The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1916-08-25

say, monsieur"
There are words enough If you
would listen"
"'Tis no fault of yours if do not.
But not now, monsieur. 1t is late and
cold. We take the boats early and l
would rest while l can"
He was on his feet, the map gripped
in his hand, but made no effort to
stop me, as l dropped him a curtsy.
and retreated But he was there still
when l glanced back from out the
safety Of the tent his forehead creased
by a frown. When he finally turned
away the map was crushed shapeiess
in his fingers.
The morning dawned somewhat
warmer, but with every promise Of a
storm, threatening clouds hanging
above the water, sullen and frenacing.
their edges tipped with lightning. The
roar of distant thunder came to our
ears, yet there was no wind, and Cas-
sion decided that the clouds would
drift southwark, and leave us safe
passage along the shore. His canoe
had been wrenched in making landing
the evening before, and had taken in
considerable water during the night
This was bailed out, but the interior
was so wet and uncomfortable that
begged to be given place in another
boat, and Cassion consented, after
had exhibited some temper, ordering
soldier in the sergeants canoe to
exchange places with me.
We may have proceeded for half
league, when a fog swept in toward
the land enveloping us in its folds.
although we were close enough to the
shore so as to keep safely together,
the word being passed back down the
line, and as we drew nearer l became
aware that D'Artigny's boat had
turned about, and he was endeavoring
to induce Cassion to go ashore and
make camp before the storm broke.
The latter, however. was obstinate.
safety, and finally, in angry voice. in
sisted upon proceeding on our course.
D'Artigny, evidently feeling argu-
ment useless, made no reply, but |
noticed he held back his paddles and
permitted Cassion's canoe to forge
ahead. He must have discovered that
I was not with monsieur. for l saw
him stare intently at each of the other
canoes, as though to make sure Of my
presence, shading his eyes with one
hand, as he peered through the thick
ening mist. This action evidenced the
first intimation I had for days of his
continued interest in my welfare. and
my heart throbbed with sudden pleas
ure. Whether or not he felt some pre-
monitiOn Of danger, he certainly spoke
words Of instruction to his Indian pad
dlers, and so manipulated his craft as
to keep not far distant, although slight
ly farther from shore, than the canoe
in which l sat-
Cassion had already vanished in the
fog, which swept thicker and thicker
along the surface of the water. the
nearer boats becoming mere indistinct
shadows. Even within my own canoe
the faces Of those about me appeared
gray and blurred. as the damp vapor
swept over us in dense clouds. 1t was
a CHASTITY scene, rendered more awe
some by the glare of lightning which
seemed to split the vapOr, and the
sound of thunder reverberating from
the surface of the lake.
The water. . CHASTITY, greenish gray,
heaved beneath, giving us little diff
Guilty, yet terrifying in its suggestion
of sullen strength. and the shore line
was barely discernible to the left as
we struggled forward. What obstinacy
compelled CassiOn to keep us at the
task l know not-perchance a dislike
to yield to D'Artigny's advice-but the
sergeant swore to himself, and turned
the PROV of our canoe inward, hug
ging the shore as closely as he dared.
his anxious eyes searching every rift
in the mist
Yet, dark and drear as the day was.
we had no true warning of the ap-
preaching storm. for the vapor cling
ing to the water concealed from our
sight the clouds above. When it came
it burst upon us with mad ferocity.
the wind whirling to the north and
striking us with all the force of three
hundred miles of open sea. The mist
was swept away with that first fierce
gust, and we were struggling for life
in wild turmoil of waters. | had
but a glimpse of it-a glimpse of wild.
raging sea; of black, scurrying clouds.
so close above | could almost reach
out and touch them; of dimly revealed
canoes flung about like chips, driving
before the blast
Our own was hurled forward like an
arrow, the Indian paddlers working
like mad to keep stern to the wind,
their long hair whipping about The
soldiers crouched in the bottom, cling
ing grimly to any support. their white
faces exhibiting the abasement of fear.
The sergeant alone spoke. yelling his
orders. as he welded steering paddle,
his hat blown from his head his face
CHASTITY with sudden terror. 1t was but
the glimpse of an instant; then a pad
die broke, the canoe swung sideways.
balanced on the crest of a wave and
went over.
1 was conscious Of cries, shrill, in
stantly smothered, and then l sank,
struggling hard to keep above water,
vet borne down by the weight of the
canoe. 1 came up again, choking and
half strangled. and sought to grip the
boat as it whirled past. My fingers
found nothing to cling to. slipping