in 1896. These falls are beyond Lake Le Barge, and about two
hundred miles above Five Fingers. At first sight of the Grand Canyon I
wondered, not that accidents often took place there, but that any one
ever ran it in safety, for the force of the current through the dark,
narrow gorge is so tremendous that the stream is forced to a crest about
four feet high, like a sloping roof, in the centre of the river. It is
essential to keep on the summit of this crest, or be instantly dashed to
pieces on the rocks. The strongest swimmer would stand no chance here,
and no man who has ever got in has lived to relate his experiences. The
Grand Canyon is nearly a mile in length, but our boat ran through it in
less than two minutes.

The first plunge into the White Horse Rapid, only a few miles below the
Grand Canyon, is even more abrupt and dangerous than that into the
latter, and here the water dashes down with an appalling roar. The
foaming crest of the wave, following the first downward sweep, is
supposed to resemble a white horse's mane, which circumstance christened
the fall. The latter was also formerly known as the "Miner's Grave,"
which, seeing that at one time a yearly average of twenty men were
drowned here, seems a more suitable title. But these death-traps are
now happily perils of the past, both being now avoided by the new rail
and steamboat route into the Klondike.

Shortly after negotiating Five Fingers, we passed the mouth of the
Nordenskiold River, which enters the Yukon from the west. This is an
insignificant stream, although coal has lately been discovered in its
vicinity, a fact which may shortly lower the now outrageous price of
that commodity in Dawson. Above this the river widens, and occasionally
expands into a series of lakes, studded with prettily wooded islands,
perfect gardens of wild flowers, but fruitful breeding-places of our
implacable foes, the mosquitoes. A few hours of this, and the river
narrows again, and is fringed by low banks of sand and limestone,
riddled by millions of martin's nests, while inshore a vista of dark
pine forests and grassy, undulating hills stretches away to a chain of
granite peaks, still streaked in places with the winter snow. Towards
evening we tie up for fuel at the mouth of the Hootalinqua River, which
drains Lake Teslin, the largest in the Yukon basin. The mountains at the
head of Teslin form part of the now well-known Cassiar range, where the
rich mines of that name a