the great river, lay a series of mighty rapids,
impossible of ascent by any boat. Nearly a hundred miles that way
would have been the nearest railroad point, that on the Beaver Mouth
River. Down-stream to the southward more than a hundred miles of water
almost equally dangerous lay before them. Back of them lay the steep
pitch of the Canoe River, down which they had come. Before them
reared the mighty wedge of the Selkirks, thrusting northward. Any way
they looked lay the wilderness, frowning and savage, and offering
conditions of travel perhaps the most difficult to be found in any
part of this continent.

"I congratulate you, young men," said Uncle Dick, at last, as they sat
silently gazing out over this tremendous landscape. "This is a man's
trip, and few enough men have made it. So far as I know, there has
never been a boy here before in the history of all this valley which
we see here before us."

Rob and John began to bend over their maps, both those which they had
brought with them and that which John was still tracing out upon his
piece of paper.

"We can't be far from the Boat Encampment here," said Rob, at last.

[Illustration: THE BIG BEND OF THE COLUMBIA RIVER]

"It's just around the corner of the Big Bend here," rejoined their
leader. "Over yonder a few hundred yards away is the mouth of the Wood
River, and the Encampment lies beyond that. That's the end of the
water trail of the Columbia going east, and the end of the land trail
for those crossing the Athabasca Pass and going west. Many a bold
man in the past has gone by this very spot where we now stand. There
isn't much left to mark their passing, even at the old Boat
Encampment, but, if you like, we'll go up there and have a look at
the old place."

Accordingly, they now embarked once more, and, taking such advantage
of the slack water as they could, and of the up-stream wind which
aided them for a time, they slowly advanced along the banks of the
Columbia, whose mighty green flood came pouring down in a way which
caused them almost a feeling of awe. Thus they passed the mouth of the
more quiet Wood River, coming in from the north, and after a long,
hard pull of it landed at last at the edge of a sharp bend, where a
little beach gave them good landing-room.

Uncle Dick led them a short distance back toward a flat grassy space
among the low bushes. Here there was a scattered litter of old
tent-pegs and a few broken poles, now and then a tin can