My Companions Were Pointing Out On
That Shore, The Mouth Of Carp River, Which Comes Down Through The Forest
Roaring
Over rocks, and in any of the pools of which you have only to
throw a line, with any sort
Of bait, to be sure of a trout, when the
driver of our vehicle called out, "Your boat is coming." We looked and saw
the St. Louis steamer, not one of the largest, but one of the finest boats
in the line between Buffalo and Chicago, making rapidly for the island,
with a train of black smoke hanging in the air behind her. We hastened to
return through the woods, and in an hour and a half we were in our clean
and comfortable quarters in this well-ordered little steamer.
But I should mention that before leaving Mackinaw, we did not fail to
visit the principal curiosities of the place, the Sugar Loaf Rock, a
remarkable rock in the middle of the island, of a sharp conical form,
rising above the trees by which it is surrounded, and lifting the stunted
birches on its shoulders higher than they, like a tall fellow holding up a
little boy to overlook a crowd of men - and the Arched Rock on the shore.
The atmosphere was thick with smoke, and through the opening spanned by
the arch of the rock I saw the long waves, rolled up by a fresh wind, come
one after another out of the obscurity, and break with roaring on the
beach.
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