thinking all the time we'd have to run the whole fifty miles to
Revelstoke."
Uncle Dick laughed. "Leo believes in saving labor even in talking,"
said he, "but I am not complaining, for he has brought us this far in
safety. I'm willing to say he's as good a boatman as I ever saw, and
more careful than I feared he would be. Most of these Indians are too
lazy to line down, and will take all sorts of chances to save a little
work. But I must say Leo has been careful. It has been very rarely
we've even shipped a little bit of water."
"One thing," said John, "we haven't got much left to get wet, so far
as grub's concerned. I'm pretty near ready to go out hunting
porcupines or gophers, for flour and tea and a little bacon rind leave
a fellow rather hungry. But I'm mighty glad, Uncle Dick, that you came
through that rapid all right with the boats and found us all right
afterward. Suppose we had got separated up there in some way and you
had gone by us, thinking that we were lower down--what would you have
done in that case--suppose we had all the grub?"
"Oh, I don't know," replied his uncle, "but I fancy we'd have got
through somehow. Men have done that in harder circumstances. Think of
those chaps Milton and Cheadle we were talking of the other night;
they were in worse shape than we were, for they had no idea where they
were or how far it was to safety, or how they were to get there, and
they had no guide who had ever been across the country. Now, although
we have been in a dangerous country for some days, we know perfectly
where we are and how far it is to a settlement. The trail out is
plain, or at least the direction is plain."
"Well, I'm glad we didn't have to try to get out alone, just the
same."
"And so am I, but I believe that even if you had been left alone you'd
have made it out some way. You had a rifle, and, although game is not
plentiful in the heavy forest, you very likely would have found a
porcupine now and then--that is to say, a porcupine would very likely
have found you, for they are very apt to prowl about the camp almost
anywhere in this country. You wouldn't even have been obliged to make
a noise like a porcupine if you had used anything greasy around your
cooking or left any scraps where they could get at them. Or you might
even have tried eating a little pine bark, the way the porcupines do.
Again, in almost any clearing this far down to the south you might
have run across some of these gophers which you have seen on the
grassy banks lately. Not that I would care to eat gopher myself, for
they look like prairie-dog, and I never did like prairie-dog to eat.
Besides, they tell bad stories about these mountain gophers; I've
heard that the spotted fever of the mountains, a very deadly disease,
is only found in a gopher country; so I'm very glad you did not have
to resort to that sort of diet."
"We might get some goats back there in the mountains if we had to,"
said Rob, "but goat hunting is hard work, and I don't suppose a fellow
would last long at it on light diet."
"Well, I wish we had one or two of those kids that we left up on the
mountain at Yellowhead Lake," said John. "Moise says a goat kid is
just as good to eat as any kind of meat. And any kind of meat would
be better than bacon rind to chew on."
"Never mind, John," said Rob; "we could go two days without anything
to eat if we had to, and in two days, at least, we'll be where you can
get as square a meal as you like. Maybe even to-day we'll land where
we can get supplies, although Leo doesn't seem to tell us very much
about things on ahead."
Leo and his silent but hard-working cousin George now came down to the
waterside and signified that it was time to start off, as by this time
the sun had cleared the mists from the river. As the light
strengthened, they could see that the river had lost something of its
deep blue or green color and taken on a tawny hue, which spoke all too
plainly of the flood-waters coming down from the snow-fields through
the many creeks they had passed on both sides of the river.
[Illustration: ON THE COLUMBIA RIVER]
It took but a few moments now for them to embark, and soon they were
plying their paddles once more and passing swiftly down the great
river. Although they knew Leo was not very loquacious, and so not apt
to say much of dangers on ahead, the general feeling of all the
others was that the worst of their route had been traversed and that
now they were in close touch with civilization.
They were moving along steadily in the bright, warm sunlight, and John
and Rob were assisting with paddles on each side of the boat, when all
at once they saw the lead-boat leave the center of the channel and
shoot to the left toward a high bluff, which, they could see, was
surmounted by several buildings.
"What's the matter?" said Jesse. "Rapids on ahead?"
"No," said Uncle Dick, "not rapids, but houses and barns! This must be
the Boyd farm, and, if so, we're very likely done with our boating.
Heave ho, then, my hearties, and let's see how fast we can paddle!"
They pulled up presently at the foot of the bluff, where Leo and
George lay waiting for them.
