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The canoe had now caught its speed. Conjuror's House was dropping astern. The rhythm of the song quickened as the singers told of how the king's son had aimed at the black duck but killed the white. "Ah fils du roi, tu es mechant, En roulant ma boule, Toutes les plumes s'en vont au vent, Rouli roulant, ma boule roulant." "Way wik! way wik!" commanded Me-en-gan, sharply, from the bow.
He could hear Dick's clear tenor from the bow. "Here, confound it! Quit it, I say!" he said aloud savagely. "En roulant ma boule roulant," in a clear strong voice came the old song from around the bend. The doctor almost dropped his paddle into the stream. "Heavens above!" he muttered. "What's that? Who's that?" "Visa la noir, tua le blanc, Rouli roulant, ma boule roulant," sang the voice.
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