[Illustration: THE DRONNE AT COUTRAS.]




A CANOE VOYAGE ON THE DRONNE.


Before starting upon a long-thought-of voyage down the Dronne, I resolved
to make the canoe look as beautiful as possible, so that it might produce a
favourable impression upon the natives of the regions through which it was
going to pass. I had learnt from experience that when one can take the
edge off suspicion by giving one's self or one's belongings a respectable
appearance, that does not cost much, it is well to do it.

Therefore I sent the bare-footed Helie, who always helped me when I had
any dirty work on hand, to buy some paint. Having first puttied up all the
cracks and crevices, we laid the paint on, and as the colour chosen was a
very pale green, the effect was anything but vulgar. When the boat was put
on the water again it looked like a floating willow-leaf of rather uncommon
size.

Now, between the river Isle, where I was, and the Dronne, where I wished
to be, there was an obstacle in the shape of some twelve miles of hilly
country. A light cart was accordingly hired to convey the canoe and
ourselves (I was accompanied on this adventure by an English boy named
Hugh, sixteen years old, and just let loose from school) to the point at
which I had decided to commence the voyage down-stream. We left at five in
the morning, when the sun was gilding the yellow tufts and the motionless
long leaves of the maize-field. When we were fairly off--the boat, in