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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

TABLE OF CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

CHAPTER I:
A JOURNEY OF SENTIMENT


CHAPTER II:
THE FATAL ERROR


CHAPTER III:
DUTY FIRST


CHAPTER IV:
A MAN'S GAME


CHAPTER V:
A PERMANENT MEMORIAL


CHAPTER VI:
WILL THE ICE TURN US BACK?


CHAPTER VII:
STORMY VOYAGE


CHAPTER VIII:
RETURN TO NORTHWEST RIVER


CHAPTER IX:
A CHIEF VOYAGEUR


CHAPTER X:
THE BEAVER IS A BAD RIVER


CHAPTER XI:
SOUNDING THE BIG LAKE


CHAPTER XII:
BREAD WITHOUT BAKING POWDER MAKES ME SICK


CHAPTER XIII:
I NEVER TRAVELS ON SUNDAY


CHAPTER XIV:
VIRGIN AS GOD MADE IT


CHAPTER XV:
FIRST PORTAGE


CHAPTER XVI:
TRAIL COMPANIONS


CHAPTER XVII:
MURDOCK'S RAPID


CHAPTER XVIII:
TRACKING THROUGH BOULDERS


CHAPTER XIX:
MARCH TO YOUR FRONT LIKE A SOLDIER


CHAPTER XX:
IT'S ALWAYS BAD LUCK TO TRAVEL ON SUNDAY


CHAPTER XXI:
WORST COUNTRY FOR GAME I EVER SAW


CHAPTER XXII:
BACK TO GET THE BAKING POWDER


CHAPTER XXIII:
DISASTER IN THE RAPIDS


CHAPTER XXIV:
TAKING STOCK


CHAPTER XXV:
GRAPPLING


CHAPTER XXVI:
INDIANS HAVE PLENTY OF HARD TIMES


CHAPTER XXVII:
THIS RIVER IS LIKE A BAD WOMAN


CHAPTER XXVIII:
NO RELIEF FROM WADING


CHAPTER XXIX:
HELL AND TWENTY


CHAPTER XXX:
BACKPACKING TO THE SUSAN


CHAPTER XXXI:
VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH


CHAPTER XXXII:
THE MIND WORKS CURIOUSLY


CHAPTER XXXIII:
RELIVING THE PARTING


CHAPTER XXXIV:
MARKING HUBBARD'S BOULDER


CHAPTER XXXV:
A NEW DISASTER


CHAPTER XXXVI:
THE HARDEST BIT OF TRAVELING I EVER DONE


CHAPTER XXXVII:
SOMETHING WORTHWHILE UP THERE IN THE HILLS


NOTES

PHOTO GALLERY

COLOUR SLIDE GALLERY

ADDENDUM TO
THIRD EDITION

COMMENTS ON THE
NAMING COMPULSION


BACK TO THE LABRADOR WILDS

 XXXVII

SOMETHING WORTHWHILE UP THERE IN THE HILLS

It was noon on Monday when we ran down through the rapids at the foot of Grand Lake, and forty minutes later we were welcomed at the French Post by Mr. Thevenet, whose hospitality we were to enjoy for a little while awaiting the arrival of the Yale.

At two o’clock one morning the Yale came, and we were roused from our beds.  The Judge was to leave me now and return home, Gilbert to make ready for long winter months of trapping in the lonely wilderness, and I to remain and continue my wanderings northward.

“Wallace,” said the Judge, as he shook my hand at parting, “I feel that we did something worthwhile up there in the hills when we marked the spot where good old Hubbard ended his last fight.  I’m leaving the country though with a feeling of profound regret.  I wish I were just going in with you instead of going home.  I never had that feeling before on leaving the wilderness, but this country has exerted a peculiar fascination upon me.  I understand what it was now that drew you and Hubbard on and would not let you turn back.  I have learned what you meant when you called it “the lure of the Labrador wild.”

And then the men shouted again, and the Judge left me.  I could hear the rattle of oarlocks across the waters, and then—quiet.  The Judge was gone back to the great world of noise and strife, and I was sorry.

I lingered a little while before returning to my bed to watch the weird flashes of the aurora borealis and to smell the damp forest, and to recall the noble acts of noble companions who had tramped the weary trails and sat with me by glowing campfires up there in the silent wilderness.  I could have had no more sympathetic companion than Judge Malone upon this mission to Hubbard’s last camp from which we had just returned.  There is nothing like the refining fire of the long trail to try out man’s qualities.

 

 

THE END

 

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