Making a Raft--Mr. O’B. at Hard Labour--He admires our “Youthful
Ardour”--News of Mr. Macaulay--A Visitor--Mr. O’B. Fords
a River--Wait for Mr. Macaulay--The Shushwaps of the Rocky
Mountains--Winter Famine at Jasper House--The Wolverine--
The Miners before us--Start again--Cross the Athabasca--The
Priest’s Rock--Site of the Old Fort, “Henry’s House”--The
Valley of the Myette--Fording Rapids--Mr. O’B. on Horseback
again--Swimming the Myette--Cross it for the Last Time--
The Height of Land--The Streams run Westward--Buffalo-dung
Lake--Strike the Fraser River--A Day’s Wading--Mr. O’B.’s
Hair-breadth Escapes--Moose Lake--Rockingham Falls--More
Travelling through Water--Mr. O’B. becomes disgusted with his
Horse--Change in Vegetation--Mahomet’s Bridge--Change in
the Rocks--Fork of the Fraser, or original Tête Jaune Cache--
Magnificent Scenery--Robson’s Peak--Flood and Forest--Horses
carried down the Fraser--The Pursuit--Intrepidity of the
Assiniboine--He rescues Bucephalus--Loss of Gisquakarn--Mr.
O’B.’s Reflections and Regrets--Sans Tea and Tobacco--The
Extent of our Losses--Mr. O’B. and Mrs. Assiniboine--Arrive at
the Cache.
We arrived opposite Jasper House on the 29th of June. The Fort was
evidently without inhabitants, but as the trail appeared to lead there
only, we purposed to cross the river at this point, and set to work to
cut timber for a raft. On the 30th we laboured hard with our two small
axes, felling the dry pine-trees, while Mr. O’B. devoted himself to
the study of Paley, over a pipe. It was late in the afternoon before
sufficient timber was cut down, and it had then to be carried several
hundred yards to the river’s edge. Mr. O’B. was required to assist in
this, but he had disappeared. We made diligent search for him, and at
last found him, squatted behind a bush, still enjoying his book and
pipe. We apologised for interrupting his studies, and informed him
that all hands were now required in order to get the wood down to the
river’s edge as quickly as possible, so as to be able to cross before
dark. Mr. O’B. assured us that he had been looking forward with eager
impatience for an opportunity of giving his assistance, but got up and
followed us with evident reluctance, and impressed upon us that his
weak and delicate frame was quite unfit for heavy work. A few of the
largest trunks were carried with difficulty by the united strength of
our whole party, and we were then detailed into parties of two, for
the transport of the rest. Milton paired off with O’B., Cheadle with
The Assiniboine, and the woman with the boy, for the lesser trees.
Mr. O’B. shouldered, with a sigh, the smaller end of the log, his
fellow-labourer the other, and they proceeded slowly towards the shore.
After the first few steps O’B. began to utter the most awful groans,
and cried out, continually, “Oh, dear! Oh, dear! this is most painful--
it’s cutting my shoulder in two--not so fast, my lord. Gently, gently.
Steady, my lord, steady; I _must_ stop. I’m carrying all the weight
myself. I shall drop with exhaustion directly--_triste lignum te
caducum_.” And then, with a loud “Oh!” and no further warning, he let
his end of the tree down with a run, jarring his unhappy partner most
dreadfully. A repetition of this scene occurred on each journey,
to the great amusement of every one but the unfortunate sufferer by
the schoolmaster’s vagaries. At last, hurt repeatedly by the sudden
dropping of the other end of the load, Milton dispensed with Mr. O’B.’s
assistance, and dragged the trunk alone. The Assiniboine coming up at
the moment, indignantly vituperated Mr. O’B., and, shouldering the log,
carried it off with ease. The sun was setting when this portion of our
task was over, and we decided to defer crossing until the morning. As
we were engaged in discussing Mr. O’B.’s delinquencies, and commenting
rather severely upon his pusillanimity, he overheard us, and came up,
with the imperturbable confidence which he always displayed in all
social relations, remarking it was all very well for Cheadle, who had
“shoulders like the Durham ox, to treat gigantic exertion of this
kind so lightly, but I assure you it would very soon kill a man of my
delicate constitution.” Cheadle remarked that Milton was of slighter
build than himself, and he did his share without complaint. “Ah! yes,”
replied Mr. O’B., “he is fired with emulation. I have been lost in
admiration of his youthful ardour all the day! but you see I am older,
and obliged to be cautious; look how I have suffered by my exertions
to-day!”--showing us a small scratch on his hand. We exhibited our
palms, raw with blisters, which caused him to turn the conversation by
dilating on his favourite topic--the hardships of the fearful journey
we were making.
