Then they began to make their signals, which could be seen from both shores; but it was impossible to go to their aid. The signals of distress were followed by those of death. The fire was lighted every evening and immediately extinguished. When three of the party were reported dead, some _habitants_, at the imminent risk of their lives, did all that could be expected of the bravest men; but in vain, for the river was so thick with ice cakes that the canoes were carried up and down with the ebb and flow of the tide, and could not get near the scene of the disaster. It was not until the seventeenth day that they were rescued by a canoe from Isle aux Coudres. When the rescuing party arrived they heard no sound in the hut, and feared they were too late. The sufferers were still alive, however, and after a few weeks of care were quite themselves again; but they had learned a lesson they were not likely to forget, and the next time they go hunting on the Loups-Marins they will haul their canoe up out of reach of high tide." At last Uncle Raoul came to an end, just as anybody else would. "Dear uncle," said Blanche, "do you not know a song appropriate to so delicious a night as this, and so enchanting a scene?" "Hear! hear!" exclaimed the young men, "a song from Uncle Raoul!" This was assailing the chevalier on his weak point. He was a singer, and very proud of it. Without further pressing he began, in a splendid tenor voice, the following song, which he sang with peculiar feeling as a brave hunter adorned with his scars. While acknowledging that his verses took many a liberty with the rules of rhyme, he declared that these defects were redeemed by the vividness and originality of the composition. UNCLE RAOUL'S SONG. As I was walking, somewhat late, A-through a lonely wood and great, Hunting partridge, snipe, and cock, And careless of the clock, I raised my gun to drop a bird, When in the bushes something stirred; I heard a cry--and saw the game That love alone can tame. I saw a fair one all alone, Lamenting on a mossy stone, Her hair about so fair a face As lightened that dark place. I called my dog to heel, and there I fired my gun into the air. So loud with fear the lady cried, I hastened to her side. I said to her, I said, "Sweet heart, Be comforted, whoe'er thou art. I am a valiant cavalier, Have thou of me no fear. Beholding thee, my lovely one, Thus left lamenting and alone, I fain would be thy knight-at-arms, And shield thee from alarms." "Oh, succor me, fair sir," she saith, "My heart with fear was nigh to death. I am benighted and astray, Oh, show me, sir, my way! Oh, show me, gentle sir, the road, For Mary's sake, to mine abode. My heart, fair sir, but for your grace, Had died in this dark place."