The Young Alaskans on the Trail by Emerson Hough (i want to read a book TXT) 📕

and almost always saw the trails of large game in the sand or mud. Always they felt that now they were deep in the wilderness, and every moment was a pleasure to them.

They did not really know how far below the Finlay rapids they traveled that day, for continually they discovered that it is difficult to apply map readings to the actual face of a new country. They made no great attempt at speed, but sometimes drifted down-stream, the boats close together. Sometimes when the wind was fair Rob or John would raise the corner of a tent or blanket to act as a sail. Thus, idling and chatting along, they made perhaps forty miles down-stream before they made their next evening camp. The country seemed to them wilder now, since the bold hills were so close in upon them, though of course they knew that each day was bringing them closer to the settlements on the eastern side of the range.

That night was cold, and they had no trouble with mosquitoes. Feeling no need of hurry, they made a late start and idled on down the river through a very interesting mountain region, until the afternoon. Toward evening they began to feel that they might perhaps be near the dreaded Parle Pas rapids, and they approached each bend with care, sometimes going ashore for a prospecting trip which proved to be made only on a false alarm. They had, however, now begun to learn the “feel of the water,” as the voyageurs called it. Rob, who was ahead, at length noted the glassy look of the river, and called back to Moise that he believed there were rapids ahead.

“Parle Pas!” cried Moise. “On shore, queek!”

Swiftly they paddled across, to the north side of the river, where presently they were joined by the other boat.

“She’s the Parle Pas, all right,” laughed Moise; “look at heem!”

From their place of observation they could see a long ridge, or rim, the water falling in a sort of cascade well out across the stream. There seemed to be a chute, or channel, in midstream, but the back-combing rollers below it looked ominously large for a boat the size of theirs, so that they were glad enough to be where they were, on dry land.

Moise was once more for running the boats through the chute on the north shore, but Alex’s cautious counsel prevailed. There was not more than thirty or forty feet of the very worst water, rather a cascade than a long rapid, but they discharged the cargo and lined both boats through light. This sort of work proved highly interesting and exciting to all hands, and, of course, when superintended by such men as Alex and Moise had no great danger, although all of them were pretty wet when at length they had their boats reloaded at the foot of the rapids.

“I know how Sir Alexander got across the mountains,” said John. “He had good voyageurs to do the work! About all he had to do was to write the story each night, and he didn’t do that any too well, it seems to me—anyhow, when you come to read his story backward you can’t tell where you are very well.”

“That’s right,” said Rob. “I don’t much blame Simon Fraser for finding fault with Mackenzie’s narrative. But maybe if we had written the story they’d have found fault with us the same way. The same country doesn’t look alike to different people, and what is a mile to one man may be two miles to another when both are guessing. But anyhow, here we are below the ‘Polly’ rapids—as the traders call them to-day—and jolly glad we ought to be we’re safe, too.”

“Plain sailing again now for a while,” said Jesse. “Let’s see the map.”

They all bent over the different maps they had, especially one which Rob had made up from all the sources of information he had.

“Yes,” said Rob, “it ought to be about sixty miles of pretty good water now until we get to the one place on this river which the boldest voyageur never tried to run—the Cañon of the Rocky Mountains, as the very first travelers called it.”

“Those map she’ll not been much good,” said Moise, pointing to the government maps of which Rob had a store. “The only good map she’ll been made by the Injun with a stick, s’pose on the sand, or maybe so on a piece of bark. My onkle she’ll made me a map of the Parle Pas. He’ll show the place where to go through the middle on the Parle Pas. S’pose you’ll tell my onkle, Moise he’ll walk down the Parle Pas an’ not ron on heem, he’ll laugh on me, heem! All right, when you get to the Grand Portage sixty miles below, you’ll get all the walk you want, Alex, hein?”

Alex answered him with a pleasant smile, not in the least disposed to be laughed into taking any risks he did not think necessary.

“We’d better drop down a few miles farther before we make camp,” said he. “En avant, Moise. En roulant, ma boule!”

Moise turned to his paddle and broke into song gaily as they once more headed down the stream. They did not tarry again until the sun was behind the western ridges. The mountain shadows were heavy when at last their little fire lighted up the black forest which crowded close in all around them.

“I think this is fine,” said Jesse, quietly, as they sat about the camp-fire that night.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for anything in the world,” said John; and Rob gave his assent by a quiet nod of satisfaction.

