INDIANS

Tue trail curved up and down along the side of a
hill that blocked the view on the left. To the right
lay a broad green valley, through which the Second
South Fork wound, wide and shallow, toward the
Stikine River. The far side of the valley swept
up into rounded hills, and beyond them stood
white mountain-tops against a pale blue sky. There
was a series of thuds and subdued rattlings as one
pack-horse after another broke into a trot down a
sloping stretch of trail.

The shadows of the horses fell sideways up the
slope and moved gradually further forward until
they lay almost upon the trail. And in the late
afternoon we rode into the Bearlakers’ camp.
Children ran out from the tents. Two young bucks
rose lazily from the sunlit grass and strolled toward
us. An older man dropped his axe and came to the
head of the train, smiling broadly. He invited us
to camp with his tribe for the night, offered us
meat and began to introduce the Indians who by
this time had gathered in a group behind him.

We pitched our tent to the east of the settlement,

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