Tuesday, July 7th - Last night moonlight and starry and fine. This morning the shore of Labrador spread out before us in the sunshine. It calls ever so hard, and I am hungry to tackle it. Landed this A.M. at Indian Harbour. George and I went ashore in the canoe; Wallace in ship's boat. Lot of fishermen greeted us. Find all men and women on the coast are Newfoundland men, and "Liveyeres" (Live- heres). The former come up to fish in summer and are the aristocrats. The latter are the under-crust. Could not get any one to take us to Rigolette. Spent the afternoon getting outfit together - assorting and packing - weighing it and trying it in the canoe, while line of Newfoundland salts looked on, commented, and asked good-natured questions. Canoe 18 feet, guide's special, Oldtown, canvas. Weight about 80. Tent - miner's tent, pole in front, balloon silk, weight 6 lbs., dimensions 6 1/2 x 7. Three pairs 3-lb. blankets; two tarpaulins about 6 x 7; three pack straps; two 9-inch duck waterproof bags, hold 40 lbs. each; three 12-inch bags; 3 1/4 x 4 1/4 kodak; 30 rolls films, one dozen exposures each, in tin cases with electrician's tape water- proofing; one dozen small waterproof bags of balloon silk, for sugar, chocolate, note-books and sundries. Wallace and I each have one extra light weight 45-70 rifle, smokeless powder. Also one pistol each, diamond model, 10-inch barrel, for partridges. For grub we have four 45-lb. sacks of flour; 30 lbs. bacon; 20 lbs. lard; 30 lbs. sugar; 14 lbs. salt; 3 or 4 lbs. dried apples from home; 10 lbs. rice; 20 lbs. erbswurst; 10 lbs. pea flour in tins; 10 lbs. tea; 5 lbs. coffee; 6 chocolate; 10 hardtack; 10 lbs. dried milk. Put all in canoe, got in ourselves, and found we could carry it 0.K.

Wednesday, July 8th. - Took observation at noon. Lat. 54 degrees 28 minutes. Steve Newell, a liveyere from Winter's Cove, offered to take us to Rigolette for fifteen dollars. "Would I give him $1 to get a bit of grub for his family?" Got flour and molasses. Started in the _Mayflower_, a leaky little craft, about 5 P.M. No wind to speak of. Cold drizzle and fog. About 11 we landed at Winter's Cove. Nasty place to land among the rocks on a desolate point. From a shanty on the beach came a yelling and hallooing from several voices to know who we were and what we were doing. Went into cabin, two rooms - one frame and the other sod. Room about 12 x 14 - desolate. Two women like furies - ragged, haggard, brown, hair streaming. One had baby in her arms; two small girls and a boy. One of women Steve's mother. Dirty place, but better than the chilling fog. Glad to get in. Fire started. Stove smoked till room was full. Little old lamp, no chimney. We made coffee and gave coffee and hard-tack to all. Women went into other room with children. We spread tarpaulin and blankets, and lay on floor; so did Steve. Women talked loudly.

Thursday, July 9th. - Started at 5 A.M., launching boat after Steve had said, "Don't know as we can launch 'er, sir." Fog. Offered Steve chart and compass. "Ain't got no learnin', sir. I can't read." So I directed course in fog and Steve steered. Later, clear, fair, high wind. Steve cool, nervy, tireless. He traps foxes and shoots partridges in winter. Buys flour and molasses. Got too windy to travel. Landed at Big Black Island to wait for lower wind. George used up - lumbago. Put him to bed and put on mustard plaster. Bought salmon of Joe Lloyd. Lives in 10 x 12 shanty, hole in roof for smoke to escape. Eskimo wife. "Is all the world at peace, sir?" He came from England. Hungry for news. Had trout smoking in chimney. A little wood on this island, and moss, thick and soft. Wind high, and George sick, so did not go on. Gave George two blankets and tarpaulin. Did not pitch tent. Wallace and I threw tent down and lay on it. Pulled his blanket over us and slept. Still sunlight at 11. Whales snorting in the bay. Big gulls croaking.

Friday, July 10th. - Awoke at 1 A.M. Bright moonlight, made coffee and milk. Called men. George very bad. Portaged outfit 200 yards to boat. Found her high. Worked till 4.30 to launch her. Little wind. Made Pompey Island at 11. Saw many whales and seals. Caught caplin on fish-hook tied to stick jerking them. Stopped on Pompey for lunch. Mossy island of Laurentian rock. Saw steamer in distance. Put off - fired three or four shots. Got only a salute. Put off in canoe to head her off. She came about. Was the _Virginia Lake_. Took us on board and brought us to Rigolette. Mr. Frazer, H.B.C. Agent here, to whom I had letter from Commissioner Chippman of the H.B. Co., took us in, as the Company's men always do. Made us at home. Seems fine to be on land again at a Company post. George better. Eskimo dogs. Eskimo men and women, breeds lumbermen, trappers, fishermen, two clerks. All kindly - even the dogs. All talkative and hungry for outside visitors.

Saturday, July 11th. - Awoke from bad dream of trouble getting somewhere to realise that I was at a post. Mighty good awakening. George better. Trying to get data as to Northwest River. No Indians here. White men and Eskimo know little about it. Capt. Joe Blake says Grand Lake good paddling. Forty miles long. Nascaupee River empties into it. Says Red River comes into it about 15 miles above its mouth. His son Donald came from his traps on Seal Lake to-day. Says same. Has crossed it about 50 miles above its mouth in winter. Has heard from some one that Montagnais Indians say it comes from Michikamau. Does not know. Says it is shallow. This seems to be what Low has mapped as Northwest River. Donald says not much game on it. Others who have not been there, say plenty. All report bear. Man who lives on river just above Grand Lake in winter to trap, missing. Supposed drowned. Donald says a chance seal in Seal Lake. Has shot 'em but never killed one. Little game there to eat. May be fish. Does not know. Does not fish himself. Takes flour, pork, tea and "risin." Porcupines. We can live on them. Hard to get definite data; but that makes the work bigger.

Sunday, July 12th. - Birthday. "Bruise" for breakfast. Hard-tack, fish, pork, boiled together - good. "Two more early risin's, and then duff and bruise," is said to be a Thursday remark of the fishermen. The _Pelican_ came in to-day. Stole in in fog, and whistled before flag was up. Good joke on Post. Big day. _Pelican_ goes from here to York, stopping at Ungava on way out and comes back again. Brings supplies. Captain Gray came on shore. Has been with company thirty years, in northern waters fifty years. Jolly, cranky, old fellow. "You'll never get back" he says to us. "If you are at Ungava when I get there I'll bring you back." Calder, lumberman on Grand River and Sandwich Bay, here says we can't do it. Big Salmon stuffed and baked for dinner - bully. George says he is ready to start now. Prophecies that we can't do it, don't worry me. Have heard them before. Can do it. WILL.

Monday, July 13th. - This noon the _Julia Sheridan_, Deep Sea Mission Boat, Dr. Simpson, came. We said good-bye and embarked for Northwest River. Had good informal supper in little cabin. Good easy yachting time. Stopped about 11 P.M. behind St. John's Island for the night.

Tuesday, July 14th. - Landed about 2 P.M. at Northwest River. Thomas M'Kenzie in charge. Bully fellow, all alone, lonesome, but does not admit it. Tall, wiry, hospitable in the extreme. Not busy in winter. Traps some. Wishes he could go with us. Would pack up to-night and be ready in the morning. Can get no definite information as to our route. M'Kenzie says we are all right; can make it of course. Gave away bag of flour. Discarded single blanket, 5 lbs. can lard. Got at Rigolette yesterday, 10 lbs. sugar, 5 lbs. dried apples, 4 1/2 lbs. tobacco. Bought here 5 lbs. sugar. M'Kenzie gave me an 8 lb. 3 in. gill net.

Wednesday, July 15th. - Wind light, southeast all day, light clouds. Lat. noon 53 degrees 35 minutes. Left Northwest River Post 9 A.M. Camped early because of rain and stream which promised trout. No trout caught. Lake looks like Lake George, with lower hills. Much iron ore crops from bluffs on south side. Makes me a bit homesick to think of Lake George. Wish I could see my girl for a while and be back here. Would like to drop in at the Michigan farm too.

