s well
covered, and the boat lightly laden, wishing thus to try the easiest
rapids under easiest conditions. But his father would look at him and
say: "Do you know the river, my son? Are you sure you know the river?"
And Fred would answer: "Father, I think I do." For how could he be sure
until he had stood the test?
So it went on from year to year, and Ouillette was almost despairing of
a chance to show himself worthy of his father's teaching, when,
suddenly, the chance came in a way never to be forgotten. It was late in
the summer, and the rapids, being low, were at their very worst, since
the rocks were nearer the surface. Besides that, on this particular day
they were carrying a heavy load, and the wind was southeast, blowing
hard--the very wind to make trouble at the bad places. They had shot
through all the rapids but the last, and were well below the Lachine
bridge when the elder Ouillette asked the boy, "My son, do you know the
river?"
And Fred answered as usual, without any thought of what was coming next,
"Father, I think I do."
They were just at the danger-point now, and all the straining waters
were sucking them down to the first plunge.
"Then take her through," said the old man, stepping back; "there is the
wheel."
"My fadder he make terreeble thing for me--too much terreeble thing,"
said Ouillette, shaking his head at the memory.
But he took her through somehow, half blinded by the swirl of water and
the shock. At the wheel he stood, and with a touch of his father's hand
now and then to help him, he brought the boat down safely. There was a
kind of Spartan philosophy in the old man's action. His idea was that,
could he once make his son face the worst of this business and come out
unharmed, then never would the boy know fear again, for all the rest
would be easier than what he had already done. And certainly his plan
worked well, for Fred Ouillette has been fearless in the rapids ever
since.
"Have you lost any lives?" I asked, reaching out for thrilling stories.
"Nevair," said he.
"Ever come near it?"
He looked at me a moment, and then said quietly: "Always, sair, we come
near it."
[Illustration: THE INDIAN PILOTS RESCUE PASSENGERS FROM THE STEAMER ON
THE ROCKS.]
Then he told of cases where at the last moment he had seen some mad risk
in going down, and had turned his steamer in the very throat of the
torrent, and, with groaning wheels and straining timbers, fought his way
back
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