E. main land where we hope inlet is, just
at dusk. Ate big namaycush and were ready to push on early this
morning. Two meals of trout ahead. Awoke this A.M. to find awful
gale stirring the lake to fury. No leaving. Wallace and I stayed
in tent mending. I made pair of moccasins out of a pair of seal
mittens and some old sacking. Patched a pair of socks with duffel.
Not comfortable, but will do. George went to canoe to get fish.
"That's too bad," said he. "What?" I asked. "Somebody's taken the
trout." "Who?" "Don't know. Otter or carcajou, maybe." And sure
enough they were gone--our day's grub. We all laughed--there was
nothing else to do. So we had some thin soup, made with three thin
slices of bacon in a big pot of water and just a bit of flour and
rice stirred in. One felt rather hungrier after eating it, but
then we did not suffer or get weak. It is very disappointing to be
delayed like this; but we can only make the most of it and wait.
No game or fish on this island and no hopes of getting off till it
calms. So we are cheerful, and make the most of a good rest and a
chance to mend; and we need both, though perhaps we need progress
more.
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