“

These men say,” interpreted Alex, as he turned to the boys, “that it’s sixteen to twenty miles from here to the end of the portage out of the hills, across the north bank, which cuts off the thirty miles of caÑon that nobody ever tries to run. They say for a little way the river is wide, with many islands, but below that it narrows down and gets very bad. They’re tracking stuff up-stream from the portage to a surveyors’ camp which depends on their supplies. They say they will not sell their canoe, because they couldn’t get up-stream, but that if we can get east of the portage there’s a man, a sort of farmer, somewhere below there, who has a boat which perhaps he would sell.”

“What good would that do us?” demanded John. “A boat twenty or thirty miles east of here across the mountains isn’t going to help us very much. What we want is a boat now, and I don’t see how we can get along without it. Won’t they sell their canoe?”

“No, they don’t want to sell it,” said Alex; “they say they’re under employment, and must get through to the camp from Hudson’s Hope on time. We couldn’t portage a dugout, anyhow. But they say that we can go on up there with them if we like, and then come back and go around by the portage. What do you say, Mr. Rob?”

Rob answered really by his silence and his tight-shut jaw. “Well,” said he, “at least I don’t much care about turning back on a trail. But we’ll have to split here, I think, unless we all go into camp. But part of us can go on through by the river, and the rest come on later. Maybe we can cache some of our luggage here, and have it brought on across by these men, if they’re going back to Hudson’s Hope.”

“That sounds reasonable,” said Alex, nodding. “I believe we can work it out.”

He turned and spoke rapidly in Cree to the two travelers, with many gestures, pointing both up and down the stream, all of them talking eagerly and at times vehemently.

“They say,” said Alex at last, “there’s a place at the foot of the high bank above the caÑon head where two or three men might be able to get a boat up to the carrying trail, although the landing is little used to-day. But they say if we could get across to the east end of the caÑon they could send men down by the trail after that other boat. They don’t think we can get our boat across. They say they’ll find us in a few days, they think, somewhere on the portage. They ask us if they can have what’s left of our canoe. They say they’ll take two dollars a day and grub if we want them to work for us. They don’t say that no man could make the portage below here, but don’t think we could do it with our crew. Well, what do you say now, Mr. Rob?”

“Why, it’s all as easy as a fiddle-string,” said Rob. “I’ll tell you how we’ll fix it. Jess, you and Moise go with these men on up to the surveyors’ camp, and back down to Hudson’s Hope—you can take enough grub to last you around, and you know that water is easy now. Alex and John and I will still have enough grub to last us through to the east side of the Rockies—we’re almost through now. It might be rather hard work for Jess. The best way for him is to keep with Moise, who’ll take good care of him, and it’s more fun to travel than to loaf in camp. For the rest of us, I say we ought to go through, because we started to go through. We all know where we are now. Moise will bring the men and supplies around to meet us at the east side. Even if we didn’t meet,” he said to Jesse, “and if you and Moise got left alone, it would be perfectly simple for you to go on through to Peace River Landing, two or three hundred miles, to where you will get word of Uncle Dick. There are wagon-trails and steamboats and all sorts of things when you once get east of the mountains, so there’s no danger at all. In fact, our trip is almost done right where we stand here—the hardest part is behind us. Now, Jess, if you don’t feel hard about being asked to go back up the river, or to stay here till these men come back down-stream, that’s the way it seems best to me.”

“I’m not so anxious as all that to go on down this river,” grinned Jesse. “It isn’t getting any better. Look at what it did to the old Mary Ann up there.”

“Well, the main thing is not to get lonesome,” said Rob, “and to be sure there’s no danger. We’ll get through, some time or somewhere. Only don’t get uneasy, that’s all. You ought to get around to us in a couple of days after you start on the back trail. How does it look to you, Alex?”

The old hunter nodded his approval. “Yes,” said he; “I think the three of us will take the Jaybird loaded light and run down to the head of the mountain without much trouble. I don’t hear of anything particularly nasty down below here until you get nearly to the gorge. I think we had better hire these two breeds for a time, put them on pay from the time they start up the river with Moise and Mr. Jess. They say they would like to go with Mr. Jess for their ‘bourgeois’—that’s ‘boss,’ you know. They also say,” he added, smiling, “that they would very much like to have some sugar and tea.”

After a time Alex rose, beckoned to the two breeds, and they all went back up the beach to the place where Moise by this time was building his camp-fire and spreading out the cargo of the Mary Ann to dry.

The two breeds expressed wonder at the lightness of the boats which they now saw, and rapidly asked in their language how the party had managed to get so far across the mountains with such little craft. But they alternately laughed and expressed surprise when they lifted the fragments of the Mary Ann and pointed out the nature of the injury she had sustained.

“Those man’ll been my cousin, too,” said Moise, pointing to the new-comers. “She’ll been glad to see us, both of her. Her name is Billy and Richard. Ole Richard, his Injun name was been At-tick—‘The Reindeer.’ Also she’ll say,” he added, “she’ll ain’t got some tea nor sugar. Allons! I think maybe we’ll eat some dish of tea.”

