"It's a pity that Jack did not go with Pierre. How is he going to find him?"

"Leave that to him," said Mr. Waterman. "There are few Indians more clever than Jack in following a trail. He'll be up with Pierre by nightfall."

They then looked around and were surprised at the completeness of the outfit. Evidently four or five men had been needed to get all these things into the woods.

"How they ever got all this stuff here without arousing the suspicion of the Canadian Government passes my comprehension," said Mr. Waterman.

Going outside, they noticed a path, and following it, if soon led them to the top of a mountain that was opposite to the one they had climbed but a few short days before. Sure enough, there was the wireless, hidden most cleverly by the trees and branches so that from the opposite hill; nothing out of the ordinary could be seen even with a glass.

"This is rather an old instrument," said Bob. "It is dated 1912."

"That may explain the whole matter," said Mr. Waterman. "It is well known that the Germans have a wonderful spy system. It is possible that all this may have been brought in here four or five years ago for this very purpose."

"I guess that that's the answer," replied Bob, "for it would be absolutely impossible for any party of men to get this stuff in here now."

On returning to the hut they took a good look around and found everything in the best of order. There were supplies of all kinds there except food.

"I guess that the Canadian Government got his mates all right, and that left him stranded here as far as grub was concerned. He had his nerve with him all right, for he was liable to be shot down at any time," said Mr. Waterman.

They were soon on their way back. When they came to the lake they found that the German's canoe was gone. Pierre was evidently right on his trail, for one of the two canoes they had brought along was also missing.

"I wonder if Jack has caught up with Pierre so soon," mused Mr. Waterman.

"It looks that way," replied Bob, "for otherwise he would probably have taken our canoe, knowing that we could get back to camp even without a canoe."

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

They hurried on and in due time they arrived in camp. By this time it was getting late, so they determined to go into Escoumains the next morning and inform the authorities of their discovery. They found Bill and Pud and Jean quite excited. In a short time they had the story in full.

"You did not see any one around here to-day, did you?" asked Mr. Waterman, addressing the young Indian Jean.

"No," was the reply.

"I am pretty sure that the German is making for the St. Lawrence to try and get out of the country. Let's go over to the old trail, just to see if any one has passed that way to-day," said Mr. Waterman.

All of them went, for the trail was only a few minutes' paddle down the lake around a point of land that almost cut the lake in two. On arrival there it was plain even to the unpracticed eyes of the boys that more than one person had passed that way recently. Mr. Waterman and Jean landed first. Jean had been on land not more than a minute before he pointed to some tracks and said,

"Pierre here, Jack there, other man there."

They boys came over, but though they could see some tracks in the soft trail, they did not see how Jean had identified his father and Jack at once.

"You're right," said Mr. Waterman. "Three men have passed this way to-day. It looks as if Pierre and jack are hot on his trail."

They then returned to camp. Bob was compelled to tell his mates all about the trip, and they were greatly excited when they were told of the scene in the hut when it was necessary to hold up the German in self-defense at the point of a rifle.

When Bob and Mr. Waterman arrived in Escouniaias early the next morning-they found things in a great state of excitement. It seems that Pierre and Jack had gotten in about nine o'clock the night before, hot on the trail of the spy. To the chagrin of Sandy MacPherson, an old friend of his named Field, had come into the store and without showing any signs of haste had made arrangements for a launch to take him down the river. This had been done and a half hour later Pierre had arrived. He had tried to explain the situation, but it was not until Jack had given his version of the matter that it dawned on the irate Sandy that the innocent-looking and very friendly Field was the German spy. When Mr. Waterman had told all that he knew about the matter Sandy was angrier than ever.

"That son-of-a-gun has played me for an easy mark for years," said Sandy. "About three years ago he got me to take into the woods a lot of electrical stuff on the pretense that he wanted it in trying out some ores that he thought were valuable. Then to put me farther off the scent, two years ago he came back with a story that his whole outfit had been burned down and totally destroyed."

"Have the Government agents been here?" asked Mr. Waterman.

"No," was the reply, "but they were up at Tadousac about six weeks ago, and they arrested three men there, though they held them only on suspicion. When I come to think of it, one of them was a Mr. Samson that used to come into the woods with Field. I think that Samson is still held and he'll get his share anyway."

The party, having told their end of the story, returned to the woods. Some three weeks later, on returning to Escoumains, they found out that Field had apparently made good his escape. He had landed near Riviere de Loup, and no doubt had gotten over into the United States from there.



CHAPTER IX

A WEEK ON THE TRAIL

The previous days had been so full of excitement that they had altogether forgotten that they were to go on a week's trip. Mr. Waterman went ahead making preparations. On Sunday evening, after the short devotions they always held on that day, said he:

"Boys, you remember that we are going on an exploring trip this week. So get ready. You will have to carry everything with you, so take those things that are absolutely necessary. In addition, remember that each of you boys is expected to carry his share of the grub for the week."

The boys began to plan and they went to their blankets filled with the idea of taking a real trip under old-time voyageur conditions.

"Supposing it rains?" suggested Pud.

"Well, what of it?" replied Bob. "Do you think that we're sugar and that a little rain will hurt us?"

"Don't worry very much," said Mr. Waterman. "If we have any really bad weather you will be surprised how quickly the guides will make a wood hut out of birch bark, and a few supports quickly cut in the woods."

Very early the next morning they were astir. Bob had to give many suggestions to Pud and Bill, too, but at last they had their duffle all ready so that by means of tump lines they could not only bear their own blankets and sleeping bags, but also their share of the week's supplies.

"We are going north," said Mr. Waterman.

"Let's go to the spy's cabin," said Pud.

"Ah, do," chimed in Bill. "You see, Pud and I had no part in that adventure."

"Very well," said Mr. Waterman, "it won't be a bad thing for us to go there and see how much of the place the Government agents have left."

"Have the police been there?" asked Bob.

"You can bet they've been there," said Mr. Waterman. "A party left Escoumains the very day we were there."

They were a picturesque party as they set out. Pierre was the only one left behind. Jean, Jack and Joe were there; Joe with his little pointed hat, mackinaw and shoe pack, looking all the world like the pictures of the old voyageurs that one sees in the illustrations of the early French occupation of Canada. With the three guides, Mr. Waterman, Mr. Anderson, and the three boys, there were eight in the party. Mr. Waterman led the way, taking Bob in his canoe. Jack had Pud with him, Jean was paired with Bill, while Mr. Anderson and Joe brought up the "honorable rear," as they say in Japan. In their blue shirts, khaki trousers, bandanna handkerchiefs around their necks and shoe packs, they looked ready to tackle a journey to James Bay. In fact, Jean and Joe had both made the trip to James Bay and back, over the Great Divide almost due north of Tadousac, going first up the St. John River from Chicoutimi. They would have been quite willing to make the trip again but, no doubt, they would have objected to the presence of the boys on such a trip. Such a canoe journey needs real woodsmen and is not for novices such as the boys were.

They were soon over into the lake from which the path led to the spy's cabin. Mr. Waterman steered straight for the trail. They got out and were soon over the short divide and into the big gulch. They found the cabin still standing and apparently with everything just as it had been left by them. When, however, they came to the wireless on the top of the mountain, they could not find a trace of it. It had been taken away entirely. The boys enjoyed the view from the top of the mountain.

"I almost believe that in clear weather Field and his mates could recognize the ships on the St. Lawrence if they had strong glasses, as they most probably had," said Mr. Waterman.

"Yes, it's so clear to-day," said Mr. Anderson, "that your idea seems not only possible but very probable. This was a very fine place for such a purpose. They could read the wireless messages that were sent from vessels going or coming from Quebec, and if they could get out to the United States now and then they could very easily keep their Government informed as to the movements of the British vessels, at least the most important vessels plying in and out of Quebec."

In a short time they were down the mountain and at the cabin once more.

"I must come in here some time and look for the outlet of this gulch," said Mr. Waterman. "There is quite a big watershed here, and the fact that there is no lake shows that there is a good outlet. Unless this outlet is underground it will lead down to either the Portneuf River or the Escoumains or some lake that empties into one or other of these streams."

"Have we time to look for it now?" asked Mr. Anderson.

"No," was the reply, "I have planned the trip for the week and it will be best to make a day's trip here just for the purpose."

They then went on their way and were soon over into another lake.

"Do you think you can stand another carry?" asked Mr. Waterman, turning to the boys.

"Sure," said Bob.

"Ab-so-lute-el-y," said Bill.

"All right," replied Pud.

"Why so modest?" asked Mr. Anderson.

"I find it hard work," said Pud. "I not only have to carry my load but about twenty-five pounds of superfluous flesh. I guess I can stand it if they can. I'm here to get in shape, so go ahead."

"We can stay here just as well and go on to the other lake in the morning. It is only mid-afternoon now, though," said Mr. Waterman, "and we could make the next lake easily. I plan to stay there all day to-morrow."

