Frank Oliver's journey to Edmonton 1876.
Oliver, Frank
In July 1876, my partner and I loaded our train of eight carts, with oxen as motive power, and started from Winnipeg for the further, and as we hoped, more golden west. We had seen in each successive summer, hundreds and hundreds of Red River carts, drawn by Red River ponies and loaded with buffalo robes, wending their creaking way from the distant plains along the Portage road to Winnipeg. We knew that the trade in robes was as much the backbone of commercial Winnipeg in those years as that in beaver skins had been of Montreal under the French regime. Far western conditions had become measurably stabilized. The boundary line between Canada and the United States had been defined. The railway route from Lake Superior through the Rocky Mountains to the Pacific had been surveyed and a telegraph line was in operation from Winnipeg by way of Humboldt and Battleford to within 20 miles of Edmonton; railway construction had been begun both at Lake Superior and on the Pacific. Canada as a nation was in control. Like so many in our own and other countries and in all ages, my partner and I wanted to see what there was "out in the blue" and incidentally what share of it, if any, was for us. We invested in our freighting outfit with the thrifty idea that it would be better to earn, than merely to spend, while doing so.
We bought our carts from the primitive cartwrights of the settlements along the Assiniboine and our oxen from their neighbors. I regret to report that the sudden demand for carts had commercialized the industry on modem lines. We found after marshalling our brigade and starting on our way, that in several instances the carts we had bought with complete faith in the materials and workmanship of the dusky and seemingly guileless native craftsmen, had been made to sell rather than to stand up under heavy loads on a long trip. Also that the vendors of the oxen seized what they no doubt regarded as a heaven sent opportunity and had passed over to us, at good prices, certain animals that for draught purposes left much to be desired and that more experienced buyers did not want. At this point it may be noted that business ethics 50 years ago closely resembled those of today, in that a person who went into a business that he did not understand was "skinned" as religiously then as now.
Cart oxen work in harness, not under yoke. We bought our harness from Robert Stalker (later of the firm of Stalker and Hutchings) and thereby humbly aided in the founding of the Great West Saddlery Company.
The weather had been favorable during most of the season and the roads were good. We moved slowly and uneventfully along the level road to Portage la Prairie; and thence northwesterly by way of Gladstone (then Palestine), and the Beautiful Plains (on which Arden is situated), to Tanner's crossing of the Little Saskatchewan River (now Minnedosa). There were then just three settlers in the valley of the Little Saskatchewan, all Red River men. John Tanner had built a bridge across the little river and made a moderate income by charging toll. On the west bank of the valley a Canadian settler named Cameron had located. His was the last settler's house in sight along the trail from there to Edmonton, excepting only that of Gabriel Dumont of '85 Rebellion fame, at the crossing of the South Branch of the Saskatchewan.
From Winnipeg to Portage la Prairie, which was the westerly limit of the old river settlements, there was only one trail. West of Portage the trail forked. The south trail crossed the Assiniboine at the present Brandon and led westerly to Qu' Appelle, Wood Mountain, Cypress Hills and Bow River (practically the Canadian Pacific main line across the plains). This was the nearest and most accessible part of the buffalo country and was the chief range of the hunter-traders, whose annual pilgrimages to Winnipeg to market their robes, leather and pemmican was the great event of the year, not only for them, but also for the business activities of the city.
The north trail which we followed on our way to Battleford passed by way of the present Gladstone, Minnedosa and Birtle, and crossed the Assiniboine at the present Lazare station on the National main line above the junction of the Qu' Appelle. North of the Qu' Appelle and east of the South Branch of the Saskatchewan, the region traversed by the north trail had already been cleared of buffalo, but between the North and South Branches and as far west as the Rocky Mountains the herds still roamed, though in diminishing numbers. The main objective of the north or Saskatchewan trail which we followed was the Hudson's Bay Company's post of Carlton on the North Branch of the Saskatchewan, 500 miles from Winnipeg.
From the Beautiful Plain which was the westerly limit of the dead level of the Red River country, to the crossing of the Bird Tail Creek (now Birtle), the trail passed through the undulating park region which lies between the Riding Mountains and the valley of the Assiniboine. It would take too much space to tell of the beauty of this region as nature had planned it and as we saw it.
