THE THREE FRIENDS A canoe containing two boys and a man was moving slowly on one of the little lakes in the great northern wilderness of what is now the State of New York.

The water, a brilliant blue under skies of the same intense sapphire tint, rippled away gently on either side of the prow, or rose in heaps of glittering bubbles, as the paddles were lifted for a new stroke.
Vast masses of dense foliage in the tender green of early spring crowned the high banks of the lake on every side.

The eye found no break anywhere.

Only the pink or delicate red of a wild flower just bursting into bloom varied the solid expanse of emerald walls; and save for the canoe and a bird of prey, darting in a streak of silver for a fish, the surface of the water was lone and silent.
The three who used the paddles were individual and unlike, none of them bearing any resemblance to the other two.

The man sat in the stern.