Thursday, July 16th. - Fair day. Wind southeast. Lat. at noon 53 degrees 45 minutes. Six miles above Grand Lake on Northwest River. Started at 5.30 A.M. At 9 rounded point and saw mouth of river. George and I ferried outfit across northwest arm of lake in two loads. Wind too high for whole load. Saw steel trap. Probably belonged to poor M'Lean, who was drowned. Had cup of tea at 10. Stopped at noon three-quarters of an hour for observation. Northwest River runs through spruce-covered valley, between high hills, easily seen from lake, but not in river as spruce is too close. In many places high banks, many turns, many little rapids. Water low. Have to pole and track. See that we have our work cut out. Doubt if we can make more than 10 miles a day up this river. I took tracking line; George and Wallace the poles. Sand flies awful - nasty, vindictive, bite out chunks, and streak our hands and faces with blood. Mosquitoes positively friendly by contrast. Tried net. Could not see, then tried dope - some help. Eating much and not rustling for fish or game. Want to lighten outfit.

Friday, July 17th. - Rain and clouds. Rained hard in the night. Awoke dreading to start out in it. Got breakfast to let George sleep. Water so shoal and swift that we would take part of outfit and return for the rest. Most places had to track, I pulling on rope while Wallace and George waded, and pushed and dragged the canoe.

Saturday, July 18th. - Bright, clear day. Lat. 53 degrees 45 minutes 30 seconds. Started out with full load and kept it most of the day. Had to portage half load a few times. Awful work all day. Rapids continuously. I waded with line while George and Wallace dragged and lifted. All enjoyed the forenoon's work, and no one depressed when P.M. weariness began. No game. Bear and some caribou tracks. Have not seen a partridge or porcupine. Seem to be few fish. They come later and farther on.

Sunday, July 19th. - Minimum temp. last night 38 degrees. Fine day and warm. Stayed in camp all day to rest. I got up at 7 and caught about twenty trout, small. All pretty tired and enjoyed the long sleep. At noon George and I started up the river, following the hills. Found small rocky stream coming in about 1 mile up. Suppose it is the Red Wine River. Two miles up a 2-mile stretch of good water. Best of all the portage route leading in at the foot. We followed this over the hill to the Red Wine River, and found old cuttings. This pleases us a heap. It shows that we are on the old Montagnais trail, that we will probably have their portage routes clear through, and that they probably found lakes and good water farther up, or they would never have fought this bad water. To- morrow we will tackle the 2-mile portage with light hearts. We are 3 miles south of where Low's map places us. Am beginning to suspect that the Nascaupee River, which flows through Seal Lake, also comes out of Michikamau, and that Low's map is wrong. Bully stunt if it works out that way. Saw lots of caribou and fresh bear tracks. Trout went fine for supper. Flies very bad. Our wrists burn all the time.

Monday, July 20th. - Minimum temp. last night 37 degrees. Bright day. Flies awful. I got breakfast while George cut portage through swamp, and then we groaned all day - through the swamp 1 1/2 miles - across two streams, up steep hill, then along old trail to foot of smooth water above these rapids. Covered route mainly three times. All very tired. George worked like a hero.

Tuesday, July 21st. - Minimum temp. 36 degrees. Trapped bad three- quarter mile. George and I scouted ahead 6 miles. Climbed hills 600 feet high. Caribou and bear tracks. Crossed two or three creeks. Found old trail and wigwam poles and wood. George says winter camp from size of wood; can't follow it. Tracked quarter mile more, and started on long portage. Went half mile and camped. Flies bad; gets cold after dark, then no flies. Stars, fir tops, crisp air, camp fire, sound of river, hopeful hearts. Nasty hard work, but this pays for it.

Wednesday, July 22nd. - Minimum temp. 33 degrees, 60 degrees in tent at 6 A.M. Torture. All work to cross 2 1/2 mile portage. Sun awful. Flies hellish. All too tired to eat at noon. Cold tea and cold erbswurst. Cached 80 rounds 45-70 cartridges, 300-22s. too heavy. Too tired at last to mind flies. Rested hour under tent front, all of us. Diarrhoea got me - too much water drinking yesterday I guess. Shot partridge, first seen on trip. Jumped up on log before me, waited for me to drop pack and load pistol. Camp on partridge point. Bird seasoned a pot of erbswurst. Dreamed about home as I worked and rested.

Thursday, July 23rd. - George and Wallace scouted for trails and lakes. I lay in tent, diarrhoea. Took Sun Cholera Mixture. Tore leaves from Low's book and cover from this diary. These and similar economies lightened my bag about 5 lbs. New idea dawned on me as I lay here map gazing. Portage route leaves this river and runs into southeast arm of Michikamau. Will see how guess turns out. Heat in tent awful - at noon 104 degrees; out of tent at 1 P.M. 92 degrees. Diarrhoea continued all day. No food but tea and a bit of hard-tack. George back about 7.30. Wallace not back. Not worried. Has probably gone a little too far and will stay out. Has tin cup and erbswurst. George reports branching of river and a good stretch of calm water.

Friday, July 24th. - George produced yellowlegs shot yesterday. He carried pack up river 2 miles. Diarrhoea. In tent I studied how to take time with sextant. Observation failed. Much worried over Wallace till he came in about 7 P.M. Compass went wrong; he lay out overnight. Stewed yellowlegs and pea meal to-night.

Saturday, July 25th. - Four miles. Weak from diarrhoea. Portaged one load each 4 miles south side of stream to open water. Back to camp. I took another load; George and Wallace followed, trying to drag canoe up river. I made camp. They came in after dark, tired out. Canoe left 2 miles down stream. Wallace shot partridge with pistol. Came near going over falls with pack round his neck. Drizzled all day. Heavy rain to-night. Great relief from heat. Flies very bad in afternoon and evening.

Sunday, July 26th. - Rain most of the clay. Lay in tent in A.M. hoping to be better of diarrhoea. Read Low's report, etc. Trouble better.

Monday, July 27th. - Spent A.M. and two hours P.M. bringing up canoe, dragging half way, George carrying rest. Started on at 4. Alternate pools and rapids. Rapids not bad - go up by dragging and tracking. After 1 1/2 mile camped.

Tuesday, July 28th. - Temp. 6 A.M. 46 degrees. Three miles. Cool, cloudy, spell of sunshine now and then. Cold, nasty wading all A.M. to make a mile. Fine portaging in P.M., just cool enough, no flies. Pretty nearly blue in A.M. over lack of progress. Two miles in P.M. brightened things up. By fire between logs we dry, clothes now in evening. All tired out. Low new moon.

Wednesday, July 29th. - Temp. 6 A.M. 58 degrees. Worked 4 miles. Small ponds alternating with rapids. Portage 1 mile in P.M. Very tired. Tea, and finished fine.

Thursday, July 30th. - Temp. 6 A.M. 39 degrees. Paddled through a succession of ponds about a quarter of a mile long each, tracking or dragging over little falls or rapids between. Made portage of 100 rods in P.M. Need fish now. Grub not so heavy as it was. Were starting to dry blankets at fire when rain started. All crawled into tent. Need rain to raise river. Plenty caribou signs - two old wigwams (winter) on rock. No fish but 6-7 inch trout. Bully camp to-night.

Friday, July 3lst. - Temp. 6 A.M. 56 degrees. Rain all day. Two rivers puzzled us. Came together just above our camp. One comes over a fall from the south side; other rough, comes from northwest. South branch comes from west, better, more level. Little ponds between falls and short rapids. Scouted. Think south branch Low's Northwest River. Wallace caught bully mess of trout while George and I were scouting. George found old wigwam about a quarter of a mile up south branch; also a winter blaze crossing stream north to south, fresh. Trappers' line, think. Blake or M'Lean. Wigwam old. Rain bad. River not very good, some ponds, some portage, some dragging. Up south branch three-quarters of a mile stopped for lunch. Stopped after a quarter of a mile portage for a scout. Wallace and I made camp in rain while George scouted. George reports 1 1/2 mile bad river,, then level, deep ponds, very good. Caught trout. Rainy camp.

Saturday, August 1st. - Rained steadily all night and to-day. Tired, chilled, ragged. Wallace not well and things damp. Stayed in camp all day. Hoped to dry things out. Too much rain. Went out in bare feet and drawers and caught ten trout.

Sunday, August 2nd. - Cleared this A.M. Boys dried camp while I caught twenty-four trout, some half pounders. Getting bigger, nearer Height of Land we hope reason. Water higher. Will help us. Two cans baking powder spoiled. Good feed of trout. Not a bit tired of trout yet. Observation shows 53 degrees 46 minutes 12 seconds lat. Went 3 miles in P.M. and camped.

