river, not yet flushed by the summer freshet, but flowing with
superb volume and force. Fully ten miles were made that day,
the men tracking like Trojans through water and over difficult
ground, but fortunately free from mosquitoes, the constant head
winds keeping these effectually down. The cool weather in like
manner kept the water down, for it is in this month that the
freshet from the Rocky Mountains generally begins, filling the
channel bank-high, submerging the tracking paths, and bearing
upon its foaming surface such a mass of uprooted trees and river
trash that it is almost impossible to make head against it.

The next morning opened dry and pleasant, but with a milky and
foreboding sky. Again the boats were in motion, passing the
Pusquatenáo, or Naked Hill, beyond which is the Echo Lake--Katoó
Sakaígon--where a good many Indians lived, having a pack-trail
thereto from the river.

The afternoon proved to be hot, the clouds cumulose against a
clear, blue sky, with occasional sun-showers. The tracking became
better for a time, the lofty benches decreasing in height as we
ascended. Innumerable ice-cold creeks poured in from the forest,
all of a reddish-yellow cast, and the frequent marks on trees,
informing passing hunters of the success of their friends, and
the number of stages along the shore for drying meat, indicated
a fine moose country.

The next day was treaty day, and we were still a long way from
the treaty post. The Police, not yet hardened to the work, felt
fagged, but would not own up, a nephew of Sir William Vernon
Harcourt bringing up the rear, and all slithering, but hanging