Before our young trail-makers now lay the expanse of one of those little mountain lakes which sometimes are forgotten by the map-makers. The ground immediately about the edge of the lake was low, flat, and overgrown. Only a gentle ripple crossed the surface of the lake, for almost no air at all was stirring. Out of a near-by cove a flock of young wild geese, scarcely able to fly, started off, honking in excitement; and here and there a wild duck broke the surface into a series of ripples; or again a fish sprang into the air, as it went about its own breakfast operations for the day. It was an inspiring scene for all, and for the time the Young Alaskans paused, taking in its beauty.
“Il fait beau, ce matin,” said Moise, in the French which made half or more of his speech. “She’ll been fine morning this day, what?”
“Couldn’t be better,” assented Alex, who stood knee-deep at the edge of the lake, and who now calmly removed his moccasins andspread them on the thwart of the boat before he stepped lightly in to take his place at the stern of theJaybird. The boys noticed that when he stepped aboard he hardly caused the boat to dip to one side or the other. This he managed by placing his paddle on the farther side of the boat from him and putting part of his weight on it, as it rested on the bottom at the other side of the boat. All the boys, observing the methods of this skilled canoeman, sought to imitate his example. Presently they were all aboard, Rob in the bow of theMary Ann, John taking that place for theJaybird, with Jesse cuddled up amidships.
“Well,” said Alex, “here’s where we start. For me, I don’t care whether we go to the Pacific or the Arctic!”
“Nor me no more,” added Moise. “Only I’ll rather go downheel as upheel, me—always I’ll rather ron the rapeed than track the boat up the rapeed on the bank. Well,en roulant, eh, M’sieu Alex?”
“Roulant!” answered Alex, briefly. Moise, setting his paddle into the water with a great sweep, began once more the old canoe song.
“Le fils du roi s’en va chassantEn roulant, ma boule!Avec son grand fusil d’argentEn roulant, ma boule!”
“Le fils du roi s’en va chassantEn roulant, ma boule!Avec son grand fusil d’argentEn roulant, ma boule!”
So they fared on merrily, the strong arms of the two skilled boatmen pushing the light canoes rapidly through the rippling water. Moise, a strong and skilful paddler, was more disposed to sudden bursts of energy than was the soberer and quieter Alex, who, none the less, came along not far in the rear with slow and easy strokes which seemed to require little exertion on his part, although they drove the boat straight and true as an arrow. The boys at the bow paddles felt the light craft spring under them, but each did his best to work his own passage, and this much to the approval of the older men, who gave them instructions in the art of paddling.
“You’ll see, M’sieu Rob,” said Moise, “these paddle she’ll be all same like fin of those feesh. You’ll pull square with heem till she’ll get behind you, then she’ll turn on her edge just a little bit—so. That way, you paddle all time on one side. The paddle when she’ll come out of water, she’ll keep the boat running straight.”
The distance from their point of embarkation to the eastern edge of the little lake could not have been more than a couple of miles, for the entire distance from the western to the eastern edge was not over three miles. In what seemed no more than a few moments theboats pulled up at the western end of what was to be their first portage.
“Now,” said Moise, “we’ll show those boy how a Companee man make the portage.” He busied himself arranging his packs, first calling for the tent, on which he placed one package after another. Then he turned in the ends of the canvas and folded over the sides, rolling all up into a big bundle of very mixed contents which, none the less, he fastened by means of the strap which now served him as support for it all.
“I know how you did that,” said Rob—“I watched you put the strap down inside of the roll.”
“Yes,” said Moise, smiling, “she’ll been what Injun call tump-strap. White man he’ll carry on hees shoulder, but Injun an’voyageur, she’ll put the tump-band on her head, what? That’s best way for much load.”
Moise now proceeded to prove the virtue of his remarks. He was a very powerful man, and he now swung up the great pack to his shoulders, although it must have weighed much over a hundred and fifty pounds and included almost the full cargo of the foremost boat.
“Throw something on top of her,” saidMoise. “She’ll been too light! I’m afraid I’ll ron off, me.”
“Well, look at that man,” said Jesse, admiringly. “I didn’t know any man was so strong.”
“Those Companee man, she’ll have to be strong like hox!” said Moise, laughing. “You’ll ought to seen heem. Me, I’m not ver’ strong. Two, three hondred pounds, she’ll make me tire.”
“Well, trot on over, Moise,” said Alex, “and I’ll bring the boat. Young gentlemen, each of you will take what he can conveniently carry. Don’t strain yourselves, but each of you do his part. That’s the way we act on the trail.”
The boys now shouldered their small knapsacks and, each carrying his rifle and rod, started after the two stalwart men who now went on rapidly across the portage.
Moise did not set down his pack at all, but trotted steadily across, and Alex followed, although he turned at the summit and motioned to Rob to pause.
“You’d hardly know it,” said Rob, turning to John and Jesse, who now put down their packs, “but here we are at the top of this portage trail and the top of the Peace River pass. Here was where old Sir Alexanderreally turned toward the west, just as we now are turning toward the east. It’s fine, isn’t it?”
“I’m glad I came,” remarked John.
“And so am I,” added Jesse; “I believe we’re going to have a good time. I like those two men awfully well—they’re just as kind, and my! how strong!”
Presently they all met again at the eastern edge of the dim trail. “I stepped it myself,” said John, proudly. “Both Sir Alexander and old Simon Fraser were wrong—she’s just six hundred and ninety-three paces!”
“Maybe they had longer legs than you,” smiled Alex. “At any rate, there’s no doubt about the trail itself. We’re precisely where they were.”
“What made them call that river the Parsnip River?” demanded Jesse of Alex, to whom he went for all sorts of information.
“I’ll show you,” said Alex, quietly, reaching down and breaking off the top of a green herb which grew near by. “It was because of the wild parsnips—this is one. You’ll find where Sir Alexander mentions seeing a great many of these plants. They used the tops in their pemmican. You see, the north men have to eat so much meat that they’re glad to get anything green to go with it once in a while.”
“What’s pemmican?” asked Jesse, curiously.
“We used to make it out of buffalo meat, or moose or caribou,” said Alex. “The buffalo are all gone now, and, in fact, we don’t get much pemmican any more. It’s made by drying meat and pounding it up fine with a stone, then putting it in a hide sack and pouring grease in on top of it. That used to be the trail food of thevoyageurs, because a little of it would go a good way. Do you think you could make any of it for the boys, Moise?”
