On reaching the deepest part of the bay I turned to
look back. Job was bringing one of the canoes up the rapid with
two full portage loads in it. I could scarcely believe what I saw,
and ran eagerly down to secure a photograph of this wonderful feat.
But my powers of astonishment reached their limit when later I saw
him calmly bringing the canoe round the bend at the foot of Mount
Sawyer and up into the narrower part of the river. Now I was not
alone in my wonder. Both George and Joe watched with interest
equal to mine, for even they had never seen a canoeman pole in
water so rough.
Job looked as if in his element. The wilder the rapid the more he
seemed to enjoy it. He would stand in the stern of the canoe,
right foot back, left forward with leg against the thwart, with set
pole holding it steady in the rushing, roaring water while he
looked the way over, choosing out his course. Then he would move
the canoe forward again, twisting its nose now this way, now that,
in the most marvellous fashion, and when he drove it into the rush
of water pouring round a big rock the pole would bend and tremble
with the weight and strain he put upon it.
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