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For the cat it is quick yes; but for the man it is long; and I am still young only thirty-one. "But the third day, m'sieu' the third day was the worst. It was a day of sadness, a day of the bad chance. The demoiselle Meelair was not content but that we should leap the Rapide des Cedres in canoe. It was rough, rough all feather-white, and the big rock at the corner boiling like a kettle.
In the still water at the mouth of the Riviere Mistook, just above the Rapide aux Cedres, we went ashore on a level wooded bank to make our first camp and cook our dinner. Let me try to sketch our men as they are busied about the fire.
"How is it that it was not ruined in the capsize at Coteau des Cedres?" Menard asked. "It was preserved by a miracle, M'sieu. This bundle did not leave the canoe." The voyageurs, still lounging in the clearing, were laughing and talking noisily. The Captain, after he had prepared the maid's couch, and bade her good-night, called to them to be quiet.
He read the river like a book. He loved it. He also respected it. He knew it too well to take liberties with it. The camp, that June, was beside the Rapide des Cedres. A great ledge stretched across the river; the water came down in three leaps, brown above, golden at the edge, white where it fell.
Our camp was shifted, the second week, to the Grand Lac des Cedres; and there we had extraordinary fortune with the trout: partly, I conjecture, because there was only one place to fish, and so Patrick's uneasy zeal could find no excuse for keeping me in constant motion all around the lake. But in the matter of weather we were not so happy.
I took my passage in a Durham boat, bound for Kingston, which started the next day. We had hard work poling up the rapids. I found I had fallen in with a rough set of customers, and determined in my own mind to leave them as soon as possible, which I happily effected the next evening when we landed at Les Cedres. Here the great Otawa pours its mighty stream into the St.
During the next day they passed on up the stream to the Coteau des Cedres. Menard and Father Claude were both accustomed to take the rapid without carrying, or even unloading, but Danton looked at the swirling water with doubt in his eyes.
"How about that time he cut loose the jam of logs in the Rapide des Cedres?" said old Girard from his corner. Vaillantcoeur's black eyes sparkled and he twirled his mustache fiercely. "SAPRIE!" he cried, "that was nothing! Any man with an axe can cut a log. But to fight that is another affair. That demands the brave heart. The strong man who will not fight is a coward.
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