At the head of the rapids we made a landing and walked through a beautiful strip of woods to select a camping-site. When we reached the foot of the rapids we found a place to our liking. I suggested to the half-breed that while he prepared a dwelling-place I would go and shoot the rapids with the boat. He positively refused to let me go, and in fact would not allow me to get in the boat for fear we should capsize, saying that several of those who had tried to run the river at this point had lost their lives. When I saw our little craft float the rapids like a duck and swing gracefully into the haven of safety, I naturally felt relieved. We pitched our tent on a grassy bank above the water where it surged back into an eddy, as though it was tired after its swift and tumultuous passage over the bowlders, and longed to tarry for a short time to enjoy the quiet and peaceful pool. We spent several days in this locality, roaming among the spruce and pines. Under the secluded spruce the bunchberries (Cornus canadensis) love to grow and blossom. After the flowers fade, from the whorls come clusters of red berries that, mingling with the moss, work out fantastic patterns on the beautiful natural carpet.
Bunchberries
Into the pool were brought many insects, larvæ, and frogs, which invited schools of speckled trout to enjoy the quiet waters where we took advantage of the natural haven for our little craft.
Toward evening a colony of tree swallows (Tachycineta bicolor) invaded the surrounding valley, feeding on the numerous insects. As we watched their flight the under white plumage looked like silver streaks. So rapid were their movements that the wings were scarcely perceptible, and when they skimmed the surface of the meadow and rose gracefully over the willows below us, the beautiful cerulean of their upper plumage so harmonized with the deep blue of a rainbow which spanned the heavens at that moment, that the air seemed to shimmer and sparkle with light and motion.
The tiger swallow-tail butterflies (Papilio turnus) were very plentiful. The cook had thrown on the shore the heads and entrails of fish and by some unknown method the butterflies were able to ascertain its location. During the afternoon some twenty-four butterflies actually collected around the refuse and with their antennæ sensed the dainties—shall I say?—that seemed to appeal to their taste. When one approached too close, all would take wing and the air was filled with yellow fancies as they scattered in all directions. They soon returned and seemed to bring their friends and neighbors with them, for at each flush they were more numerous than before.
The “Steady”