70 PORTAGE LA LOCHE. 



one turned himself to windward, and the poor 

 fellow who had unconsciously brought the evil 

 upon us was half stifled with the noisome 

 odour, and threw his capot into the lake, with 

 deep imprecations on the unsavoury and ill- 

 mannered brute. 



It was the 21st of July when we reached 

 Portage la Loche, the high ridge of land which 

 divides the waters running into Hudson's Bay 

 from those which direct their course to the Arc- 

 tic Sea. For about six or seven miles on this 

 portage, the voyageurs are exposed to temporary 

 but acute suffering, from the total absence of good 

 water to quench the thirst, aggravated, in our case, 

 by carrying loads of 200 lbs. in an atmosphere of 

 68° of Fahrenheit. They are, at the same time, 

 incessantly tormented by myriads of insatiable 

 mosquitoes and horse-flies, significantly called 

 " bull dogs," which, delighted with the rare 

 treat of a human subject, banquet on their 

 victims till, not unfrequently, the face streams 

 with blood. Happy, therefore, is the moment 

 when the bright surface of the Little Lake 

 is descried, which cools and refreshes their 

 wearied frames. In addition to these evils, 

 which are common to all, two of my party were 

 sadly foot-fallen, and almost groaned under their 

 burdens, — a sight too painful to be witnessed 

 without compassion. However, in services such as 



