On the 12th of December I said “Good-bye” to my friends at the Mountain House, and, crossing the now ice-bound torrent of the Saskatchewan, turned my steps, for the first time during many months towards the East.  With the same two men, and eight horses, I passed quickly through the snow-covered country.  One day later I looked my last look at the far-stretching range of the Rocky Mountains from the lonely ridges of the Medicine Hills.  Henceforth there would be no mountains.  That immense region through which I had traveled—­from Quebec to these Three Medicine Hills—­has not a single mountain ridge in its long 3000 miles; woods, streams, and mighty rivers, ocean-lakes, rocks, hills, and prairies, but no mountains, no rough cloud-seeking summit on which to rest the eye that loves the bold outlined of peak and precipice.

“Ah! doctor, dear,” Said an old Highland woman, dying in the Red River Settlement long years after she had left her Highland home—­“Ah! doctor, dear, if I could but see a wee bit of hill I thinking I might get well again.”

Camped that night near a beaver lodge on the Pas-co-pe, the conversation turned upon the mountains we had just left.

“Are they the greatest mountains in the world?” asked Paul Foyale.

“No, there are others nearly as big again.”

“Is the Company there, too?” again inquired the faithful Paul.

I was obliged to admit that the Company did not exist in the country of these very big mountains, and I rather fear that the admission somewhat detracted from the altitude of the Himalayas in the estimation of my hearers.

About an hour before daybreak on the 16th of December a Very remarkable light was visible for some time in the zenith, A central orb, or heart of red and crimson light, became suddenly visible a little to the north of the zenith; around this most luminous centre was a great ring, or circle of bright light, and from this outer band there flashed innumerable rays far-into the surrounding darkness.  As I looked at it, my thoughts traveled far away to the proud city by the Seine.  Was she holding herself bravely against the German hordes?  In olden times these weird lights of the sky were supposed only to flash forth when “kings or heroes” fell.  Did the sky mirror the earth, even as the ocean mirrors the sky?  While I looked at the gorgeous spectacle blazing above me, the great heart of France was red with the blood of her sons, and from the circles of the German league there flashed the glare of cannon round the doomed but defiant city.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

I start from Edmonton with Dogs—­Dog-travelling—­The Cabri Sack—­A Cold Day—­Victoria—­“Sent to Rome”—­Reach Fort Pitt—­The blind Cree—­A Feast or a Famine—­Death of Pe-na-koam the Blackfoot.