Below Helen Falls the mountains spread in a wider sweep to the sea, and the river gradually increased in width as it neared Ungava.  Still it flowed on in rapids.  So often we had asked each other, “Will they never end?” However, in the afternoon on August 26th, we reached smooth water, and had a few hours’ paddling.  Then darkness began to close in.  If only we could keep on!  I knew from my observation that day we could not be many miles from our journey’s end now; but it was not to be that we should reach our destination that night, and camp was pitched at a point, which I thought must be about seven or eight miles above the post.

It was very disappointing, and when George said, “If the ship is there they will be sure to try to get off Saturday night,” I felt rather desperate.  Still it would not do to take chances with the George River in the dark.

In spite of anxieties I slept that night but felt quite strung in the morning.  At breakfast I used the last of the crystalose in my tea.  It seemed very wonderful that the little ounce bottle of this precious sweet had lasted us as long as sixty pounds of sugar.  There was just a little of our tea left, and I filled the bottle with it to keep as a souvenir of the trip.  The remainder I put into one of the waterproof salt-shakers and this I gave to George.  I learned later that there was a bit of quiet fun among the men as I did it.  They had no great faith in my calculations, and it was their opinion that the tea would probably taste quite good at lunch.

After what seemed an unnecessarily long time, the camp things were again in the canoe and we were off.  About a mile below the camp we found that the rapids were not yet passed.  Here a heavy though short one made a portage necessary and then we dropped down to where the river spreads out to two miles or more in width.  For several miles we paddled on in smooth water, the river swinging a little to the west.  How eagerly I watched the point where it turned again to the north for beyond that we should see the post.  As we neared the bend there was an exciting escape from running into an unsuspected rapid.  Nothing was to be seen ahead but smooth water.  The wind was from the south and not a sound was heard till, suddenly, we found ourselves almost upon the brink of the slope, and only by dint of hard paddling reached the shore just at its edge.  It was the first and only time we had been caught in this way.  Again came the question, “Will they never end?”

The rapids stretched on before us turbulent and noisy, as before, first west then swinging abruptly to the north.  Joe and Gilbert decided to portage across the point, but George and Job after much consideration prepared to run down in the canoe while I walked across to the little bay below.

As they were starting off I said to George, “When you get out beyond those points you should be able to see the island opposite the post.”