D'ri had a plausible theory of the slide. He said that if we had clung to the sides of it to break our speed we 'd have gone down like a plummet and shattered our bones on a rocky shore. Coming fast, our bodies leaped far into the air and fell to deep water. How long I lay there thinking, as I rested, I have no satisfactory notion. Louise and Louison came into my thoughts, and a plan of rescue. A rush of cavalry and reeking swords, a dash for the boats, with a flying horse under each fair lady, were in that moving vision. But where should we find them? for I knew not the name of that country out of which we had come by ways of darkness and peril. The old query came to me, If I had to choose between them, which should I take? There was as much of the old doubt in me as ever. For a verity, I loved them both, and would die for either. I opened my eyes at last, and, rising, my hands upon the gunwales, could dimly see the great shoulders of D'ri swaying back and forth as he rowed. The coming dawn had shot an arrow into the great, black sphere of night, cracking it from circumference to core, and floods of light shortly came pouring in, sweeping down bridges of darkness, gates of gloom, and massy walls of shadow. We were in the middle of a broad river--the St. Lawrence, we knew, albeit the shores were unfamiliar to either of us. The sunlight stuck in the ripples, and the breeze fanned them into flowing fire. The morning lighted the green hills of my native land with a mighty splendor. A new life and a great joy came to me as I filled my lungs with the sweet air. D'ri pulled into a cove, and neither could speak for a little. He turned, looking out upon the river, and brushed a tear off his brown cheek. "No use talking" said he, in a low tone, as the bow hit the shore, "ain' no country luk this 'un, don' care where ye go." As the oars lay still, we could hear in the far timber a call of fife and drum. Listening, we heard the faint familiar strains of "Yankee Doodle." We came ashore in silence, and I hugged the nearest tree, and was not able to say the "Thank God!" that fell from my lips only half spoken. XVI