A peculiarity of the prairie grouse enabled us to procure a good supply of them. In the spring of the year these birds assemble together at sunrise and sunset, in parties of from twenty to thirty, at some favourite spot, generally a little hillock, or rising ground, and dance--yes, dance like mad! The prairie grouse is a running bird, and does not ordinarily progress by hopping; but on these festive occasions, they open their wings, put both feet together, and hop like men in sacks, or the birds in a pantomime, or “The Perfect Cure,” up to one another, waltz round, and “set” to the next! A prairie chicken dance is a most ludicrous sight, and whilst they are engaged in it, they become so absorbed in the performance that it is easy to approach them. Their places of rendezvous are recognisable at once from the state of the ground, the grass being beaten perfectly flat in a circular patch, or worn away by the constant beating of feet. At the present juncture we took advantage of their weakness for a social hop, and broke up the ball in a most sanguinary manner, justified, we hope, by the dire necessity. We never, however, took this mean advantage of them except when driven by actual hunger to obtain food in the best manner we could. The prairie was at this time very beautiful, being covered with the large blue flowers of a species of anemone. The grouse feed greedily upon them when in bloom, and we always found their crops full of them. On the 20th we made a forced march, in order to get in that night, travelling very fast and hard all day, and we were very weary before we saw the welcome stockade, and gained the hospitable quarters of Mr. Chantelaine, who reigned at this time at Fort Pitt. Fort Pitt stands, like Carlton, on the flat below the high old bank of the river Saskatchewan, and is a similar building, but of smaller size. This establishment furnishes the largest quantity of pemmican and dry meat for the posts more distant from the plains. The buffalo are seldom far from Fort Pitt, and often whilst there is famine at Carlton and Edmonton, the people of the “Little Fort,” as it is called, are feasting on fresh meat every day. The farming, although carried on in somewhat primitive fashion, is very productive. Potatoes are abundant, and attain an immense size; carrots and turnips grow equally well, and wheat would no doubt flourish as luxuriantly here as at Edmonton or Red River, were there sufficient inducement to sow it.