WHEN THE INDIAN PASSES 





lent. In MacLcan Lake we caught 

 five bass in twenty minutes, averaging 

 three pounds each. 



At last our trip came to an end. The 

 fishing, portaging and camping were 

 a thing of the past. We had run the 

 last rapids and folded our tent for the 

 last time. 



How the wind blew that wild day on 

 Lake Timagami ! John contrived a 

 sail out of our rubber blanket, and we 

 went scudding before the wind, the 

 water dashing into the canoe as it gal- 

 lantly rode the waves. 



After five hours of this exciting ex- 

 perience, we arrived at Timagami Inn, 

 a sight to make our friends weep. The 

 enthusiast's hair looked as though we 

 had dropped our toilet articles over- 

 board at the beginning of the trip ; her 

 skirt was torn and the toes were kicked 

 out of her pet boots. 



The Chaperon's face was the color 

 of a lobster and was peeling in spots, 



while her hair had been greased with 

 lard ( by the advice of the [ndians ) to 



remove the worse evil of pine pil« li 



which she had acquired by inadver 



teiltly leaning her head against a 

 tree while gazing into the camp 

 tire. 



Tlie Indians on the grounds grinned 

 as we passed, the hotel guests stared, 

 and, worst blow of all, the hotel clerk 

 failed to recognize us, and when we 

 established our identity, exclaimed 

 tactfully, "Oh, I thought you were 

 from Bear Island!" 



When, two days later, we stepped on 

 board the little steamer that was to take 

 us away from it all, we looked back 

 wistfully, sorrowing that though we 

 might return, Timagami would never 

 be quite the same again. 



Queen of all Canadian lake regions, 

 a year ago it was comparatively un- 

 known. Now its fame has gone forth. 

 The Government has set it aside as a 



DISCHARGING CARGO 



