The St. Lawrence is not so wide above Quebec as it is at other places along its course, and in a quarter of an hour, the oarsman had reached his destination. As the keel of his boat grated on the sands, a man stepped forward to meet him. The officer sprang out and slapped him on the shoulder.
"Good old boy, Donald."
"Thanks to you, maister."
"Punctual to a minute, as usual, Donald."
"Aye, sir, but 'twas a close scratch. The horse, I fear, feels it mair than I do."
"No doubt, no doubt. Rode much?"
"Nigh on ten hours, sir, and nae slackened rein."
"Oh, but my heart leaped, Donald, when I saw your first rocket. I could hardly believe my eyes."
"Just saved my distance, maister. If I had broken a gairth, I would have been too late. But it's dune, sir."
"Yes, old friend, and well done."