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THE
YOUNG ALASKANS
ON THE TRAIL
BY
EMERSON HOUGH
AUTHOR OF
"THE YOUNG ALASKANS"
"THE STORY OF THE COWBOY"
ILLUSTRATED
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
MCMXI
BOOKS BY
EMERSON HOUGH
THE YOUNG ALASKANS. Ill'd. Post 8vo $1.25
YOUNG ALASKANS ON THE TRAIL. Ill'd. Post 8vo 1.25
HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY HARPER & BROTHERS
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
[Illustration: See page 75
AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE]
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. TAKING THE TRAIL 1
II. THE GATE OF THE MOUNTAINS 10
III. STUDYING OUT THE TRAIL 23
IV. THE GREAT DIVIDE 37
V. CROSSING THE HEIGHT OF LAND 43
VI. FOLLOWING MACKENZIE 53
VII. AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE 69
VIII. A HUNT FOR BIGHORN 83
IX. A NIGHT IN THE MOUNTAINS 102
X. HOW THE SPLIT-STONE LAKE WAS NAMED 112
XI. LESSONS IN WILD LIFE 119
XII. WILD COUNTRY AND WILDERNESS WAYS 134
XIII. THE CARIBOU HUNT 143
XIV. EXPLORING THE WILDERNESS 158
XV. IN THE BIG WATERS 168
XVI. THE GRIZZLY HUNT 181
XVII. THE YOUNG ALASKANS' "LOB-STICK" 191
XVIII. BAD LUCK WITH THE "MARY ANN" 200
XIX. NEW PLANS 207
XX. THE GORGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 217
XXI. THE PORTAGE OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS 226
XXII. EAST OF THE ROCKIES 232
XXIII. THE LAND OF PLENTY 236
XXIV. THE WHITE MAN'S COUNTRY 244
XXV. HOW THE ERMINE GOT HIS TAIL BLACK 249
XXVI. TRAILING THE BEAR 254
XVII. THE END OF THE OLD WAR-TRAIL 264
XXVIII. STEAMBOATING IN THE FAR NORTH 274
XXIX. A MOOSE HUNT 286
XXX. FARTHEST NORTH 294
XXXI. HOMEWARD BOUND 307
XXXII. LEAVING THE TRAIL 317
ILLUSTRATIONS
AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE _Frontispiece_
THE BEAR BROKE COVER WITH A SAVAGE ROAR _Facing p._ 186
MOISE AT HOME " 266
THE PORTAGE, VERMILION CHUTES, PEACE RIVER " 302
THE YOUNG ALASKANS
ON THE TRAIL
I
TAKING THE TRAIL
It was a wild and beautiful scene which lay about the little camp
in the far-off mountains of the Northwest. The sun had sunk beyond
the loftier ridges, although even now in the valley there remained
considerable light. One could have seen many miles over the
surrounding country had not, close at hand, where the little white
tent stood, the forest of spruce been very dense and green. At no
great distance beyond its edge was rough and broken country. Farther
on, to the southward, stood white-topped peaks many miles distant,
although from the camp these could not be seen.
It might have seemed a forbidding scene to any one not used to travel
among the mountains. One step aside into the bush, and one would have
fancied that no foot had ever trod here. There was no indication of
road or trail, nor any hint of a settlement. The forest stood dark,
and to-night, so motionless was the air, its silence was more complete
than is usually the case among the pines or spruces, where always the
upper branches murmur and whisper among themselves. Such scenes cause
a feeling of depression even among grown persons who first meet them;
and to-night, in this remote spot, one could not well have blamed the
three young occupants of this camp had they felt a trifle uneasy as
the twilight drew on toward darkness.
They were, it is true, not wholly new to camp life, these three
boys--Rob McIntyre, John Hardy, and Jesse Wilcox. You may perhaps call
to mind the names of these, since they are the same who, more than a
year before, were cast away for some time on the slopes of Kadiak
Island, in the far upper portion of Alaska; from which place they were
at last rescued in part by their own wits and in part by the
watchfulness of their guardian, Mr. Hardy. The latter, whom all three
boys called Uncle Dick, was a civil engineer who, as did the parents
of all the boys, lived in the coast town of Valdez, in far-off Alaska.
When Rob, John, and Jesse returned home from their dangerous
adventures on Kadiak Island, they had been told that many a day would
elapse before they would be allowed to take such chances again.
Perhaps Uncle Dick never really told the parents of the boys the full
truth about the dangers his young charges had encountered on Kadiak
Island. Had he done so they would never have been willing for the boys
to take another trip even more dangerous in many ways--the one on
which they were now starting.
But Uncle Dick Hardy, living out of doors almost all the time on
account of his profession as an engineer, was so much accustomed to
dangers and adventures that he seemed to think that any one could get
out of a scrape who could get into one. So it was not long after the
return from Kadiak before he forgot all about the risks the boys had
run there. The very next year he was the first one to plead with their
parents, and to tell them that in his belief the best way in the world
for the boys to pass their next summer's vacation would be for them to
cross the Rocky Mountains from the Pacific side and take the old water
trail of the fur-traders, north and east, and down the Peace River
from its source.
It chanced that Uncle Dick, who, like all engineers, was sometimes
obliged to go to remote parts of the country, had taken charge of an
engineering party then locating the new railroad bound westward from
Edmonton, in far-off Northwest Canada. While he himself could not
leave his employment to go with the boys across the Rockies, he
assured their parents that he would meet them when they came down the
river, and see that every care should be taken of them meantime.
