The rock colouring was a deep red brown, and in some places almost
purple. The perpendicular surfaces were patched with close lying
grey-green moss, and in places with a variety almost the colour of
vermilion. The country was not burned over, and everywhere the
beautiful reindeer moss grew luxuriantly, setting off in fine
contrast the tall spruces, with occasional balsams growing among
them.
A mile and a half of very rough portaging brought us at 3 P.M. to
the head of the falls, and there we found ourselves on a lake at
last. Perhaps few will understand how fine the long stretch of
smooth water seemed to us. That day the portaging had been very
rough, the way lying over a bed of great, moss-covered boulders
that were terribly slippery. The perspiration dripped from the
men's faces as they carried, for it was very hot. The big Labrador
bulldogs (flies as large as wasps) were out in force that day, as
well as the tiny sandflies. One thing we had to be thankful for,
was that there were no mosquitoes. The men told me that there are
never many where the bulldogs are plentiful, as these big fellows
eat the mosquitoes. I did not see them doing it, but certain it is
that when they were about in large numbers there were very few
mosquitoes.
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