Snow fell again in the night and increased our difficulties. For a day
and a half we forced our way, sometimes on rough ice and sometimes
through the thick willow bushes, with frequent rests as exhaustion
overtook us, till we again saw the Siccanee coffin hung in the trees.
Here we found the flour-sack that had been thrown away on our up-stream
journey, and scraped off perhaps half a pound of flour which had stuck
to the sack when wet. At the same time a mouse was caught in the snow,
and, with no further preparation than singeing off the hair, was cut
into strips and boiled with the flour into a thin soup. Every man
carried a tin cup in his belt, so a careful distribution of the precious
soup was made, and the last pipe of tobacco smoked; we certainly derived
a little strength from this unexpected supply, and our spirits improved
greatly for a short time.
The weather now turned colder and its increased severity told on us
heavily, for our clothes were torn to rags by pushing through the woods,
and a starving man through loss of flesh always feels the cold more
severely than a man in good condition. We often had to light a fire to
prevent our feet from freezing when wet from walking on flooded ice or
breaking through near the shore. The river was still open in places and
continually altering its level. John was always far behind, and I
expected to see him drop at any time; but he had the advantage of
starting fatter than the rest of us, and took good care of himself,
always hanging in the rear and coming into camp when the labour of
throwing out the snow and getting wood was accomplished. Never once
during the whole of this march did he go ahead to break a trail through
the snow, which is of course the most fatiguing work of all.
A little before sundown on December 17th, the tenth day without eating
anything but small scraps of moose-skin and the soup at the coffin-camp,
we staggered among huge blocks of ice, passed the junction of the
Findlay, and soon afterwards arrived at the _cache_. It was an anxious
moment as I crawled up the frozen bank and waded through the snow to the
scaffold; no wolverine tracks were to be seen, and the flour was lying
untouched. Camp was made, a kettle of thick paste boiled, and a cupful
eaten every half-hour to prevent any ill effects from straining the
weakened organs of the digestion.
But we were by no means out of our difficulties yet. Thirty pounds of
flour, without meat, is the ordinary amount that would be given to five
men for two days, without taking into account the fact that we had been
starving for a long time and were now reduced to skeletons. Before us
was the main range of the Rocky Mountains; the snow would be drifted
deep in the narrow pass, and travel would be slow, if indeed we got
through at all. Another serious trouble was the state of our moccasins;
as they wore out we had eaten them, and were now wearing rough apologies
for shoes which we had made out of the moose-skin that was quickly
getting very small under the constant demands made upon it for various
purposes.
In the morning I measured the flour very carefully with a cup into
different loads, so that I might be able to keep account of the quantity
that was used, and, taking a gun and what few cartridges were left, we
started for Tom Barrow's cabin, which we hoped to be able to reach in
three or four days if the ice should prove good. In this we were
terribly disappointed, for at the end of the second day, after wading
through deep snow, and frequently putting ashore to light a fire on
account of the intense cold, we camped but a short distance below the
Findlay Rapid. John's feet were frozen already, and all of us were
touched in the face; there was always great difficulty in lighting a
match with numbed fingers, but birch-bark was plentiful, and being
readily inflammable was nearly sure to blaze up at once. Our only
remaining axe was almost useless from having been carelessly left for a
night in the fire. Much of the snow had drifted off the ice and was
lying three and four feet deep on the banks, increasing the labour of
making camp and picking up firewood, for we were too weak to do any
effectual chopping even if our axe had been in good condition. Without
snow-shoes it was impossible to walk through the forest in the hope of
finding grouse; and, after one or two efforts, the exertion of wading
waist-deep through snow that reached to the belt was found too great,
and the attempt was abandoned.
On the third day a blizzard swept through the pass, completely obscuring
the opposite bank of the river, which was here quite narrow. We
attempted to travel against it, but found our faces were frozen before
going a quarter of a mile. Murdo and myself had always to light the
matches, as the other men suffered more from the cold than we did; I
knew that my hands were already useless, and that if we continued to
force our way against the storm there would be little chance of starting
a fire further on. I gave orders to turn back for the camp, and we spent
the short day in keeping up the fire that was still burning. Besides the
drift, a gust of wind would often send down the masses of snow that had
gathered on the branches, putting out our little blaze and filling up
the hole that we had dug in the snow, while the boughs themselves often
fell dangerously close to the camp. The allowance of flour was cut down
to two cupfuls among five men, and this was eaten in the form of paste,
which we found more satisfying than bread. The Labrador tea was buried
deep under the snow, and from this time no more was obtained.
