To The West Part 50

"Stop velly little while. Quong washee--see gole."

"Yes," said Gunson, giving me a meaning look, and then taking a step or two nearer the stream; "it looks a likely place; but hallo, arn't these bears' footprints?"

He pointed to the moist earth close to the water's edge, and both Esau and the little fellow ran to look.

Directly after Quong came trotting back in a quick, comical manner, tucking his plate up under his blouse, and seizing and shouldering his pack, an example followed by Esau, who was the quicker of the two, and he kept a sharp look out all the time.

"Now if you went behind that rock and roared, Gordon, or I was to fire my piece, there would be a stampede."

I looked so ready to do what he first proposed, that Gunson said seriously--

"No, no; we have no time to waste;" and we went on up the valley, both Esau and Quong stepping out famously, while I was not at all sorry to leave our baiting-place behind, my liking for bears being decidedly in a.s.sociation with pits, and a pole up which they can climb for buns.

It was a wonderfully beautiful walk that morning, and we determined to try and arrange our halts better, for at the end of about half an hour we found that had we known we could have rested under a roof; two men, who gave us a very friendly welcome, having started a rough kind of ranch, in a level nook close down by the river. In fact they were disposed to be so hospitable that they were half offended because we went almost directly.

We learned from them though that we should find for days to come shanties here and there.

"Where we can rest for the night?" I said to one of the men.

"Of course," he said, with a smile. "We see anybody so seldom, that we're glad of a visitor who can speak of the old country."

"You've got a beautiful place here."

"Yes; tidy, tidy," he said; "only we don't feel quite sure about the river."

"What do you mean?" asked Gunson.

"Why, you see, mate, it's a lively sort of a stream. Quiet enough in winter, unless there's been a power of rain; but in the hot weather, when the snow's melting, it gets so full, that like as not some day t'll wash all this place away."

"But it's fifty feet down there to the water," I said, smiling.

"What's fifty feet to a river like that, boy? Why, after what I've seen I shouldn't jump out of my skin if I saw it rise up a hundred."

"See many bears about?" said Esau, rather anxiously.

"Tidy few, my lad; tidy few; and pretty big uns sometimes," said the man, with a twinkle of the eye. "But berries has been rather plentiful these last two years, and they haven't eat us yet. I wouldn't interfere with 'em, though, if you met any."

"Dangerous?" said Gunson, giving me a merry look.

"Well, it's just as it happens," said the man, watching Esau's mouth, which had slowly opened; "if they takes a fancy to you, they opens their arms, and just gives you a friendly hug; if they don't, they are a bit given to scratching and clawing. Where may you be going, squire?" he added, turning to me.

"Fort Elk," I said.

"Oh! Fort Elk, where they collects the skins. I know. Well, you won't get there to-morrow, nor yet next week. Pleasant journey to you. Don't want to buy a bit o' bacon, I suppose?"

But Gunson said he did, and the transfer was made for a handful of tobacco, Quong grinning with delight at the sight of the red streaks of lean amongst the pinky-white fat, and apparently pleased with the prospect of carrying a few more pounds.

That night we slept at a shanty, and for the next two nights we had no need to camp out; while, what was of great import to us, we found that we need be under no apprehension about provisions, the people, who had settled down where they found open patches of grazing land, being willing enough to sell or barter away flour enough for our wants.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

A DIFFICULT PATH.

One day seemed so much like another that we soon lost count of time, as we followed the windings and turns of the river, the beauty of the deep ravines that struck into the valley, each with its little fall or torrent, and the glimpses we kept getting of snow-tipped mountains, keeping off the weariness we might have felt in some open monotonous land.

Every now and then Quong settled down to wash the sands and gravel of the little streams that came tumbling down from the heights; and I saw that Gunson took a good deal of interest in his proceedings; but in spite of Quong's patient endeavours his efforts were always barren, or resulted in the discovery of some tiny speck, which was added to the others in the phial so slowly that, as Gunson laughingly said, it seemed likely to take a year to build up enough gold to make a sovereign.

"The gold is nearer the mountains if there is any, Gordon," he said to me, "and it is impossible to search down here. We must go higher up before I begin after Quong has left us, for I expect that as soon as we get to a spot where he can wash out a scale or two with every pan of sand, he will bid us good-bye."

But as the days went on that time did not arrive. The Chinaman did not seem to think anything about pay for his services, but was delighted to perform them for the sake of the protection of travelling with us, and a share of the food we provided.

