SOUTH-WEST GALE BURSTS 39 



camp. We were not long in rolling ourselves in 

 our blankets ; and slept the faultless sleep of 

 well-tired and healthy hunters. 



Prewarned by constringed wispy grey clouds 

 of the previous evening, we awoke in the morning 

 to find a storm had burst. 



For two days we were delayed, while a heavy 

 south-west gale scudded angrily over Lake lie 

 a la Crosse and made it impossible for us to canoe 

 up-shore to the inlet bay where our blazed trail 

 terminated. Had we known at the outset that 

 the storm was to last, we would have cleared an 

 overland trail to the inlet. But that would 

 have entailed considerable labour, so we waited 

 for the change of weather, trusting to luck, and 

 it turned out that luck was not in good humour. 



On the third day we were up at 4.15 a.m. — 

 if my watch was right — while the golden glow of 

 dawn was in the east, and the sun was still 

 hidden behind the dark peaks of the spruce-tops. 

 In the crisply cool morning — for the thermometer 

 registered only 4 per cent, above freezing — we 

 started up-shore in the canoe, disembarked at 

 the inlet, and commenced the long portage inland. 



You know how a canoe is carried ? . . . The 

 paddles are lashed to the narrow cross-bars — 

 which are the seats of the canoe — in such a 

 position that when the canoe is upturned and 

 hoisted over a man's head, the head slips between 

 the paddle stems just before the spatulated blades, 

 which thereupon descend comfortably on to the 

 broad shoulders of the carrier. In lashing the 

 paddles into position for canoe portage they are 

 longitudinally arranged so that the canoe will be 