Somewhere west of the Little Saskatchewan we crossed the western boundary of Manitoba as it then was, and met the North-West Mounted Police at their most easterly post of Shoal Lake. Prohibition was in force in the North-West and the main business of the Shoal Lake detachment of police was to see that passing freighters, traders or travellers did not take into the Territories more liquor than the amount allowed by special permit. "Jim" Crerar had started a little trading store near the police post and did a flourishing business. I believe he was an uncle of the Honorable T. A. Crerar, president of the United Grain Growers. When the boundaries of Manitoba were extended westward the Shoal Lake district became part of the county of Marquette. It will be noted that the Crerar family were in on the ground floor so to speak in that county.
The first serious freighting problem we had to meet was in crossing the Assiniboine and the great valley in which it wends its devious way to its junction with the Red at Winnipeg. The depth of the valley is about 300 feet. The trail down the east side was both long and steep. Carts had to be taken down the grade singly. While it was possible for a 1,200 pound ox to hold hack 2,000 pounds of cart and load on a moderately steep grade, the surprise of having his load pushing him instead of his pulling it was apt to bring on an attack of nerves with probably serious results to all concerned, including himself. Having got more or less safely down the hill, the next act in the drama was the fording of the river. Fortunately the water was low at the little trading store and ford easily made.
There were two trails up to the plateau level from the valley bottom, the height being the same as on the east side of the valley. One went up the hill directly from the ford. The other followed the Qu' Appelle westward for some distance, rising gradually and finally following a gully out of the valley to the plateau. Both trails were in deep sand. The Assiniboine hill was the steeper and that of the Qu' Appelle the longer. Which ever you took you naturally wished it had been the other. We took the Qu' Appelle hill and after untold labor and pains arrived with much delay on the plateau prepared to resume the--comparatively--even tenor of our way north-westward.
As we moved forward Spy Hill was on our right. Beyond the Big Cut Arm Creek was the long and beautiful stretch of the Pheasant Plains, with the blue rise of the File Hills across our front and the Pheasant Hills in the distance on our left. The File Hills were merely rolling country with a greater percentage of poplar clumps or "bluffs" than where the surface was more level. Beyond the File Hills was another plain with poplar bluffs more thinly scattered, and then the Big Touchwood Hills. These were higher than the File Hills, there were more of them, and both bluffs and ponds were larger. But the pioneers who had laid out the cart trail were engineers by instinct. The trail wound among the hills and around the ponds, called "sloughs," always taking absolutely the best grade available, so that the "Hills" were no impediment to the movement of freight. Judged by the map, the main line of the Canadian National must be almost on the old cart trail all the way between Spy Hill and Touchwood station.
Beyond Touchwood Hudson's Bay post the trail took a slightly more northerly course and in about a day's travel from the post we reached the edge of hills and looked out on the "Big Salt Plain." "Salt" in this case meant alkali. This was our first glimpse of the entirely treeless prairie which stretched westward broken only by river valleys, nearly to the foothills of the Rockies. In all the country we had come through we had never been out of sight or reach of wood. But here was a stretch of 40 miles from the Touchwood Hills to Humboldt telegraph office, absolutely without wood and in dry seasons such as that of 1876, very scarce of good water. The surface was level; there were some alkali ponds and what was worse alkali sloughs. Sufficient wood for camp fires while crossing the plain was taken on before leaving the Hills. There were only two or three good watering places in the 40 mile stretch, which meant that extra long drives had to be made between and even those watering places were not to be relied upon.
The lowest and therefore the most miry point on the plain was the crossing of the Wolverine slough, a stagnant alkali creek that was the cause of immeasurable and not always silent grief during wet seasons to many worthy freighters and their always patient, but not always reliable, motive power. Lanigan, a railway junction point, with its stores, banks, churches, elevators and all the equipment of a modern city, is about three miles from the crossing of this slough of utter despond. If any of the freighters who wended weary way across the Big Salt Plain in the season of 1876 or in the immediately succeeding years had been asked to choose between locating in the hills or on the plain, my guess is that 100 per cent would have chosen the hills.. And if their choice had been restricted to the plain, I venture the belief that the site of the future town of Lanigan would not have been among the selections. This is one of the many instances which show that the pioneer who has the pick of the country frequently, if not generally, overlooks the best bet.
