“Ah, so you have really come to your senses, Benteen,” he cried eagerly.  “I thought it would not be much longer after you were able to get grip upon an oar.  Our red-headed friend has slow tongue of late, yet I warrant he has little love for such man-killing work; so a turn-about will be the vote of us all.  Saint Anne! ’tis the happiest word to ring in my ears since this cursed trip began.”

Nothing tests the innate quality of a man like the wilderness.  However bold of heart, if every utterance is a complaint he will prove a constant hardship.  I doubted not both De Noyan and the Puritan would show themselves true men if emergency confronted us; but in the daily plodding routine of travel the Chevalier gave way to little worries, jerking along in the harness of necessity like an ill-broken colt; while Cairnes, who pulled steadily in sullen discontent, was much the better comrade of the two.

“Call it what you please,” I answered shortly, never removing my gaze from the pleased face of Madame, thus keeping better control over my tongue.  “I have become convinced the map of the Jesuit priest lied, and this stream runs not northward.  It is useless pushing any farther.”

“Where, then?”

“Back, of course.  To drift down-stream will be easy now we know something of the current.  We return to the junction of the rivers, where we left the Spaniards—­’tis hardly probable they are still there; but if they are, then we must trust to our stout arms, and have faith in the right.------ By heavens!  Cairnes, what mean you?  Damme, man, would you overturn the boat?”

This hasty word of expostulation had hardly left my lips before the Puritan scuttled clumsily overboard, his red hair cropping out of the seething water like a rare growth of fungus.  Another instant, and the full shock of that racing current struck our bow, hurling it about as if the trembling boat were an eggshell.  Over him we went, his pudgy fingers digging vainly for some holding-place along the slippery planks, his eyes staring up in terror.

“For God’s sake, cling tight, Eloise!”

I heard this shout of warning from De Noyan as he fell backward into the water, which, luckily, was scarcely above his waist.  Helpless to prevent the plunge, I joined company at the bow, going down well over my head without finding footing, and coming to the surface face to face with the Puritan, who was spluttering out river water and scraps of Calvinistic speech, striving madly to lay hold on some portion of the boat, now spinning away on the swift flood.  It was no time to seek explanation from any man wrathful as Cairnes appeared to be, so I devoted my attention to doing the one thing left us,—­keeping the crazy craft upright to save Madame and the cargo.  Nor was this an easy task.  Seldom have I breasted such angry, boiling surge as beat against us—­there was no fronting it for those of us beyond our depths, while even De Noyan, making a manful struggle, was