4i6 



RECREATION. 



my way to mar the most cheerful dispo- 

 sition. Heavens! 1 wasn't exactly a mur- 

 derer just because I wanted the boys to 

 take a rather risky trip. 



We rode 6 miles up the valley along a 

 winding mountain road whose sides were 

 lined with hemlock and laurel and the 

 beautiful pink and white blossoms of the 

 rhododendron. At Mast Hope, a pretty 

 little hamlet nestling down among the hills, 

 we carried the canoe down to the water 

 and prepared for our momentous voyage. 

 Well pleased with ourselves we pushed off 

 and- went floating down the river. I 

 admit that I recall some slight misgiving, 

 some foreboding of evil, but it was so far 

 in the background that it seemed vague. 

 Besides, I was eager for this trip. 



There was a long stretch of water which 

 was deep and swift, and there it was de- 

 lightful, sailing along so smoothly, for 

 where there were no deceitful stones hid- 

 ing their ugly noses under a riffle we had 

 no difficulty; but the easy, gliding motion 

 of the canoe, the limpid waters, the blue 

 sky studded with fleecy white clouds, and 

 the thickly wooded mountains rising grand- 

 ly on either side, although they were glori- 

 ous, did not entirely lull me into a sense 

 of repose. I knew the river. I knew that 

 it was 5 feet higher than usual and in 

 places must be a raging torrent. Cedar 

 and Reddy had forgotten their complaining 

 in the keen pleasure of the moment. They 

 laughed and chatted and waved their hands 

 at the lone fisherman whom we met coming 

 along the river and who stopped to shout 

 a warning word. I am sorry to state that 

 this large assortment of ginger lasted the 

 boys only a brief spell. 



We got through the first rapid. I can not 

 give an adequate description of what hap- 

 pened because all I can recall is a confused 

 impression of roaring waters, of black 

 rocks, a bobbing red object, which I have 

 since reasoned out must have been Reddy's 

 head; then an awful bump and something 

 enveloped us like a huge wet blanket. Af- 

 terward I found myself standing on a stone 

 and holding to the canoe, which was half 

 full of vvater. There was an awful pain 

 in my leg and looking down I saw a nasty 

 bruise on my shin. Cedar looked rather 

 queer; quite like a man I had seen just after 

 he had been hit by an automobile. He was 

 wagging his head and muttering to himself 

 as he wrung the water out of his shirt. 

 Reddy was quiet and intense. Presently 

 he expressed himself. 



"I'll walk ! I will never go over the falls 



in that d d paper thing. I'll go down 



below and take your picture as you go over 

 and I will have it framed and labeled, 

 'In Memoriam.'" 



"Cedar, Westcolang falls are just around 

 that bend," I said, as we watched Rerldy 



depart. "Listen! Do you hear that roar? 

 1 am going over those falls in the canoe. 

 Once is enough, but 1 am going once. Are 

 you gamer" 



"I'm there, Doc. You are not going 

 alone," was all he said. 



A sharp turn in the stream, and that is 

 one of the most fascinating things about 

 canoeing, the ignorance and uncertainty as 

 to what lies before you; a roar of waters, 

 a quickening of the current until we are 

 fairly flying, warn us that we are at the 

 head of Westcolang rapids, famous for 

 their beauty, more famous for their fine 

 fishing, but most famous for their deceiv- 

 ing currents and cruel rocks. Here many 

 fatal accidents have occurred. It is only 

 the ioth of July and already this month 2 

 venturesome canoeists have met their death 

 in these seething waters. But of this I did 

 not think at that moment. 



I saw that perhaps ioo yards below, the 

 river seemed to drop out of sight, and I 

 had a funny tightening around my heart as 

 I saw the smoky mist, the spray flying up, 

 and the snowy tips of some white crested 

 waves. No time to turn and reach the 

 shore ! I stood up for one brief moment 

 and tried to get the lay of the best water ; 

 then gripped the paddle with a firmer hand 

 and shouted an encouraging word to Cedar 



Dead ahead was the worst place along 

 the river, rendered doubly perilous by rea- 

 son of the high water. There was nothing 

 to do but keep the canoe's head straight un- 

 til we entered the rapids. We seemed an 

 age covering that short distance. A reck- 

 lessness had come over me ; fever had 

 roused my blood and I would have steered 

 the canoe over the Grand Discharge of the 

 Saguenay with as litle hesitation. It is this 

 feeling that makes canoeing so fatal. 



We were shooting straight for 2 immense 

 boulders which guarded the channel. Bare- 

 ly a dozen feet separated them. A long 

 smooth incline of water led to the big 

 stones. The canoe dipped as we went over 

 the head of this incline and then sped like 

 an arrow toward what seemed sure destruc- 

 tion. We were flying with almost the 

 quickness of light toward that roar of tumb- 

 ling waters. Cedar turned around and his 

 face was as white as a sheet. He yelled 

 something but I could not hear his voice. 



I fixed my gaze on that narrow space, 

 then only a few rods away. Though that 

 channel alone lay safety. The canoe was 

 out of line with this clear space and was 

 going direct for the larger stone around 

 which the water surged madly as if resent- 

 i ig an obstacle. When within a few yards 

 . gave a quick, powerful stroke with the 

 paddle and we shaved the rock and shot 

 over the fall. 



For what seemed an endless time all was 

 roar and bouncing white caps and flying 

 spray and then we floated into a placid 



