Here they paused for a few days, at that mild summit of land which marks the portage between the east bound and the west bound waters; yet, impelled ever by the eager spirit of the adventurer, they made their pause but short.  In time they launched their craft on the bright, smooth flood of the river of the Ouisconsins, stained coppery-red by its far-off, unknown course in the north, where it had bathed leagues of the roots of pine and tamarack and cedar.  They passed on steadily westward, hour after hour, with the current of this great stream, among little islands covered with timber; passed along bars of white sand and flats of hardwood; beyond forest-covered knolls, in the openings of which one might now and again see great vistas of a scenery now peaceful and now bold, with turreted knolls and sweeping swards of green, as though some noble house of old England were set back secluded within these wide and well-kept grounds.  The country now rapidly lost its marshy character, and as they approached the mouth of the great stream, it being now well toward the middle of the summer, they reached, suddenly and without forewarning, that which they long had sought.

The sturdy paddlers were bending to their tasks, each broad back swinging in unison forward and back over the thwart, each brown throat bared to the air, each swart head uncovered to the glare of the midday sun, each narrow-bladed paddle keeping unison with those before and behind, the hand of the paddler never reaching higher than his chin, since each had learned the labor-saving fashion of the Indian canoeman.  The day was bright and cheery, the air not too ardent, and across the coppery waters there stretched slants of shadow from the embowering forest trees.  They were alone, these travelers; yet for the time at least part of them seemed care-free and quite abandoned to the sheer zest of life.  There arose again, after the fashion of the voyageurs, the measure of the paddling song, without which indeed the paddler had not been able to perform his labor at the thwart.

    “Dans mon chemin j’ai rencontre—­”

chanted the leader; and voices behind him responded lustily with the next line: 

    “Trois cavaliers bien montes—­”
    “Trois cavaliers bien montes—­”

chanted the leader again.

    “L’un a cheval et l’autre a pied—­”

came the response; and then the chorus: 

    “Lon, lon laridon daine—­
     Lon, lon laridon dai!”

The great boat began to move ahead steadily and more swiftly, and bend after bend of the river was rounded by the rushing prow.  None knew this country, nor wist how far the journey might carry him.  None knew as of certainty that he would ever in this way reach the great Messasebe; or even if he thought that such would be the case, did any one know how far that Messasebe still might be.  Yet there came a time in the afternoon of that day, even as the chant