CHAPTER XXV

BEAVERHEAD CAMP

"It's quite a bit of country, after all, between the Forks and the head, isn't it?" remarked Rob, on their fourth day out from the junction of the river. "I don't blame them for taking a month to it."

"We're beating them on their schedule, at that," said the studious John.

"At the Forks we were exactly even up, July 27th; we'd beat them just exactly one year at that point, which they called the head of the river.

But they went slow in here, in these big beaver meadows; ten miles daily was big travel, wading, and not half of that gained in actual straight distance. It took them ten days to the Beaverhead. How far's that from here, Billy?"

"Well, what do you think?" said Billy, pulling up and sitting crosswise in his saddle as he turned. "See anything particular from this side the hills?"

"I know!" exclaimed Rob. "That's the Rock over yonder--across the river."

"Check it up on the _Journal_, Rob," said Uncle d.i.c.k.

Rob dismounted and opened his saddle pocket, producing his copy of the cherished work.

"Sure it is!" said he. "Here it says:

"'The Indian woman recognized the point of a high plain to our right which she informed us was not very distant from the summer retreat of her nation on a river beyond the mountains which runs to the west. this hill she says her nation calls the beaver's head from a conceived re(se)mblance of it's figure to the head of that animal. she a.s.sures us that we shall either find her people on this river or on the river immediately west of it's source; which from it's present size cannot be very distant. as it is now all important with us to meet with those people as soon as possible I determined to proceed tomorrow with a small party to the source of the princ.i.p.al stream of this river and pa.s.s the mountains to the Columbia; and down that river untill I found the Indians; in short it is my resolution to find them or some others who have horses if it should cause me a trip of one month.'

"So that must be the Rock over yonder. We're below the canon, and below the Wisdom, and below the Philanthropy, and below the end of the railroad, and in the third valley. Besides, look at it. Just as sure as Sacagawea was about it!"

"You're right," said Billy. "That's the Point of Rocks, as it's called now."

They made down to the edge of the valley and went into camp across from the great promontory which so long had served as landmark in all that country. That night all of them forded the river horseback and rode close to the historic point. Jesse, who was prowling around on foot, as was his habit, closely examining all he saw, suddenly stooped, then rose with an exclamation.

"See what I've found!" said he.

"What is it--a gold nugget?" asked his uncle.

"No. An arrowhead. Funny one--looks like it was made of gla.s.s, and black gla.s.s at that."

Uncle d.i.c.k examined it closely.

"Jesse," said he, "that's one of the most interesting things we've run across on this whole trip. Did you know that?"

"No. Why?"

"You wouldn't think that arrowhead was going to take you to the true head of the Missouri, and to good fishing for trout and grayling, would you?"

"Why, no! How's that?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: JESSE SUDDENLY STOOPED, THEN ROSE WITH AN EXCLAMATION]

"I'll tell you. That's an obsidian arrowhead. The Bannacks and Shoshonis got that black, gla.s.sy stuff at one place--the Obsidian Cliff, in Yellowstone Park! Those old trails that Lewis saw to the south were trails that crossed the Divide south of here. They put the Indians on Snake River waters. These tribes hunted down there. They knew the head of the Red Rock. They knew the head of the Madison. They knew the Gibbon River, and they knew the Norris Geyser Basin, up in Yellowstone Park.

It's all right to say the Indians were afraid to go into Yellowstone Park among the geysers, but they did. They knew the Obsidian Cliff--close by the road, it is, and one of the features of the Park, as it now is.

"It's a far shot that arrow will carry you, son. It will show you more of these Indian trails than even Lewis and Clark ever knew. Of course, they didn't want to go south; they wanted north and west, because they knew the lat.i.tude and longitude of the mouth of the Columbia River. They knew that was northwest. They knew any water they got on, once over the Divide, would run into the Columbia, and they could see the Rockies, just on ahead to the west. As Billy has said, the Indian girl always was telling them that her people lived along in here. An obsidian arrow meant nothing to them. But it meant much to later explorers to the south of here."

"It's a good specimen he's got," said Billy, looking it over. "The Indians liked to work obsidian; it would cleave so sharp and clean. I thought they had them all picked up, long ago. Up in the Shoshoni Cove they found a good many, first and last. All this was their hunting ground. A little over the Divide it gets awfully rough, and not much game."

They spent some time around the Rock, examining it, finding the cliff to be about one hundred and fifty feet in height and giving a good view out over the valley plains, over which one could see many miles, and from which the great rock itself could be seen for great distances.

