The Project Gutenberg eBook, Jack the Young Canoeman, by George Bird Grinnell, Illustrated by Edwin Willard Deming

AS THE DEER BOUNCED UP THE BANK, JACK FIRED—[Page 41]

JACK
THE YOUNG CANOEMAN

An Eastern Boy's Voyage in a Chinook Canoe
BY
GEORGE BIRD GRINNELL
Author of "Jack in the Rockies," "Jack the Young Ranchman," "Jack Among the Indians," "Pawnee Hero Stories," "Blackfoot Lodge Tales," "The Story of the Indian," "The Indian of To-day," etc.
ILLUSTRATED BY EDWIN WILLARD DEMING
And by Half-tone Engravings of Photographs

NEW YORK
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1906
By Frederick A. Stokes Company
Published in September, 1906
All rights reserved
THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.

[PREFACE]

The mountains which border the British Columbia coast between the mouth of the Frazer River and the southeastern point of Alaska are still unknown to the world at large. Few people have sailed up the wonderful fiords, which, as great water-floored canyons, run back forty or fifty miles into the interior. Fewer still have penetrated by land into the mountains where there are neither roads nor trails, and where progress on foot is barred by a thousand insurmountable obstacles.

Since the time that Jack Danvers made his voyage in a Chinook canoe along this beautiful coast, it has not greatly changed. The mountains still abound in game, the sea in fish; the scenery is as beautiful as it was then; and over the waters, dancing blue beneath the brilliant sky, or black under the heavy rain clouds, the Indian still paddles his high-prowed canoe.

[CONTENTS]

[ILLUSTRATIONS]

[Jack the Young Canoeman]

[CHAPTER I]
VICTORIA, V. I.

"Say, Hugh, what is that Indian doing in that canoe? I thought at first that he was paddling, but he doesn't seem to move, and that doesn't look like a paddle that he has in his hand."

"To tell you the truth, son, I don't know what he is doing. This business here on the salt water puzzles me, and everything is strange and queer. This ain't like the prairie, nor these ain't like any mountains that I've ever seen. I am beginning at the bottom and have got to learn everything. But about that Indian in the canoe, you can see that the boat doesn't move; and you can see, too, if you look sharp, that he's anchored. Don't you see that taut line reaching down into the water?"

"That's so," said Jack; "he surely is anchored, but he works his arms just as if he were paddling. I am going to ask this man over here."

Jack walked over to a sailor who stood leaning against the rail of the deck on which they were sitting, and who was looking over the water, and said to him: "Will you tell me, sir, what that Indian is doing in the canoe over there?"

The man turned his head and looked in the direction in which Jack was pointing, and said: "Yes, I can tell you what he is doing; he is fishing. Don't you see that every stroke he makes he is bringing up some herrings?"

"No, I don't see it, and I will be much obliged to you if you will describe to me how he is fishing."

"Of course I will," said the man. "You see his canoe is anchored there in that deep water, just this side of that point around which the tide runs strong. At this season of the year the herrings gather in big schools in that eddy there. Of course we don't know just how they lie, but they must be mighty thick together. That thing the Indian has in his hand is a pole about a dozen feet long, flattened on the sides, and maybe a couple of inches across in its widest part. The flattening makes the pole sort of oval shaped, if you should saw through it; and each of the narrow edges of the pole is studded with a row of sharp nails, about an inch or two apart. These nails are firmly driven into the wood and the points that stick out for about an inch are very sharp. The nails run for about one half the length of the pole. The Indian, sitting in his canoe and holding the upper part of the pole in his two hands, as you see, just as he would hold a paddle, sweeps the end of it, that has the nails in, through the water, using just the same motion that he does in paddling. The herrings down there are so thick that every time he passes the pole vertically through the water it strikes the bodies of three or four of the fish with force enough to drive the nails into them; and as the man continues the stroke they are pushed ahead of the pole. When the stroke is finished and the end of the pole brought out of the water, the fish are still sticking on the nails. Then, you will see, if you watch him, he brings the nailed end of the pole in over the canoe, taps the pole on the canoe, and the fish drop off into the bottom of the boat. Don't you see the white shiny specks on the pole every time he makes a stroke?"

"Yes," said Jack, "of course I see them, but that is a new way of fishing to me, and I never should have guessed what he was trying to do. I should think it would take a long time to get fish enough for a mess in that way."

"Don't you believe it," said the sailor; "one of those fellows may get a bushel or two of fish in two or three hours. Just you watch the pole as one brings it up and see how many fish he gets to a stroke, and then figure how many strokes he makes to a minute."

Jack watched for a few minutes and saw that at every sweep of the pole two or half a dozen fish were brought up and knocked loose so as to fall into the canoe, and he made up his mind that after all this was a quick and easy way of fishing.

In the meantime Hugh had strolled up and was listening to their talk, but without making any comment.

Presently Jack said to the sailor: "We are not near enough to make a very good guess at the size of those fish; how big are they?"

"Oh," said the sailor, "they are not very big, maybe not more than four or six inches long, but there are lots of them, as you can see. They catch oolichans in that way too, when they are here, but they have gone now. We only have them during the month of May, but then they gather in certain places and there are worlds of them. The Indians catch them, and the white folks catch them; in fact, for a little while pretty nearly everybody lives on oolichans. They are mighty good eating, I can tell you, and besides those eaten fresh, lots of them are smoked and salted. The Indians don't save many of them. What they don't eat fresh they use to make oil with, for the oolichan is an awful fat fish and you can get lots of oil out of them. They are so fat, that after they have been dried you can light them at one end and they will burn just like a candle. I expect that is the reason that sometimes they are called candle-fish."

"Say, friend," said Hugh, "you ain't joking, are you?"

"No," said the man, "I ain't joking; that's just the way it is, like I tell you."

"Well, no offence," said Hugh. "Where I come from, in the mountains and in the cattle country, sometimes the boys, when a stranger comes around, sort of josh him in a good-natured way, and tell tall stories just to see how much he will believe. I didn't know that maybe you had such a custom as that out here."

"No, sir," said the sailor, "we don't do anything like that here. We suppose that people ask us questions about the country because they want to know how things really are, and we tell them just what the facts are."

"Well," said Hugh, "it seems to me, from what I have seen, that the facts are strange enough here, and it wouldn't be necessary for you to stretch them a mite to astonish folks."

Soon after this Hugh and Jack went back to the place where they had been sitting, in the shelter of the deck cabin, and sat there looking over the beautiful view that was stretched out before them. Neither said very much. Both were impressed by the beauty of the scene and the novelty of their surroundings; for neither of them had ever seen anything like it before.

"I tell you, son," said Hugh, "this here is a wonderful country to me, and I never saw anything to match it. You see it's the first time that I ever got down to the edge of the salt water. I don't know what to make of it all. Everything is different; the mountains and timber, the people, the animals, and the birds. And as for fish—why! I never supposed there was any place in the world where fish were as plenty as they are here."

"Yes," said Jack, "it's surely a wonderful country. There is something new to look at every minute; and it's all just as different as can be from anything I ever saw before. I was talking to one of the passengers here a little while ago and he told me that these Indians here live almost altogether on fish. They dig clams and catch mussels and catch the salmon and the herrings and those little fish this sailor was talking about; and they kill seals and porpoises and even whales. It's all mighty strange, but doesn't it show just how people fit themselves to the conditions that surround them? Now, suppose you take one of the Blackfeet, turn him loose on his horse at the edge of the water, and how do you think he would go to work to get his next meal? Why, he would starve to death."

"He surely would," said Hugh. "Don't you know, that the things these Indians here eat would be sort of poison to the Blackfeet? It is against their medicine to eat fish or most anything that lives in the water. They think those things are not fit to eat, and many of them would starve before they would even touch them."

The vessel ploughed its way through the strait with the land rising high on the right and lower on the left-hand side. Both coasts were rock-bound, and the heavy swell dashed against the shore great waves, whose foam flew high into the air. Away to the south rose high rough mountains, their summits white with snow. To the north the land rose gently, and green fields, dotted here and there with white houses, stretched away for miles. Beyond were hills, forest-clad.

The travellers were busy looking in all directions at the beautiful prospect spread before them. Suddenly, not far from the ship, a great head rose above the water, remaining there for a moment looking at the boat. Jack saw it and called out to his companion: "O Hugh! that must be a sea-lion or a fur seal! It's bigger than the seals that I have seen on the coast of Maine." After a moment the head disappeared beneath the water. But in a few moments several other heads were seen; and these seals, less timid than the first, swam along not far from the boat, showing their great bodies partly out of the water, and sometimes, in chasing one another, jumping high into the air. Further along, the boat startled from the surface of the water a group of black birds. Less in size than ducks, they flew swiftly along, close to the water's surface. Jack could see that on the shoulders of each bird was a round spot of white, while the legs were coral-red.

"There is a new bird to me, Hugh, and I bet it is to you, too. That must be one of the birds they call guillemots. They live up in the North and breed on the ledges of the rock. I have read about them often."

"Well," said Hugh, "there's surely plenty to see here; and I wouldn't be surprised if you and I travelled around all the time with our mouths open, just because we are too surprised to remember to shut them."

All this time the boat was moving swiftly along. Toward afternoon she rounded a sharp point of rocks; and, proceeding up a narrow channel, the buildings of the town of Victoria were soon seen in the distance. Hugh said:

"That must be our landing place, son. I'll be glad to get ashore and stretch my legs. I take it, this here land that we are coming to is an island, and very likely there won't be a horse in the place. We'll have to do all of our travelling afoot, or in one of these cranky canoes, and I haven't much of a notion of getting into one of them. I'll be a good deal like you were the first time you got on a horse—afraid I'll fall off; and yet I don't know as they'll be any harder to ride in than the birch canoes I used to travel in up in the North."

Victoria, where our travellers landed that afternoon, was a charming, quiet town of six or seven thousand inhabitants, situated on the extreme southeastern point of Vancouver Island. For many years after its settlement it had been nothing more than the Hudson's Bay fort and trading post, with a few dwellings occupied by those employed there. But the discovery of gold in small quantities on the Frazer River in 1857, and later on at the placer mines on the Quesnelle and at Caribou, made a great change in the prospects of the place. Word of the new diggings travelled fast and soon reached California, causing a world of excitement among the mining population of that State, then ripe for a fresh move. A rush took place, and all those who travelled toward the new mines in British Columbia passed by the drowsy old Hudson's Bay fort, where hitherto the only event of the year had been the arrival of the ship from England with the mail. Now the fort was startled by the coming of twenty thousand miners, who pitched their tents about it and founded Victoria. Buildings sprang up and trade was attracted. Every one going to the mines or coming from them passed through the town and paid its tribute, and high hopes were entertained of its future importance. People who lived there began to call it "the emporium of commerce," "the metropolis of the northwest coast of America." But, unfortunately for Victoria, the mines, which caused this excitement soon ceased to pay; and the town's commerce fell off. It did not fulfil the promises of its early youth, and its growth has since been slow. Now, however, there was a prospect of speedy communication with the rest of the world; for during the summer when our travellers reached there, the Canadian Pacific Railroad was being built and the loyal inhabitants of Victoria were again anticipating that the place would become a great city—"a second San Francisco." There was reason for their hopes. While the railroad could not directly reach Victoria, its terminus on the mainland would be within easy reach of the Island City, and would give Vancouver Island a market for its products. Its trade at that time was little or nothing, for the goods sent to the United States had to pay a heavy duty, which left little margin for profit.

