Not far from camp we took another porcupine. There were beaver
signs too, willows cut off and floating downstream along the shore.
Leaning over, Job picked one up and handed it back to me to show me
how cleverly they do their work. A rabbit ran up from the water
edge. Now it was a muskrat lying in among the willows. He was
evidently trying to decide which way to go, and in a moment or two
began swimming straight towards the pistols that were being loaded
for him. I was a little startled and exclaimed "Why, what's the
matter with him? Is he hurt?" Whereupon the men laughed so
heartily that the rat almost escaped. I did not understand that it
was the swift current which was carrying him against his will
directly towards us, and could only think that he must have been
sick, or hurt perhaps, to make him do so strange a thing. From
that time forward, "What's the matter with him? Is he hurt?"
became a byword in camp.

Thirteen miles above Grand Lake we reached the portage route by
which the Indians avoid the roughest part of the river. It leads
out on the north bank opposite the mouth of the Red Wine River,
passing up to the higher country, through a chain of lakes, and
entering the river again at Seal Lake. By this route the Indians
reach Seal Lake from Northwest River in less than two weeks, taking
just twenty-one days to make the journey through to Lake
Michikamau.

The trappers told us that, going by the river, it would take a
month to reach Seal Lake. I wished very much to keep to the river
route, because Mr. Hubbard would have had to do so had he not
missed the way, there being no Indians within reach, at the time he
made his journey, from whom we could obtain information. Yet our