The thermometer at 4, 7 and 8
A.M., stood respectively at 50 deg., 52 deg. and 56 deg.. We found the outlet very
shallow, so much so, that the canoes could with difficulty be got out
while we walked. It led us by a short portage into a small lake called
Betula, or Birch Lake, a sylvan little body of water having three
islands, which we were just twenty-five minutes in crossing by free
strokes of the paddles. Its outlet was still too shallow for any other
purpose than to enable the men to lead down the empty canoes. We made a
portage of twelve hundred and ninety-five yards into another lake,
called Larch or Sapin Lake--which is about double the size of the former
lake. We were half an hour in crossing it with an animated and free
stroke of the paddle--the men's spirits rising as they find themselves
getting out of these harassing defiles and portages.
A WAR PARTY SURPRISED.--We took breakfast on the beach while the canoes
were for the last time being led down the outlet. We had nearly finished
it on the last morsel of the fawn, and were glancing all the while over
the placid and bright expanse, with its dark foliage, when suddenly a
small Indian canoe, very light, and successively seven others, with a
warrior in the bow and stern of each, glided from a side channel, being
the outlet into its other extremity.
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