down from the northwest. The southerly branch was fully as
large as the northerly--narrower but deeper--and not nearly so swift
and rocky.

We were very uncertain as to which branch to follow, and Hubbard sent
George on a scouting trip up the southerly stream, which we shall call
Goose Creek, while he himself climbed a knoll to get a look at the
country. A half mile or so up Goose Creek George found a blaze
crossing the stream from north to south, which he pronounced a winter
blaze made by trappers, as the cuttings were high up on the trees and
freshly made. Half a mile above the blaze George came upon the rotten
poles of an old Indian wigwam, and this discovery made Hubbard happy;
he accepted it as evidence that Goose Creek was the river mapped as the
"Northwest" and the Indian route to Michikamau. Accordingly it was
decided to follow the southerly branch, and to leave the main stream at
this point.

I was glad to leave the valley of the Susan. Our whole course up the
valley had been torturous and disheartening. We had been out fifteen
days from Northwest River Post and had covered only eighty miles.
Hubbard had been ill, and I had been ill. Always, as we pressed
onward, I dreaded the prospect of retracing our steps through the Susan
Valley. I hated the valley from end to end. I have more reason to
hate it now. To me it is the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

VI. SEARCHING FOR A TRAIL

When we portaged into Goose Creek on Friday, July 31st, Hubbard had
quite recovered from his illness, I, too, was well again, and our
appetites had returned. It is true that my legs and feet were much
swollen from the continuous work in the cold river, but the swelling
caused me no inconvenience. All of us, in fact, were in better shape
for the fight against the wild than at any time since the start.

For three or four miles up Goose Creek the rapids were almost
continuous, and we had to portage for practically the whole of the
distance. On August 1st and 2d the weather was cold, with a raw wind
and a continuous downpour of rain. At night the rain kept up a steady
drop, drop, drop through our tent. On the 2d, owing to the inclemency
of the weather, we did not travel; but the morning of the 3d brought
brilliant sunshine and with the perfume of the forest in our nostrils
we pushed on, soon reaching a flatter and a marshy country, where the
creek deepened and narrowed with a sluggish current. Here the paddling
was