In January following, 1868, I left my home and work at Nanaimo, attended some rousing missionary meetings in Victoria, crossed the Gulf, took a canoe manned by Indians, and went with them up the river. We pushed on up the Fraser as fast as we could, for it was getting very cold. A biting north-east wind was blowing right down the river, and before we reached Sumas one of our men had his fingers frozen, and they all begged of me to stop. We spent one night at Sumas Landing, and now the weather moderated a little. “Where are you going?” said a friend, just as I was leaving on a preaching tour through the valley. “I am off to Nah-nates, fourteen miles away, at the head of Sumas Lake, to preach to the Indians; then back to Tso-wallie (Cultus Lake); then to Skowkale, and on to Squi-ala, all Indian camps, and back to Sumas.” “All right! Go and see the Indians,” said my friend, “but be sure and do not go to the Upper Settlement, as the men have declared they will do you some bodily harm. You know that fellow. Harry ----, he is the leader of the party. They declare that they will fix you on account of the sermon you preached to them the last time you were up there.” “Good-bye! Pray for me!” I replied, and off I went across the prairie as happy as mortal could be. Continuing on my way, who should I see ahead of me but this very Harry ----, travelling alone. As I drew near to him I lifted up my heart to God that He would give me wisdom to deal with the man in the best way. When I met him I threw out my hand and got his in mine. Shaking hands with him I said, “Praise the Lord, Harry, you and I are not in hell. We might have been there long ago but for the loving Saviour. Oh, how He has loved us.” And still holding him by the hand, and looking him in the eyes, I continued, “Harry, do you love the Saviour? You ought to love Him. He died for you.” By this time his eyes began to moisten. “How are the boys in the Upper Settlement?” I went on. “They are all jolly and well, sir,” he replied. “Tell them that next Sabbath, if all is well, I want to preach to them, and I hope they will all come.” “They will be glad to see you, Mr. Crosby,” said the now thoroughly subdued Harry. Bidding him good-day, I continued on my journey, praising the Lord that I had had such a good opportunity of meeting Harry alone. These were the days of no roads, only blind trails and no bridges, so that if you could not ford the streams and sloughs you might swim. Woe betide the man or horse that got into a miry hole. I made my first trip through to Chilliwack from Sumas over what was called the trail. Poles had been laid lengthwise over the sloughs to enable one to cross, and it was really amusing to see the little horses walk the poles. But, oh, dear, if you had a horse that could not walk the poles!