“I don’ know,” grinned Moise. “Those squaw, she’ll make pemmican—not the honter. Besides, we’ll not got meat. Maybe so if we’ll get moose deer we could make some, if we stop long tam in camp. But always squaw make pemmican—not man.”
“Well, we’ll have to give some kind of imitation of the old ways once in a while,” commented Alex, “for though they are changed and gone, our young friends here want to know how the fur-traders used to travel.”
“One thing,” said John, feeling at his ankle. “I’ll be awfully glad when we get out of the devil’s club country.”
“Do you have those up in Alaska?” asked Alex.
“Have them?—I should say we have! They’re the meanest thing you can run across out of doors. If you step on one of those long, snaky branches, it’ll turn around and hit you, no matter where you are, and whenever it hits those little thorns stick in and stay.”
“I know,” nodded Alex. “I struck plenty of them on the trail up north from the railroad. They went right through my moccasins. We’ll not be troubled by these, however, when we get east of the divide—that’s a plant which belongs in the wet country of the western slope.”
All this time Moise was busy rearranging the cargoes in the first boat, leaving on the shore, however, such parcels as did not belong in theMary Ann. Having finished this to his liking, he turned before they made the second trip on theJaybirdand her cargo.
“Don’t we catch any of those feesh?” he asked Alex, nodding back at the lake.
“Fish?” asked John. “I didn’t see any fish.”
“Plenty trout,” said Moise. “I s’pose we’ll better catch some while we can.”
“Yes,” said Alex, “I think that might be a good idea. Now, if we had a net such as Sir Alexander and old Simon Fraser always tookalong, we’d have no trouble. Moise saw what I also saw, and which you young gentlemen did not notice—a long bar of gravel where the trout were feeding.”
“We’ll not need any net,” said Rob. “Here are our fly-rods and our reels. If there are any trout rising, we can soon catch plenty of them.”
“Very well. We’d better take the rods back, then, when we go for the second boat.”
When they got to the shore of the middle lake, the boys saw that the keener eyes of the oldvoyageurshad noted what they had missed—a series of ripples made by feeding fish not far from the point where they had landed.
“Look at that!” cried Jesse. “I see them now, myself.”
“Better you’ll take piece pork for those feesh,” said Moise.
“I don’t think we’ll need it,” replied Rob. “We’ve plenty of flies, and these trout won’t be very wild up here, for no one fishes for them. Anyhow, we’ll try it—you’ll push us out, won’t you, Moise?”
Carefully taking their places now in theJaybird, whose cargo was placed temporarily on the bank, the three boys and Moise now pushed out. As Rob had predicted, the fish were feeding freely, and there was no difficulty incatching three or four dozen of them, some of very good weight. The bottom of the canoe was pretty well covered with fish when at length, after an hour or so of this sport, Moise thought it was time to return to shore, where Alex, quietly smoking all the time, had sat awaiting them.
“Now we’ll have plenty for eat quite a while,” said Moise.
“That’s all right,” said John. “I’m getting mighty hungry. How long is it going to be before we have something to eat?”
“Why, John,” said Rob, laughingly, “the morning isn’t half gone yet, and we’ve just had breakfast.”
“
Well,” said Alex, “now we’ve got all these fish, we’ll have to take care of them. Come ahead and let’s clean them, Moise.”
The boys all fell to and assisted the men at this work, Moise showing them how to prepare the fish.
“How are we going to keep them?” asked John, who always seemed to be afraid there would not be enough to eat.
“Well,” explained Alex, “we’ll put them in between some green willow boughs and keep them that way till night. Then I suppose we’ll have to smoke them a little—hang them up by the tail the way the Injuns do. That’s the way we do whitefish in the north. If it weren’t for the fish which we catch in these northern waters, we’d all starve to death in the winter, and so would our dogs, all through the fur country.”
“By the time we’re done this trip,” venturedRob, “we’ll begin to bevoyageursourselves, and will know how to make our living in the country.”
“That’s the talk!” said Alex, admiringly. “The main thing is to learn to do things right. Each country has its own ways, and usually they are the most useful ways. An Injun never wants to do work that he doesn’t have to do. So, you’ll pretty much always see that the Injun ways of keeping camp aren’t bad to follow as an example, after all.
“But now,” said he at length, after they had finished cleaning and washing off their trout, “we’ll have to get on across to the other lake.”
As before, Moise now took the heavier pack on his own broad shoulders, and Alex once more picked up the canoe.
“She’s a little lighter than the other boat, I believe,” said he, “but they’re both good boats, as sure’s you’re born—you can’t beat a Peterborough model in the woods!”
The other boys noticed now that when he carried his canoe, he did so by placing a paddle on each side, threaded under and above the thwarts so as to form a support on each side, which rested on his shoulders. His head would have been covered entirely by the boat as he stood, were it not that he let itdrop backward a little, so that he could see the trail ahead of him. Rob pointed out to Jesse all these different things, with which their training in connection with the big Alaskan sea-going dugouts had not made them familiar.
“Have we got everything now, fellows?” asked Rob, making a last search before they left the scene of their disembarkation.
“All set!” said John. “Here we go!”
It required now but a few moments to make the second traverse of the portage, and soon the boats again were loaded. They found this most easterly of the three lakes on the summit to be of about the same size as the one which they had just left. It was rather longer than it was wide, and they could see at its eastern side the depression where the outlet made off toward the east. Again taking their places at the paddles in the order established at the start of the day, they rapidly pushed on across. They found now that this lake discharged through a little creek which rapidly became deep and clear.
“It’s going to be just the way,” said Rob, “that Sir Alexander tells. I say, fellows, we could take that boat and come through here in the dark, no matter what Simon Fraser said about Sir Alexander.”
They found the course down this little waterway not troublesome, and fared on down the winding stream until at length they heard the sound of running water just beyond.
“That’s the Parsnip now, no doubt,” said Alex, quietly, to his young charges. Already Moise had pushed theMary Annover the last remaining portion of the stream, and she was floating fair and free on the current of the second stream, not much larger than the one from which they now emerged.
“Voila!” Moise exclaimed. “She’ll been the Peace River—or what thosevoyageurcall the Parsneep. Now, I’ll think we make fast ride, yes.”
Jesse, leaning back against his bed-roll, looked a little serious.
“Boys,” said he, “I don’t like the looks of this. This water sounds dangerous to me, and you can’t tell me but what these mountains are pretty steep.”
“Pshaw! It’s just a little creek,” scoffed John.
“That’s all right, but a little creek gets to be a big river mighty fast up in this country—we’ve seen them up in Alaska many a time. Look at the snow-fields back in those mountains!”
