"Sixteen! That's something different. That looks as though we might expect some bears ourselves this spring."

"All right, plenty grizzlum. Maybe-so forty, fifty mile."

"What does he think about the running on the Canoe River, Uncle Dick?" inquired Rob. "Is it going to be bad water?"

"Not too bad water," said Leo, turning to Rob. "Snow not too much melt yet on big hills. We take wagon first."

"A wagon!" exclaimed John. "I didn't know there was a wagon within a thousand miles."

"My cousin other side river," said Leo, proudly, "got wagon. Bring 'um wagon two hunder' miles from Fort George on canoe. His horses heap kick wagon sometam, but bime-by all right. We get work on railroad bime-by."

Rob and John stood looking at each other somewhat puzzled. "Well," said John, "I thought we were coming to a wild country, but it looks as though everybody here was getting ready to be civilized as fast as possible. But even if we have a wagon, where are we going with it?"

"There's a perfectly good trail up to Cranberry Lake, the summit of this divide, as I told you," said Uncle Dick. "I think Leo would rather take one of the boats by wagon. The rest of us can push the other boat up the McLennan, part way at least."

"Good trail," said Leo. "Suppose you'll like, we got horse trail down Canoe River forty mile now. Many people come now. I been to Revelstruck [Revelstoke] three tam, me and my cousin George—part way horse, part way boat. Bime-by go on railroad. That's why my cousin buy his wagon—work on railroad and get money for ticket to Revelstruck."

"Well, what do you know about that, Rob?" said John. "This country certainly is full of enterprise. What I don't understand is, how they got a wagon up the Fraser River in a canoe."

After a time Leo led them down to the bank of the Fraser and showed them several of the long, dug-out canoes of the Shuswap, with which these people have navigated that wild river for many years. He explained how, by lashing two canoes together, they could carry quite a load without danger of capsizing; and he explained the laborious process of poling such a craft up this rapid river. The boys listened to all these things in wonder and admiration, feeling that certainly they were in a new and singular country after all. Once all the trade of the Pacific coast had passed this very spot.

"Well now, Leo," said Uncle Dick, "you go get your cousin George, and let us begin to make plans to start out. We've got to hurry."

"Oh, of course we've got to hurry!" said John, laughing. "I never saw you when you were not in a hurry, Uncle Dick."

"S'pose we put boat on Canoe River or Columby River," said Leo, smiling, "she'll go plenty hurry, fast enough."

By and by he brought another Indian of his own age, even darker in color and more taciturn.

"This George," said he, "my cousin. I am mos' bes' grizzlum-hunter at Tete Jaune. George is mos' bes' man on boat."

"And Moise is the most best cook," said Uncle Dick, laughing. "Well, it looks as though we'd get along all right. But, since you accuse me of always being in too big a hurry, I'll agree to camp here for the night. Boys, you may unroll the packs. Leo, you may get us that mosquito-tent I left with you last year."



XVIII

SOUTHWARD BOUND

The boys all had a pleasant time visiting around the Indian village, and enjoyed, moreover, the rest after their long ride on the trail. On the morning of their start from Tete Jaune Cache they went to look once more at the boats which were now to make their means of transportation.

"I think they'll be all right," said Rob. "They're heavier than the ones we had on the Peace River, and the sides are higher. You could put a ton in one of these boats and she'd ride pretty safe in rather rough water, I should say."

"I'll bet we'll think they weigh a ton when we try to carry them down to the river," said Jesse. "But I suppose there'll be plenty of men to help do that."

"Now, we'll be leaving this place pretty soon," continued John. "I hate to go away and leave my pony, Jim. This morning he came up and rubbed his nose on my arm as if he was trying to say something."

"He'd just as well say good-by," smiled Rob, "for, big as our boats are, we couldn't carry a pack-train along in them, and I think the swimming will be pretty rough over yonder."

"These are pretty heavy paddles," said Jesse, picking up one of the rough contrivances Leo had made. "They look more like sweeps. But they're not oars, for I don't see any thole-pins."

"It'll be all paddling and all down-stream," said Rob. "You couldn't use oars, and the paddles have to be very strong to handle boats as heavy as these. You just claw and pole and pull with these paddles, and use them more to guide than to get up motion for the boat."

"How far do we go on the Canoe River?" inquired Jesse of Rob. "You'll have to be making your map now, John, you know."

"Leo called it a hundred and fifty miles from the summit to the Columbia River," replied Rob, "but Uncle Dick thought it was not over eighty or a hundred miles in a straight line."

"Besides, we've got to go down the Columbia River a hundred miles or so," added John, drawing out his map-paper. "I'm going to lay out the courses each day."

"It won't take long to run that far in a boat," said Rob. "And I only hope Uncle Dick won't get in too big a hurry, although I suppose he knows best about this high water which he seems to dread so much all the time. Leo told me that about the worst thing on the Canoe River was log-jams—driftwood, I mean."

The boys now bent over John's map on which he was beginning to trace some preliminary lines.

"Yonder to the left and south, somewhere, Rob, is the Athabasca Pass, which the traders all used who used the Columbia River instead of the Fraser. Somewhere on our way south we'll cut their trail. It came down some of these streams on the left. I don't know whether they came up the Canoe River or not, but not regularly, I'm sure. On Thompson's map you'll see another stream running south almost parallel to the Canoe—that's the Wood River. They didn't use that very much, from all I can learn, and that place on the Columbia called the Boat Encampment was a sort of a round-up place for all those who crossed the Athabasca Pass. Just to think, we're going the same trail on the big river traveled a hundred years ago by David Thompson and Sir George Simpson, and Doctor Laughlin, of old Fort Vancouver, and all those old chaps!"

"I wonder what kind of boats they had in those times," remarked Jesse.

"They seem to have left no record about these most interesting details in their business. I suppose, however, they must have had log canoes a good deal like these Indians use on the Fraser. I don't think they used birch-bark; and if they had boats made out of sawed boards, I can't find any mention of it."

While they were standing talking thus, and working on John's map, they were approached by the leader of the party with the men who were to accompany them, and one or two other Indians of the village.

"All ready now," said Uncle Dick. "Here, you men, carry this boat down to the river-bank. The rest of you get busy with the packs."

"There she goes, the old Fraser," said John, as they gathered at the river-bank. "It's a good rifle-shot across her here, and she's only fifty miles long. It looks as though we'd have our own troubles getting across, too."

But Leo and George, well used to navigation on these swift waters, took the first boat across, loaded, without any difficulty, standing up and paddling vigorously, and making a fairly straight passage across the rapid stream, although they landed far below their starting-point. With no serious difficulty the entire party was thus transported, and soon the heavier of the two boats, with most of the camp supplies, was loaded on the new red wagon of Leo's other cousin, who now stood waiting for them, having his own troubles with a pair of fractious young cayuses that he had managed to hitch to the wagon.

With this last addition to their party perched on top, and Leo and George walking alongside, the procession started off up the trail across the valley, headed for the low divide which lay beyond. The remaining boat, manned by Moise and Uncle Dick at bow and stern, was launched on the little river which came down from Cranberry Lake. The boys, rifles in hand, and light packs on their shoulders, trudged along on foot, cutting off bends and meeting the boat every once in a while. They had an early start after all, and, the wagon doubling back after depositing its load late in the afternoon to bring on the second boat, they all made camp on the summit not far from the lake that evening.



XIX

ON THE CANOE RIVER

"John," said Uncle Dick, before they broke camp the following morning, "you'll have some work to do now with your map. This pass is not as high as the Yellowhead Pass, but in a way it's almost as interesting because it is the divide between the Fraser and the Columbia valleys; so you must get it on the map.

"Yonder is the river which old Simon Fraser thought was the Columbia, and the river which first took Sir Alexander Mackenzie to the Pacific. South of us runs the great Columbia, bending up as far as it can to reach this very spot. South to the Columbia run these two rivers, the Canoe and the Wood. Over yonder is the Albreda Pass, by which you reach the Thompson—glaciers enough there to suit any one. And over in that way, too, rises the Canoe River, which runs conveniently right toward us here, within a mile of our lake, inviting us to take its pathway to the Columbia.

"Over that way on the left, as you know, lie the Rockies, and outside of two or three passes between the Kicking Horse Pass and the Yellowhead Pass no one really knows much about them. You see, we've quite a little world of our own in here. The white men are just beginning to come into this valley."

"Where are we going to hunt the grizzlies, Leo?" inquired Rob, after a time, as they busied themselves making ready for the portage with the canoe.

Leo rose and pointed his hand first south, and then to the west and south.

"Little creek come in from high mountain," said he. "All valleys deep, plenty slides."

"Slides? What does he mean, Uncle Dick?" inquired John.

"Well, I'll tell you. Leo hunts bear here in about the only practical way, which is to say, on the slides which the avalanches have torn down the sides of the mountains. You see, all these mountainsides are covered with enormous forest growth, so dense that you could not find anything in them, for game will hear or see you before you come up with it. These forests high up on the mountains make the real home of the grizzly. In the spring, however, the first thing a grizzly does is to hunt out some open country where he can find grass, or roots, or maybe mice or gophers—almost anything to eat. Besides, he likes to look around over the country, just like a white goat, apparently. So he will pick out a sort of feeding-ground or loafing-ground right in one of these slides—a place where the snow-slips have carried away the trees and rocks perhaps many years earlier and repeated it from year to year.

"On these slides you will find grass and little bushes. As this is the place where the bears are most apt to be, and as you could not see them anyhow if they were anywhere else, that is where the hunters look for them. Late in the afternoon is the best time to find a grizzly on a slide. You see, his fur is very hot for him, and he doesn't like the open sun, and stays in until the cooler hours of the day. Evidently Leo has found some creeks down below in the Canoe Valley where the hunters have not yet got in, and that is why he made such a big hunt last spring. Indeed, there are a number of creeks which come into the Columbia from the west where almost no hunting has ever been done, and where, very likely, one could make a good bear-hunt any time this month."

