CHAPTER II

HOW JACK AND HUGH CAME TO BRITISH COLUMBIA

Two days later Hugh and Jack started by steamer for the town of New Westminster, near the mouth of the Fraser River, on the mainland. The trip was one of great beauty, for the boat wound its way here and there amid the many islands of the gulf; and as each one was passed a new vista of beauty burst on the view. And, while the two travellers are sitting on the steamer's deck, admiring the wonderful scenery opening on all sides, wondering at the new birds and animals which appeared, and talking over the possibilities for their summer trip, it may be explained how it came to pass that these two friends found themselves so far from their homes and from the high, dry plains where the summers of the three previous years had been passed by both.

It was six months before--to be exact, it was on Christmas Day--that the thought of the trip to British Columbia had first been broached. Mr. Sturgis, Jack's uncle, had come back from the ranch and was spending the winter with Jack's father and mother at the house on Thirty-Eighth Street; and it was while they were sitting at dessert during their Christmas dinner that Mr. Sturgis had announced that during the next summer it would be necessary for him to go out to British Columbia to inspect a mine in which he was interested, and had proposed that Jack should go with him.

For three years past Jack had spent the summer on the western plains. Ill health had been the first cause of his going out to Swiftwater Ranch, where he had learned to ride, to hunt big game, and to live the life of a ranchman. So greatly had he been benefited by this trip, that the next summer he was permitted to return to the ranch. Then he and old Hugh Johnson had travelled north, across the lonely, buffalo-dotted plains, until they had come to the country of the Piegan Blackfeet, where they had spent the summer in the Indian camp, and Jack had seen much of Indian life--of its charms and its dangers. He returned at length down the Missouri River to the railroad, and so back to his home in New York for the winter's schooling. The third year, still in Hugh's company, he had gone up the Missouri River; and starting southwest from Fort Benton, had gone through the Yellowstone Park and back to the ranch, having a great deal of shooting and fishing and not a little of adventure.

In this out-door life, in knocking about with Hugh Johnson and with other people who had been brought up to take care of themselves, Jack had learned many lessons of the plains and the mountains. He had picked up a great store of the lore of the prairies, could find his way about, even though there might be neither road nor landmarks to guide him; and, under Hugh's tuition, had become a good prairie man. He had also become very fond of the West; and when his uncle suggested that he should go with him to British Columbia, he was delighted at the thought of the trip. Being a boy of good sense, he said nothing when the suggestion was made, but watched the faces of his father and mother, to see how they felt about it.

"British Columbia seems a long way off, doesn't it, George?" said Mr. Danvers to his brother-in-law.

"Yes," said Jack's mother, "it seems a terribly long way off. I have been badly enough frightened these last three years, when Jack went out into a country full of cowboys and Indians and wild animals; and I always let him go with the feeling that I shall never see him again. Certainly the plains are far enough away for him. British Columbia must be more than twice as far, and I don't feel as if I could think of that."

"You and Mary have hit it exactly," said Mr. Sturgis. "You both say it seems a long way off, but in practice it is no further off than where Jack has been before, and, indeed, it is not nearly so far. British Columbia is at least within reach of the rest of the world by steam communication and also by telegraph. You can learn in a very short time what is happening in British Columbia, but when Jack was out on the plains, between my ranch and Fort Benton, he was practically as far off as he would have been in Central Africa. The distance of British Columbia is all in imagination. The country is one that we hear very little of, and for that reason we think it far away, but it is not so. Now, I would like to have Jack go with me. I don't mean that I want to take him up into the mountains to have him spend his days loafing around a mine while I am working; but I thought--if you feel like letting him go with me--we would have Hugh Johnson join us at the railroad, all go on together to British Columbia, and let Hugh and Jack take a hunt or a canoe trip along the coast, while I go back to my mine in Washington Territory. I shall be there a month or six weeks, and after I have done my work and they have made their trip, we could meet and come across overland and home by the new railroad that's being built north from the Union Pacific to the mining regions of Montana Territory."

