Jack the Young Canoeman: An Eastern Boy's Voyage in a Chinook Canoe

by George Bird Grinnell

The next morning Hugh loaded the Indians up with most of the camp equipment and some of the meat, and sent them back to camp, he and Jack retaining only their guns and blankets. They made a long round of the lower slopes of the mountains, seeing a number of sheep, and at length came to a place where deer were more numerous than they had ever seen them before. It would have been easy to kill a great number, but as they had no means of transporting the meat to the camp they did not fire at all. Toward midday they came out into a little park where a number of deer were lying down, and walking quietly up to them, got within fifteen or twenty steps of the animals before they seemed to take the alarm.

It was now time to turn back and return to camp. There Hugh and Jack made packs of their blankets and set out for the lower ground. For some time the tracks of the Indians were plainly visible,—but at length it began to snow, and the tracks were soon covered. Moreover, their landmark, the mountain which lay behind them, was no longer visible, and the only guide they had was the wind, which blew from the right or southeast.

"Well," said Hugh, "we've got to look out now, or we are liable to get lost."

"Yes," said Jack, "it's quite likely that we won't be able to strike a trail leading down the mountain, but of course we will be able to find the camp."

"Oh, yes," said Hugh; "no trouble about that, only I would rather go into camp by the same trail I left it by, if I can. However, if we don't hit the trail the only thing we'll have to do is to follow down the ridge to the river and there we'll find the trail of the packtrain, and that will take us straight to the camp."

"It would be rather a good joke on you, Hugh," said Jack, "if we were to get lost."

"So it would," said Hugh; "so it would, son. Perhaps we would have been smarter if we hadn't sent those Indians off. Of course this is their country and they know it, and you and I have never been here before. We're all right, however, if the wind doesn't shift. If that should change we might easily enough get twisted. However, we've got the river sure to take us to camp."

An hour or two later, some time after they had got into the timber, Hugh stopped and said: "Son, I think we're off the track. I believe we've kept over too far to the left and have missed the trail. I don't see anything that I recognize as having seen before."

"Well," said Jack, "you can't prove anything by me. I don't see anything that I've seen before and this snow and these gray tree trunks all look alike to me. I have been watching for the past half hour to see where we were, but I haven't any idea of it."

"Well," said Hugh, "it's cold and snowy and likely to be wet; let's push down to the river and get to camp that way, if we can't any other." An hour and a half later they were going down a steep hill clothed with lodge-pole pines, and before long had come to the level land, and in a few moments were out of the timber. On the lower ground the snow had changed to rain and the trees and bushes were wet. There, before them, ran the river; and there close to the river was the deep trail worn by the feet of the horses. Turning up the river they followed the trail, climbed the hills, and just at dark were once more in camp.