it still would be the 'Land
of Plenty,' I'm thinking--that's what we used to call it. If we should
go up to the top of these high banks and explore back south a little
bit, on this side of the Smoky, you'd see some of the prettiest
prairies that ever lay out of doors, all ready for the plow. I suppose
my people some time will have to use the plow too."

"Yes," assented Rob, "I remember Mackenzie's story, how very beautiful
he found this country soon after he started west on his trip."

"My people, the Crees, took this country from others long ago," said
Alex, rather proudly. "They came up the old war-trail from Little
Slave Lake to the mouth of the Smoky, where the Peace River Landing is
now. They fought the Beavers and the Stoneys clear to the edges of the
Rockies, where we are now. They've held the land ever since, and
managed to make a living on it, with or without the white man's help.
Some of us will change, but men like At-tick, the old Indian who
brought Jess across the trail, and like old Picheu, below here, aren't
apt to change very much."

John was once more puzzling at the map which the boys had made for
themselves, following the old Mackenzie records. "I can't figure out
just where Mackenzie started from on his trip, but he says it was
longitude 117 deg. 35' 15", latitude 56 deg. 09'. Now, that doesn't check
up with our map at all. That would make his start not very far from the
fort, or what they call the Peace River Landing to-day, I should
think. But he only mentions a 'small stream coming from the east,'
although Moise says the Smoky is quite a river."

"Most people think Mackenzie started from Fort Chippewayan," said
Alex, "but as a matter of fact, he wintered far southwest of there, on
the Peace River, somewhere between three hundred and four hundred
miles south and west of Fort Vermilion, as I gather from the length of
time it took him to get to the edge of the Rockies, where we are now.
He mentions the banks getting higher as he went south and west. When
you get a couple of hundred miles north of the Landing the banks begin
to get low, although at the Landing they're still almost a thousand
feet high above the water-level, at least eight hundred feet, I should
say."

"Well," said Rob, "we know something about this country ourselves now,
and we'll make a map of it some time, perhaps--a better one than we
have now."

"Yes," said Jesse, "but who can draw in that horse-trail from Hudson's
Hope t