Yesterday at an old camp, we found the end we had cut from a flour bag. It had a bit of flour sticking to it. We boiled it with our old caribou bones and it thickened the broth a little. We also found a can of mustard we had thrown away. I sat and held it in my hand a long time, thinking how it came from Congers and our home, and what a happy home it was. Then I took a bite of it and it was very good. We mixed some in our bone broth and it seemed to stimulate us. We had a bit of caribou skin in the same pot. It swelled thick and was very good. Last night I fell asleep while the boys were reading to me. This morning I was very, very sleepy. After the boys left—they left me tea, the caribou bones, and another end of flour sack found here, a rawhide caribou moccasin, and some yeast cakes—I drank a cup of strong tea and some bone broth. I also ate some of the really delicious rawhide, boiled with the bones, and it made me stronger—strong to write this. The boys have only tea and one half pound pea meal (erbswurst). Our parting was most affecting. I did not feel so bad. George said, "The Lord help us, Hubbard. With His help I'll save you if I can get out." Then he cried. So did Wallace. Wallace stooped and kissed my cheek with his poor, sunken, bearded lips several times— and I kissed George did the same, and I kissed his cheek. Then they went away. God bless and help them.

I am not so greatly in doubt as to the outcome. I believe they will reach the flour and be strengthened, that Wallace will reach me, that George will find Blake's cache and camp and send help. So I believe we will all get out.

My tent is pitched in open tent style in front of a big rock. The rock reflects the fire, but now it is going out because of the rain. I think I shall let it go and close the tent, till the rain is over, thus keeping out wind and saving wood. To-night or to- morrow perhaps the weather will improve so I can build a fire, eat the rest of my moccasins and have some bone broth. Then I can boil my belt and oil-tanned moccasins and a pair of cowhide mittens. They ought to help some. I am not suffering. The acute pangs of hunger have given way to indifference. I am sleepy. I think death from starvation is not so bad. But let no one suppose that I expect it. I am prepared, that is all. I think the boys will be able with the Lord's help to save me.



NARRATIVE BY GEORGE ELSON



LAST DAYS TOGETHER

Friday, October 9th.—We got up good and early. Only tea we had, expecting when we got to our rapid to have something to eat. After going about 2 miles we came to our old camp where we camped on our way up where we had a goose that Mr. Hubbard had killed. I also had killed one. We went ashore to see if we could find some of the old bones. We gathered all we could find and ate them all.

Mr. Hubbard said, "I often have seen dogs eating bones and thought it was pretty hard lines for them, but it must be only fun for them."

Before coming to our rapid, the rapid we had always talked about where we thought we would get lots of fish, I told Mr. Hubbard and Wallace my dream I had that night. It did not seem like a dream but more like some one talking to me. When travelling this summer when we began to be out of grub, if we dreamt of having a good meal at some restaurant we often told it to each other next morning. This morning my dream was:—

A man came to me and told me, "You will get to the rapid to-day and I cannot spare you more than two or three meals of fish, and do not waste much time there. Go right on and don't leave the river, but follow the river on. It is only the way you can save your lives. Follow the river down."

We got to the rapid about noon, all feeling very, very weak. I started a fire. By the time I got some wood and had my fire started they had already enough fish for a pretty fair meal and, of course, you can imagine how glad we were and did not delay much time but got our fish for lunch. It was nice to have something to eat again. We were pretty sure of getting lots more. After lunch Mr. Hubbard and Wallace fished. It was good signs of caribou round there. I took the rifle and tracked up the caribou, but I saw nothing. It was late when I got back. The boys were still fishing. They had caught about sixty more little trout. We felt as if we could eat all those fish in one meal, but seeing they were so scarce we had to try and save some for the next day.

Saturday, October 10th.—We fished all before noon and did not get any at all. So we had to start off from there, seeing it was no use in trying to fish any more. We came to some more rapids in the afternoon. Wallace and I ran some with empty canoe, and then went back for our dunnage, while Mr. Hubbard would fish. It got very cold in the afternoon. Mr. Hubbard caught about twenty little trout. Looking forward we hoped next day to get to our old camp, Camp Caribou, where we killed our caribou August 12th. We thought that may be we will find some of the old bones so as to make some broth, thinking it would help us some. We camped just near the river where we could get lots of wood, and have a good camp fire so we could sit beside the camp fire and have a good talk about home.

Mr. Hubbard tells me he will get a room for me in New York. He again that night asked me to stay with him a couple of months in Congers before I go home to Missanabie, and also to pay him a visit real often, and also that he would never go out doing any travelling without me.

He said, "I am sure Mrs. Hubbard will not be able to do enough for you, especially when she knows how good you have been to me. I would like to have you come with me to Michigan. I am sure my sister would like to have you tell them the story about our trip."

Sunday, October llth.—Had four small trout for lunch, only little larger than a sardine. Late in the evening we came to our old camp, where we had the caribou. Most of the bones were carried off by some animals. Picked up all we could find and made some broth, and very, very strong broth too, which I suppose no one could hardly believe that any human being could eat. The bones were full of maggots, and when it boiled for some time the maggots would boil out. It just looked like if it had been little rice in it. We drunk it up maggots and all. It was pretty high, but found it good. Nothing was too bad for us to eat.

Monday, October 12th.—Fine day. In the morning we had bone broth again and tea. We started off carrying all the bones we could find in our pail, also taking the caribou horns with us. At noon we had broth and piece of the hide we got off from the caribou horns. In the evening we came to a rapid. Hubbard and I nearly swamped the canoe, and part of the rapid was too rough to run. It was only just a short lift over, about 100 feet. The three of us took the canoe, and before getting over we dropped it. We were getting so weak that it took the three of us to carry the canoe, and yet we couldn't even that distance. We looked at each other, but none complained of his weakness. We found we could not go any farther without something to eat. We ate one of Mr. Hubbard's old moccasins, made out of caribou skin, that he made himself. We boiled it in the frying pan, till it got kind of soft, and we shared in three parts. Each had his share and found it good, and also drank up the water where it was boiled in. At night we had some tea, and it freshened us up some.

Tuesday, October 13th.—Wind raw and cold. We came to a little fall we had to carry over, quite short, about 40 feet portage, but our canoe we hadn't the strength to carry. We had to drag it over the rocks.

I shot a whisky jack, and we had it along with our bone broth and tea. Not knowing what our next meal would be, or whether we will ever have the pleasure of enjoying another meal, it looked very much like starvation.

My back was aching quite a bit that day. Touch of lumbago. It made things worse for me. I thought it would be impossible for me to try and go any farther. So I told Mr. Hubbard that if I did not feel any better in the morning, they could go on and try to make their way out and leave me behind, because I did not want to delay them in the least. For all, I was sure they would never make their way out; but I thought they might try anyway. Mr. Hubbard was very, very sorry about it; but he said he hoped I'd be better in the morning.

Wednesday, October 14th.—The boys were up before me and had a fire on. It was some time before I could get up; but I was feeling better than I did the night before. Before noon I shot a duck with the rifle. We were very happy boys.

At noon we came to the place where we had planned some time ago to leave the canoe and cross over to the Nascaupee again. We had our nice duck for lunch, and enjoyed it very much. Mr. Hubbard then asked me if I could find the flour we had thrown away some time in July, along the Nascaupee.

"Yes," I said, "if no animal has carried it away. It is over 20 miles from here."

"Then," he said, "I think we better leave the canoe and march over to the Nascaupee."

And the reason why I did not try and persuade him more than I did for us not to leave the Big River was, we thought perhaps there would be lots of places where we could not run our canoe in some wild rapids, and would have to carry our canoe. I knew the last two days how we were when trying to carry our canoe, and we also thought that if we were travelling through the bush we would surely come across some partridges and help us to the flour, and the flour would help us to the lard, about three pounds, and some milk and coffee 3 miles from Grand Lake. Also as we only know the river above there, of course, we did not know where the river ran to. The boys thought it ran out to Goose Bay, as Low's map showed only the one river running into Grand Lake. Also at Rigolette, trying to find out all we could, and at Northwest River too, nobody ever said about any river but the Nascaupee. Still I said it might run out into Grand Lake.

