Chapter XVIII: The Reckoning (2)

Monday, September 7th.--Temp. at 5 A.M. 48 degrees. N.W. wind, slight. Rain by showers. On portage crossed worst swamp of trip. In to my knees and fell down with heavy pack on my back. Floundered out in nasty shape. Found small stream flowing N.W. toward our big water. I caught about thirty trout, not big, while Wallace and George brought up outfit and canoe by stream. Very slow work. All very hungry in P.M. Stopped for pot of soup. Found it getting dark and stopped to camp. Last meal of venison in bag. Must get fish. Ate half our trout to-night, boiled and thickened with flour. Drank last bit of cocoa. No sugar. Boys not scared. No talk of quitting. Don't just see where we are coming out.

Tuesday, September 8th.--Cold raw N.W. wind, no rain, partly clear. Observation noon, 54 degrees l minute 21 seconds. Aired and dried blankets. Followed stream down to very shoal bay of our big water, which like the will-o'-wisp has led us on. Only ten trout, mostly small. Weather too raw. Very depressing to have it so when meat is out. On to caribou grounds is the watchword. Gave up trouting and started west on our big lake. Stopped to climb mountain. Ate some cranberries. Saw a few old caribou tracks. Big mountain to west of us. Islands or something between, many low, flat, wooded.

Wednesday, September 9th.--BIG DAY. Warm, clear. Temp. 5 A.M. 29 degrees. Ice in cups. Slept without sweater or socks last night. Cold but slept well. Beautiful cold crisp morning. Up at first dawn. Inspiring, this good weather. George boiled a little bacon and rice together, and a little flour made sort of porridge for breakfast. Very, very good. No fish or game ahead. Went to big hill mentioned yesterday. George and I walked about 4 miles and back getting to its top through spruce burnings. Awful walking. Very tired when about to top. Wondering about next meal and thinness of soup mostly to blame, I guess. Then things began to get good. First we ran across a flock of ten ptarmigan. They were in the burned-over semi-barren of the hill-top. They seem to lack entirely the instinct to preserve themselves by flying. Only ran ahead, squatting in apparent terror every few feet. We followed with our pistols. I killed eight and George one, my last was the old bird, which for a time kept away from us, running harder than the rest, trying to hide among the Arctic shrubs. George says they are always tame on a calm day. Their wings are white, but the rest is summer's garb. "Not rockers, but the real kind," says George. Then we went on across the mountain top and looked west. _There was_ MICHIKAMAU! And that's what made it a BIG DAY. A series of lake expansions runs east from it. We can see them among flat drift islands, cedar covered, and a ridge south, and a hill and the high lands north, and apparently a little river coming from the north, and pouring into the lake expansions some miles east of Michikamau. There is one main channel running east and south, in this expansion. It is north of the waters we are now in, and we can see no connection. However, there looks as if there might be one about 5 miles east of our big hill. Behind some barren ridges, about 50 feet high. So we are making for them to see what we can find. If no connection, we must portage, but we will not mind a little portage now, with Michikamau waters just over it. Westward from our hill are dozens of little lakes, and a good deal of low burned land. S.E. more lakes. Must be an easy portage from the lakes on which we were muddled two weeks ago. That's where we missed it, in not finding that portage.

Thursday, September 10th.--Wind west, cloudy. Temp. 5 A.M. 46 degrees. Rain in evening. Cut legs from old drawers and pulled them over pants as leggings. Went east looking for opening in N.W. River. Think we saw it in ridge to northeast, came S.W. Believe that we saw also opening into Michikamau's Bay which runs out of lake on S.E. side. Wind delayed, and we only got to foot of mountain from which we expect to see it. Camped. Rain commenced. While scouting I shot a large spruce partridge with pistol.

Friday, September 11th.--Raining in morning. Wind southwest. Temp. 49 degrees. Ate last meal of mother's sweet dried apples. We are on the verge of success apparently, in sight of Michikamau from which it is not far to the caribou grounds and the Nascaupees. Yet we are sick at heart at this long delay and the season's lateness and our barefoot condition. Yet no one hints at turning back. We could do so, and catch fish and eat our meal, for we know the way to within easy walking distance of Grand Lake, but the boys are game. If we only had a fish net we would be 0.K. My plan is to get a few fish if possible, push on at once to Michikamau somehow. Get to the George River, and find the Nascaupees. Then if the caribou migration is not over, we will kill some of the animals, dry them up and get as far back as possible before freezing up and leaving the canoe. Then, unless we can get some one to show us to the St. Lawrence, we will probably go to Northwest River Post, get dogs and provisions, and snowshoe S.W. to Natishquan or some such point. If we don't get to the caribou grounds in time--well, we'll have to get some fish ahead, or use our pea meal in a dash for the George River H.B.C. Post. After breakfast George and I went in rain to climb mountain. No water into S.W. bay of our lake as we hoped. Trolling back, I caught one small namaycush. Then we all started to hunt for a rapid we heard on the south side of this lake. Caught one 2 1/2 lb. namaycush. Found rapid. Good sized stream falling in from south. Big hopes, but too shoal and rapid, no pools. Only one mess of trout. Very much disappointed. While Wallace and I fish, George gone to troll. When he gets back, we will go to look for inlet into Low's "Northwest River." Not finding that we will start on a portage for it in the morning. Later by camp fire. Weather has cleared. All bright and starry. Caught a 7-lb. namaycush and so we eat to- night.