Milton and the boy had volunteered to swim across with horses, in
order to carry ropes to the other side with which to guide the raft--
a somewhat hazardous adventure, as the river was broad, and the stream
tremendously rapid; but before our preparations were completed on the
following morning, a half-breed made his appearance in our camp--a
welcome sight after our solitary journey of three weeks. He informed us
that he was one of Mr. Macaulay’s party who were out hunting. The party
had divided at McLeod River, and were to meet at the Fort that day. He
advised us to cross the river some miles higher up, beyond the lake,
where the stream was more tranquil, and thereby avoid the River Maligne
on the other side, which it was very hazardous to attempt to ford at
this season.
We accordingly raised camp, and proceeded, under his guidance, along
the bank of the river for four or five miles. On the way we forded
several streams, or more probably mouths of one river, flowing into the
Athabasca from the south, very swollen and rapid. We crossed them on
horseback without much difficulty, by carefully following our guide;
but Mr. O’B., having taken a rooted dislike to equitation, since
his horse lay down with him when ascending the mountain, perversely
resolved to wade across. We pulled up on the further side and watched
him, as he followed, cautiously and fearfully, steadying himself by the
stout stick which he invariably carried. He went on with great success
until he gained the middle of the stream, when he suddenly plunged into
a hole, where the water was nearly up to his arm-pits. He cried out
wildly, “I’m drowning! Save me! save me!” then, losing his presence of
mind, applied, in his confusion, the saying of his favourite poet, “_In
medio tutissimus ibis_,” and struggled into deeper water still, instead
of turning back to the shallow part. He was in imminent danger of being
carried off, and Milton hastened to the rescue, and brought him out,
clinging to his stirrup. He was dreadfully frightened, but gradually
recovered composure when assured we had no more rivers to ford for the
present.
In a short time we reached a sandy plain, richly clothed with flowers,
and camped close to a clear shallow lake, communicating by a narrow
outlet with the upper Athabasca Lake. Here we decided to remain until
Mr. Macaulay arrived. On scanning the heights beyond the lake with a
glass, we saw a large flock of bighorns on the loftiest crags, and The
Assiniboine and his son went out to hunt, but returned unsuccessful,
having been so enveloped in the mountain mists that they found it
impossible to proceed.
During the day several more half-breeds arrived with their wives
and families, and in the evening two Shushwap Indians made their
appearance, and set to work to spear white-fish by torchlight. The few
they obtained they gladly sold us for a little ammunition and tobacco.
These were the first specimens of their tribe which we had seen. They
were lean and wiry men, of middle stature, and altogether of smaller
make than the Indians we had met before; their features were also
smaller, and more finely cut, while the expression of their faces was
softer and equally intelligent. They were clothed merely in a shirt and
marmot robe, their legs and feet being naked, and their long black
hair the only covering to their heads. These Shushwaps of the Rocky
Mountains inhabit the country in the neighbourhood of Jasper House, and
as far as Tête Jaune Cache on the western slope. They are a branch of
the great Shushwap nation, who dwell near the Shushwap Lake and grand
fork of the Thompson River in British Columbia. Separated from the main
body of their tribe by 300 or 400 miles of almost impenetrable forest,
they hold but little communication with them. Occasionally a Rocky
Mountain Shushwap makes the long and difficult journey to Kamloops
on the Thompson, to seek a wife. Of those we met, only one had ever
seen this place. This was an old woman of Tête Jaune Cache, a native
of Kamloops, who had married a Shushwap of the mountains, and she had
never re-visited the home of her youth.
When first discovered by the pioneers of the Hudson’s Bay Company, the
only clothing used by this singular people was a small robe of the
skin of the mountain marmot. They wandered barefoot amongst the sharp
rocks, and amidst the snow and bitter cold of the fierce northern
winter. When camping for the night they are in the habit of choosing
the most open spot, instead of seeking the protection of the woods. In
the middle of this they make only a small fire, and lie in the snow,
with their feet towards it, like the spokes of a wheel, each individual
alone, wrapped in a marmot robe, the wife apart from her husband, the
child from its mother. They live by hunting the bighorns, mountain
goats, and marmots; and numbers who go out every year never return.
Like the chamois hunters of the Alps, some are found dashed to pieces
at the foot of the almost inaccessible heights to which they follow
their game; of others no trace is found. The Shushwaps of Jasper House
formerly numbered about thirty families, but are now reduced to as many
individuals. Removed by immense distances from all other Indians, they
are peaceable and honest, ignorant of wickedness and war. Whether they
have any religion or not, we could not ascertain; but they enclose the
graves of their dead with scrupulous care, by light palings of wood,
cut with considerable neatness, with their only tools--a small axe
and knife. They possess neither horses nor dogs, carrying all their
property on their backs when moving from place to place; and when
remaining in one spot for any length of time, they erect rude slants of
bark or matting for shelter, for they have neither tents nor houses. As
game decreases the race will, doubtless, gradually die out still more
rapidly, and they are already fast disappearing from this cause, and
the accidents of the chase.
