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It was not considered worth while even to watch him. Should he escape, unarmed as he was, sure death by starvation awaited him in the land of dread. As he entered the settlement he struck up an air. "Le fils du roi s'en va chassant, En roulant ma boule, Avec son grand fusil d'argent, Rouli roulant, ma boule roulant."

Baptiste stepped out to look at the sky. "Come," he cried, returning. "We can stop now, it is growing gray in the east, almost morning." "But not yet," said Nataline; "we must wait for the first red. A few more turns. Let's finish it up with a song." She shook her head and piped up the refrain of the old Canadian chanson: "En roulant ma boule-le roulant En roulant ma bou-le."

"The chances of war." "And they have defeated you after all." "I shall start on la Longue Traverse singing 'Rouli roulant. It's a small defeat, that. "Listen," said she, rapidly. "When I was quite a small girl Mr. McTavish, of Rupert's House, gave me a little rifle. I have never used it, because I do not care to shoot.

He suddenly interrupted himself, and his voice rolled out in a wild chant that rocked the cabin. "The wind is fresh, the wind is free, En roulant ma boule! The wind is fresh my love waits me, Rouli, roulant, ma boule roulant! Behind our house a spring you see, In it three ducks swim merrily, And hunting, the Prince's son went he, With a silver gun right fair to see " David was conscious that St.

Upon a point below the first rapids of the Little Manitou they waited with their camp-fires burning and their pipe of peace. When the canoes bearing Oshondonto and his voyageurs shot the rapids to the song of the river, "En roulant, ma boule roulant, En roulant, ma boule!"

"My snow-white drake, my love, my King, The crimson life-blood stains his wing. "His golden bill sinks on his breast, His plumes go floating east and west "En roulant ma boule: Rouli, roulant, ma boule roulant, En roulant ma boule roulant, En roulant ma boule!" As she finished the song we rounded an angle in the Whi-Whi.

The Canadian melodies are sometimes very beautiful, and a more exhilarating mode of travel can hardly be imagined than a voyage over these waters, amid all the wild magnificence of nature, with the measured strokes of the oar keeping time to the strains of "Le Rosier Blanc," "En roulant ma Boule," or "Lève ton pied, ma jolie Bergère."

Almost immediately a window slid back, and an exasperated voice cried out: "Hola dere, w'at one time dam fool you for mak' de sing so late!" The voice went on imperturbably: "Avec son grand fusil d'argent, En roulant ma boule, Visa le noir, tua le blanc, Rouli roulant, ma boule roulant." "Sacre!" shrieked the habitant. "Hello, Johnny Frenchman!" called Ned Trent, in his acid tones. "That you?

In the midst the Basin of Neptune, glittering and shining, and with its white statues, seemed to inspire him with a happy suggestion, and he trolled to himself a ballad with a nonsensical chorus, popular in his native land "Behind the manor lies the mere, En roulant, ma boulë; Three fair ducks skim its water clear. En roulant, ma boulë roulant. En roulant, ma boulë.

En roulant ma boule, Rouli, roulant, ma boule roulant, En roulant ma boule roulant, En roulant ma boule, was changed to the pathetic refrain of a song then as now dear to the heart of French Canadians A la claire fontaine. In the cool twilight the men paddled on, placing mile after mile between them and Montreal. Presently the river widened into a lakelike expanse.