"July 17.—Rose at 6 (it should have been 4, but the Indians would not rouse); sailed north through the marsh with a light east breeze. At noon this changed to a strong wind blowing from the north, as it has done with little variation ever since I came to the country. These Indians know little of handling a boat and resent any suggestion. They maintain their right, to row or rest, as they please, and land when and where they think best. We camped on a sand-bar and waited till night; most exasperating when we are already behind time. The Indians set a net, using for tie-strings the bark of the willow (Salix bebbiana). They caught a Jack-fish. Reached Stony Island at night, after many stops and landings. The Indians land whenever in doubt and make a meal (at my expense), and are in doubt every two hours or so. They eat by themselves and have their own cook. Billy cooks for us, i.e., Preble, Weeso, and myself. Among the crew I hear unmistakable grumblings about the food, which is puzzling, as it is the best they ever had in their lives; there is great variety and no limit to the quantity.
"Made 6 meals and 17 miles to-day, rowing 7, sailing 10.
"July 18.—Left Stony Island at 6.55; could not get the crew started sooner; sailing with a light breeze which soon died down and left us on a sea of glass. I never before realised how disgusting a calm could be.
"Camped at 9.15 on one of the countless, unnamed, uncharted islands of the lake. It is very beautiful in colour, red granite, spotted with orange and black lichen on its face, and carpeted with caribou moss and species of cetraria, great patches of tripe-de-roche, beds of saxifrage, long trailers, and masses of bearberry, empetrum, ground cedar, juniper, cryptograma, and many others; while the trees, willow, birch, and spruce are full of character and drawing. Sky and lake are in colour worthy of these rich details, the bird life is well represented and beautiful; there is beauty everywhere, and 'only man is vile.'
"I am more and more disgusted with my Indian crew; the leader in mischief seems to be young Beaulieu. Yesterday he fomented a mutiny because I did not give them 'beans,' though I had given them far more than promised, and beans were never mentioned. Still, he had discovered a bag of them among my next month's stores, and that started him.
"To-day, when sick of seeing them dawdling two hours over a meal when there are 6 meals a day, I gave the order to start. Beaulieu demanded insolently: 'Oh! who's boss?' My patience was worn out. I said: 'I am, and I'll show you right now,' and proceeded to do so, meaning to let him have my fist with all the steam I could get back of it. But he did not wait. At a safe distance he turned and in a totally different manner said: 'I only want to know; I thought maybe the old man (the guide). I'll do it, all ri, all ri,' and he smiled and smiled.
"Oh! why did I not heed Pike's warning to shun all Beaulieus; they rarely fail to breed trouble. If I had realised all this last night before coming to the open lake I would have taken the whole outfit back to Resolution and got rid of the crowd. We could do better with another canoe and two men, and at least make better time than this (17 miles a day).
"Yesterday the Indian boys borrowed my canoe, my line, and in my time, at my expense, caught a big fish, but sullenly disregarded the suggestion that, I should have a piece of it.
"Each of them carries a Winchester and blazes at every living thing that appears. They have volleyed all day at every creature big enough to afford a mouthful—Ducks, Gulls, Loons, Fish, Owls, Terns, etc.—but have hit nothing. Loons are abundant in the water and are on the Indians' list of Ducks, therefore good food. They are wonderfully expert at calling them. This morning a couple of Loons appeared flying far to the east. The Indians at once began to mimic their rolling whoo-ooo-whoo-ooo; doing it to the life. The Loons began to swing toward us, then to circle, each time nearer. Then all the callers stopped except Claw-hammer, the expert; he began to utter a peculiar cat-like wail. The Loons responded and dropped their feet as though to alight. Then at 40 yards the whole crew blazed away with their rifles, doing no damage whatever. The Loons turned away from these unholy callers, and were none the worse, but wiser.
"This scene was repeated many times during the voyage. When the Loons are on the water the Indians toll them by flashing a tin pan from the bushes behind which the toller hides till the bird is in range. I saw many clever tollings but I did not see a Loon killed.