"Hallo, Leo! What place is this?" called Jesse.
"This Sam Boyd farm. Steamboat come here--not go more higher,"
answered Leo. He steadied the bow of the _Bronco_ as they swung in,
and soon all were standing on the shore.
"Plenty house here, plenty farm--trail up there, all way to
Revelstruck," said Leo.
The boys looked at their boat and at the river, and then gazed up the
bank, at the summit of which, as they now learned, lay what might be
called the skirmish-line of civilization, the point which practically
ended their adventures. A feeling of regret and disappointment came
over them all, which was reflected in their countenances as they
turned toward their leader.
"I know how you feel, boys," said their uncle, "for I never want to
leave the woods myself. But we'll go up and have a look over things,
and find out maybe more than Leo has told us about our plans."
XXIX
STORIES OF THE COLUMBIA
When they had climbed to the top of the highest bank they saw before
them a clearing of over two hundred acres, a part of which had been
made into a hay-field. Immediately in front of them was a yard full of
beautiful flowers, kept as well as any flower-garden in the cities. To
the left lay a series of barns and sheds, and near by was a
vegetable-garden in which small green things already were beginning to
show.
"Well, what do you know about this?" demanded John. "It looks as
though we certainly had got to where people live at last. This is the
finest place we've seen in many a day, and I'll bet we can get
something to eat here, too."
Leo raised a shout, which presently brought out of the house a man who
proved to be the caretaker of the place, a well-seasoned outdoor
character by name of O'Brien. He advanced now and made them welcome.
"Come in, come in," said he, "and tell me who ye may be and where ye
come from? Is it you, Leo? I thought you were at the Cache, far
above."
"We all were there a few days ago," replied the leader of the party.
"We engaged Leo to bring us down the Canoe and the Columbia, and out
to Revelstoke--we've crossed the mountains at the Yellowhead Pass,
coming west from Edmonton by pack-train."
"Ye're jokin', man!" rejoined O'Brien. "Shure, ye'll not be tellin' me
those boys came all that way?"
"Him did," said Leo, with almost his first word of praise. "Boys all
right. Kill 'um grizzlum. Not scare' of rapid."
They went on now to explain to O'Brien more details of their journey
and its more exciting incidents, including the hunt for the grizzlies
and the still more dangerous experiences on the rapids. O'Brien
listened with considerable amazement.
"But I know Leo," he added, "and he'll go annywheres in a boat. 'Tis
not the first time he's run this river, bad cess to her! But come in
the house now, and I'll be gettin' ye something to eat, for belike
ye're hungry."
"We are frankly and thoroughly hungry," said Uncle Dick, "especially
John here, who is hungry most of the time. We've reached your place
just as our grub was about gone. Can we stock up with you a little
bit, O'Brien?"
"Shure, if ye need to. But why not take passage on the steamer--she's
due this afternoon at three o'clock, and she's goin' down to-morrow.
Ye see, we run a wood-yard here, for the steamboat company owns this
farm now, and I'm takin' care of it for them."
"What do you say, boys?" asked their leader. "Shall we make it on
down? Or shall we take to the steamer and leave our boats here?"
"Better take to the steamboat," said O'Brien. "True, ye could get down
mayhap to the head of Revelstoke Canyon all right, but then ye'd have
to walk in about five miles annyway. The steamer can't run the canyon
herself, for that matter, and no boat should try it at this stage, nor
anny other stage, fer all that. She's a murderer, this old river,
that's what she is."
Leo and Moise now helped O'Brien with his preparation of the meal, so
that in a little time they were all sitting on real chairs and at a
real table, with a real oil-cloth cover--the first of such things they
had seen for many a day. Their own tin dishes they left in their
boats, and ate from china, coarse but clean. Their meal was well
cooked and abundant, and O'Brien gave them with a certain pride some
fresh rhubarb, raised in a hotbed of his own, and also fried eggs.
"Wait a little," said he, "and I'll give ye new potatoes and all sorts
o' things. 'Tis a good farm we have here."
"But how came you to have a farm like this, up here in the Selkirks?"
inquired Rob.
"Well, you see," answered O'Brien, "there's quite a bit of gold-mining
up here, and has been more. Those camps at the gold-creeks above here
all needed supplies, and they used to pack them in--the pack-trail's
right back of our barn yonder. But Sam Boyd knew that every pound of
hay and other stuff he raised fifty miles north of Revelstoke was that
much closer to the market. This was his farm, you know--till the river
got him, as she will every one who lives along her, in time.
