The boys were charmed with the few picturesque islands, and had a joyous
time of it, for the weather was most glorious. Yet, as there was no
game, except some passing ducks that lit at times in the little
indentations that served as harbours, it was decided to push on to
Montreal Point, which is the first landing stage on the mainland on the
east side of Lake Winnipeg. The point derived its name from the fact
that in the old days of long trips made by Sir George Simpson, in the
birch canoes manned by the famous Iroquois Indians, this was the first
stopping place from Norway House on their return voyage to Montreal,
some two thousand miles away. Marvellous are the stories told of the
skill and endurance of those matchless crews of Indians. Sir George
Simpson was a hard master, and pushed them to their very utmost. No
dallying along the road was allowed when he was on board. He would put
his hand over the side of the canoe into the water, and if with a swish
the water did not fly up perpendicularly before him he would reprove in
language that could not be misunderstood.

Very strange does it now appear when we read of those days, or talk to
old men who were participants in those events when the officials of the
fur-trading company, from the despotic governor himself down to the
lowest clerk, travelled over half the continent in birch canoes, manned
by Indians or half-breeds, looking after the interest of the greatest
fur-trading company the world has ever seen. It is after all no wonder
that they worked in a hurry when the weather was favourable, as there
were times when storms swept over the lakes with such fury that, in
spite of all their skill and anxiety to push on, they were detained for
days and days together. The wonder ever was that more lives were not
lost in the daring recklessness that was often displayed. A
characteristic story of Sir George Simpson, so long the energetic
governor of the company, is still repeated at many a camp fire.

It seems that on one of his return voyages to Montreal from Norway House
he was, if possible, more arbitrary and domineering than ever, and
especially seemed to single out for his spleen a big burly fellow, a
half-French and half-Iroquois voyageur. This half-breed, who was making
his first trip, stood all this abuse for time good-naturedly, and tried
to do his best; but one day at one of the camping places, where Sir
George had been unusually abusive and sarcastic, the