heir
pipes--'embark, my lads, embark.'

"In five minutes the boats were afloat, and the crews were about to
shove off, when the cry was raised, 'Mr. Berry! hold on--where's Mr.
Berry?'

"Poor Berry! I must tell you about him. He was one of those people that
are always late, always missing, always in the wrong place at the right
time, and in the right place at the wrong time. His companions--of whom
there were two in charge of the boats along with himself--called him an
'old wife,' but qualified the title with the remark that he was a 'good
soul,' nevertheless. And so he was--a beardless youth of twenty-two,
with a strong tendency to scientific pursuits, but wofully incompetent
to use his muscles aright. He was forever falling into the water,
constantly cutting his fingers with his knife, and frequently breaking
the trigger of his fowling-piece in his attempts to discharge it at
half-cock. Yet he was incomparably superior to his more 'knowing'
comrades in all the higher qualities of manhood.

"At the moment his name was called, he sprang from the bushes, laden
with botanical specimens, and crying, 'Stop! stop! I'm coming,' he
rushed down to the boat of which he had the special charge, and
leaped in. Five minutes more, and the brigade was sweeping down the
Saskatchewan, while the men bent hastily to their oars, and filled the
shrubbery on the river's bank and the wide prairies beyond with the
ringing tones of one of their characteristic and beautiful canoe songs.

"The sun was flooding the horizon with gold as it sank to rest. The
chorus of the boatmen had ceased, and the only sound that broke the
stillness of the quiet evening was the slow and regular stroke of the
heavy oars, which the men plied unceasingly. On turning one of the bends
of the river, which disclosed a somewhat extended vista ahead, several
black objects were observed near the water's edge.

"'Hist!' exclaimed the foremost guide, 'they are buffaloes.'

"'A terre, a terre!' cried the men, in a hoarse whisper.

"A powerful sweep of the steering oar sent the boat into a little bay,
where it was quickly joined by the others.

"'Now, then, let the crack shots be off into the bush,' cried the man in
charge of the brigade. 'Away with you, Gaspard, Antoine, Jacques. Mind
you don't waste powder and shoot only old bulls. Hallo! Mr. Berry, not
so fast; let the hunters to the front.'

"'Ah! Misser Berry him berry bad shot,' remarked a middle-aged Indian,
r