"No; but you see he was silly enough to believe that it was better to go along the balance of his natural life with three feet rather than to give up his nice soft pelt to grace the back of some lady in Montreal or New York or London," returned Owen, gravely, twirling the little reminder around between his fingers, and looking at it as though he believed it could tell a sad story if only it were gifted with the power of speech.

"Now I see the reason. The mink had been caught in a trap, and after twisting and turning until it had torn its leg fearfully, as is seen right there, in desperation it finished the amputation itself; not that it was afraid of decorating some high born dame's back, but because it was threatened with starvation if it sat there in the trap indefinitely. How's that, brother?" he declared.

"About as near the facts as any one could come, for that is just what happened to our poor little friend here. He'll have to hobble around on three legs for the balance of his natural life; but that's better than knocking under now. And, of course, some trapper, an Indian, probably, is out a valuable skin through his carelessness."

"But how does it come that more of the little beasts, all of them, in fact, don't do the same thing? I should think it would be necessary to guard against it," remarked the Virginian.

"That is just it. I said this trapper was out a skin through sheer carelessness, for it is a slovenly way of trapping to let a nice mink like that get away. If you care to step this way with me I'll show you something which perhaps neither of you have ever seen before, and is worth remembering."

They were only too willing, for already what Owen had said was arousing much curiosity within their minds, and they could not bear to let a chance to have this gratified pass by without taking advantage of the same.

He jumped down into the gully through which the little creek ran, coming from the hills far away, and winding in and out through the timber, often being fairly choked with brush, so that an expert would find it difficult to make headway.

Still, down near its mouth it was more open, and they could wander along for quite some distance without great effort.

The banks were sloping in places, and rather inclined to be precipitous in others, but at no place more than half a dozen feet in height.

After going up for some little distance Owen stopped.

"Here is where our little friend lost his foot and there is the trap that helped to take it off," he said, pointing to a rusty Newhouse No. 2 that was lying in full view, chain and all, by the edge of the water.

Stooping over Cuthbert saw that the jaws were marked with a stain, and bits of fur, proving the truth of Owen's assertion.

"Sure as you live it did, and there was no surgeon's fee for that amputation, either. Now go on and tell us why this happened, and what is to prevent it being the rule, rather than the exception," he said eagerly.

"First of all, I must explain how mink are located, and something of their habits, or you will not understand. They are nearly always found along the banks of a small stream that empties into a larger, just as in this case.

"The female mink have settled places of abode, while the male are rovers, and roam up and down the creek for a distance of about two miles in either direction. Now, when a trapper has made up Ms mind that a certain stream is the home of a considerable number of mink he comes out in the early fall, some time before the regular trapping months open, and gets things ready for his season.

"Along the edge of the little bluff near the water line he digs holes about three feet back into the bank and some nine inches across the front, throwing water about the place to kill the scent of his presence, and a little driftwood in and around the hole, so that it will seem natural to the suspicious animal.

"These holes are made about a hundred feet apart, and are then left for a couple of weeks, and when you go back to set your traps you will be surprised to discover that almost every hole shows marks of mink having gone in and out, searching for mates.

"When they set the traps it is the regular thing to fasten the end of the chain out just so far in the water, where it is deep enough to drown the mink; once the trap snaps upon the leg of the animal its instinct causes it to spring into the creek, and being weighed down by the trap, it is soon drowned; this saves needless suffering, does not injure the fur, and prevents the mink gnawing off its own foot in the mad desire to escape."

"Say, that's mighty interesting, now," declared Eli, bending down to examine the trap again; "I didn't know there was so much to the pesky business—had an idea all you had to do was to find where the animals held out, stick a trap there, and go out the next day and grab your fur."

Owen laughed heartily at this.

"I'm afraid such a trapper would not get enough mink, otter, fox, or even muskrat skins to buy his tobacco in a season. Why, these little varmints are just chain lightning when it comes to cleverness, and they can sometimes outwit the smartest old trapper who ever drew breath. There are a thousand secrets connected with the business, and no one man carries them all. Many of these have been handed down from some of those old fellows who used to spend their lives trapping for the Hudson Bay and the Northwest Fur Companies at the time these two were great rivals over the whole of the fur country. You'd find it a most interesting subject if you ever chose to dig into it. Of course, I've picked up quite a few of these secrets and can do my share of a season's work, though it never did appeal to me strongly enough to carry it on as a business. If you went along up this stream you'd find a dozen traps or more, some of them perhaps with a mink or, it might be, an otter in their jaws, but always drowned. Now, I'm going to leave this foot just where I found it. This man ought to be more careful. In the eyes of a first class worker it's a sign of poor business to find a foot in a trap. Perhaps he'll take warning and improve his methods. I hope so, for I don't like the idea of a number of these poor little beasts hopping around on three legs for the balance of their lives."

"I can see that nature never intended you for a trapper, Owen," remarked Cuthbert, sagely; "for you have too much sympathy in your composition. I imagine a man has to harden himself to all such things before he can become a successful fur gatherer; but then it is necessary that there should be some people follow such an occupation, else what would all our lovely girls do for wraps? After all, the taking of furs does not compare in cruelty with the shooting of herons and other birds by the tens of thousands, just to pluck an egret or plume and toss the body away. That is a cruel deed that ought to make every woman blush who ever wears an egret on her hat or bonnet. But what you've been telling us is mighty interesting, do you know? I am determined to learn all I can about this strange business while here on the spot. Nothing like getting things at first hand. Are other animals taken in the same way?"

"To some extent. Whenever it is a water animal they are drowned when caught. Even beaver have to be treated that way."

"But these animals live under the water, don't they? Then how can they be so easily drowned?" asked Cuthbert; but immediately adding: "Of course, I know they have to come to the surface at stated intervals to breathe. I suppose the trap holds them down beyond their allotted time, and then they suffer, just as a fellow might after a minute had passed. Now, foxes are caught on the land—are they ever know to gnaw their foot off to get free?"

"Oh, yes. Trappers look more closely to their fox traps, you see, for they are always hoping to catch a silver, and that means a fortune," said Owen.

"I suppose by that you mean a silver or black fox. I have heard they were worth a big sum of money, and quite rare. What do the pelts bring as a usual thing?" asked Cuthbert.

"I believe as high as two thousand dollars for one fur, but that must have been a mighty fine one. I knew one man who received eight hundred, and I suppose the fur trader who bought it from him sold it again for a thousand anyway. Some men have been lucky enough to take several silvers during the whole of their trapping lives, while others have waited for forty years and never caught a single one. But every fur gatherer lives in hopes, even the Crees and Ojibwas indulging in these anticipations that may never be realized. It is the highest priced skin to be found ashore. A sea-otter may bring more, but I doubt it."

"You've seen the pelts then?" asked Eli, whose eyes were sticking out at this intelligence, for it seemed to him just then that a brisk trade in silver foxes was even more to be desired than a copper mine.

"Oh, yes, often, at a post where they were brought in. Some are only seconds or thirds and worth far less than a first class article. I remember one case that was pretty rough. A trapper had a beautiful skin, that would have brought him a little fortune; but when the factor came to examine it he found it almost worthless on account of being torn by a charge of shot at close quarters."

"That was a shame," declared Cuthbert, who was eagerly listening to all these remarks on the subject of trapping; "but if silver fox pelts are so very valuable I should think some enterprising fellow with an eye to business would start a farm and raise them for the market."

"Just what I was going to say. There would be big money in the deal if a fellow had the right ground, and bought a pair to begin with," exclaimed Eli.

"It's easy enough to get the ground. Others have succeeded to some extent with red foxes, though at first they lost every one, for the cunning rascals burrowed under the fence; but a way was found to prevent that by digging down a yard, filling it with stones, and running a heavy wire mesh back several feet. Of course the foxes kept on burrowing along the fence, but seemed to lack sense enough to start in five feet back so as to avoid the obstruction. Their cunning has a limit, and beyond that they're as stupid as any animal."

"But how about the silvers—what is the obstacle that stands in the way of making such a fox farm a success? Perhaps they refuse to breed in captivity—I've heard of animals acting that way, even skunks at times," said the Virginian.

"No trouble in that line particularly, I believe. The great obstacle to success lies in the fact that the silver fox is not a distinct type at all, but a freak," smiled Owen.

"A freak—that is, it can't be depended upon to reproduce its like?"

"Never does, in fact. From a pair of silvers you will get red foxes, that's all. It's been proven again and again, and yet I've heard of several parties with more money than brains starting a silver fox farm. Don't you ever allow yourself to be tempted to put cold cash into such a game, either of you," continued the young Canadian, tossing the severed foot of Mr. Mink down by the cruel trap that had been instrumental in relieving the poor animal of his useful extremity.

