We were in a very disheartening position. Before crossing the Fraser a fortnight before we had lost nearly everything we possessed. Our provisions were now reduced to about ten pounds of pemmican, and the same of flour, or not three days’ rations for the six persons. Game of all kinds—as is always the case in vast forests—was exceedingly scarce, and if it had been plentiful, we could have killed but little with the few charges of powder we had left. Our clothes were already in rags, and we were obliged to patch our moccasins with pieces of the saddle-bags. The horses were weak and in wretched condition, having had little proper pasture since leaving Edmonton two months before, and for the last fortnight had subsisted upon leaves and twigs, with an occasional mouthful of marsh grass, or equisetum.
We had only one small Indian axe with which to cut our way through the encumbered forest which surrounded us, and we knew not how long or difficult the journey before us might be. The Canadians—a party of fifty or sixty strong, all able-bodied men provided with good axes, and expert in the use of them—had, after a few days’ trial, failed to make any satisfactory progress through the obstructions which beset them, and had evaded the difficulty by braving the dangers of an unknown river full of rocks and rapids. We were a weak party, our mainstay, The Assiniboine, having but one hand. Even along the partially cleared trail we had followed thus far, the work of making it passable had been very heavy, and our progress slow and laborious. We had been delayed and harassed every day by the horses miring in muskegs, entangling themselves amongst fallen timber, rolling down hills, or being lost in the thick woods. The attempt to force our way through the forest, therefore, seemed almost a desperate one. On the other hand, to make a proper raft with our small means and strength would occupy many days, and necessitate the abandonment of the horses, our last resource for food. In an ordinarily tranquil stream our weak and motley company was utterly incompetent to manage that most unmanageable of all transports, a large raft. In a stream swollen, rocky, and rapid as the Thompson, the experiment was certain to prove disastrous. We had been solemnly and earnestly warned by the Shushwaps of The Cache against such an attempt, as they said the river was impracticable for a raft, and very hazardous even for canoes. Cheadle went out and explored the country for some distance ahead, but returned with the unwelcome report that it seemed perfectly impossible for horses to get through such a collection of fallen timber, and along such precipitous hill-sides as he had encountered. Every one looked very serious at this announcement, and Mr. O’B. expressed his opinion that we must make up our minds to meet a miserable end. In the evening we held grave council over our camp-fire, trying to increase philosophy by smoking kinnikinnick, and, after careful deliberation, decided that The Assiniboine should investigate the country on the morrow, and if he thought it practicable, we would endeavour to cut our way through the forest. We calculated that Kamloops could not be more than 120 or 130 miles distant, and we should probably enter upon more open country before long. It rained heavily during the night, and until nearly noon the next day, when The Assiniboine started on his voyage of discovery. Soon after his departure we heard a shot, and the barking of the dog Papillon, from which we inferred that he had found game of some kind, and as we had seen tracks of Cariboo deer, we hoped that he might have met with one of these animals. In the evening we were delighted by his appearance, carrying a small black bear on his shoulders, and reporting that he thought it possible to get through, although our advance would necessarily be very slow and laborious. From the summit of the hill at the foot of which we were encamped, he had seen, far to the south, mountains crowded behind mountains, the everlasting pine-forest extending in every direction, without a sign of open country; the only favourable circumstance which he observed being that the hills appeared to become lower, and fewer of them were capped with snow. We all set eagerly to work to skin and cut up the bear, and had a great feast that night. This was the first fresh meat we had tasted since the mountain sheep at Jasper House, and we found it a great treat, although we had neither bread nor salt to eat with it, tea to drink with it, nor tobacco to smoke after it. We invented a substitute for the latter on this occasion by mixing the oil out of our pipes with the kinnikinnick we smoked, but this was soon finished, and we were reduced to the small comfort to be derived from the simple willow-bark. We all felt happier after the meal, and The Assiniboine exhorted us to be of good courage, for we had now a week’s provisions by using economy; “Nous arriverons bientôt.”