So the canoe, one axe, the sextant box, and the rest of the caribou horns we left; but the bones we carried with us in our pail, which we boiled over and over to make broth. The bones, since we had them, we would scorch in the fire at night, and chew away at them. Was pretty hard chewing.

I told the boys when we decided to leave the canoe, that we had better leave everything we have, so we would make better time; but we didn't want to waste any time after our nice duck, but go right on while we have yet some strength from it. So we didn't wait to overhaul our stuff. We traveled 2 miles from the Big River that afternoon. We found our packs too heavy to carry, and decided to lighten up in the morning.

That evening Mr. Hubbard said, "Mrs. Hubbard this evening will be now at dinner, and after her meal will finish with lot more on the table. Oh, if she could only hand me a piece of bread!"

Thursday morning, October 15th.—We threw away lots of dunnage, also some films and one rifle. Mr. Hubbard was very sorry to leave his flask. He had often spoken of it being a present from Mrs. Hubbard.

I shot three partridges after noon with the pistol. We were so glad. Mr. Hubbard was more than glad. He came and shook hands with me.

We were trying to reach our old camping place on our way up, Goose Camp we called it, but we were all feeling so very weak especially Mr. Hubbard. At last he could not go any farther. I told him it was about 40 yards to where our old camp was. So we made him leave his load and he followed us. I, with the greatest hurry, started a fire and made him a cup of tea. We as usual sat up near our fire for some time, trying to encourage each other about what good things we would have, after we got to New York.

Friday, October 16th.—For breakfast we ate one partridge leaving the other for lunch. Threw more things away, one blanket and more films, and at noon more things left behind. I had a good suit of underwear with me, saving it till cold weather, but that day at noon I left everything belonging to me. I was too weak to take off the bad and put on the good. Also left some films and—came to the Nascaupee.

That day just before noon, we came to a place where Mr. Hubbard had caught some fish when we were going up, and we thought that perhaps we could get some fish there again, but the little stream was nearly dry. We sat down and had a rest.

A little lake about 400 Yards from us on our way. This little stream ran into the lake. Just near the lake I saw a caribou coming along following this little river to where we were.

I told the boys, "There's a caribou coming along."

We all fell flat on the ground; but he was on the lee side of us and soon found out we were there. He stood—behind some little trees and had his head up looking towards where we were, and all of a sudden he was gone, and we didn't have the chance to fire. I got up. A swamp I knew of. I made for that swamp thinking I would cut across him. I tried to run, yet I was so very, very weak. Oh! how hard I tried to run. But when I got out there he was across on the other side. I was away for some time, yet when I came to the boys, they were still lain the same way, and their faces to the ground, and did not move till I spoke to them. We were more than sorry about the caribou, and each one said what he would do, and how much we could eat if we killed that caribou and that we would stay right there for a few days till we got a little stronger.

Though I was feeling so very weak myself, when we would have nothing else but tea, as we often just had tea, nothing else, when I would hand the boys a cup of tea each, I would ask them to pass it back, as I would pretend I'd forgotten to put any sugar in. They would pretend that they didn't care for sugar, and refuse to have some. Then I would ask them if they would have some bread or some pie.

Mr. Hubbard would say, "PIE! What is pie? What do they use it for? Do they eat it?"

This I did often to encourage them and myself, that we might forget the danger ahead; but it was something impossible to forget, as the hunger and weakness pained us, and I thought we would not be able to go many more days if we don't succeed in killing anything.

That evening we hadn't the strength of chopping our wood. Just gathered the small, dry pieces we found near our camp. We also put up our camp in an easy way we thought. Three little poles were required to keep up our tent. They were quite handy; but it took me some time before I could cut them down.

That day at noon, when I left my dunnage bag with lots of films in, and hung the bag on a short stump, Mr. Hubbard told me, "If we get out safe to Northwest River, I think you or I might stay there this winter, and try and get out some of the things we are leaving, especially the films. If we could get out in time of the last trip of the Virginia Lake, Wallace and you could go home. Or if you would stay, Wallace and I could go home."

I told him I would be very much in a hurry to go home, and wouldn't wish to stay out here for the winter. "But if you wish, and rather have me stay, I will stay for the winter and try and get the things out for you."

He was so glad about it and said, "It will be better, of course, if you would stay, as you could make a better guess for the things than I would."

Saturday, October 17th.—We followed the river, and without anything to eat all day. Only tea we had. Sometimes we would be completely done out. Then we would make some tea and help us some and start on again. This we kept on doing all day.

That evening we came to the junction of the river where it branches off. About half an hour before we came to the branch we had a fire, as Mr. Hubbard was feeling cold and chilly all day. Just at the forks we found a few red berries, and to see if I could find some more I just went about 20 yards from them. When I found none and returned to see them, Mr. Hubbard was lying down on the damp rocks and moss. He looked so pitiful and Wallace sitting near him. I told him not to lie on the damp moss, and asked him if I'd better make him a cup of tea.

"Yes," he said, "I think if I had a cup of hot tea I'd feel better and then go on again."

He could hardly speak. I knew he was very weak. I asked him if he could get to where we camped before going up, where it was nice and dry, about 20 yards. He said he would try. I took his and my pack and he followed us. He could just barely walk. We made him a place near the fire, and gave him a cup of hot tea, and made him a cup of pea meal.

We put the camp up the best way we could and gathered enough wood to last all night.

The flour we were coming for was yet 10 miles away, and the advance in covering so many miles each day, became less and less each day. So after we had some tea and bone broth, I thought, seeing it was no use trying to keep it to ourselves any longer, the danger before us, I would tell them what was in my mind (not about restaurants this time) before it was too late. Seeing that death was just near, which anyone else, if in our place, would expect nothing else but death, they were quite satisfied and each did the same.

Mr. Hubbard talked about Mrs. Hubbard, and his father and mother, and his brother and sister, but most about Mrs. Hubbard. Wallace talked of his sisters and I did the same, especially my youngest brother, as my father and mother died some years ago and he was left under my care. It was quite a different talk beside the other nights' talk, as we never let a night pass without being talking about good restaurants, and what we would do when we got home.

About 10 miles from there the flour was we were looking forward to. So I told Mr. Hubbard to see what he would think. If he couldn't really have the strength of going any farther, that Wallace and I would try and go and find the flour, and if we found it one would return and bring some of the flour to him, and the other would try and make his way out to Northwest River, as it is nearly 80 miles to Northwest River post, and may be I might come across some trappers and be able to help him.

He at first said it was no use of trying, as he knew how weak we were and that we would only be scattered abroad.

Should a relief party be sent out to look for us, they will find us here in our camp; but if you wish to try all right. You are more than trying to save me. I never came across a man so brave as you are. Still I may feel better in the morning, and I will not carry anything. Now I see that you were right when we left the canoe. You wanted to leave everything and go out light.

If you get to the flour, you must take most of the flour and Wallace will bring the rest. As we will be staying in one place we will not require as much as you will, because if you fail on the way, it will mean sure death to us too. And if you happen to come on some trappers, just send them with grub, and don't come up yourself as you will be too weak. Or if you get to Northwest River, Mr. M'Kenzie will find men to send, and you will stay there. If I should starve and you get out, Mr. M'Kenzie will help you in all you need, and will keep you there this winter. By the first boat you will go to New York, and my diary don't give to anyone but to Mrs. Hubbard. Tell her how things happened, and that I don't suffer now as I did at first, only so very, very weak, and I think starvation is an easy death to die.

"I wish you could only see my father and mother, or my sister, so as to tell them about our trip. I wish I could tell them how good you were to me. But you must go to Mrs. Hubbard.

"I am sorry, boys. It is my work the reason why you are out here. If I did not come out here you would have been at your home and having all that you need and would not meet death so soon."

I told him not to be troubled by that. "If we didn't want to come we could have stayed at home. So don't put the blame on yourself."

He also told Wallace if he got out to write the story for Mrs. Hubbard.