"Don't mind me," said Pud.

So they went ahead. Bob carried the canoe and a duffle bag full of grub, while Mr. Waterman kept piling on stuff until he had at least one hundred and fifty pounds on his back. With a tump line over his forehead, he moved ahead, apparently little concerned about the weight of his load. Mr. Anderson and the guides were also similarly loaded. Pud elected to carry his bag and the portion of the grub. Jack kept on piling up the stuff with a merry wink to Bob. Finally they moved off. The carry proved to be about a mile and a quarter long. They had to go up a fairly steep hill first. All did very well, though Pud was puffing and blowing like a porpoise and sweating like a foundryman when they stopped at the top of the hill for a short rest. They were soon on their way again. Jack stayed behind with Pud and the others were soon lost to view. Bob and Mr. Waterman walked ahead at a good pace and were soon at the lake, which opened out before them most invitingly. They were all in swimming when at last Jack and Pud hove in sight. Pud was certainty the picture of fatigue.

"Don't overdo it, Jack," said Mr. Waterman. "That was really too big a load for him to carry."

"I guess you're right," replied Jack. "I put it on him more for a joke than anything else, intending to take it myself later. But that kid's game. He would not let me have it, although I thought he would melt away before we got here. I won't overload him again. When he gets back to Philadelphia he'll be hard as a rock. With his gameness and his weight and strength, he should tear things loose on that football team. I don't know much about the game, but they tell me it's rough.

"It is a little rough," said Mr. Waterman, who himself had been a noted player when he went to college. "A little roughness in sport is really necessary for the full development of boys. They must get that personal contact and feel that they have to get the best of the other fellow through their own efforts. If this is done fairly, the roughness will not deteriorate into anything dangerous."

In the meantime Pud prepared for a swim, which was certainly a reward for him after such a long stretch of portage.

"Oh, you water," said Pud, as he luxuriously lay out on his back floating. "That last carry was some hike. It had all the Plattsburg full-equipment hikes beaten to death. I'm just going to load my pater down some day with what I had on my back and then ask him how he would like to tote that over a young mountain."

"You did very well, Pud," said Mr. Waterman. "I did not notice how much Jack was piling on you or I would have taken part of it myself."

"Not on your life," said Pud. "I'm here, and that extra sweat I had will do me good. I told Jack I would switch with him now and then. I did not realize what a load he had. On the previous carries he walked along just as if he was out for a little jaunt. He's getting old, too. I don't see how how he does it."

"They get used to it and know just how to distribute the load so that it will be carried most easily," said Mr. Waterman.

While the boys were enjoying the water, the guides were busy. Already they had cut a couple of poles, and with the aid of two trees they had made a very serviceable fireplace and was getting ready to make biscuits.

"Hey, you boys," called Mr. Waterman, "get busy. We'll clear up around here, but you fellows get out and catch us some trout for supper."

"Nothing easier," said Bob, as he came ashore and put on his clothes. In a little while they were all three out on the lake casting like veterans. Bob was in one canoe alone while Pud paddled Bill in the other canoe. In a very short time they had over thirty fine trout, and at a shout from Jack they came back to camp.

"Well, did you have any luck?" asked Jack, as they came to the shore.

"Bully!" said Bob. "This lake is full of trout as fine as I have ever seen."

"No wonder," replied Jack. "There is no one here to catch them, and they keep on increasing."

"Well, I'll reduce the supply if we stay here a few days," said Pud. "I could eat an ox, let alone a few trout."

"You'll get all you want to eat and then some," said Jack.

The fish were soon cleaned, and twenty minutes later they sat around a table made of two big logs with birch bark spread over it. It was not quite so comfortable as in their home camp, where they had a rude bench to sit on, but not one of them even thought of any such luxuries. They had had a strenuous day with but a very small lunch, and they were as hungry as wolves. The way the biscuits, the trout and everything else disappeared was a tribute to Jack's cooking. Even Pud at last drew back from the improvised table fully satisfied.

"The Germans have a proverb to the effect that 'Hunger is the best cook,'" said Mr. Anderson.

"That's true," broke in Pud, "but when you have a fine cook and hunger too, then there is real enjoyment in eating even the most simple fare."

"Well said, old top," remarked Bill. "'But first tell me when you got to be a philosopher."

"The best time to philosophize," said Mr. Waterman, "is just after such a meal as we have had. Then there is such a sense of bodily satisfaction that everything else appears to us as if detached from our own selves. The true philosophers are the woodsmen. They have time to think over life and its many chances, and they get to know things at their true worth. That is why men who are brought up near to nature are always such good judges of character either in men, women, or animals."

"Now we are philosophizing," said Mr. Anderson. "I think you're right, though, for practically the only true philosophers that I have ever known are men of the woods. Pierre is a good example of this. His views of life and death would do credit to Dr. Talmage or any other of our great preachers."

"Well, all I can say is this," said Pud, "I'm glad I'm here."

At this everybody laughed, for it was typical of big, hearty, jovial Pud, that any real serious conversation should go over his head, even though his own ideas may have started the talk.

After supper the boys got their sleeping bags ready and everything else so placed that they would not be wet by the dew, which is very heavy in the Saguenay region. Then, like true sons of Nimrod, they once more sought the limpid waters of the little lake in quest of the ever elusive and ever interesting trout. They all had good luck, which guaranteed them a hearty breakfast. As Bob and Pud came back to the camp they found Jack out on a log casting. The woods were back of him and almost directly above him, but in some uncanny way he managed to cast his fly just where and just as far as he wanted to. As they came by he showed them a dozen fine specimens that he had hooked.

"Why go so far from camp?" said he, in his quizzical way. "They bite just as good here."

"For you," said Bob. "You're a wizard with the fly, but for a poor novice like myself it is better to seek the fish where they are pretty sure to be found. I'm no Pied Piper of Hamlin to be able to draw fish to my fly as he did rats with his pipe."

The camp fire proved more than usually attractive that evening. All gathered around, even the guides, after they had straightened everything up.

"Well, we don't need to worry much now," said Mr. Waterman. "We'll stay right here to-morrow and have a good day's fishing and possibly hunting."

"What kind of hunting?" asked Pud.

"I was thinking merely of a partridge or two," replied Mr. Waterman.

"Arc you going to use your sleeping bag to-night?" asked Bob.

"Sure thing," replied Mr. Anderson. "We're going to have a fine night, but about four o'clock to-morrow morning you are liable to make the acquaintance of some of those moustiques or gnats that Pierre tells about. If you are in your sleeping bag you can then just pull over the flap and have another snooze."

"It certainly looks like fine weather," said Bill. "I think that I'll get up real early and visit that trout hole I found to-night. They just jumped at the fly. It was almost dark when I struck the place, so I had time only for a 'strike' or two."

"I'm with you," said Pud, with a yawn.

"Swell chance," said Bob. "We won't be able to waken you to-morrow morning until you hear Jack's voice yelling that breakfast is ready."

"Is that so?" replied Pud. "Now, don't you believe it. I've turned over a new leaf, and I'm going to get up promptly from now on."

"The only thing you'll turn over to-morrow at dawn is yourself for another nap," said Bill.

"Just try me and you'll see," said Pud.

"You're on," was the reply, "but I warn you that I'll call you just once."

Just then Mr. Waterman broke in by asking Joe if this was not the lake where he had had such an experience with wolves some years before. Joe nodded. The boys immediately wanted to know the story. Bob sat down by Joe and was soon lost as he listened to the vivacious tale of the French habitant.

"That isn't fair," said Bill, to no one in particular.

"What isn't fair?" asked Mr. Anderson.

"Why, Bob knows French, so he is having Joe tell him the wolf story. We'd like to know that too."

"It is really a fairly common occurrence; at least was some years ago in this country," said Mr. Anderson.

"But Bob will tell us, won't you?" said Pud, turning to him.

"Sure." So Bob began the interesting tale.

"Joe was up here with Pierre and another Indian hunting some years ago. The winter had been a very severe one with a wealth of snow. On this account, the wolves had been able to get but little to eat. They were then much more numerous than they are to-day. At that time there was a bounty on wolves and hundreds of heads were turned in to the government each winter and spring. Joe and his party were coming back to Escoumains after a good winter's hunt. They stopped on the next lake at a hunter's shack that was there at that time. As the weather promised to keep cold, they determined to stay there, feeling that if the spring should come with a rush that they would be able to get down to Escoumains, as it was only a week's journey distant.

"They therefore set their traps and went methodically about their business of gathering in the furry harvest made profitable to them through the desires of 'My Lady' in the large cities, whose fair necks must be covered and protected from even the cold autumn's breath. One fine day Joe set out to make the round of the traps. He had good luck and was going home about four o'clock in the afternoon, laden with two foxes and four rabbits. Joe was hurrying on, for there was no moon and the shades of night fall very early in these latitudes even in March. They had heard a wolf occasionally, but had felt no fear of them, so that when Joe heard the long-drawn note, he did not give it even a thought. He was intent on getting back before nightfall, so he failed to note that the howls were rapidly approaching.

