A DIFFICULT PATH.

One day seemed so much like another that we soon lost count of time, as

we followed the windings and turns of the river, the beauty of the deep

ravines that struck into the valley, each with its little fall or

torrent, and the glimpses we kept getting of snow-tipped mountains,

keeping off the weariness we might have felt in some open monotonous

land.

Every now and then Quong settled down to wash the sands and gravel of

the little streams that came tumbling down from the heights; and I saw

that Gunson took a good deal of interest in his proceedings; but in

spite of Quong's patient endeavours his efforts were always barren, or

resulted in the discovery of some tiny speck, which was added to the

others in the phial so slowly that, as Gunson laughingly said, it seemed

likely to take a year to build up enough gold to make a sovereign.

"The gold is nearer the mountains if there is any, Gordon," he said to

me, "and it is impossible to search down here. We must go higher up

before I begin after Quong has left us, for I expect that as soon as we

get to a spot where he can wash out a scale or two with every pan of

sand, he will bid us good-bye."

But as the days went on that time did not arrive. The Chinaman did not

seem to think anything about pay for his services, but was delighted to

perform them for the sake of the protection of travelling with us, and a

share of the food we provided.

So far our journey had been glorious. There had been plenty of hard

work, forcing our way through bushes, climbing fallen trees, some so

rotten that they crumbled to dust with our weight, and threading our way

among rocks; but at every turn there was the grand river foaming and

rushing down toward the sea, and masses of black-green forest with pines

spiring up toward the sky. One morning as we toiled slowly on, it was

very evident that the river was narrowing, and the sides growing

steeper. We had often been at some height above it, but always on a

slope, where, with a little scheming, we could have got down to the

water; but now a sheer wall of rock rose up forty or fifty feet on

either side, and below it, looking black and deep, the river swirled and

eddied along.

There was hardly a vestige of a trail here, the ground being too stony

to leave any traces; but the great stream was our guide, and we climbed

and stumbled on, Quong in front bending down under his load, and always

patient, calm, and smiling, as if it was quite natural to him to be

doubled up under a big bundle which went along in front of us like some

curious blanket-clothed creature with thin blue legs.

All at once the rough stony slope of the valley dived down, and Quong,

who had just given his load a hitch up on his shoulders, disappeared. I

was next, for Gunson had stepped back to take off one of his boots, with

Esau holding his pack; and I had reached the spot where I had seen Quong

last, prepared for a jump down on to a lower part or ledge of the valley

slope, when I found myself face to face with the little fellow, and saw

that he had dropped his bundle, and was hurrying back.

As soon as we met, he made a sign for me to be silent, and turned and

pointed toward a clump of young firs. I could see no danger, and I

whispered to him the one word "Bear?"

He shook his head, and pointed again, when, to my utter astonishment,

the green boughs were parted, as there was a flash of silver, and a

great salmon fell about a couple of yards away, to begin beating heavily

with its tail, and flapping from side to side.

I knew that these fish leaped, and I had heard that some of their bounds

up cascades were tremendous, but I had never known that a salmon could

spring fifty feet up out of the water over the top of the rocky wall

which formed the river-bank, and away through a screen of young firs.

There, however, was the fact before me, and with delightful visions of

broiled salmon before my eyes, I dropped my pack and ran forward to

secure the prize before it should take it into its head to make another

gymnastic leap into the water.

It was a splendid fellow, a full yard long, its scales silvery blue and

pearly in the morning sunshine, and regardless of wet and slime, I

dropped on my knees.

"Oh, you beauty!" I exclaimed, and I raised it by the gills, and--

dropped it directly, and remained as if turned to stone, gazing in a

hideous, painted red face, which had been thrust out between the boughs

of the firs, and stared as wildly at me as I at its owner.

For a few moments I forgot that I had friends behind, and rested there

quite still with what seemed to me a terrible silence all around, till

it was broken by the salmon throwing itself over, and giving the stones

upon which it lay a resounding flap.