The shortening of rations produced grumbling in the camp, especially
from John, who declared that it was better to eat well while the little
flour lasted, to gain strength to take us to the trading-post. Murdo was
more sensible in this respect, but was beginning to lose the full use of
his head, and, besides the strong aversion he had always shown to John,
now developed a passionate hatred to Charlie and Pat, whom rightly
enough he held responsible for our position. This ill-feeling among the
various members of our party was increased tenfold by an episode which
took place on the following day. The morning was very cold but with less
wind, and, although our faces froze again, we pushed on for an hour or
two and then made a fire on the bank. Here we left the Indian and
half-breed drying their moccasins, and continued travelling down stream
to make a camp for the mid-day halt, knowing that the others could catch
us up easily with the advantage of our road through the snow; this they
did just as our fire was blazing up. I asked Charlie for his flour, as
so far we had not used any from his load, but when he produced it there
was not more than a cupful left in the bag. I had given him five pounds
of flour to carry, and at once knew that our guides, who had caused all
the trouble, had now been guilty of stealing food, when our lives
depended on the scanty store that we had picked up at the _cache_. For
this offence, at such a time, there is but one punishment: a man on the
point of starving to death cares little whether you cut off the dollar a
day that he is earning or not; a blow struck would have fired the train
of discontent that was ready to explode;--the only course open to me, if
the offenders were to be punished at all, was to put an end to them both
with the shot-gun that I carried. For a long time I debated this
question while a few spoonfuls of flour were boiled for dinner, and
finally decided to let matters take their course; there were still seven
or eight pounds of flour left, and by further reduction of rations we
might keep ourselves alive for a few more days; the weather might be
warmer, the ice less rough, and the snowfall lighter if we could reach
the far end of the pass, but at present things looked very black indeed.
Flesh and strength were failing rapidly; this loss of provisions would
tell heavily, and travelling through the gloomy pass under the high
mountains was more laborious than words can describe. It was no good
refusing to give the thieves their share of rations, as this might
induce them to strike a blow in the night, and deal us the death that
they themselves deserved; but the question might still have to be
decided, in case of a man dropping, whether his life should be
sacrificed and the offenders allowed to go free. If affairs came to the
point which everything seemed to indicate, there could now be no fair
drawing of lots to see who should die that the survivors might support
themselves by the last resource of all.
The weather continued cold, and frozen feet caused many delays; there
was no chance here to treat a frost-bite by the tender methods of
thawing with snow and rubbing with oil that are practised in
civilization, but feet were thrust into a blazing fire and allowed to
blister as they would. John and Charlie suffered greatly from this
cause, and their pain in walking was much increased. These delays were
serious, for although the Peace River Pass lies as far to the south as
the 56th parallel of latitude the days were at their shortest.
For three more days we continued wading through the snowdrifts, and
crawling over rough ice, continually changing our leader, till on
December 24th we were stopped by another blizzard, and forced to lie in
camp all day. Rations were by this time cut down to a spoonful of flour
in the morning and a strip of moose-skin at night for each man. Not more
than a pound of flour was left, and the storm, far too fierce for such
wretched skeletons to face, might continue for several days. Our
situation seemed utterly hopeless as we crouched over the fire that was
with difficulty maintained, and apparently the end had come. There was
none of the kindly sympathy for companions in misfortune which men who
share a common danger should have: a mutual distrust was prevalent;
hatred and the wolfish madness of hunger ruled the camp; and to this day
I cannot understand how it was that the fatal spark was never struck,
and no tragedy of murder and cannibalism enacted on the banks of that
ice-bound river without witnesses save the great silent mountains and
the God who made them.
Christmas Day brought rather better weather, although snow was still
falling quietly, and, finding open water in the river with shore-ice on
which the snow was not so deep as usual, there was a great improvement
in our case. An accident, however, occurred which nearly put an end to
two of the party. Charlie and Pat, who were leading at the time,
ventured too near the edge of the open water and broke through, not only
to the knees or waist, as had so often happened, but over their heads in
deep water with a strong current, and we had some trouble in pulling
them out. It was very important that we should make a fire at once, as
the temperature was many degrees below zero, and the men drenched to the
skin began to freeze directly. The accident had taken place under a long
steep bluff, and from where we stood no firewood was to be seen on our
side of the river within a couple of miles. By the greatest good
fortune, on turning a point we found a huge tree that had fallen over
the cliff and lay on the beach smashed up into firewood, as if it had
been prepared specially for our use. A blaze was soon started, and the
two half-drowned men left to dry themselves. The most unfortunate part
of the affair was the wetting of the matches which they carried. I had
divided these precious articles among the men in case of accidents of
this kind, for without fire we should have had no chance of saving our
lives; as it turned out we never ran short of matches and never once
missed making fire, although there was often trouble in procuring wood;
we were far too weak to handle a big log, but usually found a dead
cotton-wood tree, from which the bark is easily pulled and makes the
best of fires.
