They were early astir the next morning. It took but a little while to get breakfast, and to load the canoes, which were soon on their way up the North Arm. By noon they had reached a point at the foot of the large island near its head, above which rose the great bare peak which they had seen two or three days ago, and on which lay a large bank of snow. Here they landed. They unloaded the canoes, and, taking them out of the water, carried them a little distance into the forest and covered them with branches. Then the blankets and provisions were made up into back loads, and, the Indians bearing most of the burdens, the party set out to climb the mountain. It was a long, steep clamber, and it was not until five and a half hours later that they reached the border of the timber, from which the unwooded summit rose still higher.
Seammux advised making camp on the edge of the timber, declaring that a camp-fire made higher up on the mountains, where the goats ranged and fed, would be likely to frighten them; and before camp was made and supper cooked and eaten, darkness settled down, so that there was no opportunity that night of seeing anything in the hunting grounds. The climb had been a difficult one, and especially hard on the white men, whose muscles were unused to this sort of exercise. There was no disposition for conversation, and all hands sought their blankets soon after the meal was eaten.
The next morning they were up by daylight; and after breakfast, leaving the timber behind them, started toward the summit, passing up a beautiful grassy swale, toward the higher land. It was absolutely still, except for the occasional call of a gray jay in the timber or the chatter of a flock of cross-bills.
Just before they reached the summit a dense fog settled down over the mountains and at once cut off every distant view. The air was cool, the fog heavy and wet, and, as it was useless to travel through this obscurity, they halted and sat about waiting for the air to clear. As they sat there, impatiently hoping that the mist would clear away, suddenly out of the fog, and close by them flew two birds, which looked to Jack like cedar birds, but cedar birds bigger than he had ever seen before.
"Bohemian Waxwings," said Fannin, as he grasped his shot-gun. He rose to his feet to follow them, when the older Indian spoke to him warningly, and after an exchange of a few sentences Fannin sat down again.
"What is it, Mr. Fannin?" asked Jack. "Are you going to try to get them?"
"No," said Fannin; "I wanted to, but Seammux here says if I fire a shot it will scare the goats, and we shall not see one to-day. I don't believe it; but on the other hand, I don't know half as much about goats as the Indian does; and as we came up here to get goats, I am not going to do anything that might interfere with our getting them."
"Of course I don't know anything about goats," said Jack; "but I've heard that they are very gentle and not easily disturbed by noise. That's what the Indians have told me, but of course we can't tell how true it is."
"Yes," said Hugh, "the Blackfeet and Kutenais all say that you can fire many shots at a goat; and others, not far off, within easy ear-shot of the firing, will pay no attention to the noise."
"Well," said Fannin, "we came up here to get goats, and those are what we must try for."
It was nearly noon when a light breeze began to blow, and the fog seemed to grow thinner; and a little later, without the least warning, the great bank of fog which had hung over the mountains rolled away, and the sun burst forth from a cloudless sky. They could now see that they were on the crest of a mountain ridge that separated the valley of the North Arm of Burrard Inlet and Salmon River from that of Seymour Creek to the west. The divide they were on was broken and uneven, made up of sharp ridges, deep ravines, and rounded, smooth and sometimes almost level stretches. Everywhere on the high divide, except on the tops of the rocky ridges, the ground was covered with heather, soft and yielding under foot, yet good to walk over. As they moved along the ridge, they could see at almost every step fresh signs of goats. None were in sight, but this meant nothing; for although the country was open and the eye could cover miles of territory, in any direction, yet the ground was so broken that goats might be anywhere close to them and still be out of sight.
After a little while Seammux left the party and started down the side of the ridge toward Seymour Creek; but he had hardly gone two hundred yards when he dropped to the ground, clambered up a short distance toward them, and made signs for them to come.
"There," said Fannin, "Seammux sees something; I hope it's in a place where we can get to it."
"I hope so," said Jack, "and that it's not too far down the hill. Anything that we kill down there of course has got to be carried up again."
"Well," said Hugh, "the easiest way to find out where it is, is to go down to the Indian; but go carefully; this plant under foot is mighty slippery, and you don't want to fall down and break your gun or knock off the sights."
They scrambled down to the Indian, who, as they approached, made signs for them to be cautious. When they had reached him, he pointed to the top of the bank below him, and they advanced to look over it, supposing that they might see goats, three or four hundred yards away, that would have to be carefully stalked. But instead of that, when they peered cautiously over it, there were four of the white beasts placidly feeding on the hillside, within thirty yards of them. The curious animals stood knee-deep in the heather, and seemed to be carefully picking out certain plants which grew here and there among it. Their horns were sharp, shining black, and directed a little backward; and on each chin was a beard, reminding one of that of a buffalo, and easily explaining the common name "goat" given to them. The animals seemed so unsuspicious that Fannin hardly felt like firing at them; but to Jack, who had never before killed a goat, no such thought occurred. He was anxious to secure his animal. There were four shots, for the young Indian, Sillicum, carried a musket, though Seammux had none; and it was but a moment before the four goats lay stretched on the mountain side.
"Well," said Jack, as they stood over the animals which the Indians were now preparing to skin, "that is about the simplest piece of hunting that I ever did. These goats don't seem to be much more suspicious than so many buffalo."
"No," said Hugh, "they are certainly gentle beasts, and that's just what I've always heard about them from the Indians."
"Well," said Jack, "now that I have killed one goat, I don't feel as if I cared very much to kill any more."
"No," said Mr. Fannin, "there's not much sport in it. You must remember that these goats are scarcely ever disturbed, for no white men ever come here to hunt; and I don't believe the Indians come once in five years. It's very possible that these goats never saw a man and never heard a shot before to-day."
By this time the Indians had dragged three of the goats to a level spot, where they could work, and then went off to bring the fourth one. Seammux had just seized it by the hind leg to pull it up to this level place, when suddenly the goat came to life, sprang to its feet, and began to run down the hill, dragging Seammux after it. The Indian was plucky and would not let go, and his companion hurried to his aid. The ground grew more and more steep, and presently the Indian and the goat fell and began to roll over. Fannin, fearing lest Seammux might get a bad fall, shouted: "Kloshe nannitch (Look out), Seammux." Seammux loosened his hold of the goat, and tried to stop himself by grasping at the grass and weeds; but his momentum was too great. The goat continued to roll down the hill, and disappeared from sight; and Seammux, rolling after the goat, also disappeared.
"I am afraid he may have had a bad fall," said Fannin, as he started running down the hill toward where the Indian had vanished. Sillicum had seated himself on the ground at the top of the steep place, and was slowly hitching himself down toward what seemed to be the edge of a cliff. Hugh and Jack were close behind Fannin. When they reached the top of the steep place, which was only fifteen or twenty feet high, Hugh said: "Hold on here; I'll anchor myself to this little tree, and reach my gun down; and you, Fannin, let yourself down by it as far as you can, and reach your gun down, and Jack can get to the edge. He's the lightest of the lot."
