A Woman's Way Through Unknown Labrador Part 7

The canoes did not come, however, and knowing that the men must have had ample time to make the portage, I decided to go down to the lake. Certainly by the time I reached it they too would be there, for a thunder-shower was coming.

When only a little way from the summit, I looked down into the valley and there, quite near where I was to meet the men, I saw something, which looked like a huge, brown bear, lying down. I stopped and watched it for a while, hardly knowing what to do. I had been deceived often, but this was not a mere black spot. It had definite shape and colour. Though I knew but little about the habits of bears, it did not seem the thing one would expect of a bear, to be lying there on the moss and rocks at that time of day.

Still I did not know.

Finally, I concluded that the quickest way to settle the question was to go and see. I had my revolver, and if it proved a real bear I would not this time aim "any place; just at the bear." I hurried on trying to keep the disturbing object in sight, but I could not.

When the valley was reached it was nowhere to be seen, and I concluded I had again been deceived.

The storm had now come on, and there was still no sign of the canoes. I decided that if I must be drenched and devoured, for the flies were fearful, I might as well be doing something interesting.

I set off for the ridge on the further side of the lake with something of the feeling a child has who runs away from home, for it had been constantly impressed upon me that I must never go away alone, and I recognized the justice of the demand; but I meant to be careful, and probably should not go very far. Wading across the brook, which drains the lake to the river, I climbed up the ridge and was delighted to get a fine view of the falls. I went on to the top, but still there was no sign of the canoes, and I walked northward along the ridge. It was like a great mound of rock set down on the surface of the earth, its top rounded and smooth and bare, while on either side it dropped abruptly almost to the level of the lake, ending in a precipice a mile from where I had climbed it. When I reached its northern end I could see the little bay to which the men had carried the outfit.

Imagine my astonishment when, looking across, I saw the two canoes turned upside down over the stuff to keep it dry, and the men around a fire drinking tea. I was not a little annoyed to find that they were quite so ready to leave me alone in the thunderstorm, knowing that I had nothing to protect me, till suddenly I remembered how I had been advised to take my rubber s.h.i.+rt--and then I thought I understood. I was to have a lesson in taking good advice when I could get it.

I laughed a little and thought: "Oh! I know something better than that. This afternoon I shall I 'go where I like and do what I please,' like the little fly, and have 'one good time.'"

Taking out my revolver I fired two shots to let them know where I was, and started back along the top of the ridge to look for a place to climb down. There was a still higher ridge between me and the river, and I knew that from it I could see more. I stopped to take a photograph of a great boulder set on top of some smaller rocks, and while doing so heard two rifle shots from the other sh.o.r.e. Evidently they had just discovered where I was. I fired once more in reply, and then disappeared down the other side of the mountain.

It was steep, and I laughed to think how terrified they would be if they could see me; but this afternoon as I had thrown off restraint, I chose the first place where descent was possible, and let myself down along a rather wide crevice where some earth had gathered, and a few bushes were growing. I went fast too, for I meant to go just as far as I could before I was rounded up and brought into camp. Between the two ridges was a bog, and I tried to cross it to save time; but it threatened to let me in too deep, and I had to give it up and go round. I was only a little way up on the other hill when there came the sound of two rifle shots from the lower end of the lake. Evidently the discovery of my, whereabouts had aroused very spirited movement. On I went, faster than ever. The flies were desperately thick, and I kept a piece of spruce bough going constantly over my face and neck to keep them from devouring me bodily. I could feel my ears and neck wet and sticky with blood, for some of the bites bleed a good deal. Still what did flies matter when you were _free_. That afternoon I should go just as far as I thought I could, and get back to camp by dark.

To my disappointment, when I reached the top of the ridge I still could not see the river, for it disappeared between high, rocky banks, and could only be seen by walking close to the edge. I decided to go along the ridge as far as I could, and then, slipping down to the river, to return to camp that way. About two miles out on the ridge I sat down to rest and look about a little. The rain pa.s.sed, and a fine breeze put the flies to rout at this highest point.

I had been seated there but a little while when, looking back, I saw one of the men, which proved to be George, running as if for life along the top of the ridge where they had first seen me. I could just make him out against the sky. Then he disappeared, I could not tell where.

