It was one o'clock when we started forward again, and all afternoon
the portaging was exceedingly rough, making it slow, hard work
getting the big pile of stuff forward. To add to the difficulties,
a very boisterous little river had to be bridged, and when evening
came we had gone forward only a short distance. We had come to a
rather open space, and here the men proposed making camp. Great
smooth-worn boulders lay strewn about as if flung at random from
some giant hand. A dry, black, leaflike substance patched their
surfaces, and this George told me is the _wakwanapsk_ which the
Indians in their extremity of hunger use for broth. Though black
and leaflike when mature, it is, in its beginning, like a disk of
tiny round green spots, and from this it gets its name. _Wakwuk -
fish-roe; _wanapisk_ - a rock.
It was a very rough place, very desolate looking, and far from the
river. It made me shudder to think of spending Sunday there. So
the men were persuaded to try to reach the head of the rapid, which
was three-quarters of a mile farther on, taking forward only the
camp stuff. We were now travelling along the foot of Bald Mountain
seen from the hill on Monday, and passing what is known by the
trappers as North Pole Rapid, which was the wildest of the rapids
so far. The travelling was still rough, and the men were in a
hurry. I could not keep up at all. George wanted to carry my
rifle for me, but I would not let him. I was not pleased with him
just then.
We reached the head of the rapid, and it was beautiful there. A
long terrace stretched away for miles ahead. It was thinly wooded,
as they all were, with spruce and a few poplars, smooth, dry, and
mossy, and thirty feet below us was the river with North Pole Brook
coming in on the other side. It was an ideal place for Sunday
camp.
Though it rained hard through the night the morning was beautiful,
and again I breathed a little sigh of thankfulness that we were not
in the other desolate place farther back. The day would have been
a very restful one had it not been for the flies which steadily
increased in numbers, coaxed back to life and activity by the warm
sunshine. I wanted very much to climb the mountain behind our camp
in the afternoon, but I could not go alone, and the men were taking
a much needed rest. So I wandered about watching the hills and the
river for a while, took a few photographs, and lay in the tent.
Towards evening the flies swarmed over its fly front, getting in in
numbers one could not tell where or how. Still they were nothing
inside to what they were outside. At supper I hated to put up my
veil. They were so thick I could hardly eat. Finally George came
to the rescue, and waving a bag round my head kept them off till I
finished my meal.
While we were at supper Job walked silently into camp with a rifle
under his arm. He had a way of quietly disappearing. You did not
know anything about it till you found he was not there. Then
suddenly be would appear again, his eyes shining. He had
wonderfuly fine eyes, so bright that they startled me sometimes.
Full of energy, quick, clever, he went straight to the point in his
work always without the slightest hesitation. When you saw these
men in the bush you needed no further explanation of their air of
quiet self-confidence.
Job had been up as far as the bend of the river where we were to
leave the Nascaupee for the trappers' cross country route to Seal
Lake. A little above this bend the Nascaupee becomes impassable.
It was three miles away, but Job reported, "Fine portage all the
way to brook."
It was just four next morning when I heard voices at the other
tent. Then all was quiet again. At six the men went past with
loads. They had brought up the outfit that was left behind on
Saturday. The day was fine, and we made good progress. George
said: "Oh, it's just fun with this kind of portaging." It was
nevertheless hot, hard work. I felt resentful when I looked at the
river. It was smooth, and appeared altogether innocent of any
extraordinary behaviour; yet for the whole three miles above North
Pole Rapid it flowed without a bend so swift and deep that nothing
could be done on it in the canoes.
All day the flies were fearful. For the first time George admitted
that so far as flies were concerned it began to seem like Labrador.
We ate lunch with smudges burning on every side, and the fire in
the middle. I was willing that day almost to choke with smoke to
escape flies; but there was no escape. In spite of the smudges
there were twenty dead flies on my plate when I had finished lunch,
to say nothing of those lying dead on my dress of the large number
I had killed. I had to stop caring about seeing them in the food;
I took out what could be seen, but did not let my mind dwell on the
probability of there being some I did not see. When drinking, even
while the cup was held to my lips, they flew into it as if
determined to die. Their energy was unbounded, and compelled
admiration even while they tortured me. How the men endured them
without veils and without _words_ I could not understand.
For more than two miles above our camp we kept to a fine bear
trail.
