We rode before the wind to the
foot of the lake, where we were confronted by the alternative of a
toilsome and unsafe paddle around the coast against the storm's full
force, or camping in mutual anxiety as to the fate of the unseen
party--a by no means pleasant sedative for a night's rest upon wild and
uninhabited shores. We decided upon the pull, and labored on, now upon
the easy swells within the reeds, and then tossing upon the crests in
open places, until at last a whirling column of smoke a mile ahead gave
us assurance of the Hattie's safety. The reunited fleet paddled down
into the Mississippi, enlivening the darkness until we could find
camping-ground beyond the marshes by a comparison of storm-experiences
and congratulations that we had escaped the bottom of the lake.
[Illustration: CHURCH AMONG THE PINES (BRAINERD).]
Late in the afternoon of the next day, after a monotonous pull through
the interminable windings of Eagle Nest Savanna, we swept around a
curve of high tillable land upon the uppermost farm cultivated by
whites, eighteen miles above Pekagema Falls, and one hundred and
seventy miles by river beyond the Northern Pacific Railroad.
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