FOREST AND STREAM 
265 
setting pole, to crawl along the face of the rock, 
or if this was not possible, to climb through or 
over the thick evergreen brush on the top of the 
cliff. The tow lines of the canoes had to be 
kept on the face of the cliffs with often two men 
working the line and the other two with poles 
on shore opposite the boat. It was pretty risky 
work as we were in and out of the hard rush¬ 
ing water, nearly waist deep, all the way. Lots 
of chance to lose a canoe and outfit. 
At the head of the gorge where the Stillwater 
began, the Indian and his boy turned back, having 
left their canoe at the foot of the falls, and I 
think they were sorry to leave us as they would 
have enjoyed the new country. The Indian’s 
canoe was only fifteen or sixteen feet long, and 
^ it was a perfect delight to watch the old man 
and his young son climb up through white 
water, the youngster standing up in the bow with 
a short pole, driving first on one side of the 
. boat and then on the other, his whole body in 
every shove. Then, when the going was a 
little stiffer, the old Indian, crouched in the 
stern, would jab down his pole, and hand over 
hand, reach up to the end of it until he was 
erect, and then with the weight of man and boy 
on the poles, the canoe would raise a bit and 
shoot forward over the rushing water. 
Going through half a mile of Stillwater, we 
came into'a small lake three-quarters of a mile 
long. Here a brook coming in from the south 
looked- as if it might head into the country 
where we wished to go. We now believe it 
was about opposite Maelpaeg Lake to which we 
afterward came. But the brook was a small one 
and came rattling down over the stones and was 
too near to the falls to seem right from the 
map, which we subsequently found was wrong. 
We therefore continued on through the still- 
water to a second lake about a mile long. After 
this lake, more bad water. Going about a mile 
further, we became doubtful as to the proper 
course, as both maps were clearly wrong. We 
did not, however, feel justified in leaving such 
a large stream of water and packing south 
across country, not knowing how far we would 
have to go to find streams running south. It 
was puzzling to have our river and its lakes, 
many of them of considerable size, not shown 
on the maps, and bearing much further west 
than we wanted to go as it was taking us too 
far west of Maelpaeg waters which drained into 
Little River. However, we had food, and 
though it was hard traveling, we were seeing 
some beautiful country. 
After lunch, we kept on up river for about 
three miles through bad water, using paddle, 
pole and tow-line. It was hard work all the 
way, and we made camp for the night in a 
clump of swamp spruce. John again climbed a 
tree and saw a large lake about one-quarter of 
a mile ahead. We were by this time pretty 
doubtful as to our course, but felt sure from 
the volume of water in the river that there must 
be some lakes ahead and that we should have 
a better chance of finding water going south by 
keeping on until we reached the watershed, 
wherever that might be. 
The air-beds were not only great time savers 
in making camp but enabled us to pitch the tent 
on wet or comparatively stony ground. To 
save weight, they had been made to reach only 
from the shoulders to the knee, which is all 
that is necessary, boughs being put under the 
head and feet. When running the canoes in 
bad water, the beds were inflated and lashed 
under the thwarts. 
Sunday, August 31st. Dark day, but no rain. 
Breaking camp and getting away as early as 
possible, we worked through a quarter mile of 
rough water where most of the way the loaded 
boats had to be brought up under a tow rope 
along the shore, as a paddle was out of the 
question and the river was so pockmarked with 
deep holes that it was too risky trusting to a 
pole. One of the party would go ahead on the 
boulder-strewn shore with a rope while another 
of us opposite the boat, with a pole, wading or 
jumping from rock to rock, many of which 
were submerged, kept the boat clear by pushing 
the bow or stern. It was a matter of nice 
calculation for the man with the rope to know 
just how hard to pull or how much to ease up 
when the heavy cross current took hold of the 
canoe. Much too large a part of the whole 
upper river had to be handled this way and 
progress was slow. The lake that we now came 
to was about three miles long by half a mile 
wide, with a high, bare-topped hill on the south¬ 
ern side near the outlet and two more hills 
later appearing west of it as part of the same 
ridge, one of which we climbed in three-quar¬ 
ters of an hour, to see a small lake on the 
southerly side. The river we could see went up 
through a mile of fast water to a long large 
lake. 
Maps were useless and we were more than 
doubtful as to our course, but decided to go on. 
Reaching the head of the lake, after coming 
down from the hill, Bolling and I splashed 
along with the tow ropes again, and just before 
we came in the large or Fourth Lake, found a 
bit of very heavy water. Bolling and John were 
dragging their canoe with a rope along the 
shore where the rapid was heaviest, when the 
stern hung on a submerged rock and a heavy 
sea came over the side; a quick slacking of the 
line to let the canoe fall off with the current 
was all that saved her. The water in the river 
was so strong that if the canoe once got across 
the current on a rock and swamped, it would 
crumble like paper as later in the trip happened. 
The Fourth Lake was five or six miles long 
and a mile wide, very beautiful among the blue 
hills. A strong head wind blowing from the 
west made all the chop the heavily laden canoes, 
dodging up along the south shore, could stand. 
Large rocks just under the surface a couple of 
hundred feet out where the bottom was eight or 
ten feet down, forced us to keep off and take 
the seas. Not being experts at running in the 
trough with canoes heavily laden, we had to 
slide them side-ways, quartering the sea in round¬ 
ing the rougher points. The lake bears east and 
west, but about two miles from the upper end, 
bends away west southwest. Landed on the 
southerly side near the inlet, and as we had 
passed no other stream coming in from the 
south, the men were now sure we were on the 
wrong course, being too far west. Bolling in¬ 
sisted that we climb the heavily wooded hill just 
south of us until we could see to the south. So 
off we scrambled through some very thick and 
tangled growth and up over a high precipitous 
moss-covered ridge; no trees high enough 
