That morning I was to make my maiden attempt at following a new
trail, and when the last load was ready I went first to try my
fortunes. The trail meant just a little snip off the bark of a
young tree here, the top of a bush freshly broken there, again a
little branch cut showing that the axe had been used. There was
not a sign of any path. The way was not always the easiest, and
sometimes not the shortest, but it was always the quickest. My
heart quite swelled with pride when I reached the river at 8.30
A.M. having missed the trail but once, and having found it again
with little delay. Already it had grown hot on the hills, and the
mosquitoes were beginning to come, so that it was good to be back
at the river again; but before the men went away for more loads I
had to promise very solemnly that I would not go on the rocks by
the rapids.
By noon the whole outfit was at the river, we had lunch, and the
men rested an hour and then we were off again. A mile of paddling
and two short portages brought us to the head of what the trappers
call "Three Mile Rapid." The river was very picturesque here, and
in midstream were great swells which curled back like ocean
breakers as the torrent of water poured over the boulders of the
riverbed.
Pages:
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73