Pavilion Mountain, British Columbia; Altitude, 4,000 feet.

We now abandoned the idea of travelling forward on horseback, for we were assured by several persons who had just arrived from Cariboo that it would be impossible to take horses into William’s Creek on account of the snow, which had begun to fall before they left the mines. We therefore took our places in the “stage” running from Lilloet to Soda Creek on the Fraser, 175 miles distant. A steamer plies between the Creek and the Mouth of Quesnelle, a distance of sixty miles, and from thence a pack trail runs to Richfield, in William’s Creek, the centre of the Cariboo mines. The “stage” was a light open wagon, and besides ourselves and one other passenger, carried nearly a ton of freight. But we started with a team of five horses, two wheelers and three leaders, and for the first day went along famously. “Johnny,” the driver, was a capital whip, and quite a character. He was a regular Yankee, and his Californian hat of hard felt, with a low steeple crown, and immensely broad brim, gave him a ludicrous appearance in our eyes. He was like all his race, a most unquiet spirit, always engaged in talking to us or the horses, chewing, spitting, smoking, and drinking, and at the last he was especially great; not a house did he pass without two or three drinks with all comers. But in justice to Johnny, who was a very good fellow in his way, it must be stated that he assured us that he was generally a “total abstainer,” but occasionally drank for a change, and then “went in for liquor bald-headed.” He was in the latter phase during our brief acquaintance.

The road, well made and smooth, and in many places eighteen feet wide, crosses the Fraser by a ferry a short distance beyond Lilloet, and then winds along steep hill-sides up the valley of the Fraser to the north for twenty miles. At Pavilion Valley it turns to the north-east, to the foot of Pavilion Mountain, where it ascends 1,500 feet by a rapid zigzag. Here our team, now reduced to four, were quite unequal to the task before them, and we clambered up the steep on foot. From the top we had a good view to the south-east, and the curious formation of the hill-side opposite attracted our attention. Near the top of the hill was a hollow, and the surface below a succession of waving swells, growing larger and larger towards the bottom. It seemed as if the hollow was an extinct crater, from which the molten lava had long ago flowed down in a billowy stream, and as if this, arrested at the instant of its passage, had now become the grass-grown slope before us. We had no time to go across and examine it carefully, but continued our way over the grassy table-land on the top of Pavilion Mountain, for six or eight miles. The road then went up rapidly, and brought us to the top of the famous “Rattlesnake Grade.” We found ourselves on the brink of a precipitous descent of 2,000 feet, and in full view below saw the road following the configuration of the hill, with the numberless windings and zigzags which had given rise to its name. Cut out of the mountain side, and resting for several feet of its width on overhanging beams, it was not broad enough to allow two vehicles to pass in safety, except at the points of the turns, nor was there any railing to guard the edge of the precipice.

Every one immediately volunteered to ease the poor horses by walking down, but Johnny negatived the proposition at once, and drove us down at a furious rate, the heavily-laden wagon swinging round the sharp turns in a most unpleasant manner. The giving way of the break, or of a wheel, or the pole, must have been fatal; but all held together, as of course it was likely to do, and we reached the bottom safely.

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A WAY-SIDE HOUSE—ARRIVAL OF MINERS.

(See [page 359].)

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