Tired from their tramp of the day before, they all groaned protestingly; but Moise also called out from his fireside, “Hello, young mans! Suppose you’ll got up and eat some more trout, eh?”
“I certainly am hungry,” said John, and in their laughter at John’s unfailing appetite Rob and Jesse found themselves awake.
“Well, get out and get the horses, young men,” said Uncle Dick, relentlessly, “and then back to breakfast while I make up the packs. You see those three peaks on ahead? Well, we’ve got to get on the other side of them just as soon as we can. We can’t afford to lose a minute at this time of the year, for the fords will be bad enough even as they are.”
When at length their little pack-train began its slow course up the valley of the Miette all the boys turned and looked behind them to say good-by to the great valley of the Athabasca, which had served them as a highway for so long. The excitement of their new adventures, however, kept them keyed up, and certainly the dangers of the trail were not inconsiderable.
The old pass of the traders now swung away from the river, now crossed high ridges, only to drop again into boggy creek-bottoms and side-hill muskeg. Several times they had to ford the Miette, no easy thing, and at other times small streams which came down from the mountains at the right also had to be crossed. The three white peaks ahead still served as landmarks, but it was not until the second day that they reached the flat prairie through which the Miette River now wandered, broken into many little channels. Even here they found the going very soft and difficult, now impeded by down timber, or again by a rushing torrent where the ford had to be selected with the utmost care. John and Jesse were tired by the end of their second day of this hard travel; and even Rob, muddy to his knees from wading bogs, was glad when at last their leader halted.
“It’s all right, boys,” said Uncle Dick. “I don’t want to drive you too hard, but I know perfectly well that every day counts with us now. We’ve got bad country on ahead as well as bad country behind us, and we must make it through before the spring floods are on. I suppose you’ve noticed that all the creeks are worse late in the afternoon? But I’ve waited at some of these little streams four and five days without being able to ford at all.”
They pushed on up through the open prairie-like country which now lay on about them, continually a panorama of mountains unfolding before them, all strange to them. An angle of the trail seemed to shut off all the valley of the Miette from them, so that they seemed in a different world.
“When will we get to the summit, Uncle Dick?” inquired Rob, after a time, as they halted at the edge of a wide green valley in whose deep grass for a time no running stream could be seen.
Uncle Dick smiled. “We’re at the summit now, you might say,” said he. “I knew you couldn’t tell when we got there.”
“This isn’t like the Peace River Pass at all,” said Rob; “it doesn’t look like a pass at all, but more like a flat prairie country.”