The canoes arrived on the following morning ere our breakfast was dispatched, and having stowed into them our fishing-gear and the requisites for a simple meal, we were about embarking when Don, who was directed to sit on the bottom of one, between the two Indian boys, entered a violent protest, and seating himself on a log instead, announced he should either not go at all, or should be allowed to pole and have sole charge of one end of the canoe. This proposition astounded all who could understand, and would have astounded the others still more if they had understood it; but ere we had recovered our breath Don commenced explaining his views:

“For many years I have heard of voyaging in a canoe; have thought it the chief pleasure of the wilderness, and have been anxious not only to learn how, but to do it. Of course, you will hardly expect me to know how to manage so frail a boat without practice, and yet if I never practise, how am I to learn? It is self-evident I must commence some time. If you admit that, and you can scarcely dispute it, what better time could I have than the present? You propose to take the bow of the other canoe, and although you are probably not as expert as the savages, you did not acquire such skill as you possess intuitively, but by experience. You will probably suggest that I may upset; if so, the consequences fall only on myself. You have put no stores in this canoe, and the ducking will be mine. Let one of the Indians stay behind, for I have counted upon this as my greatest pleasure.”

“But, Don,” I reasoned mildly, somewhat appalled at the prospective consequences, “you will smash the canoe.”

“Oh, no; you did not do so when you commenced; and if I do, it is not worth over fifteen dollars, and I can pay for it. We have stores enough, and I can make up the difference to you.”

“But you will never succeed——”

“Pooh, pooh! You succeeded, why not I? I do not ask you to give up the pleasure which I see plainly you are bent upon, but we can leave one of the Indians here; I will go with the other, and you with Frank. That will make the load lighter, besides.”

“Has monsieur ever poled a canoe?” asked Frank, wonderingly.

“No; but I must commence. Of course, I will have difficulty at first, but it will come; do not trouble yourself about me.”

“The work of poling against a strong current is tremendous, and the river being low, the rapids are unusually heavy. You will be entirely exhausted ere you have gone half-way.”

“Do not worry yourself about my sufferings; although your argument is evidently defective, as low water cannot be stronger than high, if I fail to keep up with you I can lag behind or come home.”

“Really, you do not know what you are undertaking; but I will tell you what you can do. Go with the two Indians, see how they manage in the first rapid, and then take the place of one and try it.”

To this, after much protest and complaint, Frank and I persuaded him to agree; more, however, as a personal favor to ourselves than on any other ground, and his grumblings of dissatisfaction were loudly audible till we had passed the first rapid; Don neither offered to pole nor grumble afterwards.

The water was very strong, collected in large pools, and then rushing with tremendous force down a confined channel, or else pouring in long exhausting stretches of foaming current over pebbly shallows and amid protruding boulders. At one spot Frank and myself were fifteen minutes, just able to hold our own and not advancing a foot, with the imminent risk of upsetting at any instant; and when I was out of the canoe fishing, he was utterly unable, to the intense delight of the Indians, to stem the rapids at all.

The canoes were small, and the canoe-men had to occupy a most uncomfortable position: kneeling and sitting on their heels, not being able to stand erect as I had often done in larger boats, so that Frank complained of cramp in his legs for days afterwards. Short setting poles were used, and our utmost strength had to be exerted where the current was strong. Of course, the Indians were entirely at home at the work, and although straining their best, enjoyed our deficiencies and shouted over our mishaps; whenever we either caught a trout or came near upsetting our canoe, whenever we had any good luck or any bad luck, and often when we had neither, they roared with laughter. Not appearing to give the fate of their canoe, which was in our hands, a thought, they were intensely amused whenever we brushed against a rock or careened her till the water flowed in. Instead of the proverbial taciturn grimness of the conventional Indian, they were hilarious and loquacious, although their language was a sealed book to us. They were on the best footing, and held animated conversations with our guides, were continually amused at their own witticisms, and when on our return, while descending an unusually dangerous rapid, Frank, distrustful of my judgment, insisted upon taking entire charge of the canoe, and as a natural consequence came very near upsetting and throwing us into the boiling waters, to the peril of our lives and destruction of the boat, they could hardly contain themselves, but made merry over it the entire way home.

