Chapter XIII: Down the Porcupine

"I'm awfully tired, Uncle Dick," said Jesse when he sleepily rolled out of his blankets on the following morning. "It was midnight when we went to bed, and I don't feel as though I had slept at all. Besides, it's Sunday."

"Yes," said his uncle, "it's Sunday, July twenty-seventh, according to my notes, and we've been gone from Fort McPherson one week and four days. I think we've made mighty good time this far, for I believe we must be considerably over a hundred miles from Fort McPherson to this place where we stand."

"It's a fine morning for a little rest," suggested Rob. "Maybe it wouldn't be wrong to make a few photographs. I'd like to make a picture of that high peak across from here, which we ought to call Castle Mountain. That's the mountain we've been hunting for the last three or four days."

"Agreed!" said Uncle Dick. "I think it would be an excellent plan to rest here for a time to-day, and then it would be no harm to start on. Will you let me see the notes of your diary, Rob? We've been relying on you to keep a record of our journey across the mountains, because I've been too busy and, to tell the truth, too worried, to have much time for making notes of the trip."

Rob produced his diary, and Uncle Dick read it page by page. "Fine!" said he. "Fine! This doesn't go into many details, but it will cover the story of our trip as well as I could have done it myself. Now, after we get started down the Bell and the Porcupine, I want you to keep up the same thing, so that we will have some sort of a record of our journey in this wild part of the world.

"I'll have to admit to you boys, now that we are alone, that I don't think we ought to waste any time in here. The two Indian boys who have left us have cut down our supplies considerably, but as they can't possibly get back to McPherson in less than four days, it seemed only fair to share with them what little we had, though it means less for us. We'll have to hurry."

"I'm so sick and tired of rabbits by this time," grumbled John, "that I don't ever want to see one again. I don't like to clean them any more, and I don't like to smell them when they are cooking in the kettle."

"You're not the first man in the North to get tired of rabbits," said Uncle Dick. "For a day or two they are all right, but there is really very little strength in the meat. They are, however, the main prop of the fur trade in the North, and the mainstay of the savage population as well. Except for rabbits, all these natives would starve to death in the winter-time. They have almost nothing to eat from one season to the next after the caribou have gone by."

"Where is the caribou migration in here?" asked John.

"It won't pass here at all," replied their leader. "They tell me that the caribou are north of the Porcupine, toward the Arctic, and that they work south along toward the latter part of August. There are a few sheep in here, but mountain-sheep is a hard meat to kill. There is mighty little hope for us to get anything unless we can catch some fish as we go along--and unless we continue to eat rabbits, and maybe some ptarmigan. I shouldn't wonder if the ptarmigan would grow much scantier when we get down out of the mountains farther.

"Jesse," he continued, "there'll be no harm in your taking your gun and going over to see if you can get us some young geese or some young ducks before we start out, over at the edge of Loon Lake. We've got to have all the food-supplies we can possibly get hold of, because we don't know what is ahead. Hurry up, now, for pretty soon we must call ourselves rested and be on our way. Our canoe is waiting for us, already launched, and it won't take long to get the loads aboard."

Jesse complied with his uncle's instructions, and, taking his light shot-gun, disappeared in the fringe of willows which lay between the camp and the marshy borders of the lake out of which they had made their last portage on the Rocky Mountain summit. It was not long before they began to hear the reports of his gun, and so proficient had he by this time become in its use that when he returned in the course of three-quarters of an hour he had a young goose and a half-dozen mallard ducks to add to the larder.

"Fine!" said Uncle Dick. "Throw them in the boat, son, and we'll be getting ready.

"Rob, go on with your diary; and, John, be sure that you keep up your maps. There isn't a single report of any kind in print or in manuscript, so far as I know, which tells the truth about this summit of the Rockies. We are just as much explorers as if we were the first to cross. The Klondikers left no records.

"And now take one last look around you, for I question if you will ever be in a more remote corner of the world in all your lives. This is the most northerly pass of the Rockies. Yonder above us, at the end of what they call the Black Mountain range, lie the last foot-hills between here and the Arctic. Off in that direction the Little Bell finds its head--no man knows where, so far as I can tell. Westward in general lies our course now, and we've got to make five hundred miles between McPherson and the mouth of the Porcupine River, and make it in jig time too, if we want to catch an up-bound boat on the Yukon this fall."

"Well," said Rob, "I suppose if we had to we could play Robinson Crusoe here at least as well as those poor Klondikers did who came to grief here twenty years ago. But as for me, I want to get home on time--not only because we have to go to school and because our parents are waiting for us, but because we set out to make our round trip within certain dates, and we ought to do so if that is a possible thing."

"That's the talk!" said Uncle Dick. "Come ahead then, boys. Now we are alone--let us see how we can travel."

