We were drifting in a far northern corner of Reindeer Lake, a 100-mile-long stretch of water that borders on Saskatchewan Lake and the Northwest Territories. Since early morning we had fished out of an isolated camp, giving little thought to the time. Now, with darkness seeping into this corner of the earth, our supply of motor fuel was almost exhausted and no one back in camp knew exactly where we were. "You're so darned smart," my boatmate growled. "Tell me what to do." Two boats carried our party of six, including our two Native American guides. "I really don't see any problem," I replied. "We have enough gasoline for one of the guides to reach camp in an empty boat. He can bring back two full tanks in the morning and we can fish our way back to camp."