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Updated: May 22, 2025
Like a gallows, almost concealed behind a fringe of poplar trees, stood the familiar lines of an oil derrick. "I'm sorry they haven't got a flag out," remarked Colonel Howell, "but that's the place. All there is of Fort McMurray is just beyond."
Protected by their heavy clothing and carrying the camera and their skin-protected rifles, they found the trip to the settlement only exhilarating. At Fort McMurray the temperature, which was twenty-two below zero, did not give much trouble so long as the wind did not blow. To those whom they met, the boys talked of being on their way to the hills for moose.
The pioneer Canadians at Vermilion were the Lawrence family, which has been settled there for over twenty years. They were original residents of Shefford County, Eastern Townships, and set out from Montreal for Peace River in April, 1879, making the journey to Vermilion, by way of Fort Carlton, Isle a la Crosse and Fort McMurray, in four months and some ten days. The elder Mr.
Colonel Howell had learned of a sheet-iron stove to be had in the McMurray settlement, and this was to be installed before cold weather arrived. The other cabin was renovated and thoroughly cleaned. A provision storehouse was added in the rear, and the clay fireplace was enlarged and extended into the room.
I told my amazing story from beginning to end, interrupted by many Hoo-oo-oo-oo's from McMurray. "You may laugh," said I, "but to have a mythical being out of Olympiodorus quartered on you for life is no jesting matter." "Olymp ?" began McMurray. "Yes," I snapped.
Two days after he and Pierre had started down the Mackenzie, a letter came to Fort McMurray for Philip. "Long" La Brie, a special messenger, brought it from Athabasca Landing. He was too late, and he had no instructions and had not been paid to go farther. Day after day Philip continued steadily northward.
He relates having heard George Washington speak at Washington and at Portsmouth while his ship was in those places. The same journal also says that at Wichita, Kansas, there appeared at a municipal election an old negress named Mrs. Harriet McMurray, who gave her age as one hundred and fifteen.
"There isn't any reason why Fort McMurray can't be a Calgary some day," replied Colonel Howell; "that is, when the railroads start towards Hudson's Bay." "You'll have to have some land too," suggested Mr. Zept. "If you just had a few good prairies and some grass lying loose around up there, that'd help." "How do you know we haven't?" answered the colonel. "I don't," exclaimed Mr. Zept.
You'll be surprised, however," he continued, addressing the boys. "Long before night we'll run out of this onto the green prairies. Long before we get to Edmonton, we'll be in some of the best farming land in the world. And it goes on and on, more or less," he added with a faint smile, "a good deal farther than we know anything about maybe as far as Fort McMurray," he concluded.
All else, the clearing, the camp structures and the banks of the river, were peaceful and white under the untracked mantle of new-fallen snow. The wind had died out and the gas camp at Fort McMurray stood on the verge of the almost Arctic winter.
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