After a time I began to hear shots. The sounds were very faint, but followed each other in quick succession. I laughed, and thought I knew what was happening where they came from. The shots seemed to come from the ridge I was on; but for some time I could not see any one. Finally, I caught sight of one of the men. He was waving his arms about wildly, and I could hear very faintly the sound of shouting. Then another figure appeared, and they started running towards me.

Suddenly I became frightened. Perhaps all the excitement was not on my account after all, and I began to wonder if something dreadful had happened. Had any one been hurt, or drowned? I started quickly towards them, but as soon as they were near enough for me to see their faces plainly, I knew that I had been the sole cause of the trouble. It was George and Job. The perspiration was dripping from their faces, which were pale and filled with an expression, the funniest mixture of indignant resentment, anxiety, and relief, that could possibly be imagined.

When they came up I smiled at them, but there was not any answering smile. Then George began to remonstrate with me. He stood with folded arms, and serious, reproachful face, and said: "Well, I guess you very near done it this time."

"Very near done what?" I asked.

"Why, you have just about had us crazy."

"Had you crazy! What about?"

"Why, we thought you were lost."

"Didn't you see me over there on that ridge when I fired those shots?"

"Yes, we did; and when we got up to the other end of the lake we fired two shots, and we thought you would come back then. I went up the ridge to meet you, and when I saw you were not there I was sure you went down to the rapids. Then I ran down there, and when I did not find you there I thought you either fell in that rapid, or got lost."

"But I promised not to go to that rapid."

"Yes, I know you did; but I thought when you went up there on that mountain may be you would go to that rapid any way."

"Well," I said, "when I got to the end of the lake, and saw you were not coming, and the thunderstorm was coming on, and the flies were so bad, I thought I might as well be doing something nice while the storm was wetting me, and the flies were eating me."

"Yes, that is just what we said. 'Who would ever think of your going up there in that storm?'"

I laughed again, and George went on still trying to impress on me the evil of my ways.

"Job, too, he was coming running, and he was sure you were lost.

When I came to meet you, and could not see you on the ridge, and then went to the rapid and could not see you there, we began to walk faster and faster, and then to run like crazy people. Poor Job, he could hardly speak, and neither could I, and out of breath, and half crying all the time. Oh, we can never trust you to go away alone agains."

I said: "Very well, George, I'll make a bargain with you. If I can have some one to go with me whenever I want to climb a mountain, or do anything else that I think it is necessary to do in my work, without any fuss about it, I promise not to go away alone again."

So the compact was made.

As we walked back to camp George talked. "And you did it so quick too. Why I was watching you up on that mountain where you went this afternoon, and you were so busy and running about up there, as busy as a Labrador fly. You looked just like a little girl that was playing at building something, and I thought how you were enjoying yourself. Then the first thing I knew I heard the shots on the other side of the lake. We did not see you at first. We just looked across the lake and could see nothing, and we wondered about those shots, and who could be there. Then Joe said: 'Look there, up on the mountain.'

"Then we saw you, but we never thought it was you. Then Joe said: 'Why, it's a woman.' Then we only knew it was you. Even then we could not believe it was you. Who ever would think to see you and the little short steps that you could go away there, and so quick too. Why, we couldn't believe it. The men got on to me too. They said they never saw anything like the way you do. They said they had been on lots of trips before, and where there were women too, and they, said to me they never were on a trip before where the women didn't do what they were told."

I laughed again, which George seemed to think was very hard- hearted. He looked quite as if he could not understand such callousness, and said: "Yes; you don't care a bit. Do you?"

Whereupon I laughed harder, and this time he did too, a little.

Then he went on: "Oh, I just thought I was never going to see you again. I'm never going to forget about it. I was thinking about how you would feel when you knew you were lost. It is an awful thing to be lost. If I had never been lost myself I wouldn't know what it means to be lost. And what would we do if you got lost or fell in that rapid? Just think what _could_ we do? Why, I could never go back again. How could any of us go back without you? We can't ever let you go any place alone after this."

Then after a thoughtful pause. "And to see you, too, the way you look. Just as if you would never scare anybody."

When we reached camp it was growing dusk. Joe and Gilbert had just finished putting up my tent. They, too, had been out on the ridge.