Mr. Hubbard was very sleepy. So we did not sit up so long as we have done before. Mr. Wallace read three chapters to us. Mr. Hubbard chose thirteenth chapter First Corinthians, and I the seventeenth chapter St. John's Gospel, and Mr. Wallace fourteenth chapter St. John. Mr. Hubbard fell asleep when Mr. Wallace was nearly through reading the second chapter, that is, the seventeenth chapter. Mr. Hubbard slept good all night, and hardly ever moved till morning, when I wakened him and gave him a cup of hot tea and some bone broth. I also slept good all night and didn't hardly wake up till just before daylight. Mr. Wallace kept on a fire all night and wrote a farewell letter to his sisters.

Sunday morning, October 18th, I got up and boiled those bones again, putting in just a little of the pea meal in the broth, and also tea we had for breakfast. We had yet a half pound of the pea meal that we had carried for some time.

We were to start early, and seeing Mr. Hubbard still weaker than he was last night, and was not able to go any farther, it was late when we started. We were so sorry to part, and almost discouraged to try and go any farther, but we thought we would try our best any way to help him. We were only going to take a cup each and a little tea pail. No blanket. Found too weak to carry anything, but Mr. Hubbard made us take a part of a blanket each. We only had two pair blankets. My blanket I had left behind a few days ago.

So Mr. Hubbard told Mr. Wallace, "If you don't want to tear your blankets, you can tear my blankets in half, and each have a piece. It will be only one and half pound each to carry. Then I can use your blankets while you're away."

Then we tore Mr. Hubbard's blankets, and Wallace and I took each a piece. Also he made us take the rest of the pea meal and little tea. We left him little tea and the bones and piece of flour bag we found, with little mouldy lumps of flour sticking to the bag, and the neighbour of the other moccasin we had eaten.

Mr. Hubbard said, "After you go I will do some writing and will write a letter to Mrs. Hubbard."

Mr. Hubbard took his pistol off from his belt and gave me to take along. He also handed me his knife and told me to leave the crooked knife I had to him. I didn't want to take his pistol. I was thinking about a pistol too. I thought when Wallace and I parted I could ask him for his pistol; but Mr. Hubbard told me, "You must take the pistol. The rifle will be here, and I can use the rifle if I have anything to shoot. You must take the pistol."

So I took the pistol; but the knife I did not take.

Just before starting Mr. Wallace says that he is going to read a chapter before starting. Mr. Hubbard asked him to read the thirteenth chapter First Corinthians, and so he did.

It was time to start.

Mr. Wallace went to Mr. Hubbard and said, "Good-bye, I'll try and come back soon."

Then I went to him and tried to be as brave as Wallace.

When I took his hand he said, "God bless you, George," and held my hand for some time.

I said, "The Lord help us, Hubbard. With His help I save you if I can get out." Then I cried like a child.

Hubbard said, "If it was your father, George, you couldn't try harder to save."

Wallace came back to Hubbard again, and cried like a child and kissed him; and again I went to him and kissed him and he kissed me, and said again, "The Lord help you, George."

He was then so weak that be could hardly speak.

We came away.

TRYING TO GET HELP

When we left Mr. Hubbard an east and raw wind was blowing, and soon rain began, and heavy rain all way, and were soaked to the skin, and made poor time. We followed the river as it ran out into Grand Lake. The least thing we tripped on we would fall, and it would be some time before we could get up. Or we went too near a tree, that a branch would catch on us, would pull us down. At dark we stopped for the night. The trees were very small, and we couldn't get any shelter at all, and hard to get wood with no axe. We pulled together some half rotten lain trees. Our fire wouldn't burn hardly, and couldn't dry our things, and had to sit up all night with wet clothes on, near our fire, or rather near our smoke, as the wood being too rotten that it wouldn't burn. About two o'clock the wind turned westward, the rain ceased, but it began to snow very hard. The night was long and my mind on Hubbard all the time could not forget him.

In the morning, Monday, Oct. 19th, the snow nearly up to our knees. We started early. Our eyes were quite dim with the smoke and everything looked blue. It troubled us all day. Before noon I tracked up a partridge. Oh, how I wished to get him! I came to the place where he had flown away and hunted for him quite a while. At last he flew off. I was just near him and yet did not see him, about 4 feet over my head; but I saw where he perched. I didn't want to go too near him for fear he might fly away before I could shoot him. I was so particular. I rested my pistol on a tree to make a sure shot, and took a good aim, but only scraped him, and he nearly fell too, but after all got off. I cannot tell how sorry I was; and about noon we had to cross this river because the flour was on the opposite side. It was quite a rapid and I knew farther down that we could not get across, as I remembered from this rapid to where the flour is, it was deep. So we went into the cold, icy water up to our waists. We got across and made a fire, and had a cup of tea. It was yet a long way from the flour. We started off as soon as we could. It cleared up in the afternoon, and only drifting and freezing very hard, was getting colder and colder towards evening. Mr. Wallace I knew was near his finish; but I would not say or ask him about it. I thought I would scare him, and he would scare me too if he told me he could not go any further. I was getting so very, very weak myself.

The sun was getting low and I could yet walk lots faster than Wallace, and had to stand and wait for him very often, though I could hardly walk myself. I thought this was my last day that I could walk. If I don't come to the flour this evening I fear I will not be able to walk in the morning; and if I get to where the flour is, and the mice or some animal has carried it off it will surely mean death. And besides I wanted to know very, very much if the flour was there.

Just near dusk, Mr. Wallace was so much behind I thought I would tell him to follow my trail and he could come along behind, and I would try and get to the flour before dark. I stayed and waited till he came near.

He asked me, "How far yet to the flour?"

"About 2 miles," I said.

"Well I think you had better go along and not wait for me any more. I will try and follow your trail. You go lots faster than I do. Go on while it is yet light, and see if you can find the flour; because if you cannot get there to-night may be you will not be able to go any farther should we live to see morning."

I said, "Yes, that is just what I was going to tell you, the reason why I waited here for you."

I started off. I went about 40 yards. Came across a partridge. I got my pistol and fired and killed him. Oh, how glad I was! Mr. Wallace came to me. He was more than glad, and just ate part of him raw, which freshened us up a great deal.

Then he said, "You can go on again and don't delay on me."

I came on some caribou trail (it was then getting dark) and quite fresh, which run in all directions. I stood and thought, "When Wallace comes here be will not know my trail from the caribou trail; and if he cannot come to me to-night, if he follow the caribou trail it might lead him out of the way altogether; and if it snows again to-night I may not be able to find him in the morning."

So I stayed till he came and told him why I waited for him. He was glad and said sure he would not know my trail from the caribou, which would perhaps lead him out of the way. So we sat down and ate some more of the partridge raw.

Mr. Wallace says, "I just fancy that I never ate something so good in my life."

We could have camped right there where I killed the partridge, as we would have something for our supper; but what I wanted to find out too was—Is the flour there I wonder. If we did not get there it would be in my mind all the time, "I wonder if the flour is there." It got dark and we still travelled. Wallace would often ask me, "How far is it from here to the flour?" "How far is it to the flour?"

At last I knew we were coming to it. We had not a mark, or never put it at some particular place; but we have just thrown it away. Anyway we thought we would never come past there again. It was late in the night when we came to the flour. I was not very sure of it myself. I put down my little load.

Wallace said, "Is this the place?"

I said, "Yes."

So I went to where I thought we had left the flour. I dug down into the snow and just came on it. It was, of course, in one solid lump and black with mould. We got our knife and broke it off in bits and ate quite a bit. We were just about played out when we came to the flour. If I hadn't killed the partridge we would never have got to the flour.

We gathered some wood and made a fire. No trees at all so as to break the wind. All barren and the wind sharp, and clear night. We gathered enough wood for the night, and had the rest of the partridge, and also some flour soup in our little tea pail, and only wishing Mr. Hubbard was with us to enjoy the meal too. We thought and talked about Mr. Hubbard all the time, although at the same time having poor hopes of him. Mr. Wallace nearly blind and suffering with his eyes.