"Will he be sure to hold on?" inquired Fannin.
SEAMMUX ALSO ROLLED AFTER THE GOAT, AND HE, TOO, DISAPPEARED—Page 82
"Yes," said Hugh. "Don't bother about Jack, he'll do it." It took but a moment for Hugh to pass his arm around the tree; and, holding his rifle by the muzzle, he stretched it down the slope, and Fannin quickly passed down. Grasping the rifle above the stock, he reached his gun down nearly to the edge of the slope. Jack quickly scrambled down beside them, and, holding on by Fannin's gun, at last found himself on the edge of the sheer cliff; and looking over, he saw, but a few feet below him, caught in the top of a fir tree that grew in a crevice of the rock, Seammux, looking anxiously up at him. Below him there was a fall of a hundred feet or more, and on the rocks, at the bottom of the cliff, lay the carcase of the goat.
"Hurrah!" said Jack. "Hold on, Seammux, we'll get you up all right!" Then he called back to Hugh and Fannin: "He's caught in a small tree, not more than ten feet below where I am, but I can't reach him. If we get a rope we'll have him out of that in two minutes."
"All right," said Fannin, "that's easily done. Sillicum and I will go back to the camp and fetch the guys on the tent, and any other rope that's there. It's only a little way, and we'll be back in fifteen minutes. What sort of footing have you, Jack?"
"Perfectly good," said Jack; "there's a lot of gravel and broken stone here, on which there is no danger of slipping. I could stay here for a week."
"Well," said Hugh, "make a safe place before you let go Fannin's gun; and then stop there in sight of the Indian. It will make him feel easier, that way."
Jack stamped out a place where he could stand and even sit, and spoke a few words to Seammux, though the latter, of course, did not understand what he was saying.
Fannin called out to the Indian, in a loud voice, telling him that they were going for a rope and would soon have him out of his trouble. Seammux shouted back. Fannin and Sillicum climbed up the steep hill; and, leaving their guns behind them, started on a trot for the camp.
To those who were watching at the edge of the cliff, they seemed gone a long time, but it was really only fifteen or twenty minutes before they came back again, each carrying a coil of rope.
"Good!" said Hugh. "I'm glad you've got back. It seemed a long time to us watching here, and a good deal longer to Seammux. How much rope have you got? Why, that's bully! There's forty feet in one of those coils, and as the rope is a little light, we'll just double it."
He knotted one end of each coil about the little tree, to which he had been holding; and, tossing the other ends to Jack, said: "Now, son, double this rope and then throw it over the Indian, and tell him to put it under his arms. How's the edge of that rock there? Is it sharp and likely to cut the rope, or does the soil and grass overhang it?"
Jack knotted the rope, and called back, saying: "No, there's no sharp edge to be seen; the earth and the grass run right out to the edge of the cliff and seem to overhang a little."
"Very well," said Hugh. "Pass the rope to the Indian, and then tell us when you are ready for us to begin to pull up."
Jack called to Seammux and made a sign that he was going to throw the rope to him. Then tossing it out, it passed over the Indian's head and one shoulder, and was caught on one of his arms. Jack motioned to Seammux how to fix the rope, and he did so; and then the men above took in all the slack, so that the rope was taut. Then Seammux slowly and carefully began to turn around in the tough bending tree that held him, and to work in toward the face of the cliff; and the men above began slowly to haul in on the rope. There was a moment or two of anxiety, while the rope at the edge of the cliff could be seen to swing and twist a little; and then the hand and arm of the Indian appeared above the cliff, and presently the head. In a moment more he lay with his breast on its edge, clutching the weeds and grass with a vise-like grasp. After a moment's rest, he wriggled on and raised himself; and, helped by the rope, in another moment he stood beside Jack, unharmed, but panting hard.
"Now, son," said Hugh, "take hold of that rope and come up here." Jack did so, and was immediately followed by Seammux. All climbed up to a level place and threw themselves on the ground, Seammux still panting from his exertion, and the others greatly relieved that the danger was over.
"Well, friend," said Fannin in Chinook, addressing the Indian, "you wanted that goat so badly, why did you go only part way with him; why didn't you keep on to the bottom?"
"Ha!" said Seammux. "I didn't want the goat. I thought that I could keep him from having a bad fall, but I held on too long. I couldn't stop him, and when I wanted to stop myself, I couldn't do that, either."
"Well," said Fannin, "you 're a lucky man. You must have a powerful helper who caused you to roll over the cliff just where that small tree stuck out."
"You speak truth," said Seammux. "I shall make a sacrifice to that person when I get back to my house."
After resting a little, they climbed farther up the hill to where the three goats lay, and the Indians began to skin them. They were the first goats that Jack had seen, and he was much interested in examining them. He wondered at the short, sharp, shiny horns, and the short, strong legs, the great hoofs with their soft pad-like cushions on the soles; and the great dew claws, which were worn and rounded, showing that they were of use to the animal in climbing up and down the hills. Hugh pointed out to him a curious gland close behind the base of the horn; and when he smelled of it, as advised to do, he was almost overpowered by the strong odor of musk that came from it.
"Well now, son," said Hugh, "is there no animal that these goats remind you of?"
"There's one," said Jack, "and I thought of it when I was pulling the trigger.
"They remind me a good lot of the buffalo. Look at the hump on the back, the low hind quarters, the legs with the long hair down to the knees, the shaggy coat and beard. These are all things that suggest buffalo, yet I suppose this animal here is not closely related to the buffalo. In fact, I am sure they are not; because my uncle has told me that they were antelope; but I am sure they look more like buffalo than they do like the antelope we see down on the prairie."
"You are right," said Hugh. "They look to me a good deal more like buffalo than antelope; but then Mr. Sturgis has talked to me about antelope, too; and he says that this antelope that we have here on the plains, isn't a regular antelope, but is a kind of an animal by itself, that hasn't got any close relations anywhere else in the world. He says that the real antelopes are found mostly in Europe and Asia and Africa, and that these here goats are the only regular antelope that we've got in America."
"Yes," said Jack, "that's so; that's just what he has told me, and I expect he knows."
"I reckon he does, son," said Hugh.
"Yes," said Fannin, "that's all gospel, I expect. I don't know much about these things myself, except what I've read in books, but I have read just that."
By this time the Indian had skinned and cut up two of the goats, and Fannin said: "Well, let's leave the Indians here and go on a little way farther, and see what else we can find." He picked up his shot-gun and said to Seammux: "Carry my rifle, Seammux, so that if you see any game you may have something to shoot with." Then, Fannin carrying the shot-gun, the three began to climb toward the summit, working along just below the ridge.
