The Young Alaskans on the Trail, Emerson Hough [tharntype novel english .TXT] 📗
- Author: Emerson Hough
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Moise pointed with a thumb to a point just back of the tree. Rob stepped over, and gazing down, saw a deep hole in the ground.
“Why, I know!” said he. “This is one of the holes the bear dug—one of the first ones, I should think.”
“Oh, I see, you cut across-lots and didn’t follow the back trail.” John was as much surprised as Rob.
“No,” said Alex, “we saved perhaps half a mile by coming straight across, for, you see, the bear was wandering all around on the hillside as he was trying to get away. You’ll find the boats are directly below us here, and not very far away.”
“This,” said Rob, “seems to me pretty wonderful! You men certainly do know how to get along in this country. I’d never have thought this was the direct course, and if I had been in there alone I certainly would have followed the bear’s trail back—if I could have found it.”
Yet it all came out quite as Alex and Moise had planned, for in less than ten minutes more they scrambled down the steep bank to the rocky beach where the two boats lay. The men distributed the hide and meat between the two, covering up both with green willow boughs.
“Now,” said Alex, “for a fast run down this river. We’ve got more meat than we can use, and we must get to the Landing.”
XXVII THE END OF THE OLD WAR-TRAILIt is possible to make twenty-five miles a day with pole and tracking-line against a current even so strong as that of the Peace River. Twice or thrice that distance down-stream is much easier, so that no greatly difficult journey remained ahead of our travelers between their last camp and the old Hudson Bay post known as Peace River Landing, which perhaps Moise would have called the end of the old war-trail from Little Slave Lake—the point near the junction of the Peace and Smoky rivers which has in it so much strategic value, whether in war or in peace. The two boats, pausing only for the briefest possible encampments, now swung on down, day after day, not pausing at the ultimate western settlements, St. John and Dunvegan, but running on down, between high and steep banks, through a country clean and beautiful with its covering of poplar growth. At last, well wearied with steady paddling, they opened up a great “V” in the valley, so that they knew they were at the junction of the Smoky and the Peace, and hence at the end of this stage of their journey.
It was evening at the time of their arrival, and Rob was much for finishing the journey that day, yet yielded to the wish of Moise, who thought it would be better to camp some few miles above the town, although almost within sight of the great ferry which here crosses the main river from the wagon trail of the north bank.
“We’ll must go in like real voyageurs,” insisted Moise. “We’ll not look good to go in to-night—too much tire an’ dirt.”
In the morning Moise appeared at the breakfast table attired in his best. He had in some way managed a clean shave, and now his long, black hair was bound back with a gaudy handkerchief, his old shirt replaced by a new and bright one, and his old moccasins discarded for a pair of new and brilliantly beaded ones, so that in all he made a brave figure of a voyageur indeed. Alex also in a quiet way had followed the lead of Moise. The boys themselves, falling into the spirit of this, hunted through their war-bags for such finery as they could compass, and decked themselves out in turn with new moccasins, new gloves, and new kerchiefs for their necks. Moise looked on them all with the utmost approbation.
“It’s the best for return like some braves hommes,” said he. “Well, en avant!”
They all bent gaily to the paddles now, and sped down the flood of the great stream until at length they sighted the buildings of the Hudson Bay post, just below the ferry. Here, finishing with a great spurt of speed, they pulled alongside the landing bank, just below where there lay at mooring the tall structure of the Hudson Bay steamboat, Peace River, for the time tarrying at this point. Moise rolled his paddle along the gunwale, making the spray fly from the blade after the old fashion of the voyageurs ending a journey, and the boys followed his example. Many willing hands aided them to disembark. A little later they found themselves ready for what seemed apt to be one of their last encampments.
A tall breed woman stood at a little distance up the bank, silently awaiting their coming. Moise pointed to her with no great emotion.
“He’s my womans,” said he. “He’ll fix the camp for us an’ take care of those meat, yes.”
Moise and his wife met, undoubtedly glad to see each other, though making no great show at the time. Pretty soon the breed woman came down and lifted the bear hides and the meat from the boats.
“She’ll fix up the hides for you, all right,” said Alex, quietly. “As we don’t need the meat, and as I don’t live here, but a hundred miles below on Little Slave, I think we had better give Moise all of the meat for himself and his people—he probably has fifty or more ‘uncles’ and ‘cousins’ in this village. Meantime, I think it might be well for us to make a little camp over here in the cottonwoods just back of the lodges.”
They saw now on the flat between the river and the Company post quite a little village of Indian conical tepees, from which now came many Indians and half-breeds, and a multitude of yelping dogs.
