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Towards evening we stopped to make camp at the edge of rougher country, a mile and a quarter up the Wapustan. The map grew slowly during these days, and the desire to reach Seal Lake grew stronger and stronger. Near the camp was a big boulder, and lying round and over it were numbers of wigwam poles. They were very old, and looked as if it might have been many years since they had been used.
The tents were pitched near a pool of smooth water, deep and darkened by shadows of the evergreens on either shore. On the farther side of the river were low, wooded hills, and opposite our camp a brook came tumbling through the wall of evergreens into the river. Just above the brook a high, dead stub, with a big blaze on it, showed where we were to leave the Wapustan to cross to Seal Lake.
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