They had not gone very far, when close to the top of another ridge, running out from the main divide, they discovered a large billy-goat walking along the very edge of the cliff. He was some distance from them, and though they were in plain sight and made no effort to conceal themselves, he paid no attention to them. When they had come within three or four hundred yards of him, they sat down to watch him. He was feeding along, walking slowly, and stopping now and then to nip some plant which he liked. Soon he turned sharply down the almost vertical cliff, and worked along slowly and without any apparent caution, farther down, about thirty or forty yards to where grew a large broad leafed plant, which, Fannin said, the Indians reported to be a favorite food of the animal. Here he stopped and began feeding.
As they watched him, and commented on his slow and clumsy, yet absolutely confident movements, a loud hoarse call, almost like that of a raven rapidly repeated, sounded on the mountain side just above them. All turned their heads to look, and saw a flock of eight grouse standing with outstretched necks, gazing at them.
"Ptarmigan!" said Fannin. "I must have these." Loading and firing in quick succession, he shot the eight birds. "I hope they are white tails," he said. "These are the first that I have ever seen, in this part of the country;"—and he clambered up to gather his prize.
"Look at that goat!" cried Jack; and they turned their heads to look at the animal, which was still feeding on the very edge of the cliff in the same unconcerned manner as before the shots had been fired. Yet he could not have failed to hear them, for the Indians, who were much farther off, afterward spoke of hearing the reports.
The birds were not the white-tailed ptarmigan, as had been hoped. Besides that, they were in the last stage of moult; the plumage was worn and ragged, and they were hardly fit to skin, Fannin said. But it was interesting to Fannin and to Jack to have found them on these mountains.
Leaving the goat still enjoying his meal, our friends pushed on. They climbed a high peak from which the whole range was visible toward the north and the south, and far off to the south the two Indians were seen apparently approaching some game.
Before either had fired a shot, a heavy fog obscured the whole scene; but through it, a little later, came the sound of shot after shot until nine had been counted, and Hugh remarked: "Sounds like a battle down there." They learned later that Seammux had fired nine shots at one goat before getting it, and his expenditure of ammunition was the cause of more than one joke at his expense.
By this time having had all the hunting of goats that they wanted, they decided to return to the camp. Before reaching it they were joined by the two Indians, each carrying on his shoulders a heavy load of goat skins and meat. They had almost reached the camp, and were resting on the top of the highest knoll above it, when Seammux, whose eyes were constantly roving over the country, pointed in the direction of Seymour Creek and said: "I think that's a bear." In the bottom of the ravine, about three quarters of a mile from where they were, some dark objects were seen, and the glasses showed these to be a bear and three good-sized cubs. There were hills on either side of the animals, and to approach them was not difficult. Yet the very easiness of the hunting took away from its pleasure. The animals were unsuspicious; the cover good; there were three good rifles. A short stalk brought the hunters close to the bears.
Fannin said: "Jack, you kill the old one, and we'll take the cubs. I will whistle, and when she looks up, you shoot." It all happened according to schedule, and sooner than it takes to tell it the four bears lay dead. That night there was plenty of fresh meat in camp. A side of young bear ribs was roasted by Hugh, somewhat as they used to roast deer or buffalo ribs on the plains, and they were pronounced excellent by all hands. There was abundant broiled goat meat, which was deemed good by the Indians; but somewhat lacking in flavor by the white men. After the meal was over and the pipes were going, Mr. Fannin asked Jack his opinion of the day's sport.
"Well," said Jack, "there's lots of game here, it's a good hunting country, and it's full of interesting life, but the fault I have to find with it is that it's too easy to get your game. A man doesn't have to work hard enough. He's pretty sure that if he keeps his eyes open and uses ordinary precaution, he can approach close enough to these very gentle animals to get them every time. To my mind, half the fun of hunting anything is the uncertainty as to whether you are going to be successful or not. If every time you take your rifle and start out you are sure that you are going to get some game, there is no more interest in it than there is in killing a beef for food at the ranch, or in butchering hogs on a farm. Take away the element of uncertainty in hunting or fishing, and you have nothing left. An Indian who goes out to kill buffalo does not regard the getting of the meat as fun, but as hard work; just as you or I might feel that pitching hay or riding the range for wages was work."
"That's so, son; you've figured it out just right," said Hugh. "It is work. The Indian gets his pay in meat and the skins. The white man gets his pay in dollars and cents, so many of them a day or a month. Now, when the white man goes hunting, he does it with the idea that he is having fun, that he is doing something opposite from work; but when the Indian goes hunting he knows that he is working, and working hard. I suppose, maybe, it's just the difference between being a savage and being civilized."
"I agree with you, Jack," said Mr. Fannin, "that there's no fun whatever in hunting such as we've had to-day. Of course, if we were off on a trip and needed meat for food, we would be glad to kill game just for the purpose of eating it, but not for the fun of hunting. The more a man works for his game, the more difficult it is to get, the greater his satisfaction in his success.
"Well, to-morrow, I think, we can perhaps get down home again; and if we can, we'll start on the stage for Westminster the day after, and get to Victoria the following night. Then we can make our start for the North."
Two days later the party was once more in Victoria. The sail from New Westminster to Victoria had been very delightful. After the swift run down the Fraser River, between high walls of evergreen with their backgrounds of distant gray mountains, the boat passed out on the broad waters of the Gulf of Georgia. In every direction, save to the west, the view was of mountains backed by mountains; and above and beyond them all was Mount Baker, raising its sharp white cone toward the heavens. To the south were the deep waters of the Gulf, dancing and sparkling in the sunlight, and dotted by thousands of islands. Beyond, and over them all, was seen the mainland of the United States, with ranges of snow-clad mountains, above and beyond which one would sometimes catch a glimpse of majestic Ranier. After the mouth of the river had been left, Fannin called his companions' attention to an interesting point.
"I want you to watch the water from now on, and notice before long when the boat leaves the current of the river and enters the waters of the Gulf. You see the river is constantly carrying down a lot of mud and silt which must be mighty fine; for, instead of sinking, it runs away out here into the Gulf before it disappears; and before long you will see a change in the color of the water where we leave the muddy current of the Fraser and pass into the clean waters of the Gulf."
Jack and Hugh were on the lookout for this, and finally the point was reached where the turbid and clear waters met.
Hugh said: "Why, that's just the way the two streams look where the Missouri runs into the Mississippi. The Mississippi is black and clear; and the Missouri, of course, is yellow and muddy. You can see the line plain always there."
"Yes," said Jack, "and I have heard father talk about two streams in France, I think, where you see the same thing. One of them is the Rhone, but the name of the other I have forgotten."
A little later the steamer plunged in among the islands. The channel followed was difficult on account of the strong tides that were constantly rushing backward and forward through the narrow passage. Careful piloting is needed here, for at certain stages of the tide it is difficult even for a strong steamer to stem it; and if the vessel is not kept straight she may be whirled around, and that may be the last of her. The sail was a succession of surprises. On many of the islands were settlers; but with, often, only a house or two in sight. Passing around a point, Indians could be seen fishing in the troubled waters or camping upon the shore. There were birds in great multitudes; and not a few sailing craft were seen passing here and there on errands of their own.
