NARRATIVE. 109 



ble that our friends should be iu the bay and not see it. But the 

 flames went out, the last sparks one after the other dropped away, 

 and .the dark walls of the bay came into sight against the sky, yet 

 we listened and looked in vain for an answering signal. Next morn- 

 ing, however, namely : 



Au(/. 1th — We were early awakened by their voices on the beach 

 They had landed in the outer cove, and thus did not see our lire, 

 being cut oflf by a high intervening ridge. They had heard the 

 gun, but were engaged in hauling up the canoe, and so could not 

 answer it. Looking round upon the prospects of the day we found 

 the wind still so strong from the S.E. that there was no chance of 

 getting off at present. Of this we could feel no more where we 

 were, than if we had been at the bottom of a well, but the men 

 pointed to the breakers at the mouth of the bay, where, at the dis- 

 tance of a mile or more, the large and rapidly shifting masses of 

 white against the black rocks showed that the surf was beating 

 outside at least as violently as the night before. On listening, the 

 roar of the waves could be distinctly heard. But immediately 

 about us it was dead calm, with occasional eddies in the tree-tops 

 from all points of the compass. A contrast such as the lake seems 

 to love, as if it sought to break up the uniformity of its general 

 features as much as possible by brisk and abrupt changes in the 

 minor ones. Thus although the weather throughout our journey 

 might be called settled, yet we very rarely had a steady wind, 

 either as to direction or strength, and in the hottest day the shade 

 of a rock, or a cloud passing over the sun was enough to make it 

 cool. The range of clothing thus necessitated within the twenty- 

 four hours was extraordinary. 



Our little point was as silent as a piece of the primeval earth ; not 

 a living thing stirring except a few musquitoes, and an impudent 

 moose-bird that perched down, with a jerk of the tail and a knowing 

 turn of the head, among our very camp-kettles. A heavy stillness 

 seemed to hang over it and weigh down every sound, so that a few 

 paces from the tents one forgot that he was not alone. It was as if 

 no noise had been heard here since the woods grew, and all Nature 

 seemed sunk in a dead, dreamless sleep. 