The trapper would find it there, and understand just what had happened, doubtless profiting by his blunder and setting the trap right next time.

All might have been avoided had he staked the end of the chain far enough out in the water, so that the animal when caught would have been drowned by the weight of the steel trap.

Cuthbert seemed loth to give over questioning the boy who knew about the various ways of circumventing these cunning little varmints of the wilds; he found himself deeply interested in the matter and could not hear enough on the subject.

To his mind there must ever be a halo of romance connected with the lives of those old-time French-Canadian voyageurs who, in early days, used to paddle all the way from Montreal to Fort William on the northern shore of the "big water," Superior, to collect the great and valuable bundles of pelts brought in to the post in the Spring by the many trappers connected with the company, some of them white, but mostly full-blood Indians or halfbreeds speaking French.

He had read considerable of their doings before making this trip into the region of the mighty Saskatchewan, being desirous of posting himself on the subject; but interesting as it may have seemed then, when seated in his luxurious apartment in a New York hotel, it was doubly so now that he was on the ground.

Why, these very woods must have witnessed many a scene such as those described, and he could easily picture the flotilla of batteaux moving up or down the river, propelled by the muscular arms of the husky voyageurs, while upon the still air rang out their famous Canadian boat songs.

It thrilled him to even think of it, and the surroundings assumed a new aspect in his eyes; perhaps those days were gone, never to return, and the trappers of today might prove to be merely ordinary Indians, or such rascally fellows as Stackpole and Dubois; but Cuthbert did hope that once at the post he might be able to hear some of the songs that have come down from the old days, filled with the romance of the pines, the birches, the larches, and the hemlocks that hung over those early pioneer camps in the wilderness.

"I'd like to ask you one thing," said Eli, as they slowly walked back in the direction of the camp.

"All right. A dozen if you like, and I'll be only too glad to answer them if I can. There are some things that even a fellow who has spent years up here, and kept his eyes and ears open all that time, couldn't answer. Go on, Eli," said Owen promptly.

"I've taken a few animals myself over in the Peninsula, but not having had any advice I guess I bungled the job somewhat. Anyhow, they said down in St. Louis, where I sent my bunch, that they were misfits, and I suppose it must have been so, if a fellow was to judge from the size of the check they sent on. Since then I've been told that all animals can't be skinned alive. Is that so? I just sliced 'em down, and peeled off the jackets in the best way I could. Of course I knew enough to have thin boards to fasten the pelts to when drying, and they seemed to be all hunk when I shipped 'em; but somewhere I biffed it. Now, what d'ye s'pose was wrong with my work?"

Owen smiled as if he knew instinctively.

"When they said the furs were misfits they meant that you had not taken them off the right way. Some skins have to be cased, that is removed entire, or turned inside out, and not cut down the belly first, which injures their sale. All skunk, marten, mink, fox, 'possum, otter, weasel, civet, lynx, fisher and muskrat have to be treated this way. Other animals should be cut open, such as the beaver, wolf, coyote, 'coon, badger, bear and wild cat. They cut off the tails only of such chaps as have a rat-like appearance—'possum and muskrat. In all other cases the tail is a part of the fur, and a valuable one, too, as I have found out to my cost. The bone is of course taken out, which can be done with only a small split."

"All this is mighty interesting to me," remarked Cuthbert.

"You can just bet it is. What else, Owen? Is there any difference about the way skins are fastened to the drying boards? I might have blundered there too, and that would help make a misfit, eh?" ventured Eli, grinning.

"Well, it would, without a doubt. It is just as well for any young trapper to get thoroughly posted on these subjects before he tries to take any fur, or all his work during the winter may go for nothing. I've seen packs of pelts ruined by just that thing—they were cased the wrong side out and could not be remedied. Some have to be cased with the fur side out, and others with the pelt exposed to the air. Those that are better with the fur out are fox, weasel, lynx, fisher, otter, marten and wolf. The others must have the pelt outward so that the air can get to it in plenty. And then again some trappers spoil their catch in part by drying near a fire or in the sun. The best way is to hang them in the open air in the shade, and let them have plenty of time, making sure to clean them thoroughly of all fat and bits of meat."

"There's one thing that strikes me about this business, and the more I hear about it the firmer grows my conviction that after all the taking of furs and curing the same is an art. Who'd think there was so much that is interesting in the capture of wild animals, and preparing their skins for the market. Then again I suppose these big houses that buy in bulk have ways of handling the furs that increases their value a great deal. The fur we see on the shoulders of our fine ladies has mighty little resemblance to the pelt the poor trapper brings in to the post, and trades for tobacco, powder and shot, tea, sugar, coffee and such indispensables, not to mention whiskey," suggested Cuthbert, wisely.

At this Owen shrugged his shoulders.

"There you have me. I have a limit to my knowledge, and it stops with the capture and drying of the pelts. What takes place after they get in the hands of the dealer I know nothing about, only that they have mighty cute ways of dyeing many of the cheaper grades, and calling them something else. A skunk would not sell for as much under its own name as some high sounding one; for you know there is always an unpleasant association connected with the skunk."

"You just bet there is," avowed Eli, heartily, as with the conviction of one who knows whereof he speaks; "it associated with me for a whole week once, up in a lumber camp, and by ginger, it was the only thing that would associate with me till my new clothes came along and I could bury the old ones. After that my curiosity about the cunning little striped beast that used to slink across the tote road was satisfied, and whenever I saw one I'd give a whoop that could be heard a mile away and run for my life! They got to know that yell, and whenever any of the boys heard it they'd laugh and say: 'There's that fool Eli huntin' polecats again.' But I wasn't, not by a jugful; I was giving him a wide berth, and taking off my hat to him in the bargain. Oh! ever since that day I've had the greatest respect you ever heard tell of for the ornery little critters."

By this time they had arrived at the mouth of the little creek, and climbed out upon the upper level.

"I'd think the fur bearing animals would be pretty well cleaned out along here, so close to the post," remarked Cuthbert, still harping on the subject.

"They are as a rule; but when a place is let alone a few years they increase again; and I guess that's what has happened here. In the last fifty years this creek may have been cleaned out a dozen or two times, and then let alone for a spell to grow up again. This year it's being gone over again, and from certain signs I noticed, the trapper is reaping quite a little harvest. He was an Indian, too," said the other.

"I suppose you can tell from signs whether a white man or an Indian is working along a stream; no doubt they have different ways of doing things. I thought the only way to know was to look at the moccasin tracks, as an Indian toes in, while a white man walks with his toes out," pursued Cuthbert.

Owen laughed as though pleased.

"That's an old and exploded theory. Why should a white man brought up in the wilds toe outward, as though he wore shoes? With moccasins on his feet, and used to them from a baby, he walks just like a red. But there are many ways of telling whether it is a white or Indian at work. Only long practice will do this. I could not explain it, but if the chance comes I'll promise to show you what I mean."

And with this they rested content, having learned considerable about the art of fur gathering and curing in this little talk.



CHAPTER X.

MAGIC IN THE BERRIES.

The sun was just peeping above the horizon, but the air still remained chilly after the long night; to husky boys this amounted to little, and as soon as the camp was abandoned they would soon warm themselves up with paddle exercise, for it was no childish work battling against that swift current.

"Anyhow, it was a mighty comfortable camp," remarked Cuthbert, as they moved away, and his eyes rested fondly upon the scene of their last night's experience; so it ever is with those who live the life in the open, for the unconscious things appeal to their affections, and a staunch boat, a favorite paddle, a gun, knife, belt hatchet, or even the spot where they found comfort and built their shrine at which they temporarily worshiped, the campfire, arouses emotions in their hearts that cannot be fully appreciated by those not of the mystic guild.

Owen led the way in his bullboat.

He was more than usually silent after his talk over the trap and the poor little mink's foot up the creek, and Cuthbert wondered what it might be that affected him—could the coming of Stackpole have had anything to do with it—the idea was not impossible, for he had evidently known the gaunt timber-cruiser before, and if the story of the boy's sad past were known the gigantic woodsman might occupy a place in it.

Still, upon reflection, Cuthbert was of the opinion that there must be another reason for his thoughtfulness this morning.

He remembered what hints Owen had let fall concerning the old factor connected with the Hudson Bay post, and that there had been trouble between them; many things gave Cuthbert the opinion that the other had been fleeing from the region at that time they made his acquaintance so strangely, not in terror, but rather in anger, and he felt sure strange happenings had been taking place at the post on the day preceding the storm.

