r 



CROSSING THE LAKE 189 



Two weeks hence, they say, these hills will be alive 

 with Caribou; alas! for them, it proved a wholly er- 

 oneous forecast. 



Y.'s guide is Sousi King Beaulieu (for pedigree, see 

 Warburton Pike); he knows all this country well and 

 gave us much information about the route. He says 

 that this year the Caribou cows went north as usual, but 

 the bulls did not. The season was so late they did not 

 think it worth while; they are abundant yet at Artillery 

 Lake. 



He recognised me as the medicine man, and took an 

 early opportunity of telling me what a pain he had. 

 Just where, he was not sure, but it was hard to bear; 

 he would like some sort of a pain-killer. Evidently he 

 craved a general exhilarator. 



Next morning we got away at 7 A. M. after the usual 

 painful scene about getting up in the middle of the 

 night, which was absurd, as there was no night. 



Next afternoon we passed the Great White Fall at 

 the mouth of Hoar Frost River; the Indians call it 

 Dezza Kya. If this is the Beverly Falls of Back, his 

 illustrator was without information ; the published pic- 

 ture bears not the slightest resemblance to it. 



At three in the afternoon of July 27th, the twelfth 

 day after we had set out on the "three or four day 

 run" from Resolution, this exasperating and seemingly 

 interminable voyage really did end, and we thankfully 

 beached our York boat at the famous lobstick that 

 marks the landing of Pike's Portage. 