The half-breeds who had arrived at our camp were all short of
provisions, and eagerly offered moose-skins and various articles in
exchange for small quantities of pemmican and flour. We were very
anxious to husband our supplies, but could not see them want, or
refrain from asking them to share our meals.
On the 3rd of July Mr. Macaulay arrived, and set up his tent close
to our lodge. His hunt had not been a very successful one, and as he
had only a few days’ supply of bighorn mutton, would be compelled to
set out again almost immediately. He was therefore quite unable to
replenish our stock, but invited us to sup on some delicious trout
which he had caught in one of the mountain lakes the day before. He
informed us that a winter rarely passed now without a great scarcity
of provisions at Jasper House, and their being driven to horse-flesh
as a last resource. From him we also heard another anecdote of our
old enemy, the wolverine. When returning to the Fort from a hunting
expedition at the beginning of the previous winter, Mr. Macaulay was
surprised to find that all the windows of the building, which are of
parchment, were gone. He fancied that some one had broken in to rob the
place. On entering he searched about, yet found nothing; but hearing
a noise in the room overhead, he went up, and there discovered a
wolverine, which was chased and killed. He had lived on the parchment
windows in default of more usual food, and had been so satisfied with
his diet, that his natural curiosity had slept, and strangely enough,
he had not investigated the packages of goods which lay about.
We learnt from Mr. Macaulay that the three miners, of whom we had
heard at Edmonton as having gone to prospect the sources of the North
Saskatchewan, and whose notice we had seen on the tree when we first
struck the Athabasca, had already passed on their way across the
mountains to Cariboo. At Mr. Macaulay’s suggestion, we engaged an old
Iroquois half-breed to accompany us as far as Tête Jaune Cache. As
we had no money, he was to receive one of our pack-horses in payment.
We tried to persuade him to go forward to the end; but he did not
know anything of the country beyond The Cache, and would not venture
further.[10]
At this point Mr. O’B.’s provisions came to an end. His 40lbs. of
pemmican, which he was very positive would last him until the end of
the journey, had rapidly disappeared before his vigorous appetite. Mr.
Macaulay kindly furnished him with a little tea and tobacco, and we
supplied the necessary pemmican, with many exhortations to him to use
it carefully, for a prospect of starvation was discernible even now.
On the 4th of July, we started again, under the guidance of the
Iroquois, and were accompanied by Mr. Macaulay and two of his men to
the point where we were to cross the Athabasca. The path lay through
water, often up to the horses’ girths, or along the steep sides of
the narrowing valley, and it was already dusk when we reached our
destination. We camped for the night by the river’s edge, at a place
where was plenty of dry timber, some of which had been already cut down
for a raft by the Canadian emigrants. On one of the trees the names of
those of whom we had heard from Mr. Macaulay as being just before us,
were inscribed, and a statement that they crossed on the 16th June,
or nearly three weeks before.
[Illustration: CROSSING THE ATHABASCA RIVER, IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.
(_See page 245._)
]
In the morning all set to work, cutting and carrying timber, Mr.
Macaulay working with the rest; but Mr. O’B., as before, could not
be found. As the last log was carried down to the water, he suddenly
came up with--“Oh! dear, _can_ I be of any use, my lord?--can I help
you, Doctor?” We expressed our sorrow that he was too late, but The
Assiniboine was very angry, and vowed he should not come on board the
raft. It required the exercise of all our authority to overrule his
determination, and we saw in this occurrence signs pregnant of future
trouble. By noon the raft was ready, and we drove our horses into the
stream. When we had seen them safely across, we rewarded our half-breed
friends by dividing the last remains of our rum amongst them--a treat
they appreciated above everything--and bidding a hearty good-bye to
Mr. Macaulay and the rest, pushed off on our adventure. The stream
at this place was deep, wide, and tranquil, and we crossed without
difficulty or mishap. Before we were fairly over we found that we had
left one of our two remaining axes behind; but we did not turn back to
regain it, since it was no light matter to navigate so large a raft.
Had we known how sorely we should need this axe afterwards, we should
not have spared any trouble to obtain it.
We landed on a sparsely timbered flat, where the trees had all been
destroyed by fire, packed the horses, and travelled a few miles before
sundown. By noon on the following day, still following the Athabasca,
we reached a beautiful little prairie, surrounded by pine hills green
almost to their summits, and overtopped by lofty snow-clad peaks. One
of these, which has received the name of the Priest’s Rock, was of
curious shape, its apex resembling the top of a pyramid, and covered
with snow. The prairie was richly carpeted with flowers, and a rugged
excrescence upon it marked the site of the old Rocky Mountain Fort,
Henry’s House.
