the doctor's wife, and the only other white woman in the settlement,
came and stood by Virginia Albret's side. Wishkobun, the Ojibway
woman from the south country, and Virginia's devoted familiar, took
her half-jealous stand on the other.

"It is the same every year. We always like to see them come," said
Mrs. Cockburn, in her monotonous low voice of resignation.

"Yes," replied Virginia, moving a little impatiently, for she
anticipated eagerly the picturesque coming of these men of the Silent
Places, and wished to savor the pleasure undistracted.

"Mi-di-mo-yay ka'-win-ni-shi-shin," said Wishkobun, quietly.

"Ae," replied Virginia, with a little laugh, patting the woman's brown
hand.

A shout arose. Around the bend shot a canoe. At once every paddle in
it was raised to a perpendicular salute, then all together dashed
into the water with the full strength of the _voyageurs_ wielding
them. The canoe fairly leaped through the cloud of spray. Another
rounded the bend, another double row of paddles flashed in the
sunlight, another crew, broke into a tumult of rapid exertion as they
raced the last quarter mile of the long journey. A third burst into
view, a fourth, a fifth. The silent river was alive with motion,
glittering with color. The canoes swept onward, like race-horses
straining against the rider. Now the spectators could make out plainly
the boatmen. It could be seen that they had decked themselves out for
the occasion. Their heads were bound with bright-colored fillets,
their necks with gay scarves. The paddles were adorned with gaudy