After I went to my tent there floated out into the quiet night the
sound of the men's favourite hymns, "Lead Kindly Light," "There is
a Green Hill Far Away," "Abide With Me," and, as always, the
singing ended with their Indian "Paddling Song." When I put out my
light at 11 P.M., a full moon was throwing shadows of the spruce
boughs on my tent.
The view from the mountain-top seemed an inspiration to the party,
and on Monday morning, shortly after four, I heard Job's axe making
ready for the early breakfast. By 5.30 A.M. they were off with
their first packs. Then all was quiet again. The tiny mirror-like
lake was yet in shadow though sunlight touched the tops of its
encircling hills, and I wished that I might wait, till it was time
for me to go, on the summit of the one we had climbed last night.
When the last load was ready I, too, went forward.
It was a glorious morning, with just such sunshine one would wish
for a day so eventful. The trail led down into a valley opening
eastward to Seal Lake, and walled in on three sides by the hills.
On either hand reaching up their steep slopes were the spruce woods
with beautiful white birches relieving their sombreness, and above-
-the sheer cliffs.
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