Though I could not help being amused at the unexpected success of my little plan to be even with them for leaving me alone in the storm, I was really sorry. I had not meant to frighten them so much. They were all very quiet, their faces, with the exception of Gilbert's, were distinctly pale, and hands trembled visibly. The brandy bottle had but once before been out, but that night, when my bags were brought in, I handed it to George, that they might have a bracer, and be able to eat supper.

Later on I was to learn that the game had not yet been played out.

Again the joke was on me.

They drank it all!

CHAPTER IX

MOUNT HUBBARD AND WINDBOUND LAKE

The day following no one was astir early. I think no one slept much. I could hear from the other tent the low hum of the men's voices far into the night. Mosquitoes kept me awake. About 2 A.M.

I got up, lighted my candle, and killed all I could find, and after that I had a little peace, but did not sleep much. It was then growing light.

There was a general limpness to be observed in camp that morning, aggravated by a steady downpour of rain; but before noon it cleared, and the men took all but the camp stuff forward. We had supper late to avoid the flies, the still night gathering round us as we ate. Rising close above was the dark ma.s.s of Lookout Mountain, the lake at its foot stretching away into the gloom, reflecting dimly the tinge of sunset light in the sky above. By the camp fire, after our meal, the men sat telling each other stories till Job and Joe broke the little circle and went to their tent. Then floating out on the solemn, evening silence came the sound of hymns sung in Indian to old, familiar tunes, and last the "Paddling Song." With what an intense love the one who was "gone away" had loved it all. I could not help wondering if sometimes he wished to be with me. It seemed as if he must.

On Sunday morning it rained, but cleared before noon, and at 11.30 A.M. we were on the river. That afternoon and the day following we pa.s.sed the most picturesque part of the river. There were Maid Marion Falls, where the river drops fifty feet into a narrow gorge cut out of the gneiss and schists of the Laurentian rock over which it flows; Gertrude Falls, a direct drop of sixty feet, which for dignity and beauty is unsurpa.s.sed by any feature of the Nascaupee; and Isabella Falls, a system of falls and rapids and chutes extending for more than a mile, where the water poured over ledges, flowed in a foaming, roaring torrent round little rocky islands, or rushed madly down a chute. About half-way up there was an abrupt, right angle bend in the river, and, standing at the bend looking northward, you could see through the screen of spruce on the islands, high above you and half a mile away, the beginning of the river's wild mile race, as it took the first flying leap out over a wall of rocks.

The rock colouring was a deep red brown, and in some places almost purple. The perpendicular surfaces were patched with close lying grey-green moss, and in places with a variety almost the colour of vermilion. The country was not burned over, and everywhere the beautiful reindeer moss grew luxuriantly, setting off in fine contrast the tall spruces, with occasional balsams growing among them.

A mile and a half of very rough portaging brought us at 3 P.M. to the head of the falls, and there we found ourselves on a lake at last. Perhaps few will understand how fine the long stretch of smooth water seemed to us. That day the portaging had been very rough, the way lying over a bed of great, moss-covered boulders that were terribly slippery. The perspiration dripped from the men's faces as they carried, for it was very hot. The big Labrador bulldogs (flies as large as wasps) were out in force that day, as well as the tiny sandflies. One thing we had to be thankful for, was that there were no mosquitoes. The men told me that there are never many where the bulldogs are plentiful, as these big fellows eat the mosquitoes. I did not see them doing it, but certain it is that when they were about in large numbers there were very few mosquitoes. They bit hard, and made the blood run. They were so big and such noisy creatures that their horrible buzzing sent the cold chills chasing over me whenever they made an attack. Still they were not so bad as mosquitoes.

And now we were afloat again on beautiful smooth water. The lake stretched away to the southwest six and a half miles. We camped that evening on a rocky ridge stretching out in serpent-like form from the west sh.o.r.e of the lake above. The ridge was not more than fifty feet wide, but it was one mile long. The rocks were grown over with moss, and the willows and a few evergreens added their touch of beauty. These long narrow points were a characteristic feature of the lakes of the upper plateau. In this and the lakes above, through which we pa.s.sed the day following, there were many small, rocky islands, some of them willow covered, some wooded.

The sh.o.r.es everywhere were wooded, but the difference in size in the trees was now quite marked. They were much smaller than on the river below. The water was clear, and we could see the lake beds strewn with huge boulders, some of them reaching to very near the surface. Here we began to see signs of the Indians again, occasional standing wigwam poles showing among the green woods.