The Wilderness 53 
were now pouring out the other end into 
Long Lake. Being at its height, the stream 
was torrential, lashing itself into fury as if in 
an effort to be rid of the logs which, crunch- 
ing and booming, now submerged and again 
tossed on end, made their mad voyage to the 
lake. The lower part of this short river is one 
continuous rapid, and here the speeding logs 
were flung upon jutting rocks and jammed in 
unutterable confusion, while the swift water 
swirling over and around them foamed and 
frothed and roared sullenly in apparent fury. 
It was a satisfaction to note how soon this 
tremendous din and uproar, which drowned 
your very thoughts as you stood at the river’s 
edge, grew feeble and impotent, becoming a 
mere murmur as you turned your steps away 
from the river, until it was itself drowned in 
the mighty silence of the wilderness. 
Day after day the spruce logs appeared at 
the quiet mouth of the river as they completed 
the tumultuous stage of their journey. Re- 
strained by booms they silently formed them- 
selves into a queer tongue-shaped raft which, 
from a distance, appeared to flow like some 
viscous purplish substance over the still 
water, until inflated to a sufficient size, it de- 
tached itself and moved slowly down the lake. 
