Cassion spread out his rude map in the bottom of the canoe, and I had him point out the route we were to follow. It was a long, weary way he indicated, and, for the moment, my heart almost failed me, as we traced together the distance outlined, and pictured in imagination the many obstacles between us and our goal. Had I known the truth, all those leagues were destined to disclose of hardship and peril, I doubt my courage to have fronted them. But I did not know, nor could I perceive a way of escape. So I crushed back the tears dimming my eyes, smiled into his face, as he rolled up the map, and pretended to care not at all. When night came we were in the black woods, the silence about us almost unearthly, broken only by the dash of water over the rocks below where we were camped, promising a difficult portage on the morrow. Alone, oppressed by the silence, feeling my helplessness as perhaps I never had before, and the dread loneliness of the vast wilderness in which I lay, I tossed on my bed for hours, ere sheer exhaustion conquered, and I slept. CHAPTER XI I GAIN SPEECH WITH DE ARTIGNY Our progress up the Ottawa was so slow, so toilsome, the days such a routine of labor and hardship, the scenes along the shore so similar, that I lost all conception of time. Except for the Jesuit I had scarcely a companion, and there were days, I am sure, when we did not so much as exchange a word. The men had no rest from labor, even Cassion changing from boat to boat as necessity arose, urging them to renewed efforts. The water was low, the rapids more than usually dangerous, so that we were compelled to portage more often than usual. Once the leading canoe ventured to shoot a rapid not considered perilous, and had a great hole torn in its prow by a sharp rock. The men got ashore, saving the wreck, but lost their store of provisions, and we were a day there making the damaged canoe again serviceable. This delay gave me my only glimpse of De Artigny, still dripping from his involuntary bath, and so busily engaged at repairs, as to be scarcely conscious of my presence on the bank above him. Yet I can hardly say that, for once he glanced up, and our eyes met, and possibly he would have joined me, but for the sudden appearance of Cassion, who swore at the delay, and ordered me back to where the tent had been hastily erected. I noticed De Artigny straighten up, angered that Cassion dared speak to me so harshly, but I had no wish then to precipitate an open quarrel between the two men, and so departed quickly. Later, Father Allouez told me that in the overturning of the canoe the young Sieur had saved the life of the Algonquin Chief, bringing him ashore unconscious, helpless from a broken shoulder.