Chapter IV: Preface (4)

It is difficult to get an idea of the density of a Washington forest, or of the character of the streams, unless one has actually taken a trip through the region. If one wishes to escape the forest by following the streams, he will find the path blocked by fallen trees. It is necessary continually to climb over or under obstructions, and the traveller is fortunate if he does not fall into the cold water. Upon the banks it is even worse; one must struggle through dense prickly bushes and ferns, and be tripped every few rods. Though the forest may appear at first to offer an easier way, it will soon be found that creeping and crawling through the undergrowth of bushes and young trees is exceedingly tiresome, and one will gladly return to the muddy trail, thankful for its guidance.

The mountains become less precipitous and the cañon widens to a valley, until at last the trail comes out at a clearing where the Cascade River joins the Skagit. At this point, known as Marble Mountain, there is a ferry, also a store and several other buildings. The cleared fields seem a relief after many miles of dense forest, but such openings are infrequent, for few settlers have yet pushed far into the forests of the Skagit valley. To make a clearing of any size, tear out the stumps, and prepare the land for cultivation, requires many years of hard labor.

How silently and yet with what momentum the river sweeps on! The water is clear in summer, but in winter it must be very muddy, for the Skagit is building one of the largest deltas upon Puget Sound.

At Marble Mountain the traveller may, if he wishes, leave his horses, hire an Indian canoe, and float down the river to the nearest railroad station. The ride in the cedar canoe, with an Indian at the stern carefully guiding it past snags and boulders, is one of the pleasantest portions of the trip. The winding river is followed for nearly fifty miles. There is mile after mile of silent forest, the solitude broken only here and there by camps of Indians who are spending the summer by the river, fishing and picking huckleberries. Now and then a call comes from one of these camps, and in spite of the danger of being swamped by the swift current, the canoe is turned toward the shore, but the stop is only for a moment.

At last a new railroad grade comes in sight, with gangs of men at work. The valley of the Skagit contains one of the finest bodies of timber in Washington, and the railroad is being built for the purpose of reaching this timber. There is little other inducement for the building of a railroad; for beside a few summer visitors, the only inhabitants are the scattered prospectors and miners.

We enter the train at a little town in the woods and are soon speeding down the valley toward the mouth of the river. Clearings appear in the forest, and at last the view opens out over extensive meadows which stretch away, almost as level as a floor, to the waters of the sound. Here and there the meadows are broken by forest trees or irregular groups of farm buildings. Rich lands form the delta of the Skagit River. The value of these natural meadows was quickly recognized by the early settlers, for not only was the land exceedingly fertile, but it did not have to be cleared in order to be transformed into productive grain-fields.

For centuries, ever since the melting of the great glaciers which once descended the Cascade Range and crept down the sound, the river has been building this delta. It grew rapidly, for immense accumulations of gravels and clays were left by the retreating glaciers. The delta has already spread westward into the sound, until it has enveloped some of the smaller islands. The forests growing upon these islands, which rise from the surface of the delta plain, are in picturesque contrast to the fields dotted with stacks of grain.

The delta is now practically joined to the eastern side of the San Juan Islands. The railroad reaches the islands by means of a trestle across the intervening tidal flats, delivering its load of logs at the mills and leaving the passengers at the town of Anacortes, where they may take one of the many steamers passing up and down the sound.

Enveloping former islands in Puget Sound]

Of all the deltas now forming about Puget Sound that of the Skagit is the largest and most interesting. One might think that the forests would so protect the slopes that erosion would not be rapid, but the valleys of all the tributary streams appear deeply filled with rock fragments, which have, for the most part, accumulated from the higher portions of the range, where frost and ice are slowly tearing down the cliffs. At each period of flood some of this material is passed on to the river, which in turn drops it upon the borders of its delta.

The Skagit River, from its source to its mouth, takes the traveller through varying climates and life zones, from the barren crest where the miner is the only inhabitant, down through forests where the lumberman is busy, until it leaves him upon the rich meadows of its delta.

THE STORY OF LAKE CHELAN

Chelan is the largest and most beautiful of our mountain lakes. The lake itself is most attractive, and the basin in which it lies has had an interesting history, so that it is well worth study.

Notwithstanding the beauties of this lake, it is not widely known, for it is situated far away from the main lines of travel, in a remote cañon of the Cascade Range. Fortunately the lake and the rugged mountains about it have been included in a forest reserve, so that they will be kept in all their wild natural beauty.

The Columbia River, in its crooked course across the state of Washington, follows for some distance the junction of the vast treeless plateau of the central portion and the rugged, forest-clad slopes of the Cascade Range. We have already learned how the plateau grew to its present extent through the outpouring of successive floods of lava which swept around the higher mountains like an ocean.

Many cañons furrow the eastern slope of the Cascade Range, and terminate in the greater cañon of the Columbia at the edge of the lava. One of these cañons, deeper and longer than the rest, has been blocked by a dam at its lower end. Beautiful Lake Chelan lies in the basin thus formed. It begins only three miles from the Columbia River, but winds for sixty miles among the rugged and steep-walled mountains, terminating almost in the heart of the range.

