Waterbury evening Democrat., 1904-01-12

the fber-rastened thwarts, fairly yielded to the rush of the waves as the stalwart paddlers sent 1t flying forward. A tiny blur of white showed about the bows, and now and then a splash of spray came inboard, or some little curling white cap was divided by the rush of the swiftly moving prov.
 We shall not arrive too soon, my friend rejoined the captain of the voyageurs, casting an eye back across the great lake, which lay black and ominous against 8 threatening sky, the sweep and swirl of it's white caps eyer 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 4@or paddle. They were alone, these travellers. Be- fore them, at the entrance of the wid 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 so alluring and so unknown. The eyes of all were fixed on the low, white fronted bluffs, crowned by dark for est growth, which guarded the bay at either hand. This spot, so wild. so remote, so signifcant-it was home for much, too, for Law and the woman who lay back, pale-faced and Wild-eyed, 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 imposing 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 peb- bles, so that it's tender shell might not be damaged. Law himself was as soon as they in the water, and he waded back along the gunwale until he &VeASAAOA SA40 *SGCA AAs SAAC " e1ICA 4AO144J. 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 ut tered few sharp words of semi-com- mand to the Indian woman, who had been seated on the floor of the canoe, and she. without protest, crawled for ward over the thwarts and the heaped bundles until she reached the bow, and then went ankle deep into the creaming flood. The great canoe, left empty and anchored safe from the pebbles of the beach, tossed light as cork on the incoming waves.
 A little open space was quickly found at the edge of the cove in which the disembarkation was made, and here Du Mesne and his followers soon kicked away the tWigs, and .r1eveled out smooth place upon the grass. Each man produced from his belt a broad-bladed knife, and for the mo- ment disappeared in the deep fringe of evergreens which lined the shore. Fairly in the tWinkling of an eye a frame of bent poles was made, above which were spread strips of unrolled birch bark from the cargo of the ca noe. Over the spaces left uncovered by the supply of bark sheets there were laid down long mats made by Indian hands from dried reeds and bulrushes, affording no inconsiderable protection against the weather. Inside the lodge, bales of goods and packages of pro- visions were quickly arranged in com. fortahle fashion. Gaudy blankets were spread upon layers of soft skins of the buffalo. The Indian woman had