"Let them go, of course," he urged. "You can't really hurt a good,
live boy very much. Besides, it is getting to be so nowadays that
before long a boy won't have any wilderness where he can go. Here's
our railroad making west as fast as it can, and it will be taking all
sort of people into that country before long. Here's a chance for the
boys to have a fine hunt and some camping and canoeing. It will make
them stout and hearty, and give them a good time. What's the use
worrying all the time about these chaps? They'll make it through, all
right. Besides, I am going to send them the two best men in Canada for
their guides.
"I wouldn't say, myself, that these boys could get across alone," he
added, "because it's a hard trip for men in some ways. But in the
care of Alex Mackenzie and Moise Duprat they'll be as safe as they
would be at home in rocking-chairs."
"What Mackenzie is that?" asked Jesse Wilcox's mother of her brother,
Uncle Dick.
"Well, he may be a relative of old Sir Alexander Mackenzie, so far as
I know. The family of that name is a large one in the North, and there
always have been Mackenzies in the fur trade. But speaking of the
name, here's what I want to explain to you, sister. These boys will be
going back over the very trail that good old Sir Alexander took when
he returned from the Pacific Ocean."
"But that was a long time ago--"
"Yes, in 1793, while George Washington still was alive, and not so
very long after the Revolutionary War. You know, Mackenzie was the
first man ever to cross this continent, and this was the way he went,
both in going west and coming east--just where I want these boys to
go. They'll see everything that he saw, go everywhere that he went,
from the crown of the continent on down clear to the Arctics, if you
want to let them go that far.
"I'm telling you, sister," he added, eagerly, "the boys will _learn_
something in that way, something about how this country was
discovered and explored and developed, so far as that is concerned.
That is history on the hoof, if you like, sister. In my belief they're
the three luckiest little beggars in the world if you will only let
them go. I'll promise to bring them back all right."
"Yes, I know about your _promises_!" began Mrs. Wilcox.
"When did I ever fail to keep one?" demanded Uncle Dick of her. "And
where can you find three sounder lads in Valdez than these we're
talking about now?"
"But it's so _far_, Richard--you're talking now about the Peace River
and the Athabasca River and the Arctic Ocean--why, it seems as though
the boys were going clear off the earth, and we certainly would never
see them again."
"Nonsense!" replied Uncle Dick. "The earth isn't so big as it used to
be in Sir Alexander's time. Let them alone and they'll come through,
and be all the more men for it. There's no particular hardship about
it. I'll go down with them in the boat to Vancouver and east with them
by rail to where they take the stage up the Ashcroft trail--a
wagon-road as plain as this street here. They can jog along that way
as far as Quesnelles as easy as they could on a street-car in
Seattle. Their men'll get them from there by boat up the Fraser to the
headwaters of the Parsnip without much more delay or much more danger,
but a lot of hard work. After that they just get in their boats and
float."
"Oh, it _sounds_ easy, Richard," protested his sister, "but I know all
about your simple things!"
"Well, it isn't every boy I'd offer this good chance," said Uncle
Dick, turning away. "In my belief, they'll come back knowing more than
when they started."
"But they're only boys, not grown men like those old fur-traders that
used to travel in that country. It was hard enough even for them, if I
remember my reading correctly."
"I just told you, my dear sister, that these boys will go with less
risk and less danger than ever Sir Alexander met when he first went
over the Rockies. Listen. I've got the two best men in the Northwest,
as I told you. Alex Mackenzie is one of the best-known men in the
North. General Wolseley took him for chief of his band of _voyageurs_,
who got the boats up the Nile in Kitchener's Khartoum campaign. He's
steadier than a clock, and the boys are safer with him than anywhere
else without him. My other man, Moise Duprat, is a good cook, a good
woodsman, and a good canoeman. They'll have all the camp outfit they
need, they'll have the finest time in the world in the mountains, and
they'll come through flying--that's all about it!"
"But won't there be any bad rapids in the mountains on that river?"
"Surely, surely! That's what the men are for, and the boats. When the
water is too bad they get out and walk around it, same as you walk
around a mud puddle in the street. When their men think the way is
safe it's bound to be safe. Besides, you forget that though all this
country is more or less new, there are Hudson Bay posts scattered all
through it. When they get east of the Rockies, below Hudson's Hope and
Fort St. John, they come on Dunvegan, which now is just a country
town, almost. They'll meet wagon-trains of farmers going into all that
country to settle. Why, I'm telling you, the only worry I have is that
the boys will find it too solemn and quiet to have a good time!"
"Yes, I know about solemn and quiet things that you propose, Richard!"
said his sister. "But at least"--she sighed--"since their fathers want
them to live in this northern country for a time, I want my boy to
grow up fit for this life. Things here aren't quite the same as they
are in the States. Well--I'll ask Rob's mother, and John's."
Uncle Dick grinned. He knew his young friends would so beset their
parents that eventually they would get consent for the trip he had
described as so simple and easy.
And, in truth, this evening camp on the crest of the Rockies in
British Columbia was the result of his negotiations.
II
THE GATE OF THE MOUNTAINS
Whether Uncle Dick told the boys everything he knew about this
undertaking, or whether their mothers realized what they were doing in
allowing them to go so far and into a wild region, we shall be forced
to leave as an unanswered question. Certainly they started with their
Uncle when he left Valdez by steamer for Vancouver. And, finishing
that part of their journey which was to be made by rail, wagon, and
boat, here they were, in the twilight of a remote valley at the crest
of the great Rocky Mountains; near that point, indeed, properly to be
called the height of land between the Arctic and the Pacific waters.
