"Yes, I guess we had both better let this story wait until we are home, for it would only worry them," said Bob.

"That's the sensible thing to do, for it is very unlikely that you will be exposed to such danger a second time," said Mr. Anderson.

The two canoes started across the lake. They noticed the small tree dislodged by the bowlder. It was floating near the base of the cliff and had been snapped off like a pipe stem.

In spite of the excitement of the day, the boys had a good appetite for their supper. Afterwards they sat around the camp fire that had been made in front of Mr. Waterman's tent and talked of many things. The guides could be seen lying back on their balsam boughs before the fire, talking and gesticulating.

"We'll have to go over and talk to the guides some time," said Bob. "They seem to have a lot to tell each other."

"Yes, they are talkative to-night. Generally they have not much to say unless you get them telling some of their experiences," said Mr. Anderson.

"What do you say to a taste of portaging to-morrow?" asked Mr. Waterman of the boys.

"That's fine," said Bob, answering for the others. "Where shall we go?"

"We'll go up north to a little lake where the water always seems a little warmer than it is here, probably because it's shallower. We'll catch some fish, climb a mountain and have a good swim."

"That 'listens' fine," said Pud.

"We'll take a lunch along and make a day of it," said Mr. Anderson. "For one, I'm going to turn in, as I have been up since four o'clock this morning, and I'm dead for sleep."

"That's a good idea," said Mr. Waterman.

In a short time, the boys were sound asleep and only the glowing coals told the starry sky that there human beings were to be found.



CHAPTER IV

ACROSS THE PORTAGE

Six o'clock the next morning found every one up and ready for a dip. Mr. Anderson, having heard of the fact that Pud was bound to have his morning dip no matter how cold the water, thought to have some sport with him.

"Pud, have you seen our famous shower bath?" asked Mr. Anderson quietly.

"No. Where is it?" said Pud.

"It's just up this little stream. It's a little cold for me, but they tell me that you like cold water in the morning."

"Oh, yes," said Bill, "Pud has to have his cold shower every morning, winter or summer."

"Lead us to it," said Bob.

Mr. Anderson then led the boys up a path which finally came out right under a fifteen-foot waterfall. It certainly looked like a natural shower bath, for the water was broken in its fall by the jutting rocks. Bill put his hand into the water and pulled it back with a jerk.

"Some cold," said he.

Bob did the same.

"Me for the lake. That's too cold for my blood," was Bob's remark.

It was certainly up to Pud. He tried the water and could hardly restrain himself from pulling back.

"Fine, fine," said Pud, as he pushed under the down-rushing water and stood there for a minute. He came out almost breathless because of the contraction of his muscles by the cold water.

"Won't you indulge?" asked Mr. Anderson, turning to Bill and Bob.

"No, thank you," said Bill. "To tell the truth, I really prefer the lake."

"Well, I'll beat you to it," said Bob, and off they dashed down the path. In a moment Mr. Anderson and Pud heard them splash as they plunged into the lake.

"That's some cold shower," said Pud.

"I thought that you would like it," said Mr. Anderson seriously.

Pud looked at him said nothing as they went down the path. As they came out at the lake, Mr. Waterman said,

"Pierre objects to our using the stream for bathing purposes, as we use it for our drinking and cooking."

"I didn't think of that," said Mr. Anderson.

"Neither did I until he spoke to me about it," said Mr. Waterman.

"That's too bad," said Pud. "I thought I was going to have a real cold shower every morning."

He said it so seriously that neither Mr. Waterman nor Mr. Anderson knew whether he really meant it or not. To Bob later, Pud stated that the intervention of Pierre was providential for he had never been under such a real icy shower before.

After their swim they all sat down to breakfast and enjoyed every bit of it. After breakfast they spent some time cleaning up the camp. They got everything ship-shape in their tents first and then they cleared up a part of the beach. The boys enjoyed this as the experience of wielding an axe was new to then. They also had cause for wonder at the way in which their two leaders used the axes. They went at things very strenuously and seemed to be able to hit just where they wished. Bob commented on their skill, but they both stated that they were mere beginners in comparison with the guides.

About nine o'clock Mr. Waterman called a halt, and they got ready for their little journey. They took along just a loaf of bread and a small tin in which butter, salt and pepper were packed. The boys took along their rods and Mr. Waterman carried a small rifle. In explanation of the latter he said that they might have a shot at a duck or a partridge. They took two canoes. Bob went with Mr. Waterman, while Pud and Bill carried Mr. Anderson as a passenger. To their surprise, Mr. Waterman led the way just around the bend and then to the opposite shore. The boys had not noticed a path, but on landing they could see a trail leading off along a little stream that emptied into the lake at this place. On landing, Mr. Waterman fixed the paddles in the right way, took up the canoe and was off. Bob carried his gun, and he had all he could do to keep up with his leader. Mr. Anderson also wished to make the first portage, but Pud prevailed, and after a little trouble, they started off. Pud was soon puffing and blowing, for the path was steep. Mr. Anderson led the way for the other two had been lost to view even before the second party got started.

"This isn't so easy as it looks," said Pud to Bill.

"If you're getting tired, I'll take it," answered Bill.

"Not on your life. I've got to learn the knack of this portaging, for I mean to do a lot of it this summer, and I might just as well get used to it now as any time," said Pud, between his puffs.

"Let the weight rest on forearms, head and shoulders and you won't mind it," said Mr. Anderson. "As you say, there's a knack to it. Also, it takes muscles that we don't use right along, and for that reason it's rather tiring at first."

By this time they had topped the little divide between the two lakes and they began to descend. Pud began to have his troubles, for like all novices, he carried the canoe poorly. He came near to falling several times, and it was with a sigh of relief that he came out on the shore of a small lake. Bob and Mr. Waterman were in their canoe off the shore, evidently waiting for them.

"How's the portaging?" yelled Bob, as soon as Pud came in sight.

"Fine," said Pud. "But I have a crease here in the back of my neck that will be sore for a week."

They were soon off again, with Bob leading. The lake opened out and they found themselves in a stretch that gleamed a good mile ahead of them. All at once Bob slowed down and Mr. Anderson called on the boys to stop paddling.

"He sees something," said Mr. Anderson.

All eyes were on Mr. Waterman as he got his gun ready. Over to the left the boys saw three ducks swimming, and they knew that this was the reason for their stop. "Bang!" went the gun, and one of the ducks toppled over, but the other two disappeared as if by magic.

"Pick up the bird," yelled Mr. Waterman to Mr. Anderson.

"All right," replied the latter.

Mr. Waterman looked around carefully, and a minute later the two ducks arose to the surface some distance farther on. Bob and he took up their paddles and tried to get within a reasonable distance again. They had scared the birds so that they kept swimming away, keeping out of distance. At last Mr. Waterman laid down his paddle and got his rifle again. This time he missed, for it must be remembered that he was shooting with a rifle and not with a shotgun. It was only after three more trials that he bagged his second duck and it took a good hour longer to get the other one. For some reason the birds did not want to leave the lake and they were all three finally in Mr. Anderson's canoe.

"That will make another fine pot-pie," said Bill.

"We haven't any pot to make it in," said Pud.

"We'll have it back at camp," said Mr. Anderson. "These ducks, with some dumplings and flour gravy, will be some dish."

They made for the far end of the lake and then got out. By this time it was nearly twelve o'clock, and they debated whether to climb the mountain then or wait until they had had something to eat.

"I tell you what to do," said Anderson. "You fellows go and climb this mountain. I'll stay here, catch a few fish, then build a fire and have everything ready for you when you return."

This was considered a good plan, so the three boys and Mr. Waterman set out. There was no trail this time, but Mr. Waterman strode ahead with confidence.

"Have you been over here before?" asked Bob.

"Oh, yes," replied Mr. Waterman. "I want to come here again several times before the summer is over, for when we get to the top of this mountain you will see something that very few city dwellers have ever seen, namely, a real primeval forest."

"I thought that this was all primeval, way up here," said Bob.

"No," was the reply. "The big lumber companies see to it that there is but little first growth any place where they can get the lumber to tide water."

"Well, how is it that we'll see first growth up here, then?" asked Bill.

"You'll see when we get there," replied Mr. Waterman.

He walked on and they followed. Pud was saying nothing, but he was having his troubles keeping up. He looked ahead at Mr. Waterman, who was apparently sauntering along, and he wondered how he did it. Fortunately for him, Mr. Waterman was very observant, for he noted Pud's distress and slackened his pace or stopped to point out some great pine tree or other object worth noting.

"Do you smell him?" suddenly said Mr. Waterman, as he stopped and looked around carefully.

"Smell whom?" asked Pud, stopping in his tracks.

"The bear," said Mr. Waterman. "Can't you smell something in the air? I can. A bear has been here not very long ago. Ah, there are his tracks." He pointed to an old pine stump, which had been clawed recently. The boys looked at the stump, but they saw no tracks.

"Come here," said Mr. Waterman, as he strode over the stump. "Bears like grubs, ants, and things of that kind, so you will often know that bears are around by noting stumps, hollow trees, etc., when they have clawed at them."

The boys came over. Bob looked at the stump and then down at the ground.

"There's a track," said Bob, as he pointed at a rather big print in the soft earth on the lower side of the stump. Sure enough, they could plainly see the footprint of the bear.

"Will he come after us?" inquired Pud, looking around rather anxiously, with his eyes resting finally on Mr. Waterman's rifle.

