Chapter 1

Fitzwilliam. On the north side is old Bingley, but I presume we'd just as well call it Yellowhead Mountain now. Some called it Mount Pelee, but we'll call it Yellowhead, because it seems too bad the pass and mountain should not have the same name from the same man--whoever he was. That's the guardian of the pass from this side, at any rate. It looks as though it shut up the pass, because, you see, it bends around the foot of the mountain. I've climbed that mountain in my time--none too easy a job. In that way you can see the headwaters of the Fraser River, and glaciers twenty miles south of here. From the top of Yellowhead you can see Mount Geikie, although we are past it now."

"When are we going to do our fishing?" inquired John, in his practical fashion.

"Well, I'll tell you," said his uncle; "if you'll be good and travel steadily, we'll make camp at the side of this lake and fish this afternoon."

"Agreed," said John; "go ahead."

They found it not so easy to go ahead as might have been supposed, for the trail passed through some very rough and troublesome country, made the worse by burned timber which had blown down. At last, however, they made their way along the northwest shore and neared the narrows at the lower end of the lake. Here they found a low peninsula jutting out into the lake, where there was a little grass and good clean footing as well as the fine shade of some tall pines.

"Here we are," said the leader of the party; and soon they had off-saddled and the horses were grazing, while the others prepared for the bivouac.

"Now, if we had a boat," said Rob, "I believe we would get some trout in this lake, and good ones, too."

"They're here, all right," said Uncle Dick, "as I can testify, but boats don't grow in the Rocky Mountains this high up. You'll have to try it from the shore."

"But could we not make a raft? I see some pretty good cedar timber lying along here. And I've got some hay-wire in my war-bag--I never travel without it." Rob was eager.

"And a very good thing it is to have in camp, too. Well, try your raft if you like, but be careful."

All three of the young Alaskans, more experienced than most boys of their age in outdoor work, now fell at the task of making themselves a raft or float. Soon they had half a dozen cedar logs lying side by side in the shallow water, their limbs trimmed off closely with the axes. Under Rob's instructions they now lashed two crosspieces on top of the logs, using the wire to bind them fast to each. So in the course of half an hour they had quite a substantial raft ready for use. Securing a couple of long poles to use as push-poles, they set boldly out into the shallow bay that lay before them. They took only one rod along, assigning to John the task of doing the angling while the others endeavored to keep the raft steady.

"This is as far as we can go," said Rob after a while. "Fifteen feet of water, and my pole won't touch any longer."

"Well, it looks fishy," said John. "Hold on, fellows, and I'll begin to cast."

He did so, standing as best he could on the uncertain footing under which the green water, clear as glass, showed the sandy bottom plainly below them. Ordinarily it would have been impossible to catch trout in water so clear, but the trout of the Yellowhead Lake at that time were hungry and unskilled. Therefore John had hardly cast a dozen times before he saw a great splash and felt a heavy tug at his line. As a matter of fact, a four-pound rainbow had taken the fly.

"My, he's a whopper!" said John, as he struck, and endeavored to stop the first rush of the big fish.

But he scarcely finished his last words, for as he stepped back in his excitement, his foot slipped on the wet bark of one of the logs, and over he went backward into the deep green water underneath!

It happened so quickly that neither Rob nor Jesse for the moment could understand it. They could see their companion clearly in the water, struggling and twisting as he went down, and surrounded on all sides by a mass of white bubbles, which almost obscured him from view.

"Look out, there!" cried Uncle Dick, from shore, who had seen it all perfectly. At the same time he cast off his coat and was tugging at his shoes, making ready to swim out.

But just at that time the head and face of John appeared above the surface, his face distorted with fright and discomfort. He struck out boldly for the raft just at the instant when Rob held out to him the end of the push-pole.

"Catch hold of this, John," said he, quietly.

An instant later the puffing swimmer was at the raft.

"Look out now," said Rob; "don't swamp us. Just lie there till I get you in."

"It's cold!" exclaimed John; and, indeed, his teeth were chattering with the cold of the icy mountain water.

"All right, we'll be in in a minute," said Rob; and he began poling the raft toward shore as rapidly as he could. They were not out fifty yards, but it seemed an age before the raft reached shore--or, rather, reached the outstretched hands of Uncle Dick, who stood shoulder-deep in the water waiting for them.

"I was afraid of that raft," said he, "but it's lucky it was no worse. Come here, John."

"It wasn't the fault of the raft, sir," chattered John. "I just got foolish and slipped off. I'm all right. Where's my fish?"

Surely enough, they turned to the other end of the raft; where they saw John's rod fast between two logs, where the reel held it firmly. All the line was run out, but when Jesse reached out and brought in the rod he felt a surge at the other end which told that the fish was still on.

"Let me have him," said John. "I'm just going to get even with him if I can, and take him out of the wet, too."

Much relieved at seeing him so plucky and at finding him now safe, the others roared with laughter as he stood, wet and shivering, at the edge of the beach, fighting his big trout for several minutes before he could get him in. But at last victory rested with the skilful young angler, and Uncle Dick with a piece of coffee-sacking scooped out the big rainbow as he came inshore.

"Well, there," said he, "is fish enough for supper. Now, John, go and strip and wring your clothes and dry out by the fire. I think maybe that'll be fish enough for a while. We're lucky to get the fish, and lucky to get you, too, for it's no joke to go overboard in water as cold as that."

"You can just bet it isn't!" said John, his face now almost blue with cold, although he was beginning to revive in the warm rays of the sun. "Just for that, I am going to eat that fish--or as much of him as I can."

XIII

AFTER THE WHITE GOATS

Moise, although good-natured, none the less was fond enough of good living, and, moreover, disposed to rest very well content when the camping conditions were as good as those in which they now found themselves. He thought that it might be just as well not to be in too big a hurry.

"Suppose we did get caught on those high water, M'sieu Deek," he said; "if we only wait some time, she'll run down bime-by. But suppose we'll don't got nothing to eat but bacon and flour, and go starve to death. What then?"

"Well, Moise," said Rob, as they sat at the breakfast-table, where the good voyageur made this remark, "we've got a whole lake full of trout there waiting for us to go out and catch them--if we didn't fall off the raft again."

