St. John," said
Rob. "At least, it's marked on the map."

"Not much of a trail!" said Alex. "I worked with the Mounted Police
making trail from St. John as far as Half Way River. But the trail
cuts across the corner there, and goes on up to Fort Grahame, on the
Finlay River. The real highway here is the river yonder--it's easy
water now all the way to St. John--that is, it will be if we can get a
boat. I don't see any chance of one here, and can only hope that Moise
and his 'cousins' can find that dugout down below here somewhere."

"If we were on the river down there, you wouldn't know there was any
post here at all," said Jesse. "You can't see any buildings."

"No," said Alex; "they're too high up on this bench. You can see the
buildings at St. John as you go by, because they are close to the
river, and so you can at Dunvegan. I don't imagine, however, we'll
want to stop anywhere except in camp this side of Peace River Landing.
It'll be fine from here down."

"My!" said John, "that certainly was hard work, portaging over that
twelve miles there. They ought to have horses and carts, I should
say."

"Hard to use 'em in here," smiled Alex. "As it is, it's better than
trying to run the canyon. No one ever did get through there, so far as
ever I heard."

"Yes," said Rob, "Sir Alexander Mackenzie must have come up through
the canyon, according to his story. That is, he must have followed the
big bend around, although, of course, he had to take his boat out and
carry it through the roughest kind of country. That was worse than our
portage here, and no man can tell how they made it through, from all
you can learn through his story about it. You see, they didn't know
this country then, and had to learn it as they went. If they had hit
that canyon a month later on their journey the men wouldn't have stood
it--they'd have mutinied and killed Mackenzie, or have left him and
started home."

Not caring yet to undertake their embarkment below the portage, they
now strolled around here and there, intending to wait until their
friends caught up with them. Off to the east they could see, from
among the short, choppy hills, a country which seemed for the most
part covered with continuous growth of poplars, sometimes broken with
glades, or open spaces.

"I've never been west of the Half Way River," said Alex after a time,
"but I know right where we are. We could almost throw our boat on the
deck of the steamboat from this bank