The lake can be reached either by crossing the mountains from Puget Sound, over a wet and difficult trail, or by ascending the Columbia River from Wenache, the nearest railroad station. The trip can be made from the latter point either upon the stage or river steamer. The wagon road is very picturesque, winding now under lofty cliffs with the river surging below, now along the occasional patches of bottom land where in July the orchards are loaded with fruit.

The first sight of Lake Chelan is disappointing, for at the lower end, where the wagon road stops, there is little to suggest the remarkable scenery farther back in the mountains. Rolling hills, covered with grass and scattered pine trees, slope down to the lake, while here and there farmhouses appear.

One cannot help asking at the first view what there is about Lake Chelan which has made it, next to Crater Lake, the most noted body of water upon the Pacific slope of the continent. But wait a little. Either hire a rowboat and prepare with blankets and provisions for a camping trip about the shores; or if the time is too short for carrying out that plan, take the little steamer which makes tri-weekly trips to the hotel at the head of the lake. Long before you reach the upper end you will begin to appreciate the grandeur of the lake scenery in its setting of steep-walled mountains.

Little of Lake Chelan can be seen at one time, for its course among the mountains to the west is a very crooked one. The noisy steamer leaves the town at the foot of the lake and in the course of ten miles steeper slopes begin to close in upon us. Many little homes are scattered along this portion of the lake, wherever there is a bit of land level enough to raise fruit and vegetables.

Now the mountains become more rugged and rise more steeply from the water's edge. The steamer is very slow; it takes all day to make the sixty miles, but no one is sorry. Occasionally the whistle is sounded and the boat heads in toward the land, where some camping party is on the lookout for mail or a supply of provisions.

The lake averages less than two miles in width, and seems all the narrower for being shut in between gigantic mountains. For some miles we pass under the precipitous cliffs of Goat Mountain, where formerly numerous herds of mountain goats found pasturage.

At every bend in the lake the views become more grand and inspiring. Here is a dashing stream, roaring in a mad tumble over the boulders into the quiet lake--a stream which has its source perhaps a mile above, in some snow-bank hidden from sight by the steep, rocky walls. Next a waterfall comes into view, pouring over a vertical cliff into the lake. Occasionally snow-clad peaks appear, but only to disappear again behind the near mountains. What pleasant spots we notice for camping by the ice-cold streams! They are full of brook trout, while larger fish are to be found in the lake.

At the head of this body of water there is a little hotel for the accommodation of visitors, and the Stehekin River, which is steadily at work filling up the lake, hurries past its doors. Since the melting of the glacier which once filled the cañon, the river has built a delta fully half a mile out into the water.

The lake has the appearance of filling an old river valley or cañon. Perhaps the latter is the better name because the bed is so narrow and deep. This cañon winds among the mountains just like other cañons in which rivers are flowing, but it has no outlet at the present time. In some way a dam has been formed, and the cañon, filling with water to the top of the dam, has become a lake.

Soundings have shown that the water is fourteen hundred feet deep; that is, a little more than a quarter of a mile. With the exception of Crater Lake, in Oregon, this is the deepest body of water in the United States. It is also interesting to note that the bottom of the lake is fully three hundred feet below the level of the ocean.

How could a river cut a channel for itself so far below the ocean level? Rivers cannot do work of this kind unless they have a swift current; moreover, as they empty into the ocean, their beds must be above sea level. Some people think that the great glacier, which certainly at some time occupied the depression in which the lake lies, dug out the cañon. This glacier was over three thousand feet in thickness, for the rocks are grooved and polished to a height of nearly two thousand feet above the surface of the water. It is, nevertheless, improbable that the glacier did anything more than deepen and widen the cañon somewhat. It was certainly made, as we at first supposed, by a river which flowed through it at some remote period. At that time the land of our Pacific coast must have stood many hundred feet higher than it does now.

The surface of Lake Chelan is a little more than three hundred feet above the bed of the Columbia River, which flows through a deep cañon only three miles distant. If we could remove the dam of glacial boulders and gravel at the lower end of the lake, the water would be lowered only three hundred feet. The lake would not be drained, for it is very much deeper. Now here is another puzzle for us: the bottom of the lake is more than one thousand feet below the level of the Columbia. We shall have to go still farther back into the past to get a satisfactory explanation this time.

Hundreds of thousands of years ago there was no plateau filling central Washington, and no Columbia River crossing it. The Cascade Range stood where we see it to-day, and the region of the plateau was a broad valley, toward which flowed the streams that had already cut cañons upon the eastern side of the range. These streams probably united in a river emptying westward into the Pacific by a course now unknown. The shores of the ocean were farther west than at present, for the land stood higher.

