The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1902-10-28
En- roulant ma boule, roulant,
ROulant, rOuler, ma boule rOulant.

The ictus Of the measure marked time
for the sweeping paddles, and under the
added impetus the paper shell, reinforced
as it was by close-laid splints of cedar,
and braced by the fiber fastened thwarts,
fairly yielded to the rush of the waves
as the stalwart paddlers sent 1t flying
forward. A tiny blur Of white showed
splash of spray came inboard, as some
little curling white cap was divided by
the rush of the swiftly moving prov.
I'VE shall not arrive too soon, my
FRIEND" rejoined the captain of the voy-
ageurs, casting an eye back across the
great lake, which lay black and ominous
under a threatening sky, the sweep and
swirl Of it's white caps ever racing hard
after the frail craft, as though eager
to break through it's paper sides and
tear away the human beings who thus
fled on so lightly.
This boat, mysteriously appearing as
though it were some spirit craft called
from the ancient deeps was far from the
beginning of it's wild journey. Wide as
The eye might reach there arose no f1eck
of snowy canvas, nor showed the dark
line of any similar craft propelled by oar
or paddle. They were alone, these trav-
elers. Before them, at the entrance
Of the wide arm Of the great lake
Michiganon, lay the point even at
that early day known as the Door
Of the West the beginning of the winding
waterway which led on into the interior
Of that west, then 50 alluring and un-
known. The eyes Of al were fixed on the
low, white fronted bluffs, crowned by dark
forest growth, which guarded the bay at
either hand. This spot SO wild, so re-
mote, so signihcant-it was home for these
voyageurs as much as any; as much, too
for Law and the woman who lay back,
pale faced and wideeyed, . among the
bales In the great canoe.
In time the graceful craft approached
the beach, on which the long waves rolled
and curled, now gently, now with impos-
ing force. With the water yet half-leg
deep, Du Mesne and two of the paddlers
sprang bodily overheard and held the boat
back from the pebbles, so that its tender
shell might not be damaged. Law him
self was as soon as they In the. water,
and he waded back along the gunWale
until he reached the stern, the water
nearly up to his hips. Reaching out his
arms, he picked up Mary Connynge from
her seat and carried her dryshod ashore,
bending down to catch some whispered
word. Not so gallant was Du Mesne, the
leader of the VOyageurs. He uttered a
few short words Of semf-command to the
Indian woman, who had been seated on
the floor of the canoe, and she, without
protest, crawled forward over the thWarts
and the heaped bundles until she reached
the bow, and then went ankle deep into
the Dreaming flood The great canoe, left
empty and anchored safe from the pebbles
Of the beach, tossed light as a cork on the
incoming waves.
A little open space was quickly found at
the edge of the cove in which the disem-
barkation was made, and here Du Mesne
and his followers soon kicked away the
twigs and leveled out a smooth place upon
the grass. Each man produced from his
belt a broad-bladed knife, and for. the
moment disappeared in the deep fringe OF
evergreens which lined the shore. Fairly
in the twinkling of eye rude frame of
bent poles was made above which were
spread strips of unrolled birch bark from
left uncovered by the supply of bark
sheets there were laid down long mats
make by Indian hands from dried reeds
and bulrushes, affording no inconsiderable
protection against the weather. Inside
the lodge, bales of goods and packages of
provisions were quickly arranged in COM
Portable fashion. Gaudy blankets were
spread upon layers of soft skins of the
buffalo. The Indian woman had meantime
struck a fire, whose faint blue smoke
curled lakeward in the soft evening air.
Quickly, and with the system Of expert
enced campaigners, the evening bivouac
had been prepared; and wildly picturesque
it must have seemed to a bystander had
there been indeed any possible spectator
with many leagues.
(To be continued Tomorrow