"Ye see, Sam was the mail-carrier here, between Revelstoke and the
camps above, and, as the trail is a horror, he mostly went by boat.
His partner was Tom Horn, a good riverman too, and the two of them in
their canoe went up and down together manny a trip. 'Twas a careful
man he was, too, Sam, and no coward. But one time, to save them a
little walk, I suppose, they concluded to run the Revelstoke Canyon.
Well, they never got through, and what became of them no one knows,
except that their boat came through in bits. Ye're lucky this fellow
Leo didn't want to run ye all through there, with the fine big boats
ye've got below. But at least Sam and Tom never made it through.
"Well, the old river got them, as she has so manny. Sam's widow lived
on here fer a time, then went to town and died there, and the company
took the farm. They have a Chink to keep Mrs. Boyd's flower-garden
going the way she did before, for the boys all liked it in the mines.
And back in the woods is a whole bunch of Chinks, wood-cutters that
supplies the boats. When my Chink is done his gardenin' I make him hoe
my vegetables fer me.
"So ye're grizzly-hunters, are ye, all of ye?" continued O'Brien. "And
not afraid to take yer own life in your hands? 'Tis well, and anny
man must learn that who goes into the wilds. But manny a tale I could
tell ye of bould and brave men who've not been able to beat this old
river here. Take yon canyon above Revelstoke, fer instance. She'd be
but a graveyard, if the tale was told. One time six men started
through in a big bateau, and all were lost but one, and he never knew
how he got through at all. Once they say a raft full of Chinamen
started down, and all were swept off and drowned but one. He hung to a
rope, and was swept through somehow, but when they found him he was so
bad scared he could not say a word. He hit the ties afoot, goin' west
and shakin' his head, and maybe bound for China. No man could ever get
him to spake again!
"Now do ye mind the big rapids up there they call the Death Rapids,
above the Priest--I'm thinkin' ye lined through there, or ye wouldn't
be here at the table now, much as I know how Leo hates to line a
boat."
"We certainly did line," said Uncle Dick, "and were glad to get
through at that. We lost almost a day there getting down."
"Lucky ye lost no more, fer manny a man has lost his all at that very
spot. Once a party of fourteen started down, in good boats, too, and
only one man got out alive. Some say sixty men have been drowned in
that one rapid; some say a hundred and sixty-five, counting in the
Chinamen and Frenchmen who were drowned in the big stampede the time
so manny started down to the diggings on rafts. Ye see, they'd shoot
right around the head of the bend without sendin' a man ahead to
prospect the water, and then when they saw the rapids, 'twas too late
to get to either side. 'Tis a death trap she is there, and well named.
"Wan time a Swede was spilled out on the Death Rapids, and somehow he
came through alive. He swam for two miles below there before they
could catch him with a boat, and he'd been swimming yet if they hadn't
caught him, he was that scared, and if they hadn't hit him on the head
with a oar. 'Twas entirely crazy he was.
"Mayhap ye remember the cabin on the west side, where they're
sluicing--that's Joe Howard's cabin. Well, Howard, like everywan else
on the river, finds it easiest to get in and out by boat. Wan time he
and his mate were lining down a boat not far from shore when she
broke away. Howard jumped on a rock, but 'twas so far out he dared not
try to swim ashore, fer the current set strong. The other man grabbed
the boat and got through the edge of the rapids somehow, but 'twas
half a mile below before he got ashore. Then he cuddn't get the boat
up again to where Howard was, and 'twas two or three hours of
figgerin' he did before Howard dared take the plunge and try to catch
the pole which his mate reached out to him. 'Twas well-nigh crazy he
was--a man nearly always goes crazy when he's left out on a rock in
the fast water that way.
"The Priest Rapids is another murderer, and I'll not say how many have
perished there. You tell me that your boats ran it at this stage of
water? 'Twas wonderful, then, that's all. Men have come through, 'tis
true, and tenderfeet at that, and duffers, at that. Two were once cast
in the Priest, and only one got through, and he could not swim a
stroke! They say that sixty miners were lost in that rapid in one
year.
