alongside the leader's horse. They all sat in the rain, dripping like
so many drowned rats.
"Well," said Uncle Dick, "this is pretty bad, isn't it? It seems to me
that we had better use all the daylight we can to-day, for we're wet
as we can get anyway. There are no bad streams now, but the trail is
awful of itself--side-hills and _brule_, and in and out of the water
all along the lake side. But we've got to pass it some time. Suppose
we make the best of a bad bargain, and see if we can get to the lower
end of the lake to-day?"
The boys all agreed to this, and so the party pushed on, but they
found later that the prediction of their leader was quite true, for
none of them had ever seen so fearful a trail as that along the north
shore of Moose Lake. But even as it grew darker in the deep valley at
last they broke through the farther edge of the heaviest timber,
picked their way through a wide strip of _brule_, crossed the last
dangerous face of rock side, and emerged into an open area where some
sort of camp at last was possible. Here they dismounted, all ready to
agree that this was the worst day any of them had ever seen on the
trail.
"Well," said Uncle Dick, chuckling, "I pushed pretty hard to-day, but
I had to make up for that lost day we spent hunting goats. To tell the
truth, I didn't think we could get this far on to-day, and so I just
count we're even on the goat-hunt. Besides, we are now past the worst
part of our troubles. To-morrow I promise you something worth all the
hard work we've undergone."
"What's that?" demanded Jesse. "Some more hunting?"
"Certainly not. You've another guess, Jesse. Something better than
that."
"You don't mean sheep or grizzly?"
"Something bigger than grizzly, even."
"That," said Rob, "must be a mountain."
"Quite right. I'm going to show you the greatest mountain in all the
Canadian Rockies, and one of the greatest mountains on this continent.
It isn't known very much to-day, but soon Mount Robson will be one of
the show-places of this whole country. The Indians have always called
it the biggest of all these mountains, time out of mind."
"What time shall we see it?" inquired Rob.
"That depends a great deal. It'll be about fourteen miles down the
trail to the Grand Fork Valley. Looking right up that, we'll be
staring into the face of old Robson. I only hope the rain will be done
by that time, so that the sun will shine and give us a fair view. It's
very rarely that one ever sees Mount Robson clear to the top. But
sufficient for to-day are the evils, I presume. Let's see if we can
make ourselves comfortable in camp to-night."
"One thing," said John, that night, "this horse business isn't going
to last forever. I hope the Canoe River isn't as bad as the Fraser,
for I'm getting ready to get into a boat once more. I've changed my
mind a little."
"I wonder where the Canoe River got its name, Uncle Dick?" queried
Rob.
"That I cannot tell you. There are some canoes on the Fraser which
came up from the Pacific way, and there are some canoe birches in
these woods, this side of the summit. Now, whether some of the old
traders one day made a birch-bark canoe and ran that stream I can't
tell. But that is the name given to it by the traders, and I suppose
they got it from the earlier traders who crossed this country.
"John," he added, "this is a hard place for you to bring up your map.
I'll excuse you from your map-making until we have a drier camp than
this."
XV
THE GREAT MOUNTAIN
Happily on the next day the weather relented and the sun greeted them
when they were ready for their breakfast, although all the trees were
dripping wet. Uncle Dick was very much rejoiced.
"We'll see Robson to-day if this sun holds," said he. "Let's hurry
on."
"There you go!" grumbled John. "Uncle Dick, you always are finding one
reason or other for being in a hurry."
"Well, everything in here is in a hurry," was his uncle's answer. "All
the water's in a hurry, and all the engineers are in a hurry. But,
speaking of that, you may notice that below the lake here the slopes
are not quite so steep. The river is getting wider. By and by it will
be so tame that you really can run a boat on it. The Tete Jaune Cache
was what you might call the head of water transportation on the west
side--as far as the canoes dared attempt the Fraser going east. From
the Tete Jaune Cache it is possible to make a canoe journey up and
down the river between that point and Fort George, although every time
one makes the journey he takes his own chances."
"Is the Canoe River a very bad river, then?" demanded John.
"Well, as to that, she's jammed and drifted and overhung and fast, but
not so bad as the Peace River was in many places," replied Uncle Dick.
"I don't think we need have much anxiety as to that part of our
journey. At least, we'll not worry about it yet, for worrying doesn't
get anybody anything. I only hope that Mount Robson will not put on
his cap until we get down to the lower end of the Grand Fork Valley."
