A blacksmith's forge hidden amid the trees, with the brawny smith singing over his work, was the only object of interest we passed before reaching Darlington, the contractor's head-quarters, where Mr. K---- was to leave me.
The bay is an arm of the waters of the Winnipeg River, about three miles from its outlet--a low, swampy-looking place. There is a cluster of shanties for the men, and another serving as offices, with a remnant of civilization in one narrow window, in the shape of a doctor's sign; which hangs crooked, however, as if ashamed of the bad company it has got into. Further on are two log-houses with rather more pretension to comfort about them, where the contractor and his chief engineer lived. I remained two days with Mrs. W----, the contractor's wife, whose kind hospitality will never be forgotten by me, and went on to Kuwatin on Saturday evening. Mr. F----'s house there is built on the top of the high, rocky land which commands a view of the Lake of the Woods and the Winnipeg River, and is close to the portage path over which Lord and Lady Dufferin and their party crossed when on their trip through Manitoba the previous summer, camping at night on the shores of the river.
After spending Sunday morning in packing baggage to be sent by the Dawson route, we went for a paddle up to the rapids. When the canoe had taken us as far as possible, we got out and clambered over the rocks into the foam. The mouth of the Winnipeg is divided into two channels by a large island; the lower, on which we were, is a succession of rapids each more beautiful than the last. Skirting the shore through a pretty, wooded path, we reached a bare hill above the highest rapid. At our feet the water ran smooth and clear round a bend on the river below. A little further it dashed against great rocks, sending the spray whirling in clouds over their heads where jagged edges fretted it as it passed, or forming clear, deep, dark pools between their smooth and solid sides. Then it swirled round a tiny island, beyond which a long ridge of piled-up rocks stretched its bare sides almost across the stream, as though to stay its impetuous course. The varied expanse of water, framed in overhanging trees, and rocks which rose black against the glowing sky, while the setting sun tinted every jet of spray with crimson and gold, formed a picture I would have liked to carry away with me in more than memory. Over many of the deep pools there were long poles with baited lines, and there, too, the Indians catch large fish with both spear and net.