town comes," said Jesse. "I suppose it's only a log house he's got
now."
"Quite right," said Uncle Dick, "and it's only a little way until we
reach it to-day. We'll celebrate our crossing the Athabasca by making
a short journey to-day."
So presently they did pull up at the quaint frontier home known all
along the trail as "Swift's." They were met by the old man himself,
who seemed to be alone--a gaunt and grizzled figure of the old
frontier breed. He came out and shook hands with each in turn and
helped all to get off their saddles and packs, evidently glad to see
them, and still more pleased when Uncle Dick told him that these boys
had come all the way from Alaska.
"Alasky?" said he. "You don't tell me! Now here I be, and I thought
I'd come a long way when I come from the States thirty year ago.
Alasky, eh? I've heard there's gold up there. Maybe I'll stroll over
there some day."
"It's a good long way, Mr. Swift," said Rob, smiling.
"Well, maybe 'tis, maybe 'tis," said the old man, "but I betche when
they get the railroad across it wouldn't be any farther than it was
when I punched a pack-horse up from the state of Washington. Which way
you headed?"
"Clear across to the Pacific," said Rob, nonchalantly. "We live at
Valdez, in Alaska, and that's a week's sail from Seattle. We crossed
the Peace River summit last year--"
"You did? Now you don't tell me that!"
"Yes, sir, and Moise here was with us. And this year we're going
across the Yellowhead and down the Fraser to the Tete Jaune Cache, and
from there we are going down the Canoe River to the Columbia, and down
the Columbia River to the railroad, and then west to the coast. It's
easy enough." And Rob spoke rather proudly, perhaps just a little
boastfully.
The old man shook his head from side to side. "Well, I want to know!"
said he. "If I didn't know this gentleman of the engineers I'd say you
boys was either crazy or lying to me. But he's a good man, all right,
and I reckon he'll get you through. So you're going over to the old
Tee-John, are you? I know it well."
"And we hope to see the old Boat Encampment on the Columbia where the
Saskatchewan trail came in," added Rob, reaching for his map.
"I know it well," said the old man--"know it like a book, the whole
country. Well, good luck to you, and I wish I was going through; but
I'll see ye up in Alasky in a couple of years, when this here railroad
gets through. I got to stay here and tend to my garden and farm and
my town lots for a while yit."
The old man now showed them with a great deal of pride his little
fields and his system of irrigation, and the rough mill which he had
made with no tools but a saw and an ax. "I used to pack in flour from
Edmonton, three hundred and fifty miles," said he, "and it wasn't any
fun, I can tell you. So I said, what's the use--why not make a mill
for myself and grind my own flour?"
"And good flour it is, too, boys," said Uncle Dick, "for I've tasted
it often and know."
"I s'pose we ought to get on a little bit farther this evening," said
John to the leader of the party, after a while.
"No, you don't," said the old man; "you'll stay right here to-night, I
tell you. Plenty of trouble on ahead without being in a hurry to get
into it, and here you can sleep dry and have plenty to eat. I haven't
got any trout in the house to-day, but there's a little lake up by
Pyramid Mountain where you can ketch plenty, and there's another one a
few miles around the corner of the Miette valley where you can get 'em
even better. Oh yes, from now on you'll have all the fish you want to
eat, and all the fun, too, I reckon, that you come for. So you're all
the way from Alasky, eh? Well, I swan! I've seen folks here from
England and New York and Oregon, but I never did see no one from
Alasky before. And you're just boys! Come in and unroll your
blankets."
IX
THE HEART OF THE MOUNTAINS
"Well, boys," said Swift, the next day after breakfast, "I wisht ye
could stay longer with me, but I reckon ye got to be on your way, so
I'll just wish ye well and go about my planting."
"So long, friend," said Uncle Dick, as they parted. "We'll see you
from time to time. When the railroad gets through we'll all be
neighbors in here."
"Sure," said the old man, none too happily. "It's a fright how close
things has got together sence I packed north from the Columby thirty
year ago. Well, I hope you'll get some trout where you camp to-night.
You'd ought to go up on my mountain and ketch some of them lake-trout.
I dun' no' where they come from, for there ain't nothing like 'em in
no other lake in these mountains. But I reckon they was always in
there, wasn't they?"
