Push her along, boy, push her along."

"Bravo, my worthy companion in toil. Verily thou makest the bending
ash to glide through the water like a swan's wing. Another verse and
we bid adieu to work."

"If it affects the Chevalier that ar way, better give him another,
Nick," said one of the men.

"The trees do grow tall where the corn ought to grow,
Push her along, boys, push her along.
Virginny's a-comin' an' she don' move slow.
Shove her along, boys, shove her along."

"I would applaud, but my paddle is now going of itself and I dare not
let go. Methinks we'll find around the next bend Pan with his flocks
of aborigines assembled and kneeling in adoration. I'm not sure but
he'll have the moon goddess with him."

Now the Chevalier's three companions knew nothing of Pan or the moon
goddess, with the possible exception of Nick, whose knowledge of
mythology, if he possessed it, had not as yet appeared. Not knowing,
they resented this intrusion of classical subjects and one remarked,
"Your talk has a sweet sound; 'sposin' you sing us a verse."

"Oh, melody is a wayward minx and vouchsafes her treasures of song to
few. Were it springtime and had I the gift I would sing:

"'When the red is on the maple and the dogwood is in bloom.'"

"Keep right on, you'll bloom right soon," said Nick with a laugh in
which all joined.

"Keep her goin', Chevalier," said another.

"Forsooth, my merry men, Puritans, Roundheads, I'll try:

"When cavalier doth draw his steel
The ranks fall back and yeomen kneel,
For that is as they should.

The pikes may gleam in thousands strong,
But men who ride shall right the wrong.
For throne and home they stood."

"Sure they stood not on the order o' goin', or I've misread me
history," laughed Nick.

"Ho, ho! my merry figure-head at the prow, this from you, _et tu
Brute_! I feared the lines would not scan, but it's not expected that
every man in the crew must be an Adonis because the figure-head of the
craft is a thing of beauty. One failure begets another, 'tis said, so
perhaps you'll like this no better:

"Oh, the paddle, the knife and the trusty gun,
And a land in which to roam;
The stars at night for my beacon light,
Wildwood for my home;
What care I for the gay cavalier,