everywhere there was none to be found. He did, however, get his
little frying-pan and a small pail which made a welcome addition to
our depleted outfit.

That day we portaged nearly all the afternoon. It was rough, hard
walking, and occasional showers fell which made it worse. There
was many a wistful glance cast across to the other shore where we
could see a fine sand terrace. There the walking must be smooth
and easy; but we could not cross, the rapids were too heavy.

During the afternoon we found the first and only fresh caribou
tracks seen in the lower Nascaupee valley. A pair of fish eagles,
circling high above us, screamed their disapproval of our presence
there. We saw their nest at the very top of a dead spruce stub,
some sixty feet or more above the ground. This was one of the very
many things on the trip which made me wish I were a man. I could
have had a closer look at the nest; I think I could have taken a
photograph of it too. Now and then came the sweet, plaintive song
of the white-throated sparrow.

Towards evening it began to rain fast, and as if with the intention
of keeping at it; so George called a halt. As I sat down on a pile
of outfit he opened up the men's tent, and, spreading it over me,
directed me to wait there till my own was ready. George's tone of
authority was sometimes amusing. Sometimes I did as I was told,
and then again I did not. This time I did, and with my rifle on
one side and my fishing-rod on the other, to hold the tent up, I
sat and watched them making camp and building the fire.

All day the mosquitoes and flies had been bad, but now the rain had