SPEARING SALMON 205 



even at night-time. No wonder, then, that, when the 

 fateful task of spawning is over, they all die every one, 

 male and female alike. The future of the species is 

 then bound up in the destinies of the eggs which they 

 have given their lives to produce. 



We went down the river three miles looking at the 

 signs of bear on the sand-bars at the edges of the 

 stream, then turned and poled back, arriving at camp 

 in time for supper. Here we learned that two of our 

 doctors, W. E. Hughes and W. R. Roe, with a guide, 

 had undertaken to cross the river in a boat. W. R., 

 the stout one, in some way shifted his position in the 

 boat amid stream, and over the boat went, tumbling 

 them all into the water. As they were all swimmers, 

 they got out safely, but had that happened in a lake a 

 different story might have been told. 



The Siwash Indians and their packhorses arrived 

 with our supplies and dunnage a little before dark. 

 The stuff came over the rough trail without any dam- 

 age whatever. Their horses were turned out to graze, 

 and one of them, a youth of ten years, rolled his trou- 

 sers up over his knees, and with a single-pointed spear 

 waded into the water of the river up to his middle to 

 spear salmon. 



His father, an old, dried-up Indian, smiled with de- 

 light as he told me: " He catch um tree fish. He quick, 

 good boy. He ride pony stand up " that is, bareback. 

 They were to receive two cents a pound for their work 



