balsam fir was his tree of hallowed memory. Its odour never failed,
and he slept that night with its influence all about him.

Starting in the morning was no easy matter. There was so much to be
adjusted that first day. Packs divided in two, new combinations to trim
the canoe, or to raise such and such a package above a possible leak.
The heavy things, like axes and pans, had to be fastened to the canoe or
to packages that would float in case of an upset. The canoe itself had
to be gummed in one or two places; but they got away after three hours,
and began the voyage down the Schroon.

This was Rolf's first water journey. He had indeed essayed the canoe on
the Pipestave Pond, but that was a mere ferry. This was real travel. He
marvelled at the sensitiveness of the frail craft; the delicacy of its
balance; its quick response to the paddle; the way it seemed to shrink
from the rocks; and the unpleasantly suggestive bend-up of the ribs
when the bottom grounded upon a log. It was a new world for him. Quonab
taught him never to enter the canoe except when she was afloat; never to
rise in her or move along without hold of the gunwale; never to make a
sudden move; and he also learned that it was easier to paddle when there
were six feet of water underneath than when only six inches.

In an hour they had covered the five miles that brought them to the
Hudson, and here the real labour began, paddling up stream. Before long
they came to a shallow stretch with barely enough water to float the
canoe. Here they jumped out and waded in the stream, occasionally
lifting a stone to one side, till they reached the upper stretch of deep
water and again went merrily paddling. Soon they came to an impassable
rapid, and Rolf had his first taste of a real carry or portage. Quonab's
eye was watching the bank as soon as the fierce waters appeared; for
the first question was, where shall we land? and the next, how far do we
carry? There are no rapids on important rivers in temperate America
that have not been portaged more or less for ages. No canoe man portages
without considering most carefully when, where, and how to land. His
selection of the place, then, is the result of careful study. He cannot
help leaving some mark at the place, slight though it be, and the next
man looks for that mark to save himself time and trouble.

"Ugh" was the only sound that Rolf heard from his companion, and
the canoe headed for a flat rock in the pool below t