When we reached the boat, what a scene presented itself!  Bedclothes, cloaks, trunks, mess-basket, packs of furs, all bearing the marks of a complete deluge!  The boat ankle-deep in water—­literally no place on board where we could either stand or sit.  After some bailing out, and an attempt at disposing some of the packs of furs which had suffered least from the flood, so as to form a sort of divan in the centre of the boat, nothing better seemed to offer than to re-embark, and endure what could not be cured.

Our position was not an enviable one.  Wherever a foot or hand was placed, the water gushed up, with a bubbling sound, and, oh! the state of the bandboxes and work-baskets!  Breakfast there was none, for on examining the mess-basket everything it contained was found mingled in one undistinguishable mass.  Tea, pepper, salt, short-cake, all floating together—­it was a hopeless case.

But this was not the worst.  As the fervid July sun rose higher in the heavens, the steam which exhaled from every object on board was nearly suffocating.  The boat was old—­the packs of skins were old—­their vicinity in a dry day had been anything but agreeable—­now it was intolerable.  There was no retreating from it, however; so we encouraged the children to arm themselves with patience, for the short time that yet remained of our voyage.

Seated on our odoriferous couch, beneath the shade of a single umbrella, to protect our whole party from the scorching sun, we glided wearily down the stream, through that long, tedious day.  As we passed successively the Kakalin, the Rapids, Dickenson’s, the Agency, with what longing eyes did we gaze at human habitations, where others were enjoying the shelter of a roof and the comforts of food—­and how eagerly did we count the hours which must elapse before we could reach Port Howard!

There were no songs from the poor Frenchmen this day.  Music and fasting do not go well together.  At length we stopped at Shanty-town, where the boat was to be unloaded.  All hands fell to work to transfer the cargo to the warehouse of the Fur Company, which stood near the landing.  It was not a long operation, for all worked heartily.  This being accomplished, the voyageurs, one and all, prepared to take their leave.  In vain Mata stormed and raved—­in vain Arthur remonstrated.

“No,” they said, “they had brought the boat and cargo to the warehouse—­that was all of their job.”  And they turned to go.

“Guardapie,” said I, “do you intend to leave us here?”

“Bien, madame! it is the place we always stop at.”

“Does Monsieur John pay you for bringing his family down?”

“Oh, yes, Monsieur John has given us an order on the sutler, at the Fort down below.”

“To be paid when you deliver us safe at the Fort down below.  It seems I shall be there before you, and I shall arrange that matter.  Monsieur John never dreamed that this would be your conduct.”