t ten A.M. we resumed our journey, followed by the young man who had
first spoken to us, and his brother, in their canoes, and in the course
of two hours came abreast of a remarkable round-backed hill, on which we
were informed Mr. Livingstone and his party had encamped in 1795, the
night before they were massacred. This hill marks the commencement of
another contraction of the river, which is here pent in between very
steep cliffs of blue limestone, which I have denominated the Narrows.
The Red River contributes its waters to the Mackenzie at the lower part
of the Narrows, in latitude 67 degrees 27 minutes N., longitude 133
degrees 31 minutes W.; and, though of inconsiderable size, is remarkable
as being the boundary between the lands claimed by the Loucheux Indians
and those of the Esquimaux, and likewise as the spot where the amicable
meeting between these tribes had been held in the preceding spring. We
did not find the chief of the Loucheux here, as had been expected, and
therefore passed on. The banks of the river, now entirely composed of
sand and sandstone, became gradually lower, and more bare of trees. At
the end of eight miles we arrived at a very spacious opening, in which
were numerous well-wooded islands, and various channels. The rocky
mountains on the west once more appeared in view, extending from S.W. to
N.W. and preserving a N.W.1/2W. direction; and of this range a very
lofty peak, and a table mountain, which I have named after the late Mr.
Gifford, form the most conspicuous features. We steered into the eastern
channel, as being that through which the current seemed to run swiftest;
and as soon as we came to a high bank we landed, for the purpose of
taking a survey of the surrounding scene. But even from its summit our
view was very limited, and all we could discover was, that we were
certainly in that expansion of the river that Mackenzie delineates in
his chart, and, therefore, in the fair way to the sea, whatever channel
we took. This might have been inferred, from the sudden departure of our
two Indian companions, who dropped behind and turned their canoes round,
without further ceremony, as soon as they saw our intention of entering
the eastern channel. Baptiste, who was asleep at the time, expressed
surprise at their having gone back, but consoled himself with the idea
of meeting the Indian chief the next morning, at a place he called the
Forks. We were amused at conjecturing how great his surpris