on the eve of their departure. To voyageurs stern winds are blessings.
Mile after mile the wild flotilla swept along. Sunshine danced upon
the rippling waves that gurgled and lapped as the bows overreached
them. Rugged islands of moss-covered rock and evergreen trees rose on
every side. The wind favoured us for about five miles, then shifted.
Reluctantly the sails were let down, and masts and booms tossed
overboard. At four o'clock the brigade landed on a pretty island, and
a hurried afternoon tea was taken; after which we again paddled on, and
at sundown halted to pitch camp for the night.


CAMP OF THE FUR BRIGADE

The canoes--held off shore so as not to damage them by touching the
beach--were unloaded by men wading in the water. The fur packs were
neatly piled and covered with tarpaulins. Then the canoes were lifted
off the water, and carried ashore, and turned upside-down for the
night. Tents were erected and campfires lit. Upon a thick carpet of
evergreen brush the blankets were spread in the tents. The tired men
sat in the smoke at the fires and ate their suppers round which black
flies and mosquitoes hovered.

Canadian voyageurs, being well used to both fasting and feasting,
display great appetites when savoury food is plentiful, and though I
have seen much feasting and heard astonishing tales of great eating, I
feel I cannot do better than quote the following, as told by Charles
Mair, one of the co-authors of that reliable book "Through the
Mackenzie Basin":

"I have already hinted at those masterpieces of voracity for which the