"I'll answer your unasked question first," replied Mr. Waterman. "No, this gun would be worse than nothing for a bear. It would only wound him, and that would only make sure of an attack. As for your real question, there is not one chance in a hundred that the bear will come for us. The bears in this part of the country are well-known black bears and they have hardly ever been known to attack men unless wounded or backed into a corner. Judging by the fact that I smelt this bear even before I noticed this stump, I would guess that we disturbed him and that as soon as he smelt us, away he went, and he's probably a mile away by this time."

They then went on, and after a good climb they came out on the top of the mountain. Mr. Waterman first led them to the southern side. The slope fell quite abruptly to a little lake far below.

"Do you see the St. Lawrence?" asked Mr. Waterman.

"No. Where?" asked Bob.

Mr. Waterman then pointed to the south, and about fifteen miles away they could see the broad St. Lawrence stretching as far as the eye could reach.

"I thought that was a cloud," said Bill. "I see now that it is water, and away off there to the right I can see a big steamer making for Quebec."

Mr. Waterman then pointed out several lakes, giving them names and telling them that they would visit practically all of them before the summer was over. He told them that Lac Parent, on which they were camping, was hidden from view by the mountains next to the one on which they stood. It was a fine day and Bill thought that he could distinguish the Andirondack Mountains far off to the south in the United States. Mr. Waterman stated that this might be true, as they had been seen from this vicinity on very clear days. After thoroughly enjoying the view to the south, Mr. Waterman turned away and they went in a northeasterly direction. In a little while they came to another side of the mountain. In a short time Mr. Waterman led them out onto a bold rocky precipice that stood out from the mountain. They looked down into a gulch hundreds of feet below. They gazed at an immense coliseum, the sides of which were lined with giant trees. It was the wildest bit of scenery that the boys had ever looked on.

"That looks just like some of the mining camps in the Rockies," said Bob. "I've seen pictures of several that look just like this."

"That's just what struck me when I first looked down from this rock," said Mr. Waterman. "It certainly does look as if there might be some kind of mineral down there. As yet, I have not been able to find time to go down to the bottom. Those trees interest me. They are the finest I have ever seen. I can't see any lake down there, but there must be some outlet for the water."

"Why not come over here some time and go down there and investigate?" said Bill.

"We'll do that, and I'll bring you along. Let's go down the gulch a bit so you can get a look at some of these great tamaracks and cedars. You won't see them any place else."

They followed their leader, who gave them another hour of hard climbing, though he finally brought them out, half way down the mountain.

"Ye gods!" cried Mr. Waterman, as he looked at his watch. "It's after two o'clock. Let's hurry, for Mr. Anderson will think that we are lost."

Suiting action to the word, he plowed along, and though the boys were not sure in what direction they were going, they soon came out on a lake. Mr. Waterman gave a cry, which was answered immediately, not far off.

In another moment they saw Mr. Anderson putting off in a canoe. They all got in, though it brought the gunwale of the canoe down pretty close to the water. Paddling carefully, they soon landed, to find a fire burning, several fish all ready cleaned and ready for the fire, and bread all ready buttered.

"We forgot the frying pan," said Pud. "How are we going to cook the fish?"

"That's easy," said Bob. "Haven't you ever cooked fish on a stick over the fire?"

"Never," replied Pud.

"Well, you have something to learn, then," said Mr. Anderson. "You'll find pointed sticks all ready, so get busy, as it's getting late and we must be on our way."

The boys found the sticks all ready prepared, and it was not long before they were all sitting around the fire, eating fish with one hand and holding another trout over the fire with the other. The two men had often cooked fish this way and they did theirs to a turn, but the boys more often than not had theirs burned outside and half raw within. But their exercise had given them such appetites that the fish disappeared as if by magic. They stopped when there was no more bread nor fish.

"You boys are some feeders," said Mr. Anderson. "I thought I had more fish than we could eat."

"I'm just getting into action," said Pud, as he licked off his fingers and looked around for more. But more there was not, so they got into their canoes and were off down the lake. When they came to the portage Bob took the canoe and marched off into the bushes followed by Mr. Waterman carrying rod and gun. Bill insisted on carrying the canoe back, and he did very well considering that it was his first experience. He also found the going down hill rather difficult, but he soon balanced the canoe properly and had no more trouble. When they got to the end of the trail they saw Bob and Mr. Waterman just rounding the point for camp. They set out after them, but by the time they arrived, they found them already stripped and in the water.

"Come on in, the water's fine," yelled Bob.

"We'll be with you in a minute," said Bill.

On getting out of the canoe they found that the guides had already been busy with the landing. Four logs had been split in two and were ready at the chosen place. Mr. Anderson carried the ducks to the cook tent and he came back to assure the boys that they were in for a rare treat for supper.

"Jack's back, and he said that he would see to this pot-pie himself."

The boys turned at once to note the new guide. They found a rather old man, sharp of feature and eye but not very strong-looking.

"I thought he was a big fellow," said Bob.

"Oh, no," replied Mr. Waterman. "Jack's not very big, but he can tote quite a load over the hardest kind of portage. He's a wonder with the axe, and he can cook like a French chef. You'll find that out to-night."

After a fine swim and bath the boys were quite content to lie around their tents until they heard the welcome call to supper.

"I feel as empty as a barrel," said Pud, as he walked over to the table. "Gee, I'm stiff. I won't be able to get out of my blankets to-morrow."

"That just shows how soft you are," said Bob. "I'm a little stiff myself, but not very much. The back of my neck is sore."

"So is mine," said Bill.

"That's where you rest the canoe when portaging," said Mr. Anderson, who had heard the remark. "You'll get a real callous there before the summer is over. Just for curiosity, feel Pierre's neck some time. He has been at this all his life, and he has a regular muscle there."

What those hungry fellows did to that pot-pie would be a shame to tell. It disappeared very quickly, while the biscuits that Jack made tasted even better than those that mother used to bake. Even the big dish of prunes that topped off the meal was relished.

"Take me to my little bed," said Pud as, with a sigh, he saw the last prune disappear from his plate.

"Impossible, impossible," said Bob. "I think after that meal that you'll have to go around and not dare to cross the bridge over the trout pond. You'll break through."

"Not an extra step," said Pud. "In fact, I've been wondering for the last five minutes if I can get to my tent. I'm so stiff I can hardly move." It was indeed only with difficulty that Pud could navigate, for he had put in a hard day for a fat boy.

"If I survive the summer," said Pud, with a twinkle in his eye, "just watch me tear that old line to pieces this fall. This life should put the stuff into anybody."

"Yes," said Mr. Waterman, as he winked at Bob, "this was a rather easy day. Later we'll do some real work and cover some ground. I wanted to break you in easily at first."

"Now, what do you think of that?" queried Pud of Bill, as they crossed the trout pond to their tent. "He says this is an easy day. I wonder what he thinks of doing when he gets real strenuous?"

"I guess he was joking," replied Bob. "Personally, I think that we had just about all the exercise to-day that we need."

"Jack's some cook, isn't he?" queried Bill, as they sat before the fire a short time later.

"We're all agreed on that," said Bob. "I never tasted a better supper than we had."

"If we can get some duck and partridge now and then, we'll certainly live high," said Pud. "I could get along with the trout alone, for I have never tasted anything better than that."

"I was going over and make the guides tell me some of their experiences to-night," said Bob. "To tell the truth, I'm tired, and I think I'll get to bed early. Anyway, I think I'd better wait a while until I get back my French again. They talk pretty good French. It's a sort of dialect, but I can understand them pretty well. I am told that it is easier to understand their patois or dialect than many of the dialects in France itself."

Shortly after night had fallen the boys turned in, and they were soon fast asleep, all weary after their strenuous day.



CHAPTER V

THE SHORT TRAIL TO ESCOUMAINS

They were awakened the next morning by a rifle shot. The boys, as if with one accord, rose up on their elbows and looked around with startled glances.

"What was that?" asked Bob.

"A rifle shot," answered Bill.

Their discussion was cut short by another shot, and they heard voices down at the lake. They hurried down to the water and they found Mr. Waterman and Pierre there, the latter with a smoking gun in his hand.

"It's a loon," said Mr. Waterman, as they came up. "Let me have a try," he said, turning to Pierre and reaching for the gun. Pierre handed it over and Mr. Waterman scanned the waterfront closely. In about a minute, a big bird rose to the surface about one hundred yards away and looked around carelessly.

"No use. Too far away," said Pierre.

Mr. Waterman took careful aim and blazed away, but the loon disappeared and the bullet was seen to hit the water right where the bird had been the previous moment. It looked too fast to be true. The stories that the boys had heard of the wonderful quickness of loons were proven to them right then and there.

"I'll get him next time," said Mr. Waterman, as he jumped in another shell. "That blame loon is crazy. He thinks I can't hit him."

"He's right," said Pierre. "I go help fix breakfast," said the Indian, as he walked away.

Sure enough, in a short time up came the loon, and swam around apparently defying fate. Once more Mr. Waterman took steady aim, but the result was just the same.

"That beats the Dutch," said Mr. Waterman. "I thought I had him that time."

"What!" said Mr. Anderson, as he came up. "Trying to hit that loon again. If you get that bird you lose anyway, for you've already shot off more lead than he's worth."

"All right," said Mr. Waterman. "Let's have a plunge before breakfast. We'll just have time."

They all hurried back to their tents, and were still in the water when they heard Jack's cheery halloo calling them to the table. They were hungry and enjoyed the fare set before them.

"We'll have another fishing lesson to-day," said Mr. Waterman, after they had eaten. "I think you had better take it easy after yesterday's strenuousness, so we'll all start out together at ten o'clock and see which boy gets the most fish by twelve."

