Tête Jaune Cache--Nature of the Country--Wonderful View--West of
the Rocky Mountains--Rocky Mountains still--The “Poire,” or
Service Berry--The Shushwaps of The Cache--The Three Miners--
Gain but little Information about the Road--The Iroquois
returns to Jasper House--Loss of Mr. O’B.’s Horse--Leave The
Cache--The Watersheds--Canoe River--Perilous Adventure with
a Raft--Milton and the Woman--Extraordinary Behaviour of Mr.
O’B.--The Rescue--The Watershed of the Thompson--Changes by
Beaver--Mount Milton--Enormous Timber--Cross the River--
Fork of the North Thompson--A Dilemma--No Road to be Found--
Cross the North-west Branch--Mr. O’B.’s presentiment of Evil--
Lose the Trail again--Which Way shall we Turn? Resolve to try
and reach Kamloops--A Natural Bridge--We become Beasts of
Burden--Mr. O’B. objects, but is overruled by the Assiniboine--
“A hard Road to Travel”--Miseries of driving Pack-horses--An
Unwelcome Discovery--The Trail Ends--Lost in the Forest--Our
Disheartening Condition--Council of War--Explorations of The
Assiniboine, and his Report--A Feast on Bear’s Meat--How we had
a Smoke, and were encouraged by The Assiniboine.
We reached Tête Jaune Cache on the 17th of July, and on the morning
of the 18th were ferried across the Fraser by the Indians. The water
rolled over the bed of boulders at a great pace, swelling into large
waves, on which the light dug-out of the Shushwaps tossed like a
nutshell. Mr. O’B., at our suggestion, lay on his back at full length
at the bottom of the canoe, for we were really afraid he might upset
such a very frail craft. When we reached the middle of the stream, we
saw his head suddenly rise up, and his hands making frantic endeavours
to loosen his cravat and shirt collar. When we cross-examined him after
he had safely landed, it appeared that he suffered great anxiety when
rocking about on the waves, expecting to be swamped, and had a misty
idea that he could swim ashore with greater ease without a necktie.
A few miles below Tête Jaune Cache the Fraser, after running almost due
west from Moose Lake, receives a tributary from the south-east, then
suddenly turns almost due north; and, according to Indian report, is
joined a little lower down by an important branch from the north-east.
The Cache is situated in a valley of triangular form, with the apex to
the south, and enclosed by lofty mountains. The valley is some fifteen
miles in length, and not more than five in width at the broadest part.
Across the base runs the Fraser, from east to west, turning north,
when it meets the range of hills which forms the western side. The
commencement of a bold range of mountains, running nearly north and
south, and dividing the watershed of the Columbia from that of the
Thompson, closes up the point of the valley. The main chain of the
Rocky Mountains forms the eastern boundary. Part of the valley of The
Cache appears to be rich; but immediately to the south is a stretch
of sandy, undulating country, partially covered by small spruce, and
terminated by the range of hills mentioned as dividing the watersheds.
Then commence the dense forests of the North Thompson.
The view from The Cache looking westward is, we imagine, one of the
most wonderful in the world. Away as far as the eye can reach, north,
south, and west, are mountains packed behind mountains, separated
only by the narrowest valleys, most of them snow-clad, and apparently
stretching away to the Pacific.
Although we had crossed the main chain of the Rocky Mountains, and were
now in British Columbia, we were surprised to find we were still really
in the midst of Rocky Mountains. For, in truth, the mountains which
rise like a wall from the prairies of the eastern side extend to the
western ocean. The exact reverse of this view may be seen from the Bald
Mountain in Cariboo, and we were assured by Mr. Fraser, of Victoria,
who had visited both the Andes and Himalayas, that nothing there could
compare with these hundreds of miles of mountains in British Columbia.