After their two or three days of hard physical effort and life in camp, the dinner at the Driard House tasted very good. The next morning they started out to study the matter of transportation to the North.
Mr. MacTavish and Fannin both said that if a small steamer or launch could be hired it would enable them to go a great deal farther, and see things much more easily, at only a slight added expense. Some days, therefore, were spent in searching the wharves of the town and in excursions to other places in trying to secure what they wanted, but without success. There were several small launches, exactly suited to their purposes, but all these had been engaged for the salmon fishing on the Fraser. The run of fish was likely to begin in a short time. That year it was expected to be very heavy, and all the canneries were making great preparations for the catch. There seemed no way to get steam transportation. Failing this, the next best thing was to take a canoe and proceed by that slow means of conveyance as far north as time would permit. Fannin, whose experience made him a good judge of what should be done, recommended that they take the steamer to Nanaimo, distant from Victoria about seventy miles. Near that town there was an Indian village, where canoes and help could be had, and from where a start could be made. When this plan had been discussed and agreed on, it remained only to get together a mess kit, hire a cook, and take the steamer. A whole day was spent in this work. The cook engaged was a Virginian, known as "Arizona Charley," a man whose wanderings, including almost all of the United States, had at last brought him to Victoria. He proved an excellent man, faithful and willing; and—unlike most cooks—unusually good-natured. As soon as he was engaged the party transported their blankets, arms, and mess kit to the wharf; and early the next morning they were ploughing the Gulf toward the north.
HERE THEY WEAR WHITE MEN'S CLOTHES, INCLUDING SHOES AND HATS—Page 93
On this voyage, although so short, Jack saw much that was new to him. As the vessel moved out from the wharf he was leaning on the rail with Fannin, looking down on the passengers who occupied the lower deck. "It's hard for me to believe, Mr. Fannin," he said, "that these are Indians; they do not look much more like the Indians of the plains and the mountains than a Chinaman does. There the men all wear robes or blankets. Here they all wear white men's clothes, including shoes and hats. They seem civilized, quite as much as the Italian laborers that we are beginning to see so many of in the East."
"Yes," said Fannin, "they've changed greatly since I came into the country, and changed for the better. They're a pretty important element nowadays in the laboring population of the country; and for certain kinds of labor they are well fitted. They make good deck-hands, longshoremen, and fishermen; and many of them work in the lumber mills and canneries. They're very strong and are able to carry loads that a white man couldn't stagger under. Many of them work regularly and lay up money."
"I should think from what I have seen, and am seeing, that their natural way of getting around is in canoes. They must be skilful canoemen, aren't they?" asked Jack. "A day or two ago I saw some little children not more than three or four years old, paddling with the older people, and apparently doing it not in fun, but really to help."
"Well," said Fannin, "they learn to paddle before they learn to walk. I suppose it's because they see their parents do it. It's been my experience that the games of most children imitate the serious pursuits of their parents."
"I'm sure that's so," said Hugh. "Among the Indians I've seen it, I reckon, a thousand times. The little boys pretend to hunt, just as their fathers do; and the little girls pretend to pack wood and water, just like their mothers. I've seen a woman trudging down the creek with a back-load of wood that you'd think would break a horse's back; and following her would be a little girl hardly big enough to walk, having her rope over her back, and tied up in it a bundle of twigs. She walked along, imitating the gait of her mother, and when she got to the lodge threw down her load just as she saw her mother throw down hers."
"Well, anyhow," said Fannin, "you can see that these children, doing this sort of work from babyhood until they're grown up, would get to be mighty skilful at it; and you can understand how they can work at it, just as you and Hugh here can get on your horses in the morning and ride until dark; while, if I did that, in the first place, I'd have to be tied on the horse; and in the second place, I would not be able to walk for a week afterward. But there's no mistake about it, these Siwashes are good watermen."
"That's a word I've heard three or four times, Mr. Fannin," said Jack, "and I'd like you to tell me what it is—what it means—Siwash."
"Well, it means an Indian," said Fannin. "It's a Chinook jargon word, and yet it don't exactly mean an Indian either. It means a male Indian. An Indian woman is a klootchman."
"Klootchman!" said Jack. "That sounds Dutch."
"Well," said Fannin, "I don't know what language it is. You know this Chinook jargon is a language made up of words taken from many tongues. It's called Chinook; but I don't feel sure that the words in it are mostly from the Chinook language. I guess Siwash, for example, is a French word—probably it was originally sauvage, meaning savage. There are lots of French words in the Chinook jargon, though I can't think of them at the present moment. One of them, though, is lecou, meaning neck; and another is lahache, an axe. These are plain enough; but a good many of the words are taken from different Indian languages, and are just hitched together without any grammar at all. It's a sort of a trade language; a good deal, I expect, like the pigeon English that the coast Chinese are said to use in communicating with white men."
"I suppose," said Jack, "that the Siwashes are mainly fishermen, are they not? About all I've seen have been on the water paddling around in their canoes, and whenever we've seen them doing anything, except paddling, they have been fishing."
"Yes," said Fannin, "you're right about that; they are fishermen, or at least they derive the most of their subsistence from the water. Of course they depend chiefly upon the salmon, which they eat fresh, and dry for winter food; for the salmon are here only in summer. The Indians do some land hunting. They kill a good many deer, and some mountain goats, but their chief dependence for food is the salt-water fish. When the salmon begin to run in June or July, and before they have got into the fresh water streams, the Indians catch them in numbers with a trolling spoon. Of course the Indians do considerable water hunting; that is to say, they kill seals, and porpoises, and now and then a whale; but what they depend on is fishing."
"It means," said Jack, "that to these Indians the salmon are what the buffalo is to the Indians of the plains."
"Yes," said Fannin, "that's about it," and Hugh added: "The canoe here is about the same as the horse back where we live."
"Just about," agreed Fannin.
"Well," said Hugh, "that's all mighty curious, and I'm mighty glad I've come out here to see it all. I never thought about it much before, but I always had an idea that all Indians were about the same as those I knew most about; and that they lived about the same sort of lives. Of course I can see now just what a fool notion that was to have, but I did not see it then."
"But, Mr. Fannin," said Jack, "these Indians must have a lot of money. They are all provided with ordinary clothing, which they must buy; and they're pretty well fixed apparently, with everything that they need. Where do they get this money? Do all of them work, and get so much a day?"
"No," said Fannin, "not by a jugful. Some of them work, and work pretty steadily; a good many work, and after they have been at it for a week or a month, they get tired of it, throw up their jobs and go off in their canoes. They do considerable trading with the whites, however. They gather a great deal of oil, and this is one of the main articles of trade. You saw over on Burrard Inlet a whole lot of dog-fish. Well, the Indians catch lots of these, and take the liver and throw the carcase overboard. The liver is full of oil, which brings a pretty fair price. They also kill lots of porpoises, and porpoise oil is salable. Then, they make a great many baskets; mighty good ones too, they seem to be. Some of them are water-tight, perfectly good for cooking, or for water buckets. They also make mats, both of reeds and of the bark of the cedar, and these are useful and sell well."
