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Updated: May 21, 2025
Nash had sent over his "democrat," a light wagon with springs; and Kate's "shaganappies," Tom and Jerry native ponies, the toughest horse flesh to be found in the world were hitched to it. Kate and I were properly accoutred for our trip and looked but I try to forget how we looked! The memory is not flattering. We drove off in the gayest of spirits.
When we came at sunset to the junction of the Black River trail with ours, Kate resolutely turned the shaganappies down it. "We'll go and spend the night with the Brewsters," she said. "They live only ten miles down this trail. I went to school in Regina with Hannah Brewster, and though I haven't seen her for ten years I know she'll be glad to see us.
"Well," said Kate, as we curled up on our brush beds that night, "there certainly is a special Providence for unprotected females. I'd forgive Peter Crow for deserting us for the sake of those Indians, if he hadn't stolen our lovely ham into the bargain. That was altogether unpardonable." In the morning the Indians broke camp for us and harnessed our shaganappies.
She'd never get over it, if she heard we came to her house and couldn't get in." Fortunately we did not have to go to the length of breaking into Hannah's house. The kitchen window went up quite easily. We turned the shaganappies loose to forage for themselves, grass and water being abundant. Then we climbed in at the window, lighted our lantern, and found ourselves in a very snug little kitchen.
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