[CHAPTER II]
HOW JACK AND HUGH CAME TO BRITISH COLUMBIA
Two days later Hugh and Jack started by steamer for the town of New Westminster, near the mouth of the Fraser River, on the mainland. The trip was one of great beauty, for the boat wound its way here and there amid the many islands of the gulf; and as each one was passed a new vista of beauty burst on the view. And, while the two travellers are sitting on the steamer's deck, admiring the wonderful scenery opening on all sides, wondering at the new birds and animals which appeared, and talking over the possibilities for their summer trip, it may be explained how it came to pass that these two friends found themselves so far from their homes and from the high, dry plains where the summers of the three previous years had been passed by both.
It was six months before—to be exact, it was on Christmas Day—that the thought of the trip to British Columbia had first been broached. Mr. Sturgis, Jack's uncle, had come back from the ranch and was spending the winter with Jack's father and mother at the house on Thirty-Eighth Street; and it was while they were sitting at dessert during their Christmas dinner that Mr. Sturgis had announced that during the next summer it would be necessary for him to go out to British Columbia to inspect a mine in which he was interested, and had proposed that Jack should go with him.
For three years past Jack had spent the summer on the western plains. Ill health had been the first cause of his going out to Swiftwater Ranch, where he had learned to ride, to hunt big game, and to live the life of a ranchman. So greatly had he been benefited by this trip, that the next summer he was permitted to return to the ranch. Then he and old Hugh Johnson had travelled north, across the lonely, buffalo-dotted plains, until they had come to the country of the Piegan Blackfeet, where they had spent the summer in the Indian camp, and Jack had seen much of Indian life—of its charms and its dangers. He returned at length down the Missouri River to the railroad, and so back to his home in New York for the winter's schooling. The third year, still in Hugh's company, he had gone up the Missouri River; and starting southwest from Fort Benton, had gone through the Yellowstone Park and back to the ranch, having a great deal of shooting and fishing and not a little of adventure.
In this out-door life, in knocking about with Hugh Johnson and with other people who had been brought up to take care of themselves, Jack had learned many lessons of the plains and the mountains. He had picked up a great store of the lore of the prairies, could find his way about, even though there might be neither road nor landmarks to guide him; and, under Hugh's tuition, had become a good prairie man. He had also become very fond of the West; and when his uncle suggested that he should go with him to British Columbia, he was delighted at the thought of the trip. Being a boy of good sense, he said nothing when the suggestion was made, but watched the faces of his father and mother, to see how they felt about it.
"British Columbia seems a long way off, doesn't it, George?" said Mr. Danvers to his brother-in-law.
"Yes," said Jack's mother, "it seems a terribly long way off. I have been badly enough frightened these last three years, when Jack went out into a country full of cowboys and Indians and wild animals; and I always let him go with the feeling that I shall never see him again. Certainly the plains are far enough away for him. British Columbia must be more than twice as far, and I don't feel as if I could think of that."
"You and Mary have hit it exactly," said Mr. Sturgis. "You both say it seems a long way off, but in practice it is no further off than where Jack has been before, and, indeed, it is not nearly so far. British Columbia is at least within reach of the rest of the world by steam communication and also by telegraph. You can learn in a very short time what is happening in British Columbia, but when Jack was out on the plains, between my ranch and Fort Benton, he was practically as far off as he would have been in Central Africa. The distance of British Columbia is all in imagination. The country is one that we hear very little of, and for that reason we think it far away, but it is not so. Now, I would like to have Jack go with me. I don't mean that I want to take him up into the mountains to have him spend his days loafing around a mine while I am working; but I thought—if you feel like letting him go with me—we would have Hugh Johnson join us at the railroad, all go on together to British Columbia, and let Hugh and Jack take a hunt or a canoe trip along the coast, while I go back to my mine in Washington Territory. I shall be there a month or six weeks, and after I have done my work and they have made their trip, we could meet and come across overland and home by the new railroad that's being built north from the Union Pacific to the mining regions of Montana Territory."
When Jack heard this fascinating plan he had to hold hard to his chair to keep still; and he couldn't help drawing in his breath with a sort of whistle, making a slight noise, so that his father looked at him and laughed a little.
"You both know," continued Mr. Sturgis, "what these western trips have done for Jack, and yet, really, I am not quite sure that you do know; I am not quite sure that you remember what a wee little bit of a white shrimp he was when he first went out to the ranch; how he changed during that summer, and how, when we came back in the autumn, you, Mary, hardly knew the boy. See how he has grown, squared up—what a picture of health he is! You don't know—and perhaps I don't either, altogether; except so far as I have been told by Hugh Johnson, what a change has taken place in the boy's character. He has developed mentally as much as he has physically. He has gained balance, self-reliance; is sensible beyond his years in all matters that pertain to the out-door life, and is already, in many essentials, a man and a good companion, so far as his strength goes, in any situation where hard work, judgment, coolness, and discretion are required. All this means a great deal, more perhaps than any of us quite understand. If the boy had never gone west, he might have had a greater share of book learning, might have been further advanced toward entering college; but also, he might have been dead, and certainly he would have been very different in appearance from what he is now. You two had better think over the question of this trip. It will mean for the boy another summer spent out of doors, in surroundings that are wholly new to him. The life will be one of hard work whether they make a canoe trip, or a hunt; and it certainly will do them good. Then, of course, it will give him a great deal of pleasure, will enlarge his ideas, and will be, in all respects, helpful to him. Now, think it over, and when you are ready we will talk it over again."