We Had Come Up To The Top Of Those Which, Twenty Miles Back, Had Looked High, And Now We Could Look Back And Down To Those Which There Had Also Seemed High. A New Thrill Came With This Being Up Among The Hilltops, And I Began To Feel Like An Explorer.

The tents were pitched near a pool of smooth water, deep and darkened by shadows of the evergreens on either shore.

On the farther side of the river were low, wooded hills, and opposite our camp a brook came tumbling through the wall of evergreens into the river. Just above the brook a high, dead stub, with a big blaze on it, showed where we were to leave the Wapustan to cross to Seal Lake.

It was not until noon on Saturday, July 15th, that we left our pretty camp, for it rained steadily in the meantime. Then we started on our cross-country trip, working up to the north, from which direction the brook flows. A two-mile carry brought us out on Saturday evening to a lake at its head. After dinner on Sunday we again went forward with a whole mile of paddling to cheer us on our way. From the head of the lake another mile of good portaging brought us at last to waters flowing to Seal Lake, and we were again in the canoes to taste for a little the pleasures of going with the tide. For long we had been going against it - and such a tide!

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