Monday, .August 31st.--Ice on cups this morning. Thermometer out of order. Lat. 53 degrees 57 minutes. I hate to see August end with us so far from the George River, or so perplexed as to the road. We are in camp now, on the stream we reached last night. I am writing and figuring in the early morning. The whole character of our country changes here. Ridges and hills extending into mountains on the north. Must know what lies there before we proceed. George will scout. Wallace and I will dry fish. While George was scouting, I lay in tent awhile, too weak to fish even.

Fish not biting though. Oh, but I'll be happy to see Michikamau!

George returned late. Climbed mountains to north. Reports fair line of travel to northwest, long lakes and tolerable portages.

Will go that way, I think. Wallace got a few trout. George killed two partridges with my pistol.

Tuesday, September 1st.--West wind. Fair, warm. Very weak to-day.

Our stuff so light now we can take all but canoe at one trip over portage. Have just crossed portage from lake by yesterday's camp, to other lakelet N.W. Boys gone back for canoe. I sit here and write. Very rough portaging here, all rocks and knolls. Little clear lakes between. Have to put canoe into water every 40 rods or so. Shot a plover with pistol to cook with George's partridges.

Later. Made about 4 1/2 miles. Caught about thirty-five trout at edge of lake where stream empties.

Wednesday, September 2nd.--West wind. Fixed moccasins in A.M. and started portage west. Camped in swamp.

Thursday, September 3rd.--Rain all day by spells. Wind west. Got up in rain, hating to leave blankets. At breakfast, bread and tea and venison. I took no tea. Am trying now just venison and fish broth. May agree with me better than tea. Don't miss sugar much any more, though I do plan little sweet feeds when I am out. Very nasty work in rain. Am well again and strong. Worked well.

Portaged and paddled west 4 1/2 miles. Wallace turned round again and carried pack back to starting point. George and I carried canoe. Sky cleared in evening. Saw all day big spruce trees.

Country here not burned I think.

Friday, September 4th.--Rain. West wind, Portaged west 1 1/2 miles, with two little lakes to help. Rain all time. Stopped to let George scout best way to big lake ahead. Thinks it is 3 miles away. Hope it leads to Michikamau. George and Wallace mending moccasins. George reports big water about 3 miles ahead. Hope Low's Northwest River lake expansions. Cannot be far now from Michikaman. Spent much time over map in P.M. Think we must start back 1st October to the St. Lawrence, if we can get guides.

Otherwise to Northwest River and then snowshoe out.

Sat.u.r.day, September 5th.--Rain by spells. West wind, cold. Awoke in rain. Last three nights have been as clear as crystal, beautiful moon. Then rain in the morning. Very disappointing. We waited a little while about getting up, hoping rain would stop.

Slackened, and we started. Poor day's work. Portaged about 2 1/2 miles west. Came out on barrens and ate lot of blue berries. Saw big waters to west, big blue hill, blue sky-line where we hope Michikamau lies hidden. Pint berries raw for supper. Otherwise, venison and broth, thickened with three spoonfuls of flour, each meal.

Sunday, September 6th.--Temp. 5 A.M. 38 degrees. First snow came, mixed with nasty cold rain. Nasty, raw, west wind. Worked in it most of day, portaging 2 1/2 miles N.W. Tried carrying all stuff at one trip. Grub low. Big water ahead. Believe this big water will lead to Michikamau. Almost a desperate hope. If it does not and we find no water route, I scarcely see how we can reach the caribou grounds in time to see the crossing and meet the Nascaupees. Without that I am doubtful of the success of this trip, and failure makes me shudder. Besides it is liable to make us all very hungry. We must push on harder, that's all. And get there somehow.

Monday, September 7th.--Temp. at 5 A.M. 48 degrees. N.W. wind, slight. Rain by showers. On portage crossed worst swamp of trip.

In to my knees and fell down with heavy pack on my back.

Floundered out in nasty shape. Found small stream flowing N.W.

toward our big water. I caught about thirty trout, not big, while Wallace and George brought up outfit and canoe by stream. Very slow work. All very hungry in P.M. Stopped for pot of soup.

