The Young Alaskans on the Trail
by Emerson Hough · English · Gutenberg #28741 · 374,896 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Young Alaskans on the Trail
Author: Emerson Hough
Release date: May 9, 2009 [eBook #28741]
Most recently updated: January 5, 2021
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUNG ALASKANS ON THE TRAIL ***
Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. The University
of Iowa, Iowa Authors Collection graciously researched and
provided scans of missing pages for this book. (This book
was produced from scanned images of public domain material
from the Google Print project.)
THE
YOUNG ALASKANS
ON THE TRAIL
BY
EMERSON HOUGH
AUTHOR OF
"THE YOUNG ALASKANS"
"THE STORY OF THE COWBOY"
ILLUSTRATED
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
MCMXI
BOOKS BY
EMERSON HOUGH
THE YOUNG ALASKANS. Ill'd. Post 8vo $1.25
YOUNG ALASKANS ON THE TRAIL. Ill'd. Post 8vo 1.25
HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY HARPER & BROTHERS
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
[Illustration: See page 75
AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE]
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. TAKING THE TRAIL 1
II. THE GATE OF THE MOUNTAINS 10
III. STUDYING OUT THE TRAIL 23
IV. THE GREAT DIVIDE 37
V. CROSSING THE HEIGHT OF LAND 43
VI. FOLLOWING MACKENZIE 53
VII. AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE 69
VIII. A HUNT FOR BIGHORN 83
IX. A NIGHT IN THE MOUNTAINS 102
X. HOW THE SPLIT-STONE LAKE WAS NAMED 112
XI. LESSONS IN WILD LIFE 119
XII. WILD COUNTRY AND WILDERNESS WAYS 134
XIII. THE CARIBOU HUNT 143
XIV. EXPLORING THE WILDERNESS 158
XV. IN THE BIG WATERS 168
XVI. THE GRIZZLY HUNT 181
XVII. THE YOUNG ALASKANS' "LOB-STICK" 191
XVIII. BAD LUCK WITH THE "MARY ANN" 200
XIX. NEW PLANS 207
XX. THE GORGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 217
XXI. THE PORTAGE OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS 226
XXII. EAST OF THE ROCKIES 232
XXIII. THE LAND OF PLENTY 236
XXIV. THE WHITE MAN'S COUNTRY 244
XXV. HOW THE ERMINE GOT HIS TAIL BLACK 249
XXVI. TRAILING THE BEAR 254
XVII. THE END OF THE OLD WAR-TRAIL 264
XXVIII. STEAMBOATING IN THE FAR NORTH 274
XXIX. A MOOSE HUNT 286
XXX. FARTHEST NORTH 294
XXXI. HOMEWARD BOUND 307
XXXII. LEAVING THE TRAIL 317
ILLUSTRATIONS
AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE _Frontispiece_
THE BEAR BROKE COVER WITH A SAVAGE ROAR _Facing p._ 186
MOISE AT HOME " 266
THE PORTAGE, VERMILION CHUTES, PEACE RIVER " 302
THE YOUNG ALASKANS
ON THE TRAIL
I
TAKING THE TRAIL
It was a wild and beautiful scene which lay about the little camp
in the far-off mountains of the Northwest. The sun had sunk beyond
the loftier ridges, although even now in the valley there remained
considerable light. One could have seen many miles over the
surrounding country had not, close at hand, where the little white
tent stood, the forest of spruce been very dense and green. At no
great distance beyond its edge was rough and broken country. Farther
on, to the southward, stood white-topped peaks many miles distant,
although from the camp these could not be seen.
It might have seemed a forbidding scene to any one not used to travel
among the mountains. One step aside into the bush, and one would have
fancied that no foot had ever trod here. There was no indication of
road or trail, nor any hint of a settlement. The forest stood dark,
and to-night, so motionless was the air, its silence was more complete
than is usually the case among the pines or spruces, where always the
upper branches murmur and whisper among themselves. Such scenes cause
a feeling of depression even among grown persons who first meet them;
and to-night, in this remote spot, one could not well have blamed the
three young occupants of this camp had they felt a trifle uneasy as
the twilight drew on toward darkness.
They were, it is true, not wholly new to camp life, these three
boys--Rob McIntyre, John Hardy, and Jesse Wilcox. You may perhaps call
to mind the names of these, since they are the same who, more than a
year before, were cast away for some time on the slopes of Kadiak
Island, in the far upper portion of Alaska; from which place they were
at last rescued in part by their own wits and in part by the
watchfulness of their guardian, Mr. Hardy. The latter, whom all three
boys called Uncle Dick, was a civil engineer who, as did the parents
of all the boys, lived in the coast town of Valdez, in far-off Alaska.
When Rob, John, and Jesse returned home from their dangerous
adventures on Kadiak Island, they had been told that many a day would
elapse before they would be allowed to take such chances again.
Perhaps Uncle Dick never really told the parents of the boys the full
truth about the dangers his young charges had encountered on Kadiak
Island. Had he done so they would never have been willing for the boys
to take another trip even more dangerous in many ways--the one on
which they were now starting.
But Uncle Dick Hardy, living out of doors almost all the time on
account of his profession as an engineer, was so much accustomed to
dangers and adventures that he seemed to think that any one could get
out of a scrape who could get into one. So it was not long after the
return from Kadiak before he forgot all about the risks the boys had
run there. The very next year he was the first one to plead with their
parents, and to tell them that in his belief the best way in the world
for the boys to pass their next summer's vacation would be for them to
cross the Rocky Mountains from the Pacific side and take the old water
trail of the fur-traders, north and east, and down the Peace River
from its source.
It chanced that Uncle Dick, who, like all engineers, was sometimes
obliged to go to remote parts of the country, had taken charge of an
engineering party then locating the new railroad bound westward from
Edmonton, in far-off Northwest Canada. While he himself could not
leave his employment to go with the boys across the Rockies, he
assured their parents that he would meet them when they came down the
river, and see that every care should be taken of them meantime.
"Let them go, of course," he urged. "You can't really hurt a good,
live boy very much. Besides, it is getting to be so nowadays that
before long a boy won't have any wilderness where he can go. Here's
our railroad making west as fast as it can, and it will be taking all
sort of people into that country before long. Here's a chance for the
boys to have a fine hunt and some camping and canoeing. It will make
them stout and hearty, and give them a good time. What's the use
worrying all the time about these chaps? They'll make it through, all
right. Besides, I am going to send them the two best men in Canada for
their guides.
"I wouldn't say, myself, that these boys could get across alone," he
added, "because it's a hard trip for men in some ways. But in the
care of Alex Mackenzie and Moise Duprat they'll be as safe as they
would be at home in rocking-chairs."
"What Mackenzie is that?" asked Jesse Wilcox's mother of her brother,
Uncle Dick.
"Well, he may be a relative of old Sir Alexander Mackenzie, so far as
I know. The family of that name is a large one in the North, and there
always have been Mackenzies in the fur trade. But speaking of the
name, here's what I want to explain to you, sister. These boys will be
going back over the very trail that good old Sir Alexander took when
he returned from the Pacific Ocean."
"But that was a long time ago--"
"Yes, in 1793, while George Washington still was alive, and not so
very long after the Revolutionary War. You know, Mackenzie was the
first man ever to cross this continent, and this was the way he went,
both in going west and coming east--just where I want these boys to
go. They'll see everything that he saw, go everywhere that he went,
from the crown of the continent on down clear to the Arctics, if you
want to let them go that far.
"I'm telling you, sister," he added, eagerly, "the boys will _learn_
something in that way, something about how this country was
discovered and explored and developed, so far as that is concerned.
That is history on the hoof, if you like, sister. In my belief they're
the three luckiest little beggars in the world if you will only let
them go. I'll promise to bring them back all right."
"Yes, I know about your _promises_!" began Mrs. Wilcox.
"When did I ever fail to keep one?" demanded Uncle Dick of her. "And
where can you find three sounder lads in Valdez than these we're
talking about now?"
"But it's so _far_, Richard--you're talking now about the Peace River
and the Athabasca River and the Arctic Ocean--why, it seems as though
the boys were going clear off the earth, and we certainly would never
see them again."
"Nonsense!" replied Uncle Dick. "The earth isn't so big as it used to
be in Sir Alexander's time. Let them alone and they'll come through,
and be all the more men for it. There's no particular hardship about
it. I'll go down with them in the boat to Vancouver and east with them
by rail to where they take the stage up the Ashcroft trail--a
wagon-road as plain as this street here. They can jog along that way
as far as Quesnelles as easy as they could on a street-car in
Seattle. Their men'll get them from there by boat up the Fraser to the
headwaters of the Parsnip without much more delay or much more danger,
but a lot of hard work. After that they just get in their boats and
float."
"Oh, it _sounds_ easy, Richard," protested his sister, "but I know all
about your simple things!"
"Well, it isn't every boy I'd offer this good chance," said Uncle
Dick, turning away. "In my belief, they'll come back knowing more than
when they started."
"But they're only boys, not grown men like those old fur-traders that
used to travel in that country. It was hard enough even for them, if I
remember my reading correctly."
"I just told you, my dear sister, that these boys will go with less
risk and less danger than ever Sir Alexander met when he first went
over the Rockies. Listen. I've got the two best men in the Northwest,
as I told you. Alex Mackenzie is one of the best-known men in the
North. General Wolseley took him for chief of his band of _voyageurs_,
who got the boats up the Nile in Kitchener's Khartoum campaign. He's
steadier than a clock, and the boys are safer with him than anywhere
else without him. My other man, Moise Duprat, is a good cook, a good
woodsman, and a good canoeman. They'll have all the camp outfit they
need, they'll have the finest time in the world in the mountains, and
they'll come through flying--that's all about it!"
"But won't there be any bad rapids in the mountains on that river?"
"Surely, surely! That's what the men are for, and the boats. When the
water is too bad they get out and walk around it, same as you walk
around a mud puddle in the street. When their men think the way is
safe it's bound to be safe. Besides, you forget that though all this
country is more or less new, there are Hudson Bay posts scattered all
through it. When they get east of the Rockies, below Hudson's Hope and
Fort St. John, they come on Dunvegan, which now is just a country
town, almost. They'll meet wagon-trains of farmers going into all that
country to settle. Why, I'm telling you, the only worry I have is that
the boys will find it too solemn and quiet to have a good time!"
"Yes, I know about solemn and quiet things that you propose, Richard!"
said his sister. "But at least"--she sighed--"since their fathers want
them to live in this northern country for a time, I want my boy to
grow up fit for this life. Things here aren't quite the same as they
are in the States. Well--I'll ask Rob's mother, and John's."
Uncle Dick grinned. He knew his young friends would so beset their
parents that eventually they would get consent for the trip he had
described as so simple and easy.
And, in truth, this evening camp on the crest of the Rockies in
British Columbia was the result of his negotiations.
II
THE GATE OF THE MOUNTAINS
Whether Uncle Dick told the boys everything he knew about this
undertaking, or whether their mothers realized what they were doing in
allowing them to go so far and into a wild region, we shall be forced
to leave as an unanswered question. Certainly they started with their
Uncle when he left Valdez by steamer for Vancouver. And, finishing
that part of their journey which was to be made by rail, wagon, and
boat, here they were, in the twilight of a remote valley at the crest
of the great Rocky Mountains; near that point, indeed, properly to be
called the height of land between the Arctic and the Pacific waters.
Moreover, they were for the time quite alone in camp.
"Well, fellows," said Rob at last, "I suppose we'd better get some
more wood together. The men'll be back before long, and we'll have to
get something to eat."
"How do you know they'll come back?" asked John dubiously.
"Alex told me he would, and I have noticed that he always does things
when he says he is going to."
"I don't hear them, anyway," began Jesse, the youngest, who was, by
nature as well as by years perhaps, not quite so bold and courageous
as his two young friends.
"You couldn't hear them very far," replied Rob, "because they wear
moccasins."
"Do you think they really can get the canoes out, carrying them on
their backs all the way from where we left them?" asked Jesse.
"They're very strong," Rob answered, "and that work isn't new to them.
And, you know, they carried all our packs in the same way."
"That Moise is as strong as a horse," said John. "My! I couldn't lift
the end of his pack here. I bet it weighed two hundred pounds at
least. And he just laughed. I think he's a good-natured man, anyhow."
"Most of these woodsmen are," replied Rob. "They are used to
hardships, and they just laugh instead of complain about things. Alex
is quieter than Moise, but I'll venture to say they'll both do their
part all right. And moreover," he added stoutly, "if Alex said he'd be
here before dark, he'll be here."
"It will be in less than ten minutes, then," said Jesse, looking at
the new watch which his mother had given him to take along on his
trip. "The canoe's a pretty heavy thing, John."
Rob did not quite agree with him.
"They're not heavy for canoes--sixteen-foot Peterboroughs. They beat
any boat going for their weight, and they're regular ships in the
water under load."
"They look pretty small to me," demurred Jesse.
"They're bigger than the skin boats that we had among the Aleuts last
year," ventured John. "Besides, I've noticed a good deal depends on
the way you handle a boat."
"Not everybody has boats as good as these," admitted Jesse.
"Yes," said John, "it must have cost Uncle Dick a lot of money to get
them up here from the railroad. Sir Alexander Mackenzie traveled in a
big birch-bark when he was here--ten men in her, and three thousand
pounds of cargo besides. She was twenty-five feet long. Uncle Dick
told me the Indians have dugouts farther down the river, but not very
good ones. I didn't think they knew anything about birch-bark so far
northwest, but he says all their big journeys were made in those big
bark canoes in the early days."
"Well, I'm guessing that our boats will seem pretty good before we get
through," was Rob's belief, "and they'll pay for themselves too."
All the boys had been reading in all the books they could find telling
of the journeys of the old fur-traders, Alexander Mackenzie, Simon
Fraser, and others, through this country. Rob had a book open in his
lap now.
"How far can we go in a day?" asked Jesse, looking as though he would
be gladder to get back home again than to get farther and farther
away.
"That depends on the state of the water and the speed of the current,"
said the older boy. "It's no trouble to go fifty miles a day
straightaway traveling, or farther if we had to. Some days they didn't
make over six or eight miles going up, but coming down--why, they just
flew!"
"That wouldn't take us long to go clear through to where Uncle Dick
is."
"A few weeks or so, at least, I hope. We're not out to beat Sir
Alexander's record, you know--he made it from here in six days!"
"I don't remember that book very well," said Jesse; "I'll read it
again some time."
"We'll all read it each day as we go on, and in that way understand it
better when we get through," ventured John. "But listen; I thought I
heard them in the bush."
It was as he had said. The swish of bushes parting and the occasional
sound of a stumbling footfall on the trail now became plainer. They
heard the voice of Moise break out into a little song as he saw the
light of the fire flickering among the trees. He laughed gaily as he
stepped into the ring of the cleared ground, let down one end of the
canoe which he was carrying, and with a quick twist of his body set it
down gently upon the leaves.
"You'll mak' good time, _hein_?" he asked of the boys, smiling and
showing a double row of white teeth.
"What did I tell you, boys?" demanded Rob. "Here they are, and it
isn't quite dark yet."
The next moment Alex also came in out of the shadow and quietly set
down his own canoe, handling it as lightly as though it were but an
ordinary pack. Indeed, these two woodsmen were among the most powerful
of their class, and well used to all the work which comes on a trip in
a wilderness country.
As they stood now a little apart, it might be seen that both of the
guides were brown-skinned men, still browner by exposure to the
weather. Each of them had had an Indian mother, and the father of
each was a white man, the one a silent Scot, of the Hudson Bay fur
trade, the other a lively Frenchman of the lower trails, used to
horse, boat, and foot travel, and known far and wide in his own day as
a good _voyageur_.
Indeed, two better men could not have been selected by Uncle Dick for
the work now in hand. As they stood now in their shirt-sleeves, each
wiping off his forehead with his red kerchief, they looked so strong
and tall that the boys suddenly felt all uneasiness pass away from
their minds. The twilight came on unnoticed, and in the light of the
fire, freshly piled up with wood, the camp scene became bright and
pleasant. It was impossible to feel any alarm when they were here
under the protection of these two men, both of them warriors, who had
seen encounters of armed men, not to mention hundreds of meetings with
wild beasts.
"Well," said Rob to Moise, "you must be tired with all that load."
"_Non! Non!_" said Moise; "not tired. She'll been leetle boat, not
over hondred-feefty poun'. I'll make supper now, me."
"It was best to bring both the boats in to-night," said Alex, quietly,
"and easier to start from here than to push in to the lake. We load
here in the morning, and I think there'll be plain sailing from here.
It's just as well to make a stream carry us and our boats whenever we
can. It's only a little way to the lake."
"I thought you were never coming, Alex," said Jesse, frankly, looking
up from where he sat on his blanket roll, his chin in his hands.
The tall half-breed answered by gently putting a hand on the boy's
head, and making a better seat for him closer to the fire. Here he was
close enough to watch Moise, now busy about his pots and pans.
"Those mosquito he'll bite you some?" laughed Moise, as he saw the
boys still slapping at their hands. "Well, bimeby he'll not bite so
much. She'll be col' here un the _montaigne_, bimeby."
"I'm lumpy all over with them," said John.
"It's lucky you come from a country where you're more or less used to
them," said Alex. "I've seen men driven wild by mosquitoes. But going
down the river we'll camp on the beaches or bars, where the wind will
strike us. In two or three weeks we'll be far enough along toward
fall, so that I don't think the mosquitoes will trouble us too much.
You see, it's the first of August now."
"We can fix our tent to keep them out," said Rob, "and we have bars
and gloves, of course. But we don't want to be too much like
tenderfeet."
"That's the idea," said Alex quietly. "You'll not be tenderfeet when
you finish this trip."
"Her Onkle Deek, she'll tol' me something about those boy," said
Moise, from the fireside. "She'll say she's good boy, all same like
man."
Jesse looked at Moise gravely, but did not smile at his queer way of
speech, for by this time they had become better acquainted with both
their guides.
"What I'll tol' you?" said Moise again a little later. "Here comes
cool breeze from the hill. Now those mosquito he'll hunt his home yas,
heem! All right! We'll eat supper 'fore long."
Moise had put a pot of meat stew over the fire before he started back
up the trail to bring in the canoe, when they first had come in with
the packs. This he now finished cooking over the renewed fire, and by
and by the odors arose so pleasantly that each boy sat waiting, his
knife and fork on the tin plate in his lap. Alex, looking on, smiled
quietly, but said nothing.
"Moise doesn't build a fire just the way I've been taught," said Rob,
after a while.
"No," added John. "I was thinking of that, too."
"He's Injun, same as me," said Alex, smiling. "No white man can build
a fire for an Injun. S'pose you ask me to put your hat on for you so
you wouldn't need to touch it. I couldn't do that. You'd have to fix
it a little yourself. Same way with Injun and his fire."
"That's funny," said Rob. "Why is that?"
"I don't know," smiled Alex.
"He just throws the sticks together in a long heap and pushes the ends
in when they burn through," said Jesse. "He didn't cut any wood at
all."
Moise grinned at this, but ventured no more reply.
"You see," said Alex, "if you live all the time in the open you learn
to do as little work as possible, because there is always so much to
do that your life depends on that you don't want to waste any
strength."
"It doesn't take a white man long to get into that habit," said Rob.
"Yes. Besides, there is another reason. An Injun has to make his
living with his rifle. Chopping with an ax is a sound that frightens
game more than any other. The bear and deer will just get up and leave
when they hear you chopping. So when we come into camp we build our
fire as small as possible, and without cutting any more wood than we
are obliged to. You see, we'll be gone the next morning, perhaps, so
we slip through as light as possible. A white man leaves a trail like
a wagon-road, but you'd hardly know an Injun had been there. You soon
get the habit when you have to live that way."
"Grub pile!" sang out Moise now, laughing as he moved the pans and the
steaming tea-kettle by the side of the fire. And very soon the boys
were falling to with good will in their first meal in camp.
"Moise, she'll ben good cook--many tams mans'll tol' me that," grinned
Moise, pleasantly, drawing a little apart from the fire with his own
tin pan on his knee.
"We'll give you a recommendation," said John. "This stew is fine. I
was awfully hungry."
It was not long after they had finished their supper before all began
to feel sleepy, for they had walked or worked more or less ever since
morning.
Alex arose and took from his belt the great Hudson Bay knife, or
buffalo knife, which he wore at his back, thrust through his belt.
With this he hacked off a few boughs from the nearest pine-tree and
threw them down in the first sheltered spot. Over this he threw a
narrow strip of much-worn bear hide and a single fold of heavy
blanket, this being all the bed which he seemed to have.
"Is that all you ever had?" asked Rob. "I don't think you'll sleep
well, Alex. Let me give you some of my bed."
"Thank you, no," said Alex, sitting down and lighting his pipe. "We
make our beds small when we have to carry them in the woods. We sleep
well. We get used to it, you see."
"Injun man she'll been like dog," grinned Moise, throwing down his own
single blanket under a tree. "A dog she'll sleep plenty, all right,
an' she'll got no bed at all, what?"
"But won't you come under the edge of the tent?" asked Rob.
