PEACE RIVER JOE By John Pease Babcock.

1905 at his log cabin door on the bank of

Clear River, in the Cariboo country of British Columbia. He was then a short, straight, spare, bronzed, good—looking man with large blue eyes, a typical Canadian trapper of twenty-four or twenty—five years of age. He gave us a warm welcome, with a pleasant smile and a firm grip of the hand, and assisted in removing the packs and sad- dles from the horses, which were then hob- bled, belled and turned loose.

“You have come just in time for supper,” he said, as we entered the cabin. “I have Been expecting you for the last hour or two. The trail over the burned flat since the big blow of two weeks ago must be slow. I should have gone up and cut it out. It’s not easy at any time.”

The cabin we entered consisted of one

room of some twenty by twelve feet, and 1

I FIRST met Peace River Joe in the fall of