The boys all agreed that the prospects of getting a grizzly apiece seemed very good indeed, and so set to work with much enthusiasm in the task of re-embarking, on the rapid waters of the Canoe River, here a small and raging stream, but with water sufficient to carry down the two bateaux. Their man with the wagon, without saying good-by, turned and went back to his village on the banks of the Fraser. Thus in the course of a day, the young travelers found themselves in an entirely different country, bound upon a different route, and with a wholly different means of transport. The keen delight of this exciting form of travel took hold upon them, and Uncle Dick and Moise, who handled the rear boat, in which all the boys were passengers, had all they could do to keep them still and to restrain their wish to help do some of the paddling.

Leo and his cousin George, as has been stated, took the lead in the boat which the party christened the Lizzie W., in honor of Jesse's mother. The rear boat they called the Bronco, because of her antics in some of the fast rapids which from time to time they encountered.

For a time they made none too rapid progress on their stream, which, though deep enough, was more or less clogged with sweepers and driftwood in some of the bends. Uncle Dick gave Leo orders not to go more than one bend ahead, so that in case of accident the boats would be in touch with each other. Thus very often the rear boat ran up on the forward one, lying inshore, and held ready to line down some bad chute of the stream.

In this work all bore a hand. The lines to be used were made of rawhide, which would have been slippery except for the large knots tied every foot or so to give a good handhold. Of course, in all this, as much in as out of the water, pretty much every one in the party got soaked to the skin, but this was accepted as part of the day's work, and they all went steadily on down the stream, putting mile after mile behind them, and opening up at every bend additional vistas of splendid mountain prospects.

At noon they paused to boil the tea-kettle, but made only a short stop. So steady had been their journey that when they pitched camp for the night on a little beach they estimated that their progress had been more than that of a pack-train in a good day's travel. That night they had for supper some fresh grouse, or "fool-hens," which fell to Jesse's rifle out of a covey which perched in the bushes not far from their camp-site. They passed a very jovial night in this camp, well content alike with their advance and with the prospects which now they felt lay before them.



XX

CARIBOU IN CAMP

"This weather," said Uncle Dick, walking toward an open place in the trees and looking up at the bright sky above, "is entirely too fine to suit me. This morning looks as though we would have a warm day, and that means high water. The rock walls in the canyons below here don't stretch, and a foot of water on a flat like this may mean twenty feet rise in a canyon. And that is where this little band of travelers will all get out and walk."

Leo, who had been examining his boat, which he had drawn up on the beach to dry overnight, now asked a little time to calk a leak which he had discovered. Meantime the boys concluded it might be a good plan to walk out a little way into an open place and try the sights of their rifles, which they knew would need to be exactly right if they were to engage in such dangerous sport as that of hunting the grizzly bear.

"S'pose you see some small little bear," said Moise, as they started out, "you shoot 'um. Shoot 'um caribou too, s'pose you see one—law says traveler can kil meat."

"Well, we're not apt to see one," said John, "for we'd scare them when we began to shoot our rifles."

They had advanced only a few hundred yards from the camp when they found an open place in front of the trees which offered a good opportunity for a rifle-range of two hundred yards.

"I'm not going to fool with my sights," said Jesse, "because my gun shot all right last night on the grouse. You fellows go ahead."

Rob and John proceeded with the work of targeting their rifles, firing perhaps a dozen shots apiece in all before they turned to walk back to the camp. As they did so Rob, happening to look back of them, suddenly halted them with a low word. "What's that?" said he.

An animal large as a two-year-old heifer and wearing short stubs of horns was trotting toward them steadily, as though bound to come directly up to them. So far from being alarmed by the firing, it seemed to have been attracted by it, and really it was only curiosity which brought it up thus to its most dangerous enemy. It had never heard a rifle or seen a human being before in all its life.

"Caribou!" said Rob in a low tone of voice. Even as he spoke John's rifle rang out, and the other two followed promptly. The stupid beast, now within sixty yards of them, fell dead in less time than it would take to tell of the incident. A moment later the boys stood at its side, excitedly talking together.

"Go back to camp, Jesse," said Rob, at length, "and tell Moise to come out. John and I will stay and begin to skin out the meat."

Moise, when he came out from camp, was very much pleased with the results of this impromptu hunt. "Plenty fat meat now," said he. "That's nice young caribou, heem." He fell rapidly to work in his experienced fashion, and in a short time he and George had packed the meat down to the camp and loaded it in the two boats, both of which were now ready for the departure.

"That's the most obliging caribou I ever heard of," said Rob, "to walk right into our camp that way. I've read about buffalo-hunters in the old times running a buffalo almost into camp before they killed it, to save trouble in packing the meat. But they'd have to do pretty well if they beat this caribou business of ours."

Leo stood looking at the young hunters with considerable surprise, for he had been very skeptical of their ability to kill any game, and extremely distrustful of their having anything to do with grizzly hunting.

"Plenty caribou this valley," said he; "big black-face caribou. Heem plenty fool, too. Caribou he don't bite. But s'pose you'll see grizzlum bear, you better look out—then maybe you get some scares. S'pose you get some scares, you better leave grizzlum alone."

"Never mind, Leo," said Uncle Dick, laughing at him, "let's not worry about that yet a while. First find your grizzly."

"Find plenty grizzlum to-morrow, one day, two day," said Leo. "Not far now."

They determined to make a good long run that day, and indeed the stage of water aided them in that purpose; but Uncle Dick, as leader of the party, found that Leo and George had very definite ideas of their own as to what constituted a day's work. When noon came—although neither of them had a watch—they went ashore at a beach and signified their intention of resting one hour, quite as though they were members of a labor-union in some city; so nothing would do but the kettle must be boiled and a good rest taken.

"How'll you and George get back up this stream, Leo?" inquired Rob, seating himself by the Indians as they lolled on the sand.

"That easy," said Leo. "We go Revelstruck two, three tam, my cousin and me. Come up Columby those wind behind us all right. Sometam pull boat on rope, mos' tam pole. Sometam pull 'um up on bush, little bit at time. But when we come on Columby, up Canoe, we get horse fifty miles this side Cranberry Lake and go out on trail. It most easy to go down and not come up."

"Well, I should say so," said Rob, "and on the whole I'm glad we don't have to come back at all."

"We not come back this way," said Leo, calmly lighting his pipe.

"But I thought you just said that you did."

"Not this tam. My cousin and me we go on railroad from Revelstruck west to Ashcroft. Plenty choo-choo wagon Ashcroft near Fort George. At Fort George two, three choo-choo boat nowadays. We get on choo-choo boat and go up to Tete Jaune. That's more easy. Bime-by railroad, then heap more easy."

"Well, will you listen to that!" said John, as Leo concluded. "Automobiles and powerboats up in this country, and a railroad coming in a couple of years! It looks to me as though we'd have to go to the north pole next time, if we get anywhere worth while."

"Bime-by grizzlum," said Leo, rising after a while and tightening his belt, as he walked down to the boats. "I know two, three good place. We camp this night, make hunt there."



XXI

THE FIRST BEAR CAMP

As they advanced to the southward the boys all felt that they were, in spite of all these threats of an advancing civilization, at last in the wilderness itself. Where the stream swept in close to the mountain range they could see dense, heavy forest, presenting an unbroken cover almost to the tops of the peaks themselves. At times when obliged to leave the bed of the stream for a little while, when the men lined down the boat on a bad passage, the boys would find themselves confronted, even when going a hundred yards or so, with a forest growth whose like they had never seen. Giant firs whose trunks were six feet or more in diameter were everywhere. Sometimes they would find one of these giants fallen in the woods, crashing down through the other trees, even great trunks spanning little ravines or gullies as bridges.

They were willing enough to make their path along any of these trunks which lay in their way, for below them lay the icy floor of the forest, covered with wet moss, or with slush and snow, since the sun hardly ever shone fair upon the ground in these heavy forests. Dense alders and thickets of devil's-club also opposed them, so that they were at a loss to see how any one could make his way through such a country as this, and were glad enough to reach even the inhospitable pathway of their mountain river and to take to the boats again.

Unquestionably they made a long run that afternoon, for Leo evidently was in a hurry to reach some certain point. Late as the sun sank in that northern latitude, it was almost dark when at length they pulled inshore on an open beach at the mouth of the brawling stream which came down from the west out of a deep gorge lined with the ancient and impenetrable forest growth.

"I wish we had some fish to eat," said John. "Couldn't we catch any in this creek, or in the river?"

"No catch 'um trout," said Leo. "Too much ice and snow in water. Some trout in Columby. In summer salmon come."

"And in spring mosquito come," said Jesse, slapping at his face. "I think we'd better put up our new mosquito-tents from this time on."

"All right," said John. "That's a good idea. We haven't needed them very much yet, but it looks as though the warm weather was going to hatch out a lot of fly."

They now proceeded to put up on the beach one of the tents which had earlier been brought along to the Cache by their uncle from Seattle, where much of the Alaskan outfitting is done. This tent was a rather curious affair, but effective in its way. It had about a three-foot wall, and the roof extended for two inches beyond the sides, as well as the two inches above the top, or ridge, where a number of grommets allowed the passage of a rope for a ridge-pole. The boys pitched the tent by means of a ridge-pole above the tent, supported by crotched poles at each end, and lashed the top firmly to the ridge-pole.

