y on the 11th, but,
owing to bad weather, did not get off till midday, and even then the
lake was so rough that we had to anchor for a while in the lee of an
island. Colin Fraser had started ahead of us with his big scow and
cargo of furs, valued at $15,000, and kept ahead with his fine crew
of ten expert trackers. When the weather calmed we steamed across to
the entrance of one of the various channels connecting the Athabasca
River with the lake, and soon found ourselves skirting the most
extensive marshes and feeding-grounds for game in all Canada; a
delta renowned throughout the North for its abundance of waterfowl,
far surpassing the St. Clair flats, or any other region in the East.

Next morning, upon rounding a point, three full-grown moose were
seen ahead, swimming across the river. An exciting, and even hazardous,
scene ensued on board, the whole Klondike crowd firing, almost at
random, hundreds of shots without effect. Two of the noble brutes
kept on, and reached the shore, disappearing in the woods; but the
third, a three year-old bull moose, foolishly turned, and lost its
life in consequence. It was hauled on deck, bled and flayed, and
was a welcome addition to the steamer's table.

That night a concert was improvised on deck, in which the music-hall
element came to the front. But one speedily tired of the "Banks of
the Wabash," and other ditties; in fact, we were burning to get to
Fort McMurray, where we expected letters and papers from the outer
world and home, and nothing else could satisfy us. By evening we
had passed Burnt Point, also Poplar Point, where the body of an
unfortunate, called Patterson, who had been drowned in one of the
rapids above, was recovered in spring by some Indians, the body
being completely enclosed in a transparent coffin of ice. On the
following day we passed Little Red River, and next morning reached
the fort, where, to our infinite joy, we received the longed-for
letters and papers--our first correspondence from the far East.

Fort McMurray consisted of a tumble-down cabin and trading-store
on the top of a high and steep bank, which had yet been flooded
at times, the people seeking shelter on an immense hill which
overlooked it. Above an island close by is the discharge of the
Clearwater River, the old canoe route by which the supplies for the
district used to come, via Isle a la Crosse. At McMurray we left
the steamer and took to our own boats, our Commission occupying one,