When the present Commissioner of the Hudson’s Bay Company entered office he determined to reduce chaos to a methodical exactness, and framed a time-table covering every movement in the northward traffic.  When it was shown by the local representative to the Cree boatmen at The Landing, old Duncan Tremble, a river-dog on the Athabasca for forty years, looked admiringly at the printed slip and said, “Aye, aye; the Commissioner he makes laws, but the river he boss.”  It is only when ice is out and current serves that the brigade moves forward.  Old Duncan knows seven languages,—­English, French, Cree, Chipewyan, Beaver, Chinook, Montagnais,—­he speaks seven languages, thinks in Cree, and prevaricates in them all.

[Illustration:  The Missionary Hymnal for the Indians]

At the foot of the hill we visit the English parsonage, with its old-time sun-dial at the garden-gate.  Within, we find what must surely be the farthest north printing-press.  Here two devoted women have spent years of their lives printing in Cree on a hand-press syllabic hymns and portions of the Gospel for the enlightenment of the Indians.  We wander into the school where a young teacher is explaining to his uneasy disciples the intricacies of Present Worth and Compound Interest.  Idly we wonder to what use these bare-footed half-Cree urchins will put their exact banking knowledge.

Everywhere around us the wild flowers are a great joy; we hail with the gladness of released children the posies that sweetened childhood meadows—­the dwarf cornel (Cornel Canadensis), dandelions, strawberry blossoms, wild roses, the pale wood-violet on its long stem, and amid these familiars the saskatoon or service-berry bushes, with blueberry vines, and viburnums of many kinds.  On the street the natty uniforms of the Mounted Police are in evidence, and baseball has penetrated as far north as this.  In the post office we read,

“It is decided to hold sports on the first day of July.  The Committee promises a splendid programme,—­horse-races, foot-races, football match, baseball game.  There will also be prizes for the best piece of Indian fancy-work.  Dancing will be in full swing in the evening.  All welcome.”

Opposite the hotel is a reading-room built by a Methodist parson who also made the furniture with his own hands; magazines, books, writing-material, games are available to all.  This practical work of one man who accepted the responsibility of being his brother’s keeper appealed to us.  In a store near the hotel we see a Cree boatman purchasing a farewell present for his sweetheart.  As he turns over the fancy articles, we have bad form enough to observe his choice.  He selects a fine-tooth comb, for which he pays fifty cents, or as he calls it, “two skins,” and asks, as he tucks it into his jerkin, if he can change it “if she doesn’t like it.”