The River Motor Boat Boys on the Columbia; Or, The Confession of a Photograph

by Harry Gordon

Almost exactly on the boundary line between Alberta and British Columbia, the flat car had come to grief, and the trainmen had bunted it to the spur and gone on about their business, promising to order a wrecker at the nearest telegraph office. The disabled car tilted frightfully to the rear as it stood on the shaky track, giving the platform a twenty-five per cent. pitch, and causing the Rambler to take on a rakish air, like a swaggering person with his hat set on the back of his head.

A few miles to the east was Laggan, sometimes called Lake Louise, which is 2,368 miles from Montreal and 5,032 feet above the level of the Pacific ocean, 500 miles away. About the same distance to the west was Field, sometimes called Emerald Lake, 2,387 miles from Montreal and over 4,000 feet above tidewater. The highest altitude on the boundary at that point is 5,200 feet above the ocean, and the motor boat was just about there.

It was close to sunset of an April day, and the mountain pass was cold and desolate. There was snow on the peaks, and a cold wind blew whistling through the narrow cut in the gray rock. There was no living figure in sight from the sidling platform of the car, or from the foot-square windows of the Rambler’s tiny cabin. The silence was broken only by the uneasy wind.

Decidedly it was anything but cheerful outside. Inside, there was a glowing fire in a small coal stove, and a shaded electric light brought out the cozy furnishings of the place. The electric generators were not working, the motors being silent, but there was in the accumulators sufficient current for the light and the little electric stove upon which a supper was cooking.

Those who have followed the fortunes of the Rambler to the headwaters of the Amazon will understand without further detail exactly what kind of a craft she was. After returning from the South American expedition, the lads had planned a trip to the Columbia river, and they were now on their way to Donald, where the motor boat was to be launched into the waters of that interesting stream.

The boys had worked hard in Chicago all through the winter, and when April came they were ready for the journey, although their supply of money was not as large as they had hoped to make it. Of the five who had visited Cloud island and secured the store of gold hidden in that semi-volcanic heap of rocks, however, only three were in shape to set out on the proposed voyage.

Frank Porter, who owned the gold taken from Cloud island, had insisted on financing the trip, but this the self-reliant boys would not listen to, preferring to depend upon their own exertions. Julian Shafer, in the interest of whose health the Amazon trip had originally been planned, had acquired a little property through the exertions of Dr. Holcomb, the physician who was treating him for tuberculosis, and had decided to spend the winter and summer at Los Angeles.

So, of the five, there remained only Clayton Emmett, Cornelius Witters, and Alexander Smithwick to carry out the exploration of the Columbia the following spring. It was hoped, however, that both Frank and Julian would be able to join their friends at some point lower down. The story of the boys’ adventures on the Amazon may be found in the first volume of this series.

On this night, then, “Clay,” “Case,” and “Alex,” as they were familiarly called, were gathered around the coal heater in the cabin of the Rambler, high up in a rocky pass on a mountain range, the range forming the backbone of the continent of North America. There was plenty of coal on the platform car, and so they had no fear of passing a chill as well as a desolate night on the great divide. Also, the boys had plenty of provisions, as there were numerous boxes on the car which were to be emptied of their eatables and carried on board the motor boat whenever the great river was reached.

The leasing of the car had eaten into the finances of the boys quite seriously, but they anticipated living mostly on game and fish during the run down the Columbia to the Pacific ocean. They had made no calculations for the return ride to Chicago, believing that they would be able to find employment at Portland.