"Never mind about that raft any more, young man," said Uncle Dick. "A raft is all right if you have nothing else, and if you have to use it, but it is not compulsory here. We'll just leave the raft business and try for some trout down here in the creek."

"There'll ain't no trout on those creek," objected Moise. "I'll try him myself, and not get no bite. Besides, M'sieu Deek, feesh is all right for woman and dog, but meat she is more better for strong man."

"That's the way I feel about it," said John, his mouth half full of bacon. "I wouldn't mind a little fresh meat once in a while. But where are we going to get it?"

"No moose up in here," volunteered Jesse, "and I don't suppose any caribou either. As for sheep, I suppose there are none this side of the high peaks east of here, are there, Uncle Dick?"

"Probably not. But we'll find caribou farther west. Besides, there are any number of white goats in these mountains all around us here. I suppose you know what they are, although I'm not sure you ever saw them in Alaska."

"I know them," said Rob. "They're the greatest climbers in the world--'On top' is their motto always."

"That's why the head of a white goat is always considered a good trophy among sportsmen; it means that the hunter has had to climb high for it. They're a sporting proposition, all right, those goats; but when it comes to eating, that's something different. I boiled goat meat two days straight once, and it was still like shoe leather." Uncle Dick shook his head.

"Oh, you'll got old goat--old Guillaume goat," said Moise. "He's too tough for eat. But s'pose you'll got some small leetle goat; she's good for eat like anything."

"So I've heard," said Uncle Dick, "but I'm willing to take my chances with flour and bacon."

"Well, now," said Rob, "if there are goats in here I'd like awfully well to try to photograph one, at least. They tell me they're so dull and stupid you can go right up on them."

"I'm not so sure about their being stupid," replied Uncle Dick. "I think it's more likely that they just are not afraid of anything. A big billy will kill any dog in the world, and some hunters declare that they will even fight a grizzly bear. Their little black horns are sharp as needles, and they can hit a hard blow with that neck of theirs, backed by a couple of hundred pounds of bone and muscle.

"Whatever a goat may be as to wisdom, he won't run away, and you can never hurry him. A bighorn will run for miles if he smells or sees you, but if a goat sees you he'll take his own time, stop and look at you, and then go off as slowly as he likes. If you get too close to him, he may stop and stamp his feet, and work his lips at you, and show he's angry. But he'll never show he is scared. That's why they are so easy to kill, once you climb up where they are. That ought to make them easy to photograph, too, Rob. I should say there were ten chances to get a goat photograph to one of the bighorn."

"Do you suppose there are any around here?" inquired Jesse.

"Plenty of them on old Yellowhead Mountain, right here above us."

"Well, why not have a hunt, then?"

Uncle Dick threw up his hands. "Now, there you go again, always wanting to stop to fish or hunt! I've told you that we ought to hurry on through."

"Well, just one day!" argued John.

Uncle Dick sighed. "Well," said he, "we ought to be glad you're not drowned, John. And I suppose you think we ought to make some sacrifice on that account? Well, all right. If you promise to be contented with one day's hunt, and to start out to-morrow morning and keep on the trail until we strike the Tete Jaune Cache, I'll agree to go with you to-day. The fact is, I wouldn't mind stretching my own legs a little bit, for I'm cramped with saddle work. But I warn you it's a stiff pull up that mountain there."

"Shall we just go to photograph?" asked Rob, "or shall we take the rifle?"

"As you like, for this is British Columbia here, and I've a license for each of you to shoot game as needed. But we only want one goat, so we don't need to take more than one rifle. And it really is hard climbing."

"Let me take my camera," said Rob, "and you carry the rifle, Uncle Dick. The others won't need to take anything at all."

"Then we wouldn't have anything to do but just climb," protested John.

His uncle smiled at him. "Come now," said he; "I'll let you do the shooting if you see a good, fat young goat. For my part, I'd as soon shoot a poor, sick calf in a barnyard. You and Jesse decide which is to shoot, and I'll carry the gun until the time comes."

"That's all right," said Moise, who overheard their conversation. "Those boys was both fine shot, both of him. You let him shoot one small, leetle goat for Moise, and I'll show you he's good for eat."

"Agreed," said Uncle Dick, "but, mind you, you've only got to-night to cook him--I fear we might get caught in the high waters if we stopped here until you boiled it tender!"

They made ready now for their climb, each with a light pair of nailed boots and heavy stockings. Under their leader's advice they stripped down to their flannel shirts, but each carried along a canvas jacket, ready to put on when they reached the upper heights where the wind was sure to be very cold. Uncle Dick carried John's rifle, and Rob took his favorite camera, provided with a curtain shutter, and an eye-piece on top where he could look in and see the game on the ground glass and thus focus it properly. The weather was very fine, and they started out in the best of spirits.

They walked steadily up through the heavy pine forest which covered the foot of the mountain; and then, striking the steeper grade along a bare ridge, they climbed steadily until, turning about and looking down, they could see the glorious prospect which lay below them. The surface of the lake, deep green in color, barely wrinkled now by a light morning breeze, was visible from end to end, three miles or more. On the other side of it showed the bold peaks of Fitzwilliam mountain, back of that yet other peaks were disclosed as they climbed. In that direction there lay an undiscovered country, and they might well reflect that few even had looked out across it as they themselves now were doing from their lofty perch. They knew well enough that the old traders who passed through here rarely left the trail except for necessary hunting, but passed on through as rapidly as they might, this being merely their highway, and not their hunting-grounds.

"What is this, Uncle Dick?" called Rob, after a time, as, turning from their study of the noble landscape, they resumed their work of ascending the steep mountainside. Rob pointed to the broken surface of the ground at his feet.

"What do you mean, Rob?" asked the older hunter.

"It looks as if horses had been here," said Rob, "yesterday, late."

"Yes," said Uncle Dick, smiling, "but not horses, I should say."

"Maybe not," said Rob, doubtfully. "But I thought maybe prospectors had been in here."

"Only the original prospectors--the ones with white coats and long whiskers and sharp horns," said Uncle Dick.

