Side by side, neck and neck, for a mile,
still they strain their strong arms to the utmost,
Till rounding a willowy isle,
now ahead creeps the boat of Tamdoka,
And the neighboring forests profound,
and the far-stretching plain of the meadows
To the whoop of the victors resound,
while the panting French rest on their paddles.
IN CAMP.
With sable wings wide o'er the land
night sprinkles the dew of the heavens;
And hard by the dark river's strand,
in the midst of a tall, somber forest,
Two camp fires are lighted and beam
on the trunks and the arms of the pine trees.
In the fitful light darkle and gleam
the swarthy-hued faces around them.
And one is the camp of DuLuth,
and the other the camp of Tamdoka.
But few are the jests and uncouth
of the voyageurs over their supper,
While moody and silent the braves
round their fire in a circle sit crouching;
And low is the whisper of leaves
and the sough of the wind in the branches;
And low is the long-winding howl
of the lone wolf afar in the forest;
But shrill is the hoot of the owl,
like a bugle-blast blown in the pine-tops,
And the half-startled _voyageurs_ scowl
at the sudden and saucy intruder.
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