The Grateful Indian

e the wind, and to steer her clear of logs of wood or stumps of trees, against which she might have been cast and knocked to pieces.

"But where are we going?" we asked ourselves. "If we continue thus, we may be driven into Lake Winnipeg, and hurled among the masses of ice which are dashing about on its waters."

We thought still more about our father and Sam. How disappointed they would be, should they have reached the dry land when the storm came on, and they knew that we could not get to them. But our attention, I must own, was soon concentrated on our own situation. The rain fell in torrents, sufficient of itself almost to swamp our light canoe, while the thunder roared and the lightning darted from the sky, filling my heart, at all events, with terror. I felt both awe-struck and alarmed, and could scarcely recover myself sufficiently to help Malcolm. He was far less moved, and continued guiding the canoe with his former calmness. At last I could not help crying out--

"Oh, Malcolm, how