Cruisings in the Cascades Part 6

"Where did you learn it?"

"O, I work in pack train for Hudson Bay one year, and work on boat one year."

"Where did the boat run?"

"She run nort from Victoria," he said.

"Where to, Alaska?"

"O, I dunno."

"How far north?"

"O, I dunno. Take seven day. We go to de mout of de river."

"What river? What was the name of the town?"

"O, I dunno know what you call 'em."

And thus I learned, by continued questioning, that he did not know or remember the English names of the places he had visited, but that they were probably in Alaska. He always appealed to Seymour to reply to any of my questions that he could not himself answer, and a question or remark that in our tongue had taken a dozen words to express he would repeat in a cough, a throat-clearing sound, and a grunt or two.

Seymour's answer would be returned in a half sneeze, a lisp, a suppressed whistle, a slight groan, and an upturning of the eye. Then John would look thoughtful while framing the answer into his pigin English, and it would come back, for instance, something like this:

"Seymo say he tink we ketch plenty sheep up dat big mountain, on de top." Or, "He say he tink maybe we get plenty grouse down de creek.

To-morrow we don't need carry meat," etc. John seemed to regard Seymour as a perfect walking cyclopedia of knowledge, and, in fact, he was well informed on woodcraft, the habits of birds and animals, Indian lore, and other matters pertaining to the country in which he lived, but outside of these limits he knew much less than John.

I was disgusted with his pretended inability to speak or understand English, for on one of my former visits to the village I had heard him speak it, and he did it much better than John could. Beside, Pean had told me that Seymour had attended school at the mission on the Frazer river, and could even read and write, but now that he had an interpreter he considered it smart, just as a great many Indians do, to affect an utter ignorance of our language. I asked him why he did not talk; told him I knew he could talk, and reminded him that I had heard him speak good English; that I knew he had been to school, etc. He simply shook his head and grunted. Then I told him he was a boiled-down fool to act thus, and that if he really wanted to appear smarter even than his fellows, the best way to do it was to make use of the education he had whenever he could make himself more useful and agreeable by so doing. I saw by the way he changed countenance that he understood every word I said, though he still remained obstinate. On several occasions, however, I suddenly fired some short, sharp question at him when he was not expecting it, and before stopping to think he would answer in good English.

CHAPTER XVII.

After making a hearty breakfast on Rocky Mountain kid, salmon, and sea biscuits, we began our return journey down the creek in a drizzling rain. Our burdens were increased by the weight of the three goat skins, and the walking was rendered still more precarious than before by the logs, gra.s.s, soil, pine needles, and everything else having become so thoroughly watersoaked. If we had had hard climbing up the steep pitches on our outbound cruise, we had it still harder now. We could not stick in our toe nails as well now as before, and even if we stuck in our heels going down a hill, they would not stay stuck any better than a second-hand postage-stamp. I remembered one hill, or canon wall, that in the ascent made us a great deal of hard work, and much perturbation of spirit, because it was steep, rocky, and had very few bushes on it that we could use as derricks by which to raise ourselves. I dreaded the descent of this hill, now that the rocks were wet, but we made it safely. Not so, however, the next one we attempted; it was not so rocky as the other, and had a goodly bed of blue clay, with a shallow covering of vegetable mold for a surface, with a little gra.s.s and a few weeds.

It was very steep, I think about what an architect would call a three-quarter pitch, but we essayed it boldly and fearlessly. Seymour was in the lead, his faithful partisan, John, followed, and I const.i.tuted the tail end of the procession. We had just got well over the brow, when the end of a dry hemlock stick caught in the mansard roof of my left foot; the other end was fast in the ground, and, though I tried to free myself, both ends stuck; the stick played a lone hand, but it raised me clear out in spite of my struggles. I uttered a mournful groan as I saw myself going, but was as helpless as a tenderfoot on a bucking cayuse. My foot was lifted till my heel punched the small of my back, and my other foot slid out from under me; I spread out like a step ladder, and clawed the air for succor, but there was not a bush or branch within reach. I think I went ten feet before I touched the earth again, and then I landed head first among John's legs. He sat down on the back of my neck like a trip-hammer, and we both a.s.saulted Seymour in the rear with such violence as to knock him clear out. For a few seconds we were the worst mixed up community that ever lived, I reckon. Arms, legs, guns, hats, packs, and human forms were mingled in one writhing, squirming, surging ma.s.s, and groans, shouts, and imprecations, in English, Chinook, and Scowlitz, rent the air. Every hand was grabbing for something to stop its owner, but there were no friendly stoppers within reach; if one caught a weed, or a stunted juniper, it faded away from his herculean grasp like dry gra.s.s before a prairie fire. I seemed to have the highest initial velocity of any member of the expedition, and, though in the rear at the start, I was a full length ahead at the finish. We finally all brought up in a confused ma.s.s at the foot of the hill, and it took some time for each man to extricate himself from the pile, and reclaim his property from the wreck. Strange as it may seem, however, but little damage was done. There was a skinned nose, a bruised knee or two, a sprained wrist, and everybody was painted with mud. All were, however, able to travel, and after that, when going down steep hills, the Siwashes kept looking back to see if I were coming.

