Alexander Murray. 83 
any spot Mr. Murray might indicate after he had landed. 
Murray told him that he was to move the staff to which- 
ever side he might wave his hat. ‘ C’est bien, Monsieur,”’ 
sail the voyageur, as he pushed off in his canoe. The first 
position he selected not suiting Mr. Murray, the latter took 
off his hat and waved him the pre-arranged signal. The 
man had evidently misunderstood, for while continuing to 
hold the disc-staff in a provokingly negligé style, he took 
off his own hat and waved it most gracefully to the same 
side. This made Murray furious, and he signalled wildly 
with his hat to the other side. The man changed hands on 
the staff and waved more elegantly than even on the cor- 
responding side. Words failed Murray for the occasion, 
and, gasping for breath, he handed the micrometer to some 
one near him and ran for his rifle. The voyageur wore his 
Sunday coat, a light alpaca. It was hanging open from 
his shoulders and blown a little way out from his body. 
With a steady hand Murray sent a bullet through the 
fluttering coat-tails, which evidently gave the man a jerk at 
the instant he heard the crack of the rifle, for he dropped 
the staff, exclaiming, ‘‘ Mon Dieu, je suis tué.” 
A cold bath every morning was regarded by Murray as 
more essential than his prayers, and no matter how incle- 
ment the weather might be, or how inconveniently his tent 
might happen to be pitched for getting at the water, he 
would never allow the cold, rain or wind, or such obstacles 
as a marsh, a jam of driftwood or the tangled brush, to 
prevent him reaching deep water and enjoying his “ dip.” 
Late in the autumn, after the snow had whitened the 
ground and the ice was forming around the shores, he still 
continued the practice with unabated rigor. Cleanliness 
was a sort of hobby with him, and he had a very poor 
Opinion of anyone who did not ‘‘tub” with reasonable 
regularity. When on an exploratory “traverse” in the 
woods, if a river or a narrow lake lay across his course, he 
would not hesitate to plunge in and swim to the other side 
rather than lose time in making a raft, as most explorers 
do under such circumstances. 