As there was very good pasturage for the horses, we resolved to rest
a day here, in order to thoroughly overhaul our provisions, after
their recent wettings, and obtain what information we could from the
Shushwaps concerning our future course. The Indians brought in a
plentiful supply of the poire, wild pear, or service berry, which we
purchased for some needles and thread. This fruit grows on a shrub, two
or three feet in height, with leaves resembling that of a pear-tree,
but smaller, and it is said by the Hudson’s Bay people that wherever it
flourishes wheat will also grow to perfection. The berry is about the
size of a black currant, pear-shaped, and of delicious sweetness and
flavour. They are much used by the Indians on both sides the mountains,
who dry them for winter use. From these Indians also Milton, who had
lost his buffalo robe by the recent misfortune, obtained a couple of
marmot robes wherewith to cover himself at night, some large cubes of
iron pyrites used instead of flints, and two curious stone pipes, which
they willingly parted with, being as destitute of tobacco as ourselves.
From them we learnt that there were but two families of them at this
place, and the two old men of the society had three days before started
in their canoes down the Fraser, to convey the miners, mentioned as
having crossed the mountains just before us, to Fort George. These
men had arrived in very destitute condition nine days before, without
any clothing but their shirts, and having lived for a long time on
partridges and squirrels. The Shushwaps could give us no information
about the party of emigrants who had sought the Thompson valley the
summer before. Whether they intended to strike direct for Cariboo or
follow the river down to Kamloops, we could not ascertain. They told
us that it was but six days’ journey on foot to the gold country--
probably meaning Cariboo--or not more than eighty or a hundred miles,
but that the country was very difficult. An old squaw, a native of
Kamloops, who had left there as a girl to become the wife of a Rocky
Mountain Shushwap, assured us that we could reach that fort in eight
days, and traced a rude map of the route for us. The correctness and
value of her information will be appreciated from the sequel.
On the 19th we prepared to start, but heavy rain coming on, we remained
until the following day. With the exception of two thunder-storms, the
weather had been uniformly bright and warm since we left Edmonton,
seven weeks before. The next morning proving fine, the Iroquois set
out on his return to Jasper House, and we shortly after went in search
of our horses, to prepare for the commencement of our journey forward
to Cariboo. But we were delayed for several hours searching for Mr.
O’B.’s horse, which was nowhere to be found. The Assiniboine evidently
chuckled over the loss, although he declared he could not for the life
of him imagine what had become of the horse. Mr. O’B. was indignant,
and vituperated the Iroquois and Assiniboine, but did not attempt to
assist in the search; and we abandoned it at length with the conviction
that the Iroquois was the thief, and it was useless to pursue him.
One of the young Shushwaps agreed to accompany us for a day’s journey,
in order to show us the emigrants’ trail, and we determined to follow
it as far as practicable, hoping to reach Cariboo in the end. The track
led us through an easy country, sandy and undulating, and lightly
timbered with small spruce. We crossed a small tributary of the Fraser,
skirted the shores of a small lake, and by evening had imperceptibly
passed the height of land between the watershed of the Fraser and that
of the Columbia. The Shushwap stayed the night with us, put us on the
trail of the emigrants the next morning, and then returned. We said
good-bye, little knowing the long and weary time we should pass before
we again saw the face of man.
The track here bore to the right, to enter the most westerly of the
two narrow valleys, into which that of The Cache is divided by the
line of hills to the south marked Malton Range in the map. A mile or
so brought us to Canoe River, a tributary of the Columbia, running
towards the south-east. The stream has worn a deep channel in the sandy
ground, and we descended a steep cliff to gain the valley of the river,
which we cut nearly at right angles. The waters were at high flood,
and the current very strong; the banks were beset with driftwood and
overhanging trees, and we moved some way up the stream in search of a
place where it would be possible to raft across. We found a small open
space at last, near which stood some dead pines, and where the opposite
bank was for a short distance more free than usual from fallen trunks,
rocks, and brushwood. We then drove the horses across, and commenced
cutting down wood for the raft. By the loss of the two axes previously
we were now reduced to one small one, and had to work hard in relays
until afternoon before we had felled enough timber for our purpose.
