Jesup's River was a tranquil stream that came from a region of swamps,
and would have been easy canoeing but for the fallen trees. Some of
these had been cut years ago, showing that the old trapper had used this
route. Once they were unpleasantly surprised by seeing a fresh chopping
on the bank, but their mourning was changed into joy when they found it
was beaver-work.
Ten miles they made that day. In the evening they camped on the shore of
Jesup's Lake, proud and happy in the belief that they were the rightful
owners of it all. That night they heard again and again the howling of
wolves, but it seemed on the far side of the lake. In the morning they
went out on foot to explore, and at once had the joy of seeing five
deer, while tracks showed on every side. It was evidently a paradise for
deer, and there were in less degree the tracks of other animals--mink in
fair abundance, one or two otters, a mountain lion, and a cow moose with
her calf. It was thrilling to see such a feast of possibilities. The
hunters were led on and on, revelling in the prospect of many joys
before them, when all at once they came on something that turned their
joy to grief--the track of a man; the fresh imprint of a cowhide boot.
It was maddening. At first blush, it meant some other trapper ahead of
them with a prior claim to the valley; a claim that the unwritten law
would allow. They followed it a mile. It went striding along the shore
at a great pace, sometimes running, and keeping down the west shore.
Then they found a place where he had sat down and broken a lot of clam
shells, and again had hastened on. But there was no mark of gunstock
or other weapon where he sat; and why was he wearing boots? The hunters
rarely did.
For two miles the Indian followed with Rolf, and sometimes found
that the hated stranger had been running hard. Then they turned back,
terribly disappointed. At first it seemed a crushing blow. They had
three courses open to them--to seek a location farther north, to assume
that one side of the lake was theirs, or to find out exactly who and
what the stranger was. They decided on the last. The canoe was launched
and loaded, and they set out to look for what they hoped they would not
find, a trapper's shanty on the lake.
After skirting the shore for four or five miles and disturbing one or
two deer, as well as hosts of ducks, the voyagers landed and there still
they found that fateful bootmark steadily tramping southward. By noon
they had reached the south end of the west inlet that leads to another
lake, and again an examination of the shore showed the footmarks, here
leaving the lake and going southerly. Now the travellers retired to the
main lake and by noon had reached the south end. At no point had they
seen any sign of a cabin, though both sides of the lake were in plain
view all day. The travelling stranger was a mystery, but he did not live
here and there was no good reason why they should not settle.
Where? The country seemed equally good at all points, but it is usually
best to camp on an outlet. Then when a storm comes up, the big waves
do not threaten your canoe, or compel you to stay on land. It is a
favourite crossing for animals avoiding the lake, and other trappers
coming in are sure to see your cabin before they enter.
Which side of the outlet? Quonab settled that--the west. He wanted to
see the sun rise, and, not far back from the water, was a hill with a
jutting, rocky pinnade. He pointed to this and uttered the one word,
“Idaho.” Here, then, on the west side, where the lake enters the river,
they began to clear the ground for their home.