The Agawa winds among high, bleak, and sterile hills, is rapid and filled with pools, but has none of those tumbling cascades which give life to the water and wear out deep, dark holes where trout love to congregate in warm weather. The current, stained with the dead leaves and decaying vegetation of the ponds and marshes, where it has its source, is amber-colored, and lends its hue to the pebbly bottom over which it flows. It evidently, throughout its great extent, furnishes admirable spawning-grounds for the fastidious trout, and in cool weather is filled with them in vast numbers. But when a warm season has heated the water, and a drouth has diminished the current, the fish, finding the element unsuited to their comfort or even existence, are compelled to seek the cool, shady caverns of the lake shore.

The river, when we visited it, was in this condition, and there were none but small, dark-colored fish, which, although excellent in the frying-pan, after the excessive exertion of surmounting the rapids had given us an appetite, furnished but tame sport on the line.

Our dinner was pleasant, our trip exciting, the scenery wild, the river interesting, the savages amusing, and ourselves agreeably entertained; but we returned early, possessed of a wretched show of game. We had taken two dozen fish, but none of them were large.

On issuing from the secluded channel of the river, we realized, to our surprise, that a heavy gale was blowing from the south-east. We had not felt the wind till we approached the open water, and emerged from among the hills and trees, but soon found the waves rolling in upon the sand-beach in a way to remind one of the surf on “Old Long Island’s sea-girt shore.”

The waves appeared to drive the trout in from the lake, and towards evening the river near its mouth was alive with them, breaking in every direction; yet, strange to say, although we cast our flies frequently directly over them, and kept on fishing till it was night, not a trout did we take. In all our experience such a thing had never happened, and where they were so numerous, a dozen often being visible at the same instant, so voracious and unaccustomed to the presence of man, it was extraordinary. Fish will frequently, although breaking freely, refuse the fly, but generally a few will be misled, and occasionally one will be caught; but here in the Agawa, a hundred miles from civilization, we saw ten thousand trout in the space of five hundred yards, and after expending skill and patience, failed to take a single one.

No explanation of this phenomenon presented itself; there was nothing in the air, water, or time of day to explain it, and although it was followed during the night by a great change of temperature, there would appear to be no connection between the two events. The fish seemed to be playing rather than feeding like salmon running in from the sea; and, anticipating cooler weather, may have been preparing to ascend the river. And it is proper to mention here that two gentlemen, who fished the river a few weeks afterwards, had remarkably fine sport.

Fishing having proved itself vanity and flies a misconception, we returned to the tent and superintended the payment of the guides, by impressing upon Frank the necessity of giving them sufficient. One received his in a greasy, dirty hat that he had worn for several seasons, and which could hardly have improved the flavor; and the other, not having so expensive a luxury as a hat, wrapped his in a neck-cloth that had been in use day and night for years, and had never been washed. Frank gave them each, in addition, a little butter on a biscuit, and they hurried away, delighted with their treasures.

The Indian children had brought a number of agates that they had collected from time to time, and Don selected the best, which were, however, inferior specimens, and paid for them also by barter. Of course, our little friend Wajack had her store to exhibit, and received a favorable consideration from Don, who endeavored to make her understand a few English words, which were such exquisite baby-talk as to be nearly incomprehensible to the rest of us. He found in the long run that he succeeded better by holding up the proposed payment and pointing to the agate, as none of the savages presumed to ask for more than we offered.

The following morning the trout again declined positively to recognize our allurements, and the wind being fair, we concluded to commence our homeward voyage. We were sorry to part with our amusing Indian friends, notwithstanding an occasional pang of fear for our numerous articles that lay scattered about, and which it is only justice to say were entirely untouched; but as we could make nothing of the fishing, had become possessed of the best agates, and had explored the river thoroughly, we proceeded to reËmbark.

The wind was, for the first time, in every way favorable; but ere we had reached Point aux Mines it had become so violent that Frank, alarmed at the increasing roulan, began to talk of his wife and eight children, and how sorry they would be if he were drowned; and when the wind further increased, and Frank began to talk of his nine children, we concluded it was time to stop and put into a port of distress. In truth, those open, heavily laden boats are not the safest of vessels in a seaway, and yawing about as they do before every wave, have to be watched carefully lest they broach to and fill.

