Very little paddling was necessary. The swift current, moving relentlessly onward to join its forces with that of the mighty St. Lawrence, swept them along at a rapid rate—in many instances much more rapid than they would have desired, but there was nothing to do but cast themselves on the mercy of the water, steering in and out among the rocks as best they could.
The river abounded with innumerable small islands, and had an exasperating propensity for splitting up into small channels, into any one of which the canoes might shoot. Some of these were narrow, and through them the waters flowed like a mill race, to emerge, perhaps, on the broad bosom of a peaceful river beyond.
It was a fascinating stream, its waters cool like those of the majority of Canadian rivers.
The boys spent the night at St. Johns, passing Iberville at dusk and shooting under the great railroad bridge that spans the river between these two cities.
Their journey from here on was uneventful, except that they were kept constantly on the alert by the varying moods of the river; now moving peacefully along over an almost placid bosom, now plunging into another narrow channel between two islands, where the waters were swift and dangerous.
But the boys got safely through it all, and were forced to admit that the experience had been worth a great deal to them. No one could go down the Richelieu into the St. Lawrence without knowing considerable about the intricacies of canoeing, and even Pod’s chest swelled with pride to think of what he had been through.
Two days after leaving St. Johns the boys arrived at Sorel and saw the mighty St. Lawrence before them, the waters of the Richelieu flowing peacefully into the larger stream at this point, with no suggestion of the rough spots lying between the mouth and the source.
“Gee! what a river!” exclaimed Pod, as he let his eyes roam out over the great stream, until they rested on the shore in the distance. Islands to the number of hundreds dot the surface of the river above Montreal, and many of these were visible from Sorel.
The boys ate a hearty dinner before entering their canoes again, and it was one o’clock in the afternoon when they pushed off into the St. Lawrence, heading in a southwesterly direction.
“This is going to be a pull against the current, fellows,” said Chot, “but I guess we can make it.”