"As he reached the surface of the lake, which was of course frozen tightly at that time of year, he was astonished to hear the howl of a wolf, immediately followed by other howls only a short distance in his rear. He hurried on, but before he could get across the lake, he saw several dark forms dash out on the ice behind him. He broke into a run, but the pack rapidly overtook him. Raising his gun to fire, he was thunderstruck to find that in some way he had jammed the trigger and that it would not work.

"He did not have any time to waste, so he threw down two rabbits and hurried on. The wolves stopped only a moment, when they came to the rabbits. He could hear them snarling and quarreling over their small carcasses. He felt his blood run cold and wondered if he was to be torn to pieces in like manner. Once more the pack came on, so he threw another couple of rabbits to them and ran ahead. They got quite near to him the next time, so he dropped the remainder of his load and fled for the shore. He felt that his only chance lay in getting ashore and up a tree. As he ran he tried to fix the trigger of his gun, but he could not get it working. He was quite near the shore now, but the wolves were close behind. With a last desperate rush, he sprang up the steep bank. Turning around, he was just in time to strike down with his clubbed gun a big gray form that leaped at him with gleaming fangs. This lucky stroke probably saved Joe's life, for the rest of the pack stopped to devour their comrade, thus giving Joe time to get safely into the branches of a tree. The wolves, now with bloody mouths and glaring eyeballs, surrounded the tree and let out howls of such fierceness that they made Joe tremble even though he knew that he was safe for the present. He was only about a mile and a half away from their shack, and he knew that if he did not turn up, that sooner or later Pierre would be out to hunt him.

"But, can you imagine how pleasant it must be to be up in a tree, with broken gun, a dozen hungry wolves beneath you and a cold night coming on? Already Joe began to get very cold, for in his race across the lake through the heavy snow he had broken out into a heavy perspiration. As darkness came down he could feel the cold hand of King Frost, as it were, reaching for him and trying to throw him down to the beasts below. This idea took possession of Joe's mind and he fought it off with all his strength. He tried as best he could in the gathering darkness to fix his gun, but it was hopelessly jammed. At last he gave this up and settled down to wait for the morning, which would surely bring Pierre to his rescue.

"As the cold became greater, his desire to sleep became the stronger. He felt himself nodding several times and once awoke just as he was on the point of falling from the tree. He grabbed a branch lower down, but his feet swung beneath and before he could get back safely on the limb one of the watchful band below by a mighty leap snapped at his leg and took a piece cleanly out of the calf, tearing his trousers leg almost entirely off him. The smell of the blood put the wolves into a frenzy and they tried again and again to reach him by leaping. They seemed maddened by hunger, for when one of their number fell after making a mighty upward bound, the pack was on him in a minute, and before the horrified eyes of Joe, they tore their mate to pieces and in ten minutes there was neither hide nor hair of him to be seen.

"Joe now had to bind up his leg as best he could. He bound the rags of his trouser leg around so that it kept out the cold pretty well. This excitement kept him up for some time, but about twelve o'clock Joe felt that the cold was sure to get the better of him if he did not do something. He thereupon undid the leather strap that he used ordinarily to carry his gun over his back when not in use. This strap, together with his belt, made a strap sufficiently long so that he was able to bind himself to the tree. He then felt easier, for he knew that at least, even though he went to sleep, that he would run no risk of falling down as prey for the murderous pack below. He wondered if he would be able to stand the cold night or whether when Pierre came in the morning he might not find him stark and rigid, tied to the branch of the tree.

"He shuddered as he remembered the gruesome sight he had once noted far to the north one day. Then, on one of his fishing expeditions, he had come upon the body of a man hanging in a tree, evidently treed by wolves and then frozen. He wondered if some chance passer-by in after years would find his skeleton in a similar way and would pass on with only a 'Dieu benisse' (May God bless) as he had done, and not even give him decent burial. He commenced to think that his present position was directly due to his haste on this former occasion. He begged God to forgive him and promised to burn a hundred candles for the soul of the unknown if he ever got back to Escoumains.

"At last human strength could hold out no longer and Joe fell asleep, asleep with the cold, that forerunner of death. Joe knew nothing until he awoke in the cabin with Pierre busy about him. It seems that when he did not return Pierre had gotten uneasy. He and his mate had started out. With pine torches they followed his trail, and when they saw the numerous wolf tracks they feared for the worst. They followed across the ice and were themselves attacked by the pack. Their guns soon put them to flight and a few minutes later they found Joe insensible up in the tree. They hurried him back to the hut and in a few days Joe was none the worse for his experience except for the painful wound on his leg made by the champion high jumper of the pack."

"Are there any wolves up here now?" asked Pud, as he looked out into the forest with its dark avenues of trees.

"Not so many," replied Mr. Anderson, "but Sandy, down at Escoumains, told me the other day that they were getting numerous again, and that a bounty had once more been put on their heads."

"Don't be dreaming of wolves and pounce on me again, as you did when dreaming of bears," laughed Bob.

"Yes, to bed, to bed, now," cried Mr. Waterman. "I'm sure we all need the rest, for we have had a great day."

They all agreed with him and were soon warm and cozy in their sleeping bags, sleeping as only tired men can sleep out of doors. The fire died down, the greenness of the nearby branches became gray and then black and were finally merged into the blackness of the surrounding woods, and not a sound told that here under God's own canopy slept human beings enjoying nature as the primeval men of old did.



CHAPTER X

MOCCASINS AS FOOD

Pud made good the next morning, for when Bill woke him he got up at once, plunged into the lake for an eye opener, and was ready with rod and line as soon as Bill. They were soon out on the lake and Bill made at once for the trout hole that he had spotted the night before. They had remarkably good luck and returned in time for breakfast with twenty-five fine trout. These they cleaned and handed to Jack, who soon had them sizzling on the fire and ready for breakfast. Bob and Mr. Waterman had also gone fishing. They did not return until Jack's cheery "Halloo!" brought they in scurrying. After breakfast they divided into parties. Bob and Mr. Waterman elected to go hunting partridges, while the others said that they would go fishing. Bob and Mr. Waterman were soon off. Arriving at the far end of the lake, they left their canoes and were soon lost in the depths of the forest. For some time they went along, but at last Mr. Waterman noted a partridge, and with a clever shot it was his. They wandered around, climbed a mountain and incidentally got three more birds, two of which Bob had the good fortune to bag.

"Well, we'd best be going," said Mr. Waterman. "Lead the way."

Bob said nothing, but started off confidently. Mr. Waterman followed on for a few minutes. He then asked,

"Let's see your compass, Bob."

Bob felt in his pocket, but did not find it there. He then remembered that he had left it in his sleeping bag. He was compelled to confess as much to Mr. Waterman.

"That's bad dope, Bob," said Mr. Waterman. "You should never leave camp without your compass nor without first noting carefully in which direction you are going."

"I know that," said Bob. "I just forgot it."

"Which direction did we take this morning?" queried Mr. Waterman.

"We first went east to the end of the lake, and since then we have been going mainly in a northerly direction."

"That is right," was the reply. "Now, if you can tell me which way is south, we can at least go in the right direction."

"We're going south now, aren't we?" asked Bob.

"No," Mr. Waterman replied. "We are going north, or nearly so."

He then pulled out his compass and showed Bob that this was so.

"Now, supposing we had no compass, how would we be able to tell the points of the compass?" asked Bob.

"By the sun," answered Mr. Waterman, in his usual, quiet way.

"How?" was the query.

"It's quite simple. In this latitude the sun is to the south of us. We therefore turn and face the sun, as it is now near noon, and we are facing south. Behind us is north, to our right, the west and to our left the east."

"A woodsman certainly must be on the lookout," said Bob.

Then they turned around and after quite a tramp they came to their own lake. They reached camp about three o'clock to find it empty. The others were evidently still out fishing. They busied themselves about the camp, finally opening out their sleeping bags and lying down on them. In due time the others returned and showed such a multitude of shining beauties that they were amazed.

"This is one of the best lakes we have ever been on," said Jack, as he went about preparing supper. "The trout are very numerous and of fine size. If we had time it would pay us to stay here a few days and get ready some smoked trout to take out with you when you go back to the city."

"I'd like to do it," said Mr. Waterman, "but I want to carry out my original schedule, so we'll reserve your idea for later on in the season."

Once more they had a fine supper, consisting of partridge stew with dumplings, trout, biscuits and prunes for dessert. They spent another very pleasant evening around the camp fire.

In the morning, after a hearty breakfast, they set out for another lake farther north and a little to the east.