"But it looks like a regular trail!"

"It is a regular trail, but if you will look closer you'll see the hoof marks. Horses do not have split toes, my boy. In fact, I have no doubt this is the regular stairway of the goat family that lives on this mountain. Like enough they've been down in here to get some different sort of grass or water. They've evidently been using this path quite a while."

"How high do you suppose they are now?" inquired John.

"Who can tell? A mile or two, or three, or five, for all I know. It will take us two or three hours to get up to the rim-rock, at least, and I've usually noticed that goats don't stop much short of the rim-rock when they start to go up a hill. The sign is fresh, however, made late last night or very early this morning; I think with you, Rob, that it was yesterday."

"How many are there?" inquired Jesse, bending over the broad trail.

"Hard to tell, for they've used this trail more than once. A dozen or more, I should say. Well, all we can do is to follow after them and thank them for showing us a good path."

They climbed on up all the more eagerly now, and when they reached more open country where the sun shone fairly on them they soon were dripping with perspiration. But, young as were these hunters from Alaska, they were not inexperienced in mountain-climbing. They knew that the way to get up a mountain is to keep on slowly and steadily, not hurrying, and never resting very long at a time. Thus they advanced for three-quarters of an hour, until they could see still farther out over the country below them. Now they could see that the game had sometimes wandered about feeding, and the trail itself divided and grew fainter.

Uncle Dick pointed out all these things quietly and suggested that they would better be on the lookout. They advanced now more carefully, and whenever they came to the edge of an open reach or topped some shoulder of the slope they paused and examined the country ahead very carefully. At last, when they had reached an altitude where the trees were much smaller and more scattering, Uncle Dick stopped and took his field-glasses from the case. He lay for some time, resting the glasses on a big rock, sweeping all the country ahead of him with the glasses. At last they saw him stop and gaze steadily at one spot for quite a while.

"See anything?" asked Jesse, eagerly.

Uncle Dick did not reply at once, but after a time handed Jesse the glasses. "Look over there," said he, "about half a mile, right at the foot of that rock wall. You'll see something that looks like a flock of snowballs, rather large ones."

Jesse tried the glasses for a time, and at last caught the spot pointed out to him. "I see," said he, in a whisper. "Goats! Lots of them." They showed so plainly in the glasses, in fact, that he spoke carefully, as though he feared to frighten them.

"Oh, look at them!" said he, after a while. "The young ones are playing like little sheep, jumping and butting around and having a regular frolic."

"Any big ones?" asked Rob, quickly.

"I should say so; five or six, all sizes. And they look white as big pillows. There's one that looks as though he had on white pants, and his long white beard makes him look like an old man. He's looking right down the mountain. You can see them plain against that black rock."

"Just like a goat," said Uncle Dick. "They never try to hide themselves. And even when there's snow on the mountains they'll leave it and go lie on a black rock where everybody can see them. Well, come on, and we'll see what sort of a stalk we can make on them."

They went on much more cautiously now, under Dick's guidance, keeping under cover in the low trees and working to one side and upward in the general direction of their game. It was hard work, and all the boys were panting when at last their leader called a halt.

"We'll wait here," said he, in a low tone of voice. He now unslung the rifle from his back and handed it to John. "You and Rob go on now," said he. "Don't shoot until Rob is done with his picture-making. And when you do shoot, don't kill an old billy, for we couldn't keep the head. Kill one of the young goats--I think there are two or three yearlings there. I wouldn't shoot either of those two pairs of kids. They're too little even for Moise, I think."

"Where are you going, Uncle Dick?" asked Rob.

"Jesse and I are going to stop right here under cover, and Jesse shall have the sport of watching your hunt through the field-glasses--almost as good fun as going along himself. Go on now, and don't lose any time."

The two older boys now advanced carefully up the slope, using the cover of the trees as far as they could. They appeared in the open for a little time, only to disappear beyond a series of rocks which projected from the slope above them.

"I don't see where they've gone," said Jesse, who was steadily watching through the glasses.

"Give them time," said Uncle Dick. "You must remember that Rob has to get pretty close in order to make the photograph. I'm sure they're within rifle-range now."

"Oh, there they are!" whispered Jesse, a little later. "I see them now. They're up above the goats, and crawling right down toward them. Now there's old Rob, he's trying to get to the edge of the rocks; I can see he's got his camera all ready. He'll be on top of them, almost, if he gets there."

"Good boy, Rob!" said Uncle Dick, approvingly. "He has made a good stalk of it."

Jesse, still gazing through the glasses, now saw his two friends slowly advancing, clinging like flies to the steep rock's face, but all the time getting closer to their game. The goats seemed not to suspect an enemy, but lay or stood about in perfect unconcern. They did not have any sentinel posted, as the mountain sheep often will, but seemed to feel perfectly secure from all intrusion.

At last Jesse saw Rob stand up straight and walk forward rapidly with his camera in front of him. The goats now heard or scented him, for at once they all stood up and turned toward him, facing him silent and motionless.

"They don't know what he is!" exclaimed Jesse. "They're just looking at him. No, there goes a big one right up toward him."

"In that case," said Uncle Dick, "Rob will get his picture, sure." An easy prophecy, for, as a matter of fact, Rob secured several very good pictures of the old goat and the others, as he stood rapidly working his camera, almost in the face of the fearless old billy which advanced toward him so pugnaciously.

But now Jesse saw the band of goats apparently take alarm at something. They turned and began to disperse, some of them climbing slowly up the apparently perpendicular rock face.

"They'll run right into John!" exclaimed Jesse. "There he is--there, he's shot! Got him, too!"

They heard the faint sound of the report of the rifle come down from above, and could see the fall of the goat as he slipped and rolled among the rocks.

"Well done," said Uncle Dick. "They've both done their work well, Jesse, and I am pretty sure we'll have both goat pictures and goat steaks, all we want. I'm glad John did not get crazy and shoot a lot of those poor creatures."

"Come on," said Jesse, "let's run up to where they are."

In due time they climbed up to where Rob and Jesse were sitting by the side of the dead goat. The boys waved their hats to one another as Jesse approached, smiling and panting.

