50 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 



fives, and tens, and even twenties; how much in all I don't 

 know for I never had the curiosity to count them — though, at 

 the time, I guessed that there were many hundreds of dollars. 

 It was the trader's bank. Nevertheless, beside that open win- 

 dow was the favourite lounging place of all the Indian trappers 

 and hunters who visited the Post, and during my stay a group 

 of Indians that numbered from three or four to thirty or forty 

 were daily loitering in the shade within a few feet of that open 

 window. Sometimes, when I was in my room, they would 

 even intrude their heads and shoulders through the window and 

 talk to me. Several times I saw them glance at the heap of 

 money, but they no more thought of touching it than I did; 

 yet day or night it could have been taken with the greatest 

 ease, and the thief never discovered — but, of course, there 

 wasn't a thief in all that region. 



But now that the white man has made Lake Temagami a 

 fashionable summer resort, and the civilized Christians flock 

 there from New York, Toronto, Pittsburgh, and Montreal, 

 how long would the trader's money remain in an open box 

 beside an open window on a dark night? 



TRACKING UP RAPIDS 



After breakfast next morning, while ascending Caribou River, 

 we encountered a series of rapids that extended for nearly a 

 quarter of a mile. Here and there, in midstream, rocks pro- 

 truded above the foaming water, and from their leeward ends 

 flowed eddying currents of back water that from their dark, 

 undulating appearance rather suggested that every boulder 

 possessed a tail. It was always for those long, flowing tails 

 that the canoes were steered in their slow upward struggle 

 from one rock to another; for each tail formed a little harbour 

 in which the canoe could not only make easier headway, but 

 also might hover for a moment while the paddlers caught their 



