It was so cold early in the morning that we arose earlier than usual. Several of us took a dip to warm up. While we were doing this, a few of the sleepy heads pulled our covers over them, turned over and went to sleep again. Don had a merry twinkle in his eye and before you could turn round he had let the tent down on the unsuspecting sleepers.
This failed to rouse them for they kept on sleeping without the protection of the tent above them. Early rising seemed to be good for Don, for he soon had another bright Idea. Seeing a flock of ducks waddling by, he cornered one, carried it to the somnolent youths and precipitated the squawking bird in their midst. Brothers Bell, Cole and Morgan could not stand this so with many yawns and much blinking of eyelids pulled themselves out into the chilly atmosphere.
After dinner the occupants of the two green canoes announced their intention of stopping behind to fish. They said that they would catch up to us before dark. Thereupon we began winding our way through another low lying section of river fringed with scads of wild rice and white water lilies. It was exceedingly calm here and whether that is the cause of it or not, but we experienced an optical illusion all along this section. Instead of the water in the river looking level, it appeared to be on a definite slope, downward and away from us. The three of us in the leading canoe each experienced this same unusual illusion for several miles and were very much interested and mystified by this unaccountable phenomenon. We appeared to be sliding down the top of a huge, wet table whose one end was slightly elevated.
Although late in the afternoon we did not make camp at Chisholm’s Rapids, but locked through and tried to find a suitable site below
the dam. It was marshy for about seven miles here and we had to traverse all that distance before finding a haven. It was seven o’clock when we finally made camp. The fishermen arrived at about 8 o'clock with two small pike.
