CHAPTER XVII.
After making a hearty breakfast on Rocky Mountain kid, salmon, and sea biscuits, we began our return journey down the creek in a drizzling rain. Our burdens were increased by the weight of the three goat skins, and the walking was rendered still more precarious than before by the logs, grass, soil, pine needles, and everything else having become so thoroughly watersoaked. If we had had hard climbing up the steep pitches on our outbound cruise, we had it still harder now. We could not stick in our toe nails as well now as before, and even if we stuck in our heels going down a hill, they would not stay stuck any better than a second-hand postage-stamp. I remembered one hill, or canyon wall, that in the ascent made us a great deal of hard work, and much perturbation of spirit, because it was steep, rocky, and had very few bushes on it that we could use as derricks by which to raise ourselves. I dreaded the descent of this hill, now that the rocks were wet, but we made it safely. Not so, however, the next one we attempted; it was not so rocky as the other, and had a goodly bed of blue clay, with a shallow covering of vegetable mold for a surface, with a little grass and a few weeds. It was very steep, I think about what an architect would call a three-quarter pitch, but we essayed it boldly and fearlessly. Seymour was in the lead, his faithful partisan, John, followed, and I constituted the tail end of the procession. We had just got well over the brow, when the end of a dry hemlock stick caught in the mansard roof of my left foot; the other end was fast in the ground, and, though I tried to free myself, both ends stuck; the stick played a lone hand, but it raised me clear out in spite of my struggles. I uttered a mournful groan as I saw myself going, but was as helpless as a tenderfoot on a bucking cayuse. My foot was lifted till my heel punched the small of my back, and my other foot slid out from under me; I spread out like a step ladder, and clawed the air for succor, but there was not a bush or branch within reach. I think I went ten feet before I touched the earth again, and then I landed head first among John's legs. He sat down on the back of my neck like a trip-hammer, and we both assaulted Seymour in the rear with such violence as to knock him clear out. For a few seconds we were the worst mixed up community that ever lived, I reckon. Arms, legs, guns, hats, packs, and human forms were mingled in one writhing, squirming, surging mass, and groans, shouts, and imprecations, in English, Chinook, and Scowlitz, rent the air. Every hand was grabbing for something to stop its owner, but there were no friendly stoppers within reach; if one caught a weed, or a stunted juniper, it faded away from his herculean grasp like dry grass before a prairie fire. I seemed to have the highest initial velocity of any member of the expedition, and, though in the rear at the start, I was a full length ahead at the finish. We finally all brought up in a confused mass at the foot of the hill, and it took some time for each man to extricate himself from the pile, and reclaim his property from the wreck. Strange as it may seem, however, but little damage was done. There was a skinned nose, a bruised knee or two, a sprained wrist, and everybody was painted with mud. All were, however, able to travel, and after that, when going down steep hills, the Siwashes kept looking back to see if I were coming.
We performed several dangerous feats that day and the next, walking along smooth, barkless logs, that lay across some of the deep gorges; in places we were thirty feet or more above the ground, or rather rocks, where a slip would have resulted in instant death. My hair frequently stood on end, what little I have left, but John and Seymour always went safely across and I could not afford to be outdone in courage by these miserable, fish-eating Siwashes, so I followed wherever they led. We read that the wicked stand on slippery places, but I can see these wicked people, and go them about ten better, for I have stood, and even walked, on many of these wet logs, and they are about the all-firedest slipperyest things extant, and yet I have not fallen off. I fell only that once, when I got my foot in the trap, and that would have downed a wooden man. Just before going into camp that night, John shot a grouse, but we were all too tired and hungry to cook it then, and made our meal on cold kid, fish, and biscuits. After supper, however, John dressed the bird and laid it aside for breakfast, saying we would each have a piece of it then. The rain ceased falling at dark, and the stars came out, which greatly revived our drooping spirits. We gathered large quantities of dry wood and bark, so we were able to keep a good fire all night. I drew from a half-rotten log, a flat, slab-like piece of pine, which at first I failed to recognize. John saw it and said:
"Good. Dat's beech."
"Beech," I said. "Why, there's no beech in this country."
"No, beech wood, make good fire, good kindle, good what you call him? Good torch."
"Oh," I said, "pitch pine, eh?"
"Yas, beech pine." And this was as near as he could get to pitch.
About two o'clock in the morning, it commenced to rain heavily again, and the poor Indians were soon in a pitable condition, with their blankets and clothing wet through. They sat up the remainder of the night, feeding the fire to keep it alive and themselves warm, for they had neither canvas or rubber coats, or any other kind of waterproof clothing. They put up some of the longer pieces of the bark we had gathered for fuel, and made a passable shelter, but it was so small, and leaked so badly, that it was far from comfortable. I pitied the poor fellows, but had nothing I could give or even share with them for shelter. I got up at five o'clock, and we commenced preparations for breakfast. I told John he had better cook the grouse, but he shook his head, and said sadly:
"Seymo, he spile de grouse."
"How did he do that?" I inquired.
"He say put him on stick by fire to cook in de night. Then he go to sleep and stick burn off. Grouse fall in de fire and burn."
"That's too thin," I said. "Seymour cooked that grouse and ate it while you and I were asleep."
Seymour glared at me, but had not the courage to resent or deny the charge. An Indian does not let sleep interfere with his appetite; he eats whatever there is first, and then sleeps. I divided the last of the bacon and biscuits equally between us, and with a remnant of cold broiled salmon, we eked out a scant breakfast on which to begin a day's work. John was clawing some white greasy substance from a tin can with his fingers, and spreading it on his biscuits with the same tools. He passed the can to me, and said:
"Have butta?"
"No, thanks," I answered; "I seldom eat butter in camp."
"I like him all time," he replied; "I never git widout butta for brade at home." This by way of informing me that he knew what good living was, and practiced it at home. It rained heavily all day, and our tramp through the jungle was most dreary and disagreeable.
"The day was dark, and cold, and dreary; It rained, and the wind was never weary."
About three o'clock in the afternoon, we sat down to rest on the bank of the creek. We had been there but a few minutes, when a good sized black bear came shambling along up the bank of the creek, looking for salmon. The Indians saw him when a hundred yards or more away, and flattened themselves out on the ground to await his nearer approach. I raised my rifle to my shoulder, but they both motioned me to wait, that he was yet too far away. I disregarded their injunction, however, and promptly landed an express bullet in the bear's breast. He reared, uttered a smothered groan, turned, made one jump, and fell dead. Now arose the question of saving his skin; it was late, and we were yet three miles from the Indian village; to skin the bear then meant to camp there for the night, and as the rain still came down in a steady, heavy sheet, I at once decided that I would not stay out there another night for the best bear skin in the country. Seymour and John held a short consultation, and then John said they would come back and get the skin next day, and take it in lieu of the money I owed them for their services. We struck a bargain in about a minute, and hurried on, arriving at the village just as it grew dark. My rubber coat and high rubber boots had kept me comparatively dry, but the poor Indians were wet to the skin.