
A camp on a driftwood-strewn shore 
’ The canoe fleet takes a rest 
Mosquito, Moose and Mascalonge 
Canoeing Thru Canadian Wilds—Part Five 
unaware of our presence until 
a projecting branch dug sharply 
into the side of one of the canoes and 
snapped—it was but a stick, but the 
jaws of the moose stopped chewing, 
the water dripped loudly in the silence 
—the head was held high, every line 
of the great body tensely in waiting— 
the wicked little, pig-like eyes peered 
directly at our cover. He took 
a slopping step towards us— 
then another. 
Someone got nervous, and 
a paddle thumped against a 
gunwale. Wood against wood 
—it was not a sound of the for- 
est. Many times before he had 
heard the thump—thump—of 
Indian paddles against the gun- 
wales at the end of each stroke. 
The great beast wheeled and 
splashed across the cove in lum- 
bering strides—broke through 
the brush at the bank and 
crashed away into the woods. 
Although later in the trip we came 
into more intimate contact with the 
“monarch of the forests” this was close 
enough for the first meeting, and we 
were glad that he was not in a fight- 
ing mood. Had it been in the mating 
season, things might have been different. 
T_T: bull moose resumed feeding, 
OR five miles we curved, doubled, bent, 
and nearly broke all records for 
swearing and sweating. It was heart- 
breaking the way that ten foot alley 
squirmed and circled like a puppy chas- 
of the Bell. 
By HUBERT G.. FOOTE 
ing its tail. We could develop no speed 
because every fifty feet the channel 
bent double. We cut poles and made 
better progress, but the poles stuck in 
the mud and at last in trying to clear 
the nerve-racking mosquitoes from my 
face and pull the pole from the mud 
at the same time, the canoe slid out 
from under me, and I tasted the Bell 
for the first time. This cooled me off a 
iii tt ttn 
After the adventure with the moose, the 
voyagers proceed along the tortuous course 
A thunder storm gives them 
relief from the intense heat and discourages 
to some extent the swarms of insects. 
day they come upon a luxurious cabin and 
are treated to biscuits and real butter. 
TINNITUS 
bit, and I quit swearing and settled 
down resignedly to cover the rest of 
Quebec along this alley of torment—a 
five mile paddle in three hours. 
The channel broadened and_ slid 
smoothly out into the upper end of a 
mile-wide lake that stretched away to 
the north indefinitely. Bays indented 
the shore line, and several islands 
dotted the channel with patches of 
green. 
The sky at last rebelled at the in- 
tense heat, and ominous clouds drifted 
Next it 
up from the west like a flock of black 
sheep before the storm. <A_ broad- 
aproned gust of wind swooped down 
and whipped a rippled battle line across 
the lake surface toward us. 
THEN following the same course, a 
line of white mist seemed to creep 
out from the shore and advancing rap- 
idly, like the wind, rode up to and over 
us in a drench of warm rain. 
The “skeets” were gone—we 
tore off our clothes and stuffed 
them into the packs. 
The shores were low and 
swampy-looking—we headed for 
a high-crowned island a mile 
down the lake. The wind 
whipped up the lake and drove 
into our teeth with such 
force that it was nearly an 
hour before we gained the lea 
of our island and pulled into a 
shore, cluttered with fallen logs. 
Pulling the canoes up over the 
logs we carried the packs up the 
bank and cleared the wet brush 
away: for camp, while the rain poured 
down in buckets and sheets and wash 
tubs. 
G PEEDY team work put up the tents 
and careful nursing produced and 
maintained a spluttering fire—we had 
to resort to a teepee covering for the 
fire and pots—made of big sheets of 
bark to shed the downpour. Looked 
like Robinson Crusoe’s hat and smoked 
likea night watchman. Stew and coffee 
Page 330 