"I want to work over towards the Escoumains River, so that we can come down that stream on Friday and get our first taste this season of fast water," said Mr. Waterman.

"That will be fine," said Bob. "Father has often told me of the exciting times he has had shooting the rapids in the Lake St. John region."

They were soon ready for their journey. When they came to the first portage Pud was the first man out of the boat. He had his dunnage bag on his back and the canoe on his shoulders, and waited for Jack to show the way. Off they plodded, and in about an hour they came down again to another fine lake. The guides at once began to make camp, while the others looked to their sleeping bags and cleared up for the night. By ten o'clock they were settled for the day, and off they went in their canoes to try their luck on the new lake. They found it just as full of fish as the lake they had just left. When they returned at one o'clock they found that they really had more fish than they could use.

"We'll have to stop fishing for the rest of the day," said Mr. Waterman. "There's no use catching trout merely to throw them back again."

"Let's climb some mountain this afternoon and have a good swim afterwards," suggested Mr. Anderson.

After lunch the three boys, with their two mentors, left the camp and made for the opposite shore of the lake, as the mountain rose up sharply there. They scrambled up the sides of the mountain and had gotten nearly to the top when they were startled to see a party of men above them. When they came out on the top they found the strangers there apparently waiting for them. Mr. Waterman greeted them pleasantly, but they gave only gruff answers. They inquired at first very politely what they were doing there. Mr. Anderson gave them civil answers, but they evidently did not think that his answers were full enough, so they threw off all disguise, and the leader said,

"We are Government officials, sent up here to see if there are any more stations such as Field had down near your camp. It looks rather suspicious that you should discover this man Field so opportunely. We already know that food you bought in Escoumains has been found in his cabin."

"Very true," said Mr. Waterman. "As I explained to Mr. MacPherson, that was the reason why we went out looking for the thief. It was on that quest that we found Field and discovered his business. We notified the Government immediately, which proves that we were honest in the matter."

"Perhaps it does and perhaps it doesn't," was the reply.

"What you do not know is that we had ferreted out Field's accomplices, and I have no doubt that we would have gotten him in a short time. It is possible that he knew this and made an arrangement with you to keep him supplied with grub."

"Nothing of the kind," said Mr. Waterman. "You evidently have not read the evidence I left with Mr. MacPherson. There I told him all about the scene at the hut, and if you have read that you must know that we knew nothing of Field or his work. All we know is that he stole some of our grub and showed remarkable skill in doing so. All through, he was about as clever as one could imagine."

"I'll grant that he was clever, and you seem clever yourself," was the reply.

"Don't forget that we'll keep our eye on you the rest of the summer, and that at the first suspicious move, we'll arrest you," said another official.

"You will find that totally unnecessary. We have been coming up into this country for several years, and the delights of nature, the fishing, hunting and adventure are the only things we are after here," said Mr. Waterman.

"I hardly know what to believe," said the spokesman of the party. "That man Field was here on just the same plea that you have stated, and until a few days ago he was just as little suspected as you now actually are. Pardon my questioning, but it seemed necessary. We are camping over on Lac Corbeau for some time, so if you see more of us do not be surprised. For the present we'll assume that things are just as you state they are. I sincerely hope so, for otherwise it will be a very serious matter for you."

The two parties then separated, and Mr. Waterman led the way back down the mountain. They were just in time for a real good swim before supper. Jack had been out and he had gotten four ducks, so that they had a very fine meal. Duck, trout, biscuits hot from the pan, ginger-bread and apricots made up a meal that would have done credit to Delmonico's, let alone a camp far away in the Canadian wilds. They certainly enjoyed it.

The next morning they were up early. They were going to get over to the Escoumains River and this meant that they would have to portage through three lakes.

"We'll have some hard work this morning, boys, so let's get away as early as we can," said Mr. Waterman.

"How many portages have we?" asked Pud.

"Three," was the reply.

"It's all the same to me," said Pud. "I'm getting to like the feel of that old canoe on my neck. It certainly does not seem half as heavy as it was ten days ago."

"That's because you know how to distribute its weight so that you carry it with head, neck, and arms," said Mr. Anderson. "These canoes are especially made and they weigh only sixty pounds. You ought to carry the canoes we used the first year of the Saguenay Club. They were just the ordinary canoe and they weighed nearly one hundred pounds and were badly balanced. These canoes not only weigh less than any other canoes you will see in this country, but they are especially balanced so that they are thereby easier to carry."

"I never used any other canoes," said Bob. "Now that I am used to these canoes, I do not mind them very much."

"You must also remember that you boys are getting into the finest kind of physical shape," said Mr. Waterman.

"We ought to up here," said Pud. "I've done more real work here the past two weeks than I would do at home in six months. It certainly puts the muscle on a fellow."

Shortly after breakfast they had all their duffle packed and they were off. They went along from one lake to another without incident and in due time they arrived at the Escoumains River. By this time it was nearly two o'clock, so they had a hurried lunch and then started up the river. Then the boys had a taste of river canoe work that they had never seen before. It was well that for each of the four canoes there was an experienced man, for otherwise there would have been plenty of trouble. Before they started the boys were surprised to see the guides come out of the woods with several long poles nicely trimmed up. These they laid in the canoes.

"What's the idea?" asked Pud.

"Of what?" asked Joe.

"The poles."

"We use the pole getting up the rapids. One can go better that way," said Joe.

"I didn't know that one ever used anything but paddles in canoes," said Bill.

"You'll very soon find how much more power you can get out of the pole than out of a paddle when going up a stream," said Mr. Anderson.

The canoes were pretty well loaded down but the party set out bravely. For some time the river was deep and by hard paddling they made progress against the current. Then they came to a rapid. Mr. Waterman got out and went up the stream. In a little while he returned and stated that he thought they could get up all right if they poled. Then the boys saw how this was done. Generally they kept near the shore. The man with the pole stood in the rear and shoved the boat along. It was necessary to be real clever with the pole, as any one can make sure of by trying this manoeuver some time in fast water. Finally they got up the first rapid, though frequently the boys thought that they were due for a wetting. When they came to the next rapids Joe told Mr. Waterman that he knew these rapids well and that it would be necessary to portage. Joe said that it was a full hour's portage, meaning that it was nearly two miles. They landed and were soon headed up the stream, laden with their canoes and duffle bags. It was hard work, though they found a well-beaten trail leading up the river. They got glimpses of the cool waters of the Escoumains as it dashed foaming from rock to rock. They could hardly admire the scenery, for they were all well weighed down with their packs or canoes. At last they came out at the head of the rapids and found a fine sheet of water ahead of them. In fact, as often happens, they found the river broad and slow-flowing for several miles, and they made steady progress.

"Keep your eye out for a good camping place," said Mr. Waterman. Hardly had he said this than they came around a curve of the river and saw before them a little opening in the woods that had been cleared. A little stream ran down into the larger river, forming a sand bar near its mouth.

"Here's the place," said Mr. Anderson.

As if by one consent they all steered for the shore and quickened their strokes. In a little while they were practically ready for the night. It was well that they had stopped, for it was now close to six o'clock and they were all getting very hungry.

"Hurry up the grub, Jack," said Mr. Waterman. "I could eat a moccasin."

"I eat moccasin before now," said Joe. "It ees hard to chew."

"When was that?" asked Bill, who scented a story.

"It was many year ago, when I very hungry in dees wood," said Joe.

"Let's have the story after supper," said Mr. Anderson.

"Oh, no, it is too difficile for me to speak Engleesh," replied Joe.

"Well, tell it to me," said Bob, "and I can then tell it to the others."

"All right, all right," said Joe, "but you must not expect big story. It ees only what happened to me one long wintaire."

The boys went in for a swim and they found the water a little colder than the lake on which they had camped the previous weeks. Joe, Jean and Jack kept very busy, and it was not long before the noise of a stick beaten against a tin can made known to all that supper was ready.

"Trout will do us to-night, but to-morrow morning we must have salmon for breakfast," said Mr. Waterman. "An extra dish of prunes for the one who catches the first salmon."

This offer does not mean anything to the ordinary person in the city, but on a trip out into the woods where the grub has to be rationed out, fruit of any kind is at a premium. It was almost dark when they got through their supper and were ready for the night. It was quite a cool night in spite of the hot day they had had. The guides piled on the wood and it was very comfortable after their hard day's paddling and portaging, to sit around the fire and talk over the events of the day or whatever happened to come up. Bob soon sneaked away from the fire and went over to the smaller fire which the guides had made close to the little wood hut they had hastily thrown up. It did not take Joe long to plunge into his story, and for quite a while Bob stayed with the guides listening to Joe. When Bob returned to the main party he found them getting ready to seek their blankets. His return was greeted gladly by Bill and Pud, who remembered the story that Bob had promised to get from Joe and then relate to them.

