We embarked with as little noise as possible, and now shoving off, followed Stalker down the stream. I experienced a peculiarly solemn and awful feeling so we glided down that dark unknown stream, with the primeval forest rising up on either side, and still more so when we entered a mountainous region where the rocks towered up some twelve or fifteen hundred feet directly above our heads. We feared from the appearance of the river that we might be approaching some rapid. We accordingly moored the raft to a rock, while Stalker paddled on ahead to explore. After waiting for some time, we heard his voice shouting to us to come on. As we were easting off the rope the sound of a paddle was heard up the stream, and we accordingly kept on. In a short time Swiftfoot came alongside. He had waited under the bank, a little lower down than our camp. Suddenly, loud and fearful shrieks rent the air, and a large body of savages burst into our camp. It was certainly better for us not to have been there, and better for them too, for, although we might have killed a number of them, yet that would have been a poor satisfaction if they had killed one of us. They must have been woefully disappointed when they found that the birds they expected to catch had flown. We had now too much reason to fear that Quick-ear had fallen into the hands of the savages. Poor fellow! we could not go back to his assistance, though I must say I felt ashamed of deserting him without further search.
Morning at last broke, and we were still progressing along a deep, rapid, and clear stream, free from rocks or shallows. We hoped that by this time we had got far beyond the reach of the enemy. As I had looked up at the stars in the clear night, I had, however, observed that the river made several sharp bends, and thus I knew that we had not really made good any great distance through the country. As the sun rose there was a general cry for breakfast, and we accordingly put into a little bay with a small extent of grassy ground—a pleasant nook in the bush. We lit our fires, and breakfasted sumptuously on dried horse-flesh, converted into a capital stew, with the aid of some cloves, garlic, and pepper and salt, by allowing the steaks to simmer over a slow fire after being first briskly boiled in our frying-pans in just enough water to cover the meat. We also had hot dampers and plenty of strong tea, guiltless, however, of milk, which was a luxury we had not indulged in for many a long month.
Though the situation of the spot tempted us to remain some hours, that we might get some animals to stock our larder, yet, lest the hostile Indians should overtake us, we deemed it more prudent to continue our voyage. We had just packed up our cooking things and were stepping on board, when we heard a shout close to us, and the next instant Quick-ear burst through the wood and sprang on board the raft, crying out that the enemy were close upon him. We lost no time, therefore, in shoving off; and, as we were paddling down the river, we saw the spot we had just left filled with savage and yelling warriors. Quick-ear had had a long and desperate run, and it was some time before he could speak. When he recovered, he told us that he had found his way back to the camp just after it had been occupied by the savages, and guessing that we had gone down the river, he set off by an Indian track which he thought would lead to it at some point we were likely to pass. He had got some distance, when he found that the enemy were following, probably with the intention of cutting us off. This made him still further increase his speed. He had been seen by them a mile or two before he reached us, and had to run for his life. Had he been a minute later, he would have missed us altogether.
For several days we went on promisingly, when one day Stalker came paddling back to warn us that we were approaching a fierce rapid. We accordingly urged the raft to the shore, and landing our goods, prepared for a long portage. Still, we proposed attempting to carry down the raft. Stalker, Trevor, and I, in attempting to shoot one of the worst rapids, were very nearly lost. We had just time to spring into the canoes, which were on the top of it, when the raft was dashed to pieces. With considerable difficulty we paddled the canoes through, and had they been of birch-bark instead of dug-outs, they must inevitably have shared the fate of the raft. Had our provisions been on the latter, we might eventually have lost our lives. When, at length, we reached the foot of the rapid, we determined to do what it would have been wise in us had we done at first—that is, built canoes to convey the whole party and our goods. We here found some fine trees for the purpose, and, assisted by our former experience, in the course of a few days we had built two large canoes. As we had no saw, we had to chip our boards to form gunwales to them. Swiftfoot and Quick-ear sewed these on very neatly, so that the capacity of the canoes was very greatly increased. The sides of the two smaller canoes being raised in the same way, and then joined together, were also capable of carrying a considerable cargo.
Our voyage was much longer than we had expected; we ate up nearly all our provisions, expended the greater part of our powder, tobacco, and tea,—the great essentials in the bush,—and wore out our clothes and our patience. At length, however, we reached Fort George, a fort of the Hudson’s Bay Company, where we received that attention and hospitality for which its officers are so justly famed. After quitting Fort St. George we continued the descent of the Frazer to the month of the Quesnelle River, where a town has sprang up. Landing here, and leaving our canoes in store, we prepared to tramp it across country to Richfield, the capital of the Cariboo district. We overtook parties of the wildest set of fellows it has ever been my lot to encounter, people of all nations, and tongues, and colours.
The land in the district of Fort George is admirably adapted for agriculture, as all the European cereals, together with potatoes, turnips, carrots, and other esculent vegetables, arrive at full maturity. The white population consists chiefly of old servants of the Hudson’s Bay Company, and emigrants from the Highlands of Scotland. Indeed, the whole of this “Prairie Region,” as it is called, on account of the immense plains devoid almost of timber, and requiring, in consequence, no outlay for clearing, would no doubt before long be under the plough, if the Home Government would open up roads through the district. Barley and oats ripen even at Fort Norman, at a latitude of 65 degrees.