Forester and Marco watched his progress with great interest. Marco thought that he would certainly roll off the log, but he seemed to stand and to walk upon it, perfectly at his ease. He would advance to the forward end of the log, and then, planting the foot of his pole in the sand on the bottom, he would push, walking along as the log advanced, until he came to the stern end of the log, when he would draw out his pole, and walk back again. In this way he propelled the log until the water became too deep for his pole to reach the bottom, and then he ceased these efforts, and, standing upright, he left himself to be driven along slowly by the wind.
[Illustration]
Forester and Marco saw plainly that he would be gone for some time, and they amused themselves, during his absence, in wandering about the shores of the island. In one place, Marco found, upon a rock a little above the water, a slab of pine wood, which was bleached by the sun and rain. It had drifted down, the summer before, from some stream emptying into the pond. In the winter it had been frozen into the ice, and, when the ice broke up on the following spring, the cake to which the slab was attached, had been crowded up upon the shore, where the slab had been left when the ice melted.
Marco immediately thought that this slab would furnish him with a good piece of wood to make a flower press of, and he accordingly dragged it up where he could work upon it with his hatchet. He soon cut off a piece, of the proper length, and hewed it down so as to make it of a convenient shape to carry.
When Forester came to examine it, he said he thought it was a very good piece, and when it was planed smooth and varnished, he thought, from its appearance, that it would be of a very pretty color.
"You can get it made at the first shop we come to," said Forester, "and then you can collect and preserve a great many flowers in it, when we get to Canada. When you get home; you can put them in a book, and call them the Canadian Flora."
"That's just what I'll do," said Marco, "and then, when I get home, I'll give some of them to my cousins. They will like them, because they came from Canada. But I can't put a great many into such a press."
"No," said Forester. "You only collect them in the press, which you always carry with you in your pocket. You put them all in a book, or in a larger press, as soon as you get home, and then you have the small press ready for use again."
While they were talking thus, they watched the boatman, who had, by this time, reached the land and recovered the boat. He came back quite rapidly, propelling the boat with the paddle. Marco and Forester embarked on board of her, and they finished their voyage without any further adventure. The next day, they reached the Quebec road, and, leaving the region of the Kennebec, they went on their way towards Canada.