thirty-three degrees, but at noon it had risen to ninety-two.
Hubbard was attacked with diarrhoea, and I with vomiting. We were
all too exhausted to eat when we stopped for luncheon, and lay on
the moss for an hour's rest, with the tent drawn over us to protect
us from the flies.

On a low, barren knoll we cached that day eighty rounds of .45-70
cartridges and 300 rounds of .22's, George marking the spot with a
circle of stakes. That left us 120 rounds of .45-70's and 500
rounds of .22's. It had become strictly necessary to lighten our
packs, and we had begun to drop odds and ends every day.

In the afternoon Hubbard shot with his pistol a spruce partridge
(grouse); it was the first seen by us on the trip. Together with a
yellowlegs George had shot, it seasoned a pot of pea soup. We
camped that night on a bluff, barren point, and Hubbard named it
"Partridge Point" in bonour of our first bird.

On Thursday (July 23) Hubbard lay in the tent all day sick. All be
was able to eat was some hardtack dipped in tea. At his request
George and I scouted for trails. Each of us carried a rifle and
wore at his belt a pistol and a cup in addition to the sheath knife
we never were without. In our pockets we placed a half-pound
package of pea meal. George started westward up the river, and I
put for a high, barren bill two miles to the north. As I climbed
the hill I heard gulls on the other side, which told me water lay
in that direction, and when I reached the top, there at my feet,
like a silver setting in the dark green forest, lay a beautiful
little shoe-shaped lake. For miles and miles beyond the ridge I
was on, the country was flat and covered with a thick spruce