ch he was bound was on the south shore of Grand
Lake about seven or eight miles from its western end, and in order to
reach the tilt he would have to continue on south around the end of the
lake.

The land on the other side of the swirling stream to which George had
come was the island at the mouth of the Beaver that separates it into
two branches, and which forms the western shore of the swift stream or
strait that, flowing to the southward, discharges the waters of the
little lake into Grand Lake. George thought, however, that this island
was a part of the western boundary of Grand Lake, and he determined to
reach it. But how? To swim across was impossible. Well, then, he
would build a raft. And, although he had no implements, he did. He
hauled together several fallen trees, laid them in a row and bound them
at one end with his pack strap and at the other with a piece of our old
trolling line. When this was done, he hacked himself a pole with his
sheath-knife, threw his bag containing a piece of a porcupine and some
grouse on the raft, launched it, jumped on it himself and pushed out
into the stream.

One or two good shoves George gave with his pole, and then found he no
longer could touch bottom. He was at the mercy of the swift current.
Down into the little lake he was swept, and thence through the strait
right out into Grand Lake. A high sea was running, and the frail raft
promptly began to fall to pieces. "Have I escaped starvin' only to
drown?" thought George. It certainly looked like it. "But," said he
to himself, "if I drown them fellus up there will be up against it for
sure." So he determined not to drown. He got down on his hands and
knees, and, although the icy seas broke relentlessly over him, he held
the floating sticks in place, at the same time clinging tenaciously to
his food bag; for, as he confided to me later, "it would have been just
as bad to escape drownin' only to starve as it would have been to
escape starvin' only to drown."

Farther out on the broad bosom of the lake George was carried. "Now,"
said he, "if I jump, I'll drown; and if I don't, I'll drown anyway. So
I guess I'll hang on a little longer." And hang on he did for
something like two hours, when the wind caught his raft and drove it
back to the southern end of the island at the mouth of the Beaver.
"You can't lose me," said George, as he landed. He and his game bag
were saved, but his difficulties were not ended by