"Well, how did you make out?" asked Bill.

"Did Joe tell you the story?" exclaimed Pud eagerly.

"Yes, he told me the story in his matter-of-fact way. To him his experience was only an ordinary occurrence that may almost be expected by any hunter in a hard winter. I think that I had better keep the story until to-morrow night, as it is getting late," said Bob, looking questioningly at Mr. Waterman.

"Go ahead, Bob," said Mr. Waterman. "We are going to stay here and fish to-morrow, so it won't make much difference if we stay up a little later than usual. I don't think that Joe has ever told us of this experience, has he?" added Mr. Waterman, turning to Mr. Anderson.

"No. Joe has told us a lot of very interesting experiences that he has had, but he never told us of the time he got so hungry that he tried to eat his moccasins," said Mr. Anderson.

"Well," said Bob, "though Joe told me the story in his own very laconic fashion, I am sure that it was much more interesting than I can make it. I'll do the best I can, however."

"All right, then," said Bill, "go ahead."

"When Joe was a young man he once came hunting far north of this country in the company of an old Montagnais chief named Howling Wolf. They started out late in November, expecting to get back about Christmas time. They went up the Portneuf River, which was frozen over then, and made good progress. They had very good success from the start. Contrary to what they had generally experienced, the further north they went the better was the hunting. They were led on by this unexpected factor to go much farther north than they had ever been before. They had three dog teams along and were provisioned for a three months' trip. Their good fortune lured them on and it was almost Christmas before they awoke to the fact that they must soon get started home or they might get into serious trouble because of lack of provisions.

"Let's see if we can get some deer meat so that we can stay longer," said Howling Wolf one day. Joe consented and they went out with this idea in view. They were very successful. They both brought in a deer and at the end of a week, they had quite a lot of meat on hand. Things thus went along until shortly after Christmas, as sometimes happens, the game suddenly became scarce. They could not get a deer or even a rabbit. In addition, the winter came on in earnest. One heavy fall of snow was followed by another and they were kept close to their quarters. The heavy weather continued and they determined to make for the south just as soon as it became possible to do so.

"About the tenth of January, they left for the south. They made good progress, though their provisions became lower and lower. At last they were on very short rations and it was under these conditions that Howling Wolf had the misfortune to break his leg. Joe bound up the leg as best he could, but the injured man made progress all the slower. As Joe found that the extra burden slowed down the dogs so much in the heavy snow, he determined to cache one load of pelts, make use of the extra dogs and hurry on. Food was very low and if they should hit a week's storm he could easily see that he would have the greatest difficulty getting out to Escoumains.

"As bad luck would have it, a regular blizzard came on and for four days, Joe and Howling Wolf had to lie low in a rude shelter that Joe had hastily thrown up when overtaken by the blizzard. It was impossible to keep a fire burning as the snow came down in icy particles that made wandering from camp a foolhardy undertaking. Howling Wolf on several occasions begged Joe to leave him there and go on his way. Like the Indian that he was, he felt that the storm gods were against them and he had given up.

"Before they left their improvised shelter, Joe had to sacrifice three of the dogs to furnish food for the other dogs. Joe also stated that he made his first hearty meal for several days on some dog steaks that he had kept for himself and Howling Wolf. At last they got away, but on the very next night they were attacked by a large band of wolves, and though they succeeded in driving them off it was only at the expense of almost their last cartridges and the loss of three more dogs. Joe spoke again of the heroism of Howling Wolf, who sat up in his sledge and shot at the wolves, though they threatened to overwhelm him and Joe on more than one rush that they made. Joe said nothing of himself but one's imagination can easily picture these two hardy hunters, sheltered only by their sledges, making a fight for life against a large pack of hungry wolves.

"When the storm was over and the wolves had been driven off, there were over a dozen dead wolves lying around. Joe stated that knowing that he could not get the pelts out, he had been compelled to leave the wolves unskinned. In fact, the most vivid impression made on Joe by this fight for his very life seemed to lie in the fact that twelve fine wolf skins had to be left there. The further loss of the dogs made it necessary for Joe to cache all the rest of his pelts. He did this very reluctantly, for he felt that unless he could get back before the winter was over, he would lose all the fine skins they had gotten by their hard work. Then, with hardly any grub and only a few cartridges, one dog team and a big heavy Indian with a broken leg as a load, Joe started off for Escoumains, at least one hundred and twenty miles away.

"When Joe told me this, he did so in just as matter-of-fact a way as if it were the most ordinary occurrence for a man to find himself far to the north in the depth of winter, practically without grub and without ammunition. The latter was really practically useless anyway, for the heavy snow seemed to have sent everything alive into their winter burrows. Joe could not take time to go hunting anyway, but he felt it would be useless, for though he kept his eyes alert, he did not cross a single track. Bad luck seemed to follow their journey out just as good luck had urged them further and further north.

"Another heavy storm came on and for three days Joe was compelled to lie quiet waiting for the weather to break. By this time the grub had entirely disappeared and only two dogs were left. Though the storm stopped in the middle of the night, Joe got his two Eskimo huskies out of their snow beds, hitched himself to the sledge also and started on. By the end of that day they had covered nearly thirty miles, according to Joe's reckoning, and both he and the dogs were practically exhausted. There was no food for man nor beast, so Joe once more had recourse to the dogs. He had to kill one of his favorite dogs. This was the only part of the story in which Joe showed any trace of excitement or sentiment. The killing of that favorite dog was evidently a very hard task for Joe.

"After only four hours' rest, Joe and the only dog left took up their burden. By this time Howling Wolf was in a regular delirium, caused by his injured leg and his privations. Joe struggled on all that day and far into the night. According to his calculations, he traveled nearly sixteen hours. In his naive way, Joe excused himself for not keeping on farther by stating that his dog finally gave out completely and he had to stop. With no food again, Joe took to eating the leather straps that had bound the grub on the sled. Then the dog suddenly went mad shortly after midnight and Joe was compelled to shoot him in self-defense. By hard work, he got a fire and made a good stew of dog's meat. A good meal of this also had a very stimulating effect on Howling Wolf, who quieted down and went to sleep. Without waiting for the morning, Joe hurried on, but the snow was deep and he made but very slow progress.

"In the intervals between his delirium, the stoic Indian urged Joe to leave him and hurry on. Joe makes no hero of himself, but he refused to do this, stating that they would either both reach Escoumains or neither of them would get there. In this way, Joe struggled on for two days more, living on the remains of the dog. This at last gave out. Joe now found himself only twenty miles away from Escoumains and he felt that if he could only hold out another day, he might get to some place of safety. Thus, starving, but determinedly dragging his injured friend, Joe staggered on. That night he eased the pangs of hunger by chewing on an old pair of moccasins that he found at the bottom of the sled. Howling Wolf also chewed away and cheered on his friend for, though he did not feel that Joe should still keep on dragging him along, he felt that if he would do it that it was his duty to keep up Joe's spirits. They both slept a few hours that night and long before dawn Joe was toiling away.

"At last, tired and exhausted, nature would have her due. Joe became merely a driveling maniac, urged along by an insane desire to make progress. At times he would wander round and round, but eventually he would head on straight again. It was late that night that Joe saw far ahead a welcome light. This spurred him on and for about half a mile he almost ran. This spurt soon died down and left him so weak that he could hardly move along. Once or twice he fell but he kept on and was soon within hailing distance of the light. He tried to cry out but no sounds came from his exhausted lips. At last, when at the very end of his physical resources, he came to the door and knocked He heard a rustle within, but even before the door was open, he had fallen down in a faint. When he opened his eyes, he was in the cabin of his good friend Antoine Gagnon, who was bathing his head and feet with hot water and gently urging some hot liquid down his throat. Already Howling Wolf was seated by the fire and telling the good wife, Gagnon, what a brave man Joe had been and how he had saved his life. When he lifted his head, the whole family crowded around and praised him for his wonderful endurance. Joe stated that he had to spend a week in that house before he was strong enough to walk. Howling Wolf's leg got all right and Joe was soon as strong as ever.

"Three weeks after his almost fatal trip, he was off to the north again with another Indian and a week or more later returned with the pelts that had been bought almost with his life's blood. 'But,' concluded Joe, 'I would give all the pelts I get in one-two-yessair, three wintaire, if I not kill my dear dog, Marie, I love so well.'"

"Joe must have been some hardy youth twenty years ago," said Mr. Waterman. "I can assure you that everything he told you was true and probably even worse than he depicted it."

Pud and Bill were greatly impressed with Joe's story and sat a long time staring into the fire. Pud, however, soon realized his own troubles, for he exclaimed,

"Gee, boys, I'm sleepy. I'm going to turn in."

"I guess you had better, boys. You know, late hours are not on the camper's schedule," said Mr. Anderson.

Ten minutes later, not a sound could have been heard except the distant calling of a loon or the low roaring of the river as it rushed along its rocky bed.