"Certainly they were," answered Uncle Dick. "I know about those trout.
They tell me they are just like the lake-trout of the Great Lakes.
But we can't stop for them to-day. I'll promise the camp some
rainbow-trout for supper, though--at least for to-morrow night."
"I know where ye mean," said the old man, smiling; "it's that little
lake off the Miette trail. Plenty o' rainbows in there."
"We'll camp opposite that lake to-night."
"And pass my town site this morning, eh? Wish it well for me. If I've
got to be civilized I'm going to be plumb civilized. Well, so long."
They all shook hands, and the little pack-train turned off up the
north-bound trail.
They were now following along a rude trail blazed here and there by
exploring parties of engineers. Presently Uncle Dick pointed them out
the place where the new town was to be built.
"Here," said he, pulling up, "is where we will have a division point,
with railway shops, roundhouses, and all that. Its name will be
Fitzhugh."
"Huh!" said John, "it doesn't look much like a town yet. It's all
rocks and trees."
"But there's a fine view," said Rob, looking out over the landscape
with critical eye. "I presume that's the valley of the Maligne River
coming in on the other side of the Athabasca, isn't it, Uncle Dick?"
"Yes, and I am glad we don't have to ford it, but are on this side of
the big river."
"It looks like another valley coming down from the right, on ahead,"
said Rob.
"That's the Miette valley, and we turn up that as though we were going
around a corner. Just ahead is where we leave the Athabasca valley.
That river runs off to the left. The big white mountain you see square
ahead is Mount Geikie. The Athabasca runs south of that, and the
Miette this side. In short, this is the place where the old trails
fork. Yonder goes the trail to the Athabasca Pass, and here to the
right is ours to the Yellowhead."
"Which did they find first, Uncle Dick?" inquired John.
"As I was telling you, the Athabasca Pass was the first discovered.
That is, it was found before the Yellowhead. Far south, at the head of
the Saskatchewan, Duncan McGillivray discovered what is called the
Howse Pass. That was in 1800. Some suppose that pass was named after
old Jasper Hawse, or Howse, who founded Jasper House just below us on
the river here.
"The traders used the Howse Pass quite a while, until, as I told you,
the Flathead Indians and Kootenais got guns from the west and whipped
the Piegans, down below here. That started old David Thompson out
hunting for another pass further north. It is thought that the
Athabasca Pass was discovered by J. Henry, a free trapper, about 1810.
The Yellowhead Pass, which we are going to cross in due time, was not
really discovered or used by the traders until about 1825 or 1826. But
our friend Jasper Hawse seems to have used it before that time."
"And he went right up this way where we are going now," said Rob,
musingly.
"He certainly did," said Uncle Dick. "There wasn't any other place for
him to go if he started up the Miette."
"It seems to me as though the engineers were always following rivers,"
said Jesse.
"Precisely. When you have learned the rivers of a country you know its
geography, and a good part of its history, too. You'll realize more
and more that white explorers did very little discovering. They clung
to the rivers, which already had paths along them--paths made by the
native tribes. Engineers like to stick to stream valleys because the
grades are light. All the great passes of the Rockies were found by
following rivers back into the hills, just as we are doing now."
"It's fine," said John, "to feel that we are right here where the old
men used to travel, and that we've got to travel the way they did. I'm
glad I came."
"I'm glad, too," said Uncle Dick. "It has been rather hard work, and
now I propose to give you a little rest, so the horses can pick up as
well as ourselves. There's good grass in the valley on ahead, and
we'll go into camp rather early."
They pushed on now, swinging away presently from the great valley of
the Athabasca, hemmed in by its mountains, and beginning to climb the
steeper ascent of the Miette. At the foot of the narrow valley they
could see the racing green flood of the river, broken here and there
by white rapids, on its way to the valley of the Athabasca, whose rift
in the hills they now lost as they continued their ascent.
Late in that afternoon they found good camping-ground by the side of a
brawling little mountain stream. The boys were happy and light-hearted
as they went about pitching their camp, for the spot was very lovely,
the weather fine, and the going had not been so difficult as to tire
them out. They plunged into the camp duties with such enthusiasm as to
please Moise very much.
"Those boy, she'll been all right, Monsieur," said that worthy to
Uncle Dick. "She'll come through all right, all same trapper man."
