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Updated: June 8, 2025
That it might not be too trying I had George go with me in the canoe up to the rapids. The first one, Seal Rapid, was almost three miles above our camp, and it came down from the west swinging to the south round a high sand-point and entering a small lake expansion. We landed at the head of a little bay south of the point, and crossed to the rapids.
Lapierre made a swift sign to his paddlers, and the canoe shot behind a low sand-point where, in response to a tense command, the canoemen turned its bow southward; and, for the second time, Chloe Elliston found herself being driven by willing hands southward upon Snare Lake. "He pounded and kicked and beat them!" sobbed the girl hysterically. "And two of them he killed!" Lapierre nodded.
I had, too, not only seen Seal Lake, I had seen the Nascaupee River flowing out of it; our camp was on the sand-point where the river enters it; and, best of all, there came the full realisation that I was first in the field, and the honour of exploring the Nascaupee and the George Rivers was to fall to me. It was Monday, July 17th, three weeks less a day since we had left Northwest River post.
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