Moreover, they were for the time quite alone in camp.
"Well, fellows," said Rob at last, "I suppose we'd better get some
more wood together. The men'll be back before long, and we'll have to
get something to eat."
"How do you know they'll come back?" asked John dubiously.
"Alex told me he would, and I have noticed that he always does things
when he says he is going to."
"I don't hear them, anyway," began Jesse, the youngest, who was, by
nature as well as by years perhaps, not quite so bold and courageous
as his two young friends.
"You couldn't hear them very far," replied Rob, "because they wear
moccasins."
"Do you think they really can get the canoes out, carrying them on
their backs all the way from where we left them?" asked Jesse.
"They're very strong," Rob answered, "and that work isn't new to them.
And, you know, they carried all our packs in the same way."
"That Moise is as strong as a horse," said John. "My! I couldn't lift
the end of his pack here. I bet it weighed two hundred pounds at
least. And he just laughed. I think he's a good-natured man, anyhow."
"Most of these woodsmen are," replied Rob. "They are used to
hardships, and they just laugh instead of complain about things. Alex
is quieter than Moise, but I'll venture to say they'll both do their
part all right. And moreover," he added stoutly, "if Alex said he'd be
here before dark, he'll be here."
"It will be in less than ten minutes, then," said Jesse, looking at
the new watch which his mother had given him to take along on his
trip. "The canoe's a pretty heavy thing, John."
Rob did not quite agree with him.
"They're not heavy for canoes--sixteen-foot Peterboroughs. They beat
any boat going for their weight, and they're regular ships in the
water under load."
"They look pretty small to me," demurred Jesse.
"They're bigger than the skin boats that we had among the Aleuts last
year," ventured John. "Besides, I've noticed a good deal depends on
the way you handle a boat."
"Not everybody has boats as good as these," admitted Jesse.
"Yes," said John, "it must have cost Uncle Dick a lot of money to get
them up here from the railroad. Sir Alexander Mackenzie traveled in a
big birch-bark when he was here--ten men in her, and three thousand
pounds of cargo besides. She was twenty-five feet long. Uncle Dick
told me the Indians have dugouts farther down the river, but not very
good ones. I didn't think they knew anything about birch-bark so far
northwest, but he says all their big journeys were made in those big
bark canoes in the early days."
"Well, I'm guessing that our boats will seem pretty good before we get
through," was Rob's belief, "and they'll pay for themselves too."
All the boys had been reading in all the books they could find telling
of the journeys of the old fur-traders, Alexander Mackenzie, Simon
Fraser, and others, through this country. Rob had a book open in his
lap now.
"How far can we go in a day?" asked Jesse, looking as though he would
be gladder to get back home again than to get farther and farther
away.
"That depends on the state of the water and the speed of the current,"
said the older boy. "It's no trouble to go fifty miles a day
straightaway traveling, or farther if we had to. Some days they didn't
make over six or eight miles going up, but coming down--why, they just
flew!"
"That wouldn't take us long to go clear through to where Uncle Dick
is."
"A few weeks or so, at least, I hope. We're not out to beat Sir
Alexander's record, you know--he made it from here in six days!"
"I don't remember that book very well," said Jesse; "I'll read it
again some time."
"We'll all read it each day as we go on, and in that way understand it
better when we get through," ventured John. "But listen; I thought I
heard them in the bush."
It was as he had said. The swish of bushes parting and the occasional
sound of a stumbling footfall on the trail now became plainer. They
heard the voice of Moise break out into a little song as he saw the
light of the fire flickering among the trees. He laughed gaily as he
stepped into the ring of the cleared ground, let down one end of the
canoe which he was carrying, and with a quick twist of his body set it
down gently upon the leaves.
"You'll mak' good time, _hein_?" he asked of the boys, smiling and
showing a double row of white teeth.
"What did I tell you, boys?" demanded Rob. "Here they are, and it
isn't quite dark yet."
The next moment Alex also came in out of the shadow and quietly set
down his own canoe, handling it as lightly as though it were but an
ordinary pack. Indeed, these two woodsmen were among the most powerful
of their class, and well used to all the work which comes on a trip in
a wilderness country.
As they stood now a little apart, it might be seen that both of the
guides were brown-skinned men, still browner by exposure to the
weather. Each of them had had an Indian mother, and the father of
each was a white man, the one a silent Scot, of the Hudson Bay fur
trade, the other a lively Frenchman of the lower trails, used to
horse, boat, and foot travel, and known far and wide in his own day as
a good _voyageur_.
Indeed, two better men could not have been selected by Uncle Dick for
the work now in hand. As they stood now in their shirt-sleeves, each
wiping off his forehead with his red kerchief, they looked so strong
and tall that the boys suddenly felt all uneasiness pass away from
their minds. The twilight came on unnoticed, and in the light of the
fire, freshly piled up with wood, the camp scene became bright and
pleasant. It was impossible to feel any alarm when they were here
under the protection of these two men, both of them warriors, who had
seen encounters of armed men, not to mention hundreds of meetings with
wild beasts.
"Well," said Rob to Moise, "you must be tired with all that load."
"_Non! Non!_" said Moise; "not tired. She'll been leetle boat, not
over hondred-feefty poun'. I'll make supper now, me."
"It was best to bring both the boats in to-night," said Alex, quietly,
"and easier to start from here than to push in to the lake. We load
here in the morning, and I think there'll be plain sailing from here.