"Certainly," said Uncle Dick; "unless we have some bad accident we'll
have a very fine journey all the way across."
"And to-morrow she'll caught some feesh?" inquired Moise. "Why not get
some sheeps, too? Me, I am tired of those bacon all the time."
"We're still inside the Jasper Park Reservation," replied Uncle Dick,
"so we can't shoot game, but to-morrow I'll promise you some fish in
camp. We're now getting into the Rockies, and we'll have fish every
day now, if you like."
X
RAINBOW LAKE
The boys were up early, excited by the prospect of a day's sport, and
before the sun had more than shown above the hills they were out in
the dewy grass and ready for breakfast. From their camp they could
hear the rushing of the swift Miette below them. All around them lay a
wonderful mountain view--Mount Geikie on one side, and off ahead,
apparently closing the valley itself, three tall white peaks which
were to rise before them for some time yet. The high, dry air of the
mountains was most refreshing, and all were full of life and joy when
their leader at length told them that they might start for the hidden
lake back in the hills.
"How'd you happen to find that lake?" asked John. "It doesn't seem to
show anywhere in this valley."
"We found it on the same principle as they found the Yellowhead Pass,"
said Uncle Dick. "When we struck this little creek we knew it must
come from somewhere, and as a matter of fact we were hungry for trout.
So we followed the creek until we discovered the lake that we call
Rainbow Lake, where we are going to-day. It's bad walking along the
creek, however, and we'll find it much easier to go on up the valley a
little way, and then cross over the high ridge to the right. It's a
climb of about a thousand feet, but the going is good, and it's only a
mile or so over to the lake in that way."
Following their leader, they all started up the valley, each with his
fishing-rod in hand. Soon they were making their way up the steep
slope of the lofty ridge which lay between the valley and the hidden
lake. From time to time they stopped to catch their breath, and at
such times sat looking with wonder at the great mountain prospect
which rose before them as they climbed.
"It certainly seems as though we were the first to be here," said
Jesse. "You can't see the track of anybody in here."
"No," said Uncle Dick, "no tin cans just yet, and we might as well
call ourselves the first, because we're traveling precisely as the
first men did who came through here. But I would like to ask you
whether you discovered anything this morning out of the way."
John and Jesse could not think of anything, but Rob hesitated. "I'll
tell you what," said he, "it seems to me there must have been more
than one trail up this valley. At least, I've seen two this morning."
"Precisely. The main trail ran lower down, below our camp. The other
trail which you noticed cut across a low place in this ridge back of
us. Now that trail runs right along the side of our little lake over
yonder. It passes back above that lake and heads off into the
mountains. It's as deep and broad as the other trail, but nobody seems
to know anything about it. It seems to strike in for the mountains
somewhere north of Yellowhead Pass. But where does it go? No one can
tell you. Is there another pass in there, north of Yellowhead? No one
can answer that. Perhaps the two trails meet somewhere between here
and the Yellowhead; but if so, no one has found where. That's a
mystery, isn't it? Some day, if I ever have time, I'm going to follow
out that trail and see where it goes.
"But come on," he concluded; "we'll go on over the ridge and see the
trail itself by the side of the lake."
They rose now and pushed on up to the top of their steep climb, and
soon passed into the dense growth of small pines which covered it.
Their leader pushed on ahead, calling to them to follow; and, although
the going was very difficult on account of burned timber and tangled
undergrowth, they passed on rapidly down the farther slope, until
presently they broke from the cover and stood at the edge of the
beautiful little mountain lake which lay green and mirrorlike, a mile
or so in extent, surrounded closely on all sides by the great mountain
walls.
"Well," said John, "it's a beauty, sure enough."
"It certainly is," said Jesse, "and no tin cans of worm fishermen
anywhere along here, either. It looks fishy, too."
"It certainly is fishy," smiled Uncle Dick; "or it was last year, when
I was in here. The trout don't run so very large, but they strike
well and they are mighty good to eat."
"What's this old hump we're on?" inquired Jesse, looking down
curiously at his feet. They were standing on a rude pile of poles and
sticks which extended well out into the lake.
"Guess," said Uncle Dick.
"I know," said Rob at once--"beaver!"
