246 WITH GUN AND GUIDE 



We then came back into the main stream, and soon 

 it was bull strength with paddle and pole for a mile 

 and a half. Then we beheld the entrance to the much- 

 talked-of Iron Slough. This stream, if such it can be 

 called, enters the river on the right, as you go up, and 

 passes through a great stretch of rnarsh-land, turning 

 and twisting its way through the ever-present alders 

 and willows for a distance of seven miles, and all of 

 this way running parallel to the Swamp River, which 

 flows to the left. 



At the head of this slough, or stream, as I prefer to 

 call it, nestles a tiny lake right against the breast of 

 a mountain, down whose sides flow two icy creeks 

 which feed it, and in turn this lake feeds the stream. 



At places on the way up, Kibbee went on to the 

 wide-stretching marsh, and climbed some high tree 

 from whose branches he could scan the sea of waving 

 swale grass, hazel bushes, high-bush cranberries, stunted 

 spruce trees, blueberry bushes, mossy bog-land and 

 hummocks, treacherous underfoot and hard to balance 

 one's self upon. As a fitting border to the picture, we 

 could see the Swamp Biver in the distance, with a 

 rampart of towering mountains guarding it. 



Trails of caribou and moose we all could see, and 

 fresh tracks of both animals, too ; but not a single 

 piece of game could the guide or we detect. We took 

 a frugal lunch at the head of the stream where it could 

 be stepped over, and then went to the lake. 



