Came to where George
had left pack. He was coming with no goose. "You can kick me,"
said he, "but I got a goose." We took canoe to his pond. He had
killed one goose, which was drifting ashore, and wounded another,
which sat on shore and let George end it with a pistol. Never was
goose more gladly received I'll venture. I promised George two
cook-books and a dinner as a reward.
Friday, September 25th. - Temp. 28 degrees. Wind N.E. Snow
squalls. Half goose breakfast. Pea soup, thin, for dinner. Half
goose, supper. Goose is bully. When done eating we burn the bones
and chew them. Nasty day. Portaged to old camp on small lake and
stopped. All day I have been thinking about childhood things and
the country. I want to get into touch with it again. I want to go
to Canada, if possible, for Christmas. I want to go somewhere in
sugar making. So homesick for my sweetheart. Fairly strong
despite short grub.
Saturday, September 26th. - Temp. 28 degrees. Wind N.E. Rain in
early morning, cold wind, warming in late P.M. Clear at mid-day.
Dried blankets. Travelled over our old course to our "long-lake-
that-looks-like-a-river." Shot a large duck's head off with rifle.
Had hopes of a few fish at place where we found them spawning on
our westward way, but was fearful of the cold.
