“You are to ascertain as far as you can in what places and among what tribes of Indians, and what settlements of Whites, the small-pox is now prevailing, including the extent of its ravages, and every particular you can ascertain in connexion with the rise and the spread of the disease.  You are to take with you such, small supply of medicines as shall be deemed by the Board of Health here suitable and proper for the treatment of small-pox, and you will obtain written instructions for the proper treatment of the disease, and will leave a copy thereof with the chief officer of each fort you pass, and with any clergyman or other intelligent person belonging to settlements outside the forts.”  So ran this clause in my instructions, and thus it came about that amongst many curious parts which a wandering life had caused me to play, that of physician in ordinary to the Indian tribes of the farthest west became the most original.  The preparation of these medicines and the printing of the instructions and directions for the treatment of small-pox had consumed many days and occasioned considerable delay in my departure.  At length the medicines were declared complete, and I proceeded to inspect them.  Eight large cases met my astonished gaze.  I was in despair; eight cases would necessitate slow progression and extra horses; fortunately a remedy arose.  A medical officer was directed by the Board of Health to visit the Saskatchewan; he was to start at a later date.  I handed over to him six of the eight cases, and with my two remaining ones and unlimited printed directions for small-pox in three stages, departed, as we have already seen.  By forced marching I hoped to reach the distant station of Edmonton on the Upper Saskatchewan in a little less than one month, but much would depend upon the state of the larger rivers and upon the snow-fall en route.  The first week in November is usually the period of the freezing in of rivers; but crossing large rivers partially frozen is a dangerous work, and many such obstacles lay between me and the mountains.  If Edmonton was to be reached before the end of November delays would not be possible, and the season of my journey was one which made the question of rapid travel a question of the change of temperature of a single night.  On the second day out we passed the Portage-la-prairie, the last settlement towards the West.  A few miles farther on we crossed the Rat Creek, the boundary of the new province of Manitoba, and struck out into the solitudes.  The first sight was not a cheering one.  Close beside the trail, just where it ascended from the ravine of the Rat Creek, stood a solitary newly-made grave.  It was the grave of one who had been left to die only a few days before.  Thrown away by his companions, who had passed on towards Red River, he had lingered for three days all exposed to dew and frost.  At length death had kindly put an end to his sufferings, but three days more elapsed before any person would