HOW JACK AND HUGH CAME TO BRITISH COLUMBIA
Two days later Hugh and Jack started by steamer for the town of New
Westminster, near the mouth of the Fraser River, on the mainland. The
trip was one of great beauty, for the boat wound its way here and there
amid the many islands of the gulf; and as each one was passed a new
vista of beauty burst on the view. And, while the two travellers are
sitting on the steamer's deck, admiring the wonderful scenery opening
on all sides, wondering at the new birds and animals which appeared,
and talking over the possibilities for their summer trip, it may be
explained how it came to pass that these two friends found themselves
so far from their homes and from the high, dry plains where the summers
of the three previous years had been passed by both.
It was six months before--to be exact, it was on Christmas Day--that
the thought of the trip to British Columbia had first been broached.
Mr. Sturgis, Jack's uncle, had come back from the ranch and was
spending the winter with Jack's father and mother at the house on
Thirty-Eighth Street; and it was while they were sitting at dessert
during their Christmas dinner that Mr. Sturgis had announced that
during the next summer it would be necessary for him to go out to
British Columbia to inspect a mine in which he was interested, and had
proposed that Jack should go with him.
For three years past Jack had spent the summer on the western plains.
Ill health had been the first cause of his going out to Swiftwater
Ranch, where he had learned to ride, to hunt big game, and to live the
life of a ranchman. So greatly had he been benefited by this trip, that
the next summer he was permitted to return to the ranch. Then he and
old Hugh Johnson had travelled north, across the lonely, buffalo-dotted
plains, until they had come to the country of the Piegan Blackfeet,
where they had spent the summer in the Indian camp, and Jack had seen
much of Indian life--of its charms and its dangers. He returned at
length down the Missouri River to the railroad, and so back to his home
in New York for the winter's schooling. The third year, still in Hugh's
company, he had gone up the Missouri River; and starting southwest from
Fort Benton, had gone through the Yellowstone Park and back to the
ranch, having a great deal of shooting and fishing and not a little of
adventure.
In this out-door life, in knocking about with Hugh Johnson and with
other people who had been brought up to take care of themselves, Jack
had learned many lessons of the plains and the mountains. He had picked
up a great store of the lore of the prairies, could find his way about,
even though there might be neither road nor landmarks to guide him;
and, under Hugh's tuition, had become a good prairie man. He had also
become very fond of the West; and when his uncle suggested that he
should go with him to British Columbia, he was delighted at the thought
of the trip. Being a boy of good sense, he said nothing when the
suggestion was made, but watched the faces of his father and mother, to
see how they felt about it.
"British Columbia seems a long way off, doesn't it, George?" said Mr.
Danvers to his brother-in-law.
"Yes," said Jack's mother, "it seems a terribly long way off. I have
been badly enough frightened these last three years, when Jack went
out into a country full of cowboys and Indians and wild animals; and
I always let him go with the feeling that I shall never see him again.
Certainly the plains are far enough away for him. British Columbia must
be more than twice as far, and I don't feel as if I could think of
that."
"You and Mary have hit it exactly," said Mr. Sturgis. "You both say it
seems a long way off, but in practice it is no further off than where
Jack has been before, and, indeed, it is not nearly so far. British
Columbia is at least within reach of the rest of the world by steam
communication and also by telegraph. You can learn in a very short
time what is happening in British Columbia, but when Jack was out
on the plains, between my ranch and Fort Benton, he was practically
as far off as he would have been in Central Africa. The distance of
British Columbia is all in imagination. The country is one that we hear
very little of, and for that reason we think it far away, but it is
not so. Now, I would like to have Jack go with me. I don't mean that
I want to take him up into the mountains to have him spend his days
loafing around a mine while I am working; but I thought--if you feel
like letting him go with me--we would have Hugh Johnson join us at the
railroad, all go on together to British Columbia, and let Hugh and Jack
take a hunt or a canoe trip along the coast, while I go back to my
mine in Washington Territory. I shall be there a month or six weeks,
and after I have done my work and they have made their trip, we could
meet and come across overland and home by the new railroad that's being
built north from the Union Pacific to the mining regions of Montana
Territory."
