That evening our camp was again on top of a high bank thirty feet or more above the river.  Joe and Gilbert put up the tents, while down at our camp fire at the shore George made the bannocks and Job skinned, dressed, and cooked the porcupine.  When it grew so dark that I could not see to write I went to help cook bannocks.  It seemed good to be near the fire too, for it was growing cold.  George and Job chatted merrily in Indian, Job evidently, as fond of fun as George.  The fun suddenly came to an end, however, when Gilbert came down to say that the tube of my bed-pump was missing.  It was too true.  The thing was not to be found anywhere.  It had been dropped when the stuff was handed down the bank in the morning.

It seemed a quite serious matter to me, knowing as I did from past experience that I cannot sleep on the ground long without growing very tired, when I lose my nerve and am afraid to do anything.  I did not like to think of the possibility of either growing desperate and wanting to turn back or breaking down under the strain of going on.  Some one would have to go back for the tube, and time was precious now.  It would be trying to lose a day.  While I sat rather disconsolate considering the situation, George conceived the brilliant idea of having Gilbert turn himself into an air-pump, which he did quite cheerfully, and very soon my bed was as tight and firm as need be, and peace reigned again.

When at last we assembled for supper it was nearly 10 P.M., and the stars were coming out over Mount Sawyer.  The meal was a quiet one, for all were tired, and well content to listen in silence to the music of the river, as softly the night-gloom gathered unto itself the wilderness.

CHAPTER IV

DISASTER WHICH THREATENED DEFEAT

Friday morning was warm and bright.  It seemed wonderful to be having so much fine weather in Labrador, and not a fly or mosquito as yet.  The one nuisance we had met was mice or lemmings.  They had been busy with my hat in the night, and when I came to put it on that morning I found there was a hole eaten in the crown and a meal or two taken out of the brim.  There seemed to be thousands of them, and they ran squealing about everywhere, great fat fellows, some of them as big as grey squirrels.  The ground was so perforated with their holes that it reminded one of a porous plaster.

While the outfit was being brought up I walked along the shore watching the rapids.  The men did not like to see me go near the river at all except when in the canoe, and warned me against going to the rapids.  I promised to be careful, but not to keep away altogether, for they grew more and more fascinating.  I wanted to be near them and watch them all the time.  They were so strong, so irresistible.  They rushed on so fast, and nothing could stop them.  They would find a way over or around every obstacle that might be placed before them.  It made one wish that it were possible to join them and share in their strength.  About a mile above camp I stepped out on a great boulder close to where they were very heavy.  The rock seemed large enough so that I could scarcely fall off if I tried; but when the men came up George said:  Mrs. Hubbard, you must not do that.”