Monday, August 3rd. - Temp. 6 A.M. 56 degrees. Big day. At foot of a portage as we were getting ready to pack, I saw four wild geese coming down stream. Grabbed rifle, four cartridges in it. George got Wallace's rifle. All dropped waiting for them to come round bend, 30 ft. away. George and I shot at once, both hitting leader. All started flapping along on top of water, up stream. I emptied my rifle on them, going at 40 to 50 yards, killing two more. Drew pistol and ran up and into stream and shot fourth in neck. Got all and threw fits of joy. Need 'em just now badly for grub. Through little lake beginning at head of water, quarter of a mile above, into meadow, fresh beaver house. At foot of rapid water, below junction of two streams, ate lunch. Trout half to three-quarter pounds making water boil. Caught several. From this point to where river branches to two creeks, we scouted. Think found old Montagnais portage. To-night heap big feed. George built fire as for bread-baking.

Tuesday, August 4th. - Temp. 6 A.M. 56 degrees. Portaged 1 mile to Montagnais Lake. Portage ran through bogs and over low ridges. I sat on edge of lake looking at rod, when a caribou waded into lake, not 100 feet away. Rifle at other end of portage. Hoped to find inlet to lake, but only one ends in bog. Lots of old cuttings at northwest corner of lake; two old wigwams. Troubled to know where to go from here. All scouted whole afternoon. Lake 1 mile west. Old trail runs towards it. George thinks caribou trail, no cuttings found on it yet. I think portage. Looks like portage we have followed and runs in right direction.

Wedncsday, August 5th. - Portaged from camp on Montagnais Lake, 1 mile west to another lake. No signs of Indians here. Camped at west end of this. Saw two caribou. Dropped pack and grabbed rifle; was waiting for them 250 yards away when a cussed little long-legged bird scared them. At point near camp where lakes meet, I cast a fly, and half pound and pound fontanalis, as fast as I could pull them out. What a feed at 2 P.M. lunch. Climbing ridge, saw that lake empties by little strait into another small lake just alongside, at south. Stream flows from that south. Therefore we are on Hamilton River waters. George and I went scouting to bluffs we saw from trees on ridge. Both lost. George got back before dark. I spent night on hill, 2 miles southwest. No matches or grub. Scared a little. Heard big river, found it flows southeast. Must go into Hamilton, but it is a big one, several times as big as the Northwest at its biggest. Where does it come from? Can it be Michikamau?

Thursday, August 6th. - Slept some last night, lying on two dead spruce tops, too wet and cold to sleep very well. Mosquitoes awful. George went to my river. Wallace and I took canoe and went into lake north of here. Cuttings, winter. George found river to be big and deep. Straight, as though from Michikamau. Don't believe this little creek of a Northwest comes from there. Will portage to this river and try it.

Friday, August 7th. - Portaged 2 miles to river on our south; good paddling save for a rapid now and then. So big we think, Low's map to the contrary, that it comes from Michikamau. Anyway it comes from that way and will carry us a piece toward the big lake. No cuttings. Big trout despite east wind. Caught about fifteen. Cold wind drove away flies. Fire between big rocks. Moon over bluffs beyond. Fine evening. Fine river. Fine world. Life worth living.

Saturday, August 8th. - Nasty, cold, east wind. Went 4 1/2 miles through it all in good river with six short portages first three- quarter mile, and stopped about 1 P.M. to make Sunday camp and get fish. Put out net, ate our dried fish and by hard labour got a few more for supper. Only a bit of bread a day now, no grease, save a little bacon. All hungry for flour and meat.

Sunday, August 9th. - Raining this morning and most of the P.M. Cold, east wind. Caught about forty-five trout by hard effort, several 3/4 lb. each. George made paddle and scouted. Burned his knife.

Monday, August 10th. - Rain and east wind. Caught one big fish before breakfast. Wallace ate it. George and I ate pea meal. On first portage found old summer cuttings and wigwam poles. Feel sure that this was the old Montagnais route. Went 3 miles and crossed four portages. Then on strength of being on right road and needing fish, camped before noon. Mother's birthday. Ate some of her dried apples last night with sugar.

Tuesday, August 11th. - East wind. Warmer a little. Just a little rain. No fish biting. Slept late. Climbed ridge and tree. See ridge of high half barren hills away ahead. Think this the ridge east of Michikamau. Hungry all the time. Down to 40 lbs. of flour, 8 lbs. tea, about 20 lbs. pea meal, a bit of sugar, bacon, baking powder and dried apple, just a bit of rice. Saw mountains ahead from a bluff just below our evening camp. River runs north apparently; it must therefore be Low's Northwest River I think. Mountains look high and rugged, 10 to 25 miles away. Ought to get good view of country from there, and get caribou and bear. Moccasins all rotten and full of holes. Need caribou. Need bear for grease. All hungry all day. George weak, Wallace ravenous; lean, gaunt and a bit weak myself. Fish braced us wonderfully.

Wednesday, August 12th. - Best day of trip. Started late. Cloudy, damp. I took pack over half mile portage and stopped to fish. Fourteen trout. Three portages and then - glory! Open water. Five miles and stopped for lunch, with good water before and behind for first time since Grand Lake. Old wigwam and broken-down canoe at lunch place. Ate trout and loaf of bread. Hungry. Started again, hoping for stream to fish in. Made 3 miles. Then a big bull caribou splashed into the water of a bayou 200 yards ahead. Wallace in bow took shot, high and to the left. I raised sights to limit and held high. Did not think of sport, but grub, and was therefore cool. As first shot George said, "Good, you hit him." He started to sink, but walked up a bank very slowly. I shot two more times, Wallace once and missed. George and I landed and started towards spot. Found caribou down, trying to rise. Shot him in breast, cut throat. George made stage for drying. Wallace and I dressed caribou. Wallace put up tent. I started meat from bones in good strips to dry. Then all sat down and roasted steaks on sticks, and drank coffee, and were supremely happy. We will get enough dried meat to give us a good stock.

Thursday, August 13th. - Worked at getting caribou skin tanned in A.M. Ate steak for breakfast, liver for dinner, ribs for supper. No bread, just meat. Wallace and I started in canoe to look for fish and explore a bit. Found rapid 2 miles above. Very short, good portage, old wigwam, good water ahead. Too cold to fish. Cloudy day, but got blankets aired and dried. River seems to run to northeast of ridge of quite high mountains, 6 to 10 miles ahead. Very tired or lazy to-day. May be meat diet, may be relaxation from month of high tension. Think the latter. Mended pants. One leg torn clear down the front. Patched with piece of flour sack.

Friday, August 14th. - George and Wallace left in canoe with tin cups, tea and some caribou ribs, to scout river above and climb hills. I put some ashes and water on caribou skin. Just starting to shed. Studied map and Low's book. Wish we could descend this river on way out and map it.

Saturday, August 15th. - Cloudy again this morning. Sprinkle or two. Wallace and George not back. Wallace and George came at dusk; tired out and none too hopeful. Found stream coming from a little lake with two inlets. Followed one west to mountains; it turned to a brook, ended in mountains. Other went so much east they fear it ends in lakes there. Think maybe they lost the river. Hungry as bears. Stayed out to explore this east branch. The three days' inaction and their story of doubtful river, depressed me. If the way to Michikamau is still so doubtful, after more than four weeks of back-breaking work, when will we get there, and when to the caribou grounds, and when home? I'd like to be home to- night and see my girl and the people, and eat some bread and real sweet coffee or tea or chocolate. How hungry I am for bread and sweets!

Sunday, August 16th. - Wind has changed at last to north. Not much of it. Clear and bright in early morning. Clouded at noon, so I am not sure my observation was just right, close to it though I think. 53 degrees 46 minutes 30 seconds. Have been coming nearly west, an angle to south and another to north. Last observation possible was two weeks ago to-day. Feel fine to-day. Good rest and good weather and grub are bully. Figure that east branch the boys saw must be Low's Northwest River, and must break through the mountains somewhere a little north. Anyway it can't run much east and must take us north and west through lake expansions close to the mountains. Then if it ends, it's up to us to portage over to the lake expansions Low sees on his Northwest River flowing out of Michikamau. Scraped flesh from caribou skin.

Monday, August 17th. - Temp. at 4.30 A.M. 29 degrees. Temp. noon 59 degrees. Ice on cups. First of season. Beautiful, clear day, north wind, slight. Flies bad in P.M. Went west of north 3 miles, following river to where it began to expand into lakes. Noon observation 53 degrees 43 minutes 19 seconds. Yesterday's observation wrong I think. In A.M. fished few minutes at foot of short rapids. About forty trout, one 16 inches long, biggest yet. Caught most on fins. Ate all for noon lunch, stopping at sand- beach on shore of very pretty little lake expansion. Had coffee too. In P.M. we turned west into some long narrow lakes, that extend into mountains, and have a current coming out. George and Wallace think from a previous look, that here is a portage trail to Michikamau's southeast bay. George explored while I worked at skin. George returned. No good so far as he saw, to cross here, but he did not do the thing thoroughly. However, I'll let it drop, for I believe the river goes east and north, and then west and breaks through mountains to Michikamau. Worried some. Time short and way not clear, but we'll get there if we have to take the canoe apart and walk across. May have to stay late on the George, and have to snowshoe to Northwest River and then across; but if it comes to that we'll do it. This snowshoe to Northwest River and then across to the St. Lawrence, by Kenamon and St. Augustine Rivers, appeals to me. Lots of old wigwams about, summer and winter. Stove was used in one. I think Indians hunted here. Caribou tracks on barren mountains.