When Jack heard this fascinating plan he had to hold hard to his chair to keep still; and he couldn't help drawing in his breath with a sort of whistle, making a slight noise, so that his father looked at him and laughed a little.

"You both know," continued Mr. Sturgis, "what these western trips have done for Jack, and yet, really, I am not quite sure that you do know; I am not quite sure that you remember what a wee little bit of a white shrimp he was when he first went out to the ranch; how he changed during that summer, and how, when we came back in the autumn, you, Mary, hardly knew the boy. See how he has grown, squared up--what a picture of health he is! You don't know--and perhaps I don't either, altogether; except so far as I have been told by Hugh Johnson, what a change has taken place in the boy's character. He has developed mentally as much as he has physically. He has gained balance, self-reliance; is sensible beyond his years in all matters that pertain to the out-door life, and is already, in many essentials, a man and a good companion, so far as his strength goes, in any situation where hard work, judgment, coolness, and discretion are required. All this means a great deal, more perhaps than any of us quite understand. If the boy had never gone west, he might have had a greater share of book learning, might have been further advanced toward entering college; but also, he might have been dead, and certainly he would have been very different in appearance from what he is now. You two had better think over the question of this trip. It will mean for the boy another summer spent out of doors, in surroundings that are wholly new to him. The life will be one of hard work whether they make a canoe trip, or a hunt; and it certainly will do them good. Then, of course, it will give him a great deal of pleasure, will enlarge his ideas, and will be, in all respects, helpful to him. Now, think it over, and when you are ready we will talk it over again."

During the months of the winter, the subject had often been brought up. Jack, when he was consulted, was, of course, eager to go, doubly so after he had learned that his uncle proposed to take Hugh Johnson along. At last his parents consented to his going.

In the spring Mr. Sturgis went west to the ranch, as was his custom, and arrangements were made for Jack to come west over the Union Pacific Railroad as soon as school had closed.

On the appointed day, the train bearing Jack drew up at the little station nearest to Mr. Sturgis's ranch, and Jack's uncle and Hugh Johnson stepped on board the train, while Jack waved an enthusiastic greeting to Joe, who sat in the wagon that had brought them from the ranch.

Then the three travellers sped on westward, plunging through the Wasatch Mountains, and at length reached the Great Salt Lake Basin. They stopped for a day at Salt Lake City, interesting for its beauty, its surroundings of great mountains, and its wonderful lake. Jack had a swim in Salt Lake, and though he had been warned about it, experienced a curious sensation in swimming in its waters, it being impossible for him to sink. He swam about, or stood upright with his whole head out of the water, but found that diving was very difficult. Then, as he began to dry off, after coming out of the water, it was curious to feel his skin become rough with a crust of salt which had to be washed off with fresh water before he could dress.

As they were going back to the city on the railroad Jack said to his uncle: "I wish you would tell me, Uncle George, why this lake is so salt. Of course I have heard you say that it has no outlet and that the rivers which flow into it are constantly bringing down a little salt in solution, which, in the course of many ages has become concentrated in the lake; but is that the whole story? It doesn't seem to me enough to account for it all."

"It isn't, Jack; you are quite right about that. The Salt Lake Basin, of which the Great Salt Lake now occupies but a comparatively small portion, is simply the bed of another far older and grander sheet of water that was once here, which the geologists called Lake Bonneville. If you take the trouble to look along the mountains while we are here you can see, at various levels, the terraces which indicate the height, on the mountains, of the waters of that inland sea at different periods. You will see, and in fact you can see from here," and he pointed toward the mountains, "these terraces running straight along the mountain sides, hundreds of feet above the level of the plain. Now, Lake Bonneville was far larger than any body of water that now exists on this continent. Its outlet was to the northwest, in Idaho, toward Snake River; and it extended southward for several hundred miles. At last a time came, when, by the elevation of the land, this outlet was cut off, and we had a body of water without any outlet. Gradually evaporation, working for centuries, dried up this lake, and now all that remains of it is the Salt Lake, in which we have just been swimming. In that water is concentrated much of all of the salt and soda that was in the greater lake, as well as much of that brought down by the streams during the ages that have passed since the old outlet closed up. Even Salt Lake is believed to be steadily growing smaller, drying up, and the flats around its border are now so full of salt and of alkali of one kind and another that they are wholly infertile and cannot be farmed.