The track, leaving the valley of the Athabasca at this point, turned
towards the north-west, and entered a narrow rocky ravine, the valley
of the river Myette. The stream was not more than thirty yards in
width, but deep and rapid, and its bed beset with great rocks and
boulders. The path was obstructed by large stones and fallen timber,
lying so thickly that our two men were kept hard at work all the
afternoon, and the horses progressed only by a succession of jumps. We
made but a short distance with great labour, and camped for the night
on the banks of the stream.
For the whole of the next morning the road presented the same
difficulties, and our advance was as slow as on the preceding day. At
mid-day we reached the place where we were to cross the river, and
pulled up to make a raft. After crossing by this means, we toiled on
through a ravine so narrow, and where the mountains came down so close
to the water’s edge, that, in order to pass them, we were compelled
to traverse the stream no less than six times more before evening.
In each of these cases we crossed on horseback, the river now being
a succession of rapids, not more than four or five feet deep. These
passages of the river were difficult, and many of them dangerous, for
the water was very high, and the current extremely powerful.
At the last fording-place, the waters rushed down a swift descent in
a foaming cataract, raging and boiling so fiercely round great rocks
which studded the channel, that we hesitated before we ventured to urge
our horses forward. But the Iroquois led the way, and crossed safely,
although his horse staggered about and hardly held his own. We then
drove the pack-horses before us, and plunged in. The water streamed
over our horses’ shoulders, as they struggled against the current, and
slipped amongst the smooth boulders, tumbling about and regaining their
footing in the most wonderful manner. Mr. O’B. was compelled to mount
his steed again for this occasion, and, judging from the despairing
expression of his countenance, he did so with little hope of reaching
the other side in safety. He was exhorted carefully to follow the line
taken by the guide, and Milton and the woman rode on either side of
him. Clutching the mane with both hands, he did not attempt to guide
his horse, but employed all his powers in sticking to the saddle, and
exhorting his companions, “Steady, my lord, please, or I shall be
swept off. Do speak to Mrs. Assiniboine, my lord; she’s leading us
to destruction; what a reckless woman! ‘_varium et mutabile semper
femina!_’ Mrs. Assiniboine!--_Mrs. Assiniboine!_ oh, dear! oh, dear!
what an awful journey! I’m going! I’m going! Narrow escape that, my
lord! very narrow escape, indeed, Doctor. We can’t expect to be so
lucky every time, you know.” And the moment he gained the shore, he
scrambled off and left his horse to its own devices.
Many of the pack-horses were carried off far down the stream, and we
fully expected some of them would be lost, but they eventually all
struggled ashore. The only damage we suffered was the wetting of the
flour and pemmican, but by immediate care the injury was in great
measure repaired.
The next day we followed the south bank of the Myette, the narrow
strip of bank between the mountain sides of the valley and the river
being very boggy, and much of it under water. A few hours of this
disagreeable travelling brought us to the last crossing of this
aggravating river, where we expected to have to construct a raft. On
reaching the place, however, we observed a small “cajot,” or raft,
moored by willows to the opposite bank, left there doubtless by the
three Americans who had passed a few weeks before.
The boy volunteered to swim his horse over and fetch it across, and,
stripping to his shirt, mounted, and rode into the water. The horse
soon swam to the other side, but the bank was steep, and he reared
and fell back in attempting to scramble up. The boy slipped off,
but regained his seat, and, becoming frightened, turned the horse’s
head and swam back again to us, without accomplishing anything. The
Assiniboine now resolved himself to try and bring the raft over, and
by his direction we drove all the horses across, with the exception of
one. They all succeeded in climbing up the bank at various points, and
then The Assiniboine, having tied the end of a long rope to the tail of
the remaining horse, stripped and drove him in, holding on to the mane
with his only hand. They crossed and landed with little difficulty,
but the rope had become unfastened, and we were yet in a quandary how
to bring the raft across at once, for the river was too deep for any
pole, and too wide for the rope to be thrown across. In this dilemma
we fastened one end of the rope round the body of the dog Papillon,
which The Assiniboine had brought with him, and when called by his
master he swam across with it. We then ferried all the baggage over in
a few voyages, and bade final adieu to the unkindly Myette with immense
satisfaction. We pursued our way along the base of the pine-clad hills,
now beginning to diverge more widely, and through scenery which bore a
strong likeness to the beautiful vale of Todmorden, in Yorkshire. One
of the snowy peaks closely resembled the pyramidal Priest’s Rock, and
white-topped mountains rose up more thickly around us.
