At this camp I had the unique experience of showing all these seasoned
Westerners that it was possible to make a fire by the friction of
two sticks. This has long been a specialty of mine; I use a thong
and a bow as the simplest way. Ordinarily I prefer balsam-fir or
tamarack; in this case I used a balsam block and a spruce drill,
and, although each kind failed when used with drill and block the
same, I got the fire in half a minute.

On June 3 we left this camp of tall timber. As we floated down we
sighted a Lynx on the bank looking contemplatively into the flood. One
of the police boys seized a gun and with a charge of No. 6 killed
the Lynx. Poor thing, it was in a starving condition, as indeed
are most meat-eaters this year in the north. Though it was fully
grown, it weighed but 15 pounds.

In its stomach was part of a sparrow (white-throat?) and a piece
of rawhide an inch wide and 4 feet long, evidently a portion of a
dog-harness picked up somewhere along the river. I wonder what he
did with the bells.

That night we decided to drift, leaving one man on guard. Next day,
as we neared Lake Athabaska, the shores got lower, and the spruce
disappeared, giving way to dense thickets of low willow. Here
the long expected steamer, Graham, passed, going upstream. We now
began to get occasional glimpses of Lake Athabaska across uncertain
marshes and sand bars. It was very necessary to make Fort Chipewyan
while there was a calm, so we pushed on. After four hours' groping
among blind channels and mud banks, we reached the lake at
midnight--though of course there was no night, but a sort of gloaming