VIEW FROM THE HILL OPPOSITE JASPER HOUSE.—THE UPPER LAKE OF THE ATHABASCA RIVER AND PRIEST’S ROCK.
(See [page 232].)
Descending into the valley again by a similar path, Milton and his party camped in a little sandy plain opposite the Fort, to await the arrival of Cheadle and The Assiniboine. Jasper House is a neat white building, surrounded by a low palisade, standing in a perfect garden of wild flowers, which form a rich sheet of varied and brilliant colours, backed by dark green pines which clustered thickly round the bases of the hills. Above, a zone of light green shrubs and herbage still retained their vernal freshness, and contrasted with the more sombre trees below, and the terraced rocks above with their snow-clad summits. In the neighbourhood of Jasper House the flowers were very beautiful and various. Here grew Cinerarias, in the greatest profusion, of every shade of blue, an immense variety of Composite, and a flower like the lychnis, with sepals of brilliant scarlet, roses, tiger lilies, orchids, and vetches.
While Milton, with Mr. O’B., the woman, and boy, were taking the train of horses over the mountain, Cheadle and his companion clambered up the crags close to the Roche à Myette, following the tracks of the mouton gris. Along narrow ledges of a precipice of limestone rock, up to a giddy height, the hunters struggled on—breathless, and their legs aching with the exertion of climbing such as they had long been strangers to—without catching sight of a bighorn. When they had ascended 700 or 800 feet, they espied a mountain goat—mouton blanc—feeding quietly, along with a kid by its side, a few hundred yards in advance. Making a long detour, and going higher yet, to get above the animal, they crawled cautiously along to the point where they had last seen the goat, and, peering over the edge of a rock, saw its face looking upwards, about twenty yards below. The rest of the body was hidden by a projecting stone, and Cheadle fired at the forehead. The animal tumbled over, but got up again, bewildered, making no attempt to escape. The Assiniboine now got a sight of the shoulder and fired, when the animal scrambled away, with difficulty, a short distance. They quickly followed and found it almost dead. Having no more ball, The Assiniboine killed the kid with a charge of shot. On going up to the game, it appeared that the first shot had merely struck the frontal bone, close to the root of the horn, which it tore off without further damage; but the shock had so stunned the beast, that it was unable to move away. The hunters pushed the goat and kid over the precipice, and scrambled down after it. Looking up at the precipice from below, it seemed as if not even a goat could find footing, and Cheadle wondered he had ever dared to venture there. They found also, now the excitement of the chase was over, that their moccasins were cut to shreds, and they had been walking nearly barefoot over the sharp rocks, without noticing it at the time. The best portions of the meat were cut off, the goat slung, together with the kid, on a pole, and each shouldering an end, the two started after the rest of the party. They had now to ascend the mountain-side, to which Mr. O’B.’s horse had so objected—a very arduous task, with their heavy load. Many a halt was made before they gained the summit. It was nearly dusk, and far below, two or three miles away, they saw the light of the camp fire. Being thoroughly done, and feeling almost unable to carry their prize much further, they sat down and fired a number of signal shots for the others to bring a horse for the meat. These were presently answered, and the pair took up their load again to descend, hoping to meet assistance before long. This was almost more harassing than the climbing up, the grass and “Uva Ursi,” on the lower slopes, being very slippery; but at last they reached the bottom, and coming to a stream, The Assiniboine, thoroughly beaten, dropped the load, and plunged his head in the water to refresh himself. Soon after, Milton and the boy came up with a horse, to carry the meat, and that night we all enjoyed the most delicious supper we had eaten since leaving Edmonton. Since that time—three weeks before—we had not tasted any fresh meat, with the exception of a few wood partridges, and the roast kid was an immense treat, causing even Mr. O’B. to forget his troubles for a time.
CHAPTER XIII.
Making a Raft—Mr. O’B. at Hard Labour—He admires our “Youthful Ardour”—News of Mr. Macaulay—A Visitor—Mr. O’B. Fords a River—Wait for Mr. Macaulay—The Shushwaps of the Rocky Mountains—Winter Famine at Jasper House—The Wolverine—The Miners before us—Start again—Cross the Athabasca—The Priest’s Rock—Site of the Old Fort, “Henry’s House”—The Valley of the Myette—Fording Rapids—Mr. O’B. on Horseback again—Swimming the Myette—Cross it for the Last Time—The Height of Land—The Streams run Westward—Buffalo-dung Lake—Strike the Fraser River—A Day’s Wading—Mr. O’B.’s Hair-breadth Escapes—Moose Lake—Rockingham Falls—More Travelling through Water—Mr. O’B. becomes disgusted with his Horse—Change in Vegetation—Mahomet’s Bridge—Change in the Rocks—Fork of the Fraser, or original Tête Jaune Cache—Magnificent Scenery—Robson’s Peak—Flood and Forest—Horses carried down the Fraser—The Pursuit—Intrepidity of the Assiniboine—He rescues Bucephalus—Loss of Gisquakarn—Mr. O’B.’s Reflections and Regrets—Sans Tea and Tobacco—The Extent of our Losses—Mr. O’B. and Mrs. Assiniboine—Arrive at the Cache.
