Om ee,

Bate etn

TELS EPR aR eS Pe ti te oy ai
ne SOT ete. .

ee as ee pa i Aa
vo Feta ICONS, pr ra eaaeg a ter

ras

 ——_ as aot

AE

32 THE CARIBOO TRAIL

star was etched in replica in river or lake.
Sunrise steals in silence among the mountain
peaks. There is none of that stir of song and
vague rustling of animal life such as are heard
at lower levels. Nor does the light gradually
rise above the eastern horizon. The wailed
peaks cut off the skyline in mid-heaven. The
stars pale. Trees and crags are mirrored in
the lake so clearly that one can barely tell
which is real and which is reflection. Then
the water-lines shorten and the rocks emerge
from the belts and wisps of mist; and all the
sunset colours of the night before repeat them-
selves across the changing scene. As you
look, the clouds lift. The cook shouts ‘ break-
fast!’ And it is another day.

Such was the trail and the life of the pro-
spector who beat his way by pack-train and
canoe up the canyons of the Fraser to learn
whence came the wash of gold flake and nugget
which he found in the sand-bars below.