ed more intense from the sudden extinction of the torchlight.
They saw nothing but the foam flickering along the river; like the
ghosts of the swans they had killed, and they heard only the roaring of
the water, that sounded in their ears with a hoarse and melancholy wail.

For a long time they stood impressed with the lamentable condition into
which the accident had plunged them; and a lamentable condition it was,
sure enough. They were on a small rock in the midst of a rapid river.
They were in the midst of a great wilderness too, many long miles from a
settlement. The nearest could only be reached by travelling through
pathless forests, and over numerous and deep rivers. Impassable swamps,
and lakes with marshy shores, lay on the route, and barred the direct
course, and all this journey would have to be made on foot.

But none of our young voyageurs were of that stamp to yield themselves
to despair. One and all of them had experienced perils before--greater
even than that in which they now stood. As soon, therefore, as they
became fully satisfied that their little vessel was wrecked, and all its
contents scattered, instead of despairing, their first thoughts were how
to make the best of their situation.

For that night, at least, they were helpless. They could not leave the
rock. It was surrounded by rapids. Sharp, jagged points peeped out of
the water, and between these the current rushed with impetuosity. In
the darkness no human being could have crossed to either shore in
safety. To attempt it would have been madness, and our voyageurs soon
came to this conclusion. They had no other choice than to remain where
they were until the morning; so, seating themselves upon the rock, they
prepared to pass the night.

They sat huddled close together. They could not lie down--there was not
room enough for that. They kept awake most of the night, one or other
of them, overcome by fatigue, occasionally nodding over in a sort of
half-sleep, but awakening again after a few minutes' uncomfortable
dreaming. They talked but little, as the noise of the rushing rapids
rendered conversation painful. To be heard, they were under the
necessity of shouting to one another, like passengers in an omnibus. It
was cold, too. None of them had been much wetted in escaping from the
canoe; but they had saved neither overcoat, blanket, nor buffalo-robe;
and, although it was now late in the spring, the nights near Lake
Winnipeg