“Don’t be alarmed, Mr. Jess,” said Alex;“most of the snow has gone down in the June rise. The water is about as low now as it is at any time of the year. Now, if we were here on high water, as Simon Fraser was, and going the other way, we might have our own troubles—I expect he found all this country under water where we are now, and the current must have been something pretty stiff to climb against.”
“In any case,” Rob added, “we’re just in the same shape that Sir Alexander and old Simon were when they were here. We wouldn’t care to turn back, and we’ve got to go through. If they did it, so can we. I don’t believe this stream’s as bad, anyhow, as the Fraser or the Columbia, because the traders must have used it for a regular route long ago.”
“I was reading,” said John, “in Simon Fraser’s travels, about how they did in the rapids of the Fraser River. Why, it was a wonder they ever got through at all. But they didn’t seem to make much fuss about it. Those men didn’t know where they were going, either—they just got in their boat and turned loose, not knowing what there was on ahead! That’s what I call nerve. Pshaw! Jess, we’re only tenderfeet compared to those chaps!”
“That’s the talk!” commented Alex, oncemore lighting his pipe and smiling. “We’ll go through like a bird, I’m pretty sure.”
“Yes,” said Moise, “we’ll show those boy how thevoyageurron the rapeed.”
“One thing I want to say to you young gentlemen,” resumed Alex, “not to alarm you, but to teach you how to travel. If by any accident the boat should upset, hang to the boat and don’t try to swim. The current will be very apt to sweep you on through to some place where you can get a footing. But all these mountain waters are very strong and very cold. Whatever you do, hang to the boat!”
“Yes!” said Rob, “‘don’t give up the ship,’ as Lawrence said. Sir Alexander tells how he got wrecked on the Bad River with his whole crew. But they hung to the canoe and got her out at the foot of the rapids, after all, and not one of them was hurt.”
“He didn’t lose a man on the whole trip, for that matter,” John added.
“Well, now, let’s see about the rapids,” said Rob again, spreading out his map and opening one of his books which he always kept close at hand. “Simon Fraser tells as day by day what he did when he was going west. They got into that lake we’ve just left, about noon. They must have poked up thecreek some time, and very early that same morning. That was June thirtieth, and on the same day they passed another river coming in from the west side—which must be between here and the outlet from McLeod Lake.”
“What does the map say about the other side of the stream?” asked John, peering over Rob’s shoulder.
“Well, on the twenty-eighth, as they were coming up they passed two rivers coming in from the east. That can’t be very far below here, and the first stream on the west side must be pretty close, from all I can learn. Below there, on the twenty-seventh, there was another river which they passed coming in from the east, and Simon says near its mouth there was a rapid. He doesn’t seem to mention any rapids between there and here—probably it had to be a pretty big one for him to take any notice of it. That’s two or three days down-stream, according to his journal, and, as Alex says, it was high water, and they made slow time coming up—not as fast as Sir Alexander did, in fact.”
“Plenty good water,” said Moise, looking out over the rapid little stream with professional approval. “She’s easy river.”
“Then we ought to make some sort of voyage,” said Rob. “You see, Sir Alexandertook thirty-four days coming up to this point from the place where he started, far east of the Rockies, but going downhill it only took him six days.”
“That was going some,” nodded John, emphatically, if not elegantly.
“But not faster than we’ll be going,” answered Rob. “You see, it took him a sixth of the time to go east which it needed to come west. Then, what they did in three days coming up, we ought to run in a half-day or less going down.”
Alex nodded approvingly. “I think it would figure out something like that way,” said he.
“So if we started now, or a little after noon,” resumed Rob, “and ran a full half-day we ought to pass all these rivers which Simon mentions, and get down to the first big rapid of which he speaks. They were good and tired coming up-stream, but we won’t have to work at all going down.”
“Well, don’t we eat any place at all?” began John again, amid general laughter.
“Sure,” said Moise, “we’ll stop at the first little beach and make boil the kettle. I’m hongree, too, me.”
They did as Moise said, and spent perhaps an hour, discussing, from time to time, thefeatures of the country and the probable time it would take them to make the trip.
“The boat goes very fast on a stream like this,” said Alex. “We could make fifty or sixty miles a day without the least trouble, if we did not have to portage. I should think the current was four to six miles an hour, at least, and you know we could add to that speed if we cared to paddle.”
“Well, we don’t want to go too fast,” said Jesse. “We have all summer for this trip.”
This remark from the youngest of the party caused the oldvoyageurto look at him approvingly. “That’s right,” said he, “we’ll not hurry.”
Moise was by this time examining the load of theMary Ann, arranging the packs so that she would trim just to suit his notion when Rob was in place at the bow. Alex paid similar care to theJaybird. The boats now ran practically on an even keel, which would give them the greatest bearing on the water and enable them to travel over the shallowest water possible.
“En roulant?” said Moise, looking at Alex inquiringly.
Alex nodded, and the boys being now in their proper places in the boats, he himselfstepped in and gave a light push from the beach with his paddle.
“So long, fellows,” called out Rob over his shoulder as he put his paddle to work. “I’m going to beat you all through—if I’m bow paddle in the first boat I’ll be ahead of everybody else.En roulant, ma boule!”
TheMary Ann, swinging fully into the current, went off dipping and gliding down the gentle incline of the stream. “Don’t go too fast, Moise,” called out Alex. “We want to keep in sight of the cook-boat.”
“All right!” sang out Moise. “We’ll go plenty slow.”
“Now,” said Alex to John and Jess as he paddled along slowly and steadily; “I want to tell you something about running strange waters in a canoe. Riding in a canoe is something like riding a horse. You must keep your balance. Keep your weight over the middle line of the canoe, which is in the center of the boat when she’s going straight, of course. You’ll have to ease off a little if she tilts—you ride her a little as you would a horse over a jump. Now, look at this little rough place we’re coming to—there, we’re through it already—you see, there’s a sort of a long V of smooth water running down into the rapid. Below that there’s a long ridge orseries of broken water. This rapid will do for a model of most of the others, although it’s a tame one.
“In this work the main thing is to keep absolutely cool. Never try a bad rapid which is strange to you without first going out and getting the map of it in your mind. Figure out the course you’re going to take, and then hang to it, and don’t get scared. When I call to you to go to the right, Mr. John, pull the boat over by drawing it to your paddle on that side—don’t try to push it over from the left side. You can haul it over stronger by pulling the paddle against the water. Of course I do the reverse on the stern. We can make her travel sidewise, or straight ahead, or backward, about as we please. All of us canoemen must keep cool and not lose our nerve.
