The brunt of the storm soon passed, but a steady rain continued as we
paddled through the lake and portaged across a short neck of land into
a larger lake, down which we paddled to a small round island near its
lower end. Here, drenched to the bone and thoroughly tired, we made
camp, and in the shelter of the tent ate a savory stew composed of
duck, grouse, venison and fat pork that Pete served in the most
appetizing camp style.

I was astounded by the amount of squaw bread and "darn goods" that the
young men of my party made away with, and began to fear not only for
the flour supply, but also for the health of the men. One day when I
saw one of my party eat three thick loaves of squaw bread in addition
to a fair quantity of meat, I felt that it was time to limit the flour
part of the ration. I expressed my fears to Pete, and advised that he
bake less bread, and make the men eat more of the other food.

"Bread very good for Indian. Not good when white an eat so much.
Good way fix him. Use not so much baking powder, me. Make him
heavy," suggested Pete.

"No, Pete, use enough baking powder to make the bread good, and I'll
speak to the men. Then if they don't eat less bread of their own
accord, we'll have to limit them to a ration."

I decided to try this plan, and that evening in our camp on the island
I told them that a ration of bread would soon have to be resorted to.
They looked very solemn about it, for the bare possibility of a
limited ration, something that they had never had to submit to,
appeared like a hardship to them.