“

I believe I like it up here better than I do along the river,” said John, after they finally had their little fire going.

“Yes,” remarked Rob, “you can see out farther here. The mountains are fine. See how pink they are over where the snow is—the sun from the west makes it all like a picture, doesn’t it?”

“I never tire of the mountains,” said Alex, “and I’ve lived among them many years.”

“I’d like to be a hunter,” Rob began.

“Not to-day,” rejoined Alex. “Our people can’t make a living that way now. We have to buy things of the Company, and pay for them with our furs and robes. But we’ll be hunters for this time, sure, with meat in camp and two fine heads as well. I wish we could eat some to-night.”

“Why, why can’t we?” demanded John, who looked as though he could eat a good-sized piece quite raw.

“We could if we had to,” said Alex, “but the meat will be better if we let it hang over night. If we ate too much of the very fresh meat it might make us sick.”

“Men eat bear liver the day it is killed.”

“Yes, white men do, but not many Indians will eat bear liver at all. We can try some of the sheep liver, if you like, for I’ve brought it down in the packs. For that matter, it won’t hurt us maybe to try a little piece of meat roasted on a stick before the fire, the way the Indians cook. That, with a bit of bacon and some bannock that I’ll make, will do us, if we have a cup of tea. You see, I’ve a little can along which I got in Moise’s cook-bag.”

“I don’t see how you’re going to make bread,” began John, “for you haven’t got any pan.”

“No, Injuns don’t always have pans like white people,” said Alex, laughing, “but I’ll show you. I’ll use the flour-sack for a pan—just pour the water right in on the flour and mix it up in the sack. All outdoor men know that trick. An Injun would take a stick and roll around in that white dough and roast that dough ball before the fire along with his meat,” he said, “but I think by taking a slab of bark we can cook our bannock somehow, a little bit, at least, as though we had a pan to lean up before the fire.”

The boys found new proof of the old saying that hunger is the best sauce. For though their meal was really very frugal, they enjoyed it heartily, and having had a cup of tea, they forgot all about their fatigue.

The shadows were coming down across the near-by ridges when at length they turned to Alex inquiringly.

“We want to know where we’re going to make our beds.”

“Well, this big spruce-tree is a good enough tent for me—the lower branches spread out almost like an umbrella. We won’t keep much fire, but if I get cold in the night, not having any blankets, I’ll just make a little fire. You know, I don’t need to sleep as warmly as you do.”

“Well,” said John, “you ought to get under part of our blanket.”

“Then we’d all be cold. Keep some of the blanket under you, for that’s where the cold comes from, not from above. I may after a while push the ashes back from our fireplace and lie down on the ground where it has been made warm by the fire. Injuns sometimes do that when they can’t do any better. Mostly, however, we depend on keeping up a fire if it is very cold and we have no robe or blanket.”

High up in the hills where they were it grew very cold at night, and the boys, shivering in their scanty covering, woke up more than once. Sometimes they would see Alex lying quite asleep, and again he would be sitting up smoking his pipe, leaning against the trunk of the tree. In some way, however, the night wore through, although they were glad when at length the sun came up and they could all stretch their cramped and stiffened limbs.

“My eyes have got sticks in them,” said John, rubbing at his face.

“And my hair pulls a little bit, too,” Rob added. “I forgot to bring my comb, or even my tooth-brush.”

“Well, one thing,” said Alex, as he built up the fire. “We’ll have some sheep meat for breakfast, all right. The animal heat will be all out of it now, and we’ll have a hearty meal. We’ll need it too, for it’s quite a way down to camp, several miles, that’s sure.”

They finished their breakfast while the sun was still low over the eastern mountains, and presently began to think about the homeward march.

“They’ll be wondering about us down there,” said Rob, “and I’m mighty glad we’ve made our hunt and can get home so soon.”

“We might not be able to do it again in a dozen hunts,” said Alex. “Game isn’t as abundant as it once was.”

“I should say not,” said John. “When you read in the stories about Mackenzie and Fraser, and all those old fellows, they’ll tell about seeing all kinds of game from the boat just as they went along.”

“We’ll do the same when we get out of the mountains,” Alex replied; “but not buffalo and caribou any more. Bear and moose we’ll be very apt to see.

“We’ll double-portage these loads for one trip, at least,” he resumed. “I’ll make the first trip with one head on top of my pack, and if you can manage the other one for a little way I’ll come back for the rest of the meat, and we’ll go about half-way down toward the boats on our first trip. As you probably can’t travel as fast as I can, I’m going ahead, but I’ll blaze the trees as I go. Then I’ll drop my load and come back to meet you. When you come to my first load you must stop there until I catch up with you again. As I’ll be below you all the time, at first, there’ll be no danger about your getting off the trail.”

