and, in the spring, a few bear traps besides.

The country has been burned here. Just below Duncan's tilt is a
spruce-covered island, but the mainland has a stunted new growth of
spruce, with a few white birch, covering the wreck of the primeval
forest that was flame swept thirty odd years ago. Over some
considerable areas no new growth to speak of has appeared, and the
charred remains of the dead trees stand stark and gray, or lie about
in confusion upon the ground, giving the country a particularly dreary
and desolate appearance.

The morning of June twenty-ninth was overcast and threatened rain, but
toward evening the sky cleared.

Progress was slow, for the current in the river here was very strong,
and paddling or rowing against it was not easy. We had to stop
several times and wait for Duncan to overtake us with his boat. Once
he halted to look at a trap where he told us he had caught six black
bears. It was nearly sunset when we reached the mouth of the Red
River, nineteen miles above Grand Lake, where it flows into the
Nascaupee from the west. This is a wide, shallow stream whose red-
brown waters were quite in contrast to the clear waters of the Nas-
caupee.

Opposite the mouth of the Red River, and on the eastern shore of the
Nascaupee, is the point where the old Indian trail was said to begin,
and on a knoll some fifty feet above the river we saw the wigwam poles
of an old Indian camp, and a solitary grave with a rough fence around
it. Here we landed and awaited Duncan, who had stopped at another of
his trapping tilts three or four hundred yards below. When he joined