It wanted yet an hour of sunset when we came suddenly upon
the Saskatchewan flowing in a deep narrow valley between steep and lofty
hills, which were bare of trees and bushes and clear of snow. A very wild
desolate scene it looked as I surveyed it from a projecting spur upon
whose summit I rested my blown horse. I was now far in advance of the
party who occupied a parallel ridge behind me. By signs they intimated
that our course now lay to the north; in fact, Daniel had steered very
much too ar south, and we had struck the Saskatchewan river a long,
distance below the intended place of crossing. Away we went again to the
north, soon losing sight of the party; but as I kept the river on my left
far below in the valley I knew they could not cross without my being
aware of it. Just before sun set they appeared again in sight, making
signs that they were about to descend into the valley and to cross the
river. The valley here was five hundred feet in depth, the slope being
one of the steepest I had ever seen. At the bottom of this steep descent
the Saskatchewan lay in its icy bed, a large majestic-looking river three
hundred yards in width. We crossed on the ice without accident, and
winding up the steep southern shore gained the level plateau above.
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