the probability of the wind rising or
falling--consultations which are more or less marked by anxiety and
tediousness in proportion to the length of the traverse, the state of
the weather, and the courage or timidity of the guides.

On the present occasion there was no consultation, as has been already
seen. The traverse was a short one, the morning fine, and the boats
good. A warm glow began to overspread the horizon, giving promise of a
splendid day, as the numerous oars dipped with a plash and a loud hiss
into the water, and sent the boats leaping forth upon the white wave.

"Sing, sing!" cried the guide again, and clearing his throat, he began
the beautiful, quick-tuned canoe-song "Rose Blanche," to which the men
chorused with such power of lungs that a family of plovers, which up to
that time had stood in mute astonishment on a sandy point, tumbled
precipitately into the water, from which they rose with a shrill,
inexpressibly wild, plaintive cry, and fled screaming away to a more
secure refuge among the reeds and sedges of a swamp. A number of ducks,
too, awakened by the unwonted sound, shot suddenly out from the
concealment of their night's bivouac with erect heads and startled
looks, sputtered heavily over the surface of their liquid bed, and
rising into the air, flew in a wide circuit, with whistling wings, away
from the scene of so much uproar and confusion.

The rough voices of the men grew softer and softer as the two Indians
listened to the song of their departing friends, mellowing down and
becoming more harmonious and more plaintive as the distance increased,
and the boats grew smaller and smaller, until they were lost in the
blaze of light that now bathed both water and sky in the eastern
horizon, and began rapidly to climb the zenith, while the sweet tones
became less and less audible as they floated faintly across the still
water, and melted at last into the deep silence of the wilderness.

The two Indians still stood with downcast heads and listening ears, as
if they loved the last echo of the dying music, while their grave,
statue-like forms added to, rather than detracted from, the solitude of
the deserted scene.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

CHARLEY AND HARRY BEGIN THEIR SPORTING CAREER, WITHOUT MUCH SUCCESS--
WHISKY-JOHN CATCHING.

The place in the boats usually allotted to gentlemen in the Company's
service while travelling is the stern. Here the lading is so arranged
as to form a pretty leve