"Here was the old ford of the road agents' trail," said Billy. "They crossed here and headed out, east and south, for the hills between here and Virginia City. They were hunting for easier money than beaver then, though--gold! This was the murderers' highway, right by here. Over a hundred men were murdered on this hundred miles."

They went back to their encampment and, after their simple preparations were over for the evening, spread out their books and maps once more, John endeavoring laboriously to fill in the gaps of his own map; rather hard to do, since they had not followed the actual stream course on their way up with the pack train.

"This Wisdom River, now," said he, "must have been a puzzler, sure enough. That's called the Big Hole to-day. I'll bet she was a beaver water, too, as well as full of trout. Wonder if she had any grayling in her. Here's a town down below here, near the mouth of the Red Rock, called Grayling."

"Must have been grayling in all these upper Missouri waters," nodded Billy. "I don't think the _Journal_ mentions them, but they saw whitefish, and the two often go together, though by no means always. The Madison is a grayling stream, or was--the South Fork's good now, and so is Grayling Creek, or was. The headwaters of the Red Rock were full of grayling once. The trouble is, so many motor cars now, that everybody gets in, and they soon fish a stream out."

"Shall we get to see a grayling?" asked Rob. "You know, we got the Arctic grayling on the Bell River, in the Arctic regions. They call them 'bluefish' up there. They're fine."

"So are these fine. I'd rather catch one grayling than a dozen trout.

But they're getting mighty scarce, and I think before long there won't be any left.

"But look what a beaver country this must have been!" he added, waving a hand each way. "Fifty by two hundred miles, and then some. No wonder the trappers came. It wasn't long before they and the Blackfeet mixed it, all along in here."

"Listen," said Uncle d.i.c.k, "and I'll tell you a little beaver story, right out of the _Journal_."

"Aw--the _Journal_!" said Jesse. "I'd rather catch one!"

"Wait for my story, and you'll see how important a small thing may be that might make all the difference in the world. Now the hero of my story is a beaver. I don't know his name.

"Look on your map, just above here--that's the mouth of the Wisdom, or Big Hole, River, that Lewis and Drewyer explored first, while poor Clark, with his sore leg, was toiling up with his boat party, after he was better of his sickness.

"Now the Wisdom was a good-sized river, too, almost as big as the Jefferson, though broken into channels. Lewis worked it out and came back to the Jefferson at its mouth, and started on again, up the Jefferson. As was their custom, he wrote a note and put it in a cleft stick and stuck it up where Clark could see it when he got up that far.

He put it on a green stick, poplar or willow, and stuck it in the bar.

It told Clark to take the left-hand stream, not the one on the right--the Wisdom.

"Well, along comes Mr. Beaver that night, and gnaws off the pole and swims away with it, note and all! I don't know what his family made out of the note, but if he'd been as wise as some of the magazine-story beavers, he could have read it, all right.

"Now when Clark came along, tired and worn out, all of them, the note was gone. They also, therefore, went up the Wisdom and not the Jefferson. Clark sent Shannon ahead up the Wisdom to hunt. But he turned back when the river got too shallow. Result, Shannon lost for three days, and not his fault. He went away up till he found the boats could not have pa.s.sed; then he hustled back to the mouth and guessed the party were above him up the other fork--where he guessed right. They then were all on the Jefferson. Lost time, hunting for Shannon, and they couldn't find him. All due to the beaver eating off the message pole. If Shannon had died, it would have been due to that beaver.

"That's only part. In the shallow water a canoe swept down out of control. It ran over Whitehouse, another man, on a bar, and nearly broke his leg; it would have killed him sure if the water had been three inches shallower. That would have been another man lost.

"Not all yet. A canoe got upset in the shallow water up there on the Wisdom, and wet everything in it. Result, they lost so much cargo--foodstuffs, etc.--that they just abandoned that canoe right there and lost her cargo, after carrying it three thousand miles, for over a year! All to be charged to the same beaver. Well, you and I have spoken before about the extreme danger of a land party and a boat party trying to travel together.

"The next time Lewis left a note, he used a dry stick, and he felt mortified at not having thought to do that in the first place. Well, that's my beaver story. It shows how a little thing may have big consequences--just as this arrowhead that Jesse found points out a long trail."

"And by that time," said John, bending again over his map, "they were needing every pound of food and every minute of their time and every bit of every man's strength. The poor fellows were almost worn out. Now they began to complain for the first time. We don't hear any more now about dances at night around the camp fire."

"Yes," said Uncle d.i.c.k. "Now they all were having their proving. It would have been easy for them to turn back; most men would have done so.