By and by we reached the beginning of the Red River. We were across the divide; we were coursing down the country northward. Hitherto it had been "up north" with us, but now, for years, it would be "down north." These waters flowed into Hudson's Bay. Presently we were on the great flat plain, which largely constitutes the valley of the Red River. At the stopping-place, on the edge of this flat country, the stage people were about to leave the coach and hitch on to a broad-tired, springless wagon, but father simply put his foot down and we went on with our coach. Talk about mosquitoes! They were there by the million. Such a night as we put in on the Breckinridge flats! The stopping-place was unique of its kind--a dugout with a ridge-pole and small poles leaned against this on two sides, with earth and sods placed over these poles, and some canvas hung at either end. The night was hot, the dugout, because of the cook-stove, hotter still, and the mosquitoes in countless numbers. Mother and my sisters were in misery; indeed, we all were, but we comforted each other with the thought that it was for one night only, and that respite would come in the morning. My bed was under the table on the mud floor. My companion for the night was the proprietor of this "one-roomed mud hotel." The next morning the driver for that day said to me, "Now, young man, make a good square meal, for to-night we will reach Georgetown, and you will have only dogs and pemmican to cat." I asked him what pemmican was, but he could not tell me. All he could do was to talk about it. All day we drove over this great flat plain--rich soil, long grass; the only break was the fringing of timber along the river. We had dinner and then supper, and again the driver would admonish us to partake heartily of bacon and bread, for to-night, said he, "we reach the land of pemmican." My curiosity was greatly excited as to what pemmican might be. Late in the evening we reached Georgetown. Here we were on the banks of the Red River, and at the end of our stage journey, where we hoped to find a steamer to take us down to Fort Garry. Georgetown was situated a little north of the junction of Buffalo Creek with the Red River. The town consisted of one dwelling house and a storehouse, both belonging to the Hudson's Bay Company. Here, though not yet in the Hudson's Bay country, we were already in touch with this great company whose posts reached far on to the Arctic and dotted the country from Labrador to the Pacific coast. The gentleman in charge, a Mr. Murray, learning of our destination, with the usual courtesy of the Hudson's Bay Company's officers, welcomed us heartily, and gave up his room to our family, while he took up quarters with me in our tent, which we speedily pitched near the bank of the river.