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Wallace, Dillon, 1863-1939

"Ungava Bob A Winter's Tale"

Th' longer I watches un
th' more I thinks 'twould be a fine way t' ride on un, an' at last I
makes up my pack an' cuts a good pole, an' watches my chance, which
soon comes. A big cake comes rollin' down an' I steps aboard un an'
away I goes.
"'Twere fine for a little while, an' I says, 'Ed, now _you_ knows th'
thing t' do in a tight place.'
"'Twere a rare pretty sight watchin' th' shore slippin' past, an' I
forgets as 'tis a piece o' ice I'm ridin' till I happens t' look
around an' finds th' cake o' ice, likewise myself, in th' middle o'
th' river, an' no way o' gettin' ashore. The's nothin' t' do but hang
on, an' I hangs.
"Then I sees th' Gull Island Rapids an' I 'most loses my nerve. 'Tis a
fearsome torrent at best, as un knows, but now wi' high flood 'tis
like ten o' unself at low water. Th' waves beats up twenty foot high."
Ed paused here to light his pipe which had a way of always going out
when he reached the most dramatic point in his stories. When it was
finally going again, he continued:
"Lucky 'twere for me th' rocks were all covered. In we goes, me an'
th' ice, an' I hangs on an' shuts my eyes. When I opens un we're
floatin' peaceful an' steady below th' rapids, an' I feels like
breathin' agin.
"Then we runs th' Porcupine Rapids, an' I begins t' think I has th'
Muskrat Falls t' run too which would be th' endin' o' me, sure.


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