Many of the pack-horses were carried off far down the stream, and we fully expected some of them would be lost, but they eventually all struggled ashore. The only damage we suffered was the wetting of the flour and pemmican, but by immediate care the injury was in great measure repaired. The next day we followed the south bank of the Myette, the narrow strip of bank between the mountain sides of the valley and the river being very boggy, and much of it under water. A few hours of this disagreeable travelling brought us to the last crossing of this aggravating river, where we expected to have to construct a raft. On reaching the place, however, we observed a small “cajot,” or raft, moored by willows to the opposite bank, left there doubtless by the three Americans who had passed a few weeks before. The boy volunteered to swim his horse over and fetch it across, and, stripping to his shirt, mounted, and rode into the water. The horse soon swam to the other side, but the bank was steep, and he reared and fell back in attempting to scramble up. The boy slipped off, but regained his seat, and, becoming frightened, turned the horse’s head and swam back again to us, without accomplishing anything. The Assiniboine now resolved himself to try and bring the raft over, and by his direction we drove all the horses across, with the exception of one. They all succeeded in climbing up the bank at various points, and then The Assiniboine, having tied the end of a long rope to the tail of the remaining horse, stripped and drove him in, holding on to the mane with his only hand. They crossed and landed with little difficulty, but the rope had become unfastened, and we were yet in a quandary how to bring the raft across at once, for the river was too deep for any pole, and too wide for the rope to be thrown across. In this dilemma we fastened one end of the rope round the body of the dog Papillon, which The Assiniboine had brought with him, and when called by his master he swam across with it. We then ferried all the baggage over in a few voyages, and bade final adieu to the unkindly Myette with immense satisfaction. We pursued our way along the base of the pine-clad hills, now beginning to diverge more widely, and through scenery which bore a strong likeness to the beautiful vale of Todmorden, in Yorkshire. One of the snowy peaks closely resembled the pyramidal Priest’s Rock, and white-topped mountains rose up more thickly around us.