t turns his wheel--he looks very big and quiet
and masterful up there. The boat veers round; bells jangle. And now the
engine wakens in earnest. She breathes with spurts of vapor!

Breathed? No, it was sighing; for about it all clung an inexplicable
sadness for me--the sadness that clings about all strong and beautiful
things that must leave their moorings and go very, very far away. (I
have since heard it said that river boats are not beautiful!) My throat
felt as though it had smoke in it. I felt that this queenly thing really
wanted to stay; for far down the muddy swirl where she dwindled,
dwindled, I heard her sobbing hoarsely.

Off on the perilous flood for "faerie lands forlorn"! It made the world
seem almost empty and very lonesome.

And then the dog-days came, and I saw my river tawny, sinewy, gaunt--a
half-starved lion. The long dry bars were like the protruding ribs of
the beast when the prey is scarce, and the ropy main current was like
the lean, terrible muscles of its back.

In the spring it had roared; now it only purred. But all the while I
felt in it a dreadful economy of force, just as I have since felt it in
the presence of a great lean jungle-cat at the zoo. Here was a thing
that crouched and purred--a mewing but terrific thing. Give it an
obstacle to overcome--fling it something to devour; and lo! the crushing
impact of its leap!

And then again I saw it lying very quietly in the clutch of a bitter
winter--an awful hush upon it, and the white cerement of the snow flung
across its face. And yet, this did not seem like death; for still one
felt in it the subtle influence of a tremendous personality. It slept,
but sleeping it was still a giant. It seemed that at any moment the
sleeper might turn over, toss the white cover aside and, yawning,
saunter down the valley with its thunderous seven-league boots. And
still, back and forth across this heavy sleeper went the pigmy wagons of
the farmers taking corn to market!

[Illustration: "OFF ON THE PERILOUS FLOODS."]

[Illustration: BARRIERS FORMED BEFORE HIM.]

[Illustration: THE BOATS WRECKED IN AN ICE GORGE.]

But one day in March the far-flung arrows of the geese went over. _Honk!
honk!_ A vague, prophetic sense crept into the world out of
nowhere--part sound, part scent, and yet too vague for either. Sap
seeped from the maples. Weird mist-things went moaning through the
night. And then, for the first time, I saw my big brother win a fight!

Fo