It was 7.45 A.M. when we started; but a brisk climb brought
us to the top in time to see the sunset, and one of the most
magnificent views I had ever beheld. Some miles to the east was
the lake winding like a broad river between its hills. In every
direction there were hills, and lying among them little lakes that
were fairy-like in their beauty. George pointed out the ridge of
mountains away to the southwest which he had crossed with Mr.
Hubbard, and where he thought they had crossed it from the head of
Beaver Brook, their "Big River," and I named them Lion Heart
Mountains.
The wind below cold on the mountain, and a shower passed over from
the northeast; but it was soon gone, and the sun set over the hills
in a blaze of red and gold. The way down seemed long, but when we
reached camp at 10.15 P.M. it was still quite light. Joe had been
fishing, and had four brook trout for my breakfast. Job and
Gilbert had gone down the valley prospecting, and soon came in with
the information that a mile below camp we could put our canoes into
the water. Beyond, there would be two short portages, and then we
should not again have to take them out of the water before reaching
Seal Lake.
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