If so, then it was the fact that he must evidently soon face the stern factor again that disquieted Owen so; the way in which he tried hard to throw off his morose mood, and answer the sallies of his comrades in a spirit of frolic proved that he was fighting against his nature, and had laid out a course which he was determined to tread, no matter what pain or distress it brought in its train.

At any rate, it would soon appear what ailed the lad, and Cuthbert, greatly as he wished to know Owen's story, had too much delicacy to influence him in the telling; he had promised to open his heart to this new and sympathetic chum, and all would come when the spirit moved.

About an hour after leaving camp they suddenly came upon two bullboats that were descending the river swiftly, in each of which a trio of Cree Indians sat or knelt, wielding the paddles after the deft manner of those with whom the art has become second nature.

Cuthbert did not anticipate any trouble from these fellows, who were evidently in the employ of the fur company; but he was keen to notice how they took the presence of the young Canadian in the company of strangers, realizing that they must in all probability know him, and be acquainted with whatever of trouble had hovered around him of late.

Just as he expected, they seemed surprised at sight of Owen, and hasty words were passed among them; but they made no motion to interfere with the forward progress of the two boats, and answered the civil salutation of Cuthbert with a series of "how-hows" until the current had swept them past; but it might have been noticed that not once did their shrewd black eyes leave the figure of the young Canadian squatted in his old boat, and sweeping his spruce blade back and forth methodically, as he urged his craft against the stream.

"They know him all right, and are more than surprised to see him with a party of strangers, heading upstream. Now, I wonder if they were sent out to look for a fellow of his description? Gee, but this is a conundrum, all right," whispered Cuthbert to his fellow paddler, at which Eli grunted and nodded assent.

The young Canuck guide in the lead did not so much as turn his head after the boats containing the Indians had passed, but continued to dip his paddle in and out with the methodical rhythm so characteristic of the voyager who has spent his life amid these scenes.

No so Cuthbert, whose curiosity had been excited in connection with the untutored sons of the wilderness—ever and anon he twisted his head around so that he could secure a survey of the river below; and on such occasions Eli kept his eager eyes on the face of his comrade, knowing full well that should there be anything happening he would discover it reflected there.

About the fifth time Cuthbert turned thus he gave vent to a little exclamation, whether of satisfaction or annoyance it would have been difficult to say, and immediately whispered to Eli:

"They're coming all right, just as I expected, old fellow. That proves my idea correct, and that they had been sent out from the post, to find what had become of the youngster. He knows they are coming after us just as well as I do, but he's too proud to give them a single look. I like his grit, and between you and me, he's going to show us something before long. I'm in a fever to set eyes on that same old Tartar, Alex Gregory. Already I seem to dislike him immensely, and possibly I'll end by hating him good and hard. He's more than a little to blame for Owen's troubles, whatever they may be. Say nothing, Eli, but keep your eyes open."

"What if the copper-skinned critters attack us—I've got my gun handy, and I give you my word there'll be the very old dickens to pay if they start rough-housing it with us," answered the young logger; and it was not in a boastful spirit that he spoke, for Eli usually showed a modest disposition; only he, too, had taken a great fancy to the new chum who had been sent to them by such a freak of fortune, and Cuthbert's intimation that the other must be the victim of oppression rather riled him.

"Oh, I have no idea they will try any funny business; they know we are armed, and besides they have their orders from the head boss. You'll find that they only mean to tag after us, keeping on our heels until sure we mean to go to the post. These chaps possibly saw that smoke signal the other Cree we met downstream sent up, and they knew Owen was somewhere around. You noticed that they just stared at him all the time, and paid little attention to us. Well, let it go at that; we'll be apt to know a heap more than we do now when another day comes along. One thing I'll wager a lot on, and that is he's worth sticking to through thick and thin, eh, Eli?" ventured the explorer, earnestly.

"You bet!" was the laconic but expressive answer he received, and Cuthbert, who knew the logger so well, understood all that was implied.

Eli also glanced back just before they turned a bend, and as there was quite a little stretch of clear water back of them ere the stream twisted its way around a big bunch of birch trees that stood like sentinels on a projecting knoll, he was able to see the two bullboats come around the curve, and follow grimly in their wake, the occupants evidently making no effort at speed, for had they chosen they could have given our youngsters a warm proposition in the way of a race, their muscles being inured to the monotonous labor of the paddle.

Cuthbert began asking questions of Owen, who allowed the other boat to gain a position alongside, so that conversation might be the more easily carried on. Thus he learned that, proceeding leisurely they would readily make the Hudson Bay post ere nightfall; had there been any reason for haste this time might have been shortened by several hours; but it suited all of them to arrive around the sunset hour.

Having an abundance of time they went ashore at high noon, built a fire and had quite a healthy little lunch, washing it down with a pot of coffee, the delightful aroma of which must have reached the nostrils of the Cree paddlers who had drawn their boats ashore just below, for the wind lay in that quarter.

Cuthbert expected to hear from those who were playing this comical game of tag, and, indeed, he had purposely caused the coffee to boil madly in order that the appetizing scent might be wafted with the breeze; consequently when Eli declared one of the Indians was advancing toward the fire, the explorer grinned as though he might be patting himself on the back over having accomplished a rather pretty piece of strategy.

The fellow came directly up to where they sat finishing their meal.

Cuthbert did not altogether like his looks, but then he realized that he was hardly capable of judging a good Indian from a bad one, since he had only a limited experience with the natives—what appeared to be a scowling phiz to him might seem only the natural expression to be found upon the dusky faces of these Saskatchewan dwellers of the woods, when viewed by Owen.

As he drew near the Indian made certain mysterious motions with his hands, which Cuthbert understood must be the peace signs, and he began to imitate the other, not wishing to be outdone in politeness.

"How," said the copper-colored intruder, with a rising inflection.

"How," repeated Cuthbert, in just the same tone of voice.

"You camp boss?" pursued Mr. Lo, keenly eyeing the young fellow, as though he might be dubious concerning this fact.

"Well, perhaps you might call me that, seeing this is my outfit; but just say that I'm an Easy Boss, and let it go at that. Now, what can I do for you?" remarked the explorer, who was as yet unknown to fame, but who had aspirations.

"Huh, you got um coffee—we smell um good—can stand no more—s'pose you give Injun drink, him be glad, much so—no have coffee many moons—set um up in other alley—how?" was what followed, much to the amusement of both Cuthbert and Eli, for evidently the fellow had seen a bowling alley in Winnipeg, or some other city.

"Well, I like your nerve, my copper-colored friend, which I see you carry with you all the time; but after all I don't know that I can blame you asking, for the smell of good coffee is enough to set any chap wild. What is your name, may I humbly inquire?" ventured Cuthbert, keeping a very straight face, though he could hear Eli chuckling, and wanted to laugh outright himself; for it was evident that while music is said to have "power to soothe the savage beast," the aroma of the subtle coffee bean in the process of cooking seemed capable of subjugating the savage man himself, and bringing him to "eat humble pie," as Eli put it.

"Name all same Springing Elk—son of Chief Wolf-killer, him same head of Crees on big river Saskatch. You say we have coffee—ugh, much good, and we not forget," and not waiting to receive additional assurance he raised his hand to his mouth and gave vent to a series of sharp barks or yelps that must have been an eagerly awaited signal conveying good news to his mates, for immediately the whole bunch started for the campfire of the three boys.

Cuthbert, in an aside, asked Owen if they need fear any danger from the Crees; but the young Canuck shook his head in the negative, answering back:

"Not at all. The only failing they have is a weakness for appropriating anything that strikes their fancy, when they think no one is looking, and I think we can avoid that by being on guard all the time until we embark again. They are crazy about coffee, and would go to great trouble to get a drink of the stuff."

Nevertheless, Eli, though hearing what was said, did not feel disposed to take any great stock in the pacific intentions of the heathen; he had read stories of their treacherous nature, and heard men speaking so derisively about the "only good Indian being a dead Indian," that he felt it his bounden duty to maintain a watchful eye upon the sextette while they were present, all the while keeping his gun in his clasp, ready to meet any emergency that might arise.

But then Eli had led a hard life, and there was considerable excuse for his suspicious nature—we are often creatures of circumstances and environment, and his school had been the rough logging camps, where the worst that is in men usually crops out.

Cuthbert busied himself in making a new pot of coffee, an operation which the group of bucks watched with glistening eyes; and when a little later the steam began to pour out from the nozzle of the pot, and the aroma struck their olfactory nerves, really several of them could not stand it, but had to walk away, those more masterful standing on one foot and snuffing the air, while their expressions in anticipation would have done credit to so many children.

