A CLOSE CALL 143 



we couldn't blame them. We got into the canoes 

 again and paddled briskly until we saw a welcome 

 light shining ahead at the Halfway House. This 

 house is built away up on a clay bank, and set far 

 enough back from the river to prevent the Spring and 

 Fall floods from washing it away. Now a steep, 

 clayey bank on a night when the water is pouring 

 down is not a nice one for a lot of half-frozen, half- 

 drowned men to clamber up. We slid and slipped 

 here and there, now down and now up, until we were 

 well-covered with clay ; but we were cheerful withal, 

 and that's a great deal towards contentment. We at 

 last reached the house, had our baggage brought in, 

 and to our disgust found everything was wet — over- 

 coats, blankets, underclothes, negatives, etc., etc. A 

 big fire was built in a big stove. We ate supper, 

 hung our wet clothes around the fire, emptied all of 

 our luggage sacks and hung the contents of them 

 upon the chairs and benches as well as upon the wall. 

 After this task we went to bed and were soon wrapt 

 in the sweet sleep that comes to all men who labor in 

 the open air and know how to make the best of storm 

 or cold or any other of Nature's unpleasant pranks 

 which she may be pleased to play upon them. 



At half -past three the next morning we tumbled 

 out of bed, ate a hasty breakfast of bread and butter 

 and bacon and coffee, repacked all our things in their 

 proper sacks, carried them down and placed them in 



