So far the banks of the Pelican were of a
moderate height, and the adjacent country evidently dry--a good
soil, and berries very plentiful. Presently, between banks overhung
with long grass, birch and alder, we entered a succession of the
sweetest little rapids and riffles imaginable, the brown water
dancing amongst the stones and boulders to its own music, and the
rich rose-pink, cone-like tops of the water-vervain, now in bloom,
dancing with it.
Our camp that night was a delightful one, amongst slender birch
and spruce and pine, the ground covered with blueberries, partridge
berries, and cranberries in abundance. The berries of the
wolf-willow were also red-ripe, alluring, but bitter to the taste.
It was really a romantic scene. Ladoucere had made his camp in a
small glade opposite our own, the bend of the river being in front
of us. The tall pines cast their long reflections on the water, our
great fires gleamed athwart them, illuminating the under foliage
of the birches with magical light, whilst the half-breeds, grouped
around and silhouetted by the fires, formed a unique picture which
lingers in the memory. We slept like tops that night beneath the
stars, on a soft bed of berry bushes, and never woke until a thin
morning rain sprinkling in our faces fetched us to our feet.
A good bacon breakfast and then to our paddles, the river-bends
as graceful as ever, but with fewer rapids.
Pages:
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175