"Then shall the earth yield her increase: and G.o.d even our G.o.d shall bless us.

"G.o.d shall bless us: and all the ends of the earth shall fear him."

Then I read a Thanksgiving Prayer:

"Almighty G.o.d, Father of all Mercies, we Thine unworthy servants do give Thee most humble and hearty thanks for all Thy goodness and loving-kindness to us and to all men. We bless Thee for our creation and preservation and all the blessings of this life; but above all for Thine inestimable love in the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ; for the means of grace and for the hope of glory. And we beseech Thee give us that due sense of all Thy mercies, that our hearts may be unfeignedly thankful and that we shew forth Thy praise not only with our lips, but in our lives, by giving up ourselves to Thy service and by walking before Thee in holiness and righteousness all our days, through Jesus Christ our Lord. To Whom with Thee and the Holy Ghost be all honour and glory world without end. Amen."

Then I told him what to do, for him not to leave the river, but to follow the river. I was afraid he might some time leave the river and wouldn't be able to find the river again, and lose his way.

And if he gets to Hubbard and Hubbard yet alive, "if he gets little stronger by this flour, should he wish to come on, do the same, follow the river near, all the time; because if I happen to get down safe, and if I am too weak to come up myself when I send up help I shall tell them which side of the river to follow and they will surely meet you."

We found sorry to part, not knowing if we would meet again; but we must try and help Hubbard and do all we can for him. Wallace starts off on our back trail and I started toward Grand Lake. We said, "Good-bye, and 'G.o.d be with you till we meet again,'" to each other. We parted on a barren hill and could see each other for some time. We would just walk a few yards and sing out to each other, "Good-bye." This we kept on till out of sight and some distance apart.

It snowed very hard all day, and couldn't hardly see any distance.

In the afternoon I killed a porcupine. How I wished I could give some to the boys.

Wednesday, 21st, had snowed heavy all night, and made heavy travelling without snowshoes, and the snow above my knees. To-day I saw a caribou and got a shot at him with my pistol. In the evening I killed another porcupine. I thought, "I shall be able to get out to Grand Lake now if the snow don't get too deep for me."

ThursdaY, 22nd. Snowing very hard again and cold. I made a fire at noon and tried to patch my shoe-packs but I couldn't spare time.

I walked with only my socks, on in the afternoon and made poor time, as the country very rough and the snow very deep. I tried to make a straight road to make it short to Grand Lake. During the day though feeling very tired and would like to have a rest, if I stopped even for five minutes, lots Of things would come into my mind, and would have to start on again. At night it isn't so bad, because I try to make myself believe because it is night therefore I cannot travel."

Friday, 23rd, more snow again. In the afternoon got mild, and being so much snow on the trees, it began to drop. It was worse than any rain and the bush so thick to go through, and at last it began to rain. I was soaked to the skin, and the snow very deep.

My hands were always so cold without mits, and travelling in such a rough country, and falling down often into the snow and rocks, and cutting my hands on the rocks. I at last cut part off the sleeves off my undershirt and with a string tied one end, and I slipped them on my hands for mits. Several times that day I had the notion of giving up, as I could not get on at all in the deep snow. I thought it was impossible to get through. Then again I would try and make my way out. I came to the place where we had left the coffee and milk. I found the coffee. The lid was off and the can was full of ice. I took the ice out and underneath of the ice the coffee was. I broke some off and made some coffee; but it did not hardly taste like coffee at all, all the strength was out, as it had been in water for a short time. The milk I could not find.

That evening I killed four partridges. The weather turned clear and cold and I was wet to the skin. It was late when I had to stop for the night, and did my best in trying to dry my things the best way I could, and hard to get wood for I had no axe.

Sat.u.r.day, 24th, in the evening I came to the place where we had left the lard. I was very glad to find it. It was about three pounds of lard in a pail. I had some porcupine and a few partridges yet, as I would try and save some ahead for my way out, and the bones of the porcupine I carried with me; for I didn't throw the bones away, as it will make good broth if I get out of grub and don't get more game. I also had the flour yet, because I was saving it when my porcupine was done, and the porcupine bones with little flour will last me for a while. In the evenings I would talk to myself like as if some one with me, and plan to start off again soon as daylight, and try and make so many miles, just to cheer myself.

