te face
beneath the broad-brimmed hat, tied down at each side in the fashion of
those days, was as serenely unconscious of us as any star of the
heavenly constellations. If she saw there were objects behind her canoe,
and that the objects were living beings, and the living beings men, she
gave no evidence of it. Nor was the Little Statue--as we had got in the
habit of calling her--heartless. In spite of the fears which she
entertained for her stern father, her filial affection was a thing to
turn the lads of the crews quite mad. Scarcely were we ashore at the
different encampments before father and daughter would stroll off arm in
arm, leaving the whole brigade envious and disconsolate. Was it the
influence of this slip of a girl, I wonder, that a curious change came
over our crews? The men still swore; but they did it under their breath.
Fewer yarns of a quality, which need not be specified, were told; and
certain kinds of jokes were no longer greeted with a loud guffaw. Still
we all thought ourselves mightily ill-used by that diminutive bundle of
independence, and some took to turning the backs of their heads in her
direction when she chanced to come their way. One young spark said
something about the Little Statue being a prig, which we all invited him
to repeat, but he declined. Had she played the coquette under the
innocent mask of sympathy and all other guiles with which gentle slayers
ambush strong hearts, I dare affirm there would have been trouble enough
and to spare. Suicides, fights, insults and worse, I have witnessed when
some fool woman with a fair face came among such men. "Fool" woman, I
say, rather than "false"; for to my mind falsity in a woman may not be
compared to folly for the utter be-deviling of men.

With our guiding star at the prow of the fore canoe, we continued to
wind among countless islands, through narrow, rocky channels and along
those endless water-ways, that stretch like a tangled, silver chain with
emerald jewels, all the way from the Great Lakes to the plains.
Somewhere along Rainy River, where there is an oasis of rolling, wooded
meadows in a desert of iron rock, we pitched our tents for the night.
The evening air was fragrant with the odor of summer's early flowers. I
could not but marvel at the almost magical growth in these far northern
latitudes. Barely a month had passed since snow enveloped the earth in a
winding sheet, and I have heard old residents say that the winter's
fros