It's just as well to make a stream carry us and our boats whenever we
can. It's only a little way to the lake."
"I thought you were never coming, Alex," said Jesse, frankly, looking
up from where he sat on his blanket roll, his chin in his hands.
The tall half-breed answered by gently putting a hand on the boy's
head, and making a better seat for him closer to the fire. Here he was
close enough to watch Moise, now busy about his pots and pans.
"Those mosquito he'll bite you some?" laughed Moise, as he saw the
boys still slapping at their hands. "Well, bimeby he'll not bite so
much. She'll be col' here un the _montaigne_, bimeby."
"I'm lumpy all over with them," said John.
"It's lucky you come from a country where you're more or less used to
them," said Alex. "I've seen men driven wild by mosquitoes. But going
down the river we'll camp on the beaches or bars, where the wind will
strike us. In two or three weeks we'll be far enough along toward
fall, so that I don't think the mosquitoes will trouble us too much.
You see, it's the first of August now."
"We can fix our tent to keep them out," said Rob, "and we have bars
and gloves, of course. But we don't want to be too much like
tenderfeet."
"That's the idea," said Alex quietly. "You'll not be tenderfeet when
you finish this trip."
"Her Onkle Deek, she'll tol' me something about those boy," said
Moise, from the fireside. "She'll say she's good boy, all same like
man."
Jesse looked at Moise gravely, but did not smile at his queer way of
speech, for by this time they had become better acquainted with both
their guides.
"What I'll tol' you?" said Moise again a little later. "Here comes
cool breeze from the hill. Now those mosquito he'll hunt his home yas,
heem! All right! We'll eat supper 'fore long."
Moise had put a pot of meat stew over the fire before he started back
up the trail to bring in the canoe, when they first had come in with
the packs. This he now finished cooking over the renewed fire, and by
and by the odors arose so pleasantly that each boy sat waiting, his
knife and fork on the tin plate in his lap. Alex, looking on, smiled
quietly, but said nothing.
"Moise doesn't build a fire just the way I've been taught," said Rob,
after a while.
"No," added John. "I was thinking of that, too."
"He's Injun, same as me," said Alex, smiling. "No white man can build
a fire for an Injun. S'pose you ask me to put your hat on for you so
you wouldn't need to touch it. I couldn't do that. You'd have to fix
it a little yourself. Same way with Injun and his fire."
"That's funny," said Rob. "Why is that?"
"I don't know," smiled Alex.
"He just throws the sticks together in a long heap and pushes the ends
in when they burn through," said Jesse. "He didn't cut any wood at
all."
Moise grinned at this, but ventured no more reply.
"You see," said Alex, "if you live all the time in the open you learn
to do as little work as possible, because there is always so much to
do that your life depends on that you don't want to waste any
strength."
"It doesn't take a white man long to get into that habit," said Rob.
"Yes. Besides, there is another reason. An Injun has to make his
living with his rifle. Chopping with an ax is a sound that frightens
game more than any other. The bear and deer will just get up and leave
when they hear you chopping. So when we come into camp we build our
fire as small as possible, and without cutting any more wood than we
are obliged to. You see, we'll be gone the next morning, perhaps, so
we slip through as light as possible. A white man leaves a trail like
a wagon-road, but you'd hardly know an Injun had been there. You soon
get the habit when you have to live that way."
"Grub pile!" sang out Moise now, laughing as he moved the pans and the
steaming tea-kettle by the side of the fire. And very soon the boys
were falling to with good will in their first meal in camp.
"Moise, she'll ben good cook--many tams mans'll tol' me that," grinned
Moise, pleasantly, drawing a little apart from the fire with his own
tin pan on his knee.
"We'll give you a recommendation," said John. "This stew is fine. I
was awfully hungry."
It was not long after they had finished their supper before all began
to feel sleepy, for they had walked or worked more or less ever since
morning.
Alex arose and took from his belt the great Hudson Bay knife, or
buffalo knife, which he wore at his back, thrust through his belt.
With this he hacked off a few boughs from the nearest pine-tree and
threw them down in the first sheltered spot. Over this he threw a
narrow strip of much-worn bear hide and a single fold of heavy
blanket, this being all the bed which he seemed to have.
"Is that all you ever had?" asked Rob. "I don't think you'll sleep
well, Alex. Let me give you some of my bed."
"Thank you, no," said Alex, sitting down and lighting his pipe. "We
make our beds small when we have to carry them in the woods. We sleep
well. We get used to it, you see."
"Injun man she'll been like dog," grinned Moise, throwing down his own
single blanket under a tree. "A dog she'll sleep plenty, all right,
an' she'll got no bed at all, what?"
"But won't you come under the edge of the tent?" asked Rob.
"No, you're to have the tent," said Alex. "I'm under orders from your
Uncle, who employed me. But you're to make your own beds, and take
care of them in making and breaking camp. That's understood."
"I'll do that for those boy," offered Moise.
"No," said Alex, quietly, "my orders are they're to do that for
themselves. That's what their Uncle said. They must learn how to do
all these things."
"Maybe we know now, a little bit," ventured John, smiling.
"I don't doubt it," said Alex. "But now, just from a look at your bed,
you've taken a great deal of time making your camp to-night. You've
got a good many boughs. They took noise and took time to gather. We'll
see how simple a camp we can make after we get out on the trail. My
word! We'll have trouble enough to get anything to sleep on when we
get in the lower Peace, where there's only willows."
