Though the day was’ © 
glorious, and the hopes _ 
of all were high, we 
soon found we would 
have to abandon the 
trip up the Humber. 
It was impossible to 
proceed against the 
tremendous current. 
We must strike the 
river later in the sea- 
son. Sadly we turned 
back, but quick think- 
ing on the part of 
Croft, the leader of the 
party, saved the situ- 
ation, and the morale 
from going completely 
to smash. We were to 
try the fishing in the 
Sandy Lake region, an 
excellent section for 
large trout and salmon. 
By skillful persuasion | 
the station-master at LES 
Humber-mouth was in- 
duced to put an extra 
car to carry us with our boats and pro- 
visions on the night freight. The train 
was only two hours late, and by nine 
o’clock we were safely on our way, 
seated with all goods and chattels in 
the ramshackle caboose. 
T was not until midnight that we 
reached our destination, Sandy River 
Crossing, consisting of a railroad span 
across Sandy stream. Here was to be 
our first night’s camp. Dumping us 
and our dories into the underbrush be- 
side the track, the train rattled on into 
the night. Here we were, at midnight 
in a strange country, miles from any 
human habitation. It was indeed with 
a lost and helpless feeling that we be- 
gan to make camp. A lot can be ac- 
complished, however, with ten pairs of 
eager hands, and in an hour the situa- 
tion took on a more cheerful aspect, 
as we sat before a_ blazing fire, 

Page 23 
The prize of the island—caribou 
drinking hot broth and chewing hard 
tack. 
Our first night in the wilds of New- | 
foundland was chilly and uncomfort- 
able indeed, and we hailed the break 
of day gladly. The following day was 
spent entirely in water. We pushed 
and pulled the clumsy boats up the 
rapids. Ten miles of this and we were 
able to row into the calm waters of 
Little Deer Lake. Here we had fish- 
ing for three days. A good many of 
the trout were two pounds and over. 
Ducks and plover were also in abun- 
dance. 
P USHING on into Sandy Lake, we 
camped for the next ten days in 
various spots around its luxuriant 
shore, where we saw several caribou. 
On an extended trip through a chain 
of lakes known as the Birchey Lakes, 
which run for thirty miles up 
to Sheffield Pond 
(the height of 
iand), we shot 
an unsuspecting 
buck at dusk 
one day, as he 
fed on the alders 
beside the shore 
Olan lactc Le 
stream. For a 
week thereafter 
we lived in a 
royal way on 
fresh “steak” 
and some of the 
three - pounders 
we caught with 
our “Silver Doc- 
tors,” at the foot 
of the Sheffield. 


A typical Newfoundland harbor 
UGUST 1st found us tearing 
through the wilds, dories, provi- 
sions, and all perched on the flat cars 
of an afternoon freight, bound for the 
waters of the upper Humber. Our ex- 
periences in the Sandy Lake country 
had hardened us immensely and we 
expected an easy time in the Humber, 
but, as will be seen, our troubles were 
not over. After buying out the store 
at Big Deer Lake station, dispersing 
the stationmaster’s goats which we 
found playfully leaping in and out of 
the dories after eating our supply of 
fresh vegetables, we rowed across Deer 
Lake to the mouth of the Humber. 
Here we made camp on an island, the 
name of which we rightly guessed im- 
mediately after dark, was Mosquito 
Island. I, for one, passed a night only 
surpassed in agony by the one on the 
Kyle. Up at daylight, I noticed that 
the others, driven from their mosquito 
bars by the sand fleas, frenziedly 
scratching and waving their arms, 
were up uncommonly early also. 
‘THE night of mosquitoes was fol- 
lowed by an all-day row up the 
river through the still-water to the first 
rapid. Upon arriving we were greeted 
and soaked by a cloudburst before we 
could get out our slickers and tarpau- 
lins. The day had commenced fair, but 
in Newfoundland the wind that brings 
sunshine may anytime blow into a thun- 
der storm before nightfall. Sleeping in 
a logging trail on the slope of a hill, 
the night passed smoothly, in spite of 
the stumps about which we were forced 
to drape ourselves. 
The morning of our first day’s jog 
(Continued on page 56) 