When Jack heard this fascinating plan he had to hold hard to his chair
to keep still; and he couldn't help drawing in his breath with a sort
of whistle, making a slight noise, so that his father looked at him
and laughed a little.
"You both know," continued Mr. Sturgis, "what these western trips
have done for Jack, and yet, really, I am not quite sure that you do
know; I am not quite sure that you remember what a wee little bit
of a white shrimp he was when he first went out to the ranch; how
he changed during that summer, and how, when we came back in the
autumn, you, Mary, hardly knew the boy. See how he has grown, squared
up--what a picture of health he is! You don't know--and perhaps I
don't either, altogether; except so far as I have been told by Hugh
Johnson, what a change has taken place in the boy's character. He has
developed mentally as much as he has physically. He has gained balance,
self-reliance; is sensible beyond his years in all matters that pertain
to the out-door life, and is already, in many essentials, a man and a
good companion, so far as his strength goes, in any situation where
hard work, judgment, coolness, and discretion are required. All this
means a great deal, more perhaps than any of us quite understand. If
the boy had never gone west, he might have had a greater share of book
learning, might have been further advanced toward entering college;
but also, he might have been dead, and certainly he would have been
very different in appearance from what he is now. You two had better
think over the question of this trip. It will mean for the boy another
summer spent out of doors, in surroundings that are wholly new to him.
The life will be one of hard work whether they make a canoe trip, or
a hunt; and it certainly will do them good. Then, of course, it will
give him a great deal of pleasure, will enlarge his ideas, and will be,
in all respects, helpful to him. Now, think it over, and when you are
ready we will talk it over again."
During the months of the winter, the subject had often been brought
up. Jack, when he was consulted, was, of course, eager to go, doubly
so after he had learned that his uncle proposed to take Hugh Johnson
along. At last his parents consented to his going.
In the spring Mr. Sturgis went west to the ranch, as was his custom,
and arrangements were made for Jack to come west over the Union Pacific
Railroad as soon as school had closed.
On the appointed day, the train bearing Jack drew up at the little
station nearest to Mr. Sturgis's ranch, and Jack's uncle and Hugh
Johnson stepped on board the train, while Jack waved an enthusiastic
greeting to Joe, who sat in the wagon that had brought them from the
ranch.
Then the three travellers sped on westward, plunging through the
Wasatch Mountains, and at length reached the Great Salt Lake Basin.
They stopped for a day at Salt Lake City, interesting for its beauty,
its surroundings of great mountains, and its wonderful lake. Jack had a
swim in Salt Lake, and though he had been warned about it, experienced
a curious sensation in swimming in its waters, it being impossible for
him to sink. He swam about, or stood upright with his whole head out of
the water, but found that diving was very difficult. Then, as he began
to dry off, after coming out of the water, it was curious to feel his
skin become rough with a crust of salt which had to be washed off with
fresh water before he could dress.
As they were going back to the city on the railroad Jack said to his
uncle: "I wish you would tell me, Uncle George, why this lake is so
salt. Of course I have heard you say that it has no outlet and that the
rivers which flow into it are constantly bringing down a little salt in
solution, which, in the course of many ages has become concentrated in
the lake; but is that the whole story? It doesn't seem to me enough to
account for it all."
"It isn't, Jack; you are quite right about that. The Salt Lake Basin,
of which the Great Salt Lake now occupies but a comparatively small
portion, is simply the bed of another far older and grander sheet of
water that was once here, which the geologists called Lake Bonneville.
If you take the trouble to look along the mountains while we are
here you can see, at various levels, the terraces which indicate the
height, on the mountains, of the waters of that inland sea at different
periods. You will see, and in fact you can see from here," and he
pointed toward the mountains, "these terraces running straight along
the mountain sides, hundreds of feet above the level of the plain.
Now, Lake Bonneville was far larger than any body of water that now
exists on this continent. Its outlet was to the northwest, in Idaho,
toward Snake River; and it extended southward for several hundred
miles. At last a time came, when, by the elevation of the land, this
outlet was cut off, and we had a body of water without any outlet.