The cañon of Lake Chelan was made by a river of this period, which through many long years gradually deepened and enlarged its channel. The river worked just as we see rivers working at the present time, for throughout all the history of the earth rivers have not changed their habits. Then came the long period of volcanic eruptions. Our Northwest was flooded by fiery lava, which built up the Columbia plateau and buried under thousands of feet of rock the old river valley into which the cañon of Chelan emptied.

Then streams of water began to flow over the plateau from the higher mountains above the reach of the lava. These streams formed the Columbia River, which sought the easiest way to the sea, and finally excavated a cañon for hundreds of miles. In a portion of its course the river came close to the edge of the Cascade Range. The ancient cañon of Lake Chelan had been dammed up by the lava, and a lake occupied a portion of the former bed of the river. The Columbia could not cut its channel deep enough to drain the lake, and there it remained.

Then another change came: the climate grew cold and heavy snows gathered upon the Cascade Range. The snow did not all melt during the summers, but went on increasing from year to year. The masses of snow moved gradually down the mountain slopes, growing more and more icy until they became true glaciers.

In this manner it came about that a river of ice occupied the cañon in which the old lake lay, and, displacing its waters, scraped and ground out the bottom and sides. The moving ice deposited the waste material at the lower end of the cañon, where it joined the Columbia River, the cañon of which was also occupied by a glacier coming from farther north. When the glacier began to retreat up the Chelan cañon, it left a great mass of rock débris, forming a dam between its basin and the Columbia. After the ice had disappeared, water collected in the cañon above the dam, and the narrow, deep lake was formed, enclosed within granite walls.

As the snows melted, forests spread over the mountains, the bear, deer, and mountain goats came back again, while the streams, bringing down earth and rocks, began their work of filling up the lake. This task they will succeed in accomplishing some day unless something unforeseen happens to prevent. A valley, composed partly of meadow and partly of boulder-covered slopes, will then have taken the place of the lake.

THE NATIVE INHABITANTS OF THE PACIFIC SLOPE

The explorers and early settlers found a native race occupying nearly every portion of our continent. These people had many characteristics in common and were all called Indians. It is believed that they came originally from Asia, but their migration and scattering occurred so long ago that they have become divided into many groups, each having its own language and customs.

In the western portion of the country, where the surface is broken by numerous barriers, such as mountains and deserts, almost every valley was found to be occupied by a distinct group of Indians called a "tribe." The language of each tribe differed so much from the languages of adjoining tribes that they could with difficulty understand one another. These tribes were almost continually at war.

The Indians upon the Pacific slope were generally found to be inferior in most respects to those living in the central and eastern portions of the continent. One might suppose that the tribes possessing the fair and fertile valleys of California would be the most advanced in civilization, but such was not the case. Many of them were among the most degraded upon the continent. They seemed unable to adapt themselves to the white man and his ways, and in the older settled districts they have now nearly disappeared. In the newer portions of the Northwest and along the coast toward Alaska the Indians have not yet come into so direct contact with the white men, and remain more nearly in their primitive condition.

When the Indians of central California were first seen, they wore but little clothing, and knew how to construct only the simplest dwellings for protection from the weather. They did not cultivate the soil, nor did they hunt a great deal, although the country abounded with game. Along the larger streams fish was an important article of food, but in other places, acorns, pine nuts, and roots constituted the main supplies. The acorns were ground in stone mortars and made into soup or into a kind of bread. These Indians have often been called Diggers because they depended so largely for their living upon the roots which they dug.

It would seem natural that about San Francisco Bay the natives should have used canoes, but, according to early travellers, they had none. When they wished to go out upon the water they built rafts of bundles of rushes or tules tied together.

At favorable points along the shore the Indians collected for their feasts, and these spots are now indicated by heaps of shells, in some places forming mounds of considerable size. Many interesting implements have been dug from these mounds, or kitchen middens as they are sometimes called. In the mountains the sites of the villages are marked by chips of obsidian (a volcanic glass used in making arrow-tips) and by holes in the flat surfaces of granitic rocks near some spring or stream. These holes were made for the purpose of grinding acorns or nuts.

Many of the Indian tribes developed great skill in the weaving of baskets, which they used for many different purposes. The baskets are still made in some places, and are much sought after because of their beauty.

The Indians of northern California in building their homes dug round, shallow holes, over which poles were bent in the form of a half-circle, and then tied together at the top. Bark was laid upon the outside, and earth was thrown over the whole structure.

"Sweat houses" were built in much the same manner, and were used chiefly during the winter. When an Indian wished to take a sweat, hot stones were placed in one of these houses, and after he had entered and all openings were closed, he poured water upon the stones until the room was filled with steam. After enduring this process as long as he desired, the Indian came out and plunged into the cold water of a near-by stream. As may be imagined, such a bath often resulted disastrously to the weak or sick.

The fact that the California Indians could support themselves without any great exertion undoubtedly had the effect of making them indolent, while in the desert regions of the Great Basin the struggle for something to eat was so severe that it kept the natives in a degraded condition.

