Part 22 (2/2)

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE BIG BEND OF THE COLUMBIA RIVER]

”It's just around the corner of the Big Bend here,” rejoined their leader. ”Over yonder a few hundred yards away is the mouth of the Wood River, and the Encampment lies beyond that. That's the end of the water trail of the Columbia going east, and the end of the land trail for those crossing the Athabasca Pa.s.s and going west. Many a bold man in the past has gone by this very spot where we now stand. There isn't much left to mark their pa.s.sing, even at the old Boat Encampment, but, if you like, we'll go up there and have a look at the old place.”

Accordingly, they now embarked once more, and, taking such advantage of the slack water as they could, and of the up-stream wind which aided them for a time, they slowly advanced along the banks of the Columbia, whose mighty green flood came pouring down in a way which caused them almost a feeling of awe. Thus they pa.s.sed the mouth of the more quiet Wood River, coming in from the north, and after a long, hard pull of it landed at last at the edge of a sharp bend, where a little beach gave them good landing-room.

Uncle d.i.c.k led them a short distance back toward a flat gra.s.sy s.p.a.ce among the low bushes. Here there was a scattered litter of old tent-pegs and a few broken poles, now and then a tin can. Nothing else remained to mark the historic spot, which had pa.s.sed from the physical surface of the earth almost as completely as the old Tete Jaune Cache.

Uncle d.i.c.k turned away in disgust.

”Some trappers have camped here lately,” said he, ”or perhaps some of the engineers sent out by another railroad. But, at any rate, this is the old Boat Encampment. Yonder runs the trail, and you can follow that back clear to Timbasket Lake, if you like, or to the Athabasca Pa.s.s.”

”Is this where they came in from the Saskatchewan?” demanded Rob.

”No, the old trail that way really came down the Blaeberry, very far above. I presume after they got on the west side, in the Columbia valley, they took to the trail and came down to this point just the same, for I doubt if any of them ran the Columbia much above here.

Many a time old David Thompson stopped here--the first of the great map-makers, my young friends, and somewhat ahead of you, John. And Sir George Simpson, the lord of the fur-traders, came here with his Indian wife, who became a peeress of Great Britain, but who had to walk like any voyageur from here out across the Rockies. I don't doubt old Doctor Laughlin, of Fort Vancouver, was here, as I have told you. In short, most of the great fur-traders came to this point up to about 1825, or 1826, at which time, as we have learned, they developed the upper trail, along the Fraser to the Tete Jaune Cache.”

”But didn't any one of them ever go up the Wood River yonder?”

demanded Rob. ”That looks like an easy stream.”

”The engineer Moberly went up there, and crossed the Rockies to the head of the Whirlpool River on the east side,” replied Uncle d.i.c.k, ”but that was in modern times--about the same time that Major Rogers discovered the Rogers Pa.s.s through the Selkirks below here, where the Canadian Pacific road crosses the Rockies. It's a great tumble and jumble of mountains in here, my young friends, and a man's job for any chap who picked out any pa.s.s in these big mountains here.

”Yonder”--he rose and pointed as he spoke--”east of us, is the head of the Saskatchewan--the Howse Pa.s.s is far to the south of where we stand here. Northeast of us, and much closer, is the Athabasca Pa.s.s, and we know that by following down the Athabasca we would come to Henry House and Jasper House, not far from the mouth of the Miette River.

”Now, somewhere north of here, down the west side of the mountains, came the trail from the Athabasca Pa.s.s, and it ended right here where we stand. I've never made that trip across the Athabasca Pa.s.s myself.

That old pa.s.s, famous as it is, is in the discard now. With a railroad on each side of it, it will be visited from this time on very rarely by any man, whether he be tourist or bear-hunter. The Rockies will take back their own once more.

”But here, right where we stand, is one of those points comparable to old Fort Benton, or Laramie, on the plains below us, in our own country. This was the rendezvous, the half-way house, of scores of bold and brave men who now are dead and gone. I want you to look at this place, boys, and to make it plain on your map, and to remember it always. Few of your age have ever had the privilege of visiting a spot like this.”

Rob and Jesse busied themselves helping John with his map, and meantime Moise and the other two men were making a little fire to boil a kettle of tea.

”Why did they stop here?” asked John, after a time, busy with his pencil. ”Couldn't they get any farther up?”

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE COLUMBIA RIVER, ABOVE THE BOAT ENCAMPMENT]

Uncle d.i.c.k pointed to the jutting end of the sh.o.r.e which hid the bend of the river from view above them. ”You know that river, Leo?” said he.

Leo spread out his hands wide, with a gesture of respect.

”Me know 'um,” said he. ”Plenty bad river. Me run 'um, and my Cousin George. And Walt Steffens--he live at Golden, and Jack Bogardus, his partner, and Joe McLimanee, and old man Allison--no one else know this river--no one else ron 'um. No man go up Columby beyond here--come down, yes, maybe-so.”

”Last year,” said Uncle d.i.c.k, ”when I came in from the Beaver Mouth I saw a broken boat not far below Timbasket Lake. Whose was it?”

”My boat,” grinned Leo. And George also laughed. ”We bust up boat on rock, lose flour, tea, everything. We swim out, and walk trail down to here, swim Wood River, and go up Canoe River, fifty mile. Two day we'll not got anything to eat.”

”Well, I don't see how they got up these streams at all,” said John.

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