He has put away his snow shoes, and, going to the
thick bushes at the edge of a creek, he has taken out his hidden
canoe. He has been in it some time, and with mighty sweeps of the
paddle, that he knows so well how to use, it flies like a wild duck
over the water. Now he passes from the creek into a river flowing
eastward, and swollen by the floods to a vast width. The rain has
poured upon him, but he does not mind it. The powerful exercise with
the paddles dries his body, and sends the pleasant warmth through
every vein. His feet and ankles rest, after his long flight on the
snow shoes, and his heart swells with pleasure, because it is one of
the easiest parts of his journey. His rifle is lying by his side, and
he could seize it in a moment should an enemy appear, but the forest
on either side of the stream is deserted, and he speeds on unhindered.
There may be better canoemen in the world than Tayoga, but I doubt
it."
"Come, come, Lennox! You go too far! I can admit the possibility of
the snow shoes and their appearance at the very moment they're needed,
but the evocation of a river and a canoe at the opportune instant puts
too high a strain upon credibility.
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