August 7th, and a few hours later,
after making two trips back and forth, we arrived with our baggage on
the bank of our new river. At last we had a real river to travel on,
its average width being between 100 and 150 yards. None of us, of
course, then knew that our real river was the Beaver, and that in
taking to it we had stumbled upon an old Indian route to Lake
Michikamau. If we had known this, it would have made a great
difference in our fortunes.

Immediately below the point where we portaged into the river, wooded
ridges on either side hugged it close, forming a narrow valley. Just
above us the valley broadened, and a mile or so up a big hill reared
its barren summit above the black spruce trees at its base, standing
there like a lonely sentinel among the little hills that bordered the
widening river basin. Despite the fact that we had reached a real
river, we still had rapids to encounter, and we had to make so many
short portages that after we had ascended the river two miles it was
time to camp.

We pitched our tent on a rising plateau just below a stretch of rushing
water. As soon as we stopped, Hubbard tried to fish, and while I made
camp he landed fifteen trout averaging nearly half a pound each. They
were most welcome, as the time had come when we had to live off the
country. Our bread ration was now cut down to one-third of a loaf a
day for each man. As we had no lard, it was made simply of flour,
baking powder, and water. It was baked in our frying pan, and a loaf
was about eight inches in diameter and one inch thick, so that our
daily ration was but a morsel. We also decided that from now on we
should use pea meal only on rare occasions, and to reserve our other
provisions, with the exception of a few dried apples, tea, coffee and a
little chocolate and cocoa, to give us a start should we at any time
find it necessary to make a sudden dash for the Post.

Our clothing was rapidly disintegrating. The front of Hubbard's
trouser leg was all torn open again, and once more he had to resort to
pieces of twine. We had frequent discussions at this period as to
whose appearance was the most beautiful. For a time Hubbard and I
would claim the distinction each for himself, but it usually ended by
our conceding the distinction to George. As a matter of fact, with our
unkempt hair and beards and our rags, we now formed as tough looking a
party of tramps as ever "came down the pike." That night in c