"I saw it all," said Jesse, "right in the field-glasses, close up. That's fine, isn't it?"

Rob and John both began to talk at once, while Uncle Dick stood smilingly looking down at the dead goat.

"I could have killed two or three big ones," said John. "What heads they had, too!"

"What could we have done with them?" asked his uncle. "No, you did quite right in killing this yearling--it's all we want. And I think Rob had the hardest task of any of us; it's easier to shoot a goat with a rifle than with a camera."

"Well," said Rob, "it was just the way you said--they didn't seem afraid at all. I've got one picture, square front end, of that old fellow, and I don't think he was twenty feet away from me. He seemed to think the camera was something that was going to hurt him, and he showed fight."

"Now," said Uncle Dick, "the next thing is to get our meat down the mountain."

Rolling up his sleeves, he now prepared to skin out such meat as he wanted from the dead goat. He cut off the head and neck, and cut off the legs at the knee-joints. Then he skinned back only the fore quarters, leaving the hide still attached to the hind quarters and the saddle. Using his belt, he folded the skin over the saddle, and then, tying the sleeves of his coat so that it covered his shoulders, he hoisted the saddle astride of his neck.

"I don't fancy this smell very much," said he, "but I guess it will be the easiest way to get our meat down the mountain. Come on now, boys, every fellow for himself, and be careful not to get a fall."

It was hard and sometimes rather slow work scrambling down the steep face of the mountain, especially high up where the rocks were bare. But after a time they came to the small green trees, and then to the tall pines under whose shade the ground was softer and gave them a better footing. It did not take them so long to come down as it had to ascend, but they were all tired when late that afternoon they arrived at their camp on the little promontory.

Moise was overjoyed at their success, and was all for cooking some of the meat at once; but Uncle Dick checked him.

"No," said he, "it's too fresh yet. Skin it out, Moise, and hang it up overnight, at least. You may set a little of it to stew all night at the fire, if you like. Soak some more of it overnight in salt and water--and then I think you'd better throw away all the kettles that you've used with this goat meat. It may be all right, but I'm afraid it's going to be a long time before I learn to like goat. If this were a mountain sheep, now, I could eat all that saddle myself."

Moise asked who killed the goat, and when told that it was John he complimented him very much. For Rob's work with the camera he had less praise.

"I s'pose she's all right to make picture of goat," said he, "but s'pose a man he's hongree, he couldn't eat picture, could he?"

Rob only laughed at him. "You wait, Moise," said he. "When I get my pictures made maybe you'd rather have one of them than another piece of goat meat."

In spite of Uncle Dick's disgust, Moise that evening broiled himself a piece of the fresh goat meat at the fire, and ate it with such relish that the boys asked for a morsel or so of it themselves. To their surprise, they found the tenderloin not so bad to eat. Thus, with one excuse or another, they sat around the fire, happy and contented, until the leader of the party at last drove them all off to bed.

"I like this place," said John, "even if I did come pretty nearly getting drowned out there in the lake."

And indeed the spot had proved so pleasant in every way that it was only with a feeling of regret that they broke camp on Yellowhead Lake and proceeded on their westward journey.

XIV

DOWN THE FRASER

Up to this time on their journey the weather had continued most favorable, there having been little rain to disturb them either on the trail or in camp. Now, however, they were on the western slope of the Rockies and in the moister climate of the Pacific region. When they left camp on Yellowhead Lake it was in a steady downpour which left them drenched thoroughly before they had gone a mile.

The trail, moreover, now proved not only uncomfortable, but dangerous, the rain making the footing so soft that in many cases on steep slopes they were obliged to dismount and lead their horses up or down. Indeed, the trail scarcely could be called a trail at all, all trace of the original traders' paths now being lost. Many persons, mostly engineers or prospecting adventurers, had passed here, each taking his own way, and the sum of their selections served only to make bad very much worse. In the level places the trail was a quagmire, on some of the steeper slopes simply a zigzag of scrambling hoof tracks.

They kept on, in spite of their discomforts, throughout the forenoon without pause. It was their purpose to get on the farther side of as many of these mountain streams as possible. They were now in a bold mountain country, where numerous small tributaries came down to the great Fraser which roared and plunged along beside their trail. "The Bad River," old Sir Alexander Mackenzie called one of the headwaters of the Fraser, and bad enough it is from its source on down.

They were now near the forks of the two main tributaries of the Fraser, one roaring torrent coming down from the south. The trail held to the north bank of the Fraser, following down from the lake along the rapid but harmless little river which made its outlet. To ford the Fraser was, of course, impossible. Time and again the young adventurers paused to look down at the raging torrent, broken into high, foaming waves by the numerous reefs of rock which ran across it. Continually the roar of the angry waters came up to them through the trees. More than ever they realized that they now were on the shores of one of the wickedest rivers in all the Rockies, as their Uncle Dick had told them of the Fraser.

They now observed that the trees of the forest through which they traveled were much larger than they had been. But, splendid as this forest growth had been, they found that in a large area fire had gone through it in some previous year, and this burned country--or _brule_, as Moise called it--made one of the worst obstacles any traveler could encounter. This hardship was to remain with them almost all the way down the Fraser to the Tete Jaune Cache, and it added immeasurably to the trials of pack-train travel.

At last they pulled up alongside of a broad and brawling stream, turbulent but shallow, a little threatening to one not skilled in mountain travel, but not dangerous to a party led as was this one, by a man acquainted with the region.

"Here we are at Grant Creek," said Uncle Dick, as they paused on the hither side of the stream. "This is one of the many swift tributaries on the north side of the Fraser, but I am glad we've got to ford it, and not the Fraser itself. You see, we have to keep on the north bank all the way down now."

Uncle Dick carefully located his landmarks and examined some stones and stumps to get some idea of the stage of the water.

"It's all right," said he. "Come on across. Follow me closely now."

Soon they were belly-deep in the tawny flood of the stream, which came down noisily all about them. The sturdy horses, however, seemed not to be in the least alarmed, but followed old Danny, Uncle Dick's pony, as he slowly plodded on across, angling down the stream and never once losing his footing in the rolling stones of the bottom. The stream was not over a hundred and twenty feet wide at this point, and the ford was made with no difficulty at all.

