Jack the Young Canoeman: An Eastern Boy's Voyage in a Chinook Canoe

by George Bird Grinnell

  CHAPTER XIV

  BUTE INLET

  Bute Inlet is the most remarkable as well as the most beautiful of thelarger fiords of the British Columbia coast. Its great length and theheight of the mountains that wall it in make it unequalled. Nowhere atthe sea-level can such stupendous mountains be seen so near at hand,nor such sublime views be had.

  At its mouth the Inlet is only about a mile in width, and in its widestportion it is not more than two and a half miles. At the entrance, thehills are not especially high or rugged, but rise from the water in aseries of rounded undulations. Densely wooded to their summits, theyroll away in smooth green waves to the higher more distant mountainsof the interior. No sharp pinnacles of granite nor dark frowningprecipices interrupt the green of the forests. The dome-shaped hillscome into view one after another, always smooth and ever green. Thescene is one of quiet picturesque beauty. A little farther up theinlet the scenery changes. The shores rise more abruptly from thewater's edge, but though the mountains increase in height the softgreen foliage of firs and cedars still rises toward the summits in anunbroken sweep. Then masses of rock lift themselves above the timberline, glittering in the sunlight as though studded with jewels, or whenshadowed by clouds frowning down cold, black, and forbidding. Soonpatches of snow begin to appear on the mountains; at first visible onlyas narrow white lines nestling in the deeper ravines, but farther alonglarge snow banks came into view and before long extensive snow fieldsare seen, glittering white on the summits, or even down among the greenof the mountain sides.

  The canoe started early and a fair wind enabled them to set the sailand to sit back at ease all through the long day and view undisturbedlythe enchanting scenery which they were passing.

  Jack had often heard his uncle describe a trip that he had made toNorway, and his journey up some of the fiords of that rock-bound coast.As he now watched the shore and the mountains of Bute Inlet slip by,these descriptions were constantly brought to his mind. Scarcely lessimpressive than the wonderful cliffs and mountains that he was seeing,were the beautiful streams, fed by the melting of the perpetual snowhigh upon the hills. These streams plunged over the precipices inbeautiful falls and cascades. Long before the water reached the rocksbelow, it was broken up into finest spray; and a white veil of mistwaved to and fro before the black rocks, in fantastic and ever changingshapes.

  Here the mountains had become much higher than any they had approachedbefore. Instead of peaks from twenty-five hundred to four thousandfeet in height, they were close to those that reached an altitude ofsix or eight thousand feet. One of these was Mt. Powell, a naked peakstretching up like a pyramid, more than six thousand feet high; andfarther on there were others still higher. The first of the glacierswas seen just to the north of Fawn Bluff, and was recognized by Hugh,who called out to Jack: "There, son, there's a chunk of ice. Don't yousee how it shines, blue in the sunlight, just like one of the glaciersthat we got sight of in the Piegan country?"

  "So it is, Hugh. I recognize it. My! Don't I wish we could get up closeto it; but it's awful high on the mountains and terribly thick timberbelow it."

  "Yes," said Hugh, "I reckon it would be quite a climb to get up there."

  "How different these mountains are," said Jack, "from our Rockies. Theyrise so much more steeply; but like the Rockies, there is a big cliffof wall rock on the top of each one of them."

  "Yes," said Hugh, "in the mountains that we see from the plains theslope is more gradual; first foot hills, and then a long timber slope,and then lastly the rocky peaks that rise above the timber line. Buthere there are no foot-hills, and there are no gradual rising slopesbetween us and the main peaks. A man's eye doesn't get a chance toadapt itself to the highest hills by measuring the gentler slopesthat are nearer to him. Here the mountains rise either in a continualslope or else in a series of cut walls, one above the other, to thestraight up peaks. I don't believe the distance on foot to one of thesemountains is more than twice the mountain's height. I don't believemany people that have not been here have had a chance to stand at thesea-level and look straight up to a snow peak right above them as highas these are. That is what makes these mountains seem so high and sowonderful."

  A few moments later the canoe rounded a point and a long reach of theinlet was exposed to view.

  "There," said Fannin, "look off to the right! There's something that Idon't think many people have seen."

  "My! I guess not!" exclaimed Jack.

