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"Is it to halloo ye want me?" replied Bryan, rising. "Shure the great gun of Athlone itself could niver hold a candle to ye, Massan, at yellin'; but I'll try, anyhow;" and putting his hands to his mouth he gave forth a roar compared to which Massan's was nothing.
A loud peal of laughter greeted Massan's graphic explanation of the forcible manner in which he had prevented the Irishman from throwing himself into the river. The party now turned earnestly to the more serious duties of the journey. Already too much time had been lost in this "playing themselves with fish," as Stanley expressed it, and it behoved them to embark as speedily as possible.
Had there been any wood on the island, Massan's quick knife would have soon fashioned new ribs; as it was, he had to make the best job he could, by splicing the old ones with several pieces abstracted from Frank's little canoe. It was sunset before all was put in complete order, the goods repacked, and placed in readiness for a start at daybreak on the following morning.
This was a more troublesome job than they expected, but being accustomed not only to mend but to make canoes, they worked with a degree of skill and diligence that speedily put all to rights. In Massan's canoe there was a hole large enough, as Bryan remarked, to stick his head through, though it was a "big wan, an' no mistake."
But Massan's sociable disposition came in the way of this plan, and the thought of leading a solitary life always induced him to forego it.
"Oui, monsieur," replied Massan, as he turned on his heel and walked away. "Parbleu! we shall indeed start to morrow, an it please you, if all the ice and wind in the polar regions was blowed down the coast and crammed into the river's mouth. C'est vrai!" Stanley's forebodings and Massan's prognostications proved partly incorrect on the following morning.
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