Happy, indeed, are they that
find some ten times pure and consecrated fragrance, like the
pine, which entering in is master of their moods, and yet through
linking thoughts has all its power, uplifting, full of sweetness
and blessed peace. So came to Rolf his medicine tree.
The balsam fir was his tree of hallowed memory. Its odour never
failed, and he slept that night with its influence all about him.
Starting in the morning was no easy matter. There was so much to
be adjusted that first day. Packs divided in two, new
combinations to trim the canoe, or to raise such and such a
package above a possible leak. The heavy things, like axes and
pans, had to be fastened to the canoe or to packages that would
float in case of an upset. The canoe itself had to be gummed in
one or two places; but they got away after three hours, and began
the voyage down the Schroon.
This was Rolf's first water journey. He had indeed essayed the
canoe on the Pipestave Pond, but that was a mere ferry. This was
real travel. He marvelled at the sensitiveness of the frail
craft; the delicacy of its balance; its quick response to the
paddle; the way it seemed to shrink from the rocks; and the
unpleasantly suggestive bend-up of the ribs when the bottom
grounded upon a log.
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