This was agreed on, and until the hour set, the boys busied themselves around their tents, helped to clear up more of the beach or watched the guides as they worked on the landing. The latter was a very interesting operation. They had three logs cut in half. It was easy to cut the ends of the logs so that they rested on a short piece on the shore and on the top of two small pieces that were driven in at the right distance from the shore. The whole was kept together by wooden spikes driven into place through holes made by fire in the logs. When the first section was completed, it was as solid as possible, making a landing over two feet wide and nearly twenty feet long. The guides planned to put in another section of the same length, and they expected to have more trouble with it. This extra section was being put in more for swimming and diving purposes than for any real need. Mr. Waterman made such a remark to Jack, who said that it would be just the thing for him when the rest of the party were away on trips.

"I'll just get out on the end of that little landing and I'll bet you I get just about as many trout as the rest of you," said Jack.

"I wouldn't be surprised if you would, you old wizard," said Mr. Anderson. "I think you must have some special bait, for those trout just come to your hook like flies to honey."

The boys paired off about ten o'clock, and when they came back shortly before one o'clock, it was found that Bill had had the best luck, with Bob next and Pud last. Bill had twenty-six fine trout in his bag, Bob twenty-one and Pud fifteen.

Jack looked them over as they brought them to him.

"Well, I guess we won't starve for another day or two anyway," he said. "I'm glad to see that you can catch enough fish to supply yourselves. A fisherman is no good at all until he can do that."

"You don't need to be much of a fisherman to do that up here," said Bob.

"Yes, fortunately, that's so," replied Jack, as he went on with his work.

Several days sped on and it became necessary to go out to Escoumains to get the letters and some more grub. Mr. Waterman made this known one evening, stating that he thought that he would go out through an old Indian trail that had not been used for some years.

"This trail is much shorter than by the road, and, if we can open it up, it will be a fine thing for us."

"Yes, and it will be a fine thing for the habitants at Escoumains," said Mr. Anderson.

"I hadn't thought of that," said Mr. Waterman reflectively. "If we get too good a road in here they will be coming in themselves and bringing their friends."

"You bet they will," said Jack. "We don't want that bunch in here, so keep to the old road."

"It would be a good thing to know this old trail. It is so much shorter," said Mr. Waterman. "Then if we had need for speed we could get out, or Pierre's cousin could bring in any important mail to us."

"I'll go out that way anyway, and we'll not make any real improvements to the trail," said Mr. Waterman.

"Do you want any one to go with you?" asked Bob.

"I don't need any one, but I'll be glad to have you if you want to come. That stands for all of you," added Mr. Waterman, as the other boys looked up.

The next morning they were up very early. The three boys, Mr. Waterman and Jean were going into the village. Joe, Jack and Pierre were going along part of the way to bring back the canoes, for they were going to portage through two lakes on the way. As they were coming back by the road, they would not be able to get the canoes back themselves. After a hurried breakfast they got in their canoes. Much to the surprise of the boys, Mr. Waterman led them down the lake, around the bend and then into a cove on the same side of the lake from which they had started. They got out at what was evidently a very old trail. This led up very steeply. Fast time was made, as Pierre and Mr. Waterman carried the canoes and the others were going light. Up they went, and came to a lake that must have been at least one hundred feet higher than their own lake.

"It would be easy to drain that lake into ours," said Bob, when he saw the new stretch of water.

"Yes," said Mr. Anderson. "The lake is just like a big reservoir on a hill. It could easily be drained into Lac Parent, but it is so high up that no water would be left. Let's leave it as it is, for it will serve us well this morning."

They set off across the lake with Mr. Waterman, Bob and Jean in the first canoe. On they went with strong strokes, so that Pierre and Mr. Anderson, with four in their canoe, had to work hard to keep them in sight. The lake was not very long, and soon they were on the trail again. This time the portage was at least a mile long, and it led down a gradual slope. So far there was no trouble following the trail and the party went ahead without a stop. Once more the canoes were launched, and this time they paddled through two lakes connected by a small stream. At the far end of the second lake the canoes were beached and the party landed. Here they separated. At first they had no trouble following the trail, which led along a brook that evidently drained the two lakes over which they had just come. Straight ahead they went, with Mr. Waterman leading.

After they had gone steadily a little over a mile, Jean called to Mr. Waterman and a halt was made. Jean jointed off into the woods and after a consultation Mr. Waterman concluded that the young Indian was right, and they turned off. The trail soon became very hard to distinguish, but each time that Mr. Waterman hesitated, the Indian went by him, leading the way without a halt. As they were passing through some thick undergrowth Mr. Waterman halted and pointed to a partridge seated on a limb on a nearby tree, only twelve or fifteen feet from the trail. The bird, evidently trusting to its protective coloring, sat on the limb without moving a muscle. Mr. Waterman had just begun to explain to the boys that the bird was undoubtedly trusting to its instinct in remaining in quiet when, with a flutter of the wings, down fell the partridge from the tree to be grabbed almost instantly by the Indian.

Jean had noted the bird just as quickly as Mr. Waterman, but he had followed his natural bent by swiftly dodging off the trail, cutting a stout little club from a hardwood tree, rushing back to the trail and with unerring aim knocking over the partridge with his improvised weapon. The boys could see that Mr. Waterman was put out, but he evidently knew that the Indian would not be able to see his point of view, so he said nothing. The Indian, with a gleam in his eye, walked ahead, having tied the bird to his belt. The boys were all sorry that the partridge had met such an untimely end, but they could not help admiring the woodcraft shown by the young Indian.

The only other excitement they had on the way was furnished by Pud. About half way to the village they came to a little stream that was rather deep. They looked about and at last found a big tree that had fallen across the stream. All of the party except Pud walked across the log without any trouble. He got about half way across when he lost his balance. He felt himself going, so he threw himself on the log and encircled it with his arms and legs. His weight proved too much for the bark, which had been loosened by the water, and it began to come off. It moved around the trunk in a body and Pud followed it. In spite of his efforts, he gradually disappeared in the dark water. He tried in vain to get up on the log, but he could not make it and finally had to pull his body along in the water until he got to the other side. Pud's acrobatic performance had brought peals of laughter from Bob and Bill. Even the Indian had a smile on his face as Pud got out of the water.

"What are you laughing at?" asked Pud, as he got ashore, evidently sore at the joke on him.

"Oh, nothing," said Bob. "Only you reminded me of a fat monkey on a stick."

"I'll 'fat monkey' you, letting me drown without so much as putting out your hand," said Pud.

"Letting you drown," said Bill. "You fat porpoise, don't you know that you couldn't sink if you tried?"

"I bet he was just trying to practice walking the greasy pole so he could show us how to do that stunt," said Bob.

"That old tree has all the greasy poles you ever saw beaten to death," said Pud with disgust.

"Perhaps that was a slippery elm tree," said Bill. "What do you say, Pud? Did you taste it?"

"No, I didn't taste it. I'll give you both a taste if you don't stop standing there laughing like two old women," said Pud, as he dashed for them. He was evidently up to mischief, so they ran up the trail. Pud soon gave up the chase, and as they came out at a habitant's farm shortly afterwards, he forgot all about his troubles and regained his habitual cheerfulness.

Just before they started down a hill on the outskirts of Escoumains, they all stopped to empty out their shoepacks. All of them had at one time or other gotten into some hole filled with water and all had wet feet. They wrung out their socks and then put on their footgear again.

"Holy smoke," said Bill, "if mother saw me do that little stunt she would call me back home at once."

"What's that?" asked Mr. Waterman, who had thought nothing of the matter.

"Why, wringing out my socks and then putting them on again," said Bill. "Mother would be sure that that would mean pneumonia at least."

"Don't worry," said Mr. Anderson. "Before we get home you will probably have your feet quite dry again and then much wetter. A little water will not do any one any harm when one is living out in the open air this way. Of course, in the winter time, it would be different. Then it would be serious to get one's feet so wet."

"Why so?" asked Pud.

"Because then, wet feet unless one can get to the fire right away, generally mean frosted or frozen feet, and that always means trouble in the woods in the winter time."

Down they all trooped to Escoumains. They stopped in at Madame LaBlanche's boarding house to let her know that they would be there for lunch.

"Make us up some of those good biscuits of yours," said Mr. Waterman to her in French.

She promised to do so and also said that her son would be ready at one o'clock to drive them all back to the woods.

"Are we going to drive back?" asked Bob.

"Yes," said Mr. Anderson. "We'll take in quite a supply of grub, for we do not expect to come out except for mail for at least a month. We'll have to go in via the ford, as we did the first time, and you know that that is some sixteen miles away."

The boys all received letters and busied themselves reading them and writing others. They spent the morning very pleasantly and were at the boarding house in good time. They presented quite a different appearance from the trim young city fellows that had eaten there on their arrival such a short time before. Now they were clothed for the woods, with blue shirts, mackinaws, heavy trousers and shoe packs. At a distance, one could hardly distinguish them from the numerous woodsmen that were to be seen around the village. They brought back from the woods great appetites, and the famous LaBlanche biscuits disappeared by the plateful. Chicken was once more the center of the meal, and it was thoroughly enjoyed.

"Thank Heaven," said Pud, as they got up from the table, "we don't have to walk back. I'm so full I couldn't walk if I tried."

"You'll do some walking," said Mr. Waterman. "We have only one pair of horses and a wagon. We'll all walk on the hills."