I sat up all night and kept on a fire. I was very uneasy about Wallace and afraid be would not be able to go back to Mr. Hubbard with the flour; but in the morning he was better and we did some patching on our old moccasins. We had some flour soup. Last night I did not notice in the dark the colour of our soup, till this morning when we had our breakfast about daylight. It was just black with the mouldy flour; but we found it very good. Nothing was too bad for us to eat. We were feeling good and fresh in the morning and expecting to make good time in travelling. I took my share of the flour, about two pounds, and gave Mr. Wallace about six or seven pounds, stuck fast on the bag. He told me to take more, but I would not take any more. I said, "I will trust in getting some game," as I would get to the wood country soon.

Before we parted I read the Sixty-seventh Psalm—

"God be merciful unto us and bless us, and cause his face to shine upon us. "That thy way may be known upon the earth, thy saving health among all nations. "Let the people praise thee, O God; let all the people praise thee. "O let the nations be glad and sing for joy; for thou shalt judge the people righteously, and govern the nations upon earth. "Let the people praise thee, O God; let all the people praise thee.

"Then shall the earth yield her increase: and God even our God shall bless us. "God shall bless us: and all the ends of the earth shall fear him."

Then I read a Thanksgiving Prayer:

"Almighty God, Father of all Mercies, we Thine unworthy servants do give Thee most humble and hearty thanks for all Thy goodness and loving-kindness to us and to all men. We bless Thee for our creation and preservation and all the blessings of this life; but above all for Thine inestimable love in the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ; for the means of grace and for the hope of glory. And we beseech Thee give us that due sense of all Thy mercies, that our hearts may be unfeignedly thankful and that we shew forth Thy praise not only with our lips, but in our lives, by giving up ourselves to Thy service and by walking before Thee in holiness and righteousness all our days, through Jesus Christ our Lord. To Whom with Thee and the Holy Ghost be all honour and glory world without end. Amen."

Then I told him what to do, for him not to leave the river, but to follow the river. I was afraid he might some time leave the river and wouldn't be able to find the river again, and lose his way. And if he gets to Hubbard and Hubbard yet alive, "if he gets little stronger by this flour, should he wish to come on, do the same, follow the river near, all the time; because if I happen to get down safe, and if I am too weak to come up myself when I send up help I shall tell them which side of the river to follow and they will surely meet you."

We found sorry to part, not knowing if we would meet again; but we must try and help Hubbard and do all we can for him. Wallace starts off on our back trail and I started toward Grand Lake. We said, "Good-bye, and 'God be with you till we meet again,'" to each other. We parted on a barren hill and could see each other for some time. We would just walk a few yards and sing out to each other, "Good-bye." This we kept on till out of sight and some distance apart.

It snowed very hard all day, and couldn't hardly see any distance. In the afternoon I killed a porcupine. How I wished I could give some to the boys.

Wednesday, 21st, had snowed heavy all night, and made heavy travelling without snowshoes, and the snow above my knees. To-day I saw a caribou and got a shot at him with my pistol. In the evening I killed another porcupine. I thought, "I shall be able to get out to Grand Lake now if the snow don't get too deep for me."

ThursdaY, 22nd. Snowing very hard again and cold. I made a fire at noon and tried to patch my shoe-packs but I couldn't spare time. I walked with only my socks, on in the afternoon and made poor time, as the country very rough and the snow very deep. I tried to make a straight road to make it short to Grand Lake. During the day though feeling very tired and would like to have a rest, if I stopped even for five minutes, lots Of things would come into my mind, and would have to start on again. At night it isn't so bad, because I try to make myself believe because it is night therefore I cannot travel."

Friday, 23rd, more snow again. In the afternoon got mild, and being so much snow on the trees, it began to drop. It was worse than any rain and the bush so thick to go through, and at last it began to rain. I was soaked to the skin, and the snow very deep. My hands were always so cold without mits, and travelling in such a rough country, and falling down often into the snow and rocks, and cutting my hands on the rocks. I at last cut part off the sleeves off my undershirt and with a string tied one end, and I slipped them on my hands for mits. Several times that day I had the notion of giving up, as I could not get on at all in the deep snow. I thought it was impossible to get through. Then again I would try and make my way out. I came to the place where we had left the coffee and milk. I found the coffee. The lid was off and the can was full of ice. I took the ice out and underneath of the ice the coffee was. I broke some off and made some coffee; but it did not hardly taste like coffee at all, all the strength was out, as it had been in water for a short time. The milk I could not find.

That evening I killed four partridges. The weather turned clear and cold and I was wet to the skin. It was late when I had to stop for the night, and did my best in trying to dry my things the best way I could, and hard to get wood for I had no axe.

Saturday, 24th, in the evening I came to the place where we had left the lard. I was very glad to find it. It was about three pounds of lard in a pail. I had some porcupine and a few partridges yet, as I would try and save some ahead for my way out, and the bones of the porcupine I carried with me; for I didn't throw the bones away, as it will make good broth if I get out of grub and don't get more game. I also had the flour yet, because I was saving it when my porcupine was done, and the porcupine bones with little flour will last me for a while. In the evenings I would talk to myself like as if some one with me, and plan to start off again soon as daylight, and try and make so many miles, just to cheer myself.

After I left Mr. Wallace, when coming along after I killed the porcupine and some partridges, at night, my fire I would have it in a long style and just lie near the side of it, and whatever I had, some porcupine or partridge, in my little bundle, I would put it for my pillow for fear some animal might carry it away. My pistol I would keep it handy, and then talk to myself and say, "If some wolves should come along to-night they would make short work of me. But I guess I might just as well get killed by them as to starve; but any way I will just make that first fellow jump a little with my pistol. My little pistol is only 22 cal."

Every evening I always read a chapter, and every morning at just break of daylight; and when I got a little stronger, after getting some game, strong enough to raise my voice, I always sung a part of a hymn. In the evening I would read first then sing,

"Lead kindly light, amid the encircling gloom Lead Thou me on. The night is dark, and I am far from home; Lead Thou me on. Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see The distant scene; one step enough for me."

And in the morning after I read, I would sing,

Come to me, Lord, when first I wake, As the faint lights of morning break; Bid purest thoughts within me rise, Like crystal dew-drops to the skies.

Sunday, 25th, was snowing again. In the evening I killed four more partridges. Snow very deep and made poor time, and high mountains to go over, but I thought I will get out to Grand Lake early in the morning.

Monday, 26th, I got out to Grand Lake about 10 o'clock and was very, very glad to get out again to the lake, but was very much disappointed in the afternoon. I came along the south shore of the lake and thinking I would make good time from there now to Northwest River, and I would only follow the shore of the lake to Northwest River, and besides no mountains to go over. I went about 2 miles and came to a river, which made me feel very bad about it, and I did not know how I could ever get across, and could not make a raft without an axe. I thought I would try any way to make a raft, if I could only get wood to make a raft with. I followed the river up. The banks were so high, and the swift current run so swift along the steep banks, and the river very deep. I could not drop a log in without it float right away, and also came to another branch. This river branches off in two. I tried all afternoon to cross at the main river so I would have only one river to cross; but I could not there, as near the lake I will have two rivers to cross at the forks.

I gave up and went down near the lake again. The ice was floating down the river. A rapid near the lake. I thought it might not be very deep. Then, seeing that I could not do any better, I thought I would wade out a piece and the rest I would swim to the other shore.

I started out, and up to my waist before I got any distance out, and the floating ice coming against me, and the cramps began to take on the legs, that I was obliged to turn and just got out to shore in time.

I stood for some time thinking that I will never be able to cross, and that I would sure to starve there. It got dusk and I started a fire. I was very, very cold, and had something to eat. I was troubled very much and could not forget the river, and the ice floating and rubbing against the shore, made things worse, to hear that sound all night, and thinking if I only had a canoe, I could get to Northwest River to-morrow. It was yet 40 miles to the post Northwest River.

Tuesday, 27th, as soon as daylight I tried to wade across again the same place; but things happened the same. Along the lake lots of drift wood. I thought I better make a raft if I could. It was blowing very heavy from the west. I got my raft made. My tump line I made two pieces to tie the four corners of the raft, and my leather belt I made another piece, and a piece of small salmon twine I had at the other corner. I got a long pole so as to be sure and touch bottom with it all the way across, as I was afraid that the swift current would take me out into the lake and the heavy sea would swamp me.

