Our encampment consisted of three tents, prettily grouped among some large spruce trees. A log fire was burning before each tent, and, on our arrival, the cooks began to prepare our supper. This was my first night in a tent for a year, and the conditions were unfavorable for comfort, as we were all soaked through by our long tramp in the bush, and, moreover, it was still raining. Nevertheless, we were all contented and happy, our clothes soon dried before the camp fires, and after supper we sang a few popular songs, then rolled up in warm blankets on beds of balsam boughs, and slept peacefully till morning.
I was awakened at dawn by the cry of “Breakfast is ready,” and prepared forthwith to do it justice. The day appeared cloudy but not very threatening. In an hour the packers began their work, and it was wonderful to observe the system and rapidity of their movements. The horses, of which we had seven as pack-animals and two for the saddle, were caught and led to the camp, where they were tied to trees near by. All the provisions, tents, cook boxes, bags, and camp paraphernalia were then made ready for packing. There are three prime requisites in skilful packing. They are: the proper adjustment of the blanket and saddle so that it will neither chafe the back of the horse nor slip while on the march; the exact balancing of the two packs; and the knowledge of the “diamond hitch.” The wonderful combination of turns and loops which go to make up the diamond hitch has always been surrounded with a certain secrecy, and jealously guarded by those initiated into the mysteries of its formation. It was formerly so essential a part of the education of a Westerner that as much as one hundred dollars have been paid for the privilege of learning it. Without going into details, it may be described as a certain manner of placing the ropes round the packs, which, once learned, is exceedingly simple to tie on or take off, and it will hold the pack in place under the most trying circumstances. The name is derived from a diamond-shaped figure formed by the ropes between the packs.
PACKING THE BUCKSKIN.
By eight o’clock our procession of ten horses was on the march, and, after passing through a meadow where every blade of grass was hung with pendent drops of mingled rain and dew, now sparkling bright in the morning sun, we came to the trail. Our winding cavalcade followed near the creek and gradually rose above its roaring waters, which dashed madly over many a cascade and waterfall in its rocky course. Our pathway rose constantly and led us through rich forests.
Peyto led the procession mounted on an Indian horse called Chiniquy, not a very noble-looking beast, but a veteran on the trail, and, by reason of his long legs, a most trustworthy animal in crossing deep rivers. Then followed the pack-horses with the men interspersed to take care of them, and the rear was brought up by our second packer, likewise on horseback. The greater part of the time, the gentlemen of the expedition kept in the rear.
CALYPSO.
The flowers were in all the glory of their spring-time luxuriance, and we discovered new varieties in every meadow, swamp, and grove. Beside the several varieties of anemones, the yellow columbines, violets, and countless other herbaceous plants, we found, during the march of this day, six kinds of orchids. Among them was the small and beautiful, purple Calypso, which we found in bogs and damp woods, rearing its showy blossom a few inches above the ground. At the base is a single heart-shaped leaf. We were very much pleased to find this elegant and rare orchid growing so abundantly here. There is a certain regal nobility and elegance pertaining to the whole family of orchids, which elevates them above all plants, and places them nearest to animate creation. Whether we find them in high northern latitudes, in cold bogs, or in dark forests, retreating far from the haunts of men, avoiding even their own kind, solitary and unseen; or perhaps crowded on the branches of trees in a tropical forest, guarded from man by venomous serpents, the stealthy jaguar, stinging insects and a fever-laden air; they command the greatest interest of the botanist and the highest prices of the connoisseur.
We camped at about two o’clock, not far from the summit of the Simpson Pass, in a valley guarded on both sides by continuous mountains of great height.