Tuesday, August 18th. - Temp. 28 degrees at 4 A.M. Clear sky in morning. Much worried last night and this morning, about way to Michikamau. Started early, ready to go at the job harder than ever. Lake expansions, rapids, no signs of Indians. Afraid this a bad stretch which Indians avoided. Stopped at 10 A.M. for tea. Caught fourteen big trout there, in few minutes. Then river opened into long narrow lakes, and the going was bully. It turned west, or we did (it came from the west) and went into the mountains, and we fairly shouted for joy. George saw caribou. Turned out to be geese. Chased ahead them on bank. Shot old goose as she lay low in water, swimming and hiding. Broke old one's wing and took off leg. Then missed four shots. Gander took to woods. George took after young and killed one with pistol. Came and helped get wounded goose. Great chase. Trout, pounders, jumping like greedy hogs to fly. Took about fifty while boys were making two short portages in P.M. Bread, small loaf, coffee, sugar, goose, trout for supper. Big feed in celebration geese and good water. At end of to-day's course turned to right into wrong channel, into little narrow lake half mile long, prettiest I ever saw. Big barren bluff rises from water on north, barren mountains a few miles to west, ridge of green to west, sun setting in faces to contrast and darken, two loons laughing, two otters swimming in lake. One seemed afraid and dived; other more bold, looked at us. Hoped to kill it to settle question of species, but did not get near enough. Good water ahead. Hope we are on the road to Michikamau.

Wednesday, August 19th. - Noon 53 degrees 50 minutes. Bright, clear in A.M. Southeast wind brought clouds. Began to rain as we went to bed. Spent whole day river hunting, paddling from arm to arm of the lakes. George and I climbed high barren ridge. Red berries and a few blue berries. Flock ptarmigan, rockers. I shot three with pistol, old one, two young, but could fly. Saw more mountains on all sides. Many lakes to east. Failure to find river very depressing to us all. Seems to end in this chain of lakes. Will retrace our way to last rapid to be sure, and failing to find stream, will start west up a creek valley on a long portage to Michikamau. Boys ready for it. I fear it will make us late, but see no other way. Glad Wallace and George are game. A quitter in the crowd would be fierce.

Thursday, August 20th. - Rain last night. Cloudy in A.M. Rain P.M. and night. Wind south. Stopped to mend moccasins and give caribou a bit more drying before we start to cross mountains. Looked ahead and saw two more lakes. May be a good deal of lake to help us. Mended moccasins with raw caribou skin. While George got lunch I took sixteen trout, fin for bait. In P.M. Wallace and I took canoe and went back over course to last rapid, exploring to see that we had not missed river. Sure now we have not. So it's cross mountains or bust, Michikamau or BUST. Wallace and I came upon two old loons and two young. Old tried to call us from young. Latter dived like fish. Caught one. Let it go again. We caught eighty- one trout at last rapid in about an hour, mostly half-pounders; fifteen about pounders, hung to smoke. Big feed for supper. Rest for to-morrow. Rained good deal. Sat under drying stage with a little fire, tarpaulin over us and had big supper - fried trout, trout roe, loaf of bread, coffee. Last of coffee. Hate to see it go. Little sugar left. A bit in morning and evening cups.

Friday, August 21st. - Rain all day. Wind changed to north, colder. Portaged to little lake above camp. Found wigwams at each end of portage. Looks like old Montagnais trail. Then more lakes and short portages. Made 4 miles very easily, then, after pot of tea and big trout feed, portaged 1 mile west to another little lake, just over Height of Land. Our stream tumbles off the mountain, and does not come from this last-named lake at all. Little 4-foot ridge turns it. Went into camp very early, chilled through.

Saturday, August 22nd. - Portaged across Height of Land. Delighted to find on end of lake to westward many Indian signs. Believe this enters southeast bay of Michikamau, or a lake connected with it. Rained hard by spells. West wind. Camped on island early in P.M. after a very short march, to repair canoe, and to wait for head wind to fall. Caribou meat roasted at noon. Two loaves of bread, dried apples and tea - no meat or fish - supper.

Sunday, August 23rd. - West wind. Rain and clear by spells. Drank last of chocolate - two pots - for breakfast. Dried blankets in a sunny spell, and about 10 A.M. started. Coming to point round which we expected to get view of lake ahead - "Like going into a room where there is a Christmas tree," said George. Narrow channel around point 2 1/2 miles from east end. Thence we saw a long stretch of lake running west. Believe it Michikamau's S.E. bay sure. Mighty glad. Ate boiled dried caribou, pea soup, tea. Dried caribou hurts our teeth badly. Went west 2 1/2 miles and climbed barren hill on north side of lake. Ate blue berries, bake- apple berries, and moss berries. Saw on north, water in big and little masses, also on N.W. many islands of drift, rocky and spruce clad. One long stretch of lake, like a river, runs east and west, about 2 miles north. Wonder if it is Low's Northwest River. Went west on our lake 3 miles. Caught a fish like pike, with big square head, 3 1/2 lbs. Found our lake ends, stream falling in from another lake west. Came back 2 miles to outlet into waters north. Camped. All feel bully. On Michikamau waters sure.

Monday, August 24th. - Rain, north wind, cold. In camp all day. Bad head wind. George and I scouted. All restless at inactivity but George. He calm, philosophical, cheerful, and hopeful always - a wonderful man.

Tuesday, August 25th. - Cold N.E. wind. Rain. Made start. Nasty portage into Northwest River (?). Wallace turned round and started to carry his pack back. Wind fair part of time. Part of time dangerously heavy. Landed on point running out from north shore. Wigwam poles. Have diarrhoea. All chilled. Not sure of way ahead, but not worried. Camped at 5 P.M. Nice camp in clump of balsam. Not craving bread so much. Idleness and a chance to think make us hungrier. Flies about gone. Proverb - On a wet day build a big fire.

Wednesday, August 26th. - Temp. at 5 A.M. 40 degrees. Bright and clear save for one shower in P.M. Started happy. Shot goose with pistol after long chase. Goose would dive repeatedly. Shot several times at rather long range. Paddled 20 to 25 miles on big lake running east and west. No outlet west. Came back blue and discouraged. Passed our camp of last night to climb a mountain on N.E. side. Caught very pretty 2-lb. pike trolling. Wallace and I got supper. George went to climb mountain, found river this side (west) of mountain, running into this lake from N.W. What is it? Low's Northwest River? Can't see what else. Glad again. Very hopeful. Sick and very weak. Diarrhoea. Pea meal and venison and goose liquor. Better. Bright northern lights.

Thursday, August 27th. - Bright and lightly clouded by spells. No rain. Northwest River panned out only a little stream. N.G. Guess we must portage. Desperate. Late in season and no way to Michikamau. One more try for inlet, and then a long nasty portage for the big lake. See little hope now of getting out before winter. Must live off country and take big chances. Camping near where we camped last night. Going up Northwest River and hunting outlets some more, took our time. Ran across geese this A.M. I went ashore and George and Wallace chased them close by. Shot leader with rifle. Then two young ones head close in shore. I killed one with pistol and two others started to flop away on top of water. Missed one with pistol, and killed other. While exploring a bay to N.W., we landed to climb ridge. George found three partridges. I shot one, wounded another, pistol. Camped to- night cheerful but desperate. All firm for progress to Michikamau. All willing to try a return in winter. Discussed it to-night from all sides. Must get a good place for fish and caribou and then freeze up, make snowshoes and toboggans and moccasins and go. Late home and they will worry. Hungry for bread, pork and sugar. How I like to think at night of what I'll eat, when I get home and what a quiet, restful time I'll have. Flies bad by spells to-day.

Friday, August 28th. - Temp. 6 A.M. 56 degrees. Back to northwest end of lake where bay runs north. Portaged to small shoal lakes and camped on north side, ready to start in A.M. Fixed moccasins in preparation for long portage. Made observation of sun and moon to-night, hoping to get longitude. All very tired, but feel better now. No bread today. No sugar. Don't miss latter much, but hungry for bread. Good weather. Shower or two. Writing by camp fire.

