portage, around a shallow rapid, and we were afloat again on one of
the prettiest little rivers I have ever seen. The current was strong
enough to hurry us along. Down we shot past the great white hills,
which towered in majestic grandeur high above our heads, in some
places rising almost perpendicularly from the water, with immense
heaps of debris which the frost had detached from their sides lying at
their base. The river was about fifty yards wide, and in its windings
in and out among the hills almost doubled upon itself sometimes. The
scenery was fascinating. One or two small lake expansions were
passed, but generally there was a steady current and a good depth of
water. "This is glorious!" some one exclaimed, as we shot onward, and
we all appreciated the relief from the constant portaging that had
been the feature of our journey since leaving the Nascaupee River.

The first camp on this river was pitched upon the site of an old
Indian camp, above a shallow rapid. The many wigwam poles, in varying
states of decay, together with paddles, old snowshoes, broken sled
runners, and other articles of Indian traveling paraphernalia, in-
dicated that it had been a regular stopping place of the Indians, both
in winter and in summer, in the days when they had made their
pilgrimages to Northwest River Post. Near this point we found some
beaver cuttings, the first that we had seen since leaving the Crooked
River.

Babewendigash soon carried us into a large lake expansion, and six
hours were consumed paddling about the lake before the outlet was
discovered. At first we thought it possible we were in Seal Lake, but
I soon decided that it was not large enough, and its shape did not
agree with the description of Seal Lake that Donald Blake and Duncan
McLean had given me.