Then came the task of carrying it down to the edge of the river, and
Mr. O’B.’s services were called into requisition amongst the rest. We
arranged that on the present occasion he should be put in for some
really hard work, as Cheadle’s partner. The sight was a most ludicrous
one: Mr. O’B. staggering along under one end of a heavy log, with loud
cries and fearful groans, trying to stop, but driven forward by the
merciless Cheadle, who could hardly carry his load for laughter at the
exclamations and contortions of his companion. Mr. O’B. sat down after
delivering his load, and vowed he was utterly incapable of any further
exertion, but Cheadle induced him to make another attempt, and managed
to find a tree as heavy as the first. Mr. O’B. entreated, groaned,
begged for mercy, and implored Cheadle to stop for a moment, only one
moment; but he was obliged to push on to the end, where he sat down,
declaring he was regularly broken down. Yet he was not too exhausted
to talk and complain very loudly. Finding, however, that too much time
was lost by keeping him at hard labour, we detailed him to carry the
light poles for the cross pieces of the raft. When all the wood was
brought down, the logs were securely lashed together, and we prepared
to cross. The stream was so strong that it was with great difficulty
all got on board, and the raft had drifted some distance before we
fairly got to work with the poles we all carried. Away we went down
stream at a fearful pace. At first it appeared certain that we must
run foul of some rocks, and a tree overhanging the bank on the side
we started from. Very vigorous poling, urged on by the frantic shouts
and anathemas of The Assiniboine, barely saved us from this danger.
In avoiding Scylla, however, we fell into Charybdis, for the current,
setting in strongly at this place toward the opposite side, almost
before we were aware, or could make any effort to prevent it, carried
us across into a billowy rapid. Over this we passed like an arrow, and
were helplessly borne straight to what seemed certain destruction, a
large pine-tree, through the lower branches of which the water rushed
like the stream from a mill-wheel. “À terre--à TERRE avec la line!”
shouted The Assiniboine, as we neared the bank for an instant, and
making a desperate leap into the water caught the bushes, scrambled up
the side, and whipped his rope round a tree. Cheadle jumped at the same
moment with the other rope, and did likewise; but the cords, rotten
from repeated wettings, snapped like threads, the raft was sucked under
the tree, and disappeared beneath the water. Milton and the woman
were brushed off like flies by the branches, but Mr. O’B., in some
incomprehensible manner, managed to stick to the raft, and re-appeared
above water further down, sitting silent and motionless, sailing along
to swift destruction with seeming resignation. The Assiniboine and the
boy--who had leaped ashore with his father--rushed along the bank in
pursuit. Cheadle, however, who was following, with a confused notion
that everybody was drowned but himself, heard a cry proceeding from the
tree, and looking in that direction, observed Milton clinging to the
branches, his body sucked under the trunk, and his head disappearing
under water and rising again with the varying rush of the current. The
woman was in similar position, but further out and on the lower side.
Both were in imminent danger of being swept off every moment, and
Cheadle, shouting to them for God’s sake to hold on, clambered along
the tree and laid hold of Milton, who was nearest. He cried out to help
the woman first, but Cheadle, seeing the woman was more difficult to
reach, and Milton in the greater danger, helped him out at once.
[Illustration: OUR MISADVENTURE WITH THE RAFT IN CROSSING CANOE RIVER.
(_See page 271._)
]
We then crawled carefully forwards to the rescue of the woman. She was,
however, so far below, that it was impossible to lift her out, and we
therefore held her as well as we could, and shouted to The Assiniboine
to be quick with a rope.
He, in the meantime, had caught up the raft in its swift career, and
cried loudly to Mr. O’B., who sat motionless in the stern, to throw the
end of the broken rope. Mr. O’B. responded only by a gentle shaking
of the head, and a “No, no; no, thank you,” looking solemnly straight
before him. The raft, however, bringing up for a moment against another
overhanging tree, was arrested by The Assiniboine. Mr. O’B. instantly
seized the opportunity of escape, darted on shore, and buried himself
in the woods, regardless of the entreaties of his deliverer, to help in
securing the raft.
After we had shouted some time, The Assiniboine seemed to understand
us, and hastened to unfasten a rope. But this took time, and we began
to fear we should not be able to keep the woman up until he came.
Presently Mr. O’B. appeared on the bank, gazing at us in a bewildered
manner. We cried to him to run down to The Assiniboine and tell him to
bring a rope quickly; but he did not seem to comprehend, and untying
his neckerchief, held that out to us. The boy, coming up at the moment,
brought it to the tree, and with that and Milton’s belt, passed round
the woman’s waist, he kept her above the water until her husband
arrived with a rope,--and Mrs. Assiniboine was saved. She was,
however, benumbed and nearly insensible, but gradually recovered with
warmth and a draught of rum, which Cheadle had fortunately reserved for
emergencies, in his flask. We had great difficulty in getting a fire,
for the tinder was wet, and we had lost our matches previously in the
Fraser; but we succeeded at last, dried our things, and investigated
our losses. Strange to say, the guns and powder-horns had not been
swept off, and the provisions were safe; but the packs which contained
the whole property of the man and his family were gone.
