The Young Alaskans in the Rockies

Rob answered by pulling out of his pocket a long piece of heavy paper, a map which they three had worked over many days, laying out for themselves in advance the best they knew how the route which they were to follow and the distances between the main points of interest. “Now, look here,” said he, “and you’ll see that for once we are at a place where the old voyageurs had to leave their boats and take to the land. We’re going to cross the Rockies at the head of the Athabasca River, but you see it runs away northeast from its source at first, at least one hundred miles north of Edmonton. That used to be called Fort Augustus in the old days, and the voyageurs went all the way up there from Montreal by canoe. Sometimes they followed the Saskatchewan from there. That brought them into the Rockies away south of here. They went over the Kootenai Plains there, and over the Howse Pass, which you know is between here and Banff.”

“I know,” said Jesse, eagerly. “Uncle Dick told us they used to go down the Blaeberry Creek to the Columbia River.”

“Exactly; and there was a way they could go near the Wood River to the Columbia River. For instance, here on the map is a place near the head of the Big Bend of the Columbia. That’s the old Boat Encampment, of which the old histories tell so much.”

“You don’t suppose we’ll ever get there?” said John, doubtfully. “It looks a long ways off from here.”

“Of course we will,” said Rob, firmly. “When we’ve pushed up to the head of the Athabasca River and gone over the Yellowhead Pass it will all be downhill. We’ll go fast when we hit the rivers running south. And we’ll come in but a little way from the Boat Encampment, which was a rendezvous for all the old traders who crossed by the Saskatchewan trail below us. But, you see, we’ll be taking a new way; and I agree with Jess that it will be about the best trip we ever had.”

“Those old fur-traders were great fellows to travel, weren’t they?” said Jesse, looking curiously at the deep-worn, ancient trail which ran close by their camp.

“Yes,” said Rob, “they weren’t afraid of anything. When they got to Fort Augustus they had three choices of routes west over the Rockies. They could go away north to the Peace River—old Sir Alexander McKenzie’s trail, which we followed last summer; or they could go up the Saskatchewan the way David Thompson used to go to the Columbia River; or they could strike west by cart or pack-horse from Fort Augustus and cross this rolling country until they struck the Athabasca, and then follow up that to the Yellowhead Pass. I shouldn’t wonder if old Jasper Hawse was one of the first trail-makers in here. But, as I was saying, those who came this route had to leave their boats at Edmonton. Here at Wolf Creek we are about one hundred and thirty miles west of there. For a long while they used to have a good wagon trail as far as Saint Anne, and, as you know, it has been pretty much like a road all the way out here.”