36 HUNTERS OF THE GREAT NORTH 



me to civilization, I accompanied Stewart along the old 

 Indian trail through the thick brush on the first lap of 

 his journey. In a warm, drizzling rain and among mos- 

 quitoes almost as numerous as the raindrops, we said 

 good-bye at his first camp, which was pitched in the 

 spruce woods four or five miles west from Macpherson. 

 He would continue west and south, but I turned back to- 

 ward Fort Macpherson and the North. 



