06 THROUGH CANADA 



like a smothered curse of baffled rage gurgled in the 

 throat of the disappointed water fiend. 



It is this sensitiveness to the paddle that makes 

 the canoe such a safe craft. An ironclad requires 

 three-fourths of a mile to turn, and the more a boat 

 draws the slower is the response to oar or helm. 

 The canoe floats light as a swan, and a touch 

 swerves it to one side or another. As long as it 

 is paddled clear of rocks and shallows, it is safe as an 

 ocean liner. 



Reclining with extended legs, the craft holds its 

 occupants in a close embrace. In places we came 

 to unexpected gravel shallows, over which the bark 

 shot at high speed. A grating sensation followed, 

 which swept down the legs and up the spine. At 

 such moments Mark jumped on to a ledge of rock or 

 into the water and pulled up in apprehension of a 

 leakage. The delicate bark, although very thin, is 

 exceedingly tough, and when we came to beach the 

 canoe scarcely a scratch showed on the bottom. 



The river glides by leafy banks, and the rapids 

 accentuate their clamour against a sounding-board of 

 thickset forest. Below Whisky Falls, the Muskoka 

 is deeper and smoother. It was at that point that 

 grateful libations to Bacchus were deemed appro- 

 priate by the old trappers. 



The wild life that is surprised along the course is 

 delightfully varied. The wood squirrel heralds our 

 approach with a noisy clatter which more closely 