Hugh and Jack spent several days at Victoria. The country was picturesque and attractive, and the roads good. They took long walks into the country to the Gorge and to Cedar Hill, from which a beautiful view of the city could be obtained. The panorama included also a view of the Straits of Fuca, the Gulf of Georgia with its hundreds of islands, and the mainland, rough with mountain peaks, among which, rising above all, stood Mt. Baker, calm and white, a snow-clad monarch. While they remained in the town they lived literally on the fat of the land. Victoria boasted one of the best hotels in the world; not a pretentious structure, but one where everything that was good to eat, in abundance, well cooked and well served, was furnished. There were fish of many sorts,—salmon and sea bass, herring and oolichans, oysters and clams, crabs, game, delicious vegetables, and abundance of fruit.

Mr. Sturgis had given to Hugh a letter to an acquaintance of his in Victoria, and one day Hugh and Jack called on Mr. MacTavish. He was an old Hudson Bay man, who, after retiring from the service of the Company had come to Victoria to live. He had a delightful family, and a charming house, full of a multitude of interesting curiosities, picked up during his long service in the North. Of these, one of the most interesting was a complete set of dinner dishes, carved out of black slate by the Haida Indians of the North. While the figures exhibited on these were conventional in form and of Indian type, the carving was so remarkably good that it was hard for Hugh and Jack to believe that the work was Indian. Neither had ever seen anything done by Indians more artistic than the ordinary painted skins of the plains' Tribes; and when they saw such delicate, beautifully carved work, often inlaid with the white teeth or fragments of bones of animals, it was hard for them to understand how it all could have been done by native artists.

Mr. MacTavish told them much about the life of the island,—the fishing and hunting. He said that at that very time, during the month of July, the salt waters of the Straits and of the Gulf of Georgia abounded with salmon, which were readily taken by trolling; and when thus taken, on a light rod, furnished fine sport. Many of the brooks of the island, too, afforded excellent trout fishing.

About Victoria there were found, he said, two species of grouse,—the ruffed grouse and the blue grouse. The California quail had been introduced and seemed to be increasing, but sportsmen did not care much for it, because it did not lie well to a dog, but ran when alarmed and took to the thickest brush, where it was impossible to shoot it. In the autumn ducks and geese occurred in great numbers; and, on the whole, shooting was good. Their host also told them there was a considerable variety of big game. Deer were abundant within a few miles of Victoria; and it was not uncommon for people, starting out in the evening, to drive into the country and return the next night with several. There were some places where still-hunting could be successfully followed; but in most cases it was necessary to use hounds to drive the deer to the water, for the timber was so thick, and the underbrush and ferns so dense and tangled, that it was impossible to travel through the forests without making a great deal of noise.

Their entertainer astonished Hugh and Jack by telling them that further north on the island, in the neighborhood of Comox, elk were to be found. They were not abundant, he said, and were hard to approach on account of the character of the forest; but they were certainly there. Bears and panthers were everywhere quite abundant. Sooke, a village about twenty miles from Victoria, was a great place for bears. Many of those killed were black or cinnamon; but it was reported that there were also grizzlies at Sooke. The panthers were little hunted, except in places where farmers had flocks or herds to protect. They lived principally on the deer, which were very abundant. There were a few wolves, but except in winter they were seldom seen.

Mr. MacTavish had a good knowledge of natural history; and he had much to say to Jack, who was interested in the subject, about the curious forms of life found in the surrounding waters. When he heard that Jack and Hugh had come up there to spend a month travelling among the islands, he told them that the best thing that they could do would be to go over to the mainland, and there make the acquaintance of Jack Fannin, a cobbler, living on Burrard Inlet, as he knew more about the birds and mammals of the Province than any other man.

"Fannin is the man for you," said Mr. MacTavish, "and you should see him before you make up your minds to do anything. He will give you the best advice possible; and perhaps you can even get him to go with you. That would be a great thing; it would add enormously to your pleasure, and would save you many delays. And as he has mined, hunted, canoed, and chopped logs over much of the coast, he knows it as well as any one."

Our friends spent a long, delightful afternoon with Mr. MacTavish, and when they spoke of returning to their hotel he would not let them go, but kept them with him for the evening meal. They walked back through the clear, cool moonlight to Victoria, and before they had reached there had agreed that they would go by the first steamer to New Westminster to hunt up Mr. Fannin.

The next day when they told Mr. MacTavish of their decision, he congratulated them on their good judgment and gave them a letter to a friend in New Westminster, who would take care of them and see that they lost no time in finding the man they wanted.

The hospitality and kindness shown the two Americans by Mr. MacTavish was typical of the treatment they received everywhere in British Columbia. People there, they found, had time to enjoy life. They did not rush about, after the headlong American fashion, but took things quietly and easily. The stores were opened about nine or ten in the morning, and at twelve they were closed. The shop-keepers went home to lunch, appearing again and reopening their places about two o'clock; keeping them open until four or five in the afternoon. Then their day's work was over and they closed up for the night.

[CHAPTER II]
HOW JACK AND HUGH CAME TO BRITISH COLUMBIA

Two days later Hugh and Jack started by steamer for the town of New Westminster, near the mouth of the Fraser River, on the mainland. The trip was one of great beauty, for the boat wound its way here and there amid the many islands of the gulf; and as each one was passed a new vista of beauty burst on the view. And, while the two travellers are sitting on the steamer's deck, admiring the wonderful scenery opening on all sides, wondering at the new birds and animals which appeared, and talking over the possibilities for their summer trip, it may be explained how it came to pass that these two friends found themselves so far from their homes and from the high, dry plains where the summers of the three previous years had been passed by both.

It was six months before—to be exact, it was on Christmas Day—that the thought of the trip to British Columbia had first been broached. Mr. Sturgis, Jack's uncle, had come back from the ranch and was spending the winter with Jack's father and mother at the house on Thirty-Eighth Street; and it was while they were sitting at dessert during their Christmas dinner that Mr. Sturgis had announced that during the next summer it would be necessary for him to go out to British Columbia to inspect a mine in which he was interested, and had proposed that Jack should go with him.

For three years past Jack had spent the summer on the western plains. Ill health had been the first cause of his going out to Swiftwater Ranch, where he had learned to ride, to hunt big game, and to live the life of a ranchman. So greatly had he been benefited by this trip, that the next summer he was permitted to return to the ranch. Then he and old Hugh Johnson had travelled north, across the lonely, buffalo-dotted plains, until they had come to the country of the Piegan Blackfeet, where they had spent the summer in the Indian camp, and Jack had seen much of Indian life—of its charms and its dangers. He returned at length down the Missouri River to the railroad, and so back to his home in New York for the winter's schooling. The third year, still in Hugh's company, he had gone up the Missouri River; and starting southwest from Fort Benton, had gone through the Yellowstone Park and back to the ranch, having a great deal of shooting and fishing and not a little of adventure.

In this out-door life, in knocking about with Hugh Johnson and with other people who had been brought up to take care of themselves, Jack had learned many lessons of the plains and the mountains. He had picked up a great store of the lore of the prairies, could find his way about, even though there might be neither road nor landmarks to guide him; and, under Hugh's tuition, had become a good prairie man. He had also become very fond of the West; and when his uncle suggested that he should go with him to British Columbia, he was delighted at the thought of the trip. Being a boy of good sense, he said nothing when the suggestion was made, but watched the faces of his father and mother, to see how they felt about it.

"British Columbia seems a long way off, doesn't it, George?" said Mr. Danvers to his brother-in-law.

"Yes," said Jack's mother, "it seems a terribly long way off. I have been badly enough frightened these last three years, when Jack went out into a country full of cowboys and Indians and wild animals; and I always let him go with the feeling that I shall never see him again. Certainly the plains are far enough away for him. British Columbia must be more than twice as far, and I don't feel as if I could think of that."

"You and Mary have hit it exactly," said Mr. Sturgis. "You both say it seems a long way off, but in practice it is no further off than where Jack has been before, and, indeed, it is not nearly so far. British Columbia is at least within reach of the rest of the world by steam communication and also by telegraph. You can learn in a very short time what is happening in British Columbia, but when Jack was out on the plains, between my ranch and Fort Benton, he was practically as far off as he would have been in Central Africa. The distance of British Columbia is all in imagination. The country is one that we hear very little of, and for that reason we think it far away, but it is not so. Now, I would like to have Jack go with me. I don't mean that I want to take him up into the mountains to have him spend his days loafing around a mine while I am working; but I thought—if you feel like letting him go with me—we would have Hugh Johnson join us at the railroad, all go on together to British Columbia, and let Hugh and Jack take a hunt or a canoe trip along the coast, while I go back to my mine in Washington Territory. I shall be there a month or six weeks, and after I have done my work and they have made their trip, we could meet and come across overland and home by the new railroad that's being built north from the Union Pacific to the mining regions of Montana Territory."

When Jack heard this fascinating plan he had to hold hard to his chair to keep still; and he couldn't help drawing in his breath with a sort of whistle, making a slight noise, so that his father looked at him and laughed a little.

"You both know," continued Mr. Sturgis, "what these western trips have done for Jack, and yet, really, I am not quite sure that you do know; I am not quite sure that you remember what a wee little bit of a white shrimp he was when he first went out to the ranch; how he changed during that summer, and how, when we came back in the autumn, you, Mary, hardly knew the boy. See how he has grown, squared up—what a picture of health he is! You don't know—and perhaps I don't either, altogether; except so far as I have been told by Hugh Johnson, what a change has taken place in the boy's character. He has developed mentally as much as he has physically. He has gained balance, self-reliance; is sensible beyond his years in all matters that pertain to the out-door life, and is already, in many essentials, a man and a good companion, so far as his strength goes, in any situation where hard work, judgment, coolness, and discretion are required. All this means a great deal, more perhaps than any of us quite understand. If the boy had never gone west, he might have had a greater share of book learning, might have been further advanced toward entering college; but also, he might have been dead, and certainly he would have been very different in appearance from what he is now. You two had better think over the question of this trip. It will mean for the boy another summer spent out of doors, in surroundings that are wholly new to him. The life will be one of hard work whether they make a canoe trip, or a hunt; and it certainly will do them good. Then, of course, it will give him a great deal of pleasure, will enlarge his ideas, and will be, in all respects, helpful to him. Now, think it over, and when you are ready we will talk it over again."

During the months of the winter, the subject had often been brought up. Jack, when he was consulted, was, of course, eager to go, doubly so after he had learned that his uncle proposed to take Hugh Johnson along. At last his parents consented to his going.

In the spring Mr. Sturgis went west to the ranch, as was his custom, and arrangements were made for Jack to come west over the Union Pacific Railroad as soon as school had closed.

On the appointed day, the train bearing Jack drew up at the little station nearest to Mr. Sturgis's ranch, and Jack's uncle and Hugh Johnson stepped on board the train, while Jack waved an enthusiastic greeting to Joe, who sat in the wagon that had brought them from the ranch.

Then the three travellers sped on westward, plunging through the Wasatch Mountains, and at length reached the Great Salt Lake Basin. They stopped for a day at Salt Lake City, interesting for its beauty, its surroundings of great mountains, and its wonderful lake. Jack had a swim in Salt Lake, and though he had been warned about it, experienced a curious sensation in swimming in its waters, it being impossible for him to sink. He swam about, or stood upright with his whole head out of the water, but found that diving was very difficult. Then, as he began to dry off, after coming out of the water, it was curious to feel his skin become rough with a crust of salt which had to be washed off with fresh water before he could dress.

As they were going back to the city on the railroad Jack said to his uncle: "I wish you would tell me, Uncle George, why this lake is so salt. Of course I have heard you say that it has no outlet and that the rivers which flow into it are constantly bringing down a little salt in solution, which, in the course of many ages has become concentrated in the lake; but is that the whole story? It doesn't seem to me enough to account for it all."