Humboldt office on the telegraph line and surveyed railway route was at the northerly limit of the Salt Plain. It was about six miles westerly from the present railway town of Humboldt. The trails to the Batoche and Gabriel Dumont ferries on the South Branch forked there. Both had Duck Lake and Carlton as their objectives. But the Battleford traffic took the Gabriel trail because it was materially the shortest, not touching Duck Lake. The ferries were about four miles apart.
History concedes that Dumont was a capable military leader in 1885, but, protected by time and distance, I make bold to say that in 1876 he was a rotten ferryman. His idea of operating a ferry was to provide a scow, scarcely large enough to carry four loaded carts without the oxen, equip it with four "sweeps" and a long tow rope, collect the ferry toll, retire to his bungalow on the brow of the hill and let matters take their course. The reader may wonder how it was that under such conditions his scow was not allowed by same aggrieved freighter to simply drift down stream. The reason was that if a freighter had been so unfortunate as to let the scow escape, friend Gabriel would have called on the Mounted Police at Carlton and the freighter would have had to pay for it. There was of course no ferry cable. The scow was rowed across by the use of the four sweeps. Necessarily it was carried a long way down stream by the swift current. After the carts were pushed off by hand, the scow had to be towed up stream far enough so that allowing for its being swept down stream again, it would reach the shore where the rest of the carts were standing waiting to be pushed, also by hand. Oxen or horses had to swim the river. A party of only two--such as my partner and me--could not by any possibility have got our outfit across the river by Gabriel's ferry. Fortunately a party of French half breeds from Qu' Appelle bound for Duck Lake came along in the nick of time. They gave us every assistance and the benefit of their experience--which was quite as valuable. We of course reciprocated to the best of our ability and the crossing was made safely and without serious delay. But so far as friend Gabriel was concerned, we might have been there yet.
Shortly after making the crossing and reaching the plateau level, the new and lightly marked Battleford trail turned sharply westward, away from that to Duck Lake and Carlton. I recall that as we made our first "spell" or noon camp in the country of the great Saskatchewan, alongside a fresh water slough, we saw in the distance a pair of white cranes, the rarest, the largest, the most beautiful and the most elusive of all prairie fowl. On looking over the map I conclude that where the cranes found the solitude and safety, that were a first necessity of existence to them, is now located the thriving town of Rosthern.
In due course after leaving the South Branch, we struck the trail from Carlton to the Elbow. The trail was deeply marked. It was the route by which the hunters from the Batoche, Duck Lake and Prince Albert settlements reached the buffalo herds of the great plains westerly and southwesterly between the Battle and Red Deer rivers. At the Elbow the new trail to the new capital forked to the right and turning northwesterly, followed the telegraph line between the Eagle Hills and the river. As there were many small streams coming down from the hills to the river, there were many steep little valleys to cross which made difficult going for ox trains. We had been told to take another trail which forking westward from the river trail, went around the hills and so avoid these inconvenient valleys.
The Elbow was a general camping ground. It was the first point on their homeward journey at which hunters from the great plains found abundant wood and water. The location is about three miles west of the present railway and elevator town of Langham on the Battleford line of the National railway. A new trail after leaving an old camp ground does not become well defined for some distance. When we left the Elbow camp ground we did not notice the Battleford trail turning off to the right, so we followed the well-marked hunters' trail southwesterly and soon crossed the telegraph line that went direct from Humboldt to Battleford. We crossed Eagle Creek by a not difficult crossing and shortly entered the higher country and rolling hills which lie between Perdue and Biggar on the Canadian Pacific and Canadian National Railways, but at a point considerably north of these lines. These hills are part of the western front of the second prairie steppe which crosses the Canadian Pacific main line west of Moose Jaw.
The trail was well defined and, as in the case of the Touchwood Hills, the grades were easy. There was plenty of grass and sufficient water, but no wood, save a little brush on the banks of the ponds. The hills were stony on their tops, and the only thing to be seen from the highest of them was still more rounded hills, also with stony tops. To my partner and me the region seemed to us to realize that expressive phrase--"the abomination of desolation." Of course the fact that by this time we had begun to think that we were lost did not aid us in a favorable estimate of the outlook.
After travelling the hills for what seemed a long time, the country became more level. Water and wood were more scarce, but we still got sufficient to carry on with comfortably. One morning when several days out from Eagle Creek, we saw on our left front, standing out of the naked plain, a dead forest of large poplar trees. The bark had been stripped off. These trees were somewhat scattered and there was no young growth between. The tree growth occupied rising and sandy ground. The trail passed through its northern tip.