"To be sure, maybe these are large tales, for such matters grow, most
like, as the years go by, but ye've seen the river yerselves, and ye
know what the risk is. Take a band of miners, foolhardy men, and
disgust them with tryin' to get out of this country afoot--and 'tis
awful going on foot through here--and a raft is the first thing they
think of--'tis always a tenderfoot's first idea. There's nothing so
hard to handle as a raft. Now here they come, singin' and shoutin',
and swing around the bend before they see the Death Rapids, or the
Priest, we'll say. They run till the first cellar-door wave rolls back
on them and the raft plunges her nose in. Then the raft goes down, and
the men are swept off, and there's no swimming in the Columbia for
most men. There's not annything left then fer anny man to do except
the priest--and belike that's why they call it the Priest Rapids."
"I've often wondered," said Rob, "when we were coming down that
stream, whether some of those Alaska Indians with their big sea-canoes
could not run this river--they're splendid boats for rough water, and
they go out in almost any weather."
"And where'll ye be meanin', my boy?" asked O'Brien.
"Along the upper Alaska coast. You see, we live at Valdez."
"Alaska? Do ye hear that now! And that's the place I've been wanting
to see all me life! They tell me 'tis foine up there, and plenty of
gold, too. But tell me, why do ye come down to this country from so
good a place as Alaska?"
"Well, we were just traveling about, you know," said Rob, "and we
wanted to see some of this country along the Rockies before it got too
common and settled up. You see, this isn't our first trip across the
Rockies; we ran the Peace River from the summit down last summer, and
had a bully time. The fact is, every trip we take seems to us better
than any of the others. You must come up some time and see us in
Alaska."
"It's that same I'll be doin', ye may depend," said O'Brien, "the
first chance I get. 'Tis weary I get here, all by myself, with no one
to talk to, and no sport but swearin' at a lot of pig-tailed Chinks,
and not time to go grizzly-huntin' even--though they do tell me
there's fine grizzly-huntin' twelve miles back, in the Standard Basin.
So 'tis here I sit, and watch that mountain yonder that they've named
for pore Sam Boyd--Boyd's Peak, they call it, and 'tis much like old
Assiniboine she looks, isn't it? Just that I be doin' day by day, and
all the time be wantin' to see Alaska. And now here comes me friend
Leo from the Cache, and brings a lot of Alaskans ye'd be expectin'
annywhere else but here or there! 'Tis fine byes ye are, to come so
far, and I'll be hopin' to meet ye in Alaska one of these fine days,
for I'm a bit of a miner myself, as most of us are up here."
"She's good boy," said Moise, who took much pride in his young
friends. "She ain't scare' go anywhere on the _riviere_ with Moise and
his oncle, or even with Leo and George. I s'pose next year she'll come
see Moise again, maybe-so."
The boys laughed and looked at Uncle Dick. "I don't know about that,"
said Rob, "but we'll be wanting to go somewhere next summer."
"That's a long time off," said their uncle.
O'Brien, after they had spent some time in this manner of
conversation, began to look at his watch. "Carlson's pretty prompt,"
said he--"that's the skipper of the _Columbia_. We'll be hearin' her
whistle before long."
"Then this about ends our trip, doesn't it, Uncle Dick?" said John
once more; and his uncle nodded.
"I'm going to give O'Brien one of the boats," said he, "and I'll let
the title to the other and the cook outfit rest in Leo and
George--they may be coming through here again one way or the other
some day. As for us, we've been lucky, and I think we would better
wait here a day rather than go on with our boats."
They passed out into the bright sunlight to look about at the fine
mountain prospect which stretched before them from the top of the
bluff. They had not long to wait before they heard the boom of the
steamboat's whistle, and soon the _Columbia_, thrust forward by her
powerful engines, could be seen bucking the flood of the Columbia and
slowly churning her way up-stream. She landed opposite the wood-chute
of the wood-yard, where a crowd of jabbering Chinamen gathered. Soon
our party walked in that direction also, and so became acquainted with
Carlson, the skipper of the boat, who agreed to take them down to
Revelstoke the following day.
XXX
THE END OF THE TRAIL
Although O'Brien offered them beds in his house, and Carlson bunks on
board the _Columbia_, Rob, John, and Jesse all preferred to sleep
out-of-doors as long as they could, and so made their beds on the
grass-plot at the top of the bluff, not putting up any tent, as the
mosquitoes here were not bad. They were rather tired; and, feeling
that their trip was practically over, with little excitement
remaining, they slept soundly and did not awake until the sun was
shining in their faces.
