canoe, went down to look at it with Oliver. They pushed it off, and
floated two or three miles down the stream, hauling it on the shore past
the fallen fir tree, and then, with a cord, towed it back again. The
canoe, with the exception of the trifling deficiency alluded to, was a
good one, and thoroughly serviceable.

They endeavoured again to restore Felix's opinion of it, and an idea
occurring to Philip, he said a capital plan would be to add an
outrigger, and so balance it perfectly. But though usually quick to
adopt ideas when they were good, in this case Felix was too much out of
conceit with himself. He would listen to nothing. Still, he could not
banish it from his mind, though now ashamed to return to it after so
obstinately refusing all suggestions. He wandered aimlessly about in the
woods, till one day he found himself in the path that led to Heron Bay.

Strolling to the shore of the great Lake, he sat down and watched a
vessel sailing afar off slowly before the east wind. The thought
presently occurred to him, that the addition of an outrigger in the
manner Philip had mentioned would enable him to carry a sail. The canoe
could not otherwise support a sail (unless a very small one merely for
going before the breeze), but with such a sail as the outrigger would
bear, he could venture much farther away from land, his voyage might be
much more extended, and his labour with the paddle lessened.

This filled him with fresh energy; he returned, and at once recommenced
work. Oliver, finding that he was again busy at it, came and insisted
upon assisting. With his help, the work progressed rapidly. He used the
tools so deftly as to accomplish more in an hour than Felix could in a
day. The outrigger consisted of a beam of poplar, sharpened at both
ends, and held at some six or seven feet from the canoe by two strong