Once or twice I took the track-line myself for a quarter of an hour,
but it did not appeal to me as a permanent amusement. It taught me
one thing that I did not suspect, namely, that it is much harder to
haul a canoe with three inches of water under her keel than with
three feet. In the former case, the attraction of the bottom is
most powerful and evident. The experience also explained the old
sailor phrase about the vessel feeling the bottom: this I had often
heard, but never before comprehended.
All day we tracked, covering 20 to 25 miles between camps and hourly
making observations on the wild life of the river. Small birds and
mammals were evidently much more abundant than in spring, and the
broad, muddy, and sandy reaches of the margin were tracked over by
Chipmunks, Weasels, Foxes, Lynxes, Bear, and Moose.
A Lynx, which we surprised on a sand-bar, took to the water without
hesitation and swam to the mainland. It went as fast as a dog, but
not nearly so fast as a Caribou. A large Fox that we saw crossing
the river proved very inferior to the Lynx in swimming speed.
The two portages, Ennuyeux and Detour, were duly passed, and on the
morning of October 3, as we travelled, a sailboat hove into sight.
It held Messrs.
