FOREST AND STREAM 
313 
to get tny shoulders in the harness. In rising, 
the load overbalanced me forward, and in I 
went head first, feet out on the rock and head 
on the bottom. The rest of the party were at 
the other end of the carry, and my first thoughts 
under water were spas¬ 
modic. Fortunately, the 
pack had not settled 
down behind the shoul¬ 
ders on account of tak¬ 
ing such a quick header, 
and I succeeded in get¬ 
ting my arms out of the 
harness. Straightening 
up, I got the pack and 
myself on the rock again, 
and after wringing out 
the water, made another 
start with better results. 
After getting our gear 
and canoes past this 
rocky course, . we had 
luncheon on the shore of 
a cheerful little pond, 
and were off again, but 
all the afternoon, it was 
the same rough travel. 
One rapid after another, 
with water becoming 
heavier. Just before 
dark, there was a very 
bad rapid, with ground 
too rough for tenting at 
the head, so while the 
men cleared a place for 
the tents below it on the 
left bank, Bolling and I 
carried our stuff down 
the 150 yards, making 
half a dozen trips apiece, 
jumping from boulder 
to boulder with deep 
water between. Exhausting business in the dusk 
at the end of a hard day. This camp, though, 
was one of the pleasantest we made. 
There is charm and interest in pitching the 
tents every night in a new and strange country. 
A variety of problems arise. Shall they face 
this way or that? Shall the fire be here or 
there and how many of the trees and bushes 
will serve as tent stakes? The sweet freshness 
of ground that has not been camped on, the 
varied sound of water on the lake shore, the 
ripple or the roar of the river, the hardwood 
or the evergreen thicket around the camp. 
September 8th. Started about nine 011 a 
cloudy day; we lowered the canoes over the 
rapids and packed the stuff a hundred yards be¬ 
yond our camp to a small pond. Then another 
rapid, and so on all the morning with here and 
there a little lake. In one of the meanest of 
these rapids, my canoe stuck while being low¬ 
ered over a four foot pitch between two large 
rocks. When the canoe struck, the bow filled 
from the backwash and only quick work by the 
men in throwing the bags on the rocks and on 
both sides saved the boat. It took three of us 
to drag her out, half filled with water; the 
aluminum baker and two broilers were swept 
out and lost in the pools below, where the cur¬ 
rent was too heavy to fish for them with any 
success with the pole. The river is a narrow 
boulder heaped gorge between densely wooded 
banks. While the men cooked lunch, Bolling and 
I paddled down the arm of what appeared to 
be a good sized lake and into which the river 
emptied. While exploring the lakeshore, we 
came upon what is called in Maine “a logan” 
or backwater, in which was a beaver dam with 
some fresh cuttings. Continuing down the arm 
of the lake, it was soon evident we were at 
last on our long sought Maelpaeg, and we fool¬ 
ishly felt that it would be smooth sailing from 
here on. 
Climbing the highest hill nearby to ascer¬ 
tain our course, we could see the lake stretch¬ 
ing away in all directions, with wooded islands 
and channels everywhere. It is a magnificent 
body of water and well deserves the 
name by which it is sometimes called 
“The Lake of the Thousand Isl¬ 
ands.” I really believe there are 
«: 
a thousand of them, large and small, all rock 
and wooded with black spruce. Back over the 
shores a short way, there are high hills, but 
up at this end, the barrens are small. The lake 
appears to trend N. N. E. by S. S. W., and most 
of the islands seem to lie on its northerly and 
westerly side, but, of course, there may be as 
many on the other side, since it is impossible 
tc tell what is mainland and what islands. 
After lunch, we set 
out in a heavy shower, 
and after traveling down 
the lake a few miles, the 
storm coming on hard¬ 
er, decided to go ashore 
and make camp. The 
nearest shore was one 
of the numerous wooded 
islands, but I have al¬ 
ways found that islands 
are beautiful as scenery, 
but rocky windswept 
spots on w r hich to tent, 
so we paddled on, 
searching for the main 
shore. At last a point 
put Out, and riding the 
swells past this, we 
rounded in its lee to a 
quiet little bay, with low 
swampy shores. It was 
not inviting, but mist 
and flying rain and gath¬ 
ering dusk made it im¬ 
perative to camp. The 
whole place was sop¬ 
ping wet, the ground a 
blend of wet moss, 
stumps and large slip¬ 
pery roots, our only out¬ 
look a few feet into 
thick spruce. 
We made the best of 
it in the hope of a good 
day to-morrow and an 
early start. After dark, 
the wind blew a gale, and during the night I 
was awakened by what seemed to be somebody’s 
arm underneath me trying to roll me over. In¬ 
vestigation showed that the arm was a long root 
just under the moss beneath me which was lift¬ 
ing a couple of inches with the swaying of its 
tree over our heads. Being very sleepy and 
hearing quantities of water falling on the tent, 
I was sure that it was better to trust to the 
stoutness of the tree than awaken Bolling and 
stumble to the men’s tent in the inky wetness 
outside. 
September 9th. We slept until 8 o’clock on 
account of the storm, which was a heavy north¬ 
easter, filled with rain. One look past the point 
out on the lake was enough. Flying mist and 
scud over the rough white lake was no place for 
a loaded canoe. The camp was thoroughly wet, 
but sheltered from the wind. 
Our time is getting short, and it is now clear 
that we will have practically no time for hunt¬ 
ing since we do not know exactly where the 
outlet of the lake is nor the distance to salt¬ 
water nor the character of the river, and the 
map is not to be trusted. 
I read “Love’s Labor Lost” and “The 
Rubaiyat” under the shelter of the Baker tent 
with my boots out in the rain. All hands kept 
in good humor, notwithstanding the weather. 
Will’s burns are healing up nicely and give him 
little discomfort, but John’s left hand is still 
