THE STICKINE RIVER 25

of bush interwoven with that well-known and much
abused ‘ Devil’s Club” (Echinopanax), a plant with
thick juicy stalks and broad leaves, all carrying thou-
sands of small poisonous spikes, which come off and stick
in the skin at the least touch. I first made its acquain-
tance in the forests of Vancouver Island, and on many
a later occasion I had cause to curse it most thoroughly.

We were not yet through the magnificent coast
mountains, and it was not until the next day, when
we had safely negotiated the ‘‘ Little Canyon,” that
the landscape began to change in appearance.

This Little Canyon is a narrow gap through which
the river rushes with great force. After several futile
attempts to get through, we were at last obliged to
set ashore one of the Indian pilots to fasten a thick
hawser round a tree, then, with all of us hauling for
all we were worth, and the engine going at full speed,
we slowly edged forward inch by inch till we got into
an eddy. The hawser was then shifted farther up
and the manceuvre was repeated until we at length
got through the canyon.

We passed the remains of the old stern-wheeler,
“ Beaver,’ which had been piled on the rocks 25 years
ago, during the great gold rush to Cassiar.

Bear tracks began to be very common all along
the banks, and on the sand bars of the “‘slews,”’ the
small side channels which at low water were practically
dry. The tracks, both of the large brown bears and
grizzlies and of the smaller black bears, were in places
so numerous, that if one could have stopped here
during the right season, one would have been certain
to get many shots at them by merely watching the
slews and creeks.