A MYSTERIOUS WATER MONSTER
It was still black night when Hugh and Jack arrived at Mr. James's,
about four o'clock the next morning. He was waiting for them, and,
seated on the floor near the stove in the dining-room where he had
been eating his breakfast, was an Indian, whom he introduced as
Squawitch--"The Sturgeon," as Mr. James explained.
By the time they had left the house the eastern sky had begun to
pale, and day was at hand. It promised to be a perfect one. The sky
was cloudless and no fog obscured the view. In the east, above the
jagged and broken summits of the Pitt River Mountains, the stars were
disappearing. The sky was beginning to grow gray and then to flush and
glow, each instant becoming brighter. They walked at a brisk pace, at
first climbing the hill and then passing along the level lands of the
plateau. The three white men walked side by side in advance, and behind
them came the Indian, leading three splendid hounds, which from time to
time tugged at their chains or whimpered as some scent from the forest
met their nostrils. The air was cool, fresh, and exhilarating. A gentle
breeze just moved the branches of the great trees, which were far
larger than any Hugh or Jack had ever seen.
From the recesses of the tangled forests came the sweet balsamic odors
of firs and cedars, mingled with the faint damp smell of decaying
vegetation, so characteristic of the forest in all climates. To Jack
and Hugh all the trees and all the plants were new. They wondered at
the vast size and height of the tree trunks, admired the maples with
their large leaves, the thick tangle of underbrush, and beneath all
the great ferns, higher than a man's head. They were passing between
high walls of foliage, extending far above them on either side. Above
was a narrow strip of blue sky and before them the yellow road.
Multitudes of bright bits of color appeared along the roadside. The
fireweed, familiar everywhere in the mountains, shone like a tongue of
flame against a background of green. Here and there, in wet springy
places, the foxglove nodded its tall spikes of red or white blooms;
and besides this there were many other flowers, all beautiful, but
not known by name to the travellers. One beautiful white low-growing
flower attracted Jack's attention, and he dropped on his knees to
examine it, declaring that it must be some sort of dogwood, so closely
did it resemble--except in size--the ordinary white flowering dogwood
of the Eastern States. There were also berries of many colors, and in
great abundance. Many of these Mr. James named for them as they passed
along; salmon berries, red or yellow, blackberries, green and red, and
blueberries of several kinds; the purple salal, the velvet berry, the
scarlet and as yet unripe panicles of the elder, and the brilliant
fruit of the umbrella plant were all there, and were constantly
inviting them to stop and admire their beauties.
To Mr. James, who had lived in the country for many years, these sights
were commonplace. To Hugh and Jack they were all remarkable and each
one seemed to demand an explanation. But there was no time for that.
Mr. James and the Indian had set their hearts on getting a deer, and it
was necessary to step briskly to reach the hunting grounds before the
sun had dried off the moisture and "killed" the scent. They walked so
fast that there was little opportunity for conversation. Nevertheless,
Jack found time to ask some questions.
"I can see, Mr. James," Jack said, "by looking into this timber, how
impossible it would be to hunt here in the way in which we do in the
Eastern States or on the plains. In the first place, the underbrush is
so thick that one could not see any distance; and, in the second place,
it would be impossible to go along without making so much noise that
the deer would hear one."
"That's precisely the fact," said Mr. James, "and therefore, as I
told you last night, the only way in which we can get deer here is by
putting dogs on the track. There are many places on the islands of the
Gulf, where the country is open enough so that one can hunt on foot
quietly, as we used to do where I lived back in Canada, with a good
prospect of getting an occasional shot, but that cannot be done here.
Then, too, there are plenty of places along the coast where the deer
come down from the mountains to feed on the grass near the edge of the
salt water, or to eat the dulse,--a sort of seaweed thrown up by the
sea,--and where they can be shot from a canoe. The Indians kill a great
many in this way; but, except in winter, when they are driven down from
the mountains by the heavy snows, that is not a method that is very
certain."
"If we make a canoe trip along the coast, as we were talking of doing,
there might be a chance of getting deer along the shore, then?" queried
Jack.
"Yes, you are very likely to do that," said Mr. James, "and quite
likely, also, to see a bear in such a situation; for the bears often
come down to the shore there, to feed on the seaweed, or to go along
the beach hunting for fish or food of any kind that may have been
thrown up by the sea. Almost all the animals in this country, certainly
all carnivorous animals, depend more or less on the beach for their
living; and often in the morning, if you go along the shore, you will
see the tracks of bears, foxes, wolves, deer, and perhaps two or three
other species of animals that have gone along during the night. The
beach is a pretty good hunting ground; and if you make your proposed
trip you will find, all along, trails leading down from the hills to
the water."