Charley enjoyed Frank’s terror, and would have kept on as a matter of pride till his employers were satisfied; but Frank, with streaming hair, staring eyes, and blanched countenance, was a picture of distress, and if we had not given permission, would have taken it to run behind the first friendly point.

This proved to be Point aux Mines, where in former days a copper mine had been located, and the shafts and buildings, dilapidated it is true, and fast crumbling to pieces, remained to mark the traces of man’s enterprise. The point had been purchased by a company from the Crown; but as the latter failed to pay the Indians, who were the rightful owners, they, with the assistance of many of the Canadians, among whom was our friend Charley, made a night-attack upon the post, and, by a complete surprise, captured it without loss or bloodshed. The speculation never having been profitable, the company was only too glad to be captured; and having obtained an extravagant indemnity from the home government, never resumed possession of the works.

The buildings were windowless and tenantless, and served as shelter for voyaging parties of Indians; the underground passages were falling in, the machinery was going to ruin, the platforms were rotting, and the gardens had grown up with long, rank grass.

We explored the shafts, collected some specimens of the ore, and returned to the boat in time to find the wind greatly abated, and embarking, soon arrived at the Point of Mamainse. Having fished for a short time from a rock named after one of our best New York fishermen, Stevens’s Rock, we continued our voyage, and reached the former camping-ground on the Batchawaung before dark.

The weather had changed. The rain was falling in that dull, penetrating drizzle that is so depressing to one’s spirits, and the cold air made our wet clothes and damp bed far from comfortable. Camping in a rain, building a smoky fire from damp logs, and making a bed of wet boughs, in spite of the protection of water-proof blankets, is unpleasant, although it rarely produces sickness. Don bore the discomfort with a patient composure that was an eminent example to our city exquisites, and never uttered a complaint; on the slightest provocation he would probably have proved, conclusively, that moisture was man’s natural condition, and infinitely preferable to sunshine and dry clothes.

On ascending the river next day, as Don and myself were walking along the bank we observed a rustling in the grass, and pausing, roused a flock of partridges. I shot one as they rose, and beholding them, to my great satisfaction, alight on the neighboring trees, proceeded to poach, thinking only of the pot, and shot from the trees and on the ground, in utter disregard of all sportsmanlike rules, the entire covey. They consisted of but a single brood, and the young were not more than three-quarters grown; but the anticipation of their juicy tenderness on the gridiron overpowered any qualmish sentimentality, and right glad were we to collect the ten plump, tender little fellows into a bloody pile.

The trout had moved from their, former locality, but were plentiful as ever, enabling us to satisfy our desires and return early to camp, with one fish of four pounds and several of three. During the day there was a sudden change of temperature, preceded by a furious attack from the brulots upon our unhappy persons. Apparently anticipating the advent of cold weather and partial lethargy, they satiated their appetites with our blood, in spite of ointments and veils.

During our absence a party of fishermen had arrived from the Sault, and finding our camp, located themselves a few hundred yards below us. As we descended the river next morning, we stopped to exchange salutations and inform them of the condition of the fishing. Being ourselves abundantly satisfied with killing trout, we proposed making a short visit to the romantic Harmony before returning to the Sault, and left the strangers in the sole possession of the Batchawaung.

We found the Harmony lower and warmer than we had left it, almost deserted by trout, but otherwise as beautiful and picturesque as ever. We lingered round the falls, and listened to the noisy cascade, drank from the ice-cold spring, shot a few ducks on the lower stretch of water, killed a dozen fine trout at the upper shute, and indulged in the luxury of laziness.

Don had been heretofore as active as any member of the party, often up the first and to bed the last; frequently rousing the guides from their slumbers by a loon-like call, repeated until they appeared; but on our first morning at the Harmony he positively refused to get up, and to my persistent entreaties, replied in a despondent voice:

“It is no use; you give me no rest, keep me up every night till eleven, work me to death all day, and let the flies and mosquitoes annoy me without cessation. I will stand it no longer, and intend to sleep as late as I please.”