“Well, I’ll go on—usually we follow the V down into the head of a rapid. Below that the highest wave is apt to roll back. If it is too high, and curls over too far up-stream, it would swamp our boat to head straight into it. Where should we go then? Of course, we would have to get a little to one side of that long, rolling ridge of white water. But not too far. Sometimes it may be safer to take that big wave, and all the other waves, rightdown the white ridge of the stream, than it is to go to one side.”
“I don’t see why that would be,” said Jesse. “I should think there would be the most dangerous place for a canoe.”
“It is, in one way,” said Alex. “Or at least you’re surer to ship water there. But suppose you are in a very heavy stream like the Fraser or the Columbia. At the foot of the chute there is very apt to be some deep swells, or rolls, coming up from far down below. Besides that, there’s very apt to be a strong eddy setting up-stream just below the chute, if the walls are narrow and rocky. Now, that sort of water is very dangerous. One of those big swells will come up under a boat, and you’d think a sledge-hammer had hit her. Nothing can stop the boat from careening a little bit then. Well, suppose the eddy catches her bow and swings her up-stream. She goes up far enough, in spite of all, so that her nose gets under some white water coming down. Well, then, she swamps, and you’re gone!”
“I don’t like this sort of talk,” said Jesse. “If there’s any place where I could walk I’d get out.”
“I’m telling you now about bad water,” said Alex, “and telling you how to take care ofyourself in case you find yourself there. One thing you must remember, you must travel a little faster than the current to get steerageway, and you must never try to go against your current in a rapid—the water is stronger than all the horses you ever saw. The main thing is to keep cool, to keep your balance, and sometimes not to be afraid of taking a little water into the boat. It’s the business of the captain to tell whether it’s best to take the ridge of water at the foot of the chute or to edge off from it to one side. That last is what he will do when there are no eddies. All rapids differ, and of course in a big river there may be a dozen different chutes. We always go ashore and look at a rapid if we think it’s dangerous.
“Now, you hear that noise below us,” he added, “but don’t be alarmed. Don’t you see, Moise and Rob are already past it? I’ll show you now how we take it. Be steady, John, and don’t paddle till I tell you. On your right a little!” he called out an instant later. “That’s it! So. Well, we’re through already!”
“Why, that was nothing,” said Jesse. “It was just as smooth!”
“Exactly. There is no pleasanter motion in the world than running a bit of fast water.Now, there was no danger in this, and the only trouble we had was just to get an inch or so out of the way of that big rock which might have wrecked us. We always pick a course in a rapid which gives us time to turn, so that we can dodge another rock if there’s one on ahead. It usually happens pretty fast. You’ll soon learn confidence after running a few pieces of white water, and you’ll learn to like it, I’m sure.”
Moise had turned his boat ashore to see the second boat come through, and after a moment Alex joined him at the beach, the canoes being held afloat by the paddles as they sat.
“She comes down fast, doesn’t she, fellows?” asked Rob.
“I should say so!” called John. “I don’t see how they ever got a big boat up here at all.”
“Well, Sir Alexander says that this was part of the worst water they found,” said Rob. “Sometimes they had to pull the boat up by hanging on to the overhanging trees—they couldn’t go ashore to track her, they couldn’t get bottom with their setting-poles, and of course they couldn’t paddle. Yet we came down like a bird!”
The boats dropped on down pleasantly and swiftly now for some time, until the sun beganto sink toward the west. A continually changing panorama of mountain and foothill shifted before them. They passed one little stream after another making down from the forest slopes, but so rapid and exhilarating was their movement that they hardly kept track of all the rivers and creeks which came in. It was late in the evening when they heard the low roar of a rapid far on ahead. The men in the rear boat saw theMary Annslacken, pause, and pull off to one side of the stream.
“That must be the big rapid which Fraser mentions,” commented John.
“Very likely,” said Alex. “Well, anyhow, we might as well pull in here and make our camp for the night. We’ve made a good day’s work for a start at least.”
“I shouldn’t wonder if it was a hundred miles from where we started down to the outlet of the McLeod River,” began Rob again, ever ready with his maps and books. “I think they call it the Pack River now. There is a sort of wide place near there, where the Mischinsinclia River comes in from the east, and above that ten or fifteen miles is the Misinchinca River, on the same side. I don’t know who named those rivers, but we haven’t passed them yet, that’ssure. Then down below the mouth of the McLeod is the Nation River, quite a good stream, I suppose, on the west side. The modern maps show another stream called the Manson still farther. I don’t know whether Mackenzie knew them by these names, or whether we can tell them when we see them, but it’s all the more fun if we can’t.”
The point at which they ended their day’s voyage was a long sand-pit projecting out from the forest and offering a good landing for the canoes. They were glad enough to rest. Moise and Alex, who had paddled steadily all the afternoon, stepped out on the beach and stretched themselves.
“Let’s go back into the woods,” said Jesse. “We can’t sleep on these hard little rocks—we can’t even drive the tent-pegs here.”
“Well, Mr. Jess,” said Alex, “if you went back into the woods I think you’d come back here again—the mosquitoes would drive you out. If you notice, the wind strikes this point whichever way it comes. In our traveling we always camp on the beaches in the summer-time when we can.”
“Besides,” added Rob, “even if we couldn’t drive the tent-pins, we could tie the ropes to big rocks. We can get plenty of willows and alders for our beds, too, and some pine boughs.”
The long twilight of these northern latitudes still offered them plenty of light for their camp work, although the sun was far down in the west. Alex, drawing his big buffalo knife, helped the tired boys get ready their tent and beds, but he smiled as he saw that to-night they were satisfied with half as many boughs as they had prepared on their first night in camp.
“I don’t suppose,” said Rob, “that Sir Alexander and his men made very big beds.”
“No, I’m afraid not,” replied Alex. “On the contrary, the canoemen always broke camp about four o’clock in the morning, and they kept going until about seven at night. Fifteen hours a day in and out of the water, paddling, poling, and tracking, makes a man so tired he doesn’t much care about what sort of bed he has.”
While the others were getting the tent ready Moise was busy making his fire and getting some long willow wands, which he now was making into a sort of frame.
“What’s that for, Moise?” asked Jesse.
“That’s for dry those feesh you boys’ll got this morning. Fine big trouts, three, four poun’, an’ fat. I’ll fix heem two, three, days so he’ll keep all right.”
“But we couldn’t stay here two or three days,” said John.
“We might do worse,” replied Alex. “This isn’t a bad camping place, and besides, it seems to me good country to make a little hunt, if we care to do that.”