"It isn't, Jack; you are quite right about that. The Salt Lake Basin, of which the Great Salt Lake now occupies but a comparatively small portion, is simply the bed of another far older and grander sheet of water that was once here, which the geologists called Lake Bonneville. If you take the trouble to look along the mountains while we are here you can see, at various levels, the terraces which indicate the height, on the mountains, of the waters of that inland sea at different periods. You will see, and in fact you can see from here," and he pointed toward the mountains, "these terraces running straight along the mountain sides, hundreds of feet above the level of the plain. Now, Lake Bonneville was far larger than any body of water that now exists on this continent. Its outlet was to the northwest, in Idaho, toward Snake River; and it extended southward for several hundred miles. At last a time came, when, by the elevation of the land, this outlet was cut off, and we had a body of water without any outlet. Gradually evaporation, working for centuries, dried up this lake, and now all that remains of it is the Salt Lake, in which we have just been swimming. In that water is concentrated much of all of the salt and soda that was in the greater lake, as well as much of that brought down by the streams during the ages that have passed since the old outlet closed up. Even Salt Lake is believed to be steadily growing smaller, drying up, and the flats around its border are now so full of salt and of alkali of one kind and another that they are wholly infertile and cannot be farmed.

"The Mormons have made out of the valley of the lake, however, a perfect garden spot. Once it was a sage desert, as barren as anything that you have ever been over, more so perhaps. Now you can see for yourself what grows here,—wheat, rye, barley, oats, green stretches of graceful corn, great patches of potatoes, orchards and hay fields; and to me it seems more like one of the farming States east of the Missouri than it does like a sage desert."

"Well, that is mighty interesting, Uncle George, and I am glad to hear it. I sometimes think that I would like mighty well to study geology. It seems as if the history of the earth we're living on ought to be as interesting a subject as one could take up."

From Salt Lake the travellers hurried west, and before very long found themselves at San Francisco. From there a steamer took them north along the rough and dangerous coasts of California, Oregon, and Washington to the Strait of Fuca and Puget Sound, where Mr. Sturgis left them; and finally to Victoria. Before the three parted, it had been decided that Jack and Hugh should get a canoe and some Indians and make a trip through the Gulf of Georgia; and returning, should meet Mr. Sturgis in Tacoma, Washington, whence they would return to the East.

It was almost sundown, when the steamer which bore Jack and Hugh approached the wharf at New Westminster. After they had entered the mouth of the Fraser River the ride had still been very interesting, for on either side of the steamer appeared at intervals great barn-like wooden buildings, which some of the passengers on board explained were salmon canning factories. Loitering about these were a few Chinamen, apparently attached to the factories; but not many people were about, for as yet the salmon had not begun to run.

As the boat drew up to the wharf, a good many people from the town sat, awaiting its landing. Among these, Hugh and Jack noticed a tall, well-built man, who seemed to keep his eyes constantly fixed on them. At last he bowed, and waved his hand, to which salutation they responded. They wondered who it could be, for they did not know that Mr. MacTavish had telegraphed to Mr. James to look out for the travellers on this boat. As soon as the gangplank was run out, Mr. James boarded the vessel, and coming up to them introduced himself. He took them to the hotel; and, seeing that they had comfortable rooms, left them there, saying that he would come back a little later and take them up to spend the evening at his house.

Two or three hours later the three were climbing the road, on their way to Mr. James's house which was situated among the stumps of the ancient forest, which still stood in the suburbs of the town. Here they spent a delightful evening, and before they parted for the night it was arranged that the next morning Mr. Hughes should take Jack out for a little hunt, and try and show him one of the deer of the country.

"We don't hunt here," said Mr. James, "as you do back in the States, because we cannot. If it were practicable, I should prefer, as I should think most people would, to go out and take up a deer's track, follow him until I got within range and then, if I could, kill him; but that is impossible in the forests we have here. The trees grow over three hundred feet in height; there is much fallen timber in the woods, and the logs are from four to ten feet thick. Besides that, the great precipitation produces such a heavy undergrowth that it is impossible to go through it noiselessly. Therefore, if we want deer we are obliged here, to run the game into the water with dogs, and kill them there. It is not a sport that I greatly esteem, but at least we can kill an occasional deer when we want venison."

"I should like very much to see it done once, Mr. James," said Jack, "as most of my hunting has been done in running buffalo, or finding my game and crawling up to it; and I have been taught that was the most sportsmanlike way to do it. Yet, at the same time, it is easy to see that it cannot be done in a country such as you describe."

"Well," said Hugh, "I guess I'll let you two go and do your hunting to-morrow morning alone. I don't think that it's worth while for me to go and see a deer shot over in the water. Maybe I'll get up and walk out there with you, though. I'd like to stretch my legs after having been in that boat for so many days."

Before they parted, then, it was agreed that Hugh and Jack should present themselves at Mr. James's house next morning as near to four o'clock as possible, when they would start to hunt for a deer near Mirror Lake.

[CHAPTER III]
A MYSTERIOUS WATER MONSTER

It was still black night when Hugh and Jack arrived at Mr. James's, about four o'clock the next morning. He was waiting for them, and, seated on the floor near the stove in the dining-room where he had been eating his breakfast, was an Indian, whom he introduced as Squawitch—"The Sturgeon," as Mr. James explained.

By the time they had left the house the eastern sky had begun to pale, and day was at hand. It promised to be a perfect one. The sky was cloudless and no fog obscured the view. In the east, above the jagged and broken summits of the Pitt River Mountains, the stars were disappearing. The sky was beginning to grow gray and then to flush and glow, each instant becoming brighter. They walked at a brisk pace, at first climbing the hill and then passing along the level lands of the plateau. The three white men walked side by side in advance, and behind them came the Indian, leading three splendid hounds, which from time to time tugged at their chains or whimpered as some scent from the forest met their nostrils. The air was cool, fresh, and exhilarating. A gentle breeze just moved the branches of the great trees, which were far larger than any Hugh or Jack had ever seen.

From the recesses of the tangled forests came the sweet balsamic odors of firs and cedars, mingled with the faint damp smell of decaying vegetation, so characteristic of the forest in all climates. To Jack and Hugh all the trees and all the plants were new. They wondered at the vast size and height of the tree trunks, admired the maples with their large leaves, the thick tangle of underbrush, and beneath all the great ferns, higher than a man's head. They were passing between high walls of foliage, extending far above them on either side. Above was a narrow strip of blue sky and before them the yellow road. Multitudes of bright bits of color appeared along the roadside. The fireweed, familiar everywhere in the mountains, shone like a tongue of flame against a background of green. Here and there, in wet springy places, the foxglove nodded its tall spikes of red or white blooms; and besides this there were many other flowers, all beautiful, but not known by name to the travellers. One beautiful white low-growing flower attracted Jack's attention, and he dropped on his knees to examine it, declaring that it must be some sort of dogwood, so closely did it resemble—except in size—the ordinary white flowering dogwood of the Eastern States. There were also berries of many colors, and in great abundance. Many of these Mr. James named for them as they passed along; salmon berries, red or yellow, blackberries, green and red, and blueberries of several kinds; the purple salal, the velvet berry, the scarlet and as yet unripe panicles of the elder, and the brilliant fruit of the umbrella plant were all there, and were constantly inviting them to stop and admire their beauties.

To Mr. James, who had lived in the country for many years, these sights were commonplace. To Hugh and Jack they were all remarkable and each one seemed to demand an explanation. But there was no time for that. Mr. James and the Indian had set their hearts on getting a deer, and it was necessary to step briskly to reach the hunting grounds before the sun had dried off the moisture and "killed" the scent. They walked so fast that there was little opportunity for conversation. Nevertheless, Jack found time to ask some questions.

"I can see, Mr. James," Jack said, "by looking into this timber, how impossible it would be to hunt here in the way in which we do in the Eastern States or on the plains. In the first place, the underbrush is so thick that one could not see any distance; and, in the second place, it would be impossible to go along without making so much noise that the deer would hear one."

"That's precisely the fact," said Mr. James, "and therefore, as I told you last night, the only way in which we can get deer here is by putting dogs on the track. There are many places on the islands of the Gulf, where the country is open enough so that one can hunt on foot quietly, as we used to do where I lived back in Canada, with a good prospect of getting an occasional shot, but that cannot be done here. Then, too, there are plenty of places along the coast where the deer come down from the mountains to feed on the grass near the edge of the salt water, or to eat the dulse,—a sort of seaweed thrown up by the sea,—and where they can be shot from a canoe. The Indians kill a great many in this way; but, except in winter, when they are driven down from the mountains by the heavy snows, that is not a method that is very certain."

"If we make a canoe trip along the coast, as we were talking of doing, there might be a chance of getting deer along the shore, then?" queried Jack.

"Yes, you are very likely to do that," said Mr. James, "and quite likely, also, to see a bear in such a situation; for the bears often come down to the shore there, to feed on the seaweed, or to go along the beach hunting for fish or food of any kind that may have been thrown up by the sea. Almost all the animals in this country, certainly all carnivorous animals, depend more or less on the beach for their living; and often in the morning, if you go along the shore, you will see the tracks of bears, foxes, wolves, deer, and perhaps two or three other species of animals that have gone along during the night. The beach is a pretty good hunting ground; and if you make your proposed trip you will find, all along, trails leading down from the hills to the water."

For some little time Hugh had been walking behind the others, by the side of the Indian, and trying to talk to him in sign language; but, though occasionally the Indian seemed to comprehend his gestures, it was evident that he was not a sign talker. Presently Hugh spoke to Mr. James, and said: "I like these dogs you have here, Mr. James; they remind me of the hounds we used to run foxes down in Kentucky when I was a boy. Two of them are as handsome hounds as I ever saw; and the other one, while not so good a hound, looks as if he were smart enough to keep up his end of the running all the time."

"You have hit it exactly, Mr. Johnson," said their owner. "Each of these dogs has its good points. Captain and Dinah are pretty nearly perfect to look at. Captain has the best nose of any hound I ever saw, and a voice like a trumpet. Dinah's nose is not quite so good as Captain's, but she is considerably faster. Wallace, as you say, does not look much like a hound, but he is fast and the very best fighter in the lot, and he is smart enough to know a good part of the time which way the deer is going, and to cut in ahead of the others and take the trail; and often he catches the deer alone. He is a great fighter; and if he once gets hold of a deer, he will surely kill it. I had the dogs out on one of the inlets last year, and was in a canoe on the water, myself, and I saw Wallace overtake a deer, running along a narrow ledge on the face of the cliff, sixty feet above the water. Wallace caught up with the deer, grabbed him and threw him off the cliff. He didn't let go, and the two fell into the water below. I have always thought that Wallace would have been killed if I had not been there in the canoe to come up and kill the deer."

"Well," said Hugh, "I suppose it's because I used to see so much of them when I was a youngster, but there's no sort of dog I like so well as a hound. The long muzzle, and those great long flapping ears and sad eyes always go right to my heart. If I ever have a place of my own and can afford it, I will surely have two or three good hounds; not to hunt with, but just for company."

"Yes," said Mr. James, "they are mighty nice dogs, hounds are; but for myself, I like any kind of a dog. Just at present I have none except these three. But I want to get a good bird dog; and I can tell you that is something hard to get in this country."

By this time the sun was up and the brisk walk was making all hands wipe the perspiration from their brows. Presently they came to a little trail off to the left of the road, and here they paused; while Mr. James said a few words in the Chinook jargon to the Indian, who, with the dogs, disappeared in the forest.

"Now," said Mr. James, "we are only a little way from the lake, and I have sent the Indian off to start the dogs. We may as well walk down to where the canoe is and wait for him there."

"Well, son," said Hugh, "you go on with Mr. James and kill that deer if you can. I reckon I'll walk on a little farther along this road, and look at these trees and flowers; and then I'll turn around and go back to the town. I don't care much about looking on while you folks kill that deer. I'd rather look at this timber, and smell the scents that come out of it, and see these posies that seem to be growing everywhere. If you don't strike me on the road on your way back, why, I'll be at the hotel when you get there."

"Do just what you wish, Mr. Johnson," said Mr. James; "but I'd like to have you come, if you feel like it. There's plenty of room for three in the canoe, and we can leave the Indian on shore, and do our own paddling."