"This is easy," said Uncle Dick, as they emerged on the western side. "But three miles ahead we come to the Moose River, and that's apt to be a different proposition. You can't tell anything about any of these rivers until you try them. One thing is sure, we can't get any wetter than we are."

"I've noticed all these streams are highest in the afternoon," said Rob--"a lot higher, too. We've often mentioned that."

"Yes; that's because the snow melts in the morning and starts the water down the high slopes. It takes some time for it to get down to the lower levels. Morning is the best time to ford any of these mountain rivers, as I have told you."

The trail was none too good on to the Moose River, and they were none too cheerful as they paused to look over the situation at the bank of this stream.

"When I crossed here the last time I marked a stump with an ax," said Uncle Dick. "That was barely below swimming-line. Ah, there it is, I see--we've got six inches to the good, and that means we can get across, I think. It's lucky it isn't worse. There are some falls up this river a little way, and perhaps we could get across the narrows there, but in any case we would have to get the horses across down here, and we had better all make it together. Anyhow, I'll go ahead on Danny and see how it works. Moise, you'll bring up the rear; Rob, you go next ahead of Moise, and you, John and Jesse, follow just behind me a little way back. If Danny loses his footing, all of you stop at once and wait for further orders. Well, here goes."

He spurred his plucky little horse into the roily, turbulent flood, closely followed by the others as he had instructed. Fortunately, the pack-train, by this time well broken into the work of the trail, made no disturbance, but followed along stolidly in the rear of the leader. Thus, little by little, they edged on across and at last crossed the dangerous middle part of the river. Here Uncle Dick angled a little down, following the shallow water indicated by the light ripples. As the boys saw Danny begin to show more and more above the surface of the water, until he was walking no deeper than his knees, they swung their hats and shouted exultantly, for now they were safely to cross one of the most dangerous rivers on the whole trail.

"Well," said Uncle Dick, as at last they pulled up on the farther side, "that's done, at any rate. From here it's only a couple of miles or so to the head of Moose Lake. The trail is fierce along there, but once beyond that lake we can safely call the worst of our whole journey past and done with. We can make it in a few hours' steady work if we have luck."

They pushed on, and after a time paused at a point near the head of Moose Lake, from which they could see it lying before them, seven miles or so of slaty gray water, now wrinkled under the downpouring rain. It was a prospect not in the least cheerful, to be sure.

"The Fraser River runs straight through this lake," said Uncle Dick, "and, as you see, it is getting more water every mile out of these hills. This is the only quiet place on the whole Fraser River that I know of. But we can't get across it, couldn't even if we had boats, for here are the horses.

"But if we could cross the lake here, and if we could cross the Selwyn Mountains over there on the other side of it, we would find a little creek up there which heads up just opposite Price Creek. You see, Price Creek runs down into the Canoe River, which is the stream we're going to follow below Tete Jaune Cache. They say the Indians used to take horses up this little creek and down Price Creek on the other side. If so, they must have had horses born on the other side of the Fraser, for I'll warrant they couldn't get them across from the north side where we are."

"Did any white man ever go over that way?" asked Rob, curiously.

"Not that I know of. I don't know when the Indians went there, but there's a story that some of them took horses across the Selwyns over yonder. As for us, we've got to keep on down this valley. We are twenty miles west from the Yellowhead Pass, and have thirty miles more to go yet to the Tete Jaune Cache."

"What are these big mountains over on the right?" inquired Rob.

"That's the Rainbow range. We make our way right along their feet. On beyond the lake for some distance the river is a little more quiet, then she drops; that's all. There's a strip of water in here twenty miles or so that no boat could live in at all. There were two rattle-headed engineers who did try to take a boat down a part of the Fraser in here, and in some miraculous way they ran maybe ten or twelve miles of it, part in and part out of the water. Then their boat smashed on a rock, and they both were drowned. One body was found, the other was never heard of."

"Well," said John, "we're complaining a good deal about going along on horses, but I believe I like that better than taking a boat on that river."

"When we'll make camp to-day, M'sieu Deek?" asked Moise, pushing up alongside the leader's horse. They all sat in the rain, dripping like so many drowned rats.

"Well," said Uncle Dick, "this is pretty bad, isn't it? It seems to me that we had better use all the daylight we can to-day, for we're wet as we can get anyway. There are no bad streams now, but the trail is awful of itself--side-hills and _brule_, and in and out of the water all along the lake side. But we've got to pass it some time. Suppose we make the best of a bad bargain, and see if we can get to the lower end of the lake to-day?"

The boys all agreed to this, and so the party pushed on, but they found later that the prediction of their leader was quite true, for none of them had ever seen so fearful a trail as that along the north shore of Moose Lake. But even as it grew darker in the deep valley at last they broke through the farther edge of the heaviest timber, picked their way through a wide strip of _brule_, crossed the last dangerous face of rock side, and emerged into an open area where some sort of camp at last was possible. Here they dismounted, all ready to agree that this was the worst day any of them had ever seen on the trail.

"Well," said Uncle Dick, chuckling, "I pushed pretty hard to-day, but I had to make up for that lost day we spent hunting goats. To tell the truth, I didn't think we could get this far on to-day, and so I just count we're even on the goat-hunt. Besides, we are now past the worst part of our troubles. To-morrow I promise you something worth all the hard work we've undergone."

"What's that?" demanded Jesse. "Some more hunting?"

"Certainly not. You've another guess, Jesse. Something better than that."

"You don't mean sheep or grizzly?"

"Something bigger than grizzly, even."

"That," said Rob, "must be a mountain."

"Quite right. I'm going to show you the greatest mountain in all the Canadian Rockies, and one of the greatest mountains on this continent. It isn't known very much to-day, but soon Mount Robson will be one of the show-places of this whole country. The Indians have always called it the biggest of all these mountains, time out of mind."

"What time shall we see it?" inquired Rob.