The Indians of the Columbia basin built better houses than those farther south. Where wood was abundant their homes were similar in some respects to those of the coast Indians north of the mouth of the Columbia. Fish was their main article of diet. At certain seasons of the year, when salmon were plentiful, each tribe or group of Indians established its camp near one of the many rapids and waterfalls along the Columbia River. Large numbers of the salmon were caught by the use of traps. After being partly dried they were packed in bales for winter use. The fish thus prepared were considered very valuable and formed an article of trade with the tribes living farther from the river.

The Indians inhabiting the coast northward from the mouth of the Columbia were different in many respects from those farther south or inland. They built better homes, took more pains with their clothing, were skilled in the making of canoes, and showed marked ability in navigating the stormy waters of the channels and sounds.

Nootka Sound, Vancouver Island]

The Vancouver Island Indians are called Nootkas, from the name of an important tribe upon the west coast. Those of Queen Charlotte Islands, still farther north, are known as Haidas. These two groups are very similar. They live upon the shores of densely wooded, mountainous lands and travel little except by water. Some of the canoes which these tribes construct are over fifty feet long and will easily carry from fifty to one hundred persons. Such a canoe is hewn out of a single cedar log, and presents a very graceful appearance with its upward-curving bow. In these boats the Indians take trips of hundreds of miles.

A ride in one of the large canoes is an interesting experience. When a party starts out to visit the neighboring villages, carrying invitations to a festival, the men are gayly dressed, and shout and sing in unison as they ply their paddles. The great canoe jumps up and onward like a living thing at every stroke of the paddles, which are dipped into the water all at once as the rowers keep time to their songs. But this enthusiasm quickly disappears if a head wind comes up, and the party goes ashore to wait for the breeze to turn in a more favorable direction.

These Indians, as might be supposed, live largely upon fish. Berries are abundant during the summer and are also much used for food. The clothing of the Indians was originally a sort of blanket made of the woven fibres of cedar bark, or more rarely, of the skins of animals, although among the northern tribes skins were used almost exclusively. Matting made of the cedar bark is still in common use in their houses.

Among the Vancouver Island Indians, a few have peculiarly flattened foreheads (Fig. 64). This deformity is produced by binding a piece of board upon the forehead in babyhood and leaving it there while the head is growing.

The villages are located in some protected spot where the canoes can lie in safety. The buildings are strung along the shore close under the edge of the thick forest and just above the reach of the waves at high tide. They are very solidly constructed, for these Indians do not move about as much as those farther south where the forests are less dense. Figure 65 shows the framework of a partially built house, while another stands at one side completed. Large posts are set in the ground at the corners and ends of the building; cross logs are then placed upon the middle posts, and upon these a huge log is placed for a ridge-pole. This is sometimes two feet in diameter and from sixty to eighty feet long. It must require the united strength of many men to roll such a log into position. Upon the framework thus constructed split cedar boards are fastened, and the building is practically finished. Such a house is usually occupied by a number of families. Upon Queen Charlotte Islands there is a dwelling of this kind large enough to hold seven hundred Indians.

The fronts of the houses are ornamented with figures hewn out of wood. These represent men, birds and animals and have a religious significance. Sometimes these figures are mounted upon the tops of tall poles.

The "totem pole" is a most interesting affair. Figure 66 represents the pole at Alert Bay, east of Vancouver Island. It is one of the finest upon the north coast. The figures of animals and birds carved upon it represent the mythological ancestors of the family or clan in front of whose abode the pole stands. The Indians often hunt similar animals to-day, but believe that their ancestors had supernatural power which raised them above the ordinary creatures.

The Chinook Indians live upon the lower Columbia. The name "chinook" has been given to a warm, dry wind which blows down the eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains and out upon the Great Plains. This wind is so named because it blows from the direction of the Chinook Indians' country. The "Chinook" jargon is a strange sort of mixed language with which nearly all the tribes of the Northwest are familiar. It is formed of words from the Chinook language, together with others from different Indian languages, French-Canadian, and English. Through the influence of the trappers and traders the "Chinook" has come into wide use, so that by means of it conversation can be carried on with tribes speaking different languages.

Alert Bay, British Columbia]

Although there are so many different tribes, with great diversities of language, throughout the West, they were probably all derived from the same source. As we go north the similarity between the coast Indians and the inhabitants of eastern Asia becomes more noticeable. It seems almost certain that these American Indians originally came across the narrow strip of water separating Asia from America.

We do not know how long the Indians have occupied our country, but it has probably been several thousand years. Some of the main groups have undoubtedly been here longer than others.

Unless we protect the Indians and permit them so far as possible to lead their own natural lives, most of them will soon disappear.

THE STORY OF LEWIS AND CLARK

In the seventeenth century it appeared likely that France would before long control the northern and interior portion of North America. La Salle discovered the Ohio River, traversed the Great Lakes, and descended the Mississippi River to its mouth. In 1742 other French explorers pushed west from the Great Lakes and sighted the Rocky Mountains. But when the English triumphed at Quebec, France gave up to them all of her possessions east of the Mississippi River, and ceded the province of Louisiana to the Spanish. This province was very much larger than the state which now bears the name. Bounded by the Mississippi River upon the east, and the Spanish possessions upon the southwest, it stretched north and west with very indefinite boundaries, although in the latter direction it was supposed to be limited by the Rocky Mountains.