After I left Mr. Wallace, when coming along after I killed the porcupine and some partridges, at night, my fire I would have it in a long style and just lie near the side of it, and whatever I had, some porcupine or partridge, in my little bundle, I would put it for my pillow for fear some animal might carry it away. My pistol I would keep it handy, and then talk to myself and say, "If some wolves should come along to-night they would make short work of me.

But I guess I might just as well get killed by them as to starve; but any way I will just make that first fellow jump a little with my pistol. My little pistol is only 22 cal."

Every evening I always read a chapter, and every morning at just break of daylight; and when I got a little stronger, after getting some game, strong enough to raise my voice, I always sung a part of a hymn. In the evening I would read first then sing,

"Lead kindly light, amid the encircling gloom Lead Thou me on.

The night is dark, and I am far from home; Lead Thou me on.

Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see The distant scene; one step enough for me."

And in the morning after I read, I would sing,

Come to me, Lord, when first I wake, As the faint lights of morning break; Bid purest thoughts within me rise, Like crystal dew-drops to the skies.

Sunday, 25th, was snowing again. In the evening I killed four more partridges. Snow very deep and made poor time, and high mountains to go over, but I thought I will get out to Grand Lake early in the morning.

Monday, 26th, I got out to Grand Lake about 10 o'clock and was very, very glad to get out again to the lake, but was very much disappointed in the afternoon. I came along the south sh.o.r.e of the lake and thinking I would make good time from there now to Northwest River, and I would only follow the sh.o.r.e of the lake to Northwest River, and besides no mountains to go over. I went about 2 miles and came to a river, which made me feel very bad about it, and I did not know how I could ever get across, and could not make a raft without an axe. I thought I would try any way to make a raft, if I could only get wood to make a raft with. I followed the river up. The banks were so high, and the swift current run so swift along the steep banks, and the river very deep. I could not drop a log in without it float right away, and also came to another branch. This river branches off in two. I tried all afternoon to cross at the main river so I would have only one river to cross; but I could not there, as near the lake I will have two rivers to cross at the forks.

I gave up and went down near the lake again. The ice was floating down the river. A rapid near the lake. I thought it might not be very deep. Then, seeing that I could not do any better, I thought I would wade out a piece and the rest I would swim to the other sh.o.r.e.

I started out, and up to my waist before I got any distance out, and the floating ice coming against me, and the cramps began to take on the legs, that I was obliged to turn and just got out to sh.o.r.e in time.

I stood for some time thinking that I will never be able to cross, and that I would sure to starve there. It got dusk and I started a fire. I was very, very cold, and had something to eat. I was troubled very much and could not forget the river, and the ice floating and rubbing against the sh.o.r.e, made things worse, to hear that sound all night, and thinking if I only had a canoe, I could get to Northwest River to-morrow. It was yet 40 miles to the post Northwest River.

Tuesday, 27th, as soon as daylight I tried to wade across again the same place; but things happened the same. Along the lake lots of drift wood. I thought I better make a raft if I could. It was blowing very heavy from the west. I got my raft made. My tump line I made two pieces to tie the four corners of the raft, and my leather belt I made another piece, and a piece of small salmon twine I had at the other corner. I got a long pole so as to be sure and touch bottom with it all the way across, as I was afraid that the swift current would take me out into the lake and the heavy sea would swamp me.

My raft was too small, and when I got on it I sunk down quite a bit. I shoved out and came to the strong current, and the tide and the ice overcame me, and took me out to the lake. When the current took me out into the lake, then the wind caught me and carried me.

It got so deep I could not find bottom with my pole. I had a mind to jump from the raft; but I knew if I did I would surely get drowned. So I thought I might just as well try to stay on. My raft was breaking up. Piece by piece would float away. So I got down on my knees and tried to keep the pieces together, and the sea would just cover me. For about two hours I stayed on the raft, and sure it was my finish. Finally, after a while, the wind drove me just near a point. It was a long point, and I knew I could touch bottom with my pole. I took my pole and just hardly got ash.o.r.e.

