the rapid a mile and a half above our camp, and a few more in the
river close by the camp. High living during the day raised all of
our spirits. For breakfast we had the caribou heart, which George
thought at first he would roast but changed his mind and served
stewed. For dinner we had the tongue, the tidbit of the animal,
boiled with pieces of other parts. Hubbard's second bullet had
torn out the centre of the tongue, but what there was of it was
delicious. And at night we had the trout caught during the
afternoon, to which, as a Sunday luxury, was added a cake of bread.

When we gathered around the fire in the evening Hubbard had
entirely recovered from his depression and took a more hopeful view
of the river. We discussed the matter thoroughly, and decided that
the river George and I had seen coming from the eastward must take
a turn farther north and break through the Kipling Mountains, and
that it might prove to be Low's Northwest River we all thought was
possible.

At the same time we could not disguise the fact that it was
extremely probable we should have to portage over the mountains,
and the prospect was far from pleasing; but, ragged and almost
barefooted though we were, not a man thought of turning back, and
on Monday morning, August 17th, we prepared to leave Camp Caribou
and solve the problem as to where lay the trail of Michikamau.




VIII. "MICHIKAMAU OR BUST!"