I fully expected to see the arm belonging to the head thrust out with a

knife in the fist; and when it was darted out from among the bushes, my

own hand went involuntarily to the pistol I carried, but I dropped it

again as I saw that it was only an open palm extended toward me, and I

placed mine therein for a friendly shake, my heart beating less heavily.

Then the hand was withdrawn, the salmon pushed toward me, and the hand

held out again.

"Hallo!" cried a voice, which made me glow with satisfaction. "Been

fishing, Gordon?"

Gunson strode up to us, and seeing the situation at a glance, he took

out his tobacco-pouch, opened it, pinched out a piece, and pointing to

the salmon, offered the cut-up herb to the Indian, who now stood out in

front of the young pines. I thought it ridiculous to offer what I

considered a pinch of rubbish for the salmon; but the Indian laughed,

darted back, and returned holding another quivering fish by the tail,

threw it down, and held out his hand for the tobacco, evidently well

pleased with his bargain.

"Fish is cheap out here," said Gunson, laughing. "Here, Quong, one to

cook and one to dry."

Our Celestial friend literally pounced upon the two salmon as prizes as

soon as he saw that there was no danger, and set to work cleaning and

splitting the fish, lightening them by getting rid of head and tail, and

then cutting some splints of wood to keep one well open for drying in

the sun and for easy carriage.

"There is nothing to mind," said Gunson. "It is only a fishing party;"

and leading the way through the line of young firs, which acted as a

screen, we came upon a group of Indians, two men and four women, all

busy cleaning and splitting the fish which another man kept hauling up

from the river in a rough net.

It seemed a very primitive way of fishing, and we stood looking on and

examining some of the salmon hung to dry upon several roughly rigged up

poles, before we went to the edge of the shelf upon which all this was

going on, to find straight below us the other Indian standing upon a

rough platform, made by driving a couple of stout poles into the wall of

rock at a fissure, and throwing a few branches across. This man had a

coarse net on a ring at the end of a long, stout pole, and watching his

opportunity as the fish came rapidly up the rushing water, he plunged

the net down, and brought it up with a gasping, struggling salmon. This

was transferred to a hanging basket, and hauled up by the Indian at the

edge, and carried to the party who were preparing and drying them in the

sun for their winter store.

It was all ridiculously easy. The Indian had only to keep on dipping

out fish as fast as they could be prepared, and what I saw quite removed

any ideas of our taking advantage of the man who had let the fish he

carried slip out of his basket, so that it came with a dart to my side

of the screen of firs.

"That's an easy way of getting a living," said Esau, as we parted in a

friendly way from the Indians, who stared at us in a very heavy, stolid

way. "I think I should like to try that."

"For how long?" cried Gunson, with a laugh. "Why, my good fellow, you'd

be tired of catching the fish in a week, and more tired of eating them

in a fortnight."

"Tired?--of eating salmon?" said Esau, laughing. "Oh, you don't know

me. I had some once, and it was lovely."

"Well, we'll try one of ours when we stop for dinner," said Gunson; "but

we must do a good morning's tramp first."

That good morning's tramp did not seem to progress much, for the way

grew more and more difficult, and it was once taken into consideration

whether we had not better strike in away from the river; and we should

have adopted this course but for the fear of losing ourselves in the

labyrinth of mountains to the north and east, and not being able to

strike the stream again.

"You see, hard as the way is, it is sure," said Gunson; "and as your

goal and mine too are on the upper waters of the river, we had better

keep to it."

It was getting toward midday, and the sun shone forth with such power

that we felt the little air there was come down the valley like the

breath of an oven, and we should have decided to stop at once, cook our

dinner, and rest, but for the fact that there was neither wood nor

shade. For we had quite left the patches of forest behind at this

point, and were tramping slowly over a bare sterile region of the most

forbidding character, low down by the river. Higher up where we could

not climb the tall trees again appeared, and every ledge and slope was

crowned with dwarf pine, fern, and moss.

"We had better keep on past that bare slope," said Gunson. "I can see

trees on beyond it. It looks green, too, as if there was water."

