Monday, August 3rd.—Temp. 6 A.M. 56 degrees. Big day. At foot of a portage as we were getting ready to pack, I saw four wild geese coming down stream. Grabbed rifle, four cartridges in it. George got Wallace's rifle. All dropped waiting for them to come round bend, 30 ft. away. George and I shot at once, both hitting leader. All started flapping along on top of water, up stream. I emptied my rifle on them, going at 40 to 50 yards, killing two more. Drew pistol and ran up and into stream and shot fourth in neck. Got all and threw fits of joy. Need 'em just now badly for grub. Through little lake beginning at head of water, quarter of a mile above, into meadow, fresh beaver house. At foot of rapid water, below junction of two streams, ate lunch. Trout half to three-quarter pounds making water boil. Caught several. From this point to where river branches to two creeks, we scouted. Think found old Montagnais portage. To-night heap big feed. George built fire as for bread-baking.
Tuesday, August 4th.—Temp. 6 A.M. 56 degrees. Portaged 1 mile to Montagnais Lake. Portage ran through bogs and over low ridges. I sat on edge of lake looking at rod, when a caribou waded into lake, not 100 feet away. Rifle at other end of portage. Hoped to find inlet to lake, but only one ends in bog. Lots of old cuttings at northwest corner of lake; two old wigwams. Troubled to know where to go from here. All scouted whole afternoon. Lake 1 mile west. Old trail runs towards it. George thinks caribou trail, no cuttings found on it yet. I think portage. Looks like portage we have followed and runs in right direction.
Wedncsday, August 5th.—Portaged from camp on Montagnais Lake, 1 mile west to another lake. No signs of Indians here. Camped at west end of this. Saw two caribou. Dropped pack and grabbed rifle; was waiting for them 250 yards away when a cussed little long-legged bird scared them. At point near camp where lakes meet, I cast a fly, and half pound and pound fontanalis, as fast as I could pull them out. What a feed at 2 P.M. lunch. Climbing ridge, saw that lake empties by little strait into another small lake just alongside, at south. Stream flows from that south. Therefore we are on Hamilton River waters. George and I went scouting to bluffs we saw from trees on ridge. Both lost. George got back before dark. I spent night on hill, 2 miles southwest. No matches or grub. Scared a little. Heard big river, found it flows southeast. Must go into Hamilton, but it is a big one, several times as big as the Northwest at its biggest. Where does it come from? Can it be Michikamau?
Thursday, August 6th.—Slept some last night, lying on two dead spruce tops, too wet and cold to sleep very well. Mosquitoes awful. George went to my river. Wallace and I took canoe and went into lake north of here. Cuttings, winter. George found river to be big and deep. Straight, as though from Michikamau. Don't believe this little creek of a Northwest comes from there. Will portage to this river and try it.
Friday, August 7th.—Portaged 2 miles to river on our south; good paddling save for a rapid now and then. So big we think, Low's map to the contrary, that it comes from Michikamau. Anyway it comes from that way and will carry us a piece toward the big lake. No cuttings. Big trout despite east wind. Caught about fifteen. Cold wind drove away flies. Fire between big rocks. Moon over bluffs beyond. Fine evening. Fine river. Fine world. Life worth living.
Saturday, August 8th.—Nasty, cold, east wind. Went 4 1/2 miles through it all in good river with six short portages first three- quarter mile, and stopped about 1 P.M. to make Sunday camp and get fish. Put out net, ate our dried fish and by hard labour got a few more for supper. Only a bit of bread a day now, no grease, save a little bacon. All hungry for flour and meat.
Sunday, August 9th.—Raining this morning and most of the P.M. Cold, east wind. Caught about forty-five trout by hard effort, several 3/4 lb. each. George made paddle and scouted. Burned his knife.
Monday, August 10th.—Rain and east wind. Caught one big fish before breakfast. Wallace ate it. George and I ate pea meal. On first portage found old summer cuttings and wigwam poles. Feel sure that this was the old Montagnais route. Went 3 miles and crossed four portages. Then on strength of being on right road and needing fish, camped before noon. Mother's birthday. Ate some of her dried apples last night with sugar.
Tuesday, August 11th.—East wind. Warmer a little. Just a little rain. No fish biting. Slept late. Climbed ridge and tree. See ridge of high half barren hills away ahead. Think this the ridge east of Michikamau. Hungry all the time. Down to 40 lbs. of flour, 8 lbs. tea, about 20 lbs. pea meal, a bit of sugar, bacon, baking powder and dried apple, just a bit of rice. Saw mountains ahead from a bluff just below our evening camp. River runs north apparently; it must therefore be Low's Northwest River I think. Mountains look high and rugged, 10 to 25 miles away. Ought to get good view of country from there, and get caribou and bear. Moccasins all rotten and full of holes. Need caribou. Need bear for grease. All hungry all day. George weak, Wallace ravenous; lean, gaunt and a bit weak myself. Fish braced us wonderfully.
Wednesday, August 12th.—Best day of trip. Started late. Cloudy, damp. I took pack over half mile portage and stopped to fish. Fourteen trout. Three portages and then—glory! Open water. Five miles and stopped for lunch, with good water before and behind for first time since Grand Lake. Old wigwam and broken-down canoe at lunch place. Ate trout and loaf of bread. Hungry. Started again, hoping for stream to fish in. Made 3 miles. Then a big bull caribou splashed into the water of a bayou 200 yards ahead. Wallace in bow took shot, high and to the left. I raised sights to limit and held high. Did not think of sport, but grub, and was therefore cool. As first shot George said, "Good, you hit him." He started to sink, but walked up a bank very slowly. I shot two more times, Wallace once and missed. George and I landed and started towards spot. Found caribou down, trying to rise. Shot him in breast, cut throat. George made stage for drying. Wallace and I dressed caribou. Wallace put up tent. I started meat from bones in good strips to dry. Then all sat down and roasted steaks on sticks, and drank coffee, and were supremely happy. We will get enough dried meat to give us a good stock.