It emptied into
the lake we had just crossed in a broad shallow rapid at the foot
of our hill, one and a half miles to the west.
George showed me, only a few miles from where we were standing,
Mount Hubbard, from which Mr. Hubbard and he had seen Michikamau;
Windbound Lake and the lakes through which they had hoped to find
their way to the great lake; the dip in the hills to the east
through which they had passed on their long portage. He pointed
out to me a little dark line on the brow of the hill where the
bushes were in which they had shot the rabbit, and on the eastern
slope another dark shadow showing where they had shot the
ptarmigan.
So much of life and its pain can crowd into a few minutes. The
whole desperate picture stood out with dread vividness. Yet I had
wished very much to see what he had shown me.
At the rapid we were but a few minutes poling up to the big water
south. Then after two miles of paddling, still southward, we
rounded a point and looked westward straight into Michikamau and
the sun. It was 5.52 P.M.
When the exclamations of delight had subsided Gilbert asked: "Do we
have rice pudding for supper to-night, Mrs. Hubbard?"
That evening we camped in an island flower-garden.
