CHAPTER XXVII 



THE LAST OF THAT INDIAN CREW 



Carved on the lobstick of the Landing were many 

 names famous in the annals of this region, Pike, 

 Maltem, McKinley, Munn, Tyrrel among them. All 

 about were evidences of an ancient and modem camp — 

 lodge poles ready for the covers, relics and wrecks of 

 all sorts, fragments of canoes and sleds, and the in- 

 evitable stray Indian dog. 



First we made a meal, of course; then I explained to 

 the crew that I wanted all the stuff carried over the 

 portage, 3J miles, to the first lake. At once there was 

 a row; I was used to that. There had been a row 

 every morning over getting up, and one or two each 

 day about other details. Now the evil face of Beaulieu 

 showed that his tongue was at work again. But I 

 knew my lesson. 



"You were brought to man the boat and bring my 

 stuff over this portage. So do it and start right now." 



They started 3J miles with heavy loads, very heavy 

 labour I must admit, back then in four hours to make 

 another meal, and camp. 



Next morning another row before they would get up 

 and take each another load. But canoe and every- 

 thing were over by noon. And then came the final 

 scene. 



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