Saturday, September 12th.--Temp. 38 degrees. High N.W. wind. Clouds and clear by spells. Dashes of snow. We camped on a little island not far from the N.E. main land where we hope inlet is, just at dusk. Ate big namaycush and were ready to push on early this morning. Two meals of trout ahead. Awoke this A.M. to find awful gale stirring the lake to fury. No leaving. Wallace and I stayed in tent mending. I made pair of moccasins out of a pair of seal mittens and some old sacking. Patched a pair of socks with duffel. Not comfortable, but will do. George went to canoe to get fish. "That's too bad," said he. "What?" I asked. "Somebody's taken the trout." "Who?" "Don't know. Otter or carcajou, maybe." And sure enough they were gone--our day's grub. We all laughed--there was nothing else to do. So we had some thin soup, made with three thin slices of bacon in a big pot of water and just a bit of flour and rice stirred in. One felt rather hungrier after eating it, but then we did not suffer or get weak. It is very disappointing to be delayed like this; but we can only make the most of it and wait. No game or fish on this island and no hopes of getting off till it calms. So we are cheerful, and make the most of a good rest and a chance to mend; and we need both, though perhaps we need progress more.

Sunday, September 13th.--Temp. 39 degrees 5 A.M. High N.W. wind in A.M. Clear, rain, sleet by spells. Heavy wind continued this A.M. Some more rice and bacon soup for breakfast. Read Philemon aloud and told story of it. Also 1st and 91st Psalm. Found blue berries, and all ate. At about one o'clock, wind dropped somewhat. We started to hunt outlet into N.W. River, supposed to be N.E. of island. N.G. Shot at goose--missed. Hooked big namaycush--lost it. Caught another 6 lbs. Ate it for lunch about 4 P.M. Picked gallon of cranberries. Ate a pot stewed with a little flour for supper. Enough for two meals left. Not very satisfactory, but lots better than nothing. Sat long by camp fire.

Monday, September 14th.--Temp. 40 degrees 5 A.M. High N.W. wind, clear and showers by spells. Very much disappointed to find heavy gale blowing. Could not leave shore. Had breakfast of very thin soup. Then all slept till nearly noon. I dreamed again of being home. Hungry all day. George and I have decided that we must not start this way home before freezing up time. Might get caught again by bad winds. Better freeze on the George River with the Indians, save grub if we get any, and then snowshoe clear out. Later by camp fire. Hard to keep off depression to-night. Wind continues and all hungry.

Tuesday, September 15th.--Temp. 31 degrees 5 A.M. West wind, spits of sleet, and fair. Wind continued hard all day. Could not leave shore. I lay awake all last night thinking over situation. George is worried and talks of Indians who starve. Tries to be cheerful but finds it hard. Here we are, wind bound, long way from Michikamau, no hopes of wind abating. The caribou migration is due to begin, yet we can't start and are at least two weeks from their grounds, with no grub and no prospect of good weather. Our grub is 18 lbs. pea meal, to be held for emergency, and 2 lbs. of flour, 1 pint rice, 3 lbs. bacon. To go on is certain failure to reach the caribou killing, and probable starvation. If we turn back we must stop and get grub, then cross our long portage, then hunt more grub, and finally freeze up preparatory to a sled dash for Northwest River. That will make us late for boat, but we can snowshoe to the St. Lawrence. All this, with what we have done so far, will make a bully story. I don't see anything better to do. I asked Wallace. He opposed and then said it was best. I said to George, "Would you rather go on or turn back?" "I came to go with you, and I want to do what you do." When I said we will turn back he was very greatly pleased. Now my job is to get the party back to Northwest River, getting grub as we go. We will take the back track to some good fishing grounds, catch fish, try to kill a caribou, and wait for freeze. We can't take the canoe down the Nascaupee. Hence the need of freezing. Stayed in camp all day. Could not launch canoe. No place to fish or hunt. Feel better now that the decision is made. Ate very thin rice and bacon soup and drank tea. Long chat with Wallace. Feeling good in spite of short grub. George is telling again how be will visit his sister at Flying Post and what be will eat. We are talking of plans for our home-going, and are happy despite impending hunger.

Wednesday, September 16th.--Temp. 29 degrees 6 A.M. Wind N.W. Shifting to N.E. Little rain. Moved to rapid on south shore where there is some trout fishing, and hard place to be wind bound. Must fish a few days and get grub ahead for our long portage back to Namaycush Lake. Ate last bit of bacon at noon, cut in three pieces and boiled with rice and a little flour. Boys trolled in P.M. I made camp and fished brook. Too cold. They lost two good namaycush. I took two 10-inch trout. Boiled these into a mush and put last handful of rice and a little flour into pot with them. Good soup. Made us feel stronger.

