with rocks, but only slightly uplifted, and
covered with dense, dark woods, somber and silent. Their shadows
nearly met in midstream, giving to the scene a look of desolation and
gloom, the water sweeping on in sullen flow, without sparkle, or
gaiety. Our boat clung close to the west shore, and I could look long
distances through the aisles of trees into the silent gloom beyond.
Not a leaf rustled, not a wild animal moved in the coverts. It was
like an abode of death.
And we moved so slowly, struggling upward against the current, for the
Indians were resting, and the less expert hands of soldiers were
wielding the paddles, urged on by Cassion, who had relieved Chevet at
the steering oar. The harsh tones of his voice, and the heavy
breathing of the laboring men alone broke the solemn stillness. I sat
up, my body aching from the awkward position in which I lay, and
endeavored to discern the other canoes.
Behind us stretched a space of straight water, and one canoe was
close, while the second was barely visible along a curve of the
shore. Ahead, however, the river appeared vacant, the leading boat
having vanished around a wooded bend. My eyes met those of Cassion,
and the sight of him instantly restored me to a recollection of my
plan--nothing could be gained by open warfare. I permitted my lips
to smile, and noted instantly the change of expression in his face.
"I have slept well, Monsieur," I said pleasantly, "for I was very
tired."
"'Tis the best way on a boat voyage," assuming his old manner, "but
now the day is nearly done."
"So late as that! You will make camp soon?"
"If that be Cap Sante yonder, 'tis like we shall go ashore beyond. Ay!
see the smoke spiral above the trees; a hundred rods more and we make
the turn. The fellows will not be sorry, the way they ply the
paddles." He leaned over and shook Chevet. "Time to rouse, Hugo, for
we make camp. Bend to it, lads; there is food and a night's rest
waiting you around yonder point. Dig deep, and send her along."
As we skirted the extremity of shore I saw the opening in the woods,
and the gleam of a cheerful fire amid green grass. The advance canoe
swung half-hidden amid the overhanging roots of a huge pine tree, and
the men were busily at work ashore. To the right they were already
erecting a small tent, its yellow canvas showing plainly against the
leafy background of the forest. As we circled the point closely,
seeking the still water, we could percei
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