A canoe shot through the white waters, darted safely past 

 the rocks and at the bottom, shot with the current to the right. 



Directly around that corner a young bull moose was dis- 

 porting himself in the waters. The first canoe would have 

 whacked into his hindquarters had not the stern's man thrown 

 the bow to one side. In utter astonishment the moose looked 

 up. The canoe was 50 feet behind. 



Scarcely had the moose recovered his poise than another 

 canoe shot past his hind quarters, just grazing him. The 

 astonished paddlers could have slapped him with a paddle 

 going by. Only they didn't. Probably they were as much 

 surprised as the moose. There was no shouting back a warn- 

 ing. The rapids would drown the voice easily. 



The moose champed the waters in some indignation and, 

 as final insult, a third canoe rounded the sharp corner and 

 went flying past his hind quarters. 



Then he did kick around some though he made no attempt 

 to charge. By the time the third canoe had passed him, but 

 before he, combined with the rapids, had ceased to stir up 

 the waters, the firfist canoe to pass had snapped the big fel- 

 low as he showed his displeasure. 



Ducks Are Everywhere. 



This fellow was the last of the moose seen. Deer were 

 sighted often now, and there were ducks all along the river 

 and lake shores, though this is not an ideal duck country. 

 It was common to see two or three settings of young ducks 

 trying to fly over the waters ahead of the canoes. Tiring, the 

 ducklings would dive for it and come up back of the canoes. 



The sixth night brought the canoeists into Farm lake and 

 then into White Iron, about five miles from Ely. A mile away 

 from where the canoes made their final landings is a mine 

 and telephone, which brought the automobile from Ely. 