Found it getting dark and stopped to camp. Last meal of venison in bag. Must get fish. Ate half our trout to-night, boiled and thickened with flour. Drank last bit of cocoa. No sugar. Boys not scared. No talk of quitting. Don't just see where we are coming out.

Tuesday, September 8th.--Cold raw N.W. wind, no rain, partly clear.

Observation noon, 54 degrees l minute 21 seconds. Aired and dried blankets. Followed stream down to very shoal bay of our big water, which like the will-o'-wisp has led us on. Only ten trout, mostly small. Weather too raw. Very depressing to have it so when meat is out. On to caribou grounds is the watchword. Gave up trouting and started west on our big lake. Stopped to climb mountain. Ate some cranberries. Saw a few old caribou tracks. Big mountain to west of us. Islands or something between, many low, flat, wooded.

Wednesday, September 9th.--BIG DAY. Warm, clear. Temp. 5 A.M. 29 degrees. Ice in cups. Slept without sweater or socks last night.

Cold but slept well. Beautiful cold crisp morning. Up at first dawn. Inspiring, this good weather. George boiled a little bacon and rice together, and a little flour made sort of porridge for breakfast. Very, very good. No fish or game ahead. Went to big hill mentioned yesterday. George and I walked about 4 miles and back getting to its top through spruce burnings. Awful walking.

Very tired when about to top. Wondering about next meal and thinness of soup mostly to blame, I guess. Then things began to get good. First we ran across a flock of ten ptarmigan. They were in the burned-over semi-barren of the hill-top. They seem to lack entirely the instinct to preserve themselves by flying. Only ran ahead, squatting in apparent terror every few feet. We followed with our pistols. I killed eight and George one, my last was the old bird, which for a time kept away from us, running harder than the rest, trying to hide among the Arctic shrubs. George says they are always tame on a calm day. Their wings are white, but the rest is summer's garb. "Not rockers, but the real kind," says George.

Then we went on across the mountain top and looked west. _There was_ MICHIKAMAU! And that's what made it a BIG DAY. A series of lake expansions runs east from it. We can see them among flat drift islands, cedar covered, and a ridge south, and a hill and the high lands north, and apparently a little river coming from the north, and pouring into the lake expansions some miles east of Michikamau. There is one main channel running east and south, in this expansion. It is north of the waters we are now in, and we can see no connection. However, there looks as if there might be one about 5 miles east of our big hill. Behind some barren ridges, about 50 feet high. So we are making for them to see what we can find. If no connection, we must portage, but we will not mind a little portage now, with Michikamau waters just over it. Westward from our hill are dozens of little lakes, and a good deal of low burned land. S.E. more lakes. Must be an easy portage from the lakes on which we were muddled two weeks ago. That's where we missed it, in not finding that portage.

Thursday, September 10th.--Wind west, cloudy. Temp. 5 A.M. 46 degrees. Rain in evening. Cut legs from old drawers and pulled them over pants as leggings. Went east looking for opening in N.W.

River. Think we saw it in ridge to northeast, came S.W. Believe that we saw also opening into Michikamau's Bay which runs out of lake on S.E. side. Wind delayed, and we only got to foot of mountain from which we expect to see it. Camped. Rain commenced.

While scouting I shot a large spruce partridge with pistol.

Friday, September 11th.--Raining in morning. Wind southwest.

Temp. 49 degrees. Ate last meal of mother's sweet dried apples.

We are on the verge of success apparently, in sight of Michikamau from which it is not far to the caribou grounds and the Nascaupees.

Yet we are sick at heart at this long delay and the season's lateness and our barefoot condition. Yet no one hints at turning back. We could do so, and catch fish and eat our meal, for we know the way to within easy walking distance of Grand Lake, but the boys are game. If we only had a fish net we would be 0.K. My plan is to get a few fish if possible, push on at once to Michikamau somehow. Get to the George River, and find the Nascaupees. Then if the caribou migration is not over, we will kill some of the animals, dry them up and get as far back as possible before freezing up and leaving the canoe. Then, unless we can get some one to show us to the St. Lawrence, we will probably go to Northwest River Post, get dogs and provisions, and snowshoe S.W. to Natishquan or some such point. If we don't get to the caribou grounds in time--well, we'll have to get some fish ahead, or use our pea meal in a dash for the George River H.B.C. Post. After breakfast George and I went in rain to climb mountain. No water into S.W. bay of our lake as we hoped. Trolling back, I caught one small namaycush. Then we all started to hunt for a rapid we heard on the south side of this lake. Caught one 2 1/2 lb. namaycush.

