They landed and found that the man was mending some cracks in his canoe by fastening over them strips of tin, seemingly cut from an old tin can, by means of tacks and a primitive stone hammer—a cylinder of stone with enlarged flat ends.

Hamset began to talk with him in Chinook, but the man apparently did not understand, and replied by a speech in some language which Hamset could not comprehend. There was a long talk, in which each of the two Indians made a speech, which was not understood by the other. Fannin tried the old man in Canadian French, and Hugh made signs to him, but there seemed to be no common ground of communication. After each remark by the old man, Hamset would hopelessly reply after hearing him through: "Wake nika kumtux-mika wahwah" (I don't understand your talk).

Within a rude fence near one of the houses was what looked like a garden, in which were growing plants that resembled potatoes. Presently a bright thought came to Jack, and he walked down to the canoe, took from the provision box a potato and handed it to the old man. It was amusing to them all to see the expression of perplexity clear away from the old Indian's face and understanding and satisfaction appear. He laughed delightedly and shouted to the women at the house, and a little later two of them came down carrying a large basket of potatoes—and very good ones too. These were put into the canoe, and paid for by "four bits." Then at Hugh's suggestion Jack gave the old man a piece of tobacco. They wandered up to the houses, looked into them, and presently returned to the neighborhood of the canoe. Leaning against one of the houses was a two-pronged salmon spear, which Jack wanted and which the old man sold him for half a dollar. Jack thought that the implement might be useful a little later, as the salmon were now beginning to run into the fresh water streams in considerable numbers. Hamset said that these Indians were called Hanéhtsin. He declared that most of the people must be away fishing, and said that there must be many of them who could speak Chinook, although this man could not.

Next morning as they were eating breakfast a canoe came in sight from the direction of the village, and when it landed the paddlers proved to be their friends of the night before, who brought them some more potatoes and several salmon just from the water. These having been duly paid for at the rate of twenty-five cents each—for a twenty pound salmon—they brought forth from the canoe a large basket of berries which a small boy who was with them, and who had some knowledge of the Chinook jargon, announced was a "potlatch," or gift—very likely in return for the bit of tobacco that Jack had given to the old man the night before.

A little later, the canoe being loaded, the party pushed off from the shore, and, leaving the Indians sitting idly in their canoes, paddled back down the inlet.

"What I can't understand, Mr. Fannin," said Jack, "is how it is that these Indians don't understand one another. Of course, I don't suppose that all the different tribes on this coast speak the same language, any more than our Indians out on the plains, but I should suppose that there would be some common way of talking to each other, just as the plains Indians all understand the sign language."

"Well," said Fannin, "you'd think so, of course, but that's one of the queer things about this country. While often you'll find a great many villages that speak the same language, and while you'll find in most of the villages a number of people that can talk Chinook, it's nevertheless the fact that stowed away in bays and inlets all along this coast are little tribes that speak a language that is not understood by any other tribe. I have talked with a few people out here who were regular Indian 'sharps,' and who had been among Indians over most of the country, and they say that there are a number of Indian languages spoken here that are absolutely different from each other and different from any other languages in North America. This is a mighty queer thing, and I can't understand it at all. I've always supposed that it was this fact that obliged the Indians to get up this Chinook jargon, which is a kind of a trade talk, used all up and down the coast and a good way inland, too, to enable these people to talk among themselves. I have never seen any of these Indians here using the sign language, and you can see for yourself that this old chap did not understand what it was that Hugh was trying to say to him with his hands. They do say that this Chinook jargon was gotten up before the white men came here to this country, and you can see how necessary it would be to people coming in contact with others who spoke a language different from their own. Now, I suppose that in the old times there used to be considerable travel along this coast, north and south, and considerable intercourse between the different tribes of Indians. And while we know that the northern Indians could not talk with the southern ones, yet they visited and traded, and made war and made peace again. It must have been necessary for them to understand each other in some way, and that's the way this jargon came to be invented. Of course, it's changed a lot, I fancy, and especially since the white people got in here."

"But about this Indian here," said Hugh, "it seems to me that he ought to be able to understand our Indians. Their villages cannot be more than a hundred miles from one another, and to an Indian a hundred miles is nothing. These Ucletah must sometimes come up to the head of this Inlet, and these people who live up here, Hanéhtsin,—don't you call them,—must go down the inlet and go up and down the shore. It would seem as if they must have met sometimes, and as if they would have some common speech."

"Yes," said Fannin. "They ought to, but I don't believe they have. Of course I know no more about them than you do, but you saw the experiments that were tried upon that old chap that we've just left."

"Yes," said Hugh, "there's no going back on that. He didn't understand, no matter how much he ought to have understood."

"Hugh," said Jack, "did you count the number of people at the village?"

"Yes," said Hugh, "I did: three women, three children, and the old man."

"Well," said Jack, "did you count the dogs?"

"No," said Hugh; "I reckon I forgot to count the dogs. There were a lot of them, I know."

"Nineteen," said Jack. "I counted them. Three or four times I had them all counted, and then a lot more would show up. There were a lot lying down sunning themselves when I got there, and after they had got up and come round to threaten us, a lot more came out of the house. This nineteen that I counted didn't include the pups. I looked into a little pen built of sticks, near one of the houses, and there were nine puppies in there, just able to waddle, and I saw some others not much older wandering about."

"Ah," said Charlie, "call it 'Dogtown'; we haven't any better name for it."

"All right," laughed Jack. "I'll put it down."

"Mr. Fannin," said Jack, after a pause, "I was thinking last night of the hammer that that old Siwash was using to mend his canoe. That was a regular primitive implement, wasn't it?"

"Yes," said Fannin; "you often see the Indians still using these hammers. I suppose to an Indian they are just as good, and maybe lots better, than a white man's hammer."

"Yes," said Jack, "I don't see why they shouldn't be; but while the hammer was old-fashioned and primitive, the strip of tin which he was nailing over the cracks in the bottom of the canoe and the tacks were modern. Where do you suppose he got them?"

"Why, from a trading schooner, of course," said Fannin. "There are three or four small schooners that sail up and down the coast here, trading with the Indians for oil and fish, and a little fur, and the chances are that the tin came from some old tin can thrown overboard by such a schooner, and that the tacks were bought from it. Of course it may be that these people have been to Comux or even to Nanaimo."

"That salmon spear is interesting, too," said Jack, "and I hope we'll have a chance to get some food with it."

