We reached the last of the
islands shortly before eleven o'clock and then landed to climb a
hill to the east. It rose six hundred and thirty feet above the
river, but the view from the top afforded us little satisfaction so
far as the route was concerned. The river could be seen for only a
few miles ahead, flowing away to the northwest towards higher
hills, where we could see patches of snow lying. Some miles to the
east was a large lake, its outlet, a river of considerable size,
joining the George River three-quarters of a mile north of where we
had left the canoes. Below the junction there were many Indian
signs along the shores, and we knew that there the portage route of
which the Montagnais women had spoken, must lead to the river
again. Steadily through the afternoon we approached the higher
hills, ever on the watch for the Nascaupee camp; but we did not
find it.
There was a short lift over a direct drop of four or five feet, and
two portages of about half a mile past heavy rapids, at the second
of which the river drops fifty feet to flow between high, sandy
banks, the hills on either side standing back from the river, their
broken faces red with a coating of iron rust.
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