In this and the lakes
above, through which we passed the day following, there were many
small, rocky islands, some of them willow covered, some wooded.
The shores everywhere were wooded, but the difference in size in
the trees was now quite marked. They were much smaller than on the
river below. The water was clear, and we could see the lake beds
strewn with huge boulders, some of them reaching to very near the
surface. Here we began to see signs of the Indians again,
occasional standing wigwam poles showing among the green woods.
Passing four of these lakes, we came to where the river flows in
from the south down three heavy rapids. On the west side of its
entrance to the lake we found the old trail. The blazing was
weather worn and old, but the trail was a good one, and had been
much used in the days long ago. The portage was little more than a
quarter of a mile long, and we put our canoes into the water again
in a tiny bay above the islands.
While the men took their loads forward I set up my fishing-rod for
the first time. Every day I had felt ashamed that it had not been
done before, but every day I put it off.
