SOME LABRADOR RIVERS 



plunging down with a front of over a hundred 

 feet, contract to half this width at the foot and 

 take an abrupt turn to the right to form the 

 rapids and whirlpools below. 



All the rivers were not large, and we spent 

 many happy hours bird-watching and explor- 

 ing in the neighbourhood of an attractive stream 

 near Esquimaux Point. Inquiring of our good 

 friend the government doctor stationed at this 

 village as to its name, for the stream was not 

 noticed on the chart, he modestly confessed 

 that the villagers called it La Riviere du Doc- 

 teur, because he kept a canoe on it in summer 

 above the rapids, and fished it for trout. As 

 we frequently dined on its bank we occasionally 

 cast a fly, but the waters were still too cold with 

 melting snow, and we never beguiled a trout 

 from them into the pan. I can testify not 

 only to the coldness of its waters, but also to 

 the swiftness of its current and the sharpness 

 of its limestone bed, for interesting birds had 

 an annoying habit of flying to the opposite 

 bank. My companion, more thoughtful than I, 

 had provided himself with hip rubber boots, 

 but he generously paid the penalty by act- 

 ing the part of the old man of the sea, on 



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