The Young Alaskans in the Rockies Part 14

"Quite right. I'm going to show you the greatest mountain in all the Canadian Rockies, and one of the greatest mountains on this continent.

It isn't known very much to-day, but soon Mount Robson will be one of the show-places of this whole country. The Indians have always called it the biggest of all these mountains, time out of mind."

"What time shall we see it?" inquired Rob.

"That depends a great deal. It'll be about fourteen miles down the trail to the Grand Fork Valley. Looking right up that, we'll be staring into the face of old Robson. I only hope the rain will be done by that time, so that the sun will shine and give us a fair view. It's very rarely that one ever sees Mount Robson clear to the top. But sufficient for to-day are the evils, I presume. Let's see if we can make ourselves comfortable in camp to-night."

"One thing," said John, that night, "this horse business isn't going to last forever. I hope the Canoe River isn't as bad as the Fraser, for I'm getting ready to get into a boat once more. I've changed my mind a little."

"I wonder where the Canoe River got its name, Uncle d.i.c.k?" queried Rob.

"That I cannot tell you. There are some canoes on the Fraser which came up from the Pacific way, and there are some canoe birches in these woods, this side of the summit. Now, whether some of the old traders one day made a birch-bark canoe and ran that stream I can't tell. But that is the name given to it by the traders, and I suppose they got it from the earlier traders who crossed this country.

"John," he added, "this is a hard place for you to bring up your map.

I'll excuse you from your map-making until we have a drier camp than this."

XV

THE GREAT MOUNTAIN

Happily on the next day the weather relented and the sun greeted them when they were ready for their breakfast, although all the trees were dripping wet. Uncle d.i.c.k was very much rejoiced.

"We'll see Robson to-day if this sun holds," said he. "Let's hurry on."

"There you go!" grumbled John. "Uncle d.i.c.k, you always are finding one reason or other for being in a hurry."

"Well, everything in here is in a hurry," was his uncle's answer. "All the water's in a hurry, and all the engineers are in a hurry. But, speaking of that, you may notice that below the lake here the slopes are not quite so steep. The river is getting wider. By and by it will be so tame that you really can run a boat on it. The Tete Jaune Cache was what you might call the head of water transportation on the west side--as far as the canoes dared attempt the Fraser going east. From the Tete Jaune Cache it is possible to make a canoe journey up and down the river between that point and Fort George, although every time one makes the journey he takes his own chances."

"Is the Canoe River a very bad river, then?" demanded John.

"Well, as to that, she's jammed and drifted and overhung and fast, but not so bad as the Peace River was in many places," replied Uncle d.i.c.k.

"I don't think we need have much anxiety as to that part of our journey. At least, we'll not worry about it yet, for worrying doesn't get anybody anything. I only hope that Mount Robson will not put on his cap until we get down to the lower end of the Grand Fork Valley."

They found their trail now as it had been described, less dangerous.

Indeed, there was but one risky crossing, that of a rock slide which ran down sheer to the river-bank, where a misstep might have been fatal. They kept steadily on until at length they opened up the wide valley of the Grand Fork, a tributary which comes down from the great peaks which surround the n.o.ble mountain known as Robson.

When at last the full view up this valley unfolded before them they pulled up and paused, not saying a word. It was a wonderful sight that lay before them, one of the most wonderful in all the great Rockies.

On every hand ran frowning slopes crowned with dark forest growth, flanked here and there by the yet darker shadows of the pa.s.sing clouds. But towering above all, and dwarfing all rivalry, there stood before them one great, n.o.ble, white-topped peak, unshaded by any clouds. As the boys gazed at it instinctively they took off their caps.

"That's Robson!" said Uncle d.i.c.k, smiling. "Any way you look at it it's big. Here you see a sheer wall of bare rock, thousands of feet.