Soon they were off, Mr. Waterman and Mr. Anderson on the front seat with the driver, and the boys seated on the bags that were stowed behind. The little Canadian horses set off at a sharp trot. The boys nodded at every one they met as they went through the village, not forgetting even the vivacious, petite, dark-haired and dark-eyed French Canadian misses that did not fail to come to many of the windows or doors as the wagon rattled by. It was a fine day and they were happy as the gods. They laughed and talked and sang and asked innumerable questions. Their two leaders were also full of good spirits and gave them all the information they had. For the first five miles the horses went along famously. Then the roads got poorer and the pace slackened. They soon struck a steep hill and they all got out except the driver. At the top of the hill, the wagon stopped and all got on but Pud. He was slow as usual so the driver made believe that his horses had run away and Pud ran along after them for nearly a mile. Finally the horses were stopped and Pud at last came up puffing, blowing and sweating. Mr. Waterman had cautioned every one to be quite serious and not give the joke away.

"Sacre," said the driver. "Dese horse, he not get drive enough. He run away."

"How's the running, Pud?" asked Bill.

"Never you mind. Just let me in. I'm done out. I'm no runner like Bob there," replied Pud.

"Possibly your life was saved for when these horses ran away, we could hardly keep on this load," said Bob, as he winked at Mr. Anderson.

"Yes, if you're born to be hanged you'll never get killed in a runaway, Pud," said Bill solemnly.

"What's that?" said Pud, who was having too much cleverness thrust at him to take it all in.

Away they went, and as the way was down hill, the driver once more gave the reins to his little horses and they started so fast that Pud nearly went out over the back of the wagon. Bill caught him and Pud held on like grim death as the wagon bumped and rattled along the rough road. Bill and Bob laughed until they could hardly hold on themselves, for Pud's face was a study. He knew that they had put something over on him but he could not exactly figure it out.

In spite of the speed shown by the horses in the runaway, it was already four o'clock when they reached the ford. The driver drove right in and when he got to the other side he drove up such a steep part of the bank with such a rush that he spilled out not only the three boys but also about half his load. No one was hurt and the grub was soon on the wagon again. He drove for at least half a mile until the road could be followed no longer. The food was then dumped out on the ground, and with cheery good-by the driver was soon out of sight on the back trail.

"Let's get busy right away," said Mr. Waterman. "We want to get to camp to-night so we'll have to hustle."

"I wonder where Pierre, Joe and Jack are," said Mr. Anderson.

"They'll be along right away, I'll bet," said Mr. Waterman.

Sure enough, before the boys had been loaded for the walk to the first lake, the three men hove in sight. It was really wonderful to see what they piled on each other. It is enough to tell, that when all were loaded down, they had taken care of everything that had been brought in the wagon.

"When we get to the canoes, we can make this stuff more easily handled," said Jack. "I did not think you were going to bring too much but I brought along some dunnage bags and tump lines."

"That's the stuff," said Mr. Waterman.

They moved off Indian file, and though the boys carried only half that borne by the guides and their leaders, they had difficulty in keeping up with the procession. They soon came to the first lake to find three canoes there. In twenty minutes, the baggage was put into the dunnage bags and they were off across the lake. The boys were given a light bag and a canoe to carry and the men carried the rest. In this way, they soon got to the next lake, and a short time later they were on their own lake, making for their camp.

"Just carry everything over to the cook tent and leave it there for the present," said Mr. Waterman. "Jack will put things in order to-morrow."

This was done, and the guides at once set to work to get supper. It was a hurried meal but it was relished by all. The night had set in by the time the meal was cooked and they ate by the light of the fire, which was kept brightly going by one of the guides. Bob thought as he looked at the lights and shades cast by the fire, the ruddy face here, the countenance half in shadow there, the greenness of the leaves that were lighted up by the fire, the solemn avenues of the trees stretching back into the woods, the animated movements of the guides and the whiteness of the tents as the light on them came and went, that he had never seen anything quite so close to nature, quite so picturesque.



CHAPTER VI

PIERRE'S BEAR STORY

The boys slept a little later the next morning, though when they did get up it was evident that Jack had been long busy. The entire stock of grub gotten the day before had been put away neatly and carefully and the dunnage bags and tump lines were piled in a heap at one end of the table. They spent the day quietly, fishing, swimming and fixing up things around the camp. They had an early supper and were down by their fire talking and joking. The guides were soon up in their tent, talking and showing much more life than usual. This gave Bob an idea, and he proposed that they would go and visit the guides. This seemed good to all and they went over to the guides' tent. They were welcomed solemnly and quietly. It was evident that they considered their tent as their part of the camp.

For the time being, they were the hosts and they were evidently flattered by the visit from the boys. Jack soon had the attention of Pud and Bill and it was with a merry twinkle in his eye that he told of many incidents in his life either in hunting or in the lumber camps. Bob being the only boy to understand French was soon in animated discussion with Joe and Pierre. The Indian under the questioning of the boy forsook his usual taciturnity, and in the most casual way told Bob of exploits in hunting and fishing that would make most interesting reading. To the Indian, they were events likely to happen to any one that goes out in the dead of winter to trap and hunt. Bob was a most interested listener and it was not until he had been called to twice by Bill that he awoke to the fact that it was nearly ten o'clock.

"Mr. Waterman says that we had better not keep the guides up too long or they will not want to be visited again," said Bill.

"I didn't think we had been here so long," replied Bob.

They said "Good Night" to the guides and were soon fast asleep.

The next day was another quiet one. The boys fished in the morning and they had very good luck. It was a good day for fishing and but few of the speckled beauties got away from the boys, who were becoming more expert every day. Even Pud had caught the hang of casting and promised to be the best fisherman of the lot.

In the afternoon, Bob proposed another visit to the mountain opposite, the same one where they had so nearly come to grief before.

"Go ahead," said Mr. Anderson, "but for your own sake, be careful."

"We'll promise not to get into trouble," said Pud. "We just need a little exercise and that climb will about fill the bill."

They started off and in a short time Mr. Waterman and Mr. Anderson, who were busy down on the water front putting the finishing touches to the landing place, saw them seated in the lee of a big rock looking out over the country. There they sat and for nearly two hours they could be seen with heads close together, evidently very much interested in their conversation. The fact of the matter was that Pud and Bill had asked Bob to tell them what the guides had told him the previous evening. As they sat up on the mountain, they looked far off to the south and saw the mighty St. Lawrence dividing the country as if with a giant silver knife.

"The Indians have had lots of experiences up north of here, hunting and trapping in the winter time," Bob began.

"What did Pierre tell you?" asked Pud. "Has he ever scalped any one?"

"You big dub," said Bill. "Indians don't go on scalping expeditions any more."

"Well, I thought that maybe some other Indian tribe might have tried to attack them," said Pud.

"Don't be foolish," said Bob. "There are few Indians up in this country and I guess from what Pierre tells me that they have enough troubles fighting for their lives against the forces of nature to keep them from thinking of fighting one another. In addition, the Canadian Government would soon put a stop to that. Anyway, these Indians are just as peace loving as any white man."

"I suppose you're right," said Pud. "All the same, I like to think of an Indian with tomahawk in hand having a fierce fight for his life with some other Indians or with the pale faces."

"You've been brought up on Nick Carter," laughed Bill. "Get that foolish rot out of your mind. Indians are just ordinary human beings and that is all."

"I don't know about that," said Pud. "That young Jean is some boy for his age. He can follow a trail just like the Indians we read of, and he knows all about the woods, animals, birds and all that. He's certainly like the Indians we read of in history."

"Yes," said Bob. "Jean is a fine specimen. He has all the good points of our ancestors, the real aborigines, without their failings."

"But what about Pierre? You were talking a long time with him, Bob," said Bill. "What was so interesting?"

"He was telling me of his winter hunting trips and he has had some thrilling experiences. He says that every year he gets ready just as soon as the snow flies in the fall. This generally means about the middle of November in this country. As soon as the earth is blanketed with snow, he gets his dogs and sleds ready and starts out with provisions to last for three months. Since his boy has grown up he takes him with him. Sometimes they make up a small party of three or four. It is always better to have two or three companions because Pierre says that it is not well to go alone into this wild, lonely region, for then a simple accident might mean death. He told me of several incidents where his life was in danger and only his quickness and presence of mind saved his life.

"Once, early in the spring, he had stayed too long in the woods. The trapping had been good and he had hated to leave while the skins were heaping up. At last a real thaw came and he had to start for Escoumains. He was about sixty miles north of here, he said, and he rushed along with his dogs wallowing in the snow at every step. When he came to the Port Neuf River, he found the ice just ready to go out. As he got in the middle of the river, it started to break up. He feverishly drove ahead and though he lost part of his load, he got to the other side. His son was not so fortunate, for on looking back, he saw him on a big ice float that had become separated from the shore. He yelled to Jean, who was then only fifteen years of age, and directed him what to do. The ice suddenly began to break up, and he followed his son down the river nearly a mile before he could get to land, and then he was on the wrong side of the river.

"Signing to him to stay where he was, Pierre had to retrace his steps to get his dogs and sleigh. He found them nearly frozen to death, for with the going down of the sun, it began to get very cold. He at last roused them and started down the river. He could see the water steadily rising and knew that it would be only a short time until he would have to get back to higher ground. By hurrying, he reached a point opposite to where Jean was. He yelled across and his cry was answered. He then started down the river, hoping that in some place the ice would still be holding. After going about two miles, the river narrowed and the ice had piled up into a jam. It was threshing around, munching and crunching like some giant monster. He stopped there and waited for the moon to rise.

