made some progress, portaging from lake to lake across swampy and
marshy necks. It was Sunday, but we did not realize it until our
day's work was finished and we were snug in camp in the evening.

Monday's dawn brought with it a day of superb loveliness. The sky was
cloudless, the earth was white with hoarfrost, the atmosphere was
crisp and cool, and we took deep breaths of it that sent the blood
tingling through our veins. It was a day that makes one love life.

Through small lakes and short portages we worked until afternoon and
then--hurrah! we were on big water again. Thirty or forty miles in
length the lake stretched off to the westward to carry us on our way.
It was choked in places with many fir-topped islands, and the channels
in and out amongst these islands were innumerable, so Pete called it
Lake Kasheshebogamog, which in his language means "Lake of Many
Channels."

As we paddled I dropped a troll and before we stopped for the night
landed a seven-pound namaycush, and another large one broke a troll.
The "Land of God's Curse" was behind us. We were with the fish again,
and caribou and wolf tracks were seen.

The next day found us on our way early. A fine wind sent us spinning
before it and at the same time kept us busy with a rough sea that was
running on the wide, open lake when we were away from the shelter of
the islands. At one o'clock we boiled the kettle at the foot of a low
sand ridge, and upon climbing the ridge we found it covered with a
mass of ripe blueberries. We ate our fill and picked some to carry
with us.