"That depends a great deal. It'll be about fourteen miles down the trail to the Grand Fork Valley. Looking right up that, we'll be staring into the face of old Robson. I only hope the rain will be done by that time, so that the sun will shine and give us a fair view. It's very rarely that one ever sees Mount Robson clear to the top. But sufficient for to-day are the evils, I presume. Let's see if we can make ourselves comfortable in camp to-night."

"One thing," said John, that night, "this horse business isn't going to last forever. I hope the Canoe River isn't as bad as the Fraser, for I'm getting ready to get into a boat once more. I've changed my mind a little."

"I wonder where the Canoe River got its name, Uncle Dick?" queried Rob.

"That I cannot tell you. There are some canoes on the Fraser which came up from the Pacific way, and there are some canoe birches in these woods, this side of the summit. Now, whether some of the old traders one day made a birch-bark canoe and ran that stream I can't tell. But that is the name given to it by the traders, and I suppose they got it from the earlier traders who crossed this country.

"John," he added, "this is a hard place for you to bring up your map. I'll excuse you from your map-making until we have a drier camp than this."

XV

THE GREAT MOUNTAIN

Happily on the next day the weather relented and the sun greeted them when they were ready for their breakfast, although all the trees were dripping wet. Uncle Dick was very much rejoiced.

"We'll see Robson to-day if this sun holds," said he. "Let's hurry on."

"There you go!" grumbled John. "Uncle Dick, you always are finding one reason or other for being in a hurry."

"Well, everything in here is in a hurry," was his uncle's answer. "All the water's in a hurry, and all the engineers are in a hurry. But, speaking of that, you may notice that below the lake here the slopes are not quite so steep. The river is getting wider. By and by it will be so tame that you really can run a boat on it. The Tete Jaune Cache was what you might call the head of water transportation on the west side--as far as the canoes dared attempt the Fraser going east. From the Tete Jaune Cache it is possible to make a canoe journey up and down the river between that point and Fort George, although every time one makes the journey he takes his own chances."

"Is the Canoe River a very bad river, then?" demanded John.

"Well, as to that, she's jammed and drifted and overhung and fast, but not so bad as the Peace River was in many places," replied Uncle Dick. "I don't think we need have much anxiety as to that part of our journey. At least, we'll not worry about it yet, for worrying doesn't get anybody anything. I only hope that Mount Robson will not put on his cap until we get down to the lower end of the Grand Fork Valley."

They found their trail now as it had been described, less dangerous. Indeed, there was but one risky crossing, that of a rock slide which ran down sheer to the river-bank, where a misstep might have been fatal. They kept steadily on until at length they opened up the wide valley of the Grand Fork, a tributary which comes down from the great peaks which surround the noble mountain known as Robson.

When at last the full view up this valley unfolded before them they pulled up and paused, not saying a word. It was a wonderful sight that lay before them, one of the most wonderful in all the great Rockies. On every hand ran frowning slopes crowned with dark forest growth, flanked here and there by the yet darker shadows of the passing clouds. But towering above all, and dwarfing all rivalry, there stood before them one great, noble, white-topped peak, unshaded by any clouds. As the boys gazed at it instinctively they took off their caps.

"That's Robson!" said Uncle Dick, smiling. "Any way you look at it it's big. Here you see a sheer wall of bare rock, thousands of feet. The approach is steep as the roof of a house, as you can see. All over it in every little valley there are glaciers. Any way you approach it it's hard going when you try to climb old Robson--_'Yuh-hai-has-kun_,' the Indians called it, 'the mountain with the stairs.' But when they tried to climb it they never could quite find the stairs. So far no one has made the ascent.[1]

[Footnote 1: At the time of this journey the Kinney ascension of Mount Robson had not yet been made.--THE AUTHOR.]

"Many a man has heard of this mountain," continued Uncle Dick, "and a good many have tried to climb it. One party spent all the season trying to get behind it and find a way up. But Robson doesn't seem to have any blind side."

"Why can't we try it?" said Rob, enthusiastically.

"Some day, perhaps," smiled Uncle Dick, "but hardly now, as short of grub as we are, and as short of time as well. Mountain climbing is a business of itself, and you need a complete equipment. It would take a year, two years, or three to climb Robson, very likely. So with two or three days at our disposal I'll have to ask to be excused from the attempt; let us take on something easier for an order.

"Now," he added, "about all we can do is to take off our hats to the old peak and say good morning as we pass."

"And thank you very much, Sir Mountain," said Jesse, gravely, his young face serious as he looked toward the peak, "because you let us see clear all up to the top."

"It mightn't happen once in months," said Uncle Dick. "I've passed here several times, and I've never had as fine a view as we have right now. She's thirteen thousand seven hundred feet, our triangulations made it. That's something of a mountain, to be hid back in here all by itself, isn't it?

"Up at the foot of the mountain," he continued, "there's a fine lake, as lovely as Lake Louise down in the lower Rockies. I do wish we had time to go up in there, for the lake is worth seeing. Some day it will be famous, and visited by thousands. At least we can see the edge of it from where we are, and lucky you are to have so early a look, I can assure you.

"Well, we'll be going on," said he, presently, as he gathered up his reins. "We can't take the time now for fifteen miles of the sort of travel that lies between here and the foot of the mountain. At least we've seen Robson, full front and clear all the way to the summit--a most unusual sight. You may always remember now that you saw this mountain before it became common."

They forded the Grand Fork itself without much difficulty, for it was a flat and shallow stream at this point. Passing on to the westward, they finally encamped in a flat from which they still could see up the valley, it being the wish of all to keep in view as long as possible the great white summit of _Yuh-hai-has-kun_.

"To-morrow we'll say good-by to Robson," said Uncle Dick, "and we'll camp at the Tete Jaune Cache."

XVI

AT THE TETE JAUNE CACHE

"The last day on the trail!" Such was the first word with which the leader of our little party greeted his young friends when they rolled out of their tents in the morning. And soon all hands were busy adjusting the packs ready for the plucky animals which had brought them through so far. Their breakfast was hurried as rapidly as possible.

"Well," said Rob, "I don't know whether or not to be glad. We certainly have had a grand trip with the pack-train, hard as it has been sometimes. At least it's brought us here to the foot of Mount Robson."