“It certainly would be a fine place for beaver,” said Rob, “if it weren’t against the law to kill them.”
“Yes, or other things also—bear or bighorns, I should think very likely.”
“I suppose there isn’t any law against killing bears,” said Rob, “but how about bighorns? I thought they were protected by law.”
“We’ll talk about that after a while,” Alex answered. “Of course, no one would want to kill beaver at this time of year, no matter what the law was, because the fur is not good.”
“I see by Sir Alexander’s journal,” continued Rob, “that it must have been along in here that they saw so much beaver work. There are plenty of dams even now, although it’s a hundred years later than the time he came through.”
“I suppose when we get down farther there are fewer creeks,” said John, “and the rocks and trees are bigger. I don’t know just where we are now, because the trees are so thick a fellow can’t see out.”
“Well,” went on Rob, bringing out his map, and also that which was found in his copy ofMackenzie’s Voyages, “it must have been just about in here that Mackenzie met the first Indians that he saw in this country—the ones who told him about the carrying place, and about the big river and the salt water beyond it. They were the Indians who had iron spears, and knives, and things, so that he knew they had met white men off to the west. They had a big spoon which Mackenzie says was made out of a horn like the buffalo horn of the Copper Mine River. I suppose Mackenzie called the musk-ox buffalo, and very likely he never had seen a mountain-sheep.”
“That’s right,” said Alex, “those Injuns used to make big spoons out of the horns of the mountain-sheep—all the Injuns along the Rockies always have done that. It seems strange to me that Mackenzie didn’t know that, although at that he was still rather a new man in the north.”
“You never have been in here yourself, have you, Alex?” asked John.
“No, and that’s what is making the trip so pleasant for me. I’m having a good time figuring it out with you. I know this river must run north between those two ranges of mountains, and it must turn to the east somewherenorth of here. But I’ve never been west of Fort St. John.”
“I don’t like the look of this river down there,” said Jesse, stepping to the point of the bar, and gazing down the stream up which came the sullen roar of heavy rapids.
“Those rapeed, she’ll been all right,” said Moise. “Never fear, we go through heem all right. To-morrow, two, three, day we’ll go through those rapeed like the bird!”
“We can walk around them, Jesse, if we don’t want to run them,” said Rob, reassuringly. “Of course it’s rather creepy going into heavy water that you don’t know anything about—I don’t like that myself. But just think how much worse it must have been for Sir Alexander and his men, who were coming up this river, and on the high water at that. Why, all this country was overflowed, and one time, down below here, all the men wanted to quit, it was such hard work. He must have been a brave man to keep them going on through.”
“He was a great man,” added Alex. “A tired man is hard to argue with, but he got them to keep on trying, and kept them at their work.”
“Grub pile!” sang Moise once more, and a moment later all were gathered again aroundthe little fire where Moise had quickly prepared the evening meal.
“I’m just about starved,” said John. “I’ve been wanting something to eat all afternoon.”
They all laughed at John’s appetite, which never failed, and Moise gave him two large pieces of trout from the frying-pan. “I’ll suppose those feesh he’ll seem good to you,” said Moise.
“I should say they were good!” remarked Jesse, approvingly. “I like them better all the time.”
“S’pose we no get feesh in the north,” began Moise, “everybody she’ll been starve.”
“That’s right,” said Alex. “The traders couldn’t have traveled in this country without their nets. They got fish enough each night to last them the next day almost anywhere they stopped. You see, sometimes the buffalo or the caribou are somewhere else, but fish can’t get out of the river or the lake, and we always know where to look for them.”
“The dorè, she’ll be good feesh,” continued Moise, “but we’ll not got dorè here. Maybe so whitefeesh over east, maybe so pickerel.”
“You remember how we liked codfish better than salmon up in Alaska when we were on Kadiak Island?” asked Rob. “I wonder if we’ll like trout very long at a time?”
“Whitefeesh she’ll be all right,” Moise smiled. “Man an’ dog both he’ll eat whitefeesh.”
“Well, it’s all right about fish,” Rob remarked, after a time, “but how about the hunt we were talking about? I promised Uncle Dick I’d bring him some bearskins.”
“Black bear or grizzlies?” asked Alex, smiling.
“Grizzly.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” demurred Alex. “Of course I don’t deny you may have killed a bear or so up in Alaska, but down here most of us are willing to let grizzlies alone when we see them.”
“This white-face bear, he’ll be bad,” Moise nodded vigorously.
“Are there many in here?” asked John, curiously, looking at the dense woods.
“I don’t know,” Alex replied. “I’ve seen a few tracks along the bars, but most of those are made by black bear. Injuns don’t look for grizzlies very much. I don’t suppose there’s over six or eight grizzly skins traded out of Fort St. John in a whole year.”
“Injuns no like for keel grizzly,” said Moise. “This grizzly, he’ll be chief. He’ll be dead man, too, maybe. Those grizzly he’ll be onkle of mine, maybe so. All Injun he’ll notwant for keel grizzly. Some Injun can talk to grizzly, an’ some time grizzly he’ll talk to Injun, too, heem.”
“Now, Moise,” said Rob, “do you really think an animal can talk?”
“Of course he’ll talk. More beside, all animal he’ll talk with spirits, an’ man, not often he can talk with spirits himself. Yes, animal he’ll talk with spirit right along, heem.”
“What does he mean, Alex?” asked Rob.
“Well,” said Alex, gravely, “I’m half Injun too, and you know, Injuns don’t think just the way white people do. Among our people it was always thought that animals were wiser than white men think them. Some have said that they get wisdom from the spirits—I don’t know about that.”
“Do you know how those cross fox he’ll get his mark on his back that way?” asked Moise of Rob.
“No, only I suppose they were always that way.”
“You know those fox?”
“We all know them,” interrupted John. “There’s a lot of them up in Alaska—reddish, with smoky black marks on the back and shoulders, and a black tail with a white tip. They’re worth money, too, sometimes.”
“Maybe Moise will tell you a story about how the fox got marked,” said Alex quietly.
“Oh, go ahead, Moise,” said all the boys. “We’d like to hear that.”
“Well, one tam,” said Moise, reaching to the fire to get a coal for his pipe, and leaning back against a blanket-roll, “all fox that ron wild was red, like some fox is red to-day. But those tam was some good fox an’ some bad fox. Then Wiesacajac, he’ll get mad with some fox an’ mark heem that way. He’ll been bad fox, that’s how he get mark.”
“Wiesacajac?” asked Rob. “What do you mean by that?”