Extensive fires had swept over this portion of country years before,
and great trees lay fallen across the path, tangled and interlaced on
every side. We had great difficulty in driving the horses along, for
they continually forked out of the track, to escape the barriers across
it, and hid themselves in the thick wood. We met with many severe
falls, in jumping our horses over the fallen trees, which were often
so close together that there was barely standing room between for the
horse, from which to take a second spring over the succeeding trunk.
We camped that night on the banks of a small stream, a source of the
Myette, which our Iroquois told us was named Pipestone River. The place
was very pretty, a tiny plain, covered with flowers, and surrounded by
the Rocky Mountains in all their grandeur.
The path proved easier the next day, the 9th of July, the fifth day
after leaving Jasper House, and in the course of our morning’s journey
we were surprised by coming upon a stream flowing to the westward. We
had unconsciously passed the height of land and gained the watershed of
the Pacific. The ascent had been so gradual and imperceptible, that,
until we had the evidence of the water-flow, we had no suspicion that
we were even near the dividing ridge.
The next afternoon found us encamped at Buffalo-dung Lake, which the
Iroquois assured us was well stocked with trout; and several Shushwap
slants of bark, and frames for drying fish, bore out his assertion.
The lake consists of two portions, connected by a short, narrow
channel. The mountains appeared to rise immediately out of the water
on the further or southern shore of the lake, whilst close behind
us on the northern side, commenced verdant and swelling hills, the
bases of loftier heights, which rose up further back in many a naked,
ragged rock or ice-crowned peak. Two of these on opposite sides of the
lake were particularly fine, one to the north-west, the other to the
south-west; and the Iroquois assured us that they should be known from
that time forth as “Le Montagne de Milord” and “Montagne de Docteur.”
We, however, took the liberty of naming them Mount Fitzwilliam and
Mount Bingley. The lake was drained by a small stream issuing from the
western extremity, and ultimately falling into the Fraser.
On the 10th we struck the Fraser River, sweeping round from the
south-west through a narrow gorge, to expand some miles lower down
into Moose Lake. Our route now lay along the north bank of the Fraser,
and the travelling was exceedingly difficult and harassing. The river
had overflowed its banks up to the almost perpendicular sides of the
straitened valley in which it is confined. The track was completely
under water up to the horses’ girths, and we spent the greater part of
the day in wading and the rest in toiling through swamps beset with
fallen timber. It was impossible to stop, for there was neither dry
place in which to camp nor pasture for the horses, and we therefore
travelled on until dark, very thankful to find a place of rest at last.
All agreed that it was the hardest day we had yet gone through, and Mr.
O’B. had two of his hair-breadth escapes, which formed a text for him
to discourse about the perils and sufferings which he encountered “on
this most extraordinary journey.” Since his successful crossing of the
Myette, he had been somewhat more reconciled to horseback, and on this
day mounted his steed rather than wade on foot.
Soon after we set out, he dropped behind the rest of the cavalcade, and
before long, Cheadle, who was driving some of the hindmost horses, was
arrested by a most tremendous bawling for help from the rear. He ran
back in haste, and found Mr. O’B., in rather muddy condition, and with
very disconsolate air, leading his horse by the bridle. It appeared
the horse had shied and pitched him off amongst the logs and _débris_
around, and he imagined himself severely hurt. But no important injury
could be found, and, by dint of great persuasion, and some assistance,
Cheadle induced him to re-mount, and exhorted him to keep close up to
the rest. But he was too much afraid of his horse to urge him on by
any but the most gentle, verbal persuasion, and tender pattings on the
neck. He was soon left behind again, and the ears of the party saluted
by another succession of piteous cries from the rear. Cheadle again
went back to his assistance, in very unamiable mood, but was unable
to resist a burst of laughter when he came upon the unfortunate Mr.
O’B. He was driving his horse before him, with the saddle under its
belly, and the bridle trailing on the ground. He was covered with mud,
his long visage scratched and bleeding, and his clerical coat, split
asunder to the neck, streamed from his shoulders in separate halves.
“Very nearly killed, Doctor, this time. I thought it was all over.
‘_Semel est calcanda via lethi_,’ you know. My horse fell and rolled
on to me, tearing my coat, as you see. I’ve had a most providential
escape.” He could not be persuaded to mount again, and had a wearisome
time with his horse, which, if he offered to lead it, hung back and
refused to budge, and when he drove it before him, persisted in going
the wrong way.
But if this 10th of July was a hard and harassing day, the 11th was
still worse. In the first place, we were delayed a long time in
starting, for Bucephalus was not to be found. He was, at length,
discovered by The Assiniboine on the other side the Fraser, and the man
was obliged to strip and swim the ice-cold river to fetch him back.
