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The Long Labrador Trail by Dillon Wallace
page 96 of 266 (36%)
At three o'clock we were brought up sharply at the end of the water
with no visible outlet. The nature of the lake and the lateness of
the season made it impracticable to turn back and look in other
channels for the connection with western waters. Former experience
had taught me that we might paddle around for a week before we found
it, for these were big waters. Five miles ahead was the high, round
peak that we were aiming for, and I had every confidence that from its
top Michikamau could be seen and a way to reach the big lake. I
decided that it must be climbed the next morning, and selected Pete
and Easton for the work. A fall the day before had given me a stiff
knee, and it was a bitter disappointment that I could not go myself,
for I was nervously anxious for a first view of Michikamau. However,
I realized that it was unwise to attempt the journey, and I must stay
behind.

That night Stanton made two roly-polies of the blueberries we picked
in the afternoon, boiling them in specimen bags, and we used the last
of our sugar for sauce. This, with coffee, followed a good supper of
boiled partridge and owl. It was like the old days when I was with
Hubbard. We were making good progress, our hopes ran high, and we
must feast. Pete's laughs, and songs and jokes added to our
merriment. Rain came, but we did not mind that. We sat by a big,
blazing fire and ate and enjoyed ourselves in spite of it. Then we
went to the tent to smoke and every one pronounced it the best night
in weeks.

On Wednesday rain poured down at the usual rising time and the men
were delayed in starting, for we were in a place where scouting in
thick weather was dangerous. It was the morning of the famous
eclipse, but we had forgotten the fact. The rain had fallen away to a
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