"What do you do if it rains?" queried Jesse. "You haven't got any tent
over you, and it leaks through the trees."
"It won't rain so much when we get east," said Alex. "When it does,
Moise and I'll get up and smoke. But it won't rain to-night, that's
certain," he added, knocking his pipe on the heel of his moccasin.
"Throw the door of your tent open, because you'll not need to protect
yourselves against the mosquitoes to-night. It's getting cold. Good
night, young gentlemen."
In a few moments the camp was silent, except something which sounded a
little like a snore from the point where Moise had last been seen.
John nudged his neighbors in the beds on the tent floor, and spoke in
low tones, so that he might not disturb the others outside. "Are you
asleep yet, Rob?"
"Almost," said Rob, whispering.
"So'm I. I think Jesse is already. But say, isn't it comfy? And I like
both those men."
III
STUDYING OUT THE TRAIL
It must have been some time about five o'clock in the morning, or even
earlier, when Rob, awakened by the increasing light in the tent,
stirred in his blanket and rolled over. He found himself looking into
the eyes of John, who also was lying awake. They whispered for a
minute or two, not wishing to waken Jesse, who still was asleep, his
face puckered up into a frown as though he were uneasy about
something. They tried to steal out the other tent, but their first
movement awakened Jesse, who sat up rubbing his eyes.
"What's the matter?" said he; "where are we?" He smiled sheepishly as
the other boys laughed at him.
"A good way from home, you'll find," answered John.
The smell of fresh smoke came to their nostrils from the fire, which
had been built for some time. So quiet had the men been about their
work that they had left the boys undisturbed for the best part of an
hour. They themselves had been accustomed to taking the trail even
earlier in the day than this.
"Good morning, young gentlemen," said Alex, quietly. "I hope you slept
well."
"Well," said Jesse, grinning, "I guess I did, for one."
"You'll been hongree?" smiled Moise at the fireside.
"Awfully!" said John. "I could eat a piece of raw bear meat."
"So?" grinned Moise. "Maybe you'll seen heem before we get through,
_hein_? She'll not been very good for eat raw."
"Nor any other way, according to my taste," said Alex, "but we'll see
how we like it cooked, perhaps."
"Do you really think we'll see any bear on this trip?" asked Rob.
"Plenty," said Alex, quietly.
"Grizzlies?"
"Very likely, when we get a little farther into the mountains. We
ought to pick up two or three on this trip--if they don't pick us up."
"I'm not worrying about that," said Rob. "We're old bear hunters."
Both the men looked at him and laughed.
"Indeed, we are," insisted Rob. "We killed a bear, and an awfully big
one, all by ourselves up on Kadiak Island. She was bigger than that
tent there; and had two little ones besides. Each of them was big as a
man, almost. They get awfully big up there in Alaska. I'll bet you
haven't a one in all these mountains as big as one of those fellows up
in our country."
"Maybe not," said Alex, still smiling, "but they get pretty near as
big as a horse in here, and I want to tell you that one of our old,
white-faced grizzlies will give you a hot time enough if you run
across him--he'll come to you without any coaxing."
"This is fine!" said Rob. "I begin to think we're going to have a good
trip this time."
"Grub pile!" sang out Moise about this time. A moment later they were
all sitting on the ground at the side of the breakfast fire, eating of
the fried bacon, bannock, and tea which Moise had prepared.
"To-day, Moise, she'll get feesh," said Moise, after a time. "Also
maybe the duck. I'll heard some wild goose seenging this morning down
on the lake below there. She's not far, I'll think."
"Just a little ways," said Alex, nodding. "If we'd gone in a little
farther to the west we might have hit the lake there, but I thought it
was easier to let the water of this little creek carry our boats in."
"Listen!" said John. "Isn't that a little bird singing?"
A peal of sweet music came to them as they sat, from a small warbler
on a near-by tree.
"Those bird, he's all same Injun," remarked Moise. "He seeng for the
sun."
The sun now indeed was coming up in the view from the mountain ranges
on the east, though the air still was cool and the grass all about
them still wet with the morning dew.
"Soon she'll get warm," said Moise. "Those mosquito, she'll begin to
seeng now, too."
"Yes," said Rob, "there were plenty of them in the tent this morning
before we got up. We'll have to get out the fly dope pretty soon, if
I'm any judge."
"But now," he added, "suppose we read a little bit in our book before
we break camp and pack up."
"You're still reading Sir Alexander and his voyages?" smiled Alex.
"Yes, indeed, I don't suppose we'd be here if we hadn't read that old
book. It's going to be our guide all the way through. I want to see
just how close we can come to following the trail Mackenzie made when
he crossed this very country, a hundred and eighteen years ago this
very month."
"Some say they can't see how Sir Alexander made so many mistakes,"
said Alex, smiling. He himself was a man of considerable intelligence
and education, as the boys already had learned.
"I know," said Rob, nodding. "For instance, Simon Fraser--"
"Yes, I know those Simon Fraser--he's beeg man in the Companee," broke
in Moise, who very likely did not know what he was talking about.
Alex smiled. "There have always been Mackenzies and Frasers in the fur
trade. This was a long time ago."
"How'll those boy know heem, then?" said Moise. "I don't know. Some
boy she'll read more nowadays than when I'm leetle. Better they know
how to cook and for to keel the grizzly, _hein_?"
"Both," said Alex. "But now we'll read a little, if you please, Moise.
Let's see where we are as nearly as we can tell, according to the old
Mackenzie journal."
