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Literary Lapses
·
Stephen Leacock
123
"Glorious!
and
are
there
portages?"
"Lots
of
them."
"And
at
each
of
these
do
I
carry
two
hundred
pounds
of
stuff
up
a
hill
on
my
back?"
"Yes."
"And
will
there
be
a
guide,
a
genuine,
dirty-looking
Indian
guide?"
"Yes."
"And
can
I
sleep
next
to
him?"
"Oh,
yes,
if
you
want
to."
"And
when
we
get
to
the
top,
what
is
there?"
"Well,
we
go
over
the
height
of
land."
"Oh,
we
do,
do
we?
And
is
the
height
of
land
all
rock
and
about
three
hundred
yards
up-hill?
And
do
I
carry
a
barrel
of
flour
up
it?
And
does
it
roll
down
and
crush
me
on
the
other
side?
Look
here,
Billy,
this
trip
is
a
great
thing,
but
it
is
too
luxurious
for
me.
If
you
will
have
me
paddled
up
the
river
in
a
large
iron
canoe
with
an
awning,
carried
over
the
portages
in
a
sedan-chair,
taken
across
the
height
of
land
in
a
palanquin
or
a
howdah,
and
lowered
down
the
other
side
in
a
derrick,
I'll
go.
Short
of
that,
the
thing
would
be
too
fattening."
Billy
was
discouraged
and
left
me.
But
he
has
since
returned
repeatedly
to
the
attack.
He
offers
to
take
me
to
the
head-waters
of
the
Batiscan.
I
am
content
at
the
foot.
He
wants
us
to
go
to
the
sources
of
the
Attahwapiscat.
I
don't.
He
says
I
ought
to
see
the
grand
chutes
of
the
Kewakasis.
Why
should
I?
I
have
made
Billy
a
counter-proposition
that
we
strike
through
the
Adirondacks
(in
the
train)
to
New
York,
from
there
portage
to
Atlantic
City,
then
to
Washington,
carrying
our
own
grub
(in
the
dining-car),
camp
there
a
few
days
(at
the
Willard),
and
then
back,
I
to
return
by
train
and
Billy
on
foot
with
the
outfit.
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