"No, you're to have the tent," said Alex. "I'm under orders from your
Uncle, who employed me. But you're to make your own beds, and take
care of them in making and breaking camp. That's understood."
"I'll do that for those boy," offered Moise.
"No," said Alex, quietly, "my orders are they're to do that for
themselves. That's what their Uncle said. They must learn how to do
all these things."
"Maybe we know now, a little bit," ventured John, smiling.
"I don't doubt it," said Alex. "But now, just from a look at your bed,
you've taken a great deal of time making your camp to-night. You've
got a good many boughs. They took noise and took time to gather. We'll
see how simple a camp we can make after we get out on the trail. My
word! We'll have trouble enough to get anything to sleep on when we
get in the lower Peace, where there's only willows."
"What do you do if it rains?" queried Jesse. "You haven't got any tent
over you, and it leaks through the trees."
"It won't rain so much when we get east," said Alex. "When it does,
Moise and I'll get up and smoke. But it won't rain to-night, that's
certain," he added, knocking his pipe on the heel of his moccasin.
"Throw the door of your tent open, because you'll not need to protect
yourselves against the mosquitoes to-night. It's getting cold. Good
night, young gentlemen."
In a few moments the camp was silent, except something which sounded a
little like a snore from the point where Moise had last been seen.
John nudged his neighbors in the beds on the tent floor, and spoke in
low tones, so that he might not disturb the others outside. "Are you
asleep yet, Rob?"
"Almost," said Rob, whispering.
"So'm I. I think Jesse is already. But say, isn't it comfy? And I like
both those men."
III
STUDYING OUT THE TRAIL
It must have been some time about five o'clock in the morning, or even
earlier, when Rob, awakened by the increasing light in the tent,
stirred in his blanket and rolled over. He found himself looking into
the eyes of John, who also was lying awake. They whispered for a
minute or two, not wishing to waken Jesse, who still was asleep, his
face puckered up into a frown as though he were uneasy about
something. They tried to steal out the other tent, but their first
movement awakened Jesse, who sat up rubbing his eyes.
"What's the matter?" said he; "where are we?" He smiled sheepishly as
the other boys laughed at him.
"A good way from home, you'll find," answered John.
The smell of fresh smoke came to their nostrils from the fire, which
had been built for some time. So quiet had the men been about their
work that they had left the boys undisturbed for the best part of an
hour. They themselves had been accustomed to taking the trail even
earlier in the day than this.
"Good morning, young gentlemen," said Alex, quietly. "I hope you slept
well."
"Well," said Jesse, grinning, "I guess I did, for one."
"You'll been hongree?" smiled Moise at the fireside.
"Awfully!" said John. "I could eat a piece of raw bear meat."
"So?" grinned Moise. "Maybe you'll seen heem before we get through,
_hein_? She'll not been very good for eat raw."
"Nor any other way, according to my taste," said Alex, "but we'll see
how we like it cooked, perhaps."
"Do you really think we'll see any bear on this trip?" asked Rob.
"Plenty," said Alex, quietly.
"Grizzlies?"
"Very likely, when we get a little farther into the mountains. We
ought to pick up two or three on this trip--if they don't pick us up."
"I'm not worrying about that," said Rob. "We're old bear hunters."
Both the men looked at him and laughed.
"Indeed, we are," insisted Rob. "We killed a bear, and an awfully big
one, all by ourselves up on Kadiak Island. She was bigger than that
tent there; and had two little ones besides. Each of them was big as a
man, almost. They get awfully big up there in Alaska. I'll bet you
haven't a one in all these mountains as big as one of those fellows up
in our country."
"Maybe not," said Alex, still smiling, "but they get pretty near as
big as a horse in here, and I want to tell you that one of our old,
white-faced grizzlies will give you a hot time enough if you run
across him--he'll come to you without any coaxing."
"This is fine!" said Rob. "I begin to think we're going to have a good
trip this time."
"Grub pile!" sang out Moise about this time. A moment later they were
all sitting on the ground at the side of the breakfast fire, eating of
the fried bacon, bannock, and tea which Moise had prepared.
"To-day, Moise, she'll get feesh," said Moise, after a time. "Also
maybe the duck. I'll heard some wild goose seenging this morning down
on the lake below there. She's not far, I'll think."
"Just a little ways," said Alex, nodding. "If we'd gone in a little
farther to the west we might have hit the lake there, but I thought it
was easier to let the water of this little creek carry our boats in."
"Listen!" said John. "Isn't that a little bird singing?"
A peal of sweet music came to them as they sat, from a small warbler
on a near-by tree.
"Those bird, he's all same Injun," remarked Moise. "He seeng for the
sun."
The sun now indeed was coming up in the view from the mountain ranges
on the east, though the air still was cool and the grass all about
them still wet with the morning dew.
"Soon she'll get warm," said Moise. "Those mosquito, she'll begin to
seeng now, too."
"Yes," said Rob, "there were plenty of them in the tent this morning
before we got up. We'll have to get out the fly dope pretty soon, if
I'm any judge."
"But now," he added, "suppose we read a little bit in our book before
we break camp and pack up."
"You're still reading Sir Alexander and his voyages?" smiled Alex.
"Yes, indeed, I don't suppose we'd be here if we hadn't read that old
book. It's going to be our guide all the way through. I want to see
just how close we can come to following the trail Mackenzie made when
he crossed this very country, a hundred and eighteen years ago this
very month."
"Some say they can't see how Sir Alexander made so many mistakes,"
said Alex, smiling. He himself was a man of considerable intelligence
and education, as the boys already had learned.
"I know," said Rob, nodding. "For instance, Simon Fraser--"
"Yes, I know those Simon Fraser--he's beeg man in the Companee," broke
in Moise, who very likely did not know what he was talking about.
Alex smiled. "There have always been Mackenzies and Frasers in the fur
trade. This was a long time ago."
"How'll those boy know heem, then?" said Moise. "I don't know. Some
boy she'll read more nowadays than when I'm leetle. Better they know
how to cook and for to keel the grizzly, _hein_?"
"Both," said Alex. "But now we'll read a little, if you please, Moise.
Let's see where we are as nearly as we can tell, according to the old
Mackenzie journal."
"I'll know where we ought for be," grumbled Moise, who did not fancy
this starting-place which had been selected. "We'll ought to been
north many miles on the portage, where there's wagon trail to Lake
McLeod."
"Now, Moise," said Rob, "what fun would that be? Of course we could
put our boats and outfit on a wagon or cart, and go across to Lake
McLeod, without any trouble at all. Everybody goes that way, and has
done so for years. But that isn't the old canoe trail of Mackenzie and
Fraser."
"Everybody goes on the Giscombe Portage now," said Moise.
"Well, all the fur-traders used to come in here, at least before they
had studied out this country very closely. You see, they didn't have
any maps--they were the ones who made the first maps. Mackenzie was
the first over, and he did it all by himself, without any kind of map
to help him."
"Yes, and when he got over this far he was in an awful fix," said
John. "I remember where it says his men were going to leave him and go
back down the Peace River to the east. He wasn't sure his guide was
going to stick to him until he got over to the Fraser, west of here."
"Yes," said Rob, "and there wasn't any Fraser River known by that name
at that time. They all thought it was the Columbia River, which it
wasn't by a long way. But Sir Alexander stuck it out, don't you see.
He was a great man, or he couldn't have done it. I take off my hat to
him, that's what I do."
And in his enthusiasm, Rob did take off his hat, and his young
companions joined him, their eyes lighting with enthusiasm for the man
the simple story of whose deeds had stirred their young blood.
Alex looked on approvingly. "He was of my family," said he. "Perhaps
my great-grandfather--I don't know. He was a good man in the woods.
You see, he went far to the north before he came here--he followed the
Mackenzie River to its mouth in the Arctic Sea. Then he thought there
must be a way across to the Pacific. Some one told him about the Peace
River. That's how he came to make the first trip over the mountains
here. By rights the Fraser River ought to have been named after him,
too, because he was the first to see it."
"But he wasn't the first to run it on out," said John, who also had a
good idea of the geography hereabouts, which he had carefully studied
in advance. "It was Simon Fraser did that first."
"Yes, they'll both been good man, heem," said Moise, his mouth full of
bacon. "My wife, she'll had an onkle once name Fraser an' he'll been
seex feet high an' strong like a hox--those Fraser, yes, heem."
"They must have been strong men," said Alex, "and brave men as well."
"Their worst time was getting west of here, wasn't it?" asked John.
"Yes," answered Rob. "The book says that when they tried to get down
the Fraser they had a terrible time. Sometimes they had to carry their
canoe through swamps and over hills. No wonder the men mutinied. Why,
they lost all their bullets, and got everything they had wet. The men
almost lost heart."
Moise nodded. "I'll onderstan' that," said he. "Sometime man get
tired."
"But you see now, Moise, why we wanted to come down here and go over
this same ground and not to take the easy portage trail into Lake
McLeod."
"All same to me," smiled Moise. "I'll don' care."
"Of course, if we wanted to go through the easiest way," assented Rob,
"it would be simpler to go up through McLeod Lake. But you see, that's
something of a way above here. Finlay found that lake after Mackenzie
came across, and they had a fort up there when Fraser came through
eighteen years later. The Indians used to come to that fort and tell
about the salt water somewhere far to the west. They had brass and
iron which they had got of white men somewhere on the Pacific--that
was more than a hundred years ago. Fraser wanted to get across to the
Pacific, but he followed the old Mackenzie trail across here. He
started at the Rocky Mountain portage and went up into McLeod Lake,
and stopped there for a while. But he didn't start west and northwest,
by way of Stuart Lake. Instead of that, he followed Mackenzie's
journal, just as we're doing. He came into the little creek which
leads into these lakes--where we'll go down pretty soon. He came right
across this lake, not a mile from where we're sitting. Then he met
Indians in here, who told him--just as Moise has told us--that the
best and easiest way to get across would have been by way of McLeod
Lake--the very place he had come from."
"Well," said Jesse, "I agree with Moise. It would be easier to go
where we could have wagons or carts or something to take the boats
over. Everything looks mighty wild in here."
"Certainly, Jess," said John, "that's why we're here. I expect that
portage trail up there is just like a road."
"Fur-traders made it first," smiled Alex, "and then the miners used
it. That was the way white men came into the country east of the
Rockies, in the far North."
"How long ago was that?" asked John.
"There were a great many miners all along the Fraser as early as 1857.
Ten years later than that, they came up the big bend of the Columbia.
Many men were killed on the rapids in those days. But they kept on
pushing in, and in that way they learned all these old trails. I
expect some Fraser uncle or other of Moise's has been across here many
a time."
"Seex feet high, an' strong like a hox," smiled Moise, nodding his
head. "Heem good man, my onkle, yes, heem."
"Well," said Rob, as he bent over the book once more. "Here's Sir
Alexander's story, and here's a map I made myself. That way, to the
west, is the little lake where the Bad River runs out to another river
that runs into the Fraser. This lake drains into that little lake.
There's another lake east of here, according to the story; and when we
get there we'll strike a deep, clear creek which will take us pretty
soon into the Parsnip River. From there it's all downhill."
"Yes," said Alex, smiling, "considerably downhill."
"It's said there was a current westward in this middle lake," began
John.
"Certainly," Rob answered, "we are really now on Pacific waters."
"How far is it across to the other lake?" asked Jesse.
"The portage is just eight hundred and seventeen paces," replied John,
promptly. "I remember that's what Mackenzie wrote down."
"Fraser in his journal calls it 'between eight and nine hundred
paces,'" said Rob. "Anyhow, that portage goes over the top of the
Rocky Mountain range at this place--that's the top of the divide.
Nearly all these natural passes in the mountains run up on each side
to a sort of flat place. Anyhow, when we get over that portage we're
on Peace River waters. In yonder direction the waters run into the
Pacific. To the east they go into the Arctic. I'm ready to start now,
and anxious to get over the height of land."
"She'll be downheel then," laughed Moise. "All same roof on the house,
maybe so."
"You're not scared, are you, Moise?" asked Rob, smiling.
"Moise, she'll sweem all same feesh," was the answer of the
_voyageur_.
"We're not going to do any swimming," said Alex, quietly, "and not
even any more wading than we have to. You see, our party is small, and
we're going over a trail that has already been explored. We travel
light, and have good boats. I think we ought to have rather an easy
time of it, after all."
"One thing," broke in John, "that always makes me think less of these
early explorers, is that they weren't really exploring, after all."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Jesse. "You just said that Mackenzie
and Fraser were the first to come across here."
John shook his head vigorously. "No, they weren't the first--as near
as I can find out, the white men always had some one to tell them
where to go. When Mackenzie was going north there was always some
tribe or other to tell him where he was and what there was ahead. It
was some Indian that told him about coming over this way to the
west--it was Indians that guided him all the way across, for that
matter, clear from here to the Pacific."
"That's right," said Rob. "If some Indian hadn't told him about it, he
probably never would have heard about the creek which leads into these
lakes where we are now. He had a guide when he came here, and he had a
guide west of the Fraser, too--they never would have got through
without Indians to help them."
"That's true," said Alex, not without a certain pride in the red race
which had given him half his own blood. "The whites haven't always
used the Indians well, but without native help they could never have
taken this northern country. The Beaver Indians used to hunt all
through these mountains. It was those men who told Mackenzie how to
get over here. He was told, weeks before he got here, that there was a
carrying-place across the great hills to the western waters. As you
say, young gentlemen, he had guides all the way across. So, after all,
as we have only him and Fraser for guides, we'll take a little credit
to ourselves, just as he did!"
"Yes," said Moise. "My people, she'll own this whole contree. They'll
show the Companee how to take hold, all right. But that's all right;
I'm glad, me."
"It looks a little tame," grumbled John, "coming through here where
those old fur-traders knew every foot of the country."
"Well, we'll see," said Alex, rising, filling his pipe and tightening
his belt to begin the day's work. "It may not look so tame before we
get through! But first," he added, "we'll have to see if we can get
the boats to the open water of the lake. Come, it's time to break camp
now for the first day's journey."
IV
THE GREAT DIVIDE
To boys as familiar with camp work as were Rob, John, and Jesse, the
work of breaking camp in the morning was simple. In a few moments they
had their tent down and rolled up ready to put in the canoe. Their
beds also were rolled, each in its own canvas, and lashed with a rope.
Their rifles, which, kept dry in their cases, had been placed under
the edge of their blankets as they slept, were now leaned against the
bed-rolls. Their knapsacks, in which each boy had his personal
belongings, such as brushes, combs, underwear and spare socks, were
very quickly made ready, and placed in order each with its owner's
bed-roll. In a very few minutes they stood up and showed Alex that
they were ready.
Meantime, Moise had put his pots and pans into the sack which served
him as a cook's box. His flour and bacon he quickly got ready in their
packages, and even before the boys were done with their work he was
carrying these parcels down to the first canoe, which was to serve as
the cook's boat. The beds of Moise and Alex, simple as they were,
required only a roll or two to be ready for the boats.
"We'll fix a system," said Alex, "so that we'll load each boat just
the same every day. There's nothing like being regular when you're on
the trail."
"I'll bet, Alex, she'll not be a harder boss than ol' Pete Fraser, my
wife, he's onkle," declared Moise. "He'll make those men get up by
two, three, in the morning an' track two, three hour before she'll eat
breakfast, heem."
"Well, you see, we had to do a little reading this morning," remarked
John.
"Surely, and to very good purpose," answered Alex. "You ought to keep
track of the old journal day by day."
"Exactly," said Rob, "and I'm going to keep a journal of my own each
day. We haven't got any sextant to take observations, but I've got all
the maps, and I've got a compass--maybe we'll get out a Voyage of
Discoveries of our own some day!"
"Now, Moise," said Alex, "you're to go ahead with the cook-boat. You'd
better take Mr. Rob for your bow paddler. I'll let Mr. John take the
bow in my boat, and our youngest friend here will go amidships,
sitting flat on the bottom of the canoe, with his back against his
bed-roll. The blankets and tent will make the seats. Of course, Moise,
you're not to go too far ahead. It's always a good plan to keep in
sight of the wangan-box and the cook's chest, when you're in the
woods."
"All right," replied Moise, "I'll go slow with those boy all the time,
yes."
"Well, we're not any of us scared yet," said John, stoutly, "and we
won't be."
"I hope we'll get some white water to run," added Rob, his eyes
shining. Jesse was the only one who seemed to be not wholly happy. The
silence of the great hills about him, situated as they now were far
from all human habitation, made him feel rather lonesome. He kept up a
stout heart, however, and soon forgot his troubles when the actual
bustle of the departure was begun.
"You'd better take the axes, Mr. Rob, and go ahead and cut out the way
a little bit on this little creek," said Alex. "I'm afraid the boats
won't quite clear."
"Aye, aye, sir," said Rob, and soon he and the other boys were making
their way in among the tangled thicket, sometimes in and sometimes out
of the water, chopping away the branches so that the little boats
could get through.
"Will they float, do you think, Mr. Rob?" called Alex.
"Like a bird!" answered Rob, as the first canoe, which was named the
_Mary Ann_, soon took the water.
"Here comes the _Jaybird_!" cried Jesse, as they pushed the other
canoe over the last foot or so of grass which lay between it and the
water.
"Those boat she'll be all same like ducks," exclaimed Moise,
admiringly. "I'll bet not even my onkle Pete Fraser he'll have better
boat like those."
"Sir Alexander's boat was twenty-five or thirty feet long, all made
out of birch-bark," said Rob. "Ours aren't much over sixteen feet."
"They had eight or ten men in their boats," began John, "and the most
we'll have in either of ours will be three--that is, if you count Jess
as a full-sized man!"
"Yes," said Alex, "and they had a number of packs, each weighing
ninety pounds. Now, all our packs won't weigh a great deal more than
that for each boat, counting in what we're going to eat. We'll have to
get something in the way of meat as we go on through. Fine boats
these, and much better than birch-bark. Perhaps you may remember that
Sir Alexander was having trouble to find good bark to mend his boats
before he got in here. We'll not need to trouble about that."
"No," said Rob, "we've got plenty of canvas, and rubber cement, and
shellac, and tacks, and cord, and wire. We'll make it through, even if
we do have some little breaks."
"I don't think we'll have any," replied Alex in a reassuring way.
"Moise, don't you think your load settles your canoe just a little
deeper than she ought to go?"
"_Non! Non!_" said Moise, in reply, casting a judicial look at the low
freeboard of the _Mary Ann_. "She'll go, those boat."
"She'll be getting lighter all the time," ventured Jesse. "John gets
awfully hungry, and he'll eat a lot!"
They all laughed heartily at this reference to John's well-known
appetite. All were in good spirits when the real progress down the
tangled creek began.
"_En roulant, ma boule, roulant!_" began Moise, as he shoved out his
boat--the words of the old Canadian _voyageurs'_ boat song, known for
generations on all the waterways of the North.
"Better wait until we get into the lake," smiled Alex. "I don't think
we can 'roll the ball,' as you call it, very much in among these
bushes."
They moved on down now, pushing and pulling their boat when they could
not paddle or pole it. Sometimes they had to force their way through
an _embarras_, as the _voyageurs_ call a pile of driftwood. The boys,
however, only enjoyed this sort of work. They were wet, but happy,
when, after some time passed in this slow progress, at last they saw
the open waters of the lake fully before them.
"_En voyage, messieurs_," cried Moise. "We begin!"
V
CROSSING THE HEIGHT OF LAND
Before our young trail-makers now lay the expanse of one of those
little mountain lakes which sometimes are forgotten by the map-makers.
The ground immediately about the edge of the lake was low, flat, and
overgrown. Only a gentle ripple crossed the surface of the lake, for
almost no air at all was stirring. Out of a near-by cove a flock of
young wild geese, scarcely able to fly, started off, honking in
excitement; and here and there a wild duck broke the surface into a
series of ripples; or again a fish sprang into the air, as it went
about its own breakfast operations for the day. It was an inspiring
scene for all, and for the time the Young Alaskans paused, taking in
its beauty.
"_Il fait beau, ce matin_," said Moise, in the French which made half
or more of his speech. "She'll been fine morning this day, what?"
"Couldn't be better," assented Alex, who stood knee-deep at the edge
of the lake, and who now calmly removed his moccasins and spread them
on the thwart of the boat before he stepped lightly in to take his
place at the stern of the _Jaybird_. The boys noticed that when he
stepped aboard he hardly caused the boat to dip to one side or the
other. This he managed by placing his paddle on the farther side of
the boat from him and putting part of his weight on it, as it rested
on the bottom at the other side of the boat. All the boys, observing
the methods of this skilled canoeman, sought to imitate his example.
Presently they were all aboard, Rob in the bow of the _Mary Ann_, John
taking that place for the _Jaybird_, with Jesse cuddled up amidships.
"Well," said Alex, "here's where we start. For me, I don't care
whether we go to the Pacific or the Arctic!"
"Nor me no more," added Moise. "Only I'll rather go downheel as
upheel, me--always I'll rather ron the rapeed than track the boat up
the rapeed on the bank. Well, _en roulant_, eh, M'sieu Alex?"
