WINTER IN THE KETTLE RIVER COUNTRY. 



Charles Greenwood. 



In the early autumn of 1890 I found 

 myself at the little town of Colville, 

 Washington, after two months spent 

 among the mountains and canyons of 

 Montana and Idaho. My intention had 

 been to cut loose from work and spend 

 the fall in hunting, but no very alluring 

 prospect had so far offered itself. True, 

 game was plentiful enough, but other 

 matters had to be considered ; so I re- 

 solved to cross the international bound- 

 ary line and see something of British 

 Columbia. Accordingly, I crossed the 

 Columbia river at Marcus ferry, and en- 

 tered the Colville Indian Reservation. 



For twenty miles I went due north, 

 traveling up the wooded valley of a good 

 sized river, called on the maps " Toi- 

 yepe," but locally known as Kettle 

 river. At this point a large monument 

 built of rock announced that to the 

 northward the Stars and Stripes did not 

 wave and the Union Jack held sway. 



A noble stream is Kettle river, and 

 for seventy miles I traversed its beauti- 

 ful valley. At times the trail passed 

 through shady forests that covered the 

 low bottom land, while, at intervals, 

 there lay spread out wide level tracts of 

 fertile prairie, then fast being occupied 

 by settlers. The river is generally rapid, 

 clear and sparkling ; but here and there, 

 where it abruptly strikes the high rocky 

 wall of some jutting mountain spur, a 

 still, black pool of great depth is formed. 

 These suggest mighty fish. Nor is the 

 angler often disappointed, for the great 

 bull trout lives there. 



In five days I reached Rock creek, 

 which was the last inhabited point on 

 the river. The town consisted of a 

 small saloon which did a big business, 

 and a smaller store which did little or 

 none at all. A few placer miners lived 

 here, also some Chinese, but a good deal 

 of traffic passed by, as the main trail left 

 the river here and crossed a low divide 

 to the Okanogan. Away up the river 

 was a virgin country, seldom visited, ex- 

 cept by a stray hunter or prospector, and 

 game was said to be abundant, so I re- 

 solved to go ahead. The valley nar- 



rowed rapidly and the hills grew steeper 

 and more heavily wooded ; but on the 

 afternoon of the second day I entered a 

 level grassy opening, perhaps half a mile 

 long. Some horses were grazing there 

 and at the farther end stood a little 

 cabin. As ceremony seemed to be out 

 of place in these parts, I rode up to 

 where the owner was sitting, with his In- 

 dian wife and little half-breed son. He 

 rose as I approached and greeting me 

 courteously, bade me unsaddle my 

 horses and make myself at home, which 

 I straightway proceeded to do. 



In a day or two I became well ac- 

 quainted with Len, as my new friend was 

 called. Born in the Evergreen state, 

 almost his entire life had been passed in 

 the wilds and among the Indians, whose 

 language he spoke fluently. He was a 

 tall, handsome fellow, with fair wavy 

 hair and bright blue eyes, and one of his 

 most entertaining characteristics was the 

 admirable way in which he related his 

 curious and interesting stories, of which 

 he had an inexhaustible supply. He 

 fully corroborated the reports I had 

 heard concerning the hunting here- 

 abouts, and although there was no great 

 variety of game, deer were really plenti- 

 ful. There were some bears, and a good 

 many wolves ; also grouse, and some fur 

 bearing animals. This sounded pretty 

 well, and when the suggestion was made 

 that I should winter here I considered 

 the matter seriously. I was tired of 

 wandering, my horses could pull through 

 on the bunch grass, and the fall was ad- 

 vancing rapidly. Why not stay ? I had 

 lived in worse places ; so I decided to 

 put up a cabin, pass the winter here, and 

 start south in the spring. 



Six weeks later I was settled, with 

 provisions enough to last five months, 

 for Len and I went out with several 

 pack horses and brought in supplies. 

 Another wanderer also arrived with his 

 " klootchman" (Indian wife), built a 

 cabin on the river bank, close to mine, 

 and prepared to spend the winter there. 

 His name was Schomberg, and he proved 

 to be a good fellow, possessing a 