Soon after we started, we came to Moose River, which was somewhat
difficult to ford, for the water was high and rapid, pouring over the
horses’ shoulders in the deepest part. Mr. O’B. lost nerve and steered
badly, his horse lost its footing, and nearly took a voyage into the
Fraser; the rider, however, gripped mane and saddle firmly, and both
got ashore together, adding another “hair’s-breadth escape” to Mr.
O’B.’s list.
We reached Moose Lake before noon, and travelled along it until dark
without finding any resting-place. The lake was high, and the sides
of its basin mountains, up to the base of which the waters spread. It
was again a day of marching through water, and the horses perversely
wandered off into the deeps, and floated about, soaking flour and
pemmican. Accumulations of driftwood barred the passage along the shore
in many places, and we were compelled to scale the mountain-sides.
Horse after horse rolled back in the attempt, and we had to cut off
their packs in the water, and carry up the loads on our backs, to
enable the animals to scramble up the steep ascent. We worked hard in
the hope of reaching the end of the lake before dark, but the sun went
down when we were still several miles distant, and we were compelled
to spend the night in a bare sand-pit, where there was not a blade of
grass for our hungry and tired animals, who ranged restlessly to and
fro until the morning.
Moose Lake is a fine sheet of water, about fifteen miles in length, and
not more than three miles in breadth at the widest point. The scenery
was very wild and grand, and forcibly reminded us of Wast Water. On
the south side, the hills rose perpendicularly out of the water for
perhaps 2,000 feet, beyond which was the usual background of rocky and
hoary peaks. Over the edge of this mighty precipice a row of silver
streams poured with unbroken fall, the smaller ones dissipated in mist
and spray ere they reached the lake below. This beautiful series of
cascades we named the Rockingham Falls.
Continuing to follow the Fraser on the morrow, we reached an open
space a few miles beyond the end of the lake, and stayed there the
remainder of the day. The place was rich in grass and vetches, and
our horses ate greedily after their long fast, whilst we overhauled
our provisions. The flour and pemmican had been greatly injured by
the repeated wettings of the last few days, but the greater part of
it we rendered available by careful drying in the sun. Our desiccated
vegetables were, however, past redemption, but we made the best of the
misfortune by living almost entirely upon them for the next few days.
Mr. O’B. was missing for some time after we arrived, and we learnt from
The Assiniboine that he had heard frequent calls for help coming from
“Le Vieux,” as he called him, who had, as usual, fallen behind, but
he had utterly disregarded them. In course of time, Mr. O’B. appeared
in his shirt sleeves, carrying his coat, blanket, and saddle, and most
thoroughly disgusted with his horse, which had driven him to the verge
of distraction by its vagaries, and the misfortunes into which it led
him. He told us he had come to the conclusion that he should be much
happier on foot, and wished to lend him to us to use as a pack animal
for the rest of the journey.
The descent on the western slope was very rapid and continual, although
nowhere steep, and a change in the vegetation marked the Pacific side.
The cedar, the silver pine, and several other varieties now first
appeared, and became more and more frequent. A species of aralea,
a tall prickly trailer, many kinds of rosaceæ, and new deciduous
shrubs, showed strangely to our eyes. The timber was altogether of a
larger growth, and the huge trunks which barred the path rendered our
progress very laborious. The pack horses wearied us by breaking away
into the forest, rather than leap over the obstructions in the way,
and from morning till night we were incessantly running after them
to drive them back. Then they rushed about in every direction but
the right one, crashing and tumbling amongst the timber, and often
involving themselves in most serious embarrassment, jamming their packs
between adjacent trees, trying to pass under an inclining trunk too
low to admit the saddle, or jumping into collections of timber where
their legs became helplessly entangled. On the afternoon of the 13th
we came to a place where the trail passed along the face of a lofty
cliff of crumbling slate. The path was only a few inches in width,
barely affording footing for the horses, and midway a great rock had
slipped down from above, resting on the narrow ledge by which we had
to pass. This completely barred the way, and the perpendicular cliffs
rendered it impossible for us to evade it by taking any other route.
We therefore cut down a number of young pine trees, and using them as
levers, set to work to dislodge the obstacle. After an hour’s toil, we
succeeded in loosening it from its position, and with a single bound
it rolled down with sullen plunge into the deep river, far below. We
then led the horses past, one by one, with the greatest caution. The
path was so narrow and dangerous, that we gave it the name of Mahomet’s
Bridge.