CHAPTER XI

A RESCUE IN THE RAPIDS

The same thought seemed to awaken every one the next morning. All were out early but they found Jack making the fire. He stated that they were going to have some very fine biscuits that morning and so he was up early. No one thought of him in connection with the extra dish of prunes. The boys were soon on the water though they did not expect to get the first salmon.

"Ye Heavens!" said Pud. "If one of those big salmon got on my line, I wouldn't know what to do with it anyway. But all the same, I'm going to have a try."

"Same here," said Bob. "I really would like to hook one because my father has told me so much about salmon fishing that I'm anxious to see if I can play one as he told me how to do it. He has caught salmon not one hundred miles from here, you know."

"Yes, it's all very well for them to tell us how to do it," said Bill. "I'll bet, though, that we make a botch of it when we get one."

They were soon separated by varying distances. Bob got three trout but no salmon rose to his fly. Pud was down the stream and as Bob floated by, he said,

"I don't believe there are any salmon here anyway. I've got four trout but nary a salmon."

As if to rebuke his disbelief in the presence of salmon in that river, a big fish leaped clear of the water and tore away with Pud's line. In a moment, Pud was busy. He got so excited when he saw the wonderful fish make another flying leap that he forgot that he was on a frail canoe and over he went. Bob hurried to his rescue and Pud was soon in his boat again. Pud had held on to the rod and when he got in the boat, he started to reel in but he was due for a rude awakening, as he was nearly yanked out of the canoe by a terrific rush from the fish.

"He's still on," yelled Pud.

"Give him line! Give him line! Now, careful. Reel in," yelled Bob.

Pud kept at it and for nearly an hour that fish kept him as busy as a bee. At the end of that time, Pud drew the salmon gently towards the canoe. Bob reached over to get him in the landing net when off he went again. It took another good twenty minutes before he was finally landed. Bob and Pud then paddled for the camp and reached there to find that Mr. Waterman and Mr. Anderson were already there each with a fine specimen.

In a little while they all gathered around for breakfast when a big surprise awaited them. Jack demurely brought on a fine baked salmon. When this appeared, Mr. Waterman hurried over to the tent, lifted the covering under which the three salmon he and Mr. Anderson had caught had been placed, and there were still the three salmon.

"You old dog!" said Mr. Waterman. "When did you get that fish? I was up pretty early myself but you must have had it still earlier, for you have had plenty here to keep you busy since we got up."

Jack did not answer Mr. Waterman's question. Instead, he merely queried in his quizzical way.

"Do I get them prunes?"

For answer, Mr. Waterman went over to the shelter made for the grub and came back with a can filled with the succulent prune. Jack took them with a merry twinkle in his eye.

"I don't think that I ought to take them," said he.

"Sure. Take them. I said that I'd give extra prunes to the man getting the first salmon and you did the trick," said Mr. Waterman.

"That's all right, but I don't need them. Let me give them to the first boy that gets a fish," said Jack.

"All right," said Mr. Waterman. "Then you'll have to give them to Pud, for he was the only boy to land one."

Jack then came over to the table and with grave ceremony, he handed the prunes to Pud. The latter did not want to take them but finally yielded. They had a very merry breakfast and Jack at last told them that he had gotten up about half past three and had hardly got out into the stream before he had a fine salmon on his line. He had a merry battle with the gamy fish but finally landed him and, hurrying back, he sneaked into camp without being seen. After breakfast, the various members of the party once more set out in quest of salmon, it being agreed that no one would catch more than two.

When they reassembled at lunch, every one had at least one salmon. All were happy as kings, especially the three boys, who had had one of their ambitions realized in catching these wonderful game fish. They went exploring in the afternoon. Mr. Waterman took the boys back from the river into a part of the country that had been burned over. They made for a rather high ridge merely to get the view, with Mr. Waterman leading. As he topped the ridge, he was seen to sink suddenly to the ground and then hurry back to them.

"Two fine bears up there," said Mr. Waterman in a whisper when he got back to them.

"Where? Where?" exclaimed Pud.

"Just over the ridge. They're eating berries," said Mr. Waterman.

"Let's run," said Pud. "None of us has even a revolver."

"That's all right," replied Mr. Anderson. "Bears won't hurt you. Mr. Waterman came back stealthily so that you could have a look at them. If they scent us we shan't get within a mile of them. So be careful."

Pud held back but Bob hurried on with Mr. Waterman and Bill was close behind. They very quietly got to the top of the ridge and both of the boys had a very good view of the two black bears that were busily engaged eating the raspberries that grew very luxuriantly there in the bare spots left by the ravages of the fire. Mr. Waterman had just begun to explain to them what very timid creatures they were when Pud came up, and falling over a root crashed down, making a terrific racket. In a moment the bears were gone. They seemed to vanish. They seemed instinctively to keep in line with big rocks or trees so that even the lynx-eyed Mr. Waterman had great trouble in following their course. The boys did not see them again.

"You big boob!" said Bill. "What's the matter with you?"

"I didn't mean to do it, honest to goodness," replied Pud. "But were there really any bear here or were you stringing me as usual?"

"Of course there was a bear here," said Bob. "But a big elephant came along and scared them away. I don't wonder they took to their heels when they heard the noise you made. You'd make a fine Indian scout. You had better walk behind Jean and note how noiselessly he moves along."

"I'm sorry," said Pud.

The party then turned away after looking over the country from their high point of vantage. They could see far and wide and for miles the great forest fire had left only blackened stumps and dead trees. They got back to camp in time for supper. Joe had had time to get out and as he had returned with five partridges, they had another great supper.

"They told me when I wanted to come up here," said Bob, "that if I wanted to live on bacon, prunes, hard dough, and beans all summer that this was the place to come."

"Yes, that is what they generally expect to get on such trips as this, but with just a little luck and a good cook like Jack, the least thing to be objected to is the 'eats,'" said Mr. Anderson.

"I should think so," replied Bob. "I don't know that I have ever enjoyed my meals so much as up here."

"The same here," piped in Pud. "I think we get almost too good grub, that is as far as I am concerned, for I want to reduce and I have a swell chance to do that with partridge and trout, one night, salmon for breakfast, and salmon, trout, and duck for supper."

"Yes," said Mr. Waterman. "We've been unusually lucky this summer."

After supper, they went for a paddle up the stream, going up for nearly three miles until they came to another rapid. Bob and Bill were in one canoe and Pud and Mr. Anderson in another. They went up the rapid as far as they could paddle and then swung around and came racing back. When they came to the quiet part of the river again, Bob said,

"That's great fun. I bet we have some excitement to-morrow when we go down the river to a point opposite Lac Parent."

"I guess we'll enjoy it all right. I pity Pud if he gets in the drink," said Bill.

The next morning, the guides and their two leaders took the greatest precautions in binding up the duffle bags and the grub. Everything was folded so that even though they might be capsized, there would be little risk of their kits and grub.

"You are making preparations as if you expect trouble," said Bob to Mr. Waterman.

"Not especially," was the reply. "It is always best to be ready for anything in fast water. A broken paddle, just a mistake in judgment, may spell disaster. However, I think you'll enjoy it this morning. The river has some fast water all right but it is not very deep and though we may get wet, there will not be much real danger."

"How are we going to pair off?" asked Bob.

"Jack will take Pud. Joe will pair with Bill, you will come with me and Jean and Mr. Anderson will make up the party."

They were soon off, with Mr. Waterman and Bob leading. They had quite a stretch of slow water first and the boys were given their directions then.

"The main thing about getting through fast water is not to lose your nerve," said Mr. Waterman. "Next you must have confidence in your steersman and do what he tells you just as soon as he tells you."

"That's what I'm here for," said Bob, in his position up in the bow.

They soon swung into the rapids and it was exhilarating fun at first. Then Bob's heart came up into his throat for a minute as he looked ahead and could see only a smother of foam. Mr. Waterman steered straight for what seemed the worst part of it. In another moment they were in it and Bob thought that the canoe would never rise to the wall of water ahead. But it did. In a second, they were shooting down with Bob paddling for dear life trying as best he could to follow the calm directions of Mr. Waterman. The very speedy part of the descent lasted only a few minutes, but it was very exciting. Then they swung once more into the calm waters of the broad reaches of the river.

"Did we cover those two miles that took us over an hour to do the other day when we were portaging up?" asked Bob.

"That we did," said Mr. Waterman. "We did it very well. After a few trips of this kind, you will qualify as an expert canoeist."

"That's very kind of you to say so," replied Bob. "I know though that if I had hit that water with Pud or Bill that we would have been swimming long before now."

"Well, it does help to have an old stager like me in the back end of the canoe," said Mr. Waterman with quiet satisfaction. "To tell the truth, that is really an easy stretch of water. If you ever go through some of the rapids on the Shipshaw River or some of the larger rivers of this country, you will know what fast water really means. I went down the Shipshaw three years ago with Pierre and there were times when the slightest mistake would have meant death almost surely."

