Gilbert had hoped to find an axe here, but although be hunted everywhere there was none to be found.  He did, however, get his little frying-pan and a small pail which made a welcome addition to our depleted outfit.

That day we portaged nearly all the afternoon.  It was rough, hard walking, and occasional showers fell which made it worse.  There was many a wistful glance cast across to the other shore where we could see a fine sand terrace.  There the walking must be smooth and easy; but we could not cross, the rapids were too heavy.

During the afternoon we found the first and only fresh caribou tracks seen in the lower Nascaupee valley.  A pair of fish eagles, circling high above us, screamed their disapproval of our presence there.  We saw their nest at the very top of a dead spruce stub, some sixty feet or more above the ground.  This was one of the very many things on the trip which made me wish I were a man.  I could have had a closer look at the nest; I think I could have taken a photograph of it too.  Now and then came the sweet, plaintive song of the white-throated sparrow.

Towards evening it began to rain fast, and as if with the intention of keeping at it; so George called a halt.  As I sat down on a pile of outfit he opened up the men’s tent, and, spreading it over me, directed me to wait there till my own was ready.  George’s tone of authority was sometimes amusing.  Sometimes I did as I was told, and then again I did not.  This time I did, and with my rifle on one side and my fishing-rod on the other, to hold the tent up, I sat and watched them making camp and building the fire.

All day the mosquitoes and flies had been bad, but now the rain had coaxed them out in redoubled force, and they were dreadful.  I could feel how swollen my neck and ears were, and wondered how I looked; but I was rather glad that I had no mirror with me, and so could not see.  Now and then I had spoken of my suspicions as to what a remarkable spectacle I must present.  George, manlike, always insisted that I looked “just right”; but that night, in an unguarded moment, he agreed with me that it was a good thing I had not brought a mirror.  For the first time we went into a wet camp.

It poured steadily all day Friday, and we did not attempt to go forward.  I slept again after breakfast, and then did some mending, made veils, and studied a little.  It was very cold and dismal; but the cold was always welcome, for it kept the flies and mosquitoes quiet.  Our camp was on high ground, and from the open front of my tent I could look down over a steep bank thirty feet to the river, racing past with its ceaseless roar.  Sometimes I wished I could reach out and stop it just for a minute, and then let it go again.  I wished rainy days might not come often, though I fully expected that they would.  About 3 P.M.  I heard a stir outside and going out found George and Gilbert making a fire.  It was not so simple a matter now without an axe.  The small stuff had to be broken, and then whole trees were dragged bodily to the spot and laid on to be burned off a piece at a time.  When fallen stuff was scarce, standing dead trees were by hard labour pushed over and brought in.  The big fire felt very good that day.