A rabbit ran up from the water
edge. Now it was a muskrat lying in among the willows. He was
evidently trying to decide which way to go, and in a moment or two
began swimming straight towards the pistols that were being loaded
for him. I was a little startled and exclaimed "Why, what's the
matter with him? Is he hurt?" Whereupon the men laughed so
heartily that the rat almost escaped. I did not understand that it
was the swift current which was carrying him against his will
directly towards us, and could only think that he must have been
sick, or hurt perhaps, to make him do so strange a thing. From
that time forward, "What's the matter with him? Is he hurt?"
became a byword in camp.
Thirteen miles above Grand Lake we reached the portage route by
which the Indians avoid the roughest part of the river. It leads
out on the north bank opposite the mouth of the Red Wine River,
passing up to the higher country, through a chain of lakes, and
entering the river again at Seal Lake. By this route the Indians
reach Seal Lake from Northwest River in less than two weeks, taking
just twenty-one days to make the journey through to Lake
Michikamau.
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