"I'd like to try that sometime," said Bob.

"You may think so, but really it is a foolhardy proposition unless you have very clever guides with you," replied Mr. Waterman.

"That's some sport," said Bill, as his canoe came abreast of theirs.

"I had my troubles," said Jack. "This young baby elephant up in the bow is too heavy and makes the canoe very hard to steer."

"That's right," said Mr. Waterman. "Suppose, before we reach the next rapids, that you get out a moment, shift some of the load up into the bow and have Pud sit back of the first thwart. That will balance the canoe better."

"That's a good idea," said Jack. "I'll do it."

"Why so quiet?" asked Bob of Pud as he looked across.

"Now don't kid me," said Pud. "I really thought three or four times that I'd be swimming down those rapids a mile a minute, but Jack brought me through all right. I'll give him all the credit."

"Don't you believe it," said Jack. "He did fine. He obeyed orders, but his weight in the bow made it very hard and I wouldn't want to try it over again."

A little later, Pud and Jack went ashore and fixed the cargo so that the canoe would not be down at the bow. Then they were off again. Once more they shot down through foam and spray, just missing rocks by a fraction of an inch. It proved the greatest sport that the boys had ever tried. They grew enthusiastic.

"Now, it's all right to like fast water," said Jack, "but don't let that make you careless. You can never afford to be careless even in rather easy water. If you do, you'll come a cropper sure."

They paddled on and went down three or four more easy rapids. By this time the boys commenced to think that they knew quite a little about how to take fast water. As they went along, Mr. Waterman warned them that they were now coming to a rather hard place but that it was very short. In another moment they were in it. Bob and his teacher went through like a breeze. Under the master hand of Mr. Waterman, the speedy descent of the waters was made without dipping a drop into the canoe. As they came down into the smooth reach at the foot of the rapids, Mr. Waterman turned the canoe around, saying,

"Let's watch the others come down this last bit. It certainly looks exciting but while you're in it you have little time to think of the exciting features."

Just then Mr. Anderson and Jean came into view. They seemed poised almost on the brink of a cascade but the canoe came rushing down like a bird. At times, it seemed buried in the spray but it emerged triumphant at the foot. They also turned around to watch the others. Pud and Jack were next. Jack made it seem so easy that the boys were amazed at the deftness with which he steered the boat. At one spot, by a peculiar wrist motion known only to the initiated, he made the boat move bodily over to the right just in time to miss a big rock that seemed sure to be their Waterloo. It now remained only for Joe and Bill to come safely through. Under the influence of the eddies, Mr. Waterman and Bob had floated up almost to the very foot of the rapids. This was the big factor in what followed.

Jack and Bill hove in sight and down they rushed. Just before they struck the bad part of the rapids, Bill was seen to hold up his paddle broken short off at the handle. He turned around to snatch up the extra paddle but in doing so he was too hasty and in another moment, the canoe was caught by a swell and overturned. Anxiously the party at the foot of the rapids watched for the heads of Joe and Bill. Joe came up and was seen to make frantic efforts to get back to the canoe, but he was swept on. Bill did not appear. Bob was out of his canoe and out on the bank before any one even thought of stopping him. In another moment, he was running up the trail that ran alongside the river. A minute later he was out on the rocks above where the overturned canoe was now seen to be jammed between the rocks. A moment later, he plunged into the foaming rapids and fortunately drifted down right on the canoe. When he came there he had the greatest difficulty in not being swept over the canoe. Frantically he clung to the canoe, now finding himself helpless to save Bill, who was partly pinned under the canoe and was rapidly drowning right before his eyes.

Bills eyes were turning glassy, Bob thought, as he made a final effort to get the canoe free. He succeeded in doing this, but not as he expected, for his weight and the weight of the water as it swept along crumpled up the canoe and suddenly he found himself rushing down the rapids just like a wisp of straw on a miniature stream such as little boys sometimes make in the gutters. All at once he felt Bill's body bump him and instinctively he grabbed it and though bruised in a hundred places, he finally shot out at the foot of the rapids still clutching Bill's limp form. Bob was himself practically unconscious, but struggled to keep himself and Bill afloat as if under some superpower.

A moment later, the others were there and they soon had Bob and Bill out on the bank. Bill was far gone, as he not only had been half drowned when pinned under the canoe but he had knocked his head against the rocks in the latter part of his descent. First aid was given to him first. He was stretched out over a log and then his arms were worked to get the air back into his lungs. In about five minutes, Bill opened his eyes and with a big sigh closed them again. A few minutes later he was sitting up, still in rather a dazed condition, but fast recovering. Bob had received quite a cut on his head, but he had not actually lost consciousness and he fast recuperated. He was up and about in a little while, apparently none the worse for his strenuous exertions.

"That was a close call," said Mr. Waterman.

"I should think so," said Pud. "When I saw Bob plunge into those rapids, I thought he was a fool, for I could not see how he could do anything."

"He saved my life all right," said Bill. "I was pinned under that canoe and was nearly drowned when Bob got there. I didn't get get this bump on the head until afterwards. I saw Bob come, but I was so nearly all in that I could only struggle faintly to get a breath of air now and then. When the canoe suddenly broke in two, I shot down and I must have hit a rock for I knew nothing more until I woke up on the bank."

"You deserve a great deal of credit, Bob," said Mr. Anderson, "not only for your heroism but for the quick presence of mind you showed in doing the only thing that had a chance of saving Bill's life."

"You beat me to it all right," said Mr. Waterman. "The way you got out of that canoe and up that trail would have made me look like a snail so I stayed at the foot hoping to be of use there. I thought that Bill might appear any moment at the foot of the rapids as I could not see that he was pinned down by the canoe."

"I'm certainly glad you were there," said Bob, "for I would never have gotten Bill ashore by myself. I certainly was all in. I was not unconscious but I had big black spots before my eyes and I guess I was just about ready to pass out."

"Well, it's all over and we're very lucky," said Mr. Waterman. "We'll camp right here for the night and go on our way to-morrow morning. We can get back to camp all right even if a little later than we had planned."

In the meantime, Joe had come down the rapids unhurt and crawled into Jean's boat as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. While the others were bringing Bob and Bill back to the world, he and Jean set out after the broken canoe and captured it. Owing to the great care with which their duffle bags had been made up that morning, nothing was really injured. Bill and Bob did not have much appetite for supper that evening as both were suffering more from shock than they recognized. In the morning, Mr. Waterman let them sleep until the last call for breakfast. After a swim, they were both just about as good as ever.

"How are we going to get everything into the canoes this morning?" asked Pud.

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

"We had the canoes pretty well filled yesterday," said Pud. "With one less canoe, we'll have to shift things around, won't we?"

"Who said that we had one less canoe?" asked Mr. Waterman quietly. Pud looked to the bank of the stream and sure enough, there were four canoes there.

"Where did we get the extra canoe?" asked Pud puzzled.

"We didn't get it any place," replied Mr. Anderson. "Joe and Jean were up real early this morning and they fixed the one that seemed such a wreck last evening."

Pud went over to the canoes and sure enough, he saw where the canoe had been patched up.

"This isn't a very good job," said Mr. Waterman. "When we get back to camp, they will take out those broken ribs and replace them entirely instead of splicing them up as they have done. It will do all right until we get home but when Joe really gets through with that canoe, there won't be a sign of that smash-up."

"He's certainly clever," said Bill.

"Yes, he is in one sense, though in another he is just using the knowledge that he has acquired in years in the woods," said Mr. Anderson.

"Pierre, Jean, Joe or Jack can all build a very good canoe as they have often done so," said Mr. Waterman.

"Can Pierre make a birch bark canoe just like the Indians used to have?" asked Bob.

"Nothing easier," replied Mr. Anderson.

"I'll get him to make me one ofter camp is over and send it down to me in Virginia," said Bob.

"He'll be very glad to do it," said Mr. Waterman.

After a good breakfast, they were on their way. It was a credit to the real courage of Bob and Bill that though they had to go down three rapids before they came to the ford near Lac Parent, that neither of them showed any sign of the white feather. Both boys seemed to enjoy the exciting sport just as much as before the almost fatal accident of the previous day. On arrival at the ford, they found Pierre there.

Two hours later, they were back at their home camp and settled in their shelter tents. That night around the camp fire they went over the events of the week and concluded that they had had more fun and excitement crowded into that week than they had had in any other similar space of time during their lives. They all went to bed glad to-morrow was the Sabbath and that they could just laze around and enjoy the comparative comforts of their home camp.



CHAPTER XII

PIERRE'S BIG SALMON

The next night, Bob visited the guides' tent after supper and he did not return to the others until nearly ten o'clock.

