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We set out early to retrace the course of the Nyarling, which in spite of associated annoyances and disappointments will ever shine forth in my memory as the "Beautiful River." It is hard, indeed, for words to do it justice. The charm of a stream is always within three feet of the surface and ten feet of the bank.
I held up a bare hand for 5 seconds by the watch, then counted the number of borers on the back; there were 5 to 10. Each day added to the number, and when we got out to the Buffalo country, there were 15 to 25 on the one side of the hand and elsewhere in proportion. On the Nyarling, in early July, the number was increased, being now 20 to 40.
That breakfast, presided over by a charming woman and a genial, generous man, was one that will not be forgotten while I live. Think of it, after the hard scrabble on the Nyarling!
Everything that I have said of the Little Buffalo applies to the Nyarling with fourfold force, because of its more varied scenery and greater range of bird and other life.
At 10.30 we landed at Resolution and pitched our tent among 30 teepees with 200 huge dogs that barked, scratched, howled, yelled, and fought around, in, and over the tent-ropes all night long. Oh, how different from the tranquil woods of the Nyarling! Early next morning Preble called on his old acquaintance, Chief Trader C. Harding, in charge of the post.
But the Hudson's Bay men tell me it is always so, and I am afraid the remembrance of the reception accorded my bounty that day hardened my heart somewhat in the days that followed. On the Nyarling we were too far from mankind to be bothered with dogs, but at Fort Resolution we reentered their country.
Next morning we went on 4 1/2 miles farther, then came to the mouth of the Nyarling Tessi, or Underground River, that joins the Buffalo from the west. This was our stream; this was the highway to the Buffalo country. It was a miniature of the river we were leaving, but a little quicker in current. In about 2 miles we came to a rapid, but were able to paddle up.
This was early in the season. On July 9, on Nyarling River, they were much worse, and my entry was as follows: "'On the back of Billy's coat, as he sat paddling before me, I counted a round 400 mosquitoes boring away; about as many were on the garments of his head and neck, a much less number on his arms and legs.
This fact alone is enough to guarantee the industrial future of the red-man when the hunter life is no longer possible. The Little Buffalo is the most beautiful river in the whole world except, perhaps, its affluent, the Nyarling. This statement sounds like the exaggeration of mere impulsive utterance.
You can go down the Great River to Grand Detour, then portage 8 miles over to the Buffalo, go down this to the Nyarling, then up the Nyarling into the heart of the Buffalo country; 21 days will do it, and it will be easy, for there is plenty of water and no rapids," and he drew a fairly exact map which showed that he knew the country thoroughly.
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