"Well," said Jack, "how do they live? We've seen some tents on the beaches, but I suppose that in the winter time they must have something more substantial to live in than these tents."
"Yes," said Fannin, "of course they do. Though you must not think that the winters here are like the winters we have back East. It's pretty warm here, and we have little or no snow until you get back in among the mountains. The Siwashes along the coast live in wooden houses. We'll see a lot of them before long, and then you'll know that they are better than I can tell you. They are made of big planks split off the cedar, and roofed with the same. All around the house, near to the walls, a platform is built, on which the people sit and sleep. In the middle of the house the ground is bare; and it is there that the fire is built for cooking and for warmth. There may be a number of families living in one of these houses, each family having its sleeping place—its room you might call it—but all of them cooking at and sitting about the common fire. The roof planks do not quite come together at the peak of the house and the smoke of the fire goes out through the hole. Sometimes the roof beams and the posts which hold up the roof in front and behind are carved and painted.
"Close to some of the houses stand tall carved poles, called totem poles. One may be carved with a representation of a bear, a beaver, a frog, and an eagle, each animal resting on the head of the one carved below it on the pole. They are queer things to see, and if you will be patient for a few days we'll see them; and maybe we'll get some Indians to explain them to us. They have something to do with the family history, and some people say that each of these animals that is carved on the pole represents an ancestor or ancestors of the man before whose house the pole stands."
"Well," said Jack, "I'd like to see them. But from what you say, and from what I have seen, the Indians must be mighty good carvers. The canoes that we've seen had queer figures on them, and Mr. MacTavish had some beautiful pieces of carving in black slate that he said came from Queen Charlotte Islands; but I've forgotten what Indians carved them."
"Oh, yes," said Mr. Fannin, "that is Haida work. All the Indians north from Victoria are good at carving. Of course the animals and figures that they represent do not agree with our ideas of how these things should be represented. Most of the figures are grotesque, but they show fine workmanship; and if you give any of these Indians a model to copy he will follow it very closely. Up in the North they will hammer a bracelet or a spoon for you from a silver dollar; and they will put on it pretty much any design that you may give them."
CLOSE TO SOME OF THE HOUSES STAND TALL CARVED POLES, CALLED TOTEM POLES—Page 98
"I see," said Jack, "that all their canoes are carved in front; and the prows remind one a little bit of the pictures of the old Viking ships; and then, again, of the still older boats that the Romans had, only, of course, they were all rowed with oars, while the Indians use paddles."
"Yes," said Fannin, "these canoes that we have here are not like any that I know of anywhere else in the world. They're all made out of a single stick of wood and are of all sizes. There's one up at the Bella-Bella village, north of here, that's said to be the biggest boat on the coast. It's one of the old war canoes, is eighty feet long, and so deep that a man standing in it can't be seen by one standing on the ground by its side. Such a canoe as that could only be made in the country where the white cedar grows, a wood that is light, easily worked and very durable. It's one of our biggest trees and sometimes grows to a height of three hundred feet, and runs up to ten, eleven, or twelve feet thick at the butt."
"Well," said Jack, "with a tree of size to work on I can easily see how a canoe even as big as the one you speak of might be made; but what an awful long time it must take to whittle it out! I should think that the generation that began such a boat could not hope to see it finished."
"Well," said Fannin, "it's not quite as bad as that, but it is slow work; and that is not surprising when you think that they have no tools to work with except the most primitive ones. After the cedar stick has been felled, and it has been found that no harm came to it in its fall, they go to work and shape the stick as well as they can with their axes, and then hollow it out by fire. In other words, they build a fire on the top and allow it to burn just so far in any direction, and so deep. After they have used the fire as far as they can to advantage, they take a little chipping tool, made of a blade of steel attached to a wooden handle, and chip the wood off in little flakes or slivers, reducing the whole to a proper thickness, say an inch or an inch and a half for a canoe thirty feet long. They have no models, and the eye is their only guide in shaping the canoes; but the lines are always correct, and as graceful as could be made by the most expert boat-builder. When they have shaped the canoe, its gunwales are slightly sprung apart so as to give some flare to the sides, and are held in position by narrow braces of timber stretching across the canoe and sewed to it by cedar twigs. They steam these twigs in the hot ashes so that they become pliable, and can be easily used for this sewing."
"This cedar must be as useful to these Indians as buffalo hides are to the plains' Indians," said Jack. "You pointed out to me some mats made of cedar bark, some hats and some rope, all of the same material. Now you tell me that the canoes are made of cedar and sewed together with cedar twigs."
"Yes," replied Fannin, "the cedar does a great deal for these people. I told you, too, that they built their houses of it."
"There are two different types of canoes on this coast," he continued, "one belonging to the South and having a square stern and a bottom that is almost flat, and the Northern canoe, which has a round bottom and an overhanging stern. The big canoe that I told you about at Bella-Bella is a Northern canoe. In old times these big canoes were used by the Northern Indians on their war journeys against their enemies to the South. They would come down, perhaps seventy or eighty men in a canoe, attack a village, plunder it, capture a lot of the people for slaves, and then take to their canoes again, paddling back to their homes. These Northern Indians were great hands to go off on war parties. They were a good deal more warlike than these people down here."
"This cedar that you talk about," asked Hugh. "Is there much of it to be had? I haven't seen anything yet that looked like the cedar that we see back East."
"No," said Fannin, "what you're thinking of is the red cedar, in some of its forms, I guess—the juniper. This is the white cedar, and looks as much as anything like a small tree that folks use for hedges back East, and call arbor vitæ; only I never saw any of those arbor vitæs grow anything near as big as the smallest of these cedars here. Like the Eastern cedar, however, this white cedar is very durable. I remember seeing in the woods once a fallen log, on which was growing a Douglas fir two and a half feet in diameter. The seed of the fir had fallen on the log and sprouted, and, as the fir grew, it sent down its roots to the ground on either side of the cedar log, so that at last it straddled it. The fir was about two and a half feet in diameter, and so it had been growing there a great many years, but the fallen cedar log was to all appearance as sound as if it had not been lying there a year. The cedar log was covered with moss and most of its limbs had rotted off, but when I scraped away the moss and sounded the stick and cut into it, I could not see that it was at all decayed."
"Well, Mr. Fannin," asked Jack, "how do they mend these canoes when they break them? Of course they must be running onto the bars and onto the rocks all the time, and if a hole is punched in a solid wooden bottom like this it's hard to mend it again."
