“In the canoe, the Indian smiled. Once he paused in a stroke, and rested his blade. For that instant he looked like his own Paddle. There was a song in his heart. It crept to his lips, but only the… — Holling Clancy Holling Copy Share
“In the canoe, the Indian smiled. Once he paused in a stroke, and rested his blade. For that instant he looked like his own Paddle. There was a song in his heart. It crept to his lips, but only the water and the wind could hear. You, Little Traveler! You made the journey, the Long Journey. You now know the… — Holling Clancy Holling Copy Share