The Killer
Page 25
CHAPTER I
Near the point at which the great Continental Divide of the RockyMountains crosses the Canadian border another range edges in toward itfrom the south. Between these ranges lies a space of from twenty toforty miles; and midway between them flows a clear, wonderful riverthrough dense forests. Into the river empty other, tributary, riversrising in the bleak and lofty fastnesses of the mountains to right andleft. Between them, in turn, run spur systems of mountains only a littleless lofty than the parent ranges. Thus the ground plan of the wholecountry is a good deal like that of a leaf: the main stem representingthe big river, the lateral veins its affluents; the tiny veins itstorrents pouring from the sides of its mountains and glaciers; and theedges of the leaf and all spaces standing for mountains rising verysheer and abrupt from the floor of the densely forested stream valleys.In this country of forty miles by five hundred, then, are hundreds ofdistinct ranges, thousands of peaks, and innumerable valleys, pockets,and "parks." A wilder, lonelier, grander country would be hard to find.Save for the Forest Service and a handful of fur trappers, it isuninhabited. Its streams abound in trout; its dense forests with elkand white-tailed deer; its balder hills with blacktail deer; its upperbasins with grizzly bears; its higher country with sheep and that dizzyclimber the Rocky Mountain goat.
He who would enter this region descends at a little station on the GreatNorthern, and thence proceeds by pack train at least four days,preferably more, out into the wilderness. The going is through forests,the tree trunks straight and very close together, so that he will seevery little of the open sky and less of the landscape. By way ofcompensation the forest itself is remarkably beautiful. Its undergrowth,though dense, is very low and even, not more than a foot or so off theground; and in the Hunting Moon the leaves of this undergrowth haveturned to purest yellow, without touch or trace of red, so that thesombre forest is carpeted with gold. Here and there shows a birch oraspen, also bright, pure light yellow, as though a brilliant sun werestriking down through painted windows. Groups of yellow-leafed larchesadd to the splendour. And close to the ground grow little flat plantsdecked out with red or blue or white wax berries, Christmas fashion.
In this green-and-gold room one journeys for days. Occasionally a chanceopening affords a momentary glimpse of hills or of the river sweepingbelow; but not for long. It is a chilly room. The frost has hardened themud in the trail. One's feet and hands ache cruelly. At night camp ismade near the banks of the river, whence always one may in a few momentscatch as many trout as are needed, fine, big, fighting trout.
By the end of three or four days the prospect opens out. Tremendouscliffs rise sheer from the bottom of the valley; up tributary canons onecan see a dozen miles to distant snow ranges glittering and wonderful.Nearer at hand the mountains rise above timber line to great buttes andprecipices.