If it took much longer to go back, ice would
imprison them in the polar wilderness. Snow lay drifted in the
valleys, and scarcely any game was seen but fox and grouse. The river
was widening almost to the dimensions of a lake, and when this was
whipped by a north wind the canoes were in peril enough. The four
Canadians besought Mackenzie to return. To return Mackenzie had not
the slightest intention; but he would not tempt mutiny. He promised
that if he did not find the sea within seven days, he would go back.
That night the sun hung so high above the southern horizon that the men
rose by mistake to embark at twelve o'clock. They did not realize that
they were in the region of midnight sun; but Mackenzie knew and
rejoiced, for he must be near the sea. The next day he was not
surprised to find a deserted Eskimo village. At that sight the
enthusiasm of the others took fire. They were keen to reach the sea,
and imagined that they smelt salt water. In spite of the lakelike
expanse of the river, the current was swift, and the canoes went ahead
at the rate of sixty and seventy miles a day--if it could be called day
when there was no night. Between the 13th and 14th of July the
_voyageurs_ suddenly awakened to find themselves and their baggage
floating in rising water. What had happened to the lake? Their hearts
took a leap; for it was no lake. It was the tide. They had found the
sea.
How hilariously jubilant were Mackenzie's men, one may guess from the
fact that they chased whales all the next day in their canoes.
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