36 RECREATION 
after conquering them. The-fish, as a rule, 
were not big, few of them tipping the scales 
at more than a pound and a-half. They 
were good fighters, however, and afforded 
ts of amusement. In one spot several 
ut would rise at every cast on the instant 
ae flies touched the water. 
On the fourth day of our stay at Sand 
Lake we paddled to a point of land at the 
upper end of the lake, and that night slept 
out under the stars. 
The next day, with a view to exploration, 
we carried to Tupper Lake, paddled across, 
carried again and launched the canoe in Big 
Tobeatic Lake, which we also crossed. A 
short distance from where we landed is 
Little Tobeatic Lake. No islands dot the 
surface of Tupper Lake, but Big ‘Tobeatic 
possesses the usual Nova Scotian proportion 
of these. Between the two a log flume runs 
alongside the stream connecting them. 
We caught a few fish (or, as Mitchell would 
have us say, killed some trout), cracked 
away at the elusive loons and reached 
‘‘home”’ late in the afternoon. Wednesday 
morning we struck camp and started for 
Maitland over the same route by which we 
had come. About ten miles down the Shel- 
burne we camped on a convenient meadow, 
despoiling a hay-stack to make ourselves an 
unwontedly luxurious bed. Here we caught 
the first glimpse of a human being we had 
seen since crossing Lake Rossignol, a week 
before. He was one of a party of hay-cut- 
ters and told us that moose and bear had 
been seen near where we had been, but a 
short time ago. Next day we hastened on 
down the river, stopping once to borrow 
pitch for canoe repairs from a couple of 
Nova Scotians who were on their way up 
stream for a month’s hunting.. No con- 
trary wind or rough water retarded us this 
time on our passage across Rossignol. My 
companion and Mitchell dragged the canoe 
up the Liverpool River, against a stiff cur- 
rent for seven miles. Paddling was out.of 
the question. So one man took the bow and 
the other the stern and together they pushed 
and hauled. It was abominably hard work, 
particularly as their only foothold was the 
slippery rocks of the bottom of the river. I 
had landed a short distance above the lake 
to chase up a flock of ducks which swam. 
out of a small cove just after we passed. 
When I rejoined them, having given up the 
chase after the ducks, they had passed over 
the worst of it and had reached water where 
it was possible to make some progress by 
paddling. A little farther up we encoun- 
tered more ducks, one of which my friend 
brought down by a good shot. That it was 
only slightly hurt, however, was proved by 
its wonderful exhibition of diving. We 
chased it for half an hour, pumping away 
with the little rifle in vain. It had some 
narrow escapes, but as a rule was very much 
too quick or too wary for us. We finally 
gave it up and repaired to Loon Lake Falls, 
where we camped for the night in the same 
place we had occupied on our first night out. 
Next morning the first rain we had seen 
in Nova Scotia set in. We fished all morn- 
ing in spite of the downpour. At noon-we 
proceeded on our journey up the river. 
It did not take us long to cross Fairy Lake 
and reach our original starting-point, where 
the son of “‘ Dolph” Ford patiently awaited 
us with a horse and wagon. We used up the 
last of our rifle cartridges on a crane who, 
standing at a distance of about 160 yards, 
refused to budge, in spite of shots on all 
sides of him. We were firmly convinced 
that he was full of lead, so to speak, when 
he arose unconcernedly and flapped heavily 
away. 
So ended this rather bloodless but most 
enjoyable trip. During the course of our 
too-mile journey (50 miles each way) we 
had killed fish by the score, but no bird 
or beast had fallen a prey to our .22 calibre 
bullets. We had wounded a mink, swim- 
ming in Tupper Lake, and one duck, but 
both had escaped. 
Though our luck in seeing big game, 
which we were not after, however, had not 
been the best, we carried many pleasant 
memories back with us. The great North 
Country has many charms for the sports- 
man, and of these we had tasted most abun- 
dantly. The invigorating out-of-doors life 
repaid us for all the trouble and expense it 
cost, and we have some tall fishing stories of 
“when I went to Nova Scotia” to, relate 
when occasion affords as the years roll by. 
