to the paddles that slashed it, and whirled it aside. On they went.
Now Oo-koo-hoo's canoe was gaining. As that brightly painted craft
gradually forged ahead, its swiftly running wake crept steadily along
the sides of the other canoes. Presently the wavelets were sounding
"whiff, whiff, whiff," as the white bows crushed them down. Then at
last his canoe broke free and lunged away, leaving all the brigade to
follow in its broadening trail. The pace was too exhausting; the
canoes strung out; but still the narrow blades slashed away, for the
portage was at hand. With dangerous speed the first canoe rushed
abreast of the landing, and just as one expected disaster the bowman
gave the word. Instantly the crew, with their utmost strength, backed
water. As the canoe came to a standstill the voyageurs rolled their
paddle-handles along the gunwales, twirling the dripping blades and
enveloping the canoe in a veil of whirling spray. Then, jumping into
the shallow water, they lined up and quickly passed the packs ashore.
The moment the cargo was transferred to the bank, the crew lifted the
great canoe off the water and turned it bottom up, while four of them
placed their heads beneath and rested the gunwales upon their
_capote_-bepadded shoulders. As they carried it off, one was reminded
of some immense antediluvian reptile crawling slowly over the portage
trail.

There was now much excitement. Other crews had arrived, and were
rapidly unloading. As the landing was over-crowded the portaging
began. Each man tied the thin, tapering ends of his tump-line--a
fifteen-foot leather strap with a broad centre--about a pack, swung it
upon his back, and, bending forward, rested its broad loop over his
head. Upon the first his companion placed two more packs; then,
stooping beneath the weight of 240 pounds, the packers at a jog-trot
set off uphill and down, over rugged rocks and fallen timber, through