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idea that our belongings would not 

 go into the five canoes. Sally at 

 the risk of being mobbed, suggested 

 that ''like dough they seemed to 

 swell when needed." 



"But after all, even if we do have 

 too much for the canoes, it is not very 

 serious. It will not take long to 

 run back on the water as we must do 

 on the carrys," said our host. 



It seemed easy to me then. Bert 

 overhearing this remark smiled 

 grimly, swung a seventy-five pound 

 top pack onto his hundred-pound 

 back pack and trotted along the trail. 

 One by one, the men took up their 

 burdens adjusted tump lines and 

 disappeared. There was no hurry 

 for us. Bobbie estimated that each 

 man would have run the trail three 

 times. 



Lading ourselves with guns, fish- 

 ing tackle, cameras, all the goodly 

 paraphernalia of sport, we four filed 

 along a trail which showed the hob- 

 nailed prints of George and Arthur, 

 the pointed shape of Bert's American 

 gear, the oblong outline of Creche's 

 moccasined foot, and the shapeless 

 tracks of the Cook, who had encased 