They each had two big tin cups of the decoction, steaming hot, and undefiled by either sugar or condensed milk, showing that they possessed the proper taste for the beverage of the gods, according to the ideas of those who grow the royal berry, and know how it should be drunk.

Cuthbert had accommodated the untutored sons of the forest partly because he had a warm heart, and again with the half-formed idea that possibly his little party might benefit from the act in the future—frequently the old saying of "bread cast upon the waters returning after some days" comes true.

Still, there was a limit to his indulgence; and he certainly did not intend to allow this thirsty crowd of skin-hunters to become regulation camp-followers; his supply of coffee would not long stand the strain, even if his patience did.

So as soon as the last cups were drained of every drop of the delicious fluid the boys captured the same, deposited them in the receptacle where they belonged, thrust this into the cedar canoe, and then Cuthbert, as master of ceremonies, cried out:

"Yo-ho, all aboard!"

In another minute the canoes of the expedition began to cleave the waters, headed upstream.

The Indians also tumbled into their boats, nor were they longer satisfied to hang back one or more hundred yards as formerly—that elixir had quite captured their hearts, and they scrambled to keep in close proximity to the magical "floating coffin," as they denominated the cedar canoe, as if they could scent future feasts along the line of that which they had just enjoyed.

Cuthbert laughed over the situation more than a few times, and declared that he need fear no evil from the copper-faced denizens of the timber country so long as a shot remained in their locker—a grain of Java in their caddy.

But the Indians after a while struck a faster gait and vanished around a bend above, nor did they see them again for several days, when they arrived at the trading post.

They paddled leisurely, with Owen leading the way as before, for being familiar with the region he would know how to time matters so that they should reach the vicinity of the post.

As the afternoon waned Cuthbert could see that the other was struggling with some strong emotion, and he understood that it must be connected with the return trip he was making to the post, which he had evidently abandoned for good at the time of his hasty run down the river.

He fancied that Owen might take occasion to give them some inkling as to how matters stood with him here, for he had promised to reveal the secret of his lonely life at the first favorable opportunity; but somehow he did not appear to be in the humor just then, being wrapped up in his own gloomy reflections.

'Well, it could not long be delayed now, and Cuthbert, being built along the lines of a patient and philosophical lad, felt that he could wait.



CHAPTER XI.

A BREAK IN THE CHAIN.

About the middle of the afternoon Cuthbert's eye caught a situation on the shore that seemed to appeal particularly to him as a place where he would like to spend a night in camp.

He was subject to these little freaks, and hated to pass an ideal camping spot after a certain hour of the day; indeed, Eli could recall many experiences along this order.

Nor was the Virginia lad loth to explain the reason wherefore.

It seemed that in cruising down some river in the States on a certain winter, with a single companion, he was playing Scullion to the Cook of his more experienced comrade; and consequently what the other said generally went.

The Cook was of a most ambitious disposition, and desirous of making just as much time each day as though their lives depended on reaching a certain city in the Southland by a settled date—and yet they had the whole winter before them, with time to kill.

Many a time and oft, as Cuthbert reminiscently remarked, they had come upon a delightful looking spot for a camp an hour or less before dark, and he found the inclination strong within him to go ashore, rest up, get the tent pitched, and be ready for a night's campaign before the curtains were drawn shut.

But that sort of thing did not fit in with what the boss of the expedition considered proper; and consequently they must utilize the hour of daylight that remained in pushing forward.

As a result, when darkness actually compelled their going ashore they frequently had to put up with mean accommodations and suffer for hours.

The lessons that are brought home to us by bitter experience are the ones that remain the longest; and Cuthbert had never forgotten the bitterness of spirit that haunted him on that cruise.

He had learned his lesson thoroughly, and two things stood out above all others as the right and proper course for an intelligent cruiser to do—never pass a fine site for a camp when the afternoon sun was more than half way down its course; and upon starting out in the morning always manage to get a good breakfast, as there could be no telling when another meal would come along.

Eli was willing to go ashore, as usual, and Owen made no comment.

So the boats were drawn up on the shingle, and the little party disembarked.

Cuthbert had made no mistake about the location, for it was a charming spot, and the view out on the river absolutely unique; since with little effort one could see both up and down for a long distance.

And others had in times gone by utilized this same ground as a stopping place; for there was to be seen a fireplace made of stone in just the proper spot, where the prevailing wind would fan the blaze as the meal cooked.

In camping there are scores of little wrinkles which come perfectly natural to the experienced hand, but are totally unknown to the novice; the only way to learn is to ask questions just as boldly as though claiming Missouri for one's native State.

Cuthbert had one particularly favorite dish, which every now and then he insisted upon foisting upon his comrades; and from the way Eli's eyes glistened whenever he saw the Virginia canoeist starting to make preparations looking toward this compound it might be surmised that the infliction was not unbearable and could be endured about every day in the week.

He called it the Homeric kabab, and claimed that it had been handed down from the days of the old Grecian writer and philosopher; which, if true, proved that Homer knew a delicious thing when he tasted it.

It surely was a thing to conjure with.

Having made ready a glowing bed of coals, he set up two notched sticks at either end, and across this hung a strong withe of willow or some other wood, strung with inch pieces of meat, whether lamb, beef, venison or rabbit it mattered not, since the state of the larder must decide that matter; but it was of the utmost importance that alternating with each bit of meat there should come a strip of eggplant or onion, or both, if so fortunate as to have them.

This withe was to be kept turning, spit-fashion, until its weight of provender was deliciously browned and sending forth an aroma that would make the mouth of a wood nymph water. After that all that was needed was to give thanks and partake.

When Owen has his first taste of this favorite canoeist's dish his eyes told of the keenest enjoyment.

Plain fare had been his portion most of his life, and it was a question of quantity more than quality with his folks; appetite made up for a lack of delicacies, and doubtless with that as a background even common corn pone may assume the properties of a Delmonico planked steak.

Eli had seemed to be as hungry as usual when they landed; but having finished his task of erecting the tent he had picked up Cuthbert's splendid repeating Marlin and said something about taking a little stroll, with a hope that perchance he might sight game worthy of a shot.

Cuthbert had made no remark, for he knew that it was a weakness on the part of his comrade to get off now and then with that gun, just for the sake of handling it, and feeling for a short period that he owned the whole world.

It afforded the Virginia lad great pleasure to know that he had it in his power to bring joy to honest Eli's heart; and while he valued the gun, even its loss would not have caused a single cloud to cross his brow.

He was gifted with a splendid nature, and never so happy as when conferring pleasure upon some one else.

By the time supper was all ready Cuthbert remembered that the boy from Michigan had not yet turned up.

"Do you remember having heard a shot some time back?" he asked Owen.

"Yes, but it was pretty far away, further than Eli could have gone, I think; though now that you speak of it the report did come from up the wind, and that was the direction he took on starting out. Are you anxious about him?" replied the other, turning around from the job that had been occupying his attention, and which was connected with placing hemlock browse under the blanket he meant to use when the time to lie down arrived, as well as alongside the sleeping bags of his two companions.

"Why, no, I don't think there's any reason for that. Eli had been accustomed to roaming the woods all his life, for he was brought up in the lumber camps; and it would be funny if he went and lost himself up here, where the forest is so open. I was just thinking how fond he is of my pet dish, and what a disappointment it would be to him if you and I developed such ferocious appetites as to lick the platter clean before he showed up. But I reckon there's plenty all around, and we'll try and keep his share warm. Pull up here on this log, Owen, and try that platter. The coffee is ready too, ditto the hard-tack."

And with keen appetites the two certainly did ample justice to the meal.

By hard-tack Cuthbert really meant the regular ship biscuit used on all sailing vessels along the seashore and the lakes—there are two brands; one a bit more tasty than the other, and this is supposed to be for the officers' mess; but in a pinch both fill the bill admirably, as myriads of canoeists are willing to testify with upraised hand.

When supper had been finished, and both lads were ready to cry out enough, it was dark.

And still no Eli.

Even then Cuthbert did not worry, for he had the utmost confidence in the woodsman qualities of his stocky chum, and could not believe that anything serious had happened to him.

Perhaps he had wandered far afield, and chancing upon a deer a mile or more from camp had secured his venison; under such conditions it would require some time to cut the animal up, and then "tote" what he wanted of the meat over the intervening territory.

Nevertheless, he looked around at every sound as if hoping to see Eli stalking into camp, with a proud look on his homely phiz, and a burden of fresh meat upon his shoulder.