Thursday, September 17th.--Temp. 33 degrees 6 A.M. Rained all last night and all this P.M. For breakfast a whisky jack, stewed with flour and about two spoonfuls of erbswurst. Good. Wallace and I each had half a bird. If we get enough fish ahead to take us across this portage, our pea meal and what fish we can get on river will see us to the post. Hoping weather will improve so we can make a good haul. Disheartening in extreme to be working all the time in rain and wind and cold. I made a map this A.M. of our long portage--about 30 miles. Will require about seven days. Wallace and I stretched tarpaulin by fire and sat long beneath it chatting. Wallace is a great comfort these evenings. There has been no friction this trip whatever. I think I'll get a bully story out of it despite our failure to find the Nascaupees. I'll get more in freezing up, more in Northwest River people and more in the winter journey to God's country.

Friday, September 18th.--Temp. 38 degrees 6 A.M. S.E. wind, turning to N.W. gale about noon. Raw and snow by spells. Caught three namaycush in AM., then wind bound by fierce N.W. gale at camp. Wallace caught 2 1/2 lbs. trout. I caught 1 lb. Namaycush heads and guts and my trout for supper. Boiled with last of flour. Hungry and a bit weak, but all cheerful. Sat late by roaring camp fire. Very depressing this, getting wind bound so often just when we are trying to get fish ahead for our long portage towards home. Have thought a good deal about home. It seems to me I'll never be willing to leave it again. I don't believe I'll want any more trips too hard for M. to share. Her companionship and our home life are better than a great trip. So it seems to me.

Saturday, September 19th.--Rain and snow last night, temp. 32 degrees. Gale from northwest all day. Wind bound in camp all day. Lay in tent almost all the time. Spits of snow. No breakfast. Bit of fish and its liquor for lunch. Same with a dash of pea meal at night. Oh! to be away from this lake and its gales and to be started home! Last night we quit rolling in blankets and made bed to keep warm. All three crawled in. Warmer than other way. Quite comfortable all night. Plan a great deal for the future. I am planning to give more time to home. Less fretting and more home life. I've let my ambitions worry me. More time for my meals when I get home and more for my wife and our friends. I want to give one or two little dinners in the woods when we get back and while George is there. A turkey roast like a goose. Stuffed. Potatoes, bannocks, made while the turkey is roasting, one of George's puddings, coffee and maple cream.

Sunday, September 20th.--Temp. 6 A.M. 29 degrees. Morning bright and clear. Light N.W. wind. Showers in P.M. Squally. To-night we are starting for Northwest River Post. When we reach the big river we can I think nearly live on the fish we get there. From there too, there are more signs of caribou. About four days more and we ought to reach a remnant of flour we threw away. It was wet and lumpy, but we will welcome it now. It, if it is usable, will see us to the head of Grand Lake, where Skipper Blake has a cache, I think, in a winter hunting shanty. It promises to be a hungry trip, but it is a man's game. Now that we are starting home I am content with the trip and the material. We've done all we could. Our minds turn to home even more and we are anxious to be back. So hungry to see all the old friends.

Tuesday, September 22nd.--Temp. 38 degrees. N.W. wind. Rain in morning and by spells all day. All feel stronger today than yesterday. Tried to stalk goose in bad swamp. Missed at long range. Waded above knees in mud and water to get shot. Portaged all day mostly through low or swampy ground. Happy to be going home. Camped tonight on second old camping-ground. George and Wallace brought up outfit while I made camp and got wood.

Wednesday, September 23rd.--Rain by spells. W. wind. Clear in evening and cold. Portaged all day. Crossed barren ridge. Had big feed of moss-berries and cranberries. Wallace had apparent tea sickness and vomited. Erbswurst same as yesterday. Feel quite weak to-night. Had carried canoe a good deal. A good deal depressed till camp fire. Then good again. Bright, crisp night. Dried clothing and got warm. Talked long by fire of home. Blankets very damp. Hard time keeping warm at night.

Thursday, September 24th.--Temp. 28 degrees. N.E. wind. Snowing in morning. Quite cold last night, but clear and crisp till toward morning when it snowed. Blankets very damp, but by drying clothes at fire and getting good and warm, we slept warm and well. Dreamed M. and I were at Missanabie. How I do wish I could see her again at home. Thinking too much maybe, about home now. Makes too big contrast. Snow covered ground by noon. Disagreeable morning, but a little crisp wintriness helped it some. Plodded along on a pea soup breakfast, wondering what the outcome will be--a little. Nasty weather makes one wonder--and thinking of M. and home. Then came a happy event. George had said last night be could kill a wild goose this A.M. if I would let him take rifle. Did so, half convinced by his confidence, and knowing he was a big goose shooter down on "The Bay." He had started ahead. Had seen flock light in pond ahead. Wallace and I heard four shots. 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. Left George cooking and went to try with Wallace's rod, not over hopeful, as water was very high and weather cold. Delighted to catch twenty very fair ones while lunch was cooking. In P.M. took ninety-five more. Estimated weight of catch 70 pounds. We will stay here to-morrow and dry fish for journey. This is a wonderful relief. It means enough fish to put us through to our big lake, or nearly so. We had no hopes of such a catch, and would have been delighted with just a meal or two. Then it means, I hope, that we will find the trout biting at other spawning places, and catch enough to live on in spite of the cold weather. We are happier than for weeks before for we believe this almost guarantees our safe return home. Rain drove us from our camp fire just after George had declared, "Now we'll talk about French toast, and what we'll eat when we get to New York." So we all crawled into blankets and did plan and plan good dinners.

