I suspect that
at its head the river comes out of a succession of such things,
whence its name Underground River.,
Around this jamb is an easy portage. We were far now from the haunts
of any but Indians on the winter hunt, so were surprised to see on
this portage trail the deep imprints of a white man's boot. These
were made apparently within a week, by whom I never learned. On the
bank not far away we saw a Lynx pursued overhead by two scolding
Redsquirrels.
Lunch consisted of what remained of the Pike, but that afternoon
Bezkya saw two Brown Cranes on a meadow, and manoeuvring till they
were in line killed both with one shot of his rifle at over 100
yards, the best shot I ever knew an Indian to make. Still, two
Cranes totalling 16 pounds gross is not enough meat to last five
men a week, so we turned to our Moosehunter.
"Yes, he could get a Moose." He went on in the small canoe with
Billy; we were to follow, and if we passed his canoe leave a note.
Seven miles above the log-jamb, the river forked south and west;
here a note from the guide sent us up the South Fork; later we
passed his canoe on the bank and knew that he had landed and was
surely on his way "to market." What a comfortable feeling it was to
remember that Bezkya was a moose-hunter!
