From "Taku River to Taylor Bay 



floundered in the stumpy bog trying to make a fire 

 and supper. 



When daylight came we found our camp-ground a 

 very savage place. How we reached it and established 

 ourselves in the thick darkness it would be difficult to 

 tell. We crept along the shore a few miles against 

 strong head winds, then hoisted sail and steered 

 straight across Lynn Canal to the mainland, which we 

 followed without great difficulty, the wind having 

 moderated toward evening. Near the entrance to 

 Icy Strait we met a Hoona who had seen us last year 

 and who seemed glad to see us. He gave us two 

 salmon, and we made him happy with tobacco and 

 then pushed on and camped near Sitka Jack's de- 

 serted village. 



Though the wind was still ahead next morning, we 

 made about twenty miles before sundown and camped 

 on the west end of Farewell Island. We bumped 

 against a hidden rock and sprung a small leak that 

 was easily stopped with resin. The salmon-berries 

 were ripe. While climbing a bluff for a view of our 

 course, I discovered moneses, one of my favorites, and 

 saw many well-traveled deer-trails, though the island 

 is cut oflF from the mainland and other islands by at 

 least five or six miles of icy, berg-encumbered water. 



We got under way early next day, — a gray, cloudy 

 morning with rain and wind. Fair and head winds 

 were about evenly balanced throughout the day. 

 Tides run fast here, like great rivers. We rowed and 

 paddled around Point Wimbledon against both wind 

 and tide, creeping close to the feet of the huge, bold 



[ 243 ] 



