WATER TRAIL FROM GEORGETOWN TO AREMU. 267 



The words of the songs were delightful. One never-ending 

 refrain imparted the original and thrilling information that 



" A long time ago is a verce long lime." 



Another song was the Stevedore's Shantec. Then all 

 would break out in a wild harmony. 



" Dat citee tiotel is dc place wha I dwell, 

 Fare thee well — fare thee well — my citee hotel, 

 My citee hotel — my citee hotel." 



The one of which we never tired was all about "Salina — 

 mya dear," and we made the men sing it o^•er and over until 

 they were breathless. 



Like all negroes they were full of spirits anrl childish humor. 

 Their paddling was splendid but terribly wasteful of strength, 

 as at the end of each stroke they gave a strong upward jerk, 

 sending a shower of drops into the air. Our luggage ballyhoo 

 was sometimes abreast of us across the river and when the 

 sunlight was reflected from the eight circles of water thrown 

 into the air at each stroke, the sight was a beautiful one. 



When we returned several weeks later, the shooting of 

 these rapids was as exciting as had been the ascent. There 

 was no slow difficult paddling or dragging up of the ballyhoo, 

 but a swift shooting downward, giving fleeting views of tall 

 walls of verdure, innumerable islets, great smooth-faced rocks 

 around which our canoe slid, perilously close, her keel some- 

 times scraping the algfe on the bottom. We shot here and 

 there from side to side of the river, back and forth, guided by 

 the stolid-faced Indian in the bow. Now and then we would 

 turn completely around in order to keep to a deep channel 

 which bent on itself at an acute angle. Then a moment's 

 breathing in slack water before the men gave way again, 

 either to hold back with all their might or to put every ounce 

 of strength into their work to keep the boat steady in her 

 course, as we ran parallel to a double line of seething, 