Soon they were seated on the ground, once more eating tea and bannock, piecing out their meal, which, by the way, was the third during the day, with some of the dried caribou meat which they had brought from far above.

“They’ll ask me, my cousin,” said Moise at last, his mouth full, “what we’ll take for those busted canoe.”

“What do you say, Mr. Rob?” asked Alex.

“I don’t see how it’s going to be worth anything to us,” said Rob, “and it will take us a long time to patch her up at best. Tell them we’ll give them what there is left of the Mary Ann if they’ll take good care of Jess on the way around on the trail. And we’ll pay them two dollars a day each besides.”

When Moise had interpreted this speech, the older of the two breeds, who did not speak any English, rose and gravely shook each of the boys by the hand, then not saying anything further, he rose, took his big buffalo knife from its sheath, and proceeded to finish the distribution of the unfortunate Mary Ann, it being his plan evidently not to float her again, but to reduce her to a portable package which could be taken away in their other canoe, the dugout, on the beach below.

“Well, there goes the Mary Ann,” said John, sadly. “He is evidently going to make some kindling wood for himself.”

“My cousin she’ll say this boat must be took up to camp, where womans can work on heem,” explained Moise. “He’ll say he’ll patch up those boat fine, for all the ribs she’ll be bent all right an’ not bust, and he’ll make new keel an’ new side rails—oh, you wait! Maybe so nex’ year you’ll come here you’ll see those boat Marie H’Ann just so fine like she never was.”

Whatever might have been the future plans for the Mary Ann, she soon resembled nothing so little as a Peterborough canoe. The old man calmly proceeded to separate the framework at bow and stern, so that he could crush the two sides of the canoe together after removing the ribs, which also he proceeded to do, one by one. Finally he had a pile of ribs and some broken splints which he laid carefully on the beach. Then he doubled back the splintered skin of the canoe, throwing away very little indeed of the fractured woodwork. At last he grunted some rapid words to the younger man, who seemed to be his son or a member of his family.

“My cousin she’ll say he can took those boat in dugout all right down the river,” said Moise. “She’ll said to me also we’ll go on Hudson’s Hope with heem.” Moise pointed to Jesse. Alex nodded and explained further the plan which had roughly been sketched out before that time by Rob and himself. In a little time the younger Cree had returned and poled the big dugout around the bend up to the place where they were now in camp. With some excited talk on the part of both, they now took the wreck of the Mary Ann and carried it up the bank to await their return. In different places along the great cottonwood dugout they added such supplies as Moise thought was right. The other supplies they then cached, and put over all the robe of the big grizzly, flesh side out, and heavily salted, weighting the edges down with heavy stones.

The freeboard of the dugout was very slight when Jesse took his place, but seemed quite enough to satisfy the requirements of these voyageurs. The old man sprang into the stern of the dugout and motioned to Jesse to find a seat amidships. Meantime Moise was fixing up a towing collar, which he attached to the line. It became apparent that the plan was for him and the younger breed to double on the tracking line, the old man remaining astern to do the steering.

“That’s the way we get up a river in this country,” said Alex to Rob, who was watching all this with interest. “I would bet they would do twenty-five miles a day with that rig they’ve got there—they go almost at a trot whenever there’s an open bit of beach. When there is none, they pole or paddle.”

“I don’t see how they do it,” said Rob. “None of them have got anything on their feet but moccasins, and those men there have only pieces of moccasins at that. I should think the rocks would cut their feet in bits!”

“Well, you know, Moise and his ‘cousins’ are all ‘same like dog,’ as he would say,” smiled Alex. “Your feet get used to it in time. These men have never known anything better, so they have got adjusted to the way they have to make their living. I doubt if they would wear hard-soled shoes if they had them, because they would say the soles would slip on the rocks. They’re in the water about as much as they are out of it when they are tracking a boat up-stream. That’s the way this country was conquered for the white men—by the paddle, pole, and tracking line.”

“You forget Uncle Dick’s way,” chimed in John.

“How do you mean?”

“Railroads.”

“Yes,” said Alex, sighing, “they’re coming some day, that’s sure. But even the surveyors and engineers had to travel this way, and I think you will find even in the country where the wagons are it’s quite a way from here to home.”

“Well, here we go,” said Rob, after a time. “We mustn’t waste daylight, you know.”

By this time Jesse was looking very serious. Naturally he relied very much upon Moise, but he disliked to leave his friends, and especially to say good-by to Alex, on whom they all seemed to depend very much.

“It’s the right thing to do, Jess,” said John, after a time. “So far as that is concerned, you’ll have it just as safe and a good deal easier than we will, in all probability. We’ll meet you in a week or so at most.”

“So long, then!” said Jesse, bravely waving his hand.

“So long!” said Rob and John. They waved their caps to one another, as each boat now began its way, the Jaybird carrying three passengers, and the long dugout, under the tracking line, taking what remained of the expedition of our voyageurs, who now separated for the time to take different directions on the stream they had followed thus far.