The interior of the tent was like a box, for the floor was sewed to the bottom of the walls all around and the front end of the tent did not open at all. Instead it had a round hole large enough to admit a man's body, and to the edges of this hole was sewed a long sleeve, or funnel, of light drilling, with an opening just large enough to let a man crawl through it to the interior of the tent. Once inside, he could, as John explained it, pull the hole in after him and then tie a knot in the hole. The end of the sleeve, or funnel, was tied tight after the occupant of the tent had gotten inside.

In order to secure ventilation, ample windows, covered with bobbinet, or cheese-cloth, were provided in each end and in the sides, each with a little curtain of canvas which could be tied down in case of rain. Their engineer uncle, who had aided in the perfection of this device, declared it to be the only thing which made engineering possible in this far northern country, which was impassable in the winter-time, and intolerable in the summer-time for the man who has no defense against the insect pests which make life so wretched for the inexperienced traveler in the north.

Leo looked with considerable interest at this arrangement after the boys had crawled in and made their beds inside ready for the night's rest. The boys offered him the use of their old tent, if he liked, but he seemed a trifle contemptuous about it.

"Fly no hurt Injun," said he. And indeed he, George, and Moise all slept in the open by preference, with only their blankets drawn over their heads to protect them against the onslaughts of the mosquitoes.

They were now at their first hunting-ground, and our young friends were keen enough to be about the business soon after the sun had begun to warm up their little valley the next day. Leo swept a hand to the steep gorge down which the little creek came tumbling. "Plenty slide up there," said he. "Maybe-so three mile, maybe-so five."

"Well, now, how about that, Leo?" inquired Uncle Dick. "That's quite a climb, perhaps. Shall we come back here to-night, or stay up in the hills? We might pack up a camp outfit, and let Moise and George come back here to spend the night."

"All right," said Leo. "That's most best way. High up this creek she come flatten down—little valley there, plenty slide, plenty grizzlum."

"No mosquito-tent now, fellows," said Rob, laughing. "That'll be too heavy to pack up—we'll take the light silk shelter-tent, and get on the best we can to-night, eh?"

"Precisely," said Uncle Dick, "and only one blanket for two. That, with our rifles and axes and some bacon and flour, will make all the load we need in a country such as this."

Equipped for the chase, early in the day they plunged into the dense forest which seemed to fill up completely the valley of the little stream which came tumbling down out of the high country. Leo went ahead at a good pace, followed by Moise and George with their packs. Uncle Dick and the young hunters carried no packs, but, even so, they were obliged to keep up a very fast gait to hold the leaders in sight. The going was the worst imaginable, the forest being full of devil's-club and alder, and the course—for path or trail there was none—often leading directly across the trunk of some great tree over which none of the boys could climb unassisted.

At times they reached places along the valley where the only cover was a dense growth of alders, all of which leaned downhill close to the ground, and then curved up strongly at their extremities. Perhaps no going is worse than side-hill country covered with bent alders, and sometimes the boys almost lost their patience. They could not stoop down under the alders, and could hardly crawl over or through them.

"This is the worst ever, Uncle Dick," complained Jesse. "What makes them grow this way?"

"It's the snow," replied his uncle. "All this country has a very heavy snowfall in the winter. It packs down these bushes and slides down over them until it combs them all downhill. Then when the snow melts or slides off the ends of the bushes begin to grow up again toward the light and the sun. That's why they curve at the ends and why they lie so flat to the ground. Mixed in with devil's-club, I must say these alders are enough to try a saint."

In the course of an hour or so they had passed the heaviest forest growth and gotten above the worst of the alder thicket. On ahead they could now begin to see steep mountainsides, and their progress was up the shoulder of a mountain, at as sharp an angle as they could well accomplish. After a time they came to a steep slope still covered with a long, slanting drift of snow which ran down sharply to the tumbling creek below them. Across this the three men with the packs already made their way, but the boys hesitated, for the snow seemed to lie at an angle of at least forty-five degrees, and a slip would have meant a long roll to the bottom of the slope.

"It's perfectly safe," said Uncle Dick, "especially since the others have stamped in footholds. You just follow me and step in my tracks. Not that way, Jesse—don't lean in toward the slope, for that is not the way to cross ice or snow on a side-hill. If you lean in, don't you see, you make yourself most liable to slip? Walk just as straight up as though you were on level ground—that's the safest position you can take."

"Well," said Jesse, "I can understand how that theory works, but it's awfully hard not to lean over when you feel as though your feet were going to slip from under you."

They gained confidence as they advanced on the icy side-hill, and got across without mishap. Soon they came up with the three packers, who were resting and waiting for them.

"Make camp soon now," said Leo. "Good place. Plenty slide not far."

Indeed, within half a mile the men threw off their packs at a grunted word or so from Leo, and at once began to make their simple preparations for a camp. It was now almost noon, and all the party were well tired, so that a kettle of tea seemed welcome.

"Which way do we hunt from here, Leo?" inquired Uncle Dick, as they sat on a rock at the comfortable little bivouac they had constructed.

"Walk one mile," answered Leo, "go around edge this mountain here. Come little creek there, three, four good slides. We kill 'um bear last spring. Camp here, so not get too close."

After a time they were all ready for the hunt, but Leo seemed unhappy about something.

"You s'pose them boy go along?" he inquired of the leader.

"They surely do," was the answer. "That's what we came here for."

"Even those small leetle boy?"

"Even those small leetle boy, yes, Leo. You don't need to be uneasy—you and I can take care of these boys if they show they can't take care of themselves. How about that, Moise?"

"I'll tol' Leo those boy she'll been all right," said Moise. "I'll been out with those boy when she'll ain't one year so old as he is now, and she's good honter then, heem. Those boy she'll not get scare'. Better for those bear he'll get scare' and ron off!"

Accordingly, there were five rifles in the party which at length started up the mountain after Moise and George had gone back down the trail to the main camp on the river. They climbed upward in country now grown very steep, and at last turned into a high, deep gorge out of which came a brawling stream of milky-colored ice-water, some twenty or thirty yards across. Without hesitation Leo plunged in and waded across, proving the stream to be not much more than knee-deep. And truth to say, Uncle Dick was proud of his young comrades when, without a word or a whimper, they unhesitatingly plunged in also and waded through after their leader. Nothing was said about the incident, but it was noticeable that Leo seemed more gracious thereafter toward the young hunters, for pluck is something an Indian always admires.

"Now, Leo," said Uncle Dick, when after a steady march of some time they had reached the foot of a slide perhaps half a mile or so in extent, which lay like a big gash of green on the face of the black mountain slope, "I suppose this is where we make our first hunt."

Leo nodded, and began to feel in his pockets for some cartridges.

"Now never mind about loading up your magazine any more than it is, Leo," went on the other, "and just pump out the shells from your rifle. If there's any bear-killing done by this party this afternoon these boys are going to do it, and you and I will only serve as backing guns in case of trouble. My gun's loaded, but I know you well enough, Leo, old man, not to let you load your gun just yet awhile—you'd be off up the hill if we saw a bear, and you'd have it killed before any of the others got a chance for a shot. You just hold your horses for a while, neighbor, and give my boys a chance."

"Me no like," said Leo, rather glumly. "Me heap kill 'um grizzlum."

"Not this evening! These boys hunt 'um grizzlum this evening, Leo. They've come a long way, and they have to begin sometime. You live in here, and can kill plenty of bear any time you like. Besides, if any one of these boys kills a bear this afternoon I'm going to give you twenty dollars—that'll be about as good as though you killed one yourself and got nothing but your wages, won't it, Leo?"

Leo broke out into a broad smile. "All right," said he. "But please, when you come on bear, let me load gun."

"Certainly," said Uncle Dick. "I'm not going to ask any man to stand in front of a grizzly with an empty rifle. But I'm not going to let you shoot until the time comes, believe me."

The boys found it right cold sitting about in this high mountain air with their clothing still wet from their fording of the stream. They could see on ahead of them the flattened valley of the creek which they had ascended, and Leo promised that perhaps on the next day they would move their camp farther in that direction and so avoid fording the icy torrent twice a day.

"First hunt this slide," said he. "Heap good. I ketch 'um bear here every time."

For an hour or more it seemed as if Leo was not going to "ketch 'um bear" this afternoon, and all the members of the party except himself grew cold and uneasy, although he sat impassive, every so often glancing up the steep slope above them. All at once they heard him give a low grunt.

Following his gaze, they saw, high up on the slide, and nearly half a mile away, a great, gray figure which, even without the glasses, they knew to be a large grizzly bear. The boys felt the blood leap in their veins as they stood looking up at this great creature, which carelessly, as though it knew nothing of any intrusion, now strolled about in full view above them. Sometimes it pawed idly as though hunting grass roots or the like, and then again it would stand and look vacantly down the mountainside.

"He'll see us, sure," whispered Rob.

"S'pose keep still, no see 'um," said Leo, still sitting looking at the bear. "S'pose hear 'um noise in bush, heem not scare. S'pose him smell us small little bit, heem run, sure. Wind this way. We go up this side."

They now threw off all encumbering clothing, and each of the boys, with loaded rifle, began the ascent of the mountain, parallel to the slide, and under the thick cover of the forest. More than once Uncle Dick had to tap Leo on the shoulder and make him wait for the others, for an Indian has no mercy on a weak or inexperienced person on a hunting-trail. Indeed, so little did he show the fabled Indian calm, he was more excited than any of the others when they began to approach a point from which they might expect to see their game. Uncle Dick reached out his hand for Leo's rifle and motioned for him to go ahead for a look. Leo advanced quietly to the edge of the slide and stood for a time peering out from behind the screening bush. Presently he came back.

"Beeg bear," said he, "grizzlum. Heem eat grass. Up there, two, three hundred yard."