"These spears," replied Fannin, "are very useful to these people. This one, as you see, is about sixteen feet long, the main shaft being about twelve feet and the two prongs about four. It is a well finished tool and rather attractive to the eye, wrapped as it is with the neat strips of bark about the ends of the shaft. That flat handle with the deep notches at the upper end, for two of the fingers of the man who is to throw it, give a good hold. Then the two prongs at the other end bound firmly to the shaft, and tapering to a point below, and slightly diverging, make a good implement for throwing into a school of fish; but the interesting part of the thing is the way the spear heads are fastened on to make it effective. You see the line looped about the shaft close above the point where the diverging prongs leave it, that each end of the line is long enough to reach clear to the end of the prongs, and that to each extremity of this line is attached a spear point. The socket which slips on the sharpened end of the prong is made of the horn of the deer, or of the mountain goat, or even of bone; and the piercing point is either a sharpened nail or some other sharp bit of iron lashed to the socket with a fishing line or a strand of kelp. When the spear is to be used, the heads are slipped on to the points of the prongs, and are held in position by the tension of the cord, which is so short that some little effort is needed to slip the socket on to the point. When a salmon has been deeply pierced by the iron point, his struggles slip the socket off the prong and the fish struggles about for a few moments at the end of the cord until he is so exhausted that he can be brought to the surface of the water and lifted into the canoe. If the point were firmly attached to the prongs the attempt to haul a vigorous fish to the surface might very well result in the pulling out of the spear point and the loss of the fish."

All the day long the canoe moved slowly down the Inlet, stemming the flood tide which at times made them all work at their paddles with an energy that no one of the crew greatly enjoyed. Before them the snowy tops of the mountains and the blue glaciers looked cool and inviting, but no breath of air ruffled the smooth surface of the Inlet, and the fierce rays of the sun, both direct and reflected from the water, scorched them all day long. About the middle of the afternoon, as they were passing a point opposite Moorsam Bluffs, a level spot was found, covered with forest. A pleasant brook ran down here, and the spot looked like an attractive camping place. When they landed they found evidences that it was one favored by the Indians of the Inlet, for there were here relics of many a camp. Piles of stone blackened by fire, white heaps of the bones of the deer and mountain goat, decayed vegetation and fragments of discarded clothing and skins, worn-out implements, a tiny baby basket or Indian cradle, and many other articles left by former occupants were scattered about over the ground, and showed that the Indians often stopped there and sometimes remained for a considerable time. In fact there were so many evidences of human occupancy that it was agreed that some other spot which had not been quite so much frequented by Indians would be a better location for their camp; and moving a few hundred yards further down the Inlet they found such a place at the mouth of the boisterous brook which here tumbled into the salt water.

Here Jack and Hugh and Fannin, finding a good beach, took a plunge in the salt water, and while thus engaged found that the little bay was alive with salmon. On shouting this to the others the Indians put off in the canoe, and for half an hour Hamset perseveringly threw the salmon spear into the school of fish that were breaking everywhere about the canoe. For a few minutes Jack and Hugh watched him; but as he failed to secure anything, they soon grew tired, and at length went ashore into the camp. Half an hour later the canoe returned to the shore, and the Indians had three good-sized fish to show for their efforts.

"Well," said Hugh, "from the number of fish that seemed to be out there in that little piece of water, I should think these fellows might have loaded the canoe with them in this time."

"Yes," said Fannin, "that's true; but it's wonderful how much room there is in the water around a salmon, and then you have got to hit the fish just right or else you will not drive the spear into him. If you are not used to seeing salmon you will think there's an awful lot of fish out there; but you just ought to see them in some of the rivers in the Province here. Why, sometimes they are so thick that you literally can't see the bottom for their backs. A good many people, who have never been on a stream during the salmon run, think that the stories about their abundance must be lies; but they are not. You can't exaggerate their numbers. I have seen people go down to the stream with a pitchfork, and throw out the fish they wanted onto the bank, just as you would lift a load of turnips on a fork if you thrust it into a pile of them. When the fish are running, of course, the bears and eagles have no trouble at all in catching all they want. Even the hogs go down to the stream and take out the fish. In fact, during the salmon run, and for some months after it, settlers who expect to kill their hogs keep them shut up; because, if they are allowed to feed on the salmon the flesh becomes flavored with fish to a point where people can't eat it. That sounds like a pretty good story too, but it's true. Later in the season, when the dead fish are in the streams,—and there are always many of them,—the hens of the settlers eat them, and often eat so many that their eggs can't be used on account of the fishy taste. That's another good one, but it's true."

"Well," said Hugh, "those stories sound pretty hard to believe, but I guess they are true. Of course we've always heard about buffaloes, and how many there used to be, and I expect I've told stories to people who had never seen them, about the numbers of these animals that sounded just as hard to believe as your stories do to me. It don't trouble me a little bit to believe what you told me about the taste of the flesh of these animals. Everybody knows, I reckon, that the food that an animal eats gives its flesh good flavor or bad flavor."

"Yes," said Jack, "that's so, of course. I have heard my uncle tell a great many times about some kinds of ducks living up on Long Island and eating little clams and other shell-fish, and being strong and fishy to the taste, while the same ducks, when they go down South and live in water that is fresh or nearly so, eating nothing but grass and roots, are as delicate and fine flavored as can be."

"That's gospel truth, son," said Hugh, "and you see the same thing out on the plains and in the mountains. Take it early in the season, before the grass begins to grow, and the first green thing that grows out of the earth is a wild onion. If you kill, up at the edge of the mountains, a buffalo or a mountain sheep, just after these onions have sprung up, you can hardly eat the meat."

"Yes," remarked Jack, "and I have heard, too, that the milk of the cows is often flavored with these onions."

"I know that's so," assented Fannin.

"But what gets me," said Hugh, "is the multitude of these salmon that there must be. Of course we haven't seen many of them; but from what you say, Fannin, they just crowd every river that comes into the salt water, and there are an awful lot of rivers along this coast."

The camp had a great dinner that night. The Indians transfixed a large fat salmon with a stick, which was thrust into the ground so that it overhung the fire at an angle. There the salmon roasted until it was done, and then its bones were picked as clean as any bear could have picked them. A smaller salmon, slim and red fleshed, was cut into steaks and fried, and there was unlimited deer meat. It was all very delicious; and after the meal was over the party sat around the fire for a little while, too lazy to talk, and then went to bed.

