arriors across the river; and the whites dared not
kindle a fire that might serve as a target. Two nights were passed in
this hazardous shelter, Mackay and Mackenzie alternately lying in their
cloaks on the wet rocks, keeping watch. At midnight of the third day's
siege, a rustling came from the woods to the rear and the boatmen's dog
set up a furious barking. The men were so frightened that they three
times loaded the canoe to desert their leader, but something in the
fearless confidence of the explorer deterred them. As daylight sifted
through the forest, Mackenzie descried a vague object creeping through
the underbrush. A less fearless man would have fired and lost all.
Mackenzie dashed out to find the cause of alarm an old blind man,
almost in convulsions from fear. He had been driven from this river
hut. Mackenzie quieted his terror with food. By signs the old man
explained that the Indians had suspected treachery when the whites
returned so soon; and by signs Mackenzie requested him to guide the
canoe back up the river to the carrying place; but the old creature
went off in such a palsy of fear that he had to be lifted bodily into
the canoe. The situation was saved. The hostiles could not fire
without wounding one of their own people; and the old man could explain
the real reason for Mackenzie's return. Rations had been reduced to
two meals a day. The men were still sulking from the perils of the
siege when the canoe struck a stump that knocked a hole in the keel,
"which," reports Mackenzie, laconically, "gave them all an opportunity
to let loose their discontent without reserve." Camp after camp they
passed, which the old man's explanations pacified, till they at length
came to the carrying place. Here, to the surprise and delight of all,
the guide awaited them.

[Illustration: Good Hope, Mackenzie River. Hudson's Bay Company Fort.]

On July 4, provisions were _cached_, the canoe abandoned, and a start
made overland westward, each carrying ninety pounds of provisions
besides musket and pistols. And this burden was borne on the rations
of two scant meals a day. The way was ridgy, steep, and obstructed by
windfalls. At cloud-line, the rocks were slippery as glass from
moisture, and Mackenzie led the way, beating the drip from the branches
as they marched. The record was twelve miles the first day. When it
rained, the shelter was a piece of oil-cloth held up in an extemporized
tent, the men crouc