The scenery at this point was very fine; the mountains shutting in
the valley very closely on either side, and the river below tearing
and roaring along over its rocky bed with great velocity. The cliff
just mentioned was the first slate-rock we met with, joined with the
carboniferous limestone, which indicated the approach to the auriferous
region. Slate is the “bed-rock” with which gold is invariably found
associated in the Cariboo mines, and therefore this first appearance of
it, in passing from east to west, is of considerable interest. Bearing
upon this is the curious fact, that east of the Rocky Mountains gold in
any quantity has only been found, we believe, in those streams which
rise on the _western_ side of the main ridge, as in the Peace River,
which rises far to the west, or those which come from the very heart of
the range, as the North Saskatchewan.
A few hours’ travelling in the morning of the 14th brought us to the
Grand Fork of the Fraser, where an important branch from the north
or north-east flows by five separate mouths into the main body of
the Fraser, which we had been following thus far. Here we pulled up,
in order to search carefully for safe fords by which to cross these
numerous swollen streams. This Grand Fork of the Fraser is the original
Tête Jaune Cache, so called from being the spot chosen by an Iroquois
trapper, known by the _sobriquet_ of the Tête Jaune, or “Yellow Head,”
to hide the furs he obtained on the western side. The situation is
grand and striking beyond description. At the bottom of a narrow
rocky gorge, whose sides were clothed with dark pines, or, higher
still, with light green shrubs, the boiling, impetuous Fraser dashed
along. On every side the snowy heads of mighty hills crowded round,
whilst, immediately behind us, a giant among giants, and immeasurably
supreme, rose Robson’s Peak. This magnificent mountain is of conical
form, glacier-clothed, and rugged. When we first caught sight of it,
a shroud of mist partially enveloped the summit, but this presently
rolled away, and we saw its upper portion dimmed by a necklace of light
feathery clouds, beyond which its pointed apex of ice, glittering in
the morning sun, shot up far into the blue heaven above, to a height of
probably 10,000 or 15,000 feet. It was a glorious sight, and one which
the Shushwaps of The Cache assured us had rarely been seen by human
eyes, the summit being generally hidden by clouds. After leaving the
old Cache, we entered upon fresh difficulties--deep streams to cross,
timber to jump every ten yards, and the whole valley flooded. The horse
which carried our flour took to swimming about in deep water, and one
packed with pemmican wandered into the Fraser, and was borne down the
stream for some distance. However, he managed to find foothold at last
under the bank, and we were able to haul him out with ropes.
The next day, the 15th of July, still found us struggling through
floods, logs, and _débris_, and was signalised by the occurrence of
an irremediable misfortune. In order to prevent the possible loss or
damage of provisions by the horses disporting themselves in deep water,
we led those which carried flour and pemmican. Two of the others,
however, who were running loose--a horse most aptly named Gisquakarn,
or “The Fool,” and Bucephalus--strayed over the true river-bank into
the stream, and were swept off in a moment. They soon disappeared from
our view, and the Iroquois and boy went in pursuit, whilst we followed
with the rest of the horses. About a mile down stream we caught sight
of the animals, standing in a shallow in the middle of the stream,
and as we came just at this time to one of the rare natural gardens
of the mountains, brilliant with flowers and rich in strawberries, we
camped in the open ground. We were in full view of the two animals in
the river, and hoped they would be tempted to join their companions on
shore. Bucephalus began to neigh, and eventually commenced swimming
towards us; but Gisquakarn, “The Fool,” instead of following in
the right direction, steered down mid-stream, and Bucephalus, after
a moment’s hesitation, turned away and followed him into the fiercest
strength of the irresistible flood. Away both went, far outstripping
our utmost speed in pursuit, their packs only being visible in the
distance, bobbing about like corks in the rolling waters.
[Illustration: THE ASSINIBOINE RESCUES BUCEPHALUS.]
The Assiniboine led the chase, and soon left all the rest of us far
behind, for he had a wonderful facility in getting over obstructions,
and the way in which he vanished amidst the closely-set trunks, and
past the barriers of fallen timber, was marvellous. He did not rush
and tear along, but glided out of sight, apparently unhindered by
the obstacles which opposed our progress. We struggled on far in the
rear, and occasionally caught a glimpse of the horses like specks in
the distance, still borne down the middle of the torrent. About two
miles below, another shallow gave them resting ground for a moment,
and enabled The Assiniboine to come up. The current was so strong,
however, that they were soon swept off again; but Bucephalus, observing
The Assiniboine, attempted to reach the shore. The place was a fearful
rapid, where the water poured madly in rolling billows over immense
boulders. As the horse neared the land for an instant in passing, The
Assiniboine leaped in, threw his arms round the animal’s neck, who
neighed gratefully when he saw his deliverer come to the rescue, and
the two, mutually supporting each other, eventually gained the shore.
The escape of The Assiniboine seemed marvellous, and we did not fail
amply to reward him for the intrepidity he had displayed. Few men would
have dared to plunge into such a boiling torrent, and as we looked at
the huge rolling waves after it was over, we could hardly believe it
possible that the thing had in reality occurred.
