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 crouching to sleep as best they could. The way was well
beaten and camp was frequently made for the night with strange Indians,
from whom fresh guides were hired; but when he did not camp with the
natives, Mackenzie watched his guide by sleeping with him.
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