Uncle Dick turned to look at his young friends to see how they were standing the excitement of this experience. Jesse was a little pale, but his eyes were shining. Rob, as usual, was a little grave and silent, and John, although somewhat out of breath, showed no disposition to halt. Smiling to himself, Uncle Dick motioned Leo to the rear; and once more they began their progress, this time closer to the edge of the slide and working steadily upward all the time.

At length he held up his hand. They could hear a low, whining, discontented sound, as though the bear were grumbling at the food which he was finding. Uncle Dick laid his finger on his lips and beckoned to Rob to go on ahead. Without hesitation Rob cocked his rifle and strode forward toward the edge of the slide, the others cautiously following, and Uncle Dick now handing Leo a handful of his cartridges, but raising a restraining hand to keep him back in his place.

They saw Rob, stooping down, advance rapidly to the edge of the cover and peer out intently, his rifle poised. Then quick as thought he raised his rifle and fired one shot, stood a half instant, and dashed forward.

There was no sound of any thrashing about in the bushes, nor had Rob fired more than the one shot, but when they joined him it was at the side of the dead body of a five-hundred-pound grizzly, in prime, dark coat, a silver tip such as any old bear-hunter would have been proud to claim as a trophy.

Rob was trying his best to control his excitement, and both the other boys were trembling quite as much as he. Leo quite forgot his calm and gave a tremendous yell of joy, and, advancing, shook Rob warmly by the hand. "Heap shoot!" said he. "I see!" And, taking the bear by the ear, he turned its head over to show the small red hole in the side of the skull.

"He was right here," said Rob, "not thirty-five yards away. When I first saw him his head was down, but then he raised it and stood sideways to me. I knew if I could hit him in the butt of the ear I'd kill him dead at once, so I took that shot."

"Son," said Uncle Dick, "this is fine business. I couldn't have done better myself."

"I s'pose you'll give me twenty dollar now," said Leo; at which they all laughed heartily.

"I certainly will, Leo," said Uncle Dick, "and will do it right now, and on the spot! You certainly made good in taking us up to the bear, and it certainly was worth twenty dollars to see Rob kill him as quick and clean as he did."

"Is he good to eat?" asked John.

"No, John. And if he were, you couldn't eat all of him; he's too big. Some men have eaten grizzly liver, but I beg to be excused. But here's a robe that down in the States would be worth a hundred and fifty dollars these days. Come on, Leo, let's get our work over with and get back to camp."

Under the experienced hands of Leo and Uncle Dick the great robe was rapidly removed. Leo rolled it into a pack, and Uncle Dick showed him how to make it firm by using two square-pointed sticks to hold it in shape after it was folded—a trick Moise had taught them long before. Leo, though not a large man, proved powerful, for he scorned all assistance after the heavy pack was once on his shoulders, and so staggered down the mountainside. So pleased were the boys over the success of their hunt that they hardly noticed the icy ford when again they plunged through the creek on their way to camp.



XXII

THE YOUNG GRIZZLY-HUNTERS

So excited were our young hunters over their first bear-hunt that they scarcely slept at all that night. It was a very merry party which sat late about the little camp-fire high up in the mountains. Their camp was rather a bivouac than a regular encampment, but they now scorned any discomfort, and, indeed, exulted in their primitive condition.

"Now, Leo," said Uncle Dick, "what do you think about these boys as hunters?"

"One boy heap shoot," grunted Leo. "Kill 'um one bear when mans along. Don't know about other boys."

"But let me tell you they have killed bear before now, and big ones, too. Why, two years ago, up in Alaska, all by themselves, they killed a Kadiak bear a good deal bigger than this one whose hide we have here for our mattress to-night."

"Yes, and last year up on the Peace River we helped kill a big grizzly," added Jesse, "only Alex MacKenzie was along, and he shot, too."

"But this time, Leo," continued Uncle Dick, "you must admit that only one shot was fired, even if we were in the woods near by."

"That's all right," admitted Leo, who still felt aggrieved at the humiliation of not being allowed to use his own rifle in the bear-hunt. "S'pose only one bear, and only one boy, what then?"

"Well, in that case the best thing the bear could do would be to run away. As I told you, a rifle will shoot just as hard for a boy as for a man if the boy knows how to hold it."

"Did you ever have a bear come at you, Leo?" inquired Rob.

"Sometam bear come, not many," said he, indifferently. "Sometam bear get scared, not know which way he's ron—then people say he's got mad."

"And didn't you ever get scared yourself, Leo?" inquired Jesse.

"Too much kill 'um bear long time for me to get scare'," said Leo, proudly. "Kill 'um more bear pretty soon," added he, pointing over to the steep country on the other side of the valley.

"Well, I was just thinking," said Uncle Dick, "we could very likely get more bear. But why? Some one will have to go down to camp and carry this hide, or else take word to the other men to come up and get it. Besides, this isn't the only bear valley in the country. What do you say, boys? Shall we stay up here, or go back and run on down the river farther?"

The boys were silent for a time. "Now, Uncle Dick," said John, at last, "no matter where you are, you're always in a hurry to get somewhere else. It's pretty hard to climb up into the real bear country even when you get near to it. Now here we are, already up, and we know that this is good bear country. We would only lose time if we hunted up any other country lower down."

"That's very well reasoned, John. What do you say, Jesse?"

"Well, I don't see any good in working the men too hard packing the stuff up from a main camp anywhere else. The devil's-clubs stick a fellow a good deal. Besides, here we are."

"And you, Rob?"

Rob looked for a time up at the clouded sky, bright with innumerable stars. "Well," said he, "it certainly does look as though we were going to have clearer weather. And if so, we will have higher water. I stuck a stick in a bank for a water-mark yesterday, and I'm just wondering how much the river has risen since then."

"Precisely, and that's well reasoned, too. You see, I don't want to take any more chances running these rivers than I have to."

"How far is it to the Columbia from here, Leo?" inquired Rob.

"Half-day ron—whole day, don't know. S'pose water all right."

"Exactly," rejoined the leader of the party. "We don't know how long the water will stay all right. Every day we run puts that much behind us. And I want to tell you all that the danger of hunting these grizzlies is nothing at all compared to the risk of running the upper Columbia when the rise is on. I've tried both, and I know."

John protested at this. "Well, Rob has got his bear, but, you see, Jess and I haven't had a shot yet—though I don't suppose that is why Rob is willing to go."

"No, that isn't the reason," commented Rob, quietly.

Uncle Dick thought for a time. "Well, I'll tell you what we'll do," said he, at length. "We'll stay at least one more day and hunt here to-morrow. Then if we don't have any luck to-morrow we'll run on down and have a look at the Columbia, and if she isn't too bad we'll stop at some good country below—say on Nagel Creek, down the bend."

"That seems fair," assented John; and Jesse also said he would vote the same way.

"How about you, Leo?" inquired Uncle Dick.

"Me not 'fraid of any water," replied the courageous Indian. "I like stay here. Most best grizzlum country of anywhere. Down below too much timber. Plenty black bear, not so much grizzlum. Not many place where you'll get grizzlum now. This plenty good place."

"Agreed," said Uncle Dick. "I think you all reason pretty well, and am convinced that we could spend another day here to good advantage. And now, Rob, since you got your bear, I think I'm going to send you down to camp in the morning for Moise and George. They can carry down the hide and some of the other stuff which will have to go down."

"All right," said Rob. "I'm not afraid. The only risky place is on the snow-slide at the side-hill. Then you go right down in the creek-valley and follow that to the camp."

"Very well. That will leave the other two boys to make a hunt to-morrow, and if they have as good luck as you have had we certainly will have more hides in camp."

With this arrangement already made, they at length turned to the little tent, where their blankets and the big hide of the bear made some sort of a bed for them.

At an early hour of the morning they had finished their breakfast, and Rob was ready to take the trail back to the camp.

"Well, so-long, Rob," said John. "We're going to try to kill as big a bear as you got. You're not afraid to go back through the woods, are you?"

"Certainly not," said Rob; "I have my ax, and my compass, and my match box, and a little something to eat, besides my rifle. I might be able to get clear through to the railroad or back to Tete Jaune if I had to. But I'll not have to. So-long."

"That's good boy," said Leo, approvingly, after Rob left and as they saw his sturdy figure trudging steadily onward toward the shoulder of the mountain.

"They're all good boys," replied Uncle Dick. "I'm going to make hunters out of all of 'em. And now, just as a part of their education, they'll all help us to flesh out this bear-hide."

Jesse, hunting around on the side of the mountain, found a bit of coarse stone which John and he used as a whetstone to sharpen up their knives. They knew well enough that work on the coarse surface of a bear-hide dulls a knife very quickly. It was an hour or two before their leader was satisfied with the preparation of the big hide.

"I wish we had more salt," said he; "but as it happens Moise has put in a little tin of pepper, and pepper is very good to use around the ears and nose of a fresh bear-hide. The main thing is to flesh the hide carefully, and to skin out all the thick parts around the ears and nose very carefully indeed. Then you dry the hide—not in the bright sunlight, but in the shade—and never let it get near a fire. Some hides get grease-burned from bad fleshing and bad drying. I think this one'll do all right, though, for we made a pretty good job at scraping it down."

"Plenty all right now," said Leo. "Go hunt."

"Which way next, Leo?" inquired John.

Leo pointed up the valley. "Plenty slide farther up. S'pose we stay here three, four days, get plenty grizzlum. Best tam late in day. Maybe-so get 'um now, maybe-so not. Don't know."

"Yes," said John; "it's too bad we have to start back to camp in just the best part of the day. But we've agreed to do that, so all we can do is to do our best. I suppose bears do sometimes come out before evening?"

