and rain. In two hours from the time of the happy reunion of the loved
and lost the water became quite calm. Paul Guidon then launched the
canoe and the little ships' company were soon heading toward the mouth
of the St. John. In another hour and a half Paul and his companion had
safely paddled Margaret Godfrey and her children to the sloop.

Margaret's first act, after reaching her small floating home, was to
place each child upon its knees, doing likewise herself. As her clear
voice rang out over the water, conveying words of thankfulness to Him
whom winds and seas obey, the two Indians sank slowly on their knees.

Plenty of fish had been secured by Paul to last the family some days
Margaret cooked the supper, Paul and his companion ate heartily, then
left the sloop and proceeded in the canoe to their homes, Paul promising
to return the next day with a load of wood to replenish the stock of
fuel which was well nigh exhausted.

At seven o'clock next morning Paul again was seen sailing along toward
the sloop, his little bark skimming over the river like a petrel on the
ocean's breast. He appeared anxious and excited as he approached the
side of the vessel. He had but a few pieces of wood in his canoe.
Margaret at first sight noticed a change in his features; he looked worn
and weary. His bright black eye had lost much of its fire, and as he
stepped on board Mrs. Godfrey thought she noticed a tear on his cheek.
As usual she saluted him and asked him on board, and as he stepped over
the rail she took his hand in her own. This act of kindness on the part
of Margaret seemed to electrify his whole frame. She said to him, "And
how is Paul this morning." Without answering her he placed his hand on
his left breast and sighed deeply. "Is my Paul ill this morning," she
again asked, thinking that the strain from carrying the children the day