In the afternoon we passed the Polpar Rapid, which was completely frozen
up, and emerging from the pass caught the first sight of the sun, that
had been hidden from us for many days by the high mountains. The ice
below the rapid continued fairly good till nightfall, when we were
forced to camp, although the moon was full and we tried to travel by her
light. But although it was easy enough to see close ahead, it was
impossible to pick out the line of the best ice, and the labour of
travelling was increased by having to force our way through drifts and
piled-up ice that we might have avoided in daylight.
Soon after leaving camp on the following morning a grouse was killed,
and I think even this little nourishment helped us a great deal to
accomplish our task of reaching the trading-post; this was the only
grouse we had seen since we left the _cache_, although on the up-stream
journey birds had been plentiful enough. The ice was still rough at
times, but in some places the river was open and good shore-ice made the
walking easy; the weather was much warmer, with bright sunshine, and
there was no danger of freezing our feet. At dark camp was made within a
day's travel of Barrow's house, if only we had strength enough to reach
it.
The long night passed away, and just before daylight we were staggering
among the blocks of ice in a scattered line. There was always difficulty
in starting from the camp, for there was a certain amount of comfort in
lying in our blankets, and nobody was anxious to try whether he could
still stand upright or not. Our inclination during the worst time was to
lie down and make no further effort, but after walking half an hour we
usually found ourselves in better spirits. Soon after coming out on the
ice, I looked back to see how John was travelling, and noticed that he
was down. Charlie, who had been behind with him, came up and said that
John could travel no longer and intended to stay where he was. I stopped
all the men, but Charlie tried to push by me and said that he would not
wait for anyone. For the first time I had to use threats to ensure my
orders being carried out, and taking the gun from my shoulder let
Charlie plainly see that I meant to shoot him if he did not obey. This
quickly brought him to his senses, and John came up very slowly. He
wanted someone to stay with him and trust to the others sending back
provisions, but I would not listen to this proposal. I told him that it
was only want of courage that prevented him making any further effort;
he was as strong as the rest of us, and, if he would try, could keep up
quite easily; if he would come on till we reached the place where we had
had dinner on the second day out with the canoe, we would make him a
camp and leave all our blankets, so that he might have a chance of
keeping himself alive till relief came. On rounding a point we saw open
water ahead, and John, although far behind, went far better on the
smooth ice, and eventually came in not more than an hour after us. At
noon the Bull's Head was in sight, and we could see the line of hills at
the foot of which Barrow's house lay. The pace was fast for men in our
condition, but we kept up a steady walk, leaving our blankets when there
seemed a certainty of reaching the house that night. The sun was down
when we passed the old shanty in which we had camped for a night on the
way up, and by moonlight we travelled on, following close to the edge of
the open water and taking little precaution to test the strength of the
ice. Soon the roar of the cañon was heard, and at seven o'clock we
crawled up the steep bank and stood in front of the cabin. I pushed open
the door, and shall never forget the expression of horror that came over
the faces of the occupants when they recognised us. We had become used
to the hungry eyes and wasted forms, as our misery had come on us
gradually, but to a man who had seen us starting out thirty-two days
before in full health the change in our appearance must have been
terrible. There was no doubt that we were very near the point of death.
For my own part I felt a dull aching in the left side of my head; I was
blind in the left eye and deaf in the left ear; there was a sharp pain
on each side just below the ribs; but my legs, though not well under
control, were still strong. We had all completely lost the use of our
voices, and suffered greatly from the cracking of the skin on hands and
feet, which always results from starving in cold weather; to say that we
were thin conveys no idea of our miserable condition. It is needless to
go into the details of our recovery; but under Barrow's careful nursing,
and restrictions as to the quantity of food allowed, we all came back to
health, although for some days our lives were hanging in the balance.
I can never sufficiently thank Tom Barrow for his kind behaviour on this
occasion. Of course, everybody is sorry for starving people; but it is
rather a strain on this sympathy to have to look after five men so near
to death in a small cabin among the Rocky Mountains, with such slender
supplies as had been left for a winter's rations for two people. Without
a murmur he shared his blankets and his provisions, although he knew
that there was a good chance of starving himself in the spring.