“But, Don, breakfast is ready, and you will lose it.”

“Then I shall have a second breakfast. You feed me on pork, and trout, and ducks, till I am tired of them, and get no nourishment from the endless repetition.”

“I have made a beautiful omelet this morning, and it will be ruined.”

“Then make me another—we have plenty of eggs—or I will make it for myself.”

“But you will miss the morning’s fishing.”

“I do not care. I have caught trout enough to last my lifetime, and I will have a little rest.”

With that he turned over, incontinently went to sleep, and no efforts on our parts, nor shouts from the guides, who with delight imitated the cry with which he had been accustomed to wake them, could rouse him till eleven o’clock. Apparently much refreshed, he eat a light lunch preparatory to a more substantial dinner, the hour for which had almost arrived. Getting up at eleven o’clock in the woods is equivalent to sleeping till four in the afternoon in the city.

Somewhat moved by his complaints, and having plenty of leisure-time, I devoted myself to providing for dinner the best our larder afforded: soup made from preserved vegetables furnishing the first course; trout, larded and fried, the second; broiled duck, garnished with thin pieces of pork, the third; and such entremets as boiled rice, chow-chow, and the like, closing with a dessert of that remarkable and ill-named preparation called corn-starch, one of the most valuable discoveries for the city-bred explorer of the woods.

Corn-starch is a remarkable edible, supplying the greatest variety possible, never seeming to result in the same production, and furnishing a subject of untiring wonder as to what form it will take next. On some days it would be beautiful, transparent, bluish jelly, then it would be a solid, opaque white, and again a dusky brown semi-liquid substance; frequently it resembled pap, and now and then would be full of doughy lumps, as though endeavoring to effect an experimental pot-pie; sometimes it tasted of liquorice, at others it seemed flavored with molasses; but generally it had not the slightest particle of taste. I never could calculate on a result; if I tried to obtain jelly, I made pap; if pap was my purpose, pot-pie would be the product.

Don eat it daily in a state of bewilderment bordering on idiocy, inquiring regularly after the first taste: “What have we here, now?” But once, when brown instead of white sugar was used, and effectually obliterated all other flavor, he made what young ladies call a face. The inventor of corn-starch must be a wonderful man, but it is to be desired that he would reduce his bantling to a little better state of subjection, and put on his labels directions more applicable to the woods, where milk and moulds and flavoring extracts are not to be had, and ice-creams are a reminiscence of the past.

Monotony is the drawback to life in the woods, and corn-starch is doubly welcome on that account. It is nutritious, being composed of the essential portions of the grain, is compact, and easily protected from wet; it furnishes an astonishing variety of desserts where any dessert is a luxury, and it is an admirable addition to one’s stores, though I wish it had a little more taste.

The dinner, including the corn-starch dessert, was a success, and revived Don’s spirits, so that he was up betimes thereafter during our stay at the Harmony.

With reluctance we bade farewell to the pretty stream, whose soothing murmurs, grateful shade, and wild scenery invited us to remain; and our eyes lingered on the hills from which it springs, as we slowly passed out of Batchawaung Bay on the route to Gros Cap and the Sault. But, aware that our limited time was almost expired, we pushed on our homeward way, stopping to dine at the camp-ground near its mouth. Here we found, amid the dÉbris of ancient wigwams, the bleached skulls of numerous beavers, and were surprised at the peculiar formation of their long, mordant teeth. We had frequently noticed logs of considerable diameter that had been cut through by these powerful natural saws, and that bore the long furrows that they made; but were astonished to find, in extracting these teeth from the skull, that they constituted nearly a semicircle. Worn as they would be by severe and continued use, nature had made this provision to supply the rapid waste, and the portion of the ivory concealed in the skull was fully two inches long. Don collected several, and finding a peculiarly large specimen, muttered, on withdrawing the teeth, that it must be the remnants of

Before reaching Gros Cap we struck and lost, by the fouling of our trolling lines, which were both out together, a very large lake trout. This fish, in spite of his size, gave so little play that we were scarcely aware that we had hooked him, and were astonished when we saw his immense proportions as he came near the boat. We scarcely considered his loss a disappointment.

