land, a land
of green things, but not a blade of grass: only austere trees and
noxious weeds.

During the day we met an old man so loaded down I could not tell
whether he was man, woman, or beast. A sort of cap or wide cloth band
went across his head, concealing his forehead. His huge pack loomed
over his shoulders, and as he walked, using two paddles as canes, he
seemed some anomalous four-footed beast of burden.

As he saw us he threw off his pack to rest and stood erect, a sturdy
man of sixty, with short bristling hair framing a kindly resolute
face. He was very light-hearted. He shook hands with me, saying,
"Kla-how-ya," in answer to my, "Kla-how-ya six," which is to say,
"How are you, friend?" He smiled, pointed to his pack, and said,
"Hy-u skin." His season had been successful and he was going now to
sell his catch. A couple of dogs just behind carried each twenty
pounds on their backs. We were eating lunch, and I invited him to sit
and eat. He took a seat and began to parcel out the food in two
piles.

"He has a companion coming," I said to my partner. In a few moments a
boy of fourteen or fifteen came up, carrying a pack that would test
the strength of a powerful white man. He, too, threw off his load and
at a word from the old man took a seat at the table. They shared
exactly alike. It was evident that they were father and son.

A few miles farther on we met another family, two men, a woman, a
boy, and six dogs, all laden in proportion. They were all handsomer
than the Siwashes of the Fraser River. They came from the head-waters
of the Nasse, they said. They could speak but little Chinook and no
English at all. When I asked in Chinook, "How far is it to feed for
our horses?" the woman looked first at our thin animals, then at us,
and shook her head sorrowfully; then lifting her hands in the most
dramatic gesture she half whispered, "Si-ah, si-ah!" That is to say,
"Far, very far!"

Both these old people seemed very kind to their dogs, which were fat
and sleek and not related to those I had seen in Hazleton. When the
old man spoke to them, his voice was gentle and encouraging. At the
word they all took up the line of march and went off down the hill
toward the Hudson Bay store, there to remain during the summer. We
pushed on, convinced by the old woman's manner that our long trail
was to be a gloomy one.

Night began to settle over us at last, adding the final touches of
uncertainty and horror to the glo