The approach is steep as the roof of a house, as you can see. All over it in every little valley there are glaciers. Any way you approach it it's hard going when you try to climb old Robson--_'Yuh-hai-has-kun_,'

the Indians called it, 'the mountain with the stairs.' But when they tried to climb it they never could quite find the stairs. So far no one has made the ascent.[1]

[Footnote 1: At the time of this journey the Kinney ascension of Mount Robson had not yet been made.--THE AUTHOR.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: TOWERING ABOVE ALL, AND DWARFING ALL RIVALRY, THERE STOOD BEFORE THEM ONE GREAT n.o.bLE WHITE-TOPPED PEAK--MT. ROBSON]

"Many a man has heard of this mountain," continued Uncle d.i.c.k, "and a good many have tried to climb it. One party spent all the season trying to get behind it and find a way up. But Robson doesn't seem to have any blind side."

"Why can't we try it?" said Rob, enthusiastically.

"Some day, perhaps," smiled Uncle d.i.c.k, "but hardly now, as short of grub as we are, and as short of time as well. Mountain climbing is a business of itself, and you need a complete equipment. It would take a year, two years, or three to climb Robson, very likely. So with two or three days at our disposal I'll have to ask to be excused from the attempt; let us take on something easier for an order.

"Now," he added, "about all we can do is to take off our hats to the old peak and say good morning as we pa.s.s."

"And thank you very much, Sir Mountain," said Jesse, gravely, his young face serious as he looked toward the peak, "because you let us see clear all up to the top."

"It mightn't happen once in months," said Uncle d.i.c.k. "I've pa.s.sed here several times, and I've never had as fine a view as we have right now. She's thirteen thousand seven hundred feet, our triangulations made it. That's something of a mountain, to be hid back in here all by itself, isn't it?

"Up at the foot of the mountain," he continued, "there's a fine lake, as lovely as Lake Louise down in the lower Rockies. I do wish we had time to go up in there, for the lake is worth seeing. Some day it will be famous, and visited by thousands. At least we can see the edge of it from where we are, and lucky you are to have so early a look, I can a.s.sure you.

"Well, we'll be going on," said he, presently, as he gathered up his reins. "We can't take the time now for fifteen miles of the sort of travel that lies between here and the foot of the mountain. At least we've seen Robson, full front and clear all the way to the summit--a most unusual sight. You may always remember now that you saw this mountain before it became common."

They forded the Grand Fork itself without much difficulty, for it was a flat and shallow stream at this point. Pa.s.sing on to the westward, they finally encamped in a flat from which they still could see up the valley, it being the wish of all to keep in view as long as possible the great white summit of _Yuh-hai-has-kun_.

"To-morrow we'll say good-by to Robson," said Uncle d.i.c.k, "and we'll camp at the Tete Jaune Cache."

XVI

AT THE TeTE JAUNE CACHE

"The last day on the trail!" Such was the first word with which the leader of our little party greeted his young friends when they rolled out of their tents in the morning. And soon all hands were busy adjusting the packs ready for the plucky animals which had brought them through so far. Their breakfast was hurried as rapidly as possible.

"Well," said Rob, "I don't know whether or not to be glad. We certainly have had a grand trip with the pack-train, hard as it has been sometimes. At least it's brought us here to the foot of Mount Robson."

"Our horses will be glad enough to be done with it," said Uncle d.i.c.k.

"Down at the Cache they'll have all the gra.s.s they want and nothing to do for all the rest of this summer--unless some of Leo's children take to riding them too hard."

"Leo?" inquired John. "He's the Indian who's going to take us down the Canoe River, isn't he?"

"Yes, and a good man, too, Leo. He and Moise will show us how to get along without the horses, eh, Moise?"

That good-natured man grinned and showed his white teeth. "Sometam she'll ron pretty fast, this river on Columbia valley?" said he.

"Well, at any rate, we turn in our horses with Leo here at the Cache and get them the next time we come through--next year or some other year, perhaps. A horse takes his chance of getting a permanent residence in this part of the world. But our train has come through in fine shape--not a sore back in the lot. That speaks well for your care in packing, young men, and for Moise's skill in making saddles."

By this time they all had shaken down into the routine of packing the horses in the morning, and not long after they had finished their breakfast all was in readiness for their last march.

"_En avant!_" said Uncle d.i.c.k. "Mush! Moise, we'll lunch at the Cache to-day."

They swung on steadily down the broadened valley whose course now changed more to the southwest for five miles or so. The trail was much better, and as they reached the wide eastern end of the valley, which broadens out near the historic Tete Jaune Cache, they made rapid progress, animated by the continually changing scene before them.