islands. The shores approach to within a mile 

 of each other, inclosing an inner bay, where we passed a large 

 canoe load of Yellow Knives on their way toward the river. 

 At the river's mouth the current was scarcely perceptible. For 

 the next six miles the channel expanded into three small lakes 

 the first two of which contained islands. We kept to the left 

 at a venture and found that we were following the shortest 

 route. 



The first rapid has a descent of about ten feet. It is neces- 

 sary to make a portage in ascending the stream, but the Indians 

 are said to run the rapids on the return trip. 



While "Baron" Leviolette was descending this chute in a 

 York boat thirty years ago, one of the oars struck a rock and 

 killed the man holding it, as the handle was driven forward. 



There is a fishery in the strong eddy at the foot of the rapids, 

 where the natives set their gill-nets for whitefish and incon- 

 nues or "be-vwu-li cu-g-a," the Dog Rib name for the river 

 being Be-vwu-li Te. This was the rendezvous of Little Cra- 

 peau's brigade of Yellow Knives. About fifty had already 

 arrived and were encamped on the grassy slope below the 

 gorge, through which the noisy stream finds its way from the 

 lake. They were busily engaged in building small canoes for 

 the inland journey to the caribou. The lake canoes were drawn 

 out and left bottom up, in the shade of the trees, where they 

 would remain until required the following spring to transport 

 furs to Resolution. Large rolls of birch bark were lying about 

 which had been brought from the delta of the Slave River, a 

 hundred miles distant, by the canoe route. The canoe birch, 

 Betula papyrifera Marshall, attains a much greater size on the 

 south than on the north shore of the lake. The men were cut- 

 ting prows and stern-pieces from dry spruce stumps which had 

 the required curve. The women were sewing the squares of 

 bark together with wattap (split pine roots). 



Having obtained a few directions, which proved altogether 



