camps, and parks which seemed like large villages, they had come. Sometimes they had passed close to the shore in places where the channel was almost like a mill-race in its swiftness, and then again they were out in the river where only an eddy here and there indicated the tremendous power of the great water, on whose surface they were sailing. Wooded islands had been seen, and then islands which appeared to be only great rocks and boulders loomed up before them. Camping parties like their own had been passed, and salutes had been fired to acknowledge their approach. Men and women, boys and girls, had all seemed to catch something of the life of the great river, and on every side there appeared to be the joy which came from the freedom from care and the life-giving breezes of the majestic St. Lawrence.

Only Jock, of the party, had ever been there before, and in the novelty and delight of the experience, his companions had, perhaps, failed to be duly impressed by the sceptical sentiments of their boatman. At all events, when Ethan declared that the camp was in sight, even his own presence became vague and unreal as the boys peered eagerly before them at the place where they were to stay for the coming six weeks, and where doubtless many and thrilling experiences were to be theirs.