“Sure enough,” said Alex, with no great enthusiasm; for he did not relish the idea of hunting grizzly bear in company with such young companions.
“But we have come through good grizzly country already,” ventured John.
“Very likely,” Alex smiled. “I’ve seen considerable bear sign along the shores, as well as a good many moose tracks close to where we camped.”
“If you think we’re afraid to go bear hunting, Alex,” Rob began, “you certainly don’t know us very well. That’s one of the reasons we came on this trip—we wanted to get a real Rocky Mountain grizzly.”
“It is not too late,” the old hunter rejoined, “and I shouldn’t wonder if there was as good country east of here as any we’ve come to. The grizzly is a great traveler, anyhow, and is as apt to be found one place as another. At this time of year all the bears come out of the mountains and feed along the valleys on red willow buds and such things. They even swim from the shore to the islands, in search of willow flats. Besides, there are plenty of saskatoons, I don’t doubt, not far back from the river. The bears ought to be down out of the high country by this time, and if you really care for a hunt, there ought to be plenty of good places below here.”
“It isn’t dark yet,” said Rob; “suppose we break camp and run down just a little farther this evening. If the flood comes in behind us, we’re just that much ahead.”
They acted on Rob’s suggestion, and, passing rapidly on down the now slightly discolored water, they soon left the Finlay gap behind them. Their journey was but brief, however, for soon they heard the boom of the rapids below them.
“On shore, queek!” called Moise to Rob, who was in the bow of the leading boat.