My raft was too small, and when I got on it I sunk down quite a bit. I shoved out and came to the strong current, and the tide and the ice overcame me, and took me out to the lake. When the current took me out into the lake, then the wind caught me and carried me. It got so deep I could not find bottom with my pole. I had a mind to jump from the raft; but I knew if I did I would surely get drowned. So I thought I might just as well try to stay on. My raft was breaking up. Piece by piece would float away. So I got down on my knees and tried to keep the pieces together, and the sea would just cover me. For about two hours I stayed on the raft, and sure it was my finish. Finally, after a while, the wind drove me just near a point. It was a long point, and I knew I could touch bottom with my pole. I took my pole and just hardly got ashore. (Grand Lake runs nearly east and west, is over 40 miles long, and from 1 to 4 miles wide, and very deep, up to sixty fathom of water, and for the least wind makes a very heavy sea.)

At this point where I got ashore, I was more than glad, but the other branch yet to cross. I came to the branch and followed it up quite a bit. This branch is much larger than the first. It was very hard to get wood to make a raft. No drift. I managed to shove some half rotten stumps down. It took me some time to get enough for my raft, and not a stitch dry about me, just wringing wet, and would not make a fire till I got across the other branch. I built my raft on newly frozen ice, just near the open stream, and then broke the ice around and with a long pole worked my way across. This raft was much larger than the first, and out of the water where I stood. Oh! but I was so proud of that raft, and talking to myself all the time, and telling myself what a fine raft it was, and I was so proud of my raft. I got across safe and without much trouble after all.

It was nearly sunset. I thought I'd better make my fire and found I was nearly safe. I would dry up and make a good early start in the morning, and would nearly get to the post the next day. I picked out a place for the night, and shot three partridges right there. It was near a point where I was and round the point run a deep bay. I thought may be another river run out from there. And just to see if I could see any river I run to the point. When I got to the point, I seeing a small boat within 100 yards from me; and, of course, to make sure, I run to see it, thinking it would come handy to me and I could sail to the post.

Before I came near it, a child screamed out nearly opposite of me in the bush. I cannot tell how I felt. I just run the direction I heard the sound. The next, the roof of a house I saw. Then I came on a trail. I saw a girl with a child outside of the door. As soon as she saw me she run in and a woman came out. I sung out to her before I came to her. Meeting me she looked so scared. Then I shook hands with her, and told her where I came from. She took me in the house and told me to sit down. But I was—well I could not say how I was and how glad I was.

After I had some tea and bread, I went for my little bundle and the partridges I shot. When I got back, a bed was fixed up for me and a shift of dry clothes. She did not know what to think of me when first seeing me, and also being all wet and nearly barefooted. She was the wife of Donald Blake.

When I came there at Donald's I had six partridges, and a piece of porcupine and about half of the flour I started off with, and all the bones of the porcupine that I carried along with me.

TOO LATE

Very soon Donald Blake and his brother came home. I told him of our sad trip, and asked him if he could go up and take grub to Mr. Hubbard and Wallace.

"Which river did you follow this summer?" Donald asks me.

"The Nascaupee River," I said, "and I came down by the same river again."

"When did you come out to Grand Lake?" he said.

"Yesterday," I replied.

"And how did you get across the lake?

"I did not come across at all, but I followed the south shore all the way."

Then he told me where the Nascaupee River was, and where it came out from to the Grand Lake within 4 miles northeast from here. I told him about which river we followed, the one at the head of the lake. He then tells me that we have taken the wrong river, and that the river we have followed was the Susan River.

Then I asked him, "What river was this one I crossed with the raft?"

He says, "That river was Beaver Brook or Beaver River."

Then I learnt that this Beaver River was the Big River where we left our canoe, and my thoughts were, "Oh! that if we had followed the Big River, we would have all got out safe," and I could not forget about it, and felt so sorry about it.

Donald got ready to start in the morning. He told me of two men 7 miles from here. I told him it would be better if we could get the other two men, as they would make better time and have lighter loads. So they started off the same night in their boat, and got the two men, Allan Goudy and Duncan M'Lean.

Wednesday morning, October 28th.—Donald and three more started off in their boat part of the way. They had their snowshoes also. Taking lots of grub and some spare sealskin boots and some other clothes, as I told them how the boys were rigged when I left them. I wanted to go with them too; but they said they were going to travel at night too, and thought I would not be able to stand it out. I made a map for them and told them just where the tent was, and told them which side of the river to follow, and that the tent was just at the forks. I told them what I told Wallace before I left him, not to leave the river and to follow the north shore of the river all the time. So they said they would find the camp without any trouble.

When Donald and the men had gone, Mrs. Blake was baking some biscuits just after breakfast. The hot biscuits looked so good. At last, I could not help myself, and had to ask her for some. She put some in a dish and gave me butter, molasses, and tea. So I ate and ate, and could not stop myself whatever, that at last I had to just force myself to go away where I could not see those little biscuits.

But oh! how I did suffer afterwards. I could not eat any thing more that day. It pained me ever so much in my breast. I would try and have a rest in bed, but could not, the pain was too much. Then I would go out and walk about outside; but it was no use whatever, and come in and sit down. This I kept on all day but I wouldn't tell Mrs. Blake about it. I had no rest and suffered very much and was getting worse all the time. I thought of myself: Well I had nearly died of starvation, and after I did come out to where I could get some grub to live on, and after all kill myself with it. What a mean trick.

I did not know what to do with myself at last. Then I thought to try some hot water and started to vomit. It did me good. I felt much better after. I knew when I was eating those biscuits, that it wouldn't be good for me if I ate too much, but I couldn't help it. But it learnt me a good lesson. Afterwards I took good care not to eat too much. But for some time after, about three weeks, we suffered in our breast every time we ate, and so very, very hungry all the time for more to eat. We then suffered nearly as much as we did when we were first out of grub.

Next day Mrs. Blake telling me, "Donald built this house this fall. It is a little over a week since we moved into our new house. And the other house you see over there is Mr. Bakie's house. He is not up yet. He is yet at the Northwest River post."

So I thought, "If Donald hadn't come up here when I came past!!!—I guess I will just go into Mr. Bakie's house and see if I would have found any thing there."

I went in his little store first, it wasn't locked, and found a few pounds of flour and some bits of pork in a keg, and about twenty pounds butter and also a good pair of sealskin boots.

So I said to myself, "Well, I guess I could find a load of grub here and take a load back to Mr. Hubbard and Wallace."

But I thought about the river, and how would I get a load back across the river? Then I looked round if I could find an axe, and found two, one small and the other large.

I took the big axe and said, "This one would come handy to use to make my raft with, and the little one I would take along with me in the bush, and those sealskin boots I would wear."

And also found three pair snowshoes. I also picked out the pair I would have taken and said, "This pair I would take."

Then I went in his house and found two barrels of flour.

So I said, "Well, after all I would have found more flour than I could carry to take up to the boys," for I told them when I left, that if I found grub any place on the road, and no one there, I will just help myself and try and bring up a load. In that house I spent some time, thinking and planning of what I would have done.

Friday, October 30th.—I was staying at Donald's, killing quite a few partridges and making myself at home; but yet not feeling very happy, as I did not get much rest at nights, thinking about Mr. Hubbard and anxious to hear from them soon. I had good hopes of Mr. Wallace, because the mouldy flour he had would yet keep him alive. And my troubles were: "Now I feel safe and in good hopes of getting home; but should Mr. Hubbard and Wallace starve in there, the people may not believe me in what I say, and will think that I run away from them, and haven't done fair whatever," and when I got home I would get in trouble, after I had done all I could for them as well as myself.

When I would wake up at night it would just come into my mind. And more than that, Mr. Hubbard had been so good to me, and to remember what a friend he was, and what a brave man he was. Oh! wasn't he a brave man. I have seen a good many fine people in my time; but I never have seen a man like Hubbard, and I never expect to see another.