Found rapid. Good sized stream falling in from south. Big hopes, but too shoal and rapid, no pools. Only one mess of trout. Very much disappointed. While Wallace and I fish, George gone to troll.

When he gets back, we will go to look for inlet into Low's "Northwest River." Not finding that we will start on a portage for it in the morning. Later by camp fire. Weather has cleared. All bright and starry. Caught a 7-lb. namaycush and so we eat to- night.

Sat.u.r.day, September 12th.--Temp. 38 degrees. High N.W. wind.

Clouds and clear by spells. Dashes of snow. We camped on a little island not far from the N.E. main land where we hope inlet is, just at dusk. Ate big namaycush and were ready to push on early this morning. Two meals of trout ahead. Awoke this A.M. to find awful gale stirring the lake to fury. No leaving. Wallace and I stayed in tent mending. I made pair of moccasins out of a pair of seal mittens and some old sacking. Patched a pair of socks with duffel.

Not comfortable, but will do. George went to canoe to get fish.

"That's too bad," said he. "What?" I asked. "Somebody's taken the trout." "Who?" "Don't know. Otter or carcajou, maybe." And sure enough they were gone--our day's grub. We all laughed--there was nothing else to do. So we had some thin soup, made with three thin slices of bacon in a big pot of water and just a bit of flour and rice stirred in. One felt rather hungrier after eating it, but then we did not suffer or get weak. It is very disappointing to be delayed like this; but we can only make the most of it and wait.

No game or fish on this island and no hopes of getting off till it calms. So we are cheerful, and make the most of a good rest and a chance to mend; and we need both, though perhaps we need progress more.

Sunday, September 13th.--Temp. 39 degrees 5 A.M. High N.W. wind in A.M. Clear, rain, sleet by spells. Heavy wind continued this A.M.

Some more rice and bacon soup for breakfast. Read Philemon aloud and told story of it. Also 1st and 91st Psalm. Found blue berries, and all ate. At about one o'clock, wind dropped somewhat.

We started to hunt outlet into N.W. River, supposed to be N.E. of island. N.G. Shot at goose--missed. Hooked big namaycush--lost it. Caught another 6 lbs. Ate it for lunch about 4 P.M. Picked gallon of cranberries. Ate a pot stewed with a little flour for supper. Enough for two meals left. Not very satisfactory, but lots better than nothing. Sat long by camp fire.

Monday, September 14th.--Temp. 40 degrees 5 A.M. High N.W. wind, clear and showers by spells. Very much disappointed to find heavy gale blowing. Could not leave sh.o.r.e. Had breakfast of very thin soup. Then all slept till nearly noon. I dreamed again of being home. Hungry all day. George and I have decided that we must not start this way home before freezing up time. Might get caught again by bad winds. Better freeze on the George River with the Indians, save grub if we get any, and then snowshoe clear out.

Later by camp fire. Hard to keep off depression to-night. Wind continues and all hungry.

Tuesday, September 15th.--Temp. 31 degrees 5 A.M. West wind, spits of sleet, and fair. Wind continued hard all day. Could not leave sh.o.r.e. I lay awake all last night thinking over situation. George is worried and talks of Indians who starve. Tries to be cheerful but finds it hard. Here we are, wind bound, long way from Michikamau, no hopes of wind abating. The caribou migration is due to begin, yet we can't start and are at least two weeks from their grounds, with no grub and no prospect of good weather. Our grub is 18 lbs. pea meal, to be held for emergency, and 2 lbs. of flour, 1 pint rice, 3 lbs. bacon. To go on is certain failure to reach the caribou killing, and probable starvation. If we turn back we must stop and get grub, then cross our long portage, then hunt more grub, and finally freeze up preparatory to a sled dash for Northwest River. That will make us late for boat, but we can snowshoe to the St. Lawrence. All this, with what we have done so far, will make a bully story. I don't see anything better to do.

