readily able to reinforce our staple supplies with juicy birds and
flaky fish broiled over a lively fire or baked under the glowing coals.

[Illustration: A BLOW ON BALL CLUB LAKE.]

By noon of Friday, the 18th, we had come to an average width in the
river of eighty feet and a sluggish flow of six feet in depth. We
halted for our lunch at the mouth of the South (or Plantagenian) Fork
of the Mississippi, up which Schoolcraft's party pursued its way to
Itasca Lake. Thence a short run brought us suddenly upon Lake
Marquette, a lovely sheet of water with clearly-defined and solid
shores, about one mile by two in extent, exactly across the centre of
which the river has entrance and exit. Beyond this, a short mile
brought us to the sandy beaches of Bemidji Lake, the first considerable
body of water in our downward travel, and about one hundred and
twenty-five miles, as the river winds, from Itasca. The real name of
the lake, as used by the Indians and whites adjacent, is Benidjigemah,
meaning "across the lake," and Bemidji is frequently known as Traverse
Lake. It is a lovely, unbroken expanse, about seven miles long and four
miles wide. Its shores are of beautiful white sand, gravel and
boulders, reaching back to open pine-groved bluffs. Our shore-searchers
found agate, topaz, carnelian, etc. Our approach to Bemidji had been
invested with special interest as the first unmistakable landmark in
our lonely wanderings, and as the home of one man--a half-breed--the
only human being who has a home above Cass Lake. We found his hut, but
not himself, at the river's outlet. The lodge is neatly built of bark.
It was surrounded by good patches of corn, potatoes, wheat, beans and
wild raspberries. There is a stable for a horse and a cow, and all
about were the conventional traps of a civilized biped who lives upon a
blending of wit, woodcraft and industry. We greatly wished to see this