While you revel in this wonderful light that has stopped to enfold
you, suddenly it is not falling round you any more, and you see it
moving steadily on again, out over the marsh with its bordering
evergreens, touching with beauty every place it falls upon, forward
up the valley, unwavering, without pause, till you are holding your
breath as it begins to climb the hills away yonder.
It is gone.
The smoke blue clouds hang lower and heavier, the hills stand more
grimly solemn and sombre, the wind is cold, the lake darker and
more sullen, and the beauty has gone out of the marsh.
Then - then it is night.
But you do not forget the _Light_.
You know it still shines - somewhere.
CHAPTER II
SLIPPING AWAY INTO THE WILDERNESS
It was on the 15th of July, 1903, that Leonidas Hubbard, Jr., my
husband, with two companions, set out from Northwest River Post,
near the head of Lake Melville, for a canoe trip into the interior
of Labrador, which be hoped would not only afford him an
interesting wilderness experience but also an opportunity to
explore and map one, and perhaps both, of these rivers, the
Northwest River draining Lake Michikamau to Lake Melville, and the
George River draining the northern slope of the plateau to Ungava
Bay.