  Off to the right was a tall mountain whose summit was hidden, but whichseemed to end in a long horizontal crest crowned by a wavy covering ofpalest blue, the lower end of a great glacier. It could be conjecturedthat, running down from some very high point, this river of ice reachedthe top of this mighty precipice, and little by little was pushed over,breaking off in huge masses, which, from time to time, fell over thecliff and down into the hidden recesses at its foot, where possiblyanother smaller glacier made up of these icy fragments ran, for alittle way, down the valley.

  "Look at those little grassy spots scattered here and there along themountain side," said Fannin; "how are those for goat pastures? Howbright those little meadows are by contrast with the dark foliage ofthe forest, the gray of the rocks, and the white of the snow banks.Those must be great feeding places for the goats, and there, I guess,they are never bothered except by the eagles that try to catch thekids. Surely there they must be safe from everything except enemiesthat can fly. Except for the goats and the wood-chucks, I don't believethere are any living things up there but birds. I'll bet there are lotsof ptarmigan up there, brown in summer and white in winter. The littlemother bird scratches out a hollow in the turf and moss near somefringe of willows, and lays her brown spotted eggs there, which by thistime are hatched. The young are queer, downy little chicks, buff incolor, and streaked here and there with brown. You would hardly thinkit possible that they could stand the cold winds, the fogs, the rain,and the snows that they must be exposed to."

  "Did you ever find a nest, Mr. Fannin?" asked Jack.

  "Yes," said Fannin, "when we crossed the mountains on our way fromthe East, nearly twenty years ago, I found the nest of a white-tailedptarmigan high up on the range, but I have never seen a nest of theseblack-tailed ptarmigan, such as we killed up on the head of the NorthArm. Once or twice, though, I have come across a mother with her youngones, and I tell you the mother is a plucky bird. If you catch one ofthe young birds she will come back and attack you and make a prettygood fight. I have had one come up to my very feet and then flyagainst my legs, pecking at my overalls and rapping my legs with herwings, trying to frighten me into letting the young one go; and, ofcourse, I always did it after I had finished looking at it."

  "I don't suppose there's much game up here," said Hugh to Fannin,"except these goats that live high up in the mountains. It seems toocold and damp here for anything like deer."

  "Well," said Fannin, "I don't know much about that. I, myself, havenever been here before, and Bute Inlet is as strange to me and just asbeautiful as it is to you."

  While all this talk was going on the canoe, pushed along by a goodwind, had been hurrying up the inlet. They passed one great gorgebetween two mountains, so nearly straight that, as they looked upat it, they could see on the mountain's crest a great glacier; and,pouring out beneath it, a thundering torrent, which rushed down thegorge toward the inlet. From beneath the blue mountains of ice a tinywhite thread ran down the slope, constantly increasing in size, itsvolume swollen by a hundred lesser streams which joined it on itsway. Always a torrent, and always milky white, it swept on, sometimesrunning along an even slope, at others leaping down precipices ahundred feet high, now undermining a thick crust of soil green withspruces, again burrowing beneath snowdrifts which almost filled thegorge. Long before they came to it they heard the roar of its fall; andas they passed its mouth they could not hear the words that one calledto the other. The rush of this great mass of water Jack thought enoughto frighten
one.

  When they reached the mouth of the Homalko River, at the head of theinlet, the sun had disappeared and the great walls of rock about themcast dark shadows. The peaks of the mountains were still touched bythe sun, and the snow took on a rosy tint; and even the black granitewalls were lightened and softened by a ruddy glow. But over the snowfields, on the high mountains, the rock walls and peaks cast strange,long shadows. As the sun sank lower and lower these shapes seemed tolengthen and to march along as if alive. Slowly this glow faded, untilonly the highest peaks were touched by it; and then, one by one, asthey grew dull, twilight, with stealthy footstep, cast shadows thatsoftened and blended the harsher outlines of the scene.

  At the mouth of the Homalko River began a couple of miles of long, hardpulling against its hurrying current. At last, however, after windingthrough wide meadows and among clumps of willows, they saw beforethem an open spot, and presently the houses of the Indian villageappeared, standing close to the border of the timbered stream. Soonthey had landed close to the houses, transferred their load to theirshelter, and lifted the canoe up onto the meadow. The day had beenone of excitement, if not of continued effort, and all were tired andhungry. Moreover, as soon as the river had been entered, vast swarms ofmosquitoes attacked them and made life miserable. Happily, the insectsdid not enter the Siwash house that they had appropriated, but any onewho ventured out of doors was at once attacked. That night the partywent to bed with little delay, hoping to spend the next two or threedays in an investigation of the mountains that walled in the narrowriver valley on both sides.

