WE GO ASTRAY

At half-past four on Monday morning I called the men, and while Pete
was preparing breakfast the rest of us broke camp and made ready for a
prompt start. All were anxious to see behind the range of bowlder-
covered hills and to reach Lake Nipishish, which we felt could not now
be far away. As soon as our meal was finished the larger canoe was
loaded and started on ahead, while Richards, Duncan and I remained
behind to load and follow in the other.

With the rising sun the day had become excessively warm, and there was
not a breath of wind to cool the stifling atmosphere. The trail was
ill-defined and rough, winding through bare glacial bowlders that were
thick-strewn on the ridges; and the difficulty of following it,
together with the heat, made the work seem doubly hard, as we trudged
with heavy packs to the shores of a little lake which nestled in a
notch between the bills a mile and a half away. Once a fox ran before
us and took refuge in its den under a large rock, but save the always
present cloud of black flies, no other sign of life was visible on the
treeless hills. Finally at midday, after three wearisome journeys
back and forth, bathed in perspiration and dripping fly dope and pork
grease, which we had rubbed on our faces pretty freely as a protection
from the winged pests, we deposited our last load upon the shores of
the lake, and thankfully stopped to rest and cook our dinner.

We were still eating when we heard the first rumblings of distant
thunder and felt the first breath of wind from a bank of black clouds
in the western sky, and had scarcely started forward again when the
heavens opened upon us with a deluge.