As we glided down the river several white wolves were seen upon the shore, gnawing at the carcass of a deer, and at a distance of about ten miles below the topick we entered another lake.
While traversing the shores of this body of water, which is about twenty miles in length, and which has been christened Wharton Lake, a number of magnificent specimens of reindeer in prime condition were seen, and several of them shot at ranges of from two to four hundred yards. By this time—the 22nd of August—the skins as well as the carcases of the deer were at their best, and the centres of several of the hides were saved and dried for use as sleeping mats, while all of the fine fat meat secured was applied to the replenishing of our severely taxed larder.
After describing nearly the entire circumference of this lake, the outlet, much obscured by a labyrinth of islands, was discovered on the east side, close to a conspicuous hill of white quartzite, 230 feet in height.
At the foot of this hill an Eskimo cache, consisting of a “kometic” (sled), snow-shovels, musk-ox horns, etc., was discovered, and here on the night of the 22nd camp was pitched. As no moss or other description of fuel could be found in the vicinity, some of the men considered they had “struck a bonanza” in finding the “kometic,” and carried it to camp, intending to utilize it for boiling the kettle. A slat or two had already been knocked off when, happily, I arrived on the scene just in time to prevent its destruction and preserve our good name with the natives.
To the Eskimo who owned the sled it was an invaluable possession, and for us to have destroyed it for one “mess of pottage” would have been a flagrant shame. It was therefore repaired, and carried back to where it had been found; and for a peace-offering a plug of tobacco was left upon it.[3]
From our camp at White Mountain, on the morning of the 23rd, we again entered the river, which for ten or twelve miles carried us off to the eastward; then turning sharply to the northward and flowing swiftly between high, steep banks of sand, it widened out into what has been named Lady Marjorine Lake, a body of water about ten miles long by three or four wide. Through this we passed and at its north-western extremity regained the river.
It began with a rough, rocky rapid, in running which my canoe struck a smooth rock, was smashed in the bottom, and nearly filled with water; but though in a sinking condition we managed to get it ashore. Though the contents were soaked, everything was landed without serious damage. After a delay of two hours we were again in the stream, and being borne away to the westward—the direction opposite to that we were now anxious to follow.
The river was here a noble stream, deep and swift, with a well-defined channel and high banks of rock or sand. Near the north bank there extended for some miles a high range of dark but snow-capped trappean hills, of about five hundred feet in height.
On the night of the 24th we camped at the base of two conspicuous conical peaks of trap, named by us the Twin Mountains.