The Perils and Adventures of Harry Skipwith by Land and Sea

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Besides this, he said very little on the subject. As to remarking that I had shot the bear and saved his life, that never entered his head. On examining the bear we found that he was wretchedly thin—all skin and bone. This was curious, as the bears we killed in the afternoon were tolerably fat. Stalker was of opinion that he had either come from a distance, and had no connection with them, or that he was an outcast bear—conquered by the gentlemen, perhaps, whom we were eating.

The night passed off without any further adventure. During the first part of it we cut up the bears’ flesh into thin strips to dry in the sun, that we might save our pemmican and more portable food as much as possible; and then we went to sleep with our feet to the fire, for the nights were still cold—one of the party keeping watch at a time. The next day we moved forward, but the ground was hard and rough, and our way lay across forests and over fallen trees, up rocky hills and across swampy valleys, whilst the heat of the sun during the day was very oppressive. So we encamped, rather earlier than usual, in a somewhat rocky place. After we had arranged our camp, and as Trevor and I were starting with our guns to kill a deer for supper, and while the rest of the men were variously occupied, as I passed Mr Gaby, who was fast asleep, what was my horror to see a large rattlesnake creeping slowly from his side to his bosom! I was on the point of shouting out to awaken him, but Stalker, who had come up, begged me to remain quiet, and that perhaps the snake would merely crawl over the man’s body and move away. The serpent, however, had no intention of doing any such thing, but quietly coiled itself under the Yankee’s left shoulder. Had he moved in his sleep the creature would, in a moment, have stung him in the neck, and no human power could have saved his life. We looked on with horror, not knowing what course to pursue. Immediately, however, that Garoupe saw the state of the case he hurried off to the nearest thicket, and returning with a long thin stick, told Stalker and Swiftfoot to go in front and draw the attention of the snake to themselves. As soon as the creature saw the men in front it raised its head, darted out its forked tongue and shook its rattles, showing that it was highly irritated.

Habakkuk’s danger was now greatly increased, for should the noise close to his ear awaken him, a movement of his arm might make the snake bite him. While all of us were in a state of dread for poor Gaby, Garoupe got behind the creature with his long stick, and, suddenly placing it under the coiled reptile, by a dexterous movement sent it flying a dozen paces off. A shout of satisfaction burst from our lips at Gaby’s safety. The sound awoke him, and little dreaming of the fearful danger he had escaped, he looked up, and merely said—“Well, now! What’s it all about? Do I look so very funny?”

He was serious enough, however, when Garoupe, who had gone after the snake and killed it with his stick, returned and exhibited it to him.

On searching about we found a number of the reptiles in holes in the rocks and under big stones. We armed ourselves with sticks and quickly despatched them. This we had no difficulty in doing, as they can only spring their own length, and a smart blow on the tail at once disables them. The first killed was three feet three inches long, and nine years old, which we knew by the number of rattles in his tail. At supper, off game which Trevor and I had shot, Gaby told us that he once formed one of a party in Vermont which went out rattlesnake hunting, and that they found a vast number of rattlesnakes in holes with their tails sticking out; that they pulled them out by their tails, and flung them far on one side, where they quickly were despatched. It is quite as well not to repeat how many hundreds he declared were killed in the course of the hunt, for Mr Gaby was not wanting in that quality so conspicuous in others of his countrymen, of speaking without much regard to exactness—which I candidly believe to be an infirmity, rather than a desire to exaggerate, which is common enough amongst the uneducated classes all over the world.

The Rocky Mountains consist of a lofty range extending from the north of the continent to its southern end, at a distance from the Pacific of from fifty to three hundred miles. The summits of the range are covered with perpetual snow, and, till lately, the generally received notion was that they formed an almost impassable barrier between the Pacific and the interior. To the east the country is mostly level and easily travelled over, especially the fertile belt along which we had come; while to the west, that is, between the range and the Pacific, it is mountainous in the extreme, as is also the case in British Columbia, across which we were now to force our way. There are, however, numerous passes through which roads can be cut out without much difficulty. The surveyors, indeed, reported one of the passes to require only the trees to be cut down to allow waggons, if not a coach and four, to be driven through it. It is called the Vermilion Pass.

