“Oh, more! more!” said Ben, mockingly.
Bob laughed as he replied, “There was no more, so far as Cartier was concerned. It was three times and out with him.”
“Then he never came as far up the St. Lawrence as we are now?” asked Bert.
“No. Cartier never did. Of course others came, and I’ll tell you about them.”
“It’s a wonderful river,” murmured Jock. “And just think of it, fellows. We’re sailing over the very same river those old chaps did. Just the same, after three hundred years have gone.”
“No, it isn’t the same,” replied Ben.
“Why not, I’d like to know?” demanded Jock.
“Oh, the water keeps running away all the time. They call it the same river, but it’s never the same for any two minutes. The banks are the same, but the river itself is constantly changing.”
“You’re getting it down too fine for me,” said Jock. “And that’s Canada, over there,” he added, pointing to the distant shore as he spoke. “I wonder where they got that name. Do you know, Bob?”
“There are two theories,” replied Bob, quickly. “One is based on the story that Stefano Gomez, a Spaniard, was the first white man to enter the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and that he came in 1525. He died over here somewhere, I believe, so the story can’t be denied. There is an old Spanish tradition that he came into the gulf and landed, and when he didn’t find any gold, or mines, or any of the things for which he was looking, he exclaimed, ‘Aca-nada,’ which means, I’m told, ‘Here is nothing.’ And Canada is said to be derived from that.”