had found the cook's camp, but at so late an hour that it was not possible for him to return that night. CHAPTER XV. A Hurried Round Trip to Minneapolis--Many Instances. After leaving Grand Rapids about the middle of August, we saw very few white men for many months following. In October, on our survey, local attraction was so strong on part of our work, that it was necessary to use a solar compass. This emergency had not been anticipated; it, therefore, became necessary to go to Minneapolis to secure that special instrument. Philip B. Winston, afterwards mayor of Minneapolis, and I started in a birch canoe, and in it, made the whole distance from our camp on Bow String Lake to Aitkin, Minnesota, on the Mississippi, the nearest railroad station. We were in Minneapolis but two days, when we returned, catching the steamer at Aitkin, and going up the Mississippi to Grand Rapids, the head of navigation for steamboats. Captain John Martin of Minneapolis, the well-known lumberman and banker, wished to return with us for his final fishing trip in open water, for that season. He fished successfully for a number of days, and, at the end of each day, personally prepared and cooked as fine a fish chowder as anyone would ever wish to eat. On the day of his departure, I took the Captain in my canoe, and landed him on the four-mile portage with an Indian escort who was to take him to Grand Rapids, whence he would return by steamer to Aitkin, a station on the line of the Northern Pacific Railroad. I was left alone in my canoe and must return to camp, crossing the open water of Bow String Lake. On my arrival at the main lake, the wind had increased its velocity, and the whitecaps were breaking. I hired an Indian, known as "the hunter," to help me paddle across the lake and up a rapid on a river flowing into Bow String, up and over which it was not possible for one man to push his canoe alone.