I gave him the wheel and took the map, which proved to be a careful chart of the lake, made, I judged, by my friend Glenarm for his own amusement. We passed slowly around the island, which was not more than twenty acres in extent, with an abrupt bank on the east and a low pebbly shore on the west, and a body of heavy timber rising darkly in the center. The shore of the mainland sloped upward here in the tender green of young corn. I have, I hope, a soul for landscape, and the soft bubble of water, the lush reeds in the shallows, the rapidly moving panorama of field and forest, the glimpses of wild flowers, and the arched blue above, were restful to mind and heart. It seemed shameful that the whole world was not afloat; then, as I reflected that another boat in these tranquil waters would be an impertinence that I should resent, I was aware that I had been thinking of Helen Holbrook all the while; and the thought of this irritated me so that I criticized Ijima most unjustly for running the launch close to a boulder that rose like a miniature Gibraltar near the shadowy shore we were skirting. We gained the ultimate line of the lower lake, and followed the shore in search of its outlet, pleasingly set down on the map as Tippecanoe Creek, which ran off and joined somewhere a river of like name. "We'll cruise here a bit and see if we can find the creek," I said, filling my pipe. Tippecanoe! Its etymology is not in books, but goes back to the first star that ever saw itself in running water; its cadence is that of a boat gliding over ripples; its syllables flow as liquidly as a woodland spring lingering in delight over shining pebbles. The canoe alone, of all things fashioned to carry man, has a soul--and it is a soul at once obedient and perverse. And now that I had discovered the name Tippecanoe, it seemed to murmur itself from the little waves we sent singing into the reeds. My delight in it was so great, it rang in my head so insistently, that I should have missed the creek with the golden name if Ijima had not called my attention to its gathering current, that now drew us, like a tide. The lake's waters ran away, like a truant child, through a woody cleft, and in a moment we were as clean quit of the lake as though it did not exist. After a few rods the creek began to twist and turn as though with the intention of making the voyager earn his way. In the narrow channel the beat of our engine rang from the shores rebukingly, and soon, as a punishment for disturbing the peace of the little stream, we grounded on a sand-bar. "This seems to be the head of navigation, Ijima. I believe this creek was made for canoes, not battleships."