Sept. 12, 1908.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
437 
KELLUP’S CANOE. 
Toward the latter end of winter Kellup dis¬ 
appeared after supper almost every night, and 
presently you might have noticed a light in the 
woodshed. Try the door though, and your 
rattle would only provoke a louder pounding 
within. Even his old friend Sammy Calhoun 
possessed no “open sesame” and had to betake 
himself to the house. “What’s the old man up 
to now?” 
“I’m not supposed to know;” and Susan 
shook her head solemnly at the work in her lap. 
Presently Sam picked up a book from the 
floor full of cuts of boat models. Then he 
reached another from the sewing machine and 
found it treating of “Canoes and Canoeists.” 
“Aha!” This was long drawn out. “A-ha! 
Now I know what he’s building,” I said 
accusingly. “His time o’ life, too.” This last 
in a deprecating tone. 
“I know it,” sighed Susan, “I’ve been through 
all that; but what do you suppose he says?” 
and she looked up quick at Sammy with big 
eyes and her lips set tight. “What do you sup¬ 
pose he says—says Nessmuk was older than me 
when he quit paddling. All I’m afraid is he’ll 
want to sleep in it nights, or under it out in the 
yard, and catch his death. This is a flannel shirt 
I’m making him now.” 
By the look on her face Sam thought she 
might be making him a shroud. “Yes,” he said, 
“he’ll probably sleep in it. I expect that’s what 
he wants it for. There’s no water nearby.” 
Then he said he guessed he’d be going, but he 
would be on hand on Fourth of July evening, be¬ 
cause Susan said that was Kellup’s next holi¬ 
day and he had engaged a man to haul the boat 
to a little river out in the country. 
On Monday evening Sam dropped in about 
8 o’clock and found Kellup sitting there with 
his sleeves rolled up rubbing vaseline on his 
arms—a pair of thin, sinewy arms. 
“HNlo, Caleb! Where’d you get such a color 
as that?” 
Kellup commenced to smile. First a little 
round the mouth, then a set of wrinkles took it 
up and communicated to others till presently 
the whole furrowed, beardless countenance was 
covered with smiles. “Sammy?” then he 
stopped and took his knee in his hands and it 
looked as if he was going to start another 
smile, but he checked it and finished his sen¬ 
tence. “Did you ever go canoeing?” Sam said 
no, and intimated that a steamboat would suit 
him better. 
“Well, well, every man to his taste. When I 
launched her down in the meadows she was 
pretty cranky at first, and I was wishing I was 
somewhere else and expecting to be in a 
minute. She kept poking her nose in the reeds 
on both sides, and finally climbed up on a 
brown, slimy log just under the surface and 
hung wobbling. I coaxed and coaxed and at 
last she slid off like an alligator.” 
“Big river, Caleb?” 
“No, just about wide enough for three barges 
abreast. Well, I trained her out of the meadow 
into a thick, swampy wood with grapevines 
hanging from tall trees and trailing in the 
water and the underbrush thick as a hedge and 
dripping in the river, too, and Sam, I tell you 
with the current deep and slow and all shut in 
like that it seemed like, like—well, like floating 
on a tropical inundation.” 
“See any game along?” 
“Well, no. Saw a watersnake wriggling over 
the surface toward the leafage, and by and by 
coming around a bend I surprised a chipmunk 
on his way to drink; and what do you suppose 
his way was? Why, a big old chestnut leaned 
out from the bank and dropped a limb till the 
water rippled up against his elbows, and that 
was his pathway. The little rascal chattered at 
me. But. by George, Sammy, I wish you could 
have seen the quiet cove I came to. I just lay 
there watching the brown scum on the surface, 
a kind or pollen scum, that left the current and 
came slowly round the bend to trace an intri¬ 
cate scroll work among the.yellow lilies. Pretty 
soon I got on a move with the double paddle, 
slowly, slow-ly, till I got pretty close, and then 
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