It was a glorious afternoon, and the canoes scudded at racing pace before a heavy south wind.  At a point on the east shore, six miles up the lake, I landed to take bearings.  Here we found a peculiar mound of rocks along the edge of the water which proved to be characteristic of the whole shoreline of the lake.  The rocks had been pushed out by the ice and formed a sort of wall, while over the wall moss and willows grew, with here and there a few stunted evergreens, the whole making an effective screen along the water’s edge.  Back of this were swamps and bogs with low moss-covered mounds running through them, and grown up with scattered tamarack and spruces.  On the west shore the hills reached quite to the wall itself.

Behind this wall, at the point, we found a family of ptarmigan.  When we appeared the mother bird tried vainly to hurry her flock away to a place of safety.  Her mate flew across to an island a short distance north, leaving her alone to her task, but she and her little ones were all taken.  Here the first wolf tracks we had seen on the trip were found.

After some time spent at the point it was time to camp.  We crossed to the island, north, and as we landed a white-winged ptarmigan flew back to where had just been enacted one of the endless succession of wilderness tragedies.  I wondered if he would not wish he had stayed to share the fate of his little family, and what he would do with himself now.  It was a beautiful camping place we found.  The Indians had found it too, and evidently had appreciated its beauty.  There were the remains of many old camps there, well-worn paths leading from one to the other.  It was the first place we had come upon which gave evidence of having been an abiding Place of some permanence.  There must have been quite a little community there at one time.  The prospect south, west, and north was very beautiful.

My tent was pitched in a charming nook among the spruce trees, and had a carpet of boughs all tipped with fresh green.  The moss itself was almost too beautiful to cover; but nothing is quite so nice for carpet as the boughs.  We were on a tiny ridge sloping to the south shore of the island, and over the screen of willows and evergreens at the water’s edge, the wind came in strong enough to drive away the flies and mosquitoes, and leave one free to enjoy the beauty of the outlook.  It was an ideal place to spend Sunday, and with a sigh of relief we settled into our island camp.  The week had been a wonderfully interesting one; but it had also been an anxious and trying one in a few ways.  I was glad to have passed Michikamau so quickly and easily.  I wished it might be our good fortune to see some of the Indians.