CHAPTER XV.
We commence to Cut our Way—The Pathless Primeval Forest—The Order of March—Trouble with our Horses; their Perversity—Continual Disasters—Our Daily Fare—Mount Cheadle—Country Improves only in Appearance—Futile Attempt to Escape out of the Valley—A Glimpse of Daylight—Wild Fruits—Mr. O’B. triumphantly Crosses the River—The Assiniboine Disabled—New Arrangements—Hopes of Finding Prairie-Land—Disappointment—Forest and Mountain Everywhere—False Hopes again—Provisions at an End—Council of War—Assiniboine Hunts without Success—The Headless Indian—“Le Petit Noir” Condemned and Executed—Feast on Horse-flesh—Leave Black Horse Camp—Forest again—The Assiniboine becomes Disheartened—The Grand Rapid—A Dead Lock—Famishing Horses—The Barrier—Shall we get Past?—Mr. O’B. and Bucephalus—Extraordinary Escape of the Latter—More Accidents—La Porte d’Enfer—Step by Step—The Assiniboine Downcast and Disabled—Mrs. Assiniboine takes his Place—The Provisions give out again—A Dreary Beaver Swamp—The Assiniboine gives up in Despair—Mr. O’B. begins to Doubt, discards Paley, and prepares to become Insane—We kill another Horse—A Bird of Good Omen—The Crow speaks Truth—Fresher Sign—A Trail—The Road rapidly Improves—Out of the Forest at last!
On the 31st of July we left Slaughter Camp in a pouring rain, and plunged into the pathless forest before us. We were at once brought up by the steep face of a hill which came down close to the water’s edge. But the steepness of the path was not the greatest difficulty. No one who has not seen a primeval forest, where trees of gigantic size have grown and fallen undisturbed for ages, can form any idea of the collection of timber, or the impenetrable character of such a region. There were pines and thujas of every size, the patriarch of 300 feet in height standing alone, or thickly clustering groups of young ones struggling for the vacant place of some prostrate giant. The fallen trees lay piled around, forming barriers often six or eight feet high on every side: trunks of huge cedars, moss-grown and decayed, lay half-buried in the ground on which others as mighty had recently fallen; trees still green and living, recently blown down, blocking the view with the walls of earth held in their matted roots; living trunks, dead trunks, rotten trunks; dry, barkless trunks, and trunks moist and green with moss; bare trunks and trunks with branches—prostrate, reclining, horizontal, propped up at different angles; timber of every size, in every stage of growth and decay, in every possible position, entangled in every possible combination. The swampy ground was densely covered with American dogwood, and elsewhere with thickets of the aralea, a tough-stemmed trailer, with leaves as large as those of the rhubarb plant, and growing in many places as high as our shoulders. Both stem and leaves are covered with sharp spines, which pierced our clothes as we forced our way through the tangled growth, and made the legs and hands of the pioneers scarlet from the inflammation of myriads of punctures.
The Assiniboine went first with the axe, his wife went after him leading a horse, and the rest of the party followed, driving two or three horses apiece in single file. Mr. O’B. had by this time been trained to take charge of one pack-animal, which he managed very well under favourable conditions. But although it had been hard enough to keep our caravan in order when there was a track to follow, it was ten times more difficult and troublesome now. As long as each horse could see the one in front of him, he followed with tolerable fidelity; but whenever any little delay occurred, and the leading horses disappeared amongst the trees and underwood, the rest turned aside in different directions. Then followed a rush and scramble after them, our efforts to bring them back often only causing them to plunge into a bog or entangle themselves amongst piles of logs. When involved in any predicament of this kind, the miserable animals remained stupidly passive, for they had become so spiritless and worn out, and so injured about the legs by falling amongst the timber and rocks, that they would make no effort to help themselves, except under the stimulus of repeated blows. These accidents occurring a dozen times a day, caused the labour to fall very heavily; for we were so short-handed, that each man could obtain little assistance from the rest, and was obliged to get out of his difficulties as well as he could, unaided. When this was accomplished, often only to be effected by cutting off the packs, most of the party had gone he knew not whither, and the other horses in his charge had disappeared. These had to be sought up, and a careful cast made to regain the faint trail left by the party in advance. Another similar misfortune would often occur before he joined his companions, and the same exertions again be necessary. The work was vexatious and wearisome in the extreme, and we found our stock of philosophy quite unequal to the occasion.
