MIGRATION AT MILLAIS'S LAKE 67 



threatening, though it didn't come, and a' hed to haul off 

 to send two o' the men back for some grub. Then when 

 the men come they was dead beat, so a' went on all 

 through de night wi' Sandy. 'Twas most surprisin' the dis- 

 tance that ole man travelled — the further he went each day, 

 the faster he goes towards evenin'. Sometimes we found 

 where he'd made great springs like a scared rabbit, and a' 

 see by-and-by a' warn't followin' no sensible man, but 

 one just crazy wi' fear. It was curious to see how he'd 

 crossed three lumber roads an' took no notice: he'd gone 

 just straight ahead and reeved through the thickest places. 

 Towards morning a' see we's goin' to have weather. Soon 

 there comes a slight ruffle o' snow, and a' thought 'twas all 

 up, for a' would hardly see trail. When daylight came a' 

 was tired, and Sandy, though younger than me, says he 

 can't go no further, or we'd be dead too, as we got no 

 more grub ; but just then a' finds where ole man had lay 

 down and slept, and he ain't got up and gone on more'n 

 an hour. So a' says to Sandy to cheer up, fer de ole man 

 must be 'bout wore out, and must drop soon. 



" 'T warn't long before we come to the edge o' the 

 forest, an' lookin' across de mesh a' seen de old man Noah 

 walkin' along slowly, slowly, an' usin' a long pole fer a 

 walkin' stick. Down our Bay, sir, we've got a picter of 

 an old Yankee feller called Rip van Winkle, an' when a' 

 looks up and seen de ole man Noah, wi' bent back and 

 snow-white hair and beard, dodderin' 'long, and resting on 

 his long stick, wi' his clothes all tore to rags, a' thinks it's 

 just old Rip came to Newfun'lan'. When we come up to 

 'un, we seen he ain't got no hat, and his clothes was most 

 tore to rags, and a' tell you he looked wild. 'E didn't 

 know his son Sandy at all, but when a'd give 'im a sup o' 