Now it was a playful and venturesome 'coon that prowled around in the vicinity of the camp, hoping to pick up some titbits from the supper of the strange bipeds who periodically occupied this favorite site; then again it might be a mink come up from the river to investigate what all this illumination meant; but as the minutes passed Eli remained only conspicuous by his absence.

Owen had occupied himself in rubbing up several steel traps which the boys had brought along, thinking they might prove useful in some way; but which, having been neglected, were inclined to be very rusty.

This was a familiar thing in the hands of the Canadian lad, for many a time in the days long gone by he 'tended a line of traps in the country where fur grows longest and best, and mink, otter, muskrat, fisher, marten, skunk and even raccoon and opossum skins bring a good price.

Cuthbert never lost an opportunity to acquire information, when he could obtain it at first hand, and hence as they sat beside the fire, watching the rosy flames dance and play at tag, he put many more questions to the backwoods boy concerning the secrets of the profession, and learned various new things that up to this time he had never dreamed existed.

So it is that in knocking about one may discover how limited a vocabulary has been their portion; and observation with a traveler means a widening of the horizon that broadens the mind.

Owen was free to explain the numerous methods of capturing the wary wild animals of his native land; and it gave him the keenest pleasure to satisfy this desire for knowledge on the part of the new chum who had been so good to him.

He told of the astonishing care that was needed in order to circumvent the wise and sharp-scented mink; how the traps were so arranged, as Cuthbert had seen, that the animal upon being caught would jump into the water, where the weight of the trap would drown the captive; otherwise the little fellow in desperation might gnaw his foot off and escape, to be a cripple the rest of his days, like the one whose foot they had handled that morning; what bait was used to attract him to the vicinity of the trap, for an artificial scent has been found marvellously effective in arousing the mating instinct of the animal and causing him to venture in places which otherwise he might avoid—all these and many other things did Owen talk about as he handled the rusty traps; and Cuthbert sat there entranced, drinking in the mysterious knowledge that trappers have learned through succeeding generations, and handed down to their successors.

So the time passed, and yet there was no sign of Eli.

Cuthbert finally sat up straight, and a look of growing concern could be seen upon his fine manly face as he said:

"There's no use talking, my boy, I'm really afraid something has happened to Eli Perkins. He couldn't get lost if he tried, and the fact that he's not here makes me think he's tumbled into trouble with a big T. Now, the question is what can we do about it?"



CHAPTER XII.

ON THE TRACK OF ELI.

Owen tossed the trap aside.

Evidently he had been expecting some such remark from the other and was not at all surprised at being called on for assistance.

"I think that if anything has happened to Eli we can lay it to that ungrateful dog, Stackpole," he remarked, frowning a trifle, as if his memories of the timber-cruiser were not of the most pleasant character imaginable.

"You don't like that fellow one little bit, I can see; and do you know the thought struck me when I saw him curl his lip on seeing you with us that at some time in the past you two must have been at loggerheads," observed Cuthbert.

"Which is true, every word of it. If you had looked closer you might have noticed a little notch in the fellow's left ear. I was the cause of that, and it happened some years ago, when I was much smaller than I am now, and less able to take care of myself. But I was born in the woods, and brought up with a rifle in my hands, so that I learned early in life to shoot straight."

"Yes," interrupted Cuthbert, "I saw that you were a dead shot when you tried my pet Marlin and brought down that hawk on the wing. I thought I had some little ability in that line myself, but when I saw you trim that buccaneer of the air so easily as if you were not half trying, I gave up thinking myself in it. But please go on, Owen."

"Where we lived was a lonely section. My father had offended some one high in authority marrying my mother, and he felt this influence more or less all his life; but I did not mean to speak about that just now, only to explain how it was we chanced to be so far removed from other people.

"Once in a while some wandering timber-cruiser like Stackpole would drop in on us, and you can understand that as a general thing they were mighty welcome, for they brought us news of the outer world.

"But if there was one man I detested, it was Stackpole, and he had often riled me as a kid, by his leering ways, and his sneaking method of hanging around when my father was out looking after his traps.

"I don't know what put it into my head, but somehow I seemed to finally believe the fellow had been actually sent up into the wilderness by some one high in authority at the post just to annoy my father and bring him to his knees, which nothing had been able to do in the past.

"So I came to follow Stackpole when he did not dream I was around, and pretty soon I found that he was trying to steal my father's stock of furs during his absence, having arranged it with a halfbreed Cree to pull his chestnuts out of the fire, and avoid responsibility.

"I had been afraid that his evil eye had been turned upon my pretty mother, so that, after all, it was something of a relief to find that he only wanted to take the bundle of valuable furs that would mean a living for us during the next summer; but I've never believed anything else than that he was sent there by old Alexander Gregory to reduce us to a state where my parents would have to knuckle down, swallow their Scotch pride, and accept favors at his hands, something father had sworn he would die before doing.

"Well, I caught the rascal in the act of carrying the furs off, though he always swore that I wronged him, and that he had in reality rescued them from a thief of a Cree who had snatched the lot; but I notched his ear with a shot, and put another in his right leg—you remember Eli noticed that he had a decided limp on that side.

"They had to nurse the old villain all through his spell, and he never forgave me for the double dose I gave him, though pretending it was all right, and that, thinking as I did, I had done the proper thing. Stackpole kept shy of our place after that, but I knew he would never forgive me, and if the time ever arrived when he could get even he would take the chance gladly. That was why I kept an eye on him all the time he was with us, and warned you to look out, for the fellow is really a thief, and has a bad reputation all over the region of the Saskatchewan."

"And you really think he may be the cause of Eli staying away? After we treated him so well, too. The skunk has no gratitude in his make-up, then, that's all I can say. Catch me giving him another cup of our lovely Java; it's like casting pearls before swine," declared the other, disgusted.

"Of course," continued Owen, "there is always a chance that Eli may have gotten twisted in his bearings. Any fellow might do that under stress of excitement, no matter what his knowledge of woodcraft may be. I've been there myself, and as all my life was spent in the timber I ought to be free from such a trouble if any one might. So, perhaps it would be wise, before we try to sally out and look for signs of our comrade, to shoot off a gun a few times, and see whether he makes any reply. What do you say?

"Just what I was about to propose myself. Three shots is the usual signal, but with Eli's shotgun we can only knock out two. Nevertheless, here she goes."

So saying he blazed away with both barrels, allowing a margin of a few seconds to occur between the shots.

Then both lads bent their ears and listened carefully.

The night breeze was sighing among the pines and hemlocks, but it carried no answering sound to their waiting ears.

When several minutes had gone by Cuthbert thrust a couple more shells into the barrels of the gun and once more let go.

Again silence alone repaid their anxious attention.

If the missing one heard those signal shots he was in no condition to reply, and that would mean, of course, that he must be in trouble.

Cuthbert looked at his friend.

"It doesn't seem to be of any use. After that I can't doubt but what something uncomfortable has happened to Eli. He's a jolly fellow, and I think the world of him. If any harm came to pass I'd feel wretched, for it was my foolish idea that brought him up here," he said disconsolately.

"Oh, I wouldn't feel that way about it. A fellow like Eli must run a certain amount of risk, no matter where he is. If he wasn't here he'd be logging, and taking his life in his hand every hour, with trees falling in the wrong direction, log jams occurring in the spring rise and the lumber jacks risking death in the effort to free the king-pin that holds the jam. Oh, no, Eli has no fault to find with the way you've treated him; indeed, he's had a snap, and knows it. But we must be doing something, if you feel too anxious to wait until morning."

"It must now be ten o'clock, and that would mean many hours. Can anything be done in the night? How could we follow his trail without a hound? What wouldn't I give to have a good dog just now, such as my old Bunker down home in Virginia. You take charge, and order me around as you see fit. I'm ready to do anything."

Owen smiled, and thought what a fine thing it was to have a chum built along these lines; the conviction that Cuthbert would be just as anxious if it had been he who was lost carried with it a thrill of pleasure he had never known in all his life before.

"Why, of course we can follow his trail slowly by the aid of that hunting jacklight of yours. Suppose you get it going, while I attend to some other things. If we abandon the camp even for a while it might be wise to hide the boats, especially yours; for that lovely creation would tempt almost any wanderer to carry it off. And your stores would be very acceptable to some of these chaps who live on roasted navy beans for coffee and hard tack with their venison."

So saying the young Canadian busied himself.

In ten minutes he had thoroughly hidden all their possessions, and in such a clever way it would never be suspected that such things could be lying around loose in the bushes beyond.

Meanwhile Cuthbert had fastened the jack to his hat and lighted the same.

