There were among them
red and green and blue of many and exquisite shades - the greens
being particularly beautiful. From near the head of the bay
several small lakes extended westward, and through these we thought
the Indians probably made their portages. It was quite late when
we returned to camp, the journey back being a rather hard paddle
against a strong head wind. The men had already returned from the
hill, bringing a few partridges with them.
It was nearly midday on Saturday when we left Red Rock Camp, and
the rain was still falling a little; but the prospects were for a
fine evening and a dry camp, so it was decided to push on as
already we had been delayed more than half the week. Soon the rain
ceased, and, passing the portages round Seal and Cascade Rapids, we
found ourselves on smooth water again. The sky cleared as we
proceeded, and an occasional gleam of sunshine lent its charm to
the scenes of quiet beauty through which we were passing. The
river was soft and smooth as satin, with a slightly raised cushion-
like appearance, that I had never noticed on smooth water before.
About the middle of the afternoon, as we rounded a bend of the
river, we saw far ahead on the low drift shore, five large black
objects close to the water's edge. There could be but one animal
of such size and colour in this region, and I became quite stirred
up over the prospect of an encounter with what looked like a bear
picnic. I watched eagerly as we approached, rather wondering how
we were going to manage five of them, when in a most inexplicable
manner they dwindled suddenly, and my five bears had become as many
ducks. It was the first time I had ever seen so striking an
example of mirage. We secured three of the transformed bears, and
on Sunday morning had stewed duck and fresh bannocks for breakfast.
Owing to the enforced rest through the week we decided to go
forward on Sunday. After a late breakfast the task of loading the
outfit into the canoes was not yet complete when Gilbert was heard
to exclaim: "What's that? A duck? No, it's a deer."
Immediately all was excitement. Up in the, little lake above our
camp a caribou was swimming across to the north shore. The
movement in camp suddenly became electrical. The last of the load
was thrown into the canoe. I stepped in as George cut the rope,
which tied it to the willows, and we were off.
I was much excited at first, especially as the caribou was a long
distance away, and I was sure he would reach land before we could
come near enough to shoot him. He was almost ashore, and in my
thought I saw him bounding up over the hills away out of our reach,
and was glad. When George took the rifle to shoot I was not in the
least afraid for the caribou, because I knew he would not be hit
and he was not. But, Alas! I soon learned that it was not meant he
should be. The bullet dropped, as it was intended to, in front of
him, frightened him, and turned him back into the lake. My heart
sickened as I realised what it meant. He was so near to safety.
If he had only gone on. If he had only known.
The men were now almost lifting the canoe with every stroke of the
paddles, and she threw the water from her bows like a little
steamer. We were soon up with the caribou, and I pulled my hat
down over my eyes while the deed was done. We were so close that
George thought he would try to kill him with his pistol. When I
looked up, after the first shot, the caribou was ploughing through
the water just as before. After the second I could see him
trembling and blood on the water - but he was still going on. Then
I asked George to take his rifle and settle the matter quickly. He
did, and the sound of the water as the caribou made his way through
it ceased. I did not need to look again to know what had happened.
He was towed ashore, skinned and dressed, but how I wished I could
think of him as speeding over his native hills, rather than as he
was. Yet, too, I knew it was well for us that we had secured the
supply, of fresh meat, for although we had considerably more than
half the original supply of provisions, we were still far from the
journey's end.
It was a three-year-old stag, Job said, and when the operation of
skinning and cutting up had been performed, we had about 250 lbs.
of fresh meat added to our supply.
The day was now fine, though occasional light showers passed; but
these rather added to the beauty all about us than otherwise. The
river was proving a succession of lake expansions, for the most
part not more than half a mile wide. Rugged, barren mountains rose
in all directions, and I had the feeling of being up among the
hill-tops, as if these were not whole hills, but only their tops.
The trip was proving so beautiful and easy that my state of mind
was one of continued surprise. I had none of the feeling of
loneliness, which I knew every one would expect me to have. I did
not feel far from home, but in reality less homeless than I had
ever felt anywhere, since I knew my husband was never to come back
to me.