"I'll know where we ought for be," grumbled Moise, who did not fancy
this starting-place which had been selected. "We'll ought to been
north many miles on the portage, where there's wagon trail to Lake
McLeod."
"Now, Moise," said Rob, "what fun would that be? Of course we could
put our boats and outfit on a wagon or cart, and go across to Lake
McLeod, without any trouble at all. Everybody goes that way, and has
done so for years. But that isn't the old canoe trail of Mackenzie and
Fraser."
"Everybody goes on the Giscombe Portage now," said Moise.
"Well, all the fur-traders used to come in here, at least before they
had studied out this country very closely. You see, they didn't have
any maps--they were the ones who made the first maps. Mackenzie was
the first over, and he did it all by himself, without any kind of map
to help him."
"Yes, and when he got over this far he was in an awful fix," said
John. "I remember where it says his men were going to leave him and go
back down the Peace River to the east. He wasn't sure his guide was
going to stick to him until he got over to the Fraser, west of here."
"Yes," said Rob, "and there wasn't any Fraser River known by that name
at that time. They all thought it was the Columbia River, which it
wasn't by a long way. But Sir Alexander stuck it out, don't you see.
He was a great man, or he couldn't have done it. I take off my hat to
him, that's what I do."
And in his enthusiasm, Rob did take off his hat, and his young
companions joined him, their eyes lighting with enthusiasm for the man
the simple story of whose deeds had stirred their young blood.
Alex looked on approvingly. "He was of my family," said he. "Perhaps
my great-grandfather--I don't know. He was a good man in the woods.
You see, he went far to the north before he came here--he followed the
Mackenzie River to its mouth in the Arctic Sea. Then he thought there
must be a way across to the Pacific. Some one told him about the Peace
River. That's how he came to make the first trip over the mountains
here. By rights the Fraser River ought to have been named after him,
too, because he was the first to see it."
"But he wasn't the first to run it on out," said John, who also had a
good idea of the geography hereabouts, which he had carefully studied
in advance. "It was Simon Fraser did that first."
"Yes, they'll both been good man, heem," said Moise, his mouth full of
bacon. "My wife, she'll had an onkle once name Fraser an' he'll been
seex feet high an' strong like a hox--those Fraser, yes, heem."
"They must have been strong men," said Alex, "and brave men as well."
"Their worst time was getting west of here, wasn't it?" asked John.
"Yes," answered Rob. "The book says that when they tried to get down
the Fraser they had a terrible time. Sometimes they had to carry their
canoe through swamps and over hills. No wonder the men mutinied. Why,
they lost all their bullets, and got everything they had wet. The men
almost lost heart."
Moise nodded. "I'll onderstan' that," said he. "Sometime man get
tired."
"But you see now, Moise, why we wanted to come down here and go over
this same ground and not to take the easy portage trail into Lake
McLeod."
"All same to me," smiled Moise. "I'll don' care."
"Of course, if we wanted to go through the easiest way," assented Rob,
"it would be simpler to go up through McLeod Lake. But you see, that's
something of a way above here. Finlay found that lake after Mackenzie
came across, and they had a fort up there when Fraser came through
eighteen years later. The Indians used to come to that fort and tell
about the salt water somewhere far to the west. They had brass and
iron which they had got of white men somewhere on the Pacific--that
was more than a hundred years ago. Fraser wanted to get across to the
Pacific, but he followed the old Mackenzie trail across here. He
started at the Rocky Mountain portage and went up into McLeod Lake,
and stopped there for a while. But he didn't start west and northwest,
by way of Stuart Lake. Instead of that, he followed Mackenzie's
journal, just as we're doing. He came into the little creek which
leads into these lakes--where we'll go down pretty soon. He came right
across this lake, not a mile from where we're sitting. Then he met
Indians in here, who told him--just as Moise has told us--that the
best and easiest way to get across would have been by way of McLeod
Lake--the very place he had come from."
"Well," said Jesse, "I agree with Moise. It would be easier to go
where we could have wagons or carts or something to take the boats
over. Everything looks mighty wild in here."
"Certainly, Jess," said John, "that's why we're here. I expect that
portage trail up there is just like a road."
"Fur-traders made it first," smiled Alex, "and then the miners used
it. That was the way white men came into the country east of the
Rockies, in the far North."
"How long ago was that?" asked John.
"There were a great many miners all along the Fraser as early as 1857.
Ten years later than that, they came up the big bend of the Columbia.
Many men were killed on the rapids in those days. But they kept on
pushing in, and in that way they learned all these old trails. I
expect some Fraser uncle or other of Moise's has been across here many
a time."
"Seex feet high, an' strong like a hox," smiled Moise, nodding his
head. "Heem good man, my onkle, yes, heem."
"Well," said Rob, as he bent over the book once more. "Here's Sir
Alexander's story, and here's a map I made myself. That way, to the
west, is the little lake where the Bad River runs out to another river
that runs into the Fraser. This lake drains into that little lake.
There's another lake east of here, according to the story; and when we
get there we'll strike a deep, clear creek which will take us pretty
soon into the Parsnip River. From there it's all downhill."
"Yes," said Alex, smiling, "considerably downhill."
"It's said there was a current westward in this middle lake," began
John.
"Certainly," Rob answered, "we are really now on Pacific waters."
"How far is it across to the other lake?" asked Jesse.
"The portage is just eight hundred and seventeen paces," replied John,
promptly. "I remember that's what Mackenzie wrote down."
"Fraser in his journal calls it 'between eight and nine hundred
paces,'" said Rob. "Anyhow, that portage goes over the top of the
Rocky Mountain range at this place--that's the top of the divide.
