EXPEDITION UP THE GxVNDER RIVER 85 



years, and when I shook hands and addressed him in his 

 own language, a multitude of conflicting emotions seemed to 

 sweep across his face. I suppose even my bad French 

 called up a wave of happy memories of days gone by, for 

 at first his expression was one of incredulity, passing to that of 

 unrestrained delight. Then came such a rattle of the southern 

 tongue that I had some difficulty in understanding him. For 

 one dreadful moment I thought he was going to kiss me, so 

 I merely backed away and gave some orders about getting 

 our outfit into the ship's boats, for it was blowing too hard to 

 paddle across the lake to a point where it was necessary to 

 make our base for the start up the river on the following day. 



We spent a comfortable night in the woods, and next 

 morning just as we had all the outfit packed in two canoes, 

 Frank de la Barre and his son turned up to guide us up 

 stream. Our route lay through a winding channel in and 

 out of dozens of small islands, past lovely backwaters which 

 gave peeps like the Thames at Clieveden Woods. Over 

 deep holes and "steadies" we paddled, having to get out 

 and pull the canoes over many sandy bars which only held 

 enough water to float them. In this way we progressed for 

 a couple of hours, when the main stream of the Gander 

 opened itself before us, and seeing that further pilotage was 

 unnecessary I bid good-bye to Frank. 



During the first day's journey we made excellent pro- 

 gress, although the stream was certainly more rapid than 

 we had anticipated ; in fact, it was only for short spells that 

 we could get aboard and paddle. The whole river, about 

 200 yards broad, seemed to hold no deep pools or any ex- 

 cessive rapid. It was almost to its source for eighty miles 

 one level " run " over a comparatively shallow bed. Con- 

 sequently I soon went ashore and walked ahead of the canoes, 