"_Roulant!_" answered Alex, briefly. Moise, setting his paddle into
the water with a great sweep, began once more the old canoe song.
"Le fils du roi s'en va chassant
_En roulant, ma boule!_
Avec son grand fusil d'argent
_En roulant, ma boule!_"
So they fared on merrily, the strong arms of the two skilled boatmen
pushing the light canoes rapidly through the rippling water. Moise, a
strong and skilful paddler, was more disposed to sudden bursts of
energy than was the soberer and quieter Alex, who, none the less, came
along not far in the rear with slow and easy strokes which seemed to
require little exertion on his part, although they drove the boat
straight and true as an arrow. The boys at the bow paddles felt the
light craft spring under them, but each did his best to work his own
passage, and this much to the approval of the older men, who gave them
instructions in the art of paddling.
"You'll see, M'sieu Rob," said Moise, "these paddle she'll be all same
like fin of those feesh. You'll pull square with heem till she'll get
behind you, then she'll turn on her edge just a little bit--so. That
way, you paddle all time on one side. The paddle when she'll come out
of water, she'll keep the boat running straight."
The distance from their point of embarkation to the eastern edge of
the little lake could not have been more than a couple of miles, for
the entire distance from the western to the eastern edge was not over
three miles. In what seemed no more than a few moments the boats
pulled up at the western end of what was to be their first portage.
"Now," said Moise, "we'll show those boy how a Companee man make the
portage." He busied himself arranging his packs, first calling for the
tent, on which he placed one package after another. Then he turned in
the ends of the canvas and folded over the sides, rolling all up into
a big bundle of very mixed contents which, none the less, he fastened
by means of the strap which now served him as support for it all.
"I know how you did that," said Rob--"I watched you put the strap down
inside of the roll."
"Yes," said Moise, smiling, "she'll been what Injun call tump-strap.
White man he'll carry on hees shoulder, but Injun an' _voyageur_,
she'll put the tump-band on her head, what? That's best way for much
load."
Moise now proceeded to prove the virtue of his remarks. He was a very
powerful man, and he now swung up the great pack to his shoulders,
although it must have weighed much over a hundred and fifty pounds and
included almost the full cargo of the foremost boat.
"Throw something on top of her," said Moise. "She'll been too light!
I'm afraid I'll ron off, me."
"Well, look at that man," said Jesse, admiringly. "I didn't know any
man was so strong."
"Those Companee man, she'll have to be strong like hox!" said Moise,
laughing. "You'll ought to seen heem. Me, I'm not ver' strong. Two,
three hondred pounds, she'll make me tire."
"Well, trot on over, Moise," said Alex, "and I'll bring the boat.
Young gentlemen, each of you will take what he can conveniently carry.
Don't strain yourselves, but each of you do his part. That's the way
we act on the trail."
The boys now shouldered their small knapsacks and, each carrying his
rifle and rod, started after the two stalwart men who now went on
rapidly across the portage.
Moise did not set down his pack at all, but trotted steadily across,
and Alex followed, although he turned at the summit and motioned to
Rob to pause.
"You'd hardly know it," said Rob, turning to John and Jesse, who now
put down their packs, "but here we are at the top of this portage
trail and the top of the Peace River pass. Here was where old Sir
Alexander really turned toward the west, just as we now are turning
toward the east. It's fine, isn't it?"
"I'm glad I came," remarked John.
"And so am I," added Jesse; "I believe we're going to have a good
time. I like those two men awfully well--they're just as kind, and my!
how strong!"
Presently they all met again at the eastern edge of the dim trail. "I
stepped it myself," said John, proudly. "Both Sir Alexander and old
Simon Fraser were wrong--she's just six hundred and ninety-three
paces!"
"Maybe they had longer legs than you," smiled Alex. "At any rate,
there's no doubt about the trail itself. We're precisely where they
were."
"What made them call that river the Parsnip River?" demanded Jesse of
Alex, to whom he went for all sorts of information.
"I'll show you," said Alex, quietly, reaching down and breaking off
the top of a green herb which grew near by. "It was because of the
wild parsnips--this is one. You'll find where Sir Alexander mentions
seeing a great many of these plants. They used the tops in their
pemmican. You see, the north men have to eat so much meat that they're
glad to get anything green to go with it once in a while."
"What's pemmican?" asked Jesse, curiously.
"We used to make it out of buffalo meat, or moose or caribou," said
Alex. "The buffalo are all gone now, and, in fact, we don't get much
pemmican any more. It's made by drying meat and pounding it up fine
with a stone, then putting it in a hide sack and pouring grease in on
top of it. That used to be the trail food of the _voyageurs_, because
a little of it would go a good way. Do you think you could make any of
it for the boys, Moise?"
"I don' know," grinned Moise. "Those squaw, she'll make pemmican--not
the honter. Besides, we'll not got meat. Maybe so if we'll get moose
deer we could make some, if we stop long tam in camp. But always squaw
make pemmican--not man."
"Well, we'll have to give some kind of imitation of the old ways once
in a while," commented Alex, "for though they are changed and gone,
our young friends here want to know how the fur-traders used to
travel."
"One thing," said John, feeling at his ankle. "I'll be awfully glad
when we get out of the devil's club country."
"Do you have those up in Alaska?" asked Alex.
"Have them?--I should say we have! They're the meanest thing you can
run across out of doors. If you step on one of those long, snaky
branches, it'll turn around and hit you, no matter where you are, and
whenever it hits those little thorns stick in and stay."
"I know," nodded Alex. "I struck plenty of them on the trail up north
from the railroad. They went right through my moccasins. We'll not be
troubled by these, however, when we get east of the divide--that's a
plant which belongs in the wet country of the western slope."
All this time Moise was busy rearranging the cargoes in the first
boat, leaving on the shore, however, such parcels as did not belong in
the _Mary Ann_. Having finished this to his liking, he turned before
they made the second trip on the _Jaybird_ and her cargo.
"Don't we catch any of those feesh?" he asked Alex, nodding back at
the lake.
"Fish?" asked John. "I didn't see any fish."
"Plenty trout," said Moise. "I s'pose we'll better catch some while we
can."
"Yes," said Alex, "I think that might be a good idea. Now, if we had a
net such as Sir Alexander and old Simon Fraser always took along,
we'd have no trouble. Moise saw what I also saw, and which you young
gentlemen did not notice--a long bar of gravel where the trout were
feeding."
"We'll not need any net," said Rob. "Here are our fly-rods and our
reels. If there are any trout rising, we can soon catch plenty of
them."
"Very well. We'd better take the rods back, then, when we go for the
second boat."
When they got to the shore of the middle lake, the boys saw that the
keener eyes of the old _voyageurs_ had noted what they had missed--a
series of ripples made by feeding fish not far from the point where
they had landed.
"Look at that!" cried Jesse. "I see them now, myself."
"Better you'll take piece pork for those feesh," said Moise.
"I don't think we'll need it," replied Rob. "We've plenty of flies,
and these trout won't be very wild up here, for no one fishes for
them. Anyhow, we'll try it--you'll push us out, won't you, Moise?"
Carefully taking their places now in the _Jaybird_, whose cargo was
placed temporarily on the bank, the three boys and Moise now pushed
out. As Rob had predicted, the fish were feeding freely, and there was
no difficulty in catching three or four dozen of them, some of very
good weight. The bottom of the canoe was pretty well covered with fish
when at length, after an hour or so of this sport, Moise thought it
was time to return to shore, where Alex, quietly smoking all the time,
had sat awaiting them.
"Now we'll have plenty for eat quite a while," said Moise.
"That's all right," said John. "I'm getting mighty hungry. How long is
it going to be before we have something to eat?"
"Why, John," said Rob, laughingly, "the morning isn't half gone yet,
and we've just had breakfast."
VI
FOLLOWING MACKENZIE
"Well," said Alex, "now we've got all these fish, we'll have to take
care of them. Come ahead and let's clean them, Moise."
The boys all fell to and assisted the men at this work, Moise showing
them how to prepare the fish.
"How are we going to keep them?" asked John, who always seemed to be
afraid there would not be enough to eat.
"Well," explained Alex, "we'll put them in between some green willow
boughs and keep them that way till night. Then I suppose we'll have to
smoke them a little--hang them up by the tail the way the Injuns do.
That's the way we do whitefish in the north. If it weren't for the
fish which we catch in these northern waters, we'd all starve to death
in the winter, and so would our dogs, all through the fur country."
"By the time we're done this trip," ventured Rob, "we'll begin to be
_voyageurs_ ourselves, and will know how to make our living in the
country."
"That's the talk!" said Alex, admiringly. "The main thing is to learn
to do things right. Each country has its own ways, and usually they
are the most useful ways. An Injun never wants to do work that he
doesn't have to do. So, you'll pretty much always see that the Injun
ways of keeping camp aren't bad to follow as an example, after all.
"But now," said he at length, after they had finished cleaning and
washing off their trout, "we'll have to get on across to the other
lake."
As before, Moise now took the heavier pack on his own broad shoulders,
and Alex once more picked up the canoe.
"She's a little lighter than the other boat, I believe," said he, "but
they're both good boats, as sure's you're born--you can't beat a
Peterborough model in the woods!"
The other boys noticed now that when he carried his canoe, he did so
by placing a paddle on each side, threaded under and above the thwarts
so as to form a support on each side, which rested on his shoulders.
His head would have been covered entirely by the boat as he stood,
were it not that he let it drop backward a little, so that he could
see the trail ahead of him. Rob pointed out to Jesse all these
different things, with which their training in connection with the big
Alaskan sea-going dugouts had not made them familiar.
"Have we got everything now, fellows?" asked Rob, making a last search
before they left the scene of their disembarkation.
"All set!" said John. "Here we go!"
It required now but a few moments to make the second traverse of the
portage, and soon the boats again were loaded. They found this most
easterly of the three lakes on the summit to be of about the same size
as the one which they had just left. It was rather longer than it was
wide, and they could see at its eastern side the depression where the
outlet made off toward the east. Again taking their places at the
paddles in the order established at the start of the day, they rapidly
pushed on across. They found now that this lake discharged through a
little creek which rapidly became deep and clear.
"It's going to be just the way," said Rob, "that Sir Alexander tells.
I say, fellows, we could take that boat and come through here in the
dark, no matter what Simon Fraser said about Sir Alexander."
They found the course down this little waterway not troublesome, and
fared on down the winding stream until at length they heard the sound
of running water just beyond.
"That's the Parsnip now, no doubt," said Alex, quietly, to his young
charges. Already Moise had pushed the _Mary Ann_ over the last
remaining portion of the stream, and she was floating fair and free on
the current of the second stream, not much larger than the one from
which they now emerged.
"_Voila!_" Moise exclaimed. "She'll been the Peace River--or what
those _voyageur_ call the Parsneep. Now, I'll think we make fast ride,
yes."
Jesse, leaning back against his bed-roll, looked a little serious.
"Boys," said he, "I don't like the looks of this. This water sounds
dangerous to me, and you can't tell me but what these mountains are
pretty steep."
"Pshaw! It's just a little creek," scoffed John.
"That's all right, but a little creek gets to be a big river mighty
fast up in this country--we've seen them up in Alaska many a time.
Look at the snow-fields back in those mountains!"
"Don't be alarmed, Mr. Jess," said Alex; "most of the snow has gone
down in the June rise. The water is about as low now as it is at any
time of the year. Now, if we were here on high water, as Simon Fraser
was, and going the other way, we might have our own troubles--I expect
he found all this country under water where we are now, and the
current must have been something pretty stiff to climb against."
"In any case," Rob added, "we're just in the same shape that Sir
Alexander and old Simon were when they were here. We wouldn't care to
turn back, and we've got to go through. If they did it, so can we. I
don't believe this stream's as bad, anyhow, as the Fraser or the
Columbia, because the traders must have used it for a regular route
long ago."
"I was reading," said John, "in Simon Fraser's travels, about how they
did in the rapids of the Fraser River. Why, it was a wonder they ever
got through at all. But they didn't seem to make much fuss about it.
Those men didn't know where they were going, either--they just got in
their boat and turned loose, not knowing what there was on ahead!
That's what I call nerve. Pshaw! Jess, we're only tenderfeet compared
to those chaps!"
"That's the talk!" commented Alex, once more lighting his pipe and
smiling. "We'll go through like a bird, I'm pretty sure."
"Yes," said Moise, "we'll show those boy how the _voyageur_ ron the
rapeed."
"One thing I want to say to you young gentlemen," resumed Alex, "not
to alarm you, but to teach you how to travel. If by any accident the
boat should upset, hang to the boat and don't try to swim. The current
will be very apt to sweep you on through to some place where you can
get a footing. But all these mountain waters are very strong and very
cold. Whatever you do, hang to the boat!"
"Yes!" said Rob, "'don't give up the ship,' as Lawrence said. Sir
Alexander tells how he got wrecked on the Bad River with his whole
crew. But they hung to the canoe and got her out at the foot of the
rapids, after all, and not one of them was hurt."
"He didn't lose a man on the whole trip, for that matter," John added.
"Well, now, let's see about the rapids," said Rob again, spreading out
his map and opening one of his books which he always kept close at
hand. "Simon Fraser tells as day by day what he did when he was going
west. They got into that lake we've just left, about noon. They must
have poked up the creek some time, and very early that same morning.
That was June thirtieth, and on the same day they passed another river
coming in from the west side--which must be between here and the
outlet from McLeod Lake."
"What does the map say about the other side of the stream?" asked
John, peering over Rob's shoulder.
"Well, on the twenty-eighth, as they were coming up they passed two
rivers coming in from the east. That can't be very far below here, and
the first stream on the west side must be pretty close, from all I can
learn. Below there, on the twenty-seventh, there was another river
which they passed coming in from the east, and Simon says near its
mouth there was a rapid. He doesn't seem to mention any rapids between
there and here--probably it had to be a pretty big one for him to take
any notice of it. That's two or three days down-stream, according to
his journal, and, as Alex says, it was high water, and they made slow
time coming up--not as fast as Sir Alexander did, in fact."
"Plenty good water," said Moise, looking out over the rapid little
stream with professional approval. "She's easy river."
"Then we ought to make some sort of voyage," said Rob. "You see, Sir
Alexander took thirty-four days coming up to this point from the
place where he started, far east of the Rockies, but going downhill it
only took him six days."
"That was going some," nodded John, emphatically, if not elegantly.
"But not faster than we'll be going," answered Rob. "You see, it took
him a sixth of the time to go east which it needed to come west. Then,
what they did in three days coming up, we ought to run in a half-day
or less going down."
Alex nodded approvingly. "I think it would figure out something like
that way," said he.
"So if we started now, or a little after noon," resumed Rob, "and ran
a full half-day we ought to pass all these rivers which Simon
mentions, and get down to the first big rapid of which he speaks. They
were good and tired coming up-stream, but we won't have to work at all
going down."
"Well, don't we eat any place at all?" began John again, amid general
laughter.
"Sure," said Moise, "we'll stop at the first little beach and make
boil the kettle. I'm hongree, too, me."
They did as Moise said, and spent perhaps an hour, discussing, from
time to time, the features of the country and the probable time it
would take them to make the trip.
"The boat goes very fast on a stream like this," said Alex. "We could
make fifty or sixty miles a day without the least trouble, if we did
not have to portage. I should think the current was four to six miles
an hour, at least, and you know we could add to that speed if we cared
to paddle."
"Well, we don't want to go too fast," said Jesse. "We have all summer
for this trip."
This remark from the youngest of the party caused the old _voyageur_
to look at him approvingly. "That's right," said he, "we'll not
hurry."
Moise was by this time examining the load of the _Mary Ann_, arranging
the packs so that she would trim just to suit his notion when Rob was
in place at the bow. Alex paid similar care to the _Jaybird_. The
boats now ran practically on an even keel, which would give them the
greatest bearing on the water and enable them to travel over the
shallowest water possible.
"_En roulant?_" said Moise, looking at Alex inquiringly.
Alex nodded, and the boys being now in their proper places in the
boats, he himself stepped in and gave a light push from the beach
with his paddle.
"So long, fellows," called out Rob over his shoulder as he put his
paddle to work. "I'm going to beat you all through--if I'm bow paddle
in the first boat I'll be ahead of everybody else. _En roulant, ma
boule!_"
The _Mary Ann_, swinging fully into the current, went off dipping and
gliding down the gentle incline of the stream. "Don't go too fast,
Moise," called out Alex. "We want to keep in sight of the cook-boat."
"All right!" sang out Moise. "We'll go plenty slow."
"Now," said Alex to John and Jess as he paddled along slowly and
steadily; "I want to tell you something about running strange waters
in a canoe. Riding in a canoe is something like riding a horse. You
must keep your balance. Keep your weight over the middle line of the
canoe, which is in the center of the boat when she's going straight,
of course. You'll have to ease off a little if she tilts--you ride her
a little as you would a horse over a jump. Now, look at this little
rough place we're coming to--there, we're through it already--you see,
there's a sort of a long V of smooth water running down into the
rapid. Below that there's a long ridge or series of broken water.
This rapid will do for a model of most of the others, although it's a
tame one.
"In this work the main thing is to keep absolutely cool. Never try a
bad rapid which is strange to you without first going out and getting
the map of it in your mind. Figure out the course you're going to
take, and then hang to it, and don't get scared. When I call to you to
go to the right, Mr. John, pull the boat over by drawing it to your
paddle on that side--don't try to push it over from the left side. You
can haul it over stronger by pulling the paddle against the water. Of
course I do the reverse on the stern. We can make her travel sidewise,
or straight ahead, or backward, about as we please. All of us canoemen
must keep cool and not lose our nerve.
"Well, I'll go on--usually we follow the V down into the head of a
rapid. Below that the highest wave is apt to roll back. If it is too
high, and curls over too far up-stream, it would swamp our boat to
head straight into it. Where should we go then? Of course, we would
have to get a little to one side of that long, rolling ridge of white
water. But not too far. Sometimes it may be safer to take that big
wave, and all the other waves, right down the white ridge of the
stream, than it is to go to one side."
"I don't see why that would be," said Jesse. "I should think there
would be the most dangerous place for a canoe."
"It is, in one way," said Alex. "Or at least you're surer to ship
water there. But suppose you are in a very heavy stream like the
Fraser or the Columbia. At the foot of the chute there is very apt to
be some deep swells, or rolls, coming up from far down below. Besides
that, there's very apt to be a strong eddy setting up-stream just
below the chute, if the walls are narrow and rocky. Now, that sort of
water is very dangerous. One of those big swells will come up under a
boat, and you'd think a sledge-hammer had hit her. Nothing can stop
the boat from careening a little bit then. Well, suppose the eddy
catches her bow and swings her up-stream. She goes up far enough, in
spite of all, so that her nose gets under some white water coming
down. Well, then, she swamps, and you're gone!"
"I don't like this sort of talk," said Jesse. "If there's any place
where I could walk I'd get out."
"I'm telling you now about bad water," said Alex, "and telling you how
to take care of yourself in case you find yourself there. One thing
you must remember, you must travel a little faster than the current to
get steerageway, and you must never try to go against your current in
a rapid--the water is stronger than all the horses you ever saw. The
main thing is to keep cool, to keep your balance, and sometimes not to
be afraid of taking a little water into the boat. It's the business of
the captain to tell whether it's best to take the ridge of water at
the foot of the chute or to edge off from it to one side. That last is
what he will do when there are no eddies. All rapids differ, and of
course in a big river there may be a dozen different chutes. We always
go ashore and look at a rapid if we think it's dangerous.
"Now, you hear that noise below us," he added, "but don't be alarmed.
Don't you see, Moise and Rob are already past it? I'll show you now
how we take it. Be steady, John, and don't paddle till I tell you. On
your right a little!" he called out an instant later. "That's it! So.
Well, we're through already!"
"Why, that was nothing," said Jesse. "It was just as smooth!"
"Exactly. There is no pleasanter motion in the world than running a
bit of fast water. Now, there was no danger in this, and the only
trouble we had was just to get an inch or so out of the way of that
big rock which might have wrecked us. We always pick a course in a
rapid which gives us time to turn, so that we can dodge another rock
if there's one on ahead. It usually happens pretty fast. You'll soon
learn confidence after running a few pieces of white water, and you'll
learn to like it, I'm sure."
Moise had turned his boat ashore to see the second boat come through,
and after a moment Alex joined him at the beach, the canoes being held
afloat by the paddles as they sat.
"She comes down fast, doesn't she, fellows?" asked Rob.
"I should say so!" called John. "I don't see how they ever got a big
boat up here at all."
"Well, Sir Alexander says that this was part of the worst water they
found," said Rob. "Sometimes they had to pull the boat up by hanging
on to the overhanging trees--they couldn't go ashore to track her,
they couldn't get bottom with their setting-poles, and of course they
couldn't paddle. Yet we came down like a bird!"
The boats dropped on down pleasantly and swiftly now for some time,
until the sun began to sink toward the west. A continually changing
panorama of mountain and foothill shifted before them. They passed one
little stream after another making down from the forest slopes, but so
rapid and exhilarating was their movement that they hardly kept track
of all the rivers and creeks which came in. It was late in the evening
when they heard the low roar of a rapid far on ahead. The men in the
rear boat saw the _Mary Ann_ slacken, pause, and pull off to one side
of the stream.
