"En roulant ma boule roulante,
En roulant ma boule"
And the voyageurs swung into the quaint ballad of the fairy ducks and the naughty prince with his magic gun.
"Derrier' ches-nous y-a-t-un 'elang,
En roulant ma boule."
The girl sank back, dabbing uncertainly at her eyes. "I shall never see them again," she explained, wistfully.
The canoe had now caught its speed. Conjuror's House was dropping astern. The rhythm of the song quickened as the singers told of how the king's son had aimed at the black duck but killed the white.
"Ah fils du roi, tu es mechant,
En roulant ma boule,
Toutes les plumes s'en vont au vent,
Rouli roulant, ma boule roulant."
"Way wik! way wik!" commanded Me-en-gan, sharply, from the bow.
The men quickened their stroke and shot diagonally across the current of an eddy.
"Ni-shi-shin," said Me-en-gan.
They fell back to the old stroke, rolling out their full-throated measure.