OR, THE LAKE LANDS OF CANADA. 121 



our way as well as we could with matches, moving along 

 cautiously, with one or both hands extended before our 

 eyes when left in total darknes^. In spite of these pre- 

 cautions we strayed frequently from the proper road off 

 on these by-roads, often calling to each other in order to 

 prevent too great separation. In the mean while Welling- 

 ton remained by the wagon to assist our youthful driver. 



Nearly two hours had been spent in this toilsome man- 

 ner when a shout from the photographer announced the 

 glad tidings that he had found a log cabin that was in- 

 habited. He called loudly to me ; I shouted back to him, 

 having strayed off on a log road about one-fourth of a 

 mile from the road leading to Pickerel Lake (the road that 

 we wished to follow), but failed to make myself heard by 

 Mr. Mildenberger, although I heard him. He had learned 

 at the cabin that we were just above Sphynx Shoot, or 

 Falls, and that the river was only a few rods from the cabin 

 and to the right of the road. 



The photographer was now joyful ; he rushed into the 

 woods in search of the author, shouting at the top of his 

 voice, "This way! This way!" I soon succeeded in mak- 

 ing him understand, and then shouted back to him, " Stand 

 where you are !" He did not obey the injunction, but con- 

 tinued to advance towards me. We were soon so near 

 each other as to be able to speak in an ordinary voice, 

 while at the same time we could easily understand each 

 other. We finally met, and he conducted me back to the 

 cabin. We found this surrounded by a few acres of newly- 

 cleared land, the clearing extending to the river, and even 

 to the point above the falls that we desired to reach. 



