Oh, the joy of it! Of all things that move to the will of man there is none like the canoe.

It alone has the sweet, smooth glide, the swift, silent dart answering the paddle sweep; the quick swerve in response to the turn of the wrist.

Ranald felt as if he could have gladly paddled on right out to the open sea; but sweeping around a bend a long, clear call hailed them, and there, far down at the bottom of a little bay, at the foot of the big, scarred, and wrinkled rock the smoke and glimmer of the camp-fire could be seen.

A flip of the stern paddle, and the canoe pointed for the waving figure, and under the rhythmic sweep of the paddles, sped like an arrow down the waters, sloping to the shore.

There, on a great rock, stood Kate, directing their course.
"Here's a good landing," she cried.