In the afternoon the men lay in the tent or on the bank under the trees reading their Bibles and singing very softly, almost as if afraid of disturbing the stillness of “the silent places,” some of the fine old church hymns.  A thunderstorm passed later, but it lasted only a short time, and the evening was fine.  Job took a canoe and went up the river scouting.  As we sat on the shore by the camp fire, after 9 P.M., and supper just ready, he came floating down again.  The river carried him swiftly past us and he called “Good-bye, Good-bye.”  Then all at once the canoe turned and slipped in below the point.  He reported the river rapid as far as he went or could see.

Monday we started at 8.30 A.M., crossing to the other shore, where I walked along a bear trail on the flats, while the men brought the canoes up by poling and tracking.  The morning was wonderfully clear, and millions of dewdrops glistened on the low growth.  The “country,” or “Indian,” tea which grew in abundance was in blossom, and the air was filled with fragrance.  It seemed to me the most beautiful morning we had yet had.

As the river grew more and more difficult part of the outfit had to be portaged.  Two miles above camp about half a load was put into one of the canoes, and slipping the noose of a tracking line round the bow George and Gilbert went forward with it, while Job and Joe got into the canoe to pole.  Had it not been for my confidence in them I should have been anxious here, for the river was very rough, and close to shore, where they would have to go, was a big rock round which the water poured in a way that to me looked impassable.  But I only thought, “They will know how to manage that,” and picking up my kodaks I climbed up the bank to avoid the willows.  I had just reached the top when looking round I saw the canoe turn bottom up like a flash, and both men disappeared.

I stood unable to move.  Almost immediately Joe came up.  He had caught the tracking line and held to it.  Then I saw Job appear.  He had not been able to hold to the canoe.  The current had swept him off, and was now carrying him down the river.  My heart sickened at the sight, and still I could not move.  Then an eddy caught him, and he went down out of sight again.  Again he appeared, and this time closer to us, for the eddy had somehow thrown him in shore where the water was not so deep.  He was on his back now and swimming a little, but could neither get up nor turn over.  I wondered why the men stood motionless watching him.  Then it dawned on me that George was holding the canoe, and I found my voice to shout:  “Run, Joe.”  Joe’s own experience had for the moment dazed him, but now he suddenly came to life.  Springing forward, he waded out and caught Job’s hand before he was carried into deep water again.  As he felt himself safe in Joe’s strong grasp, Job asked:  “Where is Mrs. Hubbard?  Is she all right?”