“No danger anyhow,” said Rob. “We’ve often followed a trail that way.”

Indeed, the young hunters proved themselves quite good woodsmen enough to follow Alex down the mountain face into the thicket of the plateau. He went almost at a trot, loaded as he was, and as the boys found the big ram’s head a heavy load for them to carry between them on the stick, they met him as he was coming back up the mountains, when they themselves were not a great deal more than half-way down to the place where he had dropped his pack.

“It’s all plain,” said Alex, “for I followed our old trail down the hill, and put a branch across two or three places so that you’ll know when you’re near the pack.”

They found no difficulty in obeying his instructions, and so tired were they that it seemed but a short time before presently Alex joined them for a second time, carrying the remainder of the meat on his tump-strap.

“Now,” said he, “we’re a great deal more than half-way down to the boats. We won’t come back for the second trip at all now, and we’ll take our time with the loads. I’ll send Moise up for one pack, which we will leave here.”

“Suppose he doesn’t want to come?” asked John.

“Oh, Moise will be glad to come. He’s a good packer and a cheerful man. Besides, I suppose that would be his business as we look at it among our people. In the old times, when Sir Alexander came through, a hunter did nothing but hunt. If he killed a head of game the people around the post had to go out and get it for themselves if they wanted it brought in.”

“But how will Moise find this place?” asked John, anxiously. “I don’t want to lose this head, I’ll tell you that.”

Alex laughed. “He’ll come right to the place! I’ll explain to him, so he’ll know right where it is.”

“Although he has never been here before?”

“Surely; one Injun can tell another how to go to a place. Besides, our trail will be as plain as a board-walk to him. He’s used to that kind of work, you see.”

All of this came out quite as Alex had said. They took their time in finishing their journey, but it was long before noon when they arrived at the boat encampment on the banks of the river, where they were greeted with great joy by Jesse and Moise. Then, although it was not yet time for lunch, Moise insisted on cooking once more, a plan to which John gave very hearty assent, and in which all the others joined.

After a while Alex and Moise, each smoking contentedly, began to converse in their own tongue, Alex sometimes making a gesture toward the mountains off to the east, and Moise nodding a quiet assent. After a time, without saying anything, Moise got up, tightened his belt, filled his pipe once more, and departed into the bush.

“Are you sure he’ll find that meat?” demanded John, “and bring down that bighorn head?”

“He certainly will,” said Alex; “he’ll run that trail like a dog, and just about as fast. Moise used to be a good man, though he says now he can’t carry over two hundred pounds without getting tired.”

“Well, listen at that!” said Jesse. “Two hundred pounds! I shouldn’t think anybody could carry that.”

“Men have carried as much as six hundred pounds for a little way,” said Alex. “On the old portage trails two packets, each of ninety pounds, was the regular load, and some men would take three. That was two hundred and seventy pounds at least; and they would go on a trot. You see, a country produces its own men, my young friends.”

“Well, that’s the fun of a trip like this,” said Rob. “That, and following out the trails of the old fellows who first came through here.”

“Now,” continued Alex, getting up and looking about the camp, “we have meat in camp, and fish also. I think perhaps we’d better dry a part of our sheep meat, as we used to the meat of the buffalo in the old days. We’ll smoke it a little, cutting it thin and spreading it in the sun. By keeping the fresh meat under boughs so the flies won’t get at it, it’ll stay good for quite a little while too. We don’t want to waste anything, of course.”

They were busy about their odd jobs in the camp when, long before they would have expected it, Moise came trotting down the base of the timbered ridge above the camp, and, still smoking and still smiling, tossed down the big bundle of meat and the other sheep-head on the ground beside the fire.

“By gosh! Those will be fine head!” said he. “If I’ll had this head in Winnipeg I’ll got hondred dollars for each one, me, maybe so. Now I’ll show you how for cook some sheep to-night after supper.”

“You mean at supper, don’t you?” asked Rob.

“Non! Non! We’ll eat supper, wait a while, then those sheep meat he’ll look good some more. I’ll show you.”

“Are you going to tell us another story to-night?” asked Jesse, eagerly.

“Yes, after supper I’ll tol’ you some more story,” assented Moise. “We stay here maybe two, three day now, so to-morrow I think we’ll be in camp. All right. To-night we’ll tell the story some more.”