We did not take it, because the distance through a mountainous and lake region is much greater than the pass we selected further to the north. When, however, the settlers in British Columbia cut a road across parts of the country, and place steamers on certain lakes and rivers, there will be no difficulties to prevent ordinary travellers from passing from Lake Superior, by the way of the Red River, through the Fertile Belt and over the Rocky Mountains, to New Westminster, the capital of the province.

We had been journeying on through forests, and should scarcely have noticed the ascent we were making, had it not been for the increased rapidity of the streams in our course flowing to the east, when reaching a small lake we found that the water which flowed from it ran to the westward, and that we were on what is called the watershed, or highest part of the pass. Still, as we looked westward, we had range beyond range of rocky mountains, the peaks of many covered with snow. This region was a part of British Columbia, but it must be remembered that between these mountains were valleys, and rivers, and lakes, and streams, and that it was by the side of these streams and lakes we expected to make our way across the country. I had thought, when I first planned the expedition, that all we had to do was to climb up the Rocky Mountains, and then to descend into well-watered plains. We found in reality that our chief difficulties had only now begun. We had certainly mountains to descend, but then we had also others to ascend; we had rivers to cross and recross, either by wading or on rafts, which we had to construct; trees to cut down, and brushwood to clear away; recumbent trees to climb over, and rotten trees to force our way through. Still people had done the same thing before, and Stalker and Swiftfoot asserted that we could do it, and were ready to stake their credit on the success of the undertaking.

We now formed fresh arrangements for crossing the country. Swiftfoot and Quick-ear were to devote themselves to hunting, to supply us with food. Stalker and Garoupe were to clear the way with their axes, while Trevor, Peter, and I conducted the horses. From the summit of a high mountain we reached, Quick-ear pointed out the hills (he said) of Cariboo, with the Frazer flowing away towards them. That now far-famed river has its sources in the region in which we then were. It runs nearly north-west for a hundred and fifty miles or more, and then, sweeping round the Cariboo region, flows due south for several hundred miles, down to Port Hope, and then on west to New Westminster and the sea, there being, however, some picturesquely beautiful, but practically ugly rapids, in its course. We made good our necessary westing, but after cutting our way to the banks of the Frazer we found that the country was almost impracticable towards Cariboo, and that the river swept so far round to the north of it that we should have to make a very long voyage if we went that way. We therefore turned round, with our faces to the southward, determined to make our way down the Thompson River to Port Kamloops, a trading post of the Hudson’s Bay Company, with which, and the town of Lytton, then was, we knew, a constant communication. High snowy peaks appeared more or less near on every side, broken hills, and rounded hills, and rocks, and precipices, and dense forests, wherever trees could find soil for their roots. The crossing streams and small lakes caused us considerable difficulty, but it was not so great as that we encountered when we had to cut our way, foot by foot, through the forest. The river our horses could swim across with ease, though they had some difficulty in getting up the banks. Our baggage was ferried over on rafts, for forming which we had plenty of materials at hand. Gaby was no despicable backwoodsman, and with his sharp axe he gave us efficient help in felling trees, while he was an adept also in fastening them together. As we advanced, however, our difficulties increased, and game became scarce. We agreed to separate for a few days Trevor was to take Swiftfoot and to ascertain if any navigable stream ran towards Lake Quesnelle, as we believed that if we could once reach its waters we could easily get to Cariboo. Stalker and Quick-ear were to continue to hunt, and to keep up a communication between us, while Gaby and I, accompanied by Peter and Ready, were to make our way to the head waters of the Thompson. A camp was to be formed in some eligible position, where pasture for the horses could be found, and here we were to leave our heavier goods and provisions, to be brought on in the direction which might prove most promising.