northern health stations in ice-bound ports where submersibles dare
not rise.

Yellow-bellied ore-flats and Ungava petrol-tanks punted down leisurely
out of the north like strings of unfrightened wild duck. It does not pay
to "fly" minerals and oil a mile farther than is necessary; but the
risks of transhipping to submersibles in the ice-pack off Nain or Hebron
are so great that these heavy freighters fly down to Halifax direct, and
scent the air as they go. They are the biggest tramps aloft except the
Athabasca grain-tubs. But these last, now that the wheat is moved, are
busy, over the world's shoulder, timber-lifting in Siberia.

We held to the St. Lawrence (it is astonishing how the old water-ways
still pull us children of the air), and followed his broad line of
black between its drifting ice blocks, all down the Park that the wisdom
of our fathers--but every one knows the Quebec run.

We dropped to the Heights Receiving Towers twenty minutes ahead of time
and there hung at ease till the Yokohama Intermediate Packet could pull
out and give us our proper slip. It was curious to watch the action of
the holding-down clips all along the frosty river front as the boats
cleared or came to rest. A big Hamburger was leaving Pont Levis and her
crew, unshipping the platform railings, began to sing "Elsinore"--the
oldest of our chanteys. You know it of course:

_Mother Rugen's tea-house on the Baltic_--
_Forty couple waltzing on the floor!_
_And you can watch my Ray,_
_For I must go away_
_And dance with Ella Sweyn at Elsinore!_

Then, while they sweated home the covering-plates:

_Nor-Nor-Nor-Nor-_
_West from Sourabaya to the Baltic--_
_Ninety knot an hour to the Skaw!_
_Mother Rugen's tea-house on the Baltic_
_And a dance with Ella Sweyn at Elsinore!_

The clips parted with a gesture of indignant dismissal, as though
Quebec, glittering under her snows, were casting out these light and
unworthy lovers. Our signal came from the Heights. Tim turned and
floated up, but surely then it was with passionate appeal that the great
tower arms flung open--or did I think so because on the upper staging a
little hooded figure also opened her arms wide towards her father?

* * * * *

In ten seconds the coach with its clerks clashed down to the
receiving-caisson; the hostlers displaced the engineers at the idle
turbines, and Tim, prouder of this than all, i