ing at cinches. I had walked down
every hill and in most cases on the sharp upward slopes in order to
relieve Ladrone of my weight.

As we climbed back to our muddy path next day, we were filled with
dark forebodings of the days to come. We climbed all day, keeping the
bench high above the river. The land continued silent. It was a
wilderness of firs and spruce pines. It was like a forest of bronze.
Nothing but a few rose bushes and some leek-like plants rose from the
mossy floor, on which the sun fell, weak and pale, in rare places. No
beast or bird uttered sound save a fishing eagle swinging through the
canyon above the roaring water.

In the gloom the voice of the stream became a raucous roar. On every
side cold and white and pitiless the snowy peaks lifted above the
serrate rim of the forest.

Life was scant here. In all the mighty spread of forest between the
continental divide on the east and the coast range at the west there
are few living things, and these few necessarily centre in the warm
openings on the banks of the streams where the sunlight falls or in
the high valleys above the firs. There are no serpents and no
insects.

As we mounted day by day we crossed dozens of swift little streams
cold and gray with silt. Our rate of speed was very low. One of our
horses became very weak and ill, evidently poisoned, and we were
forced to stop often to rest him. All the horses were weakening day
by day.

Toward the middle of the third day, after crossing a stream which
came from the left, the trail turned as if to leave the Skeena
behind. We were mighty well pleased and climbed sharply and with
great care of our horses till we reached a little meadow at the
summit, very tired and disheartened, for the view showed only other
peaks and endless waves of spruce and fir. We rode on under drizzling
skies and dripping trees. There was little sunshine and long lines of
heavily weighted gray clouds came crawling up the valley from the sea
to break in cold rain over the summits.

The horses again grew hungry and weak, and it was necessary to use
great care in crossing the streams. We were lame and sore with the
toil of the day, and what was more depressing found ourselves once
more upon the banks of the Skeena, where only an occasional bunch of
bluejoint could be found. The constant strain of watching the horses
and guiding them through the mud began to tell on us both. There was
now no moment of ease, no hour of enjo