Chapter 6

Indeed, the young hunters proved themselves quite good woodsmen enough to follow Alex down the mountain face into the thicket of the plateau. He went almost at a trot, loaded as he was, and as the boys found the big ram's head a heavy load for them to carry between them on the stick, they met him as he was coming back up the mountains, when they themselves were not a great deal more than half-way down to the place where he had dropped his pack.

"It's all plain," said Alex, "for I followed our old trail down the hill, and put a branch across two or three places so that you'll know when you're near the pack."

They found no difficulty in obeying his instructions, and so tired were they that it seemed but a short time before presently Alex joined them for a second time, carrying the remainder of the meat on his tump-strap.

"Now," said he, "we're a great deal more than half-way down to the boats. We won't come back for the second trip at all now, and we'll take our time with the loads. I'll send Moise up for one pack, which we will leave here."

"Suppose he doesn't want to come?" asked John.

"Oh, Moise will be glad to come. He's a good packer and a cheerful man. Besides, I suppose that would be his business as we look at it among our people. In the old times, when Sir Alexander came through, a hunter did nothing but hunt. If he killed a head of game the people around the post had to go out and get it for themselves if they wanted it brought in."

"But how will Moise find this place?" asked John, anxiously. "I don't want to lose this head, I'll tell you that."

Alex laughed. "He'll come right to the place! I'll explain to him, so he'll know right where it is."

"Although he has never been here before?"

"Surely; one Injun can tell another how to go to a place. Besides, our trail will be as plain as a board-walk to him. He's used to that kind of work, you see."

All of this came out quite as Alex had said. They took their time in finishing their journey, but it was long before noon when they arrived at the boat encampment on the banks of the river, where they were greeted with great joy by Jesse and Moise. Then, although it was not yet time for lunch, Moise insisted on cooking once more, a plan to which John gave very hearty assent, and in which all the others joined.

After a while Alex and Moise, each smoking contentedly, began to converse in their own tongue, Alex sometimes making a gesture toward the mountains off to the east, and Moise nodding a quiet assent. After a time, without saying anything, Moise got up, tightened his belt, filled his pipe once more, and departed into the bush.

"Are you sure he'll find that meat?" demanded John, "and bring down that bighorn head?"

"He certainly will," said Alex; "he'll run that trail like a dog, and just about as fast. Moise used to be a good man, though he says now he can't carry over two hundred pounds without getting tired."

"Well, listen at that!" said Jesse. "Two hundred pounds! I shouldn't think anybody could carry that."

"Men have carried as much as six hundred pounds for a little way," said Alex. "On the old portage trails two packets, each of ninety pounds, was the regular load, and some men would take three. That was two hundred and seventy pounds at least; and they would go on a trot. You see, a country produces its own men, my young friends."

"Well, that's the fun of a trip like this," said Rob. "That, and following out the trails of the old fellows who first came through here."

"Now," continued Alex, getting up and looking about the camp, "we have meat in camp, and fish also. I think perhaps we'd better dry a part of our sheep meat, as we used to the meat of the buffalo in the old days. We'll smoke it a little, cutting it thin and spreading it in the sun. By keeping the fresh meat under boughs so the flies won't get at it, it'll stay good for quite a little while too. We don't want to waste anything, of course."

They were busy about their odd jobs in the camp when, long before they would have expected it, Moise came trotting down the base of the timbered ridge above the camp, and, still smoking and still smiling, tossed down the big bundle of meat and the other sheep-head on the ground beside the fire.

"By gosh! Those will be fine head!" said he. "If I'll had this head in Winnipeg I'll got hondred dollars for each one, me, maybe so. Now I'll show you how for cook some sheep to-night after supper."

"You mean at supper, don't you?" asked Rob.

"_Non! Non!_ We'll eat supper, wait a while, then those sheep meat he'll look good some more. I'll show you."

"Are you going to tell us another story to-night?" asked Jesse, eagerly.

"Yes, after supper I'll tol' you some more story," assented Moise. "We stay here maybe two, three day now, so to-morrow I think we'll be in camp. All right. To-night we'll tell the story some more."

