en foliage. We kept close to the northern shore,
and soon found passage amid numerous islands, forest covered, but with
high, rocky outlines.

Of life there was no sign, and the silence of the vast primeval
wilderness surrounding us rested heavily upon me. Whether this same
sense of loneliness and awe affected the others I cannot say--yet the
savage song died away, and the soldiers sat motionless, while the
Indians plied their paddles noiselessly. Cassion even restrained his
garrulous tongue, and when I glanced at him in some surprise, he was
intent on the shores of a passing island, forgetful of my presence.

For four days we coasted thus, never out of sight of shore, and
usually with islands between us and the main body of water. In all
that time we had no sign of man--not even a wisp of smoke, nor heard
the crack of distant rifle. About us extended loneliness and
desolation, great waters never still, vast forests grim and somber,
tall, menacing rocks, bright-colored in the sun.

Once it rained, drenching us to the skin, and driving us to shelter in
an island cove. Once a sudden storm swept the lake, and we barely made
land in time to save us from wreck, Chevet's canoe smashing an ugly
hole in its bow, and a soldier dislocating his shoulder in the
struggle. The accident held us for some hours, and later, when once
more afloat, retarded progress.

This misfortune served also to restore Monsieur Cassion to his natural
ill temper, and led to a quarrel between himself and Chevet which
might have ended seriously had I not intervened. The incident,
however, left the Commissaire in ugly mood, and caused him to play the
bully over his men. To me he was sullen, after an attempt at
insolence, and sat glowering across the water, meditating revenge.

At last we left the chain of islands behind, and one morning struck
out from the shore into the waste of waters, the prows of the canoes
turned westward, the steersman guiding our course by the sun. For
several hours we were beyond view of land, with naught to rest the eye
upon save the gray sea, and then, when it was nearly night, we reached
the shore, and beached our canoes at St. Ignace.

CHAPTER XIV

AT ST. IGNACE

So much had been said of St. Ignace, and so long had the name been
familiar throughout New France, that my first view of the place
brought me bitter disappointment. The faces of the others in our party
pictured the same disillusion.

Hugo Chevet had