In talking over the adventure afterwards, Mr. O’B. assured us that he
had not the slightest recollection of anything which occurred after the
raft sank under the tree, until he found himself safe on shore. Before
we had rested very long, Mr. O’B. called Cheadle aside, and requested
him, as a special favour, to induce Milton to agree to move on for
a few miles. “For,” said he, “you see, Doctor, I’m rather nervous.
I’ve had a terrible shock to-day--a terrible shock! ‘_Mihi frigidus
horror membra quatit._’ I’m trembling with the recollection of it now.
Ah! Doctor, Doctor, you don’t know what I suffered. The sound of this
dreadful water in my ears is more than I can bear. I want to know
whether you think there will be any more rivers to cross. But please
move on a few miles, _please_ do, there’s a good fellow, just to oblige
me, out of hearing of this terrible noise. ‘_Heu me miserum! iterum
iterumque, strepitum fluminum audio!_’” We agreed, and went forward a
mile or two to better feeding for the horses, and there camped for the
night.
On the following day we made a long detour to the right, to get round
the range of hills to the south, and entered the narrow valley on the
west of it. The trail was not very distinct, and passed amongst rocks
and burnt timber. At dinner-time we discovered that the frying-pan and
some of the tin plates were lost, and thenceforward were driven to cook
our pemmican and bake our bread in the kettle. A small stream flowed
along the bottom of the ravine towards the north, falling probably into
either the Fraser or Canoe River; but the next day we passed the height
of land, and gained the watershed of the Thompson. This was occupied
by a small marshy lake, marked Albreda Lake in the map, filling the
bottom of the ravine. It appeared to have been drained formerly by a
stream flowing from either extremity, like the Summit lake between Lake
Lilloet and Anderson Lake, in British Columbia; but the northern end
was now blocked up by an old grass-grown beaver-dam, and its waters
escaped only towards the south. We continued to follow the stream thus
formed, which was reinforced by several branches from the westward,
and saw before us a magnificent mountain, covered with glaciers, and
apparently blocking up the valley before us. To this Cheadle gave the
name of Mount Milton. The trail now entered thick pine forest, where
the timber was of enormous size. Two trunks of the giant cypress
(_Thuja gigantea_) or cedar, as it is commonly called, which grew side
by side, measured over six and a half embraces, or thirty-nine feet;
the other, five embraces, or thirty feet in circumference, giving
diameters of thirteen feet and ten feet. Pines, of almost equal girth,
towered up to a height of over 300 feet. There was no open ground, and
the horses fed on twigs and mare’s-tail; the road was hilly, swamps
occupying the hollows.
[Illustration: A VIEW ON THE NORTH THOMPSON, LOOKING EASTWARD.
(_See page 275._)
]
On the fifth day after leaving The Cache we crossed to the western
bank of the river we were following, and which we concluded to be a
branch of the Thompson. This had now become about thirty yards in
width, and so deep that we were compelled to carry the horses’ packs on
our shoulders as we rode across, to prevent their being soaked. After
crossing two smaller streams from the west, we came to a deep arm of
the river, with banks of soft mud, which we crossed, after long delay,
by leading the horses over an old beaver-dam. We were still in the
midst of snowy mountains, and steep pine-clad hills closely shut in the
valley on either side.
On the 25th July, the sixth day after leaving The Cache, having
passed Mount Milton to the right, we were arrested by a large river
flowing from the north-west, which here joined the one which we had
followed from the north. This river was some sixty yards in width, and
bank-full with glacier-water. At the angle formed by the junction of
the two rivers we camped, in order to search for the emigrants’ trail
forward. We found one of their camps here, and more wood cut down than
needed for fires, leading us to suppose that they had made a raft, and
crossed to one bank or other of the main river below the fork. We had
expected that they would have turned up the north-west branch without
crossing it, striking direct for Cariboo. But we could not find any
trail in that direction, and The Assiniboine having failed to discover
any traces of one on the eastern bank of the main river, to which he
crossed on a tiny raft, we concluded that they must have gone to its
western shore, and began to prepare to cross thither ourselves.
