Twelve miles distant from Spillman’s Camp the waggon road, bad as it had been, comes to an end, and our supplies must now be carried on pack horses. Here we met Mr. Neilson, a Kingston man, who renders us great service; and it is here also, that Dave Leigh joins our service as cook and pack man. There is always great delay in getting a pack train ready; horses, saddlery and men must be collected. Our first calculation was that three horses would suffice, as we know the weights of all the packages and our calculation had been based upon them; but from the badness of the roads we reduced the theoretical weight of the pack by increasing the number of our animals. Our whole load amounted to eleven hundred pounds, and our packers assured us that over the bad roads it could not be carried by less than six horses. Experience proved that the judgment of the men was correct; the consequence was that the pack train could not leave that night. Our party, however, started. One of them, who left after the rest, took a wrong direction and narrowly escaped losing himself, at least for the night. George shewed wonderful judgment in hunting up the wanderer and putting him on the right track, relieving us all from great anxiety. Our course took us across two forks of the Bow River and thence along the banks of a rapid stream called Bath Creek, so named from one of the engineers having fallen into it. We ascended for a few miles, when we turned to the west by Summit Creek, a small glacier-bed stream, which we followed till we arrived at the engineer’s camp at the Summit, 5,300 feet above sea level. I had here to take leave of my friend Mr. Dunbar, who had to return to his duties. He had been good enough to accompany us this far, and I had found his presence of great use. Sitting around the camp fire at night he was an admirable companion, for he had a fine voice. I have particularly a very pleasurable recollection of the hymns he sang on the Sunday evening in the first mountain pass. All music has a peculiar effect under such circumstances, especially when it brings back thoughts of the past and of distant friends; and there is to men of my age a peculiar feeling in listening to devotional music, the influence and power of which, however simple, are not easily forgotten. To-night we fall asleep on the continental “Divide.” Hitherto we have passed over ground draining to the east. To-morrow we follow a stream flowing into the waters of the Pacific. CHAPTER XIV. _DOWN KICKING-HORSE VALLEY._ The Descent--Summit Lake--The Kicking-Horse River--Singular Mountain Storms--An Engineering Party--A Beaver Meadow--A Dizzy Walk.