In cooking them a piece of the dough is taken and worked into a round lump, which is pressed flat into a frying-pan.  It is then placed before the fire till the upper side of the bannock is slightly browned, when it is turned and replaced till the other side is browned.  As soon as the bannock is stiff enough to stand on its edge it is taken out of the pan to make room for more, and placed before a rock near the fire, or on a pair of forked sticks until it has had time, as nearly as can be calculated, to cook halfway through.  Then it is turned again and allowed to cook from the other side.  In this process the possibilities in the way of burning hands and face, and of dropping the bannocks into the fire and ashes are great.  I seemed to take advantage of them all, but if my efforts were not much help they certainly furnished amusement for the men.  The task is a long one too, and it was nine o’clock when supper was ready.

Job, who had been absent for some time, returned now with a report that three-quarters of a mile further on we could again take the river.  Despite the day’s work he looked all alive with interest and energy.  He loved to pole up a rapid or hunt out a trail just as an artist loves to paint.

Supper over, we sat at the camp fire for a little while.  The sunset light still tinged the sky back of Mount Sawyer, and from its foot came up the roar of the rapid.  Now and again a bird’s evening song came down to us from the woods on the hill above, and in the tent Joe was playing softly on the mouth organ, “Annie Laurie” and “Comin’ through the Rye.”  After I had gone to my tent the men sang, very softly, an Indian “Paddling Song.”

A stream of bright sunlight on the roof of my tent roused me on Saturday morning, and mingling with the sound of the river came again that of the “Paddling Song.”  At breakfast all were exclaiming over the wonderful weather, George insisting that he did not believe this could be Labrador at all.

That morning I was to make my maiden attempt at following a new trail, and when the last load was ready I went first to try my fortunes.  The trail meant just a little snip off the bark of a young tree here, the top of a bush freshly broken there, again a little branch cut showing that the axe had been used.  There was not a sign of any path.  The way was not always the easiest, and sometimes not the shortest, but it was always the quickest.  My heart quite swelled with pride when I reached the river at 8.30 A.M. having missed the trail but once, and having found it again with little delay.  Already it had grown hot on the hills, and the mosquitoes were beginning to come, so that it was good to be back at the river again; but before the men went away for more loads I had to promise very solemnly that I would not go on the rocks by the rapids.