That night they camped on a creek called Whipsaw, and as there was no grass at the camp for the horses, they were turned out to the mountain side to feed. After they had got into camp, Ryder told Jack that on the creek, a couple of miles below the trail, there was a deer lick; and suggested that they should go down and try to kill a deer, as fresh meat was needed. They went down and found a spot where animals had evidently been at work gnawing and licking the saline clay; but, though there were abundant signs all about, no deer were seen.
The next day after passing through a beautiful open country dotted with great pines, whose cinnamon-colored trunks rose fifty to sixty feet from the ground without a branch, they reached Alison's on the Smilkameen. Here they stopped for a little while. Mrs. Alison, a very intelligent and kindly woman, took great pride in showing Jack and Hugh the children's pets—a great horned owl, a sparrow hawk just from the nest, some attractive green-winged teal and mallards caught young, and a tame magpie which talked remarkably well and spoke the names of two of the children—"Alfreda" and "Caroline"—very plainly.
Keeping on down the river, they camped below Alison's. The way down the river was beautiful, for on either hand rose high, steep, slide rock mountains, marked with sheep and goat trails, criss-crossing in every direction. Here and there along the stream stood an Indian cabin.
"I tell you, son," said Hugh, "We're in a game country now, or what has been a game country. In times past there have been a heap of sheep on these mountain sides here. You see their trails running everywhere. Of course, when a sheep trail is once made in the slide rock it lasts just about forever, unless there is some slip of rock on a mountain side and the rocks roll down and cover it up."
That night the Indian, Baptiste, confirmed what Hugh had said. Ryder interpreted for him, saying that sheep and goats were plenty near here and that to-morrow they would hunt.
"In spring," Baptiste said, "when ploughing the land, I often see goats far down on the cliffs close to the river, but as summer advances and it grows warm and the flies become troublesome, the goats gradually work up to the tops of the mountains. There they paw holes in the earth, in which they stand and stamp; and sometimes wallow and roll to get rid of the flies."
"All right," said Hugh, "we will see what Baptiste can show us to-morrow."
"The way that Indian talks," he added, "sounds to me just like Kutenai. I have heard a lot of Kutenais talk in the Blackfeet camps, and elsewhere, and I would like to know if this Baptiste is a Kutenai."
"I guess not," said Ryder; "he's a Smilkameen."
"Ask him," said Hugh, "if the Smilkameens and Kutenais are relations."