When I would wake up at night it would just come into my mind. And
more than that, Mr. Hubbard had been so good to me, and to remember
what a friend he was, and what a brave man he was. Oh! wasn't he a
brave man. I have seen a good many fine people in my time; but I
never have seen a man like Hubbard, and I never expect to see
another.
I was thinking too how things happened, about being on the wrong
river, and what made us believe we were on the right river, though
at the same time thinking that it was too small to feed Grand Lake,
but when it came out just at the head of the lake, as it shows in
the map, made us think it was the Nascaupee. And besides how we
proved as we were going up, as the people had told us at Northwest
River post, that after we got up the Nascaupee River, 18 miles up,
we would come to the Red Wine River, branching off from the south
side of the Nascaupee River, and also how that happened. When we
got up, about 18 miles up, a little river branching off from the
south into this river we thought was the Nascaupee, and of course,
we called this little river the Red Wine River. And besides how we
found the old portage trail, and also the steel trap, and how all
these things kept on making us think for sure we were on the right
route.
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