The Great Lone Land: A Narrative of Travel and Adventure in the North-West of AmericaButler, William Francis, Sir
History
The Great Lone Land: A Narrative of Travel and Adventure in the North-West of America
Butler, William Francis, Sir
Northwest, Canadian -- Description and travel
But my little Blackie seldom got a respite from the saddle; he seemed so
well up to his work, so much stronger and better than any of the others,
that day after day I rode him, thinking each day, "Well, to-morrow I will
let him run loose;" but when to-morrow came he used to look so fresh and
well, carrying his little head as high as ever, that again I put the
saddle on his back, and another day's talk and companionship would still
further cement our friendship, for I grew to like that horse as one only
can like the poor dumb beast that serves us. I know not how it is, but
horse and dog have worn themselves into my heart as few men have ever
done in life and now, as day by day went by in one long scene of true
companionship, I came to feel for little Blackie a friendship not the
less sincere because all the service was upon his side, and I was
powerless to make his supper a better one, or give him more cosy lodging
for the night. He fed and lodged himself and he carried me--all he asks
in return was a water-hole in the frozen lake, and that I cut for him.
Sometimes the night came down upon us still in the midst of a great open
treeless plain, without shelter, water, or grass, and then we would
continue on in the inky darkness as though our march was to last
eternally, and poor Blackie would step out as if his natural state was
one of perpetual motion. On the 4th November we rode over sixty miles;
and when at length the camp was made in the lea of a little clump of bare
willows, the snow was lying cold upon the prairies, and Blackie and his
comrades went out to shiver through their supper in the bleakest scene my
eyes had ever looked upon.
About midway between Fort Ellice and Carlton a sudden and well-defined
change occurs in the character of the country; the light soil disappears,
and its place is succeeded by a rich dark loam covered deep in grass and
vetches. Beautiful hills swell in slopes more or less abrupt on all
sides, while lakes fringed with thickets and clumps of good-sized poplar
balsam lie lapped in their fertile hollows.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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