Of course we agreed, for there was not a sign of water where we stood,

and thirst was beginning to trouble us all.

So we tramped on, Gunson now leading, and the rushing sound of the river

below the wall of rock sounding very tantalising as we grew hotter

still, and the heat began to be reflected from the stones in a most

unpleasant way. It would have been bad enough for the unladen, but for

people burdened as we were it was hard work indeed.

At the end of half an hour the river, which had been hidden from us save

when we went close to the edge and looked down, came into view again,

for the character of the valley had suddenly changed. We found now that

there was the steep slope from high up the mountain to the level of the

water, which roared and surged along, and swept away the thin pieces of

slaty stone which formed the slope--a clatter-slide, as west-country

people would call it. These pieces were all loose and extremely

unpleasant to walk upon, being shaley fragments of all sizes, from that

of a child's hand up to thin fragments a foot or two across.

The heat here was tremendous, and as we walked the stones gave way

beneath our feet, and began setting in motion little stony avalanches,

which kept on gliding down till the whole of the slope seemed to be

running into the river. No one talked, but strode on, not planting his

feet in the footsteps of him who had gone before, but avoiding them, for

they formed the centres of so much loose stuff ready to give way at a

touch.

We got along over about half a mile of this, and then paused on a bit of

a shelf to rest, for about a quarter of a mile farther we saw our

resting-place; the clatter ceasing, to give way to verdure with plenty

of trees, and in their midst, temptingly beckoning us to fresh

exertions, there was the water we needed--a beautiful filmy veil,

floating down from hundreds of feet up, arched by a hopeful rainbow, and

anon gliding softly like a shower of silver rockets down behind the tall

green firs.

We knew that there would be a beautiful pool of water at the foot of

that cascade, with green, mossy grass, and plenty of pine-boughs for our

fire and to shade us from the scorching sun; and toward this enviable

spot we pressed on, with the slope growing steeper and steeper, till at

last we paused again for Gunson to investigate.

It was time. For the past five minutes the slide had kept running so

much toward the perpendicular, that at every step we loosened stones

which began to tear down toward the river, and necessitated leaps and

quick plunges to keep us from being carried with them, while a slip

would have meant a headlong fall, increasing in speed till the

unfortunate was plunged into the foaming torrent which poured down, and

would have swept him instantly away.

"Watch how I go," said Gunson. "Keep cool, and don't think of falling.

I know it is a hard bit to get over, but it is not above a couple of

hundred yards where it is so bad; after that it grows better and better,

till you reach the trees. Now then, all stand still while I go first."

He tightened his pack over his shoulder, took a good grip of the rifle,

stood for a moment, and then strode forward, going diagonally, as if to

reach the top of the slope.

This seemed for the moment unnecessary, and likely to make the journey

longer, but I soon saw that it was properly calculated, for as the

stones kept on sliding beneath his feet as he struggled upward, he was

constantly being brought down to the level of where we stood, perspiring

profusely, and fascinated by the peril of the task.

It was only now that I fully realised how steep the side of the valley

was, and that a fall must end in the river among the black craggy rocks

which stood up so threateningly amongst the white foam.

He went steadily on, and as I stood there I felt, to use the common

saying, as if my heart was in my mouth. A dozen terrible thoughts

flashed through my mind:--what should we do if he fell and was swept

away? It would be impossible to save him; and as to his own powers, I

did not believe that any man could battle with that terrible

torrent-like river, which would sweep him down, dashing him from rock to

rock, till he was carried from our sight, leaving us alone in our

despair to try some other way.

The thoughts were paralysing as they came with lightning-like rapidity,

for now it was dawning upon me, that shocking as it would be to see my

fellow-creature hurled to death like that, somehow Gunson, that rough,

stern, disfigured man, had made a kind of impression upon me--that there

existed a tie between us. I don't think I liked him, but I felt at that

moment as if I would have given anything to have been by his side, as I

saw him totter, slip, recover himself, slip again, and begin gliding

down fast, but always preserving his perpendicular.

