The track here bore to the right, to enter the most westerly of the two narrow valleys, into which that of The Cache is divided by the line of hills to the south marked Malton Range in the map. A mile or so brought us to Canoe River, a tributary of the Columbia, running towards the south-east. The stream has worn a deep channel in the sandy ground, and we descended a steep cliff to gain the valley of the river, which we cut nearly at right angles. The waters were at high flood, and the current very strong; the banks were beset with driftwood and overhanging trees, and we moved some way up the stream in search of a place where it would be possible to raft across. We found a small open space at last, near which stood some dead pines, and where the opposite bank was for a short distance more free than usual from fallen trunks, rocks, and brushwood. We then drove the horses across, and commenced cutting down wood for the raft. By the loss of the two axes previously we were now reduced to one small one, and had to work hard in relays until afternoon before we had felled enough timber for our purpose. Then came the task of carrying it down to the edge of the river, and Mr. O’B.’s services were called into requisition amongst the rest. We arranged that on the present occasion he should be put in for some really hard work, as Cheadle’s partner. The sight was a most ludicrous one: Mr. O’B. staggering along under one end of a heavy log, with loud cries and fearful groans, trying to stop, but driven forward by the merciless Cheadle, who could hardly carry his load for laughter at the exclamations and contortions of his companion. Mr. O’B. sat down after delivering his load, and vowed he was utterly incapable of any further exertion, but Cheadle induced him to make another attempt, and managed to find a tree as heavy as the first. Mr. O’B. entreated, groaned, begged for mercy, and implored Cheadle to stop for a moment, only one moment; but he was obliged to push on to the end, where he sat down, declaring he was regularly broken down. Yet he was not too exhausted to talk and complain very loudly. Finding, however, that too much time was lost by keeping him at hard labour, we detailed him to carry the light poles for the cross pieces of the raft. When all the wood was brought down, the logs were securely lashed together, and we prepared to cross. The stream was so strong that it was with great difficulty all got on board, and the raft had drifted some distance before we fairly got to work with the poles we all carried. Away we went down stream at a fearful pace. At first it appeared certain that we must run foul of some rocks, and a tree overhanging the bank on the side we started from. Very vigorous poling, urged on by the frantic shouts and anathemas of The Assiniboine, barely saved us from this danger. In avoiding Scylla, however, we fell into Charybdis, for the current, setting in strongly at this place toward the opposite side, almost before we were aware, or could make any effort to prevent it, carried us across into a billowy rapid. Over this we passed like an arrow, and were helplessly borne straight to what seemed certain destruction, a large pine-tree, through the lower branches of which the water rushed like the stream from a mill-wheel. “À terre—à TERRE avec la line!” shouted The Assiniboine, as we neared the bank for an instant, and making a desperate leap into the water caught the bushes, scrambled up the side, and whipped his rope round a tree. Cheadle jumped at the same moment with the other rope, and did likewise; but the cords, rotten from repeated wettings, snapped like threads, the raft was sucked under the tree, and disappeared beneath the water. Milton and the woman were brushed off like flies by the branches, but Mr. O’B., in some incomprehensible manner, managed to stick to the raft, and re-appeared above water further down, sitting silent and motionless, sailing along to swift destruction with seeming resignation. The Assiniboine and the boy—who had leaped ashore with his father—rushed along the bank in pursuit. Cheadle, however, who was following, with a confused notion that everybody was drowned but himself, heard a cry proceeding from the tree, and looking in that direction, observed Milton clinging to the branches, his body sucked under the trunk, and his head disappearing under water and rising again with the varying rush of the current. The woman was in similar position, but further out and on the lower side. Both were in imminent danger of being swept off every moment, and Cheadle, shouting to them for God’s sake to hold on, clambered along the tree and laid hold of Milton, who was nearest. He cried out to help the woman first, but Cheadle, seeing the woman was more difficult to reach, and Milton in the greater danger, helped him out at once.

[(Larger)]

OUR MISADVENTURE WITH THE RAFT IN CROSSING CANOE RIVER.

(See [page 271].)

