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.