There they mingled and were lost in.
identity for a long time, and David wondered if the newcomers were
of the people of Chateau Boulain. After that, Bateese and Joe
Clamart and two others stamped out the fires and came over the
plank to the bateau to sleep. David followed their example and
went to bed.
The cook fires were burning again before the gray dawn was broken
by a tint of the sun, and when the voices of many men roused
David, he went to his window and saw a dozen figures where last
night there had been only four. When it grew lighter he recognized
none of them. All were strangers. Then he realized the
significance of their presence. The bateau had been traveling
north, but downstream. Now it would still travel north, but the
water of the Yellow-knife flowed south into Great Slave Lake, and
the bateau must be towed. He caught a glimpse of the two big York
boats a little later, and six rowers to a boat, and after that the
bateau set out slowly but steadily upstream.
For hours David was at one window or the other, with something of
awe working inside him as he saw what they were passing through--
and between. He fancied the water trail was like an entrance into
a forbidden land, a region of vast and unbroken mystery, a country
of enchantment, possibly of death, shut out from the world he had
known.
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