“He means one of the wood-spirits of the Cree Indians,” answered Alex, quietly. “You know, the Injuns have a general belief in the Great Spirit. Well, Wiesacajac is a busy spirit of the woods, and is usually good-natured.”
“Do you believe in him?” asked Jesse. “I thought you went to church, Alex?”
“The Company likes us all to go to church when we’re in the settlements,” said Alex, “and I do regularly. But you see, my mother was Injun, and she kept to the old ways. It’s hard for me to understand it, about the old ways and the new ones both. But my mother and her people all believed in Wiesacajac, andthought he was around all the time and was able to play jokes on the people if he felt like it. Usually he was good-natured. But, Moise, go on and tell about how the fox got his mark.”
Moise, assuming a little additional dignity, as became an Indian teller of stories, now went on with his tale.
“Listen, I speak!” he began. “One tam, long ago, Wiesacajac, he’ll be sit all alone by a lake off north of this river. Wiesacajac, he’ll been hongree, but he’ll not be mad. He’ll be laugh, an’ talk by heemself an’ have good tam, because he’ll just keel himself some nice fat goose.
“Now, Wiesacajac, he’ll do the way the people do, an’ he’ll go for roast this goose in the sand, under the ashes where he’ll make his fire. He’ll take this goose an’ bury heem so, all cover’ up with ashes an’ coals—like this, you see—but he’ll leave the two leg of those foots stick up through the ground where the goose is bury.
“Wiesacajac he’ll feel those goose all over with his breast-bone, an’ he’ll say, ‘Ah, ha! he’ll been fat goose; bimeby he’ll be good for eat.’ But he’ll know if you watch goose he’ll not get done. So bimeby Wiesacajac he’ll walk off away in the wood for to let thosegoose get brown in the ashes. This’ll be fine day—beau temps—an’ he’ll be happy, for he’ll got meat in camp. So bimeby he’ll sit down on log an’ look at those sky an’ those wind, an’ maybe he’ll light his pipe, I don’t know, me.
“Now about this tam some red fox he’ll be lie down over those ridge an’ watch Wiesacajac an’ those goose. This fox he’ll be hongree, too, for he’ll ain’t got no goose. He’ll been thief, too, all same like every fox. So he’ll see Wiesacajac walk off in woods, an’ he’ll smell aroun’ an’ he’ll sneak down to the camp where those goose will be with his feet stick out of ashes.
“Those thief of fox he’ll dig up the fat goose of Wiesacajac, an’ tase’ it, an’ find it ver’ good. He’ll ron off in the woods with the goose an’ eat it all up, all ’cept the foots an’ the leg-bones. Then the fox he’ll sneak back to the fire once more, an’ he’ll push the dirt back in the hole, an’ he’ll stick up these foots an’ the leg-bones just like they was before, only there don’t been no goose under those foots now, because he’ll eat up the goose.
“‘Ah, ha!’ says Mr. Fox then, ‘I’m so fat I must go sleep now.’ So he’ll go off in woods a little way an’ he’ll lie down, an’ he’ll go to sleep.
“Bimeby Wiesacajac he’ll look at the sun an’ the wind plenty long, an’ he’ll got more hongree. So he’ll come back to camp an’ look for his goose. He’ll take hol’ of those foots that stick up there, an’ pull them up, but the foots come loose! So he’ll dig in the sand an’ ashes, an’ he’ll not found no goose.
“‘Ah, ha!’ say Wiesacajac then. He’ll put his finger on his nose an’ think. Then he’ll see those track of fox in the sand. ‘Ah, ha!’ he’ll say again. ‘I’ll been rob by those fox. Well, we’ll see about that.’
“Wiesacajac, he’ll follow the trail to where this fox is lie fast asleep; but all fox he’ll sleep with one eye open, so this fox he’ll hear Wiesacajac an’ see him come, an’ he’ll get up an’ ron. But he’ll be so full of goose that inside of hondred yards, maybe feefty yards, Wiesacajac he’ll catch up with him an’ pick him up by the tail.
“‘Now I have you, thief!’ he’ll say to the fox. ‘You’ll stole my goose. Don’t you know that is wrong? I show you now some good manners, me.’
“So Wiesacajac, he’ll carry those fox down to the fire. He’s plenty strong, but he don’t keel those fox. He’s only going to show heem a lesson. So he’ll poke up the fire an’ put on some more wood, then he’ll take the fox bythe end of the tail an’ the back of his neck, an’ he’ll hold heem down over the fire till the fire scorch his back an’ make heem smoke. Then the fox he’ll beg, an’ promise not to do that no more.
“‘I suppose maybe you’ll not keep your promise,’ says Wiesacajac, ‘for all foxes they’ll steal an’ lie. But this mark will stay on you so all the people can tell you for a thief when they see you. You must carry it, an’ all your children, so long as there are any foxes of your familee.’
“The fox he’ll cry, an’ he’ll roll on the groun’, but those black mark she’ll stay.
“An’ she’ll stay there till now,” repeated Moise. “An’ all the tam, those fox he’ll be ’shamed for look a man in the face. All the tam you find cross fox, he’ll be black where Wiesacajac hold heem over the fire, with his back down, but the end of his tail will be white, because there is where Wiesacajac had hold of heem on one end, an’ his front will be white, too, same reason, yes, heem. Whatever Wiesacajac did was done because he was wise an’ strong. Since then all cross fox have shown the mark. I have spoken.”
Moise now looked around at his young listeners to see how they liked the story.
“That’s what I call a pretty good story,”said John. “If I had one more trout I believe I could go to bed.”
“Do you know what time it is?” asked Alex, smiling.
“No,” said Rob. “Why, it’s almost midnight,” he added, as he looked at his watch.
“We’ve made a long day of it,” said Alex, “almost too long. We don’t want to be in too big a hurry.”
“How far do you think we’ve come, Alex?” asked Jesse. “It seemed like a long way to me.”
“Well I don’t know exactly, Mr. Jess,” said Alex, “because there are no roads in this country, you see, and we have to guess. But it must have been about noon when we got out of the last lake after we finished fishing. We’ve doubled on the portage, which made that something like a mile, and I suppose took about an hour. We fished about an hour, and it took us about an hour to clear out the little creek and go through a mile or so down to the main river. We’ve been running seven or eight hours pretty steadily. Maybe we’ve come thirty or forty miles, I don’t know.”
“Well, I know I’m tired,” said John, “and I can’t even eat another trout.”