Saturday, August 29th. - Temp. 6 A.M. 38 degrees. Am writing a starter here, before beginning our march north. Wallace and George at breakfast now. I'm not. Sick of goose and don't want it. Ate my third of a loaf of bread lumpy without grease and soggy, but like Huyler's bonbons to our hungry palates. Dreamed of being home last night, and hated to wake. Jumped up at first light, called boys and built fire, and put on kettles. We must be moving with more ginger. It is a nasty feeling to see the days slipping by and note the sun's lower declination, and still not know our way. Outlet hunting is hell on nerves, temper and equanimity. You paddle miles and miles, into bay after bay, bay after bay, with maybe no result till you are hopeless. Ugh! This is a great relief to be about to start north through the woods - fairly high ground to start with - on a hunt for Michikamau. Hope we will not have swamps. Lakes will probably stop us and make us bring up the canoe. Good evening and we are happy, despite fact that grub is short and we don't know our way and all that.

Sunday, August 30th. - Beautiful, clear Sunday, but no Sunday rest for us. I jumped up early, called George, and built fire. Started at 5.54 A.M., portaging from little lake to little lake, north and west, to where we know Michikamau must lie, somewhere. For two days we have heard geese flying. Thought our goose chases over, but to-day five walked down bank into water ahead of canoe on a small lake. Wounded two at one shot with rifle. Two old ones flew. Left wounded to chase third young one. Shot and killed it with pistol. Could not find wounded. Made 3 miles before dinner. Good. In P.M. about 1 1/4 miles more. Then reached range of semi- barren ridges, running east and west, and seeming to reach to barren mountains north. George and I climbed first ridge from a little lake, with blue green, ocean-coloured water. Heard stream ahead. Little river running through ponds. George went back for outfit and Wallace. These are trying days. We are not quite up to normal strength. I think too much routine of diet, lack grease, sugar and grain foods. The feeling of not knowing where we are or how to get out adds to our weakness, still we are all cheerful and hopeful and without fear. Glad all of us to be here. How we will appreciate home and grub when we get out. I crawl into blankets while the boys smoke their evening pipe. Then I think of M. and our home at Congers, and plan how she and I will go to Canada or Michigan or somewhere, for a two week's vacation when I get home. I wonder when that will be.

Monday, .August 31st. - Ice on cups this morning. Thermometer out of order. Lat. 53 degrees 57 minutes. I hate to see August end with us so far from the George River, or so perplexed as to the road. We are in camp now, on the stream we reached last night. I am writing and figuring in the early morning. The whole character of our country changes here. Ridges and hills extending into mountains on the north. Must know what lies there before we proceed. George will scout. Wallace and I will dry fish. While George was scouting, I lay in tent awhile, too weak to fish even. Fish not biting though. Oh, but I'll be happy to see Michikamau! George returned late. Climbed mountains to north. Reports fair line of travel to northwest, long lakes and tolerable portages. Will go that way, I think. Wallace got a few trout. George killed two partridges with my pistol.

Tuesday, September 1st. - West wind. Fair, warm. Very weak to-day. Our stuff so light now we can take all but canoe at one trip over portage. Have just crossed portage from lake by yesterday's camp, to other lakelet N.W. Boys gone back for canoe. I sit here and write. Very rough portaging here, all rocks and knolls. Little clear lakes between. Have to put canoe into water every 40 rods or so. Shot a plover with pistol to cook with George's partridges. Later. Made about 4 1/2 miles. Caught about thirty-five trout at edge of lake where stream empties.

Wednesday, September 2nd. - West wind. Fixed moccasins in A.M. and started portage west. Camped in swamp.

Thursday, September 3rd. - Rain all day by spells. Wind west. Got up in rain, hating to leave blankets. At breakfast, bread and tea and venison. I took no tea. Am trying now just venison and fish broth. May agree with me better than tea. Don't miss sugar much any more, though I do plan little sweet feeds when I am out. Very nasty work in rain. Am well again and strong. Worked well. Portaged and paddled west 4 1/2 miles. Wallace turned round again and carried pack back to starting point. George and I carried canoe. Sky cleared in evening. Saw all day big spruce trees. Country here not burned I think.

Friday, September 4th. - Rain. West wind, Portaged west 1 1/2 miles, with two little lakes to help. Rain all time. Stopped to let George scout best way to big lake ahead. Thinks it is 3 miles away. Hope it leads to Michikamau. George and Wallace mending moccasins. George reports big water about 3 miles ahead. Hope Low's Northwest River lake expansions. Cannot be far now from Michikaman. Spent much time over map in P.M. Think we must start back 1st October to the St. Lawrence, if we can get guides. Otherwise to Northwest River and then snowshoe out.

Saturday, September 5th. - Rain by spells. West wind, cold. Awoke in rain. Last three nights have been as clear as crystal, beautiful moon. Then rain in the morning. Very disappointing. We waited a little while about getting up, hoping rain would stop. Slackened, and we started. Poor day's work. Portaged about 2 1/2 miles west. Came out on barrens and ate lot of blue berries. Saw big waters to west, big blue hill, blue sky-line where we hope Michikamau lies hidden. Pint berries raw for supper. Otherwise, venison and broth, thickened with three spoonfuls of flour, each meal.

Sunday, September 6th. - Temp. 5 A.M. 38 degrees. First snow came, mixed with nasty cold rain. Nasty, raw, west wind. Worked in it most of day, portaging 2 1/2 miles N.W. Tried carrying all stuff at one trip. Grub low. Big water ahead. Believe this big water will lead to Michikamau. Almost a desperate hope. If it does not and we find no water route, I scarcely see how we can reach the caribou grounds in time to see the crossing and meet the Nascaupees. Without that I am doubtful of the success of this trip, and failure makes me shudder. Besides it is liable to make us all very hungry. We must push on harder, that's all. And get there somehow.

Monday, September 7th. - Temp. at 5 A.M. 48 degrees. N.W. wind, slight. Rain by showers. On portage crossed worst swamp of trip. In to my knees and fell down with heavy pack on my back. Floundered out in nasty shape. Found small stream flowing N.W. toward our big water. I caught about thirty trout, not big, while Wallace and George brought up outfit and canoe by stream. Very slow work. All very hungry in P.M. Stopped for pot of soup. Found it getting dark and stopped to camp. Last meal of venison in bag. Must get fish. Ate half our trout to-night, boiled and thickened with flour. Drank last bit of cocoa. No sugar. Boys not scared. No talk of quitting. Don't just see where we are coming out.

Tuesday, September 8th. - Cold raw N.W. wind, no rain, partly clear. Observation noon, 54 degrees l minute 21 seconds. Aired and dried blankets. Followed stream down to very shoal bay of our big water, which like the will-o'-wisp has led us on. Only ten trout, mostly small. Weather too raw. Very depressing to have it so when meat is out. On to caribou grounds is the watchword. Gave up trouting and started west on our big lake. Stopped to climb mountain. Ate some cranberries. Saw a few old caribou tracks. Big mountain to west of us. Islands or something between, many low, flat, wooded.

Wednesday, September 9th. - BIG DAY. Warm, clear. Temp. 5 A.M. 29 degrees. Ice in cups. Slept without sweater or socks last night. Cold but slept well. Beautiful cold crisp morning. Up at first dawn. Inspiring, this good weather. George boiled a little bacon and rice together, and a little flour made sort of porridge for breakfast. Very, very good. No fish or game ahead. Went to big hill mentioned yesterday. George and I walked about 4 miles and back getting to its top through spruce burnings. Awful walking. Very tired when about to top. Wondering about next meal and thinness of soup mostly to blame, I guess. Then things began to get good. First we ran across a flock of ten ptarmigan. They were in the burned-over semi-barren of the hill-top. They seem to lack entirely the instinct to preserve themselves by flying. Only ran ahead, squatting in apparent terror every few feet. We followed with our pistols. I killed eight and George one, my last was the old bird, which for a time kept away from us, running harder than the rest, trying to hide among the Arctic shrubs. George says they are always tame on a calm day. Their wings are white, but the rest is summer's garb. "Not rockers, but the real kind," says George. Then we went on across the mountain top and looked west. _There was_ MICHIKAMAU! And that's what made it a BIG DAY. A series of lake expansions runs east from it. We can see them among flat drift islands, cedar covered, and a ridge south, and a hill and the high lands north, and apparently a little river coming from the north, and pouring into the lake expansions some miles east of Michikamau. There is one main channel running east and south, in this expansion. It is north of the waters we are now in, and we can see no connection. However, there looks as if there might be one about 5 miles east of our big hill. Behind some barren ridges, about 50 feet high. So we are making for them to see what we can find. If no connection, we must portage, but we will not mind a little portage now, with Michikamau waters just over it. Westward from our hill are dozens of little lakes, and a good deal of low burned land. S.E. more lakes. Must be an easy portage from the lakes on which we were muddled two weeks ago. That's where we missed it, in not finding that portage.

