came to the eyes of Richards and Pete, as we grasped each other's
hands.

Then we left them. Easton and I dipped our paddles into the water,
and our lonely, perilous journey toward the dismal wastes beyond the
northern divide was begun. Once I turned to see the three men, with
packs on their backs, ascending the knoll back of the place where our
camp had been. When I looked again they were gone.



CHAPTER XII

OVER THE NORTHERN DIVIDE

Michikamau is approximately between eighty and ninety miles in length,
including the unexplored southeast bay, and from eight to twenty-five
miles in width. It is surrounded by rugged hills, which reach an
elevation of about five hundred feet above the lake. They are
generally wooded for perhaps two hundred feet from the base, with
black spruce, larch, and an occasional small grove of white birch.
Above the timber line their tops are uncovered save by white lichens
or stunted shrubs. The western side of the lake is studded with low
islands, but its main body is unobstructed. The water is exceedingly
clear, and is said by the Indians to have a great depth. The shores
are rocky, sometimes formed of massive bed rock in which is found the
beautifully colored labradorite; sometimes strewn with loose bowlders.
Our entrance had been made in a bay several miles north of the point
where the Nascaupee River, its outlet, leaves the lake and we kept to
the east side as we paddled north.