On some occasions in the past he had shot deer by means of this same little lantern, though its use is now frowned down on in many states, since what appears to be a mean advantage is taken of the innocent deer when they come down to drink at the lake or stream, and stare at the strange glow upon the water, allowing the sportsman to push close enough to make dead sure of his quarry.

Now it would not have been carried needlessly all this way into the wilderness if it was destined to prove valuable in following the trail of the missing Eli.

Although Cuthbert had not voiced his worst fear, he was thinking that possibly poor Eli might be lying somewhere in the vast woods badly injured; for there were various ways in which such a thing could come about.

He knew nothing could have happened on account of the rifle, for his faith in that marvel of the gunmaker's craft was unbounded; but Eli was inclined to be a bit clumsy, and might have stumbled into some hole, striking his head and rendering himself unconscious; or there was a chance that he had wounded a stag which had thereupon charged vigorously upon him, as wounded bucks are apt to do; so that Eli, not being accustomed to working the mechanism of the repeating rifle, might have been caught napping and tossed down.

Well, they were now off, and would know something about the matter ere long, for the tracks of the young hunter were plainly marked, as seen in the light of the jack.

Owen must have had considerable experience in this thing of following a trail, for he picked it up in a wonderful fashion; that is, it seemed so in the eyes of his companion, who was quite willing to keep at his side and bring the illuminating qualities of the little lantern to bear.

Finally, thinking that it would be best that Owen had the jack upon his hat, he insisted on turning it over to him, contenting himself from that moment with falling in behind, carrying the shot gun in the hollow of his left arm, and with finger upon a trigger.

They walked for an hour in this way, and never once did Owen seem to be in doubt.

Such clever ability to follow tracks in the night time was an education to Cuthbert, always ready to learn new things; and he watched the manner in which it was done, wondering if he could ever in the course of years possess the sagacity that seemed to come so naturally to his friend.

In and out among the great trees they wound their way, just as Eli must have done when wandering along, watching for a sight of game ahead.

Now they came to where he had evidently struck some sign, for he bent down as he advanced, Owen showing the other just how he knew this from the marks; since three times had Eli dropped to his knee, only to rise again and go on, eager to get still closer to the quarry.

Finally Owen paused and pointed.

"Here he fired—only one shot," he declared, and picked up the brass jacket of a long cartridge that had been ejected from the repeater when Eli worked the combination.

Cuthbert looked anxiously about.

"I don't see him lying anywhere around, that's one thing that pleases me," he said, in a relieved tone.

"No, he rushed forward—see, here are his tracks, and yonder the remains of the deer he shot. But Eli is not here. Something happened to him. Give me five minutes and I'll tell you what it was," declared the woods boy, soberly.



CHAPTER XIII

BIRDS OF A FEATHER.

When Eli Perkins left the camp on that memorable afternoon with Cuthbert's fine rifle on his shoulder, he did have a card up his sleeve, so to speak.

Not that Eli was not intent on securing game for the pot, and meant to keep an eye out for anything in the shape of a deer that he could bag; for he had long desired to shoot that dandy gun, the envy of his soul, and as yet the opportunity to use it on a gallant stag had not been forthcoming, though he had often carried it forth when the time seemed propitious.

But Eli had been looking around ever since they landed, and it was his settled conviction that the country in that section had all the color of a copper region.

Copper was Eli's little god.

He eternally dreamed of some day finding a ledge of such incredible richness as would make all previous discoveries sink into utter insignificance; and from his delightful share of the profits from the mine he meant to satisfy that yearning for seeing foreign lands; for long had he looked forward to the time to come when he could visit Egypt, Turkey, Russia, Germany and all those countries he had read so much about.

His only prospect of ever getting there, in his mind, lay in this discovery of copper, and copper haunted him day and night.

Cuthbert knew all about his yearning, and in his own mind had long since arranged it so that Eli would share his next trip abroad; but the other knew not what luck was awaiting him and so he kept thinking of this happy find, and his eyes were constantly on the watch for "signs."

And now more than ever before he was convinced that he must be in a country where there was undiscovered copper veins.

That no one has as yet stumbled upon them did not strike the lad as strange, for he knew that those who stalked through this wilderness were, for the most part, ignorant trappers or Indians, who would not know the value of a find if they fell over the richest outcropping ever found.

Eli had studied up the subject in his leisure hours for some years past, and was fully posted on all that pertained to its various branches.

So while he was walking ahead and looking with one eye for big game his other optic was on the alert for any signs of an outcropping of the rich metal that had been given the place of honor in his heart.

This accounted in some measure for his eccentric advance; for many times he turned aside to bend low over some suspicious spot where his keen eye had detected symptoms of a deposit.

Although disappointment came again and again Eli never despaired, for he was certain he would sooner or later come upon that which he meant to have, and the delay, while aggravating, could not crush his spirits.

Twice later on he found reason to believe he was getting nearer the object of his ambition, for the signs were certainly growing stronger; and thus he was being lured further and further away from the camp.

Then came the moment when he sighted the deer through the bushes, and all his hunter instinct was aroused by the sight.

He began to creep forward, his finger upon the trigger of the gun, and a sense of delicious uncertainty thrilling his nerves.

Just as the observant Owen later on declared, he did get down on one knee several times, intending to shoot; but finding that the deer had not shown any indication of alarm, he had concluded to advance a bit further, in order to make doubly certain.

Eli knew that he was sure of that buck, for he had perfect faith in his own abilities as a marksman, when within such short range; and as for the quality of Cuthbert's pet rifle, that went unquestioned.

Finally he took a quick aim and fired.

It had been the report of his gun that floated away back to the camp, and was heard by his two comrades about half an hour before dark.

Eli deliberately pumped another cartridge into the chamber with one speedy movement of his hand, as he had done many times in practice, and then ran forward to where he had last seen the deer.

He knew full well that it had gone down in a heap, for he had seen as much while he was in that instant placing the rifle in condition for further work; and hence he was not in the least surprised to find the noble animal kicking its last when he arrived upon the spot.

Eli was not an enthusiastic hunter; indeed, as a usual thing, he had been pretty well satisfied to let Cuthbert do most of the shooting and fishing of the trip; but when it came to disposing of the cooked product while they sat around the camp fire, he was right in the game, for Eli's one weakness was his appetite, and he never seemed to have enough.

He placed the rifle against a neighboring tree, and, drawing his hunting knife, proceeded first of all to bleed the deer, after which he started to work cutting it up, for it was too heavy by long odds to think of trying to carry the whole carcass to camp, now more than a mile distant.

So busily engaged was he in this work that he paid not attention to what was taking place around him, and consequently did not see the shadowy figure that came flitting from tree to tree like a wraith of the great pinelands, finally reaching the oak against which Eli had leaned his gun.

Then a gnarled hand was stretched out and eagerly seized upon the beautiful little Marlin, which was quickly withdrawn from view.

Just then Eli was startled to hear a gruff "Ahem" from a point in front of him, and glancing up hurriedly from his work he discovered a man standing leaning on a long-barreled rifle and surveying him with a sneer on his face.

It was the same fellow who had bunked with them and drank their elegant Java with such gusto—Stackpole, the timber-cruiser.

Eli had not liked his looks when he was in camp, and he certainly saw no reason to change his mind concerning the fellow now, for Stackpole did have a piratical appearance when he scowled or looked scornful.

Instinct compelled Eli to reach out his hand for his gun, even while not removing his eyes from the interloper with the evil cast of features.

When his groping hand failed to connect with the rifle he was compelled to turn his head quickly and saw, to his dismay, that the gun no longer occupied the spot where he had placed it.

At the same moment a second man stepped into view, having his own rifle hung over his shoulder with a strap, while the repeater belonging to Cuthbert was resting in his grimy hands.

Eli recognized this worthy immediately, nor was he very much surprised to see him there, since Owen had declared it to be his belief that they might run across him sooner or later.

He remembered how they had met him some weeks earlier, and also how he had made up that chart for Cuthbert, for a consideration, which since that time had proven so very unreliable, and which the Canadian lad pronounced utterly worthless.

It was Dubois, the greasy woods-ranger, fit comrade for the ungainly and grinning Stackpole.

He stood there looking at the boy and nodding his head.

"Well, well, if it ain't Eli Perkins alive and in ther flesh! Who'd ever a thort tew see yer up hyer? I allowed thet p'raps yer boys mighter come part way, but it does beat all how some fools air taken keer ov. Thank yer kindly fur this yer purty little gun, Eli. Reckon I kin soon git ther hang o' the way ye work thet pump bizness. Anyhow, I'm willin' ter larn. Hold on, now, jest keep yer distance, er somethin' not down on ther bill'll happen ter ye, boy!" was the way Dubois addressed him.