  When Jack awoke next morning he saw that it was daylight,--gray dawn,as he thought,--and he turned over and settled himself for another nap,to await Charlie's announcement that breakfast was nearly ready. Alittle later some movement awakened him, and when he opened his eyeshe saw Fannin standing by the fire already dressed.

  Jack asked: "Is it time to turn out, Mr. Fannin?"

  But Mr. Fannin, with an expression of much disgust on his usuallycheerful countenance, answered briefly: "You can sleep all day, if youwant to."

  "What do you mean?" said Jack, in some astonishment.

  "Mean?" replied Fannin; "why, it's raining, and you can't see acrossthe river."

  Jack hardly understood what this meant, but as he got up to dress heheard the heavy patter of rain on the building, and when he looked outof doors he saw that the valley was full of a white fog, almost thickenough to be cut with a knife. Nothing could be seen of the surroundingmountains, the mist hid everything except a few yards of muddy waterby the house, and the lower branches of the forest behind it. It wasuseless to venture out of doors, because nothing could be seen. Itwould have been folly to attempt to climb the mountains in such a fog.

  The rain continued all day long, and the white men sat around the fireand smoked and talked and grumbled. The Indians had a better time.Immediately after breakfast they returned to their blankets and went tosleep. After lunch they slept again until dinner was ready, and afterdinner they went to bed for the night. Every little while one of thewhite men would go to the door in the hope that he might see some signof fair weather, but none greeted him.

  The second day at the Indian village was like the first; it rainedall day long, and this was followed by a third day of downpour. Thereseemed no prospect that the rain would ever stop. Fresh provisions hadgiven out, and the party was once more reduced to bread and bacon.

  The fourth morning it was still raining, and, after consultation,it was determined that the bow of the canoe should be turned downthe Inlet and that they should seek fairer weather on the more openwater of the Gulf. To all hands it was a disappointment to go awaywithout seeing something of the mountains they had so much admired ata distance. But the flight of time and the scarcity of provisions madeit seem necessary to proceed on their way. Accordingly, on the morningof the fourth day the canoe was loaded and the travellers clad in oilskins and rubber coats, headed down the Homalko River. The rain stillfell with the steady persistent pour of the last few days, the mountainsides were veiled with a thick mist, and the party had only thememories of the wonderful beauties of the sail up the inlet to consolethem, as they swung their paddles on the return journey. The mountainclimbing, the exploration of the glaciers, the views of the toweringsnow-clad heights, and the hunting of the sure-footed goats--thesepleasures must all be abandoned. So they paddled down the Inlet throughthe fog, with nothing to see and with nothing to do but to paddle.

  During the next two days the weather continued bad, with wind and rain.The party camped at Clipper Point on Bute Inlet and at Deceit Bay onRedonda Island. On the third day, near White Island, a heavy galesprang up, blowing from the quarter toward which the canoe was headed,and the paddlers not only were unable to paddle against it, but couldnot even hold their own. It was therefore necessary to land, unloadthe canoe, and take it up on the beach out of reach of the waves,and to wait until the wind went down. Fresh meat was still needed,and Hugh, Jack, and Fannin started out to see whether they could getanything. The country was a pleasant one to hunt in, and consisted ofopen ridges with bushy ravines between, and a little scattering timberon the ridges. Deer and bear signs were plentiful, and Jack was muchinterested in noticing the great size of the stones turned over by thebears in their search for worms, bugs, and ant eggs. One large piece ofgranite, lately turned out of its bed by a bear, was not less than twofeet in any direction, and so heavy that Jack could not stir it.

  Jack was walking quietly along a ridge, watching on either side of him,when a small buck that he had passed unseen, ran out of the brush andhalf way up the slope of the ravine, and stopped to look back. It was afatal error, for a moment later Jack's ball pierced his heart. Like allthe deer here, this one was small. Jack remembered his struggle with aprevious deer, and only attempted to carry half of it into camp. Whenhe got there he sent one of the Indians for the remainder.