For some little time Hugh had been walking behind the others, by the
side of the Indian, and trying to talk to him in sign language; but,
though occasionally the Indian seemed to comprehend his gestures, it
was evident that he was not a sign talker. Presently Hugh spoke to Mr.
James, and said: "I like these dogs you have here, Mr. James; they
remind me of the hounds we used to run foxes down in Kentucky when I
was a boy. Two of them are as handsome hounds as I ever saw; and the
other one, while not so good a hound, looks as if he were smart enough
to keep up his end of the running all the time."
"You have hit it exactly, Mr. Johnson," said their owner. "Each of
these dogs has its good points. Captain and Dinah are pretty nearly
perfect to look at. Captain has the best nose of any hound I ever
saw, and a voice like a trumpet. Dinah's nose is not quite so good as
Captain's, but she is considerably faster. Wallace, as you say, does
not look much like a hound, but he is fast and the very best fighter in
the lot, and he is smart enough to know a good part of the time which
way the deer is going, and to cut in ahead of the others and take the
trail; and often he catches the deer alone. He is a great fighter; and
if he once gets hold of a deer, he will surely kill it. I had the dogs
out on one of the inlets last year, and was in a canoe on the water,
myself, and I saw Wallace overtake a deer, running along a narrow ledge
on the face of the cliff, sixty feet above the water. Wallace caught up
with the deer, grabbed him and threw him off the cliff. He didn't let
go, and the two fell into the water below. I have always thought that
Wallace would have been killed if I had not been there in the canoe to
come up and kill the deer."
"Well," said Hugh, "I suppose it's because I used to see so much of
them when I was a youngster, but there's no sort of dog I like so well
as a hound. The long muzzle, and those great long flapping ears and sad
eyes always go right to my heart. If I ever have a place of my own and
can afford it, I will surely have two or three good hounds; not to hunt
with, but just for company."
"Yes," said Mr. James, "they are mighty nice dogs, hounds are; but for
myself, I like any kind of a dog. Just at present I have none except
these three. But I want to get a good bird dog; and I can tell you that
is something hard to get in this country."
By this time the sun was up and the brisk walk was making all hands
wipe the perspiration from their brows. Presently they came to a little
trail off to the left of the road, and here they paused; while Mr.
James said a few words in the Chinook jargon to the Indian, who, with
the dogs, disappeared in the forest.
"Now," said Mr. James, "we are only a little way from the lake, and I
have sent the Indian off to start the dogs. We may as well walk down to
where the canoe is and wait for him there."
"Well, son," said Hugh, "you go on with Mr. James and kill that deer
if you can. I reckon I'll walk on a little farther along this road,
and look at these trees and flowers; and then I'll turn around and go
back to the town. I don't care much about looking on while you folks
kill that deer. I'd rather look at this timber, and smell the scents
that come out of it, and see these posies that seem to be growing
everywhere. If you don't strike me on the road on your way back, why,
I'll be at the hotel when you get there."
"Do just what you wish, Mr. Johnson," said Mr. James; "but I'd like to
have you come, if you feel like it. There's plenty of room for three
in the canoe, and we can leave the Indian on shore, and do our own
paddling."
"No," said Hugh, "I guess I'll have more fun looking at all these
strange things around me than I would have if I went in the canoe. Jack
will be safe with you, and we'll meet again later in the day."
"Yes," said Mr. James, "of course we will. I want to have you come up
and take dinner with me at noon; and then in the afternoon we will go
over to Burrard Inlet and see Fannin. You will like him. He is one of
the finest fellows in the world, and it will be a great thing for you
if you can get him to go with you on your trip."
"Oh! I hope we can!" cried Jack; while Hugh said: "I hope so too." Then
they parted, and Mr. James and Jack plunged into the forest while Hugh
walked briskly off along the road. A few minutes' walk brought them to
the border of a beautiful little lake in the woods, surrounded on all
sides by the high forest. On its shores they sat down; and while Mr.
James lit his pipe he talked and told Jack something about this sheet
of water.
"We call it Mirror Lake," said he, "and on a morning like this you
can easily see how well the name fits it, for everything is reflected
in the smooth water. It is always a good place to get a deer, for
scarcely anybody hunts here. The Indians never by any chance go on
it. They think that down under the water there lives what they call
a selallicum--that means a supernatural monster. Just what sort of a
creature this is the Indians do not seem to know; but it is some kind
of an evil spirit that lives at the bottom of the lake; and when
anybody goes out on the water in a canoe this monster rises to the
surface, upsets the canoe, and swallows the people that are in it. The
belief in this monster is held by all the Indians. They won't go out on
the lake. They won't even go near its margin when they are gathering
berries. They think that I am a fool for daring to go out on it; and
they say that some day the monster will rise and surely get me."
