, and weighed two hundred and twenty pounds.
By the time we had overtaken him his trousers had begun to flap
around him. He was known as "Big Bill." His companion, Frank, was a
sinewy little fellow with no extra flesh at all,--an alert, cheery,
and vociferous boy, who made noise enough to scare all the game out
of the valley. Neither of these men had ever saddled a horse before
reaching the Chilcoten, but they developed at once into skilful
packers and rugged trailers, though they still exposed themselves
unnecessarily in order to show that they were not "tenderfeet."

"Siwash Charley" was a Montana miner who spoke Chinook fluently, and
swore in splendid rhythms on occasion. He was small, alert, seasoned
to the trail, and capable of any hardship. "The Man from Chihuahua"
was so called because he had been prospecting in Mexico. He had the
best packhorses on the trail, and cared for them like a mother. He
was small, weazened, hardy as oak, inured to every hardship, and very
wise in all things. He had led his fine little train of horses from
Chihuahua to Seattle, thence to the Thompson River, joining us at
Quesnelle. He was the typical trailer. He spoke in the Missouri
fashion, though he was a born Californian. His partner was a quiet
little man from Snohomish flats, in Washington. These outfits were
typical of scores of others, and it will be seen that they were for
the most part Americans, the group of Germans from New York City and
the English doctor being the exceptions.

There was little talk among us. We were not merely going a journey,
but going as rapidly as was prudent, and there was close attention to
business. There was something morbidly persistent in the action of
these trains. They pushed on resolutely, grimly, like blind worms
following some directing force from within. This peculiarity of
action became more noticeable day by day. We were not on the trail,
after all, to hunt, or fish, or skylark. We had set our eyes on a
distant place, and toward it our feet moved, even in sleep.

The Muddy River, which we reached late in the afternoon, was silent
as oil and very deep, while the banks, muddy and abrupt, made it a
hard stream to cross.

As we stood considering the problem, a couple of Indians appeared on
the opposite bank with a small raft, and we struck a bargain with
them to ferry our outfit. They set us across in short order, but our
horses were forced to swim. They were very much alarmed and shivered