temperature was.

"Eighty-seven in the shade, but no shade," Richards remarked as he
threw down his pack and consulted the thermometer where I had placed
it under a low bush. "I'll swear it's a hundred and fifty in the
sun."

During dinner Pete pointed to the river far below us, saying, "Look!
Indian canoe." I could not make it out without my binoculars, but
with their aid discerned a canoe on the river, containing a solitary
paddler. None of us, excepting Pete, could see the canoe without the
glasses, at which he was very proud and remarked: "No findin' glass
need me. See far, me. See long way off."

On other occasions, afterward, I had reason to marvel at Pete's
clearness of vision.

It was John Ahsini in the canoe, as we discovered later when he joined
us and helped Stanton up the hill with his last pack to our night camp
on the summit. I invited John to eat supper with us and he accepted
the invitation. He told us he was hunting "moshku" (bear) and was
camped at the mouth of the Red River. He assured us that we would
find no more hills like this one we were on, and, pointing to the
northward, said, "Miam potagan" (good portage) and that we would find
plenty "atuk" (caribou), "moshku" and "mashumekush" (trout). After
supper I gave John some "stemmo," and he disappeared down the trail to
join his wife in their wigwam below.

We were all of us completely exhausted that night. Stanton was too
tired to eat, and lay down upon the bare rocks to sleep. Pete