"He's gone," I said aloud; but as the words left my lips he made two or

three bounds, sending the stones rushing down heavily, as he regained

his old level and went on rapidly. Onward still, but what a length that

seemed!--and now I was learning from his progress that the only chance

of getting across was to keep right on, exercising all the strength of

nerve and muscle one possessed to go forward, for to have stood still

meant to begin gliding rapidly downward, sinking more and more in a

gathering avalanche of stones as others were loosened from above to fill

up the vacancy that was made.

Two-thirds--three-quarters of the way across--and once more he began to

slide, but with desperate energy he went on by leaps and bounds now, and

we set up a hoarse cheer as we saw him reach firm ground--a cheer which

did not reach him, for the whole side of the slide seemed to be in

motion, and as I saw him throw himself down, there was a curious

rushing, rattling roar, as if fragments of ice were formed on the

surface of a torrent and were rushing down into the river.

It was very evident that Gunson was exhausted by his tremendous efforts,

for he lay on the rocks, motioning to us with his hand not to come, and

we stood looking from one to the other, mutely inquiring what was to be

done next. At last he rose, unfastened his pack, threw it down behind

him, and came close to the edge of the slide, to look up and about with

his eyes sheltered, as if seeking for a better place for us to cross.

I did the same, gazing high up to where the stones grew smaller, and

then right down to where the flat, thin fragments plunged into the

running river, to be swept away; but, like Gunson, I could see no better

place.

By degrees, though, the fluttering, rattling glide ceased, and the slope

looked level once more, and then Gunson put his hands to his mouth and

shouted--

"Can you hear what I say?"

"Yes."

"Take your packs on your heads, and when you start keep right on; never

hesitate; I'll be ready to help."

We heard every word distinctly, and it sounded curiously like a whisper

that ran along the surface of the stones; and when he had ended, Quong

looked at me sharply with his little black eyes.

"Me go long nex'," he said; and as I nodded, he balanced his great pack

deftly on his head, paused for a few moments to get it quite

satisfactory, and then stretching out his arms like one who walks along

a pole, he started off, while so steep was the slope that his extended

fingers nearly touched the stones as he went along.

The little fellow was so light, so steady and clever, that he tripped

forward without dislodging anything like the amount of stones that

Gunson had set running. But I could see that the effort needed was

terrible as he went on and on, increasing his speed now, slowing then,

and getting more and more over with far less effort, and giving us no

end of encouragement, as he at length reached the rocks, tumbled the

load off his head--the load which had never seemed once to lose its

poise--and finally we could see him seated facing us wiping his hot face

with the front of his blouse.

"He's got over," said Esau, hoarsely.

"Yes," I said, in the same husky tones.

"One of us has got to go next."

"Yes," I said. "Who shall go?"

"Wish I'd got a good pole with a spike at the end," said Esau.

"So do I."

"Or I wouldn't mind if it was only a clothes-prop."

"But we have neither, Esau."

"Well, don't I know we haven't? What's the good o' being so

aggravating, and keeping on saying we ain't--we ain't? Lots o'

beautiful trees behind us to cut clothes-props to last all Camberwell

for life, and there's lots over there in front, but they don't bring us

one. It's always the way. There's lots o' money in the Bank o'

England, but we couldn't get it to come out here."

"Don't be unreasonable," I said, and I gave quite a start as a stone

from above came rattling down.

"Who's unreasonable?" grumbled Esau; "I ain't: only a bit wild at having

to go across that precious bit o' solid slide. What do you think my

mother would say if she saw me coming here and going to start over that

place? Why, it would kill her."

"It does look dangerous," I said, sadly.

"Look! Why, it is. It's horrid."

"But they've got over safely."

"That don't mean I shall. Oh dear, oh dear! This comes o' picking up

strange friends, and letting 'em lead us into difficulties. And not so

much as a walking-stick to help us."

I was in no humour to argue, with the perilous crossing before me, so I

remained silent.

"I said--and not so much as a walking-stick to help us."