"No," said Hugh, "I guess I'll have more fun looking at all these strange things around me than I would have if I went in the canoe. Jack will be safe with you, and we'll meet again later in the day."

"Yes," said Mr. James, "of course we will. I want to have you come up and take dinner with me at noon; and then in the afternoon we will go over to Burrard Inlet and see Fannin. You will like him. He is one of the finest fellows in the world, and it will be a great thing for you if you can get him to go with you on your trip."

"Oh! I hope we can!" cried Jack; while Hugh said: "I hope so too." Then they parted, and Mr. James and Jack plunged into the forest while Hugh walked briskly off along the road. A few minutes' walk brought them to the border of a beautiful little lake in the woods, surrounded on all sides by the high forest. On its shores they sat down; and while Mr. James lit his pipe he talked and told Jack something about this sheet of water.

"We call it Mirror Lake," said he, "and on a morning like this you can easily see how well the name fits it, for everything is reflected in the smooth water. It is always a good place to get a deer, for scarcely anybody hunts here. The Indians never by any chance go on it. They think that down under the water there lives what they call a selallicum—that means a supernatural monster. Just what sort of a creature this is the Indians do not seem to know; but it is some kind of an evil spirit that lives at the bottom of the lake; and when anybody goes out on the water in a canoe this monster rises to the surface, upsets the canoe, and swallows the people that are in it. The belief in this monster is held by all the Indians. They won't go out on the lake. They won't even go near its margin when they are gathering berries. They think that I am a fool for daring to go out on it; and they say that some day the monster will rise and surely get me." Pausing a moment, the speaker continued:

"One time, when I was hunting on the lake I was careless in the canoe and upset, and my gun sank to the bottom, and, of course, I never got it again. The Indians hearing of this told me that the selallicum had given me a warning not to come on the lake again, and that I had better respect this warning. There is only one Indian in the whole country who will go out on the lake, and that is Squawitch here. He is an old friend of mine, and has lots of confidence in me. But even he will never enter a canoe except in my company. I don't know just how he reasons about the matter; whether he thinks that I have some strong medicine which enables me to defy this monster or not; but he has been hunting here with me many times and is always ready to go again. This morning, though, he told me that an Indian had seen the selallicum on the lake within two or three weeks."

Mr. James paused to refill his pipe, and as they sat there for a moment silent, suddenly the faint cry of the hounds was heard in the distance, and Mr. James said: "There! hear that? That's Captain. Listen!"

Presently the shriller cry of Dinah made itself heard, and as they sat listening to the cry of the hounds, which gradually grew more and more faint, Squawitch parted the bushes near them, and, walking along a log toward the water, drew from the low brush a canoe and two paddles. He stepped into the canoe, pushed it ashore, and signing Mr. James and Jack to step in, took his seat in the stern. Mr. James took the bow paddle and Jack seated himself amidship. Then, with a stroke or two of the paddles, the canoe shot out of the little cove on to the unruffled surface of Mirror Lake.

Certainly it well deserved its name! Only a few hundred yards in width and less than a mile long, it was surrounded on all sides by a superb forest of gigantic firs. Along its margin grew a narrow border of grass or low willows, separating the border from the dark forest; and beyond that border a fringe of lily pads floated motionless on the surface of the water. The little strip of grass, the tall green trees, and the blue sky above were so perfectly reflected in the clear water that Jack could hardly tell where the reflection ended and the vegetation began. Shut in on all sides by the vast untouched forests, the lake lay there like a great eye that gazed steadfastly and unwinkingly at the sky which it mirrored. The light breeze had fallen as the sun rose, and there was now not the slightest motion on the water. The stillness was unbroken for a time, and they sat listening for the cry of the hounds.

The different inhabitants of the lake and forest, plying their usual vocations, soon began to reveal to the boy from the East glimpses of their life history.

An old mother golden-eyed duck led her brood of half a dozen from among some low willows and began to teach them how to procure their food; calling to them now and then in low lisping tones, to which the little ones responded with soft peeping cries. At one side of the lake a little pine squirrel was gathering his winter store of green fir cones, which he cut from the tree and dropped to the ground with a great deal of noise. So great in fact was the noise, that when it first began Jack was sorely tempted to ask Mr. James what it was; but by listening he made out the cause for himself, and so was glad that he had not inquired.

Suddenly over the tops of the bordering trees a pair of superb white-headed eagles flew silently across the lake, the hindermost seeming to strive to overtake the one in advance. But when this happened the foremost bird, without closing his wings, swung over on his back, thrust out his talons threateningly toward his pursuer, and then turned over again, flew onward and out of sight. A little later two loons settled in the water not far from the canoe and began to call on each other with loud mournful cries. It was useless now to listen for the hounds, for the loons made so much noise that nothing else could be heard; but at length they took wing and disappeared.

Now that silence had again fallen over the lake, the cry of hounds could be heard once more, though far off and very faint. At length the sound came nearer and nearer, passing the west end of the lake, and again grew fainter and at last was lost.

Mr. James had just said with an air of disappointment that he feared the deer had taken water in Burnaby Lake, when Jack heard the Indian speak in suppressed but very emphatic tones to his companion. Following the direction of their eyes, Jack saw something slowly moving through the water at the other end of the lake. What it was he could not tell. Certainly it did not look like anything that he had ever seen before. As much as anything, however, it resembled a wooden box two or three feet square, floating on the surface of the water; but, of course, a box would not be found in such a situation, and would not move. Jack took it for granted that it was a deer, because he could not think of any other living thing likely to be in that place at that time. There was one man in the canoe, however, who evidently did not think that it was a deer, and was very much excited about it. That was the Indian.

[CHAPTER IV]
THE COBBLER NATURALIST OF BURRARD INLET

As soon as the moving object appeared Mr. James had dipped his paddle into the water and given a hasty stroke. The Indian did not move, but in a low voice said to Mr. James in the Chinook jargon: "What is that there in the water?"

"The deer," said Mr. James; "paddle!"

"No," said Squawitch, "it is not the deer, it is the monster. Yes, it is a true monster. We must go to the shore at once, or we shall all be killed." And he dipped his paddle into the water as if to turn the canoe to the shore.

"Keep still," said Mr. James. "I tell you it is the deer." And then, the moving object having by this time turned well out into the lake, he added: "Mam-mook" (pull). Giving a powerful stroke with his paddle, the canoe shot forward toward the mysterious thing. Jack was listening to what was said, but did not understand the spoken words. He could see, however, that there was a difference of opinion between his companions as to what should be done. He thought he noticed, too, that the first few strokes given by the Indian were weak and did little to force the canoe forward; but if they were not strong they were at least noiseless. Meantime, with all his eyes, Jack was watching the mysterious object; and as the canoe advanced toward it the mystery explained itself in a very simple way, and the Indian's fears were calmed. They could soon make out a fine buck swimming slowly through the water, and could see that about his horns were twined some long sprays of fern, which overshadowed his head, and, falling down behind the horns, trailed through the water. The reflection cast by this mass of green, and the ripple of the water behind and on each side of the swimming animal, made the object vague and indefinite, and the whole was further blurred by the reflection of the trees near the margin of the lake. So, until they had come close to it, it was hard to tell what it was, and its mysterious appearance was, naturally enough, very alarming to one who was prepared to see something supernatural. The Indian believed thoroughly in the existence of the selallicum in this lake, and, seeing in the water something unlike anything that he had ever beheld before, at once concluded that the monster had appeared.

The slender canoe flew swiftly over the water and rapidly drew near the deer, which had not yet seen them, but was swimming quietly along, no doubt tired by its long run. Jack, not burdened with a paddle, and having nothing to do but hold his rifle, studied the creature as they drew near, and saw that it bore a fine pair of horns, still in the velvet.

The canoe was within twenty yards of the deer before the animal saw them. When he did so, he at once turned toward the shore, and swam rapidly—almost as fast as the canoe went. Just before he reached the land, Mr. James said to Jack: "Now be ready, and kill him as he leaves the water."

Jack rose carefully to his knees, put a cartridge in his rifle and, as the deer bounded up the bank, fired. The shot broke the deer's neck, and it fell on the bank just at the edge of the water.

When he saw it fall Jack felt sorry that he had shot. Though there was sweet music in the bay of the hounds as they ran, interest in watching for the deer, hope as the cry of the dogs grew louder, anxiety lest the quarry had turned aside and gone away as the baying grew fainter, and some excitement in paddling after the animal, yet he did not like this method of hunting. After the deer had taken to the water and the boat had approached it, it seemed as if the animal had no chance, and Jack lost pleasure in the shot, because he had too much time to think about it. The struggle that the deer made to reach the shore excited his sympathies, and now he regretted the shot that he had fired. On the other hand, it was easy to see, as Mr. James had pointed out, that in such a land as this still-hunting was impossible.

The deer having been secured, the task of transporting it to town was left to the Indian, who would drag or carry it out to the road and wait there for the stage which would come in during the morning.

Mr. James and Jack started on foot for New Westminster, and when they had nearly reached there they overtook Hugh, who had had his walk and was now going back to breakfast. But little was said as to the killing of the deer, beyond the fact that one had been secured; and just before they reached Mr. James's house the latter said to them: "Now, gentlemen, if you feel like it, let us take the stage this afternoon and go over to Burrard Inlet, where you can make Fannin's acquaintance and see what you can do with him. I am anxious to have you meet him, for he is one of the salt of the earth. No man in the Province knows so much about its birds and mammals as he, and no man can show you and tell you so many interesting things about them. He is an untrained naturalist, but a most keen observer. Then, too, he is a great hunter, and one of the finest shots in the Province. I will not say that he never misses, but he misses very seldom. Now, can you be ready to start on the stage at two o'clock? It will pick us up at my house after dinner; and it might be well for you to leave word at the hotel that we want three seats this afternoon. It's not likely that the stage will be crowded, but it's no trouble to order the seats in advance. We will go over to the inlet and spend twenty-four hours there, and you will, no doubt, see a good many interesting things, and can then make up your minds about your plans for the future." Before there was time given to reply, Mr. James asked: "Have either of you ever seen white goats?"

"Hugh has, Mr. James," replied Jack, "but I never have. I have been in the mountains quite near them, but I have never seen one, much less had a shot."

"Well," said Mr. James, "there are plenty in the mountains of Burrard Inlet, and if all goes well you may see some before you are a week older. You will find hunting the goats very different from paddling up to a deer in the water and killing him just as he climbs the bank to get to shore."

Hugh and Jack now left Mr. James, agreeing to be at his house about noon for dinner. They had only made a few steps after saying good-bye when Jack turned around and ran back to ask Mr. James what they should take with them to Burrard Inlet: would they need their blankets? "No," said Mr. James, "if you stop at the little settlement of Hastings where Fannin lives you will not need anything except your guns, as there is quite a good plain hotel there; but if you should go off to camp in the mountains, of course it would be well to have your beds with you. I think perhaps I would leave word to have them strapped on to the stage when it starts, and then you will be safe whatever happens."

Hugh and Jack hurried back to town, but were too late to get any breakfast at the hotel. However, they got a bite at a restaurant, and then walked about the streets to see whatever sights there were until it was time to go to Mr. James's home. They ordered the seats in the stage, and saw that their beds and bags were put aboard. Then down at the water's edge they looked at the wharves and at the salmon canneries, and thus whiled away the morning.

Shortly before midday they returned to Mr. James's house, where they had a delightful dinner, and a little while afterward took the stage.