The next morning, before the canoe was loaded, Jack spent an hour or two leaning over its side, and watching the movements of the different marine animals at work in the shallow water near the shore. There were hundreds of little crabs, the largest about the size of a silver half-dollar, clambering over the stones like so many goats, and apparently feeding on the vegetable matter that grew on them. They walked slowly here and there, plucking the food with their curiously swollen white claws, using the right and left claw alternately, so that while one was holding the food to the mouth the other was gathering a fresh supply. They seemed wholly absorbed in what they were doing. Their jaws moved continuously, and they had a most businesslike and methodical aspect. The larger crabs were of a deep purple color, while the smaller ones were mostly dull, grayish green, a protective color which corresponded very closely with that of the stones on which they fed. They seemed to get along peaceably; though once in a while, if a small crab came too near a large one, the latter would make a threatening dash at the little fellow, which would at once retreat with many defensive demonstrations of its claws.

Fixed to the sides of many of the stones were the curved white tubes of marine worms; some of them deserted and empty; while from the mouths of others there protruded a cluster of deep crimson tentacles, the whole looking like some beautiful white-stemmed flower. If the red cluster was cautiously approached and touched it instantly withdrew into the tube which then appeared empty. But five minutes later a small spot of red began slowly to appear, far down in the tube; and gradually drawing nearer the aperture, the arms would be gently thrust out, and the animal would resume its flower-like appearance. On certain stones and rocks were great numbers of barnacles, which were not the least interesting of the living creatures Jack saw. At those stages of the tide when the water did not reach them their shells remained closed, and showed no signs of life; but as soon as they were fairly covered by the water, each little pair of valves opened, and the tiny arms were extended and waved through the air with a regular motion which ceased only when they had grasped some morsel of food that was floating by. When this took place the arms were quickly drawn into the shell, and the valves closed; and for some little time the animal remained quiet. On the beach and in the water were many sea urchins and starfish, some of which moved about over the bottom. Both progressed slowly; the sea urchins by a continuous motion of the long spines, with which their shells are covered; and though the animal's rate of advance could hardly be noticed if one kept looking at it, Jack found that they did move, and seemed to be capable of quite long journeys. Jack took up one of these sea urchins to look at its under side, and found that it had a continuous movement of the mouth and soft parts, as though striving to obtain air. When he put it into the water again he placed it on its back, on a flat stone, and was interested in seeing it turn over and right itself by the same quiet, but continuous, movement of the spines.

The starfish moved much more rapidly than the sea urchins. They seemed to drag themselves along by some slight up and down motion of their arms, and also by hooking the ends of these arms around the angles of the rocks, thus pulling themselves forward for a short distance. Starfish were very common along this coast, and were of all sizes and colors. Jack had noticed them brown, black, yellow, orange, red, and purple. They ranged in size from the diameter of a five-cent piece up to ten inches across the arms. They seemed most abundant on the shore just about low water mark, but were by no means confined to this situation.

Often they were seen clinging to the rocks where they had been left bare by the tide; and sometimes a great cluster of the large red or purple ones were collected in an angle of the rock, showing against a background of shining black mussels and brown seaweed with very striking effect.

A light breeze blowing down the Inlet made it possible to set the sail, and the canoe slipped rapidly along over the water. The tide was ebbing, and their progress was good; but at length a turn in the fiord shut off the breeze, the paddles were called for, and they had several hours of hard paddling. The canoe was passing so close to the shore that the mountains on that side were hidden from view, while on the other shore the hills were low and not especially picturesque. Jack kept looking at one point after another, hoping that each would be the last, and that when the one ahead was rounded he would see the broad waters of the beautiful bay into which they had looked some days before toward the Twin Falls. After several disappointments he said to Hugh:

"Hugh, this reminds me of riding over the plains. I have been watching these points, hoping that each would be the last, just as when riding over the prairies I always looked at the hill ahead of me and thought that from that hill I should be able to see some distance; but there was always another one just beyond."

"Yes," said Hugh, "I know just what the feeling is, and I guess everybody does who has ever travelled the prairies. Why, even the Indians tell about some man who prophesied to them long ago, when dogs were their only animals, about a time when they would get horses. He said that when they got horses they would always be on the move, and that they would ride up on a hill and see another hill beyond; and then they would want to get to that one to see what was beyond it; and so would keep going all the time, and never be quiet."

It was the middle of the afternoon when the last point was rounded and they came in sight of the Twin Falls. Even then an hour or two was needed to bring the canoe to what looked like a good camping place, near the falls. When they reached the shore they were disappointed, for the timber was so thick and high, and the cliff over which the water fell was so nearly straight up and down, that it was impossible to obtain any view of the cataract from the land. But by pushing out a few hundred yards from the shore its whole majesty was seen. Two wide streams of water flow on either side of an island in the river, plunging over the cliffs, and falling quite five hundred feet before they meet with any check; then from here are two more leaps of three hundred feet each, and then other lesser ones of two hundred or one hundred and fifty feet. The stream falls between dark green walls of Douglas firs on either side; and the rocky face of the mountains is entirely hidden. Before the water strikes the rocks it has become spray, and from each little bench thin clouds of white mist rise to the treetops and float off with the wind. The dull roar of the Falls is almost deafening. Sometimes it sinks to the muttering of distant thunder, and then rises louder than before, sounding like the boom of heavy guns in the distance. Close over the tops of the trees they saw, as they first approached the spot, a splendid white-headed eagle, swinging about on motionless wing. Now and then, as he turned, the bright sunlight flashed upon his head and tail, and caused them to shine like silver, while his dark body looked black against the sky. Unmoved by the tumult below him, and unshaken by the blasts that were now causing the mighty trees to bend their heads, he floated to and fro in his broad eyrie, the only living thing seen in all the wide landscape.

On landing, it took some time to fix the tent and cut the fir and hemlock boughs which were needed to make comfortable the uneven ground where the beds were to be spread. But after this had been done Jack took his rifle and declared that he was going up the hill to see what he could see. Hugh said that he would go too, and the two set off.

From the spot where the camp had been pitched a broad, well-beaten trail led up to the mountains. But this soon grew very steep. Great boulders had to be climbed over or gone around. Great green leaves and a slippery moss hid the ground and made it difficult to know just where they were stepping. More than once Jack, who was in the lead, narrowly escaped an ugly fall. Presently the trail gave out or was lost, and then the easiest mode of progress was to walk along the fallen tree trunks, which in many places lay piled high on one another, as a lot of jackstraws would look if thrown down at random. Even such a road presented some difficulty; for sometimes a span of the bridge would be missing, and it would be necessary to descend to the ground and clamber up among the rocks.

