In spite of my feeling, I know it began quickly to hasten the
life-currents that bore me on. And I say, in tender remembrance of
those very dear to me, I had never a more delightful time than when
I sat by the new fireside with all my clan,--its number as yet
undiminished,--or went roistering in wood or field with the younger
children.

The day came when D'ri and I were to meet the ladies. We started
early that morning of the 12th. Long before daylight we were
moving rapidly down-river in our canoes.

I remember seeing a light flash up and die away in the moonlit mist
of the river soon after starting.

"The boogy light!" D'ri whispered. "There 't goes ag'in!"

I had heard the river folk tell often of this weird thing--one of
the odd phenomena of the St. Lawrence.

"Comes alwus where folks hev been drownded," said D'ri. "Thet
air's what I've hearn tell."

It was, indeed, the accepted theory of the fishermen, albeit many
saw in the boogy light a warning to mark the place of forgotten
murder, and bore away.

The sun came up in a clear sky, and soon, far and wide, its light
was tossing in the rippletops. We could see them glowing miles
away. We were both armed with sabre and pistols, for that river
was the very highway of adventure in those days of the war.