SOME LABRADOR RIVERS 
plunging down with a front of over a hundred 
feet, contract to half this width at the foot and 
take an abrupt turn to the right to form the 
rapids and whirlpools below. 
All the rivers were not large, and we spent 
many happy hours bird-watching and explor- 
ing in the neighbourhood of an attractive stream 
near Esquimaux Point. Inquiring of our good 
friend the government doctor stationed at this 
village as to its name, for the stream was not 
noticed on the chart, he modestly confessed 
that the villagers called it La Riviere du Doc- 
teur, because he kept a canoe on it in summer 
above the rapids, and fished it for trout. As 
we frequently dined on its bank we occasionally 
cast a fly, but the waters were still too cold with 
melting snow, and we never beguiled a trout 
from them into the pan. I can testify not 
only to the coldness of its waters, but also to 
the swiftness of its current and the sharpness 
of its limestone bed, for interesting birds had 
an annoying habit of flying to the opposite 
bank. My companion, more thoughtful than I, 
had provided himself with hip rubber boots, 
but he generously paid the penalty by act- 
ing the part of the old man of the sea, on 
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