At last the first leap of the falls was reached, but from here very little could be seen, for the foliage and mist entirely obscured the view. Further up, for a hundred yards on either side of the stream, the ground and the foliage were damp and dripping from the heavy spray, and the wet moss which covered everything made climbing difficult and even dangerous. The forest along the stream was open, and Jack and Hugh pursued their way, sometimes being obliged to climb up walls that were almost vertical. Still higher up the forest began to give way to little open parks, and before very long the appearance of the sky above them showed that the timber was either much lower or entirely absent. They were not greatly surprised, then, when after a little time they came out of the forest into an open country, in the midst of which was a high, naked, rocky hill.

At different points on the hill they saw a number of white objects which they recognized as goats. They did not feel that they needed any goats, but these animals were still sufficiently new to Hugh and Jack to make them wish to see them again at closer range. A little manoeuvring took them out of the sight of the goats, and they began to climb the hill. After they had ascended some distance they crept out onto a rocky point and could see, above, below, and on each side of them, small groups of these animals feeding on the ledges and steep slopes. Quite close to them was an old goat, about which was playing a little kid, not a beautiful or graceful object, but one very curious in its clumsiness and its high spirits. It ran about its mother before and behind, sometimes climbing a little way up on a steep bank, and then throwing itself down on its side, rolling over and over until a level place was reached, when it would rise, and after a rest climb up the slope and repeat the performance. The mother paid little attention to her young one, but fed slowly along, constantly approaching closer and closer to Jack and Hugh, who commented on the goats' odd appearance and their no less extraordinary actions.

Suddenly Hugh stretched out his hand and caught Jack's arm and whispered to him: "Look at that lion!" Jack looked, but could see nothing, and before he could ask the question "Where?" a great yellow animal flashed out from the top of a bank close to the old goat, flew through the air, and fell upon the back of the kid, which sank to the ground with a low, whining cry. Instantly the mother whirled on her hind legs, and with a swiftness hardly to be believed of such a clumsy-looking animal, plunged at the panther crouching on the ground over the kid and drove her short horns deep into his side back of the shoulder. The force of the blow knocked the animal to the ground, but he turned, bent the fore part of his body round and grasped the goat by the back and side with both paws, and seized her body with his teeth back of the fore shoulder. The goat seemed to draw back a few inches, and then made another plunge forward, driving her horns into her enemy again. The panther loosened his hold on the goat, struggled to his feet, and staggered a half dozen steps away, and then fell over on his side. The mother goat made no effort to pursue him, but nosed at the dying kid, as if trying to induce it to get on its feet again. On her side were a few drops of blood, where the panther's claws had scratched her, but on neither side of the ridge of the back where he had clawed her with the other foot and had bitten her was there to be seen any evidence of an injury.

This had all happened so quickly that the watchers had no time to comment on it nor to shoot. When it was over they sat up and looked at each other, no longer thinking to hide from the goat.

"That's a wonderful thing to have seen, isn't it?" said Jack.

"Yes," said Hugh. "I confess it beats me. It reminds me a little bit of that story I was telling you the other night about the buffalo bull that killed the bear. Who'd have thought that that goat could have killed that panther. I've always heard that these mountain goats were great hands to fight, and that they didn't know enough to be afraid of anything; but I never expected to see it myself as we have seen it."

"But where did that lion come from?" said Jack. "I didn't see him until he jumped."

"He was lying right on that ledge over there when I first saw him, crouched flat all except his head, which was lifted high enough to just see over the bank. As soon as I saw him I grabbed you, and a minute after he jumped," explained Hugh.

"Well," said Jack, "we want to take his hide back with us to camp. I expect he's dead, all right."

"Yes," said Hugh, "I guess he's dead, but what about the old goat? She's going to stay with that kid of hers, and I surely don't want to walk up any too close to her. She's likely to treat us the way she did the panther."

"Yes, I guess so," said Jack; "and, of course, we don't want to kill her, though, to be sure, her head would go mighty well with that panther skin."

"I'll tell you," said Hugh, "let's go round a little bit and get above her and roll some rocks down, and perhaps she will walk off."

This suggestion was carried out, and the old goat at length was induced to leave her kid and slowly go off, finally disappearing over a ledge at some distance. Jack and Hugh went down to look at the panther. They found in his side, just back of the shoulder, four round perforations, and discovered that four of his ribs had been broken where the goat's head had struck him. After they had skinned him they found that the beast's lungs had been pierced three times by the goat's horns and the heart once. It was no wonder that the cat had died.

"I suppose," said Hugh, "that we might as well take that kid along with us. It's eatable, and the Indians probably will like it just as well as deer meat."

"All right," said Jack. "If you will take the skin, I will take the kid."

"Come on, then," said Hugh. "We had better hurry, it's getting on toward dark; and the road down this hill is a rough one."

By the time that they reached the trail below it was quite dark, but they met with no accident. When they reached camp again they had an interesting story for Fannin. The Indians, too, gathered around and asked the meaning of the holes in the panther's skin, remarking that they did not look like bullet holes, and there were no places where the balls had come out. Fannin explained to them what had taken place. The Indians nodded sagely, and Hamset said to Fannin: "Once before I've heard of a thing like this. I have also heard of a goat fighting a bear that had killed her kid, and driving it away. These white sheep are great fighters. I have seen them killed with many marks on their skins, showing where they had been cut by the horns of others they had been fighting with; and I have seen two which had in their hams the horns of other goats that had been broken off in the flesh. They fight a good deal. One of my relations once told me that he had crept up close to a goat, and rose up to shoot the animal. When it saw him, it put all its hair forward and rushed at him, but he killed it before it reached him."

Jack, Hugh, and Fannin spent some time that night over the panther skin, cleaned it and laced it over a frame where it might dry. Whether it would dry or spoil would, of course, depend upon the weather of the next few days. Bright, dry weather with some wind would surely cure the skin; but continued damp weather, which would keep it moist, would as surely spoil it.

The camp ground that they occupied to-night had been used by Indians as a stopping place, and lying on the beach were a number of bones. One of the most oddly shaped ones was picked up by Fannin, who asked Jimmie what animal it belonged to. The boy did not hesitate, but answered in Chinook, "Tuicecolecou" (porpoise neck). Jack and Hugh were mightily astonished at this identification, but Fannin pointed out to them that this bone, which is made up of all of the vertebræ of the neck grown together so as to form a single bone, is most characteristic, and could scarcely have escaped the observation of the Indians, who kill great numbers of these marine mammals.

CHAPTER XVII

JACK MEETS A SEAL PIRATE

From the camp at Twin Falls the course was southeast, and passing between Captain and Nelson Islands the canoe entered Agamemnon Channel. Early in the afternoon they came out on Malaspina Straits. A fresh breeze carried the canoe along at a good rate of speed, and in the evening camp was made on the mainland, a little beyond Merry Island.

