The wind gives the paddle a push; it winds up the cord, which then
unwinds itself. This goes on without fail and without effort, never
still, and the roast is perfect.
Thus we were living on the fat of many lands and on the choicest
fat of this.
And what a region it is for pasture. At this place it reminds one
of Texas. Open, grassy plains, sparser reaches of sand, long slopes
of mesquite, mesas dotted with cedars and stretches of chapparal
and soapweed. Only, those vegetations here are willow, dwarf birch,
tiny spruce, and ledum, and the country as a whole is far too green
and rich. The emerald verdure of the shore, in not a few places,
carried me back, to the west coast of Ireland.
CHAPTER XXXIII
THE UNKNOWN
The daily observations of route and landmark I can best leave
for record on my maps. I had one great complaint against previous
explorers (except Tyrrell); that is, they left no monuments. Aiming
to give no ground of complaint against us, we made monuments at
all important points. On the, night of August 8 we camped at Cairn
Bay on the west side of Casba Lake, so named because of the five
remarkable glacial cairns or conical stone-piles about it. On the
top of one of these I left a monument, a six-foot pillar of large
stones.
On the afternoon of August 9 we passed the important headland that
I have called "Tyrrell Point." Here we jumped off his map into
the unknown. I had, of course, the small chart drawn by Sir George
Back in 1834, but it was hastily made under great difficulties,
and, with a few exceptions, it seemed impossible to recognize his
landscape features. Next day I explored the east arm of Clinton-Colden
and discovered the tributary that I have called "Laurier River,"
and near its mouth made a cairn enclosing a Caribou antler with
inscription "E. T. Seton, 10 Aug., 1907."
Future travellers on this lake will find, as I did, that the
Conical Butte in the eastern part is an important landmark. It is
a glacial dump about 50 feet above the general level, which again
is 100 feet above the water, visible and recognizable from nearly
all parts of the lake.
Thus we went on day by day, sometimes detained by head or heavy
winds, but making great progress in the calm, which nearly always
came in the evening; 30 and 35 miles a day we went, led on and
stimulated by the thirst to see and know. "I must see what is over
that ridge," "I must make sure that this is an island," or "Maybe
from that lookout I shall see Lake Aylmer, or a band of Caribou,
yes, or even a band of Musk-ox." Always there was some reward, and
nearly always it was a surprise.
From time to time we came on Snowbirds with their young broods,
evidently at home. Ptarmigan abounded. Parry's Groundsquirrel
was found at nearly all points, including the large islands. The
Laplongspur swarmed everywhere; their loud "chee chups" were the
first sounds to greet us each time we neared the land. And out over
all the lake were Loons, Loons, Loons. Four species abound here;
they caterwaul and yodel all day and all night, each in its own
particular speech, From time to time a wild hyena chorus from the
tranquil water in the purple sunset haze suggested, that a pack of
goblin hounds were chivying a goblin buck, but it turned out always
to be a family of Red-throated Loons, yodelling their inspiring
marching song.
One day when at Gravel Mountain, old Weeso came to camp in evident
fear - "far off he had seen a man." In this country a man must mean
an Eskimo; with them the Indian has a long feud; of them he is in
terror. We never learned the truth; I think he was mistaken.
Once or twice the long howl of the White Wolf sounded from the
shore, and every day we saw a few Caribou.
A great many of the single Caribou were on the small islands. In
six cases that came under close observation the animal in question
had a broken leg. A broken leg generally evidences recent inroads
by hunters, but the nearest Indians were 200 miles to the south, and
the nearest Eskimo 300 miles to the north. There was every reason
to believe that we were the only human beings in that vast region,
and certainly we had broken no legs. Every Caribou fired at (8) had
been secured and used. There is only one dangerous large enemy common
in this country; that is the White Wolf. And the more I pondered
it, the more it seemed sure that the Wolves had broken the Caribous'
legs.
How! This is the history of each case: The Caribou is so much swifter
than the Wolves that the latter have no chance in open chase; they
therefore adopt the stratagem of a sneaking surround and a drive
over the rocks or a precipice, where the Caribou, if not actually
killed, is more or less disabled. In some cases only a leg is
broken, and then the Caribou knows his only chance is to reach the
water. Here his wonderful powers of swimming make him easily safe,
so much so that the Wolves make no attempt to follow. The crippled
deer makes for some island sanctuary, where he rests in peace till
his leg is healed, or it may be, in some cases, till the freezing of
the lake brings him again into the power of his floe.
