-Jacey-
The boat skimmed over the water as Caleb and I sat on the middle seat. There was a conservation officer in front of us and two Mounties behind in the boat.
A helicopter had been thrown around as an idea, but ultimately, the Mounties hadn’t wanted to scare the loggers off.
The conservation officer had taken our description of the terrain and the cabin and decided we had probably gone past Little Shimmer in the storm to a little pocket of a lake called Devil’s Mouth. He eagerly informed us of how good the fishing was there, provided you could get in and out. Getting in and out was the problem. Not even the conservation officers went there—not even on a sunny day.
Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, for us, this old-timer had absolutely no fear and regaled us with stories of ev