I was thinking too how things happened, about being on the wrong river, and what made us believe we were on the right river, though at the same time thinking that it was too small to feed Grand Lake, but when it came out just at the head of the lake, as it shows in the map, made us think it was the Nascaupee. And besides how we proved as we were going up, as the people had told us at Northwest River post, that after we got up the Nascaupee River, 18 miles up, we would come to the Red Wine River, branching off from the south side of the Nascaupee River, and also how that happened. When we got up, about 18 miles up, a little river branching off from the south into this river we thought was the Nascaupee, and of course, we called this little river the Red Wine River. And besides how we found the old portage trail, and also the steel trap, and how all these things kept on making us think for sure we were on the right route. And besides none knew, or ever thought, there was any other river. And I could not forget about it, and was so sorry about it. Only one river.

Saturday evening, October 3lst.—Donald Blake and Allan Goudy returned from their trip, and sorry to hear the death of Mr. Hubbard. They suppose he died the first evening we left him, by telling of the signs, as he hasn't been out of the tent after the first snow. Three or four caribou has been coming right near the tent door, and going round the tent.

Donald and Allan tells of Mr. Hubbard and how they had found him wrapped up in his blanket, like as he had been falling asleep, and the tent door closed and all pinned up. I could tell then pretty well how he has being, and that be has being doing as he said he would, and has fallen asleep and has never woke. For I myself was nearly at my finish, and knew how I felt, and how weak and sleepy I used to feel, and often felt that I could just fall asleep and never wake up again.

Donald and Allan brought all that was at the tent, Mr. Hubbard's camera and his rifle and his diary. And I was so very much surprised to see what he has written, and found a letter he has been writing for me to Mr. S. A. King, in case I should fail, and telling him how I had tried so hard to help him. I was so glad to see this letter, and remembered how he did speak of me this summer, and was so always pleased of my work. And further, to see here what he has written about me, even to his very last.

Then I knew his letter would help if the people would not believe me in what I said.

They fixed Mr. Hubbard's body the best way they could and returned to Mr. Wallace. Going up they found Mr. Wallace 1 mile above from where we got the flour from, where Wallace and I parted. They came on to his trail first. Then they followed him up. He has crossed the river on the ice to the south shore, just near where they came to him along the river, where some caribou had been going across. He had a little fire, but was unable to make a start or to travel any more. Allan Goudy says he right away gave Wallace some bread and butter, and after he ate that he did want some more: "But we would not give him more. We were afraid to give him too much, for fear he would eat too much. He then got a hold of some raw salt pork and was going to eat it raw, that we had just to take it from him."

The two young lads, Duncan M'Lean and Gilbert Blake, stayed with Mr. Wallace, and Donald and Allan went right on to Mr. Hubbard. They saw Wallace's trail through the snow, and along where he went, and only less than a couple hundred yards from the tent, and had turned back and followed his own trail again, thinking he had gone past the camp. They found Mr. Wallace was frost-bitten on the point of his toe, the big toe on his left foot. He had yet a little of the flour when they found him. The two lads stays up with Mr. Wallace, so when he gets a little stronger they would come down to Grand Lake. They had a tent and stove, and lots of provisions.

Sunday, November 1st.—I went with Allan over where be lives, 7 miles from Donald's, 4 miles by the lake, then up the Nascaupee River 3 miles. My first glimpse of the Nascaupee River. The Nascaupee River is a nice big river compared to the Susan and Beaver River, and much wider and deeper. When we came along here in the summer, we saw this bay where the Nascaupee River comes out from, from a distance; but we thought it was just only a bay, and high mountains all round, and we never thought a river came out from there. So we did not go in there at all. We saw also from a distance, where Beaver River run out from; but we thought it was only an island. So we still just went on and followed the map.

It was late in the evening when we got back to Donald's. Donald and Allan would start off again in the morning to meet the two lads and Wallace.

Monday, November 2nd.—Donald and Allan meeting Mr. Wallace, they arrived at Donald's in the evening. Mr. Wallace then told me of his trip after I left him; but he couldn't remember all, as he at last lost track of every thing. He was troubled with his eyes, being nearly smoke blind, and that he could not find the tent. He thought he had gone past the camp. He says he did not know where the tent was. He made Duncan a present of Mr. Hubbard's washing rod.

Tuesday, November 3rd.—We said good-bye to Donald's, and went with Allan and Duncan over to their place. We staid there couple of days while Allan getting his boat ready for us to use to Northwest River. The day after I went over there I asked Duncan M'Lean if he could go with me this winter when I go up to get Mr. Hubbard's body. He told me he would be willing to come along with me and help me all he could. I told him I would try to get one or two more at Northwest River post.

Thursday, Noveinber 5th.—In the morning Wallace and I started off from Allan's house. When we got to the mouth of the river we could not go any farther. Snowing very hard and could not see any distance, and the wind against us. We stayed at the mouth of the river till in the evening. The wind shifted to the northwest, and we sailed across to Cape Blanc, just opposite the Nascaupee. We went to a little shack I knew. When we passed here in the summer we saw the shack just near the lake. This was the little shack where I thought I might find some food or, perhaps, find some trappers when I was coming down the Susan; but it was just a little shack or tilt for the trappers' use when travelling along Grand Lake, just big enough for two men to sleep in. Wallace and I were glad to get in, and a little stove in too, and nice and warm.

In the morning, Nov. 6th, nice wind and fair for us, and got to Northwest River. The people were so sorry to hear the sad news of Mr. Hubbard, especially those who have seen him.

I also came across Mr. Bakie, who knew about Beaver River, and enquires if we came to where it branches and connects again, on the south side of a high half barren hill.

I said, "Yes, that is just the place where we left our canoes and went over to Susan Brook."

He tells me, "If you had come over that rapid where you left the canoe, you would go 6 miles and just come to another. Only about 50 yards you would carry your canoe, and from there smooth and deep water, no rapids, but swift current. Even if you didn't have the strength of paddling, the swift current would have brought you down, right down to my house."

Mr. Bakie lives just near Donald Blake's at Grand Lake, just near the river—Beaver River. How sorry I was when we did not follow Beaver River. It would only take us two days to come from where we left the canoe to where Donald Blake or Mr. Bakie's house. Mr. Bakie has his trapping on Beaver River, and he knew all about it, and tells me that we had come over the worst part of the river.

KEEPING A PROMISE AND SOMETHING MORE

At the New Year I saw Duncan M'Lean again, and he said he would meet me on the 16th January at Donald's, to start from there up the bush to get Mr. Hubbard's body, and the things we left, if I can find them. He would be out from his trapping path then, and besides the rivers frozen up. All the people round there thought that I could not find anything whatever.

I did not meet Duncan, and did not get started on my trip till 8th March. The men were willing to go with me and help me with what I had to do; but Mr. Wallace wanted the canoe out, and to make the canoe a present to Mr. M'Kenzie, which the boys didn't care to undertake, and afraid to try and make a start, because they thought if they went they would have to bring the canoe. And besides the snow being so deep, and had been snowing nearly every day for some time ago, and haven't had chance of settling down, and besides about 80 miles to where the camp was, and the canoe about 98 miles. We could not take dogs, because the country being so rough we could not use dogs whatever. So we have to get on by hauling every man his toboggan.

Seeing that the boys were almost afraid to try, till at last I told them, "Never mind, but come along with me and I will tell you whether the canoe will be taken out or not. Because we are going up there especially for to bring out Mr. Hubbard's body, and some films if I can find them, and we will leave the canoe and not bother with it. So you can put the blame on me, as anyway we will have more than three men can handle, and especially the country being so rough."

They said they would come along with me and help me in what I had to do, as it is something that has to be done. And besides getting time for the mild, and the rivers burst, and the water runs on top of the ice, and afraid that we could do no travelling in Susan Brook, and the mountains so rough and steep we could not haul toboggans over them, and have to travel on the river. So we got started in the morning from Northwest River on our way up.

March 8th.—Tom Blake and Duncan M'Lean and I started this morning to bring Mr. Hubbard's body out to Northwest River. We have two toboggans and one catmeran. Taking little stove, and tent and enough provisions. Each has a good load, and the new snow makes heavy going. Got dogs at Tom Blake's. Douglas Blake going up the lake with us. We came 18 miles to-day.