"That's true," said Fannin, "and they don't mean to let the canoe grate on rocks or get rubbed on the gravel beach if they can help it. Notwithstanding its durability, cedar wood splits very easily. Therefore the Indians take the greatest care of their canoes, not bringing them up on the shore where they are likely to be worn or rubbed, but always anchoring them out in deep water; or else, if they bring them to shore, lifting them out of the water and sliding them along the bottom planks—that almost every canoe has two pair of—above the reach of the tide. Although it is so durable, the cedar wood splits on the smallest provocation; and once or twice I have seen a canoe that touched roughly on the rocks, or was carelessly knocked against the beach, split in two and the two halves fall apart. Of course in such a case it was pretty hard work to mend the canoe."
"I should say it would be," remarked Jack, "and I don't know how they would do it."
"I'll tell you. They carry the loads up on the high ground to dry, and then they take the canoe, fit the two pieces together until no light can be seen through the crack, and then they sew them together with cedar twigs and plaster the crack over with gum. I've seen a vessel mended in that way, make a long cruise, but I confess I should not want to make a very long journey in a boat patched up like that."
"I don't think I would either," said Jack. "I shouldn't think it would be very safe."
"Mr. Fannin," said Jack, after a pause, "I suppose when we get started we'll have to paddle all the way?"
"Yes," said Fannin, "you're likely to. Of course, if the wind is fair these canoes can sail. There's almost always a chock in the bottom well forward in which a mast can be stepped, and when the wind is fair a sail is put up or a blanket is used. That helps along amazingly."
"I'm glad that you've told me all this, for now when I talk with people up here on the coast they'll see that I know a little something and am not purely a pilgrim."
While Jack and Mr. Fannin had been talking the vessel had been moving rapidly northward. The passengers were a mixed lot. On the upper deck were English, Scotch, French, and Americans, while on the lower were Chinamen, a negro or two, and Indians. Many of these had considerable bundles of baggage; and with the Indians were their women, their children, and their dogs.
The rounded islands that rose everywhere from the water showed gray rocky slopes, the yellow of ripened grass, and here and there clumps of evergreen trees. The scene was a lovely one.
"Mr. Fannin," said Hugh, "I wish you'd tell me what's that plant that I see everywhere growing in the water. I suppose, maybe, it's a kind of seaweed, but it's bigger than any seaweed that I ever heard tell of, and there's worlds and worlds of it. The other day on the beach I picked up some of its leaves, if that's what they are, and I found them wonderfully tough. I found I couldn't break them apart with my hands, yet they seemed soft and full of water."
"That's what we call kelp," said Mr. Fannin, "it grows in deep water, and its roots are attached to rocks or to stones or even to the sand at the bottom, and the stalk may be thirty or forty feet long. Down in the deep water the stem is very slender, often scarcely as thick as a quill, but it increases by a gradual taper, until near the top it's nearly as thick as a man's wrist. At the end of the stem or stalk is a globular swelling which varies in size, but may be as big as a baseball. From the top of this swelling point, opposite to where it's attached to the stem, grows a bundle of a dozen or twenty ribbon-like leaves, each from one to six inches wide and from four to six feet long, and fluted or crimped along its edge for the whole length. The plant is brown in color throughout. Responding, as it does, constantly to the motion of the water, it sometimes seems almost alive. It's a queer plant. Sometimes it's a great hindrance to the man who is travelling and sometimes a great help to him."
"I don't quite understand that," said Jack. "I can see that it might be hard work to get through a bed of the kelp like that one over there that we are just passing, but how should it help a man?"
"Why," said Fannin, "the stalks are very strong, and I've seen a large canoe held at anchor by a single stalk of the kelp. Then, too, a big bed of the kelp is a great break to the sea. The waves can't break over a bed of kelp; and I have known of a case when a sudden squall got up, where a canoe, unable to reach shore or to get any other lee, would lie behind a kelp bed and hold onto the stalks until the squall was past."
"Do the Indians make any use of the kelp?" asked Jack.
"Yes," replied Mr. Fannin. "A number of the Indians along the coast select the most slender stems, knot them together, and make fishing lines for the deep-sea fishing, on which they catch halibut sometimes weighing two hundred pounds. These stems are tremendously tough, and they almost never wear out. A man may coil up one of these long lines and hang it in his house for six months, and then, if he takes it down and soaks it in water over night, in the morning it will be pliable and perfectly fit to use."
Hugh had been listening to the conversation, but not taking any part in it; but now he pointed off over the kelp bed and said: "Look there! See those birds walking around on the weed. I reckon they are cranes of some sort or other." Fannin looked at them through his glasses and said, "Yes, that's just what they are. Two of those birds are great blue herons, and the others are large birds, but I can't tell just what they are. That's another thing that the kelp is useful for. You see the plants grow in thick beds, and the stems are continually moving in the current, and after a while they get tangled and twisted up so that it's impossible to force them apart. In that case it's useless to try to force a canoe through them. Then, lying there so long as they do, and keeping the water quiet, a great deal of life is attracted to these beds. There are many fish that live near the surface, and in the warm waters there are crabs that live among the stems and sometimes crawl out on them and rest in the sunshine. There are many shells. All this smaller life entices the larger life, so that gulls and ducks and sandpipers are often seen walking along or resting on the kelp. It is just one of those things that we see often, where a lot of specially favorable conditions will attract the animals that are to be favored by these conditions."
"Well," said Hugh, "I can't get over wondering at all these things I am seeing. This here is a new world to me, as different as can be from what I've been used to all my life; and I expect, come to think about it, that all over the world there are many such other strange bits of country that would astonish me, just as much as this does, and maybe would astonish you all, just as much as this does me."
"Yes," said Fannin, "I guess that's about so."
As they had been talking, the steamer had been winding in and out among the islands, stopping occasionally at some little settlement, and now and then slowing to take on goods or passengers, brought off in boats or canoes from some little house that stood on one of the yellow hillsides, half hidden among the trees. There were many settlers on these islands. Most of them were engaged in stock raising. Some of the islands had been turned into sheep ranges, and the settlers that had gone into this business were said by Mr. Fannin to have done well. Certainly there was here no winter which could by any chance kill the sheep, while food was abundant.
As the boat proceeded the settlements became fewer and fewer, until at last most of the island seemed unoccupied. All three of the travellers kept watching the open hillsides in the hope that some game might be seen, but none showed itself.
"I suppose," said Jack, "that there are some deer on these islands, are there not?"
"Yes," replied Fannin, "on almost all the larger islands that are not thickly settled there are a good many deer; and when the settlements get to be too thick they can always start off and swim to another island and try that for a while, and, if they don't like that, pass to another."
"What sort of deer are these?" asked Jack. "Are they like the one we killed at New Westminster?"
"Yes," said Fannin, "they are just like that; and I suppose they are the regular black-tail deer; not the big fellow that you have out on the plains, which, I understand, is properly called the mule deer. This is the only kind found along this north coast, as far as I know, until you get up far to the north and strike the moose. Down on the islands of the Strait of Fuca, especially on Whidby Island, they have the Virginia deer and plenty of them. But north of that I don't think they are found."
