These hills were a feature of the wide banks, being blown up by the winds, sometimes to a height of fifteen or twenty feet.

Our run for the day was less than five miles, yet as we had passed eight rapids one way and another, we were all pretty tired and of course wet and hungry.

A good big camp-fire was quickly started, our dry garments from the rubber bags donned in place of the flapping wet ones, and we were entirely comfortable, with the bread baking in the Dutch oven, the coffee or tea steaming away, and the inspiring fragrance of frying bacon wafted on the evening air.

When we stopped long enough Andy would give us boiled beans or stewed dried apples as a treat.

If we desired to enliven the conversation all that was necessary was to start the subject of the "light" back at the camp where we first met Douglas Boy.