"Alex Taylor" also came to the tupic and said he would
accompany us, and this made the prospect more cheerful, as I knew it
would be at least two days' hard travelling. During the night we were
visited by a severe thunder-storm, which frightened my tent-mates
because unused to it, and they lighted an ikomer to take the sharp edge
off the lightning; but I slept on peacefully while "Old Molasses" held
a stick so that the shadow kept the light of the lamp from my eyes. It
stopped raining toward morning, but it was still chilly and damp when
we started, shortly after daylight, on our long journey.
"Sam" and "Alex" again got separated from us in pursuit of deer, and I
became so chilly that we gave up waiting for them to rejoin us, and
moved on. At last we could see Picciulok, as the natives call Depot
Island, but it was at a considerable distance, and it was getting late.
The sun was then below the horizon, and we hastened along to get sight
of some familiar ground; but, alas! at every hill-top Picciulok seemed
as far, if not farther off, and finally we could not see it all, it was
so dark. My guides knew they were lost, and wanted to lie down until
morning, but I kept them up, for I could see the stars and could keep
the right course; but the walking was terrible. My feet were now so
sensitive that I could feel every sharp stone through the soles of my
kummings, and the stony portages between the lakes and over the little
indentations of the coast seemed to increase in number all the time.
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