"That must be the big rapid which Fraser mentions," commented John.
"Very likely," said Alex. "Well, anyhow, we might as well pull in here
and make our camp for the night. We've made a good day's work for a
start at least."
"I shouldn't wonder if it was a hundred miles from where we started
down to the outlet of the McLeod River," began Rob again, ever ready
with his maps and books. "I think they call it the Pack River now.
There is a sort of wide place near there, where the Mischinsinclia
River comes in from the east, and above that ten or fifteen miles is
the Misinchinca River, on the same side. I don't know who named those
rivers, but we haven't passed them yet, that's sure. Then down below
the mouth of the McLeod is the Nation River, quite a good stream, I
suppose, on the west side. The modern maps show another stream called
the Manson still farther. I don't know whether Mackenzie knew them by
these names, or whether we can tell them when we see them, but it's
all the more fun if we can't."
VII
AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE
The point at which they ended their day's voyage was a long sand-pit
projecting out from the forest and offering a good landing for the
canoes. They were glad enough to rest. Moise and Alex, who had paddled
steadily all the afternoon, stepped out on the beach and stretched
themselves.
"Let's go back into the woods," said Jesse. "We can't sleep on these
hard little rocks--we can't even drive the tent-pegs here."
"Well, Mr. Jess," said Alex, "if you went back into the woods I think
you'd come back here again--the mosquitoes would drive you out. If you
notice, the wind strikes this point whichever way it comes. In our
traveling we always camp on the beaches in the summer-time when we
can."
"Besides," added Rob, "even if we couldn't drive the tent-pins, we
could tie the ropes to big rocks. We can get plenty of willows and
alders for our beds, too, and some pine boughs."
The long twilight of these northern latitudes still offered them
plenty of light for their camp work, although the sun was far down in
the west. Alex, drawing his big buffalo knife, helped the tired boys
get ready their tent and beds, but he smiled as he saw that to-night
they were satisfied with half as many boughs as they had prepared on
their first night in camp.
"I don't suppose," said Rob, "that Sir Alexander and his men made very
big beds."
"No, I'm afraid not," replied Alex. "On the contrary, the canoemen
always broke camp about four o'clock in the morning, and they kept
going until about seven at night. Fifteen hours a day in and out of
the water, paddling, poling, and tracking, makes a man so tired he
doesn't much care about what sort of bed he has."
While the others were getting the tent ready Moise was busy making his
fire and getting some long willow wands, which he now was making into
a sort of frame.
"What's that for, Moise?" asked Jesse.
"That's for dry those feesh you boys'll got this morning. Fine big
trouts, three, four poun', an' fat. I'll fix heem two, three, days so
he'll keep all right."
"But we couldn't stay here two or three days," said John.
"We might do worse," replied Alex. "This isn't a bad camping place,
and besides, it seems to me good country to make a little hunt, if we
care to do that."
"It certainly would be a fine place for beaver," said Rob, "if it
weren't against the law to kill them."
"Yes, or other things also--bear or bighorns, I should think very
likely."
"I suppose there isn't any law against killing bears," said Rob, "but
how about bighorns? I thought they were protected by law."
"We'll talk about that after a while," Alex answered. "Of course, no
one would want to kill beaver at this time of year, no matter what the
law was, because the fur is not good."
"I see by Sir Alexander's journal," continued Rob, "that it must have
been along in here that they saw so much beaver work. There are plenty
of dams even now, although it's a hundred years later than the time he
came through."
"I suppose when we get down farther there are fewer creeks," said
John, "and the rocks and trees are bigger. I don't know just where we
are now, because the trees are so thick a fellow can't see out."
"Well," went on Rob, bringing out his map, and also that which was
found in his copy of _Mackenzie's Voyages_, "it must have been just
about in here that Mackenzie met the first Indians that he saw in this
country--the ones who told him about the carrying place, and about the
big river and the salt water beyond it. They were the Indians who had
iron spears, and knives, and things, so that he knew they had met
white men off to the west. They had a big spoon which Mackenzie says
was made out of a horn like the buffalo horn of the Copper Mine River.
I suppose Mackenzie called the musk-ox buffalo, and very likely he
never had seen a mountain-sheep."
"That's right," said Alex, "those Injuns used to make big spoons out
of the horns of the mountain-sheep--all the Injuns along the Rockies
always have done that. It seems strange to me that Mackenzie didn't
know that, although at that he was still rather a new man in the
north."
"You never have been in here yourself, have you, Alex?" asked John.
"No, and that's what is making the trip so pleasant for me. I'm having
a good time figuring it out with you. I know this river must run north
between those two ranges of mountains, and it must turn to the east
somewhere north of here. But I've never been west of Fort St. John."
"I don't like the look of this river down there," said Jesse, stepping
to the point of the bar, and gazing down the stream up which came the
sullen roar of heavy rapids.
"Those rapeed, she'll been all right," said Moise. "Never fear, we go
through heem all right. To-morrow, two, three, day we'll go through
those rapeed like the bird!"
"We can walk around them, Jesse, if we don't want to run them," said
Rob, reassuringly. "Of course it's rather creepy going into heavy
water that you don't know anything about--I don't like that myself.
But just think how much worse it must have been for Sir Alexander and
his men, who were coming up this river, and on the high water at that.
Why, all this country was overflowed, and one time, down below here,
all the men wanted to quit, it was such hard work. He must have been a
brave man to keep them going on through."
"He was a great man," added Alex. "A tired man is hard to argue with,
but he got them to keep on trying, and kept them at their work."
"Grub pile!" sang Moise once more, and a moment later all were
gathered again around the little fire where Moise had quickly
prepared the evening meal.
"I'm just about starved," said John. "I've been wanting something to
eat all afternoon."
They all laughed at John's appetite, which never failed, and Moise
gave him two large pieces of trout from the frying-pan. "I'll suppose
those feesh he'll seem good to you," said Moise.
"I should say they were good!" remarked Jesse, approvingly. "I like
them better all the time."
"S'pose we no get feesh in the north," began Moise, "everybody she'll
been starve."
"That's right," said Alex. "The traders couldn't have traveled in this
country without their nets. They got fish enough each night to last
them the next day almost anywhere they stopped. You see, sometimes the
buffalo or the caribou are somewhere else, but fish can't get out of
the river or the lake, and we always know where to look for them."
"The dorè, she'll be good feesh," continued Moise, "but we'll not got
dorè here. Maybe so whitefeesh over east, maybe so pickerel."
"You remember how we liked codfish better than salmon up in Alaska
when we were on Kadiak Island?" asked Rob. "I wonder if we'll like
trout very long at a time?"
"Whitefeesh she'll be all right," Moise smiled. "Man an' dog both
he'll eat whitefeesh."
"Well, it's all right about fish," Rob remarked, after a time, "but
how about the hunt we were talking about? I promised Uncle Dick I'd
bring him some bearskins."
"Black bear or grizzlies?" asked Alex, smiling.
"Grizzly."
"Well, I don't know about that," demurred Alex. "Of course I don't
deny you may have killed a bear or so up in Alaska, but down here most
of us are willing to let grizzlies alone when we see them."
"This white-face bear, he'll be bad," Moise nodded vigorously.
"Are there many in here?" asked John, curiously, looking at the dense
woods.
"I don't know," Alex replied. "I've seen a few tracks along the bars,
but most of those are made by black bear. Injuns don't look for
grizzlies very much. I don't suppose there's over six or eight grizzly
skins traded out of Fort St. John in a whole year."
"Injuns no like for keel grizzly," said Moise. "This grizzly, he'll be
chief. He'll be dead man, too, maybe. Those grizzly he'll be onkle of
mine, maybe so. All Injun he'll not want for keel grizzly. Some Injun
can talk to grizzly, an' some time grizzly he'll talk to Injun, too,
heem."
"Now, Moise," said Rob, "do you really think an animal can talk?"
"Of course he'll talk. More beside, all animal he'll talk with
spirits, an' man, not often he can talk with spirits himself. Yes,
animal he'll talk with spirit right along, heem."
"What does he mean, Alex?" asked Rob.
"Well," said Alex, gravely, "I'm half Injun too, and you know, Injuns
don't think just the way white people do. Among our people it was
always thought that animals were wiser than white men think them. Some
have said that they get wisdom from the spirits--I don't know about
that."
"Do you know how those cross fox he'll get his mark on his back that
way?" asked Moise of Rob.
"No, only I suppose they were always that way."
"You know those fox?"
"We all know them," interrupted John. "There's a lot of them up in
Alaska--reddish, with smoky black marks on the back and shoulders, and
a black tail with a white tip. They're worth money, too, sometimes."
"Maybe Moise will tell you a story about how the fox got marked," said
Alex quietly.
"Oh, go ahead, Moise," said all the boys. "We'd like to hear that."
"Well, one tam," said Moise, reaching to the fire to get a coal for
his pipe, and leaning back against a blanket-roll, "all fox that ron
wild was red, like some fox is red to-day. But those tam was some good
fox an' some bad fox. Then Wiesacajac, he'll get mad with some fox an'
mark heem that way. He'll been bad fox, that's how he get mark."
"Wiesacajac?" asked Rob. "What do you mean by that?"
"He means one of the wood-spirits of the Cree Indians," answered Alex,
quietly. "You know, the Injuns have a general belief in the Great
Spirit. Well, Wiesacajac is a busy spirit of the woods, and is usually
good-natured."
"Do you believe in him?" asked Jesse. "I thought you went to church,
Alex?"
"The Company likes us all to go to church when we're in the
settlements," said Alex, "and I do regularly. But you see, my mother
was Injun, and she kept to the old ways. It's hard for me to
understand it, about the old ways and the new ones both. But my mother
and her people all believed in Wiesacajac, and thought he was around
all the time and was able to play jokes on the people if he felt like
it. Usually he was good-natured. But, Moise, go on and tell about how
the fox got his mark."
Moise, assuming a little additional dignity, as became an Indian
teller of stories, now went on with his tale.
"Listen, I speak!" he began. "One tam, long ago, Wiesacajac, he'll be
sit all alone by a lake off north of this river. Wiesacajac, he'll
been hongree, but he'll not be mad. He'll be laugh, an' talk by
heemself an' have good tam, because he'll just keel himself some nice
fat goose.
"Now, Wiesacajac, he'll do the way the people do, an' he'll go for
roast this goose in the sand, under the ashes where he'll make his
fire. He'll take this goose an' bury heem so, all cover' up with ashes
an' coals--like this, you see--but he'll leave the two leg of those
foots stick up through the ground where the goose is bury.
"Wiesacajac he'll feel those goose all over with his breast-bone, an'
he'll say, 'Ah, ha! he'll been fat goose; bimeby he'll be good for
eat.' But he'll know if you watch goose he'll not get done. So bimeby
Wiesacajac he'll walk off away in the wood for to let those goose get
brown in the ashes. This'll be fine day--_beau temps_--an' he'll be
happy, for he'll got meat in camp. So bimeby he'll sit down on log an'
look at those sky an' those wind, an' maybe he'll light his pipe, I
don't know, me.
"Now about this tam some red fox he'll be lie down over those ridge
an' watch Wiesacajac an' those goose. This fox he'll be hongree, too,
for he'll ain't got no goose. He'll been thief, too, all same like
every fox. So he'll see Wiesacajac walk off in woods, an' he'll smell
aroun' an' he'll sneak down to the camp where those goose will be with
his feet stick out of ashes.
"Those thief of fox he'll dig up the fat goose of Wiesacajac, an'
tase' it, an' find it ver' good. He'll ron off in the woods with the
goose an' eat it all up, all 'cept the foots an' the leg-bones. Then
the fox he'll sneak back to the fire once more, an' he'll push the
dirt back in the hole, an' he'll stick up these foots an' the
leg-bones just like they was before, only there don't been no goose
under those foots now, because he'll eat up the goose.
"'Ah, ha!' says Mr. Fox then, 'I'm so fat I must go sleep now.' So
he'll go off in woods a little way an' he'll lie down, an' he'll go to
sleep.
"Bimeby Wiesacajac he'll look at the sun an' the wind plenty long, an'
he'll got more hongree. So he'll come back to camp an' look for his
goose. He'll take hol' of those foots that stick up there, an' pull
them up, but the foots come loose! So he'll dig in the sand an' ashes,
an' he'll not found no goose.
"'Ah, ha!' say Wiesacajac then. He'll put his finger on his nose an'
think. Then he'll see those track of fox in the sand. 'Ah, ha!' he'll
say again. 'I'll been rob by those fox. Well, we'll see about that.'
"Wiesacajac, he'll follow the trail to where this fox is lie fast
asleep; but all fox he'll sleep with one eye open, so this fox he'll
hear Wiesacajac an' see him come, an' he'll get up an' ron. But he'll
be so full of goose that inside of hondred yards, maybe feefty yards,
Wiesacajac he'll catch up with him an' pick him up by the tail.
"'Now I have you, thief!' he'll say to the fox. 'You'll stole my
goose. Don't you know that is wrong? I show you now some good manners,
me.'
"So Wiesacajac, he'll carry those fox down to the fire. He's plenty
strong, but he don't keel those fox. He's only going to show heem a
lesson. So he'll poke up the fire an' put on some more wood, then
he'll take the fox by the end of the tail an' the back of his neck,
an' he'll hold heem down over the fire till the fire scorch his back
an' make heem smoke. Then the fox he'll beg, an' promise not to do
that no more.
"'I suppose maybe you'll not keep your promise,' says Wiesacajac, 'for
all foxes they'll steal an' lie. But this mark will stay on you so all
the people can tell you for a thief when they see you. You must carry
it, an' all your children, so long as there are any foxes of your
familee.'
"The fox he'll cry, an' he'll roll on the groun', but those black mark
she'll stay.
"An' she'll stay there till now," repeated Moise. "An' all the tam,
those fox he'll be 'shamed for look a man in the face. All the tam you
find cross fox, he'll be black where Wiesacajac hold heem over the
fire, with his back down, but the end of his tail will be white,
because there is where Wiesacajac had hold of heem on one end, an' his
front will be white, too, same reason, yes, heem. Whatever Wiesacajac
did was done because he was wise an' strong. Since then all cross fox
have shown the mark. I have spoken."
Moise now looked around at his young listeners to see how they liked
the story.
"That's what I call a pretty good story," said John. "If I had one
more trout I believe I could go to bed."
"Do you know what time it is?" asked Alex, smiling.
"No," said Rob. "Why, it's almost midnight," he added, as he looked at
his watch.
"We've made a long day of it," said Alex, "almost too long. We don't
want to be in too big a hurry."
"How far do you think we've come, Alex?" asked Jesse. "It seemed like
a long way to me."
"Well I don't know exactly, Mr. Jess," said Alex, "because there are
no roads in this country, you see, and we have to guess. But it must
have been about noon when we got out of the last lake after we
finished fishing. We've doubled on the portage, which made that
something like a mile, and I suppose took about an hour. We fished
about an hour, and it took us about an hour to clear out the little
creek and go through a mile or so down to the main river. We've been
running seven or eight hours pretty steadily. Maybe we've come thirty
or forty miles, I don't know."
"Well, I know I'm tired," said John, "and I can't even eat another
trout."
VIII
A HUNT FOR BIGHORN
Alex allowed the boys to sleep late next morning, and the sun was
shining warmly when at length they turned out of their tent and went
down to the river for their morning bath. Heartily as they had eaten
the night before, they seemed still hungry enough to enjoy the hearty
breakfast which Moise had ready for them at the fire.
"Well, Alex, what's the programme for to-day?" asked Rob; "are we
going on down, or shall we stop for a hunt?"
"Whichever you like," answered Alex. "We're maybe getting into heavier
water now, so I suppose we ought to be a little more careful about how
we run down without prospecting a little."
"How would it be for some of us to go down along the bank and do a
little scouting?" asked John.
"A very good plan," agreed Alex, "and Moise might do that while we
others are doing something else."
"Oh, you mean about our hunt," broke in Rob. "Now, we were speaking
about bears and sheep. We don't want to break the game laws, you
know."
"Let me see your map, Mr. Rob," said Alex. "I told you we'd talk over
that after a while."
"What's the map got to do with game laws, Alex?"
"A great deal, as I'll show you. You see, in all this upper country
the laws made down at Ottawa and Edmonton govern, just as if we lived
right in that country. We keep the game laws the same as any other
laws. At the same time, the government is wise, and knows that men in
this far-off country have to live on what the country produces. If the
people could not kill game when they found it they would all starve.
So the law is that there is no restriction on killing game--that is,
any kind of game except beaver and buffalo--north of latitude 55°."
"Well, what's that got to do with our hunt?" asked Rob.
"I was just going to explain, if you will let me see your map. As near
as I can tell by looking at the lines of latitude on it, we must have
been just about latitude fifty-five degrees at the place where we
started yesterday. But we have been running north very strongly thirty
or forty miles. While I can't tell exactly where we are, I'm very
positive that we are at this camp somewhere north of fifty-five
degrees. In that case there is no law against our killing what we
like, if we let the beaver alone; for of course, the buffalo are all
gone from this country long ago."
"Now, I wouldn't have thought of that," said Rob, "and I'm very glad
that you have figured it out just that way. We agree with you that a
fellow ought to keep the game laws even when he is away from the
towns. In some of the States in the earlier days they used to have
laws allowing a man to kill meat if he needed it, no matter what time
of year. But people killed at all times, until there wasn't much left
to kill."
"It ought to be a good hunting country here," went on Alex, "for I
don't think many live here or hunt here."
"Well," said Rob, with a superior air, "we don't much care for black
bear. Grizzlies or bighorns--"
"Have you never killed a bighorn?"
"No, none of us ever has. They have plenty of them up in Alaska, and
very good ones, and white sheep also, and white goats sometimes, and
all sorts of bears and moose and things. We've never hunted very much
except when we were on Kadiak Island. We can all shoot, though. And
we'd like very much to make a hunt here. There isn't any hurry,
anyway."
"S'pose you'll got some of those sheep," ventured Moise, "he'll be
best for eat of anything there is--no meat better in the world than
those beeghorn."
"Well," said John, "why don't we start out to get one? This looks like
a good country, all right."
"That suits me," added Rob. "Jess, do you want to go along?"
Alex looked at Jesse before he answered, and saw that while he was
tall for his age, he was rather thin and not so strong as the other
boys, being somewhat younger.
"I think Mr. Jess would better stay in camp," said he. "He can help
Moise finish drying his fish, and maybe they can go down and have a
look at the rapids from the shore. We others can go over east for a
hunt. I've a notion that the mountains that way are better."
"It looks like a long way over," said Rob. "Can we make it out and
back to camp to-day?"
"Hardly; I think we'll have to lie out at least one night, maybe more,
to be sure of getting the sheep."
"Fine!" said John; "that suits me. We wouldn't need to take along any
tent, just a blanket and a little something to eat--I suppose we could
carry enough." He looked so longingly at Moise's pots and pans that
everybody laughed at him once more.
"All right," said Alex, "we'll go."
The old hunter now busied himself making ready their scant supplies.
He took a little bag of flour, with some salt, one or two of the
cooked fish which remained, and a small piece of bacon. These he
rolled up in a piece of canvas, which he placed on his pack-straps. He
asked the boys if they thought they could get on with a single
blanket, and when they agreed to this he took Rob's blanket, folded
it, rolled it also in canvas, and tied it all tight with a rope, the
ends of his tump-strap sticking out, serving him for his way of
packing, which was to put the tump-strap across his head.
"It's not a very big bundle," said he. "You young gentlemen need take
nothing but your rifles and your ammunition. I don't need any blanket
for a night or so. What little we've got will seem heavy enough before
we get up there in the hills."
"Now, Moise, listen," he added. "You're to stay in this camp until we
get back, no matter how long it is, and you're not to be uneasy if we
don't come back for two or three days. Don't go out in the boats with
Mr. Jess until we get back. Give him three meals a day, and finish up
drying your trout."
"All right," answered Moise, "I'll stay here all summer. I'll hope you
get beeg sheep."
Alex turned, and after the fashion of the Indians, did not say good-by
when he left camp, but stalked off. The two boys, rifle in hand,
followed him, imitating his dignity and not even looking back to wave
a farewell to Jesse, who stood regarding them rather ruefully.
They had a stiff climb up the first ridge, which paralleled the
stream, when the boys found their rifles quite heavy enough to carry.
After a time, however, they came out at the top of a high plateau,
where the undergrowth was not very thick and tall spruces stood more
scattered. They could now see beyond them some high, bare ridges, that
rose one back of the other, with white-topped peaks here and there.
"Good sheep country," said Alex, after a time. "I think good for
moose, and maybe caribou, too, lower down."
"Yes, and good for something else," cried Rob, who was running on a
little in advance as the others stopped. "Look here!"
"There he goes in his moccasins," said Alex. "Grizzly!"
"Yes, and a good big one, I should think," said Rob. "Not as big as a
Kadiak bear; but see, his foot sinks a long way into the ground, and
it's not very soft, either. Come on, Alex, let's go after him."
