CHAPTER XXI

LAST DAYS IN BRITISH COLUMBIA

As the Indians had said the trail was very steep, but after a time they reached an open timber plateau country, beautiful to travel through but without apparent game. After a little while, however, the timber grew less, and they could see before them gently rolling hills from which at some distance rose a bald, snowy mountain. They walked swiftly along, and the great mountain grew nearer.

"I tell you, Hugh," said Jack, "that looks like a good sheep country!"

"Yes," said Hugh, "it does, and from what we have seen I expect there are plenty of them there."

"This is the sort of place where we ought to find big rams," said Jack, with a laugh.

"Right," replied Hugh; "but you've hunted enough to know that big rams are not always found where they ought to be."

"No," said Jack, "that's an old story; the big rams are always 'farther back.'"

"Yes," said Hugh, "they are always 'farther back,' but what that means, I guess nobody knows. I expect that as a matter of fact, the big rams, keeping together as they do, for all the season except in rutting time, and being few in numbers compared with the ewes and young ones, are harder to find, just because they are few in number."

The afternoon was far advanced when they reached the foot of the mountain. Here, snow lay on the ground two or three inches deep. By a little spring they found a white man's camp that had been made early in the season. In the fresh snow Hugh pointed out to Jack the tracks of a wolverine which had been about the camp recently, nosing around to see what it could find. A few moments later one of the Indians came up, and Hugh said: "Tom, do you know whose camp this is?"

"Yes," said Tom, "three young men who were here the moon before last. They hunt a great deal. They fire a good many shots. Not kill many animals."

The fireplace, the picket pins, and a shelter built of spruce boughs, showed that the people had been here for some time.

"Well," said Hugh, "let's camp right here. There is a good shelter for us in case it rains, as it looks likely to do now. Now, Tom, you and Baptiste get supper, will you, and son and I will take a little walk from the camp, and see what we can see."

The two started off, not toward the mountain but rather toward a large ravine which ran down from it. They had gone but a few hundred yards, when, as they were nearing the crest of a little ridge at the foot of an old moraine which ran down from the mountain, Hugh put out his hand and sank slowly down to the ground. Jack crouched beside him, and Hugh said: "There's a sheep just over the ridge; crawl up and kill it." Jack cautiously approached the ridge and looking over, saw not more than seventy-five yards away a sheep walking away toward the next ridge. The wind was right, and it was evident from the animal's actions that it had neither seen nor smelt the men. Her hips were toward him, and he did not wish to fire at her in that position for fear of spoiling the meat, so he waited. A moment later she walked over the ridge and out of sight, and Hugh and Jack followed. When they looked over the next ridge, they saw the sheep, broad-side toward them. The sun was low and glittered on Jack's front sight and troubled him a little; and he took aim two or three times without pulling the trigger. As it was, he shot a little too high, but the animal fell, and they hurried up to it. It was moderately fat, and Jack and Hugh carried the meat into the camp on their backs.

The next morning they were early afoot and climbed the mountain. They had gone hardly a mile from the camp when they found seven sheep feeding on a perfectly bare hillside where there was no cover whatever. It was useless to try to approach them, and as they were in the direction in which the two wanted to go, Hugh and Jack disregarded them, and presently the sheep ran off. Constantly climbing, they came nearer and nearer the top of the mountain. The grass began to give way to pebbles and stones, and the snow got deeper and deeper. Presently they reached the top of the mountain; and, crossing its narrow crest, looked down into a beautiful little glacial basin which contained a charming lake and meadow. Feeding in this meadow were twelve sheep, far, far below them, and quite out of reach. The wind was blowing fiercely across the mountain top and they crept down into a shelter behind some rocks and for some time sat there and watched the sheep. Soon after they were first seen, the animals went down to the border of the lake and drank, and then came up on to the meadow again and lay down. After a little while, some movement, or perhaps the glitter of some piece of metal about the men, startled the sheep. They rose and looked at them, and then walked off, and after a little while began to feed again. Later, when Jack and Hugh got up and climbed to the top of the mountain, the sheep, not much alarmed, moved slowly off and climbed up the mountain side into a deep icy gorge in which was a great mass of snow.

Jack and Hugh went on for some distance, looking down into one big cañon after another, but seeing nothing more, turned back to go to the camp. On the way back they came upon a flock of white-tailed ptarmigan of which there were about twenty-five. Jack had never killed one of these birds, and was anxious to have a full grown one in his hands.

"Is there any reason, Hugh," he asked, "why I should not kill one of these birds?"