The following day, as they were approaching an Indian village, situated near the point where the trail from the head of Seechelt Inlet came down to the shore of the Gulf, they saw a trading schooner anchored off it. Provisions were growing low, and it was determined to visit the vessel and see whether food could be purchased. As they paddled toward it, a dog which was running up and down the deck barked loudly at them in seeming salutation, and they saw the figure of a man watching them from the stern. Presently they were near enough to hail him, and he invited them to come aboard, which they did. The Indians remained in the canoe, and kept it from rubbing against the schooner's side.

The man was a splendid, big, hearty young fellow, but a cripple, having lost his leg just below the knee. He talked with them about where they had been, what they had done and seen, and spoke of the vessel's owner, who had gone inland with a back load of trade goods, to try to secure some furs that were said to be at an Indian camp some miles inland. "I ought to have gone with him," he said, "but you see I can't get around very easily with only one leg. In this country there is so much moisture and so many rocks, that it's pretty hard for a man to get around at all. He needs two legs, and good ones at that. I can't walk far or long, and this confounded pin of mine sometimes gets stuck in the soft ground or wedged between rocks, and keeps me anchored until I can pull it out. So, really, I am no good except to keep shop and help to work the ship. It seems mighty good to see the white folks again; we have been out all summer, and I've not seen anybody except the Indians, and I don't care much for them.

"Now, you two," he said, as he pointed to Jack and Hugh, "you come from my country. This man," he said, pointing to Fannin, "belongs here. He is a Canuck."

"You are an American, sir?" asked Jack.

"Yes," said the man, "I am an American; just about as much American as anybody can be. I come from the state of Maine, and that's about as far east as the United States goes."

"That's so," said Jack. "The old Pine Tree State is a great state."

"Right you are, young fellow," said the man. "She's a great state, and she has sent out some good men; it's a pity I wasn't one of them—but I wasn't. My name is Crocker, and I was born right near the shore, and have been a fisherman and a sailor all my life. The worst luck ever happened to me was when I drifted along this coast and kept on sailoring here. This is the way that I lost my leg."

"Well," said Hugh, "that was sure a piece of bad luck. I should think on one of these boats a man would need two good legs, just as much as he does on a horse. I have seen some one-legged men who could ride all right, but they were never so sure in the saddle as if they had two legs."

"No, I expect not," said Crocker. "I would have had two good legs right now if I hadn't come round on this coast and took to sealing."

"Why," exclaimed Jack, "how did sealing make you lose your leg?"

"Well," said Crocker, "it was in this way: I made two or three voyages, as mate of a sealing schooner,—first with Indians, and then with Japs. The last voyage we made with the Indians we didn't get any skins, and the captain proposed to me that we cross over to Japan, and get a crew of Japs and then go north to the Commander Islands, and make a raid on them, and steal seals from the Russians. Of course I said it was a go, and just before the next season began we went over and got a crew of ten Japs and sailed.

"When we came in sight of the islands we found that there was a Russian gun-boat anchored near them, and so we stood out to sea for two or three days, and then, going back to the islands, we found the gun-boat had gone. Now we thought we had a sure thing on a load of seal skins. We sailed in pretty close to the shore, and then I took a boat and six Japs and we started in for the beach, the schooner standing off, just outside the rocks. As we rowed in towards the beach we could see that the rookery was a big one and that seals were plenty. It seemed as if things were going our way. We pulled in hard toward the rookery, and just as the boat was going to ground and the bowman got ready to hold her off a lot of Russian soldiers raised their heads up over the bluff and fired at us.

"It was about the first bunch of soldiers I ever saw that could hit anything; but they certainly hit us. Four of the Japs were killed at the first firing. One more was shot through the lungs and another through the thigh, breaking the bone. I got a shot through this leg, below the knee. I tried mighty hard to push off so as to get away, but the soldiers ran down to the beach and into the water, caught the boat and hauled it ashore. They threw the Japs overboard, for both of the wounded ones died pretty soon, and they carried me up onto the bluff and over to the little houses where the sealers lived.

"You see these Russian soldiers didn't care anything about the Japs, but they treated me pretty well. They gave me a good bed and tried to set my leg, but both bones were badly smashed, and I made up my mind that without a doctor there if they tried to set the leg they would make a botch of it, and the leg would go bad and I would croak. So after a day or two I picked out one of the nerviest of the chaps and had him take my leg off. He didn't know what to do, but I sat up and helped him, saw that the arteries were taken up right and tied, and that the bone was squarely sawed off, with good flaps left that were sewed up. Three or four days after the leg was gone the gun-boat came back and her surgeon came ashore. He looked at the leg, dressed it, and said that it was a good job, and that he wondered that any of those soldiers had known how to take a leg off like that. You see, he could talk a little English and good French, and I could talk a little French and good English, so we got on pretty well. He seemed to take a kind of a shine to me, too, and after I got a little strength he had me brought on board the ship, and after a little while we sailed for Petropaulovski. Before we got there I learned from something that he said that the soldiers had told him about my sitting up and telling them how to take off the leg. He seemed to think that was a great thing.

"When we got to town they carried me ashore and up to the jail and took me in. But before they had fairly got me locked up, the doctor, who had left the ship before I did, came in and showed the governor of the jail an order, and then I was taken to a mighty comfortable house, and stopped there for quite some time. The doctor used to come in two or three times a day and talk to me. Finally I got able to get up and be around, and by that time the doctor had had a carpenter make me a wooden leg; so I pegged around with that leg and a cane, and got to having a pretty good time; but, of course, I didn't know what they were going to do with me.

"There was a prince in town, a Russian prince. He was the head, so they said, of the Russian Fur Company. Once or twice he sent for me and questioned me about the seal stealing, and I told him all I knew, for there wasn't any use of making any secret of it. He seemed to be a pretty good sort of a fellow, and at length one day, after I had been there some months—it was winter, and mighty cold at that, you bet—he said to me: 'I ought to send you to the mines, but I don't believe you would be very useful there, with that one leg of yours, and I think the best thing to do with you in spring, when the weather opens, is to send you to Yokohama on some vessel.' Of course I didn't have any ambition to go to the mines, and I was mighty glad to be let off as easy as that. So when spring came, they found a little schooner that was going to sail to Japan, and they put me on board of it, and off I went. And what do you think that prince did? Just as I was going to step into the boat to be carried out to the schooner he suddenly appeared, shook hands with me, and wished me good luck and handed me a little canvas bag, which was pretty heavy, and said: 'Take good care of that, and make it go as far as you can'; and, by Jove! when I opened that bag and counted what was in it there was six hundred dollars.

