-arid country, this is a pretty wet rain."

In planning the trip, I had written to him saying: "The trail runs
for the most part though a semi-arid country, somewhat like eastern
Washington."

It rained all the next day and we were forced to remain in camp,
which was dismal business; but we made the best of it, doing some
mending of clothes and tackle during the long hours.

We were visited by all the Indians from Old Fort Fraser, which was
only a mile away. They sat about our blazing fire laughing and
chattering like a group of girls, discussing our characters minutely,
and trying to get at our reasons for going on such a journey.

One of them who spoke a little English said, after looking over my
traps: "You boss, you ty-ee, you belly rich man. Why you come?"

This being interpreted meant, "You have a great many splendid things,
you are rich. Now, why do you come away out here in this poor Siwash
country?"

I tried to convey to him that I wished to see the mountains and to
get acquainted with the people. He then asked, "More white men come?"

Throwing my hands in the air and spreading my fingers many times, I
exclaimed, "Hy-u white man, hy-u!" Whereat they all clicked their
tongues and looked at each other in astonishment. They could not
understand why this sudden flood of white people should pour into
their country. This I also explained in lame Chinook: "We go klap
Pilchickamin (gold). White man hears say Hy-u Pilchickamin there (I
pointed to the north). White man heap like Pilchickamin, so he
comes."

All the afternoon and early evening little boys came and went on the
swift river in their canoes, singing wild, hauntingly musical boating
songs. They had no horses, but assembled in their canoes, racing and
betting precisely as the Cheyenne lads run horses at sunset in the
valley of the Lamedeer. All about the village the grass was rich and
sweet, uncropped by any animal, for these poor fishermen do not
aspire to the wonderful wealth of owning a horse. They had heard that
cattle were coming over the trail and all inquired, "Spose when
Moos-Moos come?" They knew that milk and butter were good things, and
some of them had hopes of owning a cow sometime.

They had tiny little gardens in sheltered places on the sunny slopes,
wherein a few potatoes were planted; for the rest they hunt and fish
and trap in winter and trade skins for meat and flour and coffee, and
so live. How they endure the winters in such wret