Sunday, September 27th.--Warm day, partly clear, wind S.W. Ate last of goose for breakfast. Bully.

Monday, September 28th.--Snow and clear by spells. Stayed in camp to rest and feed up. Were all weak as cats when we relaxed from the grub strain. We kept smoke going under stage and lay in tent most of day. Boiled fish for breakfast, roast smoked fish for other meals. Like them rather better the latter way.

Tuesday, September 29th.--Temp. 24 degrees. Snow by squalls all day. Wind W. Caught twelve good trout while boys were breaking camp. Diarrhoea, which attacked me yesterday, came back when I started to carry the canoe. Had to drop it and became very weak. Boys went on with it about 1 1/4 miles and came back. We camped on long lake. I huddled by fire and wrote when it was not snowing. We can catch up to our schedule if I am able to travel to-morrow for it is only an easy march, covered in less than a day before. All talking about home, all happy to be going there.

Wednesday, September 30th.--Boys carried canoe nearly to Pike Lake, while I made camp and went back and forth three times to bring up packs. Then a happy camp nearer home. To-night we planned, in case we have a long wait in St. John's to get rooms for light housekeeping and not go to hotel. Then we can cook what we want and need and live high--beef bones for caribou, cereals with real cream, rich muscle-making stews of rice, beef, etc., tomatoes, etc.

Thursday, October 1st.--Temp. 40 degrees. Crossed to Pike Lake this A.M. Lunch on west side, last of fish. Nothing now left but pea meal. Crossed lake, no trail on east side, hoping to get trout where I took a mess in outlet coming up. Not a nibble. Too cold or something. Camped in lee of trees. Boys had feed of blue berries while I fished. Ate half stick of erbswurst. Good camp- fire, but I rather blue and no one talkative. So hungry for home-- and fish.

Friday, October 2nd.--Cold west wind. Temp. 30 degrees. Cold-- snowed a bit in the evening. Took packs early in day and hurried across to tamarack pole fishing place. Only two trout before noon. Ate them with pea meal and boys went back for the canoe. Only two days, and easy ones, to our big lake. Then only two days to the river with its good fishing. That makes us feel good. It means a good piece nearer home.

Saturday, October 3rd.--Bright crisp morning. Temp. 21 degrees. Snow squalls. Left tamarack pole place and portaged south over old route, crossing lakes, etc., to our camp of 29th August, on little pond. Wet feet and cold, but not a bad day. I lugged all the packs and boys canoe. Beautiful moon and clear night. All sat late by camp fire talking and thinking of home. Pleased to have another fair march back of us--happy.

Sunday, October 4th.--Temp. 10 degrees. Bright clear cold A.M. Everything frozen in morning. Pond frozen over. Two trout left. One for breakfast, boiled with erbswurst. Portaged to lake about three-quarter mile away. Crossed it. Some ice to annoy. George borrowed Wallace's pistol saying he saw a partridge. He killed four. Lord's with us. We need 'em bad. I'm weak and nervous. Must have vacation. Wallace notices it. Have not taken bath for two weeks, ashamed of my ribs which stick out like skeletons.

Monday, October 5th.--Temp. 30 degrees. Wind S.E. Snow on the ground. Up late. Waited Wallace to mend moccasins. Late start. Crossed bad swamp to big lake, wading icy water. Dried feet and drank cup soup. Stopped island in P.M. to get berries. All talk much of home now. At camp fire George told me of his plans to get married and his love story.

Tuesday, October 6th.--Temp. 48 degrees. Rain and snow in A.M. George shot partridge before breakfast. Rained most of night. Started expecting to portage to lake first west of Height of Land. Got into rough sea, exciting time. Found river of considerable size emptying into that lake. Ran into it and prepared to finish in the morning. George and I ran on rock shooting rapid. Beautiful night--cold. Feel all cold.

Wednesday, October 7th.--Thermometer out of order. Heavy frost. Ran down river into lake, west of barren mountain, climbed to scout on day after entering lake W. of Height of Land. Stopped and fed well on our moss berries and cranberries. Took some along. Started Height of Land portage. Happy to be back. Very thin pea soup breakfast. Some with berries for lunch. Weak.