"Our horses will be glad enough to be done with it," said Uncle Dick. "Down at the Cache they'll have all the grass they want and nothing to do for all the rest of this summer--unless some of Leo's children take to riding them too hard."

"Leo?" inquired John. "He's the Indian who's going to take us down the Canoe River, isn't he?"

"Yes, and a good man, too, Leo. He and Moise will show us how to get along without the horses, eh, Moise?"

That good-natured man grinned and showed his white teeth. "Sometam she'll ron pretty fast, this river on Columbia valley?" said he.

"Well, at any rate, we turn in our horses with Leo here at the Cache and get them the next time we come through--next year or some other year, perhaps. A horse takes his chance of getting a permanent residence in this part of the world. But our train has come through in fine shape--not a sore back in the lot. That speaks well for your care in packing, young men, and for Moise's skill in making saddles."

By this time they all had shaken down into the routine of packing the horses in the morning, and not long after they had finished their breakfast all was in readiness for their last march.

"_En avant!_" said Uncle Dick. "Mush! Moise, we'll lunch at the Cache to-day."

They swung on steadily down the broadened valley whose course now changed more to the southwest for five miles or so. The trail was much better, and as they reached the wide eastern end of the valley, which broadens out near the historic Tete Jaune Cache, they made rapid progress, animated by the continually changing scene before them.

For the last five miles they were in a broad, grassy valley where many hoofs had worn a plainly marked trail. On ahead they could see the Fraser swinging in from its southwest bend to meet them. The courses of many other small streams, outlined by green bushes, also could be seen coming in from almost every direction. Farther to the west and south lofty mountains rose, broken by caps which seemed to be of no great altitude. The Selwyns, on the other side of the Fraser, stood behind them, and off on the right gradually rose the high, sweeping hills which climbed to the shoulders of Mount Robson itself. The whole made an extraordinary landscape.

"We're in the Tete Jaune Valley," said Uncle Dick, halting at the edge of the grassy expanse which seemed quite flat for five miles or so ahead of them. "We're coming now to one of the most interesting points in all the Rocky Mountains, and one of the least known. Some day, where we are here, there will be a town, perhaps a good one. Yonder is the original pathway of the Fraser--five hundred feet across here already, and a great river before it gets much farther toward the Pacific. We leave it here, so let's not give it a worse name than we have to, for, take it all in all, it hasn't harmed us thus far.

"On across the Fraser, to the south, is the North Thompson," he continued. "Not very much known by any except a few of our explorers. It's rather rough-looking in there, isn't it? The Albreda Pass makes up from the Thompson, over yonder where you see the big mountains rising."

"Is that where we go to get to the Canoe River?" said John. "It's over in there somewhere."

"No, the pass to the Canoe River is a wonderful thing in its way for this high country. Look over there to the south twenty miles or so, and you'll see Cranberry Lake. The McLennan River runs out of that to join the Fraser right here, and that lake is just twenty-one feet above the level of this ground where we stand! You could pole a boat up there if you liked. Just over Cranberry Lake it's only a mile to where the Canoe River bends in from the west. That country is just made for a pass from the Fraser to the Columbia, and to my mind it's quite as interesting as any of these great mountain passes. I don't know of any divide as low as this between two waterways as great as those of the Fraser and the Columbia. It's only two thousand five hundred and sixty-three feet above sea-level at the summit, and, as I said, is only twenty-one feet above the Fraser."

"We must have come down quite a way," said Rob, "since we left the pass."

"More than a thousand feet. And in that thousand feet the Fraser has grown from a trickle to a great river--in fifty miles downhill."

"Well, I can see," said Rob, looking about the pleasant valley which lay before them, "that this is a good place for a town."

"Certainly," said the leader of their party. "There'll be more than one railroad come through here across the Yellowhead Pass, very likely, and already they are making surveys down the Fraser and Thompson and the Canoe River. Sometime there will be a railroad down the Big Bend of the Columbia below us, and it will have a branch up here, as sure as we're standing here now. That will open up all this country from the points along the Canadian Pacific. Then all these names--the Thompson, the Fraser, and the Canoe--will be as familiar to the traveling public as the Missouri and the Mississippi. Yet as we stand here and look at that country it is a country as yet unknown and unnamed! I couldn't map it, John, myself, for, although that country south of us is one of the most interesting of the continent, it is one of the least known. In short, that's the game country we've been heading for, and I'll promise you a grizzly when we get south of that flat divide."

"Well," said John, "that'll satisfy me, all right. We've had mighty little shooting this far."

"All in good time, all in good time, John, my boy. Maybe we'll show you as good sport as you're looking for, at least, what with rapids and grizzly bears.

"But now we must go on and find Leo, if we can. I sent word to him last fall for him to meet me here at the Cache this month. We'll see what luck there is in the wilderness despatch."

They passed on rapidly along and across the sunlit valley, exulting in a sense of freedom in getting out of the dark and gloomy mountains into an open country where they could see all about them. Soon they saw smoke rising above the tops of the low trees, and discovered it to come from a number of tepees, tall and conical, built with long poles, precisely like the tepees of the tribes east of the Rockies.

"That's the Shuswap village," said Uncle Dick. "Leo lives there with his people. Some good canoemen and hunters in there, too. First, let's go on down to the end of the trail. I want you to see the actual location of the old Tete Jaune Cache."

When they pulled up at the bank of the Fraser it was on an open flat shut in by low pines and poplars. They could see no building at all; only a few poles and tent-stakes littered the ground.

"This is the Cache," said Uncle Dick.

"It isn't so much of a place as I expected," said John. "Weren't there any houses here?"

"Over there, no doubt, were some log buildings once upon a time," said Uncle Dick. "No doubt the old trappers built their cache well and strong, for plenty of good furs came through here--marten and ermine and beaver and otter--for the ladies of Great Britain to wear nearly a hundred years ago. But, you see, in this climate logs rot rather early, and the fires have run all through here, as well. So when the traders left these old trails Nature soon claimed her own and wiped out all traces of them. The cache has gone the way of Jasper House and Henry House."

