BOAT CARRYING. 173 



no joke to me to carry my part of the freight. Two 

 rifles, one overcoat, one tea-pot, one lantern, one 

 basin, and a piece of pork, were my portion. Some- 

 times I had a change — namely, two oars and a pad- 

 dle, balanced by a tin pail in place of a rifle. Thus 

 equipped, I would press on for a while, and then stop 

 to see the procession — each poor fellow staggering 

 under the weight he bore, while in the long intervals 

 appeared the two inverted boats, walking through the 

 woods on two human legs in the most surprising 

 manner imaginable. Though tired and fagged out, I 

 could not refrain from frequent outbursts of laughter, 

 that made the forest ring again. But there was no 

 other way of getting along, and each one had to 

 become a beast of burden. 



It was a relief to launch again, and when at last 

 we struck the river just after it leaves Forked Lake, 

 and gazed on the beautiful sheet of water that was 

 rolling and sparkling in the sunlight ahead, an invol- 

 untary shout burst from the party. A flock of wild 

 ducks, scared at the sound, made the water foam as 

 they rose at our feet and sped away. Stemming the 

 rapid stream with our light prows, we were soon afloat 

 on the bosom of the lake. The wind was blowing 