Rob did as requested and made brief notes of their course throughout the remainder of their trip to the Yukon River, which are given here as he wrote them:

"_Sunday, July 27th._--Beautiful weather. Little Bell very
deep, with pools on the bends literally full of grayling.
They call them 'bluefish' here, and they look purple in the
deep, clear water. The Indian boys showed us how to cook
them. They split them down the back and skewer them flat,
and then hang them up before the fire, flesh side to the
fire. They eat them off the skin for a plate. You wouldn't
believe how good they are.

"Rabbits and ptarmigan all along the banks. Sometimes we
have to get out to ease the canoe down the rocky rapids, for
we must not cut her, since she is the only boat we have, and
to be without her would ruin us. Water is icy cold, even
colder than the head of the Rat, which was bad enough.

"At 6.30 to-day struck the Big Bell, a deep and clear river.
We were all cold, so built a fire. Caught some grayling
then. Ran till 10 o'clock. Camp on the tundra. Wet and
cold, but had plenty of wood near by, so had good fires.

"LaPierre House, an old trading-post, now abandoned, must be
not far ahead. That's where the land trail comes in from
Fort McPherson, according to the stories. We don't believe
anything we hear any more, as all the tales have been
unreliable and confusing. Must have made thirty miles to-day
before we camped.

"_Monday, July 28th._--Steady grind down the Bell, which now
is crooked and sluggish. At 2.15 in the afternoon found a
cabin, but it was not LaPierre House. Found many names on
this cabin. Also statement, 'It is ten miles to LaPierre
House.' One man here left statement that he was bound for
Fairbanks in Alaska. Another man and his wife passed in an
earlier year, 'Eleven days out from McPherson in canoes.'
This party had four Indian boys, who expected to take nine
days to get back to McPherson. This man must have gone on
down the Bell River alone.

"Did five hours before lunch, and six after, and still no
LaPierre House. Traveled until 10.15 and stopped to cook.
Rigged a light outrigger for our canoe for night travel,
which might be dangerous. We've got to travel day and night,
and take turns steering. Don't think we got over three and a
half to four miles an hour, it may be three miles only, but
think we did thirty-five miles to-day. No game and no fish
but a few grayling in the morning. We feel a little bit
glum. We can't tell where we are. Rigged a short sail, and
it helped us a little bit. Mosquitoes not quite so bad.
Making slower time than we hoped.

"_Tuesday, July 29th._--Tried to sleep in boat, and didn't
do very well. I steered part of the night, and Uncle Dick
part of the time. At 7 A.M. made LaPierre House. It is
eighty miles from the summit at least, and that is fully
twice as far as we were told that it was! Some said it was
only thirty miles beyond the summit. Saw signs where raft
had been built--maybe some Indians coming down-stream for
their winter quarters. Heard a man started across McPherson
to LaPierre House on the land trail with two dogs. Too much
plunder, and he nearly died. Don't know where he is now.
Rain and cold all day.

"Ate at midnight. We take turns paddling the best we can,
but John and Jesse get pretty tired. We let them sleep more.
Weather dismal and cold. It is hard for two to sleep in our
canoe and two to run it at night. Have been wet and cold a
good deal.

"_Wednesday, July 30th._--Breakfast in rain. Built a big
fire. We slept a little where we could be warm. Off at
12.50. Found a big river coming in from the left, and knew
that it must be the Porcupine. Struck it about 2 o'clock. A
big wind coming up-stream. At first we thought the Porcupine
was running to the left. Of course it had to run to the
right. Found the wind hard to buck with the canoe, so that
we stood still sometimes. At 6.30 went ashore, built a log
fire, and dried our clothes and beds. Everything very wet.
John and Jesse very tired and shivering. Both seem pretty
near exhausted. Wind becoming more gusty. Fixed our canoe,
which was leaking a little. We don't know just how far it is
from here to the Porcupine. Jesse killed a beaver. We boiled
the tail and ate it, and it was good. Pushed on a little
farther in the dark.

"_Thursday, July 31st._--Summer is going awfully fast. Ran
in for breakfast on a stony ledge. Think we are only going
about two miles an hour. After breakfast tried to sail, and
think we ran ten or twelve miles easier. Had to paddle then.
The reaches of this river are long and the current is slow.
The man who calls the Porcupine and the Bell 'rapid mountain
streams' doesn't know what he is talking about, for neither
is rapid. Passed the mouth of the Eagle River early in the
day. Landed late at the mouth of the Driftwood River, as it
is marked on the government map. Found an Indian here with
one canoe. He has his wife and two children and seven dogs
here. One strange dog has come into his camp. It howls a
great deal and is lost. We don't know whose it is or where
it came from.

