Lunch over, we rested a little, and then armed with two kodaks,
note-books, revolver and cartridges, bowie knife, barometer and
compass, I was ready for my climb. Before starting George said: "I
think you had better take your rubber shirt. It is going to rain
this afternoon."
I looked at the sky. It was beautiful, with numbers of silvery
clouds floating lazily over the hills. It didn't look like rain to
me, and I had something of a load as it was, I said: "No, I don't
think I shall. I should rather not have any more to carry. It is
not going to rain."
George said no more, and we started. At the little bay reaching in
at the foot of the mountain we parted, and I went on up the hill.
It seemed beautiful to be going off without a guard, and to think
of spending an hour or two up on the hill top, quite alone, with a
glorious sky above, and the beautiful hills and lakes and streams
in all directions. I should be able to get some characteristic
photographs and it was a perfect day for taking them. No time was
wasted on the way, and the two hours proved all I had hoped.
The canoes did not come, however, and knowing that the men must
have had ample time to make the portage, I decided to go down to
the lake.