"Once in a while," said Uncle Dick, "a bear will come out on the slide just to look around, as I've told you. There are no absolute rules about it. They don't like the sun any too well, but sometimes there is a heap of snow on a slide, usually near the foot of it, and I've seen two or three bears at once come out and lie down on the snow to get cool. Then sometimes they like to go out where they can get a bare rock to scratch themselves against. Besides that, I don't suppose all the bears get hungry at just the same time, and come out on the slide when they hear a dinner-bell ring. Take it all in all, grizzly hunting is about as hard to classify as anything you'll find. It's one thing that would make a man believe in luck, good or bad. Anyhow, we'll go and try our luck."

On their way up the valley they had to wade their little stream once more, but at this hour of the day it was not very wide or deep, although it certainly was very cold.

"Me know one slide," said Leo, after a time, "very old slide, not steep. Plenty gopher on that slide. Dig in dirt. Grizzlum he like eat gopher. Sometam he come there and dig gopher most all day. Maybe-so ketch 'um grizzlum there."

"That's mighty well reasoned, Leo," said Uncle Dick, approvingly. "You see, boys, why Leo is such a successful grizzly-hunter—he is a good observer, and he knows the habits of animals, and why animals have such or such habits. To be a good hunter you've got to be a good student."

When at last they had reached the upper end of the flat valley in which the many branches of their little creek wandered tricklingly, Leo pulled up alongside a dead log and signified that they would stop there for a time while observing the slides on each side of the valley. From this point they had an excellent view of a great mountain series opening out beyond. And as they were commenting on the beauty of this prospect there came to them one of the experiences of mountains which not very many men have known.

They heard a heavy, rumbling sound, yet faint, like thunder in the distance. Then slowly they saw a spot on one side of the valley, some four or five miles distant, grow misty and white, as though a heavy cloud were forming.

"Look yonder!" exclaimed Uncle Dick. "That's a snow-slide, boys, and lucky enough we are that we're not under it. It's a big one, too."

They sat silent, listening to the dull voice of the avalanche. The great mass of snow which lay on the steep mountainside had begun to loosen at the rim-rock as the snow melted and began to trickle under the edges. Gradually the surface of the ground, moistened under the snow this way, began to offer less and less hold to the snow which was piled above it. Little by little the upper region of the snow-field began to drop and settle down, growing heavier and heavier on the supporting snow beneath, until finally, under the increasing weight above, it had given way along the whole surface of the mountain, a half-mile or more in extent.

It chanced that at the foot of the slide—that is to say, at the edge of the valley—there was a tall cliff, or rock wall, and over this precipice all the mass of snow now was pouring, driven with such mighty force against this wall of rock at its foot that it broke into fine particles more like mist than snow. In a vast cascade it poured down and out over the valley, making one of the most wonderful spectacles a man could see anywhere in the mountains.

"There are rocks and trees going down in that cloud of snow, very likely," said Uncle Dick, "but you can't see them. That's how Leo gets his bear-hunting country made for him—eh, Leo?"

Leo grinned, but sat watching the snow-slide more indifferently than the others, the work of the great forces of nature being accepted as a matter of course in his philosophy. The others, however, could not repress their wonder. The slide ran for several minutes, sometimes subsiding and then breaking out in full force again, as the vast mass of snow, dammed up by the edge of the rock wall, would from time to time assume such proportions that the snow behind it finally drove it forward over the brink. Thus in successive cascades it ran on, until at last it died away in a faint dribble of thin white. Silence once more reigned in the valley. With their glasses they could now plainly see a vast mass of white choking the upper valley almost entirely across.

"Now, boys," said their leader, "there is something in this mountain work besides just hunting bear. The people who live in the lowlands don't always stop to think very much where their rivers come from and what keeps them up. Here you have seen the birth of a river, or a part of a river. That mass of packed snow will lie there nearly all summer, just melting a little bit at times, and feeding this stream which runs right past us here. Still farther back in the mountains you'll see the glaciers—great ice-fields which never thaw out completely. These are the upper sponges of the mountains, squeezed each year by the summer sun. That is why the rivers run and keep on running."

"It's wonderful to me," said Jesse. "I'm glad we saw that—and glad, too, that we weren't camped right where it came down."

"Yes," assented his uncle. "In that case there would have been no possible help for us. But good hunters in the high country always take care not to pitch their camp where a slide can possibly come down on them. We wouldn't have been more than so many straws under that mass of snow and rocks."

They sat for some time in the bright morning sun, their wet clothing gradually becoming dryer upon them as they moved about a little now and then, or resumed their wait with Leo on the log. The young Indian sat motionless, apparently indifferent to all discomforts, and with no interest in anything except the controlling impulse of the hunt. His keen eye roved from time to time over all the faces of the slides near them in the valley, especially the one directly in front of them at the right. Presently they noted that he was gazing intently for some time at one spot, although he said nothing.

"Do you see anything, Leo?" asked John, idly.

"Yes, see 'um four bears, grizzlum," said Leo, quietly.

At once all the others started into interest. "Where are they, Leo?" demanded Jesse. "I can't see them."

"Four grizzlum," reaffirmed Leo, quietly. "Up high. Up high, two; more low, two."

Indeed, at last they saw that the hunter was not mistaken. There were four bears all at once on the surface of the slides, but they were almost concealed by the tall vegetation which in places had grown upon it.

"He'll go dig pretty soon now," said Leo. "Ketch 'um gopher."

"You're mistaken, Leo," said Uncle Dick, "about two of those bears. I can see them all plainly with the glasses now, and those lowest down in the brush are black bears. The upper ones are grizzlies, and mighty good ones, too."

"Oh, ho!" said Leo. "No see 'um good at first. Yes, two black bear—he won't go close to grizzlum. Him scare' of grizzlum. Me no like 'um black bear there. S'pose we go after grizzlum, them little black bear, he'll ron off and scare grizzlum."

They sat watching the bears from their place in the middle of the valley. The largest one began to advance deliberately toward the middle of the slide, where they could see little heaps of yellow earth thrown up by the burrowing gophers. The bear would look at these idly and paw at them curiously now and then, but it was some time before he began to dig in earnest.

The second grizzly, lower down on the slide, went earnestly to work, and apparently was interested in something which he thought was underneath a certain large rock. They later found that this rock must have weighed three or four hundred pounds at least, although they saw where the bear, putting his mighty forearm under it, had rolled it out of its bed as easily as though it had been a pebble. There is no animal in the world more powerful for its size than the mountain grizzly.

Leo continued to express his dislike of the little black bears.

"S'pose grizzlum ketch plenty gopher, he stay sometam. We heap shoot 'um. But me no like 'um black bears. No get around 'um; they ron off sure."

"Well, we'll wait awhile," said Uncle Dick, "and see what'll happen."

"Just look at them!" exclaimed Jesse, who was using the glasses now. "They're playing like children, those little black bears."

They could see that these two smaller bears were apparently out more for a lark than anything else. They would lie down sometimes flat on the ground like dogs, or sit up in all kinds of awkward attitudes and scratch themselves, first with one foot and then another. Sometimes they would start off and gallop aimlessly for quite a distance, then, turning, would run full tilt into each other and, standing up on their hind legs, would box like men. At this sport one bear seemed to be the better, and sometimes would land so hard a cuff on his comrade as to knock the latter rolling down the hill, in which case the aggrieved one, recovering himself, with ears laid back would run up once more at his antagonist and resume the half-playful combat.

The two big grizzlies, stately and dignified, paid no attention to these antics, but went on with their own employment of digging for breakfast. Sometimes they would stand motionless, looking out over the country, then leisurely go back to their digging. If they saw the black bears they did not pay any attention to them.

At last the two little bears became either bolder or more careless, and began to work higher up the slide. Then the nearest grizzly, his mane erect on his shoulders, and head down, made a sort of short run at them, half carelessly and indifferently, as though he held them in contempt. At this both the black bears turned tail and galloped off lumberingly into the forest, and were seen no more.

Leo, with a short grunt, arose and reached for his rifle. He made a quick motion with his arm for the others to follow, and set out in the direction which would put him downwind from the game. In order to reach the proper side of the slide they had to walk in full view in the open valley, directly below the two bears, but Leo seemed to be not in the least uneasy about this.

"Grizzlum not see 'um very good," said he. "He can't look half-mile. Smell 'um very good."

When they reached the edge of the timber and made ready for the climb up the side of the slide, the Indian turned inquiringly to Uncle Dick and patted his rifle on the stock. "S'pose two bear, grizzlum?" he said.

"All right, Leo," said Uncle Dick; "you're in on this hunt with the rest of us. We'll all load our rifles here. Now, John, you go on with Leo, and take the grizzly highest up. He's maybe the biggest; I don't know. Jesse and I will stop opposite the bear which is lowest down and wait till you get in reach of yours. When you do, open up, and we'll shoot as soon as we see ours. The slide is narrow up there, and they'll be under cover in forty yards. There are two robes too good to lose, and we'll all just take a hand in stopping them."

"I'd like to kill one all by myself the way Rob did," said Jesse, although it must be admitted he was just a trifle pale.

"Maybe you will," said his uncle. "But any hunter has to take a bear just as he finds his chance. It's always best for two men to go up together on a grizzly, no matter how good a hunter either may be. It isn't often that you get as good a chance as Rob had on his bear. You leave that to Leo and me. And, Leo, mind now, give your boy the first shot at the bear if it's a possible thing to do it. I'll do the same way with Jesse."

They began now their steady climb under cover, sometimes in the edge of the forest, and sometimes on the face of the slide itself. They were surprised to see that what had appeared to be a flat green slope was really a very steep one, and covered in some places with bushes much higher than their heads, with tall, rank shrubs and early vegetation of many sorts. Leo, as good a grizzly-hunter as could have been found in all the west, was allowed to lead the way, and he took good care never to get within sight of the game or to allow the wind to blow from him toward the bears. He climbed so fast that the others had much difficulty in keeping up with him. But at length, making a swift detour in the forest, he paused and raised a hand.

