The Coolidge examiner., 1938-10-27
CHAPTER IX-Continued
h

Smoke hanging over that spruce
point all right but whose smoke?
McQueen's or the Naskapi's?"
de Naskapi hunt deer on de bar
rem. Dat eeS Mcqueen"
Back at camp McCord listened to
the news.
Right on our heels, like wolves
after deer, ehl Well, they won't
find much deer in usi"
But Heather sat gazing into the
fire, her brown face grave with fore
boding. Noel, too, was silent as
he worked on a paddle with his
draw-knife, for the tales he had
heard since childhood of the spirit
haunted rivers and the fierce no.
mads who roamed the interior fol-
lowing the caribou herds harassed
him.
Shortly after daylight, the Peter
boro slid into the slant of the first
drop of the outlet on its long voy-
age north. Past shores trimmed with
red willows and alders behind which
the young leaves of the aspen shiv-
cred in the breeze. apple green
against the olive of the spruce, they
rode the strong water. Farther on,
past bold, boulder-streWn shores and
through lake expansions, they trav-
eled beyond the sunset and into the
afterglow
In the morning, when they raised
their net, Alan took from among the
red bellied square tails and the
whitefsh, a graceful, dark backed,
silvery fish and held it up for Johns
inspection.
1T must be a wininish, John,
as sure as you're born. No sea
salmon can get up here above all
these falls and it's too early. any
way. We don't have these fellows on
the coast-only the Herne's salmon,
with red spots, in the Bay. This
proves we're on Koksoak waters"
McCord's brown face widened in
a grin as he examined the fish.
'Land-locked salmon, boy. I've
caught them often in Quebec! No
tice that line of black spots along
the side! By glory, I'm going to
have some fun, nights on this river,
for I've got rod and some flies
flies, lad! My Scotch blood wouldn't
let me come without them"
To Alan's amusement McCord
produced from a stout skin case, a
jointed steel rod. a reel with oiled
silk line and a small leader and fly
book.
Good river men though they we're,
the next few days taxed the skill
and strength of the crew. Chutes
and whitewater and fumes followed
each other endlessly. Past boulder
choked shores where great cakes of
ice left by the high water still melt
ed in the sun, with terraces of strait
fed sand rising above them, the
Peterboro lunged. Packing around
roaring falls and rock-scarred
reaches. they labored day after day,
while always beyond the valley
reached the tundra, its white moss
slopes stippled with flowers and
mapped with caribou paths.
1t was the last month of the north
ern movement of the great central
herd that winters in the forests AL
ready does and fauns had preceded
the bucks to the cool wind-whipped
barrens where the mosquito pest
and bot flies are less troublesome.
But the canoe bound for the River
of Skulls did not linger in the high
plateau country. They had ample
provisions, with the river fish, and
their goal was too far and the sum-
mer too short.
Then, one day, the country ahead
began to fall away, the valley mar
rowed, and a muffled roar reached
their ears from below, where the
river entered a long, rocky gorge
Landing, Alan and Noel went ahead
over the boulders and gravel at the
head of the gorge to inspect the
water. Hours later they returned
For five miles they had followed the
shores of the gorge jammed with
boulders piled high by the ice and
found the river impossible to a ca
noe For three days they slaved
with the canoe and outfit over rocks
and boulders, Heather insisting on
doing her share of the portaging
with the tump-line strap over her
blonde head. Below the canyon the
canoe was again put in and shortly
the river widened into lake where
they camped for a days rest.
There is no spring on the high
Ungava plateau. Winter dies hard
with occasional snow furries and
frosty nights in June, then sum-
mer, the magician, touches the land
of the tundra overnight with its
wand. Myriad flowers spring to life
The rolling barrens between the in
Vulnerable lakes and rivers become
gray-green carpets of caribou
moss, velvet to the feet. splashed
with the white blooms of the bake
apple and service berries, the pale
rose of the fragrant twin-fower and
the pink patches of the Irok.
And now summer had come to
the wild valley of the Koksoak, and
almost daily, rainbows arched the