To pass swiftly along over the level yellow road that they had traversed on foot in the morning was very delightful. The drive was not a long one, only nine miles, and the stage drew in to Hastings in the middle of the afternoon. Here Mr. Fannin was found in the little cobbler-shop, where he spent his bachelor existence, surrounded by old shoes and new, rolls of leather, the tools of his trade, bear and wolf skins, stuffed birds, and a multitude of natural history specimens. Jack thought it one of the most interesting places that he had ever been in. Mr. Fannin was kindness itself, and was much interested in the talk of the proposed canoe trip. But before that had been long discussed, Jack was asking questions about the skins of many birds that he had never before seen, but about most of which he had read and knew of by pictures. There were specimens of the beautiful little harlequin duck, whose varied plumage gives it its name; of the black oyster catcher; of several species of gulls; of guillemots; of a number of shore birds, which were new to him, and many birds' eggs which he had never seen before.

Mr. Fannin was a great talker and a man with a keen sense of humor. If in any incident there was anything funny, his fancy was likely to seize upon it.

As the four sat on the grass on the high bank overlooking the inlet, Mr. Fannin pointed across the water to some low unpainted houses standing among the timber and said: "There is an Indian village over there, and I must send somebody over to get Seammux to come across to-morrow morning to go with us to the head of the North Arm. I want to have you see the country up there, and it is possible that from the river you may be able to see some white goats on top of the hills. If you have never seen these animals you will see them now, for you will never have a better chance."

As they sat there Jack saw, not far off and up the Arm, a fish-hawk dropping through the air to seize a fish. He touched Mr. Fannin and pointed. They both watched the beautiful bird until it struck the water with a splash that sent the spray high in the air about it.

"Now watch," said Mr. Fannin, "and you may see an eagle rob that osprey. That's a common sight here; it is always a beautiful one; but perhaps you have seen it in other places?"

"No," said Jack, "I never have, although I have read about it often. By Jove," he added, "there is the eagle now!" and they saw a white-headed eagle flying low and swiftly up the inlet. The osprey had already risen to a considerable height with his fish, and had started to fly off with it over the woods. But as soon as he caught sight of the eagle he began to rise in spiral flight higher and higher, while the eagle followed him in wider circles. Soon it was seen that the eagle was rapidly gaining upon the fish-hawk, and at last had risen above it and had made one or two darts at it. The fish-hawk seemed to avoid these attacks easily, but perhaps they made it nervous, and presently it dropped its prey. Shining like a bar of silver, the fish fell, and was carried off by the wind diagonally to one side in a long slant. But as soon as it fell the eagle half closed its wings, fell after it, overtook it before it had fallen half way to the water, grasped the fish in its own great talons, and, spreading its wings, bore the prey off to a tall tree on the mountain side.

"That was a wonderful sight," said Jack. "I would not have missed it for anything. I feel as if I should remember that for a very long time."

"Yes," said Mr. Fannin, "I believe you will; it is something worth remembering."

"So it is," said Hugh; "it's one of the finest sights I ever saw. Who would have thought that that eagle could drop as fast as the fish did, that he could direct himself so as to catch his prey, and that, after falling like that, he could stop. There's a whole lot of mighty wonderful things to be seen out here. It beats my time altogether."

"Is there any chance of our getting a shot at anything to-morrow morning, when we go up the North Arm, Mr. Fannin?" asked Jack.

"Of course I can't tell about that," said he, "but I should certainly take my gun along, if I were you. I always take mine whenever I go out. On the islands up there in the inlet there are plenty of deer; and it's possible that you might get a shot at a deer any time, while there's a bare chance that a goat might come down to the valley and you might get a shot at him. Have you shot much with the rifle?"

"Well," said Jack, "I have shot a little. I have killed the prairie game back on the plains, and a few mountain sheep; and I have run buffalo and killed two or three bears."

"Then you've had quite a little experience, and I suppose you're a pretty good shot."

"No," said Jack, "I don't think I am much of a shot, but I am pretty patient about waiting around and trying to get the shot I want."

"Ha!" said Mr. Fannin, "that sounds as if you had learned to hunt with the Indians, or at all events with some good hunter."

"Well," said Jack, "I have hunted some with Indians; but the man who taught me whatever I know about hunting is sitting with us now—and that is Hugh."

"Well," said Hugh, "you took to it mighty natural, son. There are lots of people that have had a heap more experience than you have and can't come near you for a hunter."

"Well," said Fannin, "I crossed the plains from Canada in 1861, and of course I did some hunting on the way; but ever since that time I've lived here in the Province, where there's plenty of rough, thick timber, and where much of the hunting is done at short range. There's a great deal of game here, though not of many sorts,—mostly deer and bear, and, high up in the mountains, goats. Farther inland there are sheep, and still beyond that, elk; and then there are elk on Vancouver Island, but I have never seen any of them.

"The bears are plenty, and they make themselves very much at home. It's only a few days since that one of them came out of the woods just back of the hotel and went to the hog-pen and took a pig and walked off with it into the forest. The bear got his pig and nobody ever got him.

"A year or two ago something of that kind happened, and with it one of the funniest things I ever saw. A bear came out and took a pig and went off with it, and an Irishman, working on the place, saw it go. He picked up an axe and ran down to call me. I grabbed my rifle and we both started running into the timber where the bear had disappeared. We could still hear the squealing of the pig. We hadn't got far into the woods before we came upon an immense tree-trunk lying on the ground, which we had to climb over. It was six or eight feet high, and the Irishman got there a little bit ahead of me. Having nothing to carry but his axe, he climbed over first and jumped down on the other side. I was slower in getting up, and when I got on top of the trunk and was just about to jump down, I saw in front of me and walking toward me on its hind legs a big bear. The Irishman was standing under me, backed up against the tree trunk, his hands at his sides and his axe lying at his feet, while the bear was stepping up to him as if he wanted to shake hands. The Irishman was too frightened to yell or do anything. He just backed up against the tree hard. Of course I saw all this at a glance, and I began to laugh so that I could hardly get my gun to my shoulder. But, by the time that the bear was within five or six steps of the Irishman, I realized that something had to be done; and I fired and killed the bear.

"It took that Irishman about an hour to recover from his scare, and it seemed to me that he didn't get his color back for three or four days."

After a little while the party went into the hotel and had their supper and then returned to Fannin's shop. Here, before it grew dark, they saw approaching a tall, oldish, stoop-shouldered man, who walked with a slight halt in his gait. Said Fannin: "Oh! here comes old Meigs. I am glad you are going to meet him. He is an American, an old prospector, who has spent all of his life mining down in Arizona. He got a slight stroke of paralysis three or four years ago. He came up here and is living in a little cabin just below. He is a good fellow and has seen a great deal of western life." As Meigs joined the group Fannin introduced the strangers, and they were soon all talking together.

"I am glad Meigs came," said Fannin, "because he reminds me of something that happened last year that I want to tell you about. Two years ago a man who lived about here thought that he would raise some sheep. He didn't have money enough to get many, but he got half a dozen ewes and a ram, and turned them out to pick up their living along the shore and in the timber. They did very well for a while. But presently, when the man started to look them up, he found that there was one missing, and then another, and then the old ram disappeared. We never knew just what got them, but we suspected bears and wolves; and one day, going through the timber, I found the skeleton of a sheep, and another day the skeleton of another. About a year ago I took my rifle and went out for a little walk in the timber. I went a mile or two and didn't see anything, and then came back nearly to the road here. I climbed up on a stump and sat there for a while, listening to the birds and watching them. Presently, in a trail that passed close to that stump, I saw the three sheep going along towards the road. I paid no particular attention to them, but after they had passed I got down from the stump, walked out to the trail, and started for the road myself. I could see the sheep not very far ahead of me, and, as they were feeding along and I was walking briskly, I got pretty close to them before they reached the road. They had almost got to it, and I was not far behind them, when suddenly a bear charged out of the timber, into the trail, and tried to grab one of the sheep. They rushed around a little crook in the trail, and the bear after them, before I could cock my rifle and put it to my shoulder. I started after them as hard as I could go, thinking that if the bear followed the sheep into the road I would surely get a good shot at him and would probably kill him. I rushed out into the road, and almost into the arms of Meigs here, who had been walking away from the inlet; but the sheep and the bear had disappeared. I said to Meigs: 'Hello, Meigs! What are you doing here?' He raised his hand to keep me from speaking, took a step or two forward, shaded his eyes with his hand, and looked up the trail by which I had just come out from the timber. I could not understand what was the matter with him, and presently I said in a low voice: 'What is the matter with you; what do you see?'

"'I am just trying to see' he answered, 'what in thunder is the next thing that will come along that trail.'

"He had been taking a little walk along the road and got just opposite the trail, you see, when suddenly the sheep rushed out, and then the bear, and then I came—all going as hard as we could go. It must have been a funny sight."

"It was," said Meigs, "and for a minute I thought I was crazy and seeing things that did not exist."

"Tell them about the morning that the wolf chased you," said Fannin.

"Well," said Meigs, as he pushed down the tobacco in his pipe and pulled on it two or three times, to get it going well, "that was quite a scare for me. Of course I knew that the wolves were not dangerous in the country I came from, but I didn't know about them here. Winter before last a wolf came down to the inlet and stopped right near here. We used to hear him howling often, and I always believed that he killed that old ram that Fannin has been talking about. I set a trap for him two or three times, but he would not go near it. One morning, just at daylight, I heard him howling close above the cabin. I jumped out of my blankets, grabbed my gun, and stepped out to see if I could get a shot. I could not see him from the door, and I hurried up the trail, about thirty steps from the door of the cabin, to where the trail made a little bend. My rifle was an old-fashioned Spencer carbine. I don't know whether any of you men ever saw one?" and he looked around the circle inquiringly.

"Go ahead," said Hugh, "I know them. They miss fire half the time, and the other half they are just as likely to shoot around the corner as they are to shoot straight ahead."

"Yes," said Meigs, "you have used one, I guess."

"Well," he continued, "when I got to the bend in that trail and looked around, there was the wolf a short hundred yards off, with his fore feet on a log, and his head toward me, just beginning to howl. I dropped down on one knee and drew a bead on his breast and pulled the trigger. The cartridge exploded, and if you'll believe me, when the smoke drifted away I could see that ball from that old Spencer carbine corkscrewing toward the wolf as though it was never going to get there. In the meantime the wolf had jumped from the log on which it was standing and started toward me. I turned round and ran for the cabin. When I was ten or fifteen feet from the door the string of my drawers broke, and they fell down around my ankles and shackled me, so that I couldn't run. I had to come down on my hands and knees and scramble the rest of the way on all fours. When I got inside the cabin and slammed the door and looked back through a crack, of course the wolf was out of sight.

"Fannin thinks that this is a pretty good joke on me, and maybe it is."

When Hugh and Jack had finished laughing over Meigs's adventure, Jack began to ask Fannin about the Indians that lived along the inlet.

"Like most of the Siwashes about here," said Fannin, "they are fish-eating people; though, of course, they kill a good many deer and some few white goats. Their main dependence, however, is the salmon, of which, at the proper season of the year, they catch and dry great numbers."

"I suppose," said Jack, "that they have lost a good many of their primitive ways, have they not?"

"Yes," said Fannin, "they are changing rapidly, yet within a short time I have seen them use the fire-sticks to kindle a fire. That does not look as if they were changing rapidly, does it?"

"No," said Jack, "I should say not. I should think they would use matches, or if not matches, at least flint and steel."

"So they do," said Fannin, "for many purposes, but for some others they use the fire-sticks. And that reminds me," he continued, "of Dick Griffin's joke about fire-sticks. He had been chopping logs at quite a distance from camp, and one day had to leave his job to come down to the main camp to get some grub. He started rather late, and when he had got half way it came on to rain and blow and get dark. He landed and spent the night in the timber, with nothing to eat, and with no fire, for he had left his matches behind, or they got wet or something. It was still raining when he got to the camp the next morning, and two or three men were standing around the fire. Dick paddled in, took his canoe out of the water, walked up to the fire, and after the men had exchanged a few words with him, he said abruptly: 'Boys, have you ever seen the Indians make a fire by rubbing two sticks together?' They all said 'Yes.' 'Well,' said Dick, 'I would like to know how long it takes them to do it. I know it can't be done in one night, for I spent all last night in trying to make a fire in just that way.'"