"The night had become cold and the fore part of the jam seemed frozen into a solid mass. He determined to risk a crossing. Strapping everything tightly on the sleigh, he called to the dogs. They were frightened and he had to lick them to get them started. Four or five times on the way across he thought they were lost, but they finally got to the other side. Everything was drenched and he found himself in great danger of freezing to death, and he found Jean in almost as bad shape. Their first care was to find some rising ground. After slipping into several pools of icy water, they at last got to a small hill. With frost-bitten fingers and frozen feet, they both were almost helpless. By exercising the greatest determination, they at last succeeded in making a fire and they gradually warmed themselves.

"So far, their experience had been very disheartening. They had lost one load of furs, together with the sled and the dogs. In addition, two of Pierre's five dogs died before morning from their exposure to the icy waters. The next morning, they found themselves marooned on their little hill. The jam could be seen still holding and the waters had been backed up far over the banks. There was nothing to do except to wait for the jam to break. This it did that afternoon and the waters went out with a mighty roar, no doubt carrying devastation down through the valley. This made it possible for them to leave their refuge, but they did not dare do so at once for the thaw had continued all that day and it would have been impossible for the dogs to make any headway.

"After careful deliberation, the father and son determined to make their way if possible down the river about twelve miles to an old lumber camp. They started about midnight to take advantage of the frost that had put a hard surface on the snow. The dogs went along finely for they were not too heavy for the crust on the snow. Time after time, the two men broke through, frequently going up to their hips in water. They kept going and by dawn they had covered about half the distance. They again sought a hillock and once more thawed out their frosted hands and feet. Both suffered intensely because of the hardships they had undergone. They again started a fire going and got a little sleep for the first time in two days.

"They repeated their previous night's experience again and at last arrived at the lumber camp. Their troubles were then nearly over for they found a canoe there. This they determined to confiscate as they had but few provisions since most of their supplies had been lost on the sled that had gone under the ice. They rested up a whole day and then as the ice had practically all gone down the river, they set out. The river was very high and they came near swamping on several occasions but at last they came to the mouth of the river and reached their friends safely. Pierre stated that he lost two toes through the frost on that adventure. He said that it taught him a lesson for if he had not been so greedy for pelts and had come out when he knew he ought to, he would have had no trouble."

"That was an ugly experience," said Bill. "I guess it gets pretty cold up here in the winter time."

"Yes, Pierre says that it often gets to forty below zero," replied Bob. "He says that in such weather, he wears three suits and then can keep warm only by sticking close to the fire or by continual motion when outside."

"Three suits! And I think that one heavy suit is a little too much at times. But did Pierre tell you any more of his experiences?" inquired Pud.

"Yes," said Bob. "He told me a great bear story, but it's getting late now, so don't you think I better tell you that to-night after supper? If we go back to camp now, we can have a swim before supper."

"Sure, that's a go," said Bill.

The boys were soon back in camp, and seen splashing around in the cool water. So after supper they sat around the fire that evening filled with the real and lasting content that comes only from living close to nature.

"What were you young fellows so interested in this afternoon over on the mountain?" asked Mr. Anderson, interrupting the peaceful silence. "I saw you up there, for the longest time with your heads together as if you were plotting the destruction of the world."

"Far from that. Bob was telling us some of the experiences that Pierre has had in his winter hunting," replied Bill.

"Pierre has certainly had some interesting experiences. It is rarely that one can get him to talk, but when he does he always has something worth telling," said Mr. Anderson.

"Yes, and he relates incidents of the most desperate character in that same colorless tone, just as if they were the most ordinary routine," said Mr. Waterman.

"Say, Bob, tell us the bear story you promised?" demanded Pud.

"Let's get Pierre to tell it himself," suggested Bob.

"That would be all right for you, but you forget that we do not understand French," said Bill.

"I forgot about that. He's a clever Indian for he talks two languages quite well and can make himself understood in English," said Bob.

"What two languages can he talk?" asked Pud.

"He speaks the Montagnais language," replied Mr. Waterman. "He is a Montagnais Indian of the very same stock as was seen by Jacques Cartier when he first landed at Tadousac when he was going up the St. Lawrence River hoping to discover a new route to China."

"Well, tell us the bear story anyway," said Mr. Anderson.

"We want to hear it."

Scenting a good tale, they all moved closer to the fire, and Bob began.

"Pierre says that this experience with the bear happened in the late spring. He had been back from his winter's hunting about a month and the spring had opened up very finely. One day, the call to nature was too insistent. He got out his gun, told his wife to tell Mr. MacPherson at the store that he would not be down to the big saw mill to work for a few days, and he started back into the country. The rivers were rather swollen then, the woods were wet and damp, but there was the rush of life in the trees and in the very air itself. Pierre swung along with Jean by his side, his heart full of happiness. He had had a good winter's hunt and his wife had money for everything necessary. But more than anything else he wanted the golden sunshine, the ripple of the waters in the stream, the curved body of the salmon as they darted out of the water in their eagerness to get up the streams. He told his boy that though they had come out for game, he really just wanted to be in the woods when the buds were coming out and when he could feel the sap driving up from the ground into the furthest shoots of the bushes and trees. Jean's face was just as bright as his own and he raised his head and sniffed the air as if in answer to the voice of spring that reigned everywhere.

"Back they went along the wood road. They stopped for lunch at the foot of a riffle where they very soon caught all the trout they wished to find. They made their whole lunch on the fish, using only a little salt to make it palatable; a simple fare but really good enough for a king. On they went after lunch and they were lucky enough to bag four partridges as they went along. Early in the afternoon, they came to an old lumber camp and they decided to stay there for the night. It can well be imagined that though Pierre and his son said little to each other, they were enjoying themselves just like two boys playing hookey from school. They had spent the winter in the freedom and wildness of the woods and a month of the dreary grind in the saw mill had made them as restive as colts.

"They made a fine supper off the partridges and were up early the next morning. The remains of the partridges and some freshly caught trout set them on their way again with well filled stomachs and happy hearts. They had not gone far before Pierre stopped dead. 'I smell bear,' said he to Jean. 'Big black one,' said Jean, as he looked around. How he had known that it was big and black will remain one of the mysteries that distinguish the real Indian from his woodland imitators. They looked around and sure enough they had not gone far before they saw an old hollow tree that had been scratched and torn by the bear's big claws in his eagerness to get the grubs that no doubt were living among the rotting wood. They followed the bear's tracks. Jean in his eagerness went ahead and the father watched his boy with pride as he followed the indistinct tracks with swiftness and sureness. Finally the bear led them up one of the numerous mountains that are a feature of this country, as you know. Soon the tracks could be followed only with the greatest difficulty. Pierre was soon in the van and about noon he stopped dead and pointed off about half a mile where they saw the bear himself busy tearing away at another rotting tree.

"As they were somewhat to the windward side of the bear, they turned off and went down the valley. An hour's swift walking and climbing brought them out on the ridge on which they had seen the bear. Jean in his eagerness had gone ahead again. Just as they rounded a point of rock, the bear rose up almost on top of Jean. He had only a small caliber rifle, but he gave it to the bear at once. The bullet cut a hole in the beast's shoulder and with a growl of rage he rushed at the boy. Jean gave him another, but it only seemed to enrage the bear the more, for he plunged right on and threw Jean back with a mighty thrust.

"In the meantime, Pierre was in terror, not for himself but for Jean. On the rather narrow ledge, he found his boy right in line with the bear and he did not dare shoot for fear of killing him. When the bullets from the small rifle failed to stop the rush of the wounded bear, Pierre rushed forward, and as the bear thrust Jean back, he stepped over the body of the boy, gave him a bullet from his rifle point blank and throwing away his gun, he plunged his hunting knife into the bear with all his might just as the monster flung him off as though he were a plaything.

"Pierre says that about ten or twenty minutes later, perhaps half an hour, he awoke to consciousness and started up on one elbow half dazed. He felt that he had just narrowly escaped death, but for a moment he could not just remember what had happened. Then the whole thing rushed back to his mind and he got unsteadily to his feet. He found that he had a bad scalp wound and a big bump on the back of his head which he had hit on falling. When he got his dazed eyes to seeing properly, he was at first horror-struck, for the bear lay half over his Jean. The latter was lying on his back with his breast laid bare by the cruel claws of the bear, deathly pale and to all appearances dead. One look at the bear showed Pierre that it was dead. He hauled it with difficulty off his boy's legs and then felt his heart.

"At first, he could distinguish no movement and he was almost overcome by grief, but a slight heart movement galvanized him into action. He at once looked around and seeing a spring a short distance away, he ran, and filling his coonskin cap with water he was back by the side of the boy in a moment. Signs of life finally returned and Jean was soon looking around trying with glazed eyes to come back from the Happy Hunting Grounds to which his soul had just paid such a fleeting visit. In a short time, father and son were fully back to consciousness but it was only after a night spent right there that they felt like real live men again.

"Jean had a very ugly slash across his chest and the father felt sure that at least two of his ribs had been broken by the savage blow the bear had dealt him. Though pretty sore himself, he felt fairly well, though his scalp wound left no doubt that he had come near to death. They camped there that day enjoying the bear steaks and getting off the skin. In fact, it was not until two days later, that they set out on the back trail. Then, though they presented a rather dilapidated appearance, they managed to carry off the skin of the bear and the best portions of the meat. Jean with his broken ribs went light and then had trouble in following his sturdy father, who thought very little of having tackled a bear with his hunting knife. Pierre told me," concluded Bob, "that he found that the death stroke given the bear was dealt by his hunting knife just as the bear closed in on him."

"What a narrow escape! And I guess they think such events are commonplace. Let's go up to their tents and ask them to show us the scars," said Pud.

