northwest other lakes into which the creek might possibly lead us;
but, after returning to camp, we considered the situation fully in
the light of George's report of the big river, and we decided that
to the big river we should go.

This decision was not to prove an error of judgment; for the big
river was none other than the Beaver--an important part of an old
trail of the Indians to Lake Michikamau.




VII. ON A REAL RIVER AT LAST

We broke camp in the forenoon of August 7th, and a few hours later,
after making two trips back and forth, we arrived with our baggage
on the bank of our new river. At last we had a real river to
travel on, its average width being between 100 and 150 yards. None
of us, of course, then knew that our real river was the Beaver, and
that in taking to it we had stumbled upon an old Indian route to
Lake Michikamau. If we had known this, it would have made a great
difference in our fortunes.

Immediately below the point where we portaged into the river,
wooded ridges on either side hugged it close, forming a narrow
valley. Just above us the valley broadened, and a mile or so up a
big hill reared its barren summit above the black spruce trees at
its base, standing there like a lonely sentinel among the little
hills that bordered the widening river basin. Despite the fact
that we had reached a real river, we still had rapids to encounter,