"That doctor and that prince," he said slowly, as he rubbed his chin, "were mighty good to me. They treated me white. I wish though that the doctor had got around to the island four or five days before he did, and maybe I would have two legs now."

They had listened with much interest to the sealstealing story, and Jack was anxious to ask Crocker many questions about the strange animals that he must have seen during his voyage in the North Pacific, when he followed the seal herds after they left the islands, and about the great journey that the seals make south and west and east and north again, back to their starting point. But Fannin was anxious to get on, and after he had purchased from Crocker the provisions they needed, with a hearty handshake and with many good wishes the canoe travellers stepped over the side and pushed off.

The next morning was notable for the passage of the canoe through multitudes of black sea ducks, which Jack said were coots. The flock, or succession of flocks, were as numerous as those observed some weeks before off Comox Spit. There must have been many thousands of these birds scattered over several miles of water, and continually rising as the canoe disturbed them, either flying back over it or off to one side.

Late in the afternoon the travellers, as usual, began to look for a camping place along the shore, and for some time without success. The rocky shores rose straight up from the water and seemed very inhospitable; but at length a little bay, the most encouraging place in sight, invited the tired travellers to investigate it, and it was found that, although the little beach was almost everywhere piled high with driftwood, there was a narrow pebbly place where, by squeezing up close together, there would be room enough for the white men to sleep. A tiny trickle of water through a streak of wet moss ran down each side toward the bay, and it seemed that camp might be made here. The canoe was unloaded and its cargo carried up over the raft of floating drift logs to the beach. A little hole was scraped in the sand to catch the water that fell, drop by drop, from crevices in the rock. The largest stones were removed from the spot where the beds were to be spread, and a fire was kindled.

Long ago there had fallen from the shelf of the cliff, many feet above the beach, a giant fir tree, whose roots still rested where they had always been, and whose top was supported by the bottom of the bay. The spot where the beds were to be spread was directly beneath this leaning stick of timber, which, as it was six or eight feet through, would even offer a little shelter in case it should rain that night. Charlie, however, suggested that this was not a safe place for the white man to sleep, as during the night the tree might fall and crush them. But the other men laughed at him, and pointed out to him that as the stick had never changed its position for forty or fifty years, the chances were that it would not break or slip on this particular night. Charlie said that this might be true and went about his cooking. His spirits, however, were not high, for, even with what had just been bought from Crocker, the provision box was still very light. The fresh meat had been nearly all eaten, the baking powder had all been used, there was left nothing but a little bacon, a few cans of tomatoes, some flour, coffee, and raisins. To relieve the impending famine, Jack and Fannin went up on the hills to look for game, and, although they had found no deer, they started three or four grouse, of which two were secured and brought to the camp for the next morning's breakfast. As the party turned into their blankets that night Charlie looked at the great stick of timber which overhung them and said: "Well, I hope we'll be alive in the morning."

"Oh," said Hugh, "you go to bed, Charlie; you're like a cow-puncher I once knew. He called himself a fatalist, and said that he believed 'whatever was to be would be, whether it happened so or not.'"

Fannin said: "The only thing I am afraid of for to-night is that maybe this tide will rise so high that it will drown us out, and we will be floated off among this drift."

When they turned in, the fire, by which dinner had been cooked, was still glowing brightly under the old drift log against which Charlie had built it; and the only sound heard in camp was the lapping of the water against the beach.

That night Jack had a curious dream. He thought that he was asleep in his room at his home in Thirty-eighth street, when suddenly he was awakened by a bright light, and, rushing to the window, saw that the house across the street was blazing and that a number of policemen clad in white were dancing in front of the fire. As he watched them, and wondered anxiously about the fire, the smoke from the house seemed to turn and move in a thick cloud straight into his window, causing him to choke and cough. At this Jack awoke, and sitting up in his blanket he saw the great drift log, against which the fire had been built, glowing like a furnace. Charlie, clad only in his shirt and drawers, was darting about with a bucket of water in his hands, dashing it on the flames. The fire was soon put out; and next morning, on reckoning up their losses, it was found that they were not very serious. A few cooking utensils, a towel or two, and a coat were the only things seriously damaged. If the fire had burned a little longer and communicated itself to the rest of the drift stuff, the members of the party might have been very uncomfortable, and their loss might have been serious.

When they started the next morning, the surface of the water was smooth and unbroken. There was no breath of air, and great clouds obscured the sky. Before them was seen the white lighthouse of Port Atkinson, and on either side of the channel they were following rose a low, rock-bound, fir-fringed coast. Here, for almost the first time since the trip had been begun, no striking mountain ridges or snow-capped peaks were seen. The tide was running straight against them, and they had to work hard to advance at all. After they had passed the Port Atkinson lighthouse the Inlet broadened and spread out over wide flats. The canoe kept close to the shore, to avoid the ebbing tide, and startled from the grassy shore a number of blue herons which were resting or fishing at the water's edge. Sometimes, as they rounded a little point, a group of hogs were encountered, eagerly rooting in the bare flats for shell-fish. The first one of these groups that he saw astonished Jack, because the hogs were accompanied by a number of crows. About each hog, on the ground or resting on its back, or flying about it with tumultuous cries, were three or four black-winged attendants, which wrangled bitterly over the fragments of fish that the pig unearthed and failed to secure. Sometimes a crow would pounce on a clam or other edible morsel actually under the nose of the hog, and would snatch it away before the hog realized what was happening.

"Fannin," said Hugh, as they were passing along, "does this sort of thing happen regularly? Do these crows follow the hogs around all the time?"

"No," said Fannin, "crows know too much for that. They only get together and follow them when they come down to the flats looking for clams. They have learned that the hogs turn up a great deal of stuff that they themselves like; and they have become regular attendants on them. You know it isn't so very long since they didn't have any loose hogs in this country. It is only within the last few years that they have turned them out to look out for themselves."

"Well," said Hugh, "of course there's lots of difference in size, but these crows flapping about these hogs remind me more than anything of the way the buffalo birds act out on the prairie. They are just as familiar and at home with the buffalo and cattle and horses as these crows are with the hogs here."

"It's comical," said Fannin, "how familiar any set of birds will get with animals and people or anything else, just as soon as they find that they don't hurt them."

They were now at the mouth of Burrard Inlet and had only a few miles more to go before reaching Hastings where Fannin lived, and where their canoe voyage would end. They had been about a month afloat.