How far that forest extended south we did not know. How trees of that size could have grown in that locality was a mystery, for the upland growth of poplar in all the region we traversed, even in the Touchwood Hills, was seldom if ever as much as six inches in diameter and generally very much less. What had killed the forest after its having attained the growth that we saw was as great a mystery as the growth itself. The standing trees showed no signs of having been injured by fire. We heard afterwards that there were Indian legends which gave supernatural accounting for the destruction of the forest and possibly for its growth as well, but we never learned the particulars. We only knew that its name was the "Ghost Woods." I recall that as we reached the edge of the woods, there was a human skull hanging on a limb of brush close to the trail.
Possibly a couple of days after leaving the Ghost Woods, the trail passed along the north side of a somewhat sandy ridge on which grew some small brush. In the side of the ridge was a spring of good water. Here we saw the first direct evidence that we were in the buffalo country. There had been a considerable "kill" in the vicinity. Heads and other debris of the hunt were scattered about profusely. That the kill had been recent was shown by the condition of the refuse. We made camp that night on the east side of a low ridge which lay across the trail. When the dark had closed down we heard the bark of dogs and the sound of the Indian drum beyond the ridge.
When freighting with oxen it is usual to make an early start, and if the days are long to make two stops in the day instead of one. Oxen move slowly and as their working power comes only from the grass they eat, they must have plenty of time for grazing between spells of work.
As always we pulled out bright and early, and soon the trail passed through a camp of hunters; no doubt, those who had made the kill, the remains of which we had seen. There were 20 to 30 leather tepees, possibly three times as many carts, and dogs galore, with horses grazing on the prairie in the distance. Only the dogs expressed curiosity or possibly derision as we passed slowly by.
A couple of hours later, the cavalcade of hunters and carts, ponies and dogs, first came in sight and then passed forward on their way. It was the only time I ever saw a party of buffalo hunters moving to the summer hunt, and the picture was vividly impressed on my mind. I wish I could transfer it as vividly to print but that is impossible.
First came the hunters mounted on their buffalo runners--horses qualified by strength, speed and endurance to "catch" and stay with the buffalo herd long enough to enable the rider to make a numerous "kill." To kill only one buffalo on a single "run" discredited either horse or rider or possibly both. As the procession moved forward, the hunters topped every rise in advance, on the lookout for buffalo and to see before being seen by them. Following were the covered carts in which the wives of the hunters travelled with their young children and household belongings. Then came the empty freight carts which were to bring back the product of the hunt--fresh meat, dried meat or pemmican and hides or robes as the case might be. Larger children rode in them. Half grown boys and girls were on horseback, spread out or either side of the carts and capering their horses over the prairie in great delight as they drove the loose extra horses along. The Indians followed with a few carts and many travois.
The half breeds of the party owned the best horses and most of the carts. The Indians preferred the travois to the cart as a means of transport. A horse equipped with a travois could not haul as much as one attached to cart, but he could haul much more than he could carry as a pack, and could move over the prairie without regard to trails much more quickly than either the cart or the pack horse. The travois was an arrangement by which two light poles rested at one end on the horse while the other ends trailed on the ground behind. A light framework behind the horse kept the poles a fixed distance apart and carried the load. Only ponies were used by the buffalo hunters on their movements on the plains.
The grass was green, the sky blue, the sun shining, horses and dogs were fat, buffalo meat was in abundance. There had always been buffalo; there were still buffalo; of course there would always be buffalo. Truly this was the life. These were the aristocrats of the prairie. But in a few years the buffalo had become only a memory and these aristocrats who had been independently wealthy according to their own standards of life had been reduced to utter and abject poverty.
The extinction of the buffalo was an unspeakable tragedy to both half breeds and Indians of the plains, who for generations had found in the herds their sole, certain and most acceptable means of livelihood. The fact that they themselves had been largely responsible for the destruction did not make scarcity and hunger any easier to bear. But all that was still in the future.