"Come on, fellows," said Jesse, kicking off his blankets. "I suppose
now we'll have to get used to washing in a real wash-basin and using a
real towel. Somehow I feel more sorry than happy, even if it was
rather rough work coming down the river."
This seemed to be the feeling of both the others, and they were not
talkative at the breakfast-table, where O'Brien had supplied them
with a fine meal, including abundance of fresh-laid eggs from his own
farm-yard.
After breakfast they employed themselves chiefly in making themselves
as tidy as they could and in packing their few personal possessions in
shape for railway transportation. Most of their outfit, however, they
gave away to the men who were to remain behind them. Toward noon the
whistle of the steamboat announced that she was ready to take up her
down-stream trip; so the young Alaskans were obliged to say good-by to
O'Brien, in whose heart they had found a warm place.
"Good luck to ye, byes," said he, "and don't be diggin' all the gold
up in Alaska, for 'tis myself'll be seein' ye wan of these days--'tis
a foine country entirely, and I'm wishin' fer a change."
Leo and George, without any instructions, had turned in to help the
boat crew in their work of pushing off. Moise, once aboard the boat,
seemed unusually silent and thoughtful for him, until Rob rallied him
as to his sorrowful countenance.
"Well," said Moise, "you boy will all go back on Alaska now, and Moise
she's got to go home on the Peace River. I'll not been scare of the
horse or the canoe, but this steamboat and those railroad train she'll
scare Moise plenty. All the time I'm think she'll ron off the track
and bust Moise."
"You mustn't feel that way," said Rob, "for that's Uncle Dick's
business--finding places for railroads to run. That's going to be my
business too, sometime, as I told you. I think it's fine--going out
here where all those old chaps went a hundred years ago, and to see
the country about as they saw it, and to live and travel just about as
they did. Men can live in the towns if they like, but in the towns
anybody can get on who has money so he can buy things. But in the
country where we've been, money wouldn't put you through; you've got
to know how to do things, and not be afraid."
"S'pose you boys keep on," said Moise, "bime-by you make _voyageur_.
Then you come with Moise--she'll show you something!"
"Well, Moise," continued Rob, "if we don't see you many a time again
it won't be our fault, you may be sure."
"I'm just wondering," said Jesse, "how Leo and George are going to
get back up to the Tete Jaune Cache. They told us they meant to go up
the Ashcroft trail and home by way of Fort George and the Fraser River
and the 'choo-choo boat.' But that seems a long way around. I suppose
you'll come to the hotel with us, down to Revelstoke, won't you Leo?"
he added.
"No like 'um," said Leo. "My cousin and me, we live in woods till time
to take choo-choo that way to Ashcrof'."
"Well, in that case," said John, "I think we'd better give you our
mosquito-tent; you may need it more than we will, and we can get
another up from Seattle at any time."
"Tent plenty all right," said Leo. "Thank." And when John fished it
out of the pack-bag and gave it to him he turned it over to George
with a few words in his own language.
George carried it away without comment. They were all very much
surprised a little later, however, to discover him working away on the
tent with his knife, and, to their great disgust, they observed that
he was busily engaged in cutting out all the bobbinet windows and in
ripping the front of the tent open so that it was precisely like any
other tent! John was very indignant at this, but his reproof had
little effect on Leo.
"Tent plenty all right now," said he. "Let plenty air inside! Mosquito
no bite 'um Injun."
When they came to think of it this seemed so funny to them that they
rolled on the deck with laughter, but they all agreed to let Leo
arrange his own outfit after that.
They passed steadily on down between the lofty banks of the Columbia,
here a river several hundred yards in width, and more like a lake than
a stream in many of its wider bends. They could see white-topped
mountains in many different directions, and, indeed, close to them lay
one of the most wonderful mountain regions of the continent, with
localities rarely visited at that time save by hunters or travelers as
bold as themselves.
Carlson, the good-natured skipper of the _Columbia_, asked the boys
all up to the wheelhouse with him, and even allowed Rob to steer the
boat a half-mile in one of the open and easy bends. He told them about
his many adventurous trips on the great river and explained to them
the allowances it was necessary to make for the current on a bend,
the best way of getting off a bar, and the proper method of making a
landing.
"You shall make good pilot-man pratty soon," he said to Rob,
approvingly. "Not manny man come down the Colomby. That take
pilot-man, too."