March 9th.—Still snowing heavy and stormy. So we had to lay up to-day, being too rough to travel on the lake, and the snow deep.

March 10th.—Still snowing. Tom Blake got discouraged, as he thinks it will be too hard to do any travelling in the bush, as it is heavy going even on the lake. He and Douglas went home this morning with the dogs to Northwest River. The young lad Duncan stays with me. I found hard to think of what I have to do; but Duncan promises me that he will be brave, and we will try and go on as soon as the weather settles, and the snow will pack and make better travelling.

March 1lth and 12th.—Snowing and kind of mist. Could not go on again.

Sunday, March 13th.—In the afternoon it cleared up and we started, Duncan and I, and being only two could not take all we had, and left some grub and our blankets. Just taking tent, stove, and enough grub. Our loads still heavy to drag, and travelled slow and good part of the night. At last Duncan broke his snowshoe, and had to stop. Duncan is a nice boy and willing, and not particular when to start in the morning and when to quit.

March 14th.—This morning Duncan fixing up his snowshoes, and took part of the day. In the afternoon we started. Hope to make a good early start in the morning as the snow is settling fast.

March 15th.—This morning, as we were just starting off, saw Mr. Blake coming. He has changed his mind and came on again to follow us up. We were so glad to have him come again.

March 16th.—Stormy and cold. Last night very cold. We have to keep fire on all night, and especially when we have no blankets. Our toboggans being so rimey to-day, and very often scraped the rime off so as it wouldn't draw so hard.

March 17th.—The weather changed and settled down, and made a good day's journey to-day.

March 18th.—To-day I shot six partridges with the pistol. This evening I knew we were coming opposite where we left the cartridges in the summer. It was in July, when one day Mr. Hubbard thought he had too many cartridges, and we took and dug in the sand and left them and covered them up, about five hundred rifle and pistol cartridges. So I told Mr. Blake and Duncan about it, and left our loads there and crossed over to where I thought it would be. We hadn't marked the place, for any way we thought of never coming back that way again. We came to the place where I thought we had left them, and dug into the snow. The boys were not sure about it at all, and thinking that I would not find the cartridges.

When we came to the sand they asked me, "Is this the place?"

I said, "Yes."

A chisel I had with me to cut the frozen sand with. We dug into the sand and just came on them. The boys were surprised and would have bet anything before we started that I wouldn't find anything whatever, as the snow in winter makes things look different.

March 19th.—To-day made good time. Duncan snow blind.

Sunday, March 20th.—Early before noon we came to the camp. The tent was all buried in the snow; but when we dug down were surprised to find it standing. We wrapped Mr. Hubbard in the things we brought along with us, and did the best we could.

I blazed a tree near where the tent has been. This I wrote deeply:

L. HUBBARD died here 18th October, 1903, and will be brought out by T. BLAKE, DUNCAN M'LEAN and G. ELSON.

Came on a little farther this evening. The boys yet do not hardly think I can find the rest of the things. Of course, I'm not sure myself; but I can try any way. We have our cache five different places, some 4 and 8 miles apart.

March 21st.—The boys were surprised to-day. When we came to the first cache I told them that we left some things there; but they looked at me and told me, how could I tell and no marks to go by. But they wouldn't refuse. We dug down to the ground, 8 feet, and just came on our little bundle we had left. The next was the same, and the next, till we got everything we had thrown away, only one bag yet with lots of films in. I remembered that I had hung it up by a little strap, on a little stump in some swamp, and the trees scattered. I thought I really could not guess at that place, and told the boys; but we went on any way, till I thought we came to the place. No tree near, only just a plain. At last we dug down a piece any way. When we got down a piece we started to feel around with our feet, and just came on the stump, and the bag still on.

Mr. Blake says, "I have been trapping now ever since I could, when only a boy, and I think I know a little about travelling in the bush now; but I could never find anything like you, and did not miss one place, but came right on it every time. I would never believe any one could do that if I did not see it myself."

Duncan said the same, and besides nothing to go by.

March 22nd.—Started back from the camp for Grand Lake. Each man has a big load, for we have picked up lots. Duncan very bad with snow blind.

March 23rd.—Snowing heavy, and rime on our to boggans makes heavy travelling. Some places the river bad to travel, on account of rapids where it isn't froze. We have some times just a narrow bridge of ice to go on, as no other way we could go, for the rough steep mountains on each side.

March 24th.—Drifting and snowing very hard. Only travelled part of the day. Got to Allan Goudy's house.

March 25th.—Snowing heavy. Got to Cape Corbeau. All very tired.

March 26th.—Stormy to-day and snowing very hard, and our toboggans so heavy we could not get on at all, and had to leave our loads and walk empty to the post. Late when we got here at Mr. Blake's house at the rapids, 3 miles from the post. Will get dog team in the morning and go back for our loads.

March 28th.—Duncan M'Lean and I took dog team up Grand Lake this morning and got here again this evening with Mr. Hubbard's body and the things we left behind in the fall. We dressed him the best we could and laid him in the coffin the men at Kenemish had made for him, till we are ready to start on around the coast.

When I was up in the bush, Mr. Wallace has a letter from Dr. Cluny Macpherson. As soon as he heard the sad news of Mr. Hubbard, he has started from Battle Harbor to come to Northwest River with his dog team to help us. When he got to Rigolette, Mr. Fraser has just been at Northwest River post, and told him we hadn't yet the body of Mr. Hubbard out from the bush, and besides when he left Battle Harbor his little child was sick, and a team of dogs brought him news that his child was getting worse. So then he had to turn back from Rigolette, and sent a letter to Mr. Wallace to guide us on our way, from Rigolette to Battle Harbor, from the time we may leave Rigolette all along, giving full account where we could get men and teams, and when we got at a place what man to ask for, and gave all the names of the places, and the names of the people we are to enquire for, and the best places to stay at nights, and besides tells of a steamer to come to Battle Harbor about the first of May.

It was hard to get dogs and we were long getting started. In February I was up at Muddy Lake. Wednesday, Feb. 24th, I went from Muddy Lake to Goose Bay at John Groves. He asked me if we got dogs to help us around the coast and to take Mr. Hubbard's body. I said that we did not yet find teams that could take us around or even as far as Rigolette.

Thursday, February 25th.—I got to Northwest River.

Sunday, February 28th.—Mr. Wallace and Mr. Bently arrived from Kenemish. Then I told Mr. Wallace what John Groves had told me, that he could help us with his team as far as Rigolette any way, and that he had a good team of dogs.

Friday, April 8th.—Lots of teams from Muddy Lake. Edward Michline also arrived. He has been at Goose Bay a few days ago, and tells me that his brother-in-law John Groves said, that if Mr. Wallace would ask him to help him along, he could go as far as Rigolette with his team of dogs, as at the time he did not have very much to do and he could have time to go to Rigolette and back before he had any particular work to do for himself. Then I told Mr. Wallace about it, what John Groves has said. He said that he would write a letter to him and ask him about it.

But Mr. Wallace and Mr. M'Kenzie still thinking of getting the canoe out, and wanted me to go up the Grand Lake and up by Beaver Brook, to get the canoe out to Northwest River.

I was not careful of undertaking the trip. My reasons why—I knew how long it would take me to go up and back again to Northwest River. It would take me nearly two weeks. I thought it would be pretty late when we could make a start on our trip to Battle Harbor, and would miss the boat that Dr. Macpherson told us would be in Battle Harbor about the 1st of May. Also I was sure that the canoe would be crushed to pieces with the weight of the snow, as we left it in a place where it had a good chance of being crushed to the ground. If we had put it in some shelter where it would be all right, or if we had put it on a stage to keep in good shape; but when we had just taken it out of the river, and just left it along the open, I knew it could not be safe. I thought it was a piece of nonsense to try and get it out, and would be only a trip for nothing. Even then I would be willing to go if it hadn't been so late. Also I thought it was hardly fair to try and force me to go any way, because I knew that I wasn't under either of them. I was hired by Mr. Hubbard on the trip and we had to do all the planning. It was Mr. Hubbard's expedition, and we had to obey him and try to help him in all we could while we were yet together. Also Mr. Hubbard had done and has always left things in my care to which I thought it would be better for us to do, and has gone by my plans a good deal, though he was the head of the party. Also what was belonging to Mr. Hubbard, knowing that I had just as much rights with some of his things as any one had, and in fact that I had already done that would be required, and had gotten out everything that I thought was necessary to be gotten out from the bush. However at last I said that I would go if I got a dog team. So I got ready to start to go for the canoe.