"Right. It's one of the biggest beaver-houses I ever saw in my life.
You'll find beaver sign all around this lake, but I suppose they
caught the last one--maybe old Swift could tell who got him, or some
of his Indian friends. So all we'll use the old beaver-house for is as
a kind of pier to stand on while we fish--the trees come so close to
the lake that it is hard to get a back-cast here."
"Well," said Jesse, "over there to the end of the lake is a sort of
point that runs out in--where it is rocky, with little trees and
grass."
"A splendid place to fish, too," said his uncle. "Now if you and John
want to go around there, Rob and I will stay here and try it. But
you'll have to be careful in crossing that marsh at the head of the
lake. That's a beaver marsh--and just to show you how old our trail
is that I was mentioning, you will probably find the marsh was made
later than the trail was. But you can follow it along the edge of the
lake for quite a ways. It's all full of bogs and beaver-dams farther
up the valley, beyond the lake."
"Come on, Jess," said John, "and we'll go over there where we can get
out a good long line."
These boys were all of them fearless, from their outdoor training in
their Alaskan home, so without hesitation the two younger members of
the party started out alone and presently, after some running and
splashing across the wet marsh, they reached the rocky point which
they had mentioned.
"My, but this is a pretty lake!" said Jesse, standing for a time
admiring the beautiful sheet of water that lay before them.
"It certainly is all alone," said John. "I saw a trail back in there
which I'll bet was made by caribou. And there's beaver in here yet,
I'm sure."
"Yes, and trout," exclaimed Jesse. "Look at that fellow rise! We'll
get some sure. What fly are you going to use, John?"
"Let's try the Coachman--I've noticed that in the mountains trout
nearly always run at something white, and the white wings look as good
as anything to me."
"All right," said Jesse, and soon they were both casting as far as
they could from the shore.
"Out there is a sort of reef or rocks," said John; "I'll bet there's
fish there. Now if I could--Aha!" he cried. "Got him! No!" he
exclaimed, a minute later. "There's two!"
As a matter of fact, John was a good caster for one of his age, and he
had laid out thirty or forty feet of line when there came a silvery
flash from below, followed by a second one, as two fine trout fastened
at his two flies.
"I can hardly hold them, Jess," said he, "but my! don't they look fine
down in that clear water? Rainbows, both of them, and about a pound
each, I think."
It was some time before John could control his two hard-fighting fish;
but after a time, with Jesse assisting, he got them out on the hard
gravel beach.
"Now you try out there, Jess," said he. "Cast out there where the
bottom looks black--that's where they lie."
"All right," said Jesse; and, to be sure, he had fished but a few
moments before a splash and a tug told him that he too had hooked a
fine trout.
"This is great, John, isn't it?" exclaimed he. "And how they do fight!
We never had any trout up in Alaska that fought this hard. Even the
salmon we caught on Kadiak Island didn't pull much harder."
When finally they had landed Jesse's trout they stood at the beach
and, holding up their prizes, gave a shout, which was answered by Rob
from the other side of the lake. He also held up something in his hand
which was white and glistening.
"They're having good luck, too," said he. "Well, now let's settle down
and get a mess of trout, for I am like Moise, tired of eating bacon
all the time."
They did settle down, and, each finding a good casting-place on the
rocky point, they so skilfully plied their rods that in a short time
they had a dozen fine trout between them. As their companions seemed
to have stopped fishing by this time, they also reeled up their lines
and started back across the marsh.
"Pretty good luck, eh?" said Uncle Dick, as they admiringly held up
their string of fish. "Well, Rob and I have got about as many here."
"Didn't they fight hard, though?" asked Rob. "I never saw fish of
their size make such trouble."
"The water is very cold," said Uncle Dick, "and that makes the fish
very firm and active. I don't know just what they eat, but I suppose
there must be some little minnows in the lake. Then there are some
insects on warm days; and perhaps they get some kind of ground feed
once in a while."
"They're all rainbows, aren't they?" said Rob. "As near as I can tell,
they look like the rainbows on the Pacific slope. How did they get
over here?"