We spent two days at Gros Cap, having fine sport and killing some large fish. Don broke his tackle several times, and the lively, bright-colored, vigorous trout, luxuriating in their appropriate element, the cold spring water of the lake, gave us excellent play. Wandering from rock to rock, and casting out into the limitless lake, every rise was sudden and unexpected, every step changed the distance of our cast and the character of the fishing-ground.

The submerged rocks were visible through the limpid water, and from beside them or from their deep, dark fissures a trout might rise with a furious, impetuous plunge at any moment. The fish were numerous, breaking in the placid evenings in myriads, and the sport was entrancing. During the warm mid-days, when the sun was too brilliant or the lake too calm for fishing, we would wander about the island, hunting specimens, inspecting natural peculiarities, and chasing the ephemerÆ that had supplied the place of the brown phryganidÆ.

There was a surprising similarity of color in all the natural flies of that region; they were mostly of modified shades of brownish yellow or gray. The yellowish variety had two long whisks, one inch and three-quarters long, banded with gray, eyes round, white, and protuberant, with a black speck, and eight sections to the body. They were quite active and numerous, while other varieties resembled them in general appearance and characteristics.

The rocks were seamed with veins of copper, the oxide of which had discolored the adjoining stone, and occasionally we could obtain pretty and apparently rich specimens. Unfortunately, neither Don nor myself, though well enough read in the classics and other equally useful sciences, had ever studied mineralogy, and were as good judges of minerals as a savage would be of a watch. Our ignorant conclusions, however, were that if the north shore of Lake Superior were properly explored, under Yankee supervision, mines might be discovered equalling those of the south coast. With this sage conclusion we were forced to be satisfied.

Charley had a passion for prospecting; was ready at a moment’s notice to dig out with the axe any strange-looking deposit, fully convinced that some day he should make his fortune, if he only could learn to distinguish the valuable from the worthless.

At last a strong westerly wind came out, and a heavy fog settled down upon us, wrapping the hills in its graceful shroud, hanging pendant from the distant rocks and trees, shutting out the lake from view, covering the bushes with glittering gems, and wetting our thin clothes uncomfortably. As there was too much sea running to fish, we wrapped ourselves up in the water-proofs, and embarking the remnants of our property, set sail for the Sault.

This was to be our last day on the lake, our last day in the open woods, the last time we were to stand face to face with nature’s solitude—and our spirits felt depressed at the prospect. No more sleeping beneath the cool canvas, no more looking out upon the limitless Big-Sea-Water, no more peering up into the silent night, and no more of those thronging thoughts and grateful inspirations that feed the soul in the wilderness. The freedom from rules and restraint was to be laid aside, the easy dress must be replaced by the methodical cut, the manners and acts must be shaped to those of others, and we were to conduct ourselves henceforward according to the received and established pattern. We were approaching civilization, where stiff and stately houses were to limit our views, and man’s works shut out those of God.

The wind soon hauled ahead, and driving back the fog, let down a flood of sunlight on the sparkling water; but the current being quite strong in our favor as we approached the outlet, we made good headway, passing in our course a yacht crowded with sportsmen, and under full sail going wing and wing for the Neepigon, encountering other sailing vessels, and meeting with occasional evidences of man’s presence.

At six o’clock that evening we shot the rapids, and discharging our load at the wharf, ensconced ourselves once more beneath the hospitable roof of the Chippewa House. Three glorious weeks had come and gone since we were last there—three weeks of unalloyed happiness, three weeks of invigorating life and exercise, worth all the medicines in the world—three weeks of intelligent and sensible enjoyment. In that time impressions had been made and lessons had been learned never to be forgotten; health had been acquired that would last for years, joy tasted that would leave its flavor during life. And now farewell to the staunch old barge; farewell to our canvas home, to the merry camp-fire, to the woodsman’s life; farewell to the deep forests, the sombre pines, the waving elms, to the dancing streams, and the open water; farewell to our faithful guides; farewell to the graceful trout, the elegant namÆgoose, the fierce black bass; a long farewell to Gitche-Gume, Big-Sea-Water, the greatest of the great lakes of our great country!