[Ill.u.s.tration: TRYING TO GET UP.]

We performed several dangerous feats that day and the next, walking along smooth, barkless logs, that lay across some of the deep gorges; in places we were thirty feet or more above the ground, or rather rocks, where a slip would have resulted in instant death. My hair frequently stood on end, what little I have left, but John and Seymour always went safely across and I could not afford to be outdone in courage by these miserable, fish-eating Siwashes, so I followed wherever they led. We read that the wicked stand on slippery places, but I can see these wicked people, and go them about ten better, for I have stood, and even walked, on many of these wet logs, and they are about the all-firedest slipperyest things extant, and yet I have not fallen off. I fell only that once, when I got my foot in the trap, and that would have downed a wooden man. Just before going into camp that night, John shot a grouse, but we were all too tired and hungry to cook it then, and made our meal on cold kid, fish, and biscuits. After supper, however, John dressed the bird and laid it aside for breakfast, saying we would each have a piece of it then. The rain ceased falling at dark, and the stars came out, which greatly revived our drooping spirits. We gathered large quant.i.ties of dry wood and bark, so we were able to keep a good fire all night. I drew from a half-rotten log, a flat, slab-like piece of pine, which at first I failed to recognize. John saw it and said:

[Ill.u.s.tration: TRYING TO GET DOWN.]

"Good. Dat's beech."

"Beech," I said. "Why, there's no beech in this country."

"No, beech wood, make good fire, good kindle, good what you call him?

Good torch."

"Oh," I said, "pitch pine, eh?"

"Yas, beech pine." And this was as near as he could get to pitch.

About two o'clock in the morning, it commenced to rain heavily again, and the poor Indians were soon in a pitable condition, with their blankets and clothing wet through. They sat up the remainder of the night, feeding the fire to keep it alive and themselves warm, for they had neither canvas or rubber coats, or any other kind of waterproof clothing. They put up some of the longer pieces of the bark we had gathered for fuel, and made a pa.s.sable shelter, but it was so small, and leaked so badly, that it was far from comfortable. I pitied the poor fellows, but had nothing I could give or even share with them for shelter. I got up at five o'clock, and we commenced preparations for breakfast. I told John he had better cook the grouse, but he shook his head, and said sadly:

"Seymo, he spile de grouse."

"How did he do that?" I inquired.

"He say put him on stick by fire to cook in de night. Then he go to sleep and stick burn off. Grouse fall in de fire and burn."

"That's too thin," I said. "Seymour cooked that grouse and ate it while you and I were asleep."

Seymour glared at me, but had not the courage to resent or deny the charge. An Indian does not let sleep interfere with his appet.i.te; he eats whatever there is first, and then sleeps. I divided the last of the bacon and biscuits equally between us, and with a remnant of cold broiled salmon, we eked out a scant breakfast on which to begin a day's work. John was clawing some white greasy substance from a tin can with his fingers, and spreading it on his biscuits with the same tools. He pa.s.sed the can to me, and said:

"Have b.u.t.ta?"

"No, thanks," I answered; "I seldom eat b.u.t.ter in camp."

"I like him all time," he replied; "I never git widout b.u.t.ta for brade at home." This by way of informing me that he knew what good living was, and practiced it at home. It rained heavily all day, and our tramp through the jungle was most dreary and disagreeable.

"The day was dark, and cold, and dreary; It rained, and the wind was never weary."

[Ill.u.s.tration: _EN FAMILLE_]

About three o'clock in the afternoon, we sat down to rest on the bank of the creek. We had been there but a few minutes, when a good sized black bear came shambling along up the bank of the creek, looking for salmon.

