back. We hastened back with the boat, and, by wading out into the
current again and holding it by a long rope, it swung around with my
companion aboard, and was held in the eddy behind the rock. I clambered
up, got my clothes on, and we were soon shooting downstream toward
home; but the winter of discontent that shrouded one half of me made
sad inroads upon the placid feeling of a day well spent that enveloped
the other, all the way to camp.

That night something carried off all our fish,--doubtless a fisher or
lynx, as Joe had seen an animal of some kind about camp that day.

I must not forget the two red squirrels that frequented the camp during
our stay, and that were so tame they would approach within a few feet
of us and take the pieces of bread or fish tossed to them. When a
particularly fine piece of hard-tack was secured, they would spin off
to their den with it somewhere near by.

Caribou abound in these woods, but we saw only their tracks; and of
bears, which are said to be plentiful, we saw no signs.

Saturday morning we packed up our traps and started on our return, and
found that the other side of the spruce-trees and the vista of the
lonely road going south were about the same as coming north. But we
understood the road better and the buck-board better, and our load was
lighter, hence the distance was more easily accomplished.

I saw a solitary robin by the roadside, and wondered what could have
brought this social and half-domesticated bird so far into these wilds.
In La Grande Brûlure, a hermit thrush perched upon a dry tree in a
swampy place and sang most divinely. We paused to listen to his clear,