The sand flats, over whose shoal waters the canoe was passing, seemed to be the home of a multitude of flat fish or flounders. They lay on the bottom, and so closely resembled it in color that it was impossible at the distance of a few feet to distinguish them from the sand. The fish remained absolutely motionless until the bow of the canoe was within two or three feet of them; and then they swam quickly away with a flapping motion that did not seem to carry them off very rapidly as compared with the arrow-like darting motions of most fish; but they stirred up a cloud of sand and mud that effectually concealed them.

"These flat fish are mighty queer animals, Mr. Fannin," remarked Jack. "They don't look to me like anything I have ever seen before in the world."

"No," said Fannin, "I guess they are not. They are mighty queer kind of fish; and, if I understand it right, they are all skewed around."

"How do you mean?" asked Jack.

"Why," said Fannin, "I understand when they are hatched they are right side up like other fish; but soon after that they have to lie on their side. That covers one of their eyes, and that eye works its way up through the head onto the top; so that, as a matter of fact, the two eyes on a flat fish which you see when you are looking down on him are both of them looking out of the same side of the head. What looks to you and me like the back, is really his side, and what looks to you and me like his white belly is really his other side. I don't understand about it very clearly, but there's a man back East who has worked that whole thing out. Somebody sent me a copy of his paper one time, and I guess I have got it somewhere in the shop now."

Before night had come the canoe had gone up the Inlet to Fannin's shop. Here they went ashore, and that night, for the first time in weeks, sat down at a table and slept in beds. It was learned at Hastings that the Indians were catching a good many salmon at the head of the North Arm; and it was proposed that instead of ending the trip here, the canoe should keep on up the Arm and see the fishing. The next morning, therefore, they went on up the Inlet.

On the way they met three canoe loads of returning Indians, and each canoe was piled high with beautiful silvery salmon, weighing eight or ten pounds each, which the Indians had caught with spears and gaffs in the Salmon River. Fannin, who spoke with the Indians, told the others that this was the fishing party, and that now there were no Indians at the head of the North Arm. It was, nevertheless, decided to go up there.

When they reached the mouth of the river they found the tide lower than it had been when they had been there some weeks ago; but soon it commenced to rise, and as the water deepened they began to pole the canoe up the stream, though frequently all hands were obliged to jump overboard and push and lift the canoe over the shoals and into the deeper water. As the tide continued to rise this became necessary less frequently, and before long the water was so good that they could push along with but little effort. During the passage up the shallow stream many salmon were seen in the clear water—fine, handsome fish, dark blue above; sometimes showing, as they darted away from the approaching canoe, the gleaming silver of their shapely sides.

The sight of these beautiful fish greatly excited Jack, and several times he struck at them with his paddle, but always miscalculated the distance, and could never feel even that he had touched a fish. At length he called out: "Mr. Fannin, can't we stop here and try to catch some of these fish? They are so big and splendid that I want to get hold of one."

"Oh," said Fannin, with a laugh, "wait a bit. You are going to a place where you'll see a hundred for one that you see now."

"Well," said Jack, rather grumblingly, half to himself and half to Hugh, "I suppose he is right, but it seems as if we might stop right here and catch some of them. The sight of these fish is enough to make any man a fisherman right off."

Again he called out: "Do you think we will be able to catch any fish to-night?"

"Yes," said Fannin; "I think that with the spear or the gaff we ought to get all we want."

"But just think," said Jack, "what fun it would be to catch one of these with a rod. It looks to me as if they would break any tackle that we have."

"No," said Fannin, "you can't catch them on a hook when they get into the fresh water. I thought I had told you that before. The salmon in fresh water will not take a hook. They will take one in the salt water, but as soon as they enter the river, no. I'll tell you about that to-night when we get into camp."

After several hours' work the canoe reached a point in the river where there was a high jam of drift logs, which it was impossible to pass. The sticks of the jam were too large to be chopped through, and the canoe was far too large to be carried about the jam to a point farther up the river; besides, it was well on toward sundown. Camp was made therefore on a smooth sandbar just below the jam, and in a short while the spot had assumed a comfortable, home-like appearance. On the shore of the river was a rather neatly built shed, which had evidently been recently occupied by Indian fishermen. This served as a storehouse for provisions and the mess kit, and a sleeping place for Charlie and the Indians. A little farther up the stream was placed the white tent fly, closed at the back with an old sail and in front with a mosquito netting. Near the storehouse a cheery fire crackled against an old cedar log, and on the beach, farther down, drawn out of the water, was the canoe.

After dinner was over, and when they were sitting about the fire, Jack, whose mind was still full of the salmon he had seen, addressed Fannin. "Now, Mr. Fannin, what more can you tell me about the salmon not taking bait in the fresh water? I believe you spoke to me about it when we saw our first salmon, but I have forgotten what you said."

"Well," said Fannin, "I can't tell you why they do not feed in fresh water, but all fishermen say that they do not, and it is certain that none of them are caught on a hook after they begin to run up a stream. Down in California, where the rivers are all muddy, people explain their refusal to feed by saying that in those waters the fish cannot see the fly or bait, and so do not take it; but such an explanation will not answer for a clear-water stream such as the one we are on. You must have noticed that the water here to-day was as pure and clear as in any trout stream you ever fished."

"Yes," said Jack, "I don't see how anything could be clearer than this water; and I am sure the fish could see the bait or a fly."

"Yes," said Fannin, "they certainly could; and if they wanted a fly they would rise to it. There's a man down here at Moody's Mills who is a great fisherman, and he has fished in these streams for trout and salmon for fourteen years. He says that in all that time he has hooked a salmon only twice, and he believes in each of these cases the fish accidentally fouled the hook. No; when the fish get into the fresh water, they seem to forget everything except their desire to get up to the head of the water and spawn."

"Well," said Jack, "Eastern salmon come into the stream to spawn just as these fish do. They also try to get to the heads of the rivers for this one purpose; yet we all know that the fishermen go salmon fishing, and expect to catch salmon on the Atlantic coast just at the time that the fish are running up the river, and we know that they do catch them, big ones, running, I believe, up to thirty-five or forty pounds."

"Well," said Fannin, "I know that is true, and I don't know just why there should be such a difference in the fish of the two coasts; but I believe that it exists. Some day, very likely, we will be able to explain it; but I can't do it now, and I don't believe I know anybody who can."