They could hear now the whining, grumbling voice of the grizzly, as though he were complaining about his poor luck with the gophers, now and then a grunt of anger or disgust as he tugged at some rock. They knew this to be the larger bear, the one higher up the hillside. Leo pointed that way and caught John by the arm, motioning to Uncle Dick and Jesse to advance straight toward the slide in their position.

Without hesitation John dropped in behind his guide; and Jesse, whether or not he felt any trace of fear, in turn followed his own leader. Thus for the moment the two parties were separated.

In a few moments Leo and John were at the edge of their cover. The Indian caught the boy roughly by the arm, at the same time cocking his own gun. They were in the edge of a little poplar thicket which jutted out from the pine forest upon the slide. Leo would have preferred to get above his bear, as all good hunters do, but saw that the cover above would not be so good. Now, as John stepped to the edge of the thicket he saw the great grizzly directly above him, not thirty yards away up the slope.

At the same instant also the bear saw the hunters. He stood looking down at them, champing his jaws like a big hog and making no motion either offensive or defensive. John reached one hand back to quiet Leo, who had given him a strong dig in the back. Then quickly he raised his rifle and fired. It was impossible to restrain the Indian much longer, and his shot was so close to John's that they sounded almost like one, although John really was first to hit the bear.

The mark was easy enough for any one of any sort of steadiness, for the bear stood with his broad breast full toward them. John's bullet, as they found, struck fair enough and ranged deep into the great body, while Leo's landed on one shoulder. It is possible neither shot would have knocked the bear down, but any bear, when hit, will drop. This one, with an angry roar which could have been heard half a mile, let go and came down directly toward them, rolling and clawing, biting at itself, and struggling to catch its footing. John fired again, and to his shame be it said that this time his bullet went wild. At his side, however, Leo, brave as a soldier, stood firm, rapidly working the lever of his own rifle. John recovered presently and joined in. In a few seconds, although it seemed long to the younger hunter, their double fire had accounted for the grizzly, which rolled over and expired very close to them, its body caught in its descent by two or three trees.

Meantime—although John declared he never had heard it—there came from below the roar of the rifles of Jesse and Uncle Dick. The second bear, perhaps more wary than its mate or perhaps warmer from its digging, had left the open space and taken shelter in a little clump of green bushes close to the point where the two hunters approached the slide. When the sound of firing began above, this bear, much excited, began to plunge wildly this way and that inside the clump of bushes. At last it broke cover almost upon Jesse, who was standing in front.

"Shoot!" called Uncle Dick, in quick command; and Jesse fired, almost without aim, into what seemed a great gray mass which ran as though directly over him. Almost at the same instant Uncle Dick fired also and then, like their companions above, they both fired rapidly as they could until their bear also at last lay quiet, but dangerously close at hand.

Uncle Dick pushed back his hat and wiped his forehead, looking at Jesse half quizzically. "Son," said he, "it's lucky we both were here. That bear was either badly scared or good and angry. It meant business, I believe, and it's a lucky thing we stopped it when we did."

Jesse put his rifle to the ground and stood trembling all over. "Well, Uncle Dick," said he, "I don't know whether or not the bear was scared, but I know I am right now."

"It's just as well to be honest," said his uncle, putting a hand kindly on his shoulder. "Any man has a right to be anxious in as close a corner as this."

They heard the loud hallo of John now, a little way above them; and presently Leo came slipping down toward them, smiling broadly.

"Kill 'um two bear!" said he. "Plenty good hunt, eh?" He looked at the little heap of empty shells lying so close to the dead bear.

"Two grizzlum, both fight," said he. "Bad bear. Heap shoot 'um."

"And I'm mighty glad we're no worse off," said Uncle Dick, when in turn they had passed from one of the great grizzlies to the other. "And, speaking of luck, you boys certainly have had it in every way. Leo, it looks to me as though you put us up almost too close on these bears."

"No see 'um from trees," said Leo. "I like shoot 'um bear close up. Heap shoot 'um. This boy he heap shoot 'um too."

"All is well that ends well," said their leader. "Now here we are again, with two big bear-hides to get down out of these mountains. Are you satisfied, boys—good and plenty satisfied?"

"I should say so," said Jesse, smiling; and they all laughed at him.

"I don't know that I ever knew of a better hunt," said Uncle Dick, at last, looking approvingly at the two bears. They had rolled and pulled the upper bear down to the lower, so that they now lay side by side. "Three bears like this in two days is certainly considerable hunting. These are big as Rob's bear. The robes are prime, too, and not rubbed to amount to anything—one dark silver tip and one gray fellow. You can't ever tell what color a grizzly is going to have or what he is going to do."

They fell to work now, each party skinning out its own bear, a task which kept them employed for some time.

"We'd better kill the next bears closer to the foot of the slide," said Jesse, laughing. "Then we won't have to carry the skins so far."

"A good idea," assented his uncle. "I'm telling you, a full-sized grizzly-hide, green, is all a strong man can pack."

"We'll not try to carry them down to the main camp, will we?" inquired Jesse.

"Indeed, no. We'll be lucky if we make it back to last night's camp down the valley. There's a bare chance that we may meet Moise and George there. They won't know where we are, unless they heard us shooting."

Leo came up to them at about this time, and stood looking at Jesse's bear for some time. "S'pose me get 'um two twenty dollar, now?" said he, looking at Uncle Dick. The latter looked at him quizzically for a time, rubbing his chin with a finger.

"Well, Leo," said he, "you're a pretty good business man as well as a good grizzly-hunter. So you want to cash in on our bear, do you? All right; I feel so good about it that I'll just go you—you shall have twenty dollars a head for these bears—and sixty dollars in two days, besides your wages, ought to leave you and your cousin George pretty well satisfied, eh?"

"Yes, feel heap good," said Leo, grinning. "Buy plenty flour now. Plenty grub on Fort George."

"You're no better satisfied than we are, my friend," rejoined the white hunter. Leo extended his hand, and they shook hands all around.

"I'm willing to go on down the river now," said John; and Jesse smiled his assent.

With some labor they squared the two hides into a portable pack, one for each of the men, binding them into place with bits of thongs which each carried at his belt. Then, using their belts as tump-straps, Leo and Uncle Dick shouldered their heavy loads and started down the mountain.



XXIII

ONWARD BOUND

They had gone down the valley only about half a mile, now and then splashing through the shallow fords of the meandering little stream which spread all over the flat, gravelly floor of the valley, when they heard a shout and saw Moise advancing rapidly toward them. That worthy came up smiling, as usual, and beginning to talk before he came within good ear-range.

"Hollo!" he cried. "Some more bear? Plenty bear now, this tam?"

Uncle Dick halted and dropped his pack to the ground. "Welcome! Moise," said he. "I don't know that I ever was gladder to see you in my life—this load is heavy."

"I'll take heem," said Moise. "My faith, she's big bear, heem, too, eh? Two beeg bear"—and he lifted also the other pack which Leo had dropped down. "I hear you shoot when I come on the camp here, and I say to myself, 'Moise, those boy he kill more bear, sure.' Bime-by I come up, help you get load down the hill. George, he's make cup tea on the camp; Rob, he's down below on the big camp, on the boat.

"Didn't I told you, Leo," continued Moise, exultantly, "those boy, she's the most best grizzly-hunter ever come on the Tete Jaune Cache, heem?" And Leo this time grinned his assent and approval.

They now made their way back to the bivouac camp where they had passed the night, and where they were much refreshed by a lunch and a cup of tea all around, after which they made ready to get back down to the valley of the Canoe as rapidly as possible. All the men had particularly heavy loads to carry, and even the boys took on light packs of blankets or camp equipment.

They made the journey around the point of the mountain and down into the Creek Valley which ran into the Canoe without much incident, except that on the side-hill snowdrifts George, carrying one of the bear-hides, slipped by reason of a broken foothold in the thawing snow, and had a considerable roll downhill with his load before he brought up against a little tree. To the others this seemed a dangerous experience; but Leo, like any other Indian, found it only laughable, and he derided George for some time in their own language. George seemed very much chagrined, for no Indian likes to make a mistake or be humiliated in the presence of others.

As may be supposed, Rob greeted them, on their arrival at the main camp, with the greatest delight in the world.

"Well, what luck!" exclaimed he. "Two more hides—that's one apiece! Did each of you get one, fellows?"

The three boys now shook hands all around, and for a long time they chatted gaily together, telling one another the many exciting incidents of their hunt. They all agreed that certainly they were the luckiest young hunters that ever had gone after grizzlies.

"I don't know how you all feel about it now," said Rob, finally, "but for my part I would be content to run straight on down and not stop for any more hunting. I've been watching my water-mark here, and this river has risen almost a foot in the last twenty-four hours. That means that the snows are beginning to go on the upper snow-fields. We've had a big hunt, so let's take out the rest of it in a big run on the old Columbia—they say that's worse than grizzlies."

The others assented to this readily enough, for, wet, tired, and successful as they were, they welcomed the thought of a night's rest and a journey in the boats, which, taking one thing with another, they knew would be easier than climbing after grizzlies in the mountains.

They all slept soundly that night in their mosquito-proof tent, and in the morning were much refreshed. All bore a hand in breaking the camp and loading the boats, and early in the day they were once more off in their swift journey down the mountain river. The river itself seemed to have changed almost overnight. From being mild and inoffensive it now brawled over its reefs and surged madly through its canyons. Many times they were obliged to go ashore and line down some of the bad water, and all the time, when running, the paddlers were silent and eager, looking ahead for danger, and obliged constantly to use care with the paddles to dodge this rock or to avoid that stretch of roaring water. There was no accident, however, to mar their progress, and they kept on until in the afternoon they reached a place where the valley seemed to flatten and spread, a wide and beautiful mountain prospect opening out before them. After a time, at the head of a long stretch of water, as both boats were running along side by side, they saw suddenly unfold before them the spectacle of a wide, green flood, beyond which rose a wedgelike range of lofty mountains, the inner peaks of which were topped with snow.

