and in some places showed more granite than water. 

 We had to keep a constant lookout for rocks. After 

 we had very cautiously shot a very mild little rapids 

 we found ourselves at the top of some very formidable 

 ones which we could neither shoot nor find a portage 

 around. The sad conclusion was forced upon us that 

 we had missed it higher up. We made it back for a 

 mile or so, and there she was hidden in a little bay. 

 The water was so low all along the river that few land- 

 ings were recognizable. 



Those Granite river portages were not so very long 

 and they would not have been so very hard for a goat, 

 but for a man with a heavy pack they at least furnished 

 adequate exercise. As it threatened rain we set up 

 our tents on the shore of Clove lake and squatted. The 

 rain came and we held a beautifully juicy camp with 

 water dancing in the frying pan and dribbling into the 

 men's lean-to. It was all in the game and we utilized 

 the sopping morning to catch a fifteen pound pickerel 

 and bake him in the reflector. No fish ever tasted 

 better. 



After dinner we struck our sodden camp and pro- 

 ceeded down the wilder, rockier, more picturesque 

 reaches of the Granite river to the Gneiss lake. That 

 part of the river was really beautiful in its very bar- 

 renness. Gneiss lake was worth a little inspection, but 

 we decided to do than on the way back when we knew 

 what was ahead of us and m ! erely skirted it now to the 

 outlet of the river. Here again is a beautiful stretch 

 of rocky stream. As in so many places the green tim- 

 ber ran down to the American while the Canadian was 

 black and burned. This particular stretch just before 



15 