The next morning Jack and Hugh were up long before breakfast, and were talking about the difference between the surroundings of this camp and those to which they had been accustomed for the last few weeks. Ever since their departure from Nanaimo they had spent practically all their time on the water or on the seashore; and, except in a few cases, had hardly been a hundred yards from the beach. The present camp, therefore, had about it something that was new. They could not hear the soft ripple of the beach or the roar of the great waves pounding unceasingly against the unyielding cliff. The water which hurried by the camp was sweet and fresh. All about them were green forests, whose pale gray tree trunks shone like spectres among the dark leaves. The birds of the woods moved here and there among the branches or came down to the water's edge to drink or bathe. Except for the canoe, and but for the character of the rocks, they might have imagined themselves on some mountain stream, a thousand miles from the seacoast.

Said Jack to his companion: "We have had lots of surprises on this trip, Hugh, and this camp is one of the greatest of them."

"Yes," said Hugh, "I know just what you mean. It seems mighty pleasant here to be in the timber with that creek running by; and yet I don't know but I like the open sea better, where a man has a chance to look about and see what is near him."

"Well," said Jack, "we certainly have seen lots of different country on this trip, and I wish we were just starting out instead of just getting in."

"Well," said Hugh, "I believe I feel a little that way myself; though, to tell the truth, I shan't be sorry to get back to a country where there are horses, and where a man can look a long way around and see things."

"Oh, Hugh!" said Jack, interrupting the talk, "look at those little dippers there! Let's go and watch them."

They strolled to the edge of the beach and there saw a number of the queer little birds. They were, as usual, bowing, nodding, and working their wings, or tumbling into the water, disappearing there to come to the surface again some distance away, when they would rise on the wing and fly to the beach or to some almost submerged boulder in the current. Some of them were walking along the shore, from time to time stopping and nodding as if to their shadows in the water; or again taking their flight from point to point near the little stretch of beach that, upon examination, appeared barren of food. Sometimes one of the birds would bring up out of the water some little insect or worm, which it would beat against the stones and then devour. Jack and Hugh watched them for some time, but presently the coming of others to the border of the stream disturbed the dippers, and they flew away up or down the stream. They did not particularly mind being looked at by two men, but they thought that five were too many, and they all disappeared.

At breakfast it was suggested that they should take a short trip on foot up the stream to see what the river would offer. They were crossing the jam when Hugh's keen eye detected a movement in the water beneath them. Kneeling down on the floating logs they were astonished to see that the deep pool beneath the jam was full of salmon. They all stretched out at full length on the logs and stared down into the clear water beneath them. Through the openings between the logs every movement of the shoal of great fish, slowly moving about but a few feet from their faces, could be seen. The water was beautifully transparent, and it was easy to distinguish the color and form of each fish. The humped back and hooked jaw of the most fully developed males could be readily distinguished, and were in strong contrast with the slim and graceful forms of the female fish. There were probably between four and five hundred salmon in the pool, which was not a very large one. The fish crowded together so thickly that it was only occasionally possible to see the pebbly bottom. It was not long before Jack remembered the salmon spear in the canoe, and soon after he had thought of it, he and one of the Indians started back to get it. The salmon were so close together in the pool and seemed so near to the surface of the water that he thought that the spear could not be thrust down into the slow moving mass without transfixing one or two of them.

When the spear was finally brought to the log jam each one of the company secretly wished to be the first to catch a salmon, yet each was too polite to say what he wished, and they passed the implement from hand to hand, asking each other to make the first attempt. Fannin and Hugh seemed to want Jack to make the first attempt, but he declined flatly and said: "You ought to do it, Mr. Fannin, because you are more skilful than either of us, but if you don't want to do it let Hugh try his hand; he is the oldest person present."

Hugh also declined with great promptness and positiveness, but was at length prevailed to take the spear. He lay down on the logs with his face close to an opening, into which he introduced the points of the spear, lowering it through the pellucid water until the end of the shaft was in his hands and he had fitted his fingers into the notches cut there. Then he watched until he saw a fish precisely under him, and made a forcible thrust, driving the spear deep down into the water and causing a little flurry among the salmon, which moved their tails a little and then darted away. Then Hugh arose with a mortified look and said: "Well, I thought I had one that time, but it seems not. You fellows will have to try your hands now."

Fannin was the next to make a thrust, and made half a dozen without effect. The fish did not even dodge the strokes, but each time the spear went down toward them there was a general quivering of the whole school, as if each fish had started a little. The thrower of the implement looked at them with a somewhat perplexed expression, and said: "It certainly seemed to me as if that spear went through the whole school." When he had recovered the spear he passed to Jack and told him to try his hand, but Jack's luck was no better than that of his companions. To him, as he lay on his face looking down into the pool, shadowed by the log jam, the depth of the water seemed to be about five or six feet, yet as he thrust his spear into it and it passed down toward the fish, the handle being in his hand, he could see that the points were still quite a long distance above the backs of the fish, and no matter how hard he threw the spear, it created but little disturbance. Hugh, Jack, and Fannin were now stretched out at different points on the log jam, gazing at the fish beneath them. For some time they did not realize where the difficulty lay, and now and then one of them would say: "Oh, please let me have the spear for just a minute; they are so thick here that I know I can't help catching one if I only thrust it at them." But all thrusts were futile. At last, going ashore, and cutting a slender pole more than twenty feet in length, the depth of the water was measured, and it appeared that the spear was far too short to reach the fish. The excitement was too great to leave things in this condition and return to camp, so Hugh and Fannin soon added six or eight feet to the length of the salmon spear and besides made a long gaff. With these two implements they returned to the pool, and found no difficulty in catching salmon enough to supply the table.

All along the river, which they followed up for several miles, they found great numbers of salmon, and with the salmon were a great many trout, some of them of very large size. Fannin explained that these fish followed up the salmon to feed on the spawn as it was deposited. He declared that while the salmon were running the trout would pay no attention to a fly. Certain it was that all Jack's efforts to get a trout to rise to the fly were unsuccessful.

The evening after the day they had reached this camp they discussed the question as to whether they should climb the mountains and have another goat hunt. After a little discussion it was decided to do so; but the next morning when they got up they found that it was raining heavily. It rained continuously during the day until noon, when they regretfully broke camp, and paddled down the Inlet to Hastings, where they paid off and dismissed the Indians and their canoe. The unemotional savages shook hands calmly with their companions of the last month. They arranged in the canoe their blankets and provisions and the few cooking utensils which had been given them, and then paddled off down the Inlet and were soon out of sight, bound for Nanaimo.

A day or two later the travellers started for New Westminster, to return to Victoria. Jack and Hugh were loath to part with Fannin, and they persuaded him to go with them on the stage as far as the town and to see the last of them when they took the steamer back to the island.

The next morning all three boarded the stage, and, after a delightful ride through the great forest of the peninsula, they found themselves once more in New Westminster and shaking hands with Mr. James.