THE THRESHOLD OF THE GODS. 79 



sure, that starting from the guide s cabin we 

 had walked over a high ridge, almost a moun 

 tain, following for our way a zigzag path or 

 trail that led us back and forth among vast 

 fragments of variegated granite under wide- 

 spreading boughs of low cedar trees. Now, 

 however, we stood on the bank of a little river 

 whose water crept past us in a slow but re 

 markably limpid tide as clear as glass, into 

 which I gazed with an indistinct vision, and 

 feeling a vague sense of the strangeness of 

 everything about me. A pirogue lay moored 

 at our feet. The guide motioned me to get in. 

 I obeyed at once, but had time in so doing to 

 note how old and frail, indeed how rotten the 

 boat appeared to be. The guide accidentally 

 tossed the pipe-ashes from his hand down upon 

 one of the gunwales where they seemed natu 

 rally to disappear, mingling with the loose 

 mould and minute fungi of the decaying wood. 

 In this frail vessel we purposed passing over a 

 dangerous rapid of the stream some distance 

 below ; for it was the spirit of adventure had 

 brought me here. I was in no condition, how 

 ever, to realize the possibilities of the step I 

 was about to take. I shook myself, rubbed 

 my eyes and strove to get rid of this hazy 

 mood ; but succeeded only when the guide by 

 a vigorous paddle-stroke sent us straight out 

 to the stream s middle. Then I began to feel 

 naturally and fell to making a close study of 

 the guide and the boat. 



What a taciturn, grimly selfish-looking fel 

 low the man was ! His face was not a bad 

 one, however, and his form was ease and 

 strength incarnate. You could not guess 

 such a man s age. Not a gray hair on his head, 