"Don't you believe Pierre, then?" asked Mr. Anderson.

"Sure," said Pud, "but I would like to see the scars. It would make the whole story more real."

Thereupon the boys went up to the tent and Bob talked to Pierre in French. Pierre then pulled back the hair and showed the boys a white scar across his head and Jean showed them a ragged scar that made Pud's flesh creep.

"Gee," said Pud, "that bear must have given Jean some rip. Ask Pierre how he got that wound to heal."

Bob did so and Pierre explained that he put some healing herbs on the wounds and that they got well very quickly.

"De rib, she no get well queeck," said Pierre, turning to Pud. "She vera sore, some long time."

"You two certainly had a narrow escape," said Mr. Anderson, as the whole party, admiring the wonderful bravery and courage of these Indians, said good-night.

"I wonder if any such thing as that would happen to us?" asked Bill.

"Maybe," said Mr. Waterman aloud, but to Mr. Anderson, "in their sleep I guess."

By this time the boys were ready for bed and they were soon lying snugly in their sleeping bags, no doubt dreaming of bears and what they would do if they saw a big black bear come rushing down on them when they were on a narrow ledge.

Some such dream was surely surging through the brains of Pud and Bill, for Bob was awakened by an awful racket and nearly smothered to death by feeling two heavy bodies plunk down on him.

"Hey, there, get up!" yelled Bob.

It seemed that Pud and Bill had dreamt of the bear. Bill in his dream jumped up just as the dream bear was rushing on him, and fell on Pud just as Pud in his dream was set grimly to await the onset of the monster. Bill, though half awake, was sure the bear had him, and Pud was just as sure when Bill grabbed him that he was in the clutches of a mighty black bear. They threshed around a moment and did not really wake up until they fell on Bob and nearly smothered him. Bob had been too sleepy to dream of bears, but he got up very quickly. After a hearty laugh at their vivid dreams, the boys got into their blankets again and were not disturbed until morning.



CHAPTER VII

BOB'S CLUE

A week quickly sped with short trips here and there—a restful week for them all, yet a week in which the boys learned more fully the woodman's ways. For one thing they were becoming expert fishers and rapidly improving in portaging. Even the two older men noticed how the boys were so quickly becoming adapted to the rough life.

"I think you boys are getting into good enough shape to warrant a week's trip away from the home camp," said Mr. Waterman one morning.

"I'm game," said Bill.

"So am I," said Bob and Pud together.

"Good! Why not go down then and climb that mountain from which one can see so many lakes?" queried Mr. Anderson.

"All right. That would be a beautiful trip," said Mr. Waterman.

"That sounds fine," said the three boys.

A half hour later, they were off in two canoes, and they paddled down to the far end of the lake.

"Stick together, fellows," said Mr. Waterman. "We are going by the compass and there won't be any trail. It's the easiest thing in the world to get lost here and I can tell you that it's the hardest thing in all creation to find your way back again, for all these mountains look alike."

"I've noticed that," said Pud, as they all got out of their canoes.

The party swung off and made their way through the woods skirting the lower part of the mountain. At last, Mr. Waterman began to climb and the boys soon found that this was quite some mountain they were on. It went up interminably. On they plodded and at last they came to a very steep part just before reaching the summit. Mr. Waterman led the way. In a short time, they were climbing straight up the side of the rocks. It was hard and exciting work and more than once, Mr. Waterman turned and looked around carefully.

"Can we make it here?" asked Mr. Anderson in his quiet tones.

"I think so," replied Mr. Waterman. "I thought that this was the place we came up last summer but evidently it isn't."

Up they climbed.

"That old Mont Blanc hasn't anything on this for steepness," said Bob as they stopped for rest.

"I think I can see the top now," said Mr. Waterman. "We either have to go on or go back to where we started up. I think that we can make it, but be careful."

By this time, they were climbing almost perpendicularly up the cliff. There was no trail and they wound back and forth and at times had to help each other up from rock to rock. As they neared the top, the rocks became more brittle and it was necessary to try the rocks above before trusting their weight to them. Once when they strung out down the mountain for a hundred feet or more, Mr. Waterman, who was leading, broke off a big rock just as he reached a higher altitude. He shouted and every one below ducked. It went right over Mr. Anderson's head and crashed down the side of the mountain.

"Steady, steady," said Mr. Anderson. "Don't kick up such a fuss."

"That was a close call both for you and me," said Mr. Waterman.

Once again before they reached the top they started rocks down the mountain side but no one was hurt. At last they reached the top and the view they had more than repaid them for their exertions. This point was the highest elevation in that part of the country and they could see for many miles the cool, green, yet solemn-looking forests; the many lakes which reflected the clear blue sapphire sky, speckled with fleecy white clouds. They counted over thirty lakes. After enjoying the beauties of the view, they started down again.

"We'll go down the natural slope of the mountain and then work back around the bottom to our lake," said Mr. Waterman.

"Then you can't heave any more rocks at us," laughed Pud.

They walked on for at least an hour and at last Mr. Waterman said:

"We are now in our own valley. The small stream at the bottom of this mountain runs from our lake so if any of you should get lost, just follow the stream and you'll come out all right."

This proved very good advice for after a half hour's walk, Pud fell behind and before Bob knew it, the others were lost ahead. They yelled but there was no reply.

"Let's take a short cut," said Pud.

"How's that?" asked Bob.

"We'll go down the mountain and then follow that stream as Mr. Waterman told us to."

"All right," said Bob.

Down they started and they soon came to the stream. They then had an argument as to whether Mr. Waterman had said that the stream emptied into their lake or ran from it. At last Bob said, "I remember distinctly that Mr. Waterman said that this stream runs out of our lake so I'm going this way."

"All right," said Pud. "I know you're wrong, but if I don't go with you, you'll get lost for good, so lead the way."

The undergrowth near the stream was rank, as might be expected, and the boys made slow progress. After about an hour's walk they stopped, as they felt sure they should have been at the lake.

"We should have been there long ago," said Pud.

"I think we ought to be there soon," said Bob.

"We'll never get there going this way," said Pud.

"This is the right way all right for I noticed that we went generally in an easterly direction coming here and we have been going west for some time. Let's hustle on."

They did so and neither spoke a word for some time. At last they both paused, startled, for they heard a crashing in the bushes up the stream. They darted into the woods as quietly as they could and looked out. The crashing continued and came their way. Finally, as they looked out they saw that it was a man and they both gave a shout. This was answered at once by Mr. Anderson's cheery voice. Pud's short cut had proved a very long way home. Bill and the two leaders had gone around the foot of the mountain and had saved a long distance in that way. After reaching the lake they had waited there for some time and at last Mr. Anderson, remembering the instructions that Mr. Waterman had given, had started down the stream to find them. He said that they did not have a very long distance to go.

Mr. Anderson's appearance had acted like a tonic and the boys followed him eagerly. They soon heard voices and in a moment more they saw Mr. Waterman and Bill sitting on a big log by the shore of the lake right near where the stream ran from the lake. Bill kidded Bob and Pud about getting lost.

"I didn't get lost," replied Bob. "Pud thought that by going down into the valley and then up the stream that we would beat you here."

"It was much longer," said Mr. Waterman. "We merely skirted the edge of the mountain and came here almost directly."

"It's a good thing that Bob was with me," said Pud.

"How so?" asked Mr. Anderson.

"I got mixed up when I got to the stream and I wanted to go down the stream instead of up," replied Pud.

"Well, why didn't you then?" asked Bill.

"Bob was sure we had to go up stream and he insisted on going in that direction," admitted Pud.

"You have to use your old bean up here," said Bill. "When in doubt, Pud, leave it to Bob. He's full of gray matter whereas—"

"Don't 'whereas' any more, Bill, or I'll give you a ducking," said Pud, as he cornered Bill so that if he rushed him, he would have to go out into the lake.

"All right, all right," said Bill. "I'll keep my further remarks about beans, mentality, cerebellum, etc., until we're ready for the swim."

"You'd better," said Pud strongly.

They all then got into their canoes and got back to camp to find there an air of mystery that was noted at once by their leaders and shortly later by the boys. Joe got Mr. Waterman aside right away and what he had to say made him look very serious. Just then Jack came up and Mr. Waterman listened to him very carefully. Mr. Anderson was called over and the boys saw the four of them talking very seriously together.

"I wonder what's up," said Bob. "Something has gone wrong but I don't see anything the matter with the camp, do you?"

"Not a thing," replied Bill. Pud looked around in his easy-going fashion, just as if nothing could disturb him anyway.

Mr. Anderson and Mr. Waterman did not offer any explanation when they came back to the boys and they soon were in the water having a fine swim. Later on they found that in some mysterious way a bag of flour, a fitch of bacon, a small bag of salt, and a few other small articles had been taken from the cook tent. Mr. Waterman felt sure that he could rely on the honesty of his guides and he was greatly mystified.

"It beats me," said Mr. Waterman. "If an Indian or a stray fisherman really needed grub, he would know that we would be perfectly willing to help him out. No one ever refuses hospitality in the woods."

"I can't make it out either," said Mr. Anderson.

"Perhaps it was a bear," said Pud with one of his great inspirations.

"Why to be sure," said Bill. "These bears up here have regular pouches like the Australian kangaroo and I'll bet if we could see mother bear just now she'd be waddling up some rocky place, her pouch filled with flour, bacon, salt and other dainties for the little cubbies."

Everybody laughed at this but no one had any further suggestion.