Alex walked over and examined the trail for a little while.
"Made yesterday morning," he commented, "and traveling steadily. No
telling where he is by this time, Mr. Rob. When an old white-face
starts off he may go forty miles. Again, we might run across him or
some other one in the first berry patch we come to. It seems to me
surer to go on through with our sheep hunt.
"There's another thing," he added, "about killing a big bear in
here--his hide would weigh fifty to seventy-five pounds, very likely.
Our boats are pretty full now, and we're maybe coming to bad water.
There's good bear hunting farther north and east of here, and it seems
to me, if you don't mind, that it might be wiser for us to hunt sheep
here and bear somewhere else."
"That sounds reasonable," said John. "Besides, we've never seen wild
bighorn."
"Come ahead then," said Rob, reluctantly leaving the big bear trail.
"I'd just like to follow that old fellow out, though."
"Never fear," said Alex, "you shall follow one just as big before this
trip is over!"
Alex now took up his pack again, and began to move up toward the
foothills of the mountains, following a flat little ravine which wound
here and there, at no place very much covered with undergrowth. At
last they reached the edges of bare country, where the sun struck them
fully. By this time the boys were pretty tired, for it was far past
noon, and they had not stopped for lunch. John was very hungry, but
too brave to make any complaint. He was, however, feeling the effects
of the march considerably.
"Well," said he, as they finally sat down upon a large rock, "I don't
see any signs of sheep up in here, and I don't think this looks like a
very good game country. There isn't anything for the sheep to eat."
"Oh yes," rejoined Alex; "you'll find a little grass, and some moss
among the rocks, more often than you would think. This is just the
kind of country that bighorns like. You mustn't get discouraged too
soon on a hunt. An Injun may be slow to start on a hunt, but when he
gets started he doesn't get discouraged, but keeps on going. Sometimes
our people hunt two or three days without anything to eat.
"But now since you mention it, Mr. John," he added, "I'd like to ask
you, are you sure there are no signs of game around here?"
Both the boys looked for a long time all over the mountain-slopes
before them. Rob had his field-glasses with him, and these he now took
out, steadily sweeping one ridge after another for some time.
"I see, Alex!" he called out, excitedly. "I know what you mean!"
"Where are they?" called John, excitedly.
"Oh, not sheep yet," said Rob, "but just where they've been, I think."
"Look, Mr. John," said Alex, now taking John by the arm and pointing
across the near-by ravines. "Don't you see that long mark, lighter in
color, which runs down the side of that mountain over there, a mile or
two away, and up above us?"
"Yes, I can see that; but what is it?"
"Well, that's a sheep trail, a path," said Alex. "That's a trail they
make coming down regularly from the high country beyond. It looks to
me as though they might have a watering place, or maybe a lick, over
in there somewhere. It looks so good to me, at least, that I think
we'll make a camp."
They turned now, under the old hunter's guidance, and retraced their
steps until they found themselves at the edge of timber, where Alex
threw down his bundle under a tall spruce-tree whose branches spread
out so as almost to form a tent of itself. He now loosened his straps
and bits of rope from about the bundle, and fastened these about his
waist. With remaining pieces of twine he swung up the package to the
bough of the tree above the ground as high as he could reach.
"We don't want any old porcupine coming here and eating up our grub.
They almost gnaw through a steel plate to get at anything greasy or
salty," he explained. "We'll call this camp, and we'll stop here
to-night, because I can see that if we go up to that trail and do any
waiting around it will be too late for us to get back home to-night."
Although no game had as yet been sighted, the confidence that it was
somewhere in the country made the boys forget their fatigue. They
followed Alex up the mountain-slopes, which close at hand proved
steeper than they had looked for, keeping up a pretty fast pace,
until finally they got almost as high up as the trail which Alex had
sighted. This latter lay at some distance to the right of their
present course, and a high, knife-edged ridge ran down from the hills,
separating the hunters from the mountain-side beyond. Alex now turned
to his young companions and said in a low tone:
"You'd better stay here now for a little while. I'll crawl up to the
top yonder and look over. If you see me motion to you, come on up to
where I am."
Rob and John sat down on a near-by rock and watched the hunter as he
cautiously ascended the slope, taking care not to disengage any stones
whose noise might alarm any near-by game. They saw him flatten out,
and, having removed his hat, peer cautiously over the rim. Here he lay
motionless for some time, then, little by little, so slowly that they
hardly noticed he was moving, he dropped down over the rim, and,
looking down over his shoulder, motioned to them to come on up.
When the boys joined Alex at the edge of the ridge they were pretty
much out of breath, as they had hurried in the ascent. "What is it,
Alex?" hissed John, his eyes shining.
"They're over there," said the hunter, quietly. "Five sheep, two good
ones--one a very fine ram. Do you want to have a look at them? Be
very careful--they're up at the top of the slope, and haven't come
down over the trail yet. Be careful, now, how you put your heads
over."
The two boys now slowly approached the crest, and, almost trembling
with excitement, peered over. Alex following, laid a hand on John's
leg and another on Rob's shoulder, for fear they would make some
sudden movement and frighten the game. When at length the boys crawled
back from the ridge they were very much excited. "What'll we do now,
Alex?" asked John. "They're too far off to shoot."
"Wait," said Alex; "they're going to come on down the trail. I think
they water at some spring in the mountain, although I don't know. In
fifteen or twenty minutes they'll be pretty close to us--inside of two
hundred yards, at least, I should think.
"Now listen," he continued to the boys, "and mind what I tell you.
There are two rams there, and if we get them we need nothing more.
I'll not shoot unless I need to. Rob, you'll take the ram which is
farthest to the right, at the time I tell you to fire, and you, Mr.
John, will take the other ram, no matter whether it's the big one or
the little one. Let the ewes alone. And whatever you do, don't shoot
into the flock--wait until each of you can see his animal ready for a
distinct shot. If either of you misses, I'll help him out--there's
three or four hundred yards of good shooting all up that mountain
face. Now mind one thing; don't have any buck fever here! None of
that, do you hear me?"
Alex spoke rather sternly this time, but it was with a purpose. He saw
that the hands of both the boys were rather trembling, and knew that
sometimes when a man is in that nervous condition a sharp word will
have the effect of quieting and steadying him.
Rob looked at him quickly, and then smiled. "Oh, I see," said he.
They were all talking in low whispers, so that they might not be
overheard by the game, if it should come closer. "It's no disgrace to
have buck fever," said Alex, in his low tone. "Injuns even get
excited, and I've known old hunters to get buck fever right in the
middle of a hunt, without any reason they could tell anything about.
But now, when you're steady enough, we'll all crawl up once in a while
and have a look."
He kept a steadying hand on both the boys when a few minutes later
they approached the rim of the ridge once more. By this time the
sheep, which had not in the least taken alarm, were advancing rather
steadily down the narrow path on the steep mountain face. The biggest
ram was in advance, a stately and beautiful game creature, such as
would have made a prize for the most experienced of hunters. It was
all Rob could do to keep from an exclamation of delight at seeing
these rather queer creatures so close at hand and unsuspicious of the
hunters' presence.
Alex pulled them down once more, and sternly admonished them to be
quiet. "Wait now," he whispered, "one minute by the watch."
When the minute, which seemed an hour in length, had elapsed, Alex put
his finger on his lips for silence and motioned to each boy to see
that his rifle was ready. Then cautiously they all pushed up once more
to the edge of the ridge.
This time they saw all five of the sheep standing closely bunched
together, two or three of them with their heads down. There seemed to
be a slight moist place among the slate rocks where perhaps some sort
of saline water oozed out, and it was this that these animals had
visited so often as to make a deep trail on the mountain-side. Alex
shook his head as Rob turned an inquiring glance at him, and the boys,
who by this time were steady, did not shoot into the huddled band of
sheep.
They lay thus for what seemed a long time, eagerly watching the game
animals which were unconscious of any hunters' presence. One of the
sheep, a yearling, began to jump up and down, bouncing like a rubber
ball in its sportive antics, which almost made John laugh as he
watched it. Turning to look at this, the smaller ram paced off to the
right, followed now by the larger ram. Both creatures now, as if they
had some sense of danger, stood with their majestic heads raised,
looking steadily about and apparently scanning the air to catch the
taint of danger. Thus they offered a good mark to the riflemen.
"Shoot!" whispered Alex, quickly; and almost as he spoke two reports
rang out.
At the report of Rob's rifle the lesser ram, which was the one that
stood to the left, fell as though struck by a hammer, shot through the
shoulders and killed at once. The larger ram, which had fallen to
John's lot, was not struck beyond a slight singe of the bullet along
the hair of its back. It sprang, and with incredible speed began to
make its way up the opposite slope. The ewes also scattered and ran.
Alex was on the point of using his rifle, when again John's piece rang
out, and this time the great ram, hit fair by the bullet, fell and
rolled over and over until it reached the bottom of the slope quite
dead.
Both of the boys sprang to their feet and gave a wild whoop of
exultation. They were trembling now, although they did not know it,
and jabbered excitedly as they started on down the slope to their
game. Alex followed slowly, calmly filling his pipe and smiling his
approval.
"That's good work for young hunters," said he. "I couldn't have done
better. Mr. John, you missed your first shot. Do you know why?"
"I know," said Rob. "He didn't allow for shooting downhill. A fellow
nearly always shoots too high when he shoots at anything away down
below him."
"Quite right," nodded Alex, "and a very common fault in mountain
hunting."
"Well, I got him the next time," said John. "If you can see where your
bullet goes you can tell how to shoot the next shot."
"They're two magnificent sheep," said Alex, admiringly, "and we've got
to take out both these heads, for they're too good to leave in the
mountains. I suppose now we will have to do a little butchering."
He drew his great knife from his belt, and now in very skilful way
began to skin, clean, and dismember the sheep, doubling back the
half-disjointed legs and the hams and shoulders and throwing the
separated pieces of meat on the skins, which were spread out, flesh
side up, on the ground. He took out the shoulders and hams of each
sheep and split the remainder of the carcass, detaching the ribs along
the spine with blows of his heavy bladed knife. After a little he
rolled up the meat of each sheep in its own hide, lashed it firmly
with thong, and made it into two packs. The heads he next skinned out,
showing the boys how to open the skin along the back of the neck, and
across the head between the horns. He asked for their smaller and
keener knives when it came to skinning out the ears, eyes and
nostrils, but removed the scalp from each sheep without making a cut
which showed through the skin.
"Now," said he at last, "when we get the meat trimmed off these
skull-bones you'll have a couple of sheep heads that many a hunter
would give hundreds of dollars to kill for himself. They are going to
be awkward to carry, though, I'll tell you that."
"How much would one of these rams weigh, Alex?" asked Rob.
"The biggest one a couple of hundred pounds, maybe," said Alex. "The
green head, this way, might make fifty of that, I don't know. We'll
have to make two trips down to the bivouac, that's one thing sure.
Maybe we can lighten the heads by trimming out to-night."
"I'll tell you, Alex," said Rob; "if you can take one of the meat
packs we'll take one of the heads between us. It's downhill from here
to where we left the blankets."
"All right," answered Alex. "I could carry a couple of hundred pounds
down here, I suppose, but there's plenty of time, as we aren't more
than a mile from camp. So come ahead."
Proceeding in this way they finally did get all their meat down to the
little bivouac they had made under the spruce-trees. They were very
tired but happy by this time, and hungry as well, for now evening was
closing down.
"I'll show you how to make a fire now," said Alex, "because you will
see that we aren't over sand or gravel in this camping place, as we
are on the river."
He scraped away the bed of spruce needles and loose soil until he got
down to the moist and sandy layer, with some rocks here and there
projecting through.
"That'll do, I think," said he. "We won't build a big fire, and we'll
have rocks under and around it all we can. You always want to remember
that a forest fire is a terrible thing, and nearly always they come
from careless camp-fires. You know the earth itself burns in a forest
like this. Never allow a fire to get away, and never leave it burning.
These are laws which we have to follow up here, or we get into
trouble."
IX
A NIGHT IN THE MOUNTAINS
"I believe I like it up here better than I do along the river," said
John, after they finally had their little fire going.
"Yes," remarked Rob, "you can see out farther here. The mountains are
fine. See how pink they are over where the snow is--the sun from the
west makes it all like a picture, doesn't it?"
"I never tire of the mountains," said Alex, "and I've lived among them
many years."
"I'd like to be a hunter," Rob began.
"Not to-day," rejoined Alex. "Our people can't make a living that way
now. We have to buy things of the Company, and pay for them with our
furs and robes. But we'll be hunters for this time, sure, with meat in
camp and two fine heads as well. I wish we could eat some to-night."
"Why, why can't we?" demanded John, who looked as though he could eat
a good-sized piece quite raw.
"We could if we had to," said Alex, "but the meat will be better if we
let it hang over night. If we ate too much of the very fresh meat it
might make us sick."
"Men eat bear liver the day it is killed."
"Yes, white men do, but not many Indians will eat bear liver at all.
We can try some of the sheep liver, if you like, for I've brought it
down in the packs. For that matter, it won't hurt us maybe to try a
little piece of meat roasted on a stick before the fire, the way the
Indians cook. That, with a bit of bacon and some bannock that I'll
make, will do us, if we have a cup of tea. You see, I've a little can
along which I got in Moise's cook-bag."
"I don't see how you're going to make bread," began John, "for you
haven't got any pan."
"No, Injuns don't always have pans like white people," said Alex,
laughing, "but I'll show you. I'll use the flour-sack for a pan--just
pour the water right in on the flour and mix it up in the sack. All
outdoor men know that trick. An Injun would take a stick and roll
around in that white dough and roast that dough ball before the fire
along with his meat," he said, "but I think by taking a slab of bark
we can cook our bannock somehow, a little bit, at least, as though we
had a pan to lean up before the fire."
The boys found new proof of the old saying that hunger is the best
sauce. For though their meal was really very frugal, they enjoyed it
heartily, and having had a cup of tea, they forgot all about their
fatigue.
The shadows were coming down across the near-by ridges when at length
they turned to Alex inquiringly.
"We want to know where we're going to make our beds."
"Well, this big spruce-tree is a good enough tent for me--the lower
branches spread out almost like an umbrella. We won't keep much fire,
but if I get cold in the night, not having any blankets, I'll just
make a little fire. You know, I don't need to sleep as warmly as you
do."
"Well," said John, "you ought to get under part of our blanket."
"Then we'd all be cold. Keep some of the blanket under you, for that's
where the cold comes from, not from above. I may after a while push
the ashes back from our fireplace and lie down on the ground where it
has been made warm by the fire. Injuns sometimes do that when they
can't do any better. Mostly, however, we depend on keeping up a fire
if it is very cold and we have no robe or blanket."
High up in the hills where they were it grew very cold at night, and
the boys, shivering in their scanty covering, woke up more than once.
Sometimes they would see Alex lying quite asleep, and again he would
be sitting up smoking his pipe, leaning against the trunk of the tree.
In some way, however, the night wore through, although they were glad
when at length the sun came up and they could all stretch their
cramped and stiffened limbs.
"My eyes have got sticks in them," said John, rubbing at his face.
"And my hair pulls a little bit, too," Rob added. "I forgot to bring
my comb, or even my tooth-brush."
"Well, one thing," said Alex, as he built up the fire. "We'll have
some sheep meat for breakfast, all right. The animal heat will be all
out of it now, and we'll have a hearty meal. We'll need it too, for
it's quite a way down to camp, several miles, that's sure."
They finished their breakfast while the sun was still low over the
eastern mountains, and presently began to think about the homeward
march.
"They'll be wondering about us down there," said Rob, "and I'm mighty
glad we've made our hunt and can get home so soon."
"We might not be able to do it again in a dozen hunts," said Alex.
"Game isn't as abundant as it once was."
"I should say not," said John. "When you read in the stories about
Mackenzie and Fraser, and all those old fellows, they'll tell about
seeing all kinds of game from the boat just as they went along."
"We'll do the same when we get out of the mountains," Alex replied;
"but not buffalo and caribou any more. Bear and moose we'll be very
apt to see.
"We'll double-portage these loads for one trip, at least," he resumed.
"I'll make the first trip with one head on top of my pack, and if you
can manage the other one for a little way I'll come back for the rest
of the meat, and we'll go about half-way down toward the boats on our
first trip. As you probably can't travel as fast as I can, I'm going
ahead, but I'll blaze the trees as I go. Then I'll drop my load and
come back to meet you. When you come to my first load you must stop
there until I catch up with you again. As I'll be below you all the
time, at first, there'll be no danger about your getting off the
trail."
"No danger anyhow," said Rob. "We've often followed a trail that way."
Indeed, the young hunters proved themselves quite good woodsmen enough
to follow Alex down the mountain face into the thicket of the plateau.
He went almost at a trot, loaded as he was, and as the boys found the
big ram's head a heavy load for them to carry between them on the
stick, they met him as he was coming back up the mountains, when they
themselves were not a great deal more than half-way down to the place
where he had dropped his pack.
"It's all plain," said Alex, "for I followed our old trail down the
hill, and put a branch across two or three places so that you'll know
when you're near the pack."
They found no difficulty in obeying his instructions, and so tired
were they that it seemed but a short time before presently Alex joined
them for a second time, carrying the remainder of the meat on his
tump-strap.
"Now," said he, "we're a great deal more than half-way down to the
boats. We won't come back for the second trip at all now, and we'll
take our time with the loads. I'll send Moise up for one pack, which
we will leave here."
"Suppose he doesn't want to come?" asked John.
"Oh, Moise will be glad to come. He's a good packer and a cheerful
man. Besides, I suppose that would be his business as we look at it
among our people. In the old times, when Sir Alexander came through, a
hunter did nothing but hunt. If he killed a head of game the people
around the post had to go out and get it for themselves if they wanted
it brought in."
"But how will Moise find this place?" asked John, anxiously. "I don't
want to lose this head, I'll tell you that."
Alex laughed. "He'll come right to the place! I'll explain to him, so
he'll know right where it is."
"Although he has never been here before?"
"Surely; one Injun can tell another how to go to a place. Besides, our
trail will be as plain as a board-walk to him. He's used to that kind
of work, you see."
All of this came out quite as Alex had said. They took their time in
finishing their journey, but it was long before noon when they arrived
at the boat encampment on the banks of the river, where they were
greeted with great joy by Jesse and Moise. Then, although it was not
yet time for lunch, Moise insisted on cooking once more, a plan to
which John gave very hearty assent, and in which all the others
joined.
After a while Alex and Moise, each smoking contentedly, began to
converse in their own tongue, Alex sometimes making a gesture toward
the mountains off to the east, and Moise nodding a quiet assent. After
a time, without saying anything, Moise got up, tightened his belt,
filled his pipe once more, and departed into the bush.
"Are you sure he'll find that meat?" demanded John, "and bring down
that bighorn head?"
"He certainly will," said Alex; "he'll run that trail like a dog, and
just about as fast. Moise used to be a good man, though he says now he
can't carry over two hundred pounds without getting tired."
"Well, listen at that!" said Jesse. "Two hundred pounds! I shouldn't
think anybody could carry that."
"Men have carried as much as six hundred pounds for a little way,"
said Alex. "On the old portage trails two packets, each of ninety
pounds, was the regular load, and some men would take three. That was
two hundred and seventy pounds at least; and they would go on a trot.
You see, a country produces its own men, my young friends."
"Well, that's the fun of a trip like this," said Rob. "That, and
following out the trails of the old fellows who first came through
here."
"Now," continued Alex, getting up and looking about the camp, "we have
meat in camp, and fish also. I think perhaps we'd better dry a part of
our sheep meat, as we used to the meat of the buffalo in the old days.
We'll smoke it a little, cutting it thin and spreading it in the sun.
By keeping the fresh meat under boughs so the flies won't get at it,
it'll stay good for quite a little while too. We don't want to waste
anything, of course."
They were busy about their odd jobs in the camp when, long before they
would have expected it, Moise came trotting down the base of the
timbered ridge above the camp, and, still smoking and still smiling,
tossed down the big bundle of meat and the other sheep-head on the
ground beside the fire.
"By gosh! Those will be fine head!" said he. "If I'll had this head in
Winnipeg I'll got hondred dollars for each one, me, maybe so. Now I'll
show you how for cook some sheep to-night after supper."
"You mean at supper, don't you?" asked Rob.
"_Non! Non!_ We'll eat supper, wait a while, then those sheep meat
he'll look good some more. I'll show you."
"Are you going to tell us another story to-night?" asked Jesse,
eagerly.
"Yes, after supper I'll tol' you some more story," assented Moise. "We
stay here maybe two, three day now, so to-morrow I think we'll be in
camp. All right. To-night we'll tell the story some more."
X
HOW THE SPLIT-STONE LAKE WAS NAMED
As Moise was even hungrier than John, there seemed no objection to
eating another meal even before sundown. The evening came off fair and
cool, so that the mosquitoes did not bother the campers. As the chill
of the mountain night came on, the boys put on their blanket coats and
pulled the bed-rolls close up to the fire, near which the men both sat
smoking quietly. Already the boys were beginning to learn reticence in
camp with men like these, and not to interrupt with too many
questions; but at length Jesse's eagerness to hear Moise's story could
no longer be restrained.
