foot by foot to safety. Once a fog dropped about them suddenly, and
once the starboard rudder-chain broke. This last was all but a disaster,
for they were down so far that the river must surely have conquered the
engines had they tried to head up-stream. Ouillette saw there was only
one way to save his boat and the lives she carried, and, putting the
wheel hard aport, for the port chain held, he ran her on the rocks. And
there she lay, the good steamboat _Spartan_, all that night, with
passengers in an anguish of excitement, while Indian pilots from
Caughnawaga made it quite clear what _they_ were good for--put off
swiftly in their little barks straight into that reeling flood, straight
out to the helpless boat, then back to shore, each bearing two or three
of the fear-struck company. Then out again and back again until darkness
came. Then out again and back again when darkness had fallen. Think of
that! Hour after hour, with paddles alone, these dauntless sons of
Iroquois braves fought the rapids, triumphed over the rapids, and
brought to land through the night and the rage of waters every soul on
that imperiled vessel!

Another instance he gave, showing the admirable alertness of these
Indians, as well as their skill with the canoe. It was in the summer of
1900, late of an afternoon, and so heavy was the August heat that even
on the river the passengers were gasping for air. Shortly after they
entered the cataract several persons saw a large man climb to the top of
a water-tank on the hurricane-deck, and seat himself there in one of the
folding deck-chairs. The man's purpose was, evidently, to seek a cooler
spot than he had found below, and the boat was running so steadily that
no one thought of danger. Indeed, there would have been no danger had
not the gentleman fallen into a comfortable doze just as Ouillette
steadied the boat for her first downward leap and then brought her over
to starboard with a jerk, which jerk so effectually disturbed the large
man's slumbers that the first thing he knew he was shot off his rickety
chair, over the side of the water-tank, clean over the steamboat's
decks, down, splash! into the St. Lawrence at a point where it is not
good for any man to be. He was right in the main sweep of the river,
where one may live for twenty minutes if he can keep afloat so long, but
scarcely longer, since twenty minutes will bring him to the last rush of
rapids, where swimmers do not live.

[Illustrat