Thursday, October 8th.--Thermometer N.G. Very frosty. Dreamed last night we were going out of bush, very weak and hungry. Came to our old Michigan Farm and found mother. Wonder where mother is now. Do want a vacation at home or in Canada. May be won't need it after ride on steamer. Finished Height of Land portage and came on to place where we dried caribou (second time), at head of Ptarmigan Lake. I caught four fish, small trout, while Wallace was going back for rifle, which he had left at far end of small lake. Wallace came back with partridge. This delayed us and we did not reach good fishing rapid. Hoped to get trout there. Did catch a few before--failed to-night. Bright crisp day too. George very blue in consequence. Wallace and I not worried. Pea meal down to less than two pounds. No other food save tea. Thinking much of home and M., and our plans and old friends. I want to keep better in touch with relatives everywhere and the country. How I wish for that vacation in Michigan or Canada! or a good quiet time at Congers, and I am aching to write home sketches and stories that have come to my mind. We talk much of future plans, and the camp fire continues to be a glorious meeting place.

Friday, October 9th.--Reached good fishing hole at rapid where we caught so many trout on way up. Got about fifty in P.M. Glorious, crisp fall day. Dried blankets. Fifteen trout lunch; twelve supper; then six roast before bedtime. Disappointing. Hoped for some to dry. Only one day's slim fish ahead--one and a half pounds pea meal. No hopes of getting ahead fish to freeze up. Must get out to civilisation. Pretty weak all of us.

Saturday, October 10th.--From rapid about half way to Camp Caribou. Boys shot rapids while I fished. Beautiful day till about noon. Then cloudy and cold west wind. Cheerful camp fire as always. About twenty trout, nine boiled for supper. Same for lunch. Much talk of grub and restaurants, and our home going, much of George's room in New York, of good days in Congers. I want to go to Michigan and Canada and to Wurtsboro'. Oh, to see my sweetheart and be home again!

Sunday, October 11th.--Beautiful, clear day, cold. Off day for grub. George shot three times at ducks and I fished at rapids. No fish--no ducks. Nine small trout breakfast, eight lunch. No supper ahead save what George hoped to find at Camp Caribou. Arrived there tired and weak about an hour before sunset. George gathered bones and two hoofs. Pounded part of them up. Maggots on hoofs. We did not mind. Boiled two kettlefuls of hoofs and bones. Made a good greasy broth. We had three cupfuls each and sat about gnawing bones. Got a good deal of gristle from the bones, and some tough hide and gristly stuff from hoofs. I enjoyed it and felt like a square meal. Ate long, as it is a slow tough job. Saved the bones to boil over.

Monday, October 12th.--Made about 9 miles to-day. Several bad rapids. Shot them. George and I nearly came to grief in one. My fault. Beautiful day. Fished a little, but no fish bit. Hope to leave stream to-morrow, and that makes us happy. For breakfast bones of caribou boiled to make greasy broth. Quite supply of grease in it. Hoofs too boiled. Some gristle to these that was good. Strong, rancid taste, but we relished it. Roasted hard part of hoofs in fire, ate them. Half rubber, half leather, but heap better than nothing. For lunch the same with skin from velvet horns added. Latter boiled up and was very good. At night some bones boiled to make broth, skin from head added. Part of mine I could eat boiled. Part from nose very thick and had to be roasted first. Good. Sat by camp fire long time. Very sleepy. Talked of home and friends and grub and plans.

Tuesday, October 13th.--Lightened our packs a bit, throwing away more or less useless stuff at old shack, where we had a rainy night. Pot of tea at Rainy Sunday Camp. All very hungry and weak. Camped below Rainy Sunday Camp. Tried wenastica, not bad. Not much taste to it. Thinking all time of home and M. and parents and Congers and Wurtsboro' and childhood and country.

Wednesday, October 14th.--Caribou bones, boiled into broth for breakfast. Then George shot a duck. Came back. "Lord surely guided that bullet," said he reverently. He had killed a wonderfully fat duck. Oh! but it was good and greasy. Made bully lunch boiled, and good pot of broth. Left river where we entered it. Left canoe, sextant box, artificial horizon and my fishing- rod. Packs still too heavy for our strength. Little progress. Reached old camp where we left lakes for big river. Hoped fish. No bites. Cold east wind. Big fire. All cheerful. Just bone broth and a bit of wenastica for supper. Must lighten packs to limit. Count on bit of flour 22 miles from here. Here George found two old goose heads and some bones we left. Saved them for breakfast. All gnawed some charred bones. George found three tiny slices of bacon in old lard can we left--one each. How good they were. The scrapings of lard he melted for the broth pot. We have 1 1/6 lbs. pea meal left. No other grub but tea. We think this will take us to our bit of flour, if it is still left, and Blake has a cache, we think, at the head of Grand Lake about 24 miles beyond that. Hope to get out 0.K. Count on berries to help us. Had some moss berries to-day.