Of course, Eli felt angry, but he saw that they had him trapped neatly enough, and he was not the fool the other would try to make out.

At least he had had considerable experience with just such fellows as these and knew how far one could go in conducting negotiations with their breed.

Eli had a streak of caution and also a bit of cunning in his make-up; doubtless he had found need of both in his dealings with the huskies to be met with in the Michigan lumber camps, where brute strength counts for more than education.

It evidently behooved him to play "lame duck," just as the mother mallard does in order to deceive the wandering egg hunter, and lead him away from her nest.

So Eli simply chose to look foolish, and stood there grinning and saying not a word.

He was a good hand at playing the game of "wait," and perhaps in time his chance would come to knock up their hand, and call the deal.

"I see yer hev cut up ther deer all hunky-dory, Eli. Now, sence we old fellers is a bit troubled with rheumertism s'pose ye shoulder ther bag o'game an' come erlong wid us. My ole friend Dubois hes got er shack not werry far off, an' we kin hold our hungry feelin's in till we git thar. Up she goes, boy, an' don't yer dare ter scowl at me like thet again, less ye wanter feel ther toe o' my moccasin. Wy, I've sliced a feller's ears orf fur less'n thet. I'm a holy terror wen I'm riled up, ain't I, Dubois?" said Stackpole.

And this was the man whom they had entertained at their camp and given the best meal of his whole life!

Eli made a note of the fact for future reference.

There would perhaps come a day of reckoning, and the account, however long, could be adjusted.

He took up the pack of meat and followed Stackpole, while Dubois walked along a little distance behind.

Perhaps it was accidental, this meeting with the two woodsmen, but Eli doubted it, preferring to believe that they had been watching him ever since he left the camp, with the idea of effecting his capture should the opportunity arise.

With such men this was not a difficult thing to do.

What puzzled him, however, was the trouble they were taking on his account.

If it was simply that coveted gun they wanted, why not turn him adrift after securing possession of the firearm, rather than make a prisoner of him; surely they could not be doing this for the mere sake of compelling him to "tote" the venison to their camp, for that would be slipping up on a point, since he must know where they held out and could carry the information to Cuthbert when released.

Now had it been the young Virginian who was captured, he could readily understand their reason, for Cuthbert had money in abundance, and would pay a round sum to be set at liberty; but who under the sun cared whether he, Eli Perkins, lumber-jack from the Michigan pine woods, were free or a prisoner, living or dead?

And poor Eli was wrestling with these puzzling questions as he trudged wearily after Stackpole; nor did he seem to get any nearer a solution, though approaching the matter from all sides.

Darkness overtook them while they were still tramping through the woods, having covered some miles since leaving the spot where the deer was shot.

And then by degrees Eli began to guess what they had in view in holding him.

It would be only natural for the two worthies to try and hide their trail when thus passing through the woods and bound for the place where according to Stackpole the other had some sort of a dugout or shack.

To the surprise of Eli not only did they fail to take any precautions in this respect but on the contrary actually seemed to leave as plain a trail as possible.

It took Eli some time to understand the meaning of this, and then it broke upon him like a thunderclap—these fellows were laying a trap, and expected Cuthbert to walk into the same just as the fly enters the web of the spider.

Of course in due time Cuthbert and Owen would feel it necessary to look him up, and as the latter was a good trailer they would follow the course now being taken by himself and his captors, follow it until the door of the trap was sprung shut, making them also prisoners.

Eli grunted his disgust when he saw all this spread out before him.

Eli was so utterly helpless to prevent it.

And while he walked he was busying his mind in the endeavor to invent some clever scheme whereby he might get the better of the twin rascals and turn the tables upon them.

But Eli did not possess a very brilliant mind and suggestions came slowly to him; all his life he had been in the habit of allowing some one else do his thinking for him, and when thrown upon his own resources he found it difficult to fully grasp the situation and conjure up any possible remedy.

At the same time he was stubborn by temperament and not given over to despair, no matter how black the circumstances seemed.

Perhaps presently things might take a turn; all he wanted was to keep his eyes about him, and his wits sharpened, so that if the occasion arose he would be in shape to reap the benefit.

Stackpole must have been joking when he said the shack was close by, or else they had purposely made a circuit in their walk, for it was a full hour before they arrived at their destination.

Whoever had originally built the cabin in the wild section where the rocks cropped up amid the stunted trees, it had evidently been abandoned many years, until of late Dubois took possession of the same.

A light through what seemed to be a window without glass was the first indication they had that they were approaching the end of the trail; Eli showed some sign of interest when he saw this, for it meant that there might be another member of the party, and his curiosity was excited.

Could it be possible that there was a regular league of these lawless rovers of the great timber belt, organized to prey upon their fellows, and eager to milk such prizes as Cuthbert Reynolds would prove to be, if once he fell into their clutches?

If so, this could hardly be their headquarters, for it was too near the Hudson Bay post; and from what he had heard about the stern old factor, he would never allow such an organization to get a footing within his territory—if he was a martinet and a stickler for fealty to the company, he was also an honest man, with a hatred for rascality that made him the terror of evil doers.

Stackpole brushed open the door and strode within.

"Follow yer leader, kid," ordered the man in the rear, and accordingly Eli passed over the threshold.

Once within, the boy was ordered to prepare supper, and knowing the folly of resistance he obeyed.

All the time he was on the watch for a chance to do something that would render the guns of the timber cruisers useless. They were both old style rifles of the breech-loading type, and given a chance Eli knew how to fix them so that it would require the assistance of a gunsmith to place them in serviceable condition again.

Once Dubois went out and called to Stackpole, evidently desirous of conferring with his partner over something he did not wish the boy to overhear.

Eli saw his chance, and though his heart seemed to be in his mouth, he carried out his hastily formed plan.

Stackpole had taken the repeating rifle with him, as if not fully trusting the prisoner. But Eli could wait. Besides, he was hungry, and that was his venison, so he felt entitled to some of it.

While they ate the two men occasionally joked the boy in their rough way. But Eli only grinned, knowing that his time had almost come.

"Now git a hustle on and clar up the muss, younker!" said Stackpole, as he lighted his pipe.

Eli coolly snatched up the little Marlin repeater. He heard the angry cries of the men as they reached for their own guns.

Then Eli laughed.

"The joke is on you, Stackpole. Couldn't shoot them guns in a week, for I doctored 'em all right. Stand back now or take the consequences, you!"

They were cowed by the sudden and complete change. Neither of them dared move a hand even when Eli opened the door of the cabin, having slung some of the venison across his shoulder.

"Next time, gents, don't leave a timber boy alone in a cabin with your guns," he remarked, and waving his hand mockingly he closed the door.

Five minutes later one of the men ventured to open the door, when a gun sounded, and the bullet struck so close to him he slammed the barrier shut again.

Then Eli hurried off, having taken his bearings. Half an hour later he discovered the glow of the little headlight torch, and to the delight of his chums hailed them.

Although Cuthbert and Owen were indignant at the action of the timber cruisers, they thought best to let the incident pass. No doubt the men would leave the country now, since they must fear lest their unlawful act get to the ears of the old factor and cause them trouble.

So our three boys returned to the camp and spent the remainder of the night in peace.



CHAPTER XIV.

WITHOUT AUTHORITY.

Several times during the late afternoon of this day they heard gunshots ahead, and from this judged that they were drawing very near the post; which, like all such important places belonging to the great fur company, must present quite an animated appearance with trappers and hunters, whites, Indians and halfbreeds, coming and going.

Few went downstream, since the points of interest and profit were further up in the wilderness; which accounted for the fact of their having seen only a couple of boats during the whole afternoon, one of these being manned by some voyageurs belonging to the post, for they wore picturesque uniforms, consisting of leather coats lined with flannel, belts of scarlet worsted, breeches of smoked buckskin, and moose moccasins, and carried shawls of Scotch plaid, as well as fur caps with ear-flaps for the cold weather that was liable to visit the Northwest country at any day now—at the bow of the large boat floated the well-known blue and white flag of the Hudson Bay Company, showing that this craft had undoubtedly carried a load of supplies to the post, and was now taking back to civilization packages of belated furs that had been brought in by trappers from the Arctic regions.

Cuthbert knew considerable about this vast concern which has had almost a monopoly of the fur-gathering business in America for two centuries—really it dates back to 1670, when a license to trade in furs in the Hudson Bay region was granted to an English company.

