the generality being much smaller.

We were somewhat disconcerted upon finding no further signs of
Indians, and feared we had lost the trail. Neither trapper's blaze
nor trapper's cutting was to be seen; for now we were beyond their
zone and in a country that apparently no white man and no breed had
ever viewed. We selected a site for our camp near the outlet at
the southern end of the lake. In the afternoon Hubbard and George
went to some bluffs that could be seen two or three miles to the
southward, to scout for a route to Michikamau and find the Indian
trail if possible. I remained behind to make camp.

The days were now shortening rapidly; it was dark before eight
o'clock. In the grey of the twilight George returned. When he
hailed me, I was fishing in the outlet just below the camp,
standing on a rock in midstream to which I had waded.

"Come 'long up to camp," he called. Once in the wilderness, we
made no distinctions as to master and servant; we were all
companions together. Hence George's familiar manner of address.

"When I land two more trout," I shouted back.

"You've got enough; come 'long now," he pleaded. There was that in
his tone that excited my curiosity; he seemed all of a sudden to
have acquired an unusual fondness for my society. "What's the
matter, George?" I asked.

"I've been about lost," he returned. "Come on and I'll tell you."