obtained from nets in the lake. The nets and traps. are tended by the natives in their dugouts. The fish are brought to the land, split and cleaned, and hung up to dry. A fiery spectacle this makes, blotches of crimson along. the shore, up out of reach of the half starved dogs. For the salmon is also the dog's food. When working, he gets one fish a day; when idle, he is lucky if he gets one a week. The last stage of this industry is the storing away of the catch in peculiar houses of small logs set up on posts where the wind freely circulates. In these the fish are stored, several thousand fish to each family. When all else fails the salmon lasts.

against the animal's side and pull the thing taut. The horse draws a deep breath and braces his fore feet. The strap gradually tightens until it seems that something has got to break, either the saddle or the horse. This operation finished, the packs are put on and are securely fastened to the saddle. By means of a cinch rope passed several times around the packs under the horse and drawn tight, the famous "diamond hitch" is formed, which makes it almost impossible for a horse to buck off his load.* Then the whole train files slowly out on to the long trail, and disappears into the bush, the bell horse leading, the halfbreeds shouting.

At the time I was at Stuart's Lake the Indians were busily engaged in catching and drying salmon for the year's supply. Man, woman and child, all enter into this work with a will; for salmon is their bread and butter. This fish never takes a bait; hence the natives use ingenious devices to lure them into wicker traps sunk to the bottoms of the rivers. The bulk of the catch, however, is

It is all important that any one travelling with a pack train in this country should be well acquainted with the mysteries of this peculiar hitch. At one point on my way north, I saw the following inscription cut into a tree by the trail, only a few miles from Ashcroft: "Stalled. Haven't found the diamond hitch."

CHINOOK INDIAN.

PATRIARCH BROTHER OF THE CHIEF.

floated swiftly down the middle of the stream. Darting past us were schools of salmon, big fellows with red backs, making their way to the lake. The running season was about over. From time to time, we passed boys in all kinds of warped dugouts, with spears poised aloft, patiently waiting for the fish that must surely come. One woman was emptying her husband's trap. One end of the long wicker tube was lifted into the boat and opened. She took out nearly one hundred fish, none of them weighing less than five pounds.

The Indians themselves are too far changed from their native manners and customs to make a study of them covering only a few weeks

of any material value. Fusion of blood from the old French voyageurs, contact with the fort and mission and frequent visits to the coast and other points of civilization have all tended to transform the Carrier Indian. He can tell you first all about the Pope (so he thinks), then a good deal about the Queen, and lastly, a very little about the President of the United States. He cuts his hair short, wears textile clothing, the

only remnant of his native dress being the moccasin. He speaks English; but if he is driving bargain, about all one can get out of him is, "Me no savey." Consumption, that dread disease which, strange to say, is so prevalent among the most northerly tribes, claims its full share of victims. As regards their virtues, for veracity and reliance, Indians are pretty much the same everywhere. For willingness to work, I am told they compare fa

vorably with their brothers in the western states. Like the Eskimos, they adore tobacco and coffee, and will give fresh meat and fish the cold shoulder when they can get bacon and beans. They have their chief, although this personage is hardly more than chief in name. As regards their. religious tendencies, the population is about evenly divided at Fort St. James, one half clustering about the church at the mission a mile above

the fort, the other living at the post itself. Those who attend church are, I think, faithful in their worship. The two Indians whom I took with me down the rivers, on my way out, lulled me to sleep every night, as we iay

was always

asleep by

that time.

With all the benefits that are supposed to come with civilization, a half civilized nature is always to me a pitiable object. He stands like the wayfarer with his journey only partly finished, thinking of what he has left behind and wondering, or supposed by you to be wondering,

Autumn had set in before I said good-by to the fort, the people and the gorgeous sunsets across the lake. As we shot down the Stuart River and into the great Nechaco, the thickly wooded shores with a wealth of autumn coloring passed in ever changing beauty. Young cottonwoods wore a brilliant chrome yellow; the underbrush

protruded in

patches of deep carmine and purple. In strong contrast with these fiery colors stood