All That Day We Had To Lie About Camp, Keeping Under Cover On Account
Of The Rain.
It was dreary work listening to the surf ceaselessly
pounding the shore and realising that all these precious hours
were needed to bring us to Fort Resolution, where the steamer was
to meet us on the 25th.
On the 23d it was calmer and we got away in the gray dawn at 5.45.
We were now in Weeso's country, and yet he ran us into a singular
pocket that I have called Weeso's Trap - a straight glacial groove
a mile long that came to a sudden end and we had to go back that
mile.
The old man was much mortified over his blunder, but he did not
feel half so badly about it as I did, for every hour was precious
now.
What a delight it was to feel our canoe skimming along under the
four paddles. Three times as fast we travelled now as when we came
out with the bigger boat; 5 1/2 miles an hour was frequently our
rate and when we camped that night we had covered 47 miles since
dawn.
On Kahdinouay we camped and again a storm arose to pound and bluster
all night. In spite of a choppy sea next day we reached the small
island before the final crossing; and here, perforce, we stayed
to await a calmer sea. Later we heard that during this very storm
a canoe-load of Indians attempted the crossing and upset; none were
swimmers, all were drowned.
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