XIII.]

A HARD STRUGGLE.

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they saved him from being torn badly by the snags and splinters through which he had fallen for about sixty feet. A little readjustment of the pack was necessary, and while they were at this, I swung myself once more into the straps of my knapsack, and returning to the big rotten log about four feet in diameter, had completed a passage through it before the horse had scrambled up so far.

Then he stood panting for a few seconds, and then came another rush amid crashing branches, and at last, at 10.30, the summit of the ridge was gained. Just at the top of the ridge the forest was more open and free from scrub, but the huge pines grew so thickly that we had to shape our course by compass.

After about a hundred yards of comparatively easy going we came to the descent towards Beaver Creek. Through the tree-tops we could get glimpses of the mountains beyond the valley, but any other outlook was blocked by the great pine trunks, as thick as the stalks in a corn-field and as big as ships' masts.

Bad as the ascent of the ridge had been, the descent towards the Beaver was far worse. The horse was scarcely able to move, without being in imminent peril of going head over heels all the rest of the way. After descending, with great difficulty, about two hundred feet, we halted and held a brief council of war. To take the horse further seemed impossible; and no opening offered a view ahead. The best thing which

suggested itself seemed to be to leave the horse on the summit of the ridge and ascend the aréte of Mount Macdonald, till we could get a view over the valley which might suffice for mapping purposes. From the way the precipitous buttresses ran down from the main range, we knew that the gorges between would be invisible, and therefore we should give up some details we were anxious to obtain. To ascend the ridge offered partial success. Advance to the Beaver valley on this side, seemed well nigh hopeless. However, we were not going to abandon it without good reason, so Ben and I decided to go on and explore, leaving H. in charge of the horse. Throwing off our knapsacks and every other encumbrance, and taking nothing but the axes, which we found most useful in such a climb, we started downwards.

Seldom did our feet touch the solid earth. The whole descent for 1,000 feet was one series of gymnastic feats. Now and again a tree would have fallen in a right direction, and we could creep down its trunk for 50 feet or more.

The sound of the river grew louder and louder. At last the brink of a cliff was reached, and there, 100 feet below us, the Beaver swirled and foamed along.

It proved to be a swift torrent about 100 yards wide, with a considerable volume of water, making fording out of the question, and rafting seemed equally impossible. The land at the other side of the river was

XIII.]

WE CAMP ON THE RIDGE.

187

comparatively flat, and from it the forest-clad slopes curved up to the strange square summits of the Prairie hills. We had been told that some trail existed on this side of the river, and this hope led us on. Now we had proved to demonstration that no such trail was there. The place was absolutely impassable for a horse, so there was nothing for it, but to retrace our steps and scramble up through the terrible forest once

more.

To retrace one's steps correctly in such a maze as this needs no little skill. Ben was an adept at such forest guiding; but when we considered we were within hearing distance we lifted our voices and got an answering shout from H., and thus found our way back to the horse. It was now too late in the day to think of any other move; there seemed to be nothing for it. but to camp where the ridge was flattest. The worst of it was that we were a long way from a spring of water, which we had taken note of far below, and there was no grass or herbage of any sort to furnish feed for the horse. Having selected the best hollow we could find for the tent, Ben led the horse down to the spring for a drink, and then returned with the kettle full for our use. We picked the tops of rhododendron bushes for the horse, but he would not touch them, so we had to spare him some scraps of biscuit; the poor beast seemed of such a friendly nature that he would go nowhere to look for food, but preferred

to stand as close to us as possible, looking into the fire while we cooked.

The greatest danger of these forest camps is, of course, that of setting fire to the dry lichens (which hang like beards to the trees) and to the dry pine needles with which the ground is thickly strewn, and thus starting a huge conflagration. Another danger is that throughout the living forest there are innumerable dead trees, charred by former fires, which stand up barely poised on end, and come crashing down at the smallest touch, or after heavy rain, when the dead wood becomes heavy from saturation, or when a puff of wind with a thunderstorm sends them down like ninepins. The great calmness of the Selkirk climate is proved by the large number of these trees in a state of unstable equilibrium. On this occasion we had a good illustration of what I have described. With our camp things we brought a small net hammock; this we slung between two big trees, and I lay in it to rest. We had not examined the trees critically, but as I lay and looked upwards I thought I saw the tree to which my feet were slung, swing about in a suspicious manner. I instantly jumped out of the hammock: the tree was quite dead and ready to fall.

Both for fun and for safety we determined to have it down; so getting the loop of a rope round the trunk, we pushed it up as high as we could, with one of the innumerable dead poles lying about. Then protecting

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FOREST MUSIC.

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ourselves behind a big, healthy balsam we hauled away. The tree gave two or three slight swings and then came crashing down, making the earth tremble with its fall.

A few little chipnunks and the tip-tap of the woodpecker were the only evidences of life. The heat in the forest was very great, and the gentle evening breeze, quite unfelt by us and imperceptible so far as any visible movement of the tree tops was concerned, made its presence known by a weird music, like the strains of an Æolian harp, pervading all the air.

Though we were about 5,000 feet above the sea, the forest was so sultry we had no need of our sleeping bags. The trees get heated by the sun during the day and so keep the temperature high during the night. When we had safely picketed our steed close by the tent, we sought the repose which he too needed badly, after all his scrambles and tumbles.