Just then the canoes slipped past a sandy bar decorated with a fresh moose track; the excitement of the colonel set us laughing.  This man was certainly a joy!  And with that, after a long paddle down the winding river and across two breezy lakes, we were at the club-house.  We lunched, and in short order—­for we wanted to make camp that night—­I dug into my pacquetons and transformed my officer into a sportsman, his huge delight in Abernethy & Flitch’s creations being a part of the game.  Then we were off.

One has small chance for associating with guides while travelling in the woods.  One sits in a canoe between two, but if there is a wind and the boat is charge their hands are full with the small craft and its heavy load; when the landing is made and the “messieurs” are debarques, instantly the men are busy lifting canoes on their heads and packs on their backs in bizarre, piled-up masses to be carried from a leather tump-line, a strap of two inches wide going around the forehead.  The whole length of the spine helps in the carrying.  My colonel watched Delphise, a husky specimen, load.  With a grunt he swung up a canvas U.S. mailbag stuffed with butin, which includes clothes and books and shoes and tobacco and cartridges and more.  With a half-syllable Delphise indicated to Laurent a bag of potatoes weighing eighty pounds, a box of tinned biscuit, a wooden package of cans of condensed milk, a rod case, and a raincoat.  These Laurent added to the spine of Delphise.

“How many pounds?” I asked, as the dark head bent forward to equalize the strain.

Delphise shifted weight with another grunt to gauge the pull.  “About a hundred and eighty pounds, m’sieur—­quite heavy—­assez pesant.”  Off he trotted uphill, head bent forward.

The colonel was entranced.  “Hardy fellows—­the making of fine soldiers,” he commented, tossing his cigarette away to stare.

That night after dinner—­but it was called supper—­the colonel and I went into the big, airy log kitchen with the lake looking in at three windows and the forest at two doors.  We gunned over with the men plans for the next day, for the most must be made of every minute of this precious military holiday.  I explained how precious it was, and then I spoke a few words about the honor of having as our guest a soldier who had come from the front, and who was going back to the front.  For the life of me I could not resist a sentence more about the two crosses they had seen on his uniform that day.  The Cross of War, the Legion of Honor!  I could not let my men miss that!  Rafael had been quiet and colorless, and I was disappointed in the show qualities of my show guide.  But the colonel beamed with satisfaction, in everything and everybody, and received my small introduction with a bow and a flourish worthy of Carnegie Hall.