To The West Part 33

"Is that British Columbia?" I said, to break an awkward silence, for he stood perfectly silent, fixing me with that one piercing eye.

"No, not yet--that's Yankee-land still. We've got to get into the Straits yet before we can see our country."

"Straits--Gibraltar?" I said thoughtlessly; and then I felt red in the face at my stupidity.

"Not exactly, my lad," he said, laughing. "Why, my geography is better than yours. The straits we go through are those of Juan de Fuca, the old sailor who discovered them. But from what I know of it, the country is very much the same as this. Think it will do for you?"

"It is lovely," I cried, enthusiastically.

"Yes," he said, thoughtfully, and speaking in a quiet soft way that seemed to be very different from his appearance; "a lovely land--a land of promise. I hope your people will all get up yonder safe and sound.

It is a long, weary task they have before them."

"Can't be worse than ours has been," I said.

"Well, no, I suppose not; but very trying to those poor women. Look here, my lad," he said, after a pause, "how are you going to manage when you get ash.o.r.e at Victoria?"

"Start at once for Fort Elk."

"How?"

"Get somebody who knows the way to tell us, and then walk on a few miles every day. It can't be very difficult to find if we keep along the river bank."

"Along the towing-path, eh?"

"Yes, if there is one," I said, eagerly.

"Towing-path! Why, you young innocent," he cried, angrily, "don't you know that it's a fierce wild mountain-torrent, running through canons, and in deep mountain valleys, with vast forests wherever trees can grow, all packed closely together--sometimes so close that you can hardly force your way through?"

"I did not know it was like that," I said; "but we must make the best of it, I suppose. If we can't go twenty miles a day we must go fifteen."

"Or ten, or five, or one," he cried, with a contemptuous laugh. "Why, Mayne, my lad, that last will often be the extent of your journey."

I looked at him in dismay.

"You have no friends then at Victoria--no introductions?"

I shook my head.

"And you do not even seem to know that Victoria is on an island, from which you will have to cross to the mouth of the Fraser."

"I'm afraid I am very ignorant," I said, bitterly; "but I am going to try to learn. I suppose there are villages here and there up the country?"

"Perhaps a few, not many yet; but you will find some settler's place now and then."

"Well, they will be English people," I said, "and they will help us."

"Of course."

"Where are you going?" I asked suddenly.

He gave a little start, and his face relaxed.

"I?" he said quickly, and he looked as if he were going to take me into his confidence; but just then Esau came on deck to stand looking sh.o.r.eward, and Gunson turned cold and stern directly. "Don't know for certain," he replied. "Morning, my lad," to Esau, and then walked forward to speak to the skipper.

"There, Esau," I said eagerly; "that's something like a country to come to," for the fresh beauties which were unfolding in the morning sun made me forget all Gunson's suggestions of difficulties.

"Yes, that's something like," said Esau. "What makes those big hills look so blue as that?"

"They are mountains, and I suppose it's the morning mist."

"Mountains!" said Esau, contemptuously, "not much o' mountains. Why, that one over yonder don't look much bigger than Primrose Hill."

"Not much," said Gunson, who was walking back with the skipper. "Very much like it too, especially the snow on the top. How far is that mountain off?" he added, turning to the skipper.

"Hunard miles," grunted the person addressed.

"Look here," whispered Esau, as soon as we were alone, for the skipper and Gunson went below, "I don't say that he hasn't been very civil to us, and he helped us nicely about getting on here, but I don't like that chap. Do you?"

"I really don't know," I said with a laugh.

"Well, I do know. He looks at one with that eye of his, as if he was thinking about the money in your belt all the time."

"He can't be thinking about yours," I said drily.

"Oh dear! I forgot that," said Esau. "But all the same, I don't like a man with one eye."

"But it isn't his fault, Esau."

"No, not exactly his fault; but it sets you against him, and he's got so much pump in him."

"Pump?"

"Yes; always getting out of you everything you are going to do, and who you are, and where you come from."

"Yes, he does question pretty well."

"He just does. Very well, then; I want to know who he is, and where he comes from, and what he's going to be up to. Do you know?"

"No, not in the least."

"Same here. Well, I don't like a man who's so close, and the sooner we both shake hands with him, and say good-bye, the better I shall like it."

"Well, Esau, I'm beginning to feel like that," I said, "myself."

"That's right, then, and we shan't quarrel over that bit o' business.

Soon be there now, I think, shan't we?"

"To-morrow about this time," said a familiar voice; and we both started, for Gunson was standing close behind us. "Didn't you hear me come up?"