IN THE LAND OF THE SHAG. 



123 



fort. We were constantly wading through 

 the tail end of breakers, while occasionally 

 a big one would cover us from head to 

 foot; once or twice thumping us against 

 the rocks. At last Castle rock, which juts 

 up out of the beach immediately to the 

 South of the Raft, was seen. With glad- 

 dened hearts we pushed forward on the final 

 spurt, reaching the sand dune, above high 

 water, none too soon. A big fire of drift- 

 wood dried our garments, while copious 

 draughts of brackish tea warmed us. 



When the tide receded, we crossed the 

 Raft in a small canoe, which was found 

 behind a log. The mouth of the Queeto 

 was reached at dusk. Here a crowd of 

 dirty, disagreeable looking savages gath- 

 ered around us, all jabbering at once. We 

 wished to cross the river that evening, to 

 have no delay in the morning; but we 

 could not persuade any of these fellows to 

 pole us over for less than 6 bits (75 cents). 

 This we regarded as an imposition, as the 

 distance was under 200 feet. We tried to 

 bluff them by preparing to make camp, in- 

 tending to borrow a canoe — when they had 

 retired. They evidently knew exactly what 

 was in our minds, for 'they carried all the 

 poles and paddles into their shacks, then 

 hauled the canoes up high on the pebbly 

 beach. 



One miserable specimen of a man, robed 

 in a single tattered blanket that was off 

 more than it was on, stood around and 

 chattered until we almost thought an 

 Egyptian mummy was haranguing us on 

 the deeds of his forefathers. We finally 

 decided to give this ancient mariner his 

 price if he would land us on the other side 

 where there was fresh water. Once across, 

 we ceased to be the suppliants, and when 

 the ancient gentleman ' was unable to 

 change $1, we simply shrugged our shoul- 

 ders, told him we were excessively grieved, 

 but could not help it. He hopped around 

 in an awful state of mind; finally seizing a 

 piece of bacon and an ax, and starting for 

 his canoe. He was promptly grabbed by 

 the long hair and yanked to the ground. 

 Then he became very humble, telling us he 

 would take " ictas " (odds and ends) in- 

 stead of the " chickamin." We finally com- 

 promised by giving him 30 cents and 2 

 pounds of bacon. 



About 3 in the morning we awoke to 

 find the entire camp under water, the tide 

 having come in at a tremendous rate. Pots 

 and pans were floating around in what, to 

 a spectator, would have been a ludicrous 

 fashion. When the sun appeared we found 

 that the old reprobate of the day before 

 had come back in the night and had stolen 

 all of our bacon. As there was absolutely 

 nothing to do but to grin and bear it, we 

 made a breakfast of smoked salmon, 

 " choke-dog," and tea; then shouldered our 

 packs. 



Now fast progress was made along the 



smooth, hard beach. Again we were forced 

 to follow an obscure trail over the cliffs, 

 through salal brush 15 feet high, to get 

 around some promontory. At Klalops 

 creek, 4 miles North of the Queeto, we met 

 a man named Brown, noticeable principally 

 for his whiskers, which reached nearly to 

 his knees. 



Brown was decidedly hard of hearing, 

 and apparently thought every one else was 

 afflicted with a similar complaint; for, al- 

 though only a few inches from him, he 

 roared as if he were trying to speak a ship 

 in the offing. Paying no attention to our 

 salutation, he walked up to us in a threat- 

 ening sort of way, then bellowed: 



" Young men, do you know what you are 

 standing on?" Not knowing whether he 

 spoke of sacred ground, or wished to in- 

 timate that we were on the edge of eternity, 

 we jumped back and looked at the ground 

 under our feet. Seeing nothing but some 

 long, reddish streaks of sand, we answered 

 in the negative. With dramatic gesticula- 

 tions, he howled: "You are standing on 

 gold. Wherever you see that ruby sand, 

 there is gold." As we had just tramped 

 over some 25 miles of it, we were not par- 

 ticularly impressed, simply advising him to 

 " get a hustle on him and start to digging." 

 He told us he and his sons were staking 

 out claims; so we bade him adieu, wishing 

 him luck. 



As we were moving off, he yelled: " Say, 

 do you boys want to kill an elk?" This 

 query brought us to an abrupt halt, for it 

 interested us more than possible gold 

 mines on the Pacific beach. 



He told us there was a big herd of elk 

 2 miles up the creek; so we walked to his 

 ranch, left our packs, and started on the 

 hunt. Our friends the shags were, as usual, 

 all around us, a long stream of them going 

 up and down the creek. It seemed queer 

 to be hunting elk with these sea-birds flying 

 about. 



If I ever have a particular grudge against 

 anyone, I shall advise him to go up Klalops 

 creek hunting. Between swamps, dense 

 thickets of poisonous devil's clubs, and 

 long stretches of salal jungles, that no man 

 could force a way through without an ax, 

 we had an awful time, being over 2 hours 

 in making a mile. Sitting on a log, mop- 

 ping perspiration, and resting, we nearly 

 decided to turn back. Roland said he had 

 not lost any jobs like this, while Frank 

 thought, being so close to the clams, the 

 elk were probably fishy, and therefore we 

 did not want them. After puffing at our 

 pipes, we felt better, and decided to go an- 

 other half mile anyway. 



We had not gone over 200 yards when a 

 cracking in the brush attracted our atten- 

 tion. Looking in that direction, we saw 

 a big cow elk standing under a hemlock, 

 flapping her big ears to keep off the flies. 

 Near her was a small bull, while farther 



