themselves for several days, appeared again with their shrill cries,
venturing impudently into the very door of our tent to claim scraps of
refuse.

I was for moving forward that very afternoon, but some of our things
were still wet, and I deemed it better judgment to let them have the
day in which to dry and to delay our start until Monday morning.

After supper, in accordance with the Sunday custom established by
Hubbard when I was with him, I read aloud a selection from the
Testament--the last chapter of Revelation--and then went out of the
tent to take the usual nine o'clock weather observation. Between the
horizon and a fringe of black clouds that hung low in the north the
reflected sun set the heavens afire, and through the dark fir trees
the lake stretched red as a lake of blood. I called the others to see
it and Easton joined me. We climbed a low hill close at hand to view
the scene, and while we looked the red faded into orange, and the lake
was transformed into a mirror, which reflected the surrounding trees
like an inverted forest. In the direction from which we had come we
could see the high blue hills beyond the Nascaupee, very dim in the
far distance. Below us the Crooked River lost itself as it wound its
tortuous way through the wooded valley that we had traversed.
Somewhere down there Duncan was bivouacked, and we wondered if his
fire was burning at one of our old camping places.

Darkness soon came and we returned to the tent to find the others
rolled in their blankets, and we joined them at once that we might
have a good night's rest preparatory to an early morning advance.

Before seven o'clock on Monday morning (July twenty-fourth) we had