growth.

To the northeast of the lake at my feet I could see the glimmer of
other water among the trees, and I decided to go on and
investigate. In doing so, I managed to get myself lost.
Descending the hill to the lake, I made my way through the thick
spruce growth in the swamp along the shore. A splash in the water
startled me, and soon I found the fresh tracks of a caribou. As he
had winded me, I knew it was useless to try to follow him.
Pressing my way on to the northeast, I came upon another small lake
and several small creeks. At midday I built a fire and made a cup
of pea meal porridge. While waiting for my meal to cook, I read a
letter that a friend had given me in New York, "to be opened after
one week's canoeing in Labrador." It was like a letter just
received from home.

In the afternoon the sun became obscured by gathering clouds, and
in the thick underbrush through which my course led me I could see
scarcely twenty yards ahead. I attempted to get my direction with
the compass, but the needle would not respond. Trusting, however,
to my ability to find my course without it, I made my way on past
two more lakes. A grouse fluttered up before me, and I brought it
down with a pistol shot. After tying it to my belt, I decided it
was time to turn back home, as we called our camp, and struck off
by what I hoped would be a short cut through the swamp. Then it
was that I lost my bearings, and at dusk, when I hoped to reach the
first lake I had seen in the morning, I found myself on the shore
of a lake I had never seen before.

Too weary to cook the grouse, or even build a fire and make a cup