We arrived opposite Jasper House on the 29th of June. The Fort was evidently without inhabitants, but as the trail appeared to lead there only, we purposed to cross the river at this point, and set to work to cut timber for a raft. On the 30th we laboured hard with our two small axes, felling the dry pine-trees, while Mr. O’B. devoted himself to the study of Paley, over a pipe. It was late in the afternoon before sufficient timber was cut down, and it had then to be carried several hundred yards to the river’s edge. Mr. O’B. was required to assist in this, but he had disappeared. We made diligent search for him, and at last found him, squatted behind a bush, still enjoying his book and pipe. We apologised for interrupting his studies, and informed him that all hands were now required in order to get the wood down to the river’s edge as quickly as possible, so as to be able to cross before dark. Mr. O’B. assured us that he had been looking forward with eager impatience for an opportunity of giving his assistance, but got up and followed us with evident reluctance, and impressed upon us that his weak and delicate frame was quite unfit for heavy work. A few of the largest trunks were carried with difficulty by the united strength of our whole party, and we were then detailed into parties of two, for the transport of the rest. Milton paired off with O’B., Cheadle with The Assiniboine, and the woman with the boy, for the lesser trees. Mr. O’B. shouldered, with a sigh, the smaller end of the log, his fellow-labourer the other, and they proceeded slowly towards the shore. After the first few steps O’B. began to utter the most awful groans, and cried out, continually, “Oh, dear! Oh, dear! this is most painful—it’s cutting my shoulder in two—not so fast, my lord. Gently, gently. Steady, my lord, steady; I must stop. I’m carrying all the weight myself. I shall drop with exhaustion directly—triste lignum te caducum.” And then, with a loud “Oh!” and no further warning, he let his end of the tree down with a run, jarring his unhappy partner most dreadfully. A repetition of this scene occurred on each journey, to the great amusement of every one but the unfortunate sufferer by the schoolmaster’s vagaries. At last, hurt repeatedly by the sudden dropping of the other end of the load, Milton dispensed with Mr. O’B.’s assistance, and dragged the trunk alone. The Assiniboine coming up at the moment, indignantly vituperated Mr. O’B., and, shouldering the log, carried it off with ease. The sun was setting when this portion of our task was over, and we decided to defer crossing until the morning. As we were engaged in discussing Mr. O’B.’s delinquencies, and commenting rather severely upon his pusillanimity, he overheard us, and came up, with the imperturbable confidence which he always displayed in all social relations, remarking it was all very well for Cheadle, who had “shoulders like the Durham ox, to treat gigantic exertion of this kind so lightly, but I assure you it would very soon kill a man of my delicate constitution.” Cheadle remarked that Milton was of slighter build than himself, and he did his share without complaint. “Ah! yes,” replied Mr. O’B., “he is fired with emulation. I have been lost in admiration of his youthful ardour all the day! but you see I am older, and obliged to be cautious; look how I have suffered by my exertions to-day!”—showing us a small scratch on his hand. We exhibited our palms, raw with blisters, which caused him to turn the conversation by dilating on his favourite topic—the hardships of the fearful journey we were making.
Milton and the boy had volunteered to swim across with horses, in order to carry ropes to the other side with which to guide the raft—a somewhat hazardous adventure, as the river was broad, and the stream tremendously rapid; but before our preparations were completed on the following morning, a half-breed made his appearance in our camp—a welcome sight after our solitary journey of three weeks. He informed us that he was one of Mr. Macaulay’s party who were out hunting. The party had divided at McLeod River, and were to meet at the Fort that day. He advised us to cross the river some miles higher up, beyond the lake, where the stream was more tranquil, and thereby avoid the River Maligne on the other side, which it was very hazardous to attempt to ford at this season.
We accordingly raised camp, and proceeded, under his guidance, along the bank of the river for four or five miles. On the way we forded several streams, or more probably mouths of one river, flowing into the Athabasca from the south, very swollen and rapid. We crossed them on horseback without much difficulty, by carefully following our guide; but Mr. O’B., having taken a rooted dislike to equitation, since his horse lay down with him when ascending the mountain, perversely resolved to wade across. We pulled up on the further side and watched him, as he followed, cautiously and fearfully, steadying himself by the stout stick which he invariably carried. He went on with great success until he gained the middle of the stream, when he suddenly plunged into a hole, where the water was nearly up to his arm-pits. He cried out wildly, “I’m drowning! Save me! save me!” then, losing his presence of mind, applied, in his confusion, the saying of his favourite poet, “In medio tutissimus ibis,” and struggled into deeper water still, instead of turning back to the shallow part. He was in imminent danger of being carried off, and Milton hastened to the rescue, and brought him out, clinging to his stirrup. He was dreadfully frightened, but gradually recovered composure when assured we had no more rivers to ford for the present.
In a short time we reached a sandy plain, richly clothed with flowers, and camped close to a clear shallow lake, communicating by a narrow outlet with the upper Athabasca Lake. Here we decided to remain until Mr. Macaulay arrived. On scanning the heights beyond the lake with a glass, we saw a large flock of bighorns on the loftiest crags, and The Assiniboine and his son went out to hunt, but returned unsuccessful, having been so enveloped in the mountain mists that they found it impossible to proceed.