sca, the Slave, and the Mackenzie.
These are not gentle rivers flowing smoothly between their banks, but
are great torrents of turbulent waters that rush wildly into the North
in miles upon miles of foaming white water, in sheer cascades, and in
boiling, rock-ribbed rapids. So that the work of the rivermen is man's
work requiring skill and iron nerve, and requiring also mighty muscles
for the gruelling portages where cargoes must be carried piece by piece
over rough foot trails, and in places even the heavy scows themselves
must be man-hauled around cascades.

Seeing the two brothers together, the undiscriminating would
unhesitatingly have picked Rene, with his picturesque, gaudy attire, his
loud, ever-ready laughter, his boisterous, bull-throated _chansons_, and
his self-confident air, as the typical man of the North. For beside him
Victor, with faded overalls, his sockless feet thrust into worn shoes,
his torn shirt, and his old black felt hat, cut a sorry figure.

But those who know recall the time that old Angus Forgan, the drunken
trader of Big Stone, fell out of a scow at the head of the Rapids of the
Drowned. They will tell you that of the twenty rivermen who witnessed
the accident only two dared to attempt a rescue, and those two were Rene
and Victor Bossuet. And that Rene, being the stronger, reached the
struggling man first and, twisting his fingers into his collar, struck
out for a flat shelf of rock that edged the first suck of the rapids.
They will tell you how he reached the rock and, throwing an arm upon its
flat surface, endeavoured to pull himself up; but the grip of the
current upon the two bodies was strong and after two or three attempts
Rene released his grip on the drowning man's collar and clambered to
safety. Then they will tell you how Victor, who had managed to gain
shore when he saw Rene reach the rock, plunged in again, straight into
the roaring chute, of how he reached Forgan in the nick of time, of how
the two bodies disappeared completely from view in the foaming white
water, and of how a quarter of a mile below, by means of Herculean
effort and a bit of luck, Victor managed to gain the eddy of a side
channel where he and his unconscious burden whirled round and round
until the rivermen running along the bank managed to throw a rope and
haul them both to safety.

Also, they will tell you of Gaspard Petrie, a great hulking bully of a
man, who called himself "The Grizzly of the Athabasca,"