at they were now altering their course. The _Mackenzie
River_ was entering the narrow mouth of a swift stream against which
it took all their power to make any headway at all.

Along the banks of this river the trees seemed to be growing taller
and stronger, whether willows or spruces that lined the banks, and the
shores themselves were bolder.

"Call Uncle Dick," said Rob. "He's writing in his room. He knows all
about this, I expect."

So they called Uncle Dick and asked him about the new river.

"Yes," said he, "this is the Peel River. It comes down out of the
Rockies, as you see. You are now pretty near to the upper end of the
whole entire Rocky Mountain system. We are going to cross the most
northerly part of the Rockies, and the lowest pass--it is only about a
thousand feet above sea-level, and only about a hundred miles south of
the Arctic Sea itself.

"This river here, the Peel," he continued, "no doubt offered the old
traders a better building-site for a post than the big river would
have done below the mouth. The Mackenzie wanders on down for a hundred
miles through its delta. Of course the natives trap all through this
country for a hundred miles or more, but they tell me the site of
Fort McPherson is a favorite one with them, and they all know it.
Pretty soon we'll be there."

It was about 3.15 of that same day, according to Rob's diary, when at
last the steamboat, after gallantly bucking the stiff current of the
Peel River for some hours, pulled in at the foot of a high bank at the
summit of which there was located the most northerly of all the
Hudson's Bay posts, and the one with least competition to-day--old
Fort McPherson of venerable history.

On the narrow beach at the foot of the hill lay an encampment of
Eskimos, their huts rudely built of hides, pieces of wall tents, and
canvas stretched over tepee-like frames. Several of their whale-boats,
well rigged and well cared for, lay moored to the bank. All along the
beach prowled the gaunt dogs which belonged to the Eskimos, and yet
other young dogs were tied to stakes so that they might not escape.

These stalwart savages, twenty or thirty of them, came now and joined
the motley throng which crowded down to the boat landing. Here might
be seen the grizzled old post trader who had been here for forty
years, and near to him the red uniforms of a pair of Mounted
Policemen who were waiting for this boat to take them back to
civilization. A few others