discoverer? What if the venture proved a fool's trip
leading to a blind nowhere? He was only a junior partner and could ill
afford either money or time for failure.

[Illustration: ALEXANDER MACKENZIE]

Nevertheless, when the furs have been dispatched for Montreal,
MacKenzie launches out on May 9 of 1793 with a thirty-foot birch canoe,
six voyageurs, and Alexander Mackay as lieutenant, for the hinterland
beyond the Rockies. This time the going was _against_ stream,--hard
paddling, but safer than with a {328} swift current in a river with
dangerous rapids. Ten days later the river has become a canyon of
tumbling cascades, the mountains sheer wall on each side, with snowy
peaks jagging up through the clouds. To portage baggage up such cliffs
was impossible. Yet it was equally impossible to go on up the canyon,
and MacKenzie's men became so terrified they refused to land. Jumping
to foothold on the wall, a towrope in one hand, an ax in the other,
MacKenzie cut steps in the cliff, then signaled above the roar of the
rapids for the men to follow. They stripped themselves to swim if they
missed footing, and obeyed, trembling in every limb. The towrope was
warped round trees and the loaded canoe tracked up the cascade. At the
end of that portage the men flatly refused to go on. MacKenzie ignored
the mutiny and ordered the best of provisions spread for a feast.
While the crew rested, he climbed the face of a rocky cliff to
reconnoiter. As far as eye could see were cataracts walled by mighty
precipices. The canoe could not be tracked up such waters. Mackay,
who had gone prospecting a portage, reported that it would be nine
miles over the mountain. MacKenzie did not tell his men what was ahead
of them, but he led the way up the steep mountain, cutting trees to
form an outer railing, and up this trail the canoe was hauled, towline
round trees, the men swearing and sweating and blowing like whales.
Three miles was the record that day, the voyageurs throwing themselves
down to sleep at five in the afternoon, wrapped in their blanket coats
lying close to the glacier edges. Three days it took to cross this
mountain, and the end of the third day found them at the foot of
another mountain. Here the river forked. MacKenzie followed the south
branch, or what is now known as the Parsnip. Often at night the men
would be startled by rocketing echoes like musketry firing, and they
would spring to their feet to keep guard