Moberly, "History of Cariboo Wagon Road", continued
(Part 8 of 13)

The next day I resumed my journey along the trail, which has a very sharp descent, on the southwesterly side of the mountain, to the First Crossing of the Bonaparte River. At this point there was a small log hut very extensively known throughout the colony at that period as "Scotty's," the owner of it being a rather quaint Orkneyman, who kept a few cows and was supposed to furnish meals to travelers. I here met one of my packers, whom I had instructed to be at this point in order that I could tell him where I proposed to establish another large camp of workmen to push forward the construction of the road along the valley of the Bonaparte, etc.

Being very hungry I requested "Scotty" to provide us with a meal, whereuvon [sic] he produced a frying pan full of stale flap-jacks and a pan of milk. Each flap-jack was about three inches in diameter and half an inch in thickness. Having demolished as many of the unsavory cakes as were necessary to appease our hunger, and drank several cups of milk, I asked "Scotty" what I had to pay, when he demanded fifty cents for each cake and fifty cents for each cup of milk. This exorbitant charge so enraged my packer, who talked in such forcible language to "Scotty," that I had great difficulty in preventing a personal encounter between them. We left this miserable hut as soon as possible, my packer vowing that he would get even with "Scotty" some day.

In one of Sir James Douglas' trips in the interior of the colony I had the pleasure of accompanying him, when he told me of the origin of some of the names of different places in the colony, and the following is the Indian legend he related regarding Maiden Creek, through the valley of which I had decided the wagon road should go.

"At some time in the misty past there lived at the mouth of Maiden Creek a very beautiful Indian girl, who had a lover living at Cache Creek, to whom she was engaged to be married. The lover proved false and married another woman, which so distracted the poor girl that she died of a broken heart, and was buried near the mouth of Maiden Creek, and out of her breasts grew the two rounded hillocks that are to be seen at that place and resemble a woman's breasts."

It was the year 1862 that the smallpox swept away great numbers of the Coast Indians and had been, during the Summer, gradually extending its ravages into the interior of the colony. A few days before I left my camp at Nicomin to make the long exploratory trip I mentioned, as I was standing at my tent, which was on the opposite side of that little stream to where the large camp of my employees was situated, and who were just on the point of sitting down to supper, I noticed an Indian leading a horse on which another Indian was seated who had a veil over his face, and after crossing were evidently intending to camp about fifty feet from my tent. I walked over to the Indians, and, being suspicious that something was wrong, lifted the veil from the face of the Indian wearing it and saw the poor fellow was badly smitten with the smallpox. I instantly told them that they could not stay there in the vicinity of my men and told them to return to Lytton where the Government had a doctor appointed to vaccinate the Indians. They told me they were without money and had not any food, so I went to my store tent and filled a large sack with provisions, which I gave them together with a letter to the doctor to have them properly attended to, and then compelled them to go. When I was on my way to Bonaparte River I learnt from the man in charge of Cook's ferry that these two Indians, instead of returning to Lytton had come to his house and gone on to the mouth of the Nicola River, at which place there was an Indian village from which I had procured a number of Indians with their little horses to pack supplies between the camps above Cook's ferry. These Indians camped in a little bay on the Thompson River about a mile below my largest road camp. On my way down from Ashcroft Creek to this camp, which I did not reach until some hours after dark, I heard the dismal wailing of Indian women on the mountain side above the trail I rode along, which was a certain indication of death having visited their community. On arriving at the camp I learnt that none of the Indians from the little bay had been up for several days and it was supposed the smallpox had reached their encampment.

The next day I proceeded on my way to Nicomin, and as I rode along the mountain side I saw several Indian horses grazing on the "bunch grass" that then grew in profusion in the valley of the Thompson River, and in the little bay below me the tents of the Indians, but I saw no signs of human life about the tents. I therefore dismounted and went to the tents, where I discovered the horrible sight of the putrefying bodies of the Indians, some in the tents and others among the rocks that lined the river bank, through which they had evidently tried to drag themselves to the river to assuage their burning thirst or to plunge into the river. All the Indians in that encampment had been dead several days.

I now proceeded to the Ferry and went to the Indian village at the mouth of the Nicola River where the same melancholy and disgusting sight was that a few hours before I had seen at the little bay on the Thompson River, for all the Indians were dead. I hurried on to my camp at Nicomin fearing that the smallpox had broken out among my men, but was greatly relieved to find that that was not the case.