Po-kwa-ha sees the dreadful catastrophe, as for one brief moment the beloved form of Tonadalwa is outlined clearly against the evening sky; and then, with one last involuntary cry for help, she extends her arms to her lover—and she has gone.

With his loved one torn from his very grasp, with despair in his heart, and all desire for life extinguished at one stroke, the poor lover rushes madly to the brink and plunges over the cataract to his death.

But the Good Manitou is kind to the brave, the good, the pure, and the true; shadowy forms, spirits of dead braves, rise from the foaming depths below, and ere the hungry waters can overwhelm the Indian maid, she is borne up, rescued, and returned to life.

Nor was the lover to meet the death he sought; for the same arm that had rescued the maiden now held up the form of the young brave, and placing her in his arms, Tonadalwa and Po-kwa—ha were united in life; and, bearing her tenderly to her home and safety, they were soon united in happy matrimony amidst the rejoicing of the whole tribe.

Ka-wis was seen no more. When he shot the arrow, he, too, lost his paddle, and was swept over the dreaded falls. As he sank in the terrible abyss below no pitying spirits upbore him, and Death claimed him as its own.

As we make our way back to Chicoutimi and towards the St. Lawrence, we cannot fail to be impressed by some of the amazing features of the Saguenay River. By actual soundings many parts of the river are over one thousand feet in depth, and none are less than one hundred feet. In places it is as deep five feet from the shore as in the middle of the channel. To boat or canoe on such waters and in the midst of such majestic and sublime surroundings is the one thrilling experience of a lifetime. The stoutest heart must pay involuntary homage to nature when gliding beneath boldly over— hanging masses of rock that must weigh millions of tons.

In addition to such scenes, there are softer effects that appeal to all lovers of the beautiful. Picture the scene when on a fine, clear day, with just a gauzy haze on the topmost heights of the cliffs, a boat passes out of the shadows into the full light of the beaming sun. The blue smoke wreathing gently upwards is from an Indian encamp- ment just behind yon hill. Here are fine salmon leaping bodily out of the water; above is a soaring eagle showing like a mere speck against the sun, while on the surface of the water seals are showing their dog—like heads and lazy porpoises are playfully spouting sparkling fountains of spray.

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