The rest of the evening was spent in pleasant conversation, and many a story was told. Before they parted for the night Fannin said that he had arranged to have a little steamer take them up the inlet the next morning to the mouth of the river flowing into the North Arm, from which they would have a good view of the surrounding mountains.

[CHAPTER V]
AN UNEXPECTED BEAR

By eight o'clock the next morning the party had embarked on the tiny steamer "Senator" on their way up Burrard Inlet. The little craft carried them swiftly along past the Indian village on the north bank, past wooded hills and low grassy points, past rough granite mountain faces, where the few scattering trees found scarcely earth enough to support them, and were forced to drive their roots deep down into the crevices of the rocks, until, six miles above Hastings, the boat turned sharply to the left and up the North Arm of the inlet. Here the hills on either side were nearer together and appeared higher and more rugged. Their summits were capped with snow, which, in many of the gorges and ravines, extended far down toward the water's edge. The steep rock faces were covered with a harsh brown moss, which, except when wet, gave an excellent foothold to the climber. Where the mountains were not too steep, and soil was not utterly wanting, there was a dense forest of Douglas firs and cedars, some of the timber being very large. The various shades of green of the different trees gave a variety to the aspect of the forest, as a whole, which had almost the effect of cloud shadows, and added greatly to the beauty of the scene. Jack and Hugh did not weary in watching the constantly changing view. Now and then the round head of a seal emerged from the quiet waters, looked for a moment at the boat and then disappeared. Little groups of water birds, disturbed in their fishing or their resting, rose on wing and flew up or down the inlet. From the shores and mountains on either side, birds, large and small, were constantly flying across the inlet; and now and then a great fish sprang from the water, and fell back with a splash which could be heard.

"I tell you, Hugh," said Jack, "we'll have things enough to talk about if we ever get back to the ranch and tell the cow-punchers there what we have seen on this trip."

"You're dead right, son; they never imagined anything like this any more than I ever did; and what's more, we won't be able to tell it to them so that they can understand what it is like. That's the worst of going off and seeing things,—that when you go back you can't make other people see as you saw, or have the same feelings that you had when you took them in with your eyes."

"Yes," said Jack, "talk is a pretty poor thing compared with seeing anything for yourself."

"Now, look at those waterfalls!" said Hugh. "Do you suppose it would be possible to tell anybody about those things so that they could really understand how they look?"

"No," said Jack, "I do not believe anybody could do that."

Down almost every slope within their view, and constantly changing as the boat's position changed, poured beautiful cascades, some of which deserved the title of waterfall. Though now they carried but little water, their wide beds of naked rock showed that in the spring and early summer, when the snows were melting, they must be mighty torrents, sweeping everything before them with resistless power. Even now they were very beautiful, and their delicate streams, stretching like white threads far up the mountain sides, could scarcely be distinguished in the distance from the lines of snow in the ravines; though, with the glasses, the leaping, wavering motion of the water could be discerned which distinguished the white hurrying flood from the unmoving snowdrift.

They had passed up the Arm and were just rounding a little point and beginning to get a view of some low grassy meadows running up from the water's edge, when Hugh suddenly said to Jack: "Son, I believe that's a bear in that grass"; and Jack, bringing his eyes down to the meadow's level, saw a small black object moving about in the grass. Whatever it was, it had not yet seen the steamer. Jack rushed into the cabin where Fannin and Mr. James were talking to the Indian Seammux and, grasping his rifle, said: "Mr. Fannin, I believe there is a bear out on the shore." In a moment all were looking at the animal, and there was now no doubt as to what it was. Fannin stepped around to the pilot house and asked the captain to steer close to the shore, and also to see that the boat made as little noise as possible. They rapidly crept up toward the bear; but long before they had come within rifle-shot the animal saw them, stood up, looked for a moment or two, and then, turning about, bolted through the grass and disappeared in the forest.

"Well," said Jack to Mr. Fannin, "that beats anything yet. I believe if anybody had been in a canoe and paddled along quietly, that bear would never have noticed him, and he might have got within gunshot."

"Yes," said Mr. Fannin, "of course he might. That's just what I've told you. It's quite possible that you will see something of that kind more than once before you get back."

About twelve miles from where the North Arm leaves the main inlet, the Arm ends in the narrow valley of the Salmon River. Here the boat anchored, and here, after some little discussion, it was determined that Jack, Mr. Fannin, and the Indian should take the latter's canoe and go a short distance up the river to see whether a glimpse might not be had of the goats that dwelt on the summit of the mountains on the west side.

In the meantime Mr. James jointed his rod and set out to try to catch some trout; while Hugh said that he would go with Mr. James and watch the fishing.

The Indian's canoe was light, low, and slender, and when its three occupants were seated it was low in the water. Mr. Fannin had with him his rifle and his shot-gun; the rifle, perhaps, being carried out of compliment to Jack, while the shot-gun was his constant companion, for he never knew at what moment he might not see some strange bird.

They had gone but a short distance up the river when it became necessary for Mr. Fannin and Jack to land and walk along the gravel bars, for the water in the rapids was so shoal that the loaded canoe could not ascend. When the swift water was reached, the Indian laid down his paddle, took up his pole, and, standing in the stern of the canoe, prepared to drive the craft up the stream against the turbulent current. Quietly pushing it along until he had almost reached the rushing water, he set his pole firmly against the bottom, and leaning back against it, sent the light craft fifteen or twenty feet up the stream, and then, before its way had ceased, recovered his pole and again set it against the stones of the bottom. Standing as he did in the stern, the nose of the canoe rose high above the water; and, as it rushed forward, reminded Jack of the head of some sea monster, whose lower jaw was buried beneath the surface. No matter how furiously the water rushed, boiled, and bubbled on either side, the light craft held perfectly straight, moved regularly forward until, when the rapids had been passed, Fannin and Jack stepped aboard once more and the paddles were resumed, only to be laid aside for the pole when another rapid was reached.

Here Jack saw, and was delighted to see, some familiar friends of the Rocky Mountains,—the little dippers or water ouzels. On every little stretch of still water one or more would be started, flying from rock to rock and bobbing comically at each point where they alighted. Many of the birds were young ones, not long from the nest, and were quite without fear, permitting a very close approach before they would fly.

A number of broods of harlequin ducks were startled, some of them quite large and able to fly, while others seemed to be newly hatched. Whatever their age, they seemed well able to take care of themselves, and could always keep ahead of the canoe until at last they disappeared from sight around some bend and were not seen again. Everywhere along the stream grew the salmon berry bushes, laden with mature or ripening fruit. The bushes, in their manner of growth and in their berries, reminded Jack of the eastern blackberries, but the ripe fruit was either red or yellow or black, all these colors growing on the same bush.

As they passed on up the stream, the white men sometimes on the gravel bar and again in the canoe, they saw no other animal life except the ravens and eagles, which now and then flew over them, going up and down the valley. At one point were tracks where a bear had crossed the stream, and at another some old deer tracks.

At length, about two miles from the mouth of the river, on a long gravel bar, where the river was wide and a good view could be had of the summits of the mountains, they landed to try to see some white goats. The guns, which had been lying in the canoe, were wet from the water which had been shipped in the passage up the rapids, and Jack and Mr. Fannin took them out to dry. Mr. Fannin held his down to drain and then set them up against a pile of driftwood to dry. Jack wiped the water from his rifle as well as he could, and walked along with it in his hand. The three had gone about forty yards from the canoe when Mr. Fannin and the Indian stopped and began carefully to look over the hills above them. Jack looked too, but saw nothing and walked on toward the upper end of the bar, where there was a huge drift-log, which he mounted to get a wider view. As he did so he looked back at the others and saw Seammux suddenly point across the river and speak eagerly to his companion. At the same time Mr. Fannin turned toward Jack and beckoned with his hand. Jack thought that possibly a deer had shown itself in the brush and jumped from his perch on the log to run toward the others. The stones under his feet seemed to make a tremendously loud clatter as he ran; and, forgetting that the roar of the water would drown any noise that he might make, he feared that the game, whatever it might be, would hear him and run off into the brush.

He was still fifty yards from the other two when Fannin again turned toward him and raised his hand with a warning gesture. Just as he did so there walked out from behind a bush into Jack's view a good-sized bear. As he started to run Jack had slipped a cartridge into his rifle, and, as soon as the animal appeared, he dropped on one knee and prepared to fire. The bear, however, was quite unconscious of the presence of man, and Jack waited for a moment in the hope that the animal would stand still; for, with two persons looking on, he was anxious not to miss. The bear was about one hundred yards off, and there would be no excuse for a failure. It was gathering berries, and its attention was concentrated on that occupation. Where the fruit hung low the bear reached up its head like a cow picking apples from a tree, and, winding its long tongue about the stem, stripped the berries and leaves from it. Again it would stand up on its hind legs and, reaching the high branches with its forepaws, pull them down within reach of its mouth. Two or three times Jack was on the point of pulling the trigger, but he waited for a better opportunity, which came at last. The bear dropped on all fours and for an instant stood still, with head slightly raised, facing Jack, who fired at the white spot on the beast's breast. Just as the trigger was pulled the bear began to rear up for some berries; but, at the crack of the rifle, he whirled about and lumbered off into the brush. A moment later Jack had run up to Mr. Fannin and asked: "Did I hit him?" Neither could tell, and Mr. Fannin sent Seammux to bring the canoe up to where they were standing, so that they might cross over to look for the trail.

JACK FIRED AT THE WHITE SPOT ON THE BEAST'S BREAST—[Page 59]

In a few moments the canoe came up, and in a moment more they had crossed over and reached the opposite bank. Mr. Fannin and Jack climbed up the steep bank and ran to the point where the bear had disappeared, while Seammux, taking time only to secure the canoe, followed. They had not gone two yards into the bushes when Jack saw a broad leaf covered with blood, and then thick drops—a plain trail running into the timber. By this time Seammux was with them, and they pressed forward on the trail. Once they overran it for a moment, but a low call from the Indian told them that he had found it; and, as they overtook him, he stopped with an exclamation, and pointed. There, a few yards away, lay the bear curled up on his side, his paws over his nose. They looked for a moment, but he did not move, and then, holding his gun in readiness, Jack walked around behind and gave the back a sharp push. The animal was quite dead, the ball having pierced the white spot and gone through the vitals.

Though it looked much smaller dead than it had when living, and though the distance to the river bank was short, it took some time to drag the bear out to the river, and then to lower it into the canoe.

A little more time was devoted to studying the tops of the mountains for goats; then, as the sun was getting low, they stepped into the canoe, turned the vessel's prow down stream, and were soon hurrying merrily along over the dancing waters toward the river's mouth.

Jack, to whom this method of journeying was new, found it very exhilarating to fly down the rapids, dashing by the bank at almost railroad speed, the Indian now and then giving a stroke of the paddle to keep the canoe straight, or sometimes to alter her course when a threatening rock appeared above the water. The rapids, that had been surmounted with much difficulty on the way up the stream, now disappeared behind them almost as soon as they were reached. It took but a short time to gain the mouth of the river, and the canoe was soon alongside the steamer.

There everything was ready for a start. The bear in the canoe gave those on the steamer a surprise, and they were much gratified at the success of the short excursion.

Just as the steamer was about to start, Seammux spoke and pointed toward the top of one of the mountains on the north side of the Arm, where two very minute white spots were seen on the mountain top. When the glasses had been brought to bear and the specks had been watched for some little time, it appeared quite certain that they were white goats. Although they were so distant that no motion could be detected, it soon became apparent that these white specks gradually changed their positions, both with regard to each other and to surrounding objects. The day was too far spent to allow any further investigation of them to be made, but as the boat started on its way down the North Arm, Mr. Fannin assured Jack that at last he had seen a couple of white goats.