"You promised to tell us something to-night, Moise," said he. "What's
it going to be?"
"First I'll must got ready for story," said Moise. "In the camp my
people eat when they tell story. I'll fix some of those sheep meat
now."
Borrowing his big knife from Alex, Moise now cut himself a
sharp-pointed stick of wood, two or three feet long, and stuck one end
of this into each end of the side of sheep ribs which lay at the meat
pile. Finding a thong, he tied it to the middle of the stick, and
making himself a tall tripod for a support, he suspended the piece of
meat directly over the fire at some distance above, so that it could
not burn, but would revolve and cook slowly.
"Suppose in a half-hour I'll can tell story now," said Moise, laughing
pleasantly. "No use how much sheep meat you eat, always you eat more!"
At last, however, at what must have been nine or ten o'clock at night,
at least, perhaps later, after Moise had cut for each of the boys a
smoking hot rib of the delicious mountain mutton, he sat back, a
rib-bone in his own hand, and kept his promise about the story.
"I'll tol' you last night, young mens," he said, "how about those
Wiesacajac, the spirit that goes aroun' in the woods. Now in the fur
country east of the mountains is a lake where a rock is on the shore,
split in two piece, an' the people call that the Split-Stone Lake.
Listen, I speak. I tell now how the lake he's got that name.
"Wiesacajac, he'll make hont sometime in that country, an' he'll come
on a camp where all the men are out honting. Only two peoples is left
in camp, same like you leave us two peoples here when you go hont. But
these two peoples is little, one boy, one girl. The mens an' womens
all go hont in the woods and there is no meat in camp at all. The
children were not old for hont or for feesh. Their papa an' their
mamma say, 'Stay here.' So they stay an' wait. They have wait many
days. Pretty soon now they'll gone dead for starve so long.
"Now Wiesacajac, he'll come an' stan' by the fire, an' see those
little peoples. 'Oh, Wiesacajac,' they'll say, 'we're ver' hongree. We
have not eat for many days. We do not think our peoples will come back
no more. We'll not know what for do.'
"Now, Wiesacajac, he'll been always kin'. 'Oh, now, my childrens,'
he'll say, 'this is bad news what you give me, ver' bad indeed. You'll
make me cry on you, I'll been so sorry for you. You're on this lake
where the win' comes, an' the country is bare, an' there is no game.'
"He'll look aroun' an' see nothing in those camp but one piece of
swanskin, ol' dry swanskin, all eat clean of meat. Then he'll look
out on the lake, an' he'll see a large flock of swans stay there
where no man can come. Those swan will know the children was hongree,
but they'll not like for get killed theirselves.
"Wiesacajac he'll say, 'My children, why do you starve when there's
meat there in front of you?'
"Those was child of a honter. 'Yes,' said those boy, 'what use is that
meat to us? It's daylight. You know ver' well you'll not can come up
to the swans.'
"'Ah, ha! Was that so?' said Wiesacajac. 'Let me show you somethings,
then.'
"So Wiesacajac, he'll take those ol' swanskin an' put it on hees head.
Then he'll walk down in the lake an' sink down till just the head and
breast of those swanskin will show on the water. Wiesacajac, he'll be
good honter, too. He'll sweem aroun' in the lake foolish, but all tam
he'll come closer to those swan, an' closer. Those swan she'll be wise
bird, an' they'll saw heem an' they'll say, 'There's one of us that
we'll not miss--what'll he doing out there?'
"Then they begin to sweem toward Wiesacajac, an' Wiesacajac begin to
sweem toward them. Bimeby he'll been right among 'em. Then these two
hongree boy an' girl on the camp they'll holler out to each other,
for they'll see one swan after another flap his wing an' jump for a
fly, but then fall back on water, for he'll can't fly at all.
"Wiesacajac, he'll have some _babiche_--some hide string, aroun' hees
waist, an' he'll took it now an' tie the feet of all those swan
together, so all they'll can do is to flap hees wing an' scream an'
blow their horn like the swan do. At last he'll got them all tied
fast--the whole flock. But he'll can't hold so many swan down on the
water. Those swan will all begin to trumpet an' fly off together, an'
they'll carry Wiesacajac with them. Now he'll let them fly until they
come right near where those two hongree boy an' girl is sit, an' going
for starve. Then he'll drop down an' tie the end of hees _babiche_ to
a strong bush. _Voila!_ Those whole flock of swan is tie' fast to
camp. None but Wiesacajac can do this thing.
"'Now my childrens,' say Wiesacajac, kin'ly, to those boy an' girl,
'you see, there's plenty of meat in your camp. Go now, cook an' eat.'
"So now those children go an' keel a swan an' skin it, an' get it
ready for cook. By this time Wiesacajac he'll done make the fire.
He'll not want to set woods on fire, so he'll build it by those big
rocks which always stood by that lake. Here they'll cook the swan an'
eat all they want, same like we do the sheep meat here to-night. Those
two childrens he'll wish his parent was both there. He'll say, they'll
not be hongree no more never. He'll put some meat on a leaf for those
ol' people when they come back.
"Well, Wiesacajac, he'll say bimeby, 'Now I mus' go. When those parent
of yours come back, an' they see those swan, they'll not go for
believe unless I leave a sign. To show them an' the other people who
has been here, an' to show all the people who hont that it is wise
never to get discourage', but always to keep on trying when you are
hongree or in trouble, I make some mark on this place, me.'
"So now Wiesacajac he'll go down to the water, an' he'll come back
with his two hands full of those water. Of course, you know Wiesacajac
he'll been much taller than any mans. So he'll stoop just this way,
one leg each side of those two rocks, right at this place. An' from
his two han' he'll let fall those water on those hot stone. Now, you
know, if you'll put water on hot stone, he'll split. These two stone
she'll split wide open from top to bottom.
"You can see those stone there now. All the peoples know them, an'
call them the Split-Stone Lake all the tam. An' they all know
Wiesacajac was there, an' help the two childrens, an' split those
stone to leave it for a mark.
"I have finish."
"That certainly is a good story," said Jesse. "I like those stories
you tell up here, for I've never heard any just like them. It makes
you feel like you were out of doors, doesn't it, fellows?"
"Yes," said Rob, "but I'd like to ask you, Alex, do you really believe
in all those stories about spirits--the Indian spirits? You know, you
were telling me that you went to church."
"Yes," said Alex, "I do. The Company likes to have us go to church,
and when we're around the post we do. My mother was baptized, although
she was an Indian woman. My father taught me to read the Bible. I
believe a great deal as you do. But somewhere in me I'm part Injun."
XI
LESSONS IN WILD LIFE
"Well, Alex," said John, the morning after the sheep hunt, as they sat
about the fire after breakfast, "it doesn't look as though we'd saved
much weight."
"How do you mean, Mr. John?"
"Well, you said we couldn't kill any grizzlies because the skins were
too heavy. It seems to me that sheep heads are just as heavy as
grizzly heads."
"That's so," said Alex, "but the sheep were good to eat, and we
couldn't leave the heads in the hills after we had killed them. We'll
try to get them down in the canoe somehow. The sheep meat has been
very useful, and I wish we had more of it. We'll eat it almost all up
in this camp, I'm thinking."
"I suppose we'd better. That reminds me of a story my Uncle Dick told
me," ventured Jesse. "He said he was out fishing with a friend one
time, and they wanted some grasshoppers for bait, and hadn't any way
to carry them. They had a jar of marmalade, so they sat down and ate
all the marmalade, and then they had a good place to keep their
grasshoppers. I suppose if we eat all the meat up, we'll have a place
for the heads."
They all laughed at Jesse's story, but John admitted he would be sorry
when all the bighorn mutton was gone, declaring it to be the best meat
he had ever eaten. Rob expressed wonder at the way the meat was
disappearing.
"I remember, though," said he, "that Sir Alexander Mackenzie tells how
much meat his men would eat in camp. They had a party of ten men and a
dog one day, and they brought in two hundred and fifty pounds of elk
meat. They had had a hearty meal at one o'clock that afternoon, but
they put on the kettles and boiled and ate meat that night, and
roasted the rest on sticks, and by ten o'clock the next day they
didn't have any meat in camp! What do you think about that?"
"Maybe so to-night, maybe so to-morrow no more sheep!" grinned Moise,
with his mouth still full.
"We'll have to hunt as we go on down," said Alex. "We'll be in good
game country almost all the way."
Under the instructions of Alex the boys now finished the preparation
of the sheep heads and scalps, paring off all the meat they could
from the bones, and cleaning the scalps, which they spread out to dry
after salting them carefully.
"I was out with a naturalist one trip," said Alex, "and he collected
all sorts of little animals and snakes, and that sort of thing. When
we wanted to clean the skeleton of a mouse or a snake, we used to
put it in an ant-hill. There were many ants, and in a couple of
weeks they'd picked the bones white and clean, as if they'd been
sand-papered. I suppose we haven't time for that sort of thing now,
though."
"Why couldn't we boil the meat off?" suggested Rob.
"A very good plan for a skull," said Alex, "excepting for a bear
skull. You see, if you put the head of a bear in boiling water, the
tusks will always split open later on. With the bones of the sheep's
head, it will not make so much difference. But we couldn't get the
horns off yet awhile--they'll have to dry out before they will slip
from the pith, and the best way is not to take them off at all. If we
keep on scraping and salting we'll keep our heads, all right."
"How about the hides?" asked John, somewhat anxiously.
"Well, sheep hides were never very much valued among our people,"
replied Alex. "In the mountain tribes below here the women used to
make very white, soft leather for their dresses out of sheep hides.
The hair is coarse and brittle, however, and although it will do for a
little while as a bed, I'm afraid you young gentlemen will throw away
the hides when you finish the trip."
"Well, all right," said John. "We won't throw them away just yet.
Let's spread them out and tan them. What's the best way to do that?"
"The Injuns always stake out a hide, on the ground or on a frame,
flesh side up," said Alex. "Then they take one of their little
scrapers and pare all the meat off. That's the main thing, and that is
the slowest work. When you get down to the real hide, it soon dries
out and doesn't spoil. You can tan a light hide with softsoap, or salt
and alum. Indeed, the Injuns had nothing of that sort in their
tanning--they'd scrape a hide and dry it, then spread some brains on
it, work in the brains and dry it and rub it, and last of all, smoke
it. In that way they got their hides very soft, and after they were
smoked they would always work soft in case they got wet, which isn't
the case with white man's leather, which is tanned by means of acids
and things of that kind."
"I have tanned little squirrel hides, and ground-hog hides, and
wildcat skins," said Rob, "many a time. It isn't any trouble if you
once get the meat all scraped off. That seems to be what spoils a
hide."
"In keeping all our valuable furs," said Alex, "we never touch them
with salt or alum. We just stretch them flesh side out, and let them
dry in the shade, not close to a fire. This keeps the life all in the
fur. Alum makes the hair brittle and takes away the luster. For a big
bear hide, if I were far back in the mountains, I would put lots of
salt on it and fold it up, and let it stay away for a day. Then I
would unroll it and drain it off, and salt it all over again; tamp
salt down into the ears, nose, eyes, and feet, then roll it up again
and tie it tight, with the fur side out. Bear hides will keep all
right that way if you haven't sunshine enough to dry them. The best
way to keep a hide, though, is simply to scrape it clean and dry it in
the sun, and after that fold it. It will never spoil then."
"Alex," ventured Moise, laughing, "you'll talk just like my old woman
about tan hides. Those business is not for mans."
"That's true," said Alex, smiling. "In the old times, when we had
buffalo, the women always tanned the hides. Hard work enough it was,
too, with so heavy and coarse a hide. Now they tan the moose hides.
I'll show you, young gentlemen, lower down this river near the camping
places on the shore spruce-trees cut into three-cornered shape. You
might not know what that was for. It was done so that the women could
rub their moose hides around these angles and corners while they were
making them soft. They make fine moose leather, too--although I
suppose we'd have to wait a good while before we could get Moise to
tan one in that way!"
"What makes them use brains in tanning the hide?" asked Jesse.
"Only for the grease there is in them," said Alex. "It takes some sort
of grease to soften up a hide after it has been dried. The Injuns
always said they could tan a hide with the brains of the animal.
Sometimes in tanning a buffalo hide, however, they would have marrow
and grease and scraps thrown into a kettle with the brains. I think
the main secret of the Injun tanning was the amount of hard work put
in on rubbing the hide. That breaks up the fiber and makes it soft.
"But now, Moise," resumed Alex, getting up and filling his pipe, "I
think it is about time we went down and had a look at those rapids
below the camp. We've got to get through there somehow before long."
"I don't like this water in here at all," said Jesse, looking
troubled. "I could hardly sleep last night on account of the noises it
made--it sounded just like glass was being splintered up under the
water."
"That's gravel, or small rocks, slipping along on the bottom in the
current, I suppose," said Alex, "but after all this is not nearly so
bad a river as the Fraser or the Columbia--you ought to see the old
Columbia in high water! I'm thinking we'd have our own troubles
getting down there in boats as small as these. In a deep river which
is very fast, and which has a rough bottom, all sorts of unaccountable
waves and swells will come up from below, just when you don't expect
them."
"These rapeed in here, she'll been all right," said Moise. "No trouble
to ron heem."
"Well, we'll not take any chances," said Alex, "and we'll in no case
do anything to alarm our young friends."
He turned now, and, followed by Moise, crossed the neck of the bend
and passed on down the river some distance. The boys, following more
slowly around the curve of the beach, finally saw both Alex and Moise
poised on some high rocks and pointing at the wild water which
stretched below them for the distance of two or three hundred yards.
Moise, who seemed to be more savage than Alex, made a wild figure as
he stood gesticulating, a red handkerchief bound over his long, black
hair, and his red sash holding in place the ragged remnants of his
trousers. To the boys it seemed sure that the boats could not get
through such water at all, but to their surprise the two men seemed
not in the least concerned when at length they returned to the camp.
"It's a little rough," said Alex, "but there seems to be a good
channel out in the middle, plenty of water. We'll run the boats
through all right without any trouble. We'll go through light, and
then portage the camp stuff across the bend after we get the boats
below the rapids. Come on then, young gentlemen, and help us get
ready. It may be interesting to you to see your first piece of real
white water, although it isn't very bad.
"As I figure it, then, Mr. Rob," continued Alex, "we ought to have
rather better water below here for a little while. What does your map
say about that?"
"Well," answered Rob, "it's pretty hard to tell exactly, but taking
the stories of Fraser and Mackenzie together, we ought to be here
about one hundred and fifty miles above the mouth of the Finlay. By
to-morrow night, if we hurry, we ought to be at or below the McLeod
Lake outlet. Dr. Macoun says in his government report that it is easy
running in the late season from McLeod to the Finlay, about eighty
miles; and I saw a letter once from Mr. Hussey, a friend of Uncle
Dick's, who made this trip lately, and he said there was not much bad
water between the lake and the mouth of the Finlay. Below there--look
out, that's all!
"It took the Mackenzie party six or eight days' plugging to get from
there up to the carrying place," he added, "but we're going downhill
instead of uphill. I should think we would have alternate stretches of
quiet water here and there, but no very rough water from here on down
for a while. With our small boats we probably cannot go so fast for a
while now as they did with their big canoes. They could run bang
through a big rapid where we'd have to portage."
"Well," said Alex, "I suggest that we spend the rest of this day in
camp here, run the two canoes through, sleep here to-night, then
portage below the rapids to-morrow morning and make a straight run
from there down. We don't want to take too many chances."
"That's all right," said Rob, "and we'll help you pack the canoes."
The men did not put very heavy loads in the canoes, but they took the
sheep heads, and most of the heavier camp supplies, putting about half
of these each in the _Mary Ann_ and the _Jaybird_, themselves taking
the _Mary Ann_ for their first trip through the rapids.
While they were busy finishing their loading, the boys ran on down
around the bend and got ready to see the first canoe take the rapids.
When Jesse got fully within the sound and sight of the rolling, noisy
water which now lay before them, he was very pale.
"What would we do, Rob," asked he, "if the boat should be lost out
there--we couldn't ever get out of here alive."
"I don't think there is that much danger, Jess," answered Rob. "But if
there should be an accident, we have one boat left, and we'd not try
to run her through. We'd let her down the edge of the rapids on a rope
the best we could, a little at a time. That's what Alex would do now
if he thought there was any real danger."
"Here they come!" shouted John. All three boys scrambled up on a high,
jutting rock, where they could see the course of the boat.
The _Mary Ann_ swept around the curve gently and steadily, caught in
the rapid down-set of the current. Moise was in the bow, Alex at the
stern paddle, and both the men looked steadily ahead and not at either
side. They saw the boat seemed to tip down at a sharp angle, but still
go on steadily. Alex was following the long V which ran down in the
mid-channel stream, on either side of which were heavy rocks and
sharp, abrupt falls in the water. At the foot of this smooth strip
they saw the bow of the boat shoot up into the air, then drop down to
a more even keel. From that time on the _Mary Ann_ was swept down
swiftly, jumping up and down, part of the time almost hidden out of
sight, and, as they thought, swamped in the heavy seas. To their
delight, however, they saw the little craft emerge at the foot of the
white water after a while and, taking advantage of the back current,
swing gently alongside and up the shore toward where they stood at the
foot of the main cascade. Both the men were smiling at their
excitement.
"Well, what do you think about that?" asked John, in wonder. "I was
sure they were gone, but they don't seem to care at all."
On the contrary, Moise seemed to be very much pleased with the
experience. Alex was smoking quietly. Neither said much when finally
they came ashore close where the boys stood.
"That was great work," said Rob. "It was beautiful!"
"These boat she'll not tip over," said Moise calmly. "She's good boat.
I s'pose could carry through maybe a hondred ton or so!"
"Well, maybe not _that_ much!" smiled Alex, "but we've proved that the
channel out there is practicable. We'll go up now and bring down the
other boat. First we'll put this one high up on the bank, so that no
rise in the stream can take it away, because we're apt to need these
boats before we get through."
Suiting the action to the word, the two _voyageurs_ now went back to
the camp, and presently the boys once more saw the nodding and dipping
little craft come around the bend. The _Jaybird_ came through with
quite as good fortune as had the _Mary Ann_. And soon the two canoes,
lightly loaded, were lying side by side on the beach below the rolling
water.
"That's how we'll did done it!" said Moise. "S'pose water will be bad,
go where he'll ain't be so bad. No use for get tip over. S'pose he'll
be too bad, we'll take a rope an' let those boat down little bit to a
time."
"Well," said John, "we don't want to show the white feather, but I
suppose it's just as well that you should take the boats through a bad
place, and not trust to us--we might get rattled in the wrong place
out there."
"Yes," said Rob, "it's better to be too careful than not careful
enough. I can see now what the boats will do, however, and I have more
confidence than I have had at any time about our getting through the
journey all right."
"I can't quite figure out, Mr. Rob," said Alex, "just where we are.
The maps don't seem to look like the country, or the country like the
maps."
"According to my reckoning," Rob answered, "we're now about where
Mackenzie was on June 9th. The day before that--which will be the day
after this as we run down the stream--they had sight of a high, white
mountain in the evening, off to the east, and there were mountains and
valleys in full sight to the south. The valley was wide. That answers
pretty closely to the description of this country here. In the
morning of that day--which will be later on in the day for us as we
go down--they saw a high, white bank on the east. We haven't passed
any such bank. They made seventeen miles of this water coming up. If
we can locate that white bank, we ought to strike slacker water below
there and then faster water still farther below, according to their
story. On June 6th the water was so high and heavy that they had to
pull up by the branches of trees, because they couldn't paddle or pole
or track. As they were three days in making something like thirty
miles, we ought to expect pretty fast work the next day or so below
here. But of course they had high water, and we haven't."
"That seems to me good reasoning," said Alex. "We'll take it slow and
easy, and if we hear a bad rapid we'll go ashore and look it out first
before we run it. Not that I know even now just where that stream
comes in from McLeod."
"We could find out by exploring," said Rob, "but I don't think we need
do that. Let's go through on our own as much as we can. We want to
stop when we get down into some good bear country anyhow--as soon as
Moise and John have eaten up enough pork to make room in the boat!"
"They're making such a hole in the bacon now," said Alex, "that I'm
afraid we'll have to stop and hunt somewhere to-morrow."
"That'll suit us all right," boasted John. "Rob and I will stroll out
and kill you almost anything you want to-morrow evening."
They all returned now to the camp, which had been left on the bar
around the bend, and passed the night there.
"We'll have to be good _voyageurs_ from now on," said Alex, when they
turned in for the night, "and that means getting on the trail by four
o'clock in the morning."
XII
WILD COUNTRY AND WILDERNESS WAYS
By daylight of the following morning the boys were busy breaking camp
and getting their luggage across the bend to the place where they had
left the boats below the rapids. They found no very bad water for some
little distance, although occasionally there were stretches with steep
rocks where the water rippled along very noisily. Again they would
meet wide bends where the paddles were useful.
