My associates and I had acquired interests in these localities, so that much of my time for nearly a decade, was actively employed along the line of the Vermilion Range. During these years from 1882 to 1888, the most practical modes of travel, and almost the only ones, were either by birch canoe and portaging from lake to lake in summer, or by dog train during the winter. Sometimes these trips were pleasant ones, but quite as often they were attended by incidents not always agreeable. On one of these occasions late in October, accompanied by one white man known only as "Buffalo," I started to travel east from Tower, on Lake Vermilion, along the route followed by the Indians, to the foot of Fall Lake, a distance of forty-five miles. It was some time after noon when we pulled out from shore in our two-man canoe, a small craft, affording just room for two men to sit, and to carry their pack sacks and scant supplies. Soon it began to rain, and the wind commenced blowing. We were approaching an island, when Buffalo, who had had much experience on the Great Lakes as a sailor, insisted that we could not reach our landing at the easterly end of the lake, before dark, without the use of a sail. Arriving at an island, we pulled our canoe ashore, and Buffalo quickly improvised a sail, which was hoisted in the bow of the canoe and the boat was again launched. In this manner we sailed and paddled at a much accelerated speed, but all of the time we were in imminent danger of being capsized, it being my first experience of riding in a birch canoe carrying a sail. Fortune favored the undertaking, however, and we made a safe landing in time to pitch our tent and make our camp for the night.