Our way now led through three exquisitely beautiful little lakes, to where their waters drop down over rocky ledges in a noisy stream, on their way to the lake we were trying to reach.  Here on the left of the outlet we made our camp.  On either side rose a high hill only recently burned over—­last summer Gilbert said.  George, Gilbert and I climbed the hill back of our camp in hopes of catching a first glimpse of Seal Lake, but we could not see it.  What we did see was very fine, and I stood watching it for some time after the others had gone back to camp.  Eastward the great hills rose rugged and irregular, and farther away in the blue distance the range lying beyond Seal Lake, all touched to beauty by the evening light.

Slipping down the hill again, I reached camp just as the supper was ready, and after our meal George, Job, Gilbert, and I crossed to climb the hill on the other side, which rose 540 feet above our camp.  It was 7.45 A.M. when we started; but a brisk climb brought us to the top in time to see the sunset, and one of the most magnificent views I had ever beheld.  Some miles to the east was the lake winding like a broad river between its hills.  In every direction there were hills, and lying among them little lakes that were fairy-like in their beauty.  George pointed out the ridge of mountains away to the southwest which he had crossed with Mr. Hubbard, and where he thought they had crossed it from the head of Beaver Brook, their “Big River,” and I named them Lion Heart Mountains.

The wind below cold on the mountain, and a shower passed over from the northeast; but it was soon gone, and the sun set over the hills in a blaze of red and gold.  The way down seemed long, but when we reached camp at 10.15 P.M. it was still quite light.  Joe had been fishing, and had four brook trout for my breakfast.  Job and Gilbert had gone down the valley prospecting, and soon came in with the information that a mile below camp we could put our canoes into the water.  Beyond, there would be two short portages, and then we should not again have to take them out of the water before reaching Seal Lake.

After I went to my tent there floated out into the quiet night the sound of the men’s favourite hymns, “Lead Kindly Light,” “There is a Green Hill Far Away,” “Abide With Me,” and, as always, the singing ended with their Indian “Paddling Song.”  When I put out my light at 11 P.M., a full moon was throwing shadows of the spruce boughs on my tent.

The view from the mountain-top seemed an inspiration to the party, and on Monday morning, shortly after four, I heard Job’s axe making ready for the early breakfast.  By 5.30 A.M. they were off with their first packs.  Then all was quiet again.  The tiny mirror-like lake was yet in shadow though sunlight touched the tops of its encircling hills, and I wished that I might wait, till it was time for me to go, on the summit of the one we had climbed last night.  When the last load was ready I, too, went forward.