Nearly all these natural passes in the mountains run up on each side
to a sort of flat place. Anyhow, when we get over that portage we're
on Peace River waters. In yonder direction the waters run into the
Pacific. To the east they go into the Arctic. I'm ready to start now,
and anxious to get over the height of land."
"She'll be downheel then," laughed Moise. "All same roof on the house,
maybe so."
"You're not scared, are you, Moise?" asked Rob, smiling.
"Moise, she'll sweem all same feesh," was the answer of the
_voyageur_.
"We're not going to do any swimming," said Alex, quietly, "and not
even any more wading than we have to. You see, our party is small, and
we're going over a trail that has already been explored. We travel
light, and have good boats. I think we ought to have rather an easy
time of it, after all."
"One thing," broke in John, "that always makes me think less of these
early explorers, is that they weren't really exploring, after all."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Jesse. "You just said that Mackenzie
and Fraser were the first to come across here."
John shook his head vigorously. "No, they weren't the first--as near
as I can find out, the white men always had some one to tell them
where to go. When Mackenzie was going north there was always some
tribe or other to tell him where he was and what there was ahead. It
was some Indian that told him about coming over this way to the
west--it was Indians that guided him all the way across, for that
matter, clear from here to the Pacific."
"That's right," said Rob. "If some Indian hadn't told him about it, he
probably never would have heard about the creek which leads into these
lakes where we are now. He had a guide when he came here, and he had a
guide west of the Fraser, too--they never would have got through
without Indians to help them."
"That's true," said Alex, not without a certain pride in the red race
which had given him half his own blood. "The whites haven't always
used the Indians well, but without native help they could never have
taken this northern country. The Beaver Indians used to hunt all
through these mountains. It was those men who told Mackenzie how to
get over here. He was told, weeks before he got here, that there was a
carrying-place across the great hills to the western waters. As you
say, young gentlemen, he had guides all the way across. So, after all,
as we have only him and Fraser for guides, we'll take a little credit
to ourselves, just as he did!"
"Yes," said Moise. "My people, she'll own this whole contree. They'll
show the Companee how to take hold, all right. But that's all right;
I'm glad, me."
"It looks a little tame," grumbled John, "coming through here where
those old fur-traders knew every foot of the country."
"Well, we'll see," said Alex, rising, filling his pipe and tightening
his belt to begin the day's work. "It may not look so tame before we
get through! But first," he added, "we'll have to see if we can get
the boats to the open water of the lake. Come, it's time to break camp
now for the first day's journey."
IV
THE GREAT DIVIDE
To boys as familiar with camp work as were Rob, John, and Jesse, the
work of breaking camp in the morning was simple. In a few moments they
had their tent down and rolled up ready to put in the canoe. Their
beds also were rolled, each in its own canvas, and lashed with a rope.
Their rifles, which, kept dry in their cases, had been placed under
the edge of their blankets as they slept, were now leaned against the
bed-rolls. Their knapsacks, in which each boy had his personal
belongings, such as brushes, combs, underwear and spare socks, were
very quickly made ready, and placed in order each with its owner's
bed-roll. In a very few minutes they stood up and showed Alex that
they were ready.
Meantime, Moise had put his pots and pans into the sack which served
him as a cook's box. His flour and bacon he quickly got ready in their
packages, and even before the boys were done with their work he was
carrying these parcels down to the first canoe, which was to serve as
the cook's boat. The beds of Moise and Alex, simple as they were,
required only a roll or two to be ready for the boats.
"We'll fix a system," said Alex, "so that we'll load each boat just
the same every day. There's nothing like being regular when you're on
the trail."
"I'll bet, Alex, she'll not be a harder boss than ol' Pete Fraser, my
wife, he's onkle," declared Moise. "He'll make those men get up by
two, three, in the morning an' track two, three hour before she'll eat
breakfast, heem."
"Well, you see, we had to do a little reading this morning," remarked
John.
"Surely, and to very good purpose," answered Alex. "You ought to keep
track of the old journal day by day."
"Exactly," said Rob, "and I'm going to keep a journal of my own each
day. We haven't got any sextant to take observations, but I've got all
the maps, and I've got a compass--maybe we'll get out a Voyage of
Discoveries of our own some day!"
"Now, Moise," said Alex, "you're to go ahead with the cook-boat. You'd
better take Mr. Rob for your bow paddler. I'll let Mr. John take the
bow in my boat, and our youngest friend here will go amidships,
sitting flat on the bottom of the canoe, with his back against his
bed-roll. The blankets and tent will make the seats. Of course, Moise,
you're not to go too far ahead. It's always a good plan to keep in
sight of the wangan-box and the cook's chest, when you're in the
woods."
"All right," replied Moise, "I'll go slow with those boy all the time,
yes."
"Well, we're not any of us scared yet," said John, stoutly, "and we
won't be."
"I hope we'll get some white water to run," added Rob, his eyes
shining. Jesse was the only one who seemed to be not wholly happy. The
silence of the great hills about him, situated as they now were far
from all human habitation, made him feel rather lonesome. He kept up a
stout heart, however, and soon forgot his troubles when the actual
bustle of the departure was begun.
"You'd better take the axes, Mr. Rob, and go ahead and cut out the way
a little bit on this little creek," said Alex. "I'm afraid the boats
won't quite clear."
"Aye, aye, sir," said Rob, and soon he and the other boys were making
their way in among the tangled thicket, sometimes in and sometimes out
of the water, chopping away the branches so that the little boats
could get through.
