Late in the afternoon they passed a little settlement of a few cabins, where a discolored stream came down into the river through a long sluice-box whose end was visible.
“This Howard’s camp,” shouted Leo. “Them mans wash gold here. Some mans live there now.”
Two or three men indeed did come to the bank and wave an excited greeting as the boats swept by. But there was no going ashore, for directly at this place a stretch of rapids demanded the attention of every one in the boats.
And still Uncle Dick urged the Indians of the first boat to go on as far as they could that night. They ran until almost dark, and made camp on the top of a high bank on the left side of the river where once an old lumber camp had been. Here they found the breeze good and the mosquito nuisance much diminished.
“How far now to Revelstoke, Leo?” inquired Uncle Dick, as they sat at their frugal supper that night.
“Maybe-so forty mile, maybe-so sixty,” said Leo.
“Can we make it in one day?”
Leo shook his head soberly.
“Two days?”
Leo shook his head.