The chief of the party now came forward, and asked what I had got to say to the Indians; that he would like to hear me make a speech; that they wanted to know why all these men were coming through their country.  To make a speech! it was a curious request.  I was leaning with my back against the mast, and the Indians were seated in a line on the bank; every thing looked so miserable around, that I thought I might for once play the part of Chadband, and improve the occasion, and, as a speech was expected of me, make it.  So I said, “Tell this old chief that I am sorry he is poor and hungry; but let him look around, the land on which he sits is rich and fertile, why does he not cut down the trees that cover it, and plant in their places potatoes and corn? then he will have food in the winter when the moose is scarce and the sturgeon cannot be caught.”  He did not seem to relish my speech, but said nothing.  I gave a few plugs of tobacco all round, and we shoved out again into the river.  “Where the road comes down to the lake” the Indian had seen the troops; where was that spot?  No easy matter to decide, for lakes are so numerous in this land of the North-west that the springs of the earth seem to have found vent there.  Before sunset we fell in with another Indian; he was alone in a canoe, which he paddled close along shore out of the reach of the strong breeze which was sweeping us fast up the river.  While he was yet a long way off, Samuel declared that he had recently left Fort Francis, and therefore would bring us news from that place.  “How can you tell at this distance that he has come from the fort?” I asked.  “Because his shirt looks bright,” he answered.  And so it was; he had left the fort on the previous day and run seventy miles; he was old Monkman’s Indian returning after having left that hardy voyageur at Fort Francis.

Not a soldier of the Expedition had yet reached the fort, nor did any man know where they were.

On again; another sun set and another sun rose, and we were still running up the Rainy River before a strong north wind which fell away towards evening.  At sundown of the 3rd August I calculated that some four and twenty miles must yet lie between me and that fort at which, I felt convinced, some distinct tidings must reach me of the progress of the invading column.  I was already 180 miles beyond the spot where I had counted upon falling in with them.  I was nearly 400 miles from Fort Garry.

Towards evening on the 3rd it fell a dead calm, and the heavy boat could make but little progress against the strong running current of the river, so I bethought me of the little birch-bark canoe which I had brought from Rat Portage; it was a very tiny one, but that was no hindrance to the work I now\ required of it.  We had been sailing all day, so my men were fresh.  At supper I proposed that Samuel, Monkman, and William Prince should come on with me during the night, that we would leave Thomas Hope in command of the big boat