Note 1. A small Indian sledge, dragged on the snow, either by hand or by dog with loops at the sides for lashing the loading of the sledge upon it.
Chapter Seven.
The Encampment on Silver Lake.
When Roy and Nelly sat down to gaze in admiration on Silver Lake, they little thought how long a period they should have to spend on its shores.
The lake was a small sheet of water not more than half a mile broad, embosomed among low hills, which, though not grand, were picturesque in outline, and wooded to their tops. It occupied the summit of an elevated region or height-of-land—a water-shed, in fact—and Roy afterwards discovered that water flowed from both the north-east and south-west sides of the table-land, in the midst of which it lay. These fountain-heads, separated by little more than half a mile from each other, were the sources of streams, which, flowing in opposite directions through hundreds of miles of wild, beautiful, and uncultivated wilderness, found their way, on the one hand, into Hudson’s Bay, on the other hand, into the Atlantic through the great rivers and lakes of Canada.
The waters of the lake were strikingly clear and pellucid. When the young wanderer first came upon the scene, not a zephyr stirred the leaves of the forest; the blue sky was studded with towering masses of white clouds which glowed in sunshine, and these reflected in the glassy water—as if far, far down in its unfathomable depths—produced that silvery effect which prompted Nelly to utter the name which we have adopted.
Small though the Silver Lake was, it boasted two islets, which like twin babes lay side by side on their mother’s fair breast, their reflected images stretching down into that breast as if striving to reach and grasp its heart!
“Couldn’t we stay here a short time?” asked Nelly, breaking the silence in a tone that indicated anxiety, hope, and enthusiasm, “only for a very little time,” she added, coaxingly.