DOWN THE PORCUPLNE RIVER 231 



when I was fixing the other boot and gave a pull on the 

 upper I tore a great opening in it along the edge of the 

 sole. I now realized that my boots were rotten and that 

 I should not be able to walk in them many days. 



I might have turned back in an hour or so because 

 of the boots but what actually turned me back was that 

 I came to a tributary river so deep that it could not be 

 waded and so turbulent that trying to swim it would 

 have been dangerous. I was carrying the same ax and 

 could perhaps have gone half a mile upstream and found 

 a place where I could make a raft for crossing out of 

 two or three trees, but rather than do this I went back 

 for my old raft. 



The walk from the place where I had left the raft 

 behind to the uncrossable stream and back was only four 

 or five miles but my feet were so badly bruised by the 

 rocks in that short distance that I was thoroughly recon- 

 ciled to the raft. Although at the time I regarded this 

 as a useless delay, I think now it was really worth while 

 through the peace of mind it gave me. Before that I 

 had been thinking and planning continually and worry- 

 ing about whether I should not leave the raft behind. 

 Now I had no doubts about the advisability of sticking 

 to it to the end. 



The interest of the down river journey was heightened 

 by my absolute ignorance of the country. The decision 

 to start south had been made so hurriedly at Herschel 

 Island that we had not thought of asking the whalers 

 for a possible map. At Macpherson none was obtain- 

 able. Firth had told me a good deal about the river but 

 much of what he told me I had forgotten. I knew so 

 little that when a river the same size as the Bell joined 

 it on my left-hand side, I was surprised, for I thought 