On a tree we found an inscription to the effect that Andrè Cardinal,
the guide, left the emigrants here to return to Edmonton. This, then,
was the place from which, as he informed us, he had shown the emigrants
the hills of Cariboo in the distance. This circumstance, and the
statement of the old woman at The Cache, that the journey either to
Cariboo or Kamloops would take us about eight days, put us quite at our
ease, although we had now but a very small quantity of provisions left.
We felt the want of tea very much, far more than the loss of salt or
vegetables, or indeed any other luxury. Abstinence from all alcoholic
stimulant we had endured for above a year without the slightest
discomfort, but the craving for tea and tobacco never left us. We had
eked out our little stock of the latter hitherto by mixing it with
what the Indians call “kinnikinnick,” the inner bark of the dog wood.
We had only enough for three or four pipes left amongst us now, and we
reserved them for special need.
We fully expected to reach our destination in the course of a few
days, and set to work to prepare our raft with great confidence. This
occupied the whole of the 26th, for we determined to use very large
timber, for greater safety. We worked away in relays, and between the
spells of labour washed for gold, but did not succeed in finding any
traces of it. The sand at the side and in the bed of the river was full
of innumerable particles of shining talc, which glistened very brightly
in the sun, and The Assiniboine, believing it to be gold, drew our
attention to it as an encouraging sign that we were approaching our
destination. The waters rose during the day, and were a foot higher by
evening, sinking to their former level during the night: the alternate
effect of the sun and night frosts on the mountain snows. The weather
was bright and oppressively hot, and the mosquitoes and tiny sand-flies
so numerous that we could obtain little sleep. By evening we had all
the timber cut and carried down to the water’s edge ready to tie
together.
On the morning of the 27th, Mr. O’B., one of whose good qualities was
early rising, surpassed himself--whether in consequence of being
disturbed by mosquitoes, or from anxiety for the public good, remains
uncertain--and turned out with the earliest peep of dawn. Rousing
Cheadle, with the request that he would get up immediately, as he had
something of importance to communicate, he took him aside and said,
“In the first place, Doctor, I hope that you and Assiniboine will be
very careful indeed in crossing the river, for you know I think you
managed very badly indeed last time, I may say disgracefully so. It was
a mercy we were not all drowned; look what an escape _I_ had! Now, if
you will take my advice, you will keep perfectly cool and collected--
_animosus et fortis appare_--but _æquo animo_, you know; not shout at
one another as you did before; Assiniboine quite frightened me with his
strong language. But I have a very particular favour to ask, and that
is, that you and Lord Milton will agree to postpone crossing the river
until to-morrow, for I am oppressed with a most fearful presentiment
that if we make the attempt to-day we shall all be lost--every one of
us drowned, Doctor. Think of the responsibility, before it is too late;
you and his lordship are answerable for our lives.”
Cheadle explained that provisions were getting so short, we could
not afford to waste a day, and the presentiment of evil was merely
uneasiness arising from the recollection of the late accident, which
was not likely to be repeated. Mr. O’B., however, shook his head
solemnly, unconvinced, gave us a quotation about Cassandra, and
embarked with most woful misgivings. We crossed without mishap, and the
moment we neared the side, Mr. O’B., eager to get safe on shore, jumped
overboard into shallow water, but was immediately collared and pulled
back by The Assiniboine, and obliged to wait till the raft was secured.
Mr. O’B’s presentiment was, happily, unfulfilled.
When we proceeded to search for the trail, we discovered, to our
dismay, that we were upon a small island, instead of the west bank
of the river, as we supposed. The north-west branch entered the main
river by two mouths, and we were upon the spit of land between the
fork of these channels. There were numerous traces of the emigrants’
visit, but what line they had taken we could not make out, although we
searched diligently till night came on. Next morning The Assiniboine
was up betimes, and crossing the west channel by a natural bridge,
formed by the accumulation of driftwood against a sand-bar, soon
discovered the trail leading up the north-west branch in the direction
of Cariboo. He followed this for about a mile, when it came suddenly to
an end. The ravine was narrow, the sides steep and heavily timbered,
and lofty, limestone mountains loomed up ahead.
