they were able to haul her out of danger.

Mackay went ahead to see how far the rapids extended. He found that
they were at least nine miles in length. On his return the men were
declaring that they would not ascend such waters another rod.
Mackenzie, to humour them, left them to a regale of rum {77} and
pemmican, and axe in hand went up the precipitous slope, and began to
make a rough path through the forest. Up the rude incline the men
hauled the empty canoe, cutting their way as they advanced. Then they
carried up the provisions in ninety-pound bundles. By nightfall of the
first day they had advanced but one mile. Next morning the journey was
continued; the progress was exactly three miles the second day, and the
men fell in their tracks with exhaustion, and slept that night where
they lay. But at length they had passed the rapids; the toilsome
portage was over, and the canoe was again launched on the stream. The
air was icy from the snows of the mountain-peaks, and in spite of their
severe exercise the men had to wear heavy clothing.

On May 31 they arrived at the confluence where the rivers now known as
the Finlay and the Parsnip, flowing together, form the Peace. The
Indians of this region told Mackenzie of a great river beyond the big
mountains, a river that flowed towards the noonday sun; and of 'Carrier
Indians'[2] inland, who acted as {78} middlemen and traders between the
coast and the mountain tribes. They said that the Carriers told
legends of 'white men on the coast, who wore armour from head to
heel'--undoubtedly the Spanish dons--and of 'huge canoes with sails
like clouds' that plied up and down 'the stinking waters'--meaning the
sea.

Mackenzie was uncertain which of the two confluents to follow--whether
to ascend the Finlay, flowing from the north-west, or the Parsnip,
flowing from the south-east. He consulted his Indian guides, one of
whom advised him to take the southern branch. This would lead, the
guide said, to a lake from which they could portage to another stream,
and so reach the great river leading to the sea. Mackenzie decided to
follow this advice, and ordered his men to proceed up the Parsnip.
Their hearts sank. They had toiled up one terrible river; directly
before them was another, equally precipitous and dangerous.
Nevertheless, they began the ascent. For a week the rush of avalanches
from the mountain-peaks could be heard like artillery fire. Far up
above the cloud-li