But I thought about the river, and how would I get a load back across the river? Then I looked round if I could find an axe, and found two, one small and the other large.
I took the big axe and said, "This one would come handy to use to make my raft with, and the little one I would take along with me in the bush, and those sealskin boots I would wear."
And also found three pair snowshoes. I also picked out the pair I would have taken and said, "This pair I would take."
Then I went in his house and found two barrels of flour.
So I said, "Well, after all I would have found more flour than I could carry to take up to the boys," for I told them when I left, that if I found grub any place on the road, and no one there, I will just help myself and try and bring up a load. In that house I spent some time, thinking and planning of what I would have done.
Friday, October 30th.—I was staying at Donald's, killing quite a few partridges and making myself at home; but yet not feeling very happy, as I did not get much rest at nights, thinking about Mr. Hubbard and anxious to hear from them soon. I had good hopes of Mr. Wallace, because the mouldy flour he had would yet keep him alive. And my troubles were: "Now I feel safe and in good hopes of getting home; but should Mr. Hubbard and Wallace starve in there, the people may not believe me in what I say, and will think that I run away from them, and haven't done fair whatever," and when I got home I would get in trouble, after I had done all I could for them as well as myself.
When I would wake up at night it would just come into my mind. And more than that, Mr. Hubbard had been so good to me, and to remember what a friend he was, and what a brave man he was. Oh! wasn't he a brave man. I have seen a good many fine people in my time; but I never have seen a man like Hubbard, and I never expect to see another.
I was thinking too how things happened, about being on the wrong river, and what made us believe we were on the right river, though at the same time thinking that it was too small to feed Grand Lake, but when it came out just at the head of the lake, as it shows in the map, made us think it was the Nascaupee. And besides how we proved as we were going up, as the people had told us at Northwest River post, that after we got up the Nascaupee River, 18 miles up, we would come to the Red Wine River, branching off from the south side of the Nascaupee River, and also how that happened. When we got up, about 18 miles up, a little river branching off from the south into this river we thought was the Nascaupee, and of course, we called this little river the Red Wine River. And besides how we found the old portage trail, and also the steel trap, and how all these things kept on making us think for sure we were on the right route. And besides none knew, or ever thought, there was any other river. And I could not forget about it, and was so sorry about it. Only one river.
Saturday evening, October 3lst.—Donald Blake and Allan Goudy returned from their trip, and sorry to hear the death of Mr. Hubbard. They suppose he died the first evening we left him, by telling of the signs, as he hasn't been out of the tent after the first snow. Three or four caribou has been coming right near the tent door, and going round the tent.
Donald and Allan tells of Mr. Hubbard and how they had found him wrapped up in his blanket, like as he had been falling asleep, and the tent door closed and all pinned up. I could tell then pretty well how he has being, and that be has being doing as he said he would, and has fallen asleep and has never woke. For I myself was nearly at my finish, and knew how I felt, and how weak and sleepy I used to feel, and often felt that I could just fall asleep and never wake up again.