On the 4th of July, we started again, under the guidance of the Iroquois, and were accompanied by Mr. Macaulay and two of his men to the point where we were to cross the Athabasca. The path lay through water, often up to the horses’ girths, or along the steep sides of the narrowing valley, and it was already dusk when we reached our destination. We camped for the night by the river’s edge, at a place where was plenty of dry timber, some of which had been already cut down for a raft by the Canadian emigrants. On one of the trees the names of those of whom we had heard from Mr. Macaulay as being just before us, were inscribed, and a statement that they crossed on the 16th June, or nearly three weeks before. [Illustration: CROSSING THE ATHABASCA RIVER, IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. (_See page 245._) ] In the morning all set to work, cutting and carrying timber, Mr. Macaulay working with the rest; but Mr. O’B., as before, could not be found. As the last log was carried down to the water, he suddenly came up with--“Oh! dear, _can_ I be of any use, my lord?--can I help you, Doctor?” We expressed our sorrow that he was too late, but The Assiniboine was very angry, and vowed he should not come on board the raft. It required the exercise of all our authority to overrule his determination, and we saw in this occurrence signs pregnant of future trouble. By noon the raft was ready, and we drove our horses into the stream. When we had seen them safely across, we rewarded our half-breed friends by dividing the last remains of our rum amongst them--a treat they appreciated above everything--and bidding a hearty good-bye to Mr. Macaulay and the rest, pushed off on our adventure. The stream at this place was deep, wide, and tranquil, and we crossed without difficulty or mishap. Before we were fairly over we found that we had left one of our two remaining axes behind; but we did not turn back to regain it, since it was no light matter to navigate so large a raft. Had we known how sorely we should need this axe afterwards, we should not have spared any trouble to obtain it. We landed on a sparsely timbered flat, where the trees had all been destroyed by fire, packed the horses, and travelled a few miles before sundown. By noon on the following day, still following the Athabasca, we reached a beautiful little prairie, surrounded by pine hills green almost to their summits, and overtopped by lofty snow-clad peaks. One of these, which has received the name of the Priest’s Rock, was of curious shape, its apex resembling the top of a pyramid, and covered with snow. The prairie was richly carpeted with flowers, and a rugged excrescence upon it marked the site of the old Rocky Mountain Fort, Henry’s House.