Gradually evaporation, working for centuries, dried up this lake, and
now all that remains of it is the Salt Lake, in which we have just been
swimming. In that water is concentrated much of all of the salt and
soda that was in the greater lake, as well as much of that brought down
by the streams during the ages that have passed since the old outlet
closed up. Even Salt Lake is believed to be steadily growing smaller,
drying up, and the flats around its border are now so full of salt and
of alkali of one kind and another that they are wholly infertile and
cannot be farmed.
"The Mormons have made out of the valley of the lake, however, a
perfect garden spot. Once it was a sage desert, as barren as anything
that you have ever been over, more so perhaps. Now you can see for
yourself what grows here,--wheat, rye, barley, oats, green stretches of
graceful corn, great patches of potatoes, orchards and hay fields; and
to me it seems more like one of the farming States east of the Missouri
than it does like a sage desert."
"Well, that is mighty interesting, Uncle George, and I am glad to hear
it. I sometimes think that I would like mighty well to study geology.
It seems as if the history of the earth we're living on ought to be as
interesting a subject as one could take up."
From Salt Lake the travellers hurried west, and before very long found
themselves at San Francisco. From there a steamer took them north along
the rough and dangerous coasts of California, Oregon, and Washington
to the Strait of Fuca and Puget Sound, where Mr. Sturgis left them;
and finally to Victoria. Before the three parted, it had been decided
that Jack and Hugh should get a canoe and some Indians and make a trip
through the Gulf of Georgia; and returning, should meet Mr. Sturgis in
Tacoma, Washington, whence they would return to the East.
It was almost sundown, when the steamer which bore Jack and Hugh
approached the wharf at New Westminster. After they had entered the
mouth of the Fraser River the ride had still been very interesting, for
on either side of the steamer appeared at intervals great barn-like
wooden buildings, which some of the passengers on board explained were
salmon canning factories. Loitering about these were a few Chinamen,
apparently attached to the factories; but not many people were about,
for as yet the salmon had not begun to run.
As the boat drew up to the wharf, a good many people from the town
sat, awaiting its landing. Among these, Hugh and Jack noticed a
tall, well-built man, who seemed to keep his eyes constantly fixed
on them. At last he bowed, and waved his hand, to which salutation
they responded. They wondered who it could be, for they did not know
that Mr. MacTavish had telegraphed to Mr. James to look out for the
travellers on this boat. As soon as the gangplank was run out, Mr.
James boarded the vessel, and coming up to them introduced himself. He
took them to the hotel; and, seeing that they had comfortable rooms,
left them there, saying that he would come back a little later and take
them up to spend the evening at his house.
Two or three hours later the three were climbing the road, on their
way to Mr. James's house which was situated among the stumps of the
ancient forest, which still stood in the suburbs of the town. Here they
spent a delightful evening, and before they parted for the night it was
arranged that the next morning Mr. Hughes should take Jack out for a
little hunt, and try and show him one of the deer of the country.
"We don't hunt here," said Mr. James, "as you do back in the States,
because we cannot. If it were practicable, I should prefer, as I should
think most people would, to go out and take up a deer's track, follow
him until I got within range and then, if I could, kill him; but that
is impossible in the forests we have here. The trees grow over three
hundred feet in height; there is much fallen timber in the woods, and
the logs are from four to ten feet thick. Besides that, the great
precipitation produces such a heavy undergrowth that it is impossible
to go through it noiselessly. Therefore, if we want deer we are obliged
here, to run the game into the water with dogs, and kill them there.
It is not a sport that I greatly esteem, but at least we can kill an
occasional deer when we want venison."
"I should like very much to see it done once, Mr. James," said Jack,
"as most of my hunting has been done in running buffalo, or finding my
game and crawling up to it; and I have been taught that was the most
sportsmanlike way to do it. Yet, at the same time, it is easy to see
that it cannot be done in a country such as you describe."
"Well," said Hugh, "I guess I'll let you two go and do your hunting
to-morrow morning alone. I don't think that it's worth while for me to
go and see a deer shot over in the water. Maybe I'll get up and walk
out there with you, though. I'd like to stretch my legs after having
been in that boat for so many days."
Before they parted, then, it was agreed that Hugh and Jack should
present themselves at Mr. James's house next morning as near to four
o'clock as possible, when they would start to hunt for a deer near
Mirror Lake.