"I really can't figure it out," said Mr. Waterman, more seriously. "The worst of it is that this is not the first time this has happened. We have said nothing about it but the same thing happened about ten days ago. Then we scoured the camp and could not find a trace of the thief. Jack tells me that the four of them have been all over the lake to every trail and that they have seen nothing."

"Let's organize a real hunt after lunch," said Bob eagerly.

"That's just what I was thinking of doing," replied Mr. Waterman.

Everything was hurried through. Bob and Pud forgot the weariness they had felt while lost that morning. Four different parties hurried away after they had eaten. Bob and Mr. Waterman went together and they made for the trail that led up north.

"I figure it out," said Mr. Waterman, "that whoever it is that has been at our cook tent came from the north."

"How so?" asked Bob.

"Well, it isn't far to Escoumains and any one in real trouble would find food there. It's probably some stray Indian who is afraid of being arrested for some crime if he goes back to the settlements. I can't figure out anything else."

"Did you bring a gun along?" asked Bob rather anxiously.

"No," said Mr. Waterman. "We won't need any gun if we catch up with this fellow. But first of all let us get some trace of him."

They soon reached the beginning of the portage. They got out and searched carefully. They saw tracks, to be sure, for they had been over there just a few days before. No new tracks were to be seen. At last, Mr. Waterman picked up the canoe and said, "Let's go on over the divide. Keep your eye peeled for recent marks. If he came over here with a canoe, he will probably slip or slide some place. Look for his tracks at the sides of the trail."

They went along at a slow pace. More than once Mr. Waterman stopped and set down the canoe, only to pick it up a moment later and go on along the trail. Just after they had reached the top of the divide in a very steep place, Bob noticed a place near the side of the trail that was trampled down. Mr. Waterman set down the canoe and came back. After carefully looking at the bushes, he said,

"I think that you're right, Bob. He evidently got off his balance here and not wishing to make a bad slide on the trail, has stepped off in the bushes."

"It looks to me as if he had tried to cover this up too," said Bob. "Look at this small branch. It was bent right over and evidently some one has tried to straighten it out."

Mr. Waterman bent over and exclaimed,

"You're right, Bob. This is the way he came."

The two then went on, but though they watched very carefully, they could not find a single further trace of the man they were seeking. They soon came to the little lake they had been on before. Mr. Waterman led the way and they got out at the further end as if both had agreed that the fugitive was heading for the north and would take this course.

"Now if we can get another trace of this son-of-a-gun on this portage, I'll bet some money that I know where he is staying," said Mr. Waterman.

This time Bob carried the canoe and Mr. Waterman went ahead. It was not until they had come almost to the next lake that Mr. Waterman noticed a tree from which a piece of bark had been chipped off.

"That's funny," said he.

"What's funny?" asked Bob, who looked all around but could note nothing out of the way.

"That tree," replied Mr. Waterman. "That piece of bark was knocked off by something out of the ordinary."

"Maybe he bumped into it with his canoe," replied Bob.

"Hardly," replied Mr. Waterman. "A real woodsman does not bump his canoe into trees and other things along the trail. He avoids them by instinct."

"That is probably true," said Bob, "but the only time he could steal those things from camp would be at night, and he might hit a tree then."

"You're right," said Mr. Waterman.

Once more they emerged at a lake. This one was fairly large. They paddled slowly around it but could see no sign of a trail except the one at the far end. This was a long trail over a low divide and Mr. Waterman did not seem to want to start on it.

"I don't want to set out on this trail because it is about five miles long and we could not get home to-night. Anyway, I have a hunch that this fellow has piked off to the north. It's the easiest thing in the world to cover up a trail. Let's go around this north end of the lake again."

They did so but without any success.

"I guess we're stumped," said Bob.

"Not on your life," replied Mr. Waterman. "That hunch of mine grows more insistent every minute. I tell you what I'll do. Let me out here. I'll tramp around this north shore and if he has any hidden trail, I'll probably cross it sooner or later."

Bob paddled to the shore of the lake and Mr. Waterman got out. Bob then paddled slowly along the shore. He expecting to keep in touch with Mr. Waterman by the noise he would make as he broke through the bushes. But not so. Mr. Waterman had been schooled for many years by the Indians and he had many of their accomplishments. One of these was his ability to move through the woods with very little noise. The consequence was that the leafy background of the little lake swallowed up Mr. Waterman and not a sound was heard. The stillness seemed oppressive to Bob as he slowly paddled to the other end of the lake. He had been there some time when he was startled by hearing Mr. Waterman say in his usual calm tones,

"I've found it. My hunch was working properly."

"Let's follow it right away," said Bob eagerly.

"No," was the reply. "It will keep. We have just time to get back to camp for a late supper. I'll take Pierre and Jack to-morrow and we'll ferret out this matter."

"Can't I go along too?" asked Bob.

"No, I think that it would be best for just the three of us to go," replied Mr. Waterman.

"I hope you change your mind about that," said Bob. "I really think that I might be of some use. I hardly like to ask you to remember that I was the first to notice his tracks on the portage."

"You're too modest, Bob," replied Mr. Waterman. "You certainly have sharp eyes and know how to use them. I'll think it over and if possible I'll take you with me. I am afraid that there may be some trouble and, of course, I don't want to have anything happen to you."

"I'm part Irish," said Bob.

"What's that?" asked Mr. Waterman.

"I said that I was part Irish and you know that a real Irishman always likes to be along when there's likely to be trouble."

"You're part Irish all right," said Mr. Waterman. "I think you've kissed the blarney stone some time."

"That I did," replied Bob, merrily. "I can remember my father holding me down from the tower by my heels to kiss the stone. If there's any virtue in having kissed the famous stone, I ought to have my share, for I skinned both my knee and my nose in doing the stunt."

"I didn't know that you had ever been in Ireland," said Mr. Waterman.

"Oh, yes, my father took me there one summer when I was a little fellow," replied Bob, innocent enough.

In the meantime they had reached the head of the lake. Mr. Waterman made off at once with the canoe as he said that they would be late for supper if they didn't hurry. He kept Bob hustling to keep up with him, stopping only once on the way. That was on the last portage when they came to the spot where Bob had noted the trampled bushes. Mr. Waterman looked very carefully at the marks and went on apparently satisfied.

"What did you notice this time that you didn't observe before?" asked Bob.

"Not very much," replied Mr. Waterman, "but enough to convince me that there was only one person over the trail."

"Well, if that's the case," said Bob, "surely there won't be much danger in my going with you to-morrow."

"Why not? There might be four or five in this party for all we know," answered Mr. Waterman.

"That's so," said Bob.

"I'm inclined to take you along for you have very good sense about most things, I notice," said Mr. Waterman, half to himself.

Bob blushed up to the ears at hearing this praise from his leader.

"I'm sure, I'll try to be useful if you take me along," said Bob.

They were soon down on the shore of their own lake and they could hear the shouts of Bill and Pud as they wallowed in the water.

"The rest of them are back," said Mr. Waterman.

"I wonder if Pud found any traces of his bear thief," laughed Bob.

As they came to the landing, the guides ran down eager to hear the news.

"We found his trail," said Mr. Waterman. "Get the guns ready, Pierre and Jack, and we'll go after the son-of-a-gun to-morrow."

"Did you see him?" asked Jack.

"No," said Mr. Waterman. "We just picked up his trail. I think I know where he is, but you had better put together enough grub to last us a week, for we don't know where he may be."

"All right," replied Jack. "We'll be ready."

Bob had to tell his various experiences to the boys, who listened with bated breath. On their part they had little to relate. They had gone out to the trails agreed on but could find no trace whatever of any stranger. They had arrived only a short time before Bob had shown up.

"Ye gods, but I'm hungry," sighed Pud.

"You haven't anything on me," said Bob. "That Mr. Waterman is some 'moose.' He tears along like a steam engine and never seems to get tired."

"I noticed that the other day," said Pud. "He had me puffing and blowing going up that mountain and he was breathing like a sleeping child."

Just then, tang! tang! tang! tang! went the stick against the wash pan in Jack's hands and the boys made a rush for the table. They did more than justice to the great bill of fare prepared for them by Jack. Trout after trout, hot from the pan, disappeared like magic, not to speak of the hot biscuits and the apricots for dessert.

"How did you get these apricots up here?" asked Pud. "I'd think they would be too heavy to carry."

"They would be if we brought in the canned variety," said Mr. Anderson. "But, thank you, we have plenty of good 'aqua pura' here without bringing in canned pears and such things."

"Well, how do you have them, then?" asked Bill.

"We bring in the dried fruit," replied Mr. Anderson. "This is very light and easily carried. We'll have our share of fruit here this summer all right. The only thing we won't get much of is fresh meat and that you can't get even at Escoumains every day."

"A few partridges now and then will help along the fresh meat problem," said Bob.

"You bet," said Pud, licking his lips. "That partridge stew last week was as fine as anything to be had at the Bellevue-Stratford or Kugler's in Philadelphia."

They had had a very strenuous day and they were all ready for bed. The morrows's expedition had livened their imaginations and they sat around the fire chatting and talking until the moon came out over the edge of the opposite mountain and warned them that it was time to seek their balsam boughs.



CHAPTER VIII

THE WIRELESS IN THE WILDERNESS

The sun had hardly touched with gold the tops of the mountains before Bob felt a light touch on his arm. He opened his eyes to see Mr. Waterman with his hands to his lips in token of silence. He arose quietly and with a surge of pride and joy in his heart, for he felt that he was to be permitted to go on the expedition in search of the thief.

"Bring along your sleeping bag," said Mr. Waterman, when Bob got out of the tent.

"Are we leaving right away?" asked Bob.

