There was
scarcely any wind, and it did not seem so cold as at -10 degrees or -20
degrees, with the wind blowing in one's face, as it was the last few
days of our travelling, with the thermometer at -46 degrees and -48
degrees. Yet we were so well fortified against the cold by the
quantities of fat we had eaten that we did not mind it. The prospect
was that now we were out of fat we would suffer a great deal with the
intense cold that we might expect in going across land from Back's
River to Hudson's Bay.
The rapids on Back's River are all marked by open water, and are
recognizable at a long distance by the column of black smoke arising
from them like steam from a boiling caldron. The ice in the vicinity is
dangerous to travel upon, there often being thin places, where the
moving water has nearly, but not quite, cut through, and not
distinguishable from the surrounding ice, which may be four or five
feet thick. The natives test it, before going upon it, with a knife or
stick, and know from the sound whether or not it is safe to travel
upon. In some of the many open water places that we found in our
journey up the river we could walk boldly up to the very edge and lie
down and quench our thirst from the rushing torrent, while in other
places it was not safe to go within several hundred yards of the open
water.
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