Trail and Camp-Fire 



We had toiled slowly up the long portage 

 from the St. Maurice, three miles of continu- 

 ous steep ascent, the men and I heavily laden ; 

 we had reached the lake, and the men had 

 returned for another load. I agreed to meet 

 them at the portage on the farther shore, and 

 then we two, my wife and I, embarked in a 

 tiny birch canoe. We were in a little land- 

 locked bay, so closed at the farther end by 

 narrows as to seem a pond ; beyond them it 

 opened out again, and again narrows ap- 

 peared beyond ; thence we passed by deep 

 winding channels among many islands which 

 border the eastern shore. The water was 

 crystal-clear and green ; the rocks were mot- 

 tled with lichens and carpeted with velvet 

 moss, emerald-green, white, and crimson ; the 

 cedars curved their aromatic boughs over the 

 limpid depths ; against their deep green the 

 scarlet berries of the mountain-ash blazed in 

 the sun, and among them stood the silvery 

 stems of giant birches, their exquisite tops 

 shimmering green and gold against the blue 

 of the sky. And above all, upon every little 

 island and over all the hills, rose the stately 

 pines, in whose topmost branches the soft 

 west wind sang the song it sings to all upon 



150 