X

HOW THE SPLIT-STONE LAKE WAS NAMED

As Moise was even hungrier than John, there seemed no objection to eating another meal even before sundown. The evening came off fair and cool, so that the mosquitoes did not bother the campers. As the chill of the mountain night came on, the boys put on their blanket coats and pulled the bed-rolls close up to the fire, near which the men both sat smoking quietly. Already the boys were beginning to learn reticence in camp with men like these, and not to interrupt with too many questions; but at length Jesse's eagerness to hear Moise's story could no longer be restrained.

"You promised to tell us something to-night, Moise," said he. "What's it going to be?"

"First I'll must got ready for story," said Moise. "In the camp my people eat when they tell story. I'll fix some of those sheep meat now."

Borrowing his big knife from Alex, Moise now cut himself a sharp-pointed stick of wood, two or three feet long, and stuck one end of this into each end of the side of sheep ribs which lay at the meat pile. Finding a thong, he tied it to the middle of the stick, and making himself a tall tripod for a support, he suspended the piece of meat directly over the fire at some distance above, so that it could not burn, but would revolve and cook slowly.

"Suppose in a half-hour I'll can tell story now," said Moise, laughing pleasantly. "No use how much sheep meat you eat, always you eat more!"

At last, however, at what must have been nine or ten o'clock at night, at least, perhaps later, after Moise had cut for each of the boys a smoking hot rib of the delicious mountain mutton, he sat back, a rib-bone in his own hand, and kept his promise about the story.

"I'll tol' you last night, young mens," he said, "how about those Wiesacajac, the spirit that goes aroun' in the woods. Now in the fur country east of the mountains is a lake where a rock is on the shore, split in two piece, an' the people call that the Split-Stone Lake. Listen, I speak. I tell now how the lake he's got that name.

"Wiesacajac, he'll make hont sometime in that country, an' he'll come on a camp where all the men are out honting. Only two peoples is left in camp, same like you leave us two peoples here when you go hont. But these two peoples is little, one boy, one girl. The mens an' womens all go hont in the woods and there is no meat in camp at all. The children were not old for hont or for feesh. Their papa an' their mamma say, 'Stay here.' So they stay an' wait. They have wait many days. Pretty soon now they'll gone dead for starve so long.

"Now Wiesacajac, he'll come an' stan' by the fire, an' see those little peoples. 'Oh, Wiesacajac,' they'll say, 'we're ver' hongree. We have not eat for many days. We do not think our peoples will come back no more. We'll not know what for do.'

"Now, Wiesacajac, he'll been always kin'. 'Oh, now, my childrens,' he'll say, 'this is bad news what you give me, ver' bad indeed. You'll make me cry on you, I'll been so sorry for you. You're on this lake where the win' comes, an' the country is bare, an' there is no game.'

"He'll look aroun' an' see nothing in those camp but one piece of swanskin, ol' dry swanskin, all eat clean of meat. Then he'll look out on the lake, an' he'll see a large flock of swans stay there where no man can come. Those swan will know the children was hongree, but they'll not like for get killed theirselves.

"Wiesacajac he'll say, 'My children, why do you starve when there's meat there in front of you?'

"Those was child of a honter. 'Yes,' said those boy, 'what use is that meat to us? It's daylight. You know ver' well you'll not can come up to the swans.'

"'Ah, ha! Was that so?' said Wiesacajac. 'Let me show you somethings, then.'

"So Wiesacajac, he'll take those ol' swanskin an' put it on hees head. Then he'll walk down in the lake an' sink down till just the head and breast of those swanskin will show on the water. Wiesacajac, he'll be good honter, too. He'll sweem aroun' in the lake foolish, but all tam he'll come closer to those swan, an' closer. Those swan she'll be wise bird, an' they'll saw heem an' they'll say, 'There's one of us that we'll not miss--what'll he doing out there?'

"Then they begin to sweem toward Wiesacajac, an' Wiesacajac begin to sweem toward them. Bimeby he'll been right among 'em. Then these two hongree boy an' girl on the camp they'll holler out to each other, for they'll see one swan after another flap his wing an' jump for a fly, but then fall back on water, for he'll can't fly at all.

