“It matters not,” said Stanley, hastily; “I’ve made arrangements to start to-morrow, and start we shall, in spite of ice or wind, if the canoes will float!”
Massan, who had been constituted principal steersman of the expedition, in virtue of his well-tried skill and indomitable energy, felt that the tone in which this was said implied a want of confidence in his willingness to go under any circumstances, so he said gravely—
“Pardon, monsieur; I did not say we could not start.”
“True, true, Massan; don’t be hurt. I was only grumbling at the weather,” answered Stanley, with a laugh.
Just then the first puff of the coming breeze swept up the river, ruffling its hitherto glassy surface.
“There it comes,” cried Stanley, as he quitted the spot. “Now, Massan, see to it that the crews are assembled in good time on the beach to-morrow. We start at daybreak.”
“Oui, monsieur,” replied Massan, as he turned on his heel and walked away. “Parbleu! we shall indeed start to morrow, an it please you, if all the ice and wind in the polar regions was blowed down the coast and crammed into the river’s mouth. C’est vrai!”