"La Grande Riviere!" exclaimed Moise; and Leo turned his head to shout: "Ketch 'um Columby!"

"Yes, there's the Columbia, boys," said Uncle Dick. And the three young hunters in the boat waved their hats with a shout at seeing at last this great river of which they had heard so much, and which had had so large a place in their youthful dreams.

Steadily the boat swept on down the stained and tawny current of their smaller river, until they felt beneath them the lift of the green flood of the great Columbia, here broken into waves by the force of an up-stream wind. Uncle Dick called out an order to the lead-boat. Soon they all were ashore on a little beach near the mouth of the Canoe River, each feeling that now at last a great stage of their journey had been completed, and that another yet as great still lay before them.



XXIV

THE BOAT ENCAMPMENT

Our party of adventurers were now in one of the wildest and most remote regions to be found in all the northern mountains, and one perhaps as little known as any to the average wilderness goer—the head of the Big Bend of the Columbia River; that wild gorge, bent in a half circle, two hundred miles in extent, which separates the Selkirks from the Rockies. There are few spots on this continent farther from settlements of civilized human beings.

To the left, up the great river, lay a series of mighty rapids, impossible of ascent by any boat. Nearly a hundred miles that way would have been the nearest railroad point, that on the Beaver Mouth River. Down-stream to the southward more than a hundred miles of water almost equally dangerous lay before them. Back of them lay the steep pitch of the Canoe River, down which they had come. Before them reared the mighty wedge of the Selkirks, thrusting northward. Any way they looked lay the wilderness, frowning and savage, and offering conditions of travel perhaps the most difficult to be found in any part of this continent.

"I congratulate you, young men," said Uncle Dick, at last, as they sat silently gazing out over this tremendous landscape. "This is a man's trip, and few enough men have made it. So far as I know, there has never been a boy here before in the history of all this valley which we see here before us."

Rob and John began to bend over their maps, both those which they had brought with them and that which John was still tracing out upon his piece of paper.

"We can't be far from the Boat Encampment here," said Rob, at last.



"It's just around the corner of the Big Bend here," rejoined their leader. "Over yonder a few hundred yards away is the mouth of the Wood River, and the Encampment lies beyond that. That's the end of the water trail of the Columbia going east, and the end of the land trail for those crossing the Athabasca Pass and going west. Many a bold man in the past has gone by this very spot where we now stand. There isn't much left to mark their passing, even at the old Boat Encampment, but, if you like, we'll go up there and have a look at the old place."

Accordingly, they now embarked once more, and, taking such advantage of the slack water as they could, and of the up-stream wind which aided them for a time, they slowly advanced along the banks of the Columbia, whose mighty green flood came pouring down in a way which caused them almost a feeling of awe. Thus they passed the mouth of the more quiet Wood River, coming in from the north, and after a long, hard pull of it landed at last at the edge of a sharp bend, where a little beach gave them good landing-room.

Uncle Dick led them a short distance back toward a flat grassy space among the low bushes. Here there was a scattered litter of old tent-pegs and a few broken poles, now and then a tin can. Nothing else remained to mark the historic spot, which had passed from the physical surface of the earth almost as completely as the old Tete Jaune Cache. Uncle Dick turned away in disgust.

"Some trappers have camped here lately," said he, "or perhaps some of the engineers sent out by another railroad. But, at any rate, this is the old Boat Encampment. Yonder runs the trail, and you can follow that back clear to Timbasket Lake, if you like, or to the Athabasca Pass."

"Is this where they came in from the Saskatchewan?" demanded Rob.

"No, the old trail that way really came down the Blaeberry, very far above. I presume after they got on the west side, in the Columbia valley, they took to the trail and came down to this point just the same, for I doubt if any of them ran the Columbia much above here. Many a time old David Thompson stopped here—the first of the great map-makers, my young friends, and somewhat ahead of you, John. And Sir George Simpson, the lord of the fur-traders, came here with his Indian wife, who became a peeress of Great Britain, but who had to walk like any voyageur from here out across the Rockies. I don't doubt old Doctor Laughlin, of Fort Vancouver, was here, as I have told you. In short, most of the great fur-traders came to this point up to about 1825, or 1826, at which time, as we have learned, they developed the upper trail, along the Fraser to the Tete Jaune Cache."

"But didn't any one of them ever go up the Wood River yonder?" demanded Rob. "That looks like an easy stream."

"The engineer Moberly went up there, and crossed the Rockies to the head of the Whirlpool River on the east side," replied Uncle Dick, "but that was in modern times—about the same time that Major Rogers discovered the Rogers Pass through the Selkirks below here, where the Canadian Pacific road crosses the Rockies. It's a great tumble and jumble of mountains in here, my young friends, and a man's job for any chap who picked out any pass in these big mountains here.

"Yonder"—he rose and pointed as he spoke—"east of us, is the head of the Saskatchewan—the Howse Pass is far to the south of where we stand here. Northeast of us, and much closer, is the Athabasca Pass, and we know that by following down the Athabasca we would come to Henry House and Jasper House, not far from the mouth of the Miette River.

"Now, somewhere north of here, down the west side of the mountains, came the trail from the Athabasca Pass, and it ended right here where we stand. I've never made that trip across the Athabasca Pass myself. That old pass, famous as it is, is in the discard now. With a railroad on each side of it, it will be visited from this time on very rarely by any man, whether he be tourist or bear-hunter. The Rockies will take back their own once more.

"But here, right where we stand, is one of those points comparable to old Fort Benton, or Laramie, on the plains below us, in our own country. This was the rendezvous, the half-way house, of scores of bold and brave men who now are dead and gone. I want you to look at this place, boys, and to make it plain on your map, and to remember it always. Few of your age have ever had the privilege of visiting a spot like this."

Rob and Jesse busied themselves helping John with his map, and meantime Moise and the other two men were making a little fire to boil a kettle of tea.

"Why did they stop here?" asked John, after a time, busy with his pencil. "Couldn't they get any farther up?"



Uncle Dick pointed to the jutting end of the shore which hid the bend of the river from view above them. "You know that river, Leo?" said he.

Leo spread out his hands wide, with a gesture of respect.

"Me know 'um," said he. "Plenty bad river. Me run 'um, and my Cousin George. And Walt Steffens—he live at Golden, and Jack Bogardus, his partner, and Joe McLimanee, and old man Allison—no one else know this river—no one else ron 'um. No man go up Columby beyond here—come down, yes, maybe-so."

"Last year," said Uncle Dick, "when I came in from the Beaver Mouth I saw a broken boat not far below Timbasket Lake. Whose was it?"

"My boat," grinned Leo. And George also laughed. "We bust up boat on rock, lose flour, tea, everything. We swim out, and walk trail down to here, swim Wood River, and go up Canoe River, fifty mile. Two day we'll not got anything to eat."

"Well, I don't see how they got up these streams at all," said John.

"Joe McLimanee he come this far from Revelstruck," said Leo. "Take him twenty-nine day, not on high water."

"Then there must be bad rapids below here," said John.

"Yes," said his uncle, "and, as I went up the Canoe myself from here, I've never seen that part of this river, but they say that at the time of the big gold excitements a generation ago, when the miners tried to get out of this country, they took to rafts. The story is that a hundred and sixty-five men of that stampede were drowned in one year on the Death Rapids."

Leo picked up a stick and began to make a map on the sand, showing the Big Bend of the Columbia and some of its side-streams.

"You start Beaver Mouth," said he, "all right, till you come on Surprise Rapids—all at once, right round bend. Surprise Rapids, him very bad. Much portage there. Very bad to get boat through even on line. Portage three mile there, maybe-so.

"Here was old man Brinkman, his rapid—not so bad, but bad enough for to scare old man Brinkman, so they name it on him, 'Brinkman's Terror.'

"Here is what Walt Steffen calls 'Double Eddy'—bad place sometam in high water. Bime-by we come on Lake Timbasket, up there, maybe thirty mile, maybe-so."

Leo made a tracing of the outline of the lake, then followed his scratch in the sand on around.

"Now begin Twenty-six Mile Rapid, all bad—Gordon Rapids here, Big Eddy here, Rock Canyon here. Now we come on Boat Encampment. This way Revelstruck. Death Rapids here; Priest Rapids down here; and then Revelstruck Canyon; him bad, very bad, plenty man drown there, too. That five miles from Revelstruck; we get out and walk there.

"Now here"—and he pointed on his sand map—"is Boat Encampment. Right around corner there is one of most bad places on whole river."

"But you've been through, Uncle Dick. Tell us about it."

"Yes, I came through once last year, and that's enough for me," said Uncle Dick. "That's the Rock Canyon and the Grand Eddy. Leo has shown it all pretty plainly here. I don't want to make that trip again, myself. But when we got to Lake Timbasket we didn't any of us know how bad it was going to be—the old trapper who acted as our guide had never been through when the water was high. But when we got at the head of the Twenty-six Mile Rapids, below Lake Timbasket, it was like the bottom had dropped out of things, and we had to go through, for we couldn't get back.

"Of course, we could line sometimes, and many of the chutes we did not attempt. The first day below Timbasket we made about ten miles, to a camp somewhere below the Cummins Creek chute. We could hear the water grinding—it sounded like breaking glass—all night long, right near the place where we slept, and it kept me awake all night. I suppose it is the gravel down at the bottom of the deep water. Then there were growlings and rumblings—the Indians say there are spirits in the river, and it sounded like it.