Thursday, September 10th. - Wind west, cloudy. Temp. 5 A.M. 46 degrees. Rain in evening. Cut legs from old drawers and pulled them over pants as leggings. Went east looking for opening in N.W. River. Think we saw it in ridge to northeast, came S.W. Believe that we saw also opening into Michikamau's Bay which runs out of lake on S.E. side. Wind delayed, and we only got to foot of mountain from which we expect to see it. Camped. Rain commenced. While scouting I shot a large spruce partridge with pistol.

Friday, September 11th. - Raining in morning. Wind southwest. Temp. 49 degrees. Ate last meal of mother's sweet dried apples. We are on the verge of success apparently, in sight of Michikamau from which it is not far to the caribou grounds and the Nascaupees. Yet we are sick at heart at this long delay and the season's lateness and our barefoot condition. Yet no one hints at turning back. We could do so, and catch fish and eat our meal, for we know the way to within easy walking distance of Grand Lake, but the boys are game. If we only had a fish net we would be 0.K. My plan is to get a few fish if possible, push on at once to Michikamau somehow. Get to the George River, and find the Nascaupees. Then if the caribou migration is not over, we will kill some of the animals, dry them up and get as far back as possible before freezing up and leaving the canoe. Then, unless we can get some one to show us to the St. Lawrence, we will probably go to Northwest River Post, get dogs and provisions, and snowshoe S.W. to Natishquan or some such point. If we don't get to the caribou grounds in time - well, we'll have to get some fish ahead, or use our pea meal in a dash for the George River H.B.C. Post. After breakfast George and I went in rain to climb mountain. No water into S.W. bay of our lake as we hoped. Trolling back, I caught one small namaycush. Then we all started to hunt for a rapid we heard on the south side of this lake. Caught one 2 1/2 lb. namaycush. Found rapid. Good sized stream falling in from south. Big hopes, but too shoal and rapid, no pools. Only one mess of trout. Very much disappointed. While Wallace and I fish, George gone to troll. When he gets back, we will go to look for inlet into Low's "Northwest River." Not finding that we will start on a portage for it in the morning. Later by camp fire. Weather has cleared. All bright and starry. Caught a 7-lb. namaycush and so we eat to- night.

Saturday, September 12th. - Temp. 38 degrees. High N.W. wind. Clouds and clear by spells. Dashes of snow. We camped on a little island not far from the N.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.

Sunday, September 13th. - Temp. 39 degrees 5 A.M. High N.W. wind in A.M. Clear, rain, sleet by spells. Heavy wind continued this A.M. Some more rice and bacon soup for breakfast. Read Philemon aloud and told story of it. Also 1st and 91st Psalm. Found blue berries, and all ate. At about one o'clock, wind dropped somewhat. We started to hunt outlet into N.W. River, supposed to be N.E. of island. N.G. Shot at goose - missed. Hooked big namaycush - lost it. Caught another 6 lbs. Ate it for lunch about 4 P.M. Picked gallon of cranberries. Ate a pot stewed with a little flour for supper. Enough for two meals left. Not very satisfactory, but lots better than nothing. Sat long by camp fire.

Monday, September 14th. - Temp. 40 degrees 5 A.M. High N.W. wind, clear and showers by spells. Very much disappointed to find heavy gale blowing. Could not leave shore. Had breakfast of very thin soup. Then all slept till nearly noon. I dreamed again of being home. Hungry all day. George and I have decided that we must not start this way home before freezing up time. Might get caught again by bad winds. Better freeze on the George River with the Indians, save grub if we get any, and then snowshoe clear out. Later by camp fire. Hard to keep off depression to-night. Wind continues and all hungry.

Tuesday, September 15th. - Temp. 31 degrees 5 A.M. West wind, spits of sleet, and fair. Wind continued hard all day. Could not leave shore. I lay awake all last night thinking over situation. George is worried and talks of Indians who starve. Tries to be cheerful but finds it hard. Here we are, wind bound, long way from Michikamau, no hopes of wind abating. The caribou migration is due to begin, yet we can't start and are at least two weeks from their grounds, with no grub and no prospect of good weather. Our grub is 18 lbs. pea meal, to be held for emergency, and 2 lbs. of flour, 1 pint rice, 3 lbs. bacon. To go on is certain failure to reach the caribou killing, and probable starvation. If we turn back we must stop and get grub, then cross our long portage, then hunt more grub, and finally freeze up preparatory to a sled dash for Northwest River. That will make us late for boat, but we can snowshoe to the St. Lawrence. All this, with what we have done so far, will make a bully story. I don't see anything better to do. I asked Wallace. He opposed and then said it was best. I said to George, "Would you rather go on or turn back?" "I came to go with you, and I want to do what you do." When I said we will turn back he was very greatly pleased. Now my job is to get the party back to Northwest River, getting grub as we go. We will take the back track to some good fishing grounds, catch fish, try to kill a caribou, and wait for freeze. We can't take the canoe down the Nascaupee. Hence the need of freezing. Stayed in camp all day. Could not launch canoe. No place to fish or hunt. Feel better now that the decision is made. Ate very thin rice and bacon soup and drank tea. Long chat with Wallace. Feeling good in spite of short grub. George is telling again how be will visit his sister at Flying Post and what be will eat. We are talking of plans for our home-going, and are happy despite impending hunger.

Wednesday, September 16th. - Temp. 29 degrees 6 A.M. Wind N.W. Shifting to N.E. Little rain. Moved to rapid on south shore where there is some trout fishing, and hard place to be wind bound. Must fish a few days and get grub ahead for our long portage back to Namaycush Lake. Ate last bit of bacon at noon, cut in three pieces and boiled with rice and a little flour. Boys trolled in P.M. I made camp and fished brook. Too cold. They lost two good namaycush. I took two 10-inch trout. Boiled these into a mush and put last handful of rice and a little flour into pot with them. Good soup. Made us feel stronger.

Thursday, September 17th. - Temp. 33 degrees 6 A.M. Rained all last night and all this P.M. For breakfast a whisky jack, stewed with flour and about two spoonfuls of erbswurst. Good. Wallace and I each had half a bird. If we get enough fish ahead to take us across this portage, our pea meal and what fish we can get on river will see us to the post. Hoping weather will improve so we can make a good haul. Disheartening in extreme to be working all the time in rain and wind and cold. I made a map this A.M. of our long portage - about 30 miles. Will require about seven days. Wallace and I stretched tarpaulin by fire and sat long beneath it chatting. Wallace is a great comfort these evenings. There has been no friction this trip whatever. I think I'll get a bully story out of it despite our failure to find the Nascaupees. I'll get more in freezing up, more in Northwest River people and more in the winter journey to God's country.

Friday, September 18th. - Temp. 38 degrees 6 A.M. S.E. wind, turning to N.W. gale about noon. Raw and snow by spells. Caught three namaycush in AM., then wind bound by fierce N.W. gale at camp. Wallace caught 2 1/2 lbs. trout. I caught 1 lb. Namaycush heads and guts and my trout for supper. Boiled with last of flour. Hungry and a bit weak, but all cheerful. Sat late by roaring camp fire. Very depressing this, getting wind bound so often just when we are trying to get fish ahead for our long portage towards home. Have thought a good deal about home. It seems to me I'll never be willing to leave it again. I don't believe I'll want any more trips too hard for M. to share. Her companionship and our home life are better than a great trip. So it seems to me.

Saturday, September 19th. - Rain and snow last night, temp. 32 degrees. Gale from northwest all day. Wind bound in camp all day. Lay in tent almost all the time. Spits of snow. No breakfast. Bit of fish and its liquor for lunch. Same with a dash of pea meal at night. Oh! to be away from this lake and its gales and to be started home! Last night we quit rolling in blankets and made bed to keep warm. All three crawled in. Warmer than other way. Quite comfortable all night. Plan a great deal for the future. I am planning to give more time to home. Less fretting and more home life. I've let my ambitions worry me. More time for my meals when I get home and more for my wife and our friends. I want to give one or two little dinners in the woods when we get back and while George is there. A turkey roast like a goose. Stuffed. Potatoes, bannocks, made while the turkey is roasting, one of George's puddings, coffee and maple cream.

Sunday, September 20th. - Temp. 6 A.M. 29 degrees. Morning bright and clear. Light N.W. wind. Showers in P.M. Squally. To-night we are starting for Northwest River Post. When we reach the big river we can I think nearly live on the fish we get there. From there too, there are more signs of caribou. About four days more and we ought to reach a remnant of flour we threw away. It was wet and lumpy, but we will welcome it now. It, if it is usable, will see us to the head of Grand Lake, where Skipper Blake has a cache, I think, in a winter hunting shanty. It promises to be a hungry trip, but it is a man's game. Now that we are starting home I am content with the trip and the material. We've done all we could. Our minds turn to home even more and we are anxious to be back. So hungry to see all the old friends.

