the process a back muscle from which I continue to suffer. Across the channel, by the same method, I finally beached the canoe at the foot of what I later learned to be the Linkletter Road.

From here it was a long dark walk, in my bare feet whilst pelted by rain, ending in time at the door of Capt. Shep Allen in Summer- side. For the sake of my dead father, one of his old friends, Capt. Shep welcomed me most cordially to his beautiful home, even though 1 had just got him and his wife and her sister Carrie Dobson out of bed. After a hot bath and a luxurious sleep:

To Mary Queen the praise be given! She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven that slid into my soul”,

I awoke a new man.

And so, after borrowing and mauling poor Shep’s straight razor (my safety being inadequate for the task) to remove a barb—wire growth of beard, and after a bountiful breakfast, back to Miscouche beach, and from there by paddle to Summerside Wharf.

Here Capt. Shep waved me good-bye though I knew he would worry till he got word that I was safe home.

About noon I landed for a short rest at the tip of Indian Point directly across from the Town. Here, again, my Father’s and my family’s good name proved an asset.

Accosted by two couples who had just arrived to visit their summer cottages and who demanded what I was doing prowling around their property, I explained that l was just looking for a pump and a drink of cold water. When I showed them the canoe on the beach just below the bank, they were satisfied. When I gave them my name and explained that I had a while before stayed with Capt. Allen, they said that my name was good enough for them. They not

only accepted me, but insisted that I share with them a wonderful lobster dinner.

After exchanging goodbyes and best wishes with my new found friends, Mr. and Mrs. Hillard Muttart and Mr. and Mrs. Lee Horne, all of Summerside, I headed South for Seacow Head passing Saluta- tion Cove along the way.

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