Passing Campbell’s Pond, Sea View, and Darnley Bar, I arrived later that afternoon at the Lobster Factory at the head of Malpeque Harbour doing about 20 miles of almost continuous paddling. After a few miles my long green paddle becoming bent like a spoon, I’d turn the blade around until it straightened and so every so often.

At Malpeque or “Princetown” I stayed overnight at the home of Amy and Ralph Ramsay, and the home of a dear friend of mine. From here I mailed a number of postcards to friends I had made along the way from “The Canoeman” and to my mother, reporting progress.

And so, next day, inside Fish Island across Malpeque Bay, past Bird Island, and ashore at the Southern tip‘ of Lennox Island just at sunset. Here I was greeted by a group of Indian children, one of whom, a teenage girl, seemed to look upon me quite favorably. Or, perhaps it was just my imagination and Tota was the real attraction. An elderly man present with the children invited me to come with him to his house and have my supper. He identified himself as John Labobe, explaining that the family name meant “beef” and was adopted by his Indian ancestors because in the old days Senator Yeo had every year given them a carcass of beef to help them through the winter. In conversation he also mentioned that Mr. Yeo had at one

time cleared around the edge of a hardwood grove to make the outline of a map of Prince Edward Island.

I told John that I was anxious to get before dark to the home of John Sark, whose wife I had learned was an English girl. I consented to stop long enough at the Labobe’s to have a cup of scalding hot tea, antiseptic and refreshing. With John leading the way, we then set out by a narrow path through the thick woods. I was glad that John could see in the almost impenetrable dark. Somehow I pictured myself as Natty Bumpo and the scene something out of the Leather- Stocking Tales.

After what seemed a long time, John and I suddenly emerged into a small open field. Before us shone the light of a house and coming thru the window we heard the sound of a piano.

The pianist, one of the Sark girls (was it Martha or was it Rebecca?), was too shy to play for me, so her father sat down and played, though he had no musical training. He had never heard of Liebestraum; I whistled a few bars and he played them right after me.

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