"These Indians are starving, and, little as we have, we have
to give them something. They wanted some flour and fat, and
we shared almost our last. They have nets set and are
waiting for the salmon to run. The Indian has only caught
one salmon, and he said if they did not come pretty soon his
people would die. They conclude to go on farther down the
stream with us. He says he can take everything he has in
that little canoe. They are wonders with boats.

"We all hustle now, because starvation threatens every one
in our party. Even rabbits are scarce. No ptarmigan, no
ducks, no fish. The river is big and the wind affects the
down-stream speed.

"The Indian keeps along with us. His canoe has about an inch
and a half free-board, and is loaded down with children,
dogs, nets, and so forth. Glad to have the Indian with us,
because he knows something of the country. He says Fish
River, the next stream below, is half-way to Old Crow. This
is an old trading-post which gets supplies from the Yukon,
and we will feel safe if we can get there.

"Our new Indian is named Andrew. He can talk a little. He
says the land portage from Fort McPherson to Fort LaPierre
is lined with cast-off stuff that people have tried to carry
and couldn't. It is a starving country and a starving march.
So is this a starving journey by water. When we went ashore
it was in a rousing gale of wind. Uncle Dick baked some
bannocks in our old way, leaning the frying-pan against a
stick driven down before the fire. We are so tired that
when we don't have to work we just fall asleep wherever we
are. We always have some one awake to watch things and to
tell the others when to wake up. We have been wet a great
deal of the time from rain and waves. Dried our bedding this
time, once more. Not much excitement and plenty of hard
work. I don't know whether any of us would come across here
again or not. Probably not.

"After a long wait the wind let up, and we started in the
late evening for the run to Old Crow, which we are anxious
to see. Head winds. Hard paddling. Kept on into the night,
but met an awful storm. Wind was almost a tornado, and for a
wonder snow fell in sheets. Our canoe got turned around two
or three times in the night, and we wouldn't know which way
to go, for the wind came up-stream and every other way. We
nearly swamped. Managed to get ashore, drenched to the skin
and very cold. It looks like winter. Andrew's children are
crying a great deal now. We haven't much to eat. It was
about the worst night we ever had. We pushed on down as
fast as we could as soon as we got warm enough to work.
Reached Old Crow trading-post 8 A.M., after the worst night
I ever spent.

"_Saturday, August 2d._--What luck! Old Crow post is
deserted--no one here at all--not even a native hanging
around! Uncle Dick thought it was right to break open a
window and go in. There was a stove, so we made a fire. The
trader had left his stock here. Of course it was burglary to
open the store. If an Indian did it they probably would
follow him a thousand miles and punish him. We left a note
telling them who we were and what we had taken--another
blanket or so, some pairs of mittens, and a little clothing
for the Indian children, who were almost frozen. The trader
lives at Fort Yukon, and we will pay him there.

"Andrew says the next stop is going to be at Rampart House,
sixty miles down the river. We have taken about fourteen
hours to make the last thirty-five miles, as near as we can
tell. We are all in bad shape. Getting a little weak.

"The trader's goods have been damaged by water. This wet
snow fell more than a foot deep over everything, and the
roof has leaked. Well, we can't stay here long, and we'll
have to travel day and night the best we can. Any accident
now would be very bad for everybody.

"John and Jesse paddle all they can. We all get very cold,
as it seems almost like winter. Stopped to get warm and eat.
Uncle Dick says plenty of tea won't hurt us if we work. We
take turns fair as we know how, the ones paddling who can
stay awake.

"Well, we are nearer to being safe. By traveling all the
time, fifteen and a half hours from Old Crow, we made
Rampart House--not bad time if the distance is correct.
Weather cold. Snow threatening again.

"_Sunday, August 3d._--At Rampart House. One week from the
summit. Two weeks from the mouth of the Rat. Rampart House
looks mighty good to us all. Here there is a Hudson's Bay
post with some goods in stock and a young Englishman running
it. Natives almost starving. No fish yet. The men are just
starting out for caribou, which are now reported thirty
miles north of here. Not much goods left in the
trading-post. Our reception here very chilly. No one seems
to care whether we live or not, and sometimes we have been
so tired we hardly did ourselves.

"The trader tells us it is 240 miles from here to the Yukon,
and it seems a long way. At least we can get warm and dry
here.

"Next day. We slept eighteen hours out of twenty-four.
Weather warming up. Hunters not back, but one Indian caught
a king salmon in a net, so the village is more cheerful.
Everybody shared the salmon, which was a large one, fifty
pounds. These people are Loucheux. Sometimes squaw-men live
in here at Rampart House. More dogs here than I ever saw.
One ate my moccasins last night--the ones that I had extra
soles on. I wish he hadn't done it, because I needed them.

"This is an important post in the North. It is old and well
known, and it has special interest because it is directly on
the International Boundary-line. There is a monument here
which the American surveyors put up not long ago. They were
in here quite a while, but their work of marking out the
International Boundary between Alaska and the Dominion of
Canada is now done.