"None at all, so far as I see," said Hugh. "The wind is blowing so hard that nothing ahead of us will be able to hear the firing. If you want to kill one, do so."

The wind was blowing a perfect gale and when Jack approached the pretty birds, they rose at some little distance, flew a few yards, and then alighted on a snow bank in which they at once scratched out shallow hollows where they crouched, more or less protected from the wind. The gale made it difficult for Jack to hold his gun steady and the first shot that he fired was a miss, for he overshot the bird. At the crack of the gun they all rose and flew a little farther away, and his next shot killed one. It was in almost full winter plumage, though there were others in the flock that had only partly changed from the black and tawny of summer to the white winter coat. Jack wanted to skin the bird, but the ball from his rifle had raked its back and torn off a great many feathers. Nevertheless he put it in his pocket so that at night he would have an opportunity to study it by the light of the fire.

On the way home the two men had a beautiful view from the top of the mountain, looking down into a most picturesque basin walled in on all sides by superb mountains and containing a beautiful lake. Between the tops of the mountains and the valley there were three benches or steps. The lake lay in the valley.

The next morning Hugh loaded the Indians up with most of the camp equipment and some of the meat, and sent them back to camp, he and Jack retaining only their guns and blankets. They made a long round of the lower slopes of the mountains, seeing a number of sheep, and at length came to a place where deer were more numerous than they had ever seen them before. It would have been easy to kill a great number, but as they had no means of transporting the meat to the camp they did not fire at all. Toward midday they came out into a little park where a number of deer were lying down, and walking quietly up to them, got within fifteen or twenty steps of the animals before they seemed to take the alarm.

It was now time to turn back and return to camp. There Hugh and Jack made packs of their blankets and set out for the lower ground. For some time the tracks of the Indians were plainly visible,--but at length it began to snow, and the tracks were soon covered. Moreover, their landmark, the mountain which lay behind them, was no longer visible, and the only guide they had was the wind, which blew from the right or southeast.

"Well," said Hugh, "we've got to look out now, or we are liable to get lost."

"Yes," said Jack, "it's quite likely that we won't be able to strike a trail leading down the mountain, but of course we will be able to find the camp."

"Oh, yes," said Hugh; "no trouble about that, only I would rather go into camp by the same trail I left it by, if I can. However, if we don't hit the trail the only thing we'll have to do is to follow down the ridge to the river and there we'll find the trail of the packtrain, and that will take us straight to the camp."

"It would be rather a good joke on you, Hugh," said Jack, "if we were to get lost."

"So it would," said Hugh; "so it would, son. Perhaps we would have been smarter if we hadn't sent those Indians off. Of course this is their country and they know it, and you and I have never been here before. We're all right, however, if the wind doesn't shift. If that should change we might easily enough get twisted. However, we've got the river sure to take us to camp."

An hour or two later, some time after they had got into the timber, Hugh stopped and said: "Son, I think we're off the track. I believe we've kept over too far to the left and have missed the trail. I don't see anything that I recognize as having seen before."

"Well," said Jack, "you can't prove anything by me. I don't see anything that I've seen before and this snow and these gray tree trunks all look alike to me. I have been watching for the past half hour to see where we were, but I haven't any idea of it."

"Well," said Hugh, "it's cold and snowy and likely to be wet; let's push down to the river and get to camp that way, if we can't any other." An hour and a half later they were going down a steep hill clothed with lodge-pole pines, and before long had come to the level land, and in a few moments were out of the timber. On the lower ground the snow had changed to rain and the trees and bushes were wet. There, before them, ran the river; and there close to the river was the deep trail worn by the feet of the horses. Turning up the river they followed the trail, climbed the hills, and just at dark were once more in camp.

Ryder was a little disposed to laugh because they had come into camp from the side opposite to that from which they had left it; but Hugh said, and Jack agreed with him, that on a night like that it was good to get to camp in any way they could.

The next day the train was packed early, and three days of long, fast travel took them back to Hope. There they learned that the next morning there would be a steamer down the river, and they prepared to take it.

Long before daylight, Hugh and Jack, with bags and blankets, were waiting in the canoe for the appearance of the steamer and as soon as it was seen coming they fired four shots to attract the pilot's attention. Presently the boat shut off steam and began to back, and the canoe was soon alongside. The baggage was tossed out; a handshake and a good-by to Ryder and Baptiste, and after a moment more the wheels were turning and the steamer sped down the river carrying Hugh and Jack toward New Westminster. The night was spent here, a pleasant call made on Mr. James, and the following morning they embarked for Victoria, and the next night were at Tacoma, where they found Mr. Sturgis.