The emigrants had evidently found the work of cutting a road to
Cariboo so arduous that they had abandoned the task, and turned their
faces southward to seek Kamloops; and agreeably to this surmise The
Assiniboine discovered another trail leading down the river in that
direction. The time had now come when we must make our final decision
whether to try and reach Cariboo or follow the trail towards Kamloops.
We held a council, and after much discussion at last agreed that
it would be impossible, with our weakened forces, worn-out horses,
short supplies, and little axe, to cut our way through the almost
impenetrable country to the west. It was with a feeling of bitter
disappointment that we gave up our cherished idea of finding a road
direct to the gold-fields, but the attempt would have been madness, and
we very sulkily commenced transferring the packs to the mainland on the
west. The driftwood bridge saved us from the labour of making another
raft, but carrying the baggage on our backs proved no light work. The
footing on the trunks, piled together so irregularly, was slippery
and uncertain, and the flood poured fiercely through the weir, making
our heads giddy with the rush of waters and their deafening roar. When
we had crossed this, which was at least forty yards in width, we were
obliged to scramble with our loads as we could up a perpendicular
hill-side, through piles of fallen timber, in order to reach the track.
Mr. O’B. stole across quietly, without troubling himself with even his
own baggage, and then sat down and took out his Paley--his pipe, alas!
was useless now--declaring he was sorry he had omitted to bring his
property, but that he would not cross such a dangerous place again for
the world: his head would not stand it. He was afraid he should become
giddy and fall over, and therefore begged that we would let him rest in
peace. We left him there, ourselves re-crossing for other loads; but as
we returned with them we were astonished to meet Mr. O’B. scrambling
over the logs with the most astounding agility. The Assiniboine having
discovered him sitting idle, advanced towards him with so menacing an
air that he fled across the bridge with great celerity, and took his
share of work without complaint. Mr. O’B. firmly believed that The
Assiniboine intended to murder him on the first convenient opportunity,
and viewed any offensive demonstration on his part with unqualified
terror. When we had taken the baggage across, we proceeded to drive
the horses into the stream below the dam. They swam to a shallow in
the middle, and there remained. The day was exceedingly sultry, and
they enjoyed the coolness of the water, and the comparative freedom
from gad-flies and mosquitoes. For above an hour they refused to move,
in spite of all we could do. We shied showers of sticks and stones at
them, shouted and stormed at Bucephalus, the “Grand Rouge,” the “Petit
Rouge”--then tried the “Gris,” the “Sauvage,” the “Petit Noir;”--all
were of one mind. They had found a cool and pleasant place, where were
neither packs nor hurtful rocks and trees. Blows they were tolerably
safe from, and angry words they regarded not. At last the boy, by some
well-directed missiles from the driftwood bridge, rendered the place
too hot for them, and they abandoned the position, swimming across as
we desired.
[Illustration: THE TRAIL AT AN END.
(_See page 281._)
]
The rest of the day was fruitful in difficulties and mishaps. The trail
had been made by the Canadians when the river was low, and was now
frequently lost in deep water. At these points we were obliged to cut
a new line for ourselves, along steep, timber-strewn hill-sides. The
forest was as dense as ever, and the trees of the largest. “Muskegs”
occupied the hollows between the pine-clad hills, which ran up at short
intervals with steep front towards the river. The horses mired and were
dragged out--walked into the river, and were hauled back--entangled
themselves in fallen timber, and were chopped out--or hid themselves
in the thick wood, and had to be sought. At night The Assiniboine was
fairly done, and all of us thoroughly tired out.
We met with similar country and the same difficulties until the
afternoon of the second day after leaving the island, when we
came upon two camps, where were strewn pack-saddles and harness,
and great cedars cut down on every side, with heaps of chips and
splinters, showing that they had been used to make rafts and canoes.
An inscription in pencil on a tree told us this was the emigrants’
“Slaughter Camp.” We searched in every direction, but no trail forward
could be discovered.
The truth, serious enough, now plainly forced itself upon our minds,
that the whole band of emigrants had given up in despair the idea of
cutting their way through forests so dense and encumbered, abandoned
their horses, killed their oxen for provisions, and made large rafts in
order to drop down the river to Kamloops.