Thursday, October 15th.--Dreamed last night came to New York, found M. and had my first meal with her. How I hated to find it a dream. Lightened packs a good deal. Left Wallace's rifle, cartridges, rod, my cleaning rod, my sextant and 15 films and other things, cached in bushes at left side of little stream between two lakes. Wallace hated to leave his rifle, I hated to leave other stuff. Spent most of forenoon getting ready. Ate for breakfast bit of skin from old caribou head, boiled with bone broth. At lunch on Montagnais Lake, same, but skin was from old caribou hide, which we had carried to mend moccasins. Were almost to our second camp where we ate first goose, when I got shaky and busted and had to stop. Wallace came back and got my pack and I walked to camp unloaded. In P.M. George shot three partridges which jumped up before us in a swamp. Killed them with my pistol. Made us very happy. Ate one for supper, OH! how good. In spite of my weakness I was happy to-night. I remember a similar happiness once after I went to New York. I got caught in rain, had no car fare, got soaked, spent last 10 cents for rolls and crullers, then crawled into bed to get dry and eat, not knowing where the next meal would come from. Talk of home. George not thinking now of eating of recent years, but just the things his mother used to make for him as a child. Same way with Wallace and me, save that I think of what M. and I have eaten that she made.

Sunday, October 18th.--Alone in camp--junction of Nascaupee and some other stream--estimated (overestimated I hope) distance above head of Grand Lake, 33 miles. For two days past we have travelled down our old trail with light packs. We left a lot of flour wet-- about 11 miles below here, 12 miles (approximately) below that about a pound of milk powder, 4 miles below that about 4 pounds of lard. We counted on all these to help us out in our effort to reach the head of Grand Lake where we hoped to find Skipper Tom Blake's trapping camp and cache. On Thursday as stated, I busted. Friday and Saturday it was the same. I saw it was probably useless for me to try to go farther with the boys, so we counselled last night, and decided they should take merely half a blanket each, socks, etc., some tea, tea pail, cups, and the pistols, and go on. They will try to reach the flour to-morrow. Then Wallace will bring a little and come back to me. George will go on to the milk and lard and to Skipper Blake if he can, and send or lead help to us. I want to say here that they are two of the very best, bravest, and grandest men I ever knew, and if I die it will not be because they did not put forth their best efforts. Our past two days have been trying ones. I have not written my diary because so very weak. Day before yesterday we caught sight of a caribou, but it was on our lee, and, winding us, got away before a shot could be fired.

Yesterday at an old camp, we found the end we had cut from a flour bag. It had a bit of flour sticking to it. We boiled it with our old caribou bones and it thickened the broth a little. We also found a can of mustard we had thrown away. I sat and held it in my hand a long time, thinking how it came from Congers and our home, and what a happy home it was. Then I took a bite of it and it was very good. We mixed some in our bone broth and it seemed to stimulate us. We had a bit of caribou skin in the same pot. It swelled thick and was very good. Last night I fell asleep while the boys were reading to me. This morning I was very, very sleepy. After the boys left--they left me tea, the caribou bones, and another end of flour sack found here, a rawhide caribou moccasin, and some yeast cakes--I drank a cup of strong tea and some bone broth. I also ate some of the really delicious rawhide, boiled with the bones, and it made me stronger--strong to write this. The boys have only tea and one half pound pea meal (erbswurst). Our parting was most affecting. I did not feel so bad. George said, "The Lord help us, Hubbard. With His help I'll save you if I can get out." Then he cried. So did Wallace. Wallace stooped and kissed my cheek with his poor, sunken, bearded lips several times-- and I kissed George did the same, and I kissed his cheek. Then they went away. God bless and help them.

I am not so greatly in doubt as to the outcome. I believe they will reach the flour and be strengthened, that Wallace will reach me, that George will find Blake's cache and camp and send help. So I believe we will all get out.

My tent is pitched in open tent style in front of a big rock. The rock reflects the fire, but now it is going out because of the rain. I think I shall let it go and close the tent, till the rain is over, thus keeping out wind and saving wood. To-night or to- morrow perhaps the weather will improve so I can build a fire, eat the rest of my moccasins and have some bone broth. Then I can boil my belt and oil-tanned moccasins and a pair of cowhide mittens. They ought to help some. I am not suffering. The acute pangs of hunger have given way to indifference. I am sleepy. I think death from starvation is not so bad. But let no one suppose that I expect it. I am prepared, that is all. I think the boys will be able with the Lord's help to save me.

NARRATIVE BY GEORGE ELSON

LAST DAYS TOGETHER

Friday, October 9th.--We got up good and early. Only tea we had, expecting when we got to our rapid to have something to eat. After going about 2 miles we came to our old camp where we camped on our way up where we had a goose that Mr. Hubbard had killed. I also had killed one. We went ashore to see if we could find some of the old bones. We gathered all we could find and ate them all.

Mr. Hubbard said, "I often have seen dogs eating bones and thought it was pretty hard lines for them, but it must be only fun for them."

