272 



The Tevi, Nimrod and I tumbled 

 off the train late at night much 

 excited after two years to be again 

 in the woods. Much violent up- 

 rooting from home duties had been 

 required to accomplish it, but 

 the precious freedom was ours, and 

 heaven (a place where one does what 

 pleases one best) became available 

 on the twentieth of September. 



The little town of Trois Lacs 

 (butchered into "Trollak" even by 

 the Canuck natives) was already dark 

 save for the saloon, and we gladly 

 burned the midnight candle while 

 exchanging fripperies for frugalities 

 of costume and luggage in prepara- 

 tion for the early morning start. 



Once while following the econ- 

 omical and primitive method in vogue 

 at this "hotel" guiltless of plumb- 

 ing I went to the window to throw 

 out some water, when my hand was 

 stayed, barely in time, by a mascu- 

 line voice pouring out a torrent of 

 bad French, or rather a patois. Two 

 figures were standing directly below 

 in shadow: 



" You will not come. I shall dance 

 with Francois " 



