The Young Alaskans in the Rockies Part 13

But after a time they came to the small green trees, and then to the tall pines under whose shade the ground was softer and gave them a better footing. It did not take them so long to come down as it had to ascend, but they were all tired when late that afternoon they arrived at their camp on the little promontory.

Moise was overjoyed at their success, and was all for cooking some of the meat at once; but Uncle d.i.c.k checked him.

"No," said he, "it's too fresh yet. Skin it out, Moise, and hang it up overnight, at least. You may set a little of it to stew all night at the fire, if you like. Soak some more of it overnight in salt and water--and then I think you'd better throw away all the kettles that you've used with this goat meat. It may be all right, but I'm afraid it's going to be a long time before I learn to like goat. If this were a mountain sheep, now, I could eat all that saddle myself."

Moise asked who killed the goat, and when told that it was John he complimented him very much. For Rob's work with the camera he had less praise.

"I s'pose she's all right to make picture of goat," said he, "but s'pose a man he's hongree, he couldn't eat picture, could he?"

Rob only laughed at him. "You wait, Moise," said he. "When I get my pictures made maybe you'd rather have one of them than another piece of goat meat."

In spite of Uncle d.i.c.k's disgust, Moise that evening broiled himself a piece of the fresh goat meat at the fire, and ate it with such relish that the boys asked for a morsel or so of it themselves. To their surprise, they found the tenderloin not so bad to eat. Thus, with one excuse or another, they sat around the fire, happy and contented, until the leader of the party at last drove them all off to bed.

"I like this place," said John, "even if I did come pretty nearly getting drowned out there in the lake."

And indeed the spot had proved so pleasant in every way that it was only with a feeling of regret that they broke camp on Yellowhead Lake and proceeded on their westward journey.

XIV

DOWN THE FRASER

Up to this time on their journey the weather had continued most favorable, there having been little rain to disturb them either on the trail or in camp. Now, however, they were on the western slope of the Rockies and in the moister climate of the Pacific region. When they left camp on Yellowhead Lake it was in a steady downpour which left them drenched thoroughly before they had gone a mile.

The trail, moreover, now proved not only uncomfortable, but dangerous, the rain making the footing so soft that in many cases on steep slopes they were obliged to dismount and lead their horses up or down.

Indeed, the trail scarcely could be called a trail at all, all trace of the original traders' paths now being lost. Many persons, mostly engineers or prospecting adventurers, had pa.s.sed here, each taking his own way, and the sum of their selections served only to make bad very much worse. In the level places the trail was a quagmire, on some of the steeper slopes simply a zigzag of scrambling hoof tracks.

They kept on, in spite of their discomforts, throughout the forenoon without pause. It was their purpose to get on the farther side of as many of these mountain streams as possible. They were now in a bold mountain country, where numerous small tributaries came down to the great Fraser which roared and plunged along beside their trail. "The Bad River," old Sir Alexander Mackenzie called one of the headwaters of the Fraser, and bad enough it is from its source on down.

They were now near the forks of the two main tributaries of the Fraser, one roaring torrent coming down from the south. The trail held to the north bank of the Fraser, following down from the lake along the rapid but harmless little river which made its outlet. To ford the Fraser was, of course, impossible. Time and again the young adventurers paused to look down at the raging torrent, broken into high, foaming waves by the numerous reefs of rock which ran across it.

Continually the roar of the angry waters came up to them through the trees. More than ever they realized that they now were on the sh.o.r.es of one of the wickedest rivers in all the Rockies, as their Uncle d.i.c.k had told them of the Fraser.

They now observed that the trees of the forest through which they traveled were much larger than they had been. But, splendid as this forest growth had been, they found that in a large area fire had gone through it in some previous year, and this burned country--or _brule_, as Moise called it--made one of the worst obstacles any traveler could encounter. This hardship was to remain with them almost all the way down the Fraser to the Tete Jaune Cache, and it added immeasurably to the trials of pack-train travel.

At last they pulled up alongside of a broad and brawling stream, turbulent but shallow, a little threatening to one not skilled in mountain travel, but not dangerous to a party led as was this one, by a man acquainted with the region.

[Ill.u.s.tration: APPROACHING THE GRAND CAnON ON THE FRASER RIVER]

"Here we are at Grant Creek," said Uncle d.i.c.k, as they paused on the hither side of the stream. "This is one of the many swift tributaries on the north side of the Fraser, but I am glad we've got to ford it, and not the Fraser itself. You see, we have to keep on the north bank all the way down now."

Uncle d.i.c.k carefully located his landmarks and examined some stones and stumps to get some idea of the stage of the water.

"It's all right," said he. "Come on across. Follow me closely now."

Soon they were belly-deep in the tawny flood of the stream, which came down noisily all about them. The st.u.r.dy horses, however, seemed not to be in the least alarmed, but followed old Danny, Uncle d.i.c.k's pony, as he slowly plodded on across, angling down the stream and never once losing his footing in the rolling stones of the bottom. The stream was not over a hundred and twenty feet wide at this point, and the ford was made with no difficulty at all.

"This is easy," said Uncle d.i.c.k, as they emerged on the western side.

"But three miles ahead we come to the Moose River, and that's apt to be a different proposition. You can't tell anything about any of these rivers until you try them. One thing is sure, we can't get any wetter than we are."

"I've noticed all these streams are highest in the afternoon," said Rob--"a lot higher, too. We've often mentioned that."