(Grand Lake runs nearly east and west, is over 40 miles long, and from 1 to 4 miles wide, and very deep, up to sixty fathom of water, and for the least wind makes a very heavy sea.)

At this point where I got ash.o.r.e, I was more than glad, but the other branch yet to cross. I came to the branch and followed it up quite a bit. This branch is much larger than the first. It was very hard to get wood to make a raft. No drift. I managed to shove some half rotten stumps down. It took me some time to get enough for my raft, and not a st.i.tch dry about me, just wringing wet, and would not make a fire till I got across the other branch.

I built my raft on newly frozen ice, just near the open stream, and then broke the ice around and with a long pole worked my way across. This raft was much larger than the first, and out of the water where I stood. Oh! but I was so proud of that raft, and talking to myself all the time, and telling myself what a fine raft it was, and I was so proud of my raft. I got across safe and without much trouble after all.

It was nearly sunset. I thought I'd better make my fire and found I was nearly safe. I would dry up and make a good early start in the morning, and would nearly get to the post the next day. I picked out a place for the night, and shot three partridges right there. It was near a point where I was and round the point run a deep bay. I thought may be another river run out from there. And just to see if I could see any river I run to the point. When I got to the point, I seeing a small boat within 100 yards from me; and, of course, to make sure, I run to see it, thinking it would come handy to me and I could sail to the post.

Before I came near it, a child screamed out nearly opposite of me in the bush. I cannot tell how I felt. I just run the direction I heard the sound. The next, the roof of a house I saw. Then I came on a trail. I saw a girl with a child outside of the door. As soon as she saw me she run in and a woman came out. I sung out to her before I came to her. Meeting me she looked so scared. Then I shook hands with her, and told her where I came from. She took me in the house and told me to sit down. But I was--well I could not say how I was and how glad I was.

After I had some tea and bread, I went for my little bundle and the partridges I shot. When I got back, a bed was fixed up for me and a shift of dry clothes. She did not know what to think of me when first seeing me, and also being all wet and nearly barefooted. She was the wife of Donald Blake.

When I came there at Donald's I had six partridges, and a piece of porcupine and about half of the flour I started off with, and all the bones of the porcupine that I carried along with me.

TOO LATE

Very soon Donald Blake and his brother came home. I told him of our sad trip, and asked him if he could go up and take grub to Mr.

Hubbard and Wallace.

"Which river did you follow this summer?" Donald asks me.

"The Nascaupee River," I said, "and I came down by the same river again."

"When did you come out to Grand Lake?" he said.

"Yesterday," I replied.

"And how did you get across the lake?

"I did not come across at all, but I followed the south sh.o.r.e all the way."

Then he told me where the Nascaupee River was, and where it came out from to the Grand Lake within 4 miles northeast from here. I told him about which river we followed, the one at the head of the lake. He then tells me that we have taken the wrong river, and that the river we have followed was the Susan River.

Then I asked him, "What river was this one I crossed with the raft?"

He says, "That river was Beaver Brook or Beaver River."

Then I learnt that this Beaver River was the Big River where we left our canoe, and my thoughts were, "Oh! that if we had followed the Big River, we would have all got out safe," and I could not forget about it, and felt so sorry about it.

Donald got ready to start in the morning. He told me of two men 7 miles from here. I told him it would be better if we could get the other two men, as they would make better time and have lighter loads. So they started off the same night in their boat, and got the two men, Allan Goudy and Duncan M'Lean.

Wednesday morning, October 28th.--Donald and three more started off in their boat part of the way. They had their snowshoes also.

Taking lots of grub and some spare sealskin boots and some other clothes, as I told them how the boys were rigged when I left them.

I wanted to go with them too; but they said they were going to travel at night too, and thought I would not be able to stand it out. I made a map for them and told them just where the tent was, and told them which side of the river to follow, and that the tent was just at the forks. I told them what I told Wallace before I left him, not to leave the river and to follow the north sh.o.r.e of the river all the time. So they said they would find the camp without any trouble.

When Donald and the men had gone, Mrs. Blake was baking some biscuits just after breakfast. The hot biscuits looked so good.