They still were in a wide valley. Far to the east lay the main range
of the Rockies, but the mountains were much lower than they are
farther to the south. They kept a sharp outlook on both banks, trying
to find some landmark which would tell them where they were, and at
last, indeed, they found a high, white bank on the right-hand side,
which they supposed to have been the one mentioned in the Mackenzie
journal, although it was not exactly where Rob's map said it ought to
be. They paused at this place for their first rest, and occupied
themselves for a time figuring out, each according to his notion, a
map of the country on ahead, which all admitted now was entirely
strange to them.
Alex and Moise agreed pretty closely in their description of the
country below the Finlay, for they had friends who had made that trip
numbers of times. As to the country between this place and the mouth
of the Finlay, Rob seemed to be deferred to more than any one else,
because he had read carefully and mapped out the country in accordance
with the Fraser and Mackenzie journals and such narratives of later
travelers as he could find, surveyors, traders, and prospectors.
"Now," said he presently, "if we should run down two or three hours
farther we'd make say fifteen miles, and that ought to bring us about
to the spot where Mackenzie climbed the tree to look out over the
country. As near as I can get at it, that was pretty near the real
divide between the eastern and western waters--that is to say, not far
from where the small stream leads back to McLeod Lake, and the McLeod
Lake portage across to the Fraser, the way the fur-traders went later
on. That's the Giscombe portage route. It's a lot easier than the one
we've taken, too."
"Well, I don't see how they ever got boats up this way at all," said
Jesse, looking with wonder at the swiftly moving current which passed
at their feet.
"And just to think," said John, "they didn't know where they were at
all, even as much as we do now; and we're pretty much lost, if it
comes to that."
"Mackenzie, she'll been good man," said Moise. "Maybe so most as good
man like my wife hees onkle, Pete Fraser."
"Well," said Alex, "we can drop down a way farther and if we don't
meet bad water we'll get into camp early."
"'Drop down' just about describes it," said Rob. "It's like sliding
downhill on a sled, almost, isn't it? I'll know more about the making
of a big river than I ever did before."
None the less the boys, who had gained confidence with every hour in
the care of these skilled boatmen, felt less and less fear as they
passed on down the sometimes tumbling and roaring stream which now lay
before them. The water was not really dangerous for some distance now,
and only in two instances did Alex go ashore and line the boats down
at the edge of rapids, although time and again he cautioned Moise,
who was something of a daredevil in the canoe, not to undertake any
run which looked in the least bad. Moise and Rob, of course, retained
their position in the lead boat, the _Mary Ann_.
"I believe I'll get the hang of it after a while," said Rob, as they
paused at the head of a rapid lying ahead of the two canoes. "The main
thing is to map out your course before you go through, and then hang
to it. You can't take any too sudden turns, and you have to be careful
not to strike on a rock--that's the most dangerous thing, after all,
except the big swells at the foot of a fast drop."
Sometimes, when the shore was strewn with rocks alongside a rapid
which interrupted the passing down of the boats, all of the party
would be as much in the water as out, wading, shoving and pulling at
the boats. They were pretty well chilled when, well on into the
afternoon, Alex signified that it was time to make camp for the day.
"Better get out dry socks and moccasins, young gentlemen," said he.
"You're not quite as tough as Moise yonder."
Moise, happy and care-free, had not as yet started to make a fire, but
was sitting on a rock playing earnestly at a jews'-harp which he
carried in his pocket.
Jesse, idly prowling around in the "possible bag" in which Moise
carried his personal belongings, tipped out on the ground what looked
to be a small chopping-bowl, or wooden dish. "What's that, Moise?"
said he, "and what are all these sticks tied up in a bundle here?"
"I suppose you'll not know what's those," said Moise.
Jesse shook his head.
"That's what Injun calls his game," said Moise, laughing.
"His game--what's that?"
"Those game she'll been call platter game. All tam in winter Injun
will play those game in hees house--he'll play it here hondred year,
two hondred year, I s'pose maybe."
"I know!" broke in Rob, eagerly. "Mackenzie tells about that very
thing. He says that two of his Indians got to fighting over a game of
platter at the fort down below here. I wonder if that's the same
thing!"
"It is," said Alex, "precisely the same. The Crees all play this,
although so far as I know it isn't known east of Lake Superior. Show
him how to play, Moise."
Moise now spread down one of the blankets on the ground and took his
seat cross-legged at the side of it, motioning to the boys to sit
opposite. He now untied the greasy rag which wrapped up the bundle of
sticks, and produced from it eight little pieces of copper, disks, red
on one side and tinned or galvanized on the other. These he put in the
pan or platter, and shaking them together, tossed them into the air,
catching them again in the bowl, which he thumped on the blanket just
as they fell.
"S'pose four white an' four red'll come out," said he, "an' I'm play'
with Alex. He'll give me eight stick now, for I'll win. So. Try heem
again."
This time the little disks fell irregularly, and Moise expressed his
disgust.
"Five one kin', three other kin'; no good!" said he. "She'll have to
come up two, four, seex, eight--the hard way for heem to come is all
tam the way he'll win. You see?" he continued on shaking and thumping
the bowl and catching the little disks, and as he won or lost, Alex
gravely handed him the little sticks, or counters, or received them
back from him as the case might be.
This ancient gambling device of the Indians was very simple and the
game was soon learned, but the knack of catching the disks in the pan
proved quite difficult. John undertook it, with the result that he
spilled every one of them out when they fell in the shallow bowl, much
to the amusement of Moise.
"You'll not been Injun," said Moise. "If any of those pieces he'll fly
out of pan, then you have to give up the pan to the next man. You'll
make a loss that tam. All tam Injun he'll play those platter game in
the house at night," continued Moise. "Two, four man, she'll sit on
blanket an' play many hour. His woman she'll cook meat on the fire.
Another man he'll sit an' poun' the drum. You'll see my drum, I
s'pose."
He now fished out from under his bed one of the singular Cree drums, a
shallow, one-sided circle of bent wood covered with tightly stretched
moose skin. He showed them how the Indian drummer held this, straining
it tight with thongs stretched from finger to thumb, and making the
music by drumming with the fingers of the other hand.
"Injun he'll use those drum sometime to pass tam," said Moise.
"Sometam he'll use heem for pray. S'pose I'll want ver' much for get
moose--I'll play on heem an' seeng. S'pose I want for get grizzly ver'
much--then I seeng _ver_' hard for get grizzly. S'pose you'll seeng
an' play, always you'll get those game, sure."
"I don't see what we'd do without you, Moise," said John, who was
continually rummaging around in Moise's ditty-bag. "For instance,
what's this funny-looking knife you have here?"
"That's worth noticing," said Alex. "You young gentlemen ought to get
you one of those knives each before you leave the country. That's what
we call a crooked knife--you see, the end of the blade is turned up."
"How do you use that sort of thing?" asked John, curiously.
"As any native Injun always uses a knife," rejoined Alex. "You see how
the handle is put on--well, an Injun never whittles away from him, but
always pulls the knife toward him. You'll see, too, that he never
sharpens a blade on both sides, but puts all the bevel on one
side--look at my big hunting-knife here--it's only sharpened on one
side, and the other is perfectly flat."
"Well, what makes Indians do that way?" asked John, wonderingly.
"I don't know," said Alex, "except that they always have done so. You
see, they use files rather than whetstones to sharpen their tools.
Maybe they find it easier to put on an edge in this way. Anyhow, if an
Injun is making a canoe or a pair of snowshoes, or doing any other
whittling work, you will see him use one of these crooked knives, and
he'll always whittle toward him, with his thumb out at the end of the
handle. I don't know who first invented these crooked knives,"
continued Alex, musingly, "but they've always been that way since my
father can remember. As to this big buffalo knife, I suppose the
Northwest Company or the Hudson Bay people invented that. They've been
selling them in the trade for a hundred and fifty years or so."
"I suppose each country has its own tools and its own ways," ventured
Rob.
"Precisely."
"I've been told," Rob went on, "that that's the way the Chinese use a
knife or a saw--they pull it to them instead of pushing it away."
"Well," said Alex, smiling, "some people say that all of us Injuns
came across the narrow salt water far to the northwest. You know, too,
don't you, that the Crees call themselves the First People?"
"They certainly were first in here," assented Rob; "and, as we've said
before, it's hardly fair to call any white man a real discoverer--all
this country was known long before a white man ever set foot in it."
XIII
THE CARIBOU HUNT
The supply of mountain mutton had lessened with alarming rapidity in
this open-air work, which tends to give any man or boy a strong
appetite. Moise looked rather ruefully at the few pieces which he
still had hanging on his meat line near the camp.
"I'll tol' you this sheep she's getting mighty scarce now pretty soon
before long," said he.
"Why not make a hunt, Alex?" asked Rob. "It looks like fairly good
country, and you might be able to get something."
"We might get a bear," said Alex, "or possibly a moose. For all I
know, the buffalo used to come this far back in from the east. It
doesn't look like sheep country just in here, however, because we have
to go too far to get to the mountains."
"How about caribou?"
Alex shook his head. "You mustn't ask me," said he. "This isn't my
country, and I've never been here before, nor seen any man who has
been here. I know there are caribou in British Columbia, far to the
north."
"Mackenzie talks about seeing reindeer in here."
"Yes, I suppose he meant the black-faced caribou of the mountains, and
not the regular barren-ground animal which goes in the big herds. It's
odd, but those early men didn't seem to know all the animals on which
they depended so much. Without doubt Mackenzie called the musk-ox some
sort of buffalo, and he called these mountain caribou the reindeer.
But we might get one for all of that. How would you like to go with me
across the river, Mr. Rob, and make a little hunt?"
"Fine!" assented Rob, eagerly. "But how about the others?"
"I'll tell you, Rob," said John, who, to tell the truth, was just a
little tired from the hard work of the day before; "you and Alex go
across, and after a while Moise will take Jess and me out on this side
a little way back. We'll all meet here this evening."
This plan was agreed to, and in the course of a few moments Alex and
Rob were pushing across the river in the _Mary Ann_, equipped lightly
for their first hunt after some game which Rob was eager to meet
because it was new to him.
Once more they pushed through heavy undergrowth close to the river,
traveled up a rather lofty bank, and found themselves in flatter
country, beyond which at some distance rose some mountains.
"I'll bet you," said Rob, "that this is just about where Mackenzie
climbed the tree to look around--you can't see much from the river
down there, and his men were complaining about the hard work, and he
didn't know where he was. So he climbed a tree to have a look."
"Well, Mr. Rob," said Alex, "if you don't mind, I'll let you do the
climbing, while I sit here and smoke. I'm not quite as light as I once
was."
"All right," said Rob. And, divesting himself of his cartridge-belt
and jacket, a little later he began to make his way up to the topmost
branches of the tall spruce, breaking off the dead limbs as he slowly
advanced upward.
Rob remained aloft for some moments, but at last descended and
rejoined Alex.
"Now, what did you see, Mr. Rob?" inquired the old hunter.
"Well, I don't know," said Rob; "it's hard to figure out exactly, of
course. But Mackenzie talks about high mountains off to the northwest,
and a parallel range of mountains running to the south, with a narrow
valley between. That, of course, must be this river, and as near as I
can tell, it must have been about here that he and Mackay and the
Indian hunters took to the shore to spy out the way."
"And jolly well got lost, too, eh?"
"They certainly did--got lost from their boat for an entire day! I can
imagine how they felt when they didn't know whether the boat was above
them or below them. Mackenzie says the mosquitoes about ate them up.
They sent branches down the river to let the boatmen know they were
above them. It wasn't until night that finally they found the boat was
far below them. I'll warrant they were glad when they got together
again. The truth is, the men were almost ready to turn back and leave
Mackenzie where he was."
"They'd have done that a dozen times but for his courage," said Alex.
"Well, now, what would you do, Mr. Rob, if you should get lost in the
woods or mountains any time?"
"I'd try to keep cool," said Rob, "but I'm not sure that I could. It's
a mighty bad feeling--I know what it is myself. What would you do,
Alex, if you ever got lost in a storm, or anything of that kind?"
"Sit down and build a fire," answered Alex. "Go to sleep, take it
easy, and wait till my mind got cool. Then when you're rested and all
ready to go on, you nearly always know which is the right direction.
You see, an Injun is a good deal like a dog, as Moise would say. But
now suppose I should get separated from you in here--how would you get
back to camp?"
"Well, you see," said Rob, "there is that high mountain on this side
of the river, and there is one right opposite, far off on the east
side. I know our camp is on the line between those two peaks. Of
course I'd know the river was downhill, unless I wandered off over
some other little divide. I'd just simply go downhill as straight as I
could until I hit the river. Of course I couldn't tell, maybe, whether
I was just above or below the camp. But I'd wait to see smoke, and I'd
fire off my rifle, hoping that some one would hear me. Then I think I
would not go very far from that place. I'd sit down and build a smoke,
and wait."
"That would be the best way to do," Alex assented. "But do you know,
simple as that seems, lots of grown men couldn't do it--they'd lose
their heads and be just as apt to go west as east! Many a man has been
lost in the wilderness simply because he got excited and scared and
didn't take it easy. Always remember that whenever you are in a wild
country it isn't as dangerous as it seems to be.
"But come, now," he resumed, "I suppose we must get over in that flat
country and see if we can find any sign of game."
"How do you hunt caribou, Alex? I don't know anything about it."
"That's hard to answer," rejoined the old hunter. "Of course you can
take a trail if you can find it, and if it seems fresh. An Injun hunts
moose by following the trail. But either a moose or a caribou has very
keen scent, and if you follow straight on after them, and don't circle
once in a while and pick up the trail again, you're not apt to come up
with either one or the other. A caribou, however, is a strange
animal--it isn't nearly as wild as a moose or a bighorn. A grizzly
bear has very keen scent but very bad eyes, and I don't suppose a
grizzly can see you half a mile at best. Now, a caribou has good eyes,
ears, and nose, but he hasn't got any head. Sometimes he is very shy,
and sometimes he'll stand and look at you, and let you keep on
shooting. He seems to be full of curiosity, and wants to know what
you're doing.
"We'll work on over a little at a time," he continued, "and maybe if
we skirt around some open meadows or glades we may see some tracks.
Sometimes they come out in places like that to feed or stand around. A
water-hole or little lake, too, is good for game usually. When an
Injun knows he's in a country where game is moving or feeding he keeps
pretty quiet and lets the game come to him rather than going to it."
The theories laid down by the old hunter seemed soon to work out
fairly well, because they had not gone up more than a mile farther
until they got into a country which showed considerable sign of moose
and caribou, the latter in rather a fresh trail. As this led them to a
sort of open, grassy glade, where other sign was abundant, Alex paused
for a time in the hope that something might show from the heavy cover
in which they had been traveling.
At last he quietly laid a hand on Rob's arm, and without making any
sudden movement, pointed across the glade, which at that place was
several hundred yards wide.
"Oh, I see them!" said Rob, in an excited whisper. "What funny-looking
things they are--five of them!"
"Two stags, three cows," said Alex, quietly. "Too far to shoot. Wait
awhile."
They drew back now into the cover of the surrounding valleys, where it
is true the mosquitoes annoyed them unspeakably, but where they
remained with such patience as they could possess. The caribou seemed
to be slowly feeding out from the opposite edge of the forest, but
they were very deliberate and uncertain in their progress. The two
watched them for the best part of half an hour.
"Too bad!" said Alex, at last, as he peered out from behind the tree
which shielded them. "Four hundred yards at best."
Rob also ventured a look at this time.
"Why, there's only three," said he.
"Yes, the two stags went back into the woods."
"But we can't kill the cows," said Rob, decisively.
"Why not? They're just as good to eat."
"Maybe better," said Rob, "I don't doubt that. A young, fat cow is
better meat than an old bull any time, of course. But Uncle Dick said
we mustn't waste anything, and mustn't kill anything except what had
horns in this kind of game."
"Well," said Alex, "I don't much feel like going back to camp without
any meat."
"Nor I. Let's wait here awhile and maybe the stag'll come out again."
This indeed proved to be the case, for in a few minutes the smaller
stag did show at the edge of the wood, offering a dim and very
uncertain mark at a distance of several hundred yards. Rob began to
prepare his rifle.
"It's too far," said Alex. "No Injun would think of shooting that far.
You might only cripple."
"Yes," said Rob, "and I might only miss. But I'd rather do that than
shoot at one of the cows. I believe I'll take a chance anyhow, Alex."
Adjusting his rifle-sights to the best of his knowledge, Rob took long
and careful aim, and fired at the shoulder of the distant caribou,
which showed but indistinctly along his rifle-sights. The shot may
have come somewhere close to the animal, but certainly did not strike
it, for with a sudden whirl it was off, and in the next instant was
hidden by the protecting woods.
Now, there was instanced the truth of what Alex had said about the
fickleness of caribou nature. The three cows, one old and two young
ones, stood in full view in the open, at about half the distance of
the stag. They plainly saw both Alex and Rob as they now stepped out
from their cover. Yet instead of wheeling and running, the older cow,
her ears standing out high and wide, began to trot steadily toward
them instead of running away. Rob once more raised his rifle, but this
time not to shoot at game, but only to make an experiment. He fired
once, twice, and three times in the air; and even up to the time of
the last shot, the old cow trotted steadily toward him, not stopping
until she was within fifty yards of him. Here she stood staring
wide-eyed, but at length, having figured out something in her own
mind, she suddenly wheeled and lumbered off again, her heavy, coarse
muzzle straight ahead of her. All three now shambled off and soon were
lost to view.
"Well, what do you think about that, Alex?" demanded Rob. "That's the
funniest thing I ever saw in all my hunting. Those things must be
crazy."
"I suppose they think we are," replied Alex, glumly; "maybe we are, or
we'd have taken a shot at her. I can almost taste that tenderloin!"
"I'm sorry about it, Alex," said Rob, "but maybe some of the others
will get some meat. I really don't like to shoot females, because game
isn't as plentiful now as it used to be, you know, even in the wild
country."
Alex sighed, and rather unhappily turned and led the way back toward
the river. "It's too late to hunt anything more," said he, "and we
might not find anything that just suited us."
When at length they reached camp, after again crossing the river in
the _Mary Ann_, twilight was beginning to fall. Rob did not notice any
difference in the camp, although the keen eyes of Alex detected a
grayish object hanging on the cut limb of the tree at the edge of the
near-by thicket. John and Jesse pretended not to know anything, and
Alex and Rob, to be equally dignified, volunteered no information and
asked no questions.
All the boys had noticed that old hunters, especially Indian hunters,
never ask one another what success they have had, and never tell
anything about what they have killed. Jesse, however, could not stand
this sort of thing very long, and at length, with considerable
exultation, asked Rob what luck he had had. Rob rather shamefacedly
admitted the failure which he and Alex had made.
"We did better," said Jesse; "we got one."
"You got one? Who got it?" demanded Rob. "Where is it?"
"There's a ham hanging up over there in the brush," answered Jesse.
"We all went out, but I killed him."
"Is that so, John?" asked Rob.
"It certainly is," said John. "Yes, Jesse is the big chief to-night."
"We only went a little way, too," said Jesse, "just up over the ridge
there, I don't suppose more than half a mile. It must have been about
noon when we started, and Moise didn't think we were going to see
anything, and neither did we. So we sat down, and in an hour or so I
was shooting at a mark to see how my rifle would do. All at once we
saw this fellow--it wasn't a very big one, with little bits of
horns--come out and stand around looking to see what the noise was
about. So I just took a rest over a log, and I plugged him!"
Jesse stood up straight, his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat,
a very proud young boy indeed.
Moise, strolling around, was grinning happily when at last he met the
unsuccessful hunters.
"Those Jesse boy, she'll been good shot," said he. "I s'pose, Alex,
you'll not make much hunter out of yourself, _hein_?"
"Well," said Alex, "we let some mighty good cow venison get away from
us, all right."
"Never mind," said Moise, consolingly, "we'll got fat young caribou
now plenty for two--three days, maybe so."
Rob went up to Jesse and shook him by the hand. "Good boy, Jess!" said
he. "I'm glad you got him instead of myself. But why didn't you tell
us when we came into camp?"
"Moise said good hunters didn't do that," ventured John, who joined
the conversation. "How about that, Alex?"
"Well," said the older hunter, "you must remember that white men are
different from Injuns. People who live as Injuns do get to be rather
quiet. Now, suppose an Injun hunter has gone out after a moose, and
has been gone maybe two or three days. He'll probably not hunt until
everything is gone in the lodge, and maybe neither he nor his family
is going to eat much until he gets a moose. Well, by and by he comes
home some evening, and throws aside the skin door of the lodge, and
goes in and sits down. His wife helps him off with his moccasins and
hands him a dry pair, and makes up the fire. He sits and smokes. No
one asks him whether he has killed or not, and he doesn't say whether
he has killed, although they all may be very hungry. Now, his wife
doesn't know whether to get ready to cook or not, but she doesn't ask
her man. He sits there awhile; but, of course, he likes his family and
doesn't want them to be hungry. So after a while, very dignified,
he'll make some excuse so that his wife can tell what the result of
the hunt has been. Maybe he'll say carelessly that he has a little
blood on his shirt, which ought to be washed off, or maybe he'll say
that if any one were walking a couple of miles down the river they
might see a blazed trail out toward the hills. Then his wife will
smile and hurry to put on the kettles. If it isn't too far, she'll
take her pack-strap then and start out to bring in some of the meat.