"Wiesacajac, he'll have some _babiche_--some hide string, aroun' hees waist, an' he'll took it now an' tie the feet of all those swan together, so all they'll can do is to flap hees wing an' scream an' blow their horn like the swan do. At last he'll got them all tied fast--the whole flock. But he'll can't hold so many swan down on the water. Those swan will all begin to trumpet an' fly off together, an' they'll carry Wiesacajac with them. Now he'll let them fly until they come right near where those two hongree boy an' girl is sit, an' going for starve. Then he'll drop down an' tie the end of hees _babiche_ to a strong bush. _Voila!_ Those whole flock of swan is tie' fast to camp. None but Wiesacajac can do this thing.

"'Now my childrens,' say Wiesacajac, kin'ly, to those boy an' girl, 'you see, there's plenty of meat in your camp. Go now, cook an' eat.'

"So now those children go an' keel a swan an' skin it, an' get it ready for cook. By this time Wiesacajac he'll done make the fire. He'll not want to set woods on fire, so he'll build it by those big rocks which always stood by that lake. Here they'll cook the swan an' eat all they want, same like we do the sheep meat here to-night. Those two childrens he'll wish his parent was both there. He'll say, they'll not be hongree no more never. He'll put some meat on a leaf for those ol' people when they come back.

"Well, Wiesacajac, he'll say bimeby, 'Now I mus' go. When those parent of yours come back, an' they see those swan, they'll not go for believe unless I leave a sign. To show them an' the other people who has been here, an' to show all the people who hont that it is wise never to get discourage', but always to keep on trying when you are hongree or in trouble, I make some mark on this place, me.'

"So now Wiesacajac he'll go down to the water, an' he'll come back with his two hands full of those water. Of course, you know Wiesacajac he'll been much taller than any mans. So he'll stoop just this way, one leg each side of those two rocks, right at this place. An' from his two han' he'll let fall those water on those hot stone. Now, you know, if you'll put water on hot stone, he'll split. These two stone she'll split wide open from top to bottom.

"You can see those stone there now. All the peoples know them, an' call them the Split-Stone Lake all the tam. An' they all know Wiesacajac was there, an' help the two childrens, an' split those stone to leave it for a mark.

"I have finish."

"That certainly is a good story," said Jesse. "I like those stories you tell up here, for I've never heard any just like them. It makes you feel like you were out of doors, doesn't it, fellows?"

"Yes," said Rob, "but I'd like to ask you, Alex, do you really believe in all those stories about spirits--the Indian spirits? You know, you were telling me that you went to church."

"Yes," said Alex, "I do. The Company likes to have us go to church, and when we're around the post we do. My mother was baptized, although she was an Indian woman. My father taught me to read the Bible. I believe a great deal as you do. But somewhere in me I'm part Injun."

XI

LESSONS IN WILD LIFE

"Well, Alex," said John, the morning after the sheep hunt, as they sat about the fire after breakfast, "it doesn't look as though we'd saved much weight."

"How do you mean, Mr. John?"

"Well, you said we couldn't kill any grizzlies because the skins were too heavy. It seems to me that sheep heads are just as heavy as grizzly heads."

"That's so," said Alex, "but the sheep were good to eat, and we couldn't leave the heads in the hills after we had killed them. We'll try to get them down in the canoe somehow. The sheep meat has been very useful, and I wish we had more of it. We'll eat it almost all up in this camp, I'm thinking."

"I suppose we'd better. That reminds me of a story my Uncle Dick told me," ventured Jesse. "He said he was out fishing with a friend one time, and they wanted some grasshoppers for bait, and hadn't any way to carry them. They had a jar of marmalade, so they sat down and ate all the marmalade, and then they had a good place to keep their grasshoppers. I suppose if we eat all the meat up, we'll have a place for the heads."

They all laughed at Jesse's story, but John admitted he would be sorry when all the bighorn mutton was gone, declaring it to be the best meat he had ever eaten. Rob expressed wonder at the way the meat was disappearing.

