For a week past Alec and Lon had felt themselves to be equal to the task, but had been delayed by unfavourable weather. Great, then, was their delight when this particular Saturday morning dawned clear and calm, promising to be the very kind of a day they desired. They started at nine o’clock, taking with them for company, besides their well-filled baskets, Wad, Alec’s handsome hunting spaniel, who had learned to behave perfectly on board the canoe. Their craft was of the most approved make, of which they were joint-owners, completely equipped with paddles, cushions, sails, and steering-gear. There being not a breath of wind, they had no use for the sail, so the mast was not put up nor the rudder shipped. In his enthusiastic eagerness to realize their long-cherished plan, Lon set to paddling with all his might; but Alec, who had the stern, laughingly checked his ardour, saying,— "Take it easy, Lon; take it easy, my boy! There’s lots of work ahead of you. Better not waste your muscle now!" Alec had taken care to make inquiries of some of the Britannia folk as to the course he should steer, and they had all impressed upon him to go a good way straight up the lake, and away from the rapids, before turning toward Deschenes, as the current was tremendously strong, and made itself felt far higher up than one would imagine, looking at it from the Britannia side. Accordingly he pointed the canoe almost due north, as though he had Aylmer in mind rather than Deschenes, and kept her on that course until Lon began to grow impatient. "What’s the use of going up so far?" he protested; "you can’t feel the current here." "Because old Lark told me to make that point before striking across, and he knows all about it," replied Alec. "Ugh: Lark’s an old fuss. He goes away up there only because he’s too lazy to pull straight across where the current’s strong," grumbled Lon, who had a passion for short cuts, and who kept urging his companion to head the canoe more directly toward their destination, until at last Alec, for very peace’s sake, and against his better judgment, altered their course in compliance with his wishes. For a hundred yards or so the paddling was no harder than before, and they made no leeway, so that Lon could exclaim triumphantly,— "There now, didn’t I tell you? It’s only a waste of time going so far up." But when another hundred yards’ advance had brought the canoe fairly into the middle of the mighty stream, moving with majestic flow toward the angry rapids, the paddlers soon awoke to the fact that while they were still making good headway, they were making considerable leeway also, and that the task of getting across was going to be made much harder thereby.