Having unpacked Bucephalus, and spread all the soaked baggage out to
dry in the sun, we started forward again to learn the fate of the other
horse Gisquakarn, who had obstinately pursued the middle course--
in this case certainly not the safest. After another mile’s run, we
descried him under the opposite bank, where it was too abrupt to climb,
his head buried in the bushes which fringed the shore, and hardly able
to stand against the rush of water. It seemed madness to attempt to
cross the stream on a raft in its present swollen state, and we were
reluctantly compelled to abandon him to his fate for the present. The
Iroquois started immediately for Tête Jaune Cache, which he calculated
could not be more than seven or eight miles distant, in order to obtain
the assistance of the Shushwaps there, who possessed canoes in which
the river might be crossed. The rest of us returned to camp with our
injured property, and employed ourselves in investigating the extent
of our losses. Early the next morning the Iroquois returned with two
young Shushwaps, who crossed the river, and proceeded to the place
where the horse had been last seen. From the marks on the bank it was
evident that the animal had made frantic but futile endeavours to climb
the bank, but had at last rolled back and been carried off, nor did we
ever find any further traces of him.
This misfortune was no light one. We had now neither tea, salt, nor
tobacco, for our whole store of these luxuries had been carried by
the horse which was lost. All our clothes, matches, and ammunition
were gone, except what we carried on our persons at the time. All our
papers, letters of credit, and valuables, Milton’s buffalo robe and
blanket, Cheadle’s collection of plants, the instruments and watches,
had set out on their voyage towards the sea. But there was much reason
for congratulation as well as lamentation. No actual necessaries of
life had gone; we had still the pemmican and flour. The journals,
too, without which the present valuable history could never have been
published, were saved with Bucephalus.
Mr. O’B. lost his letters of introduction, his tin kettle, and a pair
of spectacles; but his Paley, carefully carried in his breast-pocket,
still remained to him. The loss of the spectacles, however, obliged him
to pursue his studies under great disadvantages, for he was now reduced
to reading with one eye only, for the only pair he had left boasted
of but a single glass. As we sat over the camp fire at night, talking
about our losses, drinking the last of our tea, and smoking some of the
last pipes we were destined to enjoy for many weeks, Mr. O’B. improved
the occasion with a certain characteristic philosophy. He directed
our attention to the consideration of how much worse the misfortune
would have been if he, or one of us, had been riding the animal
which was lost. Then the loss of his kettle was, after all, of little
consequence, for the tea to use in it was gone too. “No,” said he,
“what grieves me is the loss of your tobacco; it’s a very serious thing
to me, as well as you; for, do you know, my own was just finished,
and I was on the very point of asking you to lend me some till we get
through.” Milton being the only man who had any tobacco left, some four
small plugs, smilingly took the hint, and shared it with the rest of
the party.
On the following day we moved on towards The Cache with the Iroquois
and Shushwaps, whilst The Assiniboine and his son searched the river
closely for traces of the lost horse or baggage. As we were following
along the track with the train of horses, in single file, Cheadle,
who was driving some of the rearmost pack-horses, heard loud cries
behind--“Doctor, Doctor! Stop, stop!” and was presently overtaken by
Mr. O’B., who came up out of breath, gasping out, “Doctor, Doctor! You
had better go back directly, something’s happened; don’t you hear some
one shouting for assistance? I expect it is Mrs. Assiniboine with one
of the horses fast in a bog.” Anathematising Mr. O’B. for not having
himself gone back to help her, and receiving in reply a tribute to the
greater value of his own aid, Cheadle ran hastily back a few hundred
yards, and there came upon the woman, endeavouring perseveringly, but
vainly, to extricate a horse, which was almost buried in a morass, by
first beating him vigorously, and then hauling at his tail. By cutting
off the packs, and one hauling at the head and the other the tail,
the horse was at last got out, and then Mrs. Assiniboine relieved her
feelings by a torrent of violent language in the Cree tongue, eminently
abusive of Mr. O’B., who she declared was close behind her when the
accident happened, but instead of coming to her, took to his heels
and bolted, afraid lest he should be left behind with only a female
protector! She was very indignant, and declared she would never lift
a finger to help him in anything for the future; and from that time
neither the man, his wife, or son could ever be induced to oblige “Le
Vieux” in the smallest matter, and were quite unable to understand the
considerations of humanity which prevented us once from abandoning Mr.
O’B. to his fate--far the wisest course, they assured us, to take
with so timid and useless a member of the party.
In the evening we arrived at The Cache, and saw the bark slants of
the Shushwaps on the opposite side of the river; but waited till next
morning before attempting to cross.