The Lakehouse General Store, at the end of the Dease Lake Road,

76 miles from Telegraph Creek, is where Ford usually purchased

his supplies.

huge mud banks to take to the drip-
ping and gloomy bush.

Here, in dank spruce swamps, the
huge bull moose held their nuptials.
Twice we were rushed furiously as
the animals suspected us of being
rivals for the affections of their lady-
loves. And twice they rushed dis-
dainfully away when it was found
we were merely men. Darkness found
us making camp under a huge spruce
in about twelve inches of sticky
snow.

Noon the next day found us on
the banks of the McBride River,
which we crossed in zero weather,
wading up to our hips and lining

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Prince George British Columbia

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the dogs over with ropes. We did
not bother to remove our shoes or
clothes as we were sure Ford had a
cabin nearby and looked forward to
a pleasant evening in a warm cabin.
Sure enough, on the opposite bank
we found several tree stumps and
evidence of a campsite. We pro-
gressed up the river, and came upon
a well cut trail. There were two
unsprung traps under trees.

And then we came upon it. There
was a small clearing and in the
centre stood Ford’s cabin. The whole
place was hushed and still, even the
dogs seemed aware that tragedy had
visited this quiet place as Jimmy and
I approached, carefully scanning the
snow for tracks or other signs of
life. “There were none.

Hanging above the front door
were several mouse-eaten lynx, wolf
and coyote skins and, as I opened
the door I could see only packrats
had occupied this miserable hovel for
along time. Piles of dead leaves and
twigs were everywhere. They rustled
eerily as Jimmy and I set foot within.
On the bed were blankets, thrown
back by Ford as he got out of bed
that fateful morning. His big alarm
clock was on a bench near the bed,
and on the table the remains of his
breakfast . . . boiled wild rice and
salt.

Not another edible thing was in

B.C.

This ts the cabin that Ford left that fateful morning, never to return.

the cabin. On the rusty stove stood
a huge pot of the same stuff in putrid
condition. Ford must have labor-
iously gathered the wild rice from a
nearby swamp. It is hard to imag-
ine a man living for long on such
stuff, even a man who boasted he
was tougher than any Indian, but
there was the evidence.

Neither Jimmy nor I cared to
spend the night in such a stinking
hole. We continued on, following
a well cut trail along the Stikine.
Beaver were numerous. We stopped
to watch them several times as they
swam about looking us over with
distrustful eyes. Finally, when we
were both nearly ready to drop from

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W. R. Campbell
Most Modern Hotel in Prince George

Opposite C.N.R. Station

a
& PRINCE GEORGE B.C.

Northern Cycle
Centre

Roy G. Pierrot
Bicycles - Wheeled Goods
Service and Supplies

Prince George B.C.

ASTORIA HOTEL |

MODERN ROOMS WITH HOT AND

COLD RUNNING WATER

6

PRINCE GEORGE, B.C.

Page Seventeen