"I remember, though," said he, "that Sir Alexander Mackenzie tells how much meat his men would eat in camp. They had a party of ten men and a dog one day, and they brought in two hundred and fifty pounds of elk meat. They had had a hearty meal at one o'clock that afternoon, but they put on the kettles and boiled and ate meat that night, and roasted the rest on sticks, and by ten o'clock the next day they didn't have any meat in camp! What do you think about that?"

"Maybe so to-night, maybe so to-morrow no more sheep!" grinned Moise, with his mouth still full.

"We'll have to hunt as we go on down," said Alex. "We'll be in good game country almost all the way."

Under the instructions of Alex the boys now finished the preparation of the sheep heads and scalps, paring off all the meat they could from the bones, and cleaning the scalps, which they spread out to dry after salting them carefully.

"I was out with a naturalist one trip," said Alex, "and he collected all sorts of little animals and snakes, and that sort of thing. When we wanted to clean the skeleton of a mouse or a snake, we used to put it in an ant-hill. There were many ants, and in a couple of weeks they'd picked the bones white and clean, as if they'd been sand-papered. I suppose we haven't time for that sort of thing now, though."

"Why couldn't we boil the meat off?" suggested Rob.

"A very good plan for a skull," said Alex, "excepting for a bear skull. You see, if you put the head of a bear in boiling water, the tusks will always split open later on. With the bones of the sheep's head, it will not make so much difference. But we couldn't get the horns off yet awhile--they'll have to dry out before they will slip from the pith, and the best way is not to take them off at all. If we keep on scraping and salting we'll keep our heads, all right."

"How about the hides?" asked John, somewhat anxiously.

"Well, sheep hides were never very much valued among our people," replied Alex. "In the mountain tribes below here the women used to make very white, soft leather for their dresses out of sheep hides. The hair is coarse and brittle, however, and although it will do for a little while as a bed, I'm afraid you young gentlemen will throw away the hides when you finish the trip."

"Well, all right," said John. "We won't throw them away just yet. Let's spread them out and tan them. What's the best way to do that?"

"The Injuns always stake out a hide, on the ground or on a frame, flesh side up," said Alex. "Then they take one of their little scrapers and pare all the meat off. That's the main thing, and that is the slowest work. When you get down to the real hide, it soon dries out and doesn't spoil. You can tan a light hide with softsoap, or salt and alum. Indeed, the Injuns had nothing of that sort in their tanning--they'd scrape a hide and dry it, then spread some brains on it, work in the brains and dry it and rub it, and last of all, smoke it. In that way they got their hides very soft, and after they were smoked they would always work soft in case they got wet, which isn't the case with white man's leather, which is tanned by means of acids and things of that kind."

"I have tanned little squirrel hides, and ground-hog hides, and wildcat skins," said Rob, "many a time. It isn't any trouble if you once get the meat all scraped off. That seems to be what spoils a hide."

"In keeping all our valuable furs," said Alex, "we never touch them with salt or alum. We just stretch them flesh side out, and let them dry in the shade, not close to a fire. This keeps the life all in the fur. Alum makes the hair brittle and takes away the luster. For a big bear hide, if I were far back in the mountains, I would put lots of salt on it and fold it up, and let it stay away for a day. Then I would unroll it and drain it off, and salt it all over again; tamp salt down into the ears, nose, eyes, and feet, then roll it up again and tie it tight, with the fur side out. Bear hides will keep all right that way if you haven't sunshine enough to dry them. The best way to keep a hide, though, is simply to scrape it clean and dry it in the sun, and after that fold it. It will never spoil then."

"Alex," ventured Moise, laughing, "you'll talk just like my old woman about tan hides. Those business is not for mans."

"That's true," said Alex, smiling. "In the old times, when we had buffalo, the women always tanned the hides. Hard work enough it was, too, with so heavy and coarse a hide. Now they tan the moose hides. I'll show you, young gentlemen, lower down this river near the camping places on the shore spruce-trees cut into three-cornered shape. You might not know what that was for. It was done so that the women could rub their moose hides around these angles and corners while they were making them soft. They make fine moose leather, too--although I suppose we'd have to wait a good while before we could get Moise to tan one in that way!"