At one time Napoleon dreamed of founding a great colony in America, and induced Spain to cede Louisiana back to the French; but being unable to carry out his plans, he made a proposition to the United States to take this territory. His offer was accepted, and in 1803, during the presidency of Thomas Jefferson, the vast province was taken into the Union.

It was immediately evident that more definite knowledge should be acquired concerning the great region beyond the Mississippi, particularly the portion about the head of the Missouri River. The unknown region lying between the source of this river and the Pacific should also be explored, for Captain Gray's discovery of the Columbia River gave to the United States a claim upon this part of the continent which must be maintained. If something were not done soon, the territory would be occupied by the English fur companies.

Two young men, Captains Lewis and Clark, were chosen to lead an expedition into the Northwest, which proved to be one of the most remarkable in the history of our country. They were the first white men to cross the Rocky Mountains and to traverse the continent from the Atlantic to the Pacific within the present boundaries of the United States.

How interesting it must have been to push into the Rocky Mountains, beyond the farthest point previously reached by white men; to see Nature in her wild state, to note the new plants and animals, and to study the Indians before their contact with Europeans had changed their customs!

Lewis and Clark were particularly instructed to investigate the sources of the Missouri, to learn how the continental divide could be crossed, and to ascertain the nature of the streams which flowed westward to the Pacific. They were also to study the resources of the country, and to examine into the character and customs of all the Indian tribes that they should meet.

The start was made from St. Louis in May, 1804, with two large rowboats and one sail-boat. The latter was to return with news of the party when the farthest outpost upon the Missouri was reached.

Through the summer months and late into the fall the boats toiled up the river against the swift current, finally reaching a village of the Mandan Indians in the present state of North Dakota, where the explorers spent the winter. Thus far they were in a region frequently visited by the traders and trappers from St. Louis.

In the spring they pushed on again in canoes, at length entering an unknown region. The Missouri forked so frequently that it was often difficult to determine which was the main stream. To the surprise of the travellers, the country appeared to be uninhabited, so that they could get no assistance from the Indians. Only a small stock of provisions remained, and as the party numbered about thirty, it was necessary to keep hunters out in advance all the time.

As we are carried swiftly through this region to-day in the cars, no signs of wild creatures are to be seen, and it is difficult for us to believe that game was once abundant. The narrative of the expedition abounds with descriptions of various large animals which the explorers met in herds, such as deer, antelope, buffalo, bears, and wolves. The bears, both white and brown, were very numerous and bold. The white bears in particular were so ferocious that the hunters had many serious encounters with them. They would sometimes enter the camp at night, and at one time a herd of buffalo stampeded through it.

When undecided at one point which branch of the river to follow, Captain Lewis went some distance in advance and discovered the Great Falls of the Missouri. He was greatly impressed and awed by the magnitude and height of the successive falls, which were twenty-four, forty-seven, and eighty feet high respectively, and were connected by a series of cascades.

Many days were spent there in a long and laborious portage, for everything had to be carried a distance of twelve miles before the quiet water above the falls was reached.

How the coming of the white man has changed the region about the falls! The game has disappeared; an important city, supported by the enormous water-power, is growing up; while the smoke rising from extensive plants for reducing the gold, silver, and copper ores mined in the Rocky Mountains floats out over the country.

Proceeding up the river, the party reached the Gate of the Mountains--a picturesque spot where the stream leaves the mountains through a narrow defile between high and jagged cliffs and enters upon its long course across the Great Plains (Fig. 68). Gradually the river became smaller, and at last the travellers came to the point where it divided into three branches, to which they gave the names of Gallatin, Madison, and Jefferson forks. The party made their way up the latter fork, which flowed from a westerly direction.

[Footnote: FIG. 68.--THE GATE OF THE MOUNTAINS

The Missouri River at the entrance to the Rocky Mountains]

Now they began to look anxiously for the Indians, from whom it would be necessary to get horses to transport their baggage when the river should become too small for the canoes. This region was inhabited by the Shoshones. It may well be asked how it happened that these Indians had horses, since no white people had ever visited them before. Their purchase of horses came about through the processes of trade with the tribes to the south, who in turn came in contact with the Spanish of New Mexico.

One or the other of the leaders kept in advance, on the lookout for the Indians. At last Captain Lewis, while crossing the divide at the head of the stream which they had been following, came suddenly upon several Indians. After overcoming their fear by presents, he accompanied them to their camp and induced them to return with horses to assist the party.

Upon reaching the Pacific side of the continental divide the explorers were in doubt as to which way to proceed. No man had been before them, and the Indians told stories of fearful deserts to the southwest (probably the Snake River plains), and said that the mountains were too steep for the horses, and the rivers too rapid for canoes.

