326 A BOOK-LOVER'S HOLIDAYS 



the superstructure, however seemingly imposing, 

 will topple. As I watched my French guides 

 prepare supper I felt that they ofiFered fine stuff 

 out of which to make a nation. 



Beside the lake an eagle-owl was hooting from 

 the depths of the spruce forest; hoohoo — 

 h-o-o-o — hoohoo. From the lake itself a loon, 

 floating high on the water, greeted me with 

 eerie laughter. A sweetheart-sparrow sang a 

 few plaintive bars among the alders. I felt 

 as if again among old friends. 



Next day we tramped to the comfortable camp 

 of the president of the club, Mr. Glen Ford 

 McKinney. Half-way there Lambert met me; 

 and for most of the distance he, or one of the 

 guides, carried a canoe, as the route consisted 

 of lakes connected by portages, sometimes a 

 couple of miles long. When we reached the 

 roomy comfortable log houses on Lake McKin- 

 ney, at nightfall, we were quite ready for our 

 supper of delicious moose venison. Lambert, 

 while fishing in his canoe, a couple of days 

 previously, had killed a young bull as it stood 

 feeding in a lake, and for some days moose 

 meat was our staple food. After that it was 

 replaced by messes of freshly caught trout, 

 and once or twice by a birch-partridge. Mrs. 

 Lambert was at the camp, and Mr. and Mrs. 



