The Young Alaskans on the Trail by Emerson Hough (i want to read a book TXT) 📕
"I don't remember that book very well," said Jesse; "I'll read it again some time."
"We'll all read it each day as we go on, and in that way understand it better when we get through," ventured John. "But listen; I thought I heard them in the bush."
It was as he had said. The swish of bushes parting and the occasional sound of a stumbling footfall on the trail now became plainer. They heard the voice of Moise break out into a little song as he saw the light of the fire flickering among the trees. He laughed gaily as he stepped into the ring of the cleared ground, let down one end of the canoe which he was carrying, and with a quick twist of his body set it down gently upon the leaves.
"You'll mak' good time, hein?" he asked of the boys, smiling and showing a double row of white teeth.
"What did I tell you, boys?" demanded Rob. "Here they are, and it isn't quite dark yet."
The next moment Ale
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“All right,” replied Moise, “I’ll go slow with those boy all the time, yes.”
“Well, we’re not any of us scared yet,” said John, stoutly, “and we won’t be.”
“I hope we’ll get some white water to run,” added Rob, his eyes shining. Jesse was the only one who seemed to be not wholly happy. The silence of the great hills about him, situated as they now were far from all human habitation, made him feel rather lonesome. He kept up a stout heart, however, and soon forgot his troubles when the actual bustle of the departure was begun.
“You’d better take the axes, Mr. Rob, and go ahead and cut out the way a little bit on this little creek,” said Alex. “I’m afraid the boats won’t quite clear.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” said Rob, and soon he and the other boys were making their way in among the tangled thicket, sometimes in and sometimes out of the water, chopping away the branches so that the little boats could get through.
“Will they float, do you think, Mr. Rob?” called Alex.
“Like a bird!” answered Rob, as the first canoe, which was named the Mary Ann, soon took the water.
“Here comes the Jaybird!” cried Jesse, as they pushed the other canoe over the last foot or so of grass which lay between it and the water.
“Those boat she’ll be all same like ducks,” exclaimed Moise, admiringly. “I’ll bet not even my onkle Pete Fraser he’ll have better boat like those.”
“Sir Alexander’s boat was twenty-five or thirty feet long, all made out of birch-bark,” said Rob. “Ours aren’t much over sixteen feet.”
“They had eight or ten men in their boats,” began John, “and the most we’ll have in either of ours will be three—that is, if you count Jess as a full-sized man!”
“Yes,” said Alex, “and they had a number of packs, each weighing ninety pounds. Now, all our packs won’t weigh a great deal more than that for each boat, counting in what we’re going to eat. We’ll have to get something in the way of meat as we go on through. Fine boats these, and much better than birch-bark. Perhaps you may remember that Sir Alexander was having trouble to find good bark to mend his boats before he got in here. We’ll not need to trouble about that.”
“No,” said Rob, “we’ve got plenty of canvas, and rubber cement, and shellac, and tacks, and cord, and wire. We’ll make it through, even if we do have some little breaks.”
“I don’t think we’ll have any,” replied Alex in a reassuring way. “Moise, don’t you think your load settles your canoe just a little deeper than she ought to go?”
“Non! Non!” said Moise, in reply, casting a judicial look at the low freeboard of the Mary Ann. “She’ll go, those boat.”
“She’ll be getting lighter all the time,” ventured Jesse. “John gets awfully hungry, and he’ll eat a lot!”
They all laughed heartily at this reference to John’s well-known appetite. All were in good spirits when the real progress down the tangled creek began.
“En roulant, ma boule, roulant!” began Moise, as he shoved out his boat—the words of the old Canadian voyageurs’ boat song, known for generations on all the waterways of the North.
“Better wait until we get into the lake,” smiled Alex. “I don’t think we can ‘roll the ball,’ as you call it, very much in among these bushes.”
They moved on down now, pushing and pulling their boat when they could not paddle or pole it. Sometimes they had to force their way through an embarras, as the voyageurs call a pile of driftwood. The boys, however, only enjoyed this sort of work. They were wet, but happy, when, after some time passed in this slow progress, at last they saw the open waters of the lake fully before them.
“En voyage, messieurs,” cried Moise. “We begin!”
V CROSSING THE HEIGHT OF LANDBefore 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 and spread them on the thwart of the boat before he stepped lightly in to take his place at the stern of the Jaybird. 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 the Mary Ann, John taking that place for the Jaybird, 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.
En roulant, ma boule!
Avec son grand fusil d’argent
En 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 the boats 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,” said Moise. “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 Alexander really 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
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