"If you want to see these animals at home," said Mr. Fannin, "the best thing we can do is to come back here and climb those mountains to where they live, and then we can see them and very likely get one or two. You are in no great hurry, I fancy, and you would not mind spending a day or two in camping on the top of these hills. We'll think it over and make up our minds about it to-night or to-morrow."

"Nothing would suit me better than just such a trip as you suggest, Mr. Fannin, and we can talk it over and decide about it to-night, as you say."

If it had been pleasant coming up the Arm and the inlet, it was not less so on the way down. The bird life was as abundant as it had been in the morning. Jack and Mr. Fannin went to the bow and watched the creatures busy at their feeding.

"Tell me something about that black bird with the white shoulders, Mr. Fannin. I suppose it is one of the guillemots, is it not?" asked Jack.

"Yes. That's the pigeon guillemot," said Mr. Fannin; "a very abundant bird here, found everywhere on the salt water. It's more plentiful in the Gulf of Georgia than it is up here in the inlet, but it's plenty enough everywhere. They breed on many of the islands, rearing their young in the rocks. They are industrious little birds, as you see, and are constantly diving for food. They eat a crustacean which looks to me a good deal like the crawfish that I used to see back East; and if you watch, you will see that many of these birds which fly by the vessel are carrying this crustacean in their bills. That means, I suppose, that by this time of the year the young are getting big enough to help themselves. I believe that when they are very young, though, the old ones swallow the food, which, after it has been partly digested, is disgorged into the mouths of the young ones."

"There seem to be some ducks over there near the shore, can you tell what those are at this distance, Mr. Fannin?" asked Jack.

Mr. Fannin looked through the glasses and then replied: "Yes, those are harlequin ducks. Take the glasses and look at them. Their plumage is easily recognized even at this distance. They breed here on the islands, I am told, though I have never found a nest. The Indians say that they are very much more abundant on the river than they are down here on the salt water. I have never seen a nest, and don't even know where they breed, whether in the grass, or in holes in the rocks, or in the trees. Of course, you know that there are some ducks that build in the holes in the trees?"

"Oh, yes," replied Jack. "Quite a number of them, though I have never found a duck's nest in a tree; and I feel that I should be a good deal surprised if I did find one."

All along the inlet eagles, ospreys, and crows fairly swarmed, brought there by the abundance of the fish, which offer food to all of them. Salmon and many other sorts of good fish run up the Arm, while the dog-fish—a small shark—is everywhere. There is no reason why a fish-eating bird should starve here; and, besides the fish, the crows and ravens find abundant food along the shore in the various sorts of shell-fish that are everywhere abundant.

A little later, as the two were sitting on the deck in front of the pilot house, enjoying the warm sun, the Indian Seammux came up, and, squatting down beside them, began to talk in Chinook to Mr. Fannin. After he had spoken for a few moments Mr. Fannin answered him, and, turning to Jack, said: "Here is something that maybe will interest you. Seammux is telling me a story about a selallicum that used to live in the North Arm of the inlet, and in old times killed many Indians. This monster must have been of great size. It was peculiar in form, too, being shaped like two fishes, whose bodies were joined together at the tail. It used to lie stretched across the mouth of the North Arm, just beneath the surface of the water, one of its heads reaching across to the other shore. Whenever a canoe attempted to pass up the Arm, the monster would wait until the vessel was directly over its body and then would rise to the surface and upset the canoe, and devour the occupants. That is all that he has told me so far."

He spoke to Seammux, who replied at considerable length, and Mr. Fannin interpreted again. "'In this way,' he says, 'the monster killed many Indians, for the North Arm was a great hunting place, and fish and game and berries abounded along the river, so that the people had to go there to get them for food. At last, the loss of life caused by the monster became so terrible, that the Squamisht Indians had lost nearly half their people; and now no one dared to go up the Arm, so that the people feared that they would starve.'

"'In one of the villages there was a young man who had seen the misfortune of his people and pitied them. He felt so sorry for them that he at last determined that he would sacrifice himself for his race by killing this monster, even though it cost him his life. One day he went to his family and bade them good-by, saying that he was going away and should not be back for a long time. That day he went into the mountains and did not return again. In the mountains he fasted for many days, and prayed to the spirits, and at length one night when he was getting very weak, he dreamed that a large white goat stood near him as he slept and spoke to him, for a long time, telling him to take courage and advising him what he should do. The next day the young man went farther into the mountains and gathered certain roots and herbs, and after he had dried them and pounded them into powder, he mixed them with some sacred oil, and rubbed the mixture over his whole body, leaving no part of his skin untouched. Then he walked down the mountains to the shore of the inlet, and dived into the water. For five years he lived in the water, scarcely ever coming out on shore; and in all these five years he never spoke to a man. He became so much at home in the water that he could swim faster than a seal or a salmon, and at the end of that time his spiritual power was so strong that he could call up to him the fishes or the seals and lift them into the canoe.

"'Now he was ready to fight the monster. He took with him two spears, one in each hand; swam to the mouth of the North Arm, dived under the monster, and thrust the spears into it. Then there was a fierce and terrible fight; but at length the battle ended, and the monster was dead. The young man was badly wounded, and expected to die. He floated on the surface of the water, like a dead salmon. As he lay there on the water, he heard the sound of a paddle, and soon a canoe came by him, and in the canoe sat his brother. The two recognized each other, and the brother lifted the wounded man into the canoe and took him to the shore. The wounded man said to him: "My brother, take me up into the mountains and gather there certain roots and herbs. These you must dry and then cook a little. Then pound them into a fine powder, mix them with oil of the medicine-fish, and rub this oil all over me, leaving no part of my body untouched." The brother did so, and immediately the young man rose from the ground, and walked about, sound and whole. Then the two brothers walked home to the village, and since that time, the monster has not been seen on the North Arm.'"

"That's a good story, Mr. Fannin, a bully story," said Jack. "I wish, though, that I knew enough about the language to get along without an interpreter."

"Why, if you are willing to give a little attention and thought to the matter, you can learn this Chinook jargon easily enough. There is no grammar to bother you, and I am sure that you will pick it up very quickly."

"I must try and do so," replied Jack, "if I am going to stay in this country."

That night a council was held in Mr. Fannin's shop, and the plans of the two Americans were discussed at length. After a good deal of talking, Mr. Fannin agreed to accompany them on their canoe trip. He would go back with them to Victoria when they were ready, and prepare for the voyage. All hands were gratified at this decision.

"But now," said Fannin, "before you leave here, I think that you had better go up to the head of the North Arm and make a hunt there for goats. Of course, there's a probability that you may have plenty of hunting, on the trip, and there is also a probability that you may have no hunting at all. We may have good weather and favorable winds, in which case everything will run as smoothly as possible. We may have almost continuous rains, and head winds, and in that case we shall have to work very hard at the paddles all day long, to make any progress at all. I am like most other people. I always think that any short trip that I am going to take will turn out well—a good deal better than I had anticipated; but I have travelled in canoes so much about the shores of this Province, that I know perfectly well that we shall meet with many difficulties and delays. I do not look for any danger.

"If you feel like making a hunt here I will get Seammux and another Indian and two canoes, and we can go up the Arm, to where we were to-day, climb the mountains, camp there for a couple of nights, have a hunt, come back here, take the stage for Westminster, and from there go to Victoria. By doing this, as I said before, you will be sure of at least one hunt. On the trip you will be pretty sure to kill something, perhaps enough to satisfy you as to white goats. What do you say?"

"Well, sir," said Hugh, "I am getting to be a little old to climb mountains, but at the same time I should like to go up to the top of those that we saw to-day. I don't care so much about the hunting, but I would like to go up where I could see off a little way. Almost ever since I left the ranch we've been in the timber, or else in big towns, shut in so that I haven't had any chance to use my eyes. I'm not used to that, and I would like to have a big view once more. What do you say, son?" he added, turning to Jack.

"Tell me, Mr. Fannin," said Jack, "what game will we be likely to see on top of those mountains?"

"Well," said Fannin, "I never have hunted there. I can only tell you what the Indians say. They report goats as plenty. They say that there are some bears; and they describe good-sized birds, which I think must be ptarmigan. At all events they speak of them as birds about as big as the grouse we have down here, but as turning white in winter. This of course fits the ptarmigan. I don't know whether they are the willow ptarmigan or the white-tail ptarmigan. I should be delighted if they proved to be the latter. Besides that, there may be all sorts of rare northern birds up there. You see, it's pretty high up, quite above the timber line, according to what the Indians tell."

"Well," said Jack, "that sounds mighty nice, and I vote in favor of going, if Hugh thinks best."

"I say 'go'" said Hugh. "Now what does Mr. James say?" he added, turning to the latter gentleman who sat silent, smoking his pipe.

"Mr. James says," said that gentleman, "that he wishes with all his heart that he could go with you, and was not obliged to return to-morrow to New Westminster. By bad luck I have business there which cannot be put off; and so, I must return on the stage. You others had better stay here and make your hunt, and then when you come back you can tell me about it."

So it was decided. The next morning Mr. James took the stage for town, while Fannin, Hugh, and Jack began to get Indians, canoes, and provisions together, for their camping trip in the mountains.

[CHAPTER VI]
OF INDIANS IN ARMOR

The next morning was a busy one for all hands. A messenger had been sent across the Inlet to summon Seammux and another Indian, and Mr. Fannin's camp outfit was brought down from the loft, got together and cleaned; and provisions were bought. By the middle of the day, Seammux, and an Indian named Sillicum, had crossed the Inlet, and anchored their canoes close to the shore. Then the blankets, the food, and the mess kit were carried down and stowed in the boat, and by that time it was noon. Immediately after the midday meal the party set out.

Mr. Fannin had proposed that he and Jack should go in the small canoe with the lighter load, and that Hugh should go in the canoe with the two Indians, who, being stronger and far more used to paddling than the white men, could move along at a better rate.

"You and I," said Fannin, "although our canoe is smaller and lighter, will have a good deal harder time in getting along than the Indians. I suppose that you have never paddled much, and I haven't either, for a number of years. But now that you are going to make a canoe trip you must learn to paddle and must be able to do your share of the work."

"Of course I have paddled some," said Jack, "in a birch-bark canoe, but I have never done much of it."

"No," said Fannin, "I suppose you have just paddled around a few miles for the fun of the thing, but you will find that if you undertake to paddle here for hours, or for a whole day, that it gets to be pretty tiresome work before the sun has set."

"Yes," said Jack, "I should think it would be tiresome. Quite different from riding a horse along over the prairie."

Mr. Fannin turned to Hugh, saying: "Mr. Johnson, it won't be necessary for you to paddle at all, unless you feel like doing so. The Indians will do all that. They are both good canoemen, and all you will have to do is to sit in the boat and smoke your pipe."

"Well," said Hugh, "I can certainly do that without much trouble. On the other hand, I think it might be well to take along another paddle for me, in case we are in water that is running strongly against us."

Another paddle having been secured, they stepped on board the canoes, pushed off, and were soon on their way up the inlet.

The tide was running strongly in from the sea and for an hour or two their progress was very good. At first Jack was a little awkward with his paddle, for the canoe was wider than any that he had ever seen before; and he was thus obliged to paddle with straighter arms. Mr. Fannin told him not to pay any attention at present to the direction of the canoe, but to leave all that to the stern paddle, which he, himself, wielded. So Jack paddled steadily on one side of the canoe, but kept his eyes straight ahead and watched the direction toward which the bow pointed. They reached the North Arm, and turning north, followed the westerly bank, and about six o'clock reached and passed up by the island just below the head of the Arm. Here Fannin spoke to the Indians, and after some little talk they turned toward the shore; and, when the bank was reached, unloaded their canoes, and prepared their camp. The top of the bank was four or five feet above the water's level, and the soil was quite dry.