  Hugh had also killed a small deer, which he had brought into camp; andso, for the present, all anxiety about fresh meat was at an end.

  They had a good dinner that night. After it was over, they lounged inmuch comfort around the crackling blaze, for the rain had gone with thegales that had blown, and the night was fair and cool.

  "Hugh," said Jack, "you must have seen bears feeding often, and I wishyou would tell me how they do it. Of course I've seen places where theyhave torn logs to pieces, and turned over stones; and the other day Isaw that black bear gathering berries up on the river at the head ofthe North Arm, but that's the only bear that I've seen feeding. I wishyou'd tell me how you've seen bears act when they were feeding."

  "Well," said Hugh, as he pushed down the fire in his pipe with theend of his forefinger, "that's asking me to tell you a good deal.I've happened to see bears feeding a number of times; but, of course,usually I was more interested in killing the bear than I was in seeinghow it gathered its grub, and when the time came for a good shot, Ifired."

  "Yes," said Jack, "that is natural and I suppose that is just what Iwould have done; but I can't help wondering how the bears, which aresuch big, strong fellows, living as everybody says, on berries, mice,beetles, and ants, ever get enough to eat to keep themselves alive; andyet, as I understand it, they always go into their holes fat, in theAutumn."

  "So they do, so they do," assented Hugh.

  "Well," said Jack, "tell me, then, how do they keep themselves alive?"

  "That's hard to tell," said Hugh. "Of course, on the plains, as longas there are buffalo, the bears get a plenty. There are always buffalodying of old age, being mired in the quicksand, drowned in the rivers,blinded by fire, or killed by the wolves; and the bears, being greattravellers, come across these carcases all the time, and feed on them.Then, of course, they catch buffalo sometimes, by crawling on themthrough the brush; and at other times, by hiding near a buffalo trailand grabbing an animal that goes past. You've surely heard Wolf Eagletell about the big fight that he saw once up in the Piegan country,between a buffalo bull and a bear, and if you hav
e, you will rememberthat the bull killed the bear."

  "Yes," said Jack, "I think I heard of that, but don't know that thestory was ever told me in detail; what was it?"

  "Why, the way Wolf Eagle tells it, he was cached down near a littlecreek waiting for a bunch of buffalo to come to the water, so that hemight kill one. They came on, strung out one after another, and had gotnearly down to the edge of the water when, as they were passing under acut bank, a bear that was lying on the ledge of this bank jumped downon the leading heifer and caught her around the neck. Of course, thebuffalo all scattered, and the bear was trying to bite the heifer andkill her, and she was trying to get away. In a minute, however, a bigbull came charging down the trail, and butted the bear, knocking himdown and making him let go the heifer. Then there was a big fight, andone which scared the Indian a whole lot, so much that he did not dareto show himself, as he would have had to, to get away. The bull keptcharging the bear, and every time he struck him fairly he knocked himdown; and every time the bull charged, the bear struck at him and triedto catch him by the head and to hold him, but this he could not do.They fought there for quite a little time, both of them fierce, andboth of them quick as lightning. After a while, the bear had had allthe fight that he wanted, and tried to get away, but the bull wouldn'thave it. He kept knocking him down and goring him, until at last hehad killed him. Even after the bear was dead, the bull would chargethe carcase, and stick his horns in it and lift it off the ground.The Indian said that the bull was a sight: that he didn't have anyskin on his head and shoulders, but that he was mad clear through, andseemed to be looking around for something else to fight. Wolf Eagle wasalmighty glad when at last the bull went off and joined the band."

  "That's a mighty good story, Hugh," said Jack. "I guess in those olddays, bears killed a good deal of game, didn't they?"

  "I expect likely they did," said Hugh. "I know that whenever you hearany story about anything a bear has done, the Indians speak of hiskilling something. You remember Old White Calf Robe? You must have seenhim in the camp. He was there two years ago at the medicine lodge. Iremember him there, distinctly."

  "No," said Jack, "I don't think I do remember him."