Before coming to our rapid, the rapid we had always talked about where we thought we would get lots of fish, I told Mr. Hubbard and Wallace my dream I had that night. It did not seem like a dream but more like some one talking to me. When travelling this summer when we began to be out of grub, if we dreamt of having a good meal at some restaurant we often told it to each other next morning. This morning my dream was:--

A man came to me and told me, "You will get to the rapid to-day and I cannot spare you more than two or three meals of fish, and do not waste much time there. Go right on and don't leave the river, but follow the river on. It is only the way you can save your lives. Follow the river down."

We got to the rapid about noon, all feeling very, very weak. I started a fire. By the time I got some wood and had my fire started they had already enough fish for a pretty fair meal and, of course, you can imagine how glad we were and did not delay much time but got our fish for lunch. It was nice to have something to eat again. We were pretty sure of getting lots more. After lunch Mr. Hubbard and Wallace fished. It was good signs of caribou round there. I took the rifle and tracked up the caribou, but I saw nothing. It was late when I got back. The boys were still fishing. They had caught about sixty more little trout. We felt as if we could eat all those fish in one meal, but seeing they were so scarce we had to try and save some for the next day.

Saturday, October 10th.--We fished all before noon and did not get any at all. So we had to start off from there, seeing it was no use in trying to fish any more. We came to some more rapids in the afternoon. Wallace and I ran some with empty canoe, and then went back for our dunnage, while Mr. Hubbard would fish. It got very cold in the afternoon. Mr. Hubbard caught about twenty little trout. Looking forward we hoped next day to get to our old camp, Camp Caribou, where we killed our caribou August 12th. We thought that may be we will find some of the old bones so as to make some broth, thinking it would help us some. We camped just near the river where we could get lots of wood, and have a good camp fire so we could sit beside the camp fire and have a good talk about home.

Mr. Hubbard tells me he will get a room for me in New York. He again that night asked me to stay with him a couple of months in Congers before I go home to Missanabie, and also to pay him a visit real often, and also that he would never go out doing any travelling without me.

He said, "I am sure Mrs. Hubbard will not be able to do enough for you, especially when she knows how good you have been to me. I would like to have you come with me to Michigan. I am sure my sister would like to have you tell them the story about our trip."

Sunday, October llth.--Had four small trout for lunch, only little larger than a sardine. Late in the evening we came to our old camp, where we had the caribou. Most of the bones were carried off by some animals. Picked up all we could find and made some broth, and very, very strong broth too, which I suppose no one could hardly believe that any human being could eat. The bones were full of maggots, and when it boiled for some time the maggots would boil out. It just looked like if it had been little rice in it. We drunk it up maggots and all. It was pretty high, but found it good. Nothing was too bad for us to eat.

Monday, October 12th.--Fine day. In the morning we had bone broth again and tea. We started off carrying all the bones we could find in our pail, also taking the caribou horns with us. At noon we had broth and piece of the hide we got off from the caribou horns. In the evening we came to a rapid. Hubbard and I nearly swamped the canoe, and part of the rapid was too rough to run. It was only just a short lift over, about 100 feet. The three of us took the canoe, and before getting over we dropped it. We were getting so weak that it took the three of us to carry the canoe, and yet we couldn't even that distance. We looked at each other, but none complained of his weakness. We found we could not go any farther without something to eat. We ate one of Mr. Hubbard's old moccasins, made out of caribou skin, that he made himself. We boiled it in the frying pan, till it got kind of soft, and we shared in three parts. Each had his share and found it good, and also drank up the water where it was boiled in. At night we had some tea, and it freshened us up some.

Tuesday, October 13th.--Wind raw and cold. We came to a little fall we had to carry over, quite short, about 40 feet portage, but our canoe we hadn't the strength to carry. We had to drag it over the rocks.

I shot a whisky jack, and we had it along with our bone broth and tea. Not knowing what our next meal would be, or whether we will ever have the pleasure of enjoying another meal, it looked very much like starvation.

My back was aching quite a bit that day. Touch of lumbago. It made things worse for me. I thought it would be impossible for me to try and go any farther. So I told Mr. Hubbard that if I did not feel any better in the morning, they could go on and try to make their way out and leave me behind, because I did not want to delay them in the least. For all, I was sure they would never make their way out; but I thought they might try anyway. Mr. Hubbard was very, very sorry about it; but he said he hoped I'd be better in the morning.

Wednesday, October 14th.--The boys were up before me and had a fire on. It was some time before I could get up; but I was feeling better than I did the night before. Before noon I shot a duck with the rifle. We were very happy boys.

At noon we came to the place where we had planned some time ago to leave the canoe and cross over to the Nascaupee again. We had our nice duck for lunch, and enjoyed it very much. Mr. Hubbard then asked me if I could find the flour we had thrown away some time in July, along the Nascaupee.

"Yes," I said, "if no animal has carried it away. It is over 20 miles from here."

"Then," he said, "I think we better leave the canoe and march over to the Nascaupee."

