e comb when
the comb was not well filled. In the honey house on a table he always
had a plate with a pound comb of white clover honey, and spoons to eat
it with; and he invited every visitor to help himself.

"Once, I remember, a neighbour called on father, and was duly taken out
to the honey house. He ate the whole pound. 'Will you have some
more?' asked father. 'Don't care if I do,' said the neighbour. So
father set out another pound comb, which the neighbour proceeded to put
out of sight with a facility fully equal to that with which he
demolished the first. 'Have some more,' said father. 'Thanks,' said
the neighbour, 'but maybe I've had enough.' I used to wonder how the
man ever did it, but I guess I myself could make two pounds of honey
disappear if I had it now."

Hubbard poured some tea in the cup that had contained his share of the
apple sauce, and after carefully stirring into the tea the bit of sauce
that clung to the cup, he poured it all into the kettle in which the
sauce had been cooked and stirred it again that he might get the last
bit of the apples from the tree on that far-away Michigan farm. Then
he poured it all back into his cup and drank it.

"I believe it sweetened the tea just a little," he said, "and that's
the last of mother's sweet apples."

Breakfast eaten, we had no dinner to look forward to. Of course there
was the "emergency ration," but we felt we must not draw on that to any
extent as yet. Hubbard was much depressed, perhaps because of his
reminiscences of home and perhaps because of our desperate situation.
We still had to find the way to Michikamau, and the cold rain that fell
this morning warned us that winter was near.

The look from the mountain top near our camp revealed nothing, owing to
the heavy mist and rain. Once more in the canoe, we started southward
close to the shore, to hunt for a rapid we had heard roaring in the
distance. Trolling by the way, we caught one two-pound namaycush. The
rapid proved to be really a fall where a good-sized stream emptied into
the lake. We had big hopes of trout, but found the stream too shoal
and rapid, with almost no pools, and we caught only a dozen small ones.

Towards evening we took a northwesterly course in the canoe in search
of the lake's outlet to Michikamau. While paddling we got a
seven-pound namaycush, which enabled us to eat that night. Our camp
was on a rock-bound island, partially covered with stunted gnarled