CHAPTER XIV
THROUGH THE LAKES OF THE UPPER GEORGE
How little I had dreamed when setting out on my journey that it
would prove beautiful and of such compelling interest as I had
found it. I had not thought of interest--except that of getting
the work done--nor of beauty. How could Labrador be beautiful?
Weariness and hardship I had looked for, and weariness I had found
often and anxiety, which was not yet past in spite of what had been
achieved; but of hardship there had been none. Flies and
mosquitoes made it uncomfortable sometimes but not to the extent of
hardship. And how beautiful it had been, with a strange, wild
beauty, the remembrance of which buries itself silently in the deep
parts of one's being. In the beginning there had been no response
to it in my heart, but gradually in its silent way it had won, and
now was like the strength-giving presence of an understanding
friend. The long miles which separated me from the world did not
make me feel far away--just far enough to be nice--and many times I
found myself wishing I need never have to go back again. But the
work could not all be done here.
Half the distance across the peninsula had been passed, and now on
August 11th we were beginning the descent of the George River.
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