"There was one Swede that the trapper told us of, who started through the Cummins Rapids on a raft and was wrecked. He got ashore and walked back to the settlements. He had only money enough left to buy one sack of flour, then he started down the river again. From that day to this he has never been heard of, and no one knows when or where he was drowned.

"We passed one big boulder where the trapper said the name of another Swede was cut on the rock by his friends who were wrecked with him near by. I believe they were some miners trying to get out of this country in boats. That man's body was never found, for the Columbia never gives up her dead. We saw Leo's broken boat, as I told you; and on the shores of Lake Timbasket we found the wrecks of two other boats, washed down. You see, this wild country has no telegraph or newspaper in it. When a man starts down the Big Bend of the Columbia he leaves all sort of communication behind him. Many an unknown man had started down this stream and never been seen again and never missed—this river can hold its own mysteries."

"Well, tell us about this rapid just above here, Uncle Dick," went on Jesse. "Wasn't it pretty bad?"

"The worst I ever saw, at least. When we stopped above the head of that canyon the trapper told me where the trail was down here to the Encampment, but of course I concluded to run on through if the others did. Before we got that far I was pretty well impressed with the Columbia, myself. When we landed at the head of Upper Death Canyon I don't believe any of us were very sure that our boat would go through. No one was talking very much, I'll promise you that.

"The worst part of that long stretch of bad water of the Rock Canyon can't be more than four or five miles in all, and there isn't a foot of good water in the whole distance, as I remember it. Of course, the worst is the Giant Eddy—it lies just over there, beyond the edge of the hill from us. In there the water runs three different ways all at once. There is no boat on earth can go up this river through the Giant Eddy, and lucky enough is the one which comes down through it.

"You see, once you get in there, you can't get either up again or out on either side—the rock walls come square down to the river, which boils down through a narrow, crooked gorge. It is like a big letter Z, with all the flood of the Columbia pouring through the bent legs; no one knows how deep, but not half the width which we see here.

"That's the worst water I ever saw myself—it runs so strong that there is a big ridge thrown up in the middle of the river, many feet higher than the water on either side. There is a crest of white water all down the sides of the top of that high ridge. The water looks as though it were hard, so that you couldn't drive a nail through it, it's flung through there at such tremendous pressure.

"You don't have much time to look as you go through, and there is no place where you can see the Giant Eddy except from the Giant Eddy itself. All I can remember is that we were clawing to keep on top of that high rib of the water mid-stream. I can see it now, that place—with green water running up-stream on each side, and the ridge of white water in the middle, and the long bent slope, like a show-case glass, running on each side from us to the edges of the up-stream currents. It was a very wonderful and terrible sight, and seeing it once was quite enough for me.

"About half-way down that long, bad chute I saw a hole open up in the crown of that ridge and could look down into it, it seemed to me, fifteen feet—some freak in the current made it—no one can tell what. It seemed to chase us on down, and all our men paddled like mad. If our stern had got into that whirlpool a foot, no power on earth could have saved us. As luck would have it, we kept just outside the rim of the suckhole, and finally escaped it.

"Then we came to the place which lies first around the bend above us—a great deep saucer in the river, below a rock ledge of white water—it is like a shallow bicycle track, higher at the edges, a basin dished out in the river itself. I don't know how we got into it, and have only a passing memory of the water running three ways, and the high ridge in the middle, and the suckhole that followed us, and then we slipped down into that basin at the last leg of the Z, and through it and across it, and so right around that bend yonder, and here to the Boat Encampment. You may believe me, we were glad enough.

"So now, adding my story to the one you'll be able to tell from here on down, you may say that you know almost as much about the Big Bend of the Columbia as Gabriel Franchere himself, or even Sir George Simpson, peer of the realm of Great Britain.

"Some day they'll build a railroad around the Big Bend. Then I believe I'll take that journey myself; it's much easier than making it as we are making it now. Not that I wish to frighten you at all, young men, about the rest of our journey, for our men are good, and Leo and George have the advantage of knowing every inch of the river thoroughly—an Indian never forgets a place he once has seen."

"Have you 'got some scares,' Leo?" inquired John, smiling. Leo also smiled.

"No, no get scare—not 'fraid of Columby."

"You Shuswaps are white-water dogs, all right," said Uncle Dick. "I'm not going to let you run all the rapids that you want, perhaps, between here and Revelstoke.

"Now," he continued, "if John has finished his map work I think we can make a few more miles on our way down this evening, and every mile we make is that much done."

"Bime-by below Canoe," said Leo, "come on old man Allison's cabin—him trap there two winters ago, not live there now."

The boys looked inquiringly at Uncle Dick.

"All right," said he. "We'll stop there for the night." So presently they took boat once more, and, passing the tawny flood waters of the Wood and the Canoe rivers, which only stained the edges of the green Columbia, not yet wholly discolored in its course through its snow-crowned pathway, they pulled up at length on a beach at the edge of which stood a little log cabin, roofed with bark and poles.



XXV

HISTORY ON THE GROUND

The boys preferred to spread their mosquito-tent again for the night, but the others concluded to bunk in the old trapper's cabin, where they all gathered during the evening, as was their custom, for a little conversation before they retired for sleep. John found here an old table made of slabs, on which for a time he pursued his work as map-maker, by the aid of a candle which he fabricated from a saucer full of grease and a rag for a wick. The others sat about in the half darkness on the floor or on the single bunk.

"There was one book you once mentioned, Uncle Dick," remarked Rob, after a time, "which I always wanted to read, although I could never get a copy. I think they call it The Northwest Passage by Land. Did you ever read it?"

"Certainly, and a very interesting and useful book it is, too. It was done by two Englishmen, Viscount Milton and Doctor Cheadle. They were among the very early ones to take a pack-train across by way of the Yellowhead Pass."

"And did they come down this way where we are now?"

"Oh, no. They went west just as we did, over the Yellowhead Pass as far as the Tete Jaune Cache. They crossed the Fraser there, just as we did, and turned south, indeed passing up to Cranberry Lake at the summit, just as we did. Their story tells how they crossed the Canoe River on a raft and were nearly swept away and lost, the river being then in flood. From that point, however, they turned west beyond Albreda Lake, for it was their intention not to go down the Fraser or the Canoe or the Columbia, but down the North Thompson. You see, they were trying to get through and to discover a new route to the Cariboo Gold Diggings."

"What year was that?" inquired Jesse.

"That was in 1863. The Tete Jaune Cache was then sometimes called the Leather Pass. At that time very little was known of this great region between the Rockies and the Pacific. Milton and Cheadle named many of its mountains that we passed. The old traders, as I have said, knew nothing of this country except along the trails, and these men even did not know the trails. Just to show you how little idea they actually had of this region hereabout, their book says that they supposed the Canoe River to rise in the Cariboo district!

"Now, in order for the Canoe River to rise in the Cariboo district, it would have to cross a vast range of mountains and two great rivers, the north fork of the Thompson and the Fraser River. Their map would not have been as accurate as John's here, although when their book was printed they had the use of yet other maps made by others working in from the westward.

"None the less, theirs was a great journey. There were only two of them, both Englishmen, in charge of the party, and they had one half-breed and his wife and boy and an inefficient Irishman who was of no service but much detriment, according to their story. To my mind theirs is the most interesting account given of early times in this region, and the book will prove well worth reading.

"These men were observers, and they were the first to realize that the days of wild game were going, and that if the Hudson's Bay Company was to keep up its trade it must feed its people on the products of the soil, and not of the chase. They speak of sixty million acres of land fit for farming in the Saskatchewan Valley, and speak of the country as the future support of this Pacific coast. That is precisely the policy of the Canadian country to-day. They said that the Hudson's Bay Company could not long govern so vast a region—and all the history of the Dominion government and the changes in the western Canadian provinces have taken place almost as if they had prophesied them literally. They speak of the Yellowhead Pass as being the best one for railroad purposes—and now here is our railroad building directly over that pass, and yet others heading for it. They said also that without doubt there was a good route down the North Thompson—and to-day there is a railroad line following their trail with its survey, with Kamloops as its objective point. It was at Kamloops that they eventually came out, far below the Cariboo district, for which they were heading.

"These men were lost in a wilderness at that time wholly unknown, and how they ever got through is one of the wonderful things in exploration. They took their horses all the way across, except three, one of which was drowned in the Fraser and two of which they killed to eat—for in the closing part of their trip they nearly starved to death.

"They were following as best they could the path of another party of emigrants who had gone out the year before. But these men grew discouraged, and built rafts and tried to go down the Thompson, where many of them were drowned on the rapids. Perhaps to the wisdom of their half-breed guide is to be attributed the fact that Milton and Cheadle took their horses on through. Had they wearied of the great delay in getting through these tremendous forests with a pack-train, they must either have perished of starvation or have perished on the rapids. But in some way they got through.

"It was in that way, little by little, that all this country was explored and mapped—just as John is mapping out this region now."

"It's a funny thing to me," said John, looking at one of the large folding maps which they had brought along, "how many of these rivers up here run north for quite a way and then bend south again."

"Yes, that's a peculiarity of this upper Pacific slope," said Uncle Dick. "That's the way the Columbia does. Not all Americans know the Columbia River rises near our boundary line and then runs for hundreds of miles north into Canada before it turns and swings southwest over our country to the Pacific—after reaching this very point where we are sitting now.

"Take the Fraser River, too. From the Tete Jaune Cache it swings far northwest, up to the Giscombe Portage. Then it bends just like the Columbia. You may remember the upper bend of the Fraser, for that is about where the Salmon River comes in, down which Sir Alexander Mackenzie came—and where you went in last year on your trip over the Peace River Pass."