A VOYAGE IN THE DARK 



Slang, as we passed these oddly named 

 tributaries of Little Otter. 



At last I sniffed the fragrance of 

 cedars and heard the wash of waves on 

 the southward-slanted shore of Garden 

 Island, and these informed me we were 

 at the lake. In confirmation thereof 

 was the testimony of my companions, 

 given out of their light to my darkness, 

 of an eagle's royal progress through his 

 ethereal realm, making inspection of his 

 disputed earthly possession. I was glad 

 to know that his majesty had escaped 

 the republican regicides who haunt the 

 summer shores. 



We made a difficult landing on the 

 mainland, on the oozy shore of mixed 

 sawdust and mud, and followed the old 

 trail to the old camping ground under 

 the rocks, a place full of pleasant memo- 

 ries for the elder two of our trio, and of- 

 fering to the boy the charms of freshness 

 and discovery. For him the cliff tow- 

 ered skyward but little below the eagle's 

 flight ; its tiny caves were unexplored 

 mysteries, their coral-beaded curtains of 

 Canada yew and delicate netting of 

 mountain-fringe strange foreign growths. 

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