"What became of all of those old fellows?" inquired Rob. "We only hear of the ones that wrote books."

"They are gone and forgotten," said Uncle Dick. "No one knows even where old Tete Jaune himself--whether he was Iroquois or Swede or plain Injun--lies buried to-day. There is no record of where he laid his bones to rest. He was a brave man, whoever he was, and he lived in a great age of adventure. Think of what he must have seen, spending all his life in a country like this!

"But each to his own day, I suppose. Here we are at the end of our trail. We'll have to cross the Fraser. I must see Leo, and learn what he has done about the boats--I've told him to build a couple of good big boats--bateaux--to take us down the Canoe River over yonder.

"Here, you see, we leave the trail," he continued. "Yonder is the Fraser trail down to Fort George. Once at Fort George, you know, you can take an automobile down the old Ashcroft trail to the Canadian Pacific."

"Automobile! What do you know about that!" exclaimed Jesse. "I didn't know we were within a thousand miles of one."

"Yes, within two hundred miles. It doesn't look much like it, does it? You see, we're living in rather a wonderful age. This country which looks so wild will not be wild very much longer. That's the only reason I've allowed you to take so dangerous a journey as this, this spring, with me. Before long all these things will be common. People will come out here on the cars by thousands, and complain about the sleepers and the dining-car, when they are crossing the Rocky Mountains, very likely. One day they'll have horseback trails through here, as they do around Banff, and I suppose even old Mount Robson will get more or less common one time or another. But at least we've seen this country before those things happened.

"This is all there is to the old Cache. It's mostly a memory, but history has written it down as one of the important places in the Rockies. John, you must bring your map up to date here, at the Tete Jaune Cache. And here your trail bends to the south, for now we're going to follow the Columbia, and not the Fraser, after this, although my railroad goes on down the Fraser.

"We'll ride over now to the village and see if we can find Leo," he concluded, as he turned his horse back and started off in the direction of the tepees.

XVII

LEO THE GRIZZLY-HUNTER

As our party of adventurers approached the Shuswap village, a little bit removed from the bank of the Fraser, they were greeted with a chorus of barking dogs. A number of children who had been playing in the grass fled in fright into the tepees, from the doors of which, none the less, presently appeared many heads alike of young and old.

As the horsemen pulled up in front of the central tepee there came out to meet them a slight but hardy figure, not very tall, but erect and strong, dressed in ordinary western garb, and a wide hat such as is common in that part of the country. His face was dark, and his hair, worn long, was braided, and fell to his shoulders on his neck. Grave and unsmiling like most of his people, none the less his eyes wrinkled a little bit about the corners as now he recognized the leader of the band of horsemen. Advancing, he extended his hand to Uncle Dick and greeted him very pleasantly.

"How-do," said he.

The party now dismounted, and their leader turned to his young companions. "This," said he, "is Leo Tennes, the man I told you would be our guide down the Canoe River. When I tell you that he has run the Big Bend of the Columbia more than once I have said all there is to say about his fitness."

He now introduced each of his young comrades in turn to Leo, who shook hands with them gravely and with dignity, but looking at them keenly meantime. He was evidently surprised at their youth, and perhaps none too well pleased, although obliged to admit to himself that these boys already had undergone many hardships to get this far on their journey.

Moise himself, usually light-hearted and talkative, now became silent and dignified also as he and Leo stood looking at each other. They shook hands, and each spoke to the other in his own tongue. Then both laughed.

"Me Shuswap!" said Leo.

"Cree!" rejoined Moise--"North Cree, me."

Then, to the surprise and interest of the others, these two, unable to converse in any common tongue except English, which neither seemed to fancy at the time, began to employ the singular sign language of the savage tribes, more or less universally known throughout the American continent. Moise put his two forefingers together parallel to show that he and Leo were friends. He pointed back across the mountains, and, placing his head on his hands and raising his fingers several times, signified that he had come, so many sleeps, to this place. He said they had come horseback--straddling his left forefinger with two fingers on his right hand. Then smilingly he pointed to the boys and to his own heart, and made a motion as though trying to break a stout stick, thus saying to Leo that their hearts were strong.

Leo stood looking at him unsmiling, and when he had finished threw out his right hand in front of him, palm down, by which he said: "That is all right. It is good. I am satisfied."

"Oh, pshaw! Moise," said Uncle Dick, laughing, "you and Leo can both talk English a great deal better than you let on. I'll say, Leo, that our man Moise is as good in a boat as you are yourself, so you need not be uneasy. As for the rest of us, we'll undertake to keep up our end. When will you be ready to start?"

"Maybe-so to-night, maybe-so to-morrow," said Leo.

"And can you take care of our horses for us as I wrote you last fall?"

"Yes. Horse all right here. You get 'um next year all right."

"Very well," said Uncle Dick. "We'll just unpack and turn them over right here."

The boys were very regretful at saying good-by to their faithful animals, especially the saddle-ponies which had carried them safely so far. They stood looking at them rather ruefully.

"Never mind," said Uncle Dick. "Leo has got some hay for them, and they will winter well here. I'll warrant you they'll be very glad to trade the trail for this pleasant valley here, where they can live in idleness and get fat for a year.

"Now, about the boat, Leo," he resumed.

"All right. Got two boats," said Leo. "I make 'um." And he led the way to an open spot in the bushes where there stood two newly completed boats, flat-bottomed and double-ended, with high sides, the material all made of whip-sawed lumber gotten out by Leo and his people.

Uncle Dick walked up to the boats and looked them over carefully. "Pretty heavy, Leo," said he, "but they'll do to run downhill all the way."

"She's good boat," said Leo. "Need 'um strong."

"Yes, about twenty-two feet long each one--that will carry us and our supplies nicely. You and your man will take one boat, and Moise and I the other. I think I'll put the boys in our boat. What man are you going to get to go with you, Leo?"

"My cousin George; he's good man. We make hunt last spring down the Canoe River."

"What were you after?"

"After grizzlum bear."

"Did you get one?"

"No, not get one."

"Not one? And I thought that was a good bear country!"

"Not get _one_," said Leo. "Get sixteen."

"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