The Indians saw him when a hundred yards or more away, and flattened themselves out on the ground to await his nearer approach. I raised my rifle to my shoulder, but they both motioned me to wait, that he was yet too far away. I disregarded their injunction, however, and promptly landed an express bullet in the bear's breast. He reared, uttered a smothered groan, turned, made one jump, and fell dead. Now arose the question of saving his skin; it was late, and we were yet three miles from the Indian village; to skin the bear then meant to camp there for the night, and as the rain still came down in a steady, heavy sheet, I at once decided that I would not stay out there another night for the best bear skin in the country. Seymour and John held a short consultation, and then John said they would come back and get the skin next day, and take it in lieu of the money I owed them for their services. We struck a bargain in about a minute, and hurried on, arriving at the village just as it grew dark. My rubber coat and high rubber boots had kept me comparatively dry, but the poor Indians were wet to the skin.

CHAPTER XVIII.

On arriving at Chehalis John kindly invited me to stop over night with him, but I declined with thanks. I went into his house, however, to wait while he got ready to take me down to Barker's. It was the same type of home that nearly all these Indians have--a large clapboard building about eight feet high, with smoked salmon hung everywhere and a fire in the centre of the room, which, by the way, was more of a smoke than fire, curing the winter provender. A pile of wood lay in one corner of the room, some empty barrels in another, fish-nets were hung in still another, and the family lived, princ.i.p.ally, in the fourth. John lives with his father-in-law, mother-in-law, two brothers-in-law, one sister-in-law, his wife and three papooses. Blankets, pots, tinware and grub of various kinds were piled up promiscuously in this living corner, and the little undressed kids hovered and s.h.i.+vered around the dull fire, suffering from the cold. We were soon in the canoe again, _en route_ to the steamboat landing, where we arrived soon after dark. I regretted to part with John, for I had found him a good, faithful servant and staunch friend. I was glad to get rid of Seymour, however, for I had learned that he was a contemptible sneak, and told him so in as many words.

_En route_ home I had about two hours to wait at Port Moody for the boat. There were great numbers of grebes and ducks in the bay, and I asked the dock foreman if there was any rule against shooting there. He said he guessed not; he had never seen anyone shooting there, but he guessed there wouldn't be any objection. I got out my rifle and two boxes of cartridges and opened on the birds. The ducks left at once, but the grebes sought safety in diving, and as soon as the fusillade began a number of gulls came hovering around, apparently to learn the cause of the racket. I had fine sport between the two, and a large audience to enjoy it with me. In ten minutes from the time I commenced shooting all the clerks in the dock office, all the freight hustlers in the warehouse, all the railroad section men, the ticket-agent and baggage-master, numbering at least twenty men in the aggregate, were cl.u.s.tered around me, and their comments on my rifle and shooting were extremely amusing. Not a man in the party had ever before seen a Winchester express, and the racket it made, the way in which the b.a.l.l.s plowed up the water, and the way the birds, when hit, vanished into thin air and a few feathers, were mysteries far beyond their power to solve.

At the first lull in the firing half a dozen of them rushed up and wanted to examine the rifle, the fancy finish and combination sights of which were as profoundly strange to them as to the benighted Indians.

They soon handed it back to me, however, with the request to resume hostilities against the birds; they preferred to see the old thing work rather than to handle it. The gulls were soaring in close, and six shots, rapidly delivered, dropped three of them into the water, mutilated beyond recognition. This was the climax; the idea of killing birds on the wing, with a rifle, was something these men had never before heard of, and two or three examined my cartridges to see if they were not loaded with shot, instead of bullets. When they found this suspicion was groundless they were beside themselves with wonder and admiration of the strange arm. As a matter of fact, it required no particular skill to kill the gulls on the wing, for they were the large gray variety, and frequently came within twenty or thirty feet of me, so that anyone who could kill them with a shotgun could do so with a rifle.

Finally the steamer came in and I went aboard. The train arrived soon after and several of its pa.s.sengers boarded the boat. The gulls were now hovering about the steamer, picking up whatever particles of food were thrown overboard from the cook-room. One old Irishman, who had come in on the train from the interior wilds, walked out on the quarter deck and looking at them intently for a few minutes, turned to me and inquired:

"Phwat kind of burds is thim--geese?"

"Yes," I said, "thim's geese, I reckon."

"Well, be gorry, if I had a gun here I'd shoot some o'thim"; and he went and told his companions "there was a flock of the tamest wild geese out thare ye iver sawed."

[Ill.u.s.tration: A SNAP SHOT WITH A DETECTIVE CAMERA.]