"How did they get into any of the streams in the United States east of
the Rocky summit?" asked Uncle Dick. "Nobody can answer that. Of
course, all the rainbows in the Eastern states are planted there. But
when you get up on the marsh of the Yellowhead Pass, where the water
doesn't know which way to run, you will wonder if sometime in the past
the Pacific trout didn't swim into Atlantic waters--just as they are
said to have done at the Two-Ocean Pass, south of the Yellowstone
Park. Nature has her own way of doing things, and, as she has had
plenty of time, we don't always know just how she did some things."
"I wonder," said Jesse, as he looked around him at the great
mountains, "if these old mountains ever have a good time off by
themselves in here. They're awfully old, aren't they?"
"I'm awfully hungry," said John. "Let's go on back to camp."
Uncle Dick smiled and led the way into the thick underbrush once more.
They had a stiff climb before they reached the summit of their ridge
where the timber broke away and gave them once more their splendid
view out over the Miette valley and the mountains beyond. They ran
rapidly down this fair slope and soon were in camp, where Moise
greeted them with much joy.
"By gar!" said he, "those boy, she'll get feesh, eh? What I tole you,
Monsieur Deek?"
The day was yet young, but at the earnest request of his young
companions Uncle Dick consented to rest one day and allow the horses
to graze, as he had promised. Therefore the boys had plenty of time
that afternoon to prowl around in the neighborhood of the camp: and
that night Moise, having also had abundant time to prepare his supper,
offered them boiled trout, fried trout, and griddled trout, until even
John at least was obliged to cry "Enough."
XI
THE PASS
It seemed to our Young Alaskans that Uncle Dick was nothing if not a
hard taskmaster on the trail, for before the sun was up he was calling
them out of their tents.
"Come now," he warned them; "get out of those blankets at once! You've
had a good day's fishing, and now we'll have to make a good day's
travel to pay up for it."
Tired from their tramp of the day before, they all groaned
protestingly; but Moise also called out from his fireside, "Hello,
young mans! Suppose you'll got up and eat some more trout, eh?"
"I certainly am hungry," said John, and in their laughter at John's
unfailing appetite Rob and Jesse found themselves awake.
"Well, get out and get the horses, young men," said Uncle Dick,
relentlessly, "and then back to breakfast while I make up the packs.
You see those three peaks on ahead? Well, we've got to get on the
other side of them just as soon as we can. We can't afford to lose a
minute at this time of the year, for the fords will be bad enough even
as they are."
When at length their little pack-train began its slow course up the
valley of the Miette all the boys turned and looked behind them to say
good-by to the great valley of the Athabasca, which had served them as
a highway for so long. The excitement of their new adventures,
however, kept them keyed up, and certainly the dangers of the trail
were not inconsiderable.
The old pass of the traders now swung away from the river, now crossed
high ridges, only to drop again into boggy creek-bottoms and side-hill
muskeg. Several times they had to ford the Miette, no easy thing, and
at other times small streams which came down from the mountains at the
right also had to be crossed. The three white peaks ahead still served
as landmarks, but it was not until the second day that they reached
the flat prairie through which the Miette River now wandered, broken
into many little channels. Even here they found the going very soft
and difficult, now impeded by down timber, or again by a rushing
torrent where the ford had to be selected with the utmost care. John
and Jesse were tired by the end of their second day of this hard
travel; and even Rob, muddy to his knees from wading bogs, was glad
when at last their leader halted.
"It's all right, boys," said Uncle Dick. "I don't want to drive you
too hard, but I know perfectly well that every day counts with us now.
We've got bad country on ahead as well as bad country behind us, and
we must make it through before the spring floods are on. I suppose
you've noticed that all the creeks are worse late in the afternoon?
But I've waited at some of these little streams four and five days
without being able to ford at all."
They pushed on up through the open prairie-like country which now lay
on about them, continually a panorama of mountains unfolding before
them, all strange to them. An angle of the trail seemed to shut off
all the valley of the Miette from them, so that they seemed in a
different world.
"When will we get to the summit, Uncle Dick?" inquired Rob, after a
time, as they halted at the edge of a wide green valley in whose deep
grass for a time no running stream could be seen.
Uncle Dick smiled. "We're at the summit now, you might say," said he.
"I knew you couldn't tell when we got there."
"This isn't like the Peace River Pass at all," said Rob; "it doesn't
look like a pass at all, but more like a flat prairie country."