"What makes them use brains in tanning the hide?" asked Jesse.

"Only for the grease there is in them," said Alex. "It takes some sort of grease to soften up a hide after it has been dried. The Injuns always said they could tan a hide with the brains of the animal. Sometimes in tanning a buffalo hide, however, they would have marrow and grease and scraps thrown into a kettle with the brains. I think the main secret of the Injun tanning was the amount of hard work put in on rubbing the hide. That breaks up the fiber and makes it soft.

"But now, Moise," resumed Alex, getting up and filling his pipe, "I think it is about time we went down and had a look at those rapids below the camp. We've got to get through there somehow before long."

"I don't like this water in here at all," said Jesse, looking troubled. "I could hardly sleep last night on account of the noises it made--it sounded just like glass was being splintered up under the water."

"That's gravel, or small rocks, slipping along on the bottom in the current, I suppose," said Alex, "but after all this is not nearly so bad a river as the Fraser or the Columbia--you ought to see the old Columbia in high water! I'm thinking we'd have our own troubles getting down there in boats as small as these. In a deep river which is very fast, and which has a rough bottom, all sorts of unaccountable waves and swells will come up from below, just when you don't expect them."

"These rapeed in here, she'll been all right," said Moise. "No trouble to ron heem."

"Well, we'll not take any chances," said Alex, "and we'll in no case do anything to alarm our young friends."

He turned now, and, followed by Moise, crossed the neck of the bend and passed on down the river some distance. The boys, following more slowly around the curve of the beach, finally saw both Alex and Moise poised on some high rocks and pointing at the wild water which stretched below them for the distance of two or three hundred yards. Moise, who seemed to be more savage than Alex, made a wild figure as he stood gesticulating, a red handkerchief bound over his long, black hair, and his red sash holding in place the ragged remnants of his trousers. To the boys it seemed sure that the boats could not get through such water at all, but to their surprise the two men seemed not in the least concerned when at length they returned to the camp.

"It's a little rough," said Alex, "but there seems to be a good channel out in the middle, plenty of water. We'll run the boats through all right without any trouble. We'll go through light, and then portage the camp stuff across the bend after we get the boats below the rapids. Come on then, young gentlemen, and help us get ready. It may be interesting to you to see your first piece of real white water, although it isn't very bad.

"As I figure it, then, Mr. Rob," continued Alex, "we ought to have rather better water below here for a little while. What does your map say about that?"

"Well," answered Rob, "it's pretty hard to tell exactly, but taking the stories of Fraser and Mackenzie together, we ought to be here about one hundred and fifty miles above the mouth of the Finlay. By to-morrow night, if we hurry, we ought to be at or below the McLeod Lake outlet. Dr. Macoun says in his government report that it is easy running in the late season from McLeod to the Finlay, about eighty miles; and I saw a letter once from Mr. Hussey, a friend of Uncle Dick's, who made this trip lately, and he said there was not much bad water between the lake and the mouth of the Finlay. Below there--look out, that's all!

"It took the Mackenzie party six or eight days' plugging to get from there up to the carrying place," he added, "but we're going downhill instead of uphill. I should think we would have alternate stretches of quiet water here and there, but no very rough water from here on down for a while. With our small boats we probably cannot go so fast for a while now as they did with their big canoes. They could run bang through a big rapid where we'd have to portage."

"Well," said Alex, "I suggest that we spend the rest of this day in camp here, run the two canoes through, sleep here to-night, then portage below the rapids to-morrow morning and make a straight run from there down. We don't want to take too many chances."

"That's all right," said Rob, "and we'll help you pack the canoes."

The men did not put very heavy loads in the canoes, but they took the sheep heads, and most of the heavier camp supplies, putting about half of these each in the _Mary Ann_ and the _Jaybird_, themselves taking the _Mary Ann_ for their first trip through the rapids.

While they were busy finishing their loading, the boys ran on down around the bend and got ready to see the first canoe take the rapids. When Jesse got fully within the sound and sight of the rolling, noisy water which now lay before them, he was very pale.

"What would we do, Rob," asked he, "if the boat should be lost out there--we couldn't ever get out of here alive."