valley where Hubbard died and where we had suffered so much. Man
changes with the fleeting years and a civilized world changes, but the
untrod wilderness never changes. Before us lay the same rushing river
I remembered so well, the same starved forest of spruce with its
pungent odor, and there was the clump of spruce trees in which our last
camp was pitched just as I had seen it last. Malone and Blake remained
by the river bank while I approached alone what to me was sacred
ground. Time fell away, and I believe that I expected, when I stepped
beside the boulder before which his tent was pitched when we said our
last farewell on that dismal October morning ten years ago, to hear
Hubbard's voice welcome me as of old. The charred wood of his camp
fire might, from all appearances, have but just grown cold. The
boughs, which I had broken and arranged for his couch, and upon which
he slept and died, were withered but undisturbed, and I could identify
exactly the spot where he lay. There were his worn old moccasins, and
one of the leather mittens, which, in his last entry in his diary he
said he might eat if need be. Near the dead fire were some spoons and
other small articles, as we had left them, and scattered about were
remnants of our tent.

Lovingly we put ourselves to our task. Judge Malone, with a brush
improvised from Blake's stiff hair, and with white lead intended for
canoe repairs, lettered upon the boulder this inscription:

Leonidas Hubbard, Jr.,
Intrepid Explorer
And
Practical Christian
Died Here
Oct. 18, 1903.
"Whither I go ye know,
and the way ye know."
John XIV.--4.

Then with hammer and chisel I cut the inscription deep into the rock,
and we filled the letters with white lead to counteract the effect of
the elements.

It was dark when the work was finished, and by candlelight, beneath the
stars, I read, from the same Testament I used in 1903, the fourteenth
of John and the thirteenth of First Corinthians, the chapters which I
read to Hubbard on the morning of our parting. Judge Malone read the
Fiftieth Psalm. We sang some hymns and then knelt about the withered
couch of boughs, each of us three with the feeling that Hubbard was
very close to us.

In early morning we shouldered our packs