"Will they float, do you think, Mr. Rob?" called Alex.
"Like a bird!" answered Rob, as the first canoe, which was named the
_Mary Ann_, soon took the water.
"Here comes the _Jaybird_!" cried Jesse, as they pushed the other
canoe over the last foot or so of grass which lay between it and the
water.
"Those boat she'll be all same like ducks," exclaimed Moise,
admiringly. "I'll bet not even my onkle Pete Fraser he'll have better
boat like those."
"Sir Alexander's boat was twenty-five or thirty feet long, all made
out of birch-bark," said Rob. "Ours aren't much over sixteen feet."
"They had eight or ten men in their boats," began John, "and the most
we'll have in either of ours will be three--that is, if you count Jess
as a full-sized man!"
"Yes," said Alex, "and they had a number of packs, each weighing
ninety pounds. Now, all our packs won't weigh a great deal more than
that for each boat, counting in what we're going to eat. We'll have to
get something in the way of meat as we go on through. Fine boats
these, and much better than birch-bark. Perhaps you may remember that
Sir Alexander was having trouble to find good bark to mend his boats
before he got in here. We'll not need to trouble about that."
"No," said Rob, "we've got plenty of canvas, and rubber cement, and
shellac, and tacks, and cord, and wire. We'll make it through, even if
we do have some little breaks."
"I don't think we'll have any," replied Alex in a reassuring way.
"Moise, don't you think your load settles your canoe just a little
deeper than she ought to go?"
"_Non! Non!_" said Moise, in reply, casting a judicial look at the low
freeboard of the _Mary Ann_. "She'll go, those boat."
"She'll be getting lighter all the time," ventured Jesse. "John gets
awfully hungry, and he'll eat a lot!"
They all laughed heartily at this reference to John's well-known
appetite. All were in good spirits when the real progress down the
tangled creek began.
"_En roulant, ma boule, roulant!_" began Moise, as he shoved out his
boat--the words of the old Canadian _voyageurs'_ boat song, known for
generations on all the waterways of the North.
"Better wait until we get into the lake," smiled Alex. "I don't think
we can 'roll the ball,' as you call it, very much in among these
bushes."
They moved on down now, pushing and pulling their boat when they could
not paddle or pole it. Sometimes they had to force their way through
an _embarras_, as the _voyageurs_ call a pile of driftwood. The boys,
however, only enjoyed this sort of work. They were wet, but happy,
when, after some time passed in this slow progress, at last they saw
the open waters of the lake fully before them.
"_En voyage, messieurs_," cried Moise. "We begin!"
V
CROSSING THE HEIGHT OF LAND
Before our young trail-makers now lay the expanse of one of those
little mountain lakes which sometimes are forgotten by the map-makers.
The ground immediately about the edge of the lake was low, flat, and
overgrown. Only a gentle ripple crossed the surface of the lake, for
almost no air at all was stirring. Out of a near-by cove a flock of
young wild geese, scarcely able to fly, started off, honking in
excitement; and here and there a wild duck broke the surface into a
series of ripples; or again a fish sprang into the air, as it went
about its own breakfast operations for the day. It was an inspiring
scene for all, and for the time the Young Alaskans paused, taking in
its beauty.
"_Il fait beau, ce matin_," said Moise, in the French which made half
or more of his speech. "She'll been fine morning this day, what?"
"Couldn't be better," assented Alex, who stood knee-deep at the edge
of the lake, and who now calmly removed his moccasins and spread them
on the thwart of the boat before he stepped lightly in to take his
place at the stern of the _Jaybird_. The boys noticed that when he
stepped aboard he hardly caused the boat to dip to one side or the
other. This he managed by placing his paddle on the farther side of
the boat from him and putting part of his weight on it, as it rested
on the bottom at the other side of the boat. All the boys, observing
the methods of this skilled canoeman, sought to imitate his example.
Presently they were all aboard, Rob in the bow of the _Mary Ann_, John
taking that place for the _Jaybird_, with Jesse cuddled up amidships.
"Well," said Alex, "here's where we start. For me, I don't care
whether we go to the Pacific or the Arctic!"
"Nor me no more," added Moise. "Only I'll rather go downheel as
upheel, me--always I'll rather ron the rapeed than track the boat up
the rapeed on the bank. Well, _en roulant_, eh, M'sieu Alex?"
"_Roulant!_" answered Alex, briefly. Moise, setting his paddle into
the water with a great sweep, began once more the old canoe song.
"Le fils du roi s'en va chassant
_En roulant, ma boule!_
Avec son grand fusil d'argent
_En roulant, ma boule!_"
So they fared on merrily, the strong arms of the two skilled boatmen
pushing the light canoes rapidly through the rippling water. Moise, a
strong and skilful paddler, was more disposed to sudden bursts of
energy than was the soberer and quieter Alex, who, none the less, came
along not far in the rear with slow and easy strokes which seemed to
require little exertion on his part, although they drove the boat
straight and true as an arrow. The boys at the bow paddles felt the
light craft spring under them, but each did his best to work his own
passage, and this much to the approval of the older men, who gave them
instructions in the art of paddling.
"You'll see, M'sieu Rob," said Moise, "these paddle she'll be all same
like fin of those feesh. You'll pull square with heem till she'll get
behind you, then she'll turn on her edge just a little bit--so. That
way, you paddle all time on one side. The paddle when she'll come out
of water, she'll keep the boat running straight."