The day following, Monday, July 24th, the river continued most
bewildering. Beside the portage at our camp, we had one, about
half a mile long, farther up where the old trail was quite well
marked, and carried us past a fall of about seven feet with a heavy
rapid below. All day our way led among high hills till towards
evening, when they spread out to the north and south, and we saw
ahead a terraced sand plain, several miles wide, with the hills
again beyond. Here, coming in from the northwest, was a brook,
where, according to our map, the Indian route again leaves the
river. This meant another long stretch of rough water, but our
plan was still to keep to the river as far as it was possible,
finding our own portage route where necessary.

The river's course was now cut deep into the plain, the banks being
from thirty to forty feet in height, and the current very swift.
The plain had once been sparsely, wooded but was burned over and
very desolate looking now. Huckleberries, cranberries, and
Labrador tea grew in profusion, and were in blossom, while patches
of reindeer moss were seen struggling into life where we made our
camp.

During the last part of the day's journey the current had been
increasingly swift, and some distance ahead we could hear the sound
of a heavy waterfall. We reached it the following morning about
two miles or more above our camp. It was a beauty, about thirty
feet in height. The canoes could be taken close to the foot of the
fall, and after a short carry over the high, rocky point were put
in the water again not twenty feet from the brink of the fall.