It was noon when they passed Gabriola Island, where they had heard there lived a man who owned a launch. They landed here, hoping that possibly they might be able to engage this for their trip, but soon discovered that the boat had not been inspected for a year, and therefore could not be hired, unless the party was prepared to be stopped at any minute by some government official and ordered back to its starting point.
About four o'clock in the afternoon they reached Nanaimo, and Fannin, Hugh, and Jack at once set out for the Indian village, where it was believed a canoe could be had. The brisk walk through the quiet forest was pleasant, and the Indian village of half a dozen great square plank houses interesting. After some inquiry Fannin and a big Indian drew off to one side and held a long and animated conversation in Chinook, which, of course, was unintelligible to the other two. At length, however, Fannin announced that he was prepared to close a bargain with the Indian, by which a canoe, large enough to carry the whole party and their baggage, including the necessary paddles and a bowman and steersman, could be hired for a certain price per day, for as long a time as they desired. After a short consultation it was agreed that if the canoe proved satisfactory it should be engaged, and a start made the next morning. The whole party adjourned to the water's edge, where, drawn up on the beach were a number of canoes, all of them covered with boards, mats, and boughs, to protect them from the sun and rain. The canoe in question seemed satisfactory, and, the bargain having been closed, the Indians promised solemnly that they would have the canoe at the wharf at six o'clock the next morning, so that an early start could be made.
Returning to town, the stores were visited and a number of necessary articles purchased. The party was already well armed, having three rifles, a shot-gun, and several revolvers; but a mess kit had to be bought, a keg for water, all the provisions needed, a tent of some kind, some mosquito net, rope, fine copper wire, saddler's silk or waxed thread, packages of tobacco, fishing tackle, and many small articles which do not take up much room, but which, under special circumstances, may add much to one's comfort. Each of the party also provided himself here with a set of oil-skin clothing. They knew that they were going into a country where much rain falls, and wished to provide against that.
After all their purchases had been made and they had seen them transported to the hotel close to the water's edge, where they were to pass the night, they started out to learn what they could about the town.
The sole industry of Nanaimo at that time was coal mining. Here were great shafts and inclines, worked day and night by a great multitude of miners. Many of them were Canadians, but many, also, were quite newly arrived emigrants from the Old World,—Scotch, Irish, and Welsh. The coal—a good lignite—was in considerable demand along the coast, and it was even said that it was to be imported to Puget Sound points to supply newly built railroads there. The inhabitants of Nanaimo, and indeed those of Vancouver Island, had talked much about a proposed railroad that had been partially surveyed from Victoria up through the middle of the island to Nanaimo. Such a railroad, it was generally thought, would be an enormous benefit to the whole island. Nanaimo was not an attractive place. The coal-dust with which it was everywhere powdered, together with the black smoke sent forth by the chimneys, gave the place an appearance of griminess which seemed to characterize most coal-mining towns. Just why towns devoted to coal and iron mining always used to look so shabby and forlorn and discouraged, it would be hard to say; but most people familiar with such settlements in old times will agree that this was usually the case. It may have been that the laborers and their families were obliged to work so hard that they had neither time nor inclination to devote to adorning, even by simple and inexpensive methods, their dwellings or surroundings; or it may have been that their work in the mines was so fatiguing that it rendered them blind to the town's unattractiveness.
Even then great quantities of coal were mined at Nanaimo. But as there were no railroads on Vancouver Island the coal was transported to its destination wholly by water. The coal deposits were vast, and people believed that in the future this would be a great mining town, and might yet be like some of the great mining centres of Great Britain.
That night, after supper, as they were lounging about the office of the hotel, Jack said to Mr. Fannin:
"You have told me a lot about the canoeing and canoes of these Indians, Mr. Fannin, but I don't think that you have spoken to me about the way they keep their canoes on the beach. Those we saw this afternoon were all covered with mats and blankets, and I can understand how it might be necessary to keep them protected from the weather in that way if they were laid up for a long time; but, as I understand it, the canoes that we saw were being used every day."
"That is true," said Mr. Fannin; "they are in use all the time, but, nevertheless, Indians take the greatest precaution to protect them from the weather. It is easy enough to see why this is, if you consider that the making of a canoe is tremendously laborious, and at best takes many months. Now, as I have already told you, the cedar of which they are made splits very easily indeed, and it might well enough be that exposure to the hot sun for a day or two would start a crack which would constantly grow larger, and ultimately weaken the canoe so that it could not be used. The Indians are far-sighted enough to do everything in their power to protect their canoes. These coast Indians take a great deal better care of their canoes than they do of any other property that they possess. As I have told you, they are all sea travellers, and their very existence depends on the possession of some means of getting about over the water. I do not know anything about it personally, but I understand that the Aleuts of Alaska, and the Eskimo too, are just as careful about their boats as these Indians are. Of course it is natural."
"Of course it is," said Hugh, "and you probably will see the same thing in any class of men. Look at the way our plains' Indians take care of their war horses and their arms and war clothes. Those are the things on which they depend for food and for protection from their enemy; and they cannot afford to take any chances about them. Of course their war clothes often have something of a sacred character; but you will find that if it comes to a pinch an Indian will stick to his fastest running horse and his arms, and will let his war clothing go."
"Well," said Fannin, "all this is just saying that Indians are human beings like the rest of us."
They went to bed pretty early that night, and Fannin had them astir before the day had broken the next morning. On going down to the wharf they found the canoe there, just off the shore, and the two Indians sitting in it, holding the craft in its place by an occasional paddle stroke. It took the men but a short time to bring down all their baggage, provisions, and mess kit to the canoe and stow the load. After a hasty meal at the hotel all stepped aboard and took their various stations. Jack had been surprised to see how large a pile their baggage made before they begun to stow it; and after the canoe had been loaded, he wondered where they had packed it all.
The sun was not very high when they pushed off. The wind blew in gusts from the southeast and the sky was obscured by a loose bank of clouds which occasionally gave down a little rain.
The bow paddle was wielded by a gigantic Indian, known as Hamset; while in the stern, occupying the position of steersman, sat a much smaller man, whose unpronounceable Ucletah name had been shortened for convenience to "Jimmie." Between the bow and the stern, seated on rolls of blankets, were the four whites—first, Fannin, then Charlie, the cook, then Hugh, and last of all Jack. Each was provided with a paddle, and they worked two on each side of the canoe. The provisions were stored in one box, the mess kit in another, and the rolls of blankets were placed in the bottom of the canoe so as to trim it properly. The canoe was quite dry, and loose boards on the bottom would keep the cargo from getting wet, even if a little water were shipped.