  "Well," said Hugh, "he tells a story about being carried home by abear, one time, many years ago, after he had been wounded in war. Idon't doubt but that the old man believes that he is telling the plaintruth, just as it happened; but in that story, he travelled along witha bear and a wolf, and I know that he says that the bear killed an elkfor him to eat, and I think the wolf killed something for him, too, butI can't be sure.

  "But of course," Hugh went on, "bears don't get very much meat.Certainly they don't live on meat, by any means. When they first comeout in the spring, they generally travel pretty high up on the bareridges, and live largely on the fresh green grass that starts earlyon the hillsides. They are always on the watch for mice and groundsquirrels, and they dig out a good many wood-chucks, but I fancytheir main food is grass. Then, a little later, roots start up whichthey like to gather,--pomme-blanche, camas, and a whole slew of otherplants,--and that carries them along pretty well until the berry time.In the early summer I have seen them in little mountain parks, diggingout mice or ground squirrels. A bear will see where a mouse or groundsquirrel has a run close to the surface of the ground, and if his noseor any other sense tells him that it is inhabited, he will quickly runhis paw along the tunnel, digging it up, and if the animal happens tobe there, throwing it out on the surface of the earth. Then it is funto see a big bear that will weigh three or four hundred pounds, andmaybe twice as much, dancing around and striking the ground with hispaws to try to kill the little animal that is dodging about, trying toget away. You'd never think how mighty active a bear can be under thosecircumstances.

  "When berry time comes the bears spend a great deal of time around thesarvis berry patches, the plum thickets, and the choke-cherry groves;and every now and then a number of Indian women gathering berries,will run across one, and the women will get scared half to death, andlight out for camp. Once in a long time an Indian gathering berrieswill suddenly come on a bear, and the bear will kill him; or, perhaps,sometimes an old bear that is mean will lay for an Indian, and kill himjust for fun.

  "The Indians say that when the sarvis berries are ripe, bears will ridedown the taller bushes, pressing the stems down under their breasts,and walking along them with their forelegs on either side of the stem.I never saw them do it, but I've seen plenty of places where the busheshave been ridden down in this way, and had bear hair stuck to them. Ionce saw a mother and some cubs picking huckleberries high up in themountains during fall. They walked about from one bush to another, andseemed to be picking the berries one by one, though I was so far awaythat I couldn't tell much about it.

  "It's fun to see them turn over stones, and they're mighty cute aboutit, too. Now, if you or I have occasion to turn over a stone, thechances are we'll stoop over it, take hold of it by its farther edge,and pull it over toward us, and of course, unless we straddle it orwatch it pretty close, we're likely to drop it on our toes; but a bearalways turns a stone over not toward himself, but to one side. He getshis hind feet well under him, braces one fore foot, and then with theother fore foot turns over the stone, swinging it out from him to oneside, and after he has finished the motion, he drops his head into thebed where the stone lay and gobbles up whatever insects are there.Sometimes he makes a claw or two with one foot into the bed, perhapsto turn up the ground to see whether there are some insects below thesurface, or to see if there may be the hole of some little animalpassing close beneath the stone."

  "That's mighty interesting, Hugh," said Jack, "and I am greatly obligedto you for telling us about it. Now, Mr. Fannin, have you seen much ofthe way bears of this country feed?"

  "No," said Fannin, "I have not. You see in this country we don't havea chance to see very far. It's all covered with timber, and it's onlyonce in a while, in such a situation as we got to the other day when wewere goat hunting, that we have an opportunity to see any considerabledistance. So, really, all that I know about the feeding of bears iswhat I have discovered from cutting them open and seeing the contentsof their stomachs. I told you the other day about how the bearssometimes came in and carried off hogs for us."

  "Yes," said Jack, "I remember that, of course. Hugh," he went on,"where are bears most plenty back in our country?"

  "Well," said Hugh, "there are a good many bears along the MissouriRiver, and in the low outlying ranges like the Moccasin, Judith, Snowy,and Belt mountains, but I think the places where they are the plentiestis along the foot of the Big Horn Range. You take it in the earlysummer, there's a terrible lot of bears to be found there."

  "And which are the most plentiful, the black or the grizzly?" askedJack.

  "Why," said Hugh, "there's no comparison. The grizzlies outnumber theblacks about three to one, I should say. Black bears in that countryare mighty scarce."

  "And in this country," said Fannin, "you can say the same of thegrizzly."