The mists had gathered on our
little lake, and away in the distance hung white over the river.
Gilbert was busy getting wood and preparing the breakfast. Soon I
heard him at the door of the men's tent saying, "All aboard."
"Any mosquitoes this morning, Gilbert?"
"Not a one. Too cold. By Garge, but it's cold this morning! I
went down to the lake and tried to wash, but I had to l'ave off.
It was too cold."
Shortly I heard them at the fire. The click of the cups told me
that they were taking a little tea and bannock before starting to
carry. Then all was quiet, and one load had gone forward to the
next lake, nearly a half mile ahead. When all but the camp stuff
had been taken forward, we had breakfast, and by 7 A.M. we were in
the canoes.
Our course led us south through two little lakes, with a portage
between, for something more than two miles. Here the second lake
bent away to the southeast, and we landed on our right at the foot
of a low moss-covered ridge. Beyond this we hoped to see the
river. As we climbed, new heights appeared before us, and it
proved to be about three-quarters of a mile to the top, from which
the ridge dropped abruptly on the west, and at its foot was a long,
narrow lake.