They found their trail now as it had been described, less dangerous.
Indeed, there was but one risky crossing, that of a rock slide which
ran down sheer to the river-bank, where a misstep might have been
fatal. They kept steadily on until at length they opened up the wide
valley of the Grand Fork, a tributary which comes down from the great
peaks which surround the noble mountain known as Robson.
When at last the full view up this valley unfolded before them they
pulled up and paused, not saying a word. It was a wonderful sight that
lay before them, one of the most wonderful in all the great Rockies.
On every hand ran frowning slopes crowned with dark forest growth,
flanked here and there by the yet darker shadows of the passing
clouds. But towering above all, and dwarfing all rivalry, there stood
before them one great, noble, white-topped peak, unshaded by any
clouds. As the boys gazed at it instinctively they took off their
caps.
"That's Robson!" said Uncle Dick, smiling. "Any way you look at it
it's big. Here you see a sheer wall of bare rock, thousands of feet.
The approach is steep as the roof of a house, as you can see. All over
it in every little valley there are glaciers. Any way you approach it
it's hard going when you try to climb old Robson--_'Yuh-hai-has-kun_,'
the Indians called it, 'the mountain with the stairs.' But when they
tried to climb it they never could quite find the stairs. So far no
one has made the ascent.[1]
[Footnote 1: At the time of this journey the Kinney ascension of Mount
Robson had not yet been made.--THE AUTHOR.]
[Illustration: TOWERING ABOVE ALL, AND DWARFING ALL RIVALRY, THERE
STOOD BEFORE THEM ONE GREAT NOBLE WHITE-TOPPED PEAK--MT. ROBSON]
"Many a man has heard of this mountain," continued Uncle Dick, "and a
good many have tried to climb it. One party spent all the season
trying to get behind it and find a way up. But Robson doesn't seem to
have any blind side."
"Why can't we try it?" said Rob, enthusiastically.
"Some day, perhaps," smiled Uncle Dick, "but hardly now, as short of
grub as we are, and as short of time as well. Mountain climbing is a
business of itself, and you need a complete equipment. It would take a
year, two years, or three to climb Robson, very likely. So with two or
three days at our disposal I'll have to ask to be excused from the
attempt; let us take on something easier for an order.
"Now," he added, "about all we can do is to take off our hats to the
old peak and say good morning as we pass."
"And thank you very much, Sir Mountain," said Jesse, gravely, his
young face serious as he looked toward the peak, "because you let us
see clear all up to the top."
"It mightn't happen once in months," said Uncle Dick. "I've passed
here several times, and I've never had as fine a view as we have
right now. She's thirteen thousand seven hundred feet, our
triangulations made it. That's something of a mountain, to be hid
back in here all by itself, isn't it?
"Up at the foot of the mountain," he continued, "there's a fine lake,
as lovely as Lake Louise down in the lower Rockies. I do wish we had
time to go up in there, for the lake is worth seeing. Some day it will
be famous, and visited by thousands. At least we can see the edge of
it from where we are, and lucky you are to have so early a look, I can
assure you.
"Well, we'll be going on," said he, presently, as he gathered up his
reins. "We can't take the time now for fifteen miles of the sort of
travel that lies between here and the foot of the mountain. At least
we've seen Robson, full front and clear all the way to the summit--a
most unusual sight. You may always remember now that you saw this
mountain before it became common."
They forded the Grand Fork itself without much difficulty, for it was
a flat and shallow stream at this point. Passing on to the westward,
they finally encamped in a flat from which they still could see up
the valley, it being the wish of all to keep in view as long as
possible the great white summit of _Yuh-hai-has-kun_.
"To-morrow we'll say good-by to Robson," said Uncle Dick, "and we'll
camp at the Tete Jaune Cache."
XVI
AT THE TETE JAUNE CACHE
"The last day on the trail!" Such was the first word with which the
leader of our little party greeted his young friends when they rolled
out of their tents in the morning. And soon all hands were busy
adjusting the packs ready for the plucky animals which had brought
them through so far. Their breakfast was hurried as rapidly as
possible.
"Well," said Rob, "I don't know whether or not to be glad. We
certainly have had a grand trip with the pack-train, hard as it has
been sometimes. At least it's brought us here to the foot of Mount
Robson."
