I found the population living at this lake to be eight hundred and thirty-two souls, under three chiefs, the Guelle Plat, Nesia, or the Elder Brother, and Chianoquet, or the Big Cloud, the latter of whom is exclusively a war chief. Having dined these chiefs at my tent, and finished my business, and the vaccinations and very numerous cases of odontalgia being got through with, I directed my canoes to be put in the water, with the view of going a few miles down the shore, in order to get a quiet night's encampment, and be ready for an early start on the morrow. It was near the hour of sunset before we could embark. Aiskebuggekozh came down to the boat to take leave of me. He was dressed, on this occasion (having been in Indian costume all the morning), in a blue military frock coat, with scarlet collar and cuffs, white underclothes, a ruffled shirt, shoes and stockings, and a citizen's hat. He was accompanied by Nesia and other followers, and it appeared to me if there ever was a person who had popular and undisputable claims to imperial sway, notwithstanding this poor taste in costume, it was he. We went about five miles in the general direction towards the source of the L'ail de Corbeau, and encamped. Dr. Houghton, who had been left behind with Lieut. Allen, to complete the vaccinations, rejoined me about seven o'clock. Guelle Plat had promised to send me guides, to cross the country to the Crow-Wing River, early the next morning (18th), but, as they did not arrive, I proceeded across the arm of the lake for the main shore without them. After reaching it, some time was spent in searching for the commencement of the portage path. It was found to lie across a dry pine plain. The Canadians, who are quick on finding the trail of a portage, wanted nothing more, but pushed on, canoes and baggage, without any further trouble about the Indian guides. A portage of 1,078 yards brought us to the banks of a small, clear, shallow lake, called Warpool, which had a very narrow, tortuous outlet, through which the men, with great difficulty, and by cutting away acute turns of the bank with their paddles, made way to force the canoes into Little Long Lake, which we were twenty-four minutes in crossing. The outlet from this lake expanded, at successive intervals, into three pond-like lakes, redolent with the nymphæ valerata; the series terminating in a fourth lake, lying at the foot of elevated lands, which was called the Lake of the Mountain. At the head of the latter, we debarked on a shaking bog. At this spot commences the portage _Plé_, which lies over a woodless and bleak hill. It is short and abrupt, and terminates on the banks of a deep bowl-shaped lake, where we took breakfast at twelve o'clock. We were now at the foot of elevated lands. Here began the mountain portage, so called. Its extent is, first, nine hundred and ten yards, terminating on the shores of a little lake, without outlet, called the Lake of the Isle.