Pausing a moment, the speaker continued:
"One time, when I was hunting on the lake I was careless in the canoe
and upset, and my gun sank to the bottom, and, of course, I never got
it again. The Indians hearing of this told me that the selallicum had
given me a warning not to come on the lake again, and that I had better
respect this warning. There is only one Indian in the whole country
who will go out on the lake, and that is Squawitch here. He is an old
friend of mine, and has lots of confidence in me. But even he will
never enter a canoe except in my company. I don't know just how he
reasons about the matter; whether he thinks that I have some strong
medicine which enables me to defy this monster or not; but he has been
hunting here with me many times and is always ready to go again. This
morning, though, he told me that an Indian had seen the selallicum on
the lake within two or three weeks."
Mr. James paused to refill his pipe, and as they sat there for a moment
silent, suddenly the faint cry of the hounds was heard in the distance,
and Mr. James said: "There! hear that? That's Captain. Listen!"
Presently the shriller cry of Dinah made itself heard, and as they sat
listening to the cry of the hounds, which gradually grew more and more
faint, Squawitch parted the bushes near them, and, walking along a log
toward the water, drew from the low brush a canoe and two paddles. He
stepped into the canoe, pushed it ashore, and signing Mr. James and
Jack to step in, took his seat in the stern. Mr. James took the bow
paddle and Jack seated himself amidship. Then, with a stroke or two of
the paddles, the canoe shot out of the little cove on to the unruffled
surface of Mirror Lake.
Certainly it well deserved its name! Only a few hundred yards in width
and less than a mile long, it was surrounded on all sides by a superb
forest of gigantic firs. Along its margin grew a narrow border of grass
or low willows, separating the border from the dark forest; and beyond
that border a fringe of lily pads floated motionless on the surface of
the water. The little strip of grass, the tall green trees, and the
blue sky above were so perfectly reflected in the clear water that Jack
could hardly tell where the reflection ended and the vegetation began.
Shut in on all sides by the vast untouched forests, the lake lay there
like a great eye that gazed steadfastly and unwinkingly at the sky
which it mirrored. The light breeze had fallen as the sun rose, and
there was now not the slightest motion on the water. The stillness was
unbroken for a time, and they sat listening for the cry of the hounds.
The different inhabitants of the lake and forest, plying their usual
vocations, soon began to reveal to the boy from the East glimpses of
their life history.
An old mother golden-eyed duck led her brood of half a dozen from among
some low willows and began to teach them how to procure their food;
calling to them now and then in low lisping tones, to which the little
ones responded with soft peeping cries. At one side of the lake a
little pine squirrel was gathering his winter store of green fir cones,
which he cut from the tree and dropped to the ground with a great deal
of noise. So great in fact was the noise, that when it first began
Jack was sorely tempted to ask Mr. James what it was; but by listening
he made out the cause for himself, and so was glad that he had not
inquired.
Suddenly over the tops of the bordering trees a pair of superb
white-headed eagles flew silently across the lake, the hindermost
seeming to strive to overtake the one in advance. But when this
happened the foremost bird, without closing his wings, swung over on
his back, thrust out his talons threateningly toward his pursuer, and
then turned over again, flew onward and out of sight. A little later
two loons settled in the water not far from the canoe and began to call
on each other with loud mournful cries. It was useless now to listen
for the hounds, for the loons made so much noise that nothing else
could be heard; but at length they took wing and disappeared.
Now that silence had again fallen over the lake, the cry of hounds
could be heard once more, though far off and very faint. At length the
sound came nearer and nearer, passing the west end of the lake, and
again grew fainter and at last was lost.
Mr. James had just said with an air of disappointment that he feared
the deer had taken water in Burnaby Lake, when Jack heard the Indian
speak in suppressed but very emphatic tones to his companion. Following
the direction of their eyes, Jack saw something slowly moving through
the water at the other end of the lake. What it was he could not tell.
Certainly it did not look like anything that he had ever seen before.
As much as anything, however, it resembled a wooden box two or three
feet square, floating on the surface of the water; but, of course, a
box would not be found in such a situation, and would not move. Jack
took it for granted that it was a deer, because he could not think of
any other living thing likely to be in that place at that time. There
was one man in the canoe, however, who evidently did not think that it
was a deer, and was very much excited about it. That was the Indian.