As they were passing us the hunters stopped and asked whither we were bound. When we said "Battleford" they explained that we had taken the wrong trail at the Elbow. We were now on a hunting trail that led by numerous forks to many points including Sounding Lake, Buffalo Lake, Edmonton and Calgary--almost anywhere in fact except to Battleford. They advised us to turn back eastward to the Ghost Woods; there we would find wheel tracks recently made by members of their party that would lead northerly to Lizard Lake on the Battleford trail around the Eagle Hills, which we should have taken from the Elbow. We followed the directions given and arrived at Battleford without further difficulty or mishap. We had lost perhaps a week's time in our wanderings; but we had glimpsed a striking scene in the drama of life on the plains as it had been for at least a generation, and as it never would be again.
The town of Battleford as we first saw it, was located on the flat south of the Battle River and at that date its principal feature was a trading store, established a few weeks before by Jim Mahoney. If I am not mistaken, this was an early stage of the vast mercantile enterprise now conducted throughout the four western provinces by "Sandy" Macdonald.
On the brow of the plateau overlooking the valley from the south were to be--and afterwards--were located the dwellings of the lieutenant-governor, the resident magistrate and the Council Chamber and offices of the North-West Government. On the tongue of elevated land between the Battle and the Saskatchewan were the Mounted Police barracks. This afterwards became the site of the town of Battleford, as distinguished from North Battleford, which is the present thriving railroad town on the north bank of the Saskatchewan. The situation of the future town was ideal. The ridge between the rivers was sufficiently high to be clear of any possible high water and yet it was dominated and therefore sheltered by the higher plateau levels both north of the Saskatchewan and south of the Battle. Still farther south the wooded ridge of the Eagle Hills showed up beautifully.
The geographic location was well suited to be the seat of local government for the Territories as they were then constituted. It was at the point on the Saskatchewan at which the projected railway and the navigable river met coming eastward, or parted going westward, giving it the advantage of river navigation, both east and west, as well as of prospective railway communication, It was located between the settlements adjacent to Carlton on the east and Edmonton on the west. It had access to the southern plains under favorable conditions for prairie travel, as trails were afterwards developed. Altogether it looked like a winning bet as a future metropolis of the central prairies.
Today the capital of the Territories as we saw it is practically a suburb of the new railroad town. It stands as a monument to the wreck of the hopes and endeavours of the pioneers by whom it was established. But on the fine September day when my partner and I unloaded our eight carts at the government warehouse and drew our freight money without deductions, the troubles and misfortunes of Battleford were still in the future. We had seen a great deal and learned a little. Glowing though the then prospects of Battleford might seem, we were not as yet sufficiently impressed to induce us to select it as our permanent location. We still thought there might be something better beyond.
Our final conclusion was that my partner should return to Winnipeg with the outfit of carts and oxen in company with other returning freighters, while I joined a brigade that was heading for Edmonton, or rather for a point beyond. Our next season's operations were to depend on the report that I brought back on my return from the still further west.
To secure lumber for the new buildings at Battleford, a portable sawmill had been established during the summer in the spruce woods on the north bank of the Saskatchewan some 50 miles beyond Edmonton. The lumber was to be cut during the winter and rafted down the following spring. The necessary supplies for the working force had of course to be forwarded from Battleford. The Davidson brothers, pioneers of the Palestine (Gladstone) settlement of Manitoba, had joined in rushing freight to Battleford, with a large outfit of carts and oxen. John, the elder brother--afterwards for several years provincial treasurer of Manitoba--undertook delivery of the supplies required at the sawmill, using part of the carts and oxen of the outfit for that purpose. The younger brothers returned to Manitoba with the remainder of the freighting outfit and I took the place of one of them in the brigade bound for Edmonton and beyond. If I remember correctly the brigade comprised five men and 20 oxen and carts.
The westward trail crossed to the north side of the North Saskatchewan at Fort Pitt, Hudson's Bay post, about 90 miles northwesterly from Battleford. There was no ferry service. Crossing was made by the use of a "York" boat which meant a double handling of both carts and cargo. Of course the oxen swam. The situation was much worse than at Gabriel's crossing of the South Branch. But our experiences on the way to Battleford had qualified all members of the party as expert freighters and there were enough of us to manage the crossing satisfactorily.
Shortly before our arrival at Pitt, an Indian treaty had been held there, with a great assemblage of Indians and traders. But the treaty was over and both Indians and traders had dispersed before we arrived. At Pitt our brigade was joined by J. A. McDougall, Edmonton pioneer and presently millionaire, with the intention of accompanying us to Edmonton. His outfit comprised four cart loads of goods which had not been disposed of at the treaty.