"Yes, Esau, I heard you."

"Then why don't you say something?"

"What can I say? Only be plucky and go."

"There you go again! Oh, it does aggravate me. Now you want me to go

off first."

"No; I'll go first if you like; but I should like to see you safe over."

"That's just what I feel about you. I say--if I fall I shall go head

over heels down, like a ball."

"No, no; you must drop into a sitting position, and slide down."

"If you can," grumbled Esau. "Oh dear, I wish I hadn't come. I'd give

all I've got to be sitting down in old Dempster's office, with him

bullying me about a mistake in the copying."

"Come along!" came like an echo over the stones, and even that sound

sent a few stones sliding down as I looked across and saw Gunson with

his hands to his mouth, while just then I saw something which quite

cheered me. For there was a faint curl of smoke rising up from among

the trees, and I knew that it was Quong making a fire to get us some

tea.

"There, Esau," I said, "Quong's getting ready to cook something. Come,

you go, and let's have a rest and a good meal."

"Ready to cook indeed! Why the sun's cooking one side of me now.

There, look at that."

"Yes," I said, as I looked in the direction indicated; "some kind of

eagle."

"Yes; flying away as easily as he likes. Don't it seem a shame that a

stupid bird should be able to go along like that, and we have to climb

and fall down?"

"Oh, I can't argue about that," I said, desperately, as, somewhat in

doubt whether I could balance my pack on my head, I raised it there and

stood perfectly still. "I'm going to take a long breath and then

start."

"Here, what yer going to do?" he cried. "I ain't going to be left all

alone here."

"Well, then, go first."

"But I can't go first and leave you. S'pose you can't get over after,

or tumble down, what am I to say to that Mr John?"

"What an unreasonable fellow you are, Esau!" I cried angrily.

"There, you're getting nasty with me. That's right. Now I ask you,

ain't a fix like this enough to make any fellow unreasonable?"

"But if we've got it to do, why not do it?"

"Come on!" Gunson shouted, and I took two steps forward, when, bringing

up his pack, Esau made a desperate plunge and got before me, sending

quite an avalanche of stones down as he shouted--

"Me first!--you wait."

I had no alternative but to step back to the easier slope, and regain my

position, while Esau went on tramp, tramp, balancing himself steadily,

but instead of striking up the slope he kept straight on for a time, and

gradually sinking lower and lower as he went farther away.

"Work upward!" I shouted.

"Well, ain't I?" came back, faintly heard amidst the rattling of the

stones; and once more I stood there waiting, suffering agonies as I saw

him struggle on, now going down, now fighting his way up, so that his

course was like that of a snake across a dusty road, such as I had many

a time seen down in the country. Every now and then he tottered, and I

thought he was going to fall, but he recovered himself, and went on with

his feet sinking in the loose stones, and every now and then descending

so far that I thought he would never recover his lost ground.

I did not feel the heat so much now, the perspiration that stood upon my

face was cold, and I gave a start now and then, as I shivered in my

dread, making sure that he was gone.

When at last I saw him get right across, I closed my eyes, feeling so

giddy that I was glad to sit down on my pack for the sensation to pass

off, being quite unequal to the task of going in my turn.

"I wish I were not such a coward," I said to myself, as I looked forward

and saw Esau lying down and resting. Then I wished I had persevered and

gone on, for I should have been out of my misery by that time. Lastly,

as I saw Gunson wave his hand, I rose, balanced my pack, and changed the

side till I made it fit well over my head. I was quite encouraged to

find that it seemed to add to my steadiness, and after taking a last

look round, and ending by fixing my eyes upon a point high above where

Gunson stood, I took two steps and then stopped, saying to myself, "I

shall never do it."