With a view of economising our provisions and making more rapid progress, we reduced our meals to breakfast and supper, resting only a short time at mid-day to allow the horses to feed, but not unpacking them. Our fare was what the half-breeds call “rubaboo,” which we made by boiling a piece of pemmican the size of one’s fist in a large quantity of water thickened with a single handful of flour. The latter commodity had now become very valuable, and was used in this way only, three or four pounds being all we had left. Occasionally we were lucky enough to kill a partridge or skunk, and this formed a welcome addition to the “rubaboo.” The mess was equally divided, and two ordinary platesful formed the portion of each individual. Under these trying circumstances we had the advantage of Mr. O’B.’s advice, which he did not fail to offer at every opportunity. When we stopped for the night, and the work of unloading the horses and preparing camp was over, he would emerge from some quiet retreat, fresh from the solace of Paley, and deliver his opinions on the prospects of the journey and his views on the course to be pursued. “Now, my lord; now, Doctor,” he would say, “I don’t think that we have gone on nearly so well to-day as we might have done. I don’t think our route was well chosen. We may have done fifteen or twenty miles (we had probably accomplished three or four), but that’s not at all satisfactory. ‘Festina lente’ was wisely said by the great lyric; but he was never lost in a forest, you see. Now, what I think ought to be done is this: the Doctor and The Assiniboine are strong vigorous fellows; let them go five or six miles ahead and investigate the country, and then we shall travel much more easily to-morrow.” The two “vigorous fellows” were, however, generally too much jaded by hard work during the day to adopt his advice, and declined the proposal.
The valley continued to run nearly due south, and ranges of mountains separated only by the narrowest ravines came down from the N.E. and N.W. up to it on each side at an angle of 45°. These proved serious obstacles to our progress, rising almost perpendicularly from the water’s edge.
On the 1st of August we came in sight of a fine snowy mountain which appeared to block up the valley ahead, and we hoped this might be the second of two described to us as landmarks by the old woman at The Cache, which she stated was not far from Fort Kamloops. To this Milton gave the name of Mount Cheadle, in return for the compliment previously paid him by his companion. The river also became wider and less rapid, and at one point divided into several channels, flowing round low wooded islands. Only one snowy mountain could be seen to the right, to which we gave the name of Mount St. Anne; but the road was as encumbered as ever.
After cutting a path for two days, The Assiniboine was almost disabled by thorns in his hands and legs, and as we had not accomplished more than two or three miles each day, we attempted to escape out of the narrow valley in which we were confined, in the hope of finding clearer ground above. But the mountain sides were too steep; the horses rolled down one after another, crashing amongst the fallen timber; and we were compelled to imitate the example of the King of France, and come down again. On the 3rd we reached a marsh about 300 yards in length, scantily covered with timber, the first open space we had met with for ten days; and the change from the deep gloom of the forest to the bright sunlight made our eyes blink indeed, but produced a most cheering effect on our spirits. The horses here found plenty of pasture, although of poor quality—a great boon to them after their long course of twigs and mare’s-tail. This was altogether a brighter day than common, for we met with several patches of raspberries, as large as English garden-fruit, and two species of bilberry, the size of sloes, growing on bushes two feet high. The woods were garnished with large fern, like the English male fern, a tall and slender bracken, and quantities of the oak and beech fern. We had the luck, too, to kill four partridges for supper; and although the day was showery, and we were completely soaked in pushing through the underwood, we felt rather jollier that night than we had done since the trail ended.