On the following day we made a long detour to the right, to get round the range of hills to the south, and entered the narrow valley on the west of it. The trail was not very distinct, and passed amongst rocks and burnt timber. At dinner-time we discovered that the frying-pan and some of the tin plates were lost, and thenceforward were driven to cook our pemmican and bake our bread in the kettle. A small stream flowed along the bottom of the ravine towards the north, falling probably into either the Fraser or Canoe River; but the next day we passed the height of land, and gained the watershed of the Thompson. This was occupied by a small marshy lake, marked Albreda Lake in the map, filling the bottom of the ravine. It appeared to have been drained formerly by a stream flowing from either extremity, like the Summit lake between Lake Lilloet and Anderson Lake, in British Columbia; but the northern end was now blocked up by an old grass-grown beaver-dam, and its waters escaped only towards the south. We continued to follow the stream thus formed, which was reinforced by several branches from the westward, and saw before us a magnificent mountain, covered with glaciers, and apparently blocking up the valley before us. To this Cheadle gave the name of Mount Milton. The trail now entered thick pine forest, where the timber was of enormous size. Two trunks of the giant cypress (_Thuja gigantea_) or cedar, as it is commonly called, which grew side by side, measured over six and a half embraces, or thirty-nine feet; the other, five embraces, or thirty feet in circumference, giving diameters of thirteen feet and ten feet. Pines, of almost equal girth, towered up to a height of over 300 feet. There was no open ground, and the horses fed on twigs and mare’s-tail; the road was hilly, swamps occupying the hollows. [Illustration: A VIEW ON THE NORTH THOMPSON, LOOKING EASTWARD. (_See page 275._) ] On the fifth day after leaving The Cache we crossed to the western bank of the river we were following, and which we concluded to be a branch of the Thompson. This had now become about thirty yards in width, and so deep that we were compelled to carry the horses’ packs on our shoulders as we rode across, to prevent their being soaked. After crossing two smaller streams from the west, we came to a deep arm of the river, with banks of soft mud, which we crossed, after long delay, by leading the horses over an old beaver-dam. We were still in the midst of snowy mountains, and steep pine-clad hills closely shut in the valley on either side.