"Yes; that's because the snow melts in the morning and starts the water down the high slopes. It takes some time for it to get down to the lower levels. Morning is the best time to ford any of these mountain rivers, as I have told you."

The trail was none too good on to the Moose River, and they were none too cheerful as they paused to look over the situation at the bank of this stream.

"When I crossed here the last time I marked a stump with an ax," said Uncle d.i.c.k. "That was barely below swimming-line. Ah, there it is, I see--we've got six inches to the good, and that means we can get across, I think. It's lucky it isn't worse. There are some falls up this river a little way, and perhaps we could get across the narrows there, but in any case we would have to get the horses across down here, and we had better all make it together. Anyhow, I'll go ahead on Danny and see how it works. Moise, you'll bring up the rear; Rob, you go next ahead of Moise, and you, John and Jesse, follow just behind me a little way back. If Danny loses his footing, all of you stop at once and wait for further orders. Well, here goes."

He spurred his plucky little horse into the roily, turbulent flood, closely followed by the others as he had instructed. Fortunately, the pack-train, by this time well broken into the work of the trail, made no disturbance, but followed along stolidly in the rear of the leader.

Thus, little by little, they edged on across and at last crossed the dangerous middle part of the river. Here Uncle d.i.c.k angled a little down, following the shallow water indicated by the light ripples. As the boys saw Danny begin to show more and more above the surface of the water, until he was walking no deeper than his knees, they swung their hats and shouted exultantly, for now they were safely to cross one of the most dangerous rivers on the whole trail.

"Well," said Uncle d.i.c.k, as at last they pulled up on the farther side, "that's done, at any rate. From here it's only a couple of miles or so to the head of Moose Lake. The trail is fierce along there, but once beyond that lake we can safely call the worst of our whole journey past and done with. We can make it in a few hours' steady work if we have luck."

They pushed on, and after a time paused at a point near the head of Moose Lake, from which they could see it lying before them, seven miles or so of slaty gray water, now wrinkled under the downpouring rain. It was a prospect not in the least cheerful, to be sure.

"The Fraser River runs straight through this lake," said Uncle d.i.c.k, "and, as you see, it is getting more water every mile out of these hills. This is the only quiet place on the whole Fraser River that I know of. But we can't get across it, couldn't even if we had boats, for here are the horses.

"But if we could cross the lake here, and if we could cross the Selwyn Mountains over there on the other side of it, we would find a little creek up there which heads up just opposite Price Creek. You see, Price Creek runs down into the Canoe River, which is the stream we're going to follow below Tete Jaune Cache. They say the Indians used to take horses up this little creek and down Price Creek on the other side. If so, they must have had horses born on the other side of the Fraser, for I'll warrant they couldn't get them across from the north side where we are."

"Did any white man ever go over that way?" asked Rob, curiously.

"Not that I know of. I don't know when the Indians went there, but there's a story that some of them took horses across the Selwyns over yonder. As for us, we've got to keep on down this valley. We are twenty miles west from the Yellowhead Pa.s.s, and have thirty miles more to go yet to the Tete Jaune Cache."

"What are these big mountains over on the right?" inquired Rob.

"That's the Rainbow range. We make our way right along their feet. On beyond the lake for some distance the river is a little more quiet, then she drops; that's all. There's a strip of water in here twenty miles or so that no boat could live in at all. There were two rattle-headed engineers who did try to take a boat down a part of the Fraser in here, and in some miraculous way they ran maybe ten or twelve miles of it, part in and part out of the water. Then their boat smashed on a rock, and they both were drowned. One body was found, the other was never heard of."

"Well," said John, "we're complaining a good deal about going along on horses, but I believe I like that better than taking a boat on that river."

"When we'll make camp to-day, M'sieu Deek?" asked Moise, pushing up alongside the leader's horse. They all sat in the rain, dripping like so many drowned rats.

"Well," said Uncle d.i.c.k, "this is pretty bad, isn't it? It seems to me that we had better use all the daylight we can to-day, for we're wet as we can get anyway. There are no bad streams now, but the trail is awful of itself--side-hills and _brule_, and in and out of the water all along the lake side. But we've got to pa.s.s it some time. Suppose we make the best of a bad bargain, and see if we can get to the lower end of the lake to-day?"

The boys all agreed to this, and so the party pushed on, but they found later that the prediction of their leader was quite true, for none of them had ever seen so fearful a trail as that along the north sh.o.r.e of Moose Lake. But even as it grew darker in the deep valley at last they broke through the farther edge of the heaviest timber, picked their way through a wide strip of _brule_, crossed the last dangerous face of rock side, and emerged into an open area where some sort of camp at last was possible. Here they dismounted, all ready to agree that this was the worst day any of them had ever seen on the trail.

"Well," said Uncle d.i.c.k, chuckling, "I pushed pretty hard to-day, but I had to make up for that lost day we spent hunting goats. To tell the truth, I didn't think we could get this far on to-day, and so I just count we're even on the goat-hunt. Besides, we are now past the worst part of our troubles. To-morrow I promise you something worth all the hard work we've undergone."

"What's that?" demanded Jesse. "Some more hunting?"

"Certainly not. You've another guess, Jesse. Something better than that."

"You don't mean sheep or grizzly?"

"Something bigger than grizzly, even."

"That," said Rob, "must be a mountain."