air mattress, crib size, one pair light grey camp blankets, one
light wool comfortable, weighing 3 1/2 lbs., one little feather
pillow, and a hotwater bottle.

It was 3.15 P.M., July 27th, when the last details of preparation
were completed, and we were ready to start, with all Northwest
River to see us off.

"You will be all right, Mrs. Hubbard," said Mr. Cotter. "At first
I did not think you could do it, but I have changed my mind. You
can do it, and without any trouble too. Good-bye, and the best of
success to you."

The farewell wishes of M. Duclos and M. Fournier, his assistant,
were not less enthusiastic. M. Duclos ran forward a little, kodak
in hand, and as the canoe glided past up the river, he said: "I
have ze las' picture, Madame."

A few minutes' paddling carried the canoes round the point, and the
two posts were lost to sight.

It did not seem strange or unnatural to be setting out as I was on
such an errand. Rather there came a sense of unspeakable relief in
thus slipping away into the wilderness, with the privilege of
attempting the completion of the work my husband had undertaken to
do. Everything looked hopeful for my plans, and I was only glad to
be really started on my way at last. Behind me in my canoe sat the
trusty hero whose courage and honour and fidelity made my venture
possible, and who took from my shoulders so much of the
responsibility. Through George Elson I engaged and paid the other