The best guides and hunters are always snapped up early in the season, and before I left England, Mr. Bryan Williams had secured for me the services of Cecil Smith—better known in the local sporting world as "Cougar" Smith, from the number of cougars he had shot. As he lived at Quatiaski Cove, immediately opposite the Willows Hotel, I had frequently met him and discussed our plans together.
We had arranged to go from Alert Bay up the Nimquish River to the Nimquish Lake, from which we were to strike in north-west to some valleys in the interior where wapiti were reported as fairly plentiful. Cecil Smith did not know the ground personally, but his brother Eustace, who had been in that part of the country several times, was to meet us at Alert Bay and act as head guide. Unfortunately for us, at the last moment he was unable to come, and we had to find our way as best we could in an unknown and unmapped country. I had to find a man to replace Eustace Smith, and was fortunate in picking up Joe Thomson at Campbell River, and two better men than Smith and Thomson I could not have had.
Smith was to act as head hunter and guide and Thomson more particularly look after the cooking and camp generally. Thomson came on board with me and we picked up Smith at Quitiaski Cove at about 4 a.m.
Two other members of the party were even of more interest to me than the men. They were "Dick" and "Nigger," the latter generally known as "Satan." "Dick," who belonged to Smith, was a most adorable dog and celebrated throughout Vancouver for treeing cougars; indeed, as Smith himself acknowledged, he owed his reputation as a cougar hunter to Dick, who did everything except the actual shooting. It was difficult to say what Dick's breed was. He looked like a cross between a spaniel and a retriever. He was one of the most fascinating dog characters I have ever met. He adored his master, who returned his worship, but ingratiated himself with every one; soon discovering that I had a warm corner in my heart for all dogs, we at once became fast friends.
"Nigger," the property of Thomson, was a powerful, black, evil-looking bull terrier, but like many of his kind his character belied his looks, for he really was a soft-hearted, affectionate beast with a special ability for making himself comfortable under any circumstances. Thomson asserted that if there was no food, "Nigger" subsisted on berries, and he was an adept at catching fish for himself in the river. He had had some trouble with the authorities at Comox in a matter of sheep, and so a temporary absence from his native town was desirable, and he became, to his great joy, one of our party.
At 2 p.m. on the 27th we arrived at Alert Bay, which is situated on an island opposite where the Nimquish River discharges itself into the sea. Alert Bay is an important settlement of the Siwash Indians, and the village possesses one of the most remarkable collections of Totem Poles on the coast.
The question was, where to put up—hotels there were none. Mr. Chambers, the local merchant, had in the most generous manner built an annexe to his charming house, containing several bedrooms, but they were all occupied. Fortunately, I had been introduced to Mr. Halliday, the Alert Bay Indian Agent, at Campbell River, and he most kindly offered me a shakedown on a sofa in his drawing-room, which I gratefully accepted. I found Mr. Halliday was devoted to music, but seldom could find an accompanist—while to accompany was a pleasure to me, and we passed the evening going through many songs I had not heard for years, which recalled the Old Country and days long gone by.
Eustace Smith met us here and gave a rough sketch map to his brother Cecil, and indeed pointed out to us the peak on Vancouver Island under which we were to camp, and which only looked about fifteen miles off as the crow flies, and yet what difficulty we had afterwards to find our way through the impenetrable forest!
