XV 



TO THE TIMBER'S EDGE 



WE were ready to start at three, and I was waiting for 

 my dog-driver and interpreter when word came that he 

 had backed out, and Gaudet renewed his efforts to dis- 

 suade me from the trip. But I had not come thus far to 

 be daunted by so inconsiderable a thing as deprivation of 

 speech or driving my own dogs, and I motioned Beniah 

 to move on. And now there was a hand-shaking that 

 seemed to have no ending, for every one pressed upon me 

 closely, and grasped my hand solemnly and in silence. It 

 was rather a funereal leave-taking. 



There is a little portage of about a mile that leads out 

 from Resolution to the west on to Great Slave Lake, and 

 Gaudet ran along with me over this; and as he ran, told 

 me the names of the dogs : Foro (the foregoer), Finnette, 

 Flossie, and Blucher (the steer dog). And then we 

 came to the lake, and halted for a last good-bye. Kind- 

 hearted Gaudet seemed much depressed ; and as for me 

 well, at any rate, I was started, and if fate ruled that I 

 never come back, my place would be filled, and the world 

 roll on as usual ; so with a heart for any fate, I called out 

 "M-a-arche!" to Foro, and the journey to the Barrens was 

 begun in earnest. 



I had no time for meditation, for my work was cut out 

 from the start. Beniah and his Indian were riding in cari- 

 oles, and swinging along at a clipping gait ; and though 