It was a pleasant meeting. Mr. Sturgis told them much about his mine, and what he had seen on his journey to and from it, while Jack was full of the beauties of the British Columbian coast. But he said, that as far as he saw, it was not a good hunting country. "Of course, there are lots of deer and goats and some bears, but they are too easily killed to make hunting very good sport."

"But then," said Mr. Sturgis, "you really didn't hunt, did you? You just followed the beach."

"That's true," said Hugh, "and it isn't fair, of course, to judge a country that you have only just touched. Now, take it on that little trip that we made from Hope. I don't know as I ever saw sheep and goats so plenty, and there were plenty of deer in the only place we had time to look for them. But of course we just put in a few days to use up the time until we had to get here to see you."

"Well," said Jack, "I suppose that anybody who has been used to hunting on the plains and on the foot-hills of the mountains where buffalo and elk are plenty is likely to have a wrong idea of the game in a country where the animals don't gather together in great big bunches."

"Yes," said Mr. Sturgis, "that's true enough, I guess."

After dinner that night Mr. Sturgis said: "Well, it is time for us all to get back to our different jobs. You and I have got to go back to the ranch, Hugh, and see how the beef round-up is getting on; and you, Jack, have got to get East as fast as you can, and get to school. I think as good a way as any for us to return is to go back over the railroad that is just being built from Portland, and in that way we will see a new country. The country will be new, even to you, Hugh, won't it, as far east as Idaho?"

"Yes," said Hugh, "my range has never been out west of Lake Pend d'Oreille and Flathead Lake and all this Oregon and Washington country is new to me."

"Well," said Mr. Sturgis, "let's get down to Portland and then go up the Columbia River till we strike the railroad. I know General Sharpe, one of the officials of the road, and I think he will help us across the break between the end of the track in Washington Territory and the settlements in Montana. What do you say?"

"I say 'Bully!'" exclaimed Jack.

"It suits me," said Hugh, "but where will this bring us out?"

"Well," said Mr. Sturgis, "it ought to bring us out about Deer Lodge, and there is a little narrow-gauge road being built over from Corinne in Utah on the Union Pacific, which by this time must be somewhere near these Montana towns. Of course, when we get on a railroad that connects with the Union Pacific we are just about home."

The next morning the railroad carried them to Kalama, where they took the steamer to Portland. The sail between the two points was beautiful. At one time they could see from the steamer's deck no less than six different snow-covered peaks, which ranged from nine to fourteen thousand feet in height. These were Mt. Ranier, St. Helens, Adams, Hood, Jefferson, and the Three Sisters. From Portland the steamer took them up the Columbia River through a beautiful country to the Cascades. For the first few miles of the sail the bottom was wide and the hills were distant, but after a time they reached a stretch where the river flowed between walls of rock. A great sheet of lava covers the whole face of the country. From the hills, which stretch back from the river and are covered with long yellow grass, rose numberless walls and piles of lava rock which cast black shadows. The country was open, and the park-like slopes were dotted with dark spruces and pines. Along the river water and wind had worn the rocks into curious shapes, sometimes like columns or obelisks, or again like great ovals set on end.

Along the bank of the river at several points thousands of blue-bloused, broad-hatted Chinamen were busily at work, evidently on a railroad embankment.

"This," Mr. Sturgis said, "is a railroad being built by the O. R. & N. Company between Portland and the Dalles."

"Well," said Hugh, "it seems to be the same story everywhere; railroads being built, and then people following the railroads; farms and big towns growing up; the game all going, and when the game goes of course the Indian goes too."

"Yes," said Mr. Sturgis, "this is material prosperity for the United States. You and I have seen the beginning of it, but I don't believe that either of us have any notion at all of where it is going to end. But there is one thing that we can be sure of, that no consideration of game or Indian or other natural thing is going to be allowed to interfere with the material growth of the country. We people who know how things used to be, and who like them as they were, may grumble and think the change is for the worse; but nobody will pay any attention to our grumbling and the changes will go on."

At the Cascades they changed to a train which took them seven miles around the rapids, and, then boarding another steamer, proceeded, until, just at dusk, they reached the Dalles.

"Do you know, Jack," said Mr. Sturgis, when their journey was just about over, "that this country that we have been passing through is historic ground?"

"No," said Jack, "I didn't know that."

"Well," said Mr. Sturgis, "you have heard of the old fur trade, haven't you, and Astoria, and how John Jacob Astor sent people out to found a trading station at the mouth of the Columbia River?"

