never a
Huskie ventured within earshot.

As the sailing vessel had to lie out in the deep water, her cargo was
being brought ashore in big boats, with high bows and sterns that could
each carry a wonderful load. The process of discharging interested all
the little party, and they were standing watching it, when one of their
fellow-travellers came up, and, pointing to the boats, said: 'It's in
those barkies that we're going to the Red River. I canna say I like
the look of them ower much. They're right clumsy things, in my
opinion.'

Before Andrew could make reply, Hector broke in with an eager 'Oh, are
we truly going on those boats? Eh, but that will be fine!--won't it,
Ailie?' And he gave his sister a hearty hug, just by way of expressing
his joy.

His father smiled with grave indulgence. 'I would think ye'd had mair
than enough of the water for a spell, laddie. I wonder ye're so eager
to take to it again.'

'Eh, but that was in a big ship, father,' responded Hector, defending
himself, 'and a boat will be different, and we will go along the river
instead of on the ocean.'

'We'll see, we'll see,' said Andrew, sagely, 'the river may not be sae
guid to us as you think.'

As the season was slipping by, and as it was important for the settlers
to reach their destination in good time before the long winter came,
the preparations for the remainder of the journey were hurried as much
as possible.

Yet there seemed so much to be done, that September was at hand ere the
little brigade of 'York boats,' with their precious freight of humanity
and goods, hoisted their big sails, and moved slowly off up the river,
amid a parting volley of cheers and good wishes from the people of York
Factory, many of whom would have been glad enough to accompany them.

Hector was in the highest spirits. This method of travelling was
altogether to his liking: no longer the cramping confinement of the
sailing-ship, but the freedom of the roomy boat; no more tumbling about
among the rude billows, but smooth gliding on the bosom of the river;
no dreary waste of chill, gray water, but on either hand the
well-wooded banks glowed with varied colour, the light yellow of the
fading poplar contrasting with the dark evergreen of the spruce, while
the willows of an intermediate hue seemed to shade the two tints into
each other. Here and there the bright purple of the dogwood, the
sombre brown of the dwarf birch, and the gay yellow of the sh