"All of us boys got gay and went over on the other side of
the Boundary and took off our hats and gave three cheers for
America. We were glad we were on American soil once more. We
feel now as if we were getting out of the fur-trading
country. Am not sorry. I don't like the country or the
people in it very much. Everything seems so shiftless.
Still, they manage to get on. I suppose if I lived up here a
hundred years things might look different.

"_Monday, August 4th._--Breakfast 10.30. We've got some
supplies here. Nothing much to boast of. Fixed up our boat
again for the long run for home. We feel pretty safe now.
Left Andrew at Old Crow, but saw some people at Rampart who
knew about him and other travelers who are back of us on the
Porcupine. We hope they will all get out. Winter will come
any time now. Left at 4.30 in the afternoon. Ran two hours
and had tea. River rising very fast, and current swift, so
that we thought we made five or six miles an hour at least.
Ran two and a half hours, some of us paddling, and thought
we made thirty miles. We are trying to use this rise in the
river all we can. Camped on a stony beach. Sand is very wet
and cold for a bed, but we cut some willows and did fairly
well. Not very cold.

"_Tuesday, August 5th._--Struck an Indian camp and traded
tea for some fresh moose meat, which we were mighty glad to
get. I am like John--I never want to see a rabbit again.

"To-day passed a boat tracking up-stream for Rampart. A man
and dog were pulling. They had a sail set to help, and the
steersman was poling and paddling the best he could to help.
Even so, it was a slow way to get up-stream. We felt sorry
for them when we left them. Later in the day met still
another boat, two Indians tracking freight up to Rampart
House. They say sometimes freight is carried up this river
with a powerboat. These Indians say we've come about a
hundred miles from Rampart, and that in about twenty miles
we will be half-way to the mouth of the river. Wish it were
not so far.

"_Wednesday, August 6th._--This is hard work. We rested and
paddled and slept and paddled. Too much wind, and we had to
quit toward evening. When the wind lulled we started again.
Much rain and dark weather. Water very fast, probably six to
seven miles an hour. We eat at least four times a day, so as
to keep strong as possible. Considerable wind now, and fall
seems coming. Whenever the sun comes out and we can lie down
in the sun, we do, so as to keep warm while we sleep. Don't
know how far it is to Yukon, but have been making good time.

"_Thursday, August 7th._--Head winds again, but sun bright
and warm. Spent considerable time ashore, resting, as we
were about played out, and we thought that we might now be
safe in a little delay. Got off late in the afternoon, and
did well. Uncle Dick says the Yukon can't be more than fifty
to seventy-five miles ahead. Camped late in a bunch of
spruce, and slept until 2 o'clock in the morning. When we
began to run we saw signs of a salmon fishery such as we
have in Alaska. There is a man here named Martin, and his
squaw and children all camped on the beach. He says it is
only thirty-five miles to the Yukon, and that we can do it
in six or seven hours. Hurrah!

"_Friday, August 8th._--We can still paddle, but are not
very strong, any of us. Uncle Dick is cheerful. He never has
been out of sorts. We boys have been pretty tired, and
sometimes Jesse has felt almost like crying, he was so
played out; but we have all done the best we could to keep a
stiff upper lip. Hope Uncle Dick will think we have done all
right. Just the same, we are glad we are coming out of the
worst of this trip. It has been worse than we thought.

"Passed two Indian camps in late evening. Then they said we
were within three hours of Yukon. Entered the mouth of a
white-stained slough which meant different waters from those
of the Porcupine. We feel that we are now in the Yukon
country--and that's _our_ country, because the Yukon and
Alaska are one!

"Ten P.M. Hurrah! Hurrah! At Fort Yukon! Here is the
American flag flying from the Anglican mission-house! We are
crazy with joy, all of us boys, and Uncle Dick smiles all
the time. We are safe now, because they say there'll be
several boats up-stream yet this fall. Uncle Dick says
there'll be no more danger, and he now begins to tell us
that we have been through worse dangers than maybe we
thought of. I suppose it was a pretty rough journey.
Certainly we all got awfully tired. We are thin as snakes,
all four of us.

"There is an Indian village below here, and a government
school for Indian boys, besides the Anglican mission-house
and church. It certainly does seem more civilized. This is
our own country.

"And this is the Yukon that runs between the banks here--our
own old Yukon! I love it better than the Mackenzie. For a
while at least we will be under our flag, and not any other.
All tired. Next we'd better go to bed. However, made camp
near a road-house, almost a mile from the Indian village.
Some whites live here who seem tough and noisy. Some liquor
here with them, for they seem to be shouting and singing.

"Although we have been on American soil or American water
since we left Rampart House on the Porcupine, this seems to
us like the first time we have really been in our own
country. Good night! Wish we were all home at Valdez with
our people."