"The Mormons have made out of the valley of the lake, however, a perfect garden spot. Once it was a sage desert, as barren as anything that you have ever been over, more so perhaps. Now you can see for yourself what grows here,--wheat, rye, barley, oats, green stretches of graceful corn, great patches of potatoes, orchards and hay fields; and to me it seems more like one of the farming States east of the Missouri than it does like a sage desert."

"Well, that is mighty interesting, Uncle George, and I am glad to hear it. I sometimes think that I would like mighty well to study geology. It seems as if the history of the earth we're living on ought to be as interesting a subject as one could take up."

From Salt Lake the travellers hurried west, and before very long found themselves at San Francisco. From there a steamer took them north along the rough and dangerous coasts of California, Oregon, and Washington to the Strait of Fuca and Puget Sound, where Mr. Sturgis left them; and finally to Victoria. Before the three parted, it had been decided that Jack and Hugh should get a canoe and some Indians and make a trip through the Gulf of Georgia; and returning, should meet Mr. Sturgis in Tacoma, Washington, whence they would return to the East.

It was almost sundown, when the steamer which bore Jack and Hugh approached the wharf at New Westminster. After they had entered the mouth of the Fraser River the ride had still been very interesting, for on either side of the steamer appeared at intervals great barn-like wooden buildings, which some of the passengers on board explained were salmon canning factories. Loitering about these were a few Chinamen, apparently attached to the factories; but not many people were about, for as yet the salmon had not begun to run.

As the boat drew up to the wharf, a good many people from the town sat, awaiting its landing. Among these, Hugh and Jack noticed a tall, well-built man, who seemed to keep his eyes constantly fixed on them. At last he bowed, and waved his hand, to which salutation they responded. They wondered who it could be, for they did not know that Mr. MacTavish had telegraphed to Mr. James to look out for the travellers on this boat. As soon as the gangplank was run out, Mr. James boarded the vessel, and coming up to them introduced himself. He took them to the hotel; and, seeing that they had comfortable rooms, left them there, saying that he would come back a little later and take them up to spend the evening at his house.

Two or three hours later the three were climbing the road, on their way to Mr. James's house which was situated among the stumps of the ancient forest, which still stood in the suburbs of the town. Here they spent a delightful evening, and before they parted for the night it was arranged that the next morning Mr. Hughes should take Jack out for a little hunt, and try and show him one of the deer of the country.

"We don't hunt here," said Mr. James, "as you do back in the States, because we cannot. If it were practicable, I should prefer, as I should think most people would, to go out and take up a deer's track, follow him until I got within range and then, if I could, kill him; but that is impossible in the forests we have here. The trees grow over three hundred feet in height; there is much fallen timber in the woods, and the logs are from four to ten feet thick. Besides that, the great precipitation produces such a heavy undergrowth that it is impossible to go through it noiselessly. Therefore, if we want deer we are obliged here, to run the game into the water with dogs, and kill them there. It is not a sport that I greatly esteem, but at least we can kill an occasional deer when we want venison."

"I should like very much to see it done once, Mr. James," said Jack, "as most of my hunting has been done in running buffalo, or finding my game and crawling up to it; and I have been taught that was the most sportsmanlike way to do it. Yet, at the same time, it is easy to see that it cannot be done in a country such as you describe."

"Well," said Hugh, "I guess I'll let you two go and do your hunting to-morrow morning alone. I don't think that it's worth while for me to go and see a deer shot over in the water. Maybe I'll get up and walk out there with you, though. I'd like to stretch my legs after having been in that boat for so many days."

Before they parted, then, it was agreed that Hugh and Jack should present themselves at Mr. James's house next morning as near to four o'clock as possible, when they would start to hunt for a deer near Mirror Lake.