"Our horses will be glad enough to be done with it," said Uncle Dick.
"Down at the Cache they'll have all the grass they want and nothing to
do for all the rest of this summer--unless some of Leo's children take
to riding them too hard."
"Leo?" inquired John. "He's the Indian who's going to take us down the
Canoe River, isn't he?"
"Yes, and a good man, too, Leo. He and Moise will show us how to get
along without the horses, eh, Moise?"
That good-natured man grinned and showed his white teeth. "Sometam
she'll ron pretty fast, this river on Columbia valley?" said he.
"Well, at any rate, we turn in our horses with Leo here at the Cache
and get them the next time we come through--next year or some other
year, perhaps. A horse takes his chance of getting a permanent
residence in this part of the world. But our train has come through in
fine shape--not a sore back in the lot. That speaks well for your care
in packing, young men, and for Moise's skill in making saddles."
By this time they all had shaken down into the routine of packing the
horses in the morning, and not long after they had finished their
breakfast all was in readiness for their last march.
"_En avant!_" said Uncle Dick. "Mush! Moise, we'll lunch at the Cache
to-day."
They swung on steadily down the broadened valley whose course now
changed more to the southwest for five miles or so. The trail was much
better, and as they reached the wide eastern end of the valley, which
broadens out near the historic Tete Jaune Cache, they made rapid
progress, animated by the continually changing scene before them.
For the last five miles they were in a broad, grassy valley where many
hoofs had worn a plainly marked trail. On ahead they could see the
Fraser swinging in from its southwest bend to meet them. The courses
of many other small streams, outlined by green bushes, also could be
seen coming in from almost every direction. Farther to the west and
south lofty mountains rose, broken by caps which seemed to be of no
great altitude. The Selwyns, on the other side of the Fraser, stood
behind them, and off on the right gradually rose the high, sweeping
hills which climbed to the shoulders of Mount Robson itself. The whole
made an extraordinary landscape.
"We're in the Tete Jaune Valley," said Uncle Dick, halting at the edge
of the grassy expanse which seemed quite flat for five miles or so
ahead of them. "We're coming now to one of the most interesting points
in all the Rocky Mountains, and one of the least known. Some day,
where we are here, there will be a town, perhaps a good one. Yonder is
the original pathway of the Fraser--five hundred feet across here
already, and a great river before it gets much farther toward the
Pacific. We leave it here, so let's not give it a worse name than we
have to, for, take it all in all, it hasn't harmed us thus far.
"On across the Fraser, to the south, is the North Thompson," he
continued. "Not very much known by any except a few of our explorers.
It's rather rough-looking in there, isn't it? The Albreda Pass makes
up from the Thompson, over yonder where you see the big mountains
rising."
"Is that where we go to get to the Canoe River?" said John. "It's over
in there somewhere."
"No, the pass to the Canoe River is a wonderful thing in its way for
this high country. Look over there to the south twenty miles or so,
and you'll see Cranberry Lake. The McLennan River runs out of that to
join the Fraser right here, and that lake is just twenty-one feet
above the level of this ground where we stand! You could pole a boat
up there if you liked. Just over Cranberry Lake it's only a mile to
where the Canoe River bends in from the west. That country is just
made for a pass from the Fraser to the Columbia, and to my mind it's
quite as interesting as any of these great mountain passes. I don't
know of any divide as low as this between two waterways as great as
those of the Fraser and the Columbia. It's only two thousand five
hundred and sixty-three feet above sea-level at the summit, and, as I
said, is only twenty-one feet above the Fraser."
"We must have come down quite a way," said Rob, "since we left the
pass."
"More than a thousand feet. And in that thousand feet the Fraser has
grown from a trickle to a great river--in fifty miles downhill."
"Well, I can see," said Rob, looking about the pleasant valley which
lay before them, "that this is a good place for a town."
"Certainly," said the leader of their party. "There'll be more than
one railroad come through here across the Yellowhead Pass, very
likely, and already they are making surveys down the Fraser and
Thompson and the Canoe River. Sometime there will be a railroad down
the Big Bend of the Columbia below us, and it will have a branch up
here, as sure as we're standing here now. That will open up all this
country from the points along the Canadian Pacific. Then all these
names--the Thompson, the Fraser, and the Canoe--will be as familiar to
the traveling public as the Missouri and the Mississippi. Yet as we
stand here and look at that country it is a country as yet unknown and
unnamed! I couldn't map it, John, myself, for, although that country
south of us is one of the most interesting of the continent, it is one
of the least known. In short, that's the game country we've been
heading for, and I'll promise you a grizzly when we get south of that
flat divide."
