260 BAT OF CHALEUE. 



Given an axe, and the old backwoodsman is never at a 

 loss for a ship. His last resource is a catamaran not 

 a luxurious craft, it is true, but beautiful from its sim- 

 plicity. Two dry logs of equal length, laid parallel to 

 each other, and about 18 inches apart, are securely joined 

 at both ends by stout crossbars. Over these a few slabs 

 are laid as a deck or seat. Individually I object to cata- 

 marans, my experience of them being anything but 

 pleasing. It happened on one occasion that I had been 

 watching beaver in a brook, and having delayed too long, 

 I only just managed at nightfall, on my homeward tracks, 

 to reach the bank of a big river, on which, but some miles 

 lower down, was my camp. There was no moon, and to 

 walk any farther in the dark, hampered as I was with two 

 beaver, was impossible, so I lit a fire with the intention of 

 remaining where I was till morning. Whilst collecting 

 wood for the night I chanced upon an old catamaran, 

 which caused me to change my mind, and, lashing my 

 gun and beaver to it, I started homewards. For the first 

 mile or so I poked cautiously along close to the bank; 

 but by-and-by, waxing bolder, I launched into the centre 

 of the stream, and floated down gaily at the rate of 7 or 

 8 miles an hour. All of a sudden, over the wash and 

 surging of the river, I heard a suspicious noise as of a 

 waterfall right ahead. In vain I tried to stop my craft 

 the stream was too strong; and through the darkness 

 I could perceive white water in front of me. In a 

 moment the foremost end of my catamaran shot over 

 a sheer pitch of about 2 feet, and the hinder end, on 

 which I stood, striking against the ledge, I was shot 

 head foremost over my unmanageable charger's head. It 



