for when you have grown used to coffee after lunch you do not feel happy
without it, so long as there is a chance of getting it. It is exasperating
when you have the coffee ready made, but cannot warm it for want of a small
utensil. The peasant went to the mill to borrow a saucepan, and he brought
back one that was just what we wanted; at least, we thought so until the
coffee began to run out through a hole in the bottom. In vain we tried to
stop the leak with putty, which was brought in case the boat should spring
one; but after awhile it stopped itself--quite miraculously. Thus good
fortune came to our aid at the outset, and it looked like a fair omen of a
prosperous voyage.

We did not linger too long over this meal, for I had not come prepared to
pass the night either in the boat or on the grass, and I hoped to reach
Riberac in the evening. The bottles were put away in the locker, and what
was not eaten was returned to the valise. Then we parted company with the
young peasant, whose private opinion was that we should not go very far.
But he was mistaken; we went a long way, after encountering many serious
obstacles, as will be seen by-and-by.

The chain being pulled in, the boat glided off like the willow-leaf to
which I have already compared it. I sat on my piece of sliding board about
the middle, and Hugh sat on his piece of wood--which was the top of the
locker--in the stern. We both used long double-bladed paddles. In a few
seconds we were in the current, and in a few more were aground. Although
the canoe was flat-bottomed, it needed at least three inches of water to
float comfortably with us and the cargo. We were in a forest of reeds that
hid the outer world from us, and we had left the true current for another
that led us to the shallows. But this little difficulty was quickly
overcome, and I soon convinced myself that, notwithstanding the dearth of
water after the long drought, it was quite possible to descend the Dronne