I asked Wallace. He opposed and then said it was best. I said to George, "Would you rather go on or turn back?" "I came to go with you, and I want to do what you do." When I said we will turn back he was very greatly pleased. Now my job is to get the party back to Northwest River, getting grub as we go. We will take the back track to some good fishing grounds, catch fish, try to kill a caribou, and wait for freeze. We can't take the canoe down the Nascaupee. Hence the need of freezing. Stayed in camp all day.

Could not launch canoe. No place to fish or hunt. Feel better now that the decision is made. Ate very thin rice and bacon soup and drank tea. Long chat with Wallace. Feeling good in spite of short grub. George is telling again how be will visit his sister at Flying Post and what be will eat. We are talking of plans for our home-going, and are happy despite impending hunger.

Wednesday, September 16th.--Temp. 29 degrees 6 A.M. Wind N.W.

Shifting to N.E. Little rain. Moved to rapid on south sh.o.r.e where there is some trout fishing, and hard place to be wind bound. Must fish a few days and get grub ahead for our long portage back to Namaycush Lake. Ate last bit of bacon at noon, cut in three pieces and boiled with rice and a little flour. Boys trolled in P.M. I made camp and fished brook. Too cold. They lost two good namaycush. I took two 10-inch trout. Boiled these into a mush and put last handful of rice and a little flour into pot with them.

Good soup. Made us feel stronger.

Thursday, September 17th.--Temp. 33 degrees 6 A.M. Rained all last night and all this P.M. For breakfast a whisky jack, stewed with flour and about two spoonfuls of erbswurst. Good. Wallace and I each had half a bird. If we get enough fish ahead to take us across this portage, our pea meal and what fish we can get on river will see us to the post. Hoping weather will improve so we can make a good haul. Disheartening in extreme to be working all the time in rain and wind and cold. I made a map this A.M. of our long portage--about 30 miles. Will require about seven days. Wallace and I stretched tarpaulin by fire and sat long beneath it chatting.

Wallace is a great comfort these evenings. There has been no friction this trip whatever. I think I'll get a bully story out of it despite our failure to find the Nascaupees. I'll get more in freezing up, more in Northwest River people and more in the winter journey to G.o.d's country.

Friday, September 18th.--Temp. 38 degrees 6 A.M. S.E. wind, turning to N.W. gale about noon. Raw and snow by spells. Caught three namaycush in AM., then wind bound by fierce N.W. gale at camp. Wallace caught 2 1/2 lbs. trout. I caught 1 lb. Namaycush heads and guts and my trout for supper. Boiled with last of flour.

Hungry and a bit weak, but all cheerful. Sat late by roaring camp fire. Very depressing this, getting wind bound so often just when we are trying to get fish ahead for our long portage towards home.

Have thought a good deal about home. It seems to me I'll never be willing to leave it again. I don't believe I'll want any more trips too hard for M. to share. Her companionship and our home life are better than a great trip. So it seems to me.

Sat.u.r.day, September 19th.--Rain and snow last night, temp. 32 degrees. Gale from northwest all day. Wind bound in camp all day.

Lay in tent almost all the time. Spits of snow. No breakfast.

Bit of fish and its liquor for lunch. Same with a dash of pea meal at night. Oh! to be away from this lake and its gales and to be started home! Last night we quit rolling in blankets and made bed to keep warm. All three crawled in. Warmer than other way. Quite comfortable all night. Plan a great deal for the future. I am planning to give more time to home. Less fretting and more home life. I've let my ambitions worry me. More time for my meals when I get home and more for my wife and our friends. I want to give one or two little dinners in the woods when we get back and while George is there. A turkey roast like a goose. Stuffed. Potatoes, bannocks, made while the turkey is roasting, one of George's puddings, coffee and maple cream.

Sunday, September 20th.--Temp. 6 A.M. 29 degrees. Morning bright and clear. Light N.W. wind. Showers in P.M. Squally. To-night we are starting for Northwest River Post. When we reach the big river we can I think nearly live on the fish we get there. From there too, there are more signs of caribou. About four days more and we ought to reach a remnant of flour we threw away. It was wet and lumpy, but we will welcome it now. It, if it is usable, will see us to the head of Grand Lake, where Skipper Blake has a cache, I think, in a winter hunting shanty. It promises to be a hungry trip, but it is a man's game. Now that we are starting home I am content with the trip and the material. We've done all we could.

