We ate our luncheon on the southern shore of Lake Disappointment. That afternoon and the next two days (August 26 and 27) we spent in paddling about the lake in a vain search for a river. Thirty or more miles a day we paddled, and found nothing but comparatively small creeks. One of these we followed almost to its source, and then returned to the lake again. We were living pretty well. While we were on these lakes near the mountains we killed four geese and one spruce-grouse, and caught about eighty half-pound trout, two two-pound namaycush and a five-pound pike.
The pike we got in this unsportsmanlike manner: We were fishing for trout in a creek that emptied into Lake Disappointment in a succession of falls, and found that while there were some above the lower fall, none could be induced to rise where the creek at the foot of the lower fall made an ideal pool for them. We were lunching on a rock near this pool when Hubbard suddenly remarked:
"There's only one reason why trout don't rise here."
"What's that?" I asked.
"Pike," he answered laconically, and left his luncheon to fasten a trolling hook on his trout line. After he had fixed a piece of cork to the line for a "bobber," he baited the hook with a small live trout and dropped it into the pool. "Now we'll have a pike," said he.
Scarcely had he resumed his luncheon when the cork bobbed under, and he grabbed his rod to find a big fish on the other end. He played it around until it was near the shore, and as it arose to the surface I put a pistol bullet through its head. Then Hubbard hauled in the line, and he had our five-pound pike.
There were two occasions when we felt particularly like feasting. One was when we were progressing with a clear course ahead and were happy, and the other was when we were not sure of the way and were blue. That night we were blue; so we had a feast of goose and pike. Hubbard planked the pike, and it was excellent. All of our food was eaten now without salt, but we were getting used to its absence.
After our feast Hubbard astonished George and me by taking out a new pipe I had brought along to trade with the Indians, and filling it with the red willow bark George and I had been mixing with our tobacco. We watched him curiously as he lighted it; for, with the exception of a puff or two on a cigarette, he had never smoked before. He finished the pipe without flinching. I asked him how he liked it.
"Pretty good," he said. Then after a pause he added: "And I'll tell you what; if ever I start out again on another expedition of this sort, I am going to learn to smoke; watching you fellows makes me believe it must be a great comfort."
George and I had been mixing red willow bark with our tobacco, because our stock had become alarmingly low. In fact, it would have been entirely gone had not Hubbard presented us with some black plug chewing he had purchased at Rigolet to trade with the Indians. The plugs, having been wet, had run together in one mass; but we dried it out before the fire, and, mixed with the bark, it was not so bad. Later on George and I took to drying out the tea leaves and mixing them with the tobacco.