We then crawled carefully forwards to the rescue of the woman. She was, however, so far below, that it was impossible to lift her out, and we therefore held her as well as we could, and shouted to The Assiniboine to be quick with a rope.

He, in the meantime, had caught up the raft in its swift career, and cried loudly to Mr. O’B., who sat motionless in the stern, to throw the end of the broken rope. Mr. O’B. responded only by a gentle shaking of the head, and a “No, no; no, thank you,” looking solemnly straight before him. The raft, however, bringing up for a moment against another overhanging tree, was arrested by The Assiniboine. Mr. O’B. instantly seized the opportunity of escape, darted on shore, and buried himself in the woods, regardless of the entreaties of his deliverer, to help in securing the raft.

After we had shouted some time, The Assiniboine seemed to understand us, and hastened to unfasten a rope. But this took time, and we began to fear we should not be able to keep the woman up until he came. Presently Mr. O’B. appeared on the bank, gazing at us in a bewildered manner. We cried to him to run down to The Assiniboine and tell him to bring a rope quickly; but he did not seem to comprehend, and untying his neckerchief, held that out to us. The boy, coming up at the moment, brought it to the tree, and with that and Milton’s belt, passed round the woman’s waist, he kept her above the water until her husband arrived with a rope,—and Mrs. Assiniboine was saved. She was, however, benumbed and nearly insensible, but gradually recovered with warmth and a draught of rum, which Cheadle had fortunately reserved for emergencies, in his flask. We had great difficulty in getting a fire, for the tinder was wet, and we had lost our matches previously in the Fraser; but we succeeded at last, dried our things, and investigated our losses. Strange to say, the guns and powder-horns had not been swept off, and the provisions were safe; but the packs which contained the whole property of the man and his family were gone.

In talking over the adventure afterwards, Mr. O’B. assured us that he had not the slightest recollection of anything which occurred after the raft sank under the tree, until he found himself safe on shore. Before we had rested very long, Mr. O’B. called Cheadle aside, and requested him, as a special favour, to induce Milton to agree to move on for a few miles. “For,” said he, “you see, Doctor, I’m rather nervous. I’ve had a terrible shock to-day—a terrible shock! ‘Mihi frigidus horror membra quatit.’ I’m trembling with the recollection of it now. Ah! Doctor, Doctor, you don’t know what I suffered. The sound of this dreadful water in my ears is more than I can bear. I want to know whether you think there will be any more rivers to cross. But please move on a few miles, please do, there’s a good fellow, just to oblige me, out of hearing of this terrible noise. ‘Heu me miserum! iterum iterumque, strepitum fluminum audio!’” We agreed, and went forward a mile or two to better feeding for the horses, and there camped for the night.

On the following day we made a long detour to the right, to get round the range of hills to the south, and entered the narrow valley on the west of it. The trail was not very distinct, and passed amongst rocks and burnt timber. At dinner-time we discovered that the frying-pan and some of the tin plates were lost, and thenceforward were driven to cook our pemmican and bake our bread in the kettle. A small stream flowed along the bottom of the ravine towards the north, falling probably into either the Fraser or Canoe River; but the next day we passed the height of land, and gained the watershed of the Thompson. This was occupied by a small marshy lake, marked Albreda Lake in the map, filling the bottom of the ravine. It appeared to have been drained formerly by a stream flowing from either extremity, like the Summit lake between Lake Lilloet and Anderson Lake, in British Columbia; but the northern end was now blocked up by an old grass-grown beaver-dam, and its waters escaped only towards the south. We continued to follow the stream thus formed, which was reinforced by several branches from the westward, and saw before us a magnificent mountain, covered with glaciers, and apparently blocking up the valley before us. To this Cheadle gave the name of Mount Milton. The trail now entered thick pine forest, where the timber was of enormous size. Two trunks of the giant cypress (Thuja gigantea) or cedar, as it is commonly called, which grew side by side, measured over six and a half embraces, or thirty-nine feet; the other, five embraces, or thirty feet in circumference, giving diameters of thirteen feet and ten feet. Pines, of almost equal girth, towered up to a height of over 300 feet. There was no open ground, and the horses fed on twigs and mare’s-tail; the road was hilly, swamps occupying the hollows.