A CANADIAN RIVER 107 



lowed the line to sink as far as it would go, 

 but I soon felt it rasping along the rough 

 surface of the log and a break seemed inevi- 

 table. More by chance than skill, the line 

 was successfully manipulated until the great 

 tree-trunk had passed by us, and I was able 

 to resume offensive tactics. The fish was 

 landed, and I was congratulating myself on 

 my good fortune, and intending to re- 

 commence operations, when I caught sight 

 in the offing of a second log, followed by a 

 third and yet others in an apparently end- 

 less procession. I had never encountered a 

 timber drive before, and now realized too 

 fully what it meant. For the rest of that 

 morning I was completely defeated. 



After this digression I ought perhaps to 

 explain that our river was divided into three 

 sections — the Home Beat, of which I have 

 already said something; the Middle Camp, 

 about seven miles' farther up the river, where 

 there was a substantially built log-hut used 

 by the lumberers in the winter and by fisher- 

 men in the summer season; and the Upper 



