The flies were that day worse than I had ever seen them. My veil proving an insufficient protection, I made myself a mask from one of the little waterproof bags, cutting a large hole in front through which I could see and breathe, and sewing over it several thicknesses of black veiling. There were as well two holes cut at the back of the ears for ventilation-these also being covered with the veiling. Pulling it over my head I tied it tight round my neck. It was most fearful and hideous to look upon, but it kept out the flies. The men insisted that I should have to take it off when we came to the Nascaupees else they would certainly shoot me. The flies were in clouds that day, and even their tapping on the outside of my mask made me shudder. I ached as I watched the men carrying their heavy loads, for it was very, very hot, and they wore no protection whatever. How they endured so uncomplainingly I could not understand, and they rarely wore their veils. It was an unspeakable relief when the clear, cool night closed in, and for a time put an end to the torture.
CHAPTER VIII
SCARING THE GUIDES
I awoke on Friday at 2.30 A.M. The morning was clear as diamonds, and from the open front of my tent I could see the eastern sky. It glowed a deep red gold, and I lay watching it. An hour later the sun appeared over the hills touching the peak of my tent with its light, and I got up to look out. The mists had gathered on our little lake, and away in the distance hung white over the river.
Gilbert was busy getting wood and preparing the breakfast. Soon I heard him at the door of the men's tent saying, "All aboard."
"Any mosquitoes this morning, Gilbert?"
"Not a one. Too cold. By Garge, but it's cold this morning! I went down to the lake and tried to wash, but I had to l'ave off. It was too cold."
Shortly I heard them at the fire. The click of the cups told me that they were taking a little tea and bannock before starting to carry. Then all was quiet, and one load had gone forward to the next lake, nearly a half mile ahead. When all but the camp stuff had been taken forward, we had breakfast, and by 7 A.M. we were in the canoes.
Our course led us south through two little lakes, with a portage between, for something more than two miles. Here the second lake bent away to the southeast, and we landed on our right at the foot of a low moss-covered ridge. Beyond this we hoped to see the river. As we climbed, new heights appeared before us, and it proved to be about three-quarters of a mile to the top, from which the ridge dropped abruptly on the west, and at its foot was a long, narrow lake. At first I thought it was the river, but, when it became clear that it was not, my heart sank a little. Had we been wrong after all? Had the river bent away to the north instead of the south as we supposed?
Job and Gilbert outstripped us in the climb, and now we saw them disappearing across a valley on our left in the direction of a high hill farther south, and we followed them. As before, new heights kept appearing as we went up, and when the real summit came in view we could see Job and Gilbert sitting on its smooth and rounded top looking away westward. How I wondered what they had found. When we came up with them there, to the west, around the south end of the opposite ridge, we could see the river flowing dark and deep as before. Above, to the southwest, were two heavy falls, and at the head of the upper and larger one the river widened. There were several islands, and it looked as if we might be coming to the expansions near the upper part of the river. One lake beside that at the foot of the mountain would make the portage route an easy and good one.