The boys, aided by one or two taciturn but kindly natives, who seemed to know who they were, and so lent a hand without any request, soon had their simple little camp well under way. At about this time they were approached by a stalwart man wearing the cap of the Hudson Bay Company’s river service.
“I’m Saunders, of the Hudson Bay Company,” said he, “and I suppose you’re the nephews of Mr. Wilcox, an engineer, who has gone down the river?”
“Yes, sir,” said Rob; “we have just come down, and we expected to meet him below here.”
“I have a letter for you,” said Captain Saunders. “Mr. Wilcox came up from Little Slave awhile back, and went down to Fort Vermilion with us on our last trip—I’m the captain of the boat over yonder. He asked me to bring you down to Vermilion on our next run. I suppose the letter explains it all.”
“Yes, sir,” said Rob, after reading it and handing it to the others. “That’s about the size of it. We thought our trip was ended here, but he asks us to come on down and meet him at Fort Vermilion! It seems a long way; but we’re very glad to meet you, Captain Saunders.”
They all shook hands, and the grizzled veteran smiled at them quizzically.
“Well, young gentlemen,” said he, “I hardly know what to think about your trip, but if you really made it, you’re lucky to get through in as good shape as you have.”
“We had a perfectly bully time, sir,” said Rob. “We lost one of our boats west of the cañon, but we got another this side, and we’re all safe and sound, with every ounce of our property along.”
“You have the best of me, I must admit,” said the Hudson Bay man, “for I have never been west of St. John myself, although we make the Dunvegan run regularly all the time, of course. They tell me it is pretty wild back there in the mountains.”
“Yes, sir,” said Rob. “The water’s pretty fast sometimes; but, you see, we had two good men with us, and we were very careful.”
“You had pretty fair men with you, too, didn’t you, Alex?” smiled Saunders, as the tall half-breed came up at that time.
“None better,” said Alex, quietly. “We caught a grizzly and a black bear, not to mention a caribou and a couple of sheep. They seem to me natural hunters. I’m quite proud of them—so proud that we gave them a ‘lob-stick,’ Captain.”
“And quite right, too,” nodded Saunders.
“Oh, well, of course we couldn’t have done any of those things without you and Moise,” said Rob. “Anybody can shoot a rifle a little bit, but not every one could bring the boats out of such water as we have had.”
“Well, now, what do you want to do?” resumed Saunders, after a little. “Here’s the Peace River steamer, and you can get a room and a bath and a meal there whenever you like. Or you can stay here in your tent and eat with the factor up at the post beyond. I would suggest that you take in our city before you do much else.”
“When were you planning to leave for Vermilion, Captain Saunders?” inquired Rob.
“Some time to-morrow morning, as soon as we get plenty of wood from the yard across the river. It’s about three hundred and fifty miles to Vermilion down-stream—that is to say, north of here—but we run it in two or three days with luck. Coming up it’s a little slower, of course.”
“If you don’t mind, sir,” said Rob at length, “I think we’d rather sleep in our tent as long as we can—the steamboat would be very nice, but it looks too much like a house.”
Saunders laughed, and, turning, led the way through the Indian villages and up toward the single little street which made the village of Peace River Landing, ancient post of the Hudson Bay. Here he introduced the young travelers, who at once became the sensation of the hour for all the inhabitants, who now thronged the streets about them, but who all stood silent and respectful at a distance.
They found the Hudson Bay post, as Jesse had said, more like a country store than the fur-trading post which they had pictured for themselves. They saw piled up on the shelves and counters all sorts of the products of civilization—hardware of every kind, groceries, tinned goods, calicoes, clothes, hats, caps, guns, ammunition—indeed, almost anything one could require.
John was looking behind the counters with wistful eye, for the time ceasing his investigation of the piles of bright new moccasins.
“I don’t see any, Alex,” said he, at last.
“Any what, Mr. John?”
“Well, you said there’d be toffy.”
Alex laughed and beckoned to the clerk. When John made known his wishes, the latter ran his hand in behind a pile of tobacco and brought out a number of blue-covered packages marked “Imperial Toffy.”
“I think you will find this very nice, sir,” said he. “It’s made in the old country, and we sell quite a bit of it here.”
John’s eyes lighted up at this, and, if truth be told, both of the other boys were glad enough to divide with him his purchase, quantities of which he generously shared also with the Indian and half-breed children whom he presently met in the street.
“I don’t see but what this is just the same as any other town,” said he at length, his mouth full.
They were received with great courtesy by the factor of the Hudson Bay Company, who invited them to have lunch with him. To their surprise they found on the table all the sorts of green vegetables they had ever known—potatoes, beans, tomatoes, lettuce, many varieties, and all in the greatest profusion and excellence.
“We don’t encourage this sort of thing,” said the factor, smilingly pointing to these dishes of vegetables,
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