“I feel as if we were almost home now,” said Jesse. “We must have come an awfully long way.”

Alex shook his head. “We’re a long way from home yet,” said he. “When the Klondike rushes were on some men got up as far north as this place, and scattered everywhere, hoping they could get through somehow to the Yukon—none of them knew just how. But few of them ever got up this river beyond Hudson’s Hope, or even Fort St. John, far east of there. Some turned back and went down the Mackenzie, others took the back trail from Peace River landing. A good many just disappeared. I have talked with some who turned back from the mountains here, and they all said they didn’t think the whole world was as big as it seemed by the time they got here! And they came from the East, where home seems close to you!”

“Well,” said Rob, “as it’s probably pretty rough below here, and good grizzly country, why not stop here and make that little hunt we were talking about?”

“All right,” said Alex; “I suppose this is as good a game country as any. We ought to get a moose, even if we don’t see any bear. In the old times there used to be plenty of buffalo this far to the west in the mountains. What do you say, Moise—shall we make a hunting camp here?”

“We’ll been got no meat pretty quick bimeby,” said Moise. “Maybe so.”

They were encamped here on a narrow beach, which, however, sheered up high enough to offer them security against any rise in the stream. They were careful to pull up the boats high and dry, and to secure them in case of any freshet. Used as they were by this time to camp life, it now took them but a few minutes to complete their simple operations in making any camp. As all the boys had taken a turn at paddling this day, and as the exciting scenes of the past few days had been of themselves somewhat wearying, they were glad enough to get a long night’s sleep.

Before Rob, the leader of the younger members of the party, had rolled up in his blankets Alex came to him and asked him whether he really cared to finish running the river, provided they could get out overland.

“Surely we do,” said Rob at once. “We’ll go on through, as far as we can, at least, by boat. We don’t want to be modern and ride along on horseback until we have to. Mackenzie didn’t and Fraser didn’t! Nor do we want to go to any trading-post for supplies. We can get butter and eggs in the States if we want to, but we’re hunters! You show us a grizzly to-morrow, Alex, that’s all!”

“All right,” said Alex, smiling. “Maybe we can.”

XVI THE GRIZZLY HUNT

“

Why, Alex, this land along the bayou here looks like a cattle-yard!” exclaimed Rob as early the next morning they paused to examine a piece of the moist ground which they had observed much cut up with tracks of big game.

There were four in party now, Moise alone having remained to keep the camp. For an hour or more now they had passed back toward the hills, examining the damp ground around the edges of the willow flats and alder thickets. From time to time they had seen tracks of bears, some large and some small, but at this particular point the sign was so unmistakable that all had paused.

“I don’t know that I ever saw more sign on one piece of ground,” admitted Alex. He spoke in a low tone of voice and motioned for the others to be very quiet. “The trouble is, they seem to be feeding at night and working back toward the hills in the daytime. On this country here there have been six black bears and two grizzlies.”

“Yes, and here’s that big track again,” said Rob. “He sinks in the mud deep as an ox, and has a hind foot as long as my rifle-stock.”

“Six or eight hundred pounds, maybe,” said Alex. “He’s a good one. The other one isn’t so big. They fed here last night, and seem to be working up this little valley toward the hills again. If we had plenty of time I’d be in favor of waiting here until evening, for this seems to be a regular stamping-ground for bear. What do you think, Mr. Rob?”

“Well,” said Rob, “I know it usually isn’t much worth while to follow a bear, but maybe it wouldn’t do any harm in here to work on after this one a little way, because there doesn’t seem to be any hunting in here, and maybe the bears aren’t badly scared.”

“Very well, that’s what I think, too,” said Alex; “but if this trail gets very much fresher I think it is just as well for all of us to keep out of the thicket and take to the open. Maybe we can find higher ground on ahead.”

They passed on up, making cross-cuts on the trail and circling now and again through the willow flats as they advanced. Once in a while Alex would have to search a little before he could pick up the trail, but always somewhere among the willows he would find the great footprint of the big bear. Often he showed the boys where the willows had been broken down by the bear in its feeding, and at some places it left a path as though a cyclone had gone through.

Having established it in his mind that the bear was steadily advancing deeper back into the valley they were following, Alex at last left the willow flats and made for the side of the depression down which a little stream was coming, striking into the hills at the place where the valley finally narrowed to a deep coulée. Here they advanced slowly and cautiously, taking care to be on the side where the wind would favor them most, and once in a while Alex still