250) CRANBERRY LAKE. — THE OSWEGATCHlE. 



to our surprise, we found we were in for it and could do 

 no other way than go ahend. Our small boat would have 

 swamped in an instant if we had attempted to turn back or 

 change our course. 



The wind followed us squarel3\ and, the further Ave went 

 into the open water, the harder it blew. My guide sat in 

 the stern and I in the bow, each with a paddle, wh le our 

 luggage occupied the middle of the little thirty-eight-pound 

 Rushton boat. Young said, "I think we'll go through 

 safe, — but don't get scared if water comes into the boat, — 

 it takes a good deal of water to drown a boat!" That cer- 

 tainly, in the circumstances, was encouraging. I answ^ered, 

 through the gale, (in a rather heroic vein, I confess) " Tell 

 me the truth, whatever happens, and what to do, and I'll do 

 it; — I never lose my head in emergencies." That w^as 

 about all we said, as the wind howled and drove us along 

 up and dovvn and through the hillocks of increasing and 

 foam-crested waves. Never did boatmen handle the pad- 

 dle with more skill than did Ed. Young, as we tore along 

 through the convulsed and raging waters. There were 

 times when a false stroke would have left us at the mercy 

 of the gale; but the brave, steady-nerved little fellow 

 seemed to have eyes all around his head, and knew the ap- 

 proach of every unusual wave, and how to prevent its 

 burying us as in a deluge. The staunch little craft shook 

 and trembled and quivered, from end to end, under the buf- 

 feting of the cruel waters, but responded to Young's paddle 

 as if it had been a part of his body and his nerves ran all 

 along through its delicate frame. There was no Ciesar 



