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 offered 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. 



