A more interesting feature of the Landing, however, was the well sunk by the Government borer, Mr.Fraser, for oil, but which sent up gas instead.

The latter was struck at a considerable depth, and, when we were there, was led from the shaft under the river bank by a pipe, from which it issued aflame, burning constantly, we were told, summer and winter.
Standing at the gateway of the unknown North, and looking at this interesting feature, doubly so from its place and promise, one could not but forecast an industrial future, and "dream on things to come." Shortly after our arrival at the Landing, news, true or false, reached us that the ice was still fast on Lesser Slave Lake.

At any rate, the boat's crew expected from there did not turn up, and a couple of days were spent in anxious waiting.

Some freight was delayed as well, and a thunderstorm and a night of rain set the camp in a swim.

The non-arrival of our trackers was serious, as we had two scows and a York boat, with a party all told of some fifty souls, and only thirteen available trackers to start with.
It seemed more than doubtful whether we could reach Lesser Slave Lake on treaty-schedule time, and the anxiety to push on was great.
It was decided to set out as we were and trust to the chapter of accidents.