I started again, and from that moment the nervous sensation of dread

left me. I felt firm and strong, and that all I had to do was to step

boldly, and think of nothing but my pack, taking care that it did not

escape from its resting-place upon my head. And oddly enough, my

anxiety lest I should let it fall to go bounding down the slope, kept me

from thinking about myself as I tramped on, with stones rattling, my

feet going down with them, and my breath coming shorter and shorter with

the exertion. But I kept my load well balanced, and went on till I was

about half way across, when the stones seemed to be much smaller and

began to flow like sand. It appeared as if all the larger ones had been

set in motion by my companions, and that they had gone down, sweeping

the surface clear for me to grow more involved at every step, till I

found that no matter how I struggled to get higher so as to keep near

the horizontal line of the crossing, I kept sinking lower and lower till

I felt that I should glide right into the river before I was across.

With a desperate feeling of determination I kept on bearing up toward

the top, but it was always quite labour in vain, through my want of

skill, as the smaller stones being more fluent, I found myself still

sinking down more and more with every step, till, mingled with the

peculiar rattle of the gliding stones, came the roar of the river

foaming and dashing amongst the rocks, and into which I expected to be

plunged.

Forward still, with a feeling of anger growing within me--a contempt for

my own weakness that still kept back the feeling of dread. I had lost

sight of Gunson and Esau, and thinking now of nothing but keeping on my

legs, I dragged foot after foot out of the stones, and tried to plant

one on firmer ground, but tried in vain, till at last I had been carried

down so low that though my head was averted, and my eyes were directed

toward the spot I ought to have reached, I knew, as I made my last

desperate effort, that I was only a few yards above the water.

Then, crash!--crash!--crash!--crash!--my feet striking heavily and

sending the stones flying, I fought blindly on. There was a singing in

my ears, a sense of strangling in my throat, and above all, a dull,

half-stunned sensation, mingled with which were thoughts of the others;

and then as darkness came over me, and I fell forward, there was a sharp

jerk, a few encouraging words were said by some one, and I found myself

lying amongst stones and moss, too much exhausted to speak.

"Better?" said a well-known voice.

"Better?" I said, faintly; "have I been ill?"

"Ill? No, my lad; but you've had a narrow escape. You were nearly down

to the edge of the river when I got hold of your hand."

"And the pack?" I said, in a husky whisper.

"It lies out yonder on the slope, waiting till the next slide of stones

sweeps it away."

"Then I dropped it?" I said, wonderingly.

"Yes. Never mind the pack; you are safe. Why, you did not manage so

well as we did, Gordon."

"No," I said, feeling very much exhausted and faint; "and yet I thought

I could do it better. The stones gave way so."

Gunson laughed.

"Yes; we ought to have tried another plan. The whole slope is quite

rotten, and nothing holds the stones together."

I looked round now, and found that we were at the very bottom of a steep

bit of precipice, down which something blue was coming cautiously, which

we recognised as Quong.

"What is it, my man?" said Gunson.

"Come 'long down get pack," said Quong. "You velly bad?" he continued

to me.

"No, no, we must leave it," said Gunson; and I looked at where my pack

lay, tightly done up in its blanket, about a score yards away.

"Leave pack?" cried Quong, looking at Gunson as if he thought him mad.

"Leave fo' Indian man come find? No. Quong set him." And going

quickly and delicately over the stones with a step that was almost

cat-like in its lightness, he had reached my bundle almost before Gunson

could protest. Swinging it up on his head as he turned, he began to

come back as quickly as he went, but now he began to get lower and

lower.

"He'll be swept away!" cried Gunson, excitedly; and, placing one foot at

the extreme verge of the firm ground, he reached out towards the

Chinaman.

"Give me your hand, my lad," he cried, hoarsely; and as I lay there, I

stretched out my hand to have it seized, while I watched Quong coming

nearer, splashing up the water now and sending the spray flying as he

strained forward to get hold of Gunson.

For a few moments we both thought he was gone, for he had glided down

till the water was over his ankles, and still, as he reached out, he was

a few inches from Gunson's grasp, while for him to have moved would have

been fatal; but he made one more effort, hooking his fingers over

Gunson's, and then there was another jerk, the bundle came over on to

me, and as our friend made a violent muscular effort to throw himself

back, the little Chinaman was dragged right over on to firm ground.

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