Every people, you see, will have different ways."
"But the man who doesn't kill something goes hungry, and his family,
too?"
"Not in the least!" rejoined Alex, with some spirit. "There, too, the
'First People' are kinder than the whites who govern them now. Suppose
in my village there are twenty lodges. Out of the twenty there will be
maybe four or five good hunters, men who can go out and kill moose or
bear. It gets to be so that they do most of the hunting, and if one of
them brings in any meat all the village will have meat. Of course the
good hunters don't do any other kind of work very much."
"That isn't the way white people do," asserted John; "they don't
divide up in business matters unless they have to."
"Maybe not," said Alex, "but it has always been different with my
people in the north. If men did not divide meat with one another many
people would starve. As it is, many starve in the far-off countries
each winter. Sometimes we cannot get even rabbits. It may be far to
the trading-post. The moose or the caribou may be many miles away,
where no one can find them. A heavy storm may come, so no one can
travel. Then if a man is fortunate and has meat he would be cruel if
he did not divide. He knows that all the others would do as much with
him. It is our custom."
XIV
EXPLORING THE WILDERNESS
IF Rob, John, and Jesse had been eager for exciting incidents on their
trip across the mountains, certainly they found them in plenty during
the next three days after the caribou hunt, as they continued their
passage on down the mountain river, when they had brought in all their
meat and once more loaded the canoes.
Rob had been studying his maps and records, and predicted freely that
below this camp they would find wilder waters. This certainly proved
to be the case. Moreover, they found that although it is easier to go
down-stream than up in fast water, it is more dangerous, and sometimes
progress is not so rapid as might be expected. Indeed, on the first
day below the caribou camp they made scarcely more than six or eight
miles, for, in passing the boats down along shore to avoid a short
piece of fast water, the force of the current broke the line of the
_Mary Ann_, and it was merely by good fortune that they caught up
with her, badly jammed and wedged between two rocks, her gunwale strip
broken across and the cedar shell crushed through, so that she had
sprung a bad leak.
They hauled the crippled _Mary Ann_ ashore and discharged her cargo in
order to examine the injuries received.
"Well, now, we're giving an imitation of the early _voyageurs_," said
John, as he saw the rent in the side of the canoe. "But how are we
going to fix her? She isn't a birch-bark, and if she were, we have no
bark."
"I think we'll manage," Rob replied, "because we have canvas and
cement and all that sort of thing. But her rail is broken quite
across."
"She'll been good boat," said Moise, smiling; "we'll fix heem easy."
So saying, he took his ax and sauntered over to a half-dead
cedar-tree, from which, without much difficulty, he cut some long
splints. This they managed to lash inside the gunwale of the canoe,
stiffening it considerably. The rent in the bottom they patched by
means of their cement, and some waterproof material. They finished the
patch with abundant spruce gum and tar, melted together and spread all
over. When they were done their labors the _Mary Ann_ was again
watertight, but not in the least improved in beauty.
"We'll have to be very careful all the way down from here, I'm
thinking," said Alex. "The river is getting far more powerful almost
every hour as these other streams come in. Below the Finlay, I know
very well, she's a big stream, and the shores are so bad that if we
had an accident it would leave things rather awkward."
None the less, even with one boat crippled in this way, Rob and John
gained confidence in running fast water almost every hour. They
learned how to keep their heads when engaged in the passage of white
water, how to avoid hidden rocks, as well as dangerous swells and
eddies. It seemed to them quite astonishing what rough water could be
taken in these little boats, and continually the temptation was, of
course, to run a rapid rather than laboriously to disembark and line
down alongshore. Thus, to make their story somewhat shorter, they
passed on down slowly for parts of three days, until at last, long
after passing the mouth of the Pack River and the Nation, and yet
another smaller stream, all coming in from the west, they saw opening
up on the left hand a wide valley coming down from the northwest.
The character of the country, and the distance they had traveled, left
no doubt whatever in their minds that this was the Finlay River, the
other head-stream of the Peace River. They therefore now felt as
though they knew precisely where they were. Being tired, they pitched
their camp not far below the mouth of the Finlay, and busied
themselves in looking over their boats and supplies. They knew that
the dreaded Finlay rapids lay only two miles below them.
They were now passing down a river which had grown to a very
considerable stream, sometimes with high banks, again with shores
rather low and marshy, and often broken with many islands scattered
across an expanse of water sometimes nearly a quarter of a mile
in extent. The last forty miles of the stream to the junction of
the Finlay had averaged not more rapid but much heavier than the
current had seemed toward the headwaters. The roar of the rapids
they approached now came up-stream with a heavier note, and was
distinguishable at much greater distances, and the boats in passing
through some of the heavier rapids did so in the midst of a din quite
different from the gentle babble of the shallow stream far toward its
source. The boom of the bad water far below this camp made them
uneasy.
"Well," said Rob, as they sat in camp near the shore, "we know where
we are now. We have passed the mouth of the McLeod outlet, and we have
passed the Nation River and everything else that comes in from the
west. Here we turn to the east. It must be nearly one hundred and
fifty miles to the real gate of the Rockies--at the Cañon of the Rocky
Mountains, as the first traders called it."
"It looks like a pretty big river now," said Jesse dubiously.
"I would like to hope it's no worse than it has been just above here,"
said Rob, "but I fear it is, from all I know. Mackenzie got it in high
water, and he only averaged half a mile an hour for a long time going
up, along in here. Of course coming down we could pick our way better
than he could."
"We have been rather lucky on the whole," said Alex, "for, frankly,
the water has been rather worse for canoes than I thought it would be.
Moreover, it is still larger below here. But that's not the worst of
it."
"What do you mean, Alex?" inquired John.
"You ought not to need to ask me," replied the old hunter. "You're all
_voyageurs_, are you not?"
"But what is it, then?"
"Look closely."
They went to the edge of the beach and looked up and down the river
carefully, also studying the forking valleys into which they could see
from the place where they were in camp.
"Well, I don't know," said Rob, "but it seems to me she's rising a
little!"
Alex nodded. "We've been in camp here three hours now," said he, "and
she's come up a little more than an inch."
"Why, how do you know that?" asked John.
"I set a stick with a notch at water-level when we first came ashore."
"How did you happen to think of that?"
"Very likely the same thing which made Rob guess it."
"Yes," said Rob, "I saw that the Finlay water coming down seemed to be
discolored. But at first I supposed it was the natural color of that
river. So you think there has been a thaw?"
"Maybe some sort of rain or chinook over in there," said Alex. "What
do you think, Moise?"
Moise and Alex talked for a time in the Cree language, Moise shaking
his head as he answered.
"Moise thinks there has been a little rise," interpreted Alex. "He
says that below here the river sometimes cañons up, or runs between
high banks with a narrow channel. That would make it bad. You see, the
rise of a foot in a place like that would make much more difference
than two inches in the places where the river is spread out several
hundred yards wide. We know a little bit more about the river from
here east, because we have talked with men who have been here."
"I suppose we'll have to wait here until it runs down," said Jesse.
"Maybe not. If we were here earlier in the season and this were the
regular spring rise we might have to wait for some time before we
could go down with these boats. But the big flood has gone down long
ago. There isn't anything to hinder us as yet from dropping down and
watching carefully on ahead as we go."
Rob was again consulting his inevitable copy of _Mackenzie's Voyages_.
"It took Mackenzie and Fraser each of them just eight days to get this
far up the river from the west end of the Cañon of the Rocky
Mountains," said he. "Fraser must have built his boat somewhere west
of the Rocky Mountain Portage, as they call it. That must be
seventy-five miles east of here, as near as I can figure it from the
Mackenzie story, but Uncle Dick's friend, Mr. Hussey, said it was one
hundred and thirty miles--and only two big rapids, the Finlay and the
Parle Pas. I wish we could run it every foot, because Mackenzie did
when he came down. At least, he doesn't say he didn't."
"It was done by the traders for a long time," said Alex, "all but
those two rapids and that cañon. There is no trail even for horses
between Hudson's Hope and Fort St. John, but that is easy water. They
serve St. John now with steamboats, and the old canoe days are pretty
much over. But, anyhow, there is the main ridge of the Rockies east of
us, and we've got to get through it somehow, that's sure. Back
there"--he pointed up the valley down which they had been coming now
for so long--"we were between two ranges of the divide. The Finlay
yonder comes down out of some other range to the northwest. But now
the doubled river has to break through that dam of the eastern rim. I
suppose we may look for bad water somewhere. Look here," he added,
examining the map, "here are the altitudes all marked on by the
government surveyors--twenty-five hundred feet above sea-level at
Giscombe Portage, twenty-two hundred and fifty at Fort McLeod. I
suppose it was about three thousand feet where we started across. At
the mouth of the Finlay it's only two thousand feet--a big drop. But
she drops nearly three hundred feet more to the west end of the
portage, and two hundred feet more at the east end. That's going
downhill pretty fast--five hundred feet in less than one hundred and
fifty miles--and some of it not very fast water."
"Well," ventured Rob, "why don't we drop down as far as we can, and if
we get caught by a flood then stop and take a little hunt somewhere
back in the hills? You know, we haven't got that grizzly yet you
promised us."
"Sure enough," said Alex, with no great enthusiasm; for he did not
relish the idea of hunting grizzly bear in company with such young
companions.
"But we have come through good grizzly country already," ventured
John.
"Very likely," Alex smiled. "I've seen considerable bear sign along
the shores, as well as a good many moose tracks close to where we
camped."
"If you think we're afraid to go bear hunting, Alex," Rob began, "you
certainly don't know us very well. That's one of the reasons we came
on this trip--we wanted to get a real Rocky Mountain grizzly."
"It is not too late," the old hunter rejoined, "and I shouldn't wonder
if there was as good country east of here as any we've come to. The
grizzly is a great traveler, anyhow, and is as apt to be found one
place as another. At this time of year all the bears come out of the
mountains and feed along the valleys on red willow buds and such
things. They even swim from the shore to the islands, in search of
willow flats. Besides, there are plenty of saskatoons, I don't doubt,
not far back from the river. The bears ought to be down out of the
high country by this time, and if you really care for a hunt, there
ought to be plenty of good places below here."
"It isn't dark yet," said Rob; "suppose we break camp and run down
just a little farther this evening. If the flood comes in behind us,
we're just that much ahead."
They acted on Rob's suggestion, and, passing rapidly on down the now
slightly discolored water, they soon left the Finlay gap behind them.
Their journey was but brief, however, for soon they heard the boom of
the rapids below them.
"On shore, queek!" called Moise to Rob, who was in the bow of the
leading boat.
XV
IN THE BIG WATERS
The sound and sight of the Finlay rapids, at the head of which the
leading boat now paused, gave Rob his first real idea of how wicked a
great mountain river can be. He looked back to see whether the
_Jaybird_ and her crew were well warned of the danger. But Alex soon
brought the other boat alongside at the landing place, on the south
side of the stream, above the rapids.
"Well, here we are," said he. "Now you may see what some real rapids
are. Those little ripples up above didn't amount to much."
"She looks pretty bad," said Rob. "Could anybody run a boat through
there?"
"Old Sir Alexander probably did it, but he had a big birch-bark. I'd
take it on with a good man and a good boat. We could very possibly
even get one of these boats through if we were obliged to, but there
is no use taking any risk. We can line down through the worst of it,
or even run the boat ashore if we like."
"Me, I'll rather ron the rapeed than walk on the bank with boat," said
Moise.
"Never mind, Moise," said Alex, "we'll not have to walk far with her.
We'll camp here to-night and look it over in the morning. It's always
better to tackle rough work in the morning rather than in the
evening."
The young travelers slept none too well that night. The sound of the
rapids coming through the dark and the feeling of remoteness here in
this wild mountain region proved depressing to their spirits. They
were glad enough when at length toward dawn they heard Moise stirring
about the camp. By the time they had their breakfast finished and camp
broken Alex had already returned from a trip along the side of the
rapids.
"It's not so very bad," said he, "although the river has come up an
inch or so during the night. The whole rapid is about a quarter of a
mile long, but the worst place is only a couple of hundred yards or
so. We'll drop down to the head of that strip on the line and portage
around there."
They followed this plan, loading the boats and dropping down for a
short time, saving themselves all the portage work they could. In
places the water seemed very wild, tossing over the rocks in long,
rolling waves or breaking in foam and spray. The boys scrambled
alongshore, allowing Alex and Moise to care for the first boat when it
became necessary for them to double up on each trip over the worst
water. Part of the time they bore a hand on the line, and were
surprised to see the strength of the current even on a boat without a
load.
"You see," said Alex, when at length they came to a place where the
water seemed still more powerful and rough, and where it seemed
necessary to haul the boat entirely from the water for a carry of some
distance over the rocks, "it's better to take a little trouble and go
slow rather than to lose a boat in here. If she broke away from us
we'd feel a long way from home!"
After they got the _Mary Ann_ again in the water and at the foot of
the rapids, the men went up after the _Jaybird_, while the boys did
what they could toward advancing the cargo of the _Mary Ann_. In less
than an hour they had everything below the rapids and saw plain
sailing once more ahead of them. Moise expressed his disappointment at
not being allowed to run the Finlay rapids.
"My onkle, she'll always ron those rapeed," said he. "S'pose I'll
tell heem I'll walk aroun', he'll laugh on me, yes!"
"That's all right, Moise," said Rob; "your uncle isn't here, and for
one, I'm glad we took it easy coming through here. That's rough water
either way you look at it, up-stream or down. But now," he continued,
once more consulting his maps and notes, "we ought to have a couple of
days of good, straightaway running, with almost no bad water. It's
about seventy miles from here to the Parle Pas rapids. And speaking of
_rapids_, they tell me that's the worst place on the whole river."
"That's a funny name--why do they call them the Parle Pas rapids?"
asked Jesse.
"Those were Frenchman words," said Moise. "Parle Pas means 'no speak.'
He's a quiet rapeed. S'pose you'll ron on the river there, an' smoke a
pipe, an' talk, an' not think of nothing. All at once, _Boum_! You'll
been in those rapeed, an' he'll not said a word to you!"
"Well," said Rob, "the traders used to run them somehow, didn't they?"
"Yes, my onkle he'll ron them in beeg boat many tam, but not with
leetle boat. She'll jump down five, three feet sometams. Leetle boat
she'll stick his nose under, yes. My onkle he'll tol' me, when you
come on the Parle Pas take the north side, an' find some chute there
for leetle boat. Leetle boat could ron the Parle Pas, maybe so, but I
suppose, us, we'll let those boat down on the line because we'll got
some scares, _hein_?"
"It's just as well to have some scares on these mountain rivers,
Moise," said Alex, reprovingly. "This water is icy cold, and if even a
man got out into the rapids he couldn't swim at all, it would tumble
him over so. We'll line down on the Parle Pas, yes, depend on that.
But that's down-stream a couple of days if we go slow."
"When do we get that bear hunt, Alex?" asked John, who loved
excitement almost as much as Moise.
"Almost anywhere in here," answered Alex; "but I think we'd better put
off the hunt until we get below all the worst water. No use portaging
bear hides."
"It looks like good bear country here," said Rob. "We must be in the
real Rockies now, because the mountains come right down to the river."
"Good bear country clear to Hudson's Hope, or beyond that," assented
Alex.
"All right," said Rob; "we'll have a good hunt somewhere when we get
below the Parle Pas. If we have to do any more portaging, we don't
want to carry any more than we can help, that's true. And, of course,
we're going to get that grizzly."
Having by this time reloaded the boats, they re-embarked, and passed
merrily on down the river, which now seemed wholly peaceful and
pleasant. The mountains now indeed were all about them, in places
rising up in almost perpendicular rock faces, and the valley was very
much narrower. They were at last entering the arms of the great range
through which they later were to pass.
The character of the river changed from time to time. Sometimes they
were in wide, quiet reaches, where they needed the paddles to make
much headway. Again there would be drops of faster water, although
nothing very dangerous. Relieved as they were now of any thought of
danger for the next sixty or seventy miles ahead, this part of their
journey seemed delightful in every way. They did not pause to hunt,
and saw no game excepting one band of four timber wolves, upon which
they came as they swept around a bend, but which hastened under cover
before any one could get a shot. Once in a while they stopped at
little beaches or bars, and almost always saw the trails of large game
in the sand or mud. Always they felt that now they were deep in the
wilderness, and every moment was a pleasure to them.
They did not really know how far below the Finlay rapids they traveled
that day, for continually they discovered that it is difficult to
apply map readings to the actual face of a new country. They made no
great attempt at speed, but sometimes drifted down-stream, the boats
close together. Sometimes when the wind was fair Rob or John would
raise the corner of a tent or blanket to act as a sail. Thus, idling
and chatting along, they made perhaps forty miles down-stream before
they made their next evening camp. The country seemed to them wilder
now, since the bold hills were so close in upon them, though of course
they knew that each day was bringing them closer to the settlements on
the eastern side of the range.
That night was cold, and they had no trouble with mosquitoes. Feeling
no need of hurry, they made a late start and idled on down the river
through a very interesting mountain region, until the afternoon.
Toward evening they began to feel that they might perhaps be near the
dreaded Parle Pas rapids, and they approached each bend with care,
sometimes going ashore for a prospecting trip which proved to be made
only on a false alarm. They had, however, now begun to learn the "feel
of the water," as the _voyageurs_ called it. Rob, who was ahead, at
length noted the glassy look of the river, and called back to Moise
that he believed there were rapids ahead.
"Parle Pas!" cried Moise. "On shore, queek!"
Swiftly they paddled across, to the north side of the river, where
presently they were joined by the other boat.
"She's the Parle Pas, all right," laughed Moise; "look at heem!"
From their place of observation they could see a long ridge, or rim,
the water falling in a sort of cascade well out across the stream.
There seemed to be a chute, or channel, in midstream, but the
back-combing rollers below it looked ominously large for a boat the
size of theirs, so that they were glad enough to be where they were,
on dry land.
Moise was once more for running the boats through the chute on the
north shore, but Alex's cautious counsel prevailed. There was not more
than thirty or forty feet of the very worst water, rather a cascade
than a long rapid, but they discharged the cargo and lined both boats
through light. This sort of work proved highly interesting and
exciting to all hands, and, of course, when superintended by such men
as Alex and Moise had no great danger, although all of them were
pretty wet when at length they had their boats reloaded at the foot of
the rapids.
"I know how Sir Alexander got across the mountains," said John. "He
had good _voyageurs_ to do the work! About all he had to do was to
write the story each night, and he didn't do that any too well, it
seems to me--anyhow, when you come to read his story backward you
can't tell where you are very well."
"That's right," said Rob. "I don't much blame Simon Fraser for finding
fault with Mackenzie's narrative. But maybe if we had written the
story they'd have found fault with us the same way. The same country
doesn't look alike to different people, and what is a mile to one man
may be two miles to another when both are guessing. But anyhow, here
we are below the 'Polly' rapids--as the traders call them to-day--and
jolly glad we ought to be we're safe, too."
"Plain sailing again now for a while," said Jesse. "Let's see the
map."
They all bent over the different maps they had, especially one which
Rob had made up from all the sources of information he had.
"Yes," said Rob, "it ought to be about sixty miles of pretty good
water now until we get to the one place on this river which the
boldest _voyageur_ never tried to run--the Cañon of the Rocky
Mountains, as the very first travelers called it."
"Those map she'll not been much good," said Moise, pointing to the
government maps of which Rob had a store. "The only good map she'll
been made by the Injun with a stick, s'pose on the sand, or maybe so
on a piece of bark. My onkle she'll made me a map of the Parle Pas.
He'll show the place where to go through the middle on the Parle Pas.
S'pose you'll tell my onkle, Moise he'll walk down the Parle Pas an'
not ron on heem, he'll laugh on me, heem! All right, when you get to
the Grand Portage sixty miles below, you'll get all the walk you want,
Alex, _hein_?"
Alex answered him with a pleasant smile, not in the least disposed to
be laughed into taking any risks he did not think necessary.
"We'd better drop down a few miles farther before we make camp," said
he. "_En avant, Moise. En roulant, ma boule!_"
Moise turned to his paddle and broke into song gaily as they once more
headed down the stream. They did not tarry again until the sun was
behind the western ridges. The mountain shadows were heavy when at
last their little fire lighted up the black forest which crowded close
in all around them.
"I think this is fine," said Jesse, quietly, as they sat about the
camp-fire that night.
"I wouldn't have missed it for anything in the world," said John; and
Rob gave his assent by a quiet nod of satisfaction.
"I feel as if we were almost home now," said Jesse. "We must have come
an awfully long way."
Alex shook his head. "We're a long way from home yet," said he. "When
the Klondike rushes were on some men got up as far north as this
place, and scattered everywhere, hoping they could get through somehow
to the Yukon--none of them knew just how. But few of them ever got up
this river beyond Hudson's Hope, or even Fort St. John, far east of
there. Some turned back and went down the Mackenzie, others took the
back trail
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