he northeast; the low, semi-barren ridges and
hills that we had travelled over bounding the lake to the eastward, and
a ridge of green hills west of the lake that extended southward from
behind Mount Hubbard as far as the eye could reach--all combined to
complete a scene of vast and solemn beauty; and I, alone on the
mountain side picking blueberries, felt an inexpressible sense of
loneliness--felt myself the only thing of life in all that boundless
wilderness-world.

From the moment Hubbard and George had left me, I had not seen or heard
them. But up the mountain they went through the burnt spruce forest,
up for four miles over rocks, up and up to the top; and then to the
westernmost side of the peak they went and looked--looked to the West;
and there, only a few miles away, lay Michikamau with its ninety-mile
expanse of water--the lake we so long had sought for and fought so
desperately to reach. It was there, just beyond the ridge I had seen
extending to the southward.

X. PRISONERS OF THE WIND

It was four o'clock in the afternoon, when the sun was getting low,
that I, near the base of the mountain and still industriously picking
berries, heard a shout from Hubbard and George at the canoe on the
shore of the lake below. I was anxious to hear the result of their
journey, and hurried down.

"It's there! it's there!" shouted Hubbard, as I came within talking
distance. "Michikamau is there, just behind the ridge. We saw the big
water; we saw it!"

In our great joy we fairly hugged each other, while George stood apart
with something of Indian stoicism, but with a broad grin, nevertheless,
expanding his good-natured features. We felt that Windbound Lake must
be directly connected with Michikamau, and that we were now within easy
reach of the caribou grounds and a land of plenty. It is true that
from the mountain top Hubbard and George had been unable to trace out
the connection, as Windbound Lake was so studded with islands, and had
so many narrow arms reaching out in the various directions between low,
thickly-wooded ridges, that their view of the waters between them and
Michikamau was more or less obscured; but they had no doubt that the
connection was there.

"And," added Hubbard, after I had heard all about the great discovery,
"good things never come singly. Look there!"

I looked where he pointed, and there on the rocks near George's feet
lay a pile of ptarmigans and one small rabbit. I picke