So far our journey had been glorious. There had been plenty of hard work, forcing our way through bushes, climbing fallen trees, some so rotten that they crumbled to dust with our weight, and threading our way among rocks; but at every turn there was the grand river foaming and rushing down toward the sea, and ma.s.ses of black-green forest with pines spiring up toward the sky. One morning as we toiled slowly on, it was very evident that the river was narrowing, and the sides growing steeper. We had often been at some height above it, but always on a slope, where, with a little scheming, we could have got down to the water; but now a sheer wall of rock rose up forty or fifty feet on either side, and below it, looking black and deep, the river swirled and eddied along.

There was hardly a vestige of a trail here, the ground being too stony to leave any traces; but the great stream was our guide, and we climbed and stumbled on, Quong in front bending down under his load, and always patient, calm, and smiling, as if it was quite natural to him to be doubled up under a big bundle which went along in front of us like some curious blanket-clothed creature with thin blue legs.

All at once the rough stony slope of the valley dived down, and Quong, who had just given his load a hitch up on his shoulders, disappeared. I was next, for Gunson had stepped back to take off one of his boots, with Esau holding his pack; and I had reached the spot where I had seen Quong last, prepared for a jump down on to a lower part or ledge of the valley slope, when I found myself face to face with the little fellow, and saw that he had dropped his bundle, and was hurrying back.

As soon as we met, he made a sign for me to be silent, and turned and pointed toward a clump of young firs. I could see no danger, and I whispered to him the one word "Bear?"

He shook his head, and pointed again, when, to my utter astonishment, the green boughs were parted, as there was a flash of silver, and a great salmon fell about a couple of yards away, to begin beating heavily with its tail, and flapping from side to side.

I knew that these fish leaped, and I had heard that some of their bounds up cascades were tremendous, but I had never known that a salmon could spring fifty feet up out of the water over the top of the rocky wall which formed the river-bank, and away through a screen of young firs.

There, however, was the fact before me, and with delightful visions of broiled salmon before my eyes, I dropped my pack and ran forward to secure the prize before it should take it into its head to make another gymnastic leap into the water.

It was a splendid fellow, a full yard long, its scales silvery blue and pearly in the morning sunshine, and regardless of wet and slime, I dropped on my knees.

"Oh, you beauty!" I exclaimed, and I raised it by the gills, and-- dropped it directly, and remained as if turned to stone, gazing in a hideous, painted red face, which had been thrust out between the boughs of the firs, and stared as wildly at me as I at its owner.

For a few moments I forgot that I had friends behind, and rested there quite still with what seemed to me a terrible silence all around, till it was broken by the salmon throwing itself over, and giving the stones upon which it lay a resounding flap.

I fully expected to see the arm belonging to the head thrust out with a knife in the fist; and when it was darted out from among the bushes, my own hand went involuntarily to the pistol I carried, but I dropped it again as I saw that it was only an open palm extended toward me, and I placed mine therein for a friendly shake, my heart beating less heavily.

Then the hand was withdrawn, the salmon pushed toward me, and the hand held out again.

"Hallo!" cried a voice, which made me glow with satisfaction. "Been fishing, Gordon?"

Gunson strode up to us, and seeing the situation at a glance, he took out his tobacco-pouch, opened it, pinched out a piece, and pointing to the salmon, offered the cut-up herb to the Indian, who now stood out in front of the young pines. I thought it ridiculous to offer what I considered a pinch of rubbish for the salmon; but the Indian laughed, darted back, and returned holding another quivering fish by the tail, threw it down, and held out his hand for the tobacco, evidently well pleased with his bargain.

"Fish is cheap out here," said Gunson, laughing. "Here, Quong, one to cook and one to dry."

Our Celestial friend literally pounced upon the two salmon as prizes as soon as he saw that there was no danger, and set to work cleaning and splitting the fish, lightening them by getting rid of head and tail, and then cutting some splints of wood to keep one well open for drying in the sun and for easy carriage.

"There is nothing to mind," said Gunson. "It is only a fishing party;"

and leading the way through the line of young firs, which acted as a screen, we came upon a group of Indians, two men and four women, all busy cleaning and splitting the fish which another man kept hauling up from the river in a rough net.

It seemed a very primitive way of fishing, and we stood looking on and examining some of the salmon hung to dry upon several roughly rigged up poles, before we went to the edge of the shelf upon which all this was going on, to find straight below us the other Indian standing upon a rough platform, made by driving a couple of stout poles into the wall of rock at a fissure, and throwing a few branches across. This man had a coa.r.s.e net on a ring at the end of a long, stout pole, and watching his opportunity as the fish came rapidly up the rushing water, he plunged the net down, and brought it up with a gasping, struggling salmon. This was transferred to a hanging basket, and hauled up by the Indian at the edge, and carried to the party who were preparing and drying them in the sun for their winter store.