f nine miles. Nothing ahead
could be worse than what lay behind; so they embarked, following the
south branch where the river forked. The stream was swift as a
cascade. Half the crew walked to lighten the canoe and prevent grazing
on the rocky bottoms.

Once, at dusk, when walkers and paddlers happened to have camped on
opposite shores, the marchers came dashing across stream, wading
neck-high, with news that they had heard the firearms of Indian
raiders. Fires were put out, muskets loaded, and each man took his
station at the foot of a tree, where all passed a sleepless night. No
hostiles appeared. The noise was probably falling avalanches. And
once when Mackenzie and Mackay had gone ahead with the Indian
interpreters, they came back to find that the canoe had disappeared.
In vain they kindled fires, fired guns, set branches adrift on the
swift current as a signal--no response came from the _voyageurs_. The
boatmen evidently did not wish to be found. What Mackenzie's
suspicions were one may guess. It would be easier for the crew to
float back down Peace River than pull against this terrific current
with more _portages_ over mountains. The Indians became so alarmed
that they wanted to build a raft forthwith and float back to Chipewyan.
The abandoned party had not tasted a bite of food for twenty-four
hours. They had not even seen a grouse, and in their powder horns were
only a few rounds of ammunition. Separating, Mackenzie and his Indian
went up-stream, Mackay and his went down-stream, each agreeing to
signal the other by gunshots if either found the canoe. Barefooted and
drenched in a terrific thunderstorm, Mackenzie wandered on till
darkness shrouded the forest. He had just lain down on a soaking couch
of spruce boughs when the ricochetting echo of a gun set the boulders
crashing down the precipices. Hurrying down-stream, he found Mackay at
the canoe. The crew pretended that a leakage about the keel had caused
delay; but the canoe did not substantiate the excuse. Mackenzie said
nothing; but he never again allowed the crew out of his sight on the
east side of the mountains.

So far there had been no sign of Indians among the mountains; and now
the canoe was gliding along calm waters when savages suddenly sprang
out of a thicket, brandishing spears. The crew became panic-stricken;
but Mackenzie stepped fearlessly ashore, offered the hostiles presents,
shook hands, and made his camp with them. The