Glooskap answered, "Yes, I will do this for thee, if thou wilt honestly
return it when thou needest it no more. Yet in very truth I did never
yet lend it to mortal man but that I had to go after it myself."
[Footnote: One of the traits of _bonhomie_ and common humanity
which continually occur in the Glooskap tales, even in the most serious
situations and solemn myths. In this respect the resemblance of the
Northwest Algonquin tales to the Norse is truly striking. The canoe is
among all Indians, even in Central America, exactly what the umbrella
is in civilized society. With all his immense originality Glooskap had
a number of "old Joes," of which he never seems to have tired. One was
the inexhaustible dish, and another the giant skunk set upon end to salute
his visitors, and this of the canoe was probably the commonest of all.
He is a true Indian divinity, shining like the lightning and striking
only when there is a storm, but appearing like the Aurora Borealis, or
even the Robin Goodfellow-Will-o'-the-Wisp at others.]

Thereupon the young man promised most faithfully that he would indeed
return the canoe, and with this they got them ready for the journey.
But when they came to the bay there was no canoe, and they knew not
what was to be done. But Glooskap pointed to a small island of granite
which rose amid the waves, and it was covered with tall pine-trees.
"There is my canoe!" said he; [Footnote: Another standard "piece of
witt" with the incorrigible joker. Glooskap's "floating island" was
served up as a dessert to all guests, and I doubt not that if the
double meaning of the word had been known to him, they would have had
that too.] and when he had taken them unto it, it became a real canoe,
with masts, and they set sail on it, rejoicing.

So they came in time to a very large island, where they drew up the
canoe and hid it in the bushes. Then they went forward to seek for