for developments. A little distance above the point, near where
the water was deeper and not so swift, I looked back, and to my
astonishment I saw Job poling the canoe through the swift water
alone. But this was mild surprise compared with what was awaiting
me.

We were soon in the canoe, and for nearly half a mile they poled up
the swift current. The water was deep, and sometimes they bent
over the poles till their hands dipped into the water. It seemed
as if they must certainly fall overboard. I expected every minute
to find myself perforce taking a header into the deep water.
Sometimes we brushed the edge of a big ice-bank. The moment the
poles were lifted the canoe stopped its forward movement, and if
they were not quickly set again it began to slip back with the
current. At last the water became too shallow and rough and we
went ashore. Here the portaging began, and I climbed up over the
ice-banks and walked along the shore. Even while ice and snow
lingered, the flowers were beginning to bloom, and I found two tiny
blue violets. On reaching the deepest part of the bay I turned to
look back. Job was bringing one of the canoes up the rapid with
two full portage loads in it. I could scarcely believe what I saw,
and ran eagerly down to secure a photograph of this wonderful feat.
But my powers of astonishment reached their limit when later I saw
him calmly bringing the canoe round the bend at the foot of Mount
Sawyer and up into the narrower part of the river. Now I was not
alone in my wonder. Both George and Joe watched with interest
equal to mine, for even they had never seen a canoeman pole in
water so rough.

Job looked as if in his element. The wilder the rapid the more he