or twenty miles, and that he had sailed his boat up that far. I'd
be willing to bet he never sailed it up this stream."

"Oh," replied Hubbard, "he was mistaken in the distance. This must
be the place where he said the river tumbled off the mountain.
What do you say, boys," he added, "to throwing away some of the
outfit? We'll never make any progress if we attempt to carry it
all."

"Let's stick to it a little longer," suggested George.

However, we decided to abandon some clothing and a pail containing
about four pounds of lard; and as George, particularly, was opposed
to leaving behind us any provisions, it was decided to eat of them
lavishly and pay no attention to the hunt for the present.

All night it continued to rain, and we broke camp and started
forward on Friday morning, July 17, in a drenching downpour.
George thought this was rather hard. While Hubbard was out of
hearing, he told me that the Indians never travelled in the rain,
and that he had never been expected to do so before. The fact was
that George had never before been on an expedition where there was
so much necessity for haste.

We found the river on the second day to be even worse than our
worst fears had pictured it, and it kept growing worse as we
ascended. The water was so swift and shoal that we could take only
a part of the outfit in the canoe, which meant that we had to
return at intervals for the rest and track all the way, Hubbard
pulling on the line while George and I waded and pushed. Sometimes