The breeze which was now blowing was a favorable one; and they had hardly started before it began to rain steadily and to threaten a wet, boisterous day. Fannin was in great spirits at this prospect; for he, better than any one else, knew what a few days of favoring winds would accomplish toward hastening them along on their voyage. As the rain fell harder mats and rubber blankets were spread over the guns and bedding. The sail was hoisted, and all hands except the steersman took in their paddles and sat back with a satisfied air, as if they had nothing to do except to watch the breeze blowing and the land moving by them.
Farther to the southward there had been many islands, which would have cut off the breeze; but here the open waters of the Gulf stretched away to windward for twenty or thirty miles, and there was nothing to break the force of the breeze. As they advanced various islands appeared, Texada showing a high peak above the fog; and then other smaller islands,—Denman and Hornby.
The wind kept blowing harder and harder, until at noon quite a sea was running, and the waves began to break over the sides of the vessel, necessitating bailing. The canoe was heavily loaded and set rather low in the water, cutting through the waves instead of riding over them as it should have done. This pleasant condition of things lasted for some time, but about two o'clock the sky cleared, the wind fell, and it was necessary to take to the paddles once more, for now the sail flapped idly against the mast and the canoe began to float back toward Nanaimo—the tide having turned. The sea became as smooth as glass, the sun glared down from the unclouded sky with summery fierceness, and after a little while the travellers realized that the canoe trip might mean a lot of hard work. More than that, the canoe seemed to be anchored to the bottom, and, so far as could be judged from occasional glances toward the distant shore, did not move at all. The work became harder and harder, and Hugh and Jack at last realized that here was a struggle between the paddles and the tide, with the chances rather in favor of the tide. This, of course, meant that they must work harder. Coats were stripped off, the crew bent to their work, and at last found that the craft did move, although very, very slowly.
After a half hour's hard paddling Jack said to Hugh: "I tell you, Hugh, watching that shore is like watching the hands of a watch. If you look at the shore you would think that we were perfectly motionless. It's only when you take some object on the beach and notice its position, and then, five or ten minutes later, look at it again that you find that our position has changed with relation to it, and that it is farther behind than it was when you last saw it."
"Yes," said Fannin, "I've done lots of canoeing in my time, but I guess I shall learn something on this trip as well as the rest of you. We're pretty heavily loaded, and if we have head winds and tides much of the time we'll have to put in about all the hours every day working at these paddles. Besides that, we've got to figure on being wind-bound for a certain number of days, and, taking it all in all, we can't hope to go very far. Nevertheless, we can go far enough to see a good deal."
The progress of the canoe was made more slow by the fact that its track skirted the shore, following quite closely all its windings, and hardly ever cutting across the bays, large or small, that indented the island.
Jack asked Fannin why the Indians did not go across from one headland to another, thus saving much paddling; and Fannin explained that this was done partly to avoid the force of the tide, and partly from the habitual caution of the east coast Indians. "On the waters of the Gulf," said Mr. Fannin, "gales often spring up without giving much warning, and quite a heavy sea may follow the wind almost at once. These canoes, especially when heavily loaded, as ours is, cannot stand much battering by the waves."
As the sun sank low, after a long spell of paddling, the bow of the canoe was turned into the mouth of Qualicum River; and a little later, when close to the shore, the vessel was turned bow out and the stern pushed shoreward, till it grated gently on the pebbly beach. All hands at once sprang out, and it was a relief to get on firm ground again and to stretch the limbs, contracted by nearly twelve hours of sitting in one position.
Now the rolls of blankets were tossed on the beach, the provision box and mess kit and other property were unloaded and carried up to the meadow above. In a few moments a fire had been kindled, and preparations for the evening meal were begun. Now, Jack and Fannin began putting together their fishing rods; Hugh took his rifle and looked it over, wiping off the moisture that had accumulated on it, and got out some ammunition. The party wanted fresh meat and was going to try hard to get it. Meantime the Indians had taken out the boards from the canoe, placed them on the beach, and were sliding the vessel up, far above high-water mark.
Before Jack had made many casts he had a rise or two, and he was doing his best to hook a fish when Charlie's shout of "Dinner" caused them all to lay aside their tools and repair to the fire for supper. It was a simple meal of bacon, bread, and coffee; but the work of the day had given all hearty appetites and they enjoyed it. Then, a little later, Jack went back to his fishing, and Fannin, Hugh, and Hamset put off in the canoe and disappeared behind a bend of the river.
Being unable to do anything with the fish, which were now jumping everywhere at the mouth of the river, Jack worked along up the stream, and around the next point was more successful. A fish rose to his flies and was hooked, and, after a brief struggle, was dragged up on the beach. It was a beautiful trout, only weighing half a pound, to be sure, but none the worse on that account, if regarded simply from the point of view of so much food. Encouraged by this success, Jack fished faithfully and carefully, and before long had killed half a dozen others, all about the same size as the first. Most of these were taken in more or less shallow water near the beach, but at length he came to a place where an eddy of the stream had dug out a big hole not far from the edge of the bank, and casting over this two or three times, he had a rise which almost made his heart stop beating. The fish missed the fly, but rose again to another cast, and this time was hooked on a brown hackle. And then for a little while Jack had the time of his life. The fish was far too strong for him to handle, and for a little time kept him running up and down the beach, following its powerful rushes, taking in line whenever he could, and yielding it when he must. Once or twice the rush of the fish was so prolonged that almost all the line went off the spool, and he even ran into the river up to his knees in the effort to save some of his line. At last, however, the runs grew shorter, and the fish yielded and swayed over on its side and was towed up to the beach. But as soon as it saw Jack it seemed to regain all its vigor, and darted away with a powerful rush. This was its last effort. Gradually Jack drew it into water which was more and more shallow, and finally up, so that its head rested on the beach. Then seizing the leader he dragged it well in, and in a moment he had it in his hands. It was a beautiful and very powerful fish, and must have weighed between four and five pounds. A little later another fish was taken, not quite so large, to be sure, but big enough to give the angler a splendid fight; and then, as the sun had disappeared behind the forest, Jack strung his trout on a willow twig and made his way back to camp. Charlie received him with delight.
"Well," he said, "you're the kind of a man I like to be out with—somebody that can go out and get food to eat. I bet them other fellows won't bring in anything; but we've got enough here nearly for breakfast and dinner to-morrow. I wish if you have time you'd go out to-morrow morning and catch some more."
"I'd like to," said Jack. "Those two big fellows over there gave me as much fun as I ever had in my life."
"Well," said Charlie, "you'll have better fun than that to-morrow morning when you're eating that fish."
"No," said Jack, "I don't believe it. I think that I would rather have the fun of catching those two fish than eating the best meal that was ever cooked."
From the camp Jack wandered away along the beach and over the meadows back toward the forest that came down from the higher land. Here he saw that this must be quite a camping place for Indians, and that some had been there within a few days. There were the remains of recent fires, tent poles that had been cut only a few days before; and some little way back from the beach, and hardly to be seen among the timber, was an Indian house in which Jack discovered four canoes.