Knowing that he would be likely to come in contact with the agents of this corporation during his travels in the Saskatchewan country, Cuthbert had taken pains to learn all he could about what history had to say of their doings; and he found that in the far past they had been merciless and unscrupulous in their dealings with their employers; though, of course, much of this high-handed style of conducting business is not tolerated nowadays.

The shadows were beginning to gather as the canoes rounded a bend in the stream, and the post stood out before them in the clearing, with the last glow in the western sky as a background.

The Union Jack had been hauled down with the setting of the sun, for at these posts along the distant border something of military discipline has to be maintained, lest those in charge find their rough wards and employes breaking loose from their authority; for they have to deal with reckless spirits at times, and, of course, liquor frequently brings about trouble, just as in logging camps and all similar places.

Their coming had undoubtedly been signaled long before they arrived within hailing distance of the fort, for there was quite a crowd down at the landing to see them come in, a mixture of whites, natives and halfbreeds, all of them no doubt connected in some manner with the great fur company.

Some of these gave a noisy greeting to a boat load of Indians landing about the same time as our friends, after the custom of their kind, boisterous, but good-natured; but Cuthbert noticed that not one had a word to say to his little party; which pleased him very much, since he had worried over what they should do if the crowd proved unruly.

He understood from what Owen had let fall that the old factor ruled his camp with a rod of iron, and that there was not a man who dared go against his expressed wish—doubtless he had given his followers to understand that they were to keep aloof, and let him do the honors of the occasion.

So our young friends shoved their boats upon the shelving beach, sprang out, and pulled the canoes up far enough to keep them safe from the current of the river; Owen had already told them that a code of honor existed at the post, and whatever they left in the boat would be perfectly safe, for should so much as a trap be stolen, the vigilant factor would visit the thief with punishment of a drastic nature—his Scotch blood would not stand for such a breach of hospitality.

They knew that it was their duty to seek an audience with the commander of the post immediately, explain their mission to these wilds, and, if it could be done in a diplomatic manner, ingratiate themselves in his favor by making him some sort of a present—Owen had hinted that the factor's one weakness was a love for tea, which he used at every meal with quite as much pleasure as the veriest old maid gossip at a sewing circle; and as luck would have it this happened to coincide with a leaning of his own, for he had made sure to fetch considerable of the very finest that money could purchase in New York—Ceylon, Young Hyson and Orange Pekoe.

Hence, when he told Eli that it was up to them to make a bee-line for the headquarters of the factor, and announce their arrival, his first act was to gather up a package he had prepared, consisting of a pound each of the several kinds of tea carried by the expedition.

Thus armed and equipped, he sallied forth, under the belief that he was able to propitiate the powers that be, without a single carnal weapon, and loaded only with a gentle persuader.

Owen had pointed out the position of the lodge where the factor had his office as well as his habitation; and indeed, even had they not a friend at court, it would have been easy to determine the location of this, since it turned out to be the largest building within the stockade, and in front of which arose the tall pole that had evidently held the Union Jack up to sunset.

No one followed them, but various were the curious glances cast in that direction by the many personages who had a connection with the busy post.

At the door stood a man, who appeared to be a guard, for he carried a rifle, and stirred at their approach, as though it might be his business to make inquiries of those who asked for an audience with the "little czar" within.

"Is the factor, Mr. Gregory, in?" asked Cuthbert, pleasantly.

"He is—walk right inside," came the reply, and they obeyed.

The office of the trading post was a sight to Cuthbert, who had often read of such a place, but never as yet, set eyes on one; a thousand articles seemed to be crowded into the apartment, so that there was little spare room on either side of the passage leading straight up to the great desk, where the factor held his court, flanked by account books that doubtless would have been rich reading to anyone interested in figures connected with the prices paid the Indians for furs.

Through a door Cuthbert could see an adjoining room that was evidently used for a general audience chamber in the wintry season, perhaps a bunkroom also, for it had an enormous stove that was well calculated to warm things when started.

Only a cursory glance did he bestow upon these inanimate things, for his attention was immediately wrapped up in the lone figure sitting back of the big desk, the factor of the whole region, Alexander Gregory, the mysterious man whose past seemed to be connected in some way with that of their new Canadian chum, Owen Dugdale.

Cuthbert rather prided himself on his ability to read faces, and it was in this spirit that he approached the Scotch resident boss.

He saw a bearded face, with the sandy hue thickly sprinkled with gray—a face marked with strong individuality, and passions such as were common in the days of the Bruce and the Wallace of whom we read; indeed, just such a sturdy character as he had expected to discover in this strange man of the Northwest, judging from all the stories he had heard.

And yet he quickly discerned a bit of a twinkle in the corners of those cold gray eyes that told Cuthbert the other was not wholly a man of iron—there was another vein to his character not often seen by his fellows, but which could be played upon by touching the right chord, if one but knew what that was.

In that one moment of time Cuthbert knew that here was a man worthy of his best efforts in the line of study, and that perhaps before he quitted this faraway post on the frontier he would be able to see the strong elements constituting Alexander Gregory's make-up unmasked.

Cuthbert was something of a diplomat, and he knew just how best to address a man of authority whom he desired to placate; accordingly he gave his name as well as that of his companion, told of the folly that had brought him to the wilderness, and that he desired to see a genuine trading post of the great company, now that he found himself in the neighborhood, and that he was pleased to meet the factor, of whom he had heard so many things in connection with the building up of the company's trade.

Alexander Gregory listened, and it might be noticed that his face seemed to relax a trifle of its grim aspect; when the precious packets of tea were placed before him on the desk he could not refrain from smiling, and thrusting forth his hand, with words of warm welcome that quite tickled the young diplomat, for he knew that he had won a point in the game.



CHAPTER XV.

SCENTS A MYSTERY.

Alexander Gregory was a Scotchman, but he had spent most of his life in the Canadian bush, and while there was a distinct "burr" in his manner of speech, he very seldom used any of that broad dialect so characteristic of his race; and then generally when much excited.

He seemed particularly amused at the harum-scarum idea that had tempted our young explorer to these distant fields, for few men knew more about the fearful difficulties awaiting the venturesome nomad in those lonely wastes beyond than did the veteran factor, since many a time and oft he had roamed toward the arctic circle in search of new opportunities, and had the humor seized him he could have told thrilling stories of what he had seen and endured there.

Seldom did he have the chance to interview so fresh and interesting a character as Cuthbert, for his work brought him into daily contact with only rough, strenuous men, and in time this had undoubtedly hardened his own nature more or less.

He asked many questions and examined the lad's charts with interest.

Just as Owen had done he condemned the map made by the halfbreed, Dubois, and declared that the fellow had undoubtedly purposely deceived him, with some object in view that could only be guessed.

"That's just what Owen said," exclaimed Cuthbert, without stopping to think, and no sooner had the impulsive words passed his lips than he remembered that this was supposed to be a tabooed name in the hearing of the old factor, though just why he had no means of understanding.

Involuntarily he looked up hastily as if to see what effect the mention of Owen's name had on his host, but he only discovered a slight start, followed by a flitting frown, and then a grim smile.

"Oh, he did, eh?" he remarked, quietly; "well, it would seem that the fellow has some sense about him, which I had begun to doubt, after he refused to meet me half way in burying the bitterness of the past. But speaking of this Dubois, he is a rascal beyond any doubt, and he appears to have entered into some sort of partnership with Stackpole, a fellow of his own stripe, though hardly as bold in his way of doing things. These scoundrels have been playing fast and loose for a long time in this region, but the worst they've been guilty of up to the present has been the robbery of traps. Still, they have the spirit in them to attempt almost any unlawful game, once the opportunity offers, and I suppose they thought it had appeared in you. I've about made up my mind that the time has come to drive them out of the region, or hand them over to the mounted police, who will see to it that they are put in jail. In this region we often have to take the law in our own hands, you understand, lad. Aye, I've seen some desperate things done in my day, and more often than I like they come up before my mind in the still watches of the night. Mine has been a rough life of it, taken altogether, and not an enviable one. It is anything but a paradise up here when the long winter settles down. But it is the only life I know, and has its charms to a man of my nature, though there be times when I have longings for civilization and all that it carries with it."

The factor sighed as he spoke in this meditative way, and Cuthbert could read between the lines, knowing what a wasted life it must seem to look back upon, with the monotony broken only by scenes of violence, when Indians went upon the warpath or halfbreeds became rebellious, as during the great uprising along the Saskatchewan, when the ugly front of war made this region its battle ground.

Eli was awed by the frown of the factor, and hardly spoke a word unless addressed in person; but he, too, felt considerable curiosity concerning the relation of Owen to this grim personage, and spent much time in propounding questions to himself with the object of finding out the truth.