If you will examine a map of the country about the head of the Jefferson fork of the Missouri, you will not wonder that Captains Lewis and Clark were in doubt as to which way they should go in order to reach the Columbia. They first attempted to go down the Salmon River, but soon gave up this project. They turned about and crossed the mountains to the Bitter Root River, which flows north and empties into Lake Pend d'Oreille through Clark's Fork of the Columbia.

After going down the Bitter Root for a short distance they turned west again across the Bitter Root Mountains and came out upon the head waters of the Kooskooskie River. Unable to follow its cañons, they wandered to the north among the mountains. At this time their sufferings were intense. Food became so scarce that they were obliged to eat their horses. After many weary days they again reached the stream, but this time at a point where it was navigable. They floated down to its junction with the Lewis or Snake River, where the growing city of Lewiston now stands. At this point they met the Nez Percés Indians, who assisted them in every possible way.

The party continued down the Snake River in canoes until they finally reached the Columbia. The difficulties of navigation were great, for at intervals of every few miles the river was broken by rapids through which it was dangerous to take the canoes. By treating the Indians kindly, the party succeeded in trading with them for such articles of food as horses and dogs. They also obtained some salmon. The presence of this fish in the streams gave them the first assurance that the Pacific slope had been reached. Along the Columbia River salmon was one of the chief articles of food for the Indians.

At Celilo Falls, a short distance above the present city of The Dalles, the travellers found great difficulty in proceeding, as the canoes and loads had to be carried, or "portaged," around the falls. Lewis and Clark called these the Great Falls of the Columbia (Fig. 69).

As the canoes floated down through the magnificent cañon by which the Columbia passes the Cascade Range, they encountered another rapid, now known as the Cascades of the Columbia. This rapid is due to a great landslide which has formed a dam across the river. Captain Lewis speaks of the broken trunks of trees rising from the water above the dam, a fact which would lead one to suppose that it had not been very long since the slide occurred.

Below the Cascades the party soon began to notice the influence of the tides in the rise and fall of the river, and knew then that the Pacific could not be very far away. Early in November they came in sight of the ocean, and in a few days had the pleasure of standing upon its shores. The long and dangerous trip of four thousand miles had been completed without any serious accident.

Continual rains poured upon them, and before winter quarters could be prepared they were in a very uncomfortable position. A permanent camp was selected upon the Oregon side of the Columbia, and log buildings were erected. The camp was called Fort Clatsop. While in their winter quarters the party cultivated friendly relations with the Indians, and made extensive notes upon their habits and characteristics.

A steamer going up to the locks]

In the spring, since no ship had appeared which would carry them back by water, Lewis and Clark determined to return overland. First, however, they left some records with the Indians, with directions that these should be given to the captain of any ship which might happen to visit the mouth of the Columbia. The leaders wished to make sure that if anything happened to the party the knowledge gained by their explorations should not be lost.

One can imagine with what pleasure the men turned homeward. Although they had started with flour, rice, corn, and other articles of food, these had given out long before they reached the lower Columbia, and for some months their only diet had been fish and the animals that the hunters had killed. Their stock for trading with the Indians was also nearly gone; all the articles that were left could be put into two pocket handkerchiefs.

After ascending the Columbia River to a point above The Dalles, the party left the stream, as they found that it would be impossible to make much headway with the canoes. Obtaining horses from the Indians, they followed the outward route back as far as the Kooskooskie River. Then they turned north and crossed the mountains to the Missoula River. Near the present city of Missoula the party divided, Captain Lewis going up Hell Gate River and crossing the continental divide to examine the country lying north of the Missouri.

Captain Clark, with another portion of the company, went up the Bitter Root River and over the mountains to the Jefferson Fork, which the whole party had ascended the year before. He followed this river down to its junction with the Gallatin, and travelled for a distance up the latter stream, then crossed by land to the Yellowstone River.

Canoes were constructed upon the Yellowstone, and the party floated down to the junction of this river with the Missouri. There the two bands were fortunately reunited, and together they passed rapidly down the Missouri until they reached the "village" of St. Louis, where the whole population came out to welcome them. As the party had been gone more than two years, it was feared that they would never be heard from again.

There can be no doubt that the expedition of Lewis and Clark added greatly to the public interest in the vast region which they traversed, and helped to bring about the final retention of the Oregon country. The Hudson Bay Fur Company soon after established trading posts at various points along the Columbia, and kept up their contention that all the country lying north of the river rightfully belonged to England.

It was very remarkable that the Lewis and Clark expedition had made the long journey to the Pacific and back without meeting with serious accident. There were perils to be met on account of the ruggedness of the country, the rapids in the streams, the lack of food, and the danger of attack from the Indians. The successful accomplishment of the plan was without a doubt largely due to the ability of the two brave leaders.

THE RUSSIANS IN CALIFORNIA

How many of us know that the Russians once established a post upon the coast of California and held it for nearly a third of a century? If the geographic conditions about this post had been different, it is possible that the Russian colonists would hold their position now.

