Fraser River, 1858

"I taste blood."

"Stag? Is it stag? Might just be a fawning doe again."

"Not hart blood."

"The salmon are spawning upstream. The old bear could have got one."

"Not salmon, neither."

"Could have been the osprey got it."

"Not fish blood, I told you."

"Not woman blood, is it?"

"Not woman, I don't think. The other one, maybe."

"Bleeding into our river?"

"Yes."

"You think he got wounded?"

"No other way for a man to bleed."

"You want to find him?"

"He shouldn't be in our mother's waters at all."

"They got a camp downstream now. Don't usually taste them this far up."

"Come with me."

"And when we find him?"

"He might be gone by then. Come with me."

༄

"Not gone."

"Not gone. He got mocs, like the old ones. Ought we to kill one with mocs?"

"Man's a man. He shouldn't be in our river."

"Maybe he's lost."

"Shouldn't have got himself lost."

"Humans can, though. Forests ain't like river-weed; ain't always easy to see your way. They got bad eyes, humans."

"Well, he found his way to us anyhow."

"Where's he bleeding from?"

"Don't know. Lower parts, one of the hindquarters."

"I taste him now. Tastes rancid. Might not be good for eating."

"If a man's still walking, he'll make good meat for us."

"You said yourself, salmon's coming. Might be more trouble than he's worth."

"Mother wouldn't think so."

"And father?"

"You take his right flank. Don't let him see you. Stay low to the rocks, and don't whine if the riverbed gets your belly. The scars'll be worth it."

"Which part you taking?"

"Head."

"How you gonna keep him from seeing you?"

"Only gotta stay in deep water 'til he looks away."

"He one of those camp humans, I think. He got a rock-breaker and a pan."

"No ores for him in this river. Gold gonna be the death of him before he sees any."

"Don't let him see you."

"Don't let him get you."

༄

"Where you think Eugene got to?"

"Dunno. You know Eugene?"

"Only by name. Bastard's always bein' told off by the foreman, gettin' the rest of us boys in shit with his antics. Drinkin' on the job, wanderin' off, writin' to his woman n' boys all hours. You'd think he's bein' paid to sit on his ass."

"Good riddance if th'old river got 'im."

"Might not'a been the river. Might'a been"-

"Don't tell me you're one o' them Injun mystics!"

"Not sayin' I am, but my old lady was Cree no-bil-i-ty. She had the headdress n' all."

"Your daddy too?"

"Pappy weren't no Injun; he were a gold-pannin' man like myself. Never doubted the old lady's wisdom n' lived to ninety on moonshine n' jerky."

"I ain't got time for stories when there's gold to git after. Hold my pick. Reckon we best tell the foreman 'bout Eugene."

"Old Billy ain't gonna mind. Eugene was more trouble than he was worth. More gold for the rest of us, I reckon."

"I reckon so, too. You wanna get some o' the boys together t'look for him?"

"Nah. Like you said. More gold for the rest of us."