We made a fire on shore, but had nothing to eat. After, the sailboad landed our stuff, we got an Indian to haul the eleven hundred pounds fright to Tahola. The next problem was to get the freight and ourselves from Tahola to Quinault by the river. The usual price charged by the Indians was $12.50 per boat. But, since the river was up very high they wouldn't go under any circumstances. We didn't know that, so we offered them more and more until we finally offered forty dollars. Still, they wouldn't go. They insisted that the river was too high.
When we saw that they wouldn't go, we decided to buy a boat. Pain an Indian thirty dollars for an ocean-going "long" boat. Then we bought two hundred feet of rope, intending to pull it along from shore when necessary. This canoe had an elk head carved on the high bow. We tied everything to the cross pieces so that, if it upset, nothing would be lost. It seemed that every Indian in Tahola was watching our preparations. The riverbank was lined with Indians.
At last everything was ready and we got into the canoe. It rolled over instantly. The Indians whooped in great glee. We managed to get ashore, dripping wet, but determined to go on. One Indian, Frank Hyassman, told us that he lived six miles up river, and he would help us that far. We appreciated his offer.
He put Father and George Atkins into the canoe with his squaw. I stayed in our boat with him. When we got about half way to his place, Frank was sweating and wiping his brow. He informed me that he wanted $5.00 to go the rest of the way. We never could have managed the canoe without him, so we agreed. Then we came to a jam and had to go around through a slough, then pull the canoe over a short skip road and into the river again. By the time we got to the Indian's place, we were convinced that the river was too high, so decided to stay there a while.
We waited a week for the river to go down. Everyday I got out and practiced canoeing. When the water went down four or five feet, we decided to start again. We put in about half of our stuff, and left the balance behind. Half a mile upriver, we swung sidewise of the stream and upset. Got righted again, but had a worse accident. This time, the canoe drifted down under the branches of a low-hanging tree and upset. George Atkins couldn't swim, and we thought he had drowned.