at the country store opposite and poured across the
street, in sixes and sevens, like so many reliefs on army duty. A gang
would enter the sitting room occupying the chairs and sofa, look on with
open mouths for ten or fifteen minutes and listen to what must have
been enigmatical to them; then looking one at the other, the entire
party would rise together, stalk back to the store, where they would
relate their experience to others, who in turn would brace up and make a
descent on the lion of the hour. They did not rap for admittance, did
not remove their hats on entering, did not wait to be asked to take a
seat, did not say a word to anybody while present, did not say "good
evening" when they went out--in fact did nothing but stare in the most
ignorant and saucy manner. An excuse may be made for there in the fact
that Waterford is isolated from civilization, there being neither
railroad nor telegraph communication with the outside world and few
newspapers are ever seen to say nothing of being read. Paul bore the
inspection good naturedly and joked pleasantly as each "relief" went
out.

Just before starting in the morning, an old gentleman met Boyton on the
porch in front of the hotel and expressed real pleasure at meeting
him--in fact, claimed close acquaintanceship. The Captain was glad to
meet an old friend and was inquisitive enough to ask where they had seen
each other before.

"Wall," the old fellow answered, "yeou remember w'en yeou crossed th'
English channel?"

"Yes," Boyton remembered it.

"An' that ere rubber suit you wore?"

"Certainly."

"Wall," continued the old man, apparently tickled to the end of his toes
because Paul had not forgotten. "Wall, I saw thet ere suit at the
centennial in Philadelphia in '76; I was thar." He looked triumphantly
around to catch the admiring gaze of his townsmen.

The above are only a few samples of many similar incidents and episodes
which occured during the voyage. In shooting Dodge's Falls, a lumberman
called out to Paul to hug the New Hampshire shore and he would get over
safely. That was the only sensible word of warning or information he
received through the entire Fifteen Mile Falls.

He reached Woodville Monday evening after escaping many dangers, pretty
well used up. The worst of the run had been accomplished, though there
were still several falls and dams to be shot and long stetches of dead
water to be paddled. Nearing Bellow's