At this point where I got ashore, I was more than glad, but the other branch yet to cross.  I came to the branch and followed it up quite a bit.  This branch is much larger than the first.  It was very hard to get wood to make a raft.  No drift.  I managed to shove some half rotten stumps down.  It took me some time to get enough for my raft, and not a stitch dry about me, just wringing wet, and would not make a fire till I got across the other branch.  I built my raft on newly frozen ice, just near the open stream, and then broke the ice around and with a long pole worked my way across.  This raft was much larger than the first, and out of the water where I stood.  Oh! but I was so proud of that raft, and talking to myself all the time, and telling myself what a fine raft it was, and I was so proud of my raft.  I got across safe and without much trouble after all.

It was nearly sunset.  I thought I’d better make my fire and found I was nearly safe.  I would dry up and make a good early start in the morning, and would nearly get to the post the next day.  I picked out a place for the night, and shot three partridges right there.  It was near a point where I was and round the point run a deep bay.  I thought may be another river run out from there.  And just to see if I could see any river I run to the point.  When I got to the point, I seeing a small boat within 100 yards from me; and, of course, to make sure, I run to see it, thinking it would come handy to me and I could sail to the post.

Before I came near it, a child screamed out nearly opposite of me in the bush.  I cannot tell how I felt.  I just run the direction I heard the sound.  The next, the roof of a house I saw.  Then I came on a trail.  I saw a girl with a child outside of the door.  As soon as she saw me she run in and a woman came out.  I sung out to her before I came to her.  Meeting me she looked so scared.  Then I shook hands with her, and told her where I came from.  She took me in the house and told me to sit down.  But I was—­well I could not say how I was and how glad I was.

After I had some tea and bread, I went for my little bundle and the partridges I shot.  When I got back, a bed was fixed up for me and a shift of dry clothes.  She did not know what to think of me when first seeing me, and also being all wet and nearly barefooted.  She was the wife of Donald Blake.

When I came there at Donald’s I had six partridges, and a piece of porcupine and about half of the flour I started off with, and all the bones of the porcupine that I carried along with me.

TOO LATE

Very soon Donald Blake and his brother came home.  I told him of our sad trip, and asked him if he could go up and take grub to Mr. Hubbard and Wallace.

“Which river did you follow this summer?” Donald asks me.

“The Nascaupee River,” I said, “and I came down by the same river again.”