esents at this
place. After descending six miles further we came to the last portage on
the route to Slave Lake which we crossed, and encamped in its lower end.
It is called "_The Portage of the Drowned_," and it received that name
from a melancholy accident which took place many years ago. Two canoes
arrived at the upper end of the portage, in one of which there was an
experienced guide. This man judging from the height of the river, deemed
it practicable to shoot the rapid, and determined upon trying it. He
accordingly placed himself in the bow of his canoe, having previously
agreed, that if the passage was found easy, he should, on reaching the
bottom of the rapid, fire a musket, as a signal for the other canoe to
follow. The rapid proved dangerous, and called forth all the skill of
the guide, and the utmost exertion of his crew, and they narrowly
escaped destruction. Just as they were landing, an unfortunate fellow
seizing the loaded fowling-piece, fired at a duck which rose at the
instant. The guide anticipating the consequences, ran with the utmost
haste to the other end of the portage, but he was too late: the other
canoe had pushed off, and he arrived only to witness the fate of his
comrades. They got alarmed in the middle of the rapid, the canoe was
upset, and every man perished.

The various rapids we passed this day, are produced by an assemblage of
islands and rocky ledges, which obstruct the river, and divide it into
many narrow channels. Two of these channels are rendered still more
difficult by accumulations of drift timber; a circumstance which has
given a name to one of the portages. The rocks which compose the bed of
the river, and the numerous islands, belong to the granite formation.
The distance made to-day was thirteen miles.

_July 21_.--We embarked at four A.M. and pursued our course down the
river. The rocks cease at the last portage; and below it the banks are
composed of alluvial soil, which is held together by the roots of trees
and shrubs that crown their summits. The river is about a mile wide, and
the current is greatly diminished. At eight we landed at the mouth of
the Salt River, and pitched our tents, intending to remain there that
and the next day for the purpose of fishing. After breakfast, which made
another inroad on our preserved meats, we proceeded up the river in a
light canoe, to visit the salt springs, leaving a party behind to attend
the nets. This river is about one hundred