barrier to the salmon, but the rise of the river
enables them to leap it easily. On one side of
the fall there is a wide flat plateau of rocks, the
descent to which is by a winding trail down an
almost vertical cliff.

Very early in May the Indians began to
arrive; day after day, and all day long, from
every direction, strange processions, consisting
of horses laden with lodges, squaws, children,
together with the strangest medley of chattels
(every atom of property possessed by the tribe
is always carried along with them, even to the
dogs, when migrating to attend the salmon
harvest), wind down the various trails leading to
the trading-post. Small villages of lodges, the
encampments of different tribes, rapidly scatter
over the plain; bands of horses scamper, in
wild confusion, up the green hill-sides, carefully
guarded by their herders; the smoke of countless
lodge fires coils slowly up in misty wreaths;
chiefs and braves lounge lazily about the trade-
post; medicine men—in other words, the
conjurors, doctors, and invariably the greatest
scoundrels of the tribes—busy themselves at
their incantations, making "salmon medicine" to
ensure a prosperous harvest; while squaws, old
and young, pitch the lodges, carry wood and
water, cook, and quell the perpetual riots going
on amidst the newly-met children and dogs. In
about a week, from nine hundred to one thousand
Indians are camped in readiness for fishing.
On their arrival, and during the fishing season,
every chief is under the control of one ("the
salmon chief") who manages and directs the
fishery, settles all disputes, and sees to the
equitable division of the take.

When the assembly is completed, camps
satisfactorily arranged, and all the details of
this novel colony adjusted, preparations are
commenced at the falls. The drying-houses,
about fifty in number, are first repaired. These
are built on the plateau of rocks previously
mentioned, and consist of sheds open at the
sides, but roofed over with rush mats; a series
of parallel poles placed close together, like a
ceiling (on which to hang the fish), complete
each edifice. Then old and skilled hands set to
work to make the fishing traps (I may mention,
that neither nets, spears, nor canoes are ever
employed at this fishery). These traps are huge
woven affairs, the materials used in their
construction being willow, hazel, birch, maple, and
cedar; the diameter is about twelve feet, and the
depth from eighteen to twenty feet. Numbers of
these are made: the young Indians bringing the
materials for the supply of the skilled workmen.
As these baskets are completed, others prepare
to fix them in the places where, from long
experience, the fishers well know the salmon
invariably leap. This is both a difficult and a
dangerous service, as they have to hang them
from trees, one end weighted down in the water
with enormous stones and rocks. Of course, all
this is accomplished before the river begins to
rise. Nothing but the strength of numbers,
combined with long practice, could ever enable these
uncivilised men to accomplish so formidable a
piece of engineering. Immense pine-trees are
felled with rude hatchets and cleared of their
branches, dragged down on the rocks, rolled on
other trees across deep chasms, levered, twisted,
tugged, and turned about, until fixed securely
and immovable in the desired position. When
ready for the baskets, these trees, projecting over
the surging water, look like gibbets for giants.

The wicker baskets—giants, too, in their way
—being completed, and long ropes, made from
the inner bark of the cypress-tree, woven to
suspend them, the next job is to hang them. To
manage this final, but ticklish operation, all lend
a hand, and as each has his say, young and old
jabber in different Indian languages, until one
imagines the days of Babel returned. By dint of
many swimming, others bestriding trees,
numbers hauling at ropes, and greater numbers doing
nothing except advising and hindering the rest,
the vast wicker traps are hung safely, awaiting
the rising of the river, and, with it, the salmon.

Pending these events, a continual round of
enjoyment is indulged in; the gayest costumes
are sported, vermilion is used in reckless profusion;
the rival tribes, young and old, struggle
to outvie one another; horse-racing, foot and
hurdle-racing, hazard, dice, shuffle-stick, even a
savage "Aunt Sally," are in constant progress
throughout the livelong day; even during the
night, the light of the lodge-fire, the drowsy
chant and beating together of sticks, and a
clumsy kind of tambourine, give warning to all
hearers that gambling is going forward. High
stakes are played for—horse, blankets, slaves,
guns, traps; I have often seen wives and
daughters risked on a race or a throw with the
dice. The women game even more recklessly
than the men.

The salmon-sentries announce the appearance
of the first fish, and all hands rush to commence
the work of catching and curing. This may be
the best place in which to mention, incidentally,
that the salmon are indispensable to the existence
of the inland tribes of Indians. Nature
supplies the tribes with these fish with a lavish
profusion, incredible to any who have not seen the
"salmon run" in these wondrous rivers. Every
stream becomes so filled with fish, that to throw
a stone into the water without hitting one is
next to an impossibility. When I say that the
Commissioner (I need not mention names) and
myself found it difficult to ride through a ford,
in consequence of the abundance of the salmon
thronging upward and onward to spawn, some
idea may be formed of the incredible numbers
that annually visit the rivers of the north-west.

Soon after the arrival of the vanguard, the
main army reach the falls, and the water
becomes a moving mass of silvery fish; fifty, and
even more, may be seen leaping the rushing
cascade at a time; many succeed, but the
greater number fall back into the baskets, so
deftly hung to receive them—two hundred
salmon a day are frequently taken from a single
basket. Two naked savages enter the wicker
trap, each armed with a short heavy club, and
stand amidst the struggling captives, the water