Mr. Fannin, looking carefully about for a camp, chose a somewhat elevated spot; and explained to the Indians where the fire should be made and the beds placed. The Indians each took an axe, went into the woods and presently returned, dragging a number of poles, two of which had crotched ends, and were already sharpened at the bottom. These were driven into the soil so that the crotches stood about six feet from the ground. Between these crotches a pole was laid, and, resting on this pole, and running down to the ground at a low angle, were a dozen or twenty other poles, the whole forming the sloping roof of what was to be a brush leanto. Then the Indians went off again and presently returned with armfuls of cedar boughs with which they proceeded to thatch this roof, laying the butts up and the points down. It was not long before they had a thatched shelter, which would shed a pretty heavy rain. In the meantime, Mr. Fannin had kindled a fire, in front of the shelter and Hugh and Jack had brought in a good pile of wood. It was not easy here to find good fire-wood, however. So great is the prevalence of rain and fog in these coast forests that all the fallen tree trunks seemed to Jack too wet to burn. However, Hugh took an axe and began to cut and split some rather large logs, that, after the outer spongy layer of moist rotten wood had been passed, were found to be perfectly sound and dry. The Indians now began to cook the evening meal of fried bacon, fried potatoes, and coffee; while the others brought the blankets from the canoes and spread their beds under the leanto so that their feet would be towards the fire. By the time this had been done, Seammux announced that the food was ready, and before long the members of the party were sitting about the fire, highly enjoying their meal. After they had eaten, Jack said: "I see, Mr. Fannin, that you have brought your shot-gun along, this time, just as you did yesterday, when we came out here. Do you carry it with you everywhere?"

"No," said Fannin, "not everywhere; but I generally mean to have it with me whenever I go any great distance from home, and am so fixed that I can carry it and a few shells. Of course, I often go out hunting just to get meat, and then I leave the shot-gun at home; but when I go out hunting for pleasure, and especially when I go into a new country, I always try to carry it; for one never knows when he may see a new bird, or at all events a bird that he cannot recognize. I would rather get hold of a bird that I've never seen before, than kill almost any game that can be found in the country. Of course, if I were up in Vancouver Island in the country where the elk range, I would not carry the shot-gun, because I would want to get an elk more than any bird that I should be likely to see. A good many of those elk have been killed, of course, but I don't know that any of them have ever fallen into the hands of a naturalist; and we none of us know what they are. They may be the same elk that are found on the plains and in the Rocky Mountains, or they may be something quite different. I should like to be the man to bring out a skin of one of those animals and to have it compared with the elk that we know so well. I have seen two or three heads of the Island elk, and to me they don't look like the elk of the East, but it's a long time since I saw an eastern elk, and maybe I have forgotten just how it looks."

"Are those elk plenty?" asked Jack. "Mr. James spoke about them, but he didn't seem to know much more than the fact that there were elk up on the Island, back of Comox."

"No one knows much about them," replied Fannin. "They live in the thick timber, high up on the mountains, and mainly on the western slope. The Indians kill them sometimes, and bring in the skins and sell them, but not often. Most of the skins they use to make clothing of, or else for ceremonial robes, or for armor."

"Armor?" queried Jack; "that is something new to me. I never knew that Indians wore armor. They have shields, of course; and I've seen plenty of these; and a very good protection they are, for they will stop an arrow, and are likely to turn a ball from an old-fashioned trade gun. Isn't that so, Hugh?"

"Yes, son," replied Hugh, "that's all true enough; but Indians do wear armor sometimes; or, at least, there are stories told of their wearing armor, but it was always something that they had got from the white men, and not anything that they had made themselves."

"Why, how's that, Hugh? That's something that you never told me, and I don't think I ever heard the Indians speak about it."

"Maybe not," said Hugh, thoughtfully. "When I come to think of it, I don't believe the Blackfeet ever had anything of that kind; but the Pawnees did, and so did the Cheyennes and the Arapahoes. I will have to tell you that story some time."

"Tell it now," said Fannin; and Jack added: "Yes, tell it now, Hugh."

"Well," said Hugh, "it's quite a long story, but I'll tell it to you if you like. But before I begin I'll tell you how I first heard about this armor. Way back, more than twenty years ago, I used to hear the Pawnees talk about an iron shirt that they had. They talked about it pretty freely, but I never got to see it. As near as I could tell, it was something to be worn on the body; perhaps hung around the neck and tied around the waist and under the arms. In other words, it didn't cover up the whole body, but was something like a breastplate,—something that would just protect a man's breast and belly if he were shot at or cut at from the front.

"Years after that, when with the Cheyennes, I heard about a shirt, an iron shirt, that they had; and when they talked about it, as they often did, I found out that this shirt that the Pawnees had they had captured from the Cheyennes, who once owned that and a lot more things like it; in fact, a regular suit of iron clothes. There was a cap made of steel, with a kind of a mask that let down in front over the face; and a sort of a cape from behind that covered the neck. There was a coat that covered the whole body and the upper part of the arms, and laced up on one side; while there was a pair of leggings that covered the legs from the waist down to the ankles. According to the Cheyenne's tell, the man that had this suit of clothes on could stand up and let people shoot at him all day long and he never would be hurt. But they said that these clothes were so powerful heavy that they were very hard to wear; that a man dressed up in them could hardly mount his horse, and that if he tumbled off and fell down, it was all that he could do to get on his legs again. For this reason they never wore the whole suit of clothes; but they would take a part of it and wear it into battle, and of course the man who wore it could go right into the thick of the shooting, and the arrows and the bullets would not hurt him at all, unless he happened to be hit on some part of his body that was not covered.

"Now, I think it was along about 1852 that the Cheyennes and the Pawnees had a big fight on Republican River. A big war party of Cheyennes, Sioux, and Apaches, Kiowas and Comanches had gone out to kill all the Pawnees; they were going to wipe the Pawnees off the earth. They found the Pawnees hunting buffalo on the Republican River, and attacked them, and they had a big fight, in which quite a number were killed on both sides, and among them a lot of the bravest of the Cheyennes. A big chief, 'Touching the Cloud,' wore a part of this iron clothing—only the leggings, they say, spread out over the breast. He had been very brave, and the Pawnees hadn't been able to hit him at all. During the fight he charged on a single Pawnee, who ran away. The Pawnee and Touching the Cloud were both mounted, and Touching the Cloud, who, notwithstanding his armor, wasn't taking any chances, rode up on the right-hand side of the Pawnee to strike him. Of course you can understand, that coming up on the right-hand side the Pawnee could not turn around on his horse far enough to shoot back with his bow; whereas, if the Cheyenne had ridden up on the left-hand side, the Pawnee could have turned around, and, pulling the bowstring with his right hand, could shoot at the Cheyenne. But as bad luck would have it, this Pawnee that Touching the Cloud was going to strike was a left-handed man; so just as the Cheyenne was going to strike him he whirled around on his horse and shot an arrow which, more by good luck than skill, I reckon, struck the Cheyenne in the right eye and went through his brain.

"That about ended the fight, and the Cheyennes and their party went off licked.

"That was one of the biggest misfortunes that the Cheyennes ever had, for Touching the Cloud was a brave warrior, a wise man, and one of the handsomest among the Cheyennes. He had been the orator for the Cheyennes at the Horse Creek Treaty in 1851; and later had gone to Washington; and then, soon after his return, was killed, as I tell you."

"Well," said Fannin, "that's an interesting story, and that Indian was certainly in mighty hard luck. I guess it was fated that he should die."

"Well, Hugh," remarked Jack, "that's one of the best stories I ever heard, and it's queer that you never told it to me before. I guess there are lots of interesting things that you have seen and know that you have never let me hear about."

"Maybe there are, son; but it does seem to me that I've done a heap of talking since I've known you; more maybe than I've done in a good many years before."

"But where did this armor come from, Hugh?" asked Jack.

"Well, I was going to come to that. You see, after Touching the Cloud was killed, the Pawnees captured the armor that he had, and have kept it ever since. The rest of the clothes the Cheyennes had a few years ago. I don't know what has become of them.

"I asked particularly where these clothes came from, and the story the Cheyennes tell is something like this: A good many years ago, I don't know whether it was fifty or a hundred years, one of them Mexicans that used to come up trading from the South brought this suit of clothes with him, packed in a box. After he had been trading for a while in the Arapahoe and Cheyenne camps, he opened the box one day and took out these iron clothes, and showed them to the Indians. Pretty soon there were two or three of them that came to understand that an arrow or a bullet could not go through these clothes, and then they wanted to trade for them; but the Mexican let on that he didn't want to sell them, and packed them again in the box and put them away. You see, the Mexican could count on getting a big price for these things, for the Indian who owned them could figure on being a pretty big man. In the first place, he would be safe in going into battle; and in the second place, he could do such brave things that he'd get up an almighty big name for himself right away; and in the third place, all the tribes that he went to war against, would soon learn that he could not be hurt in battle and would think that he had some powerful medicine or helper, and so they would always run away when he was with a party that attacked them. So the possession of these iron clothes would make a man famous for bravery, and that is the thing of all others that Indians are eager for. Well, the upshot of it was that these Indians began bidding against each other for the iron clothes; and at last an Arapahoe gave the Mexican three or four buffalo horses for them, and got them. After a little while, however, he found out that there were some things about the suit that made it a less desirable piece of property than he had supposed; and when a Cheyenne offered him a great price for it, he sold it to him; and so it passed from hand to hand, parts of it often being worn in battle, and always, or almost always protecting the wearer from any harm. That's all I know about the iron shirt. I expect it was one of those old coats of mail which the Spaniards used to wear in early days when they first came to America."

Hugh stopped, refilled his pipe, which had gone out while he was talking, leaned over and took up a coal out of the ashes and deftly applied it to the bowl of the pipe; and then, after getting the tobacco well alight, turned to Fannin and said: "Now tell us, friend, about this armor that your Indians out here use."

"Well," said Fannin, "this armor is not of white man's make. The Indians fix it up themselves. They make long shirts of elk-skin, and sew into them straight pieces of wood, sometimes round, and as thick as your finger, sometimes flat and a little wider than a common lath. The elk-skin and the wood make an armor that will stop an arrow or a knife thrust. It's a pretty clumsy article of clothing, and an Indian who wears one of these coats of mail can't get around very easily; but he's pretty well protected, and I guess feels a whole lot braver with such a shirt on than he would feel if he were naked."

"I guess he does," said Hugh. "It's curious the way they worked that thing out for themselves. Now, I can remember when I first came out on the plains that sometimes the trappers, if they were in a bad place and surrounded, used to wear shirts of the skins of two black-tail deer,—one in front and one behind and tied under the arms. They said that those skins, when wet, would turn an arrow. I wonder if they got that from the Indians? I wouldn't be a mite surprised.

"I have heard, too," he added, "that there are some other Indians that use armor of this kind; and that the Pueblo Indians that live down South in Arizona and New Mexico use a sort of basket work to protect themselves in war. Somebody told me once, but I can't remember who it was, that some of the Southwest people wore shirts lined with cotton that would stop an arrow; and I know for sure that some of the plains' Indians wadded their shields with buffalo hair or with feathers, which also helped to stop the arrows. I expect likely there's a good deal more of this armor business than we know anything about. For all I know, maybe there have been books written about it."

"Well," said Fannin, "we ought to get an early start to-morrow morning if we are going to go up to the head of the Arm and climb the mountains. I guess we'd better turn in."

"I reckon we had," said Hugh; while Jack said: "I'm not a bit sleepy, and I wish you'd both go ahead and tell some more Indian stories."

"Too late now," said Fannin. "I guess we'll have plenty of time for Indian stories a little later;" and before long they had all turned into their blankets.

[CHAPTER VII]
SEAMMUX IN DANGER

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."