Barrow told us directly where we had made our mistake. The river we had
turned up was Nation River, and the log-cabin had been occupied some
years before by a party of miners, but very little gold had been taken
out. Some distance up Nation River was the old trail to the Omineca
mining-camp; but of course we should not have known what trail it was if
we had found it. The mouth of the Nation River and the yellow cut bank
Barrow remembered perfectly, and said there had been much talk about
these landmarks on the way down; it seems inexplicable that three men,
who had been over the route before, should have made the mistake that so
nearly cost us our lives. If we had followed up the Parsnip beyond the
mouth of Nation River we should have reached Macleod's Lake on December
12th at latest with only a few days' starvation, and avoided all the
misery that continued till the 27th of that month.
In a week communication was opened with Hudson's Hope, and Walter
Macdonald did everything he could to help us; but the same thing had
happened to him. A band of Beaver Indians had been caught by starvation
at the mouth of the Pine River Pass, and had suffered the same
experiences as ourselves. Many had been left by the way, but I think
there were no deaths, as provisions were sent out so soon as the news
reached Baptiste at Moberley's Lake.
At the end of a fortnight everybody was well enough to travel; and to
ease the strain on provisions I sent Murdo, John, and Charlie to Lesser
Slave Lake, where they could get fish to support them, and spare the
resources of the upper river posts. But even now these men could not
travel together, although they had full rations and nothing to quarrel
about. Murdo reached the Lesser Slave Lake alone, John arriving several
days later, and I found Charlie at Dunvegan, where he had already
distinguished himself by robbing from the priest's trading-store. A
thorough blackguard was Charlie, and it would have been little loss to
the world in general if he had left his bones under the snow in the
Peace River Pass; he had begun his voyage badly by stealing fifty
dollars from his mother at Quesnelle, and there were several other
offences for which the police had hunted him away from the borders of
civilization. Pat was to stay for the winter with Barrow, and as soon as
Baptiste had made us snow-shoes we pottered about in the woods together,
hunting grouse and rabbits, and had soon entirely recovered our
strength.
I have never heard any satisfactory explanation of the gradual increase
and sudden dying out of the rabbits and lynx, which takes place every
seven years throughout the North. Starting from the few survivors of the
last epidemic, the numbers increase slowly every season, till in the
sixth year the whole country is so over-run with them that a man can
travel anywhere with no further provision than shot-gun and snares. Then
the disease breaks out, dead bodies are found all through the woods, and
scarcely a living rabbit or lynx is to be seen. The autumn of 1885 I
spent on the head-waters of the Athabasca, at the east end of the Tête
Jaune Pass; the rabbits were then at their height and as plentiful as I
ever saw them in England. 1892 will be the next big rabbit-year; but
after that famine is sure to be rife on Peace River, as it is harder
every year to kill moose, and for the last two or three years the
rabbit-snares have kept many an Indian from starvation. This
rabbit-question is an important one to consider before starting on an
exploration trip in the Peace River country, as in the good seasons
there is no danger of running short of provisions.
One day, as we were setting snares together, Pat told me the story of
the stolen flour. They had stayed behind to dry their moccasins, and
Charlie had explained to Pat that I was keeping the flour for the use of
the white men, and that their only chance of getting any was to help
themselves; Pat had objected at first, but afterwards gave way when he
saw Charlie cooking the flour, and they had eaten about four pounds
between them. Judging from Charlie's character I am inclined to believe
the story, as Pat in all other respects had behaved well under the
pressure of hardship, and had always done more than his share of work in
making camp and breaking the trail.
While staying at Hudson's Hope, Macdonald and I walked over to
Moberley's Lake, twelve miles to the south, to pay old Baptiste a visit.
The house stands within view of the big peaks of the Rockies close to
the edge of the lake, but the appearance of the country is rather spoilt
by the abundant traces of forest fires that have taken place of late
years. The lake is a beautiful sheet of water, ten miles in length,
drained by the Pine River, which falls into the Peace a short distance
above Fort St. John. Baptiste has a fruitful potato-patch, and his women
were catching plenty of rabbits; there was moose-pemmican, too, and
dried meat, for the Fall hunt had been successful. The Iroquois gave me
a pair of snow-shoes ornamented with tassels of coloured wool, as well
as a pair of beaded moccasins which he made me promise not to eat, and
came with us to the fort to see us off.
[Illustration: Arrival of the Dog Train]