“We think this one looks about as bad as anything we’ve seen, Uncle Dick,” said Rob. “A man might get through once in a while, and they say Sam Boyd and Tom Horn did make it more than once before it got them. It doesn’t look possible to me to run it.”
“The river is a lot worse than the Peace,” said John. “Of course, there’s the Rocky Mountain Cañon, which nobody can get through either way, and there isn’t any portage as bad as that on the whole Columbia Big Bend. But for number of bad rapids this river is a lot worse than the Peace.”
“Yes,” assented the others, “in some ways this is a wilder and more risky trip than the one we had last year. But we’ve had a pretty good time of it just the same, haven’t we?”
“We certainly have,” said Rob; and John and Jesse answered in the same way. “I only wish it wasn’t all over so soon,” added Jesse, disconsolately.
The boys, hardy and lighter of foot even than their companions, raced on ahead over the few remaining miles into Revelstoke town, leaving the bank of the river, which here swung off broad and mild enough once it had emerged from its cañon walls. Before them lay the town of Revelstoke, with its many buildings, its railway trains, and its signs of life and activity.
In town they all found a great budget of mail awaiting them, and concluded to spend the night at Revelstoke in order to do certain necessary writing and telegraphing. They had several letters from their people in Alaska, but none announcing any word from themselves after they had arrived at Edmonton, so that some of the letters bore rather an anxious note.
“What would it cost to send a telegram from here to Seattle, and a cablegram up the coast, and then by wireless up to the fort near Valdez?” inquired Rob. “That ought to get through to-morrow, and just two or three words to let them know we were out safe might make them all feel pretty comfortable. It’s a good thing they don’t know just what we’ve been through the last few days.”
“Well, you go down to the station and see if it can be done,” said Uncle Dick, “and I’ll foot the bill. Get your berths for the next Transcontinental west to Vancouver, and reserve accommodations for Moise and me going east. Leo and George, I’m thinking, will want to wait here for a while; with so much money as he has as grizzly premiums and wages, Leo is not going to leave until he has seen something of the attractions of this city. In fact, I shouldn’t wonder if he got broke here and walked back up to O’Brien’s and took his boat there up the Columbia. They always get back home some way, the beggars, and I’ll warrant you that when we all go to the Tête Jaune Cache by rail, a couple of years from now, we’ll see Leo and George waiting for us at the train as happy as larks!”
“I wonder if my pony’ll be there too?” said John.