Tuesday, September 22nd. - Temp. 38 degrees. N.W. wind. Rain in morning and by spells all day. All feel stronger today than yesterday. Tried to stalk goose in bad swamp. Missed at long range. Waded above knees in mud and water to get shot. Portaged all day mostly through low or swampy ground. Happy to be going home. Camped tonight on second old camping-ground. George and Wallace brought up outfit while I made camp and got wood.

Wednesday, September 23rd. - Rain by spells. W. wind. Clear in evening and cold. Portaged all day. Crossed barren ridge. Had big feed of moss-berries and cranberries. Wallace had apparent tea sickness and vomited. Erbswurst same as yesterday. Feel quite weak to-night. Had carried canoe a good deal. A good deal depressed till camp fire. Then good again. Bright, crisp night. Dried clothing and got warm. Talked long by fire of home. Blankets very damp. Hard time keeping warm at night.

Thursday, September 24th. - Temp. 28 degrees. N.E. wind. Snowing in morning. Quite cold last night, but clear and crisp till toward morning when it snowed. Blankets very damp, but by drying clothes at fire and getting good and warm, we slept warm and well. Dreamed M. and I were at Missanabie. How I do wish I could see her again at home. Thinking too much maybe, about home now. Makes too big contrast. Snow covered ground by noon. Disagreeable morning, but a little crisp wintriness helped it some. Plodded along on a pea soup breakfast, wondering what the outcome will be - a little. Nasty weather makes one wonder - and thinking of M. and home. Then came a happy event. George had said last night be could kill a wild goose this A.M. if I would let him take rifle. Did so, half convinced by his confidence, and knowing he was a big goose shooter down on "The Bay." He had started ahead. Had seen flock light in pond ahead. Wallace and I heard four shots. Came to where George had left pack. He was coming with no goose. "You can kick me," said he, "but I got a goose." We took canoe to his pond. He had killed one goose, which was drifting ashore, and wounded another, which sat on shore and let George end it with a pistol. Never was goose more gladly received I'll venture. I promised George two cook-books and a dinner as a reward.

Friday, September 25th. - Temp. 28 degrees. Wind N.E. Snow squalls. Half goose breakfast. Pea soup, thin, for dinner. Half goose, supper. Goose is bully. When done eating we burn the bones and chew them. Nasty day. Portaged to old camp on small lake and stopped. All day I have been thinking about childhood things and the country. I want to get into touch with it again. I want to go to Canada, if possible, for Christmas. I want to go somewhere in sugar making. So homesick for my sweetheart. Fairly strong despite short grub.

Saturday, September 26th. - Temp. 28 degrees. Wind N.E. Rain in early morning, cold wind, warming in late P.M. Clear at mid-day. Dried blankets. Travelled over our old course to our "long-lake- that-looks-like-a-river." Shot a large duck's head off with rifle. Had hopes of a few fish at place where we found them spawning on our westward way, but was fearful of the cold. Left George cooking and went to try with Wallace's rod, not over hopeful, as water was very high and weather cold. Delighted to catch twenty very fair ones while lunch was cooking. In P.M. took ninety-five more. Estimated weight of catch 70 pounds. We will stay here to-morrow and dry fish for journey. This is a wonderful relief. It means enough fish to put us through to our big lake, or nearly so. We had no hopes of such a catch, and would have been delighted with just a meal or two. Then it means, I hope, that we will find the trout biting at other spawning places, and catch enough to live on in spite of the cold weather. We are happier than for weeks before for we believe this almost guarantees our safe return home. Rain drove us from our camp fire just after George had declared, "Now we'll talk about French toast, and what we'll eat when we get to New York." So we all crawled into blankets and did plan and plan good dinners.

Sunday, September 27th. - Warm day, partly clear, wind S.W. Ate last of goose for breakfast. Bully.

Monday, September 28th. - Snow and clear by spells. Stayed in camp to rest and feed up. Were all weak as cats when we relaxed from the grub strain. We kept smoke going under stage and lay in tent most of day. Boiled fish for breakfast, roast smoked fish for other meals. Like them rather better the latter way.

Tuesday, September 29th. - Temp. 24 degrees. Snow by squalls all day. Wind W. Caught twelve good trout while boys were breaking camp. Diarrhoea, which attacked me yesterday, came back when I started to carry the canoe. Had to drop it and became very weak. Boys went on with it about 1 1/4 miles and came back. We camped on long lake. I huddled by fire and wrote when it was not snowing. We can catch up to our schedule if I am able to travel to-morrow for it is only an easy march, covered in less than a day before. All talking about home, all happy to be going there.

Wednesday, September 30th. - Boys carried canoe nearly to Pike Lake, while I made camp and went back and forth three times to bring up packs. Then a happy camp nearer home. To-night we planned, in case we have a long wait in St. John's to get rooms for light housekeeping and not go to hotel. Then we can cook what we want and need and live high - beef bones for caribou, cereals with real cream, rich muscle-making stews of rice, beef, etc., tomatoes, etc.

Thursday, October 1st. - Temp. 40 degrees. Crossed to Pike Lake this A.M. Lunch on west side, last of fish. Nothing now left but pea meal. Crossed lake, no trail on east side, hoping to get trout where I took a mess in outlet coming up. Not a nibble. Too cold or something. Camped in lee of trees. Boys had feed of blue berries while I fished. Ate half stick of erbswurst. Good camp- fire, but I rather blue and no one talkative. So hungry for home - and fish.

Friday, October 2nd. - Cold west wind. Temp. 30 degrees. Cold - snowed a bit in the evening. Took packs early in day and hurried across to tamarack pole fishing place. Only two trout before noon. Ate them with pea meal and boys went back for the canoe. Only two days, and easy ones, to our big lake. Then only two days to the river with its good fishing. That makes us feel good. It means a good piece nearer home.

Saturday, October 3rd. - Bright crisp morning. Temp. 21 degrees. Snow squalls. Left tamarack pole place and portaged south over old route, crossing lakes, etc., to our camp of 29th August, on little pond. Wet feet and cold, but not a bad day. I lugged all the packs and boys canoe. Beautiful moon and clear night. All sat late by camp fire talking and thinking of home. Pleased to have another fair march back of us - happy.

Sunday, October 4th. - Temp. 10 degrees. Bright clear cold A.M. Everything frozen in morning. Pond frozen over. Two trout left. One for breakfast, boiled with erbswurst. Portaged to lake about three-quarter mile away. Crossed it. Some ice to annoy. George borrowed Wallace's pistol saying he saw a partridge. He killed four. Lord's with us. We need 'em bad. I'm weak and nervous. Must have vacation. Wallace notices it. Have not taken bath for two weeks, ashamed of my ribs which stick out like skeletons.

Monday, October 5th. - Temp. 30 degrees. Wind S.E. Snow on the ground. Up late. Waited Wallace to mend moccasins. Late start. Crossed bad swamp to big lake, wading icy water. Dried feet and drank cup soup. Stopped island in P.M. to get berries. All talk much of home now. At camp fire George told me of his plans to get married and his love story.

Tuesday, October 6th. - Temp. 48 degrees. Rain and snow in A.M. George shot partridge before breakfast. Rained most of night. Started expecting to portage to lake first west of Height of Land. Got into rough sea, exciting time. Found river of considerable size emptying into that lake. Ran into it and prepared to finish in the morning. George and I ran on rock shooting rapid. Beautiful night - cold. Feel all cold.

Wednesday, October 7th. - Thermometer out of order. Heavy frost. Ran down river into lake, west of barren mountain, climbed to scout on day after entering lake W. of Height of Land. Stopped and fed well on our moss berries and cranberries. Took some along. Started Height of Land portage. Happy to be back. Very thin pea soup breakfast. Some with berries for lunch. Weak.

Thursday, October 8th. - Thermometer N.G. Very frosty. Dreamed last night we were going out of bush, very weak and hungry. Came to our old Michigan Farm and found mother. Wonder where mother is now. Do want a vacation at home or in Canada. May be won't need it after ride on steamer. Finished Height of Land portage and came on to place where we dried caribou (second time), at head of Ptarmigan Lake. I caught four fish, small trout, while Wallace was going back for rifle, which he had left at far end of small lake. Wallace came back with partridge. This delayed us and we did not reach good fishing rapid. Hoped to get trout there. Did catch a few before - failed to-night. Bright crisp day too. George very blue in consequence. Wallace and I not worried. Pea meal down to less than two pounds. No other food save tea. Thinking much of home and M., and our plans and old friends. I want to keep better in touch with relatives everywhere and the country. How I wish for that vacation in Michigan or Canada! or a good quiet time at Congers, and I am aching to write home sketches and stories that have come to my mind. We talk much of future plans, and the camp fire continues to be a glorious meeting place.