The discoveries made upon the North American coast by the Russian navigator, Bering, in 1741, led to fur trading with the Indians; and in 1798 the Russian American company was organized and established its headquarters at Sitka.

The Spaniards still claimed the whole Pacific coast of North America as far north as the Strait of Fuca, though they had given up their station at Nootka Sound, Vancouver Island. They had, however, made no settlements north of the port of San Francisco.

It was nearly one hundred years ago that Rezanof, a leading Russian official, arrived at Sitka and began to investigate the condition of the settlements of the Russian American Fur Company. He found them in a sorry state; the people were nearly starved and most of them were sick with the scurvy. No grain or vegetables were grown along that northern coast, nor could they be supplied from Asia. Rezanof conceived the idea of establishing trade relations with the people of California. By this means furs might be exchanged for the fresh provisions which were so sorely needed in the north.

Rezanof sailed south in 1806 and tried to enter the Columbia River, where the company had planned to establish a settlement, for upon the Russian maps of this time all of the coast as far south as the Columbia was included under Russian jurisdiction. Rezanof was, however, unable to enter the river, probably for the same reason that Meares, the English navigator, had failed to enter. He then proceeded down the coast and finally ran into the port of San Francisco, where he was treated in a fairly polite manner by the Spanish.

After the return of the expedition to the north, definite plans were made for the establishment of an agricultural and trading station on the California coast, as a permanent supply depot for the northern settlements. Rezanof hoped in time to secure a portion of this fair southern land from Spain.

Several hunting expeditions, chiefly made up of Aleut Indians with Russian officers, were sent south and told to keep a sharp lookout for a suitable place to begin operations. In 1809 one expedition entered Bodega Bay, an inlet of some size about sixty miles northwest of San Francisco. This bay, which had been previously discovered and named by the Spaniards, was thoroughly explored two years later.

No good spot for a settlement was found upon this inlet, but in 1812 a location was determined upon, ten miles north of the mouth of the stream we now know as Russian River. There was no good harbor here, simply a little cove, but back of this cove a broad grassy tract formed a gently sloping terrace at the foot of a line of hills. The soil was good and timber was near at hand.

The Russians first made friends with the Indians, who ceded to them the territory in the neighborhood for three blankets, three pair of breeches, three hoes, two axes, and some trinkets.

In order to protect themselves from possible Indian attacks as well as to be able to hold their position against the Spanish, the Russians constructed a strong stockade. It was made of upright posts set in the ground and pierced with loopholes. At the corners, and a little distance within, were erected two hexagonal blockhouses with openings for cannon. As it happened, however, no occasion ever arose for the use of the ten cannon with which the fort was supplied. The post was given the name Ross, a word which forms the root of the word Russia.

The Spanish, of course, claimed the territory by right of discovery, and watched the work of the Russians with jealous eyes. They were not strong enough to drive the Russians away by force, although they protested more than once against the unlawful occupation of the land. Some trading was carried on between the Russians and the Spanish, and occasionally loads of grain and cattle were sent north.

The number of people at Fort Ross varied from one hundred and fifty to five hundred. The population consisted of Russians, Aleuts, and other Indians. The Aleuts were the hunters and sealers. They spent their time upon the ocean, sometimes entering San Francisco Bay, but usually hunting in the region of the Farralone Islands, which were originally inhabited by great herds of fur seal. There were also otters, sea-lions, and an infinite number of seabirds. A station was maintained upon the Farralones, where a few men stayed to gather birds' eggs and kill seagulls. Many thousands of gulls were taken each year, and every part of their bodies was utilized for some purpose.

Schooner loading wood]

Kotzebue, a Russian navigator, whose name has been given to a sound upon northern Alaska, visited Fort Ross and also San Francisco Bay. He considered it a great pity that the Russians had not gained possession of this territory before the Spaniards, for the magnificent bay of San Francisco, in the midst of a fertile country, would have been a prize worth working for.

Year after year the Russian Fur Company sent expeditions to California to trade and bring back provisions. They tried to extend the area under their jurisdiction, but the geographical conditions of the country were unfavorable. The narrow strip of land next the coast was cut off from the interior valleys by mountain ridges and cañons. If the Sonoma Valley had opened westward instead of toward San Francisco Bay, it would have been easy to extend their territory gradually. As it was, the Spanish, who were in control of the bay, had easy access to all of the fertile valleys of central California.

As the sealing industry decreased in importance, and as the maintenance of Fort Ross was expensive, the Russians in 1839 began to consider the question of giving up their post. They finally sold everything at Ross and Bodega, except the land, to Sutter, an American who had acquired a large ranch and established a post or fort at the mouth of the American River. In 1841 the Russians sailed away, never to return. The Spaniards were greatly relieved when this happened, for they had not known how to get rid of their unwelcome neighbors peaceably, and were reluctant to stir up trouble with Russia.

The stockade at Fort Ross has entirely disappeared, but two blockhouses, the little chapel, and the officers' quarters remain as the Russians left them.

