n and gone out in a
sailing canoe. We were dragging. We were up every morning at sunrise,
lit a fire on the beach and cooked breakfast, and then we'd light our
pipes and be off with the net for a whole day. It's a great life,"
concluded Mr. Gingham wistfully.

"Did you get him?" asked two or three together.

There was a pause before Mr. Gingham answered.

"We did," he said,--"down in the reeds past Horseshoe Point. But it was
no use. He turned blue on me right away."

After which Mr. Gingham fell into such a deep reverie that the boat had
steamed another half mile down the lake before anybody broke the silence
again.

Talk of this sort,--and after all what more suitable for a day on the
water?--beguiled the way.

Down the lake, mile by mile over the calm water, steamed the Mariposa
Belle. They passed Poplar Point where the high sand-banks are with all
the swallows' nests in them, and Dean Drone and Dr. Gallagher looked at
them alternately through the binocular glasses, and it was wonderful how
plainly one could see the swallows and the banks and the shrubs,--just
as plainly as with the naked eye.

And a little further down they passed the Shingle Beach, and Dr.
Gallagher, who knew Canadian history, said to Dean Drone that it
was strange to think that Champlain had landed there with his French
explorers three hundred years ago; and Dean Drone, who didn't know
Canadian history, said it was stranger still to think that the hand of
the Almighty had piled up the hills and rocks long before that; and
Dr. Gallagher said it was wonderful how the French had found their way
through such a pathless wilderness; and Dean Drone said that it was
wonderful also to think that the Almighty had placed even the smallest
shrub in its appointed place. Dr. Gallagher said it filled him with
admiration. Dean Drone said it filled him with awe. Dr. Gallagher said
he'd been full of it ever since he was a boy; and Dean Drone said so had
he.

Then a little further, as the Mariposa Belle steamed on down the lake,
they passed the Old Indian Portage where the great grey rocks are; and
Dr. Gallagher drew Dean Drone's attention to the place where the narrow
canoe track wound up from the shore to the woods, and Dean Drone said he
could see it perfectly well without the glasses.

Dr. Gallagher said that it was just here that a party of five hundred
French had made their way with all their baggage and accoutrements
across the rocks of the divi