And the reason why I did not try and persuade him more than I did for us not to leave the Big River was, we thought perhaps there would be lots of places where we could not run our canoe in some wild rapids, and would have to carry our canoe. I knew the last two days how we were when trying to carry our canoe, and we also thought that if we were travelling through the bush we would surely come across some partridges and help us to the flour, and the flour would help us to the lard, about three pounds, and some milk and coffee 3 miles from Grand Lake. Also as we only know the river above there, of course, we did not know where the river ran to. The boys thought it ran out to Goose Bay, as Low's map showed only the one river running into Grand Lake. Also at Rigolette, trying to find out all we could, and at Northwest River too, nobody ever said about any river but the Nascaupee. Still I said it might run out into Grand Lake.

So the canoe, one axe, the sextant box, and the rest of the caribou horns we left; but the bones we carried with us in our pail, which we boiled over and over to make broth. The bones, since we had them, we would scorch in the fire at night, and chew away at them. Was pretty hard chewing.

I told the boys when we decided to leave the canoe, that we had better leave everything we have, so we would make better time; but we didn't want to waste any time after our nice duck, but go right on while we have yet some strength from it. So we didn't wait to overhaul our stuff. We traveled 2 miles from the Big River that afternoon. We found our packs too heavy to carry, and decided to lighten up in the morning.

That evening Mr. Hubbard said, "Mrs. Hubbard this evening will be now at dinner, and after her meal will finish with lot more on the table. Oh, if she could only hand me a piece of bread!"

Thursday morning, October 15th.--We threw away lots of dunnage, also some films and one rifle. Mr. Hubbard was very sorry to leave his flask. He had often spoken of it being a present from Mrs. Hubbard.

I shot three partridges after noon with the pistol. We were so glad. Mr. Hubbard was more than glad. He came and shook hands with me.

We were trying to reach our old camping place on our way up, Goose Camp we called it, but we were all feeling so very weak especially Mr. Hubbard. At last he could not go any farther. I told him it was about 40 yards to where our old camp was. So we made him leave his load and he followed us. I, with the greatest hurry, started a fire and made him a cup of tea. We as usual sat up near our fire for some time, trying to encourage each other about what good things we would have, after we got to New York.

Friday, October 16th.--For breakfast we ate one partridge leaving the other for lunch. Threw more things away, one blanket and more films, and at noon more things left behind. I had a good suit of underwear with me, saving it till cold weather, but that day at noon I left everything belonging to me. I was too weak to take off the bad and put on the good. Also left some films and--came to the Nascaupee.

That day just before noon, we came to a place where Mr. Hubbard had caught some fish when we were going up, and we thought that perhaps we could get some fish there again, but the little stream was nearly dry. We sat down and had a rest.

A little lake about 400 Yards from us on our way. This little stream ran into the lake. Just near the lake I saw a caribou coming along following this little river to where we were.

I told the boys, "There's a caribou coming along."

We all fell flat on the ground; but he was on the lee side of us and soon found out we were there. He stood--behind some little trees and had his head up looking towards where we were, and all of a sudden he was gone, and we didn't have the chance to fire. I got up. A swamp I knew of. I made for that swamp thinking I would cut across him. I tried to run, yet I was so very, very weak. Oh! how hard I tried to run. But when I got out there he was across on the other side. I was away for some time, yet when I came to the boys, they were still lain the same way, and their faces to the ground, and did not move till I spoke to them. We were more than sorry about the caribou, and each one said what he would do, and how much we could eat if we killed that caribou and that we would stay right there for a few days till we got a little stronger.

Though I was feeling so very weak myself, when we would have nothing else but tea, as we often just had tea, nothing else, when I would hand the boys a cup of tea each, I would ask them to pass it back, as I would pretend I'd forgotten to put any sugar in. They would pretend that they didn't care for sugar, and refuse to have some. Then I would ask them if they would have some bread or some pie.

Mr. Hubbard would say, "PIE! What is pie? What do they use it for? Do they eat it?"

This I did often to encourage them and myself, that we might forget the danger ahead; but it was something impossible to forget, as the hunger and weakness pained us, and I thought we would not be able to go many more days if we don't succeed in killing anything.

That evening we hadn't the strength of chopping our wood. Just gathered the small, dry pieces we found near our camp. We also put up our camp in an easy way we thought. Three little poles were required to keep up our tent. They were quite handy; but it took me some time before I could cut them down.

That day at noon, when I left my dunnage bag with lots of films in, and hung the bag on a short stump, Mr. Hubbard told me, "If we get out safe to Northwest River, I think you or I might stay there this winter, and try and get out some of the things we are leaving, especially the films. If we could get out in time of the last trip of the _Virginia Lake_, Wallace and you could go home. Or if you would stay, Wallace and I could go home."

I told him I would be very much in a hurry to go home, and wouldn't wish to stay out here for the winter. "But if you wish, and rather have me stay, I will stay for the winter and try and get the things out for you."

He was so glad about it and said, "It will be better, of course, if you would stay, as you could make a better guess for the things than I would."

Saturday, October 17th.--We followed the river, and without anything to eat all day. Only tea we had. Sometimes we would be completely done out. Then we would make some tea and help us some and start on again. This we kept on doing all day.