164 THE LOWER ST. LAWRENCE. 



ing their pelts on. It is located on a knoll, just at the edge of 

 the forest, with an open grassy space in front and a path 

 leading to the river's edge/ In the foreground is a point of 

 land made by a brook flowing in. As soon as a landing is 

 effected, Pierre makes a " smudge" to keep off the black 

 flies, and then goes for wood and hemlock boughs. He 

 gathers enough wood to last all night, and places the boughs 

 in rows on the floor of the shanty, covering the buts of the 

 first row with the soft branches of the second, and the 

 second row with the third, and so on, in order that the sharp 

 ends may not hurt us when we lie down. Then he cuts two 

 logs of dry spruce about eight feet long, and placing them 

 side by side three feet apart, with skids underneath, so as to 

 make a draft, fills the space between them with proper fuel, 

 and lights the fire. Meanwhile crotches have been cut and 

 set in the ground and the kettle filled with water, which we 

 now sling upon a pole over the fire. The fish are next 

 dressed, and with a few slices of pork are laid in the frying- 

 pan ; the tea is emptied into the now boiling water, the bread 

 and butter and sugar come forth, and when the repast is pre- 

 pared, we fall to with a will, quite ready toretire to rest as 

 soon as the dishes are rinsed and wiped. Nothing makes 

 sleep so refreshing as the fatigues of a sportsman's daily 

 routine. He goes to bed at dusk and rises with the first 

 break of day. In midsummer the first portion of the night 

 is often sweltering hot. By two o'clock in the morning the 

 air becomes chilled and the dew falls heavily, rendering a 

 fire not only extremely comfortable, but absolutely necessary. 

 Now it happens that Pierre, who lies near the fire in the 

 open air, has slept too soundly and let the fire go out ; and 

 we inside the hut, having thrown off our blankets in the 

 early part of the night, wake up at three o'clock benumbed 

 and shivering. Our limbs are so stiff that we can scarcely 

 move. All is darkness, within and without. No cheerful 

 flicker sheds forth its light and warmth. The Frenchman is 

 snoring vigorously. 



