The Ford at Siwillup
Essie was over to tell us that they are planning a hunting trip on Baldy, the high mountain on the other side of the river that we can see from Kot-e-meen, and urged us to come along. The more we think about it, the more we want to go. It is true that it is the policy of the Indian Department to uphold the game laws, and that the hunting season is still several weeks away, but we find we are not much in sympathy with the game laws as they affect the Indian. To our mind, the Indian's hunting code is much better than the white man's. No Indian kills for sport or can understand such a point of view. He kills only for food, and he safeguards the game in his district much more effectively than does the white man's law.
Then, too, there is the highly expedient attitude of Mr. Hunter of the Forestry Department. He said with a sigh when Sam Frame had venison in season that it was a great relief to be able to ask what kind of meat he was eating.
Moreover, we have had it in mind for some time that it would be a good thing if we knew more about the upriver country, and that if we should go on the hunting trip we could ride up to Siwillup and see Old Bob Elliot. Anyhow, hunting season or no hunting season, we have decided to go.
As Fitzy Offield was not going to bring the horses until the afternoon, as soon as we had finished breakwast we panted up our mountain and helped Mart roll down cuts for their winter supply of wood. It was a most inspiring