CHAPTER XIL 



THE FIRST CHAIN OF PONDS SHOOTING BY TURNS SHEEP 



WASHING A PLUNGE AND A DIVE A ROLAND FOR AN 



OLIVER. 



WE started early the next morning up Bog River, intend- 

 ing to reach the " first chain of ponds," some twenty miles 

 deeper in the wilderness, as the stream runs, on the banks 

 of which our pioneer had been instructed to pitch our tents. 

 This day's journey, it was understood, would be a hard one, 

 as there were eight carrying places, varying from ten rods 

 to half a mile in length. The Bog River is a deep, sluggish 

 stream for five or six miles above the falls, just at the lake. 

 It goes creeping along, among, and around immense boulders, 

 thrown loose, as it were, in mid channel. At this distance, 

 the stream divides, the right hand channel leading to the 

 two chains of ponds and Mud Lake, where it takes its rise ; 

 and the left to Round Pond, and little Tupper's Lake, and a 

 dozen other nameless sheets of water, laying higher up 

 among the mountains. Our course lay up the right hand 

 m 