Friday, October 9th. - Reached good fishing hole at rapid where we caught so many trout on way up. Got about fifty in P.M. Glorious, crisp fall day. Dried blankets. Fifteen trout lunch; twelve supper; then six roast before bedtime. Disappointing. Hoped for some to dry. Only one day's slim fish ahead - one and a half pounds pea meal. No hopes of getting ahead fish to freeze up. Must get out to civilisation. Pretty weak all of us.

Saturday, October 10th. - From rapid about half way to Camp Caribou. Boys shot rapids while I fished. Beautiful day till about noon. Then cloudy and cold west wind. Cheerful camp fire as always. About twenty trout, nine boiled for supper. Same for lunch. Much talk of grub and restaurants, and our home going, much of George's room in New York, of good days in Congers. I want to go to Michigan and Canada and to Wurtsboro'. Oh, to see my sweetheart and be home again!

Sunday, October 11th. - Beautiful, clear day, cold. Off day for grub. George shot three times at ducks and I fished at rapids. No fish - no ducks. Nine small trout breakfast, eight lunch. No supper ahead save what George hoped to find at Camp Caribou. Arrived there tired and weak about an hour before sunset. George gathered bones and two hoofs. Pounded part of them up. Maggots on hoofs. We did not mind. Boiled two kettlefuls of hoofs and bones. Made a good greasy broth. We had three cupfuls each and sat about gnawing bones. Got a good deal of gristle from the bones, and some tough hide and gristly stuff from hoofs. I enjoyed it and felt like a square meal. Ate long, as it is a slow tough job. Saved the bones to boil over.

Monday, October 12th. - Made about 9 miles to-day. Several bad rapids. Shot them. George and I nearly came to grief in one. My fault. Beautiful day. Fished a little, but no fish bit. Hope to leave stream to-morrow, and that makes us happy. For breakfast bones of caribou boiled to make greasy broth. Quite supply of grease in it. Hoofs too boiled. Some gristle to these that was good. Strong, rancid taste, but we relished it. Roasted hard part of hoofs in fire, ate them. Half rubber, half leather, but heap better than nothing. For lunch the same with skin from velvet horns added. Latter boiled up and was very good. At night some bones boiled to make broth, skin from head added. Part of mine I could eat boiled. Part from nose very thick and had to be roasted first. Good. Sat by camp fire long time. Very sleepy. Talked of home and friends and grub and plans.

Tuesday, October 13th. - Lightened our packs a bit, throwing away more or less useless stuff at old shack, where we had a rainy night. Pot of tea at Rainy Sunday Camp. All very hungry and weak. Camped below Rainy Sunday Camp. Tried wenastica, not bad. Not much taste to it. Thinking all time of home and M. and parents and Congers and Wurtsboro' and childhood and country.

Wednesday, October 14th. - Caribou bones, boiled into broth for breakfast. Then George shot a duck. Came back. "Lord surely guided that bullet," said he reverently. He had killed a wonderfully fat duck. Oh! but it was good and greasy. Made bully lunch boiled, and good pot of broth. Left river where we entered it. Left canoe, sextant box, artificial horizon and my fishing- rod. Packs still too heavy for our strength. Little progress. Reached old camp where we left lakes for big river. Hoped fish. No bites. Cold east wind. Big fire. All cheerful. Just bone broth and a bit of wenastica for supper. Must lighten packs to limit. Count on bit of flour 22 miles from here. Here George found two old goose heads and some bones we left. Saved them for breakfast. All gnawed some charred bones. George found three tiny slices of bacon in old lard can we left - one each. How good they were. The scrapings of lard he melted for the broth pot. We have 1 1/6 lbs. pea meal left. No other grub but tea. We think this will take us to our bit of flour, if it is still left, and Blake has a cache, we think, at the head of Grand Lake about 24 miles beyond that. Hope to get out 0.K. Count on berries to help us. Had some moss berries to-day.

Thursday, October 15th. - Dreamed last night came to New York, found M. and had my first meal with her. How I hated to find it a dream. Lightened packs a good deal. Left Wallace's rifle, cartridges, rod, my cleaning rod, my sextant and 15 films and other things, cached in bushes at left side of little stream between two lakes. Wallace hated to leave his rifle, I hated to leave other stuff. Spent most of forenoon getting ready. Ate for breakfast bit of skin from old caribou head, boiled with bone broth. At lunch on Montagnais Lake, same, but skin was from old caribou hide, which we had carried to mend moccasins. Were almost to our second camp where we ate first goose, when I got shaky and busted and had to stop. Wallace came back and got my pack and I walked to camp unloaded. In P.M. George shot three partridges which jumped up before us in a swamp. Killed them with my pistol. Made us very happy. Ate one for supper, OH! how good. In spite of my weakness I was happy to-night. I remember a similar happiness once after I went to New York. I got caught in rain, had no car fare, got soaked, spent last 10 cents for rolls and crullers, then crawled into bed to get dry and eat, not knowing where the next meal would come from. Talk of home. George not thinking now of eating of recent years, but just the things his mother used to make for him as a child. Same way with Wallace and me, save that I think of what M. and I have eaten that she made.

Sunday, October 18th. - Alone in camp - junction of Nascaupee and some other stream - estimated (overestimated I hope) distance above head of Grand Lake, 33 miles. For two days past we have travelled down our old trail with light packs. We left a lot of flour wet - about 11 miles below here, 12 miles (approximately) below that about a pound of milk powder, 4 miles below that about 4 pounds of lard. We counted on all these to help us out in our effort to reach the head of Grand Lake where we hoped to find Skipper Tom Blake's trapping camp and cache. On Thursday as stated, I busted. Friday and Saturday it was the same. I saw it was probably useless for me to try to go farther with the boys, so we counselled last night, and decided they should take merely half a blanket each, socks, etc., some tea, tea pail, cups, and the pistols, and go on. They will try to reach the flour to-morrow. Then Wallace will bring a little and come back to me. George will go on to the milk and lard and to Skipper Blake if he can, and send or lead help to us. I want to say here that they are two of the very best, bravest, and grandest men I ever knew, and if I die it will not be because they did not put forth their best efforts. Our past two days have been trying ones. I have not written my diary because so very weak. Day before yesterday we caught sight of a caribou, but it was on our lee, and, winding us, got away before a shot could be fired.

Yesterday at an old camp, we found the end we had cut from a flour bag. It had a bit of flour sticking to it. We boiled it with our old caribou bones and it thickened the broth a little. We also found a can of mustard we had thrown away. I sat and held it in my hand a long time, thinking how it came from Congers and our home, and what a happy home it was. Then I took a bite of it and it was very good. We mixed some in our bone broth and it seemed to stimulate us. We had a bit of caribou skin in the same pot. It swelled thick and was very good. Last night I fell asleep while the boys were reading to me. This morning I was very, very sleepy. After the boys left - they left me tea, the caribou bones, and another end of flour sack found here, a rawhide caribou moccasin, and some yeast cakes - I drank a cup of strong tea and some bone broth. I also ate some of the really delicious rawhide, boiled with the bones, and it made me stronger - strong to write this. The boys have only tea and one half pound pea meal (erbswurst). Our parting was most affecting. I did not feel so bad. George said, "The Lord help us, Hubbard. With His help I'll save you if I can get out." Then he cried. So did Wallace. Wallace stooped and kissed my cheek with his poor, sunken, bearded lips several times - and I kissed George did the same, and I kissed his cheek. Then they went away. God bless and help them.

I am not so greatly in doubt as to the outcome. I believe they will reach the flour and be strengthened, that Wallace will reach me, that George will find Blake's cache and camp and send help. So I believe we will all get out.

My tent is pitched in open tent style in front of a big rock. The rock reflects the fire, but now it is going out because of the rain. I think I shall let it go and close the tent, till the rain is over, thus keeping out wind and saving wood. To-night or to- morrow perhaps the weather will improve so I can build a fire, eat the rest of my moccasins and have some bone broth. Then I can boil my belt and oil-tanned moccasins and a pair of cowhide mittens. They ought to help some. I am not suffering. The acute pangs of hunger have given way to indifference. I am sleepy. I think death from starvation is not so bad. But let no one suppose that I expect it. I am prepared, that is all. I think the boys will be able with the Lord's help to save me.