"Well," said John, "that'll satisfy me, all right. We've had mighty
little shooting this far."
"All in good time, all in good time, John, my boy. Maybe we'll show
you as good sport as you're looking for, at least, what with rapids
and grizzly bears.
"But now we must go on and find Leo, if we can. I sent word to him
last fall for him to meet me here at the Cache this month. We'll see
what luck there is in the wilderness despatch."
They passed on rapidly along and across the sunlit valley, exulting in
a sense of freedom in getting out of the dark and gloomy mountains
into an open country where they could see all about them. Soon they
saw smoke rising above the tops of the low trees, and discovered it to
come from a number of tepees, tall and conical, built with long poles,
precisely like the tepees of the tribes east of the Rockies.
"That's the Shuswap village," said Uncle Dick. "Leo lives there with
his people. Some good canoemen and hunters in there, too. First, let's
go on down to the end of the trail. I want you to see the actual
location of the old Tete Jaune Cache."
When they pulled up at the bank of the Fraser it was on an open flat
shut in by low pines and poplars. They could see no building at all;
only a few poles and tent-stakes littered the ground.
"This is the Cache," said Uncle Dick.
"It isn't so much of a place as I expected," said John. "Weren't
there any houses here?"
"Over there, no doubt, were some log buildings once upon a time," said
Uncle Dick. "No doubt the old trappers built their cache well and
strong, for plenty of good furs came through here--marten and ermine
and beaver and otter--for the ladies of Great Britain to wear nearly a
hundred years ago. But, you see, in this climate logs rot rather
early, and the fires have run all through here, as well. So when the
traders left these old trails Nature soon claimed her own and wiped
out all traces of them. The cache has gone the way of Jasper House and
Henry House."
"What became of all of those old fellows?" inquired Rob. "We only hear
of the ones that wrote books."
"They are gone and forgotten," said Uncle Dick. "No one knows even
where old Tete Jaune himself--whether he was Iroquois or Swede or
plain Injun--lies buried to-day. There is no record of where he laid
his bones to rest. He was a brave man, whoever he was, and he lived in
a great age of adventure. Think of what he must have seen, spending
all his life in a country like this!
"But each to his own day, I suppose. Here we are at the end of our
trail. We'll have to cross the Fraser. I must see Leo, and learn what
he has done about the boats--I've told him to build a couple of good
big boats--bateaux--to take us down the Canoe River over yonder.
"Here, you see, we leave the trail," he continued. "Yonder is the
Fraser trail down to Fort George. Once at Fort George, you know, you
can take an automobile down the old Ashcroft trail to the Canadian
Pacific."
"Automobile! What do you know about that!" exclaimed Jesse. "I didn't
know we were within a thousand miles of one."
"Yes, within two hundred miles. It doesn't look much like it, does it?
You see, we're living in rather a wonderful age. This country which
looks so wild will not be wild very much longer. That's the only
reason I've allowed you to take so dangerous a journey as this, this
spring, with me. Before long all these things will be common. People
will come out here on the cars by thousands, and complain about the
sleepers and the dining-car, when they are crossing the Rocky
Mountains, very likely. One day they'll have horseback trails through
here, as they do around Banff, and I suppose even old Mount Robson
will get more or less common one time or another. But at least we've
seen this country before those things happened.
"This is all there is to the old Cache. It's mostly a memory, but
history has written it down as one of the important places in the
Rockies. John, you must bring your map up to date here, at the Tete
Jaune Cache. And here your trail bends to the south, for now we're
going to follow the Columbia, and not the Fraser, after this, although
my railroad goes on down the Fraser.
"We'll ride over now to the village and see if we can find Leo," he
concluded, as he turned his horse back and started off in the
direction of the tepees.
XVII
LEO THE GRIZZLY-HUNTER
As our party of adventurers approached the Shuswap village, a little
bit removed from the bank of the Fraser, they were greeted with a
chorus of barking dogs. A number of children who had been playing in
the grass fled in fright into the tepees, from the doors of which,
none the less, presently appeared many heads alike of young and old.
