kets of supplies, I
realized that they were constructed with a view of being connected with
a man's back. I had heard and read a good deal about portages and I
realized in a general way that the canoes had to be carried from one
water system to another, but somehow I had never considered the baggage.
Naturally I did not expect it to get over of its own accord, and when I
came to consider the matter I realized that a man's back was about the
only place where it could ride handily and with reasonable safety. I
also realized that a guide's life is not altogether a holiday excursion.

I felt sorry for the guides. I even suggested to Eddie that he carry a
good many of the things. I pointed out that most of them were really
his, anyway, and that it was too bad to make our faithful retainers lug
a drug store and sporting goods establishment, besides the greater part
of a provision warehouse. Eddie sympathized with the guides, too. He was
really quite pathetic in his compassion for them, but he didn't carry
any of the things. That is, any of those things.

It is the etiquette of portage--of Nova Scotia portage, at least--that
the fisherman shall carry his own sporting paraphernalia--which is to
say, his rods, his gun, if he has one, his fishing basket and his
landing net. Also, perhaps, any convenient bag of tackle or apparel when
not too great an inconvenience. It is the business of the guides to
transport the canoes, the general outfit, and the stores. As this was to
be rather a long carry, and as more than one trip would be necessary, it
was proposed to make a half-way station for luncheon, at a point where a
brook cut the trail.

But our procession did not move immediately. In the first place one of
the canoes appeared to have sprung a leak, and after our six-mile paddle
this seemed a proper opportunity to rest and repair damages. The bark
craft was hauled out, a small fire scraped together and the pitch pot
heated while the guides pawed and squinted about the boat's bottom to
find the perforation. Meantime I tried a few casts in the lake, from a
slanting rock, and finally slipped in, as was my custom. Then we found
that we did not wish to wait until reaching the half-way brook before
having at least a bite and sup. It was marshy and weedy where we were
and no inviting place to serve food, but we were tolerably wet, and we
had paddled a good way. We got out a can of corned beef and a loaf of
bread, and stood around in the