Wallace told me, "You see, if when you went up, if you had dug up the canoe out of the snow and put it up on a stage, you wouldn't have to go up again."

I said, "I do not have to go up again. It is not long since I had my trip up there. I think I have done my part."

I was to start Tuesday, April 12th.

Monday, April 1lth.—Mr. Wallace wrote a letter and wrote to John Groves telling him to be at Northwest River at such a day, about the time we would be out with the canoe from Grand Lake and Beaver River. Sent his letter up by Carl Hope.

Tuesday, April 12th.—A pile snowing and we could not go. Mark Blake and I were to start this morning but too stormy.

Wednesday, April 13th.—Still very stormy and lots of new snow has been falling, and could not make a start again. I told Wallace and M'Kenzie that if I could not go off again the next morning I would give up the trip and not go at all, as it was getting too late.

Thursday, April 14th.—Still stormy and snowing very hard, so that we could not go again, and gave up the trip.

Monday, April 18th.—Henry and his brother Dan Groves arrived. I told Mr. Wallace about them and that he could send word by them to tell their brother John Groves to come right away and help up to Rigolette.

Tuesday, April 19th.—John Groves arrived and said that he could not come along with us, as he had now lots of work that he wanted to do for himself, and besides his dogs were all cut by crust about the feet.

April 20th.—Getting ready for starting off in the morning. Getting help from M. Duclos, the French Company agent here. Sending his man Bellfleur to help me on to Rigolette with his dog team.

Thursday, April 21st.—Bellfleur and I started this morning from Northwest River with Mr. Hubbard's body. Starting a day ahead of Mr. M'Kenzie, as we have a heavy load and the going heavy. Will take three days to Rigolette. Mr. M'Kenzie will bring Wallace along with him and Fred Blake his teamster. They will overtake us on the way, as they have good dogs and no load only just themselves. Got to Lowlands at 10 o'clock to-night. Bad footing for our dogs, and had to lead them and break down the snow. We came 40 miles to-day and our dogs at last played out. Bob Bakie lives here and does his trapping around here. He tells us he killed a caribou to-day, a big stag.

April 22nd.—This morning gave our dogs a little rest, and did not start from Mr. Bakie's till noon. Our dogs are so poor that most of them are chaffed with the harness, and a mixed team, some water dogs, some Esquimaux dogs. The water dogs do not stand the hard work near so well as the huskies, and get played sooner. Before we started to-day one of the men killed four caribou there. Came here this evening at Bell Shepherd's.

Saturday evening, April 22rd.—Got to Rigolette. Mr. M'Kenzie caught up to us just a few miles before getting to Rigolette, and we got there together. Mr. Fraser, the agent at Rigolette, has some time ago been telling Jerry Flowers and his brother that we would be along at Rigolette, and asked them if they would help us along to Cartwright, and that he would let them know when we came to Rigolette.

Sunday, April 24th.—Mr. Fraser sent off two men to go and tell Jerry and his brother that we are at Rigolette.

Monday, April 25th.—Early this morning Jerry and brother came with team of dogs each, but they wouldn't go less than thirty dollars each for two days' run. Mr. Fraser told them they were charging too much and wouldn't have them, but got some other men for us. Left Rigolette in the afternoon. Crossed over river in a boat. Came to William Mugford's, 3 miles from Rigolette.

Tuesday, April 26th.—Snowing. Started at 6 A.M. Wind in our faces before noon and the new snow made heavy going. I have Mr. Hubbard's body on my sledge, and also some dunnage, and have four dogs. George Pottle my teamster. Wallace has George Williams for his teamster and six dogs. After noon the wind shifted to the northwest and the wind blew the snow off the crust, and fine going. A few ridges of hills we came over but not bad. Came 40 miles to- day. Came to Sam Pottle's house at West Bay at 6.30 P.M.

Wednesday, April 27th.—Started from West Bay 7 A.M. Got to Cartwright 4.30 P.M., 46 miles. Sam Pottle and George Williams our teamsters. Drifting and cold all day.

Thursday, April 28th.—Staying here at the post. Mr. Swaffield, agent here of the Hudson's Bay post, getting us another team. Only enough dogs for one team here. Mr. Swaffield has sent for Charles Davies to be ready for starting off in the morning.

Friday, April 29th.—This morning Mr. Davies took sick and was very bad. So Mr. Swaffield had to get us another man in his place, Walter Bird. Started 7 A.M. Got to Sandy Hill 2.30 P.M., and got so soft we could not travel, especially through the portages. Travelling mostly on ice. Came 30 miles.

Saturday, April 30th.—This morning we started from Sandy Hill 4 A.M., and got to Spotted Islands 8.30 A.M., 25 miles. Our teamsters don't know the route any farther. Mick Dison and Bill Dison our teamsters from Spotted Islands. Starting off in the afternoon 2.30 P.M., got to Seal Island 6 P.M., 20 miles.

Sunday, May 1st.—Very stormy and can't see any distance. Can't make a start to-day. Staying in George Morris house.

Monday, May 2nd.—Still stormy. We started from Seal Island, 11 A.M. after it cleared up a bit, and got to Coopers Bite, or New York, 7 P.M., 35 miles. Nobody living there. We came to some shacks. No stoves in any of them and all the doors off. We gathered some of the old broken stoves and made kind of a fireplace in the middle of the house, and built a fire. We cut a hole in the roof to let the smoke out.

Tuesday, May 3rd.—Started off this morning 4 A.M. It was yet dark. Got to Williams Harbor 9 A.M., 30 miles. Came to Mr. John Russel's house. Mr. Russel and his brother James Russel has been just starting off into the bay, and will not be home till evening. Mick and Bill Dison do not know the route an farther.—The Russels home this evening, and will take us to Fox Harbor in the morning.

Wednesday, May 4th.—Started off from Williams Harbor early this morning 6 A.M., and came to Mr. George Wakeham's at Fox Harbor about 10 A.M., 25 miles. Cannot get across the bay and the people tell us that we cannot go round by dog team, on account of a river near Cape Charles. So we have to wait here till the ice moves out. Only 6 miles from Battle Harbor. We stay here at Mr. Wakeham's. The people all along on our trip has been good to us as they could. We had only to go by Dr. Macpherson's letter, and at every place they were always ready to help us, because when the Dr. has passed he told them about us coming along the coast, and they were always looking out for us. The people all along the coast has heard of my finding the things on my trip in the bush. One would tell the other, "This is the man we heard of, when he found everything he dug for in the snow this winter."

Thursday, May 12th.—About noon a little boat came from Battle Harbor to Fox Harbor. The Dr. had heard that we were at Fox Harbor, and right away sent a little boat with five men to help us, and telling us about a steamer at Cape Charles. She will be starting for Newfoundland may be in the morning. Wallace and I were more than glad, and started right away from Fox Harbor. We were there eight days at Fox Harbor. We came through the floating ice and went round to Cape Charles. Went aboard the steamer and found out that the Captain was at Battle Harbor. So we came round and got to Battle Harbor late in the evening.

Friday, May 13th.—Dr. Macpherson had Mr. Hubbard's body enclosed in a lead coffin. In the afternoon we went aboard the steamer Aurora, Capt. Kean, that had gone to Cape Charles with a load of machinery for the new whale factory.

Saturday, May 14th.—In the evening, 7.30 P.M., and starting from Cape Charles for St. John's, Newfoundland.

Tuesday, May 17th.—Arrived at St. John's, Newfoundland.

Friday, May 27th.—Arrived at New York City.

Saturday, May 28th.—Mr. Hubbard's body was buried to-day in Mount Repose, in Haverstrawe.

THE END