As the horsemen pulled up in front of the central tepee there came out
to meet them a slight but hardy figure, not very tall, but erect and
strong, dressed in ordinary western garb, and a wide hat such as is
common in that part of the country. His face was dark, and his hair,
worn long, was braided, and fell to his shoulders on his neck. Grave
and unsmiling like most of his people, none the less his eyes wrinkled
a little bit about the corners as now he recognized the leader of the
band of horsemen. Advancing, he extended his hand to Uncle Dick and
greeted him very pleasantly.
"How-do," said he.
The party now dismounted, and their leader turned to his young
companions. "This," said he, "is Leo Tennes, the man I told you would
be our guide down the Canoe River. When I tell you that he has run the
Big Bend of the Columbia more than once I have said all there is to
say about his fitness."
He now introduced each of his young comrades in turn to Leo, who shook
hands with them gravely and with dignity, but looking at them keenly
meantime. He was evidently surprised at their youth, and perhaps none
too well pleased, although obliged to admit to himself that these boys
already had undergone many hardships to get this far on their journey.
Moise himself, usually light-hearted and talkative, now became silent
and dignified also as he and Leo stood looking at each other. They
shook hands, and each spoke to the other in his own tongue. Then both
laughed.
"Me Shuswap!" said Leo.
"Cree!" rejoined Moise--"North Cree, me."
Then, to the surprise and interest of the others, these two, unable
to converse in any common tongue except English, which neither seemed
to fancy at the time, began to employ the singular sign language of
the savage tribes, more or less universally known throughout the
American continent. Moise put his two forefingers together parallel to
show that he and Leo were friends. He pointed back across the
mountains, and, placing his head on his hands and raising his fingers
several times, signified that he had come, so many sleeps, to this
place. He said they had come horseback--straddling his left forefinger
with two fingers on his right hand. Then smilingly he pointed to the
boys and to his own heart, and made a motion as though trying to break
a stout stick, thus saying to Leo that their hearts were strong.
Leo stood looking at him unsmiling, and when he had finished threw out
his right hand in front of him, palm down, by which he said: "That is
all right. It is good. I am satisfied."
"Oh, pshaw! Moise," said Uncle Dick, laughing, "you and Leo can both
talk English a great deal better than you let on. I'll say, Leo, that
our man Moise is as good in a boat as you are yourself, so you need
not be uneasy. As for the rest of us, we'll undertake to keep up our
end. When will you be ready to start?"
"Maybe-so to-night, maybe-so to-morrow," said Leo.
"And can you take care of our horses for us as I wrote you last fall?"
"Yes. Horse all right here. You get 'um next year all right."
"Very well," said Uncle Dick. "We'll just unpack and turn them over
right here."
The boys were very regretful at saying good-by to their faithful
animals, especially the saddle-ponies which had carried them safely so
far. They stood looking at them rather ruefully.
"Never mind," said Uncle Dick. "Leo has got some hay for them, and
they will winter well here. I'll warrant you they'll be very glad to
trade the trail for this pleasant valley here, where they can live in
idleness and get fat for a year.
"Now, about the boat, Leo," he resumed.
"All right. Got two boats," said Leo. "I make 'um." And he led the way
to an open spot in the bushes where there stood two newly completed
boats, flat-bottomed and double-ended, with high sides, the material
all made of whip-sawed lumber gotten out by Leo and his people.
Uncle Dick walked up to the boats and looked them over carefully.
"Pretty heavy, Leo," said he, "but they'll do to run downhill all the
way."
"She's good boat," said Leo. "Need 'um strong."
"Yes, about twenty-two feet long each one--that will carry us and our
supplies nicely. You and your man will take one boat, and Moise and I
the other. I think I'll put the boys in our boat. What man are you
going to get to go with you, Leo?"
"My cousin George; he's good man. We make hunt last spring down the
Canoe River."
"What were you after?"
"After grizzlum bear."
"Did you get one?"
"No, not get one."
"Not one? And I thought that was a good bear country!"
"Not get _one_," said Leo. "Get sixteen."
"Sixteen! That's something different. That looks as though we might
expect some bears ourselves this spring."
"All right, plenty grizzlum. Maybe-so forty, fifty mile."
"What does he think about the running on the Canoe River, Uncle Dick?"
inquired Rob. "Is it going to be bad water?"