Alex allowed the boys to sleep late next morning, and the sun was shining warmly when at length they turned out of their tent and went down to the river for their morning bath. Heartily as they had eaten the night before, they seemed still hungry enough to enjoy the hearty breakfast which Moise had ready for them at the fire.
“Well, Alex, what’s the programme for to-day?” asked Rob; “are we going on down, or shall we stop for a hunt?”
“Whichever you like,” answered Alex. “We’re maybe getting into heavier water now, so I suppose we ought to be a little more careful about how we run down without prospecting a little.”
“How would it be for some of us to go down along the bank and do a little scouting?” asked John.
“A very good plan,” agreed Alex, “andMoise might do that while we others are doing something else.”
“Oh, you mean about our hunt,” broke in Rob. “Now, we were speaking about bears and sheep. We don’t want to break the game laws, you know.”
“Let me see your map, Mr. Rob,” said Alex. “I told you we’d talk over that after a while.”
“What’s the map got to do with game laws, Alex?”
“A great deal, as I’ll show you. You see, in all this upper country the laws made down at Ottawa and Edmonton govern, just as if we lived right in that country. We keep the game laws the same as any other laws. At the same time, the government is wise, and knows that men in this far-off country have to live on what the country produces. If the people could not kill game when they found it they would all starve. So the law is that there is no restriction on killing game—that is, any kind of game except beaver and buffalo—north of latitude 55°.”
“Well, what’s that got to do with our hunt?” asked Rob.
“I was just going to explain, if you will let me see your map. As near as I can tell by looking at the lines of latitude on it, we must have been just about latitude fifty-five degreesat the place where we started yesterday. But we have been running north very strongly thirty or forty miles. While I can’t tell exactly where we are, I’m very positive that we are at this camp somewhere north of fifty-five degrees. In that case there is no law against our killing what we like, if we let the beaver alone; for of course, the buffalo are all gone from this country long ago.”
“Now, I wouldn’t have thought of that,” said Rob, “and I’m very glad that you have figured it out just that way. We agree with you that a fellow ought to keep the game laws even when he is away from the towns. In some of the States in the earlier days they used to have laws allowing a man to kill meat if he needed it, no matter what time of year. But people killed at all times, until there wasn’t much left to kill.”
“It ought to be a good hunting country here,” went on Alex, “for I don’t think many live here or hunt here.”
“Well,” said Rob, with a superior air, “we don’t much care for black bear. Grizzlies or bighorns—”
“Have you never killed a bighorn?”
“No, none of us ever has. They have plenty of them up in Alaska, and very good ones, and white sheep also, and white goatssometimes, and all sorts of bears and moose and things. We’ve never hunted very much except when we were on Kadiak Island. We can all shoot, though. And we’d like very much to make a hunt here. There isn’t any hurry, anyway.”
“S’pose you’ll got some of those sheep,” ventured Moise, “he’ll be best for eat of anything there is—no meat better in the world than those beeghorn.”
“Well,” said John, “why don’t we start out to get one? This looks like a good country, all right.”
“That suits me,” added Rob. “Jess, do you want to go along?”
Alex looked at Jesse before he answered, and saw that while he was tall for his age, he was rather thin and not so strong as the other boys, being somewhat younger.
“I think Mr. Jess would better stay in camp,” said he. “He can help Moise finish drying his fish, and maybe they can go down and have a look at the rapids from the shore. We others can go over east for a hunt. I’ve a notion that the mountains that way are better.”
“It looks like a long way over,” said Rob. “Can we make it out and back to camp to-day?”
“Hardly; I think we’ll have to lie out at least one night, maybe more, to be sure of getting the sheep.”
“Fine!” said John; “that suits me. We wouldn’t need to take along any tent, just a blanket and a little something to eat—I suppose we could carry enough.” He looked so longingly at Moise’s pots and pans that everybody laughed at him once more.
“All right,” said Alex, “we’ll go.”
The old hunter now busied himself making ready their scant supplies. He took a little bag of flour, with some salt, one or two of the cooked fish which remained, and a small piece of bacon. These he rolled up in a piece of canvas, which he placed on his pack-straps. He asked the boys if they thought they could get on with a single blanket, and when they agreed to this he took Rob’s blanket, folded it, rolled it also in canvas, and tied it all tight with a rope, the ends of his tump-strap sticking out, serving him for his way of packing, which was to put the tump-strap across his head.
“It’s not a very big bundle,” said he. “You young gentlemen need take nothing but your rifles and your ammunition. I don’t need any blanket for a night or so. What little we’ve got will seem heavy enough before we get up there in the hills.”
“Now, Moise, listen,” he added. “You’re to stay in this camp until we get back, no matter how long it is, and you’re not to be uneasy if we don’t come back for two or three days. Don’t go out in the boats with Mr. Jess until we get back. Give him three meals a day, and finish up drying your trout.”
“All right,” answered Moise, “I’ll stay here all summer. I’ll hope you get beeg sheep.”
Alex turned, and after the fashion of the Indians, did not say good-by when he left camp, but stalked off. The two boys, rifle in hand, followed him, imitating his dignity and not even looking back to wave a farewell to Jesse, who stood regarding them rather ruefully.
They had a stiff climb up the first ridge, which paralleled the stream, when the boys found their rifles quite heavy enough to carry. After a time, however, they came out at the top of a high plateau, where the undergrowth was not very thick and tall spruces stood more scattered. They could now see beyond them some high, bare ridges, that rose one back of the other, with white-topped peaks here and there.
“Good sheep country,” said Alex, after a time. “I think good for moose, and maybe caribou, too, lower down.”
“Yes, and good for something else,” cried Rob, who was running on a little in advance as the others stopped. “Look here!”
“There he goes in his moccasins,” said Alex. “Grizzly!”
“Yes, and a good big one, I should think,” said Rob. “Not as big as a Kadiak bear; but see, his foot sinks a long way into the ground, and it’s not very soft, either. Come on, Alex, let’s go after him.”
Alex walked over and examined the trail for a little while.
“Made yesterday morning,” he commented, “and traveling steadily. No telling where he is by this time, Mr. Rob. When an old white-face starts off he may go forty miles. Again, we might run across him or some other one in the first berry patch we come to. It seems to me surer to go on through with our sheep hunt.
“There’s another thing,” he added, “about killing a big bear in here—his hide would weigh fifty to seventy-five pounds, very likely. Our boats are pretty full now, and we’re maybe coming to bad water. There’s good bear hunting farther north and east of here, and it seems to me, if you don’t mind, that it might be wiser for us to hunt sheep here and bear somewhere else.”