"No," said Jack, "I don't believe I have."

"I have, though," said Hugh; "and I have known two or three men in my time that worked in that outfit. One man especially who went across the country with a man named Hunt."

"Yes," said Mr. Sturgis, "that's it. Mr. Astor sent ships around the Horn with supplies to found this station, and he also sent an expedition across the country. The cross country party had trouble with the Indians and starved, and generally had a hard time, and, after the post was established, while they got lots of furs they had considerable trouble with the Indians all the time. The British claimed the country, and the Hudson's Bay people said that Astoria was in their territory. Then came the war of 1812, and the fort at Astoria was surrendered to the Hudson's Bay people; and that was the end of that trading post, so far as the Americans were concerned. But all up and down this river that we have been travelling up, the Northwesters and the Hudson's Bay men used to go backward and forward portaging around these rapids that we have just been over, and working as hard as the old fur traders always worked. The story of these travels has been written by a good many of the people who took part in them, and some day it will be worth your while to hunt up these old books and read that story. It is a fascinating one."

"Yes," said Hugh, "it's sure an interesting story; though I have never seen the books, I have heard a good deal of it told. It used to be talked about a whole lot in early days."

"Well," said Mr. Sturgis, "a lot of those old Astorians, as Astor's employees at Astoria were called, wrote books giving their experiences, and it would be well worth your while to read them. I remember the names of some of them--Alexander Ross, Ross Cox, Franchere--and besides them some of the Hudson's Bay people, into whose hands the place passed later, wrote exceptionally interesting accounts of life at the fort, of their journeys up and down the river, and of their travels over the mountains.

"Sometime, when we get back, Jack, ask me about these books and I will make a list of them for you. Most of them are out of print now, and can only be had at the libraries; but they are books that will repay reading, and the same thing can be said of a great number of volumes dealing with the exploration of the western country. It is astonishing that we Americans know so little about matters which should be of so much interest to us. Do you realize how little is known about the work of these early explorers, traders, and trappers? Some few of us are familiar with it, but most of the people back East know nothing whatever about these men. Pretty nearly all of this work has been done within the past seventy-five years, some of it within fifty years, and none of it goes back a century."

"Here is Hugh," he went on; "he has knowledge of the western country back almost to the time of that early exploration, and he certainly has known many men who were of the early generation of the trappers. Isn't that so, Hugh?"

"Yes," said Hugh, "that's sure enough true, Mr. Sturgis. I knew well Uncle Jack Robinson, the Bakers, Bridger, Beckwourth, and a whole lot of men that came into the country in the thirties or before. I have met old Bill Williams and Perkins, and know old man Culbertson well. I guess likely he's alive now."

"Why, even you, Jack," said Mr. Sturgis, "know old man Monroe, and he, according to all accounts, came into the country in 1813."

"That's so, Uncle George," said Jack; "that goes back a long way, doesn't it?"

"Well now, do you realize that probably before any of us die this whole western country will be crowded full of people; that there will be railroads running in all directions, and that the centre of population of the country will be probably moved from Pittsburg, where it is now, to somewhere in the Mississippi valley, and perhaps not far from the big river itself?" said Mr. Sturgis.

"I haven't been out here so many years," he continued, "but I have seen changes take place in this country that have astonished me, and I can see that these changes are going to keep taking place, and that almost before we know it sections of country through which now we can travel for weeks at a time without seeing any people will be full of ranches and farms and towns. We think of the United States as being a big country now, but I believe it hasn't made a beginning yet."

"Well, Mr. Sturgis," said Hugh, "I guess likely what you say is right. But what's going to happen to all the old things that used to be in the country? What's going to happen to the game, to the buffalo, to the Indians?"

"Why," said Mr. Sturgis, "the game, and buffalo, and Indians are natural things, and they cannot stand up in the face of civilized things. The game will be killed off except in little spots like Yellowstone Park; the Indians will be crowded onto their reservations and kept there, and will either be turned into farmers or cow men, or else will starve to death. The people of this country are going to see, I believe, that all this waste region, for that is what they call it, shall be made to produce something. Cattle will take the place of buffalo, sheep will take the place of deer and antelope. After a while farmers will come in, and then the big cattle and sheep men will be crowded out in turn. The farmers will raise crops from the ground instead of sheep and cattle. People will have farms and a few head of cattle, but the days of the 'cattle kings' will pass away. It's a process of evolution, my boy," he said to Jack, "and you and I will see it work itself out."