Fort Ross is now-a pleasant, quiet hamlet. A store and a farm-house have been added to the old buildings. Behind the sloping meadows rise the partly wooded hills, while in front lies the little bay where once the boats of the Russian and Aleut seal hunters moved to and fro. Occasionally a small schooner visits the cove for the purpose of loading wood or tan-bark for the San Francisco market.

Fort Ross was never marked by serious strife and seems destined to go on in its quiet way. The blockhouses are rotting and beginning to lean with age, and in time all evidences of the once formidable Russian post will have disappeared.

DEATH VALLEY

To most of us Death Valley is thought of only as a mysterious region somewhere in the Southwest, a place which we are accustomed to picture to ourselves as being the embodiment of everything that is desolate and lifeless,--a region where there is no water, where there are no living things, simply bare rocks and sand upon which the sun beats pitilessly and over which the scorching winds blow in clouds of dust. The reality is hardly so bad as this, for there are living things in the valley, and water may occasionally be found. Nevertheless it is a fearful spot in summer, and has become the final resting place of many wanderers in these desert regions, who having drunk all their water failed to find more.

We have already learned something about the Great Basin: we know that it is made up of vast desert plains or valleys, separated by a few partly isolated mountain ranges. The valleys are peculiar in that they are basins without outlets, and for this reason are known as sinks. Many of the lakes once occupying the valleys are now quite or nearly dry, and the lower portions of their beds are either whitened with deposits of borax and soda, or have been transformed into barren expanses of hardened yellow clay.

The long, gentle slopes about the sinks, which have been built up by the waste rock from the mountains, as a result of the occasional cloudbursts are dotted with sage-brush, greasewood, or other low plants, and furnish a home for numerous animals.

Back of the gravel slopes rise the mountains, browned under the fierce rays of the summer sun. In some of their deeper cañons little springs and streams are found, but the water usually dries up before leaving the protecting shadows of the cliffs. Toward the mountain tops the desert juniper appears; and if the peaks rise high enough to get more of the moisture of the cooler air, they support groves of the piñon and possibly yellow pine.

The valleys are all much alike. In summer the days are unbearably hot, while in winter the air is cool and invigorating. The skies are overcast for only a few days in the year, but in the autumn and spring fierce winds, laden with dust and sand, sweep across the valleys and through the mountain passes.

Strange rock forms, of many contrasting colors, worn out by wind and water, mark the desert mountains. The granite wears a brown, sunburned coat, while the masses of black lava show here and there patches of pink, yellow, and red. The air is often so wondrously clear that distant mountains seem much nearer than they really are. During the hot summer days the mirage forms apparent lakes and shady groves, illusions which have lured many a thirsty traveller to his death.

Death Valley is the lowest and hottest of the desert basins. Its surface, over four hundred feet below the level of the sea, is the lowest dry land in the United States. The valley is long and narrow and enclosed by mountains. Those upon the east are known as the Funeral Mountains, while upon the west the peaks of the Panamint Range rise to a height of about ten thousand feet.

If the rainfall were greater, Death Valley would be occupied by a salt or alkaline lake, but in this dry region lakes cannot exist, and the bottom of the sink, sometimes marshy after exceptional winter rains, is in many places almost snowy white from deposits of salt, soda, or borax.

Death Valley, then, differs from scores of other valleys in the Great Basin by being a little lower, a little hotter, and a little more arid. Strange as it may seem, old prospectors say that Death Valley is the best watered of all the desert valleys. Since it is the lowest spot in all the surrounding country, the scanty water supply all flows toward it. But the water runs under the gravels of the old river beds instead of on the top, where it might be utilized. Occasionally, however, the water comes to the surface in the form of springs, which are marked by a few willows or mesquite trees and little patches of salt grass.

Long ago, when the rainfall was greater, Death Valley was a saline lake and received a number of streams, two of which were large enough to be called rivers. The Amargoza River, starting from Nevada and pursuing a roundabout way, entered the southern end of the valley. The Mohave River, which rises in the San Bernardino Range, also emptied into the valley at one time, but now its waters, absorbed by the thirsty air and by the sands, disappear in the sink of the Mohave fifty miles to the south.

The summer is the dreaded season in Death Valley. A temperature of one hundred and thirty-seven degrees has been reported by the Pacific Coast Borax Company at the mouth of Furnace Creek. This temperature was recorded in the shade, and is the hottest ever experienced in the United States. In the sun it is of course much hotter. Many a person has lost his life in trying to cross the heated valley in the middle of a summer day instead of making the journey at night.

Dangerous as this region is, even now when we know so much about it, it was of course much more dangerous for the first white men who entered it. Only those who have had some experience upon the desert can realize the difficulties and dangers which beset the first emigrants who attempted to cross the deserts lying between Salt Lake City and the Sierra Nevada mountains. The story of the sufferings and final escape of that party which, by taking the wrong course, was lost in the great sink, is extremely interesting although sad. The valley received its name from the experiences of the members of this party.