From Fort Pitt westerly the trail passed through brushy and somewhat unattractive country for a considerable distance, but at the crossing of Dog Creek near the present railway terminal of Elk Point, it entered upon a beautiful rolling plain, which extended to Saddle Lake, some 35 or 40 miles, of which the present business centre is the brisk railway town of St. Paul de Metis. After leaving Pitt the first sign of human habitation was the Victoria Settlement, now Pakan, 80 miles east of Edmonton. A group of English speaking half breed buffalo hunters from Portage la Prairie were settled on the river flat and cultivated small fields of barley and potatoes. There was a little grist mill on Smoking Lake Creek.
At the east end of the settlement, a Methodist mission had been established by the Reverend George MacDougall and there was the Hudson's Bay store. The houses were well built and kept. Buffalo were still within reach on the plains to the southward and conditions were fairly prosperous. Mr. McDougall decided to winter at Victoria for the purpose of trading out his remaining stock of goods and did not continue with the Davidson brigade to Edmonton.
It was a bright October day when we "loosed out" our oxen on the brow of the plateau overlooking the river and valley at Edmonton. After having traversed so many hundred long and weary miles of utterly unoccupied territory, we had suddenly come into what seemed to be a well established civilization. The Hudson's Bay fort was a city in itself, the trade centre of a vast territory, with nearly a century of history behind it.
Beginning with the Methodist Church and parsonage, the river claims of the Edmonton Settlement, each 10 to 20 chains in width, extended easterly along the brow of the valley to the part of the present area that is now Highlands. Below us in the valley was the Donald Ross Hotel and gardens. The next nearest hotel was in Portage la Prairie kept by Wallace and Blake. There was a grist mill on the river flat on the south side and settlers' houses were dotted along the edge of the plateau overlooking the river. All dwellings were well built of hewn spruce logs and all had shingled roofs.
I was so impressed by the quiet beauty of the scene, with its air of prestige and permanence, its assurance of present desirable conditions, with ample opportunity for the future, that at the moment Edmonton became home to me as it has been ever since.
A survey of the general prospect seemed to confirm the favorable impression given by the first view. When we had delivered our freight at the sawmill on the edge of the big woods, 50 miles to the westward, we had traversed a region of unbroken fertility 1,000 miles in length, every acre carrying the best of grazing and the greater part ready for the plow. Forest extended to the north and west, the natural complement of the treeless plains. With railway construction at both ends already under way, and the route fixed to pass within 20 miles of Edmonton, there was every assurance of early development. To settle at Edmonton seemed to be a case of getting in ahead of the railway, not of getting away from it.
Mr. Davidson disposed of his freighting outfit in Edmonton and he and I went East by dog team in the early winter, so as to get an early start back the next spring. I understood at the time that he fully intended returning to Edmonton, but circumstances changed and he remained in Manitoba where he achieved a considerable measure of success, both in business and politics during his lifetime.
I returned to the Far West in the summer of 1877, and in that season bought the first town lot ever sold in what is now the city of Edmonton. This lot is now occupied by the present Bulletin building. The first building erected on it was used as a trading store for some years before it became a newspaper office. Colin Fraser, original owner of River Lot No. 10 was the vendor. The transfer was on word of honor and the description of the property was by "'metes and bounds" as there had been no government survey and no one as yet had any title. The price was $25, trade of course.
People wondered why I had paid for the property that no one owned, where so much land was there to be had for the taking, and one place seemed to be as good as another. My object was to get well established in advance of the railroad. In this latter I succeeded beyond by wildest hopes. It was 14 years before the branch railroad from Calgary reached the south bank of the river opposite Edmonton, and 28 years before the dream was realized of a railway line direct from Winnipeg, developing the region along the cart trail that we had followed so hopefully in 1876.
(The author, Frank Oliver, was one of Alberta's most famous and influential pioneers. He established the Edmonton Bulletin in 1880 and three years later he entered politics as a member of the North-West Council. He became a Member of Parliament for the Liberals in 1896 and Minister of the Interior in 1905. He left the government in 1911 and spent the remainder of his years in Edmonton. This article first appeared in The Country Guide, September 15, 1928.)