"What did you find so interesting up there with the guides?" asked Bill.

"Nothing much," replied Bob. "Pierre was telling me how he nearly lost his life landing a big salmon on the Shipshaw River one summer."

"Let's hear the story," demanded Pud.

"It's too late to-night but I'll tell it to you to-morrow night if you want me to," replied Bob.

The next evening it was raining, so a fire had been built outside of Bob's shelter tent. The boys were leaning back inside, all the more comfortable because of the dreary conditions outside. In spite of the rain, the birch logs burned brightly though accompanied by hissing, as big drops of rain came down now and then from the pines overhead.

"This is a good night to do murder or some other light occupation," said Pud to the others.

"Why not tell us that fish story of Pierre's now?" queried Bill.

"That's a good idea," said Pud.

"All right," answered Bob, "but I really wish I could give you the story just as Pierre told it to me, with the sidelights of Indian philosophy and the natural expressions of wood lore that made his story much more piquant and picturesque than mine could ever be. Anyway, I'll do the best I can.

"It seems that one summer he was sent out by one of the big lumber companies to scout for timber. He was told to get another Indian or two and go up the Shipshaw River and report the growth of timber near the water, whether he thought it could be rafted down or not, and any other information that would be valuable for the lumber companies. He took along two nephews of his, named Jean and Jacques, and an old Indian, named Montagnais because he was reputed to be the head chief of the tribe of that name to which all the Indians of that part of the country belonged. The old Indian told Pierre before he started that there was plenty of big timber in the Shipshaw Valley but that he would find it practically impossible to raft it down. Pierre told the lumber company this but they desired him to go anyway, stating that they wished to find out definitely about the matter that summer.

"They started off and took the steamer to Chicoutimi at the head of the Saguenay River. They there got into their canoes and were soon going up the Shipshaw. They found this river one of great volume, and they had many long portages to make and much fast water to pole up. It took them over three weeks of hard paddling and portaging to get near its source. At last they got as far up as the valley as Pierre thought was necessary. It was Pierre's idea that on the way down, they would stop off every few miles and go back into the country to look over the woods This they did, and, of course, this made their progress down rather slow.

"One day they came on a real Indian encampment at the foot of the rapids, and as it was near evening they determined to stop and enjoy the company of their brother tribesmen for the night. They found the Indians very glad to see them. They told them that they had wintered far to the north of the Great Divide and that they planned to get down to the St. Lawrence and in touch with white people and civilization once more. Later in the evening, they learned that the little party had stayed at that one place for three full days, because the chief was determined to catch a big salmon that had tantalized him during that time. This salmon had been seen by all of them, as he lived in a big pool at the head of some rapids only a short distance down the river. It was then too dark to show this big fish to Pierre and his companions, but early the next morning, Pierre was down at the pool. He looked over a big rock into the pool, that was formed by a back eddy, and, sure enough, there was an especially large salmon swimming about in the quiet water. In another moment, Pierre had out his fishing tackle, but to no avail. The big salmon would have nothing to do with anything Pierre offered him. He tried one fly after another, but without effect. It seemed as if the big salmon despised his efforts. As if in defiance, every now and then the fish would swoop up to the surface and jump two or three feet out of the water.

"Pierre grew stubborn. All that day, he stayed by the pool, either he himself fishing or watching the old chief try every while to entice the giant salmon to take that hook. At night they all returned to camp and told stories of phantom fish that could not be caught except by black magic. They came to the conclusion finally that the big fish must be one of that kind, with something uncanny about him, and they decided that it would be bad medicine to try to catch him. Pierre was the only one that dissented from this.

"He got up even before dawn the next morning and was early down at the pool. He procured a little pitch and some black flies and stuck them together in such a way that, when they were thrown on the water, they looked just like a half dozen flies floating down the stream. He got out his smallest leader and fastened a hook among the flies. When he had finished, it looked very lifelike and Pierre was proud of his handiwork. Carefully approaching the stream without making any noise or permitting any shadow to fall on the water, he threw his semi-artificial fly far out on the stream, so that the back eddy would ultimately bring it into the pool. Sure enough, the little black spot on the water whirled around and finally floated calmly and slowly around the pool. Twice it made the circuit and Pierre had just about decided that he was doomed to disappointment again, when he saw a streak fly into the air and his reel fairly sang as it spun around. Unfortunately something jammed and the rod was jerked out of his hands. Pierre saw it disappear over the edge of the rock, but he was after it and just caught the end of the rod as it was being dragged under. Pierre held on like grim death. In another minute he found himself out in the river and a moment later he was in the powerful current at the head of the rapids. Even yet he had time to get to shore but, with his usual obstinacy, he held on. A minute later he was going down the rapids, doing his best to keep his head above water, but with the line wound tightly around his arm. It was now a fight for life, and he had no time to think of the fish. Down he went, carried hither and thither by the powerful currents. He knew that each moment might be his last but he struggled on. Once he believed he heard a shout and thought he caught a glimpse of a canoe shooting after him, but the noise of the water and his fearful struggle to keep from being dashed upon the rocks that lined the river made this appear more like a dream than a reality.

"He was on the point of exhaustion when he swung around a bend of the river and found himself in quiet water. In one sense he was saved, for he had come through the rapids safely, but in another he was just at the beginning of his struggle for he was practically exhausted and at least a half mile from shore. He lay back on the water and closed his eyes, feeling that he could never reach land. Just then he heard a call, and his two nephews swung around the point and made for him. They pulled him into their canoe and paddled for the shore. When they reached there, they started to carry Pierre up on the beach, but found the line tied around his arm. They disentangled this to find that the pole was still at the one end of the line. They then started to reel in and in a moment they felt a weight pulling on the line. They pulled warily, and a minute later the big salmon came into view. Pierre had caught him after all. Whether he was drowned by being pulled down the rapids, whether he had hit a rock when entangled in the line, or for whatever reason, the fact remained that the line had held and that the big fish was brought safely ashore.

"Jean proposed that they should camp there that day to celebrate the occasion. Pierre was secretly very glad to do so, for he really was all in, not only because of his great exertion in coming down the rapids, but also because of the many bruises he had received from the rocks. He asked his nephews how they had come along so luckily to his rescue. They replied that they were just on their way to get a last look at the big fish when they saw him plunge over the rock by the side of the pool and then go down the rapids. He was some quarter mile ahead of them and they could not get near him in the rapids. They kept on going, however, although they were afraid that he would hit his head on some sharp rock and be drowned.

"One of the nephews then went up the river by the portage trail, and in another hour the small tribe and the old Montagnais chief were gathered around Pierre, hearing of his remarkable escape from death in the rapids and his more remarkable catch of the giant salmon. They roasted the fish for dinner and had a great feast in honor of the occasion. Pierre stated that this was the biggest salmon he had ever seen and that it was just luck that he had caught it. He gave himself some credit for the bait that had tempted the fish, but otherwise he felt that it was only luck that had brought the fish down through the rapids with him."

Bob stopped here and looked out at the rain which was still coming down steadily.

"Pierre has had some adventures in his life," said Bill.

"He told me another story about that trip up the Shipshaw, and though I tried to explain it to him, he could not see it," said Bob.

"What was that?" asked Pud.

"According to Pierre the Good Spirit showed that he was displeased at him for catching the fish. As they were going down a wide reach of the river two days later they saw a big pearshaped black object rise into view over the hilltops. It sailed on over them and just as it was above them, it dropped a rock which went right through Pierre's canoe. If the other canoe had not been near, they would not have had time to save anything. As it was, they saved all their duffle, and, going ashore, they soon had the canoe in shape again. Pierre felt that the Great Spirit had thus reminded him of his sacrilege in killing the big spirit fish. I tried to tell Pierre that he had seen a big balloon, and I called to mind that in that very year a big balloon had floated far into the wilderness. Pierre would have no such explanation. To him, the big object was a direct visitation of the Great Spirit, It completely terrorized, him and his mates, and he said that he would always remember it."

Here Bob paused and Pud took occasion to ask:

"Did Pierre get back all right after his trip?"

"Oh, yes; though he had one more experience that was not very pleasant," said Bob.

"What was that?" asked Bill.

"As I have already mentioned, they got out of their canoes and went inland every few miles to scout around and see what timber was in the little valleys leading off the main valley of the Shipshaw. On one of these occasions, Pierre and the old Indian went off on one side of the river, and the two others on the opposite side. They had only one rifle between them, for they were not out hunting and had taken it along merely from habit. Pierre had the gun, while the old Indian went ahead with his easy stride. Though over sixty years of age, he was noted as one of the best walkers and sturdiest paddlers in the country. He led the way and Pierre came after, thinking hard about the displeasure of the Great Spirit as shown by the sinking of his canoe. They broke through a very narrow ravine and came upon a she-bear with three cubs. The sight of the Indians angered the bear and she made a rush for them.