"Yes, just as soon as Jack can rustle a cup of coffee and something to eat for us. He'll be ready as soon as we can get our things in shape."

Bob hustled back to the tent and very quietly got his sleeping bag ready for travel. He made a neat pack of it and hurried over to the grub tent. Jack and Pierre were serving Mr. Waterman already so that Bob got a hasty breakfast. He enjoyed it, for there was an atmosphere of suppressed excitement that was altogether new to him. Ten minutes later they were getting into two canoes. When Bob reappeared with his pack and his gun, Mr. Waterman asked,

"What are you going to do with that gun?"

"I don't know," said Bob. "I saw that you all had guns and so I toted mine along."

"Now I know you're excited," said Mr. Waterman. "When a Southerner begins to talk about 'you all' and 'toting' things, he's just plain excited."

Bob just laughed quietly, for he knew that Mr. Waterman was right.

They at last got away without waking up the two boys.

"I bet Pud and Bill will be mad as sin when they find me gone with you," said Bob to Mr. Waterman.

"Yes, I suppose that they would like to come, but you know we may run into trouble of some kind and in that case, it will be best not to have too many along," replied Mr. Waterman.

"I can't make this out," said Jack. "There is something amiss, for every one knows that in this country, all one has to do is to ask and any grub that one has will be shared."

"Bad man," said Pierre. "He no have to steal if he not be bad."

"You may be right," said Mr. Waterman.

By this time they were on the first portage. When they came to the place where Bob had noticed the tracks, Pierre and Jack stopped and examined them attentively.

"He no want to be seen," said Pierre.

"He's a corking good woodsman," said Jack.

"You're both right," replied Mr. Waterman. "Later on, we shall see how clever he is in concealing a trail."

When they came to the second lake, Mr. Waterman remarked to Bob that he would paddle down the north end of the lake to see if either Jack or Pierre would notice the trail. This they did and despite the sharp eyes of the two guides, they did not notice any trail starting from the water's edge. Mr. Waterman led them back and taking a line on a very big tamarack tree that he had noted before, they got out of their canoes. They had gone only a few rods to the left when they came to what was evidently a new trail. They had gone only a short distance when Pierre stopped and remarked that he was sure that no canoe had been brought over the trail. When Mr. Waterman heard this, he had the men retrace their steps to the lake. They then began a systematic search for a canoe. In about twenty minutes, Jack's sharp eyes searched out the hiding place and the canoe was pulled out for inspection. They found it to be an ordinary Peterboro, such as were to be found all through the country.

"If he's left his canoe here," said Mr. Waterman, "he can't be very far off."

"That's so," said Pierre.

"We had better go careful," said Jack.

All four then looked to their guns and took the trail, with Mr. Waterman leading. He went along very carefully. In an hour they were over the divide and going down into what seemed like a deep gulch.

"This looks to me like the same gulch we visited the other day," said Mr. Waterman.

"I am sure of it," said Bob. "Then, I noticed that big rock over there."

"What's peculiar about that rock?" asked Jack.

"It looks like a big horse," said Bob. "I am sure that it's the same one."

"It does look like a horse," said Mr. Waterman. "I know the far side of this gulch pretty well, but I did not think that there was any way out of it so easy as the one we have come."

They then proceeded very cautiously. Mr. Waterman gave way to Pierre, who went ahead without any noise. Bob tried to imitate his movements but he felt angry at himself, for he made a great noise as he went along. He now knew why Mr. Waterman had hesitated at bringing him. He did the very best he could and followed along, feeling the excitement tugging at his heart. Mr. Waterman and the two guides moved like shadows before him and only by the sudden gleam in their eyes could he see that they were at all excited. At last Pierre came back a step or two and put his fingers to his lips in token of silence.

"A log cabin not far ahead," said he to Mr. Waterman very quietly.

Mr. Waterman and Jack went ahead very stealthily, and they came back in a moment.

"I guess we've treed our coon," said Mr. Waterman. "Now, how shall we catch him?"

"I go," said Pierre. "I make believe that I'm just an Indian fishing and I come back 'bimby.'"

"That's a pretty good plan," said Mr. Waterman.

They watched Pierre disappear through the bushes and then settled down to wait. In only about twenty minutes Pierre returned. They were all surprised to see him so soon.

"No one at cabin," said Pierre, as he came up.

"How long since has there been some one there?" asked Mr. Waterman.

"Only short time. He come back any time now."

In a few minutes they were all in the house with the exception of Pierre, who stayed outside to keep an eye on things. As soon as they entered Mr. Waterman and Bob at once noticed that this was no Indian's hut nor that of the ordinary woodsman. The room was as neat as a pin. This was rather out of the ordinary for a cabin in the woods. But what attracted the attention of both of them was the sight of several chemical and wireless instruments that both recognized at once.

"What's this?" said Mr. Waterman. "I'm not much on wireless, but I know that this is part of a wireless plant."

"You're right," said Bob. "I have one of them on my aerial for my wireless at home. This is merely for receiving."

"Now, what do you think any one would want with a wireless outfit away back here in the woods?" asked Mr. Waterman, more to himself than to Bob.

"Do you think it has anything to do with the great European war that is raging at this time?" said Bob.

"That's the natural explanation, of course," said Mr. Waterman.

"But what's the use of a wireless up here?" asked Bob in his turn.

"You think that this is only a receiving station. Perhaps this is run by some German spy to discover just when the troop ships are leaving Quebec for England."

"If that's so," said Jack, who had not said a word so far, but who had followed the conversation very closely, "we are likely to run into trouble, for any one that would do a thing of this kind would not hesitate to go to the limit."

"That's very true," said Mr. Waterman reflectively. "At the same time, I hardly see why we should run into danger, as we are Americans."

"I think that we have to get a look at this fellow and let him know that after a certain date we shall be obliged to let the Canadian Government know what is going on. Otherwise, if the Canadian Police run down this fellow, they may find out that we have been here and then arrest us as accomplices," said Bob.

"The boy's right," said Jack. "And it would be a hanging job for us if they proved that we knew what was going on here and did not notify the constable."

Further conversation was cut short by a shot outside, followed almost immediately by another. Hurried footsteps were heard and a big fellow rushed in and closed the door.

"Hands up!" cried Mr. Waterman, as he leveled his gun at the stranger. The latter made a quick movement, but a spurt of flame from Jack's rifle was followed by the clatter of the stranger's rifle as it fell to the floor. Coming in from the outside, the newcomer seemed to be unable to see clearly.

"Disarm him," said Mr. Waterman to Jack, who moved over and removed a revolver from the hip of the owner of the hut.

"Well, what is it?" asked the man defiantly. "It took you a long time to find out this little place, didn't it?"

"We're Americans," said Mr. Waterman. "It is quite plain to any one of intelligence what you are here for. At the same time, I'm very much mistaken if you're not an American yourself, or at least passed for such until this war broke out. You know too much about the woods to be a native born German."

"You're right," said the man, as he lowered his arms. "I'm from the West, and I'm an American, but in the pay of Germany—and have established my post here."

"You, of course, know that you must get out of here at once," continued Mr. Waterman. "I don't think that it is our duty to take you in, though Pierre, who is just coming, is a Canadian. There is the other door. Here's your gun. We'll hold Pierre for a few minutes and then let him do what he thinks best."

"You're all right, men. I thought that the Canadian police had me, as they probably have my companions."

In a second he was out of the door and away down the trail. The members of the party waited for Pierre. He came in very shortly and looked around with great surprise.

"Where is he?" asked he, as he looked around in astonishment. "I trail him here. You let him go?"

"Yes, we let him go," said Mr. Waterman.

"Why for dat?" asked the Indian. "He bad man. He shoot at me twice but no hit me."

"He was here trying to get news for the Germans," said Mr. Waterman.

"How he get news here? No news here. What news?"

"I could not make you understand," said Mr. Waterman.

"Why not understand?" asked Pierre.

"Have you ever heard that it is possible to speak miles and miles through the air?"

"Yes, Great Spirit speaks to all his children all over," said Pierre devoutly.

"I don't mean the Great Spirit, but men, just like you and I."

"Oh, no, no, that impossible," said Pierre.

"It is done, and this man was here listening, so that he would know things and then tell the enemies of Canada."

"I no understand. What enemies?" asked Pierre.

"Have you not heard that England and Canada are at war with the Germans?" asked Mr. Waterman.

"Oh, yes, but that is far across the Big Water," said Pierre.

"Quite true, but the Germans are over here too. In some places, trying to do harm to Canada," said Mr. Waterman.

"This bad man, a German?" asked Pierre, as his eyes lighted up.

"Yes," replied Bob.

"Where he go?" asked Pierre.

"We, Americans, have no war with Germans. He goes that way," said Mr. Waterman, pointing up the trail. In another moment Pierre was lost to view.

"What do you think of that?" said Jack. "I think I'll tag along behind for fear he gets hurt."

"Things certainly have come with a rush," said Mr. Waterman. "Suppose you follow Pierre, so that if the German gets him that you will be there to lend aid."

"I'll be there," said Jack, as he looked significantly at his rifle. "That skunk fired twice at Pierre already. He may get him the third time. If he does, I'll take only one shot."

"Don't run into trouble, Jack," said Mr. Waterman. "This is not our fight. But follow Pierre and help him if he gets into trouble. Bob and I will get down to Escoumains and report the matter."

The two men shook hands and Jack disappeared after Pierre just as quickly and as silently as the latter had done.

"That will be some chase," said Mr. Waterman. "That German is a real woodsman and he'll lead them a merry chase."