Our minds turn to home even more and we are anxious to be back. So hungry to see all the old friends.

Tuesday, September 22nd.--Temp. 38 degrees. N.W. wind. Rain in morning and by spells all day. All feel stronger today than yesterday. Tried to stalk goose in bad swamp. Missed at long range. Waded above knees in mud and water to get shot. Portaged all day mostly through low or swampy ground. Happy to be going home. Camped tonight on second old camping-ground. George and Wallace brought up outfit while I made camp and got wood.

Wednesday, September 23rd.--Rain by spells. W. wind. Clear in evening and cold. Portaged all day. Crossed barren ridge. Had big feed of moss-berries and cranberries. Wallace had apparent tea sickness and vomited. Erbswurst same as yesterday. Feel quite weak to-night. Had carried canoe a good deal. A good deal depressed till camp fire. Then good again. Bright, crisp night.

Dried clothing and got warm. Talked long by fire of home.

Blankets very damp. Hard time keeping warm at night.

Thursday, September 24th.--Temp. 28 degrees. N.E. wind. Snowing in morning. Quite cold last night, but clear and crisp till toward morning when it snowed. Blankets very damp, but by drying clothes at fire and getting good and warm, we slept warm and well. Dreamed M. and I were at Missanabie. How I do wish I could see her again at home. Thinking too much maybe, about home now. Makes too big contrast. Snow covered ground by noon. Disagreeable morning, but a little crisp wintriness helped it some. Plodded along on a pea soup breakfast, wondering what the outcome will be--a little.

Nasty weather makes one wonder--and thinking of M. and home. Then came a happy event. George had said last night be could kill a wild goose this A.M. if I would let him take rifle. Did so, half convinced by his confidence, and knowing he was a big goose shooter down on "The Bay." He had started ahead. Had seen flock light in pond ahead. Wallace and I heard four shots. Came to where George had left pack. He was coming with no goose. "You can kick me,"

said he, "but I got a goose." We took canoe to his pond. He had killed one goose, which was drifting ash.o.r.e, and wounded another, which sat on sh.o.r.e and let George end it with a pistol. Never was goose more gladly received I'll venture. I promised George two cook-books and a dinner as a reward.

Friday, September 25th.--Temp. 28 degrees. Wind N.E. Snow squalls. Half goose breakfast. Pea soup, thin, for dinner. Half goose, supper. Goose is bully. When done eating we burn the bones and chew them. Nasty day. Portaged to old camp on small lake and stopped. All day I have been thinking about childhood things and the country. I want to get into touch with it again. I want to go to Canada, if possible, for Christmas. I want to go somewhere in sugar making. So homesick for my sweetheart. Fairly strong despite short grub.

Sat.u.r.day, September 26th.--Temp. 28 degrees. Wind N.E. Rain in early morning, cold wind, warming in late P.M. Clear at mid-day.

Dried blankets. Travelled over our old course to our "long-lake- that-looks-like-a-river." Shot a large duck's head off with rifle.

Had hopes of a few fish at place where we found them sp.a.w.ning on our westward way, but was fearful of the cold. Left George cooking and went to try with Wallace's rod, not over hopeful, as water was very high and weather cold. Delighted to catch twenty very fair ones while lunch was cooking. In P.M. took ninety-five more.

Estimated weight of catch 70 pounds. We will stay here to-morrow and dry fish for journey. This is a wonderful relief. It means enough fish to put us through to our big lake, or nearly so. We had no hopes of such a catch, and would have been delighted with just a meal or two. Then it means, I hope, that we will find the trout biting at other sp.a.w.ning places, and catch enough to live on in spite of the cold weather. We are happier than for weeks before for we believe this almost guarantees our safe return home. Rain drove us from our camp fire just after George had declared, "Now we'll talk about French toast, and what we'll eat when we get to New York." So we all crawled into blankets and did plan and plan good dinners.