We were in a very disheartening position. Before crossing the Fraser
a fortnight before we had lost nearly everything we possessed. Our
provisions were now reduced to about ten pounds of pemmican, and the
same of flour, or not three days’ rations for the six persons. Game of
all kinds--as is always the case in vast forests--was exceedingly
scarce, and if it had been plentiful, we could have killed but little
with the few charges of powder we had left. Our clothes were already
in rags, and we were obliged to patch our moccasins with pieces of the
saddle-bags. The horses were weak and in wretched condition, having had
little proper pasture since leaving Edmonton two months before, and
for the last fortnight had subsisted upon leaves and twigs, with an
occasional mouthful of marsh grass, or equisetum.
We had only one small Indian axe with which to cut our way through
the encumbered forest which surrounded us, and we knew not how long
or difficult the journey before us might be. The Canadians--a party
of fifty or sixty strong, all able-bodied men provided with good
axes, and expert in the use of them--had, after a few days’ trial,
failed to make any satisfactory progress through the obstructions
which beset them, and had evaded the difficulty by braving the dangers
of an unknown river full of rocks and rapids. We were a weak party,
our mainstay, The Assiniboine, having but one hand. Even along the
partially cleared trail we had followed thus far, the work of making
it passable had been very heavy, and our progress slow and laborious.
We had been delayed and harassed every day by the horses miring in
muskegs, entangling themselves amongst fallen timber, rolling down
hills, or being lost in the thick woods. The attempt to force our way
through the forest, therefore, seemed almost a desperate one. On the
other hand, to make a proper raft with our small means and strength
would occupy many days, and necessitate the abandonment of the horses,
our last resource for food. In an ordinarily tranquil stream our
weak and motley company was utterly incompetent to manage that most
unmanageable of all transports, a large raft. In a stream swollen,
rocky, and rapid as the Thompson, the experiment was certain to prove
disastrous. We had been solemnly and earnestly warned by the Shushwaps
of The Cache against such an attempt, as they said the river was
impracticable for a raft, and very hazardous even for canoes. Cheadle
went out and explored the country for some distance ahead, but returned
with the unwelcome report that it seemed perfectly impossible for
horses to get through such a collection of fallen timber, and along
such precipitous hill-sides as he had encountered. Every one looked
very serious at this announcement, and Mr. O’B. expressed his opinion
that we must make up our minds to meet a miserable end. In the evening
we held grave council over our camp-fire, trying to increase philosophy
by smoking kinnikinnick, and, after careful deliberation, decided that
The Assiniboine should investigate the country on the morrow, and if
he thought it practicable, we would endeavour to cut our way through
the forest. We calculated that Kamloops could not be more than 120 or
130 miles distant, and we should probably enter upon more open country
before long. It rained heavily during the night, and until nearly noon
the next day, when The Assiniboine started on his voyage of discovery.
Soon after his departure we heard a shot, and the barking of the dog
Papillon, from which we inferred that he had found game of some kind,
and as we had seen tracks of Cariboo deer, we hoped that he might have
met with one of these animals. In the evening we were delighted by his
appearance, carrying a small black bear on his shoulders, and reporting
that he thought it possible to get through, although our advance
would necessarily be very slow and laborious. From the summit of the
hill at the foot of which we were encamped, he had seen, far to the
south, mountains crowded behind mountains, the everlasting pine-forest
extending in every direction, without a sign of open country; the only
favourable circumstance which he observed being that the hills appeared
to become lower, and fewer of them were capped with snow. We all set
eagerly to work to skin and cut up the bear, and had a great feast that
night. This was the first fresh meat we had tasted since the mountain
sheep at Jasper House, and we found it a great treat, although we
had neither bread nor salt to eat with it, tea to drink with it, nor
tobacco to smoke after it. We invented a substitute for the latter on
this occasion by mixing the oil out of our pipes with the kinnikinnick
we smoked, but this was soon finished, and we were reduced to the small
comfort to be derived from the simple willow-bark. We all felt happier
after the meal, and The Assiniboine exhorted us to be of good courage,
for we had now a week’s provisions by using economy; “Nous arriverons
bientôt.”