“That sounds reasonable,” said John. “Besides, we’ve never seen wild bighorn.”
“Come ahead then,” said Rob, reluctantly leaving the big bear trail. “I’d just like to follow that old fellow out, though.”
“Never fear,” said Alex, “you shall follow one just as big before this trip is over!”
Alex now took up his pack again, and began to move up toward the foothills of the mountains, following a flat little ravine which wound here and there, at no place very much covered with undergrowth. At last they reached the edges of bare country, where the sun struck them fully. By this time the boys were pretty tired, for it was far past noon, and they had not stopped for lunch. John was very hungry, but too brave to make any complaint. He was, however, feeling the effects of the march considerably.
“Well,” said he, as they finally sat down upon a large rock, “I don’t see any signs of sheep up in here, and I don’t think this looks like a very good game country. There isn’t anything for the sheep to eat.”
“Oh yes,” rejoined Alex; “you’ll find a little grass, and some moss among the rocks, more often than you would think. This is just the kind of country that bighorns like. You mustn’t get discouraged too soon on ahunt. An Injun may be slow to start on a hunt, but when he gets started he doesn’t get discouraged, but keeps on going. Sometimes our people hunt two or three days without anything to eat.
“But now since you mention it, Mr. John,” he added, “I’d like to ask you, are you sure there are no signs of game around here?”
Both the boys looked for a long time all over the mountain-slopes before them. Rob had his field-glasses with him, and these he now took out, steadily sweeping one ridge after another for some time.
“I see, Alex!” he called out, excitedly. “I know what you mean!”
“Where are they?” called John, excitedly.
“Oh, not sheep yet,” said Rob, “but just where they’ve been, I think.”
“Look, Mr. John,” said Alex, now taking John by the arm and pointing across the near-by ravines. “Don’t you see that long mark, lighter in color, which runs down the side of that mountain over there, a mile or two away, and up above us?”
“Yes, I can see that; but what is it?”
“Well, that’s a sheep trail, a path,” said Alex. “That’s a trail they make coming down regularly from the high country beyond. It looks to me as though they mighthave a watering place, or maybe a lick, over in there somewhere. It looks so good to me, at least, that I think we’ll make a camp.”
They turned now, under the old hunter’s guidance, and retraced their steps until they found themselves at the edge of timber, where Alex threw down his bundle under a tall spruce-tree whose branches spread out so as almost to form a tent of itself. He now loosened his straps and bits of rope from about the bundle, and fastened these about his waist. With remaining pieces of twine he swung up the package to the bough of the tree above the ground as high as he could reach.
“We don’t want any old porcupine coming here and eating up our grub. They almost gnaw through a steel plate to get at anything greasy or salty,” he explained. “We’ll call this camp, and we’ll stop here to-night, because I can see that if we go up to that trail and do any waiting around it will be too late for us to get back home to-night.”
Although no game had as yet been sighted, the confidence that it was somewhere in the country made the boys forget their fatigue. They followed Alex up the mountain-slopes, which close at hand proved steeper than they had looked for, keeping up a pretty fast pace,until finally they got almost as high up as the trail which Alex had sighted. This latter lay at some distance to the right of their present course, and a high, knife-edged ridge ran down from the hills, separating the hunters from the mountain-side beyond. Alex now turned to his young companions and said in a low tone:
“You’d better stay here now for a little while. I’ll crawl up to the top yonder and look over. If you see me motion to you, come on up to where I am.”
Rob and John sat down on a near-by rock and watched the hunter as he cautiously ascended the slope, taking care not to disengage any stones whose noise might alarm any near-by game. They saw him flatten out, and, having removed his hat, peer cautiously over the rim. Here he lay motionless for some time, then, little by little, so slowly that they hardly noticed he was moving, he dropped down over the rim, and, looking down over his shoulder, motioned to them to come on up.
When the boys joined Alex at the edge of the ridge they were pretty much out of breath, as they had hurried in the ascent. “What is it, Alex?” hissed John, his eyes shining.
“They’re over there,” said the hunter, quietly. “Five sheep, two good ones—one avery fine ram. Do you want to have a look at them? Be very careful—they’re up at the top of the slope, and haven’t come down over the trail yet. Be careful, now, how you put your heads over.”
The two boys now slowly approached the crest, and, almost trembling with excitement, peered over. Alex following, laid a hand on John’s leg and another on Rob’s shoulder, for fear they would make some sudden movement and frighten the game. When at length the boys crawled back from the ridge they were very much excited. “What’ll we do now, Alex?” asked John. “They’re too far off to shoot.”
“Wait,” said Alex; “they’re going to come on down the trail. I think they water at some spring in the mountain, although I don’t know. In fifteen or twenty minutes they’ll be pretty close to us—inside of two hundred yards, at least, I should think.
“Now listen,” he continued to the boys, “and mind what I tell you. There are two rams there, and if we get them we need nothing more. I’ll not shoot unless I need to. Rob, you’ll take the ram which is farthest to the right, at the time I tell you to fire, and you, Mr. John, will take the other ram, no matter whether it’s the big one or the littleone. Let the ewes alone. And whatever you do, don’t shoot into the flock—wait until each of you can see his animal ready for a distinct shot. If either of you misses, I’ll help him out—there’s three or four hundred yards of good shooting all up that mountain face. Now mind one thing; don’t have any buck fever here! None of that, do you hear me?”
Alex spoke rather sternly this time, but it was with a purpose. He saw that the hands of both the boys were rather trembling, and knew that sometimes when a man is in that nervous condition a sharp word will have the effect of quieting and steadying him.
Rob looked at him quickly, and then smiled. “Oh, I see,” said he.
They were all talking in low whispers, so that they might not be overheard by the game, if it should come closer. “It’s no disgrace to have buck fever,” said Alex, in his low tone. “Injuns even get excited, and I’ve known old hunters to get buck fever right in the middle of a hunt, without any reason they could tell anything about. But now, when you’re steady enough, we’ll all crawl up once in a while and have a look.”
He kept a steadying hand on both theboys when a few minutes later they approached the rim of the ridge once more. By this time the sheep, which had not in the least taken alarm, were advancing rather steadily down the narrow path on the steep mountain face. The biggest ram was in advance, a stately and beautiful game creature, such as would have made a prize for the most experienced of hunters